[illustration: book end] [illustration: book cover] [illustration: this book belongs to] [illustration: the road to oz] [illustration: calling on jack pumpkinhead see chapter ] the road to oz by l. frank baum author of the land of oz, ozma of oz, dorothy and the wizard in oz, etc. [illustration] illustrated by john r. neill chicago the reilly & britton co. publishers [illustration: copyright by l frank baum all rights reserved] [illustration: _l'istesso tempo_ to my first grandson joslyn stanton baum] to my readers: well, my dears, here is what you have asked for: another "oz book" about dorothy's strange adventures. toto is in this story, because you wanted him to be there, and many other characters which you will recognize are in the story, too. indeed, the wishes of my little correspondents have been considered as carefully as possible, and if the story is not exactly as you would have written it yourselves, you must remember that a story has to be a story before it can be written down, and the writer cannot change it much without spoiling it. in the preface to "dorothy and the wizard in oz" i said i would like to write some stories that were not "oz" stories, because i thought i had written about oz long enough; but since that volume was published i have been fairly deluged with letters from children imploring me to "write more about dorothy," and "more about oz," and since i write only to please the children i shall try to respect their wishes. there are some new characters in this book that ought to win your love. i'm very fond of the shaggy man myself, and i think you will like him, too. as for polychrome--the rainbow's daughter--and stupid little button-bright, they seem to have brought a new element of fun into these oz stories, and i am glad i discovered them. yet i am anxious to have you write and tell me how you like them. since this book was written i have received some very remarkable news from the land of oz, which has greatly astonished me. i believe it will astonish you, too, my dears, when you hear it. but it is such a long and exciting story that it must be saved for another book--and perhaps that book will be the last story that will ever be told about the land of oz. l frank baum. _coronado, ._ [illustration] list of chapters the way to butterfield dorothy meets button-bright a queer village king dox the rainbow's daughter the city of beasts the shaggy man's transformation the musicker facing the scoodlers escaping the soup-kettle johnny doit does it the deadly desert crossed the truth pond tik-tok and billina the emperor's tin castle visiting the pumpkin field the royal chariot arrives the emerald city the shaggy man's welcome princess ozma of oz dorothy receives the guests important arrivals the grand banquet the birthday celebration [illustration] the way to butterfield [illustration] "please, miss," said the shaggy man, "can you tell me the road to butterfield?" dorothy looked him over. yes, he was shaggy, all right; but there was a twinkle in his eye that seemed pleasant. "oh, yes," she replied; "i can tell you. but it isn't this road at all." "no?" "you cross the ten-acre lot, follow the lane to the highway, go north to the five branches, and take--let me see--" "to be sure, miss; see as far as butterfield, if you like," said the shaggy man. "you take the branch next the willow stump, i b'lieve; or else the branch by the gopher holes; or else----" "won't any of 'em do, miss?" "'course not, shaggy man. you must take the right road to get to butterfield." "and is that the one by the gopher stump, or----" "dear me!" cried dorothy; "i shall have to show you the way; you're so stupid. wait a minute till i run in the house and get my sunbonnet." the shaggy man waited. he had an oat-straw in his mouth, which he chewed slowly as if it tasted good; but it didn't. there was an apple-tree beside the house, and some apples had fallen to the ground. the shaggy man thought they would taste better than the oat-straw, so he walked over to get some. a little black dog with bright brown eyes dashed out of the farm-house and ran madly toward the shaggy man, who had already picked up three apples and put them in one of the big wide pockets of his shaggy coat. the little dog barked, and made a dive for the shaggy man's leg; but he grabbed the dog by the neck and put it in his big pocket along with the apples. he took more apples, afterward, for many were on the ground; and each one that he tossed into his pocket hit the little dog somewhere upon the head or back, and made him growl. the little dog's name was toto, and he was sorry he had been put in the shaggy man's pocket. [illustration] pretty soon dorothy came out of the house with her sunbonnet, and she called out: "come on, shaggy man, if you want me to show you the road to butterfield." she climbed the fence into the ten-acre lot and he followed her, walking slowly and stumbling over the little hillocks in the pasture as if he was thinking of something else and did not notice them. "my, but you're clumsy!" said the little girl. "are your feet tired?" "no, miss; it's my whiskers; they tire very easily this warm weather," said he. "i wish it would snow; don't you?" "'course not, shaggy man," replied dorothy, giving him a severe look. "if it snowed in august it would spoil the corn and the oats and the wheat; and then uncle henry wouldn't have any crops; and that would make him poor; and----" "never mind," said the shaggy man. "it won't snow, i guess. is this the lane?" "yes," replied dorothy, climbing another fence; "i'll go as far as the highway with you." "thankee, miss; you're very kind for your size, i'm sure," said he gratefully. "it isn't everyone who knows the road to butterfield," dorothy remarked as she tripped along the lane; "but i've driven there many a time with uncle henry, and so i b'lieve i could find it blindfolded." "don't do that, miss," said the shaggy man, earnestly; "you might make a mistake." "i won't," she answered, laughing. "here's the highway. now, it's the second--no, the third turn to the left--or else it's the fourth. let's see. the first one is by the elm tree; and the second is by the gopher holes; and then----" "then what?" he inquired, putting his hands in his coat pockets. toto grabbed a finger and bit it; the shaggy man took his hand out of that pocket quickly, and said "oh!" dorothy did not notice. she was shading her eyes from the sun with her arm, looking anxiously down the road. "come on," she commanded. "it's only a little way farther, so i may as well show you." after a while they came to the place where five roads branched in different directions; dorothy pointed to one, and said: "that's it, shaggy man." "i'm much obliged, miss," he said, and started along another road. "not that one!" she cried; "you're going wrong." he stopped. "i thought you said that other was the road to butterfield," said he, running his fingers through his shaggy whiskers in a puzzled way. "so it is." "but i don't want to go to butterfield, miss." "you don't?" "of course not. i wanted you to show me the road, so i shouldn't go there by mistake." "oh! where _do_ you want to go to, then?" "i'm not particular, miss." this answer astonished the little girl; and it made her provoked, too, to think she had taken all this trouble for nothing. "there are a good many roads here," observed the shaggy man, turning slowly around, like a human windmill. "seems to me a person could go 'most anywhere, from this place." dorothy turned around too, and gazed in surprise. there _were_ a good many roads; more than she had ever seen before. she tried to count them, knowing there ought to be five; but when she had counted seventeen she grew bewildered and stopped, for the roads were as many as the spokes of a wheel and ran in every direction from the place where they stood; so if she kept on counting she was likely to count some of the roads twice. "dear me!" she exclaimed. "there used to be only five roads, highway and all. and now--why, where's the highway, shaggy man?" "can't say, miss," he responded, sitting down upon the ground as if tired with standing. "wasn't it here a minute ago?" "i thought so," she answered, greatly perplexed. "and i saw the gopher holes, too, and the dead stump; but they're not here now. these roads are all strange--and what a lot of them there are! where do you suppose they all go to?" "roads," observed the shaggy man, "don't go anywhere. they stay in one place, so folks can walk on them." he put his hand in his side-pocket and drew out an apple--quick, before toto could bite him again. the little dog got his head out this time and said "bow-wow!" so loudly that it made dorothy jump. "o toto!" she cried; "where did you come from?" "i brought him along," said the shaggy man. "what for?" she asked. "to guard these apples in my pocket, miss, so no one would steal them." with one hand the shaggy man held the apple, which he began eating, while with the other hand he pulled toto out of his pocket and dropped him to the ground. of course toto made for dorothy at once, barking joyfully at his release from the dark pocket. when the child had patted his head lovingly, he sat down before her, his red tongue hanging out one side of his mouth, and looked up into her face with his bright brown eyes, as if asking her what they should do next. dorothy didn't know. she looked around her anxiously for some familiar landmark; but everything was strange. between the branches of the many roads were green meadows and a few shrubs and trees, but she couldn't see anywhere the farm-house from which she had just come, or anything she had ever seen before--except the shaggy man and toto. besides this, she had turned around and around so many times, trying to find out where she was, that now she couldn't even tell which direction the farm-house ought to be in; and this began to worry her and make her feel anxious. "i'm 'fraid, shaggy man," she said, with a sigh, "that we're lost!" "that's nothing to be afraid of," he replied, throwing away the core of his apple and beginning to eat another one. "each of these roads must lead somewhere, or it wouldn't be here. so what does it matter?" "i want to go home again," she said. "well, why don't you?" said he. "i don't know which road to take." "that is too bad," he said, shaking his shaggy head gravely. "i wish i could help you; but i can't. i'm a stranger in these parts." "seems as if i were, too," she said, sitting down beside him. "it's funny. a few minutes ago i was home, and i just came to show you the way to butterfield----" "so i shouldn't make a mistake and go there----" "and now i'm lost myself and don't now how to get home!" "have an apple," suggested the shaggy man, handing her one with pretty red cheeks. "i'm not hungry," said dorothy, pushing it away. "but you may be, to-morrow; then you'll be sorry you didn't eat the apple," said he. "if i am, i'll eat the apple then," promised dorothy. "perhaps there won't be any apple then," he returned, beginning to eat the red-cheeked one himself. "dogs sometimes can find their way home better than people," he went on; "perhaps your dog can lead you back to the farm." "will you, toto?" asked dorothy. toto wagged his tail vigorously. "all right," said the girl; "let's go home." toto looked around a minute, and dashed up one of the roads. "good-bye, shaggy man," called dorothy, and ran after toto. the little dog pranced briskly along for some distance; when he turned around and looked at his mistress questioningly. "oh, don't 'spect _me_ to tell you anything; i don't know the way," she said. "you'll have to find it yourself." but toto couldn't. he wagged his tail, and sneezed, and shook his ears, and trotted back where they had left the shaggy man. from here he started along another road; then came back and tried another; but each time he found the way strange and decided it would not take them to the farm house. finally, when dorothy had begun to tire with chasing after him, toto sat down panting beside the shaggy man and gave up. dorothy sat down, too, very thoughtful. the little girl had encountered some queer adventures since she came to live at the farm; but this was the queerest of them all. to get lost in fifteen minutes, so near to her home and in the unromantic state of kansas, was an experience that fairly bewildered her. "will your folks worry?" asked the shaggy man, his eyes twinkling in a pleasant way. "i s'pose so," answered dorothy, with a sigh. "uncle henry says there's _always_ something happening to me; but i've always come home safe at the last. so perhaps he'll take comfort and think i'll come home safe this time." "i'm sure you will," said the shaggy man, smilingly nodding at her. "good little girls never come to any harm, you know. for my part, i'm good, too; so nothing ever hurts me." dorothy looked at him curiously. his clothes were shaggy, his boots were shaggy and full of holes, and his hair and whiskers were shaggy. but his smile was sweet and his eyes were kind. "why didn't you want to go to butterfield?" she asked. "because a man lives there who owes me fifteen cents, and if i went to butterfield and he saw me he'd want to pay me the money. i don't want money, my dear." "why not?" she inquired. "money," declared the shaggy man, "makes people proud and haughty; i don't want to be proud and haughty. all i want is to have people love me; and as long as i own the love magnet everyone i meet is sure to love me dearly." [illustration: "this, my dear, is the wonderful love magnet."] "the love magnet! why, what's that?" "i'll show you, if you won't tell anyone," he answered, in a low, mysterious voice. "there isn't any one to tell, 'cept toto," said the girl. the shaggy man searched in one pocket, carefully; and in another pocket; and in a third. at last he drew out a small parcel wrapped in crumpled paper and tied with a cotton string. he unwound the string, opened the parcel, and took out a bit of metal shaped like a horseshoe. it was dull and brown, and not very pretty. "this, my dear," said he, impressively, "is the wonderful love magnet. it was given me by an eskimo in the sandwich islands--where there are no sandwiches at all--and as long as i carry it every living thing i meet will love me dearly." "why didn't the eskimo keep it?" she asked, looking at the magnet with interest. "he got tired being loved and longed for some one to hate him. so he gave me the magnet and the very next day a grizzly bear ate him." "wasn't he sorry then?" she inquired. "he didn't say," replied the shaggy man, wrapping and tying the love magnet with great care and putting it away in another pocket. "but the bear didn't seem sorry a bit," he added. "did you know the bear?" asked dorothy. [illustration] "yes; we used to play ball together in the caviar islands. the bear loved me because i had the love magnet. i couldn't blame him for eating the eskimo, because it was his nature to do so." "once," said dorothy, "i knew a hungry tiger who longed to eat fat babies, because it was his nature to; but he never ate any because he had a conscience." "this bear," replied the shaggy man, with a sigh, "had no conscience, you see." the shaggy man sat silent for several minutes, apparently considering the cases of the bear and the tiger, while toto watched him with an air of great interest. the little dog was doubtless thinking of his ride in the shaggy man's pocket and planning to keep out of reach in the future. at last the shaggy man turned and inquired, "what's your name, little girl?" "my name's dorothy," said she, jumping up again, "but what are we going to do? we can't stay here forever, you know." "let's take the seventh road," he suggested. "seven is a lucky number for little girls named dorothy." "the seventh from where?" "from where you begin to count." so she counted seven roads, and the seventh looked just like all the others; but the shaggy man got up from the ground where he had been sitting and started down this road as if sure it was the best way to go; and dorothy and toto followed him. dorothy meets button-bright [illustration] the seventh road was a good road, and curved this way and that--winding through green meadows and fields covered with daisies and buttercups and past groups of shady trees. there were no houses of any sort to be seen, and for some distance they met with no living creature at all. dorothy began to fear they were getting a good way from the _farm-house_, since here everything was strange to her; but it would do no good at all to go back where the other roads all met, because the next one they chose might lead her just as far from home. she kept on beside the shaggy man, who whistled cheerful tunes to beguile the journey, until by-and-by they followed a turn in the road and saw before them a big chestnut tree making a shady spot over the highway. in the shade sat a little boy dressed in sailor clothes, who was digging a hole in the earth with a bit of wood. he must have been digging some time, because the hole was already big enough to drop a foot-ball into. dorothy and toto and the shaggy man came to a halt before the little boy, who kept on digging in a sober and persistent fashion. "who are you?" asked the girl. he looked up at her calmly. his face was round and chubby and his eyes were big, blue, and earnest. "i'm button-bright," said he. "but what's you real name?" she inquired. "button-bright." "that isn't a really-truly name!" she exclaimed. "isn't it?" he asked, still digging. "'course not. it's just a--a thing to call you by. you must have a name." "must i?" "to be sure. what does your mamma call you?" he paused in his digging and tried to think. "papa always said i was bright as a button; so mamma always called me button-bright," he said. "what is your papa's name?" "just papa." "what else?" "don't know." "never mind," said the shaggy man, smiling. "we'll call the boy button-bright, as his mamma does. that name is as good as any, and better than some." dorothy watched the boy dig. "where do you live?" she asked. "don't know," was the reply. "how did you come here?" "don't know," he said again. "don't you know where you came from?" "no," said he. "why, he must be lost," she said to the shaggy man. she turned to the boy once more. "what are you going to do?" she inquired. "dig," said he. "but you can't dig forever; and what are you going to do then?" she persisted. "don't know," said the boy. "but you _must_ know _something_," declared dorothy, getting provoked. "must i?" he asked, looking up in surprise. "of course you must." "what must i know?" "what's going to become of you, for one thing," she answered. "do _you_ know what's going to become of me?" he asked. "not--not 'zactly," she admitted. "do you know what's going to become of _you_?" he continued, earnestly. [illustration] "i can't say i do," replied dorothy, remembering her present difficulties. the shaggy man laughed. "no one knows everything, dorothy," he said. "but button-bright doesn't seem to know _anything_," she declared. "do you, button-bright?" he shook his head, which had pretty curls all over it, and replied with perfect calmness: "don't know." never before had dorothy met with any one who could give her so little information. the boy was evidently lost, and his people would be sure to worry about him. he seemed two or three years younger than dorothy, and was prettily dressed, as if some one loved him dearly and took much pains to make him look well. how, then, did he come to be in this lonely road? she wondered. near button-bright, on the ground, lay a sailor hat with a gilt anchor on the band. his sailor trousers were long and wide at the bottom, and the broad collar of his blouse had gold anchors sewed on its corners. the boy was still digging at his hole. "have you ever been to sea?" asked dorothy. "to see what?" answered button-bright. "i mean have you ever been where there's water?" "yes," said button-bright; "there's a well in our back yard." "you don't understand," cried dorothy. "i mean, have you ever been on a big ship floating on a big ocean?" "don't know," said he. "then why do you wear sailor clothes?" "don't know," he answered, again. dorothy was in despair. "you're just _awful_ stupid, button-bright," she said. "am i?" he asked. "yes, you are." "why?" looking up at her with big eyes. she was going to say: "don't know," but stopped herself in time. "that's for you to answer," she replied. "it's no use asking button-bright questions," said the shaggy man, who had been eating another apple; "but some one ought to take care of the poor little chap, don't you think? so he'd better come along with us." toto had been looking with great curiosity into the hole which the boy was digging, and growing more and more excited every minute, perhaps thinking that button-bright was after some wild animal. the little dog began barking loudly and jumped into the hole himself, where he began to dig with his tiny paws, making the earth fly in all directions. it spattered over the boy. dorothy seized him and raised him to his feet, brushing his clothes with her hand. "stop that, toto!" she called. "there aren't any mice or woodchucks in that hole, so don't be foolish." toto stopped, sniffed at the hole suspiciously, and jumped out of it, wagging his tail as if he had done something important. "well," said the shaggy man, "let's start on, or we won't get anywhere before night comes." "where do you expect to get to?" asked dorothy. "i'm like button-bright; i don't know," answered the shaggy man, with a laugh. "but i've learned from long experience that every road leads somewhere, or there wouldn't be any road; so it's likely that if we travel long enough, my dear, we will come to some place or another in the end. what place it will be we can't even guess at this moment, but we're sure to find out when we get there." "why, yes," said dorothy; "that seems reas'n'ble, shaggy man." [illustration] a queer village [illustration] button-bright took the shaggy man's hand willingly; for the shaggy man had the love magnet, you know, which was the reason button-bright had loved him at once. they started on, with dorothy on one side, and toto on the other, the little party trudging along more cheerfully than you might have supposed. the girl was getting used to queer adventures, which interested her very much. wherever dorothy went toto was sure to go, like mary's little lamb. button-bright didn't seem a bit afraid or worried because he was lost, and the shaggy man had no home, perhaps, and was as happy in one place as in another. before long they saw ahead of them a fine big arch spanning the road, and when they came nearer they found that the arch was beautifully carved and decorated with rich colors. a row of peacocks with spread tails ran along the top of it, and all the feathers were gorgeously painted. in the center was a large fox's head, and the fox wore a shrewd and knowing expression and had large spectacles over its eyes and a small golden crown with shiny points on top of its head. while the travellers were looking with curiosity at this beautiful arch there suddenly marched out of it a company of soldiers--only the soldiers were all foxes dressed in uniforms. they wore green jackets and yellow pantaloons, and their little round caps and their high boots were a bright red color. also there was a big red bow tied about the middle of each long, bushy tail. each soldier was armed with a wooden sword having an edge of sharp teeth set in a row, and the sight of these teeth at first caused dorothy to shudder. a captain marched in front of the company of fox-soldiers, his uniform embroidered with gold braid to make it handsomer than the others. almost before our friends realized it the soldiers had surrounded them on all sides, and the captain was calling out in a harsh voice: "surrender! you are our prisoners." "what's a pris'ner?" asked button-bright. "a prisoner is a captive," replied the fox-captain, strutting up and down with much dignity. "what's a captive?" asked button-bright. "you're one," said the captain. that made the shaggy man laugh. "good afternoon, captain," he said, bowing politely to all the foxes and very low to their commander. "i trust you are in good health, and that your families are all well?" the fox-captain looked at the shaggy man, and his sharp features grew pleasant and smiling. "we're pretty well, thank you, shaggy man," said he; and dorothy knew that the love magnet was working and that all the foxes now loved the shaggy man because of it. but toto didn't know this, for he began barking angrily and tried to bite the captain's hairy leg where it showed between his red boots and his yellow pantaloons. "stop, toto!" cried the little girl, seizing the dog in her arms. "these are our friends." "why, so we are!" remarked the captain in tones of astonishment. "i thought at first we were enemies, but it seems you are friends, instead. you must come with me to see king dox." "who's he?" asked button-bright, with earnest eyes. "king dox of foxville; the great and wise sovereign who rules over our community." [illustration] "what's sov'rin, and what's c'u'nity?" inquired button-bright. "don't ask so many questions, little boy." "why?" "ah, why, indeed?" exclaimed the captain, looking at button-bright admiringly. "if you don't ask questions you will learn nothing. true enough. i was wrong. you're a very clever little boy, come to think of it--very clever indeed. but now, friends, please come with me, for it is my duty to escort you at once to the royal palace." the soldiers marched back through the arch again, and with them marched the shaggy man, dorothy, toto, and button-bright. once through the opening they found a fine, big city spread out before them, all the houses of carved marble in beautiful colors. the decorations were mostly birds and other fowl, such as peacocks, pheasants, turkeys, prairie-chickens, ducks, and geese. over each doorway was carved a head representing the fox who lived in that house, this effect being quite pretty and unusual. as our friends marched along, some of the foxes came out on the porches and balconies to get a view of the strangers. these foxes were all handsomely dressed, the girl-foxes and women-foxes wearing gowns of feathers woven together effectively and colored in bright hues which dorothy thought were quite artistic and decidedly attractive. button-bright stared until his eyes were big and round, and he would have stumbled and fallen more than once had not the shaggy man grasped his hand tightly. they were all interested, and toto was so excited he wanted to bark every minute and to chase and fight every fox he caught sight of; but dorothy held his little wiggling body fast in her arms and commanded him to be good and behave himself. so he finally quieted down, like a wise doggy, deciding there were too many foxes in foxville to fight at one time. by-and-bye they came to a big square, and in the center of the square stood the royal palace. dorothy knew it at once because it had over its great door the carved head of a fox just like the one she had seen on the arch, and this fox was the only one who wore a golden crown. there were many fox-soldiers guarding the door, but they bowed to the captain and admitted him without question. the captain led them through many rooms, where richly dressed foxes were sitting on beautiful chairs or sipping tea, which was being passed around by fox-servants in white aprons. they came to a big doorway covered with heavy curtains of cloth of gold. beside this doorway stood a huge drum. the fox-captain went to this drum and knocked his knees against it--first one knee and then the other--so that the drum said; "boom-boom." "you must all do exactly what i do," ordered the captain; so the shaggy man pounded the drum with his knees, and so did dorothy and so did button-bright. the boy wanted to keep on pounding it with his little fat knees, because he liked the sound of it; but the captain stopped him. toto couldn't pound the drum with his knees and he didn't know enough to wag his tail against it, so dorothy pounded the drum for him and that made him bark, and when the little dog barked the fox-captain scowled. the golden curtains drew back far enough to make an opening, through which marched the captain with the others. the broad, long room they entered was decorated in gold with stained-glass windows of splendid colors. in the center of the room, upon a richly carved golden throne, sat the fox-king, surrounded by a group of other foxes, all of whom wore great spectacles over their eyes, making them look solemn and important. [illustration] dorothy knew the king at once, because she had seen his head carved on the arch and over the doorway of the palace. having met with several other kings in her travels she knew what to do, and at once made a low bow before the throne. the shaggy man bowed, too, and button-bright bobbed his head and said "hello." "most wise and noble potentate of foxville," said the captain, addressing the king in a pompous voice, "i humbly beg to report that i found these strangers on the road leading to your foxy majesty's dominions, and have therefore brought them before you, as is my duty." "so--so," said the king, looking at them keenly. "what brought you here, strangers?" "our legs, may it please your royal hairiness," replied the shaggy man. "what is your business here?" was the next question. "to get away as soon as possible," said the shaggy man. the king didn't know about the magnet, of course; but it made him love the shaggy man at once. "do just as you please about going away," he said; "but i'd like to _show you_ the sights of my city and to entertain your party while you are here. we feel highly honored to have little dorothy with us, i assure you, and we appreciate her kindness in making us a visit. for whatever country dorothy visits is sure to become famous." this speech greatly surprised the little girl, who asked: "how did your majesty know my name?" "why, everybody knows you, my dear," said the fox-king. "don't you realize that? you are quite an important personage since princess ozma of oz made you her friend." "do you know ozma?" she asked, wondering. "i regret to say that i do not," he answered, sadly; "but i hope to meet her soon. you know the princess ozma is to celebrate her birthday on the twenty-first of this month." "is she?" said dorothy. "i didn't know that." "yes; it is to be the most brilliant royal ceremony ever held in any city in fairyland, and i hope you will try to get me an invitation." dorothy thought a moment. "i'm sure ozma would invite you if i asked her," she said; "but how could you get to the land of oz and the emerald city? it's a good way from kansas." "kansas!" he exclaimed, surprised. "why, yes; we are in kansas now, aren't we?" she returned. [illustration] "what a queer notion!" cried the fox-king, beginning to laugh. "whatever made you think this is kansas?" "i left uncle henry's farm only about two hours ago; that's the reason," she said, rather perplexed. "but, tell me, my dear, did you ever see so wonderful a city as foxville in kansas?" he questioned. "no, your majesty." "and haven't you traveled from oz to kansas in less than half a jiffy, by means of the silver shoes and the magic belt?" "yes, your majesty," she acknowledged. "then why do you wonder that an hour or two could bring you to foxville, which is nearer to oz than it is to kansas?" "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy; "is this another fairy adventure?" "it seems to be," said the fox-king, smiling. dorothy turned to the shaggy man, and her face was grave and reproachful. "are you a magician? or a fairy in disguise?" she asked. "did you enchant me when you asked the way to butterfield?" the shaggy man shook his head. "who ever heard of a shaggy fairy?" he replied. "no, dorothy, my dear; i'm not to blame for this journey in any way, i assure you. there's been something strange about me ever since i owned the love magnet; but i don't know what it is any more than you do. i didn't try to get you away from home, at all. if you want to find your way back to the farm i'll go with you willingly, and do my best to help you." "never mind," said the little girl, thoughtfully. "there isn't so much to see in kansas as there is here, and i guess aunt em won't be _very_ much worried; that is, if i don't stay away too long." [illustration: his royal foxiness] "that's right," declared the fox-king, nodding approval. "be contented with your lot, whatever it happens to be, if you are wise. which reminds me that you have a new companion on this adventure--he looks very clever and bright." "he is," said dorothy; and the shaggy man added: "that's his name, your royal foxiness--button bright." king dox [illustration] it was amusing to note the expression on the face of king dox as he looked the boy over, from his sailor hat to his stubby shoes; and it was equally diverting to watch button-bright stare at the king in return. no fox ever beheld a fresher, fairer child's face, and no child had ever before heard a fox talk, or met with one who dressed so handsomely and ruled so big a city. i am sorry to say that no one had ever told the little boy much about fairies of any kind; this being the case, it is easy to understand how much this strange experience startled and astonished him. "how do you like us?" asked the king. "don't know," said button-bright. "of course you don't. it's too short an acquaintance," returned his majesty. "what do you suppose my name is?" "don't know," said button-bright. "how should you? well, i'll tell you. my private name is dox, but a king can't be called by his private name; he has to take one that is official. therefore my official name is king renard the fourth. ren-ard with the accent on the 'ren'." "what's 'ren'?" asked button-bright. "how clever!" exclaimed the king, turning a pleased face toward his counselors. "this boy is indeed remarkably bright. 'what's 'ren''? he asks; and of course 'ren' is nothing at all, all by itself. yes; he's very bright indeed." "that question is what your majesty might call foxy," said one of the counselors, an old grey fox. "so it is," declared the king. turning again to button-bright, he asked: "having told you my name, what would you call me?" "king dox," said the boy. "why?" "'cause 'ren''s nothing at all," was the reply. "good! very good indeed! you certainly have a brilliant mind. do you know why two and two make four?" "no," said button-bright. "clever! clever indeed. of course you don't know. nobody knows why; we only know it's so, and can't tell why it's so. button-bright, those curls and blue eyes do not go well with so much wisdom. they make you look too youthful, and hide your real cleverness. therefore, i will do you a great favor. i will confer upon you the head of a fox, so that you may hereafter look as bright as you really are." [illustration] as he spoke the king waved his paw toward the boy, and at once the pretty curls and fresh round face and big blue eyes were gone, while in their place a fox's head appeared upon button-bright's shoulders--a hairy head with a sharp nose, pointed ears, and keen little eyes. "oh, don't do that!" cried dorothy, shrinking back from her transformed companion with a shocked and dismayed face. "too late, my dear; it's done. but you also shall have a fox's head if you can prove you're as clever as button-bright." "i don't want it; it's dreadful!" she exclaimed; and, hearing this verdict, button-bright began to boo-hoo just as if he were still a little boy. "how can you call that lovely head dreadful?" asked the king. "it's a much prettier face than he had before, to my notion, and my wife says i'm a good judge of beauty. don't cry, little fox-boy. laugh and be proud, because you are so highly favored. how do you like the new head, button-bright?" "d-d-don't n-n-n-know!" sobbed the child. "please, _please_ change him back again, your majesty!" begged dorothy. king renard iv shook his head. "i can't do that," he said; "i haven't the power, even if i wanted to. no, button-bright must wear his fox head, and he'll be sure to love it dearly as soon as he gets used to it." both the shaggy man and dorothy looked grave and anxious, for they were sorrowful that such a misfortune had overtaken their little companion. toto barked at the fox-boy once or twice, not realizing it was his former friend who now wore the animal head; but dorothy cuffed the dog and made him stop. as for the foxes, they all seemed to think button-bright's new head very becoming and that their king had conferred a great honor on this little stranger. it was funny to see the boy reach up to feel of his sharp nose and wide mouth, and wail afresh with grief. he wagged his ears in a comical manner and tears were in his little black eyes. but dorothy couldn't laugh at her friend just yet, because she felt so sorry. just then three little fox-princesses, daughters of the king, entered the room, and when they saw button-bright one exclaimed: "how lovely he is!" and the next one cried in delight: "how sweet he is!" and the third princess clapped her hands with pleasure and said, "how beautiful he is!" button-bright stopped crying and asked timidly: "am i?" "in all the world there is not another face so pretty," declared the biggest fox-princess. "you must live with us always, and be our brother," said the next. "we shall all love you dearly," the third said. this praise did much to comfort the boy, and he looked around and tried to smile. it was a pitiful attempt, because the fox face was new and stiff, and dorothy thought his expression more stupid than before the transformation. "i think we ought to be going now," said the shaggy man, uneasily, for he didn't know what the king might take into his head to do next. "don't leave us yet, i beg of you," pleaded king renard. "i intend to have several days of feasting and merrymaking, in honor of your visit." "have it after we're gone, for we can't wait," said dorothy, decidedly. but seeing this displeased the king, she added: "if i'm going to get ozma to invite you to her party i'll have to find her as soon as poss'ble, you know." in spite of all the beauty of foxville and the gorgeous dresses of its inhabitants, both the girl and the shaggy man felt they were not quite safe there, and would be glad to see the last of it. "but it is now evening," the king reminded them, "and you must stay with us until morning, anyhow. therefore i invite you to be my guests at dinner, and to attend the theater afterward and sit in the royal box. to-morrow morning, if you really insist upon it, you may resume your journey." they consented to this, and some of the fox-servants led them to a suite of lovely rooms in the big palace. button-bright was afraid to be left alone, so dorothy took him into her own room. while a maid-fox dressed the little girl's hair--which was a bit tangled--and put some bright, fresh ribbons in it, another maid-fox combed the hair on poor button-bright's face and head and brushed it carefully, tying a pink bow to each of his pointed ears. the maids wanted to dress the children in fine costumes of woven feathers, such as all the foxes wore; but neither of them consented to that. [illustration] "a sailor suit and a fox head do not go well together," said one of the maids; "for no fox was ever a sailor that i can remember." "i'm not a fox!" cried button-bright. "alas, no," agreed the maid. "but you've got a lovely fox head on your skinny shoulders, and that's _almost_ as good as being a fox." the boy, reminded of his misfortune, began to cry again. dorothy petted and comforted him and promised to find some way to restore him his own head. "if we can manage to get to ozma," she said, "the princess will change you back to yourself in half a second; so you just wear that fox head as comf't'bly as you can, dear, and don't worry about it at all. it isn't nearly as pretty as your own head, no matter what the foxes say; but you can get along with it for a little while longer, can't you?" "don't know," said button-bright, doubtfully; but he didn't cry any more after that. dorothy let the maids pin ribbons to her shoulders, after which they were ready for the king's dinner. when they met the shaggy man in the splendid drawing-room of the palace they found him just the same as before. he had refused to give up his shaggy clothes for new ones, because if he did that he would no longer be the shaggy man, he said, and he might have to get acquainted with himself all over again. he told dorothy he had brushed his shaggy hair and whiskers; but she thought he must have brushed them the wrong way, for they were quite as shaggy as before. as for the company of foxes assembled to dine with the strangers, they were most beautifully costumed, and their rich dresses made dorothy's simple gown and button-bright's sailor suit and the shaggy man's shaggy clothes look commonplace. but they treated their guests with great respect and the king's dinner was a very good dinner indeed. foxes, as you know, are fond of chicken and other fowl; so they served chicken soup and roasted turkey and stewed duck and fried grouse and broiled quail and goose pie, and as the cooking was excellent the king's guests enjoyed the meal and ate heartily of the various dishes. the party went to the theater, where they saw a play acted by foxes dressed in costumes of brilliantly colored feathers. the play was about a fox-girl who was stolen by some wicked wolves and carried to their cave; and just as they were about to kill her and eat her a company of fox-soldiers marched up, saved the girl, and put all the wicked wolves to death. "how do you like it?" the king asked dorothy. "pretty well," she answered. "it reminds me of one of mr. aesop's fables." "don't mention aesop to me, i beg of you!" exclaimed king dox. "i hate that man's name. he wrote a good deal about foxes, but always made them out cruel and wicked, whereas we are gentle and kind, as you may see." "but his fables showed you to be wise and clever, and more shrewd than other animals," said the shaggy man, thoughtfully. [illustration] "so we are. there is no question about our knowing more than men do," replied the king, proudly. "but we employ our wisdom to do good, instead of harm; so that horrid aesop did not know what he was talking about." they did not like to contradict him, because they felt he ought to know the nature of foxes better than men did; so they sat still and watched the play, and button-bright became so interested that for the time he forgot he wore a fox head. afterward they went back to the palace and slept in soft beds stuffed with feathers; for the foxes raised many fowl for food, and used their feathers for clothing and to sleep upon. dorothy wondered why the animals living in foxville did not wear just their own hairy skins, as wild foxes do; when she mentioned it to king dox he said they clothed themselves because they were civilized. "but you were born without clothes," she observed, "and you don't seem to me to need them." "so were human beings born without clothes," he replied; "and until they became civilized they wore only their natural skins. but to become civilized means to dress as elaborately and prettily as possible, and to make a show of your clothes so your neighbors will envy you, and for that reason both civilized foxes and civilized humans spend most of their time dressing themselves." "i don't," declared the shaggy man. "that is true," said the king, looking at him carefully: "but perhaps you are not civilized." after a sound sleep and a good night's rest they had their breakfast with the king and then bade his majesty good-bye. "you've been kind to us--'cept poor button-bright," said dorothy, "and we've had a nice time in foxville." "then," said king dox, "perhaps you'll be good enough to get me an invitation to princess ozma's birthday celebration." "i'll try," she promised; "if i see her in time." "it's on the twenty-first, remember," he continued; "and if you'll just see that i'm invited i'll find a way to cross the dreadful desert into the marvelous land of oz. i've always wanted to visit the emerald city, so i'm sure it was fortunate you arrived here just when you did, you being princess ozma's friend and able to assist me in getting the invitation." "if i see ozma i'll ask her to invite you," she replied. the fox-king had a delightful luncheon put up for them, which the shaggy man shoved in his pocket, and the fox-captain escorted them to an arch at the side of the village opposite the one by which they had entered. here they found more soldiers guarding the road. "are you afraid of enemies?" asked dorothy. "no; because we are watchful and able to protect ourselves," answered the captain. "but this road leads to another village peopled by big, stupid beasts who might cause us trouble if they thought we were afraid of them." "what beasts are they?" asked the shaggy man. the captain hesitated to answer. finally he said: "you will learn all about them when you arrive at their city. but do not be afraid of them. button-bright is so wonderfully clever and has now such an intelligent face that i'm sure he will manage to find a way to protect you." this made dorothy and the shaggy man rather uneasy, for they had not so much confidence in the fox-boy's wisdom as the captain seemed to have. but as their escort would say no more about the beasts, they bade him good-bye and proceeded on their journey. [illustration] the rainbow's daughter [illustration] toto, now allowed to run about as he pleased, was glad to be free again and able to bark at the birds and chase the butterflies. the country around them was charming, yet in the pretty fields of wild-flowers and groves of leafy trees were no houses whatever, or sign of any inhabitants. birds flew through the air and cunning white rabbits darted amongst the tall grasses and green bushes; dorothy noticed even the ants toiling busily along the roadway, bearing gigantic loads of clover seed; but of people there were none at all. they walked briskly on for an hour or two, for even little button-bright was a good walker and did not tire easily. at length as they turned a curve in the road they beheld just before them a curious sight. a little girl, radiant and beautiful, shapely as a fairy and exquisitely dressed, was dancing gracefully in the middle of the lonely road, whirling slowly this way and that, her dainty feet twinkling in sprightly fashion. she was clad in flowing, fluffy robes of soft material that reminded dorothy of woven cobwebs, only it was colored in soft tintings of violet, rose, topaz, olive, azure, and white, mingled together most harmoniously in stripes which melted one into the other with soft blendings. her hair was like spun gold and floated around her in a cloud, no strand being fastened or confined by either pin or ornament or ribbon. filled with wonder and admiration our friends approached and stood watching this fascinating dance. the girl was no taller than dorothy, although more slender; nor did she seem any older than our little heroine. suddenly she paused and abandoned the dance, as if for the first time observing the presence of strangers. as she faced them, shy as a frightened fawn, poised upon one foot as if to fly the next instant, dorothy was astonished to see tears flowing from her violet eyes and trickling down her lovely rose-hued cheeks. that the dainty maiden should dance and weep at the same time was indeed surprising; so dorothy asked in a soft, sympathetic voice: [illustration: polychrome--the rainbow's daughter] "are you unhappy, little girl?" "very!" was the reply; "i am lost." "why, so are we," said dorothy, smiling; "but we don't cry about it." "don't you? why not?" "'cause i've been lost before, and always got found again," answered dorothy, simply. "but i've never been lost before," murmured the dainty maiden, "and i'm worried and afraid." "you were dancing," remarked dorothy, in a puzzled tone of voice. "oh, that was just to keep warm," explained the maiden, quickly. "it was not because i felt happy or gay, i assure you." dorothy looked at her closely. her gauzy flowing robes might not be very warm, yet the weather wasn't at all chilly, but rather mild and balmy, like a spring day. "who are you, dear?" she asked, gently. "i'm polychrome," was the reply. "polly whom?" "polychrome. i'm the daughter of the rainbow." "oh!" said dorothy, with a gasp; "i didn't know the rainbow had children. but i _might_ have known it, before you spoke. you couldn't really be anything else." "why not?" inquired polychrome, as if surprised. "because you're so lovely and sweet." the little maiden smiled through her tears, came up to dorothy, and placed her slender fingers in the kansas girl's chubby hand. "you'll be my friend--won't you?" she said, pleadingly. [illustration] "of course." "and what is your name?" "i'm dorothy; and this is my friend shaggy man, who owns the love magnet; and this is button-bright--only you don't see him as he really is because the fox-king carelessly changed his head into a fox head. but the real button-bright is good to look at, and i hope to get him changed back to himself, some time." the rainbow's daughter nodded cheerfully, no longer afraid of her new companions. "but who is this?" she asked, pointing to toto, who was sitting before her wagging his tail in the most friendly manner and admiring the pretty maid with his bright eyes. "is this, also, some enchanted person?" "oh no, polly--i may call you polly, mayn't i? your whole name's awful hard to say." "call me polly if you wish, dorothy." "well, polly, toto's just a dog; but he has more sense than button-bright, to tell the truth; and i'm very fond of him." "so am i," said polychrome, bending gracefully to pat toto's head. "but how did the rainbow's daughter ever get on this lonely road, and become lost?" asked the shaggy man, who had listened wonderingly to all this. "why, my father stretched his rainbow over here this morning, so that one end of it touched this road," was the reply; "and i was dancing upon the pretty rays, as i love to do, and never noticed i was getting too far over the bend in the circle. suddenly i began to slide, and i went faster and faster until at last i bumped on the ground, at the very end. just then father lifted the rainbow again, without noticing me at all, and though i tried to seize the end of it and hold fast, it melted away entirely and i was left alone and helpless on the cold, hard earth!" "it doesn't seem cold to me, polly," said dorothy; "but perhaps you're not warmly dressed." "i'm so used to living nearer the sun," replied the rainbow's daughter, "that at first i feared i would freeze down here. but my dance has warmed me some, and now i wonder how i am ever to get home again." "won't your father miss you, and look for you, and let down another rainbow for you?" [illustration] "perhaps so; but he's busy just now because it rains in so many parts of the world at this season, and he has to set his rainbow in a lot of different places. what would you advise me to do, dorothy?" "come with us," was the answer. "i'm going to try to find my way to the emerald city, which is in the fairy land of oz. the emerald city is ruled by a friend of mine, the princess ozma, and if we can manage to get there i'm sure she will know a way to send you home to your father again." "do you really think so?" asked polychrome, anxiously. "i'm pretty sure." "then i'll go with you," said the little maid; "for travel will help keep me warm, and father can find me in one part of the world as well as another--if he gets time to look for me." "come along, then," said the shaggy man, cheerfully; and they started on once more. polly walked beside dorothy a while, holding her new friend's hand as if she feared to let it go; but her nature seemed as light and buoyant as her fleecy robes, for suddenly she darted ahead and whirled round in a giddy dance. then she tripped back to them with sparkling eyes and smiling cheeks, having regained her usual happy mood and forgotten all her worry about being lost. they found her a charming companion, and her dancing and laughter--for she laughed at times like the tinkling of a silver bell--did much to enliven their journey and keep them contented. the city of beasts [illustration] when noon came they opened the fox-king's basket of luncheon, and found a nice roasted turkey with cranberry sauce and some slices of bread and butter. as they sat on the grass by the roadside the shaggy man cut up the turkey with his pocket-knife and passed slices of it around. "haven't you any dewdrops, or mist-cakes, or cloud-buns?" asked polychrome, longingly. "'course not," replied dorothy. "we eat solid things, down here on the earth. but there's a bottle of cold tea. try some, won't you?" the rainbow's daughter watched button-bright devour one leg of the turkey. "is it good?" she asked. he nodded. "do you think i could eat it?" "not this," said button-bright. "but i mean another piece?" "don't know," he replied. "well, i'm going to try, for i'm very hungry," she decided, and took a thin slice of the white breast of turkey which the shaggy man cut for her, as well as a bit of bread and butter. when she tasted it polychrome thought the turkey was good--better even than mist-cakes; but a little satisfied her hunger and she finished with a tiny sip of cold tea. "that's about as much as a fly would eat," said dorothy, who was making a good meal herself. "but i know some people in oz who eat nothing at all." "who are they?" inquired the shaggy man. "one is a scarecrow who's stuffed with straw, and the other a woodman made out of tin. they haven't any appetites inside of 'em, you see; so they never eat anything at all." "are they alive?" asked button-bright. "oh yes," replied dorothy; "and they're very clever and very nice, too. if we get to oz i'll introduce them to you." "do you really expect to get to oz?" inquired the shaggy man, taking a drink of cold tea. [illustration: polly sipped a little cold tea] "i don't know just what to 'spect," answered the child, seriously; "but i've noticed if i happen to get lost i'm almost sure to come to the land of oz in the end, somehow 'r other; so i may get there this time. but i can't promise, you know; all i can do is wait and see." "will the scarecrow scare me?" asked button-bright. "no; 'cause you're not a crow," she returned. "he has the loveliest smile you ever saw--only it's painted on and he can't help it." luncheon being over they started again upon their journey, the shaggy man, dorothy and button-bright walking soberly along, side by side, and the rainbow's daughter dancing merrily before them. sometimes she darted along the road so swiftly that she was nearly out of sight, then she came tripping back to greet them with her silvery laughter. but once she came back more sedately, to say: "there's a city a little way off." "i 'spected that," returned dorothy; "for the fox-people warned us there was one on this road. it's filled with stupid beasts of some sort, but we mustn't be afraid of 'em 'cause they won't hurt us." "all right," said button-bright; but polychrome didn't know whether it was all right or not. "it's a big city," she said, "and the road runs straight through it." "never mind," said the shaggy man; "as long as i carry the love magnet every living thing will love me, and you may be sure i shan't allow any of my friends to be harmed in any way." this comforted them somewhat, and they moved on again. pretty soon they came to a sign-post that read: "haf a myle to dunkiton." "oh," said the shaggy man, "if they're donkeys we've nothing to fear at all." "they may kick," said dorothy, doubtfully. "then we will cut some switches, and make them behave," he replied. at the first tree he cut himself a long, slender switch from one of the branches, and shorter switches for the others. "don't be afraid to order the beasts around," he said; "they're used to it." before long the road brought them to the gates of the city. there was a high wall all around, which had been whitewashed, and the gate just before our travelers was a mere opening in the wall, with no bars across it. no towers or steeples or domes showed above the enclosure, nor was any living thing to be seen as our friends drew near. suddenly, as they were about to boldly enter through the opening, there arose a harsh clamor of sound that swelled and echoed on every side, until they were nearly deafened by the racket and had to put their fingers to their ears to keep the noise out. it was like the firing of many cannon, only there were no cannon-balls or other missiles to be seen; it was like the rolling of mighty thunder, only not a cloud was in the sky; it was like the roar of countless breakers on a rugged seashore, only there was no sea or other water anywhere about. they hesitated to advance; but, as the noise did no harm, they entered through the whitewashed wall and quickly discovered the cause of the turmoil. inside were suspended many sheets of tin or thin iron, and against these metal sheets a row of donkeys were pounding their heels with vicious kicks. [illustration] the shaggy man ran up to the nearest donkey and gave the beast a sharp blow with his switch. "stop that noise!" he shouted; and the donkey stopped kicking the metal sheet and turned its head to look with surprise at the shaggy man. he switched the next donkey, and made him stop, and then the next, so that gradually the rattling of heels ceased and the awful noise subsided. the donkeys stood in a group and eyed the strangers with fear and trembling. "what do you mean by making such a racket?" asked the shaggy man, sternly. "we were scaring away the foxes," said one of the donkeys, meekly. "usually they run fast enough when they hear the noise, which makes them afraid." "there are no foxes here," said the shaggy man. "i beg to differ with you. there's one, anyhow," replied the donkey, sitting upright on its haunches and waving a hoof toward button-bright. "we saw him coming and thought the whole army of foxes was marching to attack us." "button-bright isn't a fox," explained the shaggy man. "he's only wearing a fox head for a time, until he can get his own head back." "oh, i see," remarked the donkey, waving its left ear reflectively. "i'm sorry we made such a mistake, and had all our work and worry for nothing." the other donkeys by this time were sitting up and examining the strangers with big, glassy eyes. they made a queer picture, indeed; for they wore wide, white collars around their necks and the collars had many scallops and points. the gentlemen-donkeys wore high pointed caps set between their great ears, and the lady-donkeys wore sunbonnets with holes cut in the top for the ears to stick through. but they had no other clothing except their hairy skins, although many wore gold and silver bangles on their front wrists and bands of different metals on their rear ankles. when they were kicking they had braced themselves with their front legs, but now they all stood or sat upright on their hind legs and used their front ones as arms. having no fingers or hands the beasts were rather clumsy, as you may guess; but dorothy was surprised to observe how many things they could do with their stiff, heavy hoofs. some of the donkeys were white, some were brown, or gray, or black, or spotted; but their hair was sleek and smooth and their broad collars and caps gave them a neat, if whimsical, appearance. "this is a nice way to welcome visitors, i must say!" remarked the shaggy man, in a reproachful tone. "oh, we did not mean to be impolite," replied a grey donkey which had not spoken before. "but you were not expected, nor did you send in your visiting cards, as it is proper to do." "there is some truth in that," admitted the shaggy man; "but, now you are informed that we are important and distinguished travelers, i trust you will accord us proper consideration." these big words delighted the donkeys, and made them bow to the shaggy man with great respect. said the grey one: "you shall be taken before his great and glorious majesty king kik-a-bray, who will greet you as becomes your exalted stations." "that's right," answered dorothy. "take us to some one who knows something." [illustration] "oh, we all know something, my child, or we shouldn't be donkeys," asserted the grey one, with dignity. "the word 'donkey' means 'clever,' you know." "i didn't know it," she replied. "i thought it meant 'stupid'." "not at all, my child. if you will look in the encyclopedia donkaniara you will find i'm correct. but come; i will myself lead you before our splendid, exalted, and most intellectual ruler." all donkeys love big words, so it is no wonder the grey one used so many of them. the shaggy man's transformation [illustration] they found the houses of the town all low and square and built of bricks, neatly whitewashed inside and out. the houses were not set in rows, forming regular streets, but placed here and there in a haphazard manner which made it puzzling for a stranger to find his way. "stupid people must have streets and numbered houses in their cities, to guide them where to go," observed the grey donkey, as he walked before the visitors on his hind legs, in an awkward but comical manner; "but clever donkeys know their way about without such absurd marks. moreover, a mixed city is much prettier than one with straight streets." dorothy did not agree with this, but she said nothing to contradict it. presently she saw a sign on a house that read: "madam de fayke, hoofist," and she asked their conductor: "what's a 'hoofist,' please?" "one who reads your fortune in your hoofs," replied the grey donkey. "oh, i see," said the little girl. "you are quite civilized here." "dunkiton," he replied, "is the center of the world's highest civilization." they came to a house where two youthful donkeys were whitewashing the wall, and dorothy stopped a moment to watch them. they dipped the ends of their tails, which were much like paint-brushes, into a pail of whitewash, backed up against the house, and wagged their tails right and left until the whitewash was rubbed on the wall, after which they dipped these funny brushes in the pail again and repeated the performance. "that must be fun," said button-bright. "no; it's work," replied the old donkey; "but we make our youngsters do all the whitewashing, to keep them out of mischief." "don't they go to school?" asked dorothy. "all donkeys are born wise," was the reply, "so the only school we need is the school of experience. books are only fit for those who know nothing, and so are obliged to learn things from other people." [illustration] "in other words, the more stupid one is the more he thinks he knows," observed the shaggy man. the grey donkey paid no attention to this speech because he had just stopped before a house which had painted over the doorway a pair of hoofs, with a donkey tail between them and a rude crown and sceptre above. "i'll see if his magnificent majesty king kik-a-bray is at home," said he. he lifted his head and called "whee-haw! whee-haw! whee-haw!" three times, in a shocking voice, turning about and kicking with his heels against the panel of the door. for a time there was no reply; then the door opened far enough to permit a donkey's head to stick out and look at them. it was a white head, with big, awful ears and round, solemn eyes. "have the foxes gone?" it asked, in a trembling voice. "they haven't been here, most stupendous majesty," replied the grey one. "the new arrivals prove to be travelers of distinction." "oh," said the king, in a relieved tone of voice. "let them come in." he opened the door wide, and the party marched into a big room, which, dorothy thought, looked quite unlike a king's palace. there were mats of woven grasses on the floor and the place was clean and neat; but his majesty had no other furniture at all--perhaps because he didn't need it. he squatted down in the center of the room and a little brown donkey ran and brought a big gold crown which it placed on the monarch's head, and a golden staff with a jeweled ball at the end of it, which the king held between his front hoofs as he sat upright. "now, then," said his majesty, waving his long ears gently to and fro, "tell me why you are here, and what you expect me to do for you." he eyed button-bright rather sharply, as if afraid of the little boy's queer head, though it was the shaggy man who undertook to reply. [illustration] "most noble and supreme ruler of dunkiton," he said, trying not to laugh in the solemn king's face, "we are strangers traveling through your dominions, and have entered your magnificent city because the road led through it, and there was no way to go around. all we desire is to pay our respects to your majesty--the cleverest king in all the world, i'm sure--and then to continue on our way." this polite speech pleased the king very much; indeed, it pleased him so much that it proved an unlucky speech for the shaggy man. perhaps the love magnet helped to win his majesty's affection as well as the flattery, but however this may be the white donkey looked kindly upon the speaker and said: "only a donkey should be able to use such fine, big words, and you are too wise and admirable in all ways to be a mere man. also i feel that i love you as well as i do my own favored people, so i will bestow upon you the greatest gift within my power--a donkey's head." as he spoke he waved his jeweled staff. although the shaggy man cried out and tried to leap backward and escape, it proved of no use. suddenly his own head was gone and a donkey head appeared in its place--a brown, shaggy head so absurd and droll that dorothy and polly both broke into merry laughter, and even button-bright's fox face wore a smile. "dear me! dear me!" cried the shaggy man, feeling of his shaggy new head and his long ears. "what a misfortune--what a great misfortune! give me back my own head, you stupid king--if you love me at all!" "don't you like it?" asked the king, surprised. "hee-haw! i hate it! take it away--quick!" said the shaggy man. [illustration: king kick-a-bray works magic on the shaggy man] "but i can't do that," was the reply. '"my magic works only one way. i can _do_ things, but i can't _un_ do them. you'll have to find the truth pond, and bathe in its water, in order to get back your own head. but i advise you not to do that. this head is much more beautiful than the old one." "that's a matter of taste," said dorothy. "where is the truth pond?" asked the shaggy man, earnestly. "somewhere in the land of oz; but just the exact location of it i can not tell," was the answer. "don't worry, shaggy man," said dorothy, smiling because her friend wagged his new ears so comically. "if the truth pond is in oz we'll be sure to find it when we get there." "oh! are you going to the land of oz?" asked king kik-a-bray. "i don't know," she replied; "but we've been told we are nearer the land of oz than to kansas, and if that's so the quickest way for me to get home is to find ozma." "haw-haw! do you know the mighty princess ozma?" asked the king, his tone both surprised and eager. "'course i do; she's my friend," said dorothy. "then perhaps you'll do me a favor," continued the white donkey, much excited. "what is it?" she asked. "perhaps you can get me an invitation to princess ozma's birthday celebration, which will be the grandest royal function ever held in fairyland. i'd love to go." "hee-haw! you deserve punishment, rather than reward, for giving me this dreadful head," said the shaggy man, sorrowfully. "i wish you wouldn't say 'hee-haw' so much," polychrome begged him; "it makes cold chills run down my back." "but i can't help it, my dear; my donkey head wants to bray continually," he replied. "doesn't your fox head want to yelp every minute?" he asked button-bright. "don't know," said the boy, still staring at the shaggy man's ears. these seemed to interest him greatly, and the sight also made him forget his own fox head, which was a comfort. "what do you think, polly? shall i promise the donkey king an invitation to ozma's party?" asked dorothy of the rainbow's daughter, who was flitting about the room like a sunbeam because she could never keep still. "do as you please, dear," answered polychrome. "he might help to amuse the guests of the princess." "then, if you will give us some supper and a place to sleep to-night, and let us get started on our journey early tomorrow morning," said dorothy to the king, "i'll ask ozma to invite you--if i happen to get to oz." "good! hee-haw! excellent!" cried kik-a-bray, much pleased. "you shall all have fine suppers and good beds. what food would you prefer, a bran mash or ripe oats in the shell?" [illustration] "neither one," replied dorothy, promptly. "perhaps plain hay, or some sweet juicy grass would suit you better," suggested kik-a-bray, musingly. "is that all you have to eat?" asked the girl. "what more do you desire?" "well, you see we're not donkeys," she explained, "and so we're used to other food. the foxes gave us a nice supper in foxville." "we'd like some dewdrops and mist-cakes," said polychrome. "i'd prefer apples and a ham sandwich," declared the shaggy man; "for although i've a donkey head i still have my own particular stomach." "i want pie," said button-bright. "i think some beefsteak and chocolate layer-cake would taste best," said dorothy. "hee-haw! i declare!" exclaimed the king. "it seems each one of you wants a different food. how queer all living creatures are, except donkeys!" "and donkeys like you are queerest of all," laughed polychrome. "well," decided the king, "i suppose my magic staff will produce the things you crave; if you are lacking in good taste it is not my fault." with this he waved his staff with the jeweled ball, and before them instantly appeared a tea-table, set with linen and pretty dishes, and on the table were the very things each had wished for. dorothy's beefsteak was smoking hot, and the shaggy man's apples were plump and rosy-cheeked. the king had not thought to provide chairs, so they all stood in their places around the table and ate with good appetite, being hungry. the rainbow's daughter found three tiny dewdrops on a crystal plate, and button-bright had a big slice of apple-pie, which he devoured eagerly. afterward the king called the brown donkey, which was his favorite servant, and bade it lead his guests to the vacant house where they were to pass the night. it had only one room and no furniture except beds of clean straw and a few mats of woven grasses; but our travelers were contented with these simple things because they realized it was the best the donkey-king had to offer them. as soon as it was dark they lay down on the mats and slept comfortably until morning. at daybreak there was a dreadful noise throughout the city. every donkey in the place brayed. when he heard this the shaggy man woke up and called out "hee-haw!" as loud as he could. [illustration] "stop that!" said button-bright, in a cross voice. both dorothy and polly looked at the shaggy man reproachfully. "i couldn't help it, my dears," he said, as if ashamed of his bray; "but i'll try not to do it again." of course they forgave him, for as he still had the love magnet in his pocket they were all obliged to love him as much as ever. they did not see the king again, but kik-a-bray remembered them; for a table appeared again in their room with the same food upon it as on the night before. "don't want pie for breakfus'," said button-bright. "i'll give you some of my beefsteak," proposed dorothy; "there's plenty for us all." that suited the boy better, but the shaggy man said he was content with his apples and sandwiches, although he ended the meal by eating button-bright's pie. polly liked her dewdrops and mist-cakes better than any other food, so they all enjoyed an excellent breakfast. toto had the scraps left from the beefsteak, and he stood up nicely on his hind legs while dorothy fed them to him. breakfast ended, they passed through the village to the side opposite that by which they had entered, the brown servant-donkey guiding them through the maze of scattered houses. there was the road again, leading far away into the unknown country beyond. "king kik-a-bray says you must not forget his invitation," said the brown donkey, as they passed through the opening in the wall. "i shan't," promised dorothy. [illustration] perhaps no one ever beheld a more strangely assorted group than the one which now walked along the road, through pretty green fields and past groves of feathery pepper-trees and fragrant mimosa. polychrome, her beautiful gauzy robes floating around her like a rainbow cloud, went first, dancing back and forth and darting now here to pluck a wild-flower or there to watch a beetle crawl across the path. toto ran after her at times, barking joyously the while, only to become sober again and trot along at dorothy's heels. the little kansas girl walked holding button-bright's hand clasped in her own, and the wee boy with his fox head covered by the sailor hat presented an odd appearance. strangest of all, perhaps, was the shaggy man, with his shaggy donkey head, who shuffled along in the rear with his hands thrust deep in his big pockets. none of the party was really unhappy. all were straying in an unknown land and had suffered more or less annoyance and discomfort; but they realized they were having a fairy adventure in a fairy country, and were much interested in finding out what would happen next. the musicker [illustration] about the middle of the forenoon they began to go up a long hill. by-and-by this hill suddenly dropped down into a pretty valley, where the travelers saw to their surprise, a small house standing by the roadside. it was the first house they had seen, and they hastened into the valley to discover who lived there. no one was in sight as they approached, but when they began to get nearer the house they heard queer sounds coming from it. they could not make these out at first, but as they became louder our friends thought they heard a sort of music like that made by a wheezy hand-organ; the music fell upon their ears in this way: _tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom!_ _oom, pom-pom! oom, pom-pom!_ _tiddle-tiddle-tiddle, oom pom-pom!_ _oom, pom-pom--pah!_ "what is it, a band or a mouth-organ?" asked dorothy. "don't know," said button-bright. "sounds to me like a played-out phonograph," said the shaggy man, lifting his enormous ears to listen. "oh, there just _couldn't_ be a funnygraf in fairyland!" cried dorothy. "it's rather pretty, isn't it?" asked polychrome, trying to dance to the strains. _tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,_ _oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom!_ came the music to their ears, more distinctly as they drew nearer the house. presently they saw a little fat man sitting on a bench before the door. he wore a red, braided jacket that reached to his waist, a blue waistcoat, and white trousers with gold stripes down the sides. on his bald head was perched a little, round, red cap held in place by a rubber elastic underneath his chin. his face was round, his eyes a faded blue, and he wore white cotton gloves. the man leaned on a stout gold-headed cane, bending forward on his seat to watch his visitors approach. [illustration] singularly enough, the musical sounds they had heard seemed to come from the inside of the fat man himself; for he was playing no instrument nor was any to be seen near him. they came up and stood in a row, staring at him, and he stared back while the queer sounds came from him as before: _tiddle-iddle-iddle, oom pom-pom,_ _oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom!_ _tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,_ _oom, pom-pom--pah!_ "why, he's a reg'lar musicker!" said button-bright. "what's a musicker?" asked dorothy. "him!" said the boy. hearing this the fat man sat up a little stiffer than before, as if he had received a compliment, and still came the sounds: _tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,_ _oom pom-pom, oom---- _ "stop it!" cried the shaggy man, earnestly. "stop that dreadful noise!" the fat man looked at him sadly and began his reply. when he spoke the music changed and the words seemed to accompany the notes. he said--or rather sang: _it isn't a noise that you hear,_ _but music, harmonic and clear._ _my breath makes me play_ _like an organ, all day--_ _that bass note is in my left ear._ "how funny!" exclaimed dorothy; "he says his breath makes the music." "that's all nonsense," declared the shaggy man; but now the music began again, and they all listened carefully. _my lungs are full of reeds like those_ _in organs, therefore i suppose,_ _if i breathe in or out my nose,_ _the reeds are bound to play._ _so, as i breathe to live, you know,_ _i squeeze out music as i go;_ _i'm very sorry this is so---- _ _forgive my piping, pray!_ [illustration] "poor man," said polychrome; "he can't help it. what a great misfortune it is!" "yes," replied the shaggy man; "we are only obliged to hear this music a short time, until we leave him and go away; but the poor fellow must listen to himself as long as he lives, and that is enough to drive him crazy. don't you think so?" "don't know," said button-bright. toto said "bow-wow!" and the others laughed. "perhaps that's why he lives all alone," suggested dorothy. "yes; if he had neighbors they might do him an injury," responded the shaggy man. all this while the little fat musicker was breathing the notes: _tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom, pom-pom,_ and they had to speak loud in order to hear themselves. the shaggy man said: "who are you, sir?" the reply came in the shape of this sing-song: _i'm allegro da capo, a very famous man;_ _just find another, high or low, to match me if you can._ _some people try, but can't, to play_ _and have to practice every day;_ _but i've been musical alway, since first my life began._ "why, i b'lieve he's proud of it," exclaimed dorothy, "and seems to me i've heard worse music than he makes." "where?" asked button-bright. "i've forgotten, just now. but mr. da capo is certainly a strange person--isn't he?--and p'r'aps he's the only one of his kind in all the world." this praise seemed to please the little fat musicker, for he swelled out his chest, looked important and sang as follows: _i wear no band around me,_ _and yet i am a band!_ _i do not strain to make my strains_ _but, on the other hand,_ _my toot is always destitute_ _of flats or other errors;_ _to see sharp and be natural are_ _for me but minor terrors._ "i don't quite understand that," said polychrome, with a puzzled look; "but perhaps it's because i'm accustomed only to the music of the spheres." "what's that?" asked button-bright. "oh, polly means the atmosphere and hemisphere, i s'pose," explained dorothy. "oh," said button-bright. "bow-wow!" said toto. [illustration] but the musicker was still breathing his constant _oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom---- _ and it seemed to jar on the shaggy man's nerves. "stop it, can't you?" he cried, angrily; "or breathe in a whisper; or put a clothes-pin on your nose. do something, anyhow!" but the fat one, with a sad look, sang this answer: _"music hath charms, and it may_ _soothe even the savage, they say;_ _so if savage you feel_ _just list to my reel,_ _for sooth to say that's the real way."_ the shaggy man had to laugh at this, and when he laughed he stretched his donkey mouth wide open. said dorothy: "i don't know how good his poetry is, but it seems to fit the notes, so that's all that can be 'xpected." "i like it," said button-bright, who was staring hard at the musicker, his little legs spread wide apart. to the surprise of his companions, the boy asked this long question: "if i swallowed a mouth-organ, what would i be?" "an organette," said the shaggy man. "but come, my dears; i think the best thing we can do is to continue on our journey before button-bright swallows anything. we must try to find that land of oz, you know." hearing this speech the musicker sang, quickly: _if you go to the hand of oz_ _please take me along, because_ _on ozma's birthday_ _i'm anxious to play_ _the loveliest song ever was._ "no, thank you," said dorothy; "we prefer to travel alone. but if i see ozma i'll tell her you want to come to her birthday party." "let's be going," urged the shaggy man, anxiously. polly was already dancing along the road, far in advance, and the others turned to follow her. toto did not like the fat musicker and made a grab for his chubby leg. dorothy quickly caught up the growling little dog and hurried after her companions, who were walking faster than usual in order to get out of hearing. they had to climb a hill, and until they got to the top they could not escape the musicker's monotonous piping: _"oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom;_ _tiddle-iddle-widdle, oom, pom-pom;_ _oom, pom-pom--pah!"_ as they passed the brow of the hill, however, and descended on the other side, the sounds gradually died away, whereat they all felt much relieved. [illustration] "i'm glad i don't have to live with the organ-man; aren't you, polly?" said dorothy. "yes, indeed," answered the rainbow's daughter. "he's nice," declared button-bright, soberly. "i hope your princess ozma won't invite him to her birthday celebration," remarked the shaggy man; "for the fellow's music would drive her guests all crazy. you've given me an idea, button-bright; i believe the musicker must have swallowed an accordeon in his youth." "what's 'cordeon?" asked the boy. "it's a kind of pleating," explained dorothy, putting down the dog. "bow-wow!" said toto, and ran away at a mad gallop to chase a bumble-bee. facing the scoodlers [illustration] the country wasn't so pretty now. before the travelers appeared a rocky plain covered with hills on which grew nothing green. they were nearing some low mountains, too, and the road, which before had been smooth and pleasant to walk upon, grew rough and uneven. button-bright's little feet stumbled more than once, and polychrome ceased her dancing because the walking was now so difficult that she had no trouble to keep warm. it had become afternoon, yet there wasn't a thing for their luncheon except two apples which the shaggy man had taken from the breakfast table. he divided these into four pieces and gave a portion to each of his companions. dorothy and button-bright were glad to get theirs; but polly was satisfied with a small bite, and toto did not like apples. "do you know," asked the rainbow's daughter, "if this is the right road to the emerald city?" "no, i don't," replied dorothy; "but it's the only road in this part of the country, so we may as well go to the end of it." "it looks now as if it might end pretty soon," remarked the shaggy man; "and what shall we do if it does?" "don't know," said button-bright. "if i had my magic belt," replied dorothy, thoughtfully, "it could do us a lot of good just now." "what is your magic belt?" asked polychrome. "it's a thing i captured from the nome king one day, and it can do 'most any wonderful thing. but i left it with ozma, you know; 'cause magic won't work in kansas, but only in fairy countries." "is this a fairy country?" asked button-bright. "i should think you'd know," said the little girl, gravely. "if it wasn't a fairy country you couldn't have a fox head and the shaggy man couldn't have a donkey head, and the rainbow's daughter would be invis'ble." "what's that?" asked the boy. "you don't seem to know anything, button-bright. invis'ble is a thing you can't see." "then toto's invisible," declared the boy, and dorothy found he was right. toto had disappeared from view, but they could hear him barking furiously among the heaps of grey rock ahead of them. [illustration] they moved forward a little faster to see what the dog was barking at, and found perched upon a point of rock by the roadside a curious creature. it had the form of a man, middle-sized and rather slender and graceful; but as it sat silent and motionless upon the peak they could see that its face was black as ink, and it wore a black cloth costume made like a union suit and fitting tight to its skin. its hands were black, too, and its toes curled down, like a bird's. the creature was black all over except its hair, which was fine, and yellow, banged in front across the black forehead and cut close at the sides. the eyes, which were fixed steadily upon the barking dog, were small and sparkling and looked like the eyes of a weasel. "what in the world do you s'pose that is?" asked dorothy in a hushed voice, as the little group of travelers stood watching the strange creature. "don't know," said button-bright. the thing gave a jump and turned half around, sitting in the same place but with the other side of its body facing them. instead of being black, it was now pure white, with a face like that of a clown in a circus and hair of a brilliant purple. the creature could bend either way, and its white toes now curled the same way the black ones on the other side had done. "it has a face both front and back," whispered dorothy, wonderingly; "only there's no back at all, but two fronts." having made the turn, the being sat motionless as before, while toto barked louder at the white man than he had done at the black one. "once," said the shaggy man, "i had a jumping-jack like that, with two faces." "was it alive?" asked button-bright. "no," replied the shaggy man; "it worked on strings, and was made of wood." "wonder if this works with strings," said dorothy; but polychrome cried "look!" for another creature just like the first had suddenly appeared sitting on another rock, its black side toward them. the two twisted their heads around and showed a black face on the white side of one and a white face on the black side of the other. [illustration] "how curious," said polychrome; "and how loose their heads seem to be! are they friendly to us, do you think?" "can't tell, polly," replied dorothy. "let's ask 'em." the creatures flopped first one way and then the other, showing black or white by turns; and now another joined them, appearing on another rock. our friends had come to a little hollow in the hills, and the place where they now stood was surrounded by jagged peaks of rock, except where the road ran through. "now there are four of them," said the shaggy man. "five," declared polychrome. "six," said dorothy. "lots of 'em!" cried button-bright; and so there were--quite a row of the two-sided black and white creatures sitting on the rocks all around. toto stopped barking and ran between dorothy's feet, where he crouched down as if afraid. the creatures did not look pleasant or friendly, to be sure, and the shaggy man's donkey face became solemn, indeed. "ask 'em who they are, and what they want," whispered dorothy; so the shaggy man called out in a loud voice: "who are you?" "scoodlers!" they yelled in chorus, their voices sharp and shrill. "what do you want?" called the shaggy man. "you!" they yelled, pointing their thin fingers at the group; and they all flopped around, so they were white, and then all flopped back again, so they were black. "but what do you want us for?" asked the shaggy man, uneasily. "soup!" they all shouted, as if with one voice. [illustration: "you!" they yelled] "goodness me!" said dorothy, trembling a little; "the scoodlers must be reg'lar cannibals." "don't want to be soup," protested button-bright, beginning to cry. "hush, dear," said the little girl, trying to comfort him; "we don't any of us want to be soup. but don't worry; the shaggy man will take care of us." "will he?" asked polychrome, who did not like the scoodlers at all, and kept close to dorothy. "i'll try," promised the shaggy man; but he looked worried. happening just then to feel the love magnet in his pocket, he said to the creatures, with more confidence: "don't you love me?" "yes!" they shouted, all together. "then you mustn't harm me, or my friends," said the shaggy man, firmly. "we love you in soup!" they yelled, and in a flash turned their white sides to the front. "how dreadful!" said dorothy. "this is a time, shaggy man, when you get loved too much." "don't want to be soup!" wailed button-bright again; and toto began to whine dismally, as if he didn't want to be soup, either. "the only thing to do," said the shaggy man to his friends, in a low tone, "is to get out of this pocket in the rocks as soon as we can, and leave the scoodlers behind us. follow me, my dears, and don't pay any attention to what they do or say." with this he began to march along the road to the opening in the rocks ahead, and the others kept close behind him. but the scoodlers closed up in front, as if to bar their way, and so the shaggy man stooped down and picked up a loose stone, which he threw at the creatures to scare them from the path. at this the scoodlers raised a howl. two of them picked their heads from their shoulders and hurled them at the shaggy man with such force that he fell over in a heap, greatly astonished. the two now ran forward with swift leaps, caught up their heads, and put them on again, after which they sprang back to their positions on the rocks. [illustration] escaping the soup-kettle [illustration] the shaggy man got up and felt of himself to see if he was hurt; but he was not. one of the heads had struck his breast and the other his left shoulder; yet though they had knocked him down the heads were not hard enough to bruise him. "come on," he said, firmly; "we've got to get out of here some way," and forward he started again. the scoodlers began yelling and throwing their heads in great numbers at our frightened friends. the shaggy man was knocked over again, and so was button-bright, who kicked his heels against the ground and howled as loud as he could, although he was not hurt a bit. one head struck toto, who first yelped and then grabbed the head by an ear and started running away with it. the scoodlers who had thrown their heads began to scramble down and run to pick them up, with wonderful quickness; but the one whose head toto had stolen found it hard to get it back again. the head couldn't see the body with either pair of its eyes, because the dog was in the way, so the headless scoodler stumbled around over the rocks and tripped on them more than once in its effort to regain its top. toto was trying to get outside the rocks and roll the head down the hill; but some of the other scoodlers came to the rescue of their unfortunate comrade and pelted the dog with their own heads until he was obliged to drop his burden and hurry back to dorothy. the little girl and the rainbow's daughter had both escaped the shower of heads, but they saw now that it would be useless to try to run away from the dreadful scoodlers. "we may as well submit," declared the shaggy man, in a rueful voice, as he got upon his feet again. he turned toward their foes and asked: "what do you want us to do?" "come!" they cried, in a triumphant chorus, and at once sprang from the rocks and surrounded their captives on all sides. one funny thing about the scoodlers was they could walk in either direction, coming or going, without turning around; because they had two faces and, as dorothy said, "two front sides," and their feet were shaped like the letter t upside down (_|_). they moved with great rapidity and there was something about their glittering eyes and contrasting colors and removable heads that inspired the poor prisoners with horror, and made them long to escape. [illustration] but the creatures led their captives away from the rocks and the road, down the hill by a side path until they came before a low mountain of rock that looked like a huge bowl turned upside down. at the edge of this mountain was a deep gulf--so deep that when you looked into it there was nothing but blackness below. across the gulf was a narrow bridge of rock, and at the other end of the bridge was an arched opening that led into the mountain. over this bridge the scoodlers led their prisoners, through the opening into the mountain, which they found to be an immense hollow dome lighted by several holes in the roof. all around the circular space were built rock houses, set close together, each with a door in the front wall. none of these houses was more than six feet wide, but the scoodlers were thin people sidewise and did not need much room. so vast was the dome that there was a large space in the middle of the cave, in front of all these houses, where the creatures might congregate as in a great hall. it made dorothy shudder to see a huge iron kettle suspended by a stout chain in the middle of the place, and underneath the kettle a great heap of kindling wood and shavings, ready to light. "what's that?" asked the shaggy man, drawing back as they approached this place, so that they were forced to push him forward. "the soup kettle!" yelled the scoodlers; and then they shouted in the next breath: "we're hungry!" button-bright, holding dorothy's hand in one chubby fist and polly's hand in the other, was so affected by this shout that he began to cry again, repeating the protest: "don't want to be soup, i don't!" "never mind," said the shaggy man, consolingly; "i ought to make enough soup to feed them all, i'm so big; so i'll ask them to put me in the kettle first." "all right," said button-bright, more cheerfully. but the scoodlers were not ready to make soup yet. they led the captives into a house at the farthest side of the cave--a house somewhat wider than the others. "who lives here?" asked the rainbow's daughter. the scoodlers nearest her replied: "the queen." it made dorothy hopeful to learn that a woman ruled over these fierce creatures, but a moment later they were ushered by two or three of the escort into a gloomy, bare room--and her hope died away. for the queen of the scoodlers proved to be much more dreadful in appearance than any of her people. one side of her was fiery red, with jet-black hair and green eyes and the other side of her was bright yellow, with crimson hair and black eyes. she wore a short skirt of red and yellow and her hair, instead of being banged, was a tangle of short curls upon which rested a circular crown of silver--much dented and twisted because the queen had thrown her head at so many things so many times. her form was lean and bony and both her faces were deeply wrinkled. "what have we here?" asked the queen, sharply, as our friends were made to stand before her. "soup!" cried the guard of scoodlers, speaking together. "we're not!" said dorothy, indignantly; "we're nothing of the sort." [illustration] "ah, but you will be soon," retorted the queen, a grim smile making her look more dreadful than before. "pardon me, most beautiful vision," said the shaggy man, bowing before the queen politely. "i must request your serene highness to let us go our way without being made into soup. for i own the love magnet, and whoever meets me must love me and all my friends." "true," replied the queen. "we love you very much; so much that we intend to eat your broth with real pleasure. but tell me, do you think i am so beautiful?" "you won't be at all beautiful if you eat me," he said, shaking his head sadly. "handsome is as handsome does, you know." the queen turned to button-bright. "do _you_ think i'm beautiful?" she asked. "no," said the boy; "you're ugly." "_i_ think you're a fright," said dorothy. "if you could see yourself you'd be terribly scared," added polly. the queen scowled at them and flopped from her red side to her yellow side. "take them away," she commanded the guard, "and at six o'clock run them through the meat chopper and start the soup kettle boiling. and put plenty of salt in the broth this time, or i'll punish the cooks severely." "any onions, your majesty?" asked one of the guard. "plenty of onions and garlic and a dash of red pepper. now, go!" the scoodlers led the captives away and shut them up in one of the houses, leaving only a single scoodler to keep guard. the place was a sort of store-house; containing bags of potatoes and baskets of carrots, onions, and turnips. "these," said their guard, pointing to the vegetables, "we use to flavor our soups with." the prisoners were rather disheartened by this time, for they saw no way to escape and did not know how soon it would be six o'clock and time for the meat-chopper to begin work. but the shaggy man was brave and did not intend to submit to such a horrid fate without a struggle. "i'm going to fight for our lives," he whispered to the children, "for if i fail we will be no worse off than before, and to sit here quietly until we are made into soup would be foolish and cowardly." [illustration] the scoodler on guard stood near the doorway, turning first his white side toward them and then his black side, as if he wanted to show to all of his greedy four eyes the sight of so many fat prisoners. the captives sat in a sorrowful group at the other end of the room--except polychrome, who danced back and forth in the little place to keep herself warm, for she felt the chill of the cave. whenever she approached the shaggy man he would whisper something in her ear, and polly would nod her pretty head as if she understood. the shaggy man told dorothy and button-bright to stand before him while he emptied the potatoes out of one of the sacks. when this had been secretly done little polychrome, dancing near to the guard, suddenly reached out her hand and slapped his face, the next instant whirling away from him quickly to rejoin her friends. the angry scoodler at once picked off his head and hurled it at the rainbow's daughter; but the shaggy man was expecting that, and caught the head very neatly, putting it in the sack, which he tied at the mouth. the body of the guard, not having the eyes of its head to guide it, ran here and there in an aimless manner, and the shaggy man easily dodged it and opened the door. fortunately there was no one in the big cave at that moment, so he told dorothy and polly to run as fast as they could for the entrance, and out across the narrow bridge. [illustration: the shaggy man caught the heads and tossed them into the gulf below] "i'll carry button-bright," he said, for he knew the little boy's legs were too short to run fast. dorothy picked up toto, and then seized polly's hand and ran swiftly toward the entrance to the cave. the shaggy man perched button-bright on his shoulders and ran after them. they moved so quickly and their escape was so wholly unexpected that they had almost reached the bridge when one of the scoodlers looked out of his house and saw them. the creature raised a shrill cry that brought all its fellows bounding out of the numerous doors, and at once they started in chase. dorothy and polly had reached the bridge and crossed it when the scoodlers began throwing their heads. one of the queer missiles struck the shaggy man on his back and nearly knocked him over; but he was at the mouth of the cave now, so he set down button-bright and told the boy to run across the bridge to dorothy. then the shaggy man turned around and faced his enemies, standing just outside the opening, and as fast as they threw their heads at him he caught them and tossed them into the black gulf below. the headless bodies of the foremost scoodlers kept the others from running close up, but they also threw their heads in an effort to stop the escaping prisoners. the shaggy man caught them all and sent them whirling down into the black gulf. among them he noticed the crimson and yellow head of the queen, and this he tossed after the others with right good will. presently every scoodler of the lot had thrown its head, and every head was down in the deep gulf, and now the helpless bodies of the creatures were mixed together in the cave and wriggling around in a vain attempt to discover what had become of their heads. the shaggy man laughed and walked across the bridge to rejoin his companions. [illustration] "it's lucky i learned to play base-ball when i was young," he remarked, "for i caught all those heads easily, and never missed one. but come along, little ones; the scoodlers will never bother us or anyone else any more." button-bright was still frightened and kept insisting, "i don't want to be soup!" for the victory had been gained so suddenly that the boy could not realize they were free and safe. but the shaggy man assured him that all danger of their being made into soup was now past, as the scoodlers would be unable to eat soup for some time to come. so now, anxious to get away from the horrid gloomy cave as soon as possible, they hastened up the hillside and regained the road just beyond the place where they had first met the scoodlers; and you may be sure they were glad to find their feet on the old familiar path again. johnny dooit does it [illustration] "it's getting awful rough walking," said dorothy, as they trudged along. button-bright gave a deep sigh and said he was hungry. indeed, all were hungry, and thirsty, too; for they had eaten nothing but the apples since breakfast; so their steps lagged and they grew silent and weary. at last they slowly passed over the crest of a barren hill and saw before them a line of green trees with a strip of grass at their feet. an agreeable fragrance was wafted toward them. our travelers, hot and tired, ran forward on beholding this refreshing sight and were not long in coming to the trees. here they found a spring of pure bubbling water, around which the grass was full of wild strawberry plants, their pretty red berries ripe and ready to eat. some of the trees bore yellow oranges and some russet pears, so the hungry adventurers suddenly found themselves provided with plenty to eat and to drink. they lost no time in picking the biggest strawberries and ripest oranges and soon had feasted to their hearts' content. walking beyond the line of trees they saw before them a fearful, dismal desert, everywhere grey sand. at the edge of this awful waste was a large white sign with black letters neatly painted upon it; and the letters made these words: all persons are warned not to venture upon this desert for the deadly sands will turn any living flesh to dust in an instant. beyond this barrier is the land of oz but no one can reach that beautiful country because of these destroying sands "oh," said dorothy, when the shaggy man had read this sign aloud; "i've seen this desert before, and it's true no one can live who tries to walk upon the sands." "then we mustn't try it," answered the shaggy man, thoughtfully. "but as we can't go ahead and there's no use going back, what shall we do next?" [illustration] "don't know," said button-bright. "i'm sure i don't know, either," added dorothy, despondently. "i wish father would come for me," sighed the pretty rainbow's daughter, "i would take you all to live upon the rainbow, where you could dance along its rays from morning till night, without a care or worry of any sort. but i suppose father's too busy just now to search the world for me." "don't want to dance," said button-bright, sitting down wearily upon the soft grass. "it's very good of you, polly," said dorothy; "but there are other things that would suit me better than dancing on rainbows. i'm 'fraid they'd be kind of soft an' squnshy under foot, anyhow, although they're so pretty to look at." this didn't help to solve the problem, and they all fell silent and looked at one another questioningly. "really, i don't know what to do," muttered the shaggy man, gazing hard at toto; and the little dog wagged his tail and said "bow-wow!" just as if he could not tell, either, what to do. button-bright got a stick and began to dig in the earth, and the others watched him for a while in deep thought. finally the shaggy man said: "it's nearly evening, now; so we may well sleep in this pretty place and get rested; perhaps by morning we can decide what is best to be done." there was little chance to make beds for the children, but the leaves of the trees grew thickly and would serve to keep off the night dews, so the shaggy man piled soft grasses in the thickest shade and when it was dark they lay down and slept peacefully until morning. long after the others were asleep, however, the shaggy man sat in the starlight by the spring, gazing thoughtfully into its bubbling waters. suddenly he smiled and nodded to himself as if he had found a good thought, after which he, too, laid himself down under a tree and was soon lost in slumber. [illustration] in the bright morning sunshine, as they ate of the strawberries and sweet juicy pears, dorothy said: "polly, can you do any magic?" "no, dear," answered polychrome, shaking her dainty head. "you ought to know _some_ magic, being the rainbow's daughter," continued dorothy, earnestly. "but we who live on the rainbow among the fleecy clouds have no use for magic," replied polychrome. "what i'd like," said dorothy, "is to find some way to cross the desert to the land of oz and its emerald city. i've crossed it already, you know, more than once. first a cyclone carried my house over, and some silver shoes brought me back again--in half a second. then ozma took me over on her magic carpet, and the nome king's magic belt took me home that time. you see it was magic that did it every time 'cept the first, and we can't 'spect a cyclone to happen along and take us to the emerald city now." "no, indeed," returned polly, with a shudder; "i hate cyclones, anyway." "that's why i wanted to find out if you could do any magic," said the little kansas girl. "i'm sure i can't; and i'm sure button-bright can't; and the only magic the shaggy man has is the love magnet, which won't help us much." "don't be too sure of that, my dear," spoke the shaggy man, a smile on his donkey face. "i may not be able to do magic myself, but i can call to us a powerful friend who loves me because i own the love magnet, and this friend surely will be able to help us." "who is your friend?" asked dorothy. "johnny dooit." "what can johnny do?" "anything," answered the shaggy man, with confidence. "ask him to come," she exclaimed, eagerly. the shaggy man took the love magnet from his pocket and unwrapped the paper that surrounded it. holding the charm in the palm of his hand he looked at it steadily and said these words: _"dear johnny dooit, come to me._ _i need you bad as bad can be."_ "well, here i am," said a cheery little voice; "but you shouldn't say you need me bad, 'cause i'm always, _always_ good." at this they quickly whirled around to find a funny little man sitting on a big copper chest, puffing smoke from a long pipe. his hair was grey, his whiskers were grey; and these whiskers were so long that he had wound the ends of them around his waist and tied them in a hard knot underneath the leather apron that reached from his chin nearly to his feet, and which was soiled and scratched as if it had been used a long time. his nose was broad, and stuck up a little; but his eyes were twinkling and merry. the little man's hands and arms were as hard and tough as the leather in his apron, and dorothy thought johnny dooit looked as if he had done a lot of hard work in his lifetime. [illustration] "good morning, johnny," said the shaggy man. "thank you for coming to me so quickly." "i never waste time," said the newcomer, promptly. "but what's happened to you? where did you get that donkey head? really, i wouldn't have known you at all, shaggy man, if i hadn't looked at your feet." the shaggy man introduced johnny dooit to dorothy and toto and button-bright and the rainbow's daughter, and told him the story of their adventures, adding that they were anxious now to reach the emerald city in the land of oz, where dorothy had friends who would take care of them and send them safe home again. "but," said he, "we find that we can't cross this desert, which turns all living flesh that touches it into dust; so i have asked you to come and help us." johnny dooit puffed his pipe and looked carefully at the dreadful desert in front of them--stretching so far away they could not see its end. "you must ride," he said, briskly. "what in?" asked the shaggy man. "in a sand-boat, which has runners like a sled and sails like a ship. the wind will blow you swiftly across the desert and the sand cannot touch your flesh to turn it into dust." "good!" cried dorothy, clapping her hands delightedly. "that was the way the magic carpet took us across. we didn't have to touch the horrid sand at all." "but where is the sand-boat?" asked the shaggy man, looking all around him. "i'll make you one," said johnny dooit. as he spoke he knocked the ashes from his pipe and put it in his pocket. then he unlocked the copper chest and lifted the lid, and dorothy saw it was full of shining tools of all sorts and shapes. johnny dooit moved quickly now--so quickly that they were astonished at the work he was able to accomplish. he had in his chest a tool for everything he wanted to do, and these must have been magic tools because they did their work so fast and so well. the man hummed a little song as he worked, and dorothy tried to listen to it. she thought the words were something like these: _the only way to do a thing is do it when you can, and do it cheerfully, and sing and work and think and plan. the only real unhappy one is he who dares to shirk; the only really happy one is he who cares to work._ whatever johnny dooit was singing he was certainly doing things, and they all stood by and watched him in amazement. he seized an axe and in a couple of chops felled a tree. next he took a saw and in a few minutes sawed the tree-trunk into broad long boards. he then nailed the boards together into the shape of a boat, about twelve feet long and four feet wide. he cut from another tree a long, slender pole which, when trimmed of its branches and fastened upright in the center of the boat, served as a mast. from the chest he drew a coil of rope and a big bundle of canvas, and with these--still humming his song--he rigged up a sail, arranging it so it could be raised or lowered upon the mast. dorothy fairly gasped with wonder to see the thing grow so speedily before her eyes, and both button-bright and polly looked on with the same absorbed interest. [illustration] "it ought to be painted," said johnny dooit, tossing his tools back into the chest, "for that would make it look prettier. but 'though i can paint it for you in three seconds it would take an hour to dry, and that's a waste of time." "we don't care how it looks," said the shaggy man, "if only it will take us across the desert." "it will do that," declared johnny dooit. "all you need worry about is tipping over. did you ever sail a ship?" "i've seen one sailed," said the shaggy man. "good. sail this boat the way you've seen a ship sailed, and you'll be across the sands before you know it." with this he slammed down the lid of the chest, and the noise made them all wink. while they were winking the workman disappeared, tools and all. the deadly desert crossed [illustration] "oh, that's too bad!" cried dorothy; "i wanted to thank johnny dooit for all his kindness to us." "he hasn't time to listen to thanks," replied the shaggy man; "but i'm sure he knows we are grateful. i suppose he is already at work in some other part of the world." they now looked more carefully at the sand-boat, and saw that the bottom was modelled with two sharp runners which would glide through the sand. the front of the sand-boat was pointed like the bow of a ship, and there was a rudder at the stern to steer by. it had been built just at the edge of the desert, so that all its length lay upon the grey sand except the after part, which still rested on the strip of grass. "get in, my dears," said the shaggy man; "i'm sure i can manage this boat as well as any sailor. all you need do is sit still in your places." [illustration] dorothy got in, toto in her arms, and sat on the bottom of the boat just in front of the mast. button-bright sat in front of dorothy, while polly leaned over the bow. the shaggy man knelt behind the mast. when all were ready he raised the sail half way. the wind caught it. at once the sand-boat started forward--slowly at first, then with added speed. the shaggy man pulled the sail way up, and they flew so fast over the deadly desert that every one held fast to the sides of the boat and scarcely dared to breathe. the sand lay in billows, and was in places very uneven, so that the boat rocked dangerously from side to side; but it never quite tipped over, and the speed was so great that the shaggy man himself became frightened and began to wonder how he could make the ship go slower. "if we're spilled in this sand, in the middle of the desert," dorothy thought to herself, "we'll be nothing but dust in a few minutes, and that will be the end of us." but they were not spilled, and by-and-bye polychrome, who was clinging to the bow and looking straight ahead, saw a dark line before them and wondered what it was. it grew plainer every second, until she discovered it to be a row of jagged rocks at the end of the desert, while high above these rocks she could see a tableland of green grass and beautiful trees. "look out!" she screamed to the shaggy man. "go slowly, or we shall smash into the rocks." he heard her, and tried to pull down the sail; but the wind would not let go of the broad canvas and the ropes had become tangled. nearer and nearer they drew to the great rocks, and the shaggy man was in despair because he could do nothing to stop the wild rush of the sand-boat. [illustration: "look out!" screamed polychrome] they reached the edge of the desert and bumped squarely into the rocks. there was a crash as dorothy, button-bright, toto and polly flew up in the air in a curve like a skyrocket's, one after another landing high upon the grass, where they rolled and tumbled for a time before they could stop themselves. the shaggy man flew after them, head first, and lighted in a heap beside toto, who, being much excited at the time, seized one of the donkey ears between his teeth and shook and worried it as hard as he could, growling angrily. the shaggy man made the little dog let go, and sat up to look around him. dorothy was feeling one of her front teeth, which was loosened by knocking against her knee as she fell. polly was looking sorrowfully at a rent in her pretty gauze gown, and button-bright's fox head had stuck fast in a gopher hole and he was wiggling his little fat legs frantically in an effort to get free. otherwise they were unhurt by the adventure; so the shaggy man stood up and pulled button-bright out of the hole and went to the edge of the desert to look at the sand-boat. it was a mere mass of splinters now, crushed out of shape against the rocks. the wind had torn away the sail and carried it to the top of a tall tree, where the fragments of it fluttered like a white flag. "well," he said, cheerfully, "we're here; but where the here is i don't know." "it must be some part of the land of oz," observed dorothy, coming to his side. "must it?" "'course it must. we're across the desert, aren't we? and somewhere in the middle of oz is the emerald city." "to be sure," said the shaggy man, nodding. "let's go there." "but i don't see any people about, to show us the way," she continued. "let's hunt for them," he suggested. "there must be people somewhere; but perhaps they did not expect us, and so are not at hand to give us a welcome." [illustration] the truth pond [illustration] they now made a more careful examination of the country around them. all was fresh and beautiful after the sultriness of the desert, and the sunshine and sweet, crisp air were delightful to the wanderers. little mounds of yellowish green were away at the right, while on the left waved a group of tall leafy trees bearing yellow blossoms that looked like tassels and pompoms. among the grasses carpeting the ground were pretty buttercups and cowslips and marigolds. after looking at these a moment dorothy said reflectively: "we must be in the country of the winkies, for the color of that country is yellow, and you will notice that 'most everything here is yellow that has any color at all." "but i thought this was the land of oz," replied the shaggy man, as if greatly disappointed. "so it is," she declared; "but there are four parts to the land of oz. the north country is purple, and it's the country of the gillikins. the east country is blue, and that's the country of the munchkins. down at the south is the red country of the quadlings, and here, in the west, the yellow country of the winkies. this is the part that is ruled by the tin woodman, you know." "who's he?" asked button-bright. "why, he's the tin man i told you about. his name is nick chopper, and he has a lovely heart given him by the wonderful wizard." "where does _he_ live?" asked the boy. "the wizard? oh, he lives in the emerald city, which is just in the middle of oz, where the corners of the four countries meet." "oh," said button-bright, puzzled by this explanation. "we must be some distance from the emerald city," remarked the shaggy man. "that's true," she replied; "so we'd better start on and see if we can find any of the winkies. they're nice people," she continued, as the little party began walking toward the group of trees, "and i came here once with my friends the scarecrow, and the tin woodman, and the cowardly lion, to fight a wicked witch who had made all the winkies her slaves." [illustration] "did you conquer her?" asked polly. "why, i melted her with a bucket of water, and that was the end of her," replied dorothy. "after that the people were free, you know, and they made nick chopper--that's the tin woodman--their emp'ror." "what's that?" asked button-bright. "emp'ror? oh, it's something like an alderman, i guess." "oh," said the boy. "but i thought princess ozma ruled oz," said the shaggy man. "so she does; she rules the emerald city and all the four countries of oz; but each country has another little ruler, not so big as ozma. it's like the officers of an army, you see; the little rulers are all captains, and ozma's the general." by this time they had reached the trees, which stood in a perfect circle and just far enough apart so that their thick branches touched--or "shook hands," as button-bright remarked. under the shade of the trees they found, in the center of the circle, a crystal pool, its water as still as glass. it must have been deep, too, for when polychrome bent over it she gave a little sigh of pleasure. "why, it's a mirror!" she cried; for she could see all her pretty face and fluffy, rainbow-tinted gown reflected in the pool, as natural as life. dorothy bent over, too, and began to arrange her hair, blown by the desert wind into straggling tangles. button-bright leaned over the edge next, and then began to cry, for the sight of his fox head frightened the poor little fellow. "i guess i won't look," remarked the shaggy man, sadly, for he didn't like his donkey head, either. while polly and dorothy tried to comfort button-bright, the shaggy man sat down near the edge of the pool, where his image could not be reflected, and stared at the water thoughtfully. as he did this he noticed a silver plate fastened to a rock just under the surface of the water, and on the silver plate was engraved these words: [illustration: the truth pond] "ah!" cried the shaggy man, springing to his feet with eager joy; "we've found it at last." "found what?" asked dorothy, running to him. "the truth pond. now, at last, i may get rid of this frightful head; for we were told, you remember, that only the truth pond could restore to me my proper face." "me, too!" shouted button-bright, trotting up to them. "of course," said dorothy. "it will cure you both of your bad heads, i guess. isn't it lucky we found it?" [illustration] "it is, indeed," replied the shaggy man. "i hated dreadfully to go to princess ozma looking like this; and she's to have a birthday celebration, too." just then a splash startled them, for button-bright, in his anxiety to see the pool that would "cure" him, had stepped too near the edge and tumbled heels over head into the water. down he went, out of sight entirely, so that only his sailor hat floated on the top of the truth pond. he soon bobbed up, and the shaggy man seized him by his sailor collar and dragged him to the shore, dripping and gasping for breath. they all looked upon the boy wonderingly, for the fox head with its sharp nose and pointed ears was gone, and in its place appeared the chubby round face and blue eyes and pretty curls that had belonged to button-bright before king dox of foxville transformed him. "oh, what a darling!" cried polly, and would have hugged the little one had he not been so wet. their joyful exclamations made the child rub the water out of his eyes and look at his friends questioningly. "you're all right now, dear," said dorothy. "come and look at yourself." she led him to the pool, and although there were still a few ripples on the surface of the water he could see his reflection plainly. "it's me!" he said, in a pleased yet awed whisper. [illustration: the shaggy man's own head restored] "'course it is," replied the girl; "and we're all as glad as you are, button-bright." "well," announced the shaggy man, "it's my turn next." he took off his shaggy coat and laid it on the grass and dived head first into the truth pond. [illustration] when he came up the donkey head had disappeared, and the shaggy man's own shaggy head was in its place, with the water dripping in little streams from his shaggy whiskers. he scrambled ashore and shook himself to get off some of the wet, and then leaned over the pool to look admiringly at his reflected face. "i may not be strictly beautiful, even now," he said to his companions, who watched him with smiling faces; "but i'm so much handsomer than any donkey that i feel as proud as i can be." "you're all right, shaggy man," declared dorothy. "and button-bright is all right, too. so let's thank the truth pond for being so nice, and start on our journey to the emerald city." "i hate to leave it," murmured the shaggy man, with a sigh. "a truth pond wouldn't be a bad thing to carry around with us." but he put on his coat and started with the others in search of some one to direct them on their way. tik-tok and billina [illustration] they had not walked far across the flower-strewn meadows when they came upon a fine road leading toward the northwest and winding gracefully among the pretty yellow hills. "that way," said dorothy, "must be the direction of the emerald city. we'd better follow the road until we meet some one or come to a house." the sun soon dried button-bright's sailor suit and the shaggy man's shaggy clothes, and so pleased were they at regaining their own heads that they did not mind at all the brief discomfort of getting wet. "it's good to be able to whistle again," remarked the shaggy man, "for those donkey lips were so thick i could not whistle a note with them." he warbled a tune as merrily as any bird. "you'll look more natural at the birthday celebration, too," said dorothy, happy in seeing her friends so happy. polychrome was dancing ahead in her usual sprightly manner, whirling gaily along the smooth, level road, until she passed from sight around the curve of one of the mounds. suddenly they heard her exclaim "oh!" and she appeared again, running toward them at full speed. "what's the matter, polly?" asked dorothy, perplexed. there was no need for the rainbow's daughter to answer, for turning the bend in the road there came advancing slowly toward them a funny round man made of burnished copper, gleaming brightly in the sun. perched on the copper man's shoulder sat a yellow hen, with fluffy feathers and a pearl necklace around her throat. "oh, tik-tok!" cried dorothy, running forward. when she came to him the copper man lifted the little girl in his copper arms and kissed her cheek with his copper lips. "oh, billina!" cried dorothy, in a glad voice, and the yellow hen flew to her arms, to be hugged and petted by turns. the others were curiously crowding around the group, and the girl said to them: "it's tik-tok and billina; and oh! i'm so glad to see them again." "wel-come to oz," said the copper man, in a monotonous voice. [illustration] dorothy sat right down in the road, the yellow hen in her arms, and began to stroke billina's back. said the hen: "dorothy, dear, i've some wonderful news to tell you." "tell it quick, billina!" said the girl. just then toto, who had been growling to himself in a cross way gave a sharp bark and flew at the yellow hen, who ruffled her feathers and let out such an angry screech that dorothy was startled. "stop, toto! stop that this minute!" she commanded. "can't you see that billina is my friend?" in spite of this warning had she not grabbed toto quickly by the neck the little dog would have done the yellow hen a mischief, and even now he struggled madly to escape dorothy's grasp. she slapped his cars once or twice and told him to behave, and the yellow hen flew to tik-tok's shoulder again, where she was safe. "what a brute!" croaked billina, glaring down at the little dog. "toto isn't a brute," replied dorothy; "but at home uncle henry has to whip him sometimes for chasing the chickens. now, look here, toto," she added, holding up her finger and speaking sternly to him, "you've got to understand that billina is one of my dearest friends, and mustn't be hurt--now or ever." toto wagged his tail as if he understood. "the miserable thing can't talk," said billina, with a sneer. "yes, he can," replied dorothy; "he talks with his tail, and i know everything he says. if you could wag your tail, billina, you wouldn't need words to talk with." "nonsense!" said billina. "it isn't nonsense at all. just now toto says he's sorry, and that he'll try to love you for my sake. don't you, toto?" "bow-wow!" said toto, wagging his tail again. "but i've such wonderful news for you; dorothy," cried the yellow hen; "i've----" "wait a minute, dear," interrupted the little girl; "i've got to introduce you all, first. that's manners, billina. this," turning to her traveling companions, "is mr. tik-tok, who works by machinery, 'cause his thoughts wind up, and his talk winds up, and his action winds up--like a clock." "do they all wind up together?" asked the shaggy man. "no; each one separate. but he works just lovely, and tik-tok was a good friend to me once, and saved my life--and billina's life, too." "is he alive?" asked button-bright, looking hard at the copper man. "oh, no, but his machinery makes him just as good as alive." she turned to the copper man and said politely: "mr. tik-tok, these are my new friends: the shaggy man, and polly the rainbow's daughter, and button-bright, and toto. only toto isn't a new friend, 'cause he's been to oz before." the copper man bowed low, removing his copper hat as he did so. "i'm ve-ry pleased to meet dor-o-thy's fr-r-r-r-r----" here he stopped short. "oh, i guess his speech needs winding!" said the little girl, running behind the copper man to get the key off a hook at his back. she wound him up at a place under his right arm and he went on to say: "par-don me for run-ning down. i was a-bout to say i am pleased to meet dor-o-thy's friends, who must be my friends." the words were somewhat jerky, but plain to understand. "and this is billina," continued dorothy, introducing the yellow hen, and they all bowed to her in turn. "i've such wonderful news," said the hen, turning her head so that one bright eye looked full at dorothy. "what is it, dear?" asked the girl. "i've hatched out ten of the loveliest chicks you ever saw." "oh, how nice! and where are they, billina?" "i left them at home. but they're beauties, i assure you, and all wonderfully clever. i've named them dorothy." "which one?" asked the girl. "all of them," replied billina. "that's funny. why did you name them all with the same name?" "it was so hard to tell them apart," explained the hen. "now, when i call 'dorothy,' they all come running to me in a bunch; it's much easier, after all, than having a separate name for each." "i'm just dying to see 'em, billina," said dorothy, eagerly. "but tell me, my friends, how did you happen to be here, in the country of the winkies, the first of all to meet us?" "i'll tell you," answered tik-tok, in his monotonous voice, all the sounds of his words being on one level--"prin-cess oz-ma saw you in her mag-ic pic-ture, and knew you were com-ing here; so she sent bil-lin-a and me to wel-come you, as she could not come her-self; so that--fiz-i-dig-le cum-so-lut-ing hy-ber-gobble in-tu-zib-ick----" "good gracious! whatever's the matter now?" cried dorothy, as the copper man continued to babble these unmeaning words, which no one could understand at all because they had no sense. "don't know," said button-bright, who was half scared. polly whirled away to a distance and turned to look at the copper man in a fright. [illustration] "his thoughts have run down, this time," remarked billina composedly, as she sat on tik-tok's shoulder and pruned her sleek feathers. "when he can't think he can't talk properly, any more than you can. you'll have to wind up his thoughts, dorothy, or else i'll have to finish his story myself." dorothy ran around and got the key again and wound up tik-tok under his left arm, after which he could speak plainly again. "par-don me," he said, "but when my thoughts run down my speech has no mean-ing, for words are formed on-ly by thought. i was a-bout to say that oz-ma sent us to wel-come you and in-vite you to come straight to the em-er-ald ci-ty. she was too bus-y to come her-self, for she is pre-par-ing for her birth-day cel-e-bra-tion, which is to be a grand af-fair." "i've heard of it," said dorothy, "and i'm glad we've come in time to attend. is it far from here to the emerald city?" "not ve-ry far," answered tik-tok, "and we have plen-ty of time. to-night we will stop at the pal-ace of the tin wood-man, and to-mor-row night we will ar-rive at the em-er-ald ci-ty." "goody!" cried dorothy. "i'd like to see dear nick chopper again. how's his heart?" "it's fine," said billina; "the tin woodman says it gets softer and kindlier every day. he's waiting at his castle to welcome you, dorothy; but he couldn't come with us because he 'is getting polished as bright as possible for ozma's party." "well, then," said dorothy, "let's start on, and we can talk more as we go." they proceeded on their journey in a friendly group, for polychrome had discovered that the copper man was harmless and was no longer afraid of him. button-bright was also reassured, and took quite a fancy to tik-tok. he wanted the clockwork man to open himself, so that he might see the wheels go round; but that was a thing tik-tok could not do. button-bright then wanted to wind up the copper man, and dorothy promised he should do so as soon as any part of the machinery ran down. this pleased button-bright, who held fast to one of tik-tok's copper hands as he trudged along the road, while dorothy walked on the other side of her old friend and billina perched by turns upon his shoulder or his copper hat. polly once more joyously danced ahead and toto ran after her, barking with glee. the shaggy man was left to walk behind; but he didn't seem to mind that a bit, and whistled merrily or looked curiously upon the pretty scenes they passed. at last they came to a hilltop from which the tin castle of nick chopper could plainly be seen, its towers glistening magnificently under the rays of the declining sun. "how pretty!" exclaimed dorothy. "i've never seen the emp'ror's new house before." "he built it because the old castle was damp, and likely to rust his tin body," said billina. "all those towers and steeples and domes and gables took a lot of tin, as you can see." "is it a toy?" asked button-bright, softly. "no, dear," answered dorothy; "it's better than that. it's the fairy dwelling of a fairy prince." [illustration] the emperor's tin castle [illustration] the grounds around nick chopper's new house were laid out in pretty flower-beds, with fountains of crystal water and statues of tin representing the emperor's personal friends. dorothy was astonished and delighted to find a tin statue of herself standing on a tin pedestal at a bend in the avenue leading up to the entrance. it was life-size and showed her in her sunbonnet with her basket on her arm, just as she had first appeared in the land of oz. "oh, toto--you're there too!" she exclaimed; and sure enough there was the tin figure of toto lying at the tin dorothy's feet. also dorothy saw figures of the scarecrow, and the wizard, and ozma, and of many others, including tik-tok. they reached the grand tin entrance to the tin castle, and the tin woodman himself came running out of the door to embrace little dorothy and give her a glad welcome. he welcomed her friends as well, and the rainbow's daughter he declared to be the loveliest vision his tin eyes had ever beheld. he patted button-bright's curly head tenderly, for he was fond of children, and turned to the shaggy man and shook both his hands at the same time. [illustration] nick chopper, the emperor of the winkies, who was also known throughout the land of oz as the tin woodman, was certainly a remarkable person. he was neatly made, all of tin, nicely soldered at the joints, and his various limbs were cleverly hinged to his body so that he could use them nearly as well as if they had been common flesh. once, he told the shaggy man, he had been made all of flesh and bones, as others people are, and then he chopped wood in the forests to earn his living. but the axe slipped so often and cut off parts of him--which he had replaced with tin--that finally there was no flesh left, nothing but tin; so he became a real tin woodman. the wonderful wizard of oz had given him an excellent heart to replace his old one, and he didn't at all mind being tin. every one loved him, he loved every one; and he was therefore as happy as the day was long. the emperor was proud of his new tin castle, and showed his visitors through all the rooms. every bit of the furniture was made of brightly polished tin--the tables, chairs, beds, and all--even the floors and walls were of tin. "i suppose," said he, "that there are no cleverer tinsmiths in all the world than the winkies. it would be hard to match this castle in kansas; wouldn't it, little dorothy?" "very hard," replied the child, gravely. "it must have cost a lot of money," remarked the shaggy man. "money! money in oz!" cried the tin woodman. "what a queer idea! did you suppose we are so vulgar as to use money here?" "why not?" asked the shaggy man. "if we used money to buy things with, instead of love and kindness and the desire to please one another, then we should be no better than the rest of the world," declared the tin woodman. "fortunately money is not known in the land of oz at all. we have no rich, and no poor; for what one wishes the others all try to give him, in order to make him happy, and no one in all oz cares to have more than he can use." "good!" cried the shaggy man, greatly pleased to hear this. "i also despise money--a man in butterfield owes me fifteen cents, and i will not take it from him. the land of oz is surely the most favored land in all the world, and its people the happiest. i should like to live here always." the tin woodman listened with respectful attention. already he loved the shaggy man, although he did not yet know of the love magnet. so he said: "if you can prove to the princess ozma that you are honest and true and worthy of our friendship, you may indeed live here all your days, and be as happy as we are." "i'll try to prove that," said the shaggy man, earnestly. "and now," continued the emperor, "you must all go to your rooms and prepare for dinner, which will presently be served in the grand tin dining-hall. i am sorry, shaggy man, that i can not offer you a change of clothing; but i dress only in tin, myself, and i suppose that would not suit you." "i care little about dress," said the shaggy man, indifferently. "so i should imagine," replied the emperor, with true politeness. they were shown to their rooms and permitted to make such toilets as they could, and soon they assembled again in the grand tin dining-hall, even toto being present. for the emperor was fond of dorothy's little dog, and the girl explained to her friends that in oz all animals were treated with as much consideration as the people--"if they behave themselves," she added. toto behaved himself, and sat in a tin high-chair beside dorothy and ate his dinner from a tin platter. indeed, they all ate from tin dishes, but these were of pretty shapes and brightly polished; dorothy thought they were just as good as silver. button-bright looked curiously at the man who had "no appetite inside him," for the tin woodman, although he had prepared so fine a feast for his guests, ate not a mouthful himself, sitting patiently in his place to see that all built so they could eat were well and plentifully served. [illustration: polychrome danced gracefully to the music] what pleased button-bright most about the dinner was the tin orchestra that played sweet music while the company ate. the players were not tin, being just ordinary winkies; but the instruments they played upon were all tin--tin trumpets, tin fiddles, tin drums and cymbals and flutes and horns and all. they played so nicely the "shining emperor waltz," composed expressly in honor of the tin woodman by mr. h. m. wogglebug, t. e., that polly could not resist dancing to it. after she had tasted a few dewdrops, freshly gathered for her, she danced gracefully to the music while the others finished their repast; and when she whirled until her fleecy draperies of rainbow hues enveloped her like a cloud, the tin woodman was so delighted that he clapped his tin hands until the noise of them drowned the sound of the cymbals. altogether it was a merry meal, although polychrome ate little and the host nothing at all. "i'm sorry the rainbow's daughter missed her mist-cakes," said the tin woodman to dorothy; "but by a mistake miss polly's mist-cakes were mislaid and not missed until now. i'll try to have some for her breakfast." they spent the evening telling stories, and the next morning left the splendid tin castle and set out upon the road to the emerald city. the tin woodman went with them, of course, having by this time been so brightly polished that he sparkled like silver. his axe, which he always carried with him, had a steel blade that was tin plated and a handle covered with tin plate beautifully engraved and set with diamonds. the winkies assembled before the castle gates and cheered their emperor as he marched away, and it was easy to see that they all loved him dearly. [illustration] visiting the pumpkin-field [illustration] dorothy let button-bright wind up the clock-work in the copper man this morning--his thinking machine first, then his speech, and finally his action; so he would doubtless run perfectly until they had reached the emerald city. the copper man and the tin man were good friends, and not so much alike as you might think. for one was alive and the other moved by means of machinery; one was tall and angular and the other short and round. you could love the tin woodman because he had a fine nature, kindly and simple; but the machine man you could only admire without loving, since to love such a thing as he was as impossible as to love a sewing-machine or an automobile. yet tik-tok was popular with the people of oz because he was so trustworthy, reliable and true; he was sure to do exactly what he was wound up to do, at all times and in all circumstances. perhaps it is better to be a machine that does its duty than a flesh-and-blood person who will not, for a dead truth is better than a live falsehood. about noon the travelers reached a large field of pumpkins--a vegetable quite appropriate to the yellow country of the winkies--and some of the pumpkins which grew there were of remarkable size. just before they entered upon this field they saw three little mounds that looked like graves, with a pretty headstone to each one of them. [illustration] "what is this?" asked dorothy, in wonder. "it's jack pumpkinhead's private graveyard," replied the tin woodman. "but i thought nobody ever died in oz," she said. "nor do they; although if one is bad, he may be condemned and killed by the good citizens," he answered. dorothy ran over to the little graves and read the words engraved upon the tombstones. the first one said: here lies the mortal part of jack pumpkinhead which spoiled april th. she then went to the next stone, which read: here lies the mortal part of jack pumpkinhead which spoiled october nd. on the third stone were carved these words: here lies the mortal part of jack pumpkinhead which spoiled january th. "poor jack!" sighed dorothy. "i'm sorry he had to die in three parts, for i hoped to see him again." "so you shall," declared the tin woodman, "since he is still alive. come with me to his house, for jack is now a farmer and lives in this very pumpkin field." they walked over to a monstrous big, hollow pumpkin which had a door and windows cut through the rind. there was a stovepipe running through the stem, and six steps had been built leading up to the front door. they walked up to this door and looked in. seated on a bench was a man clothed in a spotted shirt, a red vest, and faded blue trousers, whose body was merely sticks of wood, jointed clumsily together. on his neck was set a round, yellow pumpkin, with a face carved on it such as a boy often carves on a jack-lantern. this queer man was engaged in snapping slippery pumpkin-seeds with his wooden fingers, trying to hit a target on the other side of the room with them. he did not know he had visitors until dorothy exclaimed: "why, it's jack pumpkinhead himself!" he turned and saw them, and at once came forward to greet the little kansas girl and nick chopper, and to be introduced to their new friends. button-bright was at first rather shy with the quaint pumpkinhead, but jack's face was so jolly and smiling--being carved that way--that the boy soon grew to like him. "i thought, a while ago, that you were buried in three parts," said dorothy; "but now i see you're just the same as ever." "not quite the same, my dear, for my mouth is a little more one-sided than it used to be; but pretty nearly the same. i've a new head, and this is the fourth one i've owned since ozma first made me and brought me to life by sprinkling me with the magic powder." "what became of the other heads, jack?" "they spoiled and i buried them, for they were not even fit for pies. each time ozma has carved me a new head just like the old one, and as my body is by far the largest part of me i am still jack pumpkinhead, no matter how often i change my upper end. once we had a dreadful time to find another pumpkin, as they were out of season, and so i was obliged to wear my old head a little longer than was strictly healthy. but after this sad experience i resolved to raise pumpkins myself, so as never to be caught again without one handy; and now i have this fine field that you see before you. some grow pretty big--too big to be used for heads--so i dug out this one and use it for a house." "isn't it damp?" asked dorothy. "not very. there isn't much left but the shell, you see, and it will last a long time yet." "i think you are brighter than you used to be, jack," said the tin woodman. "your last head was a stupid one." "the seeds in this one are better," was the reply. "are you going to ozma's party?" asked dorothy. "yes," said he; "i wouldn't miss it for anything. ozma's my parent, you know, because she built my body and carved my pumpkin head. i'll follow you to the emerald city to-morrow, where we shall meet again. i can't go to-day, because i have to plant fresh pumpkin-seeds and water the young vines. but give my love to ozma, and tell her i'll be there in time for the jubilation." "we will," she promised; and then they all left him and resumed their journey. [illustration] the royal chariot arrives [illustration] the neat yellow houses of the winkies were now to be seen standing here and there along the roadway, giving the country a more cheerful and civilized look. they were farm-houses, though, and set far apart; for in the land of oz there were no towns or villages except the magnificent emerald city in its center. hedges of evergreen or of yellow roses bordered the broad highway and the farms showed the care of their industrious inhabitants. the nearer the travelers came to the great city the more prosperous the country became, and they crossed many bridges over the sparkling streams and rivulets that watered the lands. as they walked leisurely along the shaggy man said to the tin woodman: "what sort of a magic powder was it, that made your friend the pumpkinhead live?" "it was called the powder of life," was the answer; "and it was invented by a crooked sorcerer who lived in the mountains of the north country. a witch named mombi got some of this powder from the crooked sorcerer and took it home with her. ozma lived with the witch then, for it was before she became our princess, while mombi had transformed her into the shape of a boy. well, while mombi was gone to the crooked sorcerer's, the boy made this pumpkin-headed man to amuse himself, and also with the hope of frightening the witch with it when she returned. but mombi was not scared, and she sprinkled the pumpkinhead with her magic powder of life, to see if the powder would work. ozma was watching, and saw the pumpkinhead come to life; so that night she took the pepper-box containing the powder and ran away with it and with jack, in search of adventures." "next day they found a wooden saw-horse standing by the roadside, and sprinkled it with the powder. it came to life at once, and jack pumpkinhead rode the saw-horse to the emerald city." "what became of the saw-horse, afterward?" asked the shaggy man, much interested in this story. [illustration] "oh, it's alive yet, and you will probably meet it presently in the emerald city. afterward ozma used the last of the powder to bring the flying gump to life; but as soon as it had carried her away from her enemies the gump was taken apart, so it doesn't exist any more." "it's too bad the powder of life was all used up," remarked the shaggy man; "it would be a handy thing to have around." "i am not so sure of that, sir," answered the tin woodman. "a while ago the crooked sorcerer who invented the magic powder fell down a precipice and was killed. all his possessions went to a relative--an old woman named dyna, who lives in the emerald city. she went to the mountains where the sorcerer had lived and brought away everything she thought of value. among them was a small bottle of the powder of life; but of course dyna didn't know it was a magic powder, at all. it happened she had once had a big blue bear for a pet; but the bear choked to death on a fishbone one day, and she loved it so dearly that dyna made a rug of its skin, leaving the head and four paws on the hide. she kept the rug on the floor of her front parlor." "i've seen rugs like that," said the shaggy man, nodding, "but never one made from a blue bear." "well," continued the tin woodman, "the old woman had an idea that the powder in the bottle must be moth-powder, because it smelled something like moth-powder; so one day she sprinkled it on her bear rug to keep the moths out of it. she said, looking lovingly at the skin: 'i wish my dear bear were alive again!' to her horror the bear rug at once came to life, having been sprinkled with the magic powder; and now this live bear rug is a great trial to her, and makes her a lot of trouble." "why?" asked the shaggy man. "well, it stands up on its four feet and walks all around, and gets in the way; and that spoils it for a rug. it can't speak, although it is alive; for, while its head might say words, it has no breath in a solid body to push the words out of its mouth. it's a very slimpsy affair altogether, that bear rug, and the old woman is sorry it came to life. every day she has to scold it, and make it lie down flat on the parlor floor to be walked upon; but sometimes when she goes to market the rug will hump up its back skin, and stand on its four feet, and trot along after her." [illustration] "i should think dyna would like that," said dorothy. "well, she doesn't; because every one knows it isn't a real bear, but just a hollow skin, and so of no actual use in the world except for a rug," answered the tin woodman. "therefore i believe it is a good thing that all the magic powder of life is now used up, as it cannot cause any more trouble." "perhaps you're right," said the shaggy man, thoughtfully. at noon they stopped at a farm-house, where it delighted the farmer and his wife to be able to give them a good luncheon. the farm people knew dorothy, having seen her when she was in the country before, and they treated the little girl with as much respect as they did the emperor, because she was a friend of the powerful princess ozma. they had not proceeded far after leaving this farm-house before coming to a high bridge over a broad river. this river, the tin woodman informed them, was the boundary between the country of the winkies and the territory of the emerald city. the city itself was still a long way off, but all around it was a green meadow, as pretty as a well-kept lawn, and in this were neither houses nor farms to spoil the beauty of the scene. from the top of the high bridge they could see far away the magnificent spires and splendid domes of the superb city, sparkling like brilliant jewels as they towered above the emerald walls. the shaggy man drew a deep breath of awe and amazement, for never had he dreamed that such a grand and beautiful place could exist--even in the fairyland of oz. polly was so pleased that her violet eyes sparkled like amethysts, and she danced away from her companions across the bridge and into a group of feathery trees lining both the roadsides. these trees she stopped to look at with pleasure and surprise, for their leaves were shaped like ostrich plumes, their feather edges beautifully curled; and all the plumes were tinted in the same dainty rainbow hues that appeared in polychrome's own pretty gauze gown. "father ought to see these trees," she murmured; "they are almost as lovely as his own rainbows." then she gave a start of terror, for beneath the trees came stalking two great beasts, either one big enough to crush the little daughter of the rainbow with one blow of his paws, or to eat her up with one snap of his enormous jaws. one was a tawny lion, as tall as a horse, nearly; the other a striped tiger almost the same size. polly was too frightened to scream or to stir; she stood still with a wildly beating heart until dorothy rushed past her and with a glad cry threw her arms around the huge lion's neck, hugging and kissing the beast with evident joy. "oh, i'm _so_ glad to see you again!" cried the little kansas girl. "and the hungry tiger, too! how fine you're both looking. are you well and happy?" [illustration: dorothy threw her arms around the lion's neck] "we certainly are, dorothy," answered the lion, in a deep voice that sounded pleasant and kind; "and we are greatly pleased that you have come to ozma's party. it's going to be a grand affair, i promise you." "there will be lots of fat babies at the celebration, i hear," remarked the hungry tiger, yawning so that his mouth opened dreadfully wide and showed all his big, sharp teeth; "but of course i can't eat any of 'em." "is your conscience still in good order?" asked dorothy, anxiously. "yes; it rules me like a tyrant," answered the tiger, sorrowfully. "i can imagine nothing more unpleasant than to own a conscience," and he winked slyly at his friend the lion. "you're fooling me!" said dorothy, with a laugh. "i don't b'lieve you'd eat a baby if you lost your conscience. come here, polly," she called, "and be introduced to my friends." polly advanced rather shyly. "you have some queer friends, dorothy," she said. "the queerness doesn't matter, so long as they're friends," was the answer. "this is the cowardly lion, who isn't a coward at all, but just thinks he is. the wizard gave him some courage once, and he has part of it left." the lion bowed with great dignity to polly. "you are very lovely, my dear," said he. "i hope we shall be friends when we are better acquainted." "and this is the hungry tiger," continued dorothy. "he says he longs to eat fat babies; but the truth is he is never hungry at all, 'cause he gets plenty to eat; and i don't s'pose he'd hurt anybody even if he was hungry." "hush, dorothy," whispered the tiger; "you'll ruin my reputation if you are not more discreet. it isn't what we are, but what folks think we are, that counts in this world. and come to think of it miss polly would make a fine variegated breakfast, i'm sure." [illustration] the emerald city [illustration] the others now came up, and the tin woodman greeted the lion and the tiger cordially. button-bright yelled with fear when dorothy first took his hand and led him toward the great beasts; but the girl insisted they were kind and good, and so the boy mustered up courage enough to pat their heads; after they had spoken to him gently and he had looked into their intelligent eyes his fear vanished entirely and he was so delighted with the animals that he wanted to keep close to them and stroke their soft fur every minute. as for the shaggy man, he might have been afraid if he had met the beasts alone, or in any other country; but so many were the marvels in the land of oz that he was no longer easily surprised, and dorothy's friendship for the lion and tiger was enough to assure him they were safe companions. toto barked at the cowardly lion in joyous greeting, for he knew the beast of old and loved him, and it was funny to see how gently the lion raised his huge paw to pat toto's head. the little dog smelled of the tiger's nose and the tiger politely shook paws with him; so they were quite likely to become firm friends. tik-tok and billina knew the beasts well, so merely bade them good day and asked after their healths and inquired about the princess ozma. now it was seen that the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger were drawing behind them a splendid golden chariot, to which they were harnessed by golden cords. the body of the chariot was decorated on the outside with designs in clusters of sparkling emeralds, while inside it was lined with a green and gold satin, and the cushions of the seats were of green plush embroidered in gold with a crown, underneath which was a monogram. "why, it's ozma's own royal chariot!" exclaimed dorothy. "yes," said the cowardly lion; "ozma sent us to meet you here, for she feared you would be weary with your long walk and she wished you to enter the city in a style becoming your exalted rank." "what!" cried polly, looking at dorothy curiously. "do you belong to the nobility?" [illustration] "just in oz i do," said the child, "'cause ozma made me a princess, you know. but when i'm home in kansas i'm only a country girl, and have to help with the churning and wipe the dishes while aunt em washes 'em. do you have to help wash dishes on the rainbow, polly?" "no, dear," answered polychrome, smiling. "well, i don't have to work any in oz, either," said dorothy. "it's kind of fun to be a princess once in a while; don't you think so?" "dorothy and polychrome and button-bright are all to ride in the chariot," said the lion. "so get in, my dears, and be careful not to mar the gold or put your dusty feet on the embroidery." button-bright was delighted to ride behind such a superb team, and he told dorothy it made him feel like an actor in a circus. as the strides of the animals brought them nearer to the emerald city every one bowed respectfully to the children, as well as to the tin woodman, tik-tok, and the shaggy man, who were following behind. the yellow hen had perched upon the back of the chariot, where she could tell dorothy more about her wonderful chickens as they rode. and so the grand chariot came finally to the high wall surrounding the city, and paused before the magnificent jewel-studded gates. these were opened by a cheerful looking little man who wore green spectacles over his eyes. dorothy introduced him to her friends as the guardian of the gates, and they noticed a big bunch of keys suspended on the golden chain that hung around his neck. the chariot passed through the outer gates into a fine arched chamber built in the thick wall, and through the inner gates into the streets of the emerald city. polychrome exclaimed in rapture at the wondrous beauty that met her eyes on every side as they rode through this stately and imposing city, the equal of which has never been discovered, even in fairyland. button-bright could only say "my!" so amazing was the sight; but his eyes were wide open and he tried to look in every direction at the same time, so as not to miss anything. [illustration] the shaggy man was fairly astounded at what he saw, for the graceful and handsome buildings were covered with plates of gold and set with emeralds so splendid and valuable that in any other part of the world any one of them would have been worth a fortune to its owner. the sidewalks were superb marble slabs polished as smooth as glass, and the curbs that separated the walks from the broad street were also set thick with clustered emeralds. there were many people on these walks--men, women, and children--all dressed in handsome garments of silk or satin or velvet, with beautiful jewels. better even than this: all seemed happy and contented, for their faces were smiling and free from care, and music and laughter might be heard on every side. "don't they work, at all?" asked the shaggy man. "to be sure they work," replied the tin woodman; "this fair city could not be built or cared for without labor, nor could the fruit and vegetables and other food be provided for the inhabitants to eat. but no one works more than half his time, and the people of oz enjoy their labors as much as they do their play." "it's wonderful!" declared the shaggy man. "i do hope ozma will let me live here." the chariot, winding through many charming streets, paused before a building so vast and noble and elegant that even button-bright guessed at once that it was the royal palace. its gardens and ample grounds were surrounded by a separate wall, not so high or thick as the wall around the city, but more daintily designed and built all of green marble. the gates flew open as the chariot appeared before them, and the cowardly lion and hungry tiger trotted up a jeweled driveway to the front door of the palace and stopped short. "here we are!" said dorothy, gaily, and helped button-bright from the chariot. polychrome leaped out lightly after them, and they were greeted by a crowd of gorgeously dressed servants who bowed low as the visitors mounted the marble steps. at their head was a pretty little maid with dark hair and eyes, dressed all in green embroidered with silver. dorothy ran up to her with evident pleasure, and exclaimed: "o jellia jamb! i'm so glad to see you again. where's ozma?" "in her room, your highness," replied the little maid demurely, for this was ozma's favorite attendant. "she wishes you to come to her as soon as you have rested and changed your dress, princess dorothy. and you and your friends are to dine with her this evening." "when is her birthday, jellia?" asked the girl. "day after to-morrow, your highness." "and where's the scarecrow?" "he's gone into the munchkin country to get some fresh straw to stuff himself with, in honor of ozma's celebration," replied the maid. "he returns to the emerald city to-morrow, he said." by this time tik-tok, the tin woodman, and the shaggy man had arrived and the chariot had gone around to the back of the palace, billina going with the lion and tiger to see her chickens after her absence from them. but toto stayed close beside dorothy. [illustration: "o, jellia jamb! i'm so glad to see you"] "come in, please," said jellia jamb; "it shall be our pleasant duty to escort all of you to the rooms prepared for your use." the shaggy man hesitated. dorothy had never known him to be ashamed of his shaggy looks before, but now that he was surrounded by so much magnificence and splendor the shaggy man felt sadly out of place. dorothy assured him that all her friends were welcome at ozma's palace, so he carefully dusted his shaggy shoes with his shaggy handkerchief and entered the grand hall after the others. [illustration] tik-tok lived at the royal palace and the tin woodman always had the same room whenever he visited ozma, so these two went at once to remove the dust of the journey from their shining bodies. dorothy also had a pretty suite of rooms which she always occupied when in the emerald city; but several servants walked ahead politely to show the way, although she was quite sure she could find the rooms herself. she took button-bright with her, because he seemed too small to be left alone in such a big palace; but jellia jamb herself ushered the beautiful daughter of the rainbow to her apartments, because it was easy to see that polychrome was used to splendid palaces and was therefore entitled to especial attention. the shaggy man's welcome [illustration] the shaggy man stood in the great hall, his shaggy hat in his hands, wondering what would become of him. he had never been a guest in a fine palace before; perhaps he had never been a guest anywhere. in the big, cold, outside world people did not invite shaggy men to their homes, and this shaggy man of ours had slept more in hay-lofts and stables than in comfortable rooms. when the others left the great hall he eyed the splendidly dressed servants of the princess ozma as if he expected to be ordered out; but one of them bowed before him as respectfully as if he had been a prince, and said: "permit me, sir, to conduct you to your apartments." the shaggy man drew a long breath and took courage. "very well," he answered; "i'm ready." [illustration] through the big hall they went, up the grand staircase carpeted thick with velvet, and so along a wide corridor to a carved doorway. here the servant paused, and opening the door said with polite deference: "be good enough to enter, sir, and make yourself at home in the rooms our royal ozma has ordered prepared for you. whatever you see is for you to use and enjoy, as if your own. the princess dines at seven, and i shall be here in time to lead you to the drawing-room, where you will be privileged to meet the lovely ruler of oz. is there any command, in the meantime, with which you desire to honor me?" "no," said the shaggy man; "but i'm much obliged." he entered the room and shut the door, and for a time stood in bewilderment, admiring the grandeur before him. he had been given one of the handsomest apartments in the most magnificent palace in the world, and you can not wonder that his good fortune astonished and awed him until he grew used to his surroundings. the furniture was upholstered in cloth of gold, with the royal crown embroidered upon it in scarlet. the rug upon the marble floor was so thick and soft that he could not hear the sound of his own footsteps, and upon the walls were splendid tapestries woven with scenes from the land of oz. books and ornaments were scattered about in profusion, and the shaggy man thought he had never seen so many pretty things in one place before. in one corner played a tinkling fountain of perfumed water, and in another was a table bearing a golden tray loaded with freshly gathered fruit, including several of the red-cheeked apples that the shaggy man loved. at the farther end of this charming room was an open doorway, and he crossed over to find himself in a bedroom containing more comforts than the shaggy man had ever before imagined. the bedstead was of gold and set with many brilliant diamonds, and the coverlet had designs of pearls and rubies sewed upon it. at one side of the bedroom was a dainty dressing-room, with closets containing a large assortment of fresh clothing; and beyond this was the bath--a large room having a marble pool big enough to swim in, with white marble steps leading down to the water. around the edge of the pool were set rows of fine emeralds as large as door-knobs, while the water of the bath was clear as crystal. [illustration: the shaggy man admires his new clothes] for a time the shaggy man gazed upon all this luxury with silent amazement. then he decided, being wise in his way, to take advantage of his good fortune. he removed his shaggy boots and his shaggy clothing, and bathed in the pool with rare enjoyment. after he had dried himself with the soft towels he went into the dressing-room and took fresh linen from the drawers and put it on, finding that everything fitted him exactly. he examined the contents of the closets and selected an elegant suit of clothing. strangely enough, everything about it was shaggy, although so new and beautiful, and he sighed with contentment to realize that he could now be finely dressed and still be the shaggy man. his coat was of rose-colored velvet, trimmed with shags and bobtails, with buttons of blood-red rubies and golden shags around the edges. his vest was a shaggy satin of a delicate cream color, and his knee-breeches of rose velvet trimmed like the coat. shaggy creamy stockings of silk, and shaggy slippers of rose leather with ruby buckles, completed his costume, and when he was thus attired the shaggy man looked at himself in a long mirror with great admiration. on a table he found a mother-of-pearl chest decorated with delicate silver vines and flowers of clustered rubies, and on the cover was a silver plate engraved with these words: the shaggy man: his box of ornaments the chest was not locked, so he opened it and was almost dazzled by the brilliance of the rich jewels it contained. after admiring the pretty things, he took out a fine golden watch with a big chain, several handsome finger-rings, and an ornament of rubies to pin upon the breast of his shaggy shirt-bosom. having carefully brushed his hair and whiskers all the wrong way, to make them look as shaggy as possible, the shaggy man breathed a deep sigh of joy and decided he was ready to meet the royal princess as soon as she sent for him. while he waited he returned to the beautiful sitting room and ate several of the red-cheeked apples to pass away the time. meanwhile dorothy had dressed herself in a pretty gown of soft grey embroidered with silver, and put a blue-and-gold suit of satin upon little button-bright, who looked as sweet as a cherub in it. followed by the boy and toto--the dog with a new green ribbon around his neck--she hastened down to the splendid drawing-room of the palace, where, seated upon an exquisite throne of carved malachite and nestled amongst its green satin cushions was the lovely princess ozma, waiting eagerly to welcome her friend. [illustration] princess ozma of oz [illustration] the royal historians of oz, who are fine writers and know any number of big words, have often tried to describe the rare beauty of ozma and failed because the words were not good enough. so of course i can not hope to tell you how great was the charm of this little princess, or how her loveliness put to shame all the sparkling jewels and magnificent luxury that surrounded her in this her royal palace. whatever else was beautiful or dainty or delightful of itself faded to dullness when contrasted with ozma's bewitching face, and it has often been said by those who know that no other ruler in all the world can ever hope to equal the gracious charm of her manner. everything about ozma attracted one, and she inspired love and the sweetest affection rather than awe or ordinary admiration. dorothy threw her arms around her little friend and hugged and kissed her rapturously, and toto barked joyfully and button-bright smiled a happy smile and consented to sit on the soft cushions close beside the princess. "why didn't you send me word you were going to have a birthday party?" asked the little kansas girl, when the first greetings were over. "didn't i?" asked ozma, her pretty eyes dancing with merriment. "did you?" replied dorothy, trying to think. "who do you imagine, dear, mixed up those roads, so as to start you wandering in the direction of oz?" inquired the princess. "oh! i never 'spected _you_ of that," cried dorothy. "i've watched you in my magic picture all the way here," declared ozma, "and twice i thought i should have to use the magic belt to save you and transport you to the emerald city. once was when the scoodlers caught you, and again when you reached the deadly desert. but the shaggy man was able to help you out both times, so i did not interfere." "do you know who button-bright is?" asked dorothy. [illustration] "no; i never saw him until you found him in the road, and then only in my magic picture." "and did you send polly to us?" "no, dear; the rainbow's daughter slid from her father's pretty arch just in time to meet you." "well," said dorothy, "i've promised king dox of foxville and king kik-a-bray of dunkiton that i'd ask you to invite them to your party." "i have already done that," returned ozma, "because i thought it would please you to favor them." "did you 'vite the musicker?" asked button-bright. "no; because he would be too noisy, and might interfere with the comfort of others. when music is not very good, and is indulged in all the time, it is better that the performer should be alone," said the princess. "i like the musicker's music," declared the boy, gravely. "but i don't," said dorothy. "well, there will be plenty of music at my celebration," promised ozma; "so i've an idea button-bright won't miss the musicker at all." just then polychrome danced in, and ozma rose to greet the rainbow's daughter in her sweetest and most cordial manner. dorothy thought she had never seen two prettier creatures together than these lovely maidens; but polly knew at once her own dainty beauty could not match that of ozma, yet was not a bit jealous because this was so. the wizard of oz was announced, and a dried-up, little, old man, clothed all in black, entered the drawing-room. his face was cheery and his eyes twinkling with humor, so polly and button-bright were not at all afraid of the wonderful personage whose fame as a humbug magician had spread throughout the world. after greeting dorothy with much affection, he stood modestly behind ozma's throne and listened to the lively prattle of the young people. now the shaggy man appeared, and so startling was his appearance, all clad in shaggy new raiment, that dorothy cried "oh!" and clasped her hands impulsively as she examined her friend with pleased eyes. [illustration] "he's still shaggy, all right," remarked button-bright; and ozma nodded brightly because she had meant the shaggy man to remain shaggy when she provided his new clothes for him. dorothy led him toward the throne, as he was shy in such fine company, and presented him gracefully to the princess, saying: "this, your highness, is my friend, the shaggy man, who owns the love magnet." "you are welcome to oz," said the girl ruler, in gracious accents. "but tell me, sir, where did you get the love magnet which you say you own?" the shaggy man grew red and looked downcast, as he answered in a low voice: "i stole it, your majesty." "oh, shaggy man!" cried dorothy. "how dreadful! and you told me the eskimo gave you the love magnet." he shuffled first on one foot and then on the other, much embarrassed. "i told you a falsehood, dorothy," he said; "but now, having bathed in the truth pond, i must tell nothing but the truth." "why did you steal it?" asked ozma, gently. "because no one loved me, or cared for me," said the shaggy man, "and i wanted to be loved a great deal. it was owned by a girl in butterfield who was loved too much, so that the young men quarreled over her, which made her unhappy. after i had stolen the magnet from her, only one young man continued to love the girl, and she married him and regained her happiness." "are you sorry you stole it?" asked the princess. "no, your highness; i'm glad," he answered; "for it has pleased me to be loved, and if dorothy had not cared for me i could not have accompanied her to this beautiful land of oz, or met its kind-hearted ruler. now that i'm here, i hope to remain, and to become one of your majesty's most faithful subjects." [illustration: in the royal palace of oz] "but in oz we are loved for ourselves alone, and for our kindness to one another, and for our good deeds," she said. "i'll give up the love magnet," said the shaggy man, eagerly; "dorothy shall have it." "but every one loves dorothy already," declared the wizard. "then button-bright shall have it." "don't want it," said the boy, promptly. "then i'll give it to the wizard, for i'm sure the lovely princess ozma does not need it." "all my people love the wizard, too," announced the princess, laughing; "so we will hang the love magnet over the gates of the emerald city, that whoever shall enter or leave the gates may be loved and loving." "that is a good idea," said the shaggy man; "i agree to it most willingly." those assembled now went in to dinner, which you may imagine was a grand affair; and afterward ozma asked the wizard to give them an exhibition of his magic. the wizard took eight tiny white piglets from an inside pocket and set them on the table. one was dressed like a clown, and performed funny antics, and the others leaped over the spoons and dishes and ran around the table like racehorses, and turned hand-springs and were so sprightly and amusing that they kept the company in one roar of merry laughter. the wizard had trained these pets to do many curious things, and they were so little and so cunning and soft that polychrome loved to pick them up as they passed near her place and fondle them as if they were kittens. it was late when the entertainment ended, and they separated to go to their rooms. [illustration] "to-morrow," said ozma, "my invited guests will arrive, and you will find among them some interesting and curious people, i promise you. the next day will be my birthday, and the festivities will be held on the broad green just outside the gates of the city, where all my people can assemble without being crowded." "i hope the scarecrow won't be late," said dorothy, anxiously. "oh, he is sure to return to-morrow," answered ozma. "he wanted new straw to stuff himself with, so he went to the munchkin country, where straw is plentiful." with this the princess bade her guests good night and went to her own room. dorothy receives the guests [illustration] next morning dorothy's breakfast was served in her own pretty sitting room, and she sent to invite polly and the shaggy man to join her and button-bright at the meal. they came gladly, and toto also had breakfast with them, so that the little party that had traveled together to oz was once more reunited. no sooner had they finished eating than they heard the distant blast of many trumpets, and the sound of a brass band playing martial music; so they all went out upon the balcony. this was at the front of the palace and overlooked the streets of the city, being higher than the wall that shut in the palace grounds. they saw approaching down the street a band of musicians, playing as hard and loud as they could, while the people of the emerald city crowded the sidewalks and cheered so lustily that they almost drowned the noise of the drums and horns. [illustration] dorothy looked to see what they were cheering at, and discovered that behind the band was the famous scarecrow, riding proudly upon the back of a wooden saw-horse which pranced along the street almost as gracefully as if it had been made of flesh. its hoofs, or rather the ends of its wooden legs, were shod with plates of solid gold, and the saddle strapped to the wooden body was richly embroidered and glittered with jewels. as he reached the palace the scarecrow looked up and saw dorothy, and at once waved his peaked hat at her in greeting. he rode up to the front door and dismounted, and the band stopped playing and went away and the crowds of people returned to their dwellings. by the time dorothy and her friends had re-entered her room the scarecrow was there, and he gave the girl a hearty embrace and shook the hands of the others with his own squashy hands, which were white gloves filled with straw. the shaggy man, button-bright, and polychrome stared hard at this celebrated person, who was acknowledged to be the most popular and most beloved man in all the land of oz. "why, your face has been newly painted!" exclaimed dorothy, when the first greetings were over. "i had it touched up a bit by the munchkin farmer who first made me," answered the scarecrow, pleasantly. "my complexion had become a bit grey and faded, you know, and the paint had peeled off one end of my mouth, so i couldn't talk quite straight. now i feel like myself again, and i may say without immodesty that my body is stuffed with the loveliest oat-straw in all oz." he pushed against his chest. "hear me crunkle?" he asked. "yes," said dorothy; "you sound fine." button-bright was wonderfully attracted by the straw man, and so was polly. the shaggy man treated him with great respect, because he was so queerly made. jellia jamb now came to say that ozma wanted princess dorothy to receive the invited guests in the throne-room, as they arrived. the ruler was herself busy ordering the preparations for the morrow's festivities, so she wished her friend to act in her place. dorothy willingly agreed, being the only other princess in the emerald city; so she went to the great throne-room and sat in ozma's seat, placing polly on one side of her and button-bright on the other. the scarecrow stood at the left of the throne and the tin woodman at the right, while the wonderful wizard and the shaggy man stood behind. the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger came in, with bright new bows of ribbon on their collars and tails. after greeting dorothy affectionately the huge beasts lay down at the foot of the throne. while they waited, the scarecrow, who was near the little boy, asked: "why are you called button-bright?" "don't know," was the answer. "oh yes, you do, dear," said dorothy. "tell the scarecrow how you got your name." "papa always said i was bright as a button, so mamma always called me button-bright," announced the boy. "where is your mamma?" asked the scarecrow. "don't know," said button-bright. "where is your home?" asked the scarecrow. "don't know," said button-bright. "don't you want to find your mamma again?" asked the scarecrow. "don't know," said button-bright, calmly. the scarecrow looked thoughtful. "your papa may have been right," he observed; "but there are many kinds of buttons, you see. there are silver and gold buttons, which are highly polished and glitter brightly. there are pearl and rubber buttons, and other kinds, with surfaces more or less bright. but there is still another sort of button which is covered with dull cloth, and that must be the sort your papa meant when he said you were bright as a button. don't you think so?" "don't know," said button-bright. jack pumpkinhead arrived, wearing a pair of new white kid gloves; and he brought a birthday present for ozma consisting of a necklace of pumpkin-seeds. in each seed was set a sparkling carolite, which is considered the rarest and most beautiful gem that exists. the necklace was in a plush case and jellia jamb put it on a table with the princess ozma's other presents. next came a tall, beautiful woman clothed in a splendid trailing gown, trimmed with exquisite lace as fine as cobweb. this was the important sorceress known as glinda the good, who had been of great assistance to both ozma and dorothy. there was no humbug about her magic, you may be sure, and glinda was as kind as she was powerful. she greeted dorothy most lovingly, and kissed button-bright and polly, and smiled upon the shaggy man, after which jellia jamb led the sorceress to one of the most magnificent rooms of the royal palace and appointed fifty servants to wait upon her. [illustration] the next arrival was mr. h. m. woggle-bug, t. e.; the "h. m." meaning highly magnified and the "t. e." meaning thoroughly educated. the woggle-bug was head professor at the royal college of oz, and he had composed a fine ode in honor of ozma's birthday. this he wanted to read to them; but the scarecrow wouldn't let him. soon they heard a clucking sound and a chorus of "cheep! cheep!" and a servant threw open the door to allow billina and her ten fluffy chicks to enter the throne-room. as the yellow hen marched proudly at the head of her family, dorothy cried, "oh, you lovely things!" and ran down from her seat to pet the little yellow downy balls. billina wore a pearl necklace, and around the neck of each chicken was a tiny gold chain holding a locket with the letter "d" engraved upon the outside. "open the lockets, dorothy," said billina. the girl obeyed and found a picture of herself in each locket. "they were named after you, my dear," continued the yellow hen, "so i wanted all my chickens to wear your picture. cluck--cluck! come here, dorothy--this minute!" she cried, for the chickens were scattered and wandering all around the big room. they obeyed the call at once, and came running as fast as they could, fluttering their fluffy wings in a laughable way. it was lucky that billina gathered the little ones under her soft breast just then, for tik-tok came in and tramped up to the throne on his flat copper feet. "i am all wound up and work-ing fine-ly," said the clockwork man to dorothy. "i can hear him tick," declared button-bright. "you are quite the polished gentleman," said the tin woodman. "stand up here beside the shaggy man, tik-tok, and help receive the company." dorothy placed soft cushions in a corner for billina and her chicks, and had just returned to the throne and seated herself when the playing of the royal band outside the palace announced the approach of distinguished guests. and my, how they did stare when the high chamberlain threw open the doors and the visitors entered the throne-room! first walked a gingerbread man, neatly formed and baked to a lovely brown tint. he wore a silk hat and carried a candy cane prettily striped with red and yellow. his shirt-front and cuffs were white frosting, and the buttons on his coat were licorice drops. behind the gingerbread man came a child with flaxen hair and merry blue eyes, dressed in white pajamas, with sandals on the soles of its pretty bare feet. the child looked around smiling and thrust its hands into the pockets of the pajamas. close after it came a big rubber bear, walking erect on its hind feet. the bear had twinkling black eyes and its body looked as if it had been pumped full of air. following these curious visitors were two tall, thin men and two short, fat men, all four dressed in gorgeous uniforms. [illustration: king dough, the head booleywag, and para bruin] ozma's high chamberlain now hurried forward to announce the names of the new arrivals, calling out in a loud voice: "his gracious and most edible majesty, king dough the first, ruler of the two kingdoms of hiland and loland. also the head booleywag of his majesty, known as chick the cherub, and their faithful friend para bruin, the rubber bear." these great personages bowed low as their names were called, and dorothy hastened to introduce them to the assembled company. they were the first foreign arrivals, and the friends of princess ozma were polite to them and tried to make them feel that they were welcome. chick the cherub shook hands with every one, including billina, and was so joyous and frank and full of good spirits that john dough's head booleywag at once became a prime favorite. "is it a boy or a girl?" whispered dorothy. "don't know," said button-bright. "goodness me! what a queer lot of people you are," exclaimed the rubber bear, looking at the assembled company. "so're you," said button-bright, gravely. "is king dough good to eat?" "he's too good to eat," laughed chick the cherub. "i hope none of you are fond of gingerbread," said the king, rather anxiously. "we should never think of eating our visitors, if we were," declared the scarecrow; "so please do not worry, for you will be perfectly safe while you remain in oz." "why do they call you chick?" the yellow hen asked the child. "because i'm an incubator baby, and never had any parents," replied the head booleywag. "my chicks have a parent, and i'm it," said billina. "i'm glad of that," answered the cherub, "because they'll have more fun worrying you than if they were brought up in an incubator. the incubator never worries, you know." [illustration] king john dough had brought for ozma's birthday present a lovely gingerbread crown, with rows of small pearls around it and a fine big pearl in each of its five points. after this had been received by dorothy with proper thanks and placed on the table with the other presents, the visitors from hiland and loland were escorted to their rooms by the high chamberlain. they had no sooner departed than the band before the palace began to play again, announcing more arrivals, and as these were doubtless from foreign parts the high chamberlain hurried back to receive them in his most official manner. important arrivals [illustration] first entered a band of ryls from the happy valley, all merry little sprites like fairy elves. a dozen crooked knooks followed from the great forest of burzee. they had long whiskers and pointed caps and curling toes, yet were no taller than button-bright's shoulder. with this group came a man so easy to recognize and so important and dearly beloved throughout the known world, that all present rose to their feet and bowed their heads in respectful homage, even before the high chamberlain knelt to announce his name. "the most mighty and loyal friend of children, his supreme highness--santa claus!" said the chamberlain, in an awed voice. "well, well, well! glad to see you--glad to meet you all!" cried santa claus, briskly, as he trotted up the long room. he was round as an apple, with a fresh rosy face, laughing eyes, and a bushy beard as white as snow. a red cloak trimmed with beautiful ermine hung from his shoulders and upon his back was a basket filled with pretty presents for the princess ozma. "hello, dorothy; still having adventures?" he asked in his jolly way, as he took the girl's hand in both his own. "how did you know my name, santa?" she replied, feeling more shy in the presence of this immortal saint than she ever had before in her young life. "why, don't i see you every christmas eve, when you're asleep?" he rejoined, pinching her blushing cheek. "oh; do you?" "and here's button-bright, i declare!" cried santa claus, holding up the boy to kiss him. "what a long way from home you are; dear me!" "do you know button-bright, too?" questioned dorothy, eagerly. "indeed i do. i've visited his home several christmas eves." "and do you know his father?" asked the girl. [illustration: merry ryls and crooked knooks] "certainly, my dear. who else do you suppose brings him his christmas neckties and stockings?" with a sly wink at the wizard. "then where does he live? we're just crazy to know, 'cause button-bright's lost," she said. santa laughed and laid his finger aside of his nose as if thinking what to reply. he leaned over and whispered something in the wizard's ear, at which the wizard smiled and nodded as if he understood. now santa claus spied polychrome, and trotted over to where she stood. "seems to me the rainbow's daughter is farther from home than any of you," he observed, looking at the pretty maiden admiringly. "i'll have to tell your father where you are, polly, and send him to get you." "please do, dear santa claus," implored the little maid, beseechingly. "but just now we must all have a jolly good time at ozma's party," said the old gentlemen, turning to put his presents on the table with the others already there. "it isn't often i find time to leave my castle, as you know; but ozma invited me and i just couldn't help coming to celebrate the happy occasion." "i'm so glad!" exclaimed dorothy. "these are my ryls," pointing to the little sprites squatting around him. "their business is to paint the colors of the flowers when they bud and bloom; but i brought the merry fellows along to see oz, and they've left their paint-pots behind them. also i brought these crooked knooks, whom i love. my dears, the knooks are much nicer than they look, for their duty is to water and care for the young trees of the forest, and they do their work faithfully and well. it's hard work, though, and it makes my knooks crooked and gnarled, like the trees themselves; but their hearts are big and kind, as are the hearts of all who do good in our beautiful world." "i've read of the ryls and knooks," said dorothy, looking upon these little workers with interest. santa claus turned to talk with the scarecrow and the tin woodman, and he also said a kind word to the shaggy man, and afterward went away to ride the saw-horse around the emerald city. "for," said he, "i must see all the grand sights while i am here and have the chance, and ozma has promised to let me ride the saw-horse because i'm getting fat and short of breath." "where are your reindeer?" asked polychrome. "i left them at home, for it is too warm for them in this sunny country," he answered. "they're used to winter weather when they travel." in a flash he was gone, and the ryls and knooks with him; but they could all hear the golden hoofs of the saw-horse ringing on the marble pavement outside, as he pranced away with his noble rider. presently the band played again, and the high chamberlain announced: [illustration] "her gracious majesty, the queen of merryland." they looked earnestly to discover whom this queen might be, and saw advancing up the room an exquisite wax doll, dressed in dainty fluffs and ruffles and spangled gown. she was almost as big as button-bright, and her cheeks and mouth and eyebrow were prettily painted in delicate colors. her blue eyes stared a bit, being of glass, yet the expression upon her majesty's face was quite pleasant and decidedly winning. with the queen of merryland were four wooden soldiers, two stalking ahead of her with much dignity and two following behind, like a royal bodyguard. the soldiers were painted in bright colors and carried wooden guns, and after them came a fat little man who attracted attention at once, although he seemed modest and retiring. for he was made of candy, and carried a tin sugar-sifter filled with powdered sugar, with which he dusted himself frequently so that he wouldn't stick to things if he touched them. the high chamberlain had called him "the candy man of merryland," and dorothy saw that one of his thumbs looked as if it had been bitten off by some who was fond of candy and couldn't resist the temptation. the wax doll queen spoke prettily to dorothy and the others, and sent her loving greetings to ozma before she retired to the rooms prepared for her. she had brought a birthday present wrapped in tissue paper and tied with pink and blue ribbons, and one of the wooden soldiers placed it on the table with the other gifts. but the candy man did not go to his room, because he said he preferred to stay and talk with the scarecrow and tik-tok and the wizard and tin woodman, whom he declared the queerest people he had ever met. button-bright was glad the candy man stayed in the throne-room, because the boy thought this guest smelled deliciously of wintergreen and maple sugar. the braided man now entered the room, having been fortunate enough to receive an invitation to the princess ozma's party. he was from a cave halfway between the invisible valley and the country of the gargoyles, and his hair and whiskers were so long that he was obliged to plait them into many braids that hung to his feet, and every braid was tied with a bow of colored ribbon. "i've brought princess ozma a box of flutters for her birthday," said the braided man, earnestly; "and i hope she will like them, for they are the finest quality i have ever made." [illustration] "i'm sure she will be greatly pleased," said dorothy, who remembered the braided man well; and the wizard introduced the guest to the rest of the company and made him sit down in a chair and keep quiet, for, if allowed, he would talk continually about his flutters. the band then played a welcome to another set of guests, and into the throne-room swept the handsome and stately queen of ev. beside her was young king evardo, and following them came the entire royal family of five princesses and four princes of ev. the kingdom of ev lay just across the deadly desert to the north of oz, and once ozma and her people had rescued the queen of ev and her ten children from the nome king, who had enslaved them. dorothy had been present on this adventure, so she greeted the royal family cordially; and all the visitors were delighted to meet the little kansas girl again. they knew tik-tok and billina, too, and the scarecrow and tin woodman, as well as the lion and tiger; so there was a joyful reunion, as you may imagine, and it was fully an hour before the queen and her train retired to their rooms. perhaps they would not have gone then had not the band begun to play to announce new arrivals; but before they left the great throne-room king evardo added to ozma's birthday presents a diadem of diamonds set in radium. the next comer proved to be king renard of foxville; or king dox, as he preferred to be called. he was magnificently dressed in a new feather costume and wore white kid mittens over his paws and a flower in his button-hole and had his hair parted in the middle. king dox thanked dorothy fervently for getting him the invitation to come to oz, which he had all his life longed to visit. he strutted around rather absurdly as he was introduced to all the famous people assembled in the throne-room, and when he learned that dorothy was a princess of oz the fox king insisted on kneeling at her feet and afterward retired backward--a dangerous thing to do, as he might have stubbed his paw and tumbled over. no sooner was he gone than the blasts of bugles and clatter of drums and cymbals announced important visitors, and the high chamberlain assumed his most dignified tone as he threw open the door and said proudly: "her sublime and resplendent majesty, queen zixi of ix! his serene and tremendous majesty, king bud of noland. her royal highness, the princess fluff." [illustration: her majesty, queen zixi of ix] that three such high and mighty royal personages should arrive at once was enough to make dorothy and her companions grow solemn and assume their best company manners; but when the exquisite beauty of queen zixi met their eyes they thought they had never beheld anything so charming. dorothy decided that zixi must be about sixteen years old, but the wizard whispered to her that this wonderful queen had lived thousands of years, but knew the secret of remaining always fresh and beautiful. king bud of noland and his dainty fair-haired sister, the princess fluff, were friends of zixi, as their kingdoms were adjoining, so they had traveled together from their far-off domains to do honor to ozma of oz on the occasion of her birthday. they brought many splendid gifts; so the table was now fairly loaded down with presents. dorothy and polly loved the princess fluff the moment they saw her, and little king bud was so frank and boyish that button-bright accepted him as a chum at once and did not want him to go away. but it was after noon now, and the royal guests must prepare their toilets for the grand banquet at which they were to assemble that evening to meet the reigning princess of this fairyland; so queen zixi was shown to her room by a troop of maidens led by jellia jamb, and bud and fluff presently withdrew to their own apartments. "my! what a big party ozma is going to have," exclaimed dorothy. "i guess the palace will be chock full, button-bright; don't you think so?" "don't know," said the boy. "but we must go to our rooms, pretty soon, to dress for the banquet," continued the girl. "i don't have to dress," said the candy man from merryland. "all i need do is to dust myself with fresh sugar." [illustration] "tik-tok and i always wear the same suits of clothes," said the tin woodman; "and so does our friend the scarecrow." "my feathers are good enough for any occasion," cried billina, from her corner. "then i shall leave you four to welcome any new guests that come," said dorothy; "for button-bright and i must look our very best at ozma's banquet." "who is still to come?" asked the scarecrow. "well, there's king kika-bray of dunkiton, and johnny dooit, and the good witch of the north. but johnny dooit may not get here until late, he's so very busy." "we will receive them and give them a proper welcome," promised the scarecrow. "so run along, little dorothy, and get yourself dressed." [illustration] the grand banquet [illustration] i wish i could tell you how fine the company was that assembled that evening at ozma's royal banquet. a long table was spread in the center of the great dining-hall of the palace and the splendor of the decorations and the blaze of lights and jewels was acknowledged to be the most magnificent sight that any of the guests had ever seen. the jolliest person present, as well as the most important, was of course, old santa claus; so he was given the seat of honor at one end of the table while at the other end sat princess ozma, the hostess. john dough, queen zixi, king bud, the queen of ev and her son evardo, and the queen of merryland had golden thrones to sit in, while the others were supplied with beautiful chairs. [illustration] at the upper end of the banquet room was a separate table provided for the animals. toto sat at one end of this table, with a bib tied around his neck and a silver platter to eat from. at the other end was placed a small stand, with a low rail around the edge of it, for billina and her chicks. the rail kept the ten little dorothys from falling off the stand, while the yellow hen could easily reach over and take her food from her tray upon the table. at other places sat the hungry tiger, the cowardly lion, the saw-horse, the rubber bear, the fox king and the donkey king; they made quite a company of animals. at the lower end of the great room was another table, at which sat the ryls and knooks who had come with santa claus, the wooden soldiers who had come with the queen of merryland, and the hilanders and lolanders who had come with john dough. here were also seated the officers of the royal palace and of ozma's army. the splendid costumes of those at the three tables made a gorgeous and glittering display that no one present was ever likely to forget; perhaps there has never been in any part of the world at any time another assemblage of such wonderful people as that which gathered this evening to honor the birthday of the ruler of oz. when all the members of the company were in their places an orchestra of five hundred pieces, in a balcony overlooking the banquet room, began to play sweet and delightful music. then a door draped with royal green opened, and in came the fair and girlish princess ozma, who now greeted her guests in person for the first time. as she stood by her throne at the head of the banquet table every eye was turned eagerly upon the lovely princess, who was as dignified as she was bewitching, and who smiled upon all her old and new friends in a way that touched their hearts and brought an answering smile to every face. each guest had been served with a crystal goblet filled with lacasa, which is a sort of nectar famous in oz and nicer to drink than soda-water or lemonade. santa now made a pretty speech in verse, congratulating ozma on having a birthday, and asking every one present to drink to the health and happiness of their dearly beloved hostess. this was done with great enthusiasm by those who were made so they could drink at all, and those who could not drink politely touched the rims of their goblets to their lips. all seated themselves at the tables and the servants of the princess began serving the feast. i am quite sure that only in fairyland could such a delicious repast be prepared. the dishes were of precious metals set with brilliant jewels and the good things to eat which were placed upon them were countless in number and of exquisite flavor. several present, such as the candy man, the rubber bear, tik-tok, and the scarecrow, were not made so they could eat, and the queen of merryland contented herself with a small dish of sawdust; but these enjoyed the pomp and glitter of the gorgeous scene as much as did those who feasted. [illustration: drinking the health of princess ozma of oz] the woggle-bug read his "ode to ozma," which was written in very good rhythm and was well received by the company. the wizard added to the entertainment by making a big pie appear before dorothy, and when the little girl cut the pie the nine tiny piglets leaped out of it and danced around the table, while the orchestra played a merry tune. this amused the company very much, but they were even more pleased when polychrome, whose hunger had been easily satisfied, rose from the table and performed her graceful and bewildering rainbow dance for them. when it was ended the people clapped their hands and the animals clapped their paws, while billina cackled and the donkey king brayed approval. johnny dooit was present, and of course he proved he could do wonders in the way of eating, as well as in everything else that he undertook to do; the tin woodman sang a love song, every one joining in the chorus; and the wooden soldiers from merryland gave an exhibition of a lightning drill with their wooden muskets; the ryls and knooks danced the fairy circle; and the rubber bear bounced himself all around the room. there was laughter and merriment on every side, and everybody was having a royal good time. button-bright was so excited and interested that he paid little attention to his fine dinner and a great deal of attention to his queer companions; and perhaps he was wise to do this, because he could eat at any other time. the feasting and merrymaking continued until late in the evening, when they separated to meet again the next morning and take part in the birthday celebration, to which this royal banquet was merely the introduction. [illustration] the birthday celebration [illustration] a clear, perfect day, with a gentle breeze and a sunny sky, greeted princess ozma as she wakened next morning, the anniversary of her birth. while it was yet early all the city was astir and crowds of people came from all parts of the land of oz to witness the festivities in honor of their girl ruler's birthday. the noted visitors from foreign countries, who had all been transported to the emerald city by means of the magic belt, were as much a show to the ozites as were their own familiar celebrities, and the streets leading from the royal palace to the jeweled gates were thronged with men, women, and children to see the procession as it passed out to the green fields where the ceremonies were to take place. and what a great procession it was! first came a thousand young girls--the prettiest in the land--dressed in white muslin, with green sashes and hair ribbons, bearing great baskets of red roses. as they walked they scattered these flowers upon the marble pavements, so that the way was carpeted thick with roses for the procession to walk upon. then came the rulers of the four kingdoms of oz; the emperor of the winkies, the monarch of the munchkins, the king of the quadlings and the sovereign of the gillikins, each wearing a long chain of emeralds around his neck to show that he was a vassal of the ruler of the emerald city. next marched the emerald city cornet band, clothed in green-and-gold uniforms and playing the "ozma two-step." the royal army of oz followed, consisting of twenty-seven officers, from the captain-general down to the lieutenants. there were no privates in ozma's army because soldiers were not needed to fight battles, but only to look important, and an officer always looks more imposing than a private. while the people cheered and waved their hats and handkerchiefs, there came walking the royal princess ozma, looking so pretty and sweet that it is no wonder her people love her so dearly. she had decided she would not ride in her chariot that day, as she preferred to walk in the procession with her favored subjects and her guests. just in front of her trotted the living blue bear rug owned by old dyna, which wobbled clumsily on its four feet because there was nothing but the skin to support them, with a stuffed head at one end and a stubby tail at the other. but whenever ozma paused in her walk the bear rug would flop down flat upon the ground for the princess to stand upon until she resumed her progress. following the princess stalked her two enormous beasts, the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, and even if the army had not been there these two would have been powerful enough to guard their mistress from any harm. next marched the invited guests, who were loudly cheered by the people of oz along the road, and were therefore obliged to bow to right and left almost every step of the way. first was santa claus, who, because he was fat and not used to walking, rode the wonderful saw-horse. the merry old gentleman had a basket of small toys with him, and he tossed the toys one by one to the children as he passed by. his ryls and knooks marched close behind him. queen zixi of ix came after; then john dough and the cherub, with the rubber bear named para bruin strutting between them on its hind legs; then the queen of merryland, escorted by her wooden soldiers; then king bud of noland and his sister, the princess fluff; then the queen of ev and her ten royal children; then the braided man and the candy man, side by side; then king dox of foxville and king kik-a-bray of dunkiton, who by this time had become good friends; and finally johnny dooit, in his leather apron, smoking his long pipe. [illustration:] these wonderful personages were not more heartily cheered by the people than were those who followed after them in the procession. dorothy was a general favorite, and she walked arm in arm with the scarecrow, who was beloved by all. then came polychrome and button-bright, and the people loved the rainbow's pretty daughter and the beautiful blue-eyed boy as soon as they saw them. the shaggy man in his shaggy new suit attracted much attention because he was such a novelty. with regular steps tramped the machine-man tik-tok, and there was more cheering when the wizard of oz followed in the procession. the woggle-bug and jack pumpkinhead were next, and behind them glinda the sorceress and the good witch of the north. finally came billina, with her brood of chickens to whom she clucked anxiously to keep them together and to hasten them along so they would not delay the procession. another band followed, this time the tin band of the emperor of the winkies, playing a beautiful march called, "there's no plate like tin." then came the servants of the royal palace, in a long line, and behind them all the people joined the procession and marched away through the emerald gates and out upon the broad green. here had been erected a splendid pavilion, with a grandstand big enough to seat all the royal party and those who had taken part in the procession. over the pavilion, which was of green silk and cloth of gold, countless banners waved in the breeze. just in front of this, and connected with it by a runway, had been built a broad platform, so that all the spectators could see plainly the entertainment provided for them. the wizard now became master of ceremonies, as ozma had placed the conduct of the performance in his hands. after the people had all congregated about the platform and the royal party and the visitors were seated in the grandstand, the wizard skillfully performed some feats of juggling glass balls and lighted candles. he tossed a dozen or so of them high in the air and caught them one by one as they came down, without missing any. then he introduced the scarecrow, who did a sword-swallowing act that aroused much interest. after this the tin woodman gave an exhibition of swinging the axe, which he made to whirl around him so rapidly that the eye could scarcely follow the motion of the gleaming blade. glinda the sorceress then stepped upon the platform, and by her magic made a big tree grow in the middle of the space, made blossoms appear upon the tree, and made the blossoms become delicious fruit called tamornas; and so great was the quantity of fruit thus produced that when the servants climbed the tree and tossed it down to the crowd, there was enough to satisfy every person present. para bruin, the rubber bear, climbed to a limb of the big tree, rolled himself into a ball, and dropped to the platform, whence he bounded up again to the limb. he repeated this bouncing act several times, to the great delight of all the children present. after he had finished, and bowed, and returned to his seat, glinda waved her wand and the tree disappeared; but its fruit still remained to be eaten. the good witch of the north amused the people by transforming ten stones into ten birds, the ten birds into ten lambs, and the ten lambs into ten little girls, who gave a pretty dance and were then transformed into ten stones again, just as they were in the beginning. johnny dooit next came on the platform with his tool-chest, and in a few minutes built a great flying machine; then put his chest in the machine and the whole thing flew away together--johnny and all--after he had bid good-bye to those present and thanked the princess for her hospitality. [illustration] the wizard then announced the last act of all, which was considered really wonderful. he had invented a machine to blow huge soap-bubbles, as big as balloons, and this machine was hidden under the platform so that only the rim of the big clay pipe to produce the bubbles showed above the flooring. the tank of soap-suds, and the air-pumps to inflate the bubbles, were out of sight beneath, so that when the bubbles began to grow upon the floor of the platform it really seemed like magic to the people of oz, who knew nothing about even the common soap-bubbles that our children blow with a penny clay pipe and a basin of soap-and-water. the wizard had invented another thing. usually soap-bubbles are frail and burst easily, lasting only a few moments as they float in the air; but the wizard added a sort of glue to his soapsuds, which made his bubbles tough; and, as the glue dried rapidly when exposed to the air, the wizard's bubbles were strong enough to float for hours without breaking. he began by blowing--by means of his machinery and air-pumps--several large bubbles which he allowed to float upward into the sky, where the sunshine fell upon them and gave them iridescent hues that were most beautiful. this aroused much wonder and delight, because it was a new amusement to every one present--except perhaps dorothy and button-bright, and even they had never seen such big, strong bubbles before. [illustration: the wizard blew a bubble around santa claus] the wizard then blew a bunch of small bubbles and afterward blew a big bubble around them so they were left in the center of it; then he allowed the whole mass of pretty globes to float into the air and disappear in the far distant sky. "that is really fine!" declared santa claus, who loved toys and pretty things. "i think, mr. wizard, i shall have you blow a bubble around me; then i can float away home and see the country spread out beneath me as i travel. there isn't a spot on earth that i haven't visited, but i usually go in the night-time, riding behind my swift reindeer. here is a good chance to observe the country by daylight, while i am riding slowly and at my ease." "do you think you will be able to guide the bubble?" asked the wizard. "oh yes; i know enough magic to do that," replied santa claus. "you blow the bubble, with me inside of it, and i'll be sure to get home in safety." "please send me home in a bubble, too!" begged the queen of merryland. "very well, madam; you shall try the journey first," politely answered old santa. the pretty wax doll bade good-bye to the princess ozma and the others, and stood on the platform while the wizard blew a big soap-bubble around her. when completed he allowed the bubble to float slowly upward, and there could be seen the little queen of merryland standing in the middle of it and blowing kisses from her fingers to those below. the bubble took a southerly direction, quickly floating out of sight. "that's a very nice way to travel," said princess fluff. "i'd like to go home in a bubble, too." so the wizard blew a big bubble around princess fluff, and another around king bud, her brother, and a third one around queen zixi; and soon these three bubbles had mounted into the sky and were floating off in a group in the direction of the kingdom of noland. the success of these ventures induced the other guests from foreign lands to undertake bubble journeys, also; so the wizard put them one by one inside his bubbles, and santa claus directed the way they should go, because he knew exactly where everybody lived. finally button-bright said: "i want to go home, too." "why, so you shall!" cried santa; "for i'm sure your father and mother will be glad to see you again. mr. wizard, please blow a big, fine bubble for button-bright to ride in, and i'll agree to send him home to his family as safe as safe can be." "i'm sorry," said dorothy with a sigh, for she was fond of her little comrade; "but p'raps it's best for button-bright to get home; 'cause his folks must be worrying just dreadful." she kissed the boy, and ozma kissed him, too, and all the others waved their hands and said good-bye and wished him a pleasant journey. "are you glad to leave us, dear?" asked dorothy, a little wistfully. "don't know," said button-bright. he sat down cross-legged on the platform, with his sailor hat tipped back on his head, and the wizard blew a beautiful bubble all around him. a minute later it had mounted into the sky, sailing toward the west, and the last they saw of button-bright he was still sitting in the middle of the shining globe and waving his sailor-hat at those below. "will you ride in a bubble, or shall i send you and toto home by means of the magic belt?" the princess asked dorothy. "guess i'll use the belt," replied the little girl. "i'm sort of 'fraid of those bubbles." "bow-wow!" said toto, approvingly. he loved to bark at the bubbles as they sailed away, but he didn't care to ride in one. santa claus decided to go next. he thanked ozma for her hospitality and wished her many happy returns of the day. then the wizard blew a bubble around his chubby little body and smaller bubbles around each of his ryls and knooks. as the kind and generous friend of children mounted into the air the people all cheered at the top of their voices, for they loved santa claus dearly; and the little man heard them through the walls of the bubble and waved his hands in return as he smiled down upon them. the band played bravely while every one watched the bubble until it was completely out of sight. "how 'bout you, polly?" dorothy asked her friend. "are you 'fraid of bubbles, too?" "no," answered polychrome, smiling; "but santa claus promised to speak to my father as he passed through the sky. so perhaps i shall get home an easier way." indeed, the little maid had scarcely made this speech when a sudden radiance filled the air, and while the people looked on in wonder the end of a gorgeous rainbow slowly settled down upon the platform. with a glad cry the rainbow's daughter sprang from her seat and danced along the curve of the bow, mounting gradually upward, while the folds of her gauzy gown whirled and floated around her like a cloud and blended with the colors of the rainbow itself. [illustration: "good-bye, ozma! good-bye, dorothy!"] "good-bye, ozma! good-bye, dorothy!" cried a voice they knew belonged to polychrome; but now the little maiden's form had melted wholly into the rainbow, and their eyes could no longer see her. suddenly the end of the rainbow lifted and its colors slowly faded like mist before a breeze. dorothy sighed deeply and turned to ozma. "i'm sorry to lose polly," she said; "but i guess she's better off with her father; 'cause even the land of oz couldn't be like home to a cloud fairy." "no, indeed," replied the princess; "but it has been delightful for us to know polychrome for a little while, and--who knows?--perhaps we may meet the rainbow's daughter again, some day." the entertainment being now ended, all left the pavilion and formed their gay procession back to the emerald city again. of dorothy's recent traveling companions only toto and the shaggy man remained, and ozma had decided to allow the latter to live in oz for a time, at least. if he proved honest and true she promised to let him live there always, and the shaggy man was anxious to earn this reward. they had a nice quiet dinner together and passed a pleasant evening with the scarecrow, the tin woodman, tik-tok, and the yellow hen for company. when dorothy bade them good-night she kissed them all good-bye at the same time. for ozma had agreed that while dorothy slept she and toto should be transported by means of the magic belt to her own little bed in the kansas farmhouse and the little girl laughed as she thought how astonished uncle henry and aunt em would be when she came down to breakfast with them next morning. quite content to have had so pleasant an adventure, and a little tired by all the day's busy scenes, dorothy clasped toto in her arms and lay down upon the pretty white bed in her room in ozma's royal palace. presently she was sound asleep. [illustration: the end] the twinkle tales by laura bancroft _each volume, x inches, with full pages in colors, and other illustrations by_ maginel wright enright prince mud turtle in this story twinkle, a little girl, captures a mud turtle who turns out to be a fairy prince. mr. woodchuck twinkle is taken underground to visit mr. woodchuck's family and neighbors, and discovers what they think of traps and people who set them. bandit jim crow jim crow, twinkle's pet, escapes and becomes a robber among the birds. he gets his punishment from them. twinkle's enchantment twinkle becomes enchanted and meets a dancing bear, prince grasshopper, and others. sugar loaf mountain on entering a hole in the mountain twinkle and chubbins find themselves in a land where all the people are made of candy. prairie dog town twinkle and chubbins are made small by a magician and are escorted through prairie dog town by its mayor. _each volume with different cover design, cloth, stamped in colors, cents_ policeman bluejay by laura bancroft _with many beautiful pictures in color and line by_ maginel wright enright in this delightful fairy tale and nature story combined, twinkle and chubbins, two children, after having been transformed into little birds with human heads, become friends with a number of birds and learn many curious and true things about them. _size - / x inches. eight full-page colored illustrations and dozens of headings, tail pieces and decorations. cloth back, with decorated paper sides. price $ . ._ books by l. frank baum illustrated by john r. neill _uniform with this volume_ _each book, handsomely bound in artistic pictorial cover. $ . per volume._ the land of oz an account of the adventures of the scarecrow, the tin woodman, jack pumpkinhead, the animated saw-horse, the highly magnified woggle-bug, the gump and many other delightful characters. nearly black-and-white illustrations and sixteen full-page pictures in colors. ozma of oz the story tells "more about dorothy," as well as those famous characters, the scarecrow, the tin woodman and the cowardly lion, and something of several new creations equally delightful, including tik-tok the machine man, the yellow hen, the nome king and the hungry tiger. forty-one full-page colored pictures; twenty-two half pages in color and fifty black-and-white text pictures; special end sheets, title page, copyright page, book plate, etc, etc. dorothy and the wizard of oz in this book dorothy, with zeb, a little boy friend, and jim, the cab horse, are swallowed up in an earthquake and reach a strange vegetable land, whence they escape to the land of oz, and meet all their old friends. among the new characters are eureka, dorothy's pink kitten, and the nine tiny piglets. gorgeously illustrated with sixteen full color pages and numerous black-and-white pictures, besides head and tail pieces, ornaments, etc. john dough and the cherub a whimsical tale portraying the exciting adventures of the gingerbread man and his comrade chick the cherub in the "palace of romance," the "land of the mifkets," "highland and lowland," and other places. forty full-page colored pictures; twenty colored pictorial chapter headings; black-and-white text pictures, special end sheets, title page, etc. [illustration: endpiece] [illustration: endpiece] [illustration: back cover] the tin woodman of oz a faithful story of the astonishing adventure undertaken by the tin woodman, assisted by woot the wanderer, the scarecrow of oz, and polychrome, the rainbow's daughter by l. frank baum "royal historian of oz" author of all the oz books illustrated by john r. neill the reilly & britton co. chicago [illustration: copyright by l. frank baum _all rights reserved_] _made in u. s. a._ [illustration: this book is dedicated to the son of my son =frank alden baum=] [illustration: ozma] [illustration] to my readers i know that some of you have been waiting for this story of the tin woodman, because many of my correspondents have asked me, time and again, what ever became of the "pretty munchkin girl" whom nick chopper was engaged to marry before the wicked witch enchanted his axe and he traded his flesh for tin. i, too, have wondered what became of her, but until woot the wanderer interested himself in the matter the tin woodman knew no more than we did. however, he found her, after many thrilling adventures, as you will discover when you have read this story. i am delighted at the continued interest of both young and old in the oz stories. a learned college professor recently wrote me to ask: "for readers of what age are your books intended?" it puzzled me to answer that properly, until i had looked over some of the letters i have received. one says: "i'm a little boy years old, and i just love your oz stories. my sister, who is writing this for me, reads me the oz books, but i wish i could read them myself." another letter says: "i'm a great girl years old, so you'll be surprised when i tell you i am not too old yet for the oz stories." here's another letter: "since i was a young girl i've never missed getting a baum book for christmas. i'm married, now, but am as eager to get and read the oz stories as ever." and still another writes: "my good wife and i, both more than years of age, believe that we find more real enjoyment in your oz books than in any other books we read." considering these statements, i wrote the college professor that my books are intended for all those whose hearts are young, no matter what their ages may be. and while on this subject of letters i am reminded that a good many of my correspondents neglect to slip a -cent postage-stamp into their letters, for the answer. you are sending but one letter, you know, while i get so many hundreds of letters that to prepay postage on all the answers to them would be no small burden to me. i think i am justified in promising that there will be some astonishing revelations about the magic of oz in my book for . always your loving and grateful friend, l. frank baum, royal historian of oz. "ozcot" at hollywood in california . list of chapters [illustration] woot the wanderer the heart of the tin woodman roundabout the loons of loonville mrs. yoop, the giantess the magic of a yookoohoo the lace apron the menace of the forest the quarrelsome dragons tommy kwikstep jinjur's ranch ozma and dorothy the restoration the green monkey the man of tin captain fyter the workshop of ku-klip the tin woodman talks to himself the invisible country over night polychrome's magic nimmie amee through the tunnel the curtain falls [illustration: woot _in court dress_] woot the wanderer [illustration] chapter the tin woodman sat on his glittering tin throne in the handsome tin hall of his splendid tin castle in the winkie country of the land of oz. beside him, in a chair of woven straw, sat his best friend, the scarecrow of oz. at times they spoke to one another of curious things they had seen and strange adventures they had known since first they two had met and become comrades. but at times they were silent, for these things had been talked over many times between them, and they found themselves contented in merely being together, speaking now and then a brief sentence to prove they were wide awake and attentive. but then, these two quaint persons never slept. why should they sleep, when they never tired? and now, as the brilliant sun sank low over the winkie country of oz, tinting the glistening tin towers and tin minarets of the tin castle with glorious sunset hues, there approached along a winding pathway woot the wanderer, who met at the castle entrance a winkie servant. the servants of the tin woodman all wore tin helmets and tin breastplates and uniforms covered with tiny tin discs sewed closely together on silver cloth, so that their bodies sparkled as beautifully as did the tin castle--and almost as beautifully as did the tin woodman himself. woot the wanderer looked at the man servant--all bright and glittering--and at the magnificent castle--all bright and glittering--and as he looked his eyes grew big with wonder. for woot was not very big and not very old and, wanderer though he was, this proved the most gorgeous sight that had ever met his boyish gaze. "who lives here?" he asked. "the emperor of the winkies, who is the famous tin woodman of oz," replied the servant, who had been trained to treat all strangers with courtesy. "a tin woodman? how queer!" exclaimed the little wanderer. "well, perhaps our emperor is queer," admitted the servant; "but he is a kind master and as honest and true as good tin can make him; so we, who gladly serve him, are apt to forget that he is not like other people." "may i see him?" asked woot the wanderer, after a moment's thought. "if it please you to wait a moment, i will go and ask him," said the servant, and then he went into the hall where the tin woodman sat with his friend the scarecrow. both were glad to learn that a stranger had arrived at the castle, for this would give them something new to talk about, so the servant was asked to admit the boy at once. by the time woot the wanderer had passed through the grand corridors--all lined with ornamental tin--and under stately tin archways and through the many tin rooms all set with beautiful tin furniture, his eyes had grown bigger than ever and his whole little body thrilled with amazement. but, astonished though he was, he was able to make a polite bow before the throne and to say in a respectful voice: "i salute your illustrious majesty and offer you my humble services." "very good!" answered the tin woodman in his accustomed cheerful manner. "tell me who you are, and whence you come." "i am known as woot the wanderer," answered the boy, "and i have come, through many travels and by roundabout ways, from my former home in a far corner of the gillikin country of oz." "to wander from one's home," remarked the scarecrow, "is to encounter dangers and hardships, especially if one is made of meat and bone. had you no friends in that corner of the gillikin country? was it not homelike and comfortable?" to hear a man stuffed with straw speak, and speak so well, quite startled woot, and perhaps he stared a bit rudely at the scarecrow. but after a moment he replied: "i had home and friends, your honorable strawness, but they were so quiet and happy and comfortable that i found them dismally stupid. nothing in that corner of oz interested me, but i believed that in other parts of the country i would find strange people and see new sights, and so i set out upon my wandering journey. i have been a wanderer for nearly a full year, and now my wanderings have brought me to this splendid castle." "i suppose," said the tin woodman, "that in this year you have seen so much that you have become very wise." "no," replied woot, thoughtfully, "i am not at all wise, i beg to assure your majesty. the more i wander the less i find that i know, for in the land of oz much wisdom and many things may be learned." "to learn is simple. don't you ask questions?" inquired the scarecrow. "yes; i ask as many questions as i dare; but some people refuse to answer questions." "that is not kind of them," declared the tin woodman. "if one does not ask for information he seldom receives it; so i, for my part, make it a rule to answer any civil question that is asked me." "so do i," added the scarecrow, nodding. "i am glad to hear this," said the wanderer, "for it makes me bold to ask for something to eat." [illustration] "bless the boy!" cried the emperor of the winkies; "how careless of me not to remember that wanderers are usually hungry. i will have food brought you at once." saying this he blew upon a tin whistle that was suspended from his tin neck, and at the summons a servant appeared and bowed low. the tin woodman ordered food for the stranger, and in a few minutes the servant brought in a tin tray heaped with a choice array of good things to eat, all neatly displayed on tin dishes that were polished till they shone like mirrors. the tray was set upon a tin table drawn before the throne, and the servant placed a tin chair before the table for the boy to seat himself. "eat, friend wanderer," said the emperor cordially, "and i trust the feast will be to your liking. i, myself, do not eat, being made in such manner that i require no food to keep me alive. neither does my friend the scarecrow. but all my winkie people eat, being formed of flesh, as you are, and so my tin cupboard is never bare, and strangers are always welcome to whatever it contains." the boy ate in silence for a time, being really hungry, but after his appetite was somewhat satisfied, he said: "how happened your majesty to be made of tin, and still be alive?" "that," replied the tin man, "is a long story." [illustration] "the longer the better," said the boy. "won't you please tell me the story?" "if you desire it," promised the tin woodman, leaning back in his tin throne and crossing his tin legs. "i haven't related my history in a long while, because everyone here knows it nearly as well as i do. but you, being a stranger, are no doubt curious to learn how i became so beautiful and prosperous, so i will recite for your benefit my strange adventures." "thank you," said woot the wanderer, still eating. "i was not always made of tin," began the emperor, "for in the beginning i was a man of flesh and bone and blood and lived in the munchkin country of oz. there i was, by trade, a woodchopper, and contributed my share to the comfort of the oz people by chopping up the trees of the forest to make firewood, with which the women would cook their meals while the children warmed themselves about the fires. for my home i had a little hut by the edge of the forest, and my life was one of much content until i fell in love with a beautiful munchkin girl who lived not far away." "what was the munchkin girl's name?" asked woot. "nimmie amee. this girl, so fair that the sunsets blushed when their rays fell upon her, lived with a powerful witch who wore silver shoes and who had made the poor child her slave. nimmie amee was obliged to work from morning till night for the old witch of the east, scrubbing and sweeping her hut and cooking her meals and washing her dishes. she had to cut firewood, too, until i found her one day in the forest and fell in love with her. after that, i always brought plenty of firewood to nimmie amee and we became very friendly. finally i asked her to marry me, and she agreed to do so, but the witch happened to overhear our conversation and it made her very angry, for she did not wish her slave to be taken away from her. the witch commanded me never to come near nimmie amee again, but i told her i was my own master and would do as i pleased, not realizing that this was a careless way to speak to a witch. "the next day, as i was cutting wood in the forest, the cruel witch enchanted my axe, so that it slipped and cut off my right leg." "how dreadful!" cried woot the wanderer. "yes, it was a seeming misfortune," agreed the tin man, "for a one-legged woodchopper is of little use in his trade. but i would not allow the witch to conquer me so easily. i knew a very skillful mechanic at the other side of the forest, who was my friend, so i hopped on one leg to him and asked him to help me. he soon made me a new leg out of tin and fastened it cleverly to my meat body. it had joints at the knee and at the ankle and was almost as comfortable as the leg i had lost." "your friend must have been a wonderful workman!" exclaimed woot. "he was, indeed," admitted the emperor. "he was a tinsmith by trade and could make anything out of tin. when i returned to nimmie amee, the girl was delighted and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, declaring she was proud of me. the witch saw the kiss and was more angry than before. when i went to work in the forest, next day, my axe, being still enchanted, slipped and cut off my other leg. again i hopped--on my tin leg--to my friend the tinsmith, who kindly made me another tin leg and fastened it to my body. so i returned joyfully to nimmie amee, who was much pleased with my glittering legs and promised that when we were wed she would always keep them oiled and polished. but the witch was more furious than ever, and as soon as i raised my axe to chop, it twisted around and cut off one of my arms. the tinsmith made me a tin arm and i was not much worried, because nimmie amee declared she still loved me." [illustration] the heart of the tin woodman [illustration] chapter the emperor of the winkies paused in his story to reach for an oil-can, with which he carefully oiled the joints in his tin throat, for his voice had begun to squeak a little. woot the wanderer, having satisfied his hunger, watched this oiling process with much curiosity, but begged the tin man to go on with his tale. "the witch with the silver shoes hated me for having defied her," resumed the emperor, his voice now sounding clear as a bell, "and she insisted that nimmie amee should never marry me. therefore she made the enchanted axe cut off my other arm, and the tinsmith also replaced that member with tin, including these finely-jointed hands that you see me using. but, alas! after that, the axe, still enchanted by the cruel witch, cut my body in two, so that i fell to the ground. then the witch, who was watching from a near-by bush, rushed up and seized the axe and chopped my body into several small pieces, after which, thinking that at last she had destroyed me, she ran away laughing in wicked glee. "but nimmie amee found me. she picked up my arms and legs and head, and made a bundle of them and carried them to the tinsmith, who set to work and made me a fine body of pure tin. when he had joined the arms and legs to the body, and set my head in the tin collar, i was a much better man than ever, for my body could not ache or pain me, and i was so beautiful and bright that i had no need of clothing. clothing is always a nuisance, because it soils and tears and has to be replaced; but my tin body only needs to be oiled and polished. [illustration] "nimmie amee still declared she would marry me, as she still loved me in spite of the witch's evil deeds. the girl declared i would make the brightest husband in all the world, which was quite true. however, the wicked witch was not yet defeated. when i returned to my work the axe slipped and cut off my head, which was the only meat part of me then remaining. moreover, the old woman grabbed up my severed head and carried it away with her and hid it. but nimmie amee came into the forest and found me wandering around helplessly, because i could not see where to go, and she led me to my friend the tinsmith. the faithful fellow at once set to work to make me a tin head, and he had just completed it when nimmie amee came running up with my old head, which she had stolen from the witch. but, on reflection, i considered the tin head far superior to the meat one--i am wearing it yet, so you can see its beauty and grace of outline--and the girl agreed with me that a man all made of tin was far more perfect than one formed of different materials. the tinsmith was as proud of his workmanship as i was, and for three whole days, all admired me and praised my beauty. "being now completely formed of tin, i had no more fear of the wicked witch, for she was powerless to injure me. nimmie amee said we must be married at once, for then she could come to my cottage and live with me and keep me bright and sparkling. "'i am sure, my dear nick,' said the brave and beautiful girl--my name was then nick chopper, you should be told--'that you will make the best husband any girl could have. i shall not be obliged to cook for you, for now you do not eat; i shall not have to make your bed, for tin does not tire or require sleep; when we go to a dance, you will not get weary before the music stops and say you want to go home. all day long, while you are chopping wood in the forest, i shall be able to amuse myself in my own way--a privilege few wives enjoy. there is no temper in your new head, so you will not get angry with me. finally, i shall take pride in being the wife of the only live tin woodman in all the world!' which shows that nimmie amee was as wise as she was brave and beautiful." "i think she was a very nice girl," said woot the wanderer. "but, tell me, please, why were you not killed when you were chopped to pieces?" "in the land of oz," replied the emperor, "no one can ever be killed. a man with a wooden leg or a tin leg is still the same man; and, as i lost parts of my meat body by degrees, i always remained the same person as in the beginning, even though in the end i was all tin and no meat." "i see," said the boy, thoughtfully. "and did you marry nimmie amee?" "no," answered the tin woodman, "i did not. she said she still loved me, but i found that i no longer loved her. my tin body contained no heart, and without a heart no one can love. so the wicked witch conquered in the end, and when i left the munchkin country of oz, the poor girl was still the slave of the witch and had to do her bidding day and night." "where did you go?" asked woot. "well, i first started out to find a heart, so i could love nimmie amee again; but hearts are more scarce than one would think. one day, in a big forest that was strange to me, my joints suddenly became rusted, because i had forgotten to oil them. there i stood, unable to move hand or foot. and there i continued to stand--while days came and went--until dorothy and the scarecrow came along and rescued me. they oiled my joints and set me free, and i've taken good care never to rust again." "who was this dorothy?" questioned the wanderer. "a little girl who happened to be in a house when it was carried by a cyclone all the way from kansas to the land of oz. when the house fell, in the munchkin country, it fortunately landed on the wicked witch and smashed her flat. it was a big house, and i think the witch is under it yet." "no," said the scarecrow, correcting him, "dorothy says the witch turned to dust, and the wind scattered the dust in every direction." "well," continued the tin woodman, "after meeting the scarecrow and dorothy, i went with them to the emerald city, where the wizard of oz gave me a heart. but the wizard's stock of hearts was low, and he gave me a kind heart instead of a loving heart, so that i could not love nimmie amee any more than i did when i was heartless." "couldn't the wizard give you a heart that was both kind and loving?" asked the boy. "no; that was what i asked for, but he said he was so short on hearts, just then, that there was but one in stock, and i could take that or none at all. so i accepted it, and i must say that for its kind it is a very good heart indeed." "it seems to me," said woot, musingly, "that the wizard fooled you. it can't be a very kind heart, you know." "why not?" demanded the emperor. "because it was unkind of you to desert the girl who loved you, and who had been faithful and true to you when you were in trouble. had the heart the wizard gave you been a kind heart, you would have gone back home and made the beautiful munchkin girl your wife, and then brought her here to be an empress and live in your splendid tin castle." the tin woodman was so surprised at this frank speech that for a time he did nothing but stare hard at the boy wanderer. but the scarecrow wagged his stuffed head and said in a positive tone: "this boy is right. i've often wondered, myself, why you didn't go back and find that poor munchkin girl." then the tin woodman stared hard at his friend the scarecrow. but finally he said in a serious tone of voice: "i must admit that never before have i thought of such a thing as finding nimmie amee and making her empress of the winkies. but it is surely not too late, even now, to do this, for the girl must still be living in the munchkin country. and, since this strange wanderer has reminded me of nimmie amee, i believe it is my duty to set out and find her. surely it is not the girl's fault that i no longer love her, and so, if i can make her happy, it is proper that i should do so, and in this way reward her for her faithfulness." [illustration] "quite right, my friend!" agreed the scarecrow. "will you accompany me on this errand?" asked the tin emperor. "of course," said the scarecrow. "and will you take me along?" pleaded woot the wanderer in an eager voice. "to be sure," said the tin woodman, "if you care to join our party. it was you who first told me it was my duty to find and marry nimmie amee, and i'd like you to know that nick chopper, the tin emperor of the winkies, is a man who never shirks his duty, once it is pointed out to him." "it ought to be a pleasure, as well as a duty, if the girl is so beautiful," said woot, well pleased with the idea of the adventure. "beautiful things may be admired, if not loved," asserted the tin man. "flowers are beautiful, for instance, but we are not inclined to marry them. duty, on the contrary, is a bugle call to action, whether you are inclined to act, or not. in this case, i obey the bugle call of duty." "when shall we start?" inquired the scarecrow, who was always glad to embark upon a new adventure. "i don't hear any bugle, but when do we go?" "as soon as we can get ready," answered the emperor. "i'll call my servants at once and order them to make preparations for our journey." roundabout [illustration] chapter woot the wanderer slept that night in the tin castle of the emperor of the winkies and found his tin bed quite comfortable. early the next morning he rose and took a walk through the gardens, where there were tin fountains and beds of curious tin flowers, and where tin birds perched upon the branches of tin trees and sang songs that sounded like the notes of tin whistles. all these wonders had been made by the clever winkie tinsmiths, who wound the birds up every morning so that they would move about and sing. after breakfast the boy went into the throne room, where the emperor was having his tin joints carefully oiled by a servant, while other servants were stuffing sweet, fresh straw into the body of the scarecrow. woot watched this operation with much interest, for the scarecrow's body was only a suit of clothes filled with straw. the coat was buttoned tight to keep the packed straw from falling out and a rope was tied around the waist to hold it in shape and prevent the straw from sagging down. the scarecrow's head was a gunnysack filled with bran, on which the eyes, nose and mouth had been painted. his hands were white cotton gloves stuffed with fine straw. woot noticed that even when carefully stuffed and patted into shape, the straw man was awkward in his movements and decidedly wobbly on his feet, so the boy wondered if the scarecrow would be able to travel with them all the way to the forests of the munchkin country of oz. the preparations made for this important journey were very simple. a knapsack was filled with food and given woot the wanderer to carry upon his back, for the food was for his use alone. the tin woodman shouldered an axe which was sharp and brightly polished, and the scarecrow put the emperor's oil-can in his pocket, that he might oil his friend's joints should they need it. [illustration: i don't hear any bugle] "who will govern the winkie country during your absence?" asked the boy. "why, the country will run itself," answered the emperor. "as a matter of fact, my people do not need an emperor, for ozma of oz watches over the welfare of all her subjects, including the winkies. like a good many kings and emperors, i have a grand title, but very little real power, which allows me time to amuse myself in my own way. the people of oz have but one law to obey, which is: 'behave yourself,' so it is easy for them to abide by this law, and you'll notice they behave very well. but it is time for us to be off, and i am eager to start because i suppose that that poor munchkin girl is anxiously awaiting my coming." "she's waited a long time already, seems to me," remarked the scarecrow, as they left the grounds of the castle and followed a path that led eastward. "true," replied the tin woodman; "but i've noticed that the last end of a wait, however long it has been, is the hardest to endure; so i must try to make nimmie amee happy as soon as possible." "ah; that proves you have a kind heart," remarked the scarecrow, approvingly. "it's too bad he hasn't a loving heart," said woot. "this tin man is going to marry a nice girl through kindness, and not because he loves her, and somehow that doesn't seem quite right." "even so, i am not sure it isn't best for the girl," said the scarecrow, who seemed very intelligent for a straw man, "for a loving husband is not always kind, while a kind husband is sure to make any girl content." "nimmie amee will become an empress!" announced the tin woodman, proudly. "i shall have a tin gown made for her, with tin ruffles and tucks on it, and she shall have tin slippers, and tin earrings and bracelets, and wear a tin crown on her head. i am sure that will delight nimmie amee, for all girls are fond of finery." "are we going to the munchkin country by way of the emerald city?" inquired the scarecrow, who looked upon the tin woodman as the leader of the party. "i think not," was the reply. "we are engaged upon a rather delicate adventure, for we are seeking a girl who fears her former lover has forgotten her. it will be rather hard for me, you must admit, when i confess to nimmie amee that i have come to marry her because it is my duty to do so, and therefore the fewer witnesses there are to our meeting the better for both of us. after i have found nimmie amee and she has managed to control her joy at our reunion, i shall take her to the emerald city and introduce her to ozma and dorothy, and to betsy bobbin and tiny trot, and all our other friends; but, if i remember rightly, poor nimmie amee has a sharp tongue when angry, and she may be a trifle angry with me, at first, because i have been so long in coming to her." "i can understand that," said woot gravely. "but how can we get to that part of the munchkin country where you once lived without passing through the emerald city?" "why, that is easy," the tin man assured him. "i have a map of oz in my pocket," persisted the boy, "and it shows that the winkie country, where we now are, is at the west of oz, and the munchkin country at the east, while directly between them lies the emerald city." "true enough; but we shall go toward the north, first of all, into the gillikin country, and so pass around the emerald city," explained the tin woodman. "that may prove a dangerous journey," replied the boy. "i used to live in one of the top corners of the gillikin country, near to oogaboo, and i have been told that in this northland country are many people whom it is not pleasant to meet. i was very careful to avoid them during my journey south." "a wanderer should have no fear," observed the scarecrow, who was wabbling along in a funny, haphazard manner, but keeping pace with his friends. [illustration] "fear does not make one a coward," returned woot, growing a little red in the face, "but i believe it is more easy to avoid danger than to overcome it. the safest way is the best way, even for one who is brave and determined." "do not worry, for we shall not go far to the north," said the emperor. "my one idea is to avoid the emerald city without going out of our way more than is necessary. once around the emerald city we will turn south into the munchkin country, where the scarecrow and i are well acquainted and have many friends." "i have traveled some in the gillikin country," remarked the scarecrow, "and while i must say i have met some strange people there at times, i have never yet been harmed by them." "well, it's all the same to me," said woot, with assumed carelessness. "dangers, when they cannot be avoided, are often quite interesting, and i am willing to go wherever you two venture to go." so they left the path they had been following and began to travel toward the northeast, and all that day they were in the pleasant winkie country, and all the people they met saluted the emperor with great respect and wished him good luck on his journey. at night they stopped at a house where they were well entertained and where woot was given a comfortable bed to sleep in. "were the scarecrow and i alone," said the tin woodman, "we would travel by night as well as by day; but with a meat person in our party, we must halt at night to permit him to rest." [illustration] "meat tires, after a day's travel," added the scarecrow, "while straw and tin never tire at all. which proves," said he, "that we are somewhat superior to people made in the common way." woot could not deny that he was tired, and he slept soundly until morning, when he was given a good breakfast, smoking hot. "you two miss a great deal by not eating," he said to his companions. "it is true," responded the scarecrow. "we miss suffering from hunger, when food cannot be had, and we miss a stomach-ache, now and then." as he said this, the scarecrow glanced at the tin woodman, who nodded his assent. all that second day they traveled steadily, entertaining one another the while with stories of adventures they had formerly met and listening to the scarecrow recite poetry. he had learned a great many poems from professor wogglebug and loved to repeat them whenever anybody would listen to him. of course woot and the tin woodman now listened, because they could not do otherwise--unless they rudely ran away from their stuffed comrade. one of the scarecrow's recitations was like this: "what sound is so sweet as the straw from the wheat when it crunkles so tender and low? it is yellow and bright, so it gives me delight to crunkle wherever i go. "sweet, fresh, golden straw! there is surely no flaw in a stuffing so clean and compact. it creaks when i walk, and it thrills when i talk, and its fragrance is fine, for a fact. "to cut me don't hurt, for i've no blood to squirt, and i therefore can suffer no pain; the straw that i use doesn't lump up or bruise, though it's pounded again and again! "i know it is said that my beautiful head has brains of mixed wheat-straw and bran, but my thoughts are so good i'd not change, if i could, for the brains of a common meat man. "content with my lot, i'm glad that i'm not like others i meet day by day; if my insides get musty, or mussed-up, or dusty, i get newly stuffed right away." [illustration] the loons of loonville [illustration] chapter toward evening, the travelers found there was no longer a path to guide them, and the purple hues of the grass and trees warned them that they were now in the country of the gillikins, where strange peoples dwelt in places that were quite unknown to the other inhabitants of oz. the fields were wild and uncultivated and there were no houses of any sort to be seen. but our friends kept on walking even after the sun went down, hoping to find a good place for woot the wanderer to sleep; but when it grew quite dark and the boy was weary with his long walk, they halted right in the middle of a field and allowed woot to get his supper from the food he carried in his knapsack. then the scarecrow laid himself down, so that woot could use his stuffed body as a pillow, and the tin woodman stood up beside them all night, so the dampness of the ground might not rust his joints or dull his brilliant polish. whenever the dew settled on his body he carefully wiped it off with a cloth, and so in the morning the emperor shone as brightly as ever in the rays of the rising sun. they wakened the boy at daybreak, the scarecrow saying to him: "we have discovered something queer, and therefore we must counsel together what to do about it." "what have you discovered?" asked woot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles and giving three wide yawns to prove he was fully awake. "a sign," said the tin woodman. "a sign, and another path." "what does the sign say?" inquired the boy. "it says that 'all strangers are warned not to follow this path to loonville,'" answered the scarecrow, who could read very well when his eyes had been freshly painted. [illustration: all strangers are warned not to follow this path to loonville] "in that case," said the boy, opening his knapsack to get some breakfast, "let us travel in some other direction." but this did not seem to please either of his companions. "i'd like to see what loonville looks like," remarked the tin woodman. "when one travels, it is foolish to miss any interesting sight," added the scarecrow. "but a warning means danger," protested woot the wanderer, "and i believe it sensible to keep out of danger whenever we can." they made no reply to this speech for a while. then said the scarecrow: "i have escaped so many dangers, during my lifetime, that i am not much afraid of anything that can happen." "nor am i!" exclaimed the tin woodman, swinging his glittering axe around his tin head, in a series of circles. "few things can injure tin, and my axe is a powerful weapon to use against a foe. but our boy friend," he continued, looking solemnly at woot, "might perhaps be injured if the people of loonville are really dangerous; so i propose he waits here while you and i, friend scarecrow, visit the forbidden city of loonville." "don't worry about me," advised woot, calmly. "wherever you wish to go, i will go, and share your dangers. during my wanderings i have found it more wise to keep out of danger than to venture in, but at that time i was alone, and now i have two powerful friends to protect me." so, when he had finished his breakfast, they all set out along the path that led to loonville. "it is a place i have never heard of before," remarked the scarecrow, as they approached a dense forest. "the inhabitants may be people, of some sort, or they may be animals, but whatever they prove to be, we will have an interesting story to relate to dorothy and ozma on our return." the path led into the forest, but the big trees grew so closely together and the vines and underbrush were so thick and matted that they had to clear a path at each step in order to proceed. in one or two places the tin man, who went first to clear the way, cut the branches with a blow of his axe. woot followed next, and last of the three came the scarecrow, who could not have kept the path at all had not his comrades broken the way for his straw-stuffed body. presently the tin woodman pushed his way through some heavy underbrush, and almost tumbled headlong into a vast cleared space in the forest. the clearing was circular, big and roomy, yet the top branches of the tall trees reached over and formed a complete dome or roof for it. strangely enough, it was not dark in this immense natural chamber in the woodland, for the place glowed with a soft, white light that seemed to come from some unseen source. in the chamber were grouped dozens of queer creatures, and these so astonished the tin man that woot had to push his metal body aside, that he might see, too. and the scarecrow pushed woot aside, so that the three travelers stood in a row, staring with all their eyes. the creatures they beheld were round and ball-like; round in body, round in legs and arms, round in hands and feet and round of head. the only exception to the roundness was a slight hollow on the top of each head, making it saucer-shaped instead of dome-shaped. they wore no clothes on their puffy bodies, nor had they any hair. their skins were all of a light gray color, and their eyes were mere purple spots. their noses were as puffy as the rest of them. "are they rubber, do you think?" asked the scarecrow, who noticed that the creatures bounded, as they moved, and seemed almost as light as air. "it is difficult to tell what they are," answered woot, "they seem to be covered with warts." the loons--for so these folks were called--had been doing many things, some playing together, some working at tasks and some gathered in groups to talk; but at the sound of strange voices, which echoed rather loudly through the clearing, all turned in the direction of the intruders. then, in a body, they all rushed forward, running and bounding with tremendous speed. the tin woodman was so surprised by this sudden dash that he had no time to raise his axe before the loons were on them. the creatures swung their puffy hands, which looked like boxing-gloves, and pounded the three travelers as hard as they could, on all sides. the blows were quite soft and did not hurt our friends at all, but the onslaught quite bewildered them, so that in a brief period all three were knocked over and fell flat upon the ground. once down, many of the loons held them, to prevent their getting up again, while others wound long tendrils of vines about them, binding their arms and legs to their bodies and so rendering them helpless. "aha!" cried the biggest loon of all; "we've got 'em safe; so let's carry 'em to king bal and have 'em tried, and condemned and perforated!" they had to drag their captives to the center of the domed chamber, for their weight, as compared with that of the loons, prevented their being carried. even the scarecrow was much heavier than the puffy loons. but finally the party halted before a raised platform, on which stood a sort of throne, consisting of a big, wide chair with a string tied to one arm of it. this string led upward to the roof of the dome. arranged before the platform, the prisoners were allowed to sit up, facing the empty throne. "good!" said the big loon who had commanded the party. "now to get king bal to judge these terrible creatures we have so bravely captured." as he spoke he took hold of the string and began to pull as hard as he could. one or two of the others helped him and pretty soon, as they drew in the cord, the leaves above them parted and a loon appeared at the other end of the string. it didn't take long to draw him down to the throne, where he seated himself and was tied in, so he wouldn't float upward again. "hello," said the king, blinking his purple eyes at his followers; "what's up now!" "strangers, your majesty--strangers and captives," replied the big loon, pompously. "dear me! i see 'em. i see 'em very plainly," exclaimed the king, his purple eyes bulging out as he looked at the three prisoners. "what curious animals! are they dangerous, do you think, my good panta?" "i'm 'fraid so, your majesty. of course, they may _not_ be dangerous, but we mustn't take chances. enough accidents happen to us poor loons as it is, and my advice is to condemn and perforate 'em as quickly as possible." "keep your advice to yourself," said the monarch, in a peeved tone. "who's king here, anyhow? you or me?" "we made you our king because you have less common sense than the rest of us," answered panta loon, indignantly. "i could have been king myself, had i wanted to, but i didn't care for the hard work and responsibility." as he said this, the big loon strutted back and forth in the space between the throne of king bal and the prisoners, and the other loons seemed much impressed by his defiance. but suddenly there came a sharp report and panta loon instantly disappeared, to the great astonishment of the scarecrow, the tin woodman and woot the wanderer, who saw on the spot where the big fellow had stood a little heap of flabby, wrinkled skin that looked like a collapsed rubber balloon. "there!" exclaimed the king; "i expected that would happen. the conceited rascal wanted to puff himself up until he was bigger than the rest of you, and this is the result of his folly. get the pump working, some of you, and blow him up again." "we will have to mend the puncture first, your majesty," suggested one of the loons, and the prisoners noticed that none of them seemed surprised or shocked at the sad accident to panta. "all right," grumbled the king. "fetch til to mend him." one or two ran away and presently returned, followed by a lady loon wearing huge, puffed-up rubber skirts. also she had a purple feather fastened to a wart on the top of her head, and around her waist was a sash of fibre-like vines, dried and tough, that looked like strings. "get to work, til," commanded king bal. "panta has just exploded." the lady loon picked up the bunch of skin and examined it carefully until she discovered a hole in one foot. then she pulled a strand of string from her sash, and drawing the edges of the hole together, she tied them fast with the string, thus making one of those curious warts which the strangers had noticed on so many loons. having done this, til loon tossed the bit of skin to the other loons and was about to go away when she noticed the prisoners and stopped to inspect them. "dear me!" said til; "what dreadful creatures. where did they come from?" "we captured them," replied one of the loons. "and what are we going to do with them?" inquired the girl loon. "perhaps we'll condemn 'em and puncture 'em," answered the king. "well," said she, still eyeing the captives, "i'm not sure they'll puncture. let's try it, and see." one of the loons ran to the forest's edge and quickly returned with a long, sharp thorn. he glanced at the king, who nodded his head in assent, and then he rushed forward and stuck the thorn into the leg of the scarecrow. the scarecrow merely smiled and said nothing, for the thorn didn't hurt him at all. then the loon tried to prick the tin woodman's leg, but the tin only blunted the point of the thorn. [illustration] "just as i thought," said til, blinking her purple eyes and shaking her puffy head; but just then the loon stuck the thorn into the leg of woot the wanderer, and while it had been blunted somewhat, it was still sharp enough to hurt. "ouch!" yelled woot, and kicked out his leg with so much energy that the frail bonds that tied him burst apart. his foot caught the loon--who was leaning over him--full on his puffy stomach, and sent him shooting up into the air. when he was high over their heads he exploded with a loud "pop" and his skin fell to the ground. "i really believe," said the king, rolling his spot-like eyes in a frightened way, "that panta was right in claiming these prisoners are dangerous. is the pump ready?" some of the loons had wheeled a big machine in front of the throne and now took panta's skin and began to pump air into it. slowly it swelled out until the king cried "stop!" "no, no!" yelled panta, "i'm not big enough yet." "you're as big as you're going to be," declared the king. "before you exploded you were bigger than the rest of us, and that caused you to be proud and overbearing. now you're a little smaller than the rest, and you will last longer and be more humble." "pump me up--pump me up!" wailed panta. "if you don't you'll break my heart." "if we do we'll break your skin," replied the king. so the loons stopped pumping air into panta, and pushed him away from the pump. he was certainly more humble than before his accident, for he crept into the background and said nothing more. [illustration] "now pump up the other one," ordered the king. til had already mended him, and the loons set to work to pump him full of air. during these last few moments none had paid much attention to the prisoners, so woot, finding his legs free, crept over to the tin woodman and rubbed the bonds that were still around his arms and body against the sharp edge of the axe, which quickly cut them. the boy was now free, and the thorn which the loon had stuck into his leg was lying unnoticed on the ground, where the creature had dropped it when he exploded. woot leaned forward and picked up the thorn, and while the loons were busy watching the pump, the boy sprang to his feet and suddenly rushed upon the group. "pop"--"pop"--"pop!" went three of the loons, when the wanderer pricked them with his thorn, and at the sounds the others looked around and saw their danger. with yells of fear they bounded away in all directions, scattering about the clearing, with woot the wanderer in full chase. while they could run much faster than the boy, they often stumbled and fell, or got in one another's way, so he managed to catch several and prick them with his thorn. it astonished him to see how easily the loons exploded. when the air was let out of them they were quite helpless. til loon was one of those who ran against his thorn and many others suffered the same fate. the creatures could not escape from the enclosure, but in their fright many bounded upward and caught branches of the trees, and then climbed out of reach of the dreaded thorn. woot was getting pretty tired chasing them, so he stopped and came over, panting, to where his friends were sitting, still bound. "very well done, my wanderer," said the tin woodman. "it is evident that we need fear these puffed-up creatures no longer, so be kind enough to unfasten our bonds and we will proceed upon our journey." woot untied the bonds of the scarecrow and helped him to his feet. then he freed the tin woodman, who got up without help. looking around them, they saw that the only loon now remaining within reach was bal loon, the king, who had remained seated in his throne, watching the punishment of his people with a bewildered look in his purple eyes. "shall i puncture the king?" the boy asked his companions. [illustration] king bal must have overheard the question, for he fumbled with the cord that fastened him to the throne and managed to release it. then he floated upward until he reached the leafy dome, and parting the branches he disappeared from sight. but the string that was tied to his body was still connected with the arm of the throne, and they knew they could pull his majesty down again, if they wanted to. "let him alone," suggested the scarecrow. "he seems a good enough king for his peculiar people, and after we are gone, the loons will have something of a job to pump up all those whom woot has punctured." "every one of them ought to be exploded," declared woot, who was angry because his leg still hurt him. "no," said the tin woodman, "that would not be just fair. they were quite right to capture us, because we had no business to intrude here, having been warned to keep away from loonville. this is their country, not ours, and since the poor things can't get out of the clearing, they can harm no one save those who venture here out of curiosity, as we did." "well said, my friend," agreed the scarecrow. "we really had no right to disturb their peace and comfort; so let us go away." they easily found the place where they had forced their way into the enclosure, so the tin woodman pushed aside the underbrush and started first along the path. the scarecrow followed next and last came woot, who looked back and saw that the loons were still clinging to their perches on the trees and watching their former captives with frightened eyes. "i guess they're glad to see the last of us," remarked the boy, and laughing at the happy ending of the adventure, he followed his comrades along the path. [illustration] mrs. yoop, the giantess [illustration] chapter when they had reached the end of the path, where they had first seen the warning sign, they set off across the country in an easterly direction. before long they reached rolling lands, which were a succession of hills and valleys where constant climbs and descents were required, and their journey now became tedious, because on climbing each hill, they found before them nothing in the valley below it--except grass, or weeds or stones. up and down they went for hours, with nothing to relieve the monotony of the landscape, until finally, when they had topped a higher hill than usual, they discovered a cup-shaped valley before them in the center of which stood an enormous castle, built of purple stone. the castle was high and broad and long, but had no turrets and towers. so far as they could see, there was but one small window and one big door on each side of the great building. "this is strange!" mused the scarecrow. "i'd no idea such a big castle existed in this gillikin country. i wonder who lives here?" "it seems to me, from this distance," remarked the tin woodman, "that it's the biggest castle i ever saw. it is really too big for any use, and no one could open or shut those big doors without a stepladder." "perhaps, if we go nearer, we shall find out whether anybody lives there or not," suggested woot. "looks to me as if nobody lived there." on they went, and when they reached the center of the valley, where the great stone castle stood, it was beginning to grow dark. so they hesitated as to what to do. "if friendly people happen to live here," said woot, "i shall be glad of a bed; but should enemies occupy the place, i prefer to sleep upon the ground." "and if no one at all lives here," added the scarecrow, "we can enter, and take possession, and make ourselves at home." while speaking he went nearer to one of the great doors, which was three times as high and broad as any he had ever seen in a house before, and then he discovered, engraved in big letters upon a stone over the doorway, the words: "yoop castle" "oho!" he exclaimed; "i know the place now. this was probably the home of mr. yoop, a terrible giant whom i have seen confined in a cage, a long way from here. therefore this castle is likely to be empty and we may use it in any way we please." "yes, yes," said the tin emperor, nodding; "i also remember mr. yoop. but how are we to get into his deserted castle? the latch of the door is so far above our heads that none of us can reach it." they considered this problem for a while, and then woot said to the tin man: [illustration] "if i stand upon your shoulders, i think i can unlatch the door." "climb up, then," was the reply, and when the boy was perched upon the tin shoulders of nick chopper, he was just able to reach the latch and raise it. at once the door swung open, its great hinges making a groaning sound as if in protest, so woot leaped down and followed his companions into a big, bare hallway. scarcely were the three inside, however, when they heard the door slam shut behind them, and this astonished them because no one had touched it. it had closed of its own accord, as if by magic. moreover, the latch was on the outside, and the thought occurred to each one of them that they were now prisoners in this unknown castle. "however," mumbled the scarecrow, "we are not to blame for what cannot be helped; so let us push bravely ahead and see what may be seen." it was quite dark in the hallway, now that the outside door was shut, so as they stumbled along a stone passage they kept close together, not knowing what danger was likely to befall them. suddenly a soft glow enveloped them. it grew brighter, until they could see their surroundings distinctly. they had reached the end of the passage and before them was another huge door. this noiselessly swung open before them, without the help of anyone, and through the doorway they observed a big chamber, the walls of which were lined with plates of pure gold, highly polished. this room was also lighted, although they could discover no lamps, and in the center of it was a great table at which sat an immense woman. she was clad in silver robes embroidered with gay floral designs, and wore over this splendid raiment a short apron of elaborate lace-work. such an apron was no protection, and was not in keeping with the handsome gown, but the huge woman wore it, nevertheless. the table at which she sat was spread with a white cloth and had golden dishes upon it, so the travelers saw that they had surprised the giantess while she was eating her supper. she had her back toward them and did not even turn around, but taking a biscuit from a dish she began to butter it and said in a voice that was big and deep but not especially unpleasant: "why don't you come in and allow the door to shut? you're causing a draught, and i shall catch cold and sneeze. when i sneeze, i get cross, and when i get cross i'm liable to do something wicked. come in, you foolish strangers; come in!" being thus urged, they entered the room and approached the table, until they stood where they faced the great giantess. she continued eating, but smiled in a curious way as she looked at them. woot noticed that the door had closed silently after they had entered, and that didn't please him at all. "well," said the giantess, "what excuse have you to offer?" "we didn't know anyone lived here, madam," explained the scarecrow; "so, being travelers and strangers in these parts, and wishing to find a place for our boy friend to sleep, we ventured to enter your castle." "you knew it was private property, i suppose?" said she, buttering another biscuit. "we saw the words, 'yoop castle,' over the door, but we knew that mr. yoop is a prisoner in a cage in a far-off part of the land of oz, so we decided there was no one now at home and that we might use the castle for the night." "i see," remarked the giantess, nodding her head and smiling again in that curious way--a way that made woot shudder. "you didn't know that mr. yoop was married, or that after he was cruelly captured his wife still lived in his castle, and ran it to suit herself." "who captured mr. yoop?" asked woot, looking gravely at the big woman. "wicked enemies. people who selfishly objected to yoop's taking their cows and sheep for his food. i must admit, however, that yoop had a bad temper, and had the habit of knocking over a few houses, now and then, when he was angry. so one day the little folks came in a great crowd and captured mr. yoop, and carried him away to a cage somewhere in the mountains. i don't know where it is, and i don't care, for my husband treated me badly at times, forgetting the respect a giant owes to a giantess. often he kicked me on my shins, when i wouldn't wait on him. so i'm glad he is gone." "it's a wonder the people didn't capture you, too," remarked woot. "well, i was too clever for them," said she, giving a sudden laugh that caused such a breeze that the wobbly scarecrow was almost blown off his feet and had to grab his friend nick chopper to steady himself. "i saw the people coming," continued mrs. yoop, "and knowing they meant mischief i transformed myself into a mouse and hid in a cupboard. after they had gone away, carrying my shin-kicking husband with them, i transformed myself back to my former shape again, and here i've lived in peace and comfort ever since." "are you a witch, then?" inquired woot. "well, not exactly a witch," she replied, "but i'm an artist in transformations. in other words, i'm more of a yookoohoo than a witch, and of course you know that the yookoohoos are the cleverest magic-workers in the world." the travelers were silent for a time, uneasily considering this statement and the effect it might have on their future. no doubt the giantess had wilfully made them her prisoners; yet she spoke so cheerfully, in her big voice, that until now they had not been alarmed in the least. by and by the scarecrow, whose mixed brains had been working steadily, asked the woman: "are we to consider you our friend, mrs. yoop, or do you intend to be our enemy?" "i never have friends," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "because friends get too familiar and always forget to mind their own business. but i am not your enemy; not yet, anyhow. indeed, i'm glad you've come, for my life here is rather lonely. i've had no one to talk to since i transformed polychrome, the daughter of the rainbow, into a canary-bird." "how did you manage to do that?" asked the tin woodman, in amazement. "polychrome is a powerful fairy!" "she _was_," said the giantess; "but now she's a canary-bird. one day after a rain, polychrome danced off the rainbow and fell asleep on a little mound in this valley, not far from my castle. the sun came out and drove the rainbow away, and before poly wakened, i stole out and transformed her into a canary-bird in a gold cage studded with diamonds. the cage was so she couldn't fly away. i expected she'd sing and talk and we'd have good times together; but she has proved no company for me at all. ever since the moment of her transformation, she has refused to speak a single word." "where is she now?" inquired woot, who had heard tales of lovely polychrome and was much interested in her. "the cage is hanging up in my bedroom," said the giantess, eating another biscuit. the travelers were now more uneasy and suspicious of the giantess than before. if polychrome, the rainbow's daughter, who was a real fairy, had been transformed and enslaved by this huge woman, who claimed to be a yookoohoo, what was liable to happen to _them_? said the scarecrow, twisting his stuffed head around in mrs. yoop's direction: "do you know, ma'am, who we are?" "of course," said she; "a straw man, a tin man and a boy." "we are very important people," declared the tin woodman. "all the better," she replied. "i shall enjoy your society the more on that account. for i mean to keep you here as long as i live, to amuse me when i get lonely. and," she added slowly, "in this valley no one ever dies." they didn't like this speech at all, so the scarecrow frowned in a way that made mrs. yoop smile, while the tin woodman looked so fierce that mrs. yoop laughed. the scarecrow suspected she was going to laugh, so he slipped behind his friends to escape the wind from her breath. from this safe position he said warningly: "we have powerful friends who will soon come to rescue us." [illustration] "let them come," she returned, with an accent of scorn. "when they get here they will find neither a boy, nor a tin man, nor a scarecrow, for tomorrow morning i intend to transform you all into other shapes, so that you cannot be recognized." this threat filled them with dismay. the good-natured giantess was more terrible than they had imagined. she could smile and wear pretty clothes and at the same time be even more cruel than her wicked husband had been. both the scarecrow and the tin woodman tried to think of some way to escape from the castle before morning, but she seemed to read their thoughts and shook her head. "don't worry your poor brains," said she. "you can't escape me, however hard you try. but why should you wish to escape? i shall give you new forms that are much better than the ones you now have. be contented with your fate, for discontent leads to unhappiness, and unhappiness, in any form, is the greatest evil that can befall you." "what forms do you intend to give us?" asked woot earnestly. "i haven't decided, as yet. i'll dream over it tonight, so in the morning i shall have made up my mind how to transform you. perhaps you'd prefer to choose your own transformations?" "no," said woot, "i prefer to remain as i am." "that's funny," she retorted. "you are little, and you're weak; as you are, you're not much account, anyhow. the best thing about you is that you're alive, for i shall be able to make of you some sort of live creature which will be a great improvement on your present form." [illustration] she took another biscuit from a plate and dipped it in a pot of honey and calmly began eating it. the scarecrow watched her thoughtfully. "there are no fields of grain in your valley," said he; "where, then, did you get the flour to make your biscuits?" "mercy me! do you think i'd bother to make biscuits out of flour?" she replied. "that is altogether too tedious a process for a yookoohoo. i set some traps this afternoon and caught a lot of field-mice, but as i do not like to eat mice, i transformed them into hot biscuits for my supper. the honey in this pot was once a wasp's nest, but since being transformed it has become sweet and delicious. all i need do, when i wish to eat, is to take something i don't care to keep, and transform it into any sort of food i like, and eat it. are you hungry?" "i don't eat, thank you," said the scarecrow. "nor do i," said the tin woodman. "i have still a little natural food in my knapsack," said woot the wanderer, "and i'd rather eat that than any wasp's nest." "every one to his taste," said the giantess carelessly, and having now finished her supper she rose to her feet, clapped her hands together, and the supper table at once disappeared. the magic of a yookoohoo [illustration] chapter woot had seen very little of magic during his wanderings, while the scarecrow and the tin woodman had seen a great deal of many sorts in their lives, yet all three were greatly impressed by mrs. yoop's powers. she did not affect any mysterious airs or indulge in chants or mystic rites, as most witches do, nor was the giantess old and ugly or disagreeable in face or manner. nevertheless, she frightened her prisoners more than any witch could have done. "please be seated," she said to them, as she sat herself down in a great arm-chair and spread her beautiful embroidered skirts for them to admire. but all the chairs in the room were so high that our friends could not climb to the seats of them. mrs. yoop observed this and waved her hand, when instantly a golden ladder appeared leaning against a chair opposite her own. "climb up," said she, and they obeyed, the tin man and the boy assisting the more clumsy scarecrow. when they were all seated in a row on the cushion of the chair, the giantess continued: "now tell me how you happened to travel in this direction, and where you came from and what your errand is." so the tin woodman told her all about nimmie amee, and how he had decided to find her and marry her, although he had no loving heart. the story seemed to amuse the big woman, who then began to ask the scarecrow questions and for the first time in her life heard of ozma of oz, and of dorothy and jack pumpkinhead and dr. pipt and tik-tok and many other oz people who are well known in the emerald city. also woot had to tell his story, which was very simple and did not take long. the giantess laughed heartily when the boy related their adventure at loonville, but said she knew nothing of the loons because she never left her valley. "there are wicked people who would like to capture me, as they did my giant husband, mr. yoop," said she; "so i stay at home and mind my own business." "if ozma knew that you dared to work magic without her consent, she would punish you severely," declared the scarecrow, "for this castle is in the land of oz, and no persons in the land of oz are permitted to work magic except glinda the good and the little wizard who lives with ozma in the emerald city." "_that_ for your ozma!" exclaimed the giantess, snapping her fingers in derision. "what do i care for a girl whom i have never seen and who has never seen me?" "but ozma is a fairy," said the tin woodman, "and therefore she is very powerful. also, we are under ozma's protection, and to injure us in any way would make her extremely angry." "what i do here, in my own private castle in this secluded valley--where no one comes but fools like you--can never be known to your fairy ozma," returned the giantess. "do not seek to frighten me from my purpose, and do not allow yourselves to be frightened, for it is best to meet bravely what cannot be avoided. i am now going to bed, and in the morning i will give you all new forms, such as will be more interesting to me than the ones you now wear. good night, and pleasant dreams." saying this, mrs. yoop rose from her chair and walked through a doorway into another room. so heavy was the tread of the giantess that even the walls of the big stone castle trembled as she stepped. she closed the door of her bedroom behind her, and then suddenly the light went out and the three prisoners found themselves in total darkness. the tin woodman and the scarecrow didn't mind the dark at all, but woot the wanderer felt worried to be left in this strange place in this strange manner, without being able to see any danger that might threaten. "the big woman might have given me a bed, anyhow," he said to his companions, and scarcely had he spoken when he felt something press against his legs, which were then dangling from the seat of the chair. leaning down, he put out his hand and found that a bedstead had appeared, with mattress, sheets and covers, all complete. he lost no time in slipping down upon the bed and was soon fast asleep. during the night the scarecrow and the emperor talked in low tones together, and they got out of the chair and moved all about the room, feeling for some hidden spring that might open a door or window and permit them to escape. morning found them still unsuccessful in the quest and as soon as it was daylight woot's bed suddenly disappeared, and he dropped to the floor with a thump that quickly wakened him. and after a time the giantess came from her bedroom, wearing another dress that was quite as elaborate as the one in which she had been attired the evening before, and also wearing the pretty lace apron. having seated herself in a chair, she said: "i'm hungry; so i'll have breakfast at once." she clapped her hands together and instantly the table appeared before her, spread with snowy linen and laden with golden dishes. but there was no food upon the table, nor anything else except a pitcher of water, a bundle of weeds and a handful of pebbles. but the giantess poured some water into her coffee-pot, patted it once or twice with her hand, and then poured out a cupful of steaming hot coffee. "would you like some?" she asked woot. he was suspicious of magic coffee, but it smelled so good that he could not resist it; so he answered: "if you please, madam." the giantess poured out another cup and set it on the floor for woot. it was as big as a tub, and the golden spoon in the saucer beside the cup was so heavy the boy could scarcely lift it. but woot managed to get a sip of the coffee and found it delicious. mrs. yoop next transformed the weeds into a dish of oatmeal, which she ate with good appetite. "now, then," said she, picking up the pebbles, "i'm wondering whether i shall have fish-balls or lamb-chops to complete my meal. which would you prefer, woot the wanderer?" "if you please, i'll eat the food in my knapsack," answered the boy. "your magic food might taste good, but i'm afraid of it." the woman laughed at his fears and transformed the pebbles into fish-balls. [illustration] "i suppose you think that after you had eaten this food it would turn to stones again and make you sick," she remarked; "but that would be impossible. _nothing i transform ever gets back to its former shape again_, so these fish-balls can never more be pebbles. that is why i have to be careful of my transformations," she added, busily eating while she talked, "for while i can change forms at will i can never change them back again--which proves that even the powers of a clever yookoohoo are limited. when i have transformed you three people, you must always wear the shapes that i have given you." "then please don't transform us," begged woot, "for we are quite satisfied to remain as we are." "i am not expecting to satisfy you, but intend to please myself," she declared, "and my pleasure is to give you new shapes. for, if by chance your friends came in search of you, not one of them would be able to recognize you." her tone was so positive that they knew it would be useless to protest. the woman was not unpleasant to look at; her face was not cruel; her voice was big but gracious in tone; but her words showed that she possessed a merciless heart and no pleadings would alter her wicked purpose. mrs. yoop took ample time to finish her breakfast and the prisoners had no desire to hurry her, but finally the meal was concluded and she folded her napkin and made the table disappear by clapping her hands together. then she turned to her captives and said: "the next thing on the programme is to change your forms." "have you decided what forms to give us?" asked the scarecrow, uneasily. "yes; i dreamed it all out while i was asleep. this tin man seems a very solemn person"--indeed, the tin woodman _was_ looking solemn, just then, for he was greatly disturbed--"so i shall change him into an owl." all she did was to point one finger at him as she spoke, but immediately the form of the tin woodman began to change and in a few seconds nick chopper, the emperor of the winkies, had been transformed into an owl, with eyes as big as saucers and a hooked beak and strong claws. but he was still tin. he was a tin owl, with tin legs and beak and eyes and feathers. when he flew to the back of a chair and perched upon it, his tin feathers rattled against one another with a tinny clatter. the giantess seemed much amused by the tin owl's appearance, for her laugh was big and jolly. "you're not liable to get lost," said she, "for your wings and feathers will make a racket wherever you go. and, on my word, a tin owl is so rare and pretty that it is an improvement on the ordinary bird. i did not intend to make you tin, but i forgot to wish you to be meat. however, tin you were, and tin you are, and as it's too late to change you, that settles it." until now the scarecrow had rather doubted the possibility of mrs. yoop's being able to transform him, or his friend the tin woodman, for they were not made as ordinary people are. he had worried more over what might happen to woot than to himself, but now he began to worry about himself. "madam," he said hastily, "i consider this action very impolite. it may even be called rude, considering we are your guests." "you are not guests, for i did not invite you here," she replied. "perhaps not; but we craved hospitality. we threw ourselves upon your mercy, so to speak, and we now find you have no mercy. therefore, if you will excuse the expression, i must say it is downright wicked to take our proper forms away from us and give us others that we do not care for." "are you trying to make me angry?" she asked, frowning. "by no means," said the scarecrow; "i'm just trying to make you act more ladylike." [illustration] "oh, indeed! in _my_ opinion, mr. scarecrow, you are now acting like a bear--so a bear you shall be!" again the dreadful finger pointed, this time in the scarecrow's direction, and at once his form began to change. in a few seconds he had become a small brown bear, but he was stuffed with straw as he had been before, and when the little brown bear shuffled across the floor he was just as wobbly as the scarecrow had been and moved just as awkwardly. woot was amazed, but he was also thoroughly frightened. "did it hurt?" he asked the little brown bear. "no, of course not," growled the scarecrow in the bear's form; "but i don't like walking on four legs; it's undignified." "consider _my_ humiliation!" chirped the tin owl, trying to settle its tin feathers smoothly with its tin beak. "and i can't see very well, either. the light seems to hurt my eyes." "that's because you are an owl," said woot. "i think you will see better in the dark." "well," remarked the giantess, "i'm very well pleased with these new forms, for my part, and i'm sure you will like them better when you get used to them. so now," she added, turning to the boy, "it is _your_ turn." "don't you think you'd better leave me as i am?" asked woot in a trembling voice. "no," she replied, "i'm going to make a monkey of you. i love monkeys--they're so cute!--and i think a green monkey will be lots of fun and amuse me when i am sad." woot shivered, for again the terrible magic finger pointed, and pointed directly his way. he felt himself changing; not so very much, however, and it didn't hurt him a bit. he looked down at his limbs and body and found that his clothes were gone and his skin covered with a fine, silk-like green fur. his hands and feet were now those of a monkey. he realized he really _was_ a monkey, and his first feeling was one of anger. he began to chatter as monkeys do. he bounded to the seat of a giant chair, and then to its back and with a wild leap sprang upon the laughing giantess. his idea was to seize her hair and pull it out by the roots, and so have revenge for her wicked transformations. but she raised her hand and said: "gently, my dear monkey--gently! you're not angry; you're happy as can be!" woot stopped short. no; he wasn't a bit angry now; he felt as good-humored and gay as ever he did when a boy. instead of pulling mrs. yoop's hair, he perched on her shoulder and smoothed her soft cheek with his hairy paw. in return, she smiled at the funny green animal and patted his head. "very good," said the giantess. "let us all become friends and be happy together. how is my tin owl feeling?" "quite comfortable," said the owl. "i don't like it, to be sure, but i'm not going to allow my new form to make me unhappy. but, tell me, please: what is a tin owl good for?" "you are only good to make me laugh," replied the giantess. "will a stuffed bear also make you laugh?" inquired the scarecrow, sitting back on his haunches to look up at her. "of course," declared the giantess; "and i have added a little magic to your transformations to make you all contented with wearing your new forms. i'm sorry i didn't think to do that when i transformed polychrome into a canary-bird. but perhaps, when she sees how cheerful you are, she will cease to be silent and sullen and take to singing. i will go get the bird and let you see her." with this, mrs. yoop went into the next room and soon returned bearing a golden cage in which sat upon a swinging perch a lovely yellow canary. [illustration] "polychrome," said the giantess, "permit me to introduce to you a green monkey, which used to be a boy called woot the wanderer, and a tin owl, which used to be a tin woodman named nick chopper, and a straw-stuffed little brown bear which used to be a live scarecrow." "we already know one another," declared the scarecrow. "the bird is polychrome, the rainbow's daughter, and she and i used to be good friends." "are you really my old friend, the scarecrow?" asked the bird, in a sweet, low voice. "there!" cried mrs. yoop; "that's the first time she has spoken since she was transformed." "i am really your old friend," answered the scarecrow; "but you must pardon me for appearing just now in this brutal form." "i am a bird, as you are, dear poly," said the tin woodman; "but, alas! a tin owl is not as beautiful as a canary-bird." "how dreadful it all is!" sighed the canary. "couldn't you manage to escape from this terrible yookoohoo?" "no," answered the scarecrow, "we tried to escape, but failed. she first made us her prisoners and then transformed us. but how did she manage to get _you_, polychrome?" "i was asleep, and she took unfair advantage of me," answered the bird sadly. "had i been awake, i could easily have protected myself." "tell me," said the green monkey earnestly, as he came close to the cage, "what must we do, daughter of the rainbow, to escape from these transformations? can't you help us, being a fairy?" [illustration] "at present i am powerless to help even myself," replied the canary. "that's the exact truth!" exclaimed the giantess, who seemed pleased to hear the bird talk, even though it complained; "you are all helpless and in my power, so you may as well make up your minds to accept your fate and be content. remember that you are transformed for good, since no magic on earth can break your enchantments. i am now going out for my morning walk, for each day after breakfast i walk sixteen times around my castle for exercise. amuse yourselves while i am gone, and when i return i hope to find you all reconciled and happy." so the giantess walked to the door by which our friends had entered the great hall and spoke one word: "open!" then the door swung open and after mrs. yoop had passed out it closed again with a snap as its powerful bolts shot into place. the green monkey had rushed toward the opening, hoping to escape, but he was too late and only got a bump on his nose as the door slammed shut. the lace apron [illustration] chapter "now," said the canary, in a tone more brisk than before, "we may talk together more freely, as mrs. yoop cannot hear us. perhaps we can figure out a way to escape." "open!" said woot the monkey, still facing the door; but his command had no effect and he slowly rejoined the others. "you cannot open any door or window in this enchanted castle unless you are wearing the magic apron," said the canary. "what magic apron do you mean?" asked the tin owl, in a curious voice. "the lace one, which the giantess always wears. i have been her prisoner, in this cage, for several weeks, and she hangs my cage in her bedroom every night, so that she can keep her eye on me," explained polychrome the canary. "therefore i have discovered that it is the magic apron that opens the doors and windows, and nothing else can move them. when she goes to bed, mrs. yoop hangs her apron on the bedpost, and one morning she forgot to put it on when she commanded the door to open, and the door would not move. so then she put on the lace apron and the door obeyed her. that was how i learned the magic power of the apron." "i see--i see!" said the little brown bear, wagging his stuffed head. "then, if we could get the apron from mrs. yoop, we could open the doors and escape from our prison." "that is true, and it is the plan i was about to suggest," replied polychrome the canary-bird. "however, i don't believe the owl could steal the apron, or even the bear, but perhaps the monkey could hide in her room at night and get the apron while she is asleep." "i'll try it!" cried woot the monkey. "i'll try it this very night, if i can manage to steal into her bedroom." "you mustn't think about it, though," warned the bird, "for she can read your thoughts whenever she cares to do so. and do not forget, before you escape, to take me with you. once i am out of the power of the giantess, i may discover a way to save us all." "we won't forget our fairy friend," promised the boy; "but perhaps you can tell me how to get into the bedroom." "no," declared polychrome, "i cannot advise you as to that. you must watch for a chance, and slip in when mrs. yoop isn't looking." they talked it over for a while longer and then mrs. yoop returned. when she entered, the door opened suddenly, at her command, and closed as soon as her huge form had passed through the doorway. during that day she entered her bedroom several times, on one errand or another, but always she commanded the door to close behind her and her prisoners found not the slightest chance to leave the big hall in which they were confined. the green monkey thought it would be wise to make a friend of the big woman, so as to gain her confidence, so he sat on the back of her chair and chattered to her while she mended her stockings and sewed silver buttons on some golden shoes that were as big as row-boats. this pleased the giantess and she would pause at times to pat the monkey's head. the little brown bear curled up in a corner and lay still all day. the owl and the canary found they could converse together in the bird language, which neither the giantess nor the bear nor the monkey could understand; so at times they twittered away to each other and passed the long, dreary day quite cheerfully. after dinner mrs. yoop took a big fiddle from a big cupboard and played such loud and dreadful music that her prisoners were all thankful when at last she stopped and said she was going to bed. [illustration] after cautioning the monkey and bear and owl to behave themselves during the night, she picked up the cage containing the canary and, going to the door of her bedroom, commanded it to open. just then, however, she remembered she had left her fiddle lying upon a table, so she went back for it and put it away in the cupboard, and while her back was turned the green monkey slipped through the open door into her bedroom and hid underneath the bed. the giantess, being sleepy, did not notice this, and entering her room she made the door close behind her and then hung the bird-cage on a peg by the window. then she began to undress, first taking off the lace apron and laying it over the bedpost, where it was within easy reach of her hand. as soon as mrs. yoop was in bed the lights all went out, and woot the monkey crouched under the bed and waited patiently until he heard the giantess snoring. then he crept out and in the dark felt around until he got hold of the apron, which he at once tied around his own waist. next, woot tried to find the canary, and there was just enough moonlight showing through the window to enable him to see where the cage hung; but it was out of his reach. at first he was tempted to leave polychrome and escape with his other friends, but remembering his promise to the rainbow's daughter woot tried to think how to save her. a chair stood near the window, and this--showing dimly in the moonlight--gave him an idea. by pushing against it with all his might, he found he could move the giant chair a few inches at a time. so he pushed and pushed until the chair was beneath the bird-cage, and then he sprang noiselessly upon the seat--for his monkey form enabled him to jump higher than he could do as a boy--and from there to the back of the chair, and so managed to reach the cage and take it off the peg. then down he sprang to the floor and made his way to the door. [illustration] "open!" he commanded, and at once the door obeyed and swung open. but his voice wakened mrs. yoop, who gave a wild cry and sprang out of bed with one bound. the green monkey dashed through the doorway, carrying the cage with him, and before the giantess could reach the door it slammed shut and imprisoned her in her own bed-chamber! the noise she made, pounding upon the door, and her yells of anger and dreadful threats of vengeance, filled all our friends with terror, and woot the monkey was so excited that in the dark he could not find the outer door of the hall. but the tin owl could see very nicely in the dark, so he guided his friends to the right place and when all were grouped before the door woot commanded it to open. the magic apron proved as powerful as when it had been worn by the giantess, so a moment later they had rushed through the passage and were standing in the fresh night air outside the castle, free to go wherever they willed. the menace of the forest [illustration] chapter "quick!" cried polychrome the canary; "we must hurry, or mrs. yoop may find some way to recapture us, even now. let us get out of her valley as soon as possible." so they set off toward the east, moving as swiftly as they could, and for a long time they could hear the yells and struggles of the imprisoned giantess. the green monkey could run over the ground very swiftly, and he carried with him the bird-cage containing polychrome the rainbow's daughter. also the tin owl could skip and fly along at a good rate of speed, his feathers rattling against one another with a tinkling sound as he moved. but the little brown bear, being stuffed with straw, was a clumsy traveler and the others had to wait for him to follow. however, they were not very long in reaching the ridge that led out of mrs. yoop's valley, and when they had passed this ridge and descended into the next valley they stopped to rest, for the green monkey was tired. "i believe we are safe, now," said polychrome, when her cage was set down and the others had all gathered around it, "for mrs. yoop dares not go outside of her own valley, for fear of being captured by her enemies. so we may take our time to consider what to do next." "i'm afraid poor mrs. yoop will starve to death, if no one lets her out of her bedroom," said woot, who had a heart as kind as that of the tin woodman. "we've taken her magic apron away, and now the doors will never open." "don't worry about that," advised polychrome. "mrs. yoop has plenty of magic left to console her." "are you sure of that?" asked the green monkey. "yes, for i've been watching her for weeks," said the canary. "she has six magic hairpins, which she wears in her hair, and a magic ring which she wears on her thumb and which is invisible to all eyes except those of a fairy, and magic bracelets on both her ankles. so i am positive that she will manage to find a way out of her prison." "she might transform the door into an archway," suggested the little brown bear. "that would be easy for her," said the tin owl; "but i'm glad she was too angry to think of that before we got out of her valley." "well, we have escaped the big woman, to be sure," remarked the green monkey, "but we still wear the awful forms the cruel yookoohoo gave us. how are we going to get rid of these shapes, and become ourselves again?" none could answer that question. they sat around the cage, brooding over the problem, until the monkey fell asleep. seeing this, the canary tucked her head under her wing and also slept, and the tin owl and the brown bear did not disturb them until morning came and it was broad daylight. "i'm hungry," said woot, when he wakened, for his knapsack of food had been left behind at the castle. "then let us travel on until we can find something for you to eat," returned the scarecrow bear. "there is no use in your lugging my cage any farther," declared the canary. "let me out, and throw the cage away. then i can fly with you and find my own breakfast of seeds. also i can search for water, and tell you where to find it." so the green monkey unfastened the door of the golden cage and the canary hopped out. at first she flew high in the air and made great circles overhead, but after a time she returned and perched beside them. "at the east, in the direction we were following," announced the canary, "there is a fine forest, with a brook running through it. in the forest there may be fruits or nuts growing, or berry bushes at its edge, so let us go that way." [illustration] they agreed to this and promptly set off, this time moving more deliberately. the tin owl, which had guided their way during the night, now found the sunshine very trying to his big eyes, so he shut them tight and perched upon the back of the little brown bear, which carried the owl's weight with ease. the canary sometimes perched upon the green monkey's shoulder and sometimes fluttered on ahead of the party, and in this manner they traveled in good spirits across that valley and into the next one to the east of it. this they found to be an immense hollow, shaped like a saucer, and on its farther edge appeared the forest which polychrome had seen from the sky. "come to think of it," said the tin owl, waking up and blinking comically at his friends, "there's no object, now, in our traveling to the munchkin country. my idea in going there was to marry nimmie amee, but however much the munchkin girl may have loved a tin woodman, i cannot reasonably expect her to marry a tin owl." "there is some truth in that, my friend," remarked the brown bear. "and to think that i, who was considered the handsomest scarecrow in the world, am now condemned to be a scrubby, no-account beast, whose only redeeming feature is that he is stuffed with straw!" "consider _my_ case, please," said woot. "the cruel giantess has made a monkey of a boy, and that is the most dreadful deed of all!" "your color is rather pretty," said the brown bear, eyeing woot critically. "i have never seen a pea-green monkey before, and it strikes me you are quite gorgeous." "it isn't so bad to be a bird," asserted the canary, fluttering from one to another with a free and graceful motion, "but i long to enjoy my own shape again." "as polychrome, you were the loveliest maiden i have ever seen--except, of course, ozma," said the tin owl; "so the giantess did well to transform you into the loveliest of all birds, if you were to be transformed at all. but tell me, since you are a fairy, and have a fairy wisdom: do you think we shall be able to break these enchantments?" "queer things happen in the land of oz," replied the canary, again perching on the green monkey's shoulder and turning one bright eye thoughtfully toward her questioner. "mrs. yoop has declared that none of her transformations can ever be changed, even by herself, but i believe that if we could get to glinda, the good sorceress, she might find a way to restore us to our natural shapes. glinda, as you know, is the most powerful sorceress in the world, and there are few things she cannot do if she tries." "in that case," said the little brown bear, "let us return southward and try to get to glinda's castle. it lies in the quadling country, you know, so it is a good way from here." "first, however, let us visit the forest and search for something to eat," pleaded woot. so they continued on to the edge of the forest, which consisted of many tall and beautiful trees. they discovered no fruit trees, at first, so the green monkey pushed on into the forest depths and the others followed close behind him. they were traveling quietly along, under the shade of the trees, when suddenly an enormous jaguar leaped upon them from a limb and with one blow of his paw sent the little brown bear tumbling over and over until he was stopped by a tree-trunk. instantly they all took alarm. the tin owl shrieked: "hoot--hoot!" and flew straight up to the branch of a tall tree, although he could scarcely see where he was going. the canary swiftly darted to a place beside the owl, and the green monkey sprang up, caught a limb, and soon scrambled to a high perch of safety. the jaguar crouched low and with hungry eyes regarded the little brown bear, which slowly got upon its feet and asked reproachfully: "for goodness' sake, beast, what were you trying to do?" "trying to get my breakfast," answered the jaguar with a snarl, "and i believe i've succeeded. you ought to make a delicious meal--unless you happen to be old and tough." "i'm worse than that, considered as a breakfast," said the bear, "for i'm only a skin stuffed with straw, and therefore not fit to eat." "indeed!" cried the jaguar, in a disappointed voice; "then you must be a magic bear, or enchanted, and i must seek my breakfast from among your companions." with this he raised his lean head to look up at the tin owl and the canary and the monkey, and he lashed his tail upon the ground and growled as fiercely as any jaguar could. "my friends are enchanted, also," said the little brown bear. "all of them?" asked the jaguar. "yes. the owl is tin, so you couldn't possibly eat him. the canary is a fairy--polychrome, the daughter of the rainbow--and you never could catch her because she can easily fly out of your reach." "there still remains the green monkey," remarked the jaguar hungrily. "he is neither made of tin nor stuffed with straw, nor can he fly. i'm pretty good at climbing trees, myself, so i think i'll capture the monkey and eat him for my breakfast." woot the monkey, hearing this speech from his perch on the tree, became much frightened, for he knew the nature of jaguars and realized they could climb trees and leap from limb to limb with the agility of cats. so he at once began to scamper through the forest as fast as he could go, catching at a branch with his long monkey arms and swinging his green body through space to grasp another branch in a neighboring tree, and so on, while the jaguar followed him from below, his eyes fixed steadfastly on his prey. but presently woot got his feet tangled in the lace apron, which he was still wearing, and that tripped him in his flight and made him fall to the ground, where the jaguar placed one huge paw upon him and said grimly: "i've got you, now!" the fact that the apron had tripped him made woot remember its magic powers, and in his terror he cried out: "open!" without stopping to consider how this command might save him. but, at the word, the earth opened at the exact spot where he lay under the jaguar's paw, and his body sank downward, the earth closing over it again. the last thing woot the monkey saw, as he glanced upward, was the jaguar peering into the hole in astonishment. [illustration] "he's gone!" cried the beast, with a long-drawn sigh of disappointment; "he's gone, and now i shall have no breakfast." the clatter of the tin owl's wings sounded above him, and the little brown bear came trotting up and asked: "where is the monkey? have you eaten him so quickly?" "no, indeed," answered the jaguar. "he disappeared into the earth before i could take one bite of him!" and now the canary perched upon a stump, a little way from the forest beast, and said: "i am glad our friend has escaped you; but, as it is natural for a hungry beast to wish his breakfast, i will try to give you one." "thank you," replied the jaguar. "you're rather small for a full meal, but it's kind of you to sacrifice yourself to my appetite." "oh, i don't intend to be eaten, i assure you," said the canary, "but as i am a fairy i know something of magic, and though i am now transformed into a bird's shape, i am sure i can conjure up a breakfast that will satisfy you." "if you can work magic, why don't you break the enchantment you are under and return to your proper form?" inquired the beast doubtingly. "i haven't the power to do that," answered the canary, "for mrs. yoop, the giantess who transformed me, used a peculiar form of yookoohoo magic that is unknown to me. however, she could not deprive me of my own fairy knowledge, so i will try to get you a breakfast." "do you think a magic breakfast would taste good, or relieve the pangs of hunger i now suffer?" asked the jaguar. "i am sure it would. what would you like to eat?" "give me a couple of fat rabbits," said the beast. "rabbits! no, indeed. i'd not allow you to eat the dear little things," declared polychrome the canary. "well, three or four squirrels, then," pleaded the jaguar. "do you think me so cruel?" demanded the canary, indignantly. "the squirrels are my especial friends." "how about a plump owl?" asked the beast. "not a tin one, you know, but a real meat owl." "neither beast nor bird shall you have," said polychrome in a positive voice. "give me a fish, then; there's a river a little way off," proposed the jaguar. "no living thing shall be sacrificed to feed you," returned the canary. "then what in the world do you expect me to eat?" said the jaguar in a scornful tone. "how would mush-and-milk do?" asked the canary. the jaguar snarled in derision and lashed his tail against the ground angrily. [illustration] "give him some scrambled eggs on toast, poly," suggested the bear scarecrow. "he ought to like that." "i will," responded the canary, and fluttering her wings she made a flight of three circles around the stump. then she flew up to a tree and the bear and the owl and the jaguar saw that upon the stump had appeared a great green leaf upon which was a large portion of scrambled eggs on toast, smoking hot. "there!" said the bear; "eat your breakfast, friend jaguar, and be content." the jaguar crept closer to the stump and sniffed the fragrance of the scrambled eggs. they smelled so good that he tasted them, and they tasted so good that he ate the strange meal in a hurry, proving he had been really hungry. "i prefer rabbits," he muttered, licking his chops, "but i must admit the magic breakfast has filled my stomach full, and brought me comfort. so i'm much obliged for the kindness, little fairy, and i'll now leave you in peace." saying this, he plunged into the thick underbrush and soon disappeared, although they could hear his great body crashing through the bushes until he was far distant. "that was a good way to get rid of the savage beast, poly," said the tin woodman to the canary; "but i'm surprised that you didn't give our friend woot a magic breakfast, when you knew he was hungry." "the reason for that," answered polychrome, "was that my mind was so intent on other things that i quite forgot my power to produce food by magic. but where _is_ the monkey boy?" "gone!" said the scarecrow bear, solemnly. "the earth has swallowed him up." [illustration] the quarrelsome dragons [illustration] chapter the green monkey sank gently into the earth for a little way and then tumbled swiftly through space, landing on a rocky floor with a thump that astonished him. then he sat up, found that no bones were broken, and gazed around him. he seemed to be in a big underground cave, which was dimly lighted by dozens of big round discs that looked like moons. they were not moons, however, as woot discovered when he had examined the place more carefully. they were eyes. the eyes were in the heads of enormous beasts whose bodies trailed far behind them. each beast was bigger than an elephant, and three times as long, and there were a dozen or more of the creatures scattered here and there about the cavern. on their bodies were big scales, as round as pie-plates, which were beautifully tinted in shades of green, purple and orange. on the ends of their long tails were clusters of jewels. around the great, moon-like eyes were circles of diamonds which sparkled in the subdued light that glowed from the eyes. woot saw that the creatures had wide mouths and rows of terrible teeth and, from tales he had heard of such beings, he knew he had fallen into a cavern inhabited by the great dragons that had been driven from the surface of the earth and were only allowed to come out once in a hundred years to search for food. of course he had never seen dragons before, yet there was no mistaking them, for they were unlike any other living creatures. woot sat upon the floor where he had fallen, staring around, and the owners of the big eyes returned his look, silently and motionless. finally one of the dragons which was farthest away from him asked, in a deep, grave voice: "what was that?" and the greatest dragon of all, who was just in front of the green monkey, answered in a still deeper voice: "it is some foolish animal from outside." "is it good to eat?" inquired a smaller dragon beside the great one. "i'm hungry." "hungry!" exclaimed all the dragons, in a reproachful chorus; and then the great one said chidingly: "tut-tut, my son! you've no reason to be hungry at _this_ time." "why not?" asked the little dragon. "i haven't eaten anything in eleven years." "eleven years is nothing," remarked another dragon, sleepily opening and closing his eyes; "_i_ haven't feasted for eighty-seven years, and i dare not get hungry for a dozen or so years to come. children who eat between meals should be broken of the habit." "all i had, eleven years ago, was a rhinoceros, and that's not a full meal at all," grumbled the young one. "and, before that, i had waited sixty-two years to be fed; so it's no wonder i'm hungry." "how old are you now?" asked woot, forgetting his own dangerous position in his interest in the conversation. "why, i'm--i'm-- how old am i, father?" asked the little dragon. "goodness gracious! what a child to ask questions. do you want to keep me thinking all the time? don't you know that thinking is very bad for dragons?" returned the big one, impatiently. "how old am i, father?" persisted the small dragon. "about six hundred and thirty, i believe. ask your mother." "no; don't!" said an old dragon in the background; "haven't i enough worries, what with being wakened in the middle of a nap, without being obliged to keep track of my children's ages?" "you've been fast asleep for over sixty years, mother," said the child dragon. "how long a nap do you wish?" "i should have slept forty years longer. and this strange little green beast should be punished for falling into our cavern and disturbing us." "i didn't know you were here, and i didn't know i was going to fall in," explained woot. "nevertheless, here you are," said the great dragon, "and you have carelessly wakened our entire tribe; so it stands to reason you must be punished." "in what way?" inquired the green monkey, trembling a little. "give me time and i'll think of a way. you're in no hurry, are you?" asked the great dragon. "no, indeed," cried woot. "take your time. i'd much rather you'd all go to sleep again, and punish me when you wake up in a hundred years or so." "let me eat him!" pleaded the littlest dragon. "he is too small," said the father. "to eat this one green monkey would only serve to make you hungry for more, and there _are_ no more." "quit this chatter and let me get to sleep," protested another dragon, yawning in a fearful manner, for when he opened his mouth a sheet of flame leaped forth from it and made woot jump back to get out of its way. [illustration] in his jump he bumped against the nose of a dragon behind him, which opened its mouth to growl and shot another sheet of flame at him. the flame was bright, but not very hot, yet woot screamed with terror and sprang forward with a great bound. this time he landed on the paw of the great chief dragon, who angrily raised his other front paw and struck the green monkey a fierce blow. woot went sailing through the air and fell sprawling upon the rocky floor far beyond the place where the dragon tribe was grouped. all the great beasts were now thoroughly wakened and aroused, and they blamed the monkey for disturbing their quiet. the littlest dragon darted after woot and the others turned their unwieldy bodies in his direction and followed, flashing from their eyes and mouths flames which lighted up the entire cavern. woot almost gave himself up for lost, at that moment, but he scrambled to his feet and dashed away to the farthest end of the cave, the dragons following more leisurely because they were too clumsy to move fast. perhaps they thought there was no need of haste, as the monkey could not escape from the cave. but, away up at the end of the place, the cavern floor was heaped with tumbled rocks, so woot, with an agility born of fear, climbed from rock to rock until he found himself crouched against the cavern roof. there he waited, for he could go no farther, while on over the tumbled rocks slowly crept the dragons--the littlest one coming first because he was hungry as well as angry. the beasts had almost reached him when woot, remembering his lace apron--now sadly torn and soiled--recovered his wits and shouted: "open!" at the cry a hole appeared in the roof of the cavern, just over his head, and through it the sunlight streamed full upon the green monkey. the dragons paused, astonished at the magic and blinking at the sunlight, and this gave woot time to climb through the opening. as soon as he reached the surface of the earth the hole closed again, and the boy monkey realized, with a thrill of joy, that he had seen the last of the dangerous dragon family. he sat upon the ground, still panting hard from his exertions, when the bushes before him parted and his former enemy, the jaguar, appeared. "don't run," said the woodland beast, as woot sprang up; "you are perfectly safe, so far as i am concerned, for since you so mysteriously disappeared i have had my breakfast. i am now on my way home, to sleep the rest of the day." "oh, indeed!" returned the green monkey, in a tone both sorry and startled. "which of my friends did you manage to eat?" "none of them," returned the jaguar, with a sly grin. "i had a dish of magic scrambled eggs--on toast--and it wasn't a bad feast, at all. there isn't room in me for even you, and i don't regret it because i judge, from your green color, that you are not ripe, and would make an indifferent meal. we jaguars have to be careful of our digestions. farewell, friend monkey. follow the path i made through the bushes and you will find your friends." with this the jaguar marched on his way and woot took his advice and followed the trail he had made until he came to the place where the little brown bear, and the tin owl, and the canary were conferring together and wondering what had become of their comrade, the green monkey. [illustration] tommy kwikstep [illustration] chapter "our best plan," said the scarecrow bear, when the green monkey had related the story of his adventure with the dragons, "is to get out of this gillikin country as soon as we can and try to find our way to the castle of glinda, the good sorceress. there are too many dangers lurking here to suit me, and glinda may be able to restore us to our proper forms." "if we turn south now," the tin owl replied, "we might go straight into the emerald city. that's a place i wish to avoid, for i'd hate to have my friends see me in this sad plight," and he blinked his eyes and fluttered his tin wings mournfully. "but i am certain we have passed _beyond_ emerald city," the canary assured him, sailing lightly around their heads. "so, should we turn south from here, we would pass into the munchkin country, and continuing south we would reach the quadling country where glinda's castle is located." "well, since you're sure of that, let's start right away," proposed the bear. "it's a long journey, at the best, and i'm getting tired of walking on four legs." "i thought you never tired, being stuffed with straw," said woot. "i mean that it annoys me, to be obliged to go on all fours, when two legs are my proper walking equipment," replied the scarecrow. "i consider it beneath my dignity. in other words, my remarkable brains can tire, through humiliation, although my body cannot tire." "that is one of the penalties of having brains," remarked the tin owl with a sigh. "i have had no brains since i was a man of meat, and so i never worry. nevertheless, i prefer my former manly form to this owl's shape and would be glad to break mrs. yoop's enchantment as soon as possible. i am so noisy, just now, that i disturb myself," and he fluttered his wings with a clatter that echoed throughout the forest. so, being all of one mind, they turned southward, traveling steadily on until the woods were left behind and the landscape turned from purple tints to blue tints, which assured them they had entered the country of the munchkins. "now i feel myself more safe," said the scarecrow bear. "i know this country pretty well, having been made here by a munchkin farmer and having wandered over these lovely blue lands many times. seems to me, indeed, that i even remember that group of three tall trees ahead of us; and, if i do, we are not far from the home of my friend jinjur." "who is jinjur?" asked woot, the green monkey. "haven't you heard of jinjur?" exclaimed the scarecrow, in surprise. "no," said woot. "is jinjur a man, a woman, a beast or a bird?" "jinjur is a girl," explained the scarecrow bear. "she's a fine girl, too, although a bit restless and liable to get excited. once, a long time ago, she raised an army of girls and called herself 'general jinjur.' with her army she captured the emerald city, and drove me out of it, because i insisted that an army in oz was highly improper. but ozma punished the rash girl, and afterward jinjur and i became fast friends. now jinjur lives peacefully on a farm, near here, and raises fields of cream-puffs, chocolate-caramels and macaroons. they say she's a pretty good farmer, and in addition to that she's an artist, and paints pictures so perfect that one can scarcely tell them from nature. she often repaints my face for me, when it gets worn or mussy, and the lovely expression i wore when the giantess transformed me was painted by jinjur only a month or so ago." "it was certainly a pleasant expression," agreed woot. "jinjur can paint anything," continued the scarecrow bear, with enthusiasm, as they walked along together. "once, when i came to her house, my straw was old and crumpled, so that my body sagged dreadfully. i needed new straw to replace the old, but jinjur had no straw on all her ranch and i was really unable to travel farther until i had been restuffed. when i explained this to jinjur, the girl at once painted a straw-stack which was so natural that i went to it and secured enough straw to fill all my body. it was a good quality of straw, too, and lasted me a long time." this seemed very wonderful to woot, who knew that such a thing could never happen in any place but a fairy country like oz. the munchkin country was much nicer than the gillikin country, and all the fields were separated by blue fences, with grassy lanes and paths of blue ground, and the land seemed well cultivated. they were on a little hill looking down upon this favored country, but had not quite reached the settled parts, when on turning a bend in the path they were halted by a form that barred their way. a more curious creature they had seldom seen, even in the land of oz, where curious creatures abound. it had the head of a young man--evidently a munchkin--with a pleasant face and hair neatly combed. but the body was very long, for it had twenty legs--ten legs on each side--and this caused the body to stretch out and lie in a horizontal position, so that all the legs could touch the ground and stand firm. from the shoulders extended two small arms; at least, they seemed small beside so many legs. this odd creature was dressed in the regulation clothing of the munchkin people, a dark blue coat neatly fitting the long body and each pair of legs having a pair of sky-blue trousers, with blue-tinted stockings and blue leather shoes turned up at the pointed toes. "i wonder who you are?" said polychrome the canary, fluttering above the strange creature, who had probably been asleep on the path. "i sometimes wonder, myself, who i am," replied the many-legged young man; "but, in reality, i am tommy kwikstep, and i live in a hollow tree that fell to the ground with age. i have polished the inside of it, and made a door at each end, and that's a very comfortable residence for me because it just fits my shape." "how did you happen to have such a shape?" asked the scarecrow bear, sitting on his haunches and regarding tommy kwikstep with a serious look. "is the shape natural?" [illustration] "no; it was wished on me," replied tommy, with a sigh. "i used to be very active and loved to run errands for anyone who needed my services. that was how i got my name of tommy kwikstep. i could run an errand more quickly than any other boy, and so i was very proud of myself. one day, however, i met an old lady who was a fairy, or a witch, or something of the sort, and she said if i would run an errand for her--to carry some magic medicine to another old woman--she would grant me just one wish, whatever the wish happened to be. of course i consented and, taking the medicine, i hurried away. it was a long distance, mostly up hill, and my legs began to grow weary. without thinking what i was doing i said aloud: 'dear me; i wish i had twenty legs!' and in an instant i became the unusual creature you see beside you. twenty legs! twenty on one man! you may count them, if you doubt my word." "you've got 'em, all right," said woot the monkey, who had already counted them. "after i had delivered the magic medicine to the old woman, i returned and tried to find the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, who had given me the unlucky wish, so she could take it away again. i've been searching for her ever since, but never can i find her," continued poor tommy kwikstep, sadly. "i suppose," said the tin owl, blinking at him, "you can travel very fast, with those twenty legs." "at first i was able to," was the reply; "but i traveled so much, searching for the fairy, or witch, or whatever she was, that i soon got corns on my toes. now, a corn on one toe is not so bad, but when you have a hundred toes--as i have--and get corns on most of them, it is far from pleasant. instead of running, i now painfully crawl, and although i try not to be discouraged i do hope i shall find that witch or fairy, or whatever she was, before long." "i hope so, too," said the scarecrow. "but, after all, you have the pleasure of knowing you are unusual, and therefore remarkable among the people of oz. to be just like other persons is small credit to one, while to be unlike others is a mark of distinction." "that _sounds_ very pretty," returned tommy kwikstep, "but if you had to put on ten pair of trousers every morning, and tie up twenty shoes, you would prefer not to be so distinguished." "was the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, an old person, with wrinkled skin, and half her teeth gone?" inquired the tin owl. "no," said tommy kwikstep. "then she wasn't old mombi," remarked the transformed emperor. "i'm not interested in who it _wasn't_, so much as i am in who it _was_," said the twenty-legged young man. "and, whatever or whomsoever she was, she has managed to keep out of my way." "if you found her, do you suppose she'd change you back into a two-legged boy?" asked woot. "perhaps so, if i could run another errand for her and so earn another wish." "would you really like to be as you were before?" asked polychrome the canary, perching upon the green monkey's shoulder to observe tommy kwikstep more attentively. "i would, indeed," was the earnest reply. "then i will see what i can do for you," promised the rainbow's daughter, and flying to the ground she took a small twig in her bill and with it made several mystic figures on each side of tommy kwikstep. "are _you_ a witch, or fairy, or something of the sort?" he asked as he watched her wonderingly. the canary made no answer, for she was busy, but the scarecrow bear replied: "yes; she's something of the sort, and a bird of a magician." [illustration] the twenty-legged boy's transformation happened so queerly that they were all surprised at its method. first, tommy kwikstep's last two legs disappeared; then the next two, and the next, and as each pair of legs vanished his body shortened. all this while polychrome was running around him and chirping mystical words, and when all the young man's legs had disappeared but two he noticed that the canary was still busy and cried out in alarm: "stop--stop! leave me _two_ of my legs, or i shall be worse off than before." "i know," said the canary. "i'm only removing with my magic the corns from your last ten toes." "thank you for being so thoughtful," he said gratefully, and now they noticed that tommy kwikstep was quite a nice looking young fellow. "what will you do now?" asked woot the monkey. "first," he answered, "i must deliver a note which i've carried in my pocket ever since the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, granted my foolish wish. and i am resolved never to speak again without taking time to think carefully on what i am going to say, for i realize that speech without thought is dangerous. and after i've delivered the note, i shall run errands again for anyone who needs my services." so he thanked polychrome again and started away in a different direction from their own, and that was the last they saw of tommy kwikstep. jinjur's ranch [illustration] chapter as they followed a path down the blue-grass hillside, the first house that met the view of the travelers was joyously recognized by the scarecrow bear as the one inhabited by his friend jinjur, so they increased their speed and hurried toward it. on reaching the place, however, they found the house deserted. the front door stood open, but no one was inside. in the garden surrounding the house were neat rows of bushes bearing cream-puffs and macaroons, some of which were still green, but others ripe and ready to eat. farther back were fields of caramels, and all the land seemed well cultivated and carefully tended. they looked through the fields for the girl farmer, but she was nowhere to be seen. "well," finally remarked the little brown bear, "let us go into the house and make ourselves at home. that will be sure to please my friend jinjur, who happens to be away from home just now. when she returns, she will be greatly surprised." "would she care if i ate some of those ripe cream-puffs?" asked the green monkey. "no, indeed; jinjur is very generous. help yourself to all you want," said the scarecrow bear. so woot gathered a lot of the cream-puffs that were golden yellow and filled with a sweet, creamy substance, and ate until his hunger was satisfied. then he entered the house with his friends and sat in a rocking-chair--just as he was accustomed to do when a boy. the canary perched herself upon the mantel and daintily plumed her feathers; the tin owl sat on the back of another chair; the scarecrow squatted on his hairy haunches in the middle of the room. "i believe i remember the girl jinjur," remarked the canary, in her sweet voice. "she cannot help us very much, except to direct us on our way to glinda's castle, for she does not understand magic. but she's a good girl, honest and sensible, and i'll be glad to see her." [illustration] "all our troubles," said the owl with a deep sigh, "arose from my foolish resolve to seek nimmie amee and make her empress of the winkies, and while i wish to reproach no one, i must say that it was woot the wanderer who put the notion into my head." "well, for my part, i am glad he did," responded the canary. "your journey resulted in saving me from the giantess, and had you not traveled to the yoop valley, i would still be mrs. yoop's prisoner. it is much nicer to be free, even though i still bear the enchanted form of a canary-bird." "do you think we shall ever be able to get our proper forms back again?" asked the green monkey earnestly. polychrome did not make reply at once to this important question, but after a period of thoughtfulness she said: "i have been taught to believe that there is an antidote for every magic charm, yet mrs. yoop insists that no power can alter her transformations. i realize that my own fairy magic cannot do it, although i have thought that we sky fairies have more power than is accorded to earth fairies. the yookoohoo magic is admitted to be very strange in its workings and different from the magic usually practiced, but perhaps glinda or ozma may understand it better than i. in them lies our only hope. unless they can help us, we must remain forever as we are." "a canary-bird on a rainbow wouldn't be so bad," asserted the tin owl, winking and blinking with his round tin eyes, "so if you can manage to find your rainbow again you need have little to worry about." "that's nonsense, friend chopper," exclaimed woot. "i know just how polychrome feels. a beautiful girl is much superior to a little yellow bird, and a boy--such as i was--far better than a green monkey. neither of us can be happy again unless we recover our rightful forms." "i feel the same way," announced the stuffed bear. "what do you suppose my friend the patchwork girl would think of me, if she saw me wearing this beastly shape?" "she'd laugh till she cried," admitted the tin owl. "for my part, i'll have to give up the notion of marrying nimmie amee, but i'll try not to let that make me unhappy. if it's my duty, i'd like to do my duty, but if magic prevents my getting married i'll flutter along all by myself and be just as contented." their serious misfortunes made them all silent for a time, and as their thoughts were busy in dwelling upon the evils with which fate had burdened them, none noticed that jinjur had suddenly appeared in the doorway and was looking at them in astonishment. the next moment her astonishment changed to anger, for there, in her best rocking-chair, sat a green monkey. a great shiny owl perched upon another chair and a brown bear squatted upon her parlor rug. jinjur did not notice the canary, but she caught up a broomstick and dashed into the room, shouting as she came: "get out of here, you wild creatures! how dare you enter my house?" with a blow of her broom she knocked the brown bear over, and the tin owl tried to fly out of her reach and made a great clatter with his tin wings. the green monkey was so startled by the sudden attack that he sprang into the fireplace--where there was fortunately no fire--and tried to escape by climbing up the chimney. but he found the opening too small, and so was forced to drop down again. then he crouched trembling in the fireplace, his pretty green hair all blackened with soot and covered with ashes. from this position woot watched to see what would happen next. "stop, jinjur--stop!" cried the brown bear, when the broom again threatened him. "don't you know me? i'm your old friend the scarecrow?" "you're trying to deceive me, you naughty beast! i can see plainly that you are a bear, and a mighty poor specimen of a bear, too," retorted the girl. "that's because i'm not properly stuffed," he assured her. "when mrs. yoop transformed me, she didn't realize i should have more stuffing." "who is mrs. yoop?" inquired jinjur, pausing with the broom still upraised. "a giantess in the gillikin country." "oh; i begin to understand. and mrs. yoop transformed you? you are really the famous scarecrow of oz?" "i _was_, jinjur. just now i'm as you see me--a miserable little brown bear with a poor quality of stuffing. that tin owl is none other than our dear tin woodman--nick chopper, the emperor of the winkies--while this green monkey is a nice little boy we recently became acquainted with, woot the wanderer." "and i," said the canary, flying close to jinjur, "am polychrome, the daughter of the rainbow, in the form of a bird." "goodness me!" cried jinjur, amazed; "that giantess must be a powerful sorceress, and as wicked as she is powerful." [illustration] "she's a yookoohoo," said polychrome. "fortunately, we managed to escape from her castle, and we are now on our way to glinda the good to see if she possesses the power to restore us to our former shapes." "then i must beg your pardons; all of you must forgive me," said jinjur, putting away the broom. "i took you to be a lot of wild, unmannerly animals, as was quite natural. you are very welcome to my home and i'm sorry i haven't the power to help you out of your troubles. please use my house and all that i have, as if it were your own." at this declaration of peace, the bear got upon his feet and the owl resumed his perch upon the chair and the monkey crept out of the fireplace. jinjur looked at woot critically, and scowled. "for a green monkey," said she, "you're the blackest creature i ever saw. and you'll get my nice clean room all dirty with soot and ashes. whatever possessed you to jump up the chimney?" "i--i was scared," explained woot, somewhat ashamed. "well, you need renovating, and that's what will happen to you, right away. come with me!" she commanded. [illustration] "what are you going to do?" asked woot. "give you a good scrubbing," said jinjur. now, neither boys nor monkeys relish being scrubbed, so woot shrank away from the energetic girl, trembling fearfully. but jinjur grabbed him by his paw and dragged him out to the back yard, where, in spite of his whines and struggles, she plunged him into a tub of cold water and began to scrub him with a stiff brush and a cake of yellow soap. this was the hardest trial that woot had endured since he became a monkey, but no protest had any influence with jinjur, who lathered and scrubbed him in a business-like manner and afterward dried him with a coarse towel. the bear and the owl gravely watched this operation and nodded approval when woot's silky green fur shone clear and bright in the afternoon sun. the canary seemed much amused and laughed a silvery ripple of laughter as she said: "very well done, my good jinjur; i admire your energy and judgment. but i had no idea a monkey could look so comical as this monkey did while he was being bathed." "i'm _not_ a monkey!" declared woot, resentfully; "i'm just a boy in a monkey's shape, that's all." "if you can explain to me the difference," said jinjur, "i'll agree not to wash you again--that is, unless you foolishly get into the fireplace. all persons are usually judged by the shapes in which they appear to the eyes of others. look at _me_, woot; what am _i_?" woot looked at her. "you're as pretty a girl as i've ever seen," he replied. jinjur frowned. that is, she tried hard to frown. "come out into the garden with me," she said, "and i'll give you some of the most delicious caramels you ever ate. they're a new variety, that no one can grow but me, and they have a heliotrope flavor." ozma and dorothy [illustration] chapter in her magnificent palace in the emerald city, the beautiful girl ruler of all the wonderful land of oz sat in her dainty boudoir with her friend princess dorothy beside her. ozma was studying a roll of manuscript which she had taken from the royal library, while dorothy worked at her embroidery and at times stooped to pat a shaggy little black dog that lay at her feet. the little dog's name was toto, and he was dorothy's faithful companion. to judge ozma of oz by the standards of our world, you would think her very young--perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age--yet for years she had ruled the land of oz and had never seemed a bit older. dorothy appeared much younger than ozma. she had been a little girl when first she came to the land of oz, and she was a little girl still, and would never seem to be a day older while she lived in this wonderful fairyland. oz was not always a fairyland, i am told. once it was much like other lands, except it was shut in by a dreadful desert of sandy wastes that lay all around it, thus preventing its people from all contact with the rest of the world. seeing this isolation, the fairy band of queen lurline, passing over oz while on a journey, enchanted the country and so made it a fairyland. and queen lurline left one of her fairies to rule this enchanted land of oz, and then passed on and forgot all about it. from that moment no one in oz ever died. those who were old remained old; those who were young and strong did not change as years passed them by; the children remained children always, and played and romped to their hearts' content, while all the babies lived in their cradles and were tenderly cared for and never grew up. so people in oz stopped counting how old they were in years, for years made no difference in their appearance and could not alter their station. they did not get sick, so there were no doctors among them. accidents might happen to some, on rare occasions, it is true, and while no one could die naturally, as other people do, it was possible that one might be totally destroyed. such incidents, however, were very unusual, and so seldom was there anything to worry over that the oz people were as happy and contented as can be. another strange thing about this fairy land of oz was that whoever managed to enter it from the outside world came under the magic spell of the place and did not change in appearance as long as they lived there. so dorothy, who now lived with ozma, seemed just the same sweet little girl she had been when first she came to this delightful fairyland. perhaps all parts of oz might not be called truly delightful, but it was surely delightful in the neighborhood of the emerald city, where ozma reigned. her loving influence was felt for many miles around, but there were places in the mountains of the gillikin country, and the forests of the quadling country, and perhaps in far-away parts of the munchkin and winkie countries, where the inhabitants were somewhat rude and uncivilized and had not yet come under the spell of ozma's wise and kindly rule. also, when oz first became a fairyland, it harbored several witches and magicians and sorcerers and necromancers, who were scattered in various parts, but most of these had been deprived of their magic powers, and ozma had issued a royal edict forbidding anyone in her dominions to work magic except glinda the good and the wizard of oz. ozma herself, being a real fairy, knew a lot of magic, but she only used it to benefit her subjects. this little explanation will help you to understand better the story you are reading, but most of it is already known to those who are familiar with the oz people whose adventures they have followed in other oz books. ozma and dorothy were fast friends and were much together. everyone in oz loved dorothy almost as well as they did their lovely ruler, for the little kansas girl's good fortune had not spoiled her or rendered her at all vain. she was just the same brave and true and adventurous child as before she lived in a royal palace and became the chum of the fairy ozma. in the room in which the two sat--which was one of ozma's private suite of apartments--hung the famous magic picture. this was the source of constant interest to little dorothy. one had but to stand before it and wish to see what any person was doing, and at once a scene would flash upon the magic canvas which showed exactly where that person was, and like our own moving pictures would reproduce the actions of that person as long as you cared to watch them. so today, when dorothy tired of her embroidery, she drew the curtains from before the magic picture and wished to see what her friend button bright was doing. button bright, she saw, was playing ball with ojo, the munchkin boy, so dorothy next wished to see what her aunt em was doing. the picture showed aunt em quietly engaged in darning socks for uncle henry, so dorothy wished to see what her old friend the tin woodman was doing. the tin woodman was then just leaving his tin castle in the company of the scarecrow and woot the wanderer. dorothy had never seen this boy before, so she wondered who he was. also she was curious to know where the three were going, for she noticed woot's knapsack and guessed they had started on a long journey. she asked ozma about it, but ozma did not know. that afternoon dorothy again saw the travelers in the magic picture, but they were merely tramping through the country and dorothy was not much interested in them. a couple of days later, however, the girl, being again with ozma, wished to see her friends, the scarecrow and the tin woodman in the magic picture, and on this occasion found them in the great castle of mrs. yoop, the giantess, who was at the time about to transform them. both dorothy and ozma now became greatly interested and watched the transformations with indignation and horror. "what a wicked giantess!" exclaimed dorothy. "yes," answered ozma, "she must be punished for this cruelty to our friends, and to the poor boy who is with them." after this they followed the adventure of the little brown bear and the tin owl and the green monkey with breathless interest, and were delighted when they escaped from mrs. yoop. they did not know, then, who the canary was, but realized it must be the transformation of some person of consequence, whom the giantess had also enchanted. [illustration] when, finally, the day came when the adventurers headed south into the munchkin country, dorothy asked anxiously: "can't something be done for them, ozma? can't you change 'em back into their own shapes? they've suffered enough from these dreadful transformations, seems to me." "i've been studying ways to help them, ever since they were transformed," replied ozma. "mrs. yoop is now the only yookoohoo in my dominions, and the yookoohoo magic is very peculiar and hard for others to understand, yet i am resolved to make the attempt to break these enchantments. i may not succeed, but i shall do the best i can. from the directions our friends are taking, i believe they are going to pass by jinjur's ranch, so if we start now we may meet them there. would you like to go with me, dorothy?" "of course," answered the little girl; "i wouldn't miss it for anything." "then order the red wagon," said ozma of oz, "and we will start at once." dorothy ran to do as she was bid, while ozma went to her magic room to make ready the things she believed she would need. in half an hour the red wagon stood before the grand entrance of the palace, and before it was hitched the wooden sawhorse, which was ozma's favorite steed. [illustration] this sawhorse, while made of wood, was very much alive and could travel swiftly and without tiring. to keep the ends of his wooden legs from wearing down short, ozma had shod the sawhorse with plates of pure gold. his harness was studded with brilliant emeralds and other jewels and so, while he himself was not at all handsome, his outfit made a splendid appearance. since the sawhorse could understand her spoken words, ozma used no reins to guide him. she merely told him where to go. when she came from the palace with dorothy, they both climbed into the red wagon and then the little dog, toto, ran up and asked: "are you going to leave me behind, dorothy?" dorothy looked at ozma, who smiled in return and said: "toto may go with us, if you wish him to." so dorothy lifted the little dog into the wagon, for, while he could run fast, he could not keep up with the speed of the wonderful sawhorse. away they went, over hills and through meadows, covering the ground with astonishing speed. it is not surprising, therefore, that the red wagon arrived before jinjur's house just as that energetic young lady had finished scrubbing the green monkey and was about to lead him to the caramel patch. the restoration [illustration] chapter the tin owl gave a hoot of delight when he saw the red wagon draw up before jinjur's house, and the brown bear grunted and growled with glee and trotted toward ozma as fast as he could wobble. as for the canary, it flew swiftly to dorothy's shoulder and perched there, saying in her ear: "thank goodness you have come to our rescue!" "but who are you?" asked dorothy. "don't you know?" returned the canary. "no; for the first time we noticed you in the magic picture, you were just a bird, as you are now. but we've guessed that the giant woman had transformed you, as she did the others." "yes; i'm polychrome, the rainbow's daughter," announced the canary. "goodness me!" cried dorothy. "how dreadful." "well, i make a rather pretty bird, i think," returned polychrome, "but of course i'm anxious to resume my own shape and get back upon my rainbow." "ozma will help you, i'm sure," said dorothy. "how does it feel, scarecrow, to be a bear?" she asked, addressing her old friend. "i don't like it," declared the scarecrow bear. "this brutal form is quite beneath the dignity of a wholesome straw man." "and think of me," said the owl, perching upon the dashboard of the red wagon with much noisy clattering of his tin feathers. "don't i look horrid, dorothy, with eyes several sizes too big for my body, and so weak that i ought to wear spectacles?" "well," said dorothy critically, as she looked him over, "you're nothing to brag of, i must confess. but ozma will soon fix you up again." the green monkey had hung back, bashful at meeting two lovely girls while in the form of a beast; but jinjur now took his hand and led him forward while she introduced him to ozma, and woot managed to make a low bow, not really ungraceful, before her girlish majesty, the ruler of oz. "you have all been forced to endure a sad experience," said ozma, "and so i am anxious to do all in my power to break mrs. yoop's enchantments. but first tell me how you happened to stray into that lonely valley where yoop castle stands." between them they related the object of their journey, the scarecrow bear telling of the tin woodman's resolve to find nimmie amee and marry her, as a just reward for her loyalty to him. woot told of their adventures with the loons of loonville, and the tin owl described the manner in which they had been captured and transformed by the giantess. then polychrome related her story, and when all had been told, and dorothy had several times reproved toto for growling at the tin owl, ozma remained thoughtful for a while, pondering upon what she had heard. finally she looked up, and with one of her delightful smiles, said to the anxious group: "i am not sure my magic will be able to restore every one of you, because your transformations are of such a strange and unusual character. indeed, mrs. yoop was quite justified in believing no power could alter her enchantments. however, i am sure i can restore the scarecrow to his original shape. he was stuffed with straw from the beginning, and even the yookoohoo magic could not alter that. the giantess was merely able to make a bear's shape of a man's shape, but the bear is stuffed with straw, just as the man was. so i feel confident i can make a man of the bear again." "hurrah!" cried the brown bear, and tried clumsily to dance a jig of delight. "as for the tin woodman, his case is much the same," resumed ozma, still smiling. "the power of the giantess could not make him anything but a tin creature, whatever shape she transformed him into, so it will not be impossible to restore him to his manly form. anyhow, i shall test my magic at once, and see if it will do what i have promised." [illustration] she drew from her bosom a small silver wand and, making passes with the wand over the head of the bear, she succeeded in the brief space of a moment in breaking his enchantment. the original scarecrow of oz again stood before them, well stuffed with straw and with his features nicely painted upon the bag which formed his head. the scarecrow was greatly delighted, as you may suppose, and he strutted proudly around while the powerful fairy, ozma of oz, broke the enchantment that had transformed the tin woodman and made a tin owl into a tin man again. "now, then," chirped the canary, eagerly; "i'm next, ozma!" "but your case is different," replied ozma, no longer smiling but wearing a grave expression on her sweet face. "i shall have to experiment on you, polychrome, and i may fail in all my attempts." she then tried two or three different methods of magic, hoping one of them would succeed in breaking polychrome's enchantment, but still the rainbow's daughter remained a canary-bird. finally, however, she experimented in another way. she transformed the canary into a dove, and then transformed the dove into a speckled hen, and then changed the speckled hen into a rabbit, and then the rabbit into a fawn. and at the last, after mixing several powders and sprinkling them upon the fawn, the yookoohoo enchantment was suddenly broken and before them stood one of the daintiest and loveliest creatures in any fairyland in the world. polychrome was as sweet and merry in disposition as she was beautiful, and when she danced and capered around in delight, her beautiful hair floated around her like a golden mist and her many-hued raiment, as soft as cobwebs, reminded one of drifting clouds in a summer sky. woot was so awed by the entrancing sight of this exquisite sky fairy that he quite forgot his own sad plight until he noticed ozma gazing upon him with an intent expression that denoted sympathy and sorrow. dorothy whispered in her friend's ear, but the ruler of oz shook her head sadly. jinjur, noticing this and understanding ozma's looks, took the paw of the green monkey in her own hand and patted it softly. "never mind," she said to him. "you are a very beautiful color, and a monkey can climb better than a boy and do a lot of other things no boy can ever do." "what's the matter?" asked woot, a sinking feeling at his heart. "is ozma's magic all used up?" [illustration] ozma herself answered him. "your form of enchantment, my poor boy," she said pityingly, "is different from that of the others. indeed, it is a form that is impossible to alter by any magic known to fairies or yookoohoos. the wicked giantess was well aware, when she gave you the form of a green monkey, that the green monkey must exist in the land of oz for all future time." woot drew a long sigh. "well, that's pretty hard luck," he said bravely, "but if it can't be helped i must endure it; that's all. i don't like being a monkey, but what's the use of kicking against my fate?" they were all very sorry for him, and dorothy anxiously asked ozma: "couldn't glinda save him?" "no," was the reply. "glinda's power in transformations is no greater than my own. before i left my palace i went to my magic room and studied woot's case very carefully. i found that no power can do away with the green monkey. he might transfer, or exchange his form with some other person, it is true; but the green monkey we cannot get rid of by any magic arts known to science." "but--see here," said the scarecrow, who had listened intently to this explanation, "why not put the monkey's form on some one else?" "who would agree to make the change?" asked ozma. "if by force we caused anyone else to become a green monkey, we would be as cruel and wicked as mrs. yoop. and what good would an exchange do?" she continued. "suppose, for instance, we worked the enchantment, and made toto into a green monkey. at the same moment woot would become a little dog." "leave me out of your magic, please," said toto, with a reproachful growl. "i wouldn't become a green monkey for anything." "and i wouldn't become a dog," said woot. "a green monkey is much better than a dog, it seems to me." "that is only a matter of opinion," answered toto. "now, here's another idea," said the scarecrow. "my brains are working finely today, you must admit. why not transform toto into woot the wanderer, and then have them exchange forms? the dog would become a green monkey and the monkey would have his own natural shape again." "to be sure!" cried jinjur. "that's a fine idea." "leave me out of it," said toto. "i won't do it." "wouldn't you be willing to become a green monkey--see what a pretty color it is--so that this poor boy could be restored to his own shape?" asked jinjur, pleadingly. "no," said toto. "i don't like that plan the least bit," declared dorothy, "for then i wouldn't have any little dog." "but you'd have a green monkey in his place," persisted jinjur, who liked woot and wanted to help him. "i don't want a green monkey," said dorothy positively. "don't speak of this again, i beg of you," said woot. "this is my own misfortune and i would rather suffer it alone than deprive princess dorothy of her dog, or deprive the dog of his proper shape. and perhaps even her majesty, ozma of oz, might not be able to transform anyone else into the shape of woot the wanderer." "yes; i believe i might do that," ozma returned; "but woot is quite right; we are not justified in inflicting upon anyone--man or dog--the form of a green monkey. also it is certain that in order to relieve the boy of the form he now wears, we must give it to someone else, who would be forced to wear it always." "i wonder," said dorothy, thoughtfully, "if we couldn't find someone in the land of oz who would be willing to become a green monkey? seems to me a monkey is active and spry, and he can climb trees and do a lot of clever things, and green isn't a bad color for a monkey--it makes him unusual." "i wouldn't ask anyone to take this dreadful form," said woot; "it wouldn't be right, you know. i've been a monkey for some time, now, and i don't like it. it makes me ashamed to be a beast of this sort when by right of birth i'm a boy; so i'm sure it would be wicked to ask anyone else to take my place." they were all silent, for they knew he spoke the truth. dorothy was almost ready to cry with pity and ozma's sweet face was sad and disturbed. the scarecrow rubbed and patted his stuffed head to try to make it think better, while the tin woodman went into the house and began to oil his tin joints so that the sorrow of his friends might not cause him to weep. weeping is liable to rust tin, and the emperor prided himself upon his highly polished body--now doubly dear to him because for a time he had been deprived of it. polychrome had danced down the garden paths and back again a dozen times, for she was seldom still a moment, yet she had heard ozma's speech and understood very well woot's unfortunate position. but the rainbow's daughter, even while dancing, could think and reason very clearly, and suddenly she solved the problem in the nicest possible way. coming close to ozma, she said: "your majesty, all this trouble was caused by the wickedness of mrs. yoop, the giantess. yet even now that cruel woman is living in her secluded castle, enjoying the thought that she has put this terrible enchantment on woot the wanderer. even now she is laughing at our despair because we can find no way to get rid of the green monkey. very well, we do not wish to get rid of it. let the woman who created the form wear it herself, as a just punishment for her wickedness. i am sure your fairy power can give to mrs. yoop the form of woot the wanderer--even at this distance from her--and then it will be possible to exchange the two forms. mrs. yoop will become the green monkey, and woot will recover his own form again." [illustration] ozma's face brightened as she listened to this clever proposal. "thank you, polychrome," said she. "the task you propose is not so easy as you suppose, but i will make the attempt, and perhaps i may succeed." [illustration] the green monkey [illustration] chapter they now entered the house, and as an interested group, watched jinjur, at ozma's command, build a fire and put a kettle of water over to boil. the ruler of oz stood before the fire silent and grave, while the others, realizing that an important ceremony of magic was about to be performed, stood quietly in the background so as not to interrupt ozma's proceedings. only polychrome kept going in and coming out, humming softly to herself as she danced, for the rainbow's daughter could not keep still for long, and the four walls of a room always made her nervous and ill at ease. she moved so noiselessly, however, that her movements were like the shifting of sunbeams and did not annoy anyone. when the water in the kettle bubbled, ozma drew from her bosom two tiny packets containing powders. these powders she threw into the kettle and after briskly stirring the contents with a branch from a macaroon bush, ozma poured the mystic broth upon a broad platter which jinjur had placed upon the table. as the broth cooled it became as silver, reflecting all objects from its smooth surface like a mirror. while her companions gathered around the table, eagerly attentive--and dorothy even held little toto in her arms that he might see--ozma waved her wand over the mirror-like surface. at once it reflected the interior of yoop castle, and in the big hall sat mrs. yoop, in her best embroidered silken robes, engaged in weaving a new lace apron to replace the one she had lost. [illustration] the giantess seemed rather uneasy, as if she had a faint idea that someone was spying upon her, for she kept looking behind her and this way and that, as though expecting danger from an unknown source. perhaps some yookoohoo instinct warned her. woot saw that she had escaped from her room by some of the magical means at her disposal, after her prisoners had escaped her. she was now occupying the big hall of her castle as she used to do. also woot thought, from the cruel expression on the face of the giantess, that she was planning revenge on them, as soon as her new magic apron was finished. but ozma was now making passes over the platter with her silver wand, and presently the form of the giantess began to shrink in size and to change its shape. and now, in her place sat the form of woot the wanderer, and as if suddenly realizing her transformation mrs. yoop threw down her work and rushed to a looking-glass that stood against the wall of her room. when she saw the boy's form reflected as her own, she grew violently angry and dashed her head against the mirror, smashing it to atoms. just then ozma was busy with her magic wand, making strange figures, and she had also placed her left hand firmly upon the shoulder of the green monkey. so now, as all eyes were turned upon the platter, the form of mrs. yoop gradually changed again. she was slowly transformed into the green monkey, and at the same time woot slowly regained his natural form. it was quite a surprise to them all when they raised their eyes from the platter and saw woot the wanderer standing beside ozma. and, when they glanced at the platter again, it reflected nothing more than the walls of the room in jinjur's house in which they stood. the magic ceremonial was ended, and ozma of oz had triumphed over the wicked giantess. "what will become of her, i wonder?" said dorothy, as she drew a long breath. "she will always remain a green monkey," replied ozma, "and in that form she will be unable to perform any magical arts whatsoever. she need not be unhappy, however, and as she lives all alone in her castle she probably won't mind the transformation very much after she gets used to it." "anyhow, it serves her right," declared dorothy, and all agreed with her. "but," said the kind hearted tin woodman, "i'm afraid the green monkey will starve, for mrs. yoop used to get her food by magic, and now that the magic is taken away from her, what can she eat?" "why, she'll eat what other monkeys do," returned the scarecrow. "even in the form of a green monkey, she's a very clever person, and i'm sure her wits will show her how to get plenty to eat." "don't worry about her," advised dorothy. "she didn't worry about you, and her condition is no worse than the condition she imposed on poor woot. she can't starve _to death_ in the land of oz, that's certain, and if she gets hungry at times it's no more than the wicked thing deserves. let's forget mrs. yoop; for, in spite of her being a yookoohoo, our fairy friends have broken all of her transformations." [illustration] the man of tin [illustration] chapter ozma and dorothy were quite pleased with woot the wanderer, whom they found modest and intelligent and very well mannered. the boy was truly grateful for his release from the cruel enchantment, and he promised to love, revere and defend the girl ruler of oz forever afterward, as a faithful subject. "you may visit me at my palace, if you wish," said ozma, "where i will be glad to introduce you to two other nice boys, ojo the munchkin and button-bright." "thank your majesty," replied woot, and then he turned to the tin woodman and inquired: "what are your further plans, mr. emperor? will you still seek nimmie amee and marry her, or will you abandon the quest and return to the emerald city and your own castle?" the tin woodman, now as highly polished and well-oiled as ever, reflected a while on this question and then answered: "well, i see no reason why i should not find nimmie amee. we are now in the munchkin country, where we are perfectly safe, and if it was right for me, before our enchantment, to marry nimmie amee and make her empress of the winkies, it must be right now, when the enchantment has been broken and i am once more myself. am i correct, friend scarecrow?" "you are, indeed," answered the scarecrow. "no one can oppose such logic." "but i'm afraid you don't love nimmie amee," suggested dorothy. "that is just because i can't love anyone," replied the tin woodman. "but, if i cannot love my wife, i can at least be kind to her, and all husbands are not able to do that." "do you s'pose nimmie amee still loves you, after all these years?" asked dorothy. "i'm quite sure of it, and that is why i am going to her to make her happy. woot the wanderer thinks i ought to reward her for being faithful to me after my meat body was chopped to pieces and i became tin. what do _you_ think, ozma?" ozma smiled as she said: "i do not know your nimmie amee, and so i cannot tell what she most needs to make her happy. but there is no harm in your going to her and asking her if she still wishes to marry you. if she does, we will give you a grand wedding at the emerald city and, afterward, as empress of the winkies, nimmie amee would become one of the most important ladies in all oz." so it was decided that the tin woodman would continue his journey, and that the scarecrow and woot the wanderer should accompany him, as before. polychrome also decided to join their party, somewhat to the surprise of all. "i hate to be cooped up in a palace," she said to ozma, "and of course the first time i meet my rainbow i shall return to my own dear home in the skies, where my fairy sisters are even now awaiting me and my father is cross because i get lost so often. but i can find my rainbow just as quickly while traveling in the munchkin country as i could if living in the emerald city--or any other place in oz--so i shall go with the tin woodman and help him woo nimmie amee." dorothy wanted to go, too, but as the tin woodman did not invite her to join his party, she felt she might be intruding if she asked to be taken. she hinted, but she found he didn't take the hint. it is quite a delicate matter for one to ask a girl to marry him, however much she loves him, and perhaps the tin woodman did not desire to have too many looking on when he found his old sweetheart, nimmie amee. so dorothy contented herself with the thought that she would help ozma prepare a splendid wedding feast, to be followed by a round of parties and festivities when the emperor of the winkies reached the emerald city with his bride. ozma offered to take them all in the red wagon to a place as near to the great munchkin forest as a wagon could get. the red wagon was big enough to seat them all, and so, bidding good-bye to jinjur, who gave woot a basket of ripe cream-puffs and caramels to take with him, ozma commanded the wooden sawhorse to start, and the strange creature moved swiftly over the lanes and presently came to the road of yellow bricks. this road led straight to a dense forest, where the path was too narrow for the red wagon to proceed farther, so here the party separated. ozma and dorothy and toto returned to the emerald city, after wishing their friends a safe and successful journey, while the tin woodman, the scarecrow, woot the wanderer and polychrome, the rainbow's daughter, prepared to push their way through the thick forest. however, these forest paths were well known to the tin man and the scarecrow, who felt quite at home among the trees. "i was born in this grand forest," said nick chopper, the tin emperor, speaking proudly, "and it was here that the witch enchanted my axe and i lost different parts of my meat body until i became all tin. here, also--for it is a big forest--nimmie amee lived with the wicked witch, and at the other edge of the trees stands the cottage of my friend ku-klip, the famous tinsmith who made my present beautiful form." "he must be a clever workman," declared woot, admiringly. "he is simply wonderful," declared the tin woodman. "i shall be glad to make his acquaintance," said woot. "if you wish to meet with real cleverness," remarked the scarecrow, "you should visit the munchkin farmer who first made _me_. i won't say that my friend the emperor isn't all right for a tin man, but any judge of beauty can understand that a scarecrow is far more artistic and refined." "you are too soft and flimsy," said the tin woodman. "you are too hard and stiff," said the scarecrow, and this was as near to quarreling as the two friends ever came. polychrome laughed at them both, as well she might, and woot hastened to change the subject. at night they all camped underneath the trees. the boy ate cream-puffs for supper and offered polychrome some, but she preferred other food and at daybreak sipped the dew that was clustered thick on the forest flowers. then they tramped onward again, and presently the scarecrow paused and said: "it was on this very spot that dorothy and i first met the tin woodman, who was rusted so badly that none of his joints would move. but after we had oiled him up, he was as good as new and accompanied us to the emerald city." "ah, that was a sad experience," asserted the tin woodman soberly. "i was caught in a rainstorm while chopping down a tree for exercise, and before i realized it, i was firmly rusted in every joint. there i stood, axe in hand, but unable to move, for days and weeks and months! indeed, i have never known exactly how long the time was; but finally along came dorothy and i was saved. see! this is the very tree i was chopping at the time i rusted." "you cannot be far from your old home, in that case," said woot. "no; my little cabin stands not a great way off, but there is no occasion for us to visit it. our errand is with nimmie amee, and her house is somewhat farther away, to the left of us." "didn't you say she lives with a wicked witch, who makes her a slave?" asked the boy. "she did, but she doesn't," was the reply. "i am told the witch was destroyed when dorothy's house fell on her, so now nimmie amee must live all alone. i haven't seen her, of course, since the witch was crushed, for at that time i was standing rusted in the forest and had been there a long time, but the poor girl must have felt very happy to be free from her cruel mistress." "well," said the scarecrow, "let's travel on and find nimmie amee. lead on, your majesty, since you know the way, and we will follow." so the tin woodman took a path that led through the thickest part of the forest, and they followed it for some time. the light was dim here, because vines and bushes and leafy foliage were all about them, and often the tin man had to push aside the branches that obstructed their way, or cut them off with his axe. after they had proceeded some distance, the emperor suddenly stopped short and exclaimed: "good gracious!" the scarecrow, who was next, first bumped into his friend and then peered around his tin body, and said in a tone of wonder: "well, i declare!" woot the wanderer pushed forward to see what was the matter, and cried out in astonishment: [illustration] "for goodness' sake!" then the three stood motionless, staring hard, until polychrome's merry laughter rang out behind them and aroused them from their stupor. in the path before them stood a tin man who was the exact duplicate of the tin woodman. he was of the same size, he was jointed in the same manner, and he was made of shining tin from top to toe. but he stood immovable, with his tin jaws half parted and his tin eyes turned upward. in one of his hands was held a long, gleaming sword. yes, _there_ was the difference, the only thing that distinguished him from the emperor of the winkies. this tin man bore a sword, while the tin woodman bore an axe. "it's a dream; it _must_ be a dream!" gasped woot. "that's it, of course," said the scarecrow; "there couldn't be _two_ tin woodmen." "no," agreed polychrome, dancing nearer to the stranger, "this one is a tin soldier. don't you see his sword?" the tin woodman cautiously put out one tin hand and felt of his double's arm. then he said in a voice that trembled with emotion: "who are you, friend?" there was no reply. "can't you see he's rusted, just as you were once?" asked polychrome, laughing again. "here, nick chopper, lend me your oil-can a minute!" the tin woodman silently handed her his oil-can, without which he never traveled, and polychrome first oiled the stranger's tin jaws and then worked them gently to and fro until the tin soldier said: "that's enough. thank you. i can now talk. but please oil my other joints." woot seized the oil-can and did this, but all the others helped wiggle the soldier's joints as soon as they were oiled, until they moved freely. the tin soldier seemed highly pleased at his release. he strutted up and down the path, saying in a high, thin voice: "the soldier is a splendid man when marching on parade, and when he meets the enemy he never is afraid. he rights the wrongs of nations, his country's flag defends, the foe he'll fight with great delight, but seldom fights his friends." captain fyter [illustration] chapter "are you really a soldier?" asked woot, when they had all watched this strange tin person parade up and down the path and proudly flourish his sword. "i _was_ a soldier," was the reply, "but i've been a prisoner to mr. rust so long that i don't know exactly _what_ i am." "but--dear me!" cried the tin woodman, sadly perplexed; "how came you to be made of tin?" "that," answered the soldier, "is a sad, sad story. i was in love with a beautiful munchkin girl, who lived with a wicked witch. the witch did not wish me to marry the girl, so she enchanted my sword, which began hacking me to pieces. when i lost my legs i went to the tinsmith, ku-klip, and he made me some tin legs. when i lost my arms, ku-klip made me tin arms, and when i lost my head he made me this fine one out of tin. it was the same way with my body, and finally i was all tin. but i was not unhappy, for ku-klip made a good job of me, having had experience in making another tin man before me." "yes," observed the tin woodman, "it was ku-klip who made me. but, tell me, what was the name of the munchkin girl you were in love with?" "she is called nimmie amee," said the tin soldier. hearing this, they were all so astonished that they were silent for a time, regarding the stranger with wondering looks. finally the tin woodman ventured to ask: "and did nimmie amee return your love?" "not at first," admitted the soldier. "when first i marched into the forest and met her, she was weeping over the loss of her former sweetheart, a woodman whose name was nick chopper." "that is me," said the tin woodman. "she told me he was nicer than a soldier, because he was all made of tin and shone beautifully in the sun. she said a tin man appealed to her artistic instincts more than an ordinary meat man, as i was then. but i did not despair, because her tin sweetheart had disappeared, and could not be found. and finally nimmie amee permitted me to call upon her and we became friends. it was then that the wicked witch discovered me and became furiously angry when i said i wanted to marry the girl. she enchanted my sword, as i said, and then my troubles began. when i got my tin legs, nimmie amee began to take an interest in me; when i got my tin arms, she began to like me better than ever, and when i was all made of tin, she said i looked like her dear nick chopper and she would be willing to marry me. "the day of our wedding was set, and it turned out to be a rainy day. nevertheless i started out to get nimmie amee, because the witch had been absent for some time, and we meant to elope before she got back. as i traveled the forest paths the rain wetted my joints, but i paid no attention to this because my thoughts were all on my wedding with beautiful nimmie amee and i could think of nothing else until suddenly my legs stopped moving. then my arms rusted at the joints and i became frightened and cried for help, for now i was unable to oil myself. no one heard my calls and before long my jaws rusted, and i was unable to utter another sound. so i stood helpless in this spot, hoping some wanderer would come my way and save me. but this forest path is seldom used, and i have been standing here so long that i have lost all track of time. in my mind i composed poetry and sang songs, but not a sound have i been able to utter. but this desperate condition has now been relieved by your coming my way and i must thank you for my rescue." "this is wonderful!" said the scarecrow, heaving a stuffy, long sigh. "i think ku-klip was wrong to make two tin men, just alike, and the strangest thing of all is that both you tin men fell in love with the same girl." "as for that," returned the soldier, seriously, "i must admit i lost my ability to love when i lost my meat heart. ku-klip gave me a tin heart, to be sure, but it doesn't love anything, as far as i can discover, and merely rattles against my tin ribs, which makes me wish i had no heart at all." "yet, in spite of this condition, you were going to marry nimmie amee?" "well, you see i had promised to marry her, and i am an honest man and always try to keep my promises. i didn't like to disappoint the poor girl, who had been disappointed by one tin man already." "that was not my fault," declared the emperor of the winkies, and then he related how he, also, had rusted in the forest and after a long time had been rescued by dorothy and the scarecrow and had traveled with them to the emerald city in search of a heart that could love. "if you have found such a heart, sir," said the soldier, "i will gladly allow you to marry nimmie amee in my place." "if she loves you best, sir," answered the woodman, "i shall not interfere with your wedding her. for, to be quite frank with you, i cannot yet love nimmie amee as i did before i became tin." "still, one of you ought to marry the poor girl," remarked woot; "and, if she likes tin men, there is not much choice between you. why don't you draw lots for her?" "that wouldn't be right," said the scarecrow. "the girl should be permitted to choose her own husband," asserted polychrome. "you should both go to her and allow her to take her choice. then she will surely be happy." "that, to me, seems a very fair arrangement," said the tin soldier. "i agree to it," said the tin woodman, shaking the hand of his twin to show the matter was settled. "may i ask your name, sir?" he continued. "before i was so cut up," replied the other, "i was known as captain fyter, but afterward i was merely called 'the tin soldier.'" "well, captain, if you are agreeable, let us now go to nimmie amee's house and let her choose between us." "very well; and if we meet the witch, we will both fight her--you with your axe and i with my sword." "the witch is destroyed," announced the scarecrow, and as they walked away he told the tin soldier of much that had happened in the land of oz since he had stood rusted in the forest. "i must have stood there longer than i had imagined," he said thoughtfully. the workshop of ku-klip [illustration] chapter it was not more than a two hours' journey to the house where nimmie amee had lived, but when our travelers arrived there they found the place deserted. the door was partly off its hinges, the roof had fallen in at the rear and the interior of the cottage was thick with dust. not only was the place vacant, but it was evident that no one had lived there for a long time. [illustration] "i suppose," said the scarecrow, as they all stood looking wonderingly at the ruined house, "that after the wicked witch was destroyed, nimmie amee became lonely and went somewhere else to live." "one could scarcely expect a young girl to live all alone in a forest," added woot. "she would want company, of course, and so i believe she has gone where other people live." "and perhaps she is still crying her poor little heart out because no tin man comes to marry her," suggested polychrome. "well, in that case, it is the clear duty of you two tin persons to seek nimmie amee until you find her," declared the scarecrow. "i do not know where to look for the girl," said the tin soldier, "for i am almost a stranger to this part of the country." "i was born here," said the tin woodman, "but the forest has few inhabitants except the wild beasts. i cannot think of anyone living near here with whom nimmie amee might care to live." "why not go to ku-klip and ask him what has become of the girl?" proposed polychrome. that struck them all as being a good suggestion, so once more they started to tramp through the forest, taking the direct path to ku-klip's house, for both the tin twins knew the way, having followed it many times. ku-klip lived at the far edge of the great forest, his house facing the broad plains of the munchkin country that lay to the eastward. but, when they came to this residence by the forest's edge, the tinsmith was not at home. it was a pretty place, all painted dark blue with trimmings of lighter blue. there was a neat blue fence around the yard and several blue benches had been placed underneath the shady blue trees which marked the line between forest and plain. there was a blue lawn before the house, which was a good sized building. ku-klip lived in the front part of the house and had his work-shop in the back part, where he had also built a lean-to addition, in order to give him more room. although they found the tinsmith absent on their arrival, there was smoke coming out of his chimney, which proved that he would soon return. "and perhaps nimmie amee will be with him," said the scarecrow in a cheerful voice. while they waited, the tin woodman went to the door of the workshop and, finding it unlocked, entered and looked curiously around the room where he had been made. "it seems almost like home to me," he told his friends, who had followed him in. "the first time i came here i had lost a leg, so i had to carry it in my hand while i hopped on the other leg all the way from the place in the forest where the enchanted axe cut me. i remember that old ku-klip carefully put my meat leg into a barrel--i think that is the same barrel, still standing in the corner yonder--and then at once he began to make a tin leg for me. he worked fast and with skill, and i was much interested in the job." "my experience was much the same," said the tin soldier. "i used to bring all the parts of me, which the enchanted sword had cut away, here to the tinsmith, and ku-klip would put them into the barrel." "i wonder," said woot, "if those cast-off parts of you two unfortunates are still in that barrel in the corner?" "i suppose so," replied the tin woodman. "in the land of oz no part of a living creature can ever be destroyed." "if that is true, how was that wicked witch destroyed?" inquired woot. "why, she was very old and was all dried up and withered before oz became a fairyland," explained the scarecrow. "only her magic arts had kept her alive so long, and when dorothy's house fell upon her she just turned to dust, and was blown away and scattered by the wind. i do not think, however, that the parts cut away from these two young men could ever be entirely destroyed and, if they are still in those barrels, they are likely to be just the same as when the enchanted axe or sword severed them." "it doesn't matter, however," said the tin woodman; "our tin bodies are more brilliant and durable, and quite satisfy us." "yes, the tin bodies are best," agreed the tin soldier. "nothing can hurt them." "unless they get dented or rusted," said woot, but both the tin men frowned on him. scraps of tin, of all shapes and sizes, lay scattered around the workshop. also there were hammers and anvils and soldering irons and a charcoal furnace and many other tools such as a tinsmith works with. against two of the side walls had been built stout work-benches and in the center of the room was a long table. at the end of the shop, which adjoined the dwelling, were several cupboards. after examining the interior of the workshop until his curiosity was satisfied, woot said: "i think i will go outside until ku-klip comes. it does not seem quite proper for us to take possession of his house while he is absent." "that is true," agreed the scarecrow, and they were all about to leave the room when the tin woodman said: "wait a minute," and they halted in obedience to the command. [illustration] the tin woodman talks to himself [illustration] chapter the tin woodman had just noticed the cupboards and was curious to know what they contained, so he went to one of them and opened the door. there were shelves inside, and upon one of the shelves which was about on a level with his tin chin the emperor discovered a head--it looked like a doll's head, only it was larger, and he soon saw it was the head of some person. it was facing the tin woodman and as the cupboard door swung back, the eyes of the head slowly opened and looked at him. the tin woodman was not at all surprised, for in the land of oz one runs into magic at every turn. "dear me!" said the tin woodman, staring hard. "it seems as if i had met you, somewhere, before. good morning, sir!" "you have the advantage of me," replied the head. "i never saw you before in my life." "still, your face is very familiar," persisted the tin woodman. "pardon me, but may i ask if you--eh--eh--if you ever had a body?" "yes, at one time," answered the head, "but that is so long ago i can't remember it. did you think," with a pleasant smile, "that i was born just as i am? that a head would be created without a body?" "no, of course not," said the other. "but how came you to lose your body?" "well, i can't recollect the details; you'll have to ask ku-klip about it," returned the head. "for, curious as it may seem to you, my memory is not good since my separation from the rest of me. i still possess my brains and my intellect is as good as ever, but my memory of some of the events i formerly experienced is quite hazy." [illustration] "how long have you been in this cupboard?" asked the emperor. "i don't know." "haven't you a name?" "oh, yes," said the head; "i used to be called nick chopper, when i was a woodman and cut down trees for a living." "good gracious!" cried the tin woodman in astonishment. "if you are nick chopper's head, then you are _me_--or i'm _you_--or--or-- what relation _are_ we, anyhow?" "don't ask me," replied the head. "for my part, i'm not anxious to claim relationship with any common, manufactured article, like you. you may be all right in your class, but your class isn't my class. you're tin." the poor emperor felt so bewildered that for a time he could only stare at his old head in silence. then he said: "i must admit that i wasn't at all bad looking before i became tin. you're almost handsome--for meat. if your hair was combed, you'd be quite attractive." "how do you expect me to comb my hair without help?" demanded the head, indignantly. "i used to keep it smooth and neat, when i had arms, but after i was removed from the rest of me, my hair got mussed, and old ku-klip never has combed it for me." "i'll speak to him about it," said the tin woodman. "do you remember loving a pretty munchkin girl named nimmie amee?" "no," answered the head. "that is a foolish question. the heart in my body--when i had a body--might have loved someone, for all i know, but a head isn't made to love; it's made to think." "oh; do you think, then?" "i used to think." "you must have been shut up in this cupboard for years and years. what have you thought about, in all that time?" "nothing. that's another foolish question. a little reflection will convince you that i have had nothing to think about, except the boards on the inside of the cupboard door, and it didn't take me long to think of everything about those boards that could be thought of. then, of course, i quit thinking." "and are you happy?" "happy? what's that?" "don't you know what happiness is?" inquired the tin woodman. "i haven't the faintest idea whether it's round or square, or black or white, or what it is. and, if you will pardon my lack of interest in it, i will say that i don't care." the tin woodman was much puzzled by these answers. his traveling companions had grouped themselves at his back, and had fixed their eyes on the head and listened to the conversation with much interest, but until now, they had not interrupted because they thought the tin woodman had the best right to talk to his own head and renew acquaintance with it. but now the tin soldier remarked: "i wonder if _my_ old head happens to be in any of these cupboards," and he proceeded to open all the cupboard doors. but no other head was to be found on any of the shelves. "oh, well; never mind," said woot the wanderer; "i can't imagine what anyone wants of a cast-off head, anyhow." "i can understand the soldier's interest," asserted polychrome, dancing around the grimy workshop until her draperies formed a cloud around her dainty form. "for sentimental reasons a man might like to see his old head once more, just as one likes to revisit an old home." "and then to kiss it good-bye," added the scarecrow. "i hope that tin thing won't try to kiss _me_ goodbye!" exclaimed the tin woodman's former head. "and i don't see what right you folks have to disturb my peace and comfort, either." "you belong to me," the tin woodman declared. "i do not!" "you and i are one." "we've been parted," asserted the head. "it would be unnatural for me to have any interest in a man made of tin. please close the door and leave me alone." "i did not think that my old head could be so disagreeable," said the emperor. "i--i'm quite ashamed of myself; meaning _you_." "you ought to be glad that i've enough sense to know what my rights are," retorted the head. "in this cupboard i am leading a simple life, peaceful and dignified, and when a mob of people in whom i am not interested disturb me, _they_ are the disagreeable ones; not i." with a sigh the tin woodman closed and latched the cupboard door and turned away. "well," said the tin soldier, "if my old head would have treated me as coldly and in so unfriendly a manner as your old head has treated you, friend chopper, i'm glad i could not find it." "yes; i'm rather surprised at my head, myself," replied the tin woodman, thoughtfully. "i thought i had a more pleasant disposition when i was made of meat." but just then old ku-klip the tinsmith arrived, and he seemed surprised to find so many visitors. ku-klip was a stout man and a short man. he had his sleeves rolled above his elbows, showing muscular arms, and he wore a leathern apron that covered all the front of him, and was so long that woot was surprised he didn't step on it and trip whenever he walked. and ku-klip had a gray beard that was almost as long as his apron, and his head was bald on top and his ears stuck out from his head like two fans. over his eyes, which were bright and twinkling, he wore big spectacles. it was easy to see that the tinsmith was a kind hearted man, as well as a merry and agreeable one. "oh-ho!" he cried in a joyous bass voice; "here are both my tin men come to visit me, and they and their friends are welcome indeed. i'm very proud of you two characters, i assure you, for you are so perfect that you are proof that i'm a good workman. sit down. sit down, all of you--if you can find anything to sit on--and tell me why you are here." so they found seats and told him all of their adventures that they thought he would like to know. ku-klip was glad to learn that nick chopper, the tin woodman, was now emperor of the winkies and a friend of ozma of oz, and the tinsmith was also interested in the scarecrow and polychrome. he turned the straw man around, examining him curiously, and patted him on all sides, and then said: "you are certainly wonderful, but i think you would be more durable and steady on your legs if you were made of tin. would you like me to--" "no, indeed!" interrupted the scarecrow hastily; "i like myself better as i am." but to polychrome the tinsmith said: "nothing could improve _you_, my dear, for you are the most beautiful maiden i have ever seen. it is pure happiness just to look at you." [illustration] "that is praise, indeed, from so skillful a workman," returned the rainbow's daughter, laughing and dancing in and out the room. "then it must be this boy you wish me to help," said ku-klip, looking at woot. "no," said woot, "we are not here to seek your skill, but have merely come to you for information." then, between them, they related their search for nimmie amee, whom the tin woodman explained he had resolved to marry, yet who had promised to become the bride of the tin soldier before he unfortunately became rusted. and when the story was told, they asked ku-klip if he knew what had become of nimmie amee. "not exactly," replied the old man, "but i know that she wept bitterly when the tin soldier did not come to marry her, as he had promised to do. the old witch was so provoked at the girl's tears that she beat nimmie amee with her crooked stick and then hobbled away to gather some magic herbs, with which she intended to transform the girl into an old hag, so that no one would again love her or care to marry her. it was while she was away on this errand that dorothy's house fell on the wicked witch, and she turned to dust and blew away. when i heard this good news, i sent nimmie amee to find the silver shoes which the witch had worn, but dorothy had taken them with her to the emerald city." [illustration] "yes, we know all about those silver shoes," said the scarecrow. "well," continued ku-klip, "after that, nimmie amee decided to go away from the forest and live with some people she was acquainted with who had a house on mount munch. i have never seen the girl since." "do you know the name of the people on mount munch, with whom she went to live?" asked the tin woodman. "no, nimmie amee did not mention her friend's name, and i did not ask her. she took with her all that she could carry of the goods that were in the witch's house, and she told me i could have the rest. but when i went there i found nothing worth taking except some magic powders that i did not know how to use, and a bottle of magic glue." "what is magic glue?" asked woot. "it is a magic preparation with which to mend people when they cut themselves. one time, long ago, i cut off one of my fingers by accident, and i carried it to the witch, who took down her bottle and glued it on again for me. see!" showing them his finger, "it is as good as ever it was. no one else that i ever heard of had this magic glue, and of course when nick chopper cut himself to pieces with his enchanted axe and captain fyter cut himself to pieces with his enchanted sword, the witch would not mend them, or allow me to glue them together, because she had herself wickedly enchanted the axe and sword. nothing remained but for me to make them new parts out of tin; but, as you see, tin answered the purpose very well, and i am sure their tin bodies are a great improvement on their meat bodies." "very true," said the tin soldier. "i quite agree with you," said the tin woodman. "i happened to find my old head in your cupboard, a while ago, and certainly it is not as desirable a head as the tin one i now wear." "by the way," said the tin soldier, "what ever became of _my_ old head, ku-klip?" "and of the different parts of our bodies?" added the tin woodman. "let me think a minute," replied ku-klip. "if i remember right, you two boys used to bring me most of your parts, when they were cut off, and i saved them in that barrel in the corner. you must not have brought me all the parts, for when i made chopfyt i had hard work finding enough pieces to complete the job. i finally had to finish him with one arm." "who is chopfyt?" inquired woot. "oh, haven't i told you about chopfyt?" exclaimed ku-klip. "of course not! and he's quite a curiosity, too. you'll be interested in hearing about chopfyt. this is how he happened: "one day, after the witch had been destroyed and nimmie amee had gone to live with her friends on mount munch, i was looking around the shop for something and came upon the bottle of magic glue which i had brought from the old witch's house. it occurred to me to piece together the odds and ends of you two people, which of course were just as good as ever, and see if i couldn't make a man out of them. if i succeeded, i would have an assistant to help me with my work, and i thought it would be a clever idea to put to some practical use the scraps of nick chopper and captain fyter. there were two perfectly good heads in my cupboard, and a lot of feet and legs and parts of bodies in the barrel, so i set to work to see what i could do. "first, i pieced together a body, gluing it with the witch's magic glue, which worked perfectly. that was the hardest part of my job, however, because the bodies didn't match up well and some parts were missing. but by using a piece of captain fyter here and a piece of nick chopper there, i finally got together a very decent body, with heart and all the trimmings complete." "whose heart did you use in making the body?" asked the tin woodman anxiously. [illustration: meat glue] "i can't tell, for the parts had no tags on them and one heart looks much like another. after the body was completed, i glued two fine legs and feet onto it. one leg was nick chopper's and one was captain fyter's and, finding one leg longer than the other, i trimmed it down to make them match. i was much disappointed to find that i had but one arm. there was an extra leg in the barrel, but i could find only one arm. having glued this onto the body, i was ready for the head, and i had some difficulty in making up my mind which head to use. finally i shut my eyes and reached out my hand toward the cupboard shelf, and the first head i touched i glued upon my new man." "it was mine!" declared the tin soldier, gloomily. "no, it was mine," asserted ku-klip, "for i had given you another in exchange for it--the beautiful tin head you now wear. when the glue had dried, my man was quite an interesting fellow. i named him chopfyt, using a part of nick chopper's name and a part of captain fyter's name, because he was a mixture of both your cast-off parts. chopfyt was interesting, as i said, but he did not prove a very agreeable companion. he complained bitterly because i had given him but one arm--as if it were my fault!--and he grumbled because the suit of blue munchkin clothes, which i got for him from a neighbor, did not fit him perfectly." [illustration] "ah, that was because he was wearing my old head," remarked the tin soldier. "i remember that head used to be very particular about its clothes." "as an assistant," the old tinsmith continued, "chopfyt was not a success. he was awkward with tools and was always hungry. he demanded something to eat six or eight times a day, so i wondered if i had fitted his insides properly. indeed, chopfyt ate so much that little food was left for myself; so, when he proposed, one day, to go out into the world and seek adventures, i was delighted to be rid of him. i even made him a tin arm to take the place of the missing one, and that pleased him very much, so that we parted good friends." "what became of chopfyt after that?" the scarecrow inquired. "i never heard. he started off toward the east, into the plains of the munchkin country, and that was the last i ever saw of him." "it seems to me," said the tin woodman reflectively, "that you did wrong in making a man out of our cast-off parts. it is evident that chopfyt could, with justice, claim relationship with both of us." "don't worry about that," advised ku-klip cheerfully; "it is not likely that you will ever meet the fellow. and, if you should meet him, he doesn't know who he is made of, for i never told him the secret of his manufacture. indeed, you are the only ones who know of it, and you may keep the secret to yourselves, if you wish to." "never mind chopfyt," said the scarecrow. "our business now is to find poor nimmie amee and let her choose her tin husband. to do that, it seems, from the information ku-klip has given us, we must travel to mount munch." "if that's the programme, let us start at once," suggested woot. so they all went outside, where they found polychrome dancing about among the trees and talking with the birds and laughing as merrily as if she had not lost her rainbow and so been separated from all her fairy sisters. they told her they were going to mount munch, and she replied: "very well; i am as likely to find my rainbow there as here, and any other place is as likely as there. it all depends on the weather. do you think it looks like rain?" they shook their heads, and polychrome laughed again and danced on after them when they resumed their journey. the invisible country [illustration] chapter they were proceeding so easily and comfortably on their way to mount munch that woot said in a serious tone of voice: "i'm afraid something is going to happen." "why?" asked polychrome, dancing around the group of travelers. "because," said the boy, thoughtfully, "i've noticed that when we have the least reason for getting into trouble, something is sure to go wrong. just now the weather is delightful; the grass is beautifully blue and quite soft to our feet; the mountain we are seeking shows clearly in the distance and there is no reason anything should happen to delay us in getting there. our troubles all seem to be over, and--well, that's why i'm afraid," he added, with a sigh. "dear me!" remarked the scarecrow, "what unhappy thoughts you have, to be sure. this is proof that born brains cannot equal manufactured brains, for _my_ brains dwell only on facts and never borrow trouble. when there is occasion for my brains to think, they think, but i would be ashamed of my brains if they kept shooting out thoughts that were merely fears and imaginings, such as do no good, but are likely to do harm." "for my part," said the tin woodman, "i do not think at all, but allow my velvet heart to guide me at all times." "the tinsmith filled my hollow head with scraps and clippings of tin," said the soldier, "and he told me they would do nicely for brains, but when i begin to think, the tin scraps rattle around and get so mixed that i'm soon bewildered. so i try not to think. my tin heart is almost as useless to me, for it is hard and cold, so i'm sure the red velvet heart of my friend nick chopper is a better guide." "thoughtless people are not unusual," observed the scarecrow, "but i consider them more fortunate than those who have useless or wicked thoughts and do not try to curb them. your oil can, friend woodman, is filled with oil, but you only apply the oil to your joints, drop by drop, as you need it, and do not keep spilling it where it will do no good. thoughts should be restrained in the same way as your oil, and only applied when necessary, and for a good purpose. if used carefully, thoughts are good things to have." polychrome laughed at him, for the rainbow's daughter knew more about thoughts than the scarecrow did. but the others were solemn, feeling they had been rebuked, and tramped on in silence. suddenly woot, who was in the lead, looked around and found that all his comrades had mysteriously disappeared. but where could they have gone to? the broad plain was all about him and there were neither trees nor bushes that could hide even a rabbit, nor any hole for one to fall into. yet there he stood, alone. surprise had caused him to halt, and with a thoughtful and puzzled expression on his face he looked down at his feet. it startled him anew to discover that he had no feet. he reached out his hands, but he could not see them. he could feel his hands and arms and body; he stamped his feet on the grass and knew they were there, but in some strange way they had become invisible. while woot stood, wondering, a crash of metal sounded in his ears and he heard two heavy bodies tumble to the earth just beside him. "good gracious!" exclaimed the voice of the tin woodman. "mercy me!" cried the voice of the tin soldier. "why didn't you look where you were going?" asked the tin woodman reproachfully. "i did, but i couldn't see you," said the tin soldier. "something has happened to my tin eyes. i can't see you, even now, nor can i see anyone else!" "it's the same way with me," admitted the tin woodman. [illustration] woot couldn't see either of them, although he heard them plainly, and just then something smashed against him unexpectedly and knocked him over; but it was only the straw-stuffed body of the scarecrow that fell upon him and while he could not see the scarecrow he managed to push him off and rose to his feet just as polychrome whirled against him and made him tumble again. sitting upon the ground, the boy asked: "can _you_ see us, poly?" "no, indeed," answered the rainbow's daughter; "we've all become invisible." "how did it happen, do you suppose?" inquired the scarecrow, lying where he had fallen. "we have met with no enemy," answered polychrome, "so it must be that this part of the country has the magic quality of making people invisible--even fairies falling under the charm. we can see the grass, and the flowers, and the stretch of plain before us, and we can still see mount munch in the distance; but we cannot see ourselves or one another." "well, what are we to do about it?" demanded woot. "i think this magic affects only a small part of the plain," replied polychrome; "perhaps there is only a streak of the country where an enchantment makes people become invisible. so, if we get together and hold hands, we can travel toward mount munch until the enchanted streak is passed." "all right," said woot, jumping up, "give me your hand, polychrome. where are you?" "here," she answered. "whistle, woot, and keep whistling until i come to you." so woot whistled, and presently polychrome found him and grasped his hand. "someone must help me up," said the scarecrow, lying near them; so they found the straw man and sat him upon his feet, after which he held fast to polychrome's other hand. nick chopper and the tin soldier had managed to scramble up without assistance, but it was awkward for them and the tin woodman said: "i don't seem to stand straight, somehow. but my joints all work, so i guess i can walk." guided by his voice, they reached his side, where woot grasped his tin fingers so they might keep together. the tin soldier was standing near by and the scarecrow soon touched him and took hold of his arm. "i hope you're not wobbly," said the straw man, "for if two of us walk unsteadily we will be sure to fall." "i'm not wobbly," the tin soldier assured him, "but i'm certain that one of my legs is shorter than the other. i can't see it, to tell what's gone wrong, but i'll limp on with the rest of you until we are out of this enchanted territory." they now formed a line, holding hands, and turning their faces toward mount munch resumed their journey. they had not gone far, however, when a terrible growl saluted their ears. the sound seemed to come from a place just in front of them, so they halted abruptly and remained silent, listening with all their ears. "i smell straw!" cried a hoarse, harsh voice, with more growls and snarls. "i smell straw, and i'm a hip-po-gy-raf who loves straw and eats all he can find. i want to eat _this_ straw! where is it? where is it?" the scarecrow, hearing this, trembled but kept silent. all the others were silent, too, hoping that the invisible beast would be unable to find them. but the creature sniffed the odor of the straw and drew nearer and nearer to them until he reached the tin woodman, on one end of the line. it was a big beast and it smelled of the tin woodman and grated two rows of enormous teeth against the emperor's tin body. "bah! that's not straw," said the harsh voice, and the beast advanced along the line to woot. "meat! pooh, you're no good! i can't eat meat," grumbled the beast, and passed on to polychrome. "sweetmeats and perfume--cobwebs and dew! nothing to eat in a fairy like you," said the creature. now, the scarecrow was next to polychrome in the line, and he realized if the beast devoured his straw he would be helpless for a long time, because the last farmhouse was far behind them and only grass covered the vast expanse of plain. so in his fright he let go of polychrome's hand and put the hand of the tin soldier in that of the rainbow's daughter. then he slipped back of the line and went to the other end, where he silently seized the tin woodman's hand. meantime, the beast had smelled the tin soldier and found he was the last of the line. "that's funny!" growled the hip-po-gy-raf; "i can smell straw, but i can't find it. well, it's here, somewhere, and i must hunt around until i _do_ find it, for i'm hungry." his voice was now at the left of them, so they started on, hoping to avoid him, and traveled as fast as they could in the direction of mount munch. "i don't like this invisible country," said woot with a shudder. "we can't tell how many dreadful, invisible beasts are roaming around us, or what danger we'll come to next." "quit thinking about danger, please," said the scarecrow, warningly. "why?" asked the boy. "if you think of some dreadful thing, it's liable to happen, but if you don't think of it, and no one else thinks of it, it just _can't_ happen. do you see?" "no," answered woot. "i won't be able to see much of anything until we escape from this enchantment." but they got out of the invisible strip of country as suddenly as they had entered it, and the instant they got out they stopped short, for just before them was a deep ditch, running at right angles as far as their eyes could see and stopping all further progress toward mount munch. "it's not so very wide," said woot, "but i'm sure none of us can jump across it." polychrome began to laugh, and the scarecrow said: "what's the matter?" "look at the tin men!" she said, with another burst of merry laughter. woot and the scarecrow looked, and the tin men looked at themselves. "it was the collision," said the tin woodman regretfully. "i knew something was wrong with me, and now i can see that my side is dented in so that i lean over toward the left. it was the soldier's fault; he shouldn't have been so careless." "it is your fault that my right leg is bent, making it shorter than the other, so that i limp badly," retorted the soldier. "you shouldn't have stood where i was walking." "you shouldn't have walked where i was standing," replied the tin woodman. it was almost a quarrel, so polychrome said soothingly: "never mind, friends; as soon as we have time i am sure we can straighten the soldier's leg and get the dent out of the woodman's body. the scarecrow needs patting into shape, too, for he had a bad tumble, but our first task is to get over this ditch." "yes, the ditch is the most important thing, just now," added woot. they were standing in a row, looking hard at the unexpected barrier, when a fierce growl from behind them made them all turn quickly. out of the invisible country marched a huge beast with a thick, leathery skin and a surprisingly long neck. the head on the top of this neck was broad and flat and the eyes and mouth were very big and the nose and ears very small. when the head was drawn down toward the beast's shoulders, the neck was all wrinkles, but the head could shoot up very high indeed, if the creature wished it to. "dear me!" exclaimed the scarecrow, "this must be the hip-po-gy-raf." "quite right," said the beast; "and you're the straw which i'm to eat for my dinner. oh, how i love straw! i hope you don't resent my affectionate appetite?" with its four great legs it advanced straight toward the scarecrow, but the tin woodman and the tin soldier both sprang in front of their friend and flourished their weapons. "keep off!" said the tin woodman, warningly, "or i'll chop you with my axe." "keep off!" said the tin soldier, "or i'll cut you with my sword." "would you really do that?" asked the hip-po-gy-raf, in a disappointed voice. [illustration] [illustration] "we would," they both replied, and the tin woodman added: "the scarecrow is our friend, and he would be useless without his straw stuffing. so, as we are comrades, faithful and true, we will defend our friend's stuffing against all enemies." the hip-po-gy-raf sat down and looked at them sorrowfully. "when one has made up his mind to have a meal of delicious straw, and then finds he can't have it, it is certainly hard luck," he said. "and what good is the straw man to you, or to himself, when the ditch keeps you from going any further?" "well, we can go back again," suggested woot. "true," said the hip-po; "and if you do, you'll be as disappointed as i am. that's some comfort, anyhow." the travelers looked at the beast, and then they looked across the ditch at the level plain beyond. on the other side the grass had grown tall, and the sun had dried it, so there was a fine crop of hay that only needed to be cut and stacked. "why don't you cross over and eat hay?" the boy asked the beast. "i'm not fond of hay," replied the hip-po-gy-raf; "straw is much more delicious, to my notion, and it's more scarce in this neighborhood, too. also i must confess that i can't get across the ditch, for my body is too heavy and clumsy for me to jump the distance. i can stretch my neck across, though, and you will notice that i've nibbled the hay on the farther edge--not because i liked it, but because one must eat, and if one can't get the sort of food he desires, he must take what is offered or go hungry." "ah, i see you are a philosopher," remarked the scarecrow. "no, i'm just a hip-po-gy-raf," was the reply. polychrome was not afraid of the big beast. she danced close to him and said: "if you can stretch your neck across the ditch, why not help us over? we can sit on your big head, one at a time, and then you can lift us across." "yes; i _can_, it is true," answered the hip-po; "but i refuse to do it. unless--" he added, and stopped short. "unless what?" asked polychrome. "unless you first allow me to eat the straw with which the scarecrow is stuffed." "no," said the rainbow's daughter, "that is too high a price to pay. our friend's straw is nice and fresh, for he was restuffed only a little while ago." "i know," agreed the hip-po-gy-raf. "that's why i want it. if it was old, musty straw, i wouldn't care for it." "_please_ lift us across," pleaded polychrome. "no," replied the beast; "since you refuse my generous offer, i can be as stubborn as you are." after that they were all silent for a time, but then the scarecrow said bravely: "friends, let us agree to the beast's terms. give him my straw, and carry the rest of me with you across the ditch. once on the other side, the tin soldier can cut some of the hay with his sharp sword, and you can stuff me with that material until we reach a place where there is straw. it is true i have been stuffed with straw all my life and it will be somewhat humiliating to be filled with common hay, but i am willing to sacrifice my pride in a good cause. moreover, to abandon our errand and so deprive the great emperor of the winkies--or this noble soldier--of his bride, would be equally humiliating, if not more so." "you're a very honest and clever man!" exclaimed the hip-po-gy-raf, admiringly. "when i have eaten your head, perhaps i also will become clever." "you're not to eat my head, you know," returned the scarecrow hastily. "my head isn't stuffed with straw and i cannot part with it. when one loses his head he loses his brains." "very well, then; you may keep your head," said the beast. the scarecrow's companions thanked him warmly for his loyal sacrifice to their mutual good, and then he laid down and permitted them to pull the straw from his body. as fast as they did this, the hip-po-gy-raf ate up the straw, and when all was consumed polychrome made a neat bundle of the clothes and boots and gloves and hat and said she would carry them, while woot tucked the scarecrow's head under his arm and promised to guard its safety. "now, then," said the tin woodman, "keep your promise, beast, and lift us over the ditch." "m-m-m-mum, but that was a fine dinner!" said the hip-po, smacking his thick lips in satisfaction, "and i'm as good as my word. sit on my head, one at a time, and i'll land you safely on the other side." he approached close to the edge of the ditch and squatted down. polychrome climbed over his big body and sat herself lightly upon the flat head, holding the bundle of the scarecrow's raiment in her hand. slowly the elastic neck stretched out until it reached the far side of the ditch, when the beast lowered his head and permitted the beautiful fairy to leap to the ground. woot made the queer journey next, and then the tin soldier and the tin woodman went over, and all were well pleased to have overcome this serious barrier to their progress. "now, soldier, cut the hay," said the scarecrow's head, which was still held by woot the wanderer. "i'd like to, but i can't stoop over, with my bent leg, without falling," replied captain fyter. "what can we do about that leg, anyhow?" asked woot, appealing to polychrome. she danced around in a circle several times without replying, and the boy feared she had not heard him; but the rainbow's daughter was merely thinking upon the problem, and presently she paused beside the tin soldier and said: "i've been taught a little fairy magic, but i've never before been asked to mend tin legs with it, so i'm not sure i can help you. it all depends on the good will of my unseen fairy guardians, so i'll try, and if i fail, you will be no worse off than you are now." [illustration] she danced around the circle again, and then laid both hands upon the twisted tin leg and sang in her sweet voice: "fairy powers, come to my aid! this bent leg of tin is made; make it straight and strong and true, and i'll render thanks to you." "ah!" murmured captain fyter in a glad voice, as she withdrew her hands and danced away, and they saw he was standing straight as ever, because his leg was as shapely and strong as it had been before his accident. the tin woodman had watched polychrome with much interest, and he now said: "please take the dent out of my side, poly, for i am more crippled than was the soldier." so the rainbow's daughter touched his side lightly and sang: "here's a dent by accident; such a thing was never meant. fairy powers, so wondrous great, make our dear tin woodman straight!" "good!" cried the emperor, again standing erect and strutting around to show his fine figure. "your fairy magic may not be able to accomplish all things, sweet polychrome, but it works splendidly on tin. thank you very much." "the hay--the hay!" pleaded the scarecrow's head. "oh, yes; the hay," said woot. "what are you waiting for, captain fyter?" at once the tin soldier set to work cutting hay with his sword and in a few minutes there was quite enough with which to stuff the scarecrow's body. woot and polychrome did this and it was no easy task because the hay packed together more than straw and as they had little experience in such work their job, when completed, left the scarecrow's arms and legs rather bunchy. also there was a hump on his back which made woot laugh and say it reminded him of a camel, but it was the best they could do and when the head was fastened on to the body they asked the scarecrow how he felt. "a little heavy, and not quite natural," he cheerfully replied; "but i'll get along somehow until we reach a straw-stack. don't laugh at me, please, because i'm a little ashamed of myself and i don't want to regret a good action." they started at once in the direction of mount munch, and as the scarecrow proved very clumsy in his movements, woot took one of his arms and the tin woodman the other and so helped their friend to walk in a straight line. and the rainbow's daughter, as before, danced ahead of them and behind them and all around them, and they never minded her odd ways, because to them she was like a ray of sunshine. [illustration] over night [illustration] chapter the land of the munchkins is full of surprises, as our travelers had already learned, and although mount munch was constantly growing larger as they advanced toward it, they knew it was still a long way off and were not certain, by any means, that they had escaped all danger or encountered their last adventure. the plain was broad, and as far as the eye could see, there seemed to be a level stretch of country between them and the mountain, but toward evening they came upon a hollow, in which stood a tiny blue munchkin dwelling with a garden around it and fields of grain filling in all the rest of the hollow. they did not discover this place until they came close to the edge of it, and they were astonished at the sight that greeted them because they had imagined that this part of the plain had no inhabitants. "it's a very small house," woot declared. "i wonder who lives there?" "the way to find out is to knock on the door and ask," replied the tin woodman. "perhaps it is the home of nimmie amee." "is she a dwarf?" asked the boy. "no, indeed; nimmie amee is a full sized woman." "then i'm sure she couldn't live in that little house," said woot. "let's go down," suggested the scarecrow. "i'm almost sure i can see a straw-stack in the back yard." they descended the hollow, which was rather steep at the sides, and soon came to the house, which was indeed rather small. woot knocked upon a door that was not much higher than his waist, but got no reply. he knocked again, but not a sound was heard. "smoke is coming out of the chimney," announced polychrome, who was dancing lightly through the garden, where cabbages and beets and turnips and the like were growing finely. "then someone surely lives here," said woot, and knocked again. now a window at the side of the house opened and a queer head appeared. it was white and hairy and had a long snout and little round eyes. the ears were hidden by a blue sunbonnet tied under the chin. "oh; it's a pig!" exclaimed woot. "pardon me; i am mrs. squealina swyne, wife of professor grunter swyne, and this is our home," said the one in the window. "what do you want?" "what sort of a professor is your husband?" inquired the tin woodman curiously. "he is professor of cabbage culture and corn perfection. he is very famous in his own family, and would be the wonder of the world if he went abroad," said mrs. swyne in a voice that was half proud and half irritable. "i must also inform you intruders that the professor is a dangerous individual, for he files his teeth every morning until they are sharp as needles. if you are butchers, you'd better run away and avoid trouble." "we are not butchers," the tin woodman assured her. "then what are you doing with that axe? and why has the other tin man a sword?" "they are the only weapons we have to defend our friends from their enemies," explained the emperor of the winkies, and woot added: "do not be afraid of us, mrs. swyne, for we are harmless travelers. the tin men and the scarecrow never eat anything and polychrome feasts only on dewdrops. as for me, i'm rather hungry, but there is plenty of food in your garden to satisfy me." professor swyne now joined his wife at the window, looking rather scared in spite of the boy's assuring speech. he wore a blue munchkin hat, with pointed crown and broad brim, and big spectacles covered his eyes. he peeked around from behind his wife and after looking hard at the strangers, he said: "my wisdom assures me that you are merely travelers, as you say, and not butchers. butchers have reason to be afraid of me, but you are safe. we cannot invite you in, for you are too big for our house, but the boy who eats is welcome to all the carrots and turnips he wants. make yourselves at home in the garden and stay all night, if you like; but in the morning you must go away, for we are quiet people and do not care for company." "may i have some of your straw?" asked the scarecrow. "help yourself," replied professor swyne. "for pigs, they're quite respectable," remarked woot, as they all went toward the straw-stack. "i'm glad they didn't invite us in," said captain fyter. "i hope i'm not too particular about my associates, but i draw the line at pigs." the scarecrow was glad to be rid of his hay, for during the long walk it had sagged down and made him fat and squatty and more bumpy than at first. "i'm not specially proud," he said, "but i love a manly figure, such as only straw stuffing can create. i've not felt like myself since that hungry hip-po ate my last straw." polychrome and woot set to work removing the hay and then they selected the finest straw, crisp and golden, and with it stuffed the scarecrow anew. he certainly looked better after the operation, and he was so pleased at being reformed that he tried to dance a little jig, and almost succeeded. [illustration] "i shall sleep under the straw-stack tonight," woot decided, after he had eaten some of the vegetables from the garden, and in fact he slept very well, with the two tin men and the scarecrow sitting silently beside him and polychrome away somewhere in the moonlight dancing her fairy dances. at daybreak the tin woodman and the tin soldier took occasion to polish their bodies and oil their joints, for both were exceedingly careful of their personal appearance. they had forgotten the quarrel due to their accidental bumping of one another in the invisible country, and being now good friends the tin woodman polished the tin soldier's back for him and then the tin soldier polished the tin woodman's back. for breakfast the wanderer ate crisp lettuce and radishes, and the rainbow's daughter, who had now returned to her friends, sipped the dewdrops that had formed on the petals of the wild-flowers. as they passed the little house to renew their journey, woot called out: "good-bye, mr. and mrs. swyne!" the window opened and the two pigs looked out. "a pleasant journey," said the professor. "have you any children?" asked the scarecrow, who was a great friend of children. "we have nine," answered the professor; "but they do not live with us, for when they were tiny piglets the wizard of oz came here and offered to care for them and to educate them. so we let him have our nine tiny piglets, for he's a good wizard and can be relied upon to keep his promises." "i know the nine tiny piglets," said the tin woodman. "so do i," said the scarecrow. "they still live in the emerald city, and the wizard takes good care of them and teaches them to do all sorts of tricks." "did they ever grow up?" inquired mrs. squealina swyne, in an anxious voice. "no," answered the scarecrow; "like all other children in the land of oz, they will always remain children, and in the case of the tiny piglets that is a good thing, because they would not be nearly so cute and cunning if they were bigger." "but are they happy?" asked mrs. swyne. "everyone in the emerald city is happy," said the tin woodman. "they can't help it." then the travelers said good-bye, and climbed the side of the basin that was toward mount munch. polychrome's magic [illustration] chapter on this morning, which ought to be the last of this important journey, our friends started away as bright and cheery as could be, and woot whistled a merry tune so that polychrome could dance to the music. on reaching the top of the hill, the plain spread out before them in all its beauty of blue grasses and wildflowers, and mount munch seemed much nearer than it had the previous evening. they trudged on at a brisk pace, and by noon the mountain was so close that they could admire its appearance. its slopes were partly clothed with pretty evergreens, and its foot-hills were tufted with a slender waving bluegrass that had a tassel on the end of every blade. and, for the first time, they perceived, near the foot of the mountain, a charming house, not of great size but neatly painted and with many flowers surrounding it and vines climbing over the doors and windows. it was toward this solitary house that our travelers now directed their steps, thinking to inquire of the people who lived there where nimmie amee might be found. there were no paths, but the way was quite open and clear, and they were drawing near to the dwelling when woot the wanderer, who was then in the lead of the little party, halted with such an abrupt jerk that he stumbled over backward and lay flat on his back in the meadow. the scarecrow stopped to look at the boy. "why did you do that?" he asked in surprise. woot sat up and gazed around him in amazement. "i--i don't know!" he replied. the two tin men, arm in arm, started to pass them, when both halted and tumbled, with a great clatter, into a heap beside woot. polychrome, laughing at the absurd sight, came dancing up and she, also, came to a sudden stop, but managed to save herself from falling. everyone of them was much astonished, and the scarecrow said with a puzzled look: "i don't see anything." "nor i," said woot; "but something hit me, just the same." "some invisible person struck me a heavy blow," declared the tin woodman, struggling to separate himself from the tin soldier, whose legs and arms were mixed with his own. "i'm not sure it was a person," said polychrome, looking more grave than usual. "it seems to me that i merely ran into some hard substance which barred my way. in order to make sure of this, let me try another place." she ran back a way and then with much caution advanced in a different place, but when she reached a position on a line with the others she halted, her arms outstretched before her. [illustration] "i can feel something hard--something smooth as glass," she said, "but i'm sure it is not glass." "let me try," suggested woot, getting up; but when he tried to go forward, he discovered the same barrier that polychrome had encountered. "no," he said, "it isn't glass. but what is it?" "air," replied a small voice beside him. "solid air; that's all." they all looked downward and found a sky-blue rabbit had stuck his head out of a burrow in the ground. the rabbit's eyes were a deeper blue than his fur, and the pretty creature seemed friendly and unafraid. "air!" exclaimed woot, staring in astonishment into the rabbit's blue eyes; "whoever heard of air so solid that one cannot push it aside?" "you can't push _this_ air aside," declared the rabbit, "for it was made hard by powerful sorcery, and it forms a wall that is intended to keep people from getting to that house yonder." "oh; it's a wall, is it?" said the tin woodman. "yes, it is really a wall," answered the rabbit, "and it is fully six feet thick." "how high is it?" inquired captain fyter, the tin soldier. "oh, ever so high; perhaps a mile," said the rabbit. "couldn't we go around it?" asked woot. "of course, for the wall is a circle," explained the rabbit. "in the center of the circle stands the house, so you may walk around the wall of solid air, but you can't get to the house." "who put the air wall around the house?" was the scarecrow's question. "nimmie amee did that." "nimmie amee!" they all exclaimed in surprise. "yes," answered the rabbit. "she used to live with an old witch, who was suddenly destroyed, and when nimmie amee ran away from the witch's house, she took with her just one magic formula--pure sorcery it was--which enabled her to build this air wall around her house--the house yonder. it was quite a clever idea, i think, for it doesn't mar the beauty of the landscape, solid air being invisible, and yet it keeps all strangers away from the house." "does nimmie amee live there now?" asked the tin woodman anxiously. "yes, indeed," said the rabbit. "and does she weep and wail from morning till night?" continued the emperor. "no; she seems quite happy," asserted the rabbit. the tin woodman seemed quite disappointed to hear this report of his old sweetheart, but the scarecrow reassured his friend, saying: [illustration] "never mind, your majesty; however happy nimmie amee is now, i'm sure she will be much happier as empress of the winkies." "perhaps," said captain fyter, somewhat stiffly, "she will be still more happy to become the bride of a tin soldier." "she shall choose between us, as we have agreed," the tin woodman promised; "but how shall we get to the poor girl?" polychrome, although dancing lightly back and forth, had listened to every word of the conversation. now she came forward and sat herself down just in front of the blue rabbit, her many-hued draperies giving her the appearance of some beautiful flower. the rabbit didn't back away an inch. instead, he gazed at the rainbow's daughter admiringly. "does your burrow go underneath this wall of air?" asked polychrome. "to be sure," answered the blue rabbit; "i dug it that way so i could roam in these broad fields, by going out one way, or eat the cabbages in nimmie amee's garden by leaving my burrow at the other end. i don't think nimmie amee ought to mind the little i take from her garden, or the hole i've made under her magic wall. a rabbit may go and come as he pleases, but no one who is bigger than i am could get through my burrow." "will you allow us to pass through it, if we are able to?" inquired polychrome. "yes, indeed," answered the blue rabbit. "i'm no especial friend of nimmie amee, for once she threw stones at me, just because i was nibbling some lettuce, and only yesterday she yelled 'shoo!' at me, which made me nervous. you're welcome to use my burrow in any way you choose." "but this is all nonsense!" declared woot the wanderer. "we are every one too big to crawl through a rabbit's burrow." "we are too big _now_," agreed the scarecrow, "but you must remember that polychrome is a fairy, and fairies have many magic powers." woot's face brightened as he turned to the lovely daughter of the rainbow. "could you make us all as small as that rabbit?" he asked eagerly. "i can try," answered polychrome, with a smile. and presently she did it--so easily that woot was not the only one astonished. as the now tiny people grouped themselves before the rabbit's burrow the hole appeared to them like the entrance to a tunnel, which indeed it was. "i'll go first," said wee polychrome, who had made herself grow as small as the others, and into the tunnel she danced without hesitation. a tiny scarecrow went next and then the two funny little tin men. "walk in; it's your turn," said the blue rabbit to woot the wanderer. "i'm coming after, to see how you get along. this will be a regular surprise party to nimmie amee." so woot entered the hole and felt his way along its smooth sides in the dark until he finally saw the glimmer of daylight ahead and knew the journey was almost over. had he remained his natural size, the distance could have been covered in a few steps, but to a thumb-high woot it was quite a promenade. when he emerged from the burrow he found himself but a short distance from the house, in the center of the vegetable garden, where the leaves of rhubarb waving above his head seemed like trees. outside the hole, and waiting for him, he found all his friends. "so far, so good!" remarked the scarecrow cheerfully. "yes; _so far_, but no farther," returned the tin woodman in a plaintive and disturbed tone of voice. "i am now close to nimmie amee, whom i have come ever so far to seek, but i cannot ask the girl to marry such a little man as i am now." "i'm no bigger than a toy soldier!" said captain fyter, sorrowfully. "unless polychrome can make us big again, there is little use in our visiting nimmie amee at all, for i'm sure she wouldn't care for a husband she might carelessly step on and ruin." polychrome laughed merrily. "if i make you big, you can't get out of here again," said she, "and if you remain little nimmie amee will laugh at you. so make your choice." "i think we'd better go back," said woot seriously. "no," said the tin woodman, stoutly, "i have decided that it's my duty to make nimmie amee happy, in case she wishes to marry me." "so have i," announced captain fyter. "a good soldier never shrinks from doing his duty." "as for that," said the scarecrow, "tin doesn't shrink any to speak of, under any circumstances. but woot and i intend to stick to our comrades, whatever they decide to do, so we will ask polychrome to make us as big as we were before." polychrome agreed to this request and in half a minute all of them, including herself, had been enlarged again to their natural sizes. they then thanked the blue rabbit for his kind assistance, and at once approached the house of nimmie amee. nimmie amee [illustration] chapter we may be sure that at this moment our friends were all anxious to see the end of the adventure that had caused them so many trials and troubles. perhaps the tin woodman's heart did not beat any faster, because it was made of red velvet and stuffed with sawdust, and the tin soldier's heart was made of tin and reposed in his tin bosom without a hint of emotion. however, there is little doubt that they both knew that a critical moment in their lives had arrived, and that nimmie amee's decision was destined to influence the future of one or the other. as they assumed their natural sizes and the rhubarb leaves that had before towered above their heads now barely covered their feet, they looked around the garden and found that no person was visible save themselves. no sound of activity came from the house, either, but they walked to the front door, which had a little porch built before it, and there the two tinmen stood side by side while both knocked upon the door with their tin knuckles. as no one seemed eager to answer the summons they knocked again; and then again. finally they heard a stir from within and someone coughed. "who's there?" called a girl's voice. "it's i!" cried the tin twins, together. "how did you get there?" asked the voice. they hesitated how to reply, so woot answered for them: "by means of magic." "oh," said the unseen girl. "are you friends, or foes?" "friends!" they all exclaimed. then they heard footsteps approach the door, which slowly opened and revealed a very pretty munchkin girl standing in the doorway. "nimmie amee!" cried the tin twins. "that's my name," replied the girl, looking at them in cold surprise. "but who can _you_ be?" "don't you know me, nimmie?" said the tin woodman. "i'm your old sweetheart, nick chopper!" "don't you know _me_, my dear?" said the tin soldier. "i'm your old sweetheart, captain fyter!" nimmie amee smiled at them both. then she looked beyond them at the rest of the party and smiled again. however, she seemed more amused than pleased. "come in," she said, leading the way inside. "even sweethearts are forgotten after a time, but you and your friends are welcome." the room they now entered was cosy and comfortable, being neatly furnished and well swept and dusted. but they found someone there besides nimmie amee. a man dressed in the attractive munchkin costume was lazily reclining in an easy chair, and he sat up and turned his eyes on the visitors with a cold and indifferent stare that was almost insolent. he did not even rise from his seat to greet the strangers, but after glaring at them he looked away with a scowl, as if they were of too little importance to interest him. the tin men returned this man's stare with interest, but they did not look away from him because neither of them seemed able to take his eyes off this munchkin, who was remarkable in having one tin arm--quite like their own tin arms. "seems to me," said captain fyter, in a voice that sounded harsh and indignant, "that you, sir, are a vile impostor!" "gently--gently!" cautioned the scarecrow; "don't be rude to strangers, captain." "rude?" shouted the tin soldier, now very much provoked; "why, he's a scoundrel--a thief! _the villain is wearing my own head!_" "yes," added the tin woodman, "and he's wearing my right arm! i can recognize it by the two warts on the little finger." "good gracious!" exclaimed woot. "then this must be the man whom old ku-klip patched together and named chopfyt." the man now turned toward them, still scowling. [illustration] "yes, that is my name," he said in a voice like a growl, "and it is absurd for you tin creatures, or for anyone else, to claim my head, or arm, or any part of me, for they are my personal property." "you? you're a nobody!" shouted captain fyter. [illustration] "you're just a mix-up," declared the emperor. "now, now, gentlemen," interrupted nimmie amee, "i must ask you to be more respectful to poor chopfyt. for, being my guests, it is not polite for you to insult my husband." "your husband!" the tin twins exclaimed in dismay. "yes," said she. "i married chopfyt a long time ago, because my other two sweethearts had deserted me." this reproof embarrassed both nick chopper and captain fyter. they looked down, shamefaced, for a moment, and then the tin woodman explained in an earnest voice: "i rusted." "so did i," said the tin soldier. "i could not know that, of course," asserted nimmie amee. "all i knew was that neither of you came to marry me, as you had promised to do. but men are not scarce in the land of oz. after i came here to live, i met mr. chopfyt, and he was the more interesting because he reminded me strongly of both of you, as you were before you became tin. he even had a tin arm, and that reminded me of you the more." "no wonder!" remarked the scarecrow. "but, listen, nimmie amee!" said the astonished woot; "he really _is_ both of them, for he is made of their cast-off parts." "oh, you're quite wrong," declared polychrome, laughing, for she was greatly enjoying the confusion of the others. "the tin men are still themselves, as they will tell you, and so chopfyt must be someone else." they looked at her bewildered, for the facts in the case were too puzzling to be grasped at once. "it is all the fault of old ku-klip," muttered the tin woodman. "he had no right to use our cast-off parts to make another man with." "it seems he did it, however," said nimmie amee calmly, "and i married him because he resembled you both. i won't say he is a husband to be proud of, because he has a mixed nature and isn't always an agreeable companion. there are times when i have to chide him gently, both with my tongue and with my broomstick. but he is my husband, and i must make the best of him." "if you don't like him," suggested the tin woodman, "captain fyter and i can chop him up with our axe and sword, and each take such parts of the fellow as belong to him. then we are willing for you to select one of us as your husband." "that is a good idea," approved captain fyter, drawing his sword. "no," said nimmie amee; "i think i'll keep the husband i now have. he is now trained to draw the water and carry in the wood and hoe the cabbages and weed the flower-beds and dust the furniture and perform many tasks of a like character. a new husband would have to be scolded--and gently chided--until he learns my ways. so i think it will be better to keep my chopfyt, and i see no reason why you should object to him. you two gentlemen threw him away when you became tin, because you had no further use for him, so you cannot justly claim him now. i advise you to go back to your own homes and forget me, as i have forgotten you." "good advice!" laughed polychrome, dancing. "are you happy?" asked the tin soldier. "of course i am," said nimmie amee; "i'm the mistress of all i survey--the queen of my little domain." "wouldn't you like to be the empress of the winkies?" asked the tin woodman. "mercy, no," she answered. "that would be a lot of bother. i don't care for society, or pomp, or posing. all i ask is to be left alone and not to be annoyed by visitors." the scarecrow nudged woot the wanderer. "that sounds to me like a hint," he said. "looks as if we'd had our journey for nothing," remarked woot, who was a little ashamed and disappointed because he had proposed the journey. "i am glad, however," said the tin woodman, "that i have found nimmie amee, and discovered that she is already married and happy. it will relieve me of any further anxiety concerning her." "for my part," said the tin soldier, "i am not sorry to be free. the only thing that really annoys me is finding my head upon chopfyt's body." "as for that, i'm pretty sure it is _my_ body, or a part of it, anyway," remarked the emperor of the winkies. "but never mind, friend soldier; let us be willing to donate our cast-off members to insure the happiness of nimmie amee, and be thankful it is not our fate to hoe cabbages and draw water--and be chided--in the place of this creature chopfyt." "yes," agreed the soldier, "we have much to be thankful for." polychrome, who had wandered outside, now poked her pretty head through an open window and exclaimed in a pleased voice: "it's getting cloudy. perhaps it is going to rain!" through the tunnel [illustration] chapter it didn't rain just then, although the clouds in the sky grew thicker and more threatening. polychrome hoped for a thunder-storm, followed by her rainbow, but the two tin men did not relish the idea of getting wet. they even preferred to remain in nimmie amee's house, although they felt they were not welcome there, rather than go out and face the coming storm. but the scarecrow, who was a very thoughtful person, said to his friends: "if we remain here until after the storm, and polychrome goes away on her rainbow, then we will be prisoners inside the wall of solid air; so it seems best to start upon our return journey at once. if i get wet, my straw stuffing will be ruined, and if you two tin gentlemen get wet, you may perhaps rust again, and become useless. but even that is better than to stay here. once we are free of the barrier, we have woot the wanderer to help us, and he can oil your joints and restuff my body, if it becomes necessary, for the boy is made of meat, which neither rusts nor gets soggy or moldy." "come along, then!" cried polychrome from the window, and the others, realizing the wisdom of the scarecrow's speech, took leave of nimmie amee, who was glad to be rid of them, and said good-bye to her husband, who merely scowled and made no answer, and then they hurried from the house. "your old parts are not very polite, i must say," remarked the scarecrow, when they were in the garden. "no," said woot, "chopfyt is a regular grouch. he might have wished us a pleasant journey, at the very least." "i beg you not to hold us responsible for that creature's actions," pleaded the tin woodman. "we are through with chopfyt and shall have nothing further to do with him." polychrome danced ahead of the party and led them straight to the burrow of the blue rabbit, which they might have had some difficulty in finding without her. there she lost no time in making them all small again. the blue rabbit was busy nibbling cabbage leaves in nimmie amee's garden, so they did not ask his permission but at once entered the burrow. even now the raindrops were beginning to fall, but it was quite dry inside the tunnel and by the time they had reached the other end, outside the circular wall of solid air, the storm was at its height and the rain was coming down in torrents. "let us wait here," proposed polychrome, peering out of the hole and then quickly retreating. "the rainbow won't appear until after the storm and i can make you big again in a jiffy, before i join my sisters on our bow." "that's a good plan," said the scarecrow approvingly. "it will save me from getting soaked and soggy." "it will save me from rusting," said the tin soldier. "it will enable me to remain highly polished," said the tin woodman. "oh, as for that, i myself prefer not to get my pretty clothes wet," laughed the rainbow's daughter. "but while we wait i will bid you all adieu. i must also thank you for saving me from that dreadful giantess, mrs. yoop. you have been good and patient comrades and i have enjoyed our adventures together, but i am never so happy as when on my dear rainbow." "will your father scold you for getting left on the earth?" asked woot. "i suppose so," said polychrome gaily; "i'm always getting scolded for my mad pranks, as they are called. my sisters are so sweet and lovely and proper that they never dance off our rainbow, and so they never have any adventures. adventures to me are good fun, only i never like to stay too long on earth, because i really don't belong here. i shall tell my father the rainbow that i'll try not to be so careless again, and he will forgive me because in our sky mansions there is always joy and happiness." they were indeed sorry to part with their dainty and beautiful companion and assured her of their devotion if they ever chanced to meet again. she shook hands with the scarecrow and the tin men and kissed woot the wanderer lightly upon his forehead. and then the rain suddenly ceased, and as the tiny people left the burrow of the blue rabbit, a glorious big rainbow appeared in the sky and the end of its arch slowly descended and touched the ground just where they stood. woot was so busy watching a score of lovely maidens--sisters of polychrome--who were leaning over the edge of the bow, and another score who danced gaily amid the radiance of the splendid hues, that he did not notice he was growing big again. but now polychrome joined her sisters on the rainbow and the huge arch lifted and slowly melted away as the sun burst from the clouds and sent its own white beams dancing over the meadows. "why, she's gone!" exclaimed the boy, and turned to see his companions still waving their hands in token of adieu to the vanished polychrome. [illustration] the curtain falls [illustration] chapter well, the rest of the story is quickly told, for the return journey of our adventurers was without any important incident. the scarecrow was so afraid of meeting the hip-po-gy-raf, and having his straw eaten again, that he urged his comrades to select another route to the emerald city, and they willingly consented, so that the invisible country was wholly avoided. of course, when they reached the emerald city their first duty was to visit ozma's palace, where they were royally entertained. the tin soldier and woot the wanderer were welcomed as warmly as any strangers might be who had been the traveling companions of ozma's dear old friends, the scarecrow and the tin woodman. at the banquet table that evening they related the manner in which they had discovered nimmie amee, and told how they had found her happily married to chopfyt, whose relationship to nick chopper and captain fyter was so bewildering that they asked ozma's advice what to do about it. "you need not consider chopfyt at all," replied the beautiful girl ruler of oz. "if nimmie amee is content with that misfit man for a husband, we have not even just cause to blame ku-klip for gluing him together." "i think it was a very good idea," added little dorothy, "for if ku-klip hadn't used up your cast-off parts, they would have been wasted. it's wicked to be wasteful, isn't it?" "well, anyhow," said woot the wanderer, "chopfyt, being kept a prisoner by his wife, is too far away from anyone to bother either of you tin men in any way. if you hadn't gone where he is and discovered him, you would never have worried about him." "what do you care, anyhow," betsy bobbin asked the tin woodman, "so long as nimmie amee is satisfied?" "and just to think," remarked tiny trot, "that any girl would rather live with a mixture like chopfyt, on far-away mount munch, than to be the empress of the winkies!" "it is her own choice," said the tin woodman contentedly; "and, after all, i'm not sure the winkies would care to have an empress." it puzzled ozma, for a time, to decide what to do with the tin soldier. if he went with the tin woodman to the emperor's castle, she felt that the two tin men might not be able to live together in harmony, and moreover the emperor would not be so distinguished if he had a double constantly beside him. so she asked captain fyter if he was willing to serve her as a soldier, and he promptly declared that nothing would please him more. after he had been in her service for some time, ozma sent him into the gillikin country, with instructions to keep order among the wild people who inhabit some parts of that unknown country of oz. as for woot, being a wanderer by profession, he was allowed to wander wherever he desired, and ozma promised to keep watch over his future journeys and to protect the boy as well as she was able, in case he ever got into more trouble. all this having been happily arranged, the tin woodman returned to his tin castle, and his chosen comrade, the scarecrow, accompanied him on the way. the two friends were sure to pass many pleasant hours together in talking over their recent adventures, for as they neither ate nor slept they found their greatest amusement in conversation. the end [illustration] none none the scarecrow of oz by l. frank baum dedicated to "the uplifters" of los angeles, california, in grateful appreciation of the pleasure i have derived from association with them, and in recognition of their sincere endeavor to uplift humanity through kindness, consideration and good-fellowship. they are big men--all of them--and all with the generous hearts of little children. l. frank baum 'twixt you and me the army of children which besieged the postoffice, conquered the postmen and delivered to me its imperious commands, insisted that trot and cap'n bill be admitted to the land of oz, where trot could enjoy the society of dorothy, betsy bobbin and ozma, while the one-legged sailor-man might become a comrade of the tin woodman, the shaggy man, tik-tok and all the other quaint people who inhabit this wonderful fairyland. it was no easy task to obey this order and land trot and cap'n bill safely in oz, as you will discover by reading this book. indeed, it required the best efforts of our dear old friend, the scarecrow, to save them from a dreadful fate on the journey; but the story leaves them happily located in ozma's splendid palace and dorothy has promised me that button-bright and the three girls are sure to encounter, in the near future, some marvelous adventures in the land of oz, which i hope to be permitted to relate to you in the next oz book. meantime, i am deeply grateful to my little readers for their continued enthusiasm over the oz stories, as evinced in the many letters they send me, all of which are lovingly cherished. it takes more and more oz books every year to satisfy the demands of old and new readers, and there have been formed many "oz reading societies," where the oz books owned by different members are read aloud. all this is very gratifying to me and encourages me to write more stories. when the children have had enough of them, i hope they will let me know, and then i'll try to write something different. l. frank baum "royal historian of oz." "ozcot" at hollywood in california, . list of chapters - the great whirlpool - the cavern under the sea - the ork - daylight at last - the little old man of the island - the flight of the midgets - the bumpy man - button-bright is lost, and found again - the kingdom of jinxland - pon, the gardener's boy - the wicked king and googly-goo - the wooden-legged grass-hopper - glinda the good and the scarecrow of oz - the frozen heart - trot meets the scarecrow - pon summons the king to surrender - the ork rescues button-bright - the scarecrow meets an enemy - the conquest of the witch - queen gloria - dorothy, betsy and ozma - the waterfall - the land of oz - the royal reception chapter one the great whirlpool "seems to me," said cap'n bill, as he sat beside trot under the big acacia tree, looking out over the blue ocean, "seems to me, trot, as how the more we know, the more we find we don't know." "i can't quite make that out, cap'n bill," answered the little girl in a serious voice, after a moment's thought, during which her eyes followed those of the old sailor-man across the glassy surface of the sea. "seems to me that all we learn is jus' so much gained." "i know; it looks that way at first sight," said the sailor, nodding his head; "but those as knows the least have a habit of thinkin' they know all there is to know, while them as knows the most admits what a turr'ble big world this is. it's the knowing ones that realize one lifetime ain't long enough to git more'n a few dips o' the oars of knowledge." trot didn't answer. she was a very little girl, with big, solemn eyes and an earnest, simple manner. cap'n bill had been her faithful companion for years and had taught her almost everything she knew. he was a wonderful man, this cap'n bill. not so very old, although his hair was grizzled--what there was of it. most of his head was bald as an egg and as shiny as oilcloth, and this made his big ears stick out in a funny way. his eyes had a gentle look and were pale blue in color, and his round face was rugged and bronzed. cap'n bill's left leg was missing, from the knee down, and that was why the sailor no longer sailed the seas. the wooden leg he wore was good enough to stump around with on land, or even to take trot out for a row or a sail on the ocean, but when it came to "runnin' up aloft" or performing active duties on shipboard, the old sailor was not equal to the task. the loss of his leg had ruined his career and the old sailor found comfort in devoting himself to the education and companionship of the little girl. the accident to cap'n bill's leg bad happened at about the time trot was born, and ever since that he had lived with trot's mother as "a star boarder," having enough money saved up to pay for his weekly "keep." he loved the baby and often held her on his lap; her first ride was on cap'n bill's shoulders, for she had no baby-carriage; and when she began to toddle around, the child and the sailor became close comrades and enjoyed many strange adventures together. it is said the fairies had been present at trot's birth and had marked her forehead with their invisible mystic signs, so that she was able to see and do many wonderful things. the acacia tree was on top of a high bluff, but a path ran down the bank in a zigzag way to the water's edge, where cap'n bill's boat was moored to a rock by means of a stout cable. it had been a hot, sultry afternoon, with scarcely a breath of air stirring, so cap'n bill and trot had been quietly sitting beneath the shade of the tree, waiting for the sun to get low enough for them to take a row. they had decided to visit one of the great caves which the waves had washed out of the rocky coast during many years of steady effort. the caves were a source of continual delight to both the girl and the sailor, who loved to explore their awesome depths. "i b'lieve, cap'n," remarked trot, at last, "that it's time for us to start." the old man cast a shrewd glance at the sky, the sea and the motionless boat. then he shook his head. "mebbe it's time, trot," he answered, "but i don't jes' like the looks o' things this afternoon." "what's wrong?" she asked wonderingly. "can't say as to that. things is too quiet to suit me, that's all. no breeze, not a ripple a-top the water, nary a gull a-flyin' anywhere, an' the end o' the hottest day o' the year. i ain't no weather-prophet, trot, but any sailor would know the signs is ominous." "there's nothing wrong that i can see," said trot. "if there was a cloud in the sky even as big as my thumb, we might worry about it; but--look, cap'n!--the sky is as clear as can be." he looked again and nodded. "p'r'aps we can make the cave, all right," he agreed, not wishing to disappoint her. "it's only a little way out, an' we'll be on the watch; so come along, trot." together they descended the winding path to the beach. it was no trouble for the girl to keep her footing on the steep way, but cap'n bill, because of his wooden leg, had to hold on to rocks and roots now and then to save himself from tumbling. on a level path he was as spry as anyone, but to climb up hill or down required some care. they reached the boat safely and while trot was untying the rope cap'n bill reached into a crevice of the rock and drew out several tallow candles and a box of wax matches, which he thrust into the capacious pockets of his "sou'wester." this sou'wester was a short coat of oilskin which the old sailor wore on all occasions--when he wore a coat at all--and the pockets always contained a variety of objects, useful and ornamental, which made even trot wonder where they all came from and why cap'n bill should treasure them. the jackknives--a big one and a little one--the bits of cord, the fishhooks, the nails: these were handy to have on certain occasions. but bits of shell, and tin boxes with unknown contents, buttons, pincers, bottles of curious stones and the like, seemed quite unnecessary to carry around. that was cap'n bill's business, however, and now that he added the candles and the matches to his collection trot made no comment, for she knew these last were to light their way through the caves. the sailor always rowed the boat, for he handled the oars with strength and skill. trot sat in the stern and steered. the place where they embarked was a little bight or circular bay, and the boat cut across a much larger bay toward a distant headland where the caves were located, right at the water's edge. they were nearly a mile from shore and about halfway across the bay when trot suddenly sat up straight and exclaimed: "what's that, cap'n?" he stopped rowing and turned half around to look. "that, trot," he slowly replied, "looks to me mighty like a whirlpool." "what makes it, cap'n?" "a whirl in the air makes the whirl in the water. i was afraid as we'd meet with trouble, trot. things didn't look right. the air was too still." "it's coming closer," said the girl. the old man grabbed the oars and began rowing with all his strength. "'tain't comin' closer to us, trot," he gasped; "it's we that are comin' closer to the whirlpool. the thing is drawin' us to it like a magnet!" trot's sun-bronzed face was a little paler as she grasped the tiller firmly and tried to steer the boat away; but she said not a word to indicate fear. the swirl of the water as they came nearer made a roaring sound that was fearful to listen to. so fierce and powerful was the whirlpool that it drew the surface of the sea into the form of a great basin, slanting downward toward the center, where a big hole had been made in the ocean--a hole with walls of water that were kept in place by the rapid whirling of the air. the boat in which trot and cap'n bill were riding was just on the outer edge of this saucer-like slant, and the old sailor knew very well that unless he could quickly force the little craft away from the rushing current they would soon be drawn into the great black hole that yawned in the middle. so he exerted all his might and pulled as he had never pulled before. he pulled so hard that the left oar snapped in two and sent cap'n bill sprawling upon the bottom of the boat. he scrambled up quickly enough and glanced over the side. then he looked at trot, who sat quite still, with a serious, far-away look in her sweet eyes. the boat was now speeding swiftly of its own accord, following the line of the circular basin round and round and gradually drawing nearer to the great hole in the center. any further effort to escape the whirlpool was useless, and realizing this fact cap'n bill turned toward trot and put an arm around her, as if to shield her from the awful fate before them. he did not try to speak, because the roar of the waters would have drowned the sound of his voice. these two faithful comrades had faced dangers before, but nothing to equal that which now faced them. yet cap'n bill, noting the look in trot's eyes and remembering how often she had been protected by unseen powers, did not quite give way to despair. the great hole in the dark water--now growing nearer and nearer--looked very terrifying; but they were both brave enough to face it and await the result of the adventure. chapter two the cavern under the sea the circles were so much smaller at the bottom of the basin, and the boat moved so much more swiftly, that trot was beginning to get dizzy with the motion, when suddenly the boat made a leap and dived headlong into the murky depths of the hole. whirling like tops, but still clinging together, the sailor and the girl were separated from their boat and plunged down--down--down--into the farthermost recesses of the great ocean. at first their fall was swift as an arrow, but presently they seemed to be going more moderately and trot was almost sure that unseen arms were about her, supporting her and protecting her. she could see nothing, because the water filled her eyes and blurred her vision, but she clung fast to cap'n bill's sou'wester, while other arms clung fast to her, and so they gradually sank down and down until a full stop was made, when they began to ascend again. but it seemed to trot that they were not rising straight to the surface from where they had come. the water was no longer whirling them and they seemed to be drawn in a slanting direction through still, cool ocean depths. and then--in much quicker time than i have told it--up they popped to the surface and were cast at full length upon a sandy beach, where they lay choking and gasping for breath and wondering what had happened to them. trot was the first to recover. disengaging herself from cap'n bill's wet embrace and sitting up, she rubbed the water from her eyes and then looked around her. a soft, bluish-green glow lighted the place, which seemed to be a sort of cavern, for above and on either side of her were rugged rocks. they had been cast upon a beach of clear sand, which slanted upward from the pool of water at their feet--a pool which doubtless led into the big ocean that fed it. above the reach of the waves of the pool were more rocks, and still more and more, into the dim windings and recesses of which the glowing light from the water did not penetrate. the place looked grim and lonely, but trot was thankful that she was still alive and had suffered no severe injury during her trying adventure under water. at her side cap'n bill was sputtering and coughing, trying to get rid of the water he had swallowed. both of them were soaked through, yet the cavern was warm and comfortable and a wetting did not dismay the little girl in the least. she crawled up the slant of sand and gathered in her hand a bunch of dried seaweed, with which she mopped the face of cap'n bill and cleared the water from his eyes and ears. presently the old man sat up and stared at her intently. then he nodded his bald head three times and said in a gurgling voice: "mighty good, trot; mighty good! we didn't reach davy jones's locker that time, did we? though why we didn't, an' why we're here, is more'n i kin make out." "take it easy, cap'n," she replied. "we're safe enough, i guess, at least for the time being." he squeezed the water out of the bottoms of his loose trousers and felt of his wooden leg and arms and head, and finding he had brought all of his person with him he gathered courage to examine closely their surroundings. "where d'ye think we are, trot?" he presently asked. "can't say, cap'n. p'r'aps in one of our caves." he shook his head. "no," said he, "i don't think that, at all. the distance we came up didn't seem half as far as the distance we went down; an' you'll notice there ain't any outside entrance to this cavern whatever. it's a reg'lar dome over this pool o' water, and unless there's some passage at the back, up yonder, we're fast pris'ners." trot looked thoughtfully over her shoulder. "when we're rested," she said, "we will crawl up there and see if there's a way to get out." cap'n bill reached in the pocket of his oilskin coat and took out his pipe. it was still dry, for he kept it in an oilskin pouch with his tobacco. his matches were in a tight tin box, so in a few moments the old sailor was smoking contentedly. trot knew it helped him to think when he was in any difficulty. also, the pipe did much to restore the old sailor's composure, after his long ducking and his terrible fright--a fright that was more on trot's account than his own. the sand was dry where they sat, and soaked up the water that dripped from their clothing. when trot had squeezed the wet out of her hair she began to feel much like her old self again. by and by they got upon their feet and crept up the incline to the scattered boulders above. some of these were of huge size, but by passing between some and around others, they were able to reach the extreme rear of the cavern. "yes," said trot, with interest, "here's a round hole." "and it's black as night inside it," remarked cap'n bill. "just the same," answered the girl, "we ought to explore it, and see where it goes, 'cause it's the only poss'ble way we can get out of this place." cap'n bill eyed the hole doubtfully "it may be a way out o' here, trot," he said, "but it may be a way into a far worse place than this. i'm not sure but our best plan is to stay right here." trot wasn't sure, either, when she thought of it in that light. after awhile she made her way back to the sands again, and cap'n bill followed her. as they sat down, the child looked thoughtfully at the sailor's bulging pockets. "how much food have we got, cap'n?" she asked. "half a dozen ship's biscuits an' a hunk o' cheese," he replied. "want some now, trot?" she shook her head, saying: "that ought to keep us alive 'bout three days if we're careful of it." "longer'n that, trot," said cap'n bill, but his voice was a little troubled and unsteady. "but if we stay here we're bound to starve in time," continued the girl, "while if we go into the dark hole--" "some things are more hard to face than starvation," said the sailor-man, gravely. "we don't know what's inside that dark hole: trot, nor where it might lead us to." "there's a way to find that out," she persisted. instead of replying, cap'n bill began searching in his pockets. he soon drew out a little package of fish-hooks and a long line. trot watched him join them together. then he crept a little way up the slope and turned over a big rock. two or three small crabs began scurrying away over the sands and the old sailor caught them and put one on his hook and the others in his pocket. coming back to the pool he swung the hook over his shoulder and circled it around his head and cast it nearly into the center of the water, where he allowed it to sink gradually, paying out the line as far as it would go. when the end was reached, he began drawing it in again, until the crab bait was floating on the surface. trot watched him cast the line a second time, and a third. she decided that either there were no fishes in the pool or they would not bite the crab bait. but cap'n bill was an old fisherman and not easily discouraged. when the crab got away he put another on the hook. when the crabs were all gone he climbed up the rocks and found some more. meantime trot tired of watching him and lay down upon the sands, where she fell fast asleep. during the next two hours her clothing dried completely, as did that of the old sailor. they were both so used to salt water that there was no danger of taking cold. finally the little girl was wakened by a splash beside her and a grunt of satisfaction from cap'n bill. she opened her eyes to find that the cap'n had landed a silver-scaled fish weighing about two pounds. this cheered her considerably and she hurried to scrape together a heap of seaweed, while cap'n bill cut up the fish with his jackknife and got it ready for cooking. they had cooked fish with seaweed before. cap'n bill wrapped his fish in some of the weed and dipped it in the water to dampen it. then he lighted a match and set fire to trot's heap, which speedily burned down to a glowing bed of ashes. then they laid the wrapped fish on the ashes, covered it with more seaweed, and allowed this to catch fire and burn to embers. after feeding the fire with seaweed for some time, the sailor finally decided that their supper was ready, so he scattered the ashes and drew out the bits of fish, still encased in their smoking wrappings. when these wrappings were removed, the fish was found thoroughly cooked and both trot and cap'n bill ate of it freely. it had a slight flavor of seaweed and would have been better with a sprinkling of salt. the soft glow which until now had lighted the cavern, began to grow dim, but there was a great quantity of seaweed in the place, so after they had eaten their fish they kept the fire alive for a time by giving it a handful of fuel now and then. from an inner pocket the sailor drew a small flask of battered metal and unscrewing the cap handed it to trot. she took but one swallow of the water although she wanted more, and she noticed that cap'n bill merely wet his lips with it. "s'pose," said she, staring at the glowing seaweed fire and speaking slowly, "that we can catch all the fish we need; how 'bout the drinking-water, cap'n?" he moved uneasily but did not reply. both of them were thinking about the dark hole, but while trot had little fear of it the old man could not overcome his dislike to enter the place. he knew that trot was right, though. to remain in the cavern, where they now were, could only result in slow but sure death. it was nighttime up on the earth's surface, so the little girl became drowsy and soon fell asleep. after a time the old sailor slumbered on the sands beside her. it was very still and nothing disturbed them for hours. when at last they awoke the cavern was light again. they had divided one of the biscuits and were munching it for breakfast when they were startled by a sudden splash in the pool. looking toward it they saw emerging from the water the most curious creature either of them had ever beheld. it wasn't a fish, trot decided, nor was it a beast. it had wings, though, and queer wings they were: shaped like an inverted chopping-bowl and covered with tough skin instead of feathers. it had four legs--much like the legs of a stork, only double the number--and its head was shaped a good deal like that of a poll parrot, with a beak that curved downward in front and upward at the edges, and was half bill and half mouth. but to call it a bird was out of the question, because it had no feathers whatever except a crest of wavy plumes of a scarlet color on the very top of its head. the strange creature must have weighed as much as cap'n bill, and as it floundered and struggled to get out of the water to the sandy beach it was so big and unusual that both trot and her companion stared at it in wonder--in wonder that was not unmixed with fear. chapter three the ork the eyes that regarded them, as the creature stood dripping before them, were bright and mild in expression, and the queer addition to their party made no attempt to attack them and seemed quite as surprised by the meeting as they were. "i wonder," whispered trot, "what it is." "who, me?" exclaimed the creature in a shrill, high-pitched voice. "why, i'm an ork." "oh!" said the girl. "but what is an ork?" "i am," he repeated, a little proudly, as he shook the water from his funny wings; "and if ever an ork was glad to be out of the water and on dry land again, you can be mighty sure that i'm that especial, individual ork!" "have you been in the water long?" inquired cap'n bill, thinking it only polite to show an interest in the strange creature. "why, this last ducking was about ten minutes, i believe, and that's about nine minutes and sixty seconds too long for comfort," was the reply. "but last night i was in an awful pickle, i assure you. the whirlpool caught me, and--" "oh, were you in the whirlpool, too?" asked trot eagerly. he gave her a glance that was somewhat reproachful. "i believe i was mentioning the fact, young lady, when your desire to talk interrupted me," said the ork. "i am not usually careless in my actions, but that whirlpool was so busy yesterday that i thought i'd see what mischief it was up to. so i flew a little too near it and the suction of the air drew me down into the depths of the ocean. water and i are natural enemies, and it would have conquered me this time had not a bevy of pretty mermaids come to my assistance and dragged me away from the whirling water and far up into a cavern, where they deserted me." "why, that's about the same thing that happened to us," cried trot. "was your cavern like this one?" "i haven't examined this one yet," answered the ork; "but if they happen to be alike i shudder at our fate, for the other one was a prison, with no outlet except by means of the water. i stayed there all night, however, and this morning i plunged into the pool, as far down as i could go, and then swam as hard and as far as i could. the rocks scraped my back, now and then, and i barely escaped the clutches of an ugly sea-monster; but by and by i came to the surface to catch my breath, and found myself here. that's the whole story, and as i see you have something to eat i entreat you to give me a share of it. the truth is, i'm half starved." with these words the ork squatted down beside them. very reluctantly cap'n bill drew another biscuit from his pocket and held it out. the ork promptly seized it in one of its front claws and began to nibble the biscuit in much the same manner a parrot might have done. "we haven't much grub," said the sailor-man, "but we're willin' to share it with a comrade in distress." "that's right," returned the ork, cocking its head sidewise in a cheerful manner, and then for a few minutes there was silence while they all ate of the biscuits. after a while trot said: "i've never seen or heard of an ork before. are there many of you?" "we are rather few and exclusive, i believe," was the reply. "in the country where i was born we are the absolute rulers of all living things, from ants to elephants." "what country is that?" asked cap'n bill. "orkland." "where does it lie?" "i don't know, exactly. you see, i have a restless nature, for some reason, while all the rest of my race are quiet and contented orks and seldom stray far from home. from childhood days i loved to fly long distances away, although father often warned me that i would get into trouble by so doing. "'it's a big world, flipper, my son,' he would say, 'and i've heard that in parts of it live queer two-legged creatures called men, who war upon all other living things and would have little respect for even an ork.' "this naturally aroused my curiosity and after i had completed my education and left school i decided to fly out into the world and try to get a glimpse of the creatures called men. so i left home without saying good-bye, an act i shall always regret. adventures were many, i found. i sighted men several times, but have never before been so close to them as now. also i had to fight my way through the air, for i met gigantic birds, with fluffy feathers all over them, which attacked me fiercely. besides, it kept me busy escaping from floating airships. in my rambling i had lost all track of distance or direction, so that when i wanted to go home i had no idea where my country was located. i've now been trying to find it for several months and it was during one of my flights over the ocean that i met the whirlpool and became its victim." trot and cap'n bill listened to this recital with much interest, and from the friendly tone and harmless appearance of the ork they judged he was not likely to prove so disagreeable a companion as at first they had feared he might be. the ork sat upon its haunches much as a cat does, but used the finger-like claws of its front legs almost as cleverly as if they were hands. perhaps the most curious thing about the creature was its tail, or what ought to have been its tail. this queer arrangement of skin, bones and muscle was shaped like the propellers used on boats and airships, having fan-like surfaces and being pivoted to its body. cap'n bill knew something of mechanics, and observing the propeller-like tail of the ork he said: "i s'pose you're a pretty swift flyer?" "yes, indeed; the orks are admitted to be kings of the air." "your wings don't seem to amount to much," remarked trot. "well, they are not very big," admitted the ork, waving the four hollow skins gently to and fro, "but they serve to support my body in the air while i speed along by means of my tail. still, taken altogether, i'm very handsomely formed, don't you think?" trot did not like to reply, but cap'n bill nodded gravely. "for an ork," said he, "you're a wonder. i've never seen one afore, but i can imagine you're as good as any." that seemed to please the creature and it began walking around the cavern, making its way easily up the slope. while it was gone, trot and cap'n bill each took another sip from the water-flask, to wash down their breakfast. "why, here's a hole--an exit--an outlet!" exclaimed the ork from above. "we know," said trot. "we found it last night." "well, then, let's be off," continued the ork, after sticking its head into the black hole and sniffing once or twice. "the air seems fresh and sweet, and it can't lead us to any worse place than this." the girl and the sailor-man got up and climbed to the side of the ork. "we'd about decided to explore this hole before you came," explained cap'n bill; "but it's a dangerous place to navigate in the dark, so wait till i light a candle." "what is a candle?" inquired the ork. "you'll see in a minute," said trot. the old sailor drew one of the candles from his right-side pocket and the tin matchbox from his left-side pocket. when he lighted the match the ork gave a startled jump and eyed the flame suspiciously; but cap'n bill proceeded to light the candle and the action interested the ork very much. "light," it said, somewhat nervously, "is valuable in a hole of this sort. the candle is not dangerous, i hope?" "sometimes it burns your fingers," answered trot, "but that's about the worst it can do--'cept to blow out when you don't want it to." cap'n bill shielded the flame with his hand and crept into the hole. it wasn't any too big for a grown man, but after he had crawled a few feet it grew larger. trot came close behind him and then the ork followed. "seems like a reg'lar tunnel," muttered the sailor-man, who was creeping along awkwardly because of his wooden leg. the rocks, too, hurt his knees. for nearly half an hour the three moved slowly along the tunnel, which made many twists and turns and sometimes slanted downward and sometimes upward. finally cap'n bill stopped short, with an exclamation of disappointment, and held the flickering candle far ahead to light the scene. "what's wrong?" demanded trot, who could see nothing because the sailor's form completely filled the hole. "why, we've come to the end of our travels, i guess," he replied. "is the hole blocked?" inquired the ork. "no; it's wuss nor that," replied cap'n bill sadly. "i'm on the edge of a precipice. wait a minute an' i'll move along and let you see for yourselves. be careful, trot, not to fall." then he crept forward a little and moved to one side, holding the candle so that the girl could see to follow him. the ork came next and now all three knelt on a narrow ledge of rock which dropped straight away and left a huge black space which the tiny flame of the candle could not illuminate. "h-m!" said the ork, peering over the edge; "this doesn't look very promising, i'll admit. but let me take your candle, and i'll fly down and see what's below us." "aren't you afraid?" asked trot. "certainly i'm afraid," responded the ork. "but if we intend to escape we can't stay on this shelf forever. so, as i notice you poor creatures cannot fly, it is my duty to explore the place for you." cap'n bill handed the ork the candle, which had now burned to about half its length. the ork took it in one claw rather cautiously and then tipped its body forward and slipped over the edge. they heard a queer buzzing sound, as the tail revolved, and a brisk flapping of the peculiar wings, but they were more interested just then in following with their eyes the tiny speck of light which marked the location of the candle. this light first made a great circle, then dropped slowly downward and suddenly was extinguished, leaving everything before them black as ink. "hi, there! how did that happen?" cried the ork. "it blew out, i guess," shouted cap'n bill. "fetch it here." "i can't see where you are," said the ork. so cap'n bill got out another candle and lighted it, and its flame enabled the ork to fly back to them. it alighted on the edge and held out the bit of candle. "what made it stop burning?" asked the creature. "the wind," said trot. "you must be more careful, this time." "what's the place like?" inquired cap'n bill. "i don't know, yet; but there must be a bottom to it, so i'll try to find it." with this the ork started out again and this time sank downward more slowly. down, down, down it went, till the candle was a mere spark, and then it headed away to the left and trot and cap'n bill lost all sight of it. in a few minutes, however, they saw the spark of light again, and as the sailor still held the second lighted candle the ork made straight toward them. it was only a few yards distant when suddenly it dropped the candle with a cry of pain and next moment alighted, fluttering wildly, upon the rocky ledge. "what's the matter?" asked trot. "it bit me!" wailed the ork. "i don't like your candles. the thing began to disappear slowly as soon as i took it in my claw, and it grew smaller and smaller until just now it turned and bit me--a most unfriendly thing to do. oh--oh! ouch, what a bite!" "that's the nature of candles, i'm sorry to say," explained cap'n bill, with a grin. "you have to handle 'em mighty keerful. but tell us, what did you find down there?" "i found a way to continue our journey," said the ork, nursing tenderly the claw which had been burned. "just below us is a great lake of black water, which looked so cold and wicked that it made me shudder; but away at the left there's a big tunnel, which we can easily walk through. i don't know where it leads to, of course, but we must follow it and find out." "why, we can't get to it," protested the little girl. "we can't fly, as you do, you must remember." "no, that's true," replied the ork musingly. "your bodies are built very poorly, it seems to me, since all you can do is crawl upon the earth's surface. but you may ride upon my back, and in that way i can promise you a safe journey to the tunnel." "are you strong enough to carry us?" asked cap'n bill, doubtfully. "yes, indeed; i'm strong enough to carry a dozen of you, if you could find a place to sit," was the reply; "but there's only room between my wings for one at a time, so i'll have to make two trips." "all right; i'll go first," decided cap'n bill. he lit another candle for trot to hold while they were gone and to light the ork on his return to her, and then the old sailor got upon the ork's back, where he sat with his wooden leg sticking straight out sidewise. "if you start to fall, clasp your arms around my neck," advised the creature. "if i start to fall, it's good night an' pleasant dreams," said cap'n bill. "all ready?" asked the ork. "start the buzz-tail," said cap'n bill, with a tremble in his voice. but the ork flew away so gently that the old man never even tottered in his seat. trot watched the light of cap'n bill's candle till it disappeared in the far distance. she didn't like to be left alone on this dangerous ledge, with a lake of black water hundreds of feet below her; but she was a brave little girl and waited patiently for the return of the ork. it came even sooner than she had expected and the creature said to her: "your friend is safe in the tunnel. now, then, get aboard and i'll carry you to him in a jiffy." i'm sure not many little girls would have cared to take that awful ride through the huge black cavern on the back of a skinny ork. trot didn't care for it, herself, but it just had to be done and so she did it as courageously as possible. her heart beat fast and she was so nervous she could scarcely hold the candle in her fingers as the ork sped swiftly through the darkness. it seemed like a long ride to her, yet in reality the ork covered the distance in a wonderfully brief period of time and soon trot stood safely beside cap'n bill on the level floor of a big arched tunnel. the sailor-man was very glad to greet his little comrade again and both were grateful to the ork for his assistance. "i dunno where this tunnel leads to," remarked cap'n bill, "but it surely looks more promisin' than that other hole we crept through." "when the ork is rested," said trot, "we'll travel on and see what happens." "rested!" cried the ork, as scornfully as his shrill voice would allow. "that bit of flying didn't tire me at all. i'm used to flying days at a time, without ever once stopping." "then let's move on," proposed cap'n bill. he still held in his hand one lighted candle, so trot blew out the other flame and placed her candle in the sailor's big pocket. she knew it was not wise to burn two candles at once. the tunnel was straight and smooth and very easy to walk through, so they made good progress. trot thought that the tunnel began about two miles from the cavern where they had been cast by the whirlpool, but now it was impossible to guess the miles traveled, for they walked steadily for hours and hours without any change in their surroundings. finally cap'n bill stopped to rest. "there's somethin' queer about this 'ere tunnel, i'm certain," he declared, wagging his head dolefully. "here's three candles gone a'ready, an' only three more left us, yet the tunnel's the same as it was when we started. an' how long it's goin' to keep up, no one knows." "couldn't we walk without a light?" asked trot. "the way seems safe enough." "it does right now," was the reply, "but we can't tell when we are likely to come to another gulf, or somethin' jes' as dangerous. in that case we'd be killed afore we knew it." "suppose i go ahead?" suggested the ork. "i don't fear a fall, you know, and if anything happens i'll call out and warn you." "that's a good idea," declared trot, and cap'n bill thought so, too. so the ork started off ahead, quite in the dark, and hand in band the two followed him. when they had walked in this way for a good long time the ork halted and demanded food. cap'n bill had not mentioned food because there was so little left--only three biscuits and a lump of cheese about as big as his two fingers--but he gave the ork half of a biscuit, sighing as he did so. the creature didn't care for the cheese, so the sailor divided it between himself and trot. they lighted a candle and sat down in the tunnel while they ate. "my feet hurt me," grumbled the ork. "i'm not used to walking and this rocky passage is so uneven and lumpy that it hurts me to walk upon it." "can't you fly along?" asked trot. "no; the roof is too low," said the ork. after the meal they resumed their journey, which trot began to fear would never end. when cap'n bill noticed how tired the little girl was, he paused and lighted a match and looked at his big silver watch. "why, it's night!" he exclaimed. "we've tramped all day, an' still we're in this awful passage, which mebbe goes straight through the middle of the world, an' mebbe is a circle--in which case we can keep walkin' till doomsday. not knowin' what's before us so well as we know what's behind us, i propose we make a stop, now, an' try to sleep till mornin'." "that will suit me," asserted the ork, with a groan. "my feet are hurting me dreadfully and for the last few miles i've been limping with pain." "my foot hurts, too," said the sailor, looking for a smooth place on the rocky floor to sit down. "your foot!" cried the ork. "why, you've only one to hurt you, while i have four. so i suffer four times as much as you possibly can. here; hold the candle while i look at the bottoms of my claws. i declare," he said, examining them by the flickering light, "there are bunches of pain all over them!" "p'r'aps," said trot, who was very glad to sit down beside her companions, "you've got corns." "corns? nonsense! orks never have corns," protested the creature, rubbing its sore feet tenderly. "then mebbe they're--they're-- what do you call 'em, cap'n bill? something 'bout the pilgrim's progress, you know." "bunions," said cap'n bill. "oh, yes; mebbe you've got bunions." "it is possible," moaned the ork. "but whatever they are, another day of such walking on them would drive me crazy." "i'm sure they'll feel better by mornin'," said cap'n bill, encouragingly. "go to sleep an' try to forget your sore feet." the ork cast a reproachful look at the sailor-man, who didn't see it. then the creature asked plaintively: "do we eat now, or do we starve?" "there's only half a biscuit left for you," answered cap'n bill. "no one knows how long we'll have to stay in this dark tunnel, where there's nothing whatever to eat; so i advise you to save that morsel o' food till later." "give it me now!" demanded the ork. "if i'm going to starve, i'll do it all at once--not by degrees." cap'n bill produced the biscuit and the creature ate it in a trice. trot was rather hungry and whispered to cap'n bill that she'd take part of her share; but the old man secretly broke his own half-biscuit in two, saving trot's share for a time of greater need. he was beginning to be worried over the little girl's plight and long after she was asleep and the ork was snoring in a rather disagreeable manner, cap'n bill sat with his back to a rock and smoked his pipe and tried to think of some way to escape from this seemingly endless tunnel. but after a time he also slept, for hobbling on a wooden leg all day was tiresome, and there in the dark slumbered the three adventurers for many hours, until the ork roused itself and kicked the old sailor with one foot. "it must be another day," said he. chapter four daylight at last cap'n bill rubbed his eyes, lit a match and consulted his watch. "nine o'clock. yes, i guess it's another day, sure enough. shall we go on?" he asked. "of course," replied the ork. "unless this tunnel is different from everything else in the world, and has no end, we'll find a way out of it sooner or later." the sailor gently wakened trot. she felt much rested by her long sleep and sprang to her feet eagerly. "let's start, cap'n," was all she said. they resumed the journey and had only taken a few steps when the ork cried "wow!" and made a great fluttering of its wings and whirling of its tail. the others, who were following a short distance behind, stopped abruptly. "what's the matter?" asked cap'n bill. "give us a light," was the reply. "i think we've come to the end of the tunnel." then, while cap'n bill lighted a candle, the creature added: "if that is true, we needn't have wakened so soon, for we were almost at the end of this place when we went to sleep." the sailor-man and trot came forward with a light. a wall of rock really faced the tunnel, but now they saw that the opening made a sharp turn to the left. so they followed on, by a narrower passage, and then made another sharp turn this time to the right. "blow out the light, cap'n," said the ork, in a pleased voice. "we've struck daylight." daylight at last! a shaft of mellow light fell almost at their feet as trot and the sailor turned the corner of the passage, but it came from above, and raising their eyes they found they were at the bottom of a deep, rocky well, with the top far, far above their heads. and here the passage ended. for a while they gazed in silence, at least two of them being filled with dismay at the sight. but the ork merely whistled softly and said cheerfully: "that was the toughest journey i ever had the misfortune to undertake, and i'm glad it's over. yet, unless i can manage to fly to the top of this pit, we are entombed here forever." "do you think there is room enough for you to fly in?" asked the little girl anxiously; and cap'n bill added: "it's a straight-up shaft, so i don't see how you'll ever manage it." "were i an ordinary bird--one of those horrid feathered things--i wouldn't even make the attempt to fly out," said the ork. "but my mechanical propeller tail can accomplish wonders, and whenever you're ready i'll show you a trick that is worth while." "oh!" exclaimed trot; "do you intend to take us up, too?" "why not?" "i thought," said cap'n bill, "as you'd go first, an' then send somebody to help us by lettin' down a rope." "ropes are dangerous," replied the ork, "and i might not be able to find one to reach all this distance. besides, it stands to reason that if i can get out myself i can also carry you two with me." "well, i'm not afraid," said trot, who longed to be on the earth's surface again. "s'pose we fall?" suggested cap'n bill, doubtfully. "why, in that case we would all fall together," returned the ork. "get aboard, little girl; sit across my shoulders and put both your arms around my neck." trot obeyed and when she was seated on the ork, cap'n bill inquired: "how 'bout me, mr. ork?" "why, i think you'd best grab hold of my rear legs and let me carry you up in that manner," was the reply. cap'n bill looked way up at the top of the well, and then he looked at the ork's slender, skinny legs and heaved a deep sigh. "it's goin' to be some dangle, i guess; but if you don't waste too much time on the way up, i may be able to hang on," said he. "all ready, then!" cried the ork, and at once his whirling tail began to revolve. trot felt herself rising into the air; when the creature's legs left the ground cap'n bill grasped two of them firmly and held on for dear life. the ork's body was tipped straight upward, and trot had to embrace the neck very tightly to keep from sliding off. even in this position the ork had trouble in escaping the rough sides of the well. several times it exclaimed "wow!" as it bumped its back, or a wing hit against some jagged projection; but the tail kept whirling with remarkable swiftness and the daylight grew brighter and brighter. it was, indeed, a long journey from the bottom to the top, yet almost before trot realized they had come so far, they popped out of the hole into the clear air and sunshine and a moment later the ork alighted gently upon the ground. the release was so sudden that even with the creature's care for its passengers cap'n bill struck the earth with a shock that sent him rolling heel over head; but by the time trot had slid down from her seat the old sailor-man was sitting up and looking around him with much satisfaction. "it's sort o' pretty here," said he. "earth is a beautiful place!" cried trot. "i wonder where on earth we are?" pondered the ork, turning first one bright eye and then the other to this side and that. trees there were, in plenty, and shrubs and flowers and green turf. but there were no houses; there were no paths; there was no sign of civilization whatever. "just before i settled down on the ground i thought i caught a view of the ocean," said the ork. "let's see if i was right." then he flew to a little hill, near by, and trot and cap'n bill followed him more slowly. when they stood on the top of the hill they could see the blue waves of the ocean in front of them, to the right of them, and at the left of them. behind the hill was a forest that shut out the view. "i hope it ain't an island, trot," said cap'n bill gravely. "if it is, i s'pose we're prisoners," she replied. "ezzackly so, trot." "but, 'even so, it's better than those terr'ble underground tunnels and caverns," declared the girl. "you are right, little one," agreed the ork. "anything above ground is better than the best that lies under ground. so let's not quarrel with our fate but be thankful we've escaped." "we are, indeed!" she replied. "but i wonder if we can find something to eat in this place?" "let's explore an' find out," proposed cap'n bill. "those trees over at the left look like cherry-trees." on the way to them the explorers had to walk through a tangle of vines and cap'n bill, who went first, stumbled and pitched forward on his face. "why, it's a melon!" cried trot delightedly, as she saw what had caused the sailor to fall. cap'n bill rose to his foot, for he was not at all hurt, and examined the melon. then he took his big jackknife from his pocket and cut the melon open. it was quite ripe and looked delicious; but the old man tasted it before he permitted trot to eat any. deciding it was good he gave her a big slice and then offered the ork some. the creature looked at the fruit somewhat disdainfully, at first, but once he had tasted its flavor he ate of it as heartily as did the others. among the vines they discovered many other melons, and trot said gratefully: "well, there's no danger of our starving, even if this is an island." "melons," remarked cap'n bill, "are both food an' water. we couldn't have struck anything better." farther on they came to the cherry trees, where they obtained some of the fruit, and at the edge of the little forest were wild plums. the forest itself consisted entirely of nut trees--walnuts, filberts, almonds and chestnuts--so there would be plenty of wholesome food for them while they remained there. cap'n bill and trot decided to walk through the forest, to discover what was on the other side of it, but the ork's feet were still so sore and "lumpy" from walking on the rocks that the creature said he preferred to fly over the tree-tops and meet them on the other side. the forest was not large, so by walking briskly for fifteen minutes they reached its farthest edge and saw before them the shore of the ocean. "it's an island, all right," said trot, with a sigh. "yes, and a pretty island, too," said cap'n bill, trying to conceal his disappointment on trot's account. "i guess, partner, if the wuss comes to the wuss, i could build a raft--or even a boat--from those trees, so's we could sail away in it." the little girl brightened at this suggestion. "i don't see the ork anywhere," she remarked, looking around. then her eyes lighted upon something and she exclaimed: "oh, cap'n bill! isn't that a house, over there to the left?" cap'n bill, looking closely, saw a shed-like structure built at one edge of the forest. "seems like it, trot. not that i'd call it much of a house, but it's a buildin', all right. let's go over an' see if it's occypied." chapter five the little old man of the island a few steps brought them to the shed, which was merely a roof of boughs built over a square space, with some branches of trees fastened to the sides to keep off the wind. the front was quite open and faced the sea, and as our friends came nearer they observed a little man, with a long pointed beard, sitting motionless on a stool and staring thoughtfully out over the water. "get out of the way, please," he called in a fretful voice. "can't you see you are obstructing my view?" "good morning," said cap'n bill, politely. "it isn't a good morning!" snapped the little man. "i've seen plenty of mornings better than this. do you call it a good morning when i'm pestered with such a crowd as you?" trot was astonished to hear such words from a stranger whom they had greeted quite properly, and cap'n bill grew red at the little man's rudeness. but the sailor said, in a quiet tone of voice: "are you the only one as lives on this 'ere island?" "your grammar's bad," was the reply. "but this is my own exclusive island, and i'll thank you to get off it as soon as possible." "we'd like to do that," said trot, and then she and cap'n bill turned away and walked down to the shore, to see if any other land was in sight. the little man rose and followed them, although both were now too provoked to pay any attention to him. "nothin' in sight, partner," reported cap'n bill, shading his eyes with his hand; "so we'll have to stay here for a time, anyhow. it isn't a bad place, trot, by any means." "that's all you know about it!" broke in the little man. "the trees are altogether too green and the rocks are harder than they ought to be. i find the sand very grainy and the water dreadfully wet. every breeze makes a draught and the sun shines in the daytime, when there's no need of it, and disappears just as soon as it begins to get dark. if you remain here you'll find the island very unsatisfactory." trot turned to look at him, and her sweet face was grave and curious. "i wonder who you are," she said. "my name is pessim," said he, with an air of pride. "i'm called the observer." "oh. what do you observe?" asked the little girl. "everything i see," was the reply, in a more surly tone. then pessim drew back with a startled exclamation and looked at some footprints in the sand. "why, good gracious me!" he cried in distress. "what's the matter now?" asked cap'n bill. "someone has pushed the earth in! don't you see it? "it isn't pushed in far enough to hurt anything," said trot, examining the footprints. "everything hurts that isn't right," insisted the man. "if the earth were pushed in a mile, it would be a great calamity, wouldn't it?" "i s'pose so," admitted the little girl. "well, here it is pushed in a full inch! that's a twelfth of a foot, or a little more than a millionth part of a mile. therefore it is one-millionth part of a calamity--oh, dear! how dreadful!" said pessim in a wailing voice. "try to forget it, sir," advised cap'n bill, soothingly. "it's beginning to rain. let's get under your shed and keep dry." "raining! is it really raining?" asked pessim, beginning to weep. "it is," answered cap'n bill, as the drops began to descend, "and i don't see any way to stop it--although i'm some observer myself." "no; we can't stop it, i fear," said the man. "are you very busy just now?" "i won't be after i get to the shed," replied the sailor-man. "then do me a favor, please," begged pessim, walking briskly along behind them, for they were hastening to the shed. "depends on what it is," said cap'n bill. "i wish you would take my umbrella down to the shore and hold it over the poor fishes till it stops raining. i'm afraid they'll get wet," said pessim. trot laughed, but cap'n bill thought the little man was poking fun at him and so he scowled upon pessim in a way that showed he was angry. they reached the shed before getting very wet, although the rain was now coming down in big drops. the roof of the shed protected them and while they stood watching the rainstorm something buzzed in and circled around pessim's head. at once the observer began beating it away with his hands, crying out: "a bumblebee! a bumblebee! the queerest bumblebee i ever saw!" cap'n bill and trot both looked at it and the little girl said in surprise: "dear me! it's a wee little ork!" "that's what it is, sure enough," exclaimed cap'n bill. really, it wasn't much bigger than a big bumblebee, and when it came toward trot she allowed it to alight on her shoulder. "it's me, all right," said a very small voice in her ear; "but i'm in an awful pickle, just the same!" "what, are you our ork, then?" demanded the girl, much amazed. "no, i'm my own ork. but i'm the only ork you know," replied the tiny creature. "what's happened to you?" asked the sailor, putting his head close to trot's shoulder in order to hear the reply better. pessim also put his head close, and the ork said: "you will remember that when i left you i started to fly over the trees, and just as i got to this side of the forest i saw a bush that was loaded down with the most luscious fruit you can imagine. the fruit was about the size of a gooseberry and of a lovely lavender color. so i swooped down and picked off one in my bill and ate it. at once i began to grow small. i could feel myself shrinking, shrinking away, and it frightened me terribly, so that i lighted on the ground to think over what was happening. in a few seconds i had shrunk to the size you now see me; but there i remained, getting no smaller, indeed, but no larger. it is certainly a dreadful affliction! after i had recovered somewhat from the shock i began to search for you. it is not so easy to find one's way when a creature is so small, but fortunately i spied you here in this shed and came to you at once." cap'n bill and trot were much astonished at this story and felt grieved for the poor ork, but the little man pessim seemed to think it a good joke. he began laughing when he heard the story and laughed until he choked, after which he lay down on the ground and rolled and laughed again, while the tears of merriment coursed down his wrinkled cheeks. "oh, dear! oh, dear!" he finally gasped, sitting up and wiping his eyes. "this is too rich! it's almost too joyful to be true." "i don't see anything funny about it," remarked trot indignantly. "you would if you'd had my experience," said pessim, getting upon his feet and gradually resuming his solemn and dissatisfied expression of countenance. "the same thing happened to me." "oh, did it? and how did you happen to come to this island?" asked the girl. "i didn't come; the neighbors brought me," replied the little man, with a frown at the recollection. "they said i was quarrelsome and fault-finding and blamed me because i told them all the things that went wrong, or never were right, and because i told them how things ought to be. so they brought me here and left me all alone, saying that if i quarreled with myself, no one else would be made unhappy. absurd, wasn't it?" "seems to me," said cap'n bill, "those neighbors did the proper thing." "well," resumed pessim, "when i found myself king of this island i was obliged to live upon fruits, and i found many fruits growing here that i had never seen before. i tasted several and found them good and wholesome. but one day i ate a lavender berry--as the ork did--and immediately i grew so small that i was scarcely two inches high. it was a very unpleasant condition and like the ork i became frightened. i could not walk very well nor very far, for every lump of earth in my way seemed a mountain, every blade of grass a tree and every grain of sand a rocky boulder. for several days i stumbled around in an agony of fear. once a tree toad nearly gobbled me up, and if i ran out from the shelter of the bushes the gulls and cormorants swooped down upon me. finally i decided to eat another berry and become nothing at all, since life, to one as small as i was, had become a dreary nightmare. "at last i found a small tree that i thought bore the same fruit as that i had eaten. the berry was dark purple instead of light lavender, but otherwise it was quite similar. being unable to climb the tree, i was obliged to wait underneath it until a sharp breeze arose and shook the limbs so that a berry fell. instantly i seized it and taking a last view of the world--as i then thought--i ate the berry in a twinkling. then, to my surprise, i began to grow big again, until i became of my former stature, and so i have since remained. needless to say, i have never eaten again of the lavender fruit, nor do any of the beasts or birds that live upon this island eat it." they had all three listened eagerly to this amazing tale, and when it was finished the ork exclaimed: "do you think, then, that the deep purple berry is the antidote for the lavender one?" "i'm sure of it," answered pessim. "then lead me to the tree at once!" begged the ork, "for this tiny form i now have terrifies me greatly." pessim examined the ork closely "you are ugly enough as you are," said he. "were you any larger you might be dangerous." "oh, no," trot assured him; "the ork has been our good friend. please take us to the tree." then pessim consented, although rather reluctantly. he led them to the right, which was the east side of the island, and in a few minutes brought them near to the edge of the grove which faced the shore of the ocean. here stood a small tree bearing berries of a deep purple color. the fruit looked very enticing and cap'n bill reached up and selected one that seemed especially plump and ripe. the ork had remained perched upon trot's shoulder but now it flew down to the ground. it was so difficult for cap'n bill to kneel down, with his wooden leg, that the little girl took the berry from him and held it close to the ork's head. "it's too big to go into my mouth," said the little creature, looking at the fruit sidewise. "you'll have to make sev'ral mouthfuls of it, i guess," said trot; and that is what the ork did. he pecked at the soft, ripe fruit with his bill and ate it up very quickly, because it was good. even before he had finished the berry they could see the ork begin to grow. in a few minutes he had regained his natural size and was strutting before them, quite delighted with his transformation. "well, well! what do you think of me now?" he asked proudly. "you are very skinny and remarkably ugly," declared pessim. "you are a poor judge of orks," was the reply. "anyone can see that i'm much handsomer than those dreadful things called birds, which are all fluff and feathers." "their feathers make soft beds," asserted pessim. "and my skin would make excellent drumheads," retorted the ork. "nevertheless, a plucked bird or a skinned ork would be of no value to himself, so we needn't brag of our usefulness after we are dead. but for the sake of argument, friend pessim, i'd like to know what good you would be, were you not alive?" "never mind that," said cap'n bill. "he isn't much good as he is." "i am king of this island, allow me to say, and you're intruding on my property," declared the little man, scowling upon them. "if you don't like me--and i'm sure you don't, for no one else does--why don't you go away and leave me to myself?" "well, the ork can fly, but we can't," explained trot, in answer. "we don't want to stay here a bit, but i don't see how we can get away." "you can go back into the hole you came from." cap'n bill shook his head; trot shuddered at the thought; the ork laughed aloud. "you may be king here," the creature said to pessim, "but we intend to run this island to suit ourselves, for we are three and you are one, and the balance of power lies with us." the little man made no reply to this, although as they walked back to the shed his face wore its fiercest scowl. cap'n bill gathered a lot of leaves and, assisted by trot, prepared two nice beds in opposite corners of the shed. pessim slept in a hammock which he swung between two trees. they required no dishes, as all their food consisted of fruits and nuts picked from the trees; they made no fire, for the weather was warm and there was nothing to cook; the shed had no furniture other than the rude stool which the little man was accustomed to sit upon. he called it his "throne" and they let him keep it. so they lived upon the island for three days, and rested and ate to their hearts' content. still, they were not at all happy in this life because of pessim. he continually found fault with them, and all that they did, and all their surroundings. he could see nothing good or admirable in all the world and trot soon came to understand why the little man's former neighbors had brought him to this island and left him there, all alone, so he could not annoy anyone. it was their misfortune that they had been led to this place by their adventures, for often they would have preferred the company of a wild beast to that of pessim. on the fourth day a happy thought came to the ork. they had all been racking their brains for a possible way to leave the island, and discussing this or that method, without finding a plan that was practical. cap'n bill had said he could make a raft of the trees, big enough to float them all, but he had no tools except those two pocketknives and it was not possible to chop down tree with such small blades. "and s'pose we got afloat on the ocean," said trot, "where would we drift to, and how long would it take us to get there?" cap'n bill was forced to admit he didn't know. the ork could fly away from the island any time it wished to, but the queer creature was loyal to his new friends and refused to leave them in such a lonely, forsaken place. it was when trot urged him to go, on this fourth morning, that the ork had his happy thought. "i will go," said he, "if you two will agree to ride upon my back." "we are too heavy; you might drop us," objected cap'n bill. "yes, you are rather heavy for a long journey," acknowledged the ork, "but you might eat of those lavender berries and become so small that i could carry you with ease." this quaint suggestion startled trot and she looked gravely at the speaker while she considered it, but cap'n bill gave a scornful snort and asked: "what would become of us afterward? we wouldn't be much good if we were some two or three inches high. no, mr. ork, i'd rather stay here, as i am, than be a hop-o'-my-thumb somewhere else." "why couldn't you take some of the dark purple berries along with you, to eat after we had reached our destination?" inquired the ork. "then you could grow big again whenever you pleased." trot clapped her hands with delight. "that's it!" she exclaimed. "let's do it, cap'n bill." the old sailor did not like the idea at first, but he thought it over carefully and the more he thought the better it seemed. "how could you manage to carry us, if we were so small?" he asked. "i could put you in a paper bag, and tie the bag around my neck." "but we haven't a paper bag," objected trot. the ork looked at her. "there's your sunbonnet," it said presently, "which is hollow in the middle and has two strings that you could tie around my neck." trot took off her sunbonnet and regarded it critically. yes, it might easily hold both her and cap'n bill, after they had eaten the lavender berries and been reduced in size. she tied the strings around the ork's neck and the sunbonnet made a bag in which two tiny people might ride without danger of falling out. so she said: "i b'lieve we'll do it that way, cap'n." cap'n bill groaned but could make no logical objection except that the plan seemed to him quite dangerous--and dangerous in more ways than one. "i think so, myself," said trot soberly. "but nobody can stay alive without getting into danger sometimes, and danger doesn't mean getting hurt, cap'n; it only means we might get hurt. so i guess we'll have to take the risk." "let's go and find the berries," said the ork. they said nothing to pessim, who was sitting on his stool and scowling dismally as he stared at the ocean, but started at once to seek the trees that bore the magic fruits. the ork remembered very well where the lavender berries grew and led his companions quickly to the spot. cap'n bill gathered two berries and placed them carefully in his pocket. then they went around to the east side of the island and found the tree that bore the dark purple berries. "i guess i'll take four of these," said the sailor-man, "so in case one doesn't make us grow big we can eat another." "better take six," advised the ork. "it's well to be on the safe side, and i'm sure these trees grow nowhere else in all the world." so cap'n bill gathered six of the purple berries and with their precious fruit they returned to the shed to big good-bye to pessim. perhaps they would not have granted the surly little man this courtesy had they not wished to use him to tie the sunbonnet around the ork's neck. when pessim learned they were about to leave him he at first looked greatly pleased, but he suddenly recollected that nothing ought to please him and so began to grumble about being left alone. "we knew it wouldn't suit you," remarked cap'n bill. "it didn't suit you to have us here, and it won't suit you to have us go away." "that is quite true," admitted pessim. "i haven't been suited since i can remember; so it doesn't matter to me in the least whether you go or stay." he was interested in their experiment, however, and willingly agreed to assist, although he prophesied they would fall out of the sunbonnet on their way and be either drowned in the ocean or crushed upon some rocky shore. this uncheerful prospect did not daunt trot, but it made cap'n bill quite nervous. "i will eat my berry first," said trot, as she placed her sunbonnet on the ground, in such manner that they could get into it. then she ate the lavender berry and in a few seconds became so small that cap'n bill picked her up gently with his thumb and one finger and placed her in the middle of the sunbonnet. then he placed beside her the six purple berries--each one being about as big as the tiny trot's head--and all preparations being now made the old sailor ate his lavender berry and became very small--wooden leg and all! cap'n bill stumbled sadly in trying to climb over the edge of the sunbonnet and pitched in beside trot headfirst, which caused the unhappy pessim to laugh with glee. then the king of the island picked up the sunbonnet--so rudely that he shook its occupants like peas in a pod--and tied it, by means of its strings, securely around the ork's neck. "i hope, trot, you sewed those strings on tight," said cap'n bill anxiously. "why, we are not very heavy, you know," she replied, "so i think the stitches will hold. but be careful and not crush the berries, cap'n." "one is jammed already," he said, looking at them. "all ready?" asked the ork. "yes!" they cried together, and pessim came close to the sunbonnet and called out to them: "you'll be smashed or drowned, i'm sure you will! but farewell, and good riddance to you." the ork was provoked by this unkind speech, so he turned his tail toward the little man and made it revolve so fast that the rush of air tumbled pessim over backward and he rolled several times upon the ground before he could stop himself and sit up. by that time the ork was high in the air and speeding swiftly over the ocean. chapter six the flight of the midgets cap'n bill and trot rode very comfortably in the sunbonnet. the motion was quite steady, for they weighed so little that the ork flew without effort. yet they were both somewhat nervous about their future fate and could not help wishing they were safe on land and their natural size again. "you're terr'ble small, trot," remarked cap'n bill, looking at his companion. "same to you, cap'n," she said with a laugh; "but as long as we have the purple berries we needn't worry about our size." "in a circus," mused the old man, "we'd be curiosities. but in a sunbonnet--high up in the air--sailin' over a big, unknown ocean--they ain't no word in any booktionary to describe us." "why, we're midgets, that's all," said the little girl. the ork flew silently for a long time. the slight swaying of the sunbonnet made cap'n bill drowsy, and he began to doze. trot, however, was wide awake, and after enduring the monotonous journey as long as she was able she called out: "don't you see land anywhere, mr. ork?" "not yet," he answered. "this is a big ocean and i've no idea in which direction the nearest land to that island lies; but if i keep flying in a straight line i'm sure to reach some place some time." that seemed reasonable, so the little people in the sunbonnet remained as patient as possible; that is, cap'n bill dozed and trot tried to remember her geography lessons so she could figure out what land they were likely to arrive at. for hours and hours the ork flew steadily, keeping to the straight line and searching with his eyes the horizon of the ocean for land. cap'n bill was fast asleep and snoring and trot had laid her head on his shoulder to rest it when suddenly the ork exclaimed: "there! i've caught a glimpse of land, at last." at this announcement they roused themselves. cap'n bill stood up and tried to peek over the edge of the sunbonnet. "what does it look like?" he inquired. "looks like another island," said the ork; "but i can judge it better in a minute or two." "i don't care much for islands, since we visited that other one," declared trot. soon the ork made another announcement. "it is surely an island, and a little one, too," said he. "but i won't stop, because i see a much bigger land straight ahead of it." "that's right," approved cap'n bill. "the bigger the land, the better it will suit us." "it's almost a continent," continued the ork after a brief silence, during which he did not decrease the speed of his flight. "i wonder if it can be orkland, the place i have been seeking so long?" "i hope not," whispered trot to cap'n bill--so softly that the ork could not hear her--"for i shouldn't like to be in a country where only orks live. this one ork isn't a bad companion, but a lot of him wouldn't be much fun." after a few more minutes of flying the ork called out in a sad voice: "no! this is not my country. it's a place i have never seen before, although i have wandered far and wide. it seems to be all mountains and deserts and green valleys and queer cities and lakes and rivers--mixed up in a very puzzling way." "most countries are like that," commented cap'n bill. "are you going to land?" "pretty soon," was the reply. "there is a mountain peak just ahead of me. what do you say to our landing on that?" "all right," agreed the sailor-man, for both he and trot were getting tired of riding in the sunbonnet and longed to set foot on solid ground again. so in a few minutes the ork slowed down his speed and then came to a stop so easily that they were scarcely jarred at all. then the creature squatted down until the sunbonnet rested on the ground, and began trying to unfasten with its claws the knotted strings. this proved a very clumsy task, because the strings were tied at the back of the ork's neck, just where his claws would not easily reach. after much fumbling he said: "i'm afraid i can't let you out, and there is no one near to help me." this was at first discouraging, but after a little thought cap'n bill said: "if you don't mind, trot, i can cut a slit in your sunbonnet with my knife." "do," she replied. "the slit won't matter, 'cause i can sew it up again afterward, when i am big." so cap'n bill got out his knife, which was just as small, in proportion, as he was, and after considerable trouble managed to cut a long slit in the sunbonnet. first he squeezed through the opening himself and then helped trot to get out. when they stood on firm ground again their first act was to begin eating the dark purple berries which they had brought with them. two of these trot had guarded carefully during the long journey, by holding them in her lap, for their safety meant much to the tiny people. "i'm not very hungry," said the little girl as she handed a berry to cap'n bill, "but hunger doesn't count, in this case. it's like taking medicine to make you well, so we must manage to eat 'em, somehow or other." but the berries proved quite pleasant to taste and as cap'n bill and trot nibbled at their edges their forms began to grow in size--slowly but steadily. the bigger they grew the easier it was for them to eat the berries, which of course became smaller to them, and by the time the fruit was eaten our friends had regained their natural size. the little girl was greatly relieved when she found herself as large as she had ever been, and cap'n bill shared her satisfaction; for, although they had seen the effect of the berries on the ork, they had not been sure the magic fruit would have the same effect on human beings, or that the magic would work in any other country than that in which the berries grew. "what shall we do with the other four berries?" asked trot, as she picked up her sunbonnet, marveling that she had ever been small enough to ride in it. "they're no good to us now, are they, cap'n?" "i'm not sure as to that," he replied. "if they were eaten by one who had never eaten the lavender berries, they might have no effect at all; but then, contrarywise, they might. one of 'em has got badly jammed, so i'll throw it away, but the other three i b'lieve i'll carry with me. they're magic things, you know, and may come handy to us some time." he now searched in his big pockets and drew out a small wooden box with a sliding cover. the sailor had kept an assortment of nails, of various sizes, in this box, but those he now dumped loosely into his pocket and in the box placed the three sound purple berries. when this important matter was attended to they found time to look about them and see what sort of place the ork had landed them in. chapter seven the bumpy man the mountain on which they had alighted was not a barren waste, but had on its sides patches of green grass, some bushes, a few slender trees and here and there masses of tumbled rocks. the sides of the slope seemed rather steep, but with care one could climb up or down them with ease and safety. the view from where they now stood showed pleasant valleys and fertile hills lying below the heights. trot thought she saw some houses of queer shapes scattered about the lower landscape, and there were moving dots that might be people or animals, yet were too far away for her to see them clearly. not far from the place where they stood was the top of the mountain, which seemed to be flat, so the ork proposed to his companions that he would fly up and see what was there. "that's a good idea," said trot, "'cause it's getting toward evening and we'll have to find a place to sleep." the ork had not been gone more than a few minutes when they saw him appear on the edge of the top which was nearest them. "come on up!" he called. so trot and cap'n bill began to ascend the steep slope and it did not take them long to reach the place where the ork awaited them. their first view of the mountain top pleased them very much. it was a level space of wider extent than they had guessed and upon it grew grass of a brilliant green color. in the very center stood a house built of stone and very neatly constructed. no one was in sight, but smoke was coming from the chimney, so with one accord all three began walking toward the house. "i wonder," said trot, "in what country we are, and if it's very far from my home in california." "can't say as to that, partner," answered cap'n bill, "but i'm mighty certain we've come a long way since we struck that whirlpool." "yes," she agreed, with a sigh, "it must be miles and miles!" "distance means nothing," said the ork. "i have flown pretty much all over the world, trying to find my home, and it is astonishing how many little countries there are, hidden away in the cracks and corners of this big globe of earth. if one travels, he may find some new country at every turn, and a good many of them have never yet been put upon the maps." "p'raps this is one of them," suggested trot. they reached the house after a brisk walk and cap'n bill knocked upon the door. it was at once opened by a rugged looking man who had "bumps all over him," as trot afterward declared. there were bumps on his head, bumps on his body and bumps on his arms and legs and hands. even his fingers had bumps on the ends of them. for dress he wore an old gray suit of fantastic design, which fitted him very badly because of the bumps it covered but could not conceal. but the bumpy man's eyes were kind and twinkling in expression and as soon as he saw his visitors he bowed low and said in a rather bumpy voice: "happy day! come in and shut the door, for it grows cool when the sun goes down. winter is now upon us." "why, it isn't cold a bit, outside," said trot, "so it can't be winter yet." "you will change your mind about that in a little while," declared the bumpy man. "my bumps always tell me the state of the weather, and they feel just now as if a snowstorm was coming this way. but make yourselves at home, strangers. supper is nearly ready and there is food enough for all." inside the house there was but one large room, simply but comfortably furnished. it had benches, a table and a fireplace, all made of stone. on the hearth a pot was bubbling and steaming, and trot thought it had a rather nice smell. the visitors seated themselves upon the benches--except the ork. which squatted by the fireplace--and the bumpy man began stirring the kettle briskly. "may i ask what country this is, sir?" inquired cap'n bill. "goodness me--fruit-cake and apple-sauce!--don't you know where you are?" asked the bumpy man, as he stopped stirring and looked at the speaker in surprise. "no," admitted cap'n bill. "we've just arrived." "lost your way?" questioned the bumpy man. "not exactly," said cap'n bill. "we didn't have any way to lose." "ah!" said the bumpy man, nodding his bumpy head. "this," he announced, in a solemn, impressive voice, "is the famous land of mo." "oh!" exclaimed the sailor and the girl, both in one breath. but, never having heard of the land of mo, they were no wiser than before. "i thought that would startle you," remarked the bumpy man, well pleased, as he resumed his stirring. the ork watched him a while in silence and then asked: "who may you be?" "me?" answered the bumpy man. "haven't you heard of me? gingerbread and lemon-juice! i'm known, far and wide, as the mountain ear." they all received this information in silence at first, for they were trying to think what he could mean. finally trot mustered up courage to ask: "what is a mountain ear, please?" for answer the man turned around and faced them, waving the spoon with which he had been stirring the kettle, as he recited the following verses in a singsong tone of voice: "here's a mountain, hard of hearing, that's sad-hearted and needs cheering, so my duty is to listen to all sounds that nature makes, so the hill won't get uneasy-- get to coughing, or get sneezy-- for this monster bump, when frightened, is quite liable to quakes. "you can hear a bell that's ringing; i can feel some people's singing; but a mountain isn't sensible of what goes on, and so when i hear a blizzard blowing or it's raining hard, or snowing, i tell it to the mountain and the mountain seems to know. "thus i benefit all people while i'm living on this steeple, for i keep the mountain steady so my neighbors all may thrive. with my list'ning and my shouting i prevent this mount from spouting, and that makes me so important that i'm glad that i'm alive." when he had finished these lines of verse the bumpy man turned again to resume his stirring. the ork laughed softly and cap'n bill whistled to himself and trot made up her mind that the mountain ear must be a little crazy. but the bumpy man seemed satisfied that he had explained his position fully and presently he placed four stone plates upon the table and then lifted the kettle from the fire and poured some of its contents on each of the plates. cap'n bill and trot at once approached the table, for they were hungry, but when she examined her plate the little girl exclaimed: "why, it's molasses candy!" "to be sure," returned the bumpy man, with a pleasant smile. "eat it quick, while it's hot, for it cools very quickly this winter weather." with this he seized a stone spoon and began putting the hot molasses candy into his mouth, while the others watched him in astonishment. "doesn't it burn you?" asked the girl. "no indeed," said he. "why don't you eat? aren't you hungry?" "yes," she replied, "i am hungry. but we usually eat our candy when it is cold and hard. we always pull molasses candy before we eat it." "ha, ha, ha!" laughed the mountain ear. "what a funny idea! where in the world did you come from?" "california," she said. "california! pooh! there isn't any such place. i've heard of every place in the land of mo, but i never before heard of california." "it isn't in the land of mo," she explained. "then it isn't worth talking about," declared the bumpy man, helping himself again from the steaming kettle, for he had been eating all the time he talked. "for my part," sighed cap'n bill, "i'd like a decent square meal, once more, just by way of variety. in the last place there was nothing but fruit to eat, and here it's worse, for there's nothing but candy." "molasses candy isn't so bad," said trot. "mine's nearly cool enough to pull, already. wait a bit, cap'n, and you can eat it." a little later she was able to gather the candy from the stone plate and begin to work it back and forth with her hands. the mountain ear was greatly amazed at this and watched her closely. it was really good candy and pulled beautifully, so that trot was soon ready to cut it into chunks for eating. cap'n bill condescended to eat one or two pieces and the ork ate several, but the bumpy man refused to try it. trot finished the plate of candy herself and then asked for a drink of water. "water?" said the mountain ear wonderingly. "what is that?" "something to drink. don't you have water in mo?" "none that ever i heard of," said he. "but i can give you some fresh lemonade. i caught it in a jar the last time it rained, which was only day before yesterday." "oh, does it rain lemonade here?" she inquired. "always; and it is very refreshing and healthful." with this he brought from a cupboard a stone jar and a dipper, and the girl found it very nice lemonade, indeed. cap'n bill liked it, too; but the ork would not touch it. "if there is no water in this country, i cannot stay here for long," the creature declared. "water means life to man and beast and bird." "there must be water in lemonade," said trot. "yes," answered the ork, "i suppose so; but there are other things in it, too, and they spoil the good water." the day's adventures had made our wanderers tired, so the bumpy man brought them some blankets in which they rolled themselves and then lay down before the fire, which their host kept alive with fuel all through the night. trot wakened several times and found the mountain ear always alert and listening intently for the slightest sound. but the little girl could hear no sound at all except the snores of cap'n bill. chapter eight button-bright is lost and found again "wake up--wake up!" called the voice of the bumpy man. "didn't i tell you winter was coming? i could hear it coming with my left ear, and the proof is that it is now snowing hard outside." "is it?" said trot, rubbing her eyes and creeping out of her blanket. "where i live, in california, i have never seen snow, except far away on the tops of high mountains." "well, this is the top of a high mountain," returned the bumpy one, "and for that reason we get our heaviest snowfalls right here." the little girl went to the window and looked out. the air was filled with falling white flakes, so large in size and so queer in form that she was puzzled. "are you certain this is snow?" she asked. "to be sure. i must get my snow-shovel and turn out to shovel a path. would you like to come with me?" "yes," she said, and followed the bumpy man out when he opened the door. then she exclaimed: "why, it isn't cold a bit!" "of course not," replied the man. "it was cold last night, before the snowstorm; but snow, when it falls, is always crisp and warm." trot gathered a handful of it. "why, it's popcorn?" she cried. "certainly; all snow is popcorn. what did you expect it to be?" "popcorn is not snow in my country." "well, it is the only snow we have in the land of mo, so you may as well make the best of it," said he, a little impatiently. "i'm not responsible for the absurd things that happen in your country, and when you're in mo you must do as the momen do. eat some of our snow, and you will find it is good. the only fault i find with our snow is that we get too much of it at times." with this the bumpy man set to work shoveling a path and he was so quick and industrious that he piled up the popcorn in great banks on either side of the trail that led to the mountain-top from the plains below. while he worked, trot ate popcorn and found it crisp and slightly warm, as well as nicely salted and buttered. presently cap'n bill came out of the house and joined her. "what's this?" he asked. "mo snow," said she. "but it isn't real snow, although it falls from the sky. it's popcorn." cap'n bill tasted it; then he sat down in the path and began to eat. the ork came out and pecked away with its bill as fast as it could. they all liked popcorn and they all were hungry this morning. meantime the flakes of "mo snow" came down so fast that the number of them almost darkened the air. the bumpy man was now shoveling quite a distance down the mountain-side, while the path behind him rapidly filled up with fresh-fallen popcorn. suddenly trot heard him call out: "goodness gracious--mince pie and pancakes!--here is some one buried in the snow." she ran toward him at once and the others followed, wading through the corn and crunching it underneath their feet. the mo snow was pretty deep where the bumpy man was shoveling and from beneath a great bank of it he had uncovered a pair of feet. "dear me! someone has been lost in the storm," said cap'n bill. "i hope he is still alive. let's pull him out and see." he took hold of one foot and the bumpy man took hold of the other. then they both pulled and out from the heap of popcorn came a little boy. he was dressed in a brown velvet jacket and knickerbockers, with brown stockings, buckled shoes and a blue shirt-waist that had frills down its front. when drawn from the heap the boy was chewing a mouthful of popcorn and both his hands were full of it. so at first he couldn't speak to his rescuers but lay quite still and eyed them calmly until he had swallowed his mouthful. then he said: "get my cap," and stuffed more popcorn into his mouth. while the bumpy man began shoveling into the corn-bank to find the boy's cap, trot was laughing joyfully and cap'n bill had a broad grin on his face. the ork looked from one to another and asked: "who is this stranger?" "why, it's button-bright, of course," answered trot. "if anyone ever finds a lost boy, he can make up his mind it's button-bright. but how he ever came to be lost in this far-away country is more'n i can make out." "where does he belong?" inquired the ork. "his home used to be in philadelphia, i think; but i'm quite sure button-bright doesn't belong anywhere." "that's right," said the boy, nodding his head as he swallowed the second mouthful. "everyone belongs somewhere," remarked the ork. "not me," insisted button-bright. "i'm half way round the world from philadelphia, and i've lost my magic umbrella, that used to carry me anywhere. stands to reason that if i can't get back i haven't any home. but i don't care much. this is a pretty good country, trot. i've had lots of fun here." by this time the mountain ear had secured the boy's cap and was listening to the conversation with much interest. "it seems you know this poor, snow-covered cast-away," he said. "yes, indeed," answered trot. "we made a journey together to sky island, once, and were good friends." "well, then i'm glad i saved his life," said the bumpy man. "much obliged, mr. knobs," said button-bright, sitting up and staring at him, "but i don't believe you've saved anything except some popcorn that i might have eaten had you not disturbed me. it was nice and warm in that bank of popcorn, and there was plenty to eat. what made you dig me out? and what makes you so bumpy everywhere?" "as for the bumps," replied the man, looking at himself with much pride, "i was born with them and i suspect they were a gift from the fairies. they make me look rugged and big, like the mountain i serve." "all right," said button-bright and began eating popcorn again. it had stopped snowing, now, and great flocks of birds were gathering around the mountain-side, eating the popcorn with much eagerness and scarcely noticing the people at all. there were birds of every size and color, most of them having gorgeous feathers and plumes. "just look at them!" exclaimed the ork scornfully. "aren't they dreadful creatures, all covered with feathers?" "i think they're beautiful," said trot, and this made the ork so indignant that he went back into the house and sulked. button-bright reached out his hand and caught a big bird by the leg. at once it rose into the air and it was so strong that it nearly carried the little boy with it. he let go the leg in a hurry and the bird flew down again and began to eat of the popcorn, not being frightened in the least. this gave cap'n bill an idea. he felt in his pocket and drew out several pieces of stout string. moving very quietly, so as to not alarm the birds, he crept up to several of the biggest ones and tied cords around their legs, thus making them prisoners. the birds were so intent on their eating that they did not notice what had happened to them, and when about twenty had been captured in this manner cap'n bill tied the ends of all the strings together and fastened them to a huge stone, so they could not escape. the bumpy man watched the old sailor's actions with much curiosity. "the birds will be quiet until they've eaten up all the snow," he said, "but then they will want to fly away to their homes. tell me, sir, what will the poor things do when they find they can't fly?" "it may worry 'em a little," replied cap'n bill, "but they're not going to be hurt if they take it easy and behave themselves." our friends had all made a good breakfast of the delicious popcorn and now they walked toward the house again. button-bright walked beside trot and held her hand in his, because they were old friends and he liked the little girl very much. the boy was not so old as trot, and small as she was he was half a head shorter in height. the most remarkable thing about button-bright was that he was always quiet and composed, whatever happened, and nothing was ever able to astonish him. trot liked him because he was not rude and never tried to plague her. cap'n bill liked him because he had found the boy cheerful and brave at all times, and willing to do anything he was asked to do. when they came to the house trot sniffed the air and asked "don't i smell perfume?" "i think you do," said the bumpy man. "you smell violets, and that proves there is a breeze springing up from the south. all our winds and breezes are perfumed and for that reason we are glad to have them blow in our direction. the south breeze always has a violet odor; the north breeze has the fragrance of wild roses; the east breeze is perfumed with lilies-of-the-valley and the west wind with lilac blossoms. so we need no weathervane to tell us which way the wind is blowing. we have only to smell the perfume and it informs us at once." inside the house they found the ork, and button-bright regarded the strange, birdlike creature with curious interest. after examining it closely for a time he asked: "which way does your tail whirl?" "either way," said the ork. button-bright put out his hand and tried to spin it. "don't do that!" exclaimed the ork. "why not?" inquired the boy. "because it happens to be my tail, and i reserve the right to whirl it myself," explained the ork. "let's go out and fly somewhere," proposed button-bright. "i want to see how the tail works." "not now," said the ork. "i appreciate your interest in me, which i fully deserve; but i only fly when i am going somewhere, and if i got started i might not stop." "that reminds me," remarked cap'n bill, "to ask you, friend ork, how we are going to get away from here?" "get away!" exclaimed the bumpy man. "why don't you stay here? you won't find any nicer place than mo." "have you been anywhere else, sir?" "no; i can't say that i have," admitted the mountain ear. "then permit me to say you're no judge," declared cap'n bill. "but you haven't answered my question, friend ork. how are we to get away from this mountain?" the ork reflected a while before he answered. "i might carry one of you--the boy or the girl--upon my back," said he, "but three big people are more than i can manage, although i have carried two of you for a short distance. you ought not to have eaten those purple berries so soon." "p'r'aps we did make a mistake," cap'n bill acknowledged. "or we might have brought some of those lavender berries with us, instead of so many purple ones," suggested trot regretfully. cap'n bill made no reply to this statement, which showed he did not fully agree with the little girl; but he fell into deep thought, with wrinkled brows, and finally he said: "if those purple berries would make anything grow bigger, whether it'd eaten the lavender ones or not, i could find a way out of our troubles." they did not understand this speech and looked at the old sailor as if expecting him to explain what he meant. but just then a chorus of shrill cries rose from outside. "here! let me go--let me go!" the voices seemed to say. "why are we insulted in this way? mountain ear, come and help us!" trot ran to the window and looked out. "it's the birds you caught, cap'n," she said. "i didn't know they could talk." "oh, yes; all the birds in mo are educated to talk," said the bumpy man. then he looked at cap'n bill uneasily and added: "won't you let the poor things go?" "i'll see," replied the sailor, and walked out to where the birds were fluttering and complaining because the strings would not allow them to fly away. "listen to me!" he cried, and at once they became still. "we three people who are strangers in your land want to go to some other country, and we want three of you birds to carry us there. we know we are asking a great favor, but it's the only way we can think of--excep' walkin', an' i'm not much good at that because i've a wooden leg. besides, trot an' button-bright are too small to undertake a long and tiresome journey. now, tell me: which three of you birds will consent to carry us?" the birds looked at one another as if greatly astonished. then one of them replied: "you must be crazy, old man. not one of us is big enough to fly with even the smallest of your party." "i'll fix the matter of size," promised cap'n bill. "if three of you will agree to carry us, i'll make you big an' strong enough to do it, so it won't worry you a bit." the birds considered this gravely. living in a magic country, they had no doubt but that the strange one-legged man could do what he said. after a little, one of them asked: "if you make us big, would we stay big always?" "i think so," replied cap'n bill. they chattered a while among themselves and then the bird that had first spoken said: "i'll go, for one." "so will i," said another; and after a pause a third said: "i'll go, too." perhaps more would have volunteered, for it seemed that for some reason they all longed to be bigger than they were; but three were enough for cap'n bill's purpose and so he promptly released all the others, who immediately flew away. the three that remained were cousins, and all were of the same brilliant plumage and in size about as large as eagles. when trot questioned them she found they were quite young, having only abandoned their nests a few weeks before. they were strong young birds, with clear, brave eyes, and the little girl decided they were the most beautiful of all the feathered creatures she had ever seen. cap'n bill now took from his pocket the wooden box with the sliding cover and removed the three purple berries, which were still in good condition. "eat these," he said, and gave one to each of the birds. they obeyed, finding the fruit very pleasant to taste. in a few seconds they began to grow in size and grew so fast that trot feared they would never stop. but they finally did stop growing, and then they were much larger than the ork, and nearly the size of full-grown ostriches. cap'n bill was much pleased by this result. "you can carry us now, all right," said he. the birds strutted around with pride, highly pleased with their immense size. "i don't see, though," said trot doubtfully, "how we're going to ride on their backs without falling off." "we're not going to ride on their backs," answered cap'n bill. "i'm going to make swings for us to ride in." he then asked the bumpy man for some rope, but the man had no rope. he had, however, an old suit of gray clothes which he gladly presented to cap'n bill, who cut the cloth into strips and twisted it so that it was almost as strong as rope. with this material he attached to each bird a swing that dangled below its feet, and button-bright made a trial flight in one of them to prove that it was safe and comfortable. when all this had been arranged one of the birds asked: "where do you wish us to take you?" "why, just follow the ork," said cap'n bill. "he will be our leader, and wherever the ork flies you are to fly, and wherever the ork lands you are to land. is that satisfactory?" the birds declared it was quite satisfactory, so cap'n bill took counsel with the ork. "on our way here," said that peculiar creature, "i noticed a broad, sandy desert at the left of me, on which was no living thing." "then we'd better keep away from it," replied the sailor. "not so," insisted the ork. "i have found, on my travels, that the most pleasant countries often lie in the midst of deserts; so i think it would be wise for us to fly over this desert and discover what lies beyond it. for in the direction we came from lies the ocean, as we well know, and beyond here is this strange land of mo, which we do not care to explore. on one side, as we can see from this mountain, is a broad expanse of plain, and on the other the desert. for my part, i vote for the desert." "what do you say, trot?" inquired cap'n bill. "it's all the same to me," she replied. no one thought of asking button-bright's opinion, so it was decided to fly over the desert. they bade good-bye to the bumpy man and thanked him for his kindness and hospitality. then they seated themselves in the swings--one for each bird--and told the ork to start away and they would follow. the whirl of the ork's tail astonished the birds at first, but after he had gone a short distance they rose in the air, carrying their passengers easily, and flew with strong, regular strokes of their great wings in the wake of their leader. chapter nine the kingdom of jinxland trot rode with more comfort than she had expected, although the swing swayed so much that she had to hold on tight with both hands. cap'n bill's bird followed the ork, and trot came next, with button-bright trailing behind her. it was quite an imposing procession, but unfortunately there was no one to see it, for the ork had headed straight for the great sandy desert and in a few minutes after starting they were flying high over the broad waste, where no living thing could exist. the little girl thought this would be a bad place for the birds to lose strength, or for the cloth ropes to give way; but although she could not help feeling a trifle nervous and fidgety she had confidence in the huge and brilliantly plumaged bird that bore her, as well as in cap'n bill's knowledge of how to twist and fasten a rope so it would hold. that was a remarkably big desert. there was nothing to relieve the monotony of view and every minute seemed an hour and every hour a day. disagreeable fumes and gases rose from the sands, which would have been deadly to the travelers had they not been so high in the air. as it was, trot was beginning to feel sick, when a breath of fresher air filled her nostrils and on looking ahead she saw a great cloud of pink-tinted mist. even while she wondered what it could be, the ork plunged boldly into the mist and the other birds followed. she could see nothing for a time, nor could the bird which carried her see where the ork had gone, but it kept flying as sturdily as ever and in a few moments the mist was passed and the girl saw a most beautiful landscape spread out below her, extending as far as her eye could reach. she saw bits of forest, verdure clothed hills, fields of waving grain, fountains, rivers and lakes; and throughout the scene were scattered groups of pretty houses and a few grand castles and palaces. over all this delightful landscape--which from trot's high perch seemed like a magnificent painted picture--was a rosy glow such as we sometimes see in the west at sunset. in this case, however, it was not in the west only, but everywhere. no wonder the ork paused to circle slowly over this lovely country. the other birds followed his action, all eyeing the place with equal delight. then, as with one accord, the four formed a group and slowly sailed downward. this brought them to that part of the newly-discovered land which bordered on the desert's edge; but it was just as pretty here as anywhere, so the ork and the birds alighted and the three passengers at once got out of their swings. "oh, cap'n bill, isn't this fine an' dandy?" exclaimed trot rapturously. "how lucky we were to discover this beautiful country!" "the country seems rather high class, i'll admit, trot," replied the old sailor-man, looking around him, "but we don't know, as yet, what its people are like." "no one could live in such a country without being happy and good--i'm sure of that," she said earnestly. "don't you think so, button-bright?" "i'm not thinking, just now," answered the little boy. "it tires me to think, and i never seem to gain anything by it. when we see the people who live here we will know what they are like, and no 'mount of thinking will make them any different." "that's true enough," said the ork. "but now i want to make a proposal. while you are getting acquainted with this new country, which looks as if it contains everything to make one happy, i would like to fly along--all by myself--and see if i can find my home on the other side of the great desert. if i do, i will stay there, of course. but if i fail to find orkland i will return to you in a week, to see if i can do anything more to assist you." they were sorry to lose their queer companion, but could offer no objection to the plan; so the ork bade them good-bye and rising swiftly in the air, he flew over the country and was soon lost to view in the distance. the three birds which had carried our friends now begged permission to return by the way they had come, to their own homes, saying they were anxious to show their families how big they had become. so cap'n bill and trot and button-bright all thanked them gratefully for their assistance and soon the birds began their long flight toward the land of mo. being now left to themselves in this strange land, the three comrades selected a pretty pathway and began walking along it. they believed this path would lead them to a splendid castle which they espied in the distance, the turrets of which towered far above the tops of the trees which surrounded it. it did not seem very far away, so they sauntered on slowly, admiring the beautiful ferns and flowers that lined the pathway and listening to the singing of the birds and the soft chirping of the grasshoppers. presently the path wound over a little hill. in a valley that lay beyond the hill was a tiny cottage surrounded by flower beds and fruit trees. on the shady porch of the cottage they saw, as they approached, a pleasant faced woman sitting amidst a group of children, to whom she was telling stories. the children quickly discovered the strangers and ran toward them with exclamations of astonishment, so that trot and her friends became the center of a curious group, all chattering excitedly. cap'n bill's wooden leg seemed to arouse the wonder of the children, as they could not understand why he had not two meat legs. this attention seemed to please the old sailor, who patted the heads of the children kindly and then, raising his hat to the woman, he inquired: "can you tell us, madam, just what country this is?" she stared hard at all three of the strangers as she replied briefly: "jinxland." "oh!" exclaimed cap'n bill, with a puzzled look. "and where is jinxland, please?" "in the quadling country," said she. "what!" cried trot, in sudden excitement. "do you mean to say this is the quadling country of the land of oz?" "to be sure i do," the woman answered. "every bit of land that is surrounded by the great desert is the land of oz, as you ought to know as well as i do; but i'm sorry to say that jinxland is separated from the rest of the quadling country by that row of high mountains you see yonder, which have such steep sides that no one can cross them. so we live here all by ourselves, and are ruled by our own king, instead of by ozma of oz." "i've been to the land of oz before," said button-bright, "but i've never been here." "did you ever hear of jinxland before?" asked trot. "no," said button-bright. "it is on the map of oz, though," asserted the woman, "and it's a fine country, i assure you. if only," she added, and then paused to look around her with a frightened expression. "if only--" here she stopped again, as if not daring to go on with her speech. "if only what, ma'am?" asked cap'n bill. the woman sent the children into the house. then she came closer to the strangers and whispered: "if only we had a different king, we would be very happy and contented." "what's the matter with your king?" asked trot, curiously. but the woman seemed frightened to have said so much. she retreated to her porch, merely saying: "the king punishes severely any treason on the part of his subjects." "what's treason?" asked button-bright. "in this case," replied cap'n bill, "treason seems to consist of knockin' the king; but i guess we know his disposition now as well as if the lady had said more." "i wonder," said trot, going up to the woman, "if you could spare us something to eat. we haven't had anything but popcorn and lemonade for a long time." "bless your heart! of course i can spare you some food," the woman answered, and entering her cottage she soon returned with a tray loaded with sandwiches, cakes and cheese. one of the children drew a bucket of clear, cold water from a spring and the three wanderers ate heartily and enjoyed the good things immensely. when button-bright could eat no more he filled the pockets of his jacket with cakes and cheese, and not even the children objected to this. indeed they all seemed pleased to see the strangers eat, so cap'n bill decided that no matter what the king of jinxland was like, the people would prove friendly and hospitable. "whose castle is that, yonder, ma'am?" he asked, waving his hand toward the towers that rose above the trees. "it belongs to his majesty, king krewl." she said. "oh, indeed; and does he live there?" "when he is not out hunting with his fierce courtiers and war captains," she replied. "is he hunting now?" trot inquired. "i do not know, my dear. the less we know about the king's actions the safer we are." it was evident the woman did not like to talk about king krewl and so, having finished their meal, they said good-bye and continued along the pathway. "don't you think we'd better keep away from that king's castle, cap'n?" asked trot. "well," said he, "king krewl would find out, sooner or later, that we are in his country, so we may as well face the music now. perhaps he isn't quite so bad as that woman thinks he is. kings aren't always popular with their people, you know, even if they do the best they know how." "ozma is pop'lar," said button-bright. "ozma is diff'rent from any other ruler, from all i've heard," remarked trot musingly, as she walked beside the boy. "and, after all, we are really in the land of oz, where ozma rules ev'ry king and ev'rybody else. i never heard of anybody getting hurt in her dominions, did you, button-bright?" "not when she knows about it," he replied. "but those birds landed us in just the wrong place, seems to me. they might have carried us right on, over that row of mountains, to the em'rald city." "true enough," said cap'n bill; "but they didn't, an' so we must make the best of jinxland. let's try not to be afraid." "oh, i'm not very scared," said button-bright, pausing to look at a pink rabbit that popped its head out of a hole in the field near by. "nor am i," added trot. "really, cap'n, i'm so glad to be anywhere at all in the wonderful fairyland of oz that i think i'm the luckiest girl in all the world. dorothy lives in the em'rald city, you know, and so does the scarecrow and the tin woodman and tik-tok and the shaggy man--and all the rest of 'em that we've heard so much about--not to mention ozma, who must be the sweetest and loveliest girl in all the world!" "take your time, trot," advised button-bright. "you don't have to say it all in one breath, you know. and you haven't mentioned half of the curious people in the em'rald city." "that 'ere em'rald city," said cap'n bill impressively, "happens to be on the other side o' those mountains, that we're told no one is able to cross. i don't want to discourage of you, trot, but we're a'most as much separated from your ozma an' dorothy as we were when we lived in californy." there was so much truth in this statement that they all walked on in silence for some time. finally they reached the grove of stately trees that bordered the grounds of the king's castle. they had gone halfway through it when the sound of sobbing, as of someone in bitter distress, reached their ears and caused them to halt abruptly. chapter ten pon, the gardener's boy it was button-bright who first discovered, lying on his face beneath a broad spreading tree near the pathway, a young man whose body shook with the force of his sobs. he was dressed in a long brown smock and had sandals on his feet, betokening one in humble life. his head was bare and showed a shock of brown, curly hair. button-bright looked down on the young man and said: "who cares, anyhow?" "i do!" cried the young man, interrupting his sobs to roll over, face upward, that he might see who had spoken. "i care, for my heart is broken!" "can't you get another one?" asked the little boy. "i don't want another!" wailed the young man. by this time trot and cap'n bill arrived at the spot and the girl leaned over and said in a sympathetic voice: "tell us your troubles and perhaps we may help you." the youth sat up, then, and bowed politely. afterward he got upon his feet, but still kept wringing his hands as he tried to choke down his sobs. trot thought he was very brave to control such awful agony so well. "my name is pon," he began. "i'm the gardener's boy." "then the gardener of the king is your father, i suppose," said trot. "not my father, but my master," was the reply "i do the work and the gardener gives the orders. and it was not my fault, in the least, that the princess gloria fell in love with me." "did she, really?" asked the little girl. "i don't see why," remarked button-bright, staring at the youth. "and who may the princess gloria be?" inquired cap'n bill. "she is the niece of king krewl, who is her guardian. the princess lives in the castle and is the loveliest and sweetest maiden in all jinxland. she is fond of flowers and used to walk in the gardens with her attendants. at such times, if i was working at my tasks, i used to cast down my eyes as gloria passed me; but one day i glanced up and found her gazing at me with a very tender look in her eyes. the next day she dismissed her attendants and, coming to my side, began to talk with me. she said i had touched her heart as no other young man had ever done. i kissed her hand. just then the king came around a bend in the walk. he struck me with his fist and kicked me with his foot. then he seized the arm of the princess and rudely dragged her into the castle." "wasn't he awful!" gasped trot indignantly. "he is a very abrupt king," said pon, "so it was the least i could expect. up to that time i had not thought of loving princess gloria, but realizing it would be impolite not to return her love, i did so. we met at evening, now and then, and she told me the king wanted her to marry a rich courtier named googly-goo, who is old enough to be gloria's father. she has refused googly-goo thirty-nine times, but he still persists and has brought many rich presents to bribe the king. on that account king krewl has commanded his niece to marry the old man, but the princess has assured me, time and again, that she will wed only me. this morning we happened to meet in the grape arbor and as i was respectfully saluting the cheek of the princess, two of the king's guards seized me and beat me terribly before the very eyes of gloria, whom the king himself held back so she could not interfere." "why, this king must be a monster!" cried trot. "he is far worse than that," said pon, mournfully. "but, see here," interrupted cap'n bill, who had listened carefully to pon. "this king may not be so much to blame, after all. kings are proud folks, because they're so high an' mighty, an' it isn't reasonable for a royal princess to marry a common gardener's boy." "it isn't right," declared button-bright. "a princess should marry a prince." "i'm not a common gardener's boy," protested pon. "if i had my rights i would be the king instead of krewl. as it is, i'm a prince, and as royal as any man in jinxland." "how does that come?" asked cap'n bill. "my father used to be the king and krewl was his prime minister. but one day while out hunting, king phearse--that was my father's name--had a quarrel with krewl and tapped him gently on the nose with the knuckles of his closed hand. this so provoked the wicked krewl that he tripped my father backward, so that he fell into a deep pond. at once krewl threw in a mass of heavy stones, which so weighted down my poor father that his body could not rise again to the surface. it is impossible to kill anyone in this land, as perhaps you know, but when my father was pressed down into the mud at the bottom of the deep pool and the stones held him so he could never escape, he was of no more use to himself or the world than if he had died. knowing this, krewl proclaimed himself king, taking possession of the royal castle and driving all my father's people out. i was a small boy, then, but when i grew up i became a gardener. i have served king krewl without his knowing that i am the son of the same king phearse whom he so cruelly made away with." "my, but that's a terr'bly exciting story!" said trot, drawing a long breath. "but tell us, pon, who was gloria's father?" "oh, he was the king before my father," replied pon. "father was prime minister for king kynd, who was gloria's father. she was only a baby when king kynd fell into the great gulf that lies just this side of the mountains--the same mountains that separate jinxland from the rest of the land of oz. it is said the great gulf has no bottom; but, however that may be, king kynd has never been seen again and my father became king in his place." "seems to me," said trot, "that if gloria had her rights she would be queen of jinxland." "well, her father was a king," admitted pon, "and so was my father; so we are of equal rank, although she's a great lady and i'm a humble gardener's boy. i can't see why we should not marry if we want to except that king krewl won't let us." "it's a sort of mixed-up mess, taken altogether," remarked cap'n bill. "but we are on our way to visit king krewl, and if we get a chance, young man, we'll put in a good word for you." "do, please!" begged pon. "was it the flogging you got that broke your heart?" inquired button-bright. "why, it helped to break it, of course," said pon. "i'd get it fixed up, if i were you," advised the boy, tossing a pebble at a chipmunk in a tree. "you ought to give gloria just as good a heart as she gives you." "that's common sense," agreed cap'n bill. so they left the gardener's boy standing beside the path, and resumed their journey toward the castle. chapter eleven the wicked king and googly-goo when our friends approached the great doorway of the castle they found it guarded by several soldiers dressed in splendid uniforms. they were armed with swords and lances. cap'n bill walked straight up to them and asked: "does the king happen to be at home?" "his magnificent and glorious majesty, king krewl, is at present inhabiting his royal castle," was the stiff reply. "then i guess we'll go in an' say how-d'ye-do," continued cap'n bill, attempting to enter the doorway. but a soldier barred his way with a lance. "who are you, what are your names, and where do you come from?" demanded the soldier. "you wouldn't know if we told you," returned the sailor, "seein' as we're strangers in a strange land." "oh, if you are strangers you will be permitted to enter," said the soldier, lowering his lance. "his majesty is very fond of strangers." "do many strangers come here?" asked trot. "you are the first that ever came to our country," said the man. "but his majesty has often said that if strangers ever arrived in jinxland he would see that they had a very exciting time." cap'n bill scratched his chin thoughtfully. he wasn't very favorably impressed by this last remark. but he decided that as there was no way of escape from jinxland it would be wise to confront the king boldly and try to win his favor. so they entered the castle, escorted by one of the soldiers. it was certainly a fine castle, with many large rooms, all beautifully furnished. the passages were winding and handsomely decorated, and after following several of these the soldier led them into an open court that occupied the very center of the huge building. it was surrounded on every side by high turreted walls, and contained beds of flowers, fountains and walks of many colored marbles which were matched together in quaint designs. in an open space near the middle of the court they saw a group of courtiers and their ladies, who surrounded a lean man who wore upon his head a jeweled crown. his face was hard and sullen and through the slits of his half-closed eyelids the eyes glowed like coals of fire. he was dressed in brilliant satins and velvets and was seated in a golden throne-chair. this personage was king krewl, and as soon as cap'n bill saw him the old sailor knew at once that he was not going to like the king of jinxland. "hello! who's here?" said his majesty, with a deep scowl. "strangers, sire," answered the soldier, bowing so low that his forehead touched the marble tiles. "strangers, eh? well, well; what an unexpected visit! advance, strangers, and give an account of yourselves." the king's voice was as harsh as his features. trot shuddered a little but cap'n bill calmly replied: "there ain't much for us to say, 'cept as we've arrived to look over your country an' see how we like it. judgin' from the way you speak, you don't know who we are, or you'd be jumpin' up to shake hands an' offer us seats. kings usually treat us pretty well, in the great big outside world where we come from, but in this little kingdom--which don't amount to much, anyhow--folks don't seem to 'a' got much culchure." the king listened with amazement to this bold speech, first with a frown and then gazing at the two children and the old sailor with evident curiosity. the courtiers were dumb with fear, for no one had ever dared speak in such a manner to their self-willed, cruel king before. his majesty, however, was somewhat frightened, for cruel people are always cowards, and he feared these mysterious strangers might possess magic powers that would destroy him unless he treated them well. so he commanded his people to give the new arrivals seats, and they obeyed with trembling haste. after being seated, cap'n bill lighted his pipe and began puffing smoke from it, a sight so strange to them that it filled them all with wonder. presently the king asked: "how did you penetrate to this hidden country? did you cross the desert or the mountains?" "desert," answered cap'n bill, as if the task were too easy to be worth talking about. "indeed! no one has ever been able to do that before," said the king. "well, it's easy enough, if you know how," asserted cap'n bill, so carelessly that it greatly impressed his hearers. the king shifted in his throne uneasily. he was more afraid of these strangers than before. "do you intend to stay long in jinxland?" was his next anxious question. "depends on how we like it," said cap'n bill. "just now i might suggest to your majesty to order some rooms got ready for us in your dinky little castle here. and a royal banquet, with some fried onions an' pickled tripe, would set easy on our stomicks an' make us a bit happier than we are now." "your wishes shall be attended to," said king krewl, but his eyes flashed from between their slits in a wicked way that made trot hope the food wouldn't be poisoned. at the king's command several of his attendants hastened away to give the proper orders to the castle servants and no sooner were they gone than a skinny old man entered the courtyard and bowed before the king. this disagreeable person was dressed in rich velvets, with many furbelows and laces. he was covered with golden chains, finely wrought rings and jeweled ornaments. he walked with mincing steps and glared at all the courtiers as if he considered himself far superior to any or all of them. "well, well, your majesty; what news--what news?" he demanded, in a shrill, cracked voice. the king gave him a surly look. "no news, lord googly-goo, except that strangers have arrived," he said. googly-goo cast a contemptuous glance at cap'n bill and a disdainful one at trot and button-bright. then he said: "strangers do not interest me, your majesty. but the princess gloria is very interesting--very interesting, indeed! what does she say, sire? will she marry me?" "ask her," retorted the king. "i have, many times; and every time she has refused." "well?" said the king harshly. "well," said googly-goo in a jaunty tone, "a bird that can sing, and won't sing, must be made to sing." "huh!" sneered the king. "that's easy, with a bird; but a girl is harder to manage." "still," persisted googly-goo, "we must overcome difficulties. the chief trouble is that gloria fancies she loves that miserable gardener's boy, pon. suppose we throw pon into the great gulf, your majesty?" "it would do you no good," returned the king. "she would still love him." "too bad, too bad!" sighed googly-goo. "i have laid aside more than a bushel of precious gems--each worth a king's ransom--to present to your majesty on the day i wed gloria." the king's eyes sparkled, for he loved wealth above everything; but the next moment he frowned deeply again. "it won't help us to kill pon," he muttered. "what we must do is kill gloria's love for pon." "that is better, if you can find a way to do it," agreed googly-goo. "everything would come right if you could kill gloria's love for that gardener's boy. really, sire, now that i come to think of it, there must be fully a bushel and a half of those jewels!" just then a messenger entered the court to say that the banquet was prepared for the strangers. so cap'n bill, trot and button-bright entered the castle and were taken to a room where a fine feast was spread upon the table. "i don't like that lord googly-goo," remarked trot as she was busily eating. "nor i," said cap'n bill. "but from the talk we heard i guess the gardener's boy won't get the princess." "perhaps not," returned the girl; "but i hope old googly doesn't get her, either." "the king means to sell her for all those jewels," observed button-bright, his mouth half full of cake and jam. "poor princess!" sighed trot. "i'm sorry for her, although i've never seen her. but if she says no to googly-goo, and means it, what can they do?" "don't let us worry about a strange princess," advised cap'n bill. "i've a notion we're not too safe, ourselves, with this cruel king." the two children felt the same way and all three were rather solemn during the remainder of the meal. when they had eaten, the servants escorted them to their rooms. cap'n bill's room was way to one end of the castle, very high up, and trot's room was at the opposite end, rather low down. as for button-bright, they placed him in the middle, so that all were as far apart as they could possibly be. they didn't like this arrangement very well, but all the rooms were handsomely furnished and being guests of the king they dared not complain. after the strangers had left the courtyard the king and googly-goo had a long talk together, and the king said: "i cannot force gloria to marry you just now, because those strangers may interfere. i suspect that the wooden-legged man possesses great magical powers, or he would never have been able to carry himself and those children across the deadly desert." "i don't like him; he looks dangerous," answered googly-goo. "but perhaps you are mistaken about his being a wizard. why don't you test his powers?" "how?" asked the king. "send for the wicked witch. she will tell you in a moment whether that wooden-legged person is a common man or a magician." "ha! that's a good idea," cried the king. "why didn't i think of the wicked witch before? but the woman demands rich rewards for her services." "never mind; i will pay her," promised the wealthy googly-goo. so a servant was dispatched to summon the wicked witch, who lived but a few leagues from king krewl's castle. while they awaited her, the withered old courtier proposed that they pay a visit to princess gloria and see if she was not now in a more complaisant mood. so the two started away together and searched the castle over without finding gloria. at last googly-goo suggested she might be in the rear garden, which was a large park filled with bushes and trees and surrounded by a high wall. and what was their anger, when they turned a corner of the path, to find in a quiet nook the beautiful princess, and kneeling before her, pon, the gardener's boy! with a roar of rage the king dashed forward; but pon had scaled the wall by means of a ladder, which still stood in its place, and when he saw the king coming he ran up the ladder and made good his escape. but this left gloria confronted by her angry guardian, the king, and by old googly-goo, who was trembling with a fury he could not express in words. seizing the princess by her arm the king dragged her back to the castle. pushing her into a room on the lower floor he locked the door upon the unhappy girl. and at that moment the arrival of the wicked witch was announced. hearing this, the king smiled, as a tiger smiles, showing his teeth. and googly-goo smiled, as a serpent smiles, for he had no teeth except a couple of fangs. and having frightened each other with these smiles the two dreadful men went away to the royal council chamber to meet the wicked witch. chapter twelve the wooden-legged grass-hopper now it so happened that trot, from the window of her room, had witnessed the meeting of the lovers in the garden and had seen the king come and drag gloria away. the little girl's heart went out in sympathy for the poor princess, who seemed to her to be one of the sweetest and loveliest young ladies she had ever seen, so she crept along the passages and from a hidden niche saw gloria locked in her room. the key was still in the lock, so when the king had gone away, followed by googly-goo, trot stole up to the door, turned the key and entered. the princess lay prone upon a couch, sobbing bitterly. trot went up to her and smoothed her hair and tried to comfort her. "don't cry," she said. "i've unlocked the door, so you can go away any time you want to." "it isn't that," sobbed the princess. "i am unhappy because they will not let me love pon, the gardener's boy!" "well, never mind; pon isn't any great shakes, anyhow, seems to me," said trot soothingly. "there are lots of other people you can love." gloria rolled over on the couch and looked at the little girl reproachfully. "pon has won my heart, and i can't help loving him," she explained. then with sudden indignation she added: "but i'll never love googly-goo--never, as long as i live!" "i should say not!" replied trot. "pon may not be much good, but old googly is very, very bad. hunt around, and i'm sure you'll find someone worth your love. you're very pretty, you know, and almost anyone ought to love you." "you don't understand, my dear," said gloria, as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a dainty lace handkerchief bordered with pearls. "when you are older you will realize that a young lady cannot decide whom she will love, or choose the most worthy. her heart alone decides for her, and whomsoever her heart selects, she must love, whether he amounts to much or not." trot was a little puzzled by this speech, which seemed to her unreasonable; but she made no reply and presently gloria's grief softened and she began to question the little girl about herself and her adventures. trot told her how they had happened to come to jinxland, and all about cap'n bill and the ork and pessim and the bumpy man. while they were thus conversing together, getting more and more friendly as they became better acquainted, in the council chamber the king and googly-goo were talking with the wicked witch. this evil creature was old and ugly. she had lost one eye and wore a black patch over it, so the people of jinxland had named her "blinkie." of course witches are forbidden to exist in the land of oz, but jinxland was so far removed from the center of ozma's dominions, and so absolutely cut off from it by the steep mountains and the bottomless gulf, that the laws of oz were not obeyed very well in that country. so there were several witches in jinxland who were the terror of the people, but king krewl favored them and permitted them to exercise their evil sorcery. blinkie was the leader of all the other witches and therefore the most hated and feared. the king used her witchcraft at times to assist him in carrying out his cruelties and revenge, but he was always obliged to pay blinkie large sums of money or heaps of precious jewels before she would undertake an enchantment. this made him hate the old woman almost as much as his subjects did, but to-day lord googly-goo had agreed to pay the witch's price, so the king greeted her with gracious favor. "can you destroy the love of princess gloria for the gardener's boy?" inquired his majesty. the wicked witch thought about it before she replied: "that's a hard question to answer. i can do lots of clever magic, but love is a stubborn thing to conquer. when you think you've killed it, it's liable to bob up again as strong as ever. i believe love and cats have nine lives. in other words, killing love is a hard job, even for a skillful witch, but i believe i can do something that will answer your purpose just as well." "what is that?" asked the king. "i can freeze the girl's heart. i've got a special incantation for that, and when gloria's heart is thoroughly frozen she can no longer love pon." "just the thing!" exclaimed googly-goo, and the king was likewise much pleased. they bargained a long time as to the price, but finally the old courtier agreed to pay the wicked witch's demands. it was arranged that they should take gloria to blinkie's house the next day, to have her heart frozen. then king krewl mentioned to the old hag the strangers who had that day arrived in jinxland, and said to her: "i think the two children--the boy and the girl--are unable to harm me, but i have a suspicion that the wooden-legged man is a powerful wizard." the witch's face wore a troubled look when she heard this. "if you are right," she said, "this wizard might spoil my incantation and interfere with me in other ways. so it will be best for me to meet this stranger at once and match my magic against his, to decide which is the stronger." "all right," said the king. "come with me and i will lead you to the man's room." googly-goo did not accompany them, as he was obliged to go home to get the money and jewels he had promised to pay old blinkie, so the other two climbed several flights of stairs and went through many passages until they came to the room occupied by cap'n bill. the sailor-man, finding his bed soft and inviting, and being tired with the adventures he had experienced, had decided to take a nap. when the wicked witch and the king softly opened his door and entered, cap'n bill was snoring with such vigor that he did not hear them at all. blinkie approached the bed and with her one eye anxiously stared at the sleeping stranger. "ah," she said in a soft whisper, "i believe you are right, king krewl. the man looks to me like a very powerful wizard. but by good luck i have caught him asleep, so i shall transform him before he wakes up, giving him such a form that he will be unable to oppose me." "careful!" cautioned the king, also speaking low. "if he discovers what you are doing he may destroy you, and that would annoy me because i need you to attend to gloria." but the wicked witch realized as well as he did that she must be careful. she carried over her arm a black bag, from which she now drew several packets carefully wrapped in paper. three of these she selected, replacing the others in the bag. two of the packets she mixed together, and then she cautiously opened the third. "better stand back, your majesty," she advised, "for if this powder falls on you you might be transformed yourself." the king hastily retreated to the end of the room. as blinkie mixed the third powder with the others she waved her hands over it, mumbled a few words, and then backed away as quickly as she could. cap'n bill was slumbering peacefully, all unconscious of what was going on. puff! a great cloud of smoke rolled over the bed and completely hid him from view. when the smoke rolled away, both blinkie and the king saw that the body of the stranger had quite disappeared, while in his place, crouching in the middle of the bed, was a little gray grasshopper. one curious thing about this grasshopper was that the last joint of its left leg was made of wood. another curious thing--considering it was a grasshopper--was that it began talking, crying out in a tiny but sharp voice: "here--you people! what do you mean by treating me so? put me back where i belong, at once, or you'll be sorry!" the cruel king turned pale at hearing the grasshopper's threats, but the wicked witch merely laughed in derision. then she raised her stick and aimed a vicious blow at the grasshopper, but before the stick struck the bed the tiny hopper made a marvelous jump--marvelous, indeed, when we consider that it had a wooden leg. it rose in the air and sailed across the room and passed right through the open window, where it disappeared from their view. "good!" shouted the king. "we are well rid of this desperate wizard." and then they both laughed heartily at the success of the incantation, and went away to complete their horrid plans. after trot had visited a time with princess gloria, the little girl went to button-bright's room but did not find him there. then she went to cap'n bill's room, but he was not there because the witch and the king had been there before her. so she made her way downstairs and questioned the servants. they said they had seen the little boy go out into the garden, some time ago, but the old man with the wooden leg they had not seen at all. therefore trot, not knowing what else to do, rambled through the great gardens, seeking for button-bright or cap'n bill and not finding either of them. this part of the garden, which lay before the castle, was not walled in, but extended to the roadway, and the paths were open to the edge of the forest; so, after two hours of vain search for her friends, the little girl returned to the castle. but at the doorway a soldier stopped her. "i live here," said trot, "so it's all right to let me in. the king has given me a room." "well, he has taken it back again," was the soldier's reply. "his majesty's orders are to turn you away if you attempt to enter. i am also ordered to forbid the boy, your companion, to again enter the king's castle." "how 'bout cap'n bill?" she inquired. "why, it seems he has mysteriously disappeared," replied the soldier, shaking his head ominously. "where he has gone to, i can't make out, but i can assure you he is no longer in this castle. i'm sorry, little girl, to disappoint you. don't blame me; i must obey my master's orders." now, all her life trot had been accustomed to depend on cap'n bill, so when this good friend was suddenly taken from her she felt very miserable and forlorn indeed. she was brave enough not to cry before the soldier, or even to let him see her grief and anxiety, but after she was turned away from the castle she sought a quiet bench in the garden and for a time sobbed as if her heart would break. it was button-bright who found her, at last, just as the sun had set and the shades of evening were falling. he also had been turned away from the king's castle, when he tried to enter it, and in the park he came across trot. "never mind," said the boy. "we can find a place to sleep." "i want cap'n bill," wailed the girl. "well, so do i," was the reply. "but we haven't got him. where do you s'pose he is, trot? "i don't s'pose anything. he's gone, an' that's all i know 'bout it." button-bright sat on the bench beside her and thrust his hands in the pockets of his knickerbockers. then he reflected somewhat gravely for him. "cap'n bill isn't around here," he said, letting his eyes wander over the dim garden, "so we must go somewhere else if we want to find him. besides, it's fast getting dark, and if we want to find a place to sleep we must get busy while we can see where to go." he rose from the bench as he said this and trot also jumped up, drying her eyes on her apron. then she walked beside him out of the grounds of the king's castle. they did not go by the main path, but passed through an opening in a hedge and found themselves in a small but well-worn roadway. following this for some distance, along a winding way, they came upon no house or building that would afford them refuge for the night. it became so dark that they could scarcely see their way, and finally trot stopped and suggested that they camp under a tree. "all right," said button-bright, "i've often found that leaves make a good warm blanket. but--look there, trot!--isn't that a light flashing over yonder?" "it certainly is, button-bright. let's go over and see if it's a house. whoever lives there couldn't treat us worse than the king did." to reach the light they had to leave the road, so they stumbled over hillocks and brushwood, hand in hand, keeping the tiny speck of light always in sight. they were rather forlorn little waifs, outcasts in a strange country and forsaken by their only friend and guardian, cap'n bill. so they were very glad when finally they reached a small cottage and, looking in through its one window, saw pon, the gardener's boy, sitting by a fire of twigs. as trot opened the door and walked boldly in, pon sprang up to greet them. they told him of cap'n bill's disappearance and how they had been turned out of the king's castle. as they finished the story pon shook his head sadly. "king krewl is plotting mischief, i fear," said he, "for to-day he sent for old blinkie, the wicked witch, and with my own eyes i saw her come from the castle and hobble away toward her hut. she had been with the king and googly-goo, and i was afraid they were going to work some enchantment on gloria so she would no longer love me. but perhaps the witch was only called to the castle to enchant your friend, cap'n bill." "could she do that?" asked trot, horrified by the suggestion. "i suppose so, for old blinkie can do a lot of wicked magical things." "what sort of an enchantment could she put on cap'n bill?" "i don't know. but he has disappeared, so i'm pretty certain she has done something dreadful to him. but don't worry. if it has happened, it can't be helped, and if it hasn't happened we may be able to find him in the morning." with this pon went to the cupboard and brought food for them. trot was far too worried to eat, but button-bright made a good supper from the simple food and then lay down before the fire and went to sleep. the little girl and the gardener's boy, however, sat for a long time staring into the fire, busy with their thoughts. but at last trot, too, became sleepy and pon gently covered her with the one blanket he possessed. then he threw more wood on the fire and laid himself down before it, next to button-bright. soon all three were fast asleep. they were in a good deal of trouble; but they were young, and sleep was good to them because for a time it made them forget. chapter thirteen glinda the good and the scarecrow of oz that country south of the emerald city, in the land of oz, is known as the quadling country, and in the very southernmost part of it stands a splendid palace in which lives glinda the good. glinda is the royal sorceress of oz. she has wonderful magical powers and uses them only to benefit the subjects of ozma's kingdom. even the famous wizard of oz pays tribute to her, for glinda taught him all the real magic he knows, and she is his superior in all sorts of sorcery everyone loves glinda, from the dainty and exquisite ruler, ozma, down to the humblest inhabitant of oz, for she is always kindly and helpful and willing to listen to their troubles, however busy she may be. no one knows her age, but all can see how beautiful and stately she is. her hair is like red gold and finer than the finest silken strands. her eyes are blue as the sky and always frank and smiling. her cheeks are the envy of peach-blows and her mouth is enticing as a rosebud. glinda is tall and wears splendid gowns that trail behind her as she walks. she wears no jewels, for her beauty would shame them. for attendants glinda has half a hundred of the loveliest girls in oz. they are gathered from all over oz, from among the winkies, the munchkins, the gillikins and the quadlings, as well as from ozma's magnificent emerald city, and it is considered a great favor to be allowed to serve the royal sorceress. among the many wonderful things in glinda's palace is the great book of records. in this book is inscribed everything that takes place in all the world, just the instant it happens; so that by referring to its pages glinda knows what is taking place far and near, in every country that exists. in this way she learns when and where she can help any in distress or danger, and although her duties are confined to assisting those who inhabit the land of oz, she is always interested in what takes place in the unprotected outside world. so it was that on a certain evening glinda sat in her library, surrounded by a bevy of her maids, who were engaged in spinning, weaving and embroidery, when an attendant announced the arrival at the palace of the scarecrow. this personage was one of the most famous and popular in all the land of oz. his body was merely a suit of munchkin clothes stuffed with straw, but his head was a round sack filled with bran, with which the wizard of oz had mixed some magic brains of a very superior sort. the eyes, nose and mouth of the scarecrow were painted upon the front of the sack, as were his ears, and since this quaint being had been endowed with life, the expression of his face was very interesting, if somewhat comical. the scarecrow was good all through, even to his brains, and while he was naturally awkward in his movements and lacked the neat symmetry of other people, his disposition was so kind and considerate and he was so obliging and honest, that all who knew him loved him, and there were few people in oz who had not met our scarecrow and made his acquaintance. he lived part of the time in ozma's palace at the emerald city, part of the time in his own corncob castle in the winkie country, and part of the time he traveled over all oz, visiting with the people and playing with the children, whom he dearly loved. it was on one of his wandering journeys that the scarecrow had arrived at glinda's palace, and the sorceress at once made him welcome. as he sat beside her, talking of his adventures, he asked: "what's new in the way of news?" glinda opened her great book of records and read some of the last pages. "here is an item quite curious and interesting," she announced, an accent of surprise in her voice. "three people from the big outside world have arrived in jinxland." "where is jinxland?" inquired the scarecrow. "very near here, a little to the east of us," she said. "in fact, jinxland is a little slice taken off the quadling country, but separated from it by a range of high mountains, at the foot of which lies a wide, deep gulf that is supposed to be impassable." "then jinxland is really a part of the land of oz," said he. "yes," returned glinda, "but oz people know nothing of it, except what is recorded here in my book." "what does the book say about it?" asked the scarecrow. "it is ruled by a wicked man called king krewl, although he has no right to the title. most of the people are good, but they are very timid and live in constant fear of their fierce ruler. there are also several wicked witches who keep the inhabitants of jinxland in a state of terror." "do those witches have any magical powers?" inquired the scarecrow. "yes, they seem to understand witchcraft in its most evil form, for one of them has just transformed a respectable and honest old sailor--one of the strangers who arrived there--into a grasshopper. this same witch, blinkie by name, is also planning to freeze the heart of a beautiful jinxland girl named princess gloria." "why, that's a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed the scarecrow. glinda's face was very grave. she read in her book how trot and button-bright were turned out of the king's castle, and how they found refuge in the hut of pon, the gardener's boy. "i'm afraid those helpless earth people will endure much suffering in jinxland, even if the wicked king and the witches permit them to live," said the good sorceress, thoughtfully. "i wish i might help them." "can i do anything?" asked the scarecrow, anxiously. "if so, tell me what to do, and i'll do it." for a few moments glinda did not reply, but sat musing over the records. then she said: "i am going to send you to jinxland, to protect trot and button-bright and cap'n bill." "all right," answered the scarecrow in a cheerful voice. "i know button-bright already, for he has been in the land of oz before. you remember he went away from the land of oz in one of our wizard's big bubbles." "yes," said glinda, "i remember that." then she carefully instructed the scarecrow what to do and gave him certain magical things which he placed in the pockets of his ragged munchkin coat. "as you have no need to sleep," said she, "you may as well start at once." "the night is the same as day to me," he replied, "except that i cannot see my way so well in the dark." "i will furnish a light to guide you," promised the sorceress. so the scarecrow bade her good-bye and at once started on his journey. by morning he had reached the mountains that separated the quadling country from jinxland. the sides of these mountains were too steep to climb, but the scarecrow took a small rope from his pocket and tossed one end upward, into the air. the rope unwound itself for hundreds of feet, until it caught upon a peak of rock at the very top of a mountain, for it was a magic rope furnished him by glinda. the scarecrow climbed the rope and, after pulling it up, let it down on the other side of the mountain range. when he descended the rope on this side he found himself in jinxland, but at his feet yawned the great gulf, which must be crossed before he could proceed any farther. the scarecrow knelt down and examined the ground carefully, and in a moment he discovered a fuzzy brown spider that had rolled itself into a ball. so he took two tiny pills from his pocket and laid them beside the spider, which unrolled itself and quickly ate up the pills. then the scarecrow said in a voice of command: "spin!" and the spider obeyed instantly. in a few moments the little creature had spun two slender but strong strands that reached way across the gulf, one being five or six feet above the other. when these were completed the scarecrow started across the tiny bridge, walking upon one strand as a person walks upon a rope, and holding to the upper strand with his hands to prevent him from losing his balance and toppling over into the gulf. the tiny threads held him safely, thanks to the strength given them by the magic pills. presently he was safe across and standing on the plains of jinxland. far away he could see the towers of the king's castle and toward this he at once began to walk. chapter fourteen the frozen heart in the hut of pon, the gardener's boy, button-bright was the first to waken in the morning. leaving his companions still asleep, he went out into the fresh morning air and saw some blackberries growing on bushes in a field not far away. going to the bushes he found the berries ripe and sweet, so he began eating them. more bushes were scattered over the fields, so the boy wandered on, from bush to bush, without paying any heed to where he was wandering. then a butterfly fluttered by. he gave chase to it and followed it a long way. when finally he paused to look around him, button-bright could see no sign of pon's house, nor had he the slightest idea in which direction it lay. "well, i'm lost again," he remarked to himself. "but never mind; i've been lost lots of times. someone is sure to find me." trot was a little worried about button-bright when she awoke and found him gone. knowing how careless he was, she believed that he had strayed away, but felt that he would come back in time, because he had a habit of not staying lost. pon got the little girl some food for her breakfast and then together they went out of the hut and stood in the sunshine. pon's house was some distance off the road, but they could see it from where they stood and both gave a start of surprise when they discovered two soldiers walking along the roadway and escorting princess gloria between them. the poor girl had her hands bound together, to prevent her from struggling, and the soldiers rudely dragged her forward when her steps seemed to lag. behind this group came king krewl, wearing his jeweled crown and swinging in his hand a slender golden staff with a ball of clustered gems at one end. "where are they going?" asked trot. "to the house of the wicked witch, i fear," pon replied. "come, let us follow them, for i am sure they intend to harm my dear gloria." "won't they see us?" she asked timidly. "we won't let them. i know a short cut through the trees to blinkie's house," said he. so they hurried away through the trees and reached the house of the witch ahead of the king and his soldiers. hiding themselves in the shrubbery, they watched the approach of poor gloria and her escort, all of whom passed so near to them that pon could have put out a hand and touched his sweetheart, had he dared to. blinkie's house had eight sides, with a door and a window in each side. smoke was coming out of the chimney and as the guards brought gloria to one of the doors it was opened by the old witch in person. she chuckled with evil glee and rubbed her skinny hands together to show the delight with which she greeted her victim, for blinkie was pleased to be able to perform her wicked rites on one so fair and sweet as the princess. gloria struggled to resist when they bade her enter the house, so the soldiers forced her through the doorway and even the king gave her a shove as he followed close behind. pon was so incensed at the cruelty shown gloria that he forgot all caution and rushed forward to enter the house also; but one of the soldiers prevented him, pushing the gardener's boy away with violence and slamming the door in his face. "never mind," said trot soothingly, as pon rose from where he had fallen. "you couldn't do much to help the poor princess if you were inside. how unfortunate it is that you are in love with her!" "true," he answered sadly, "it is indeed my misfortune. if i did not love her, it would be none of my business what the king did to his niece gloria; but the unlucky circumstance of my loving her makes it my duty to defend her." "i don't see how you can, duty or no duty," observed trot. "no; i am powerless, for they are stronger than i. but we might peek in through the window and see what they are doing." trot was somewhat curious, too, so they crept up to one of the windows and looked in, and it so happened that those inside the witch's house were so busy they did not notice that pon and trot were watching them. gloria had been tied to a stout post in the center of the room and the king was giving the wicked witch a quantity of money and jewels, which googly-goo had provided in payment. when this had been done the king said to her: "are you perfectly sure you can freeze this maiden's heart, so that she will no longer love that low gardener's boy?" "sure as witchcraft, your majesty," the creature replied. "then get to work," said the king. "there may be some unpleasant features about the ceremony that would annoy me, so i'll bid you good day and leave you to carry out your contract. one word, however: if you fail, i shall burn you at the stake!" then he beckoned to his soldiers to follow him, and throwing wide the door of the house walked out. this action was so sudden that king krewl almost caught trot and pon eavesdropping, but they managed to run around the house before he saw them. away he marched, up the road, followed by his men, heartlessly leaving gloria to the mercies of old blinkie. when they again crept up to the window, trot and pon saw blinkie gloating over her victim. although nearly fainting from fear, the proud princess gazed with haughty defiance into the face of the wicked creature; but she was bound so tightly to the post that she could do no more to express her loathing. pretty soon blinkie went to a kettle that was swinging by a chain over the fire and tossed into it several magical compounds. the kettle gave three flashes, and at every flash another witch appeared in the room. these hags were very ugly but when one-eyed blinkie whispered her orders to them they grinned with joy as they began dancing around gloria. first one and then another cast something into the kettle, when to the astonishment of the watchers at the window all three of the old women were instantly transformed into maidens of exquisite beauty, dressed in the daintiest costumes imaginable. only their eyes could not be disguised, and an evil glare still shone in their depths. but if the eyes were cast down or hidden, one could not help but admire these beautiful creatures, even with the knowledge that they were mere illusions of witchcraft. trot certainly admired them, for she had never seen anything so dainty and bewitching, but her attention was quickly drawn to their deeds instead of their persons, and then horror replaced admiration. into the kettle old blinkie poured another mess from a big brass bottle she took from a chest, and this made the kettle begin to bubble and smoke violently. one by one the beautiful witches approached to stir the contents of the kettle and to mutter a magic charm. their movements were graceful and rhythmic and the wicked witch who had called them to her aid watched them with an evil grin upon her wrinkled face. finally the incantation was complete. the kettle ceased bubbling and together the witches lifted it from the fire. then blinkie brought a wooden ladle and filled it from the contents of the kettle. going with the spoon to princess gloria she cried: "love no more! magic art now will freeze your mortal heart!" with this she dashed the contents of the ladle full upon gloria's breast. trot saw the body of the princess become transparent, so that her beating heart showed plainly. but now the heart turned from a vivid red to gray, and then to white. a layer of frost formed about it and tiny icicles clung to its surface. then slowly the body of the girl became visible again and the heart was hidden from view. gloria seemed to have fainted, but now she recovered and, opening her beautiful eyes, stared coldly and without emotion at the group of witches confronting her. blinkie and the others knew by that one cold look that their charm had been successful. they burst into a chorus of wild laughter and the three beautiful ones began dancing again, while blinkie unbound the princess and set her free. trot rubbed her eyes to prove that she was wide awake and seeing clearly, for her astonishment was great when the three lovely maidens turned into ugly, crooked hags again, leaning on broomsticks and canes. they jeered at gloria, but the princess regarded them with cold disdain. being now free, she walked to a door, opened it and passed out. and the witches let her go. trot and pon had been so intent upon this scene that in their eagerness they had pressed quite hard against the window. just as gloria went out of the house the window-sash broke loose from its fastenings and fell with a crash into the room. the witches uttered a chorus of screams and then, seeing that their magical incantation had been observed, they rushed for the open window with uplifted broomsticks and canes. but pon was off like the wind, and trot followed at his heels. fear lent them strength to run, to leap across ditches, to speed up the hills and to vault the low fences as a deer would. the band of witches had dashed through the window in pursuit; but blinkie was so old, and the others so crooked and awkward, that they soon realized they would be unable to overtake the fugitives. so the three who had been summoned by the wicked witch put their canes or broomsticks between their legs and flew away through the air, quickly disappearing against the blue sky. blinkie, however, was so enraged at pon and trot that she hobbled on in the direction they had taken, fully determined to catch them, in time, and to punish them terribly for spying upon her witchcraft. when pon and trot had run so far that they were confident they had made good their escape, they sat down near the edge of a forest to get their breath again, for both were panting hard from their exertions. trot was the first to recover speech, and she said to her companion: "my! wasn't it terr'ble?" "the most terrible thing i ever saw," pon agreed. "and they froze gloria's heart; so now she can't love you any more." "well, they froze her heart, to be sure," admitted pon, "but i'm in hopes i can melt it with my love." "where do you s'pose gloria is?" asked the girl, after a pause. "she left the witch's house just before we did. perhaps she has gone back to the king's castle," he said. "i'm pretty sure she started off in a diff'rent direction," declared trot. "i looked over my shoulder, as i ran, to see how close the witches were, and i'm sure i saw gloria walking slowly away toward the north." "then let us circle around that way," proposed pon, "and perhaps we shall meet her." trot agreed to this and they left the grove and began to circle around toward the north, thus drawing nearer and nearer to old blinkie's house again. the wicked witch did not suspect this change of direction, so when she came to the grove she passed through it and continued on. pon and trot had reached a place less than half a mile from the witch's house when they saw gloria walking toward them. the princess moved with great dignity and with no show of haste whatever, holding her head high and looking neither to right nor left. pon rushed forward, holding out his arms as if to embrace her and calling her sweet names. but gloria gazed upon him coldly and repelled him with a haughty gesture. at this the poor gardener's boy sank upon his knees and hid his face in his arms, weeping bitter tears; but the princess was not at all moved by his distress. passing him by, she drew her skirts aside, as if unwilling they should touch him, and then she walked up the path a way and hesitated, as if uncertain where to go next. trot was grieved by pon's sobs and indignant because gloria treated him so badly. but she remembered why. "i guess your heart is frozen, all right," she said to the princess. gloria nodded gravely, in reply, and then turned her back upon the little girl. "can't you like even me?" asked trot, half pleadingly. "no," said gloria. "your voice sounds like a refrig'rator," sighed the little girl. "i'm awful sorry for you, 'cause you were sweet an' nice to me before this happened. you can't help it, of course; but it's a dreadful thing, jus' the same." "my heart is frozen to all mortal loves," announced gloria, calmly. "i do not love even myself." "that's too bad," said trot, "for, if you can't love anybody, you can't expect anybody to love you." "i do!" cried pon. "i shall always love her." "well, you're just a gardener's boy," replied trot, "and i didn't think you 'mounted to much, from the first. i can love the old princess gloria, with a warm heart an' nice manners, but this one gives me the shivers." "it's her icy heart, that's all," said pon. "that's enough," insisted trot. "seeing her heart isn't big enough to skate on, i can't see that she's of any use to anyone. for my part, i'm goin' to try to find button-bright an' cap'n bill." "i will go with you," decided pon. "it is evident that gloria no longer loves me and that her heart is frozen too stiff for me to melt it with my own love; therefore i may as well help you to find your friends." as trot started off, pon cast one more imploring look at the princess, who returned it with a chilly stare. so he followed after the little girl. as for the princess, she hesitated a moment and then turned in the same direction the others had taken, but going far more slowly. soon she heard footsteps pattering behind her, and up came googly-goo, a little out of breath with running. "stop, gloria!" he cried. "i have come to take you back to my mansion, where we are to be married." she looked at him wonderingly a moment, then tossed her head disdainfully and walked on. but googly-goo kept beside her. "what does this mean?" he demanded. "haven't you discovered that you no longer love that gardener's boy, who stood in my way?" "yes; i have discovered it," she replied. "my heart is frozen to all mortal loves. i cannot love you, or pon, or the cruel king my uncle, or even myself. go your way, googly-goo, for i will wed no one at all." he stopped in dismay when he heard this, but in another minute he exclaimed angrily: "you must wed me, princess gloria, whether you want to or not! i paid to have your heart frozen; i also paid the king to permit our marriage. if you now refuse me it will mean that i have been robbed--robbed--robbed of my precious money and jewels!" he almost wept with despair, but she laughed a cold, bitter laugh and passed on. googly-goo caught at her arm, as if to restrain her, but she whirled and dealt him a blow that sent him reeling into a ditch beside the path. here he lay for a long time, half covered by muddy water, dazed with surprise. finally the old courtier arose, dripping, and climbed from the ditch. the princess had gone; so, muttering threats of vengeance upon her, upon the king and upon blinkie, old googly-goo hobbled back to his mansion to have the mud removed from his costly velvet clothes. chapter fifteen trot meets the scarecrow trot and pon covered many leagues of ground, searching through forests, in fields and in many of the little villages of jinxland, but could find no trace of either cap'n bill or button-bright. finally they paused beside a cornfield and sat upon a stile to rest. pon took some apples from his pocket and gave one to trot. then he began eating another himself, for this was their time for luncheon. when his apple was finished pon tossed the core into the field. "tchuk-tchuk!" said a strange voice. "what do you mean by hitting me in the eye with an apple-core?" then rose up the form of the scarecrow, who had hidden himself in the cornfield while he examined pon and trot and decided whether they were worthy to be helped. "excuse me," said pon. "i didn't know you were there." "how did you happen to be there, anyhow?" asked trot. the scarecrow came forward with awkward steps and stood beside them. "ah, you are the gardener's boy," he said to pon. then he turned to trot. "and you are the little girl who came to jinxland riding on a big bird, and who has had the misfortune to lose her friend, cap'n bill, and her chum, button-bright." "why, how did you know all that?" she inquired. "i know a lot of things," replied the scarecrow, winking at her comically. "my brains are the carefully-assorted, double-distilled, high-efficiency sort that the wizard of oz makes. he admits, himself, that my brains are the best he ever manufactured." "i think i've heard of you," said trot slowly, as she looked the scarecrow over with much interest; "but you used to live in the land of oz." "oh, i do now," he replied cheerfully. "i've just come over the mountains from the quadling country to see if i can be of any help to you." "who, me?" asked pon. "no, the strangers from the big world. it seems they need looking after." "i'm doing that myself," said pon, a little ungraciously. "if you will pardon me for saying so, i don't see how a scarecrow with painted eyes can look after anyone." "if you don't see that, you are more blind than the scarecrow," asserted trot. "he's a fairy man, pon, and comes from the fairyland of oz, so he can do 'most anything. i hope," she added, turning to the scarecrow, "you can find cap'n bill for me." "i will try, anyhow," he promised. "but who is that old woman who is running toward us and shaking her stick at us?" trot and pon turned around and both uttered an exclamation of fear. the next instant they took to their heels and ran fast up the path. for it was old blinkie, the wicked witch, who had at last traced them to this place. her anger was so great that she was determined not to abandon the chase of pon and trot until she had caught and punished them. the scarecrow understood at once that the old woman meant harm to his new friends, so as she drew near he stepped before her. his appearance was so sudden and unexpected that blinkie ran into him and toppled him over, but she tripped on his straw body and went rolling in the path beside him. the scarecrow sat up and said: "i beg your pardon!" but she whacked him with her stick and knocked him flat again. then, furious with rage, the old witch sprang upon her victim and began pulling the straw out of his body. the poor scarecrow was helpless to resist and in a few moments all that was left of him was an empty suit of clothes and a heap of straw beside it. fortunately, blinkie did not harm his head, for it rolled into a little hollow and escaped her notice. fearing that pon and trot would escape her, she quickly resumed the chase and disappeared over the brow of a hill, following the direction in which she had seen them go. only a short time elapsed before a gray grasshopper with a wooden leg came hopping along and lit directly on the upturned face of the scarecrow's head. "pardon me, but you are resting yourself upon my nose," remarked the scarecrow. "oh! are you alive?" asked the grasshopper. "that is a question i have never been able to decide," said the scarecrow's head. "when my body is properly stuffed i have animation and can move around as well as any live person. the brains in the head you are now occupying as a throne, are of very superior quality and do a lot of very clever thinking. but whether that is being alive, or not, i cannot prove to you; for one who lives is liable to death, while i am only liable to destruction." "seems to me," said the grasshopper, rubbing his nose with his front legs, "that in your case it doesn't matter--unless you're destroyed already." "i am not; all i need is re-stuffing," declared the scarecrow; "and if pon and trot escape the witch, and come back here, i am sure they will do me that favor." "tell me! are trot and pon around here?" inquired the grasshopper, its small voice trembling with excitement. the scarecrow did not answer at once, for both his eyes were staring straight upward at a beautiful face that was slightly bent over his head. it was, indeed, princess gloria, who had wandered to this spot, very much surprised when she heard the scarecrow's head talk and the tiny gray grasshopper answer it. "this," said the scarecrow, still staring at her, "must be the princess who loves pon, the gardener's boy." "oh, indeed!" exclaimed the grasshopper--who of course was cap'n bill--as he examined the young lady curiously. "no," said gloria frigidly, "i do not love pon, or anyone else, for the wicked witch has frozen my heart." "what a shame!" cried the scarecrow. "one so lovely should be able to love. but would you mind, my dear, stuffing that straw into my body again?" the dainty princess glanced at the straw and at the well-worn blue munchkin clothes and shrank back in disdain. but she was spared from refusing the scarecrow's request by the appearance of trot and pon, who had hidden in some bushes just over the brow of the hill and waited until old blinkie had passed them by. their hiding place was on the same side as the witch's blind eye, and she rushed on in the chase of the girl and the youth without being aware that they had tricked her. trot was shocked at the scarecrow's sad condition and at once began putting the straw back into his body. pon, at sight of gloria, again appealed to her to take pity on him, but the frozen-hearted princess turned coldly away and with a sigh the gardener's boy began to assist trot. neither of them at first noticed the small grasshopper, which at their appearance had skipped off the scarecrow's nose and was now clinging to a wisp of grass beside the path, where he was not likely to be stepped upon. not until the scarecrow had been neatly restuffed and set upon his feet again--when he bowed to his restorers and expressed his thanks--did the grasshopper move from his perch. then he leaped lightly into the path and called out: "trot--trot! look at me. i'm cap'n bill! see what the wicked witch has done to me." the voice was small, to be sure, but it reached trot's ears and startled her greatly. she looked intently at the grasshopper, her eyes wide with fear at first; then she knelt down and, noticing the wooden leg, she began to weep sorrowfully. "oh, cap'n bill--dear cap'n bill! what a cruel thing to do!" she sobbed. "don't cry, trot," begged the grasshopper. "it didn't hurt any, and it doesn't hurt now. but it's mighty inconvenient an' humiliatin', to say the least." "i wish," said the girl indignantly, while trying hard to restrain her tears, "that i was big 'nough an' strong 'nough to give that horrid witch a good beating. she ought to be turned into a toad for doing this to you, cap'n bill!" "never mind," urged the scarecrow, in a comforting voice, "such a transformation doesn't last always, and as a general thing there's some way to break the enchantment. i'm sure glinda could do it, in a jiffy." "who is glinda?" inquired cap'n bill. then the scarecrow told them all about glinda, not forgetting to mention her beauty and goodness and her wonderful powers of magic. he also explained how the royal sorceress had sent him to jinxland especially to help the strangers, whom she knew to be in danger because of the wiles of the cruel king and the wicked witch. chapter sixteen pon summons the king to surrender gloria had drawn near to the group to listen to their talk, and it seemed to interest her in spite of her frigid manner. they knew, of course, that the poor princess could not help being cold and reserved, so they tried not to blame her. "i ought to have come here a little sooner," said the scarecrow, regretfully; "but glinda sent me as soon as she discovered you were here and were likely to get into trouble. and now that we are all together--except button-bright, over whom it is useless to worry--i propose we hold a council of war, to decide what is best to be done." that seemed a wise thing to do, so they all sat down upon the grass, including gloria, and the grasshopper perched upon trot's shoulder and allowed her to stroke him gently with her hand. "in the first place," began the scarecrow, "this king krewl is a usurper and has no right to rule this kingdom of jinxland." "that is true," said pon, eagerly. "my father was king before him, and i--" "you are a gardener's boy," interrupted the scarecrow. "your father had no right to rule, either, for the rightful king of this land was the father of princess gloria, and only she is entitled to sit upon the throne of jinxland." "good!" exclaimed trot. "but what'll we do with king krewl? i s'pose he won't give up the throne unless he has to." "no, of course not," said the scarecrow. "therefore it will be our duty to make him give up the throne." "how?" asked trot. "give me time to think," was the reply. "that's what my brains are for. i don't know whether you people ever think, or not, but my brains are the best that the wizard of oz ever turned out, and if i give them plenty of time to work, the result usually surprises me." "take your time, then," suggested trot. "there's no hurry." "thank you," said the straw man, and sat perfectly still for half an hour. during this interval the grasshopper whispered in trot's ear, to which he was very close, and trot whispered back to the grasshopper sitting upon her shoulder. pon cast loving glances at gloria, who paid not the slightest heed to them. finally the scarecrow laughed aloud. "brains working?" inquired trot. "yes. they seem in fine order to-day. we will conquer king krewl and put gloria upon his throne as queen of jinxland." "fine!" cried the little girl, clapping her hands together gleefully. "but how?" "leave the how to me," said the scarecrow proudly. "as a conqueror i'm a wonder. we will, first of all, write a message to send to king krewl, asking him to surrender. if he refuses, then we will make him surrender." "why ask him, when we know he'll refuse?" inquired pon. "why, we must be polite, whatever we do," explained the scarecrow. "it would be very rude to conquer a king without proper notice." they found it difficult to write a message without paper, pen and ink, none of which was at hand; so it was decided to send pon as a messenger, with instructions to ask the king, politely but firmly, to surrender. pon was not anxious to be the messenger. indeed, he hinted that it might prove a dangerous mission. but the scarecrow was now the acknowledged head of the army of conquest, and he would listen to no refusal. so off pon started for the king's castle, and the others accompanied him as far as his hut, where they had decided to await the gardener's boy's return. i think it was because pon had known the scarecrow such a short time that he lacked confidence in the straw man's wisdom. it was easy to say: "we will conquer king krewl," but when pon drew near to the great castle he began to doubt the ability of a straw-stuffed man, a girl, a grasshopper and a frozen-hearted princess to do it. as for himself, he had never thought of defying the king before. that was why the gardener's boy was not very bold when he entered the castle and passed through to the enclosed court where the king was just then seated, with his favorite courtiers around him. none prevented pon's entrance, because he was known to be the gardener's boy, but when the king saw him he began to frown fiercely. he considered pon to be to blame for all his trouble with princess gloria, who since her heart had been frozen had escaped to some unknown place, instead of returning to the castle to wed googly-goo, as she had been expected to do. so the king bared his teeth angrily as he demanded: "what have you done with princess gloria?" "nothing, your majesty! i have done nothing at all," answered pon in a faltering voice. "she does not love me any more and even refuses to speak to me." "then why are you here, you rascal?" roared the king. pon looked first one way and then another, but saw no means of escape; so he plucked up courage. "i am here to summon your majesty to surrender." "what!" shouted the king. "surrender? surrender to whom?" pon's heart sank to his boots. "to the scarecrow," he replied. some of the courtiers began to titter, but king krewl was greatly annoyed. he sprang up and began to beat poor pon with the golden staff he carried. pon howled lustily and would have run away had not two of the soldiers held him until his majesty was exhausted with punishing the boy. then they let him go and he left the castle and returned along the road, sobbing at every step because his body was so sore and aching. "well," said the scarecrow, "did the king surrender?" "no; but he gave me a good drubbing!" sobbed poor pon. trot was very sorry for pon, but gloria did not seem affected in any way by her lover's anguish. the grasshopper leaped to the scarecrow's shoulder and asked him what he was going to do next. "conquer," was the reply. "but i will go alone, this time, for beatings cannot hurt me at all; nor can lance thrusts--or sword cuts--or arrow pricks." "why is that?" inquired trot. "because i have no nerves, such as you meat people possess. even grasshoppers have nerves, but straw doesn't; so whatever they do--except just one thing--they cannot injure me. therefore i expect to conquer king krewl with ease." "what is that one thing you excepted?" asked trot. "they will never think of it, so never mind. and now, if you will kindly excuse me for a time, i'll go over to the castle and do my conquering." "you have no weapons," pon reminded him. "true," said the scarecrow. "but if i carried weapons i might injure someone--perhaps seriously--and that would make me unhappy. i will just borrow that riding-whip, which i see in the corner of your hut, if you don't mind. it isn't exactly proper to walk with a riding-whip, but i trust you will excuse the inconsistency." pon handed him the whip and the scarecrow bowed to all the party and left the hut, proceeding leisurely along the way to the king's castle. chapter seventeen the ork rescues button-bright i must now tell you what had become of button-bright since he wandered away in the morning and got lost. this small boy, as perhaps you have discovered, was almost as destitute of nerves as the scarecrow. nothing ever astonished him much; nothing ever worried him or made him unhappy. good fortune or bad fortune he accepted with a quiet smile, never complaining, whatever happened. this was one reason why button-bright was a favorite with all who knew him--and perhaps it was the reason why he so often got into difficulties, or found himself lost. to-day, as he wandered here and there, over hill and down dale, he missed trot and cap'n bill, of whom he was fond, but nevertheless he was not unhappy. the birds sang merrily and the wildflowers were beautiful and the breeze had a fragrance of new-mown hay. "the only bad thing about this country is its king," he reflected; "but the country isn't to blame for that." a prairie-dog stuck its round head out of a mound of earth and looked at the boy with bright eyes. "walk around my house, please," it said, "and then you won't harm it or disturb the babies." "all right," answered button-bright, and took care not to step on the mound. he went on, whistling merrily, until a petulant voice cried: "oh, stop it! please stop that noise. it gets on my nerves." button-bright saw an old gray owl sitting in the crotch of a tree, and he replied with a laugh: "all right, old fussy," and stopped whistling until he had passed out of the owl's hearing. at noon he came to a farmhouse where an aged couple lived. they gave him a good dinner and treated him kindly, but the man was deaf and the woman was dumb, so they could answer no questions to guide him on the way to pon's house. when he left them he was just as much lost as he had been before. every grove of trees he saw from a distance he visited, for he remembered that the king's castle was near a grove of trees and pon's hut was near the king's castle; but always he met with disappointment. finally, passing through one of these groves, he came out into the open and found himself face to face with the ork. "hello!" said button-bright. "where did you come from?" "from orkland," was the reply. "i've found my own country, at last, and it is not far from here, either. i would have come back to you sooner, to see how you are getting along, had not my family and friends welcomed my return so royally that a great celebration was held in my honor. so i couldn't very well leave orkland again until the excitement was over." "can you find your way back home again?" asked the boy. "yes, easily; for now i know exactly where it is. but where are trot and cap'n bill?" button-bright related to the ork their adventures since it had left them in jinxland, telling of trot's fear that the king had done something wicked to cap'n bill, and of pon's love for gloria, and how trot and button-bright had been turned out of the king's castle. that was all the news that the boy had, but it made the ork anxious for the safety of his friends. "we must go to them at once, for they may need us," he said. "i don't know where to go," confessed button-bright. "i'm lost." "well, i can take you back to the hut of the gardener's boy," promised the ork, "for when i fly high in the air i can look down and easily spy the king's castle. that was how i happened to spy you, just entering the grove; so i flew down and waited until you came out." "how can you carry me?" asked the boy. "you'll have to sit straddle my shoulders and put your arms around my neck. do you think you can keep from falling off?" "i'll try," said button-bright. so the ork squatted down and the boy took his seat and held on tight. then the skinny creature's tail began whirling and up they went, far above all the tree-tops. after the ork had circled around once or twice, its sharp eyes located the towers of the castle and away it flew, straight toward the place. as it hovered in the air, near by the castle, button-bright pointed out pon's hut, so they landed just before it and trot came running out to greet them. gloria was introduced to the ork, who was surprised to find cap'n bill transformed into a grasshopper. "how do you like it?" asked the creature. "why, it worries me good deal," answered cap'n bill, perched upon trot's shoulder. "i'm always afraid o' bein' stepped on, and i don't like the flavor of grass an' can't seem to get used to it. it's my nature to eat grass, you know, but i begin to suspect it's an acquired taste." "can you give molasses?" asked the ork. "i guess i'm not that kind of a grasshopper," replied cap'n bill. "but i can't say what i might do if i was squeezed--which i hope i won't be." "well," said the ork, "it's a great pity, and i'd like to meet that cruel king and his wicked witch and punish them both severely. you're awfully small, cap'n bill, but i think i would recognize you anywhere by your wooden leg." then the ork and button-bright were told all about gloria's frozen heart and how the scarecrow had come from the land of oz to help them. the ork seemed rather disturbed when it learned that the scarecrow had gone alone to conquer king krewl. "i'm afraid he'll make a fizzle of it," said the skinny creature, "and there's no telling what that terrible king might do to the poor scarecrow, who seems like a very interesting person. so i believe i'll take a hand in this conquest myself." "how?" asked trot. "wait and see," was the reply. "but, first of all, i must fly home again--back to my own country--so if you'll forgive my leaving you so soon, i'll be off at once. stand away from my tail, please, so that the wind from it, when it revolves, won't knock you over." they gave the creature plenty of room and away it went like a flash and soon disappeared in the sky. "i wonder," said button-bright, looking solemnly after the ork, "whether he'll ever come back again." "of course he will!" returned trot. "the ork's a pretty good fellow, and we can depend on him. an' mark my words, button-bright, whenever our ork does come back, there's one cruel king in jinxland that'll wish he hadn't." chapter eighteen the scarecrow meets an enemy the scarecrow was not a bit afraid of king krewl. indeed, he rather enjoyed the prospect of conquering the evil king and putting gloria on the throne of jinxland in his place. so he advanced boldly to the royal castle and demanded admittance. seeing that he was a stranger, the soldiers allowed him to enter. he made his way straight to the throne room, where at that time his majesty was settling the disputes among his subjects. "who are you?" demanded the king. "i'm the scarecrow of oz, and i command you to surrender yourself my prisoner." "why should i do that?" inquired the king, much astonished at the straw man's audacity. "because i've decided you are too cruel a king to rule so beautiful a country. you must remember that jinxland is a part of oz, and therefore you owe allegiance to ozma of oz, whose friend and servant i am." now, when he heard this, king krewl was much disturbed in mind, for he knew the scarecrow spoke the truth. but no one had ever before come to jinxland from the land of oz and the king did not intend to be put out of his throne if he could help it. therefore he gave a harsh, wicked laugh of derision and said: "i'm busy, now. stand out of my way, scarecrow, and i'll talk with you by and by." but the scarecrow turned to the assembled courtiers and people and called in a loud voice: "i hereby declare, in the name of ozma of oz, that this man is no longer ruler of jinxland. from this moment princess gloria is your rightful queen, and i ask all of you to be loyal to her and to obey her commands." the people looked fearfully at the king, whom they all hated in their hearts, but likewise feared. krewl was now in a terrible rage and he raised his golden sceptre and struck the scarecrow so heavy a blow that he fell to the floor. but he was up again, in an instant, and with pon's riding-whip he switched the king so hard that the wicked monarch roared with pain as much as with rage, calling on his soldiers to capture the scarecrow. they tried to do that, and thrust their lances and swords into the straw body, but without doing any damage except to make holes in the scarecrow's clothes. however, they were many against one and finally old googly-goo brought a rope which he wound around the scarecrow, binding his legs together and his arms to his sides, and after that the fight was over. the king stormed and danced around in a dreadful fury, for he had never been so switched since he was a boy--and perhaps not then. he ordered the scarecrow thrust into the castle prison, which was no task at all because one man could carry him easily, bound as he was. even after the prisoner was removed the king could not control his anger. he tried to figure out some way to be revenged upon the straw man, but could think of nothing that could hurt him. at last, when the terrified people and the frightened courtiers had all slunk away, old googly-goo approached the king with a malicious grin upon his face. "i'll tell you what to do," said he. "build a big bonfire and burn the scarecrow up, and that will be the end of him." the king was so delighted with this suggestion that he hugged old googly-goo in his joy. "of course!" he cried. "the very thing. why did i not think of it myself?" so he summoned his soldiers and retainers and bade them prepare a great bonfire in an open space in the castle park. also he sent word to all his people to assemble and witness the destruction of the scarecrow who had dared to defy his power. before long a vast throng gathered in the park and the servants had heaped up enough fuel to make a fire that might be seen for miles away--even in the daytime. when all was prepared, the king had his throne brought out for him to sit upon and enjoy the spectacle, and then he sent his soldiers to fetch the scarecrow. now the one thing in all the world that the straw man really feared was fire. he knew he would burn very easily and that his ashes wouldn't amount to much afterward. it wouldn't hurt him to be destroyed in such a manner, but he realized that many people in the land of oz, and especially dorothy and the royal ozma, would feel sad if they learned that their old friend the scarecrow was no longer in existence. in spite of this, the straw man was brave and faced his fiery fate like a hero. when they marched him out before the concourse of people he turned to the king with great calmness and said: "this wicked deed will cost you your throne, as well as much suffering, for my friends will avenge my destruction." "your friends are not here, nor will they know what i have done to you, when you are gone and can-not tell them," answered the king in a scornful voice. then he ordered the scarecrow bound to a stout stake that he had had driven into the ground, and the materials for the fire were heaped all around him. when this had been done, the king's brass band struck up a lively tune and old googly-goo came forward with a lighted match and set fire to the pile. at once the flames shot up and crept closer and closer toward the scarecrow. the king and all his people were so intent upon this terrible spectacle that none of them noticed how the sky grew suddenly dark. perhaps they thought that the loud buzzing sound--like the noise of a dozen moving railway trains--came from the blazing fagots; that the rush of wind was merely a breeze. but suddenly down swept a flock of orks, half a hundred of them at the least, and the powerful currents of air caused by their revolving tails sent the bonfire scattering in every direction, so that not one burning brand ever touched the scarecrow. but that was not the only effect of this sudden tornado. king krewl was blown out of his throne and went tumbling heels over head until he landed with a bump against the stone wall of his own castle, and before he could rise a big ork sat upon him and held him pressed flat to the ground. old googly-goo shot up into the air like a rocket and landed on a tree, where he hung by the middle on a high limb, kicking the air with his feet and clawing the air with his hands, and howling for mercy like the coward he was. the people pressed back until they were jammed close together, while all the soldiers were knocked over and sent sprawling to the earth. the excitement was great for a few minutes, and every frightened inhabitant of jinxland looked with awe and amazement at the great orks whose descent had served to rescue the scarecrow and conquer king krewl at one and the same time. the ork, who was the leader of the band, soon had the scarecrow free of his bonds. then he said: "well, we were just in time to save you, which is better than being a minute too late. you are now the master here, and we are determined to see your orders obeyed." with this the ork picked up krewl's golden crown, which had fallen off his head, and placed it upon the head of the scarecrow, who in his awkward way then shuffled over to the throne and sat down in it. seeing this, a rousing cheer broke from the crowd of people, who tossed their hats and waved their handkerchiefs and hailed the scarecrow as their king. the soldiers joined the people in the cheering, for now they fully realized that their hated master was conquered and it would be wise to show their good will to the conqueror. some of them bound krewl with ropes and dragged him forward, dumping his body on the ground before the scarecrow's throne. googly-goo struggled until he finally slid off the limb of the tree and came tumbling to the ground. he then tried to sneak away and escape, but the soldiers seized and bound him beside krewl. "the tables are turned," said the scarecrow, swelling out his chest until the straw within it crackled pleasantly, for he was highly pleased; "but it was you and your people who did it, friend ork, and from this time you may count me your humble servant." chapter nineteen the conquest of the witch now as soon as the conquest of king krewl had taken place, one of the orks had been dispatched to pon's house with the joyful news. at once gloria and pon and trot and button-bright hastened toward the castle. they were somewhat surprised by the sight that met their eyes, for there was the scarecrow, crowned king, and all the people kneeling humbly before him. so they likewise bowed low to the new ruler and then stood beside the throne. cap'n bill, as the gray grasshopper, was still perched upon trot's shoulder, but now he hopped to the shoulder of the scarecrow and whispered into the painted ear: "i thought gloria was to be queen of jinxland." the scarecrow shook his head. "not yet," he answered. "no queen with a frozen heart is fit to rule any country." then he turned to his new friend, the ork, who was strutting about, very proud of what he had done, and said: "do you suppose you, or your followers, could find old blinkie the witch?" "where is she?" asked the ork. "somewhere in jinxland, i'm sure." "then," said the ork, "we shall certainly be able to find her." "it will give me great pleasure," declared the scarecrow. "when you have found her, bring her here to me, and i will then decide what to do with her." the ork called his followers together and spoke a few words to them in a low tone. a moment after they rose into the air--so suddenly that the scarecrow, who was very light in weight, was blown quite out of his throne and into the arms of pon, who replaced him carefully upon his seat. there was an eddy of dust and ashes, too, and the grasshopper only saved himself from being whirled into the crowd of people by jumping into a tree, from where a series of hops soon brought him back to trot's shoulder again. the orks were quite out of sight by this time, so the scarecrow made a speech to the people and presented gloria to them, whom they knew well already and were fond of. but not all of them knew of her frozen heart, and when the scarecrow related the story of the wicked witch's misdeeds, which had been encouraged and paid for by krewl and googly-goo, the people were very indignant. meantime the fifty orks had scattered all over jinx land, which is not a very big country, and their sharp eyes were peering into every valley and grove and gully. finally one of them spied a pair of heels sticking out from underneath some bushes, and with a shrill whistle to warn his comrades that the witch was found the ork flew down and dragged old blinkie from her hiding-place. then two or three of the orks seized the clothing of the wicked woman in their strong claws and, lifting her high in the air, where she struggled and screamed to no avail, they flew with her straight to the royal castle and set her down before the throne of the scarecrow. "good!" exclaimed the straw man, nodding his stuffed head with satisfaction. "now we can proceed to business. mistress witch, i am obliged to request, gently but firmly, that you undo all the wrongs you have done by means of your witchcraft." "pah!" cried old blinkie in a scornful voice. "i defy you all! by my magic powers i can turn you all into pigs, rooting in the mud, and i'll do it if you are not careful." "i think you are mistaken about that," said the scarecrow, and rising from his throne he walked with wobbling steps to the side of the wicked witch. "before i left the land of oz, glinda the royal sorceress gave me a box, which i was not to open except in an emergency. but i feel pretty sure that this occasion is an emergency; don't you, trot?" he asked, turning toward the little girl. "why, we've got to do something," replied trot seriously. "things seem in an awful muddle here, jus' now, and they'll be worse if we don't stop this witch from doing more harm to people." "that is my idea, exactly," said the scarecrow, and taking a small box from his pocket he opened the cover and tossed the contents toward blinkie. the old woman shrank back, pale and trembling, as a fine white dust settled all about her. under its influence she seemed to the eyes of all observers to shrivel and grow smaller. "oh, dear--oh, dear!" she wailed, wringing her hands in fear. "haven't you the antidote, scarecrow? didn't the great sorceress give you another box?" "she did," answered the scarecrow. "then give it me--quick!" pleaded the witch. "give it me--and i'll do anything you ask me to!" "you will do what i ask first," declared the scarecrow, firmly. the witch was shriveling and growing smaller every moment. "be quick, then!" she cried. "tell me what i must do and let me do it, or it will be too late." "you made trot's friend, cap'n bill, a grasshopper. i command you to give him back his proper form again," said the scarecrow. "where is he? where's the grasshopper? quick--quick!" she screamed. cap'n bill, who had been deeply interested in this conversation, gave a great leap from trot's shoulder and landed on that of the scarecrow. blinkie saw him alight and at once began to make magic passes and to mumble magic incantations. she was in a desperate hurry, knowing that she had no time to waste, and the grasshopper was so suddenly transformed into the old sailor-man, cap'n bill, that he had no opportunity to jump off the scarecrow's shoulder; so his great weight bore the stuffed scarecrow to the ground. no harm was done, however, and the straw man got up and brushed the dust from his clothes while trot delightedly embraced cap'n bill. "the other box! quick! give me the other box," begged blinkie, who had now shrunk to half her former size. "not yet," said the scarecrow. "you must first melt princess gloria's frozen heart." "i can't; it's an awful job to do that! i can't," asserted the witch, in an agony of fear--for still she was growing smaller. "you must!" declared the scarecrow, firmly. the witch cast a shrewd look at him and saw that he meant it; so she began dancing around gloria in a frantic manner. the princess looked coldly on, as if not at all interested in the proceedings, while blinkie tore a handful of hair from her own head and ripped a strip of cloth from the bottom of her gown. then the witch sank upon her knees, took a purple powder from her black bag and sprinkled it over the hair and cloth. "i hate to do it--i hate to do it!" she wailed, "for there is no more of this magic compound in all the world. but i must sacrifice it to save my own life. a match! give me a match, quick!" and panting from lack of breath she gazed imploringly from one to another. cap'n bill was the only one who had a match, but he lost no time in handing it to blinkie, who quickly set fire to the hair and the cloth and the purple powder. at once a purple cloud enveloped gloria, and this gradually turned to a rosy pink color--brilliant and quite transparent. through the rosy cloud they could all see the beautiful princess, standing proud and erect. then her heart became visible, at first frosted with ice but slowly growing brighter and warmer until all the frost had disappeared and it was beating as softly and regularly as any other heart. and now the cloud dispersed and disclosed gloria, her face suffused with joy, smiling tenderly upon the friends who were grouped about her. poor pon stepped forward--timidly, fearing a repulse, but with pleading eyes and arms fondly outstretched toward his former sweetheart--and the princess saw him and her sweet face lighted with a radiant smile. without an instant's hesitation she threw herself into pon's arms and this reunion of two loving hearts was so affecting that the people turned away and lowered their eyes so as not to mar the sacred joy of the faithful lovers. but blinkie's small voice was shouting to the scarecrow for help. "the antidote!" she screamed. "give me the other box--quick!" the scarecrow looked at the witch with his quaint, painted eyes and saw that she was now no taller than his knee. so he took from his pocket the second box and scattered its contents on blinkie. she ceased to grow any smaller, but she could never regain her former size, and this the wicked old woman well knew. she did not know, however, that the second powder had destroyed all her power to work magic, and seeking to be revenged upon the scarecrow and his friends she at once began to mumble a charm so terrible in its effect that it would have destroyed half the population of jinxland--had it worked. but it did not work at all, to the amazement of old blinkie. and by this time the scarecrow noticed what the little witch was trying to do, and said to her: "go home, blinkie, and behave yourself. you are no longer a witch, but an ordinary old woman, and since you are powerless to do more evil i advise you to try to do some good in the world. believe me, it is more fun to accomplish a good act than an evil one, as you will discover when once you have tried it." but blinkie was at that moment filled with grief and chagrin at losing her magic powers. she started away toward her home, sobbing and bewailing her fate, and not one who saw her go was at all sorry for her. chapter twenty queen gloria next morning the scarecrow called upon all the courtiers and the people to assemble in the throne room of the castle, where there was room enough for all that were able to attend. they found the straw man seated upon the velvet cushions of the throne, with the king's glittering crown still upon his stuffed head. on one side of the throne, in a lower chair, sat gloria, looking radiantly beautiful and fresh as a new-blown rose. on the other side sat pon, the gardener's boy, still dressed in his old smock frock and looking sad and solemn; for pon could not make himself believe that so splendid a princess would condescend to love him when she had come to her own and was seated upon a throne. trot and cap'n bill sat at the feet of the scarecrow and were much interested in the proceedings. button-bright had lost himself before breakfast, but came into the throne room before the ceremonies were over. back of the throne stood a row of the great orks, with their leader in the center, and the entrance to the palace was guarded by more orks, who were regarded with wonder and awe. when all were assembled, the scarecrow stood up and made a speech. he told how gloria's father, the good king kynd, who had once ruled them and been loved by everyone, had been destroyed by king phearce, the father of pon, and how king phearce had been destroyed by king krewl. this last king had been a bad ruler, as they knew very well, and the scarecrow declared that the only one in all jinxland who had the right to sit upon the throne was princess gloria, the daughter of king kynd. "but," he added, "it is not for me, a stranger, to say who shall rule you. you must decide for yourselves, or you will not be content. so choose now who shall be your future ruler." and they all shouted: "the scarecrow! the scarecrow shall rule us!" which proved that the stuffed man had made himself very popular by his conquest of king krewl, and the people thought they would like him for their king. but the scarecrow shook his head so vigorously that it became loose, and trot had to pin it firmly to his body again. "no," said he, "i belong in the land of oz, where i am the humble servant of the lovely girl who rules us all--the royal ozma. you must choose one of your own inhabitants to rule over jinxland. who shall it be?" they hesitated for a moment, and some few cried: "pon!" but many more shouted: "gloria!" so the scarecrow took gloria's hand and led her to the throne, where he first seated her and then took the glittering crown off his own head and placed it upon that of the young lady, where it nestled prettily amongst her soft curls. the people cheered and shouted then, kneeling before their new queen; but gloria leaned down and took pon's hand in both her own and raised him to the seat beside her. "you shall have both a king and a queen to care for you and to protect you, my dear subjects," she said in a sweet voice, while her face glowed with happiness; "for pon was a king's son before he became a gardener's boy, and because i love him he is to be my royal consort." that pleased them all, especially pon, who realized that this was the most important moment of his life. trot and button-bright and cap'n will all congratulated him on winning the beautiful gloria; but the ork sneezed twice and said that in his opinion the young lady might have done better. then the scarecrow ordered the guards to bring in the wicked krewl, king no longer, and when he appeared, loaded with chains and dressed in fustian, the people hissed him and drew back as he passed so their garments would not touch him. krewl was not haughty or overbearing any more; on the contrary he seemed very meek and in great fear of the fate his conquerors had in store for him. but gloria and pon were too happy to be revengeful and so they offered to appoint krewl to the position of gardener's boy at the castle, pon having resigned to become king. but they said he must promise to reform his wicked ways and to do his duty faithfully, and he must change his name from krewl to grewl. all this the man eagerly promised to do, and so when pon retired to a room in the castle to put on princely raiment, the old brown smock he had formerly worn was given to grewl, who then went out into the garden to water the roses. the remainder of that famous day, which was long remembered in jinxland, was given over to feasting and merrymaking. in the evening there was a grand dance in the courtyard, where the brass band played a new piece of music called the "ork trot" which was dedicated to "our glorious gloria, the queen." while the queen and pon were leading this dance, and all the jinxland people were having a good time, the strangers were gathered in a group in the park outside the castle. cap'n bill, trot, button-bright and the scarecrow were there, and so was their old friend the ork; but of all the great flock of orks which had assisted in the conquest but three remained in jinxland, besides their leader, the others having returned to their own country as soon as gloria was crowned queen. to the young ork who had accompanied them in their adventures cap'n bill said: "you've surely been a friend in need, and we're mighty grateful to you for helping us. i might have been a grasshopper yet if it hadn't been for you, an' i might remark that bein' a grasshopper isn't much fun." "if it hadn't been for you, friend ork," said the scarecrow, "i fear i could not have conquered king krewl." "no," agreed trot, "you'd have been just a heap of ashes by this time." "and i might have been lost yet," added button-bright. "much obliged, mr. ork." "oh, that's all right," replied the ork. "friends must stand together, you know, or they wouldn't be friends. but now i must leave you and be off to my own country, where there's going to be a surprise party on my uncle, and i've promised to attend it." "dear me," said the scarecrow, regretfully. "that is very unfortunate." "why so?" asked the ork. "i hoped you would consent to carry us over those mountains, into the land of oz. my mission here is now finished and i want to get back to the emerald city." "how did you cross the mountains before?" inquired the ork. "i scaled the cliffs by means of a rope, and crossed the great gulf on a strand of spider web. of course i can return in the same manner, but it would be a hard journey--and perhaps an impossible one--for trot and button-bright and cap'n bill. so i thought that if you had the time you and your people would carry us over the mountains and land us all safely on the other side, in the land of oz." the ork thoughtfully considered the matter for a while. then he said: "i mustn't break my promise to be present at the surprise party; but, tell me, could you go to oz to-night?" "what, now?" exclaimed trot. "it is a fine moonlight night," said the ork, "and i've found in my experience that there's no time so good as right away. the fact is," he explained, "it's a long journey to orkland and i and my cousins here are all rather tired by our day's work. but if you will start now, and be content to allow us to carry you over the mountains and dump you on the other side, just say the word and--off we go!" cap'n bill and trot looked at one another questioningly. the little girl was eager to visit the famous fairyland of oz and the old sailor had endured such hardships in jinxland that he would be glad to be out of it. "it's rather impolite of us not to say good-bye to the new king and queen," remarked the scarecrow, "but i'm sure they're too happy to miss us, and i assure you it will be much easier to fly on the backs of the orks over those steep mountains than to climb them as i did." "all right; let's go!" trot decided. "but where's button-bright?" just at this important moment button-bright was lost again, and they all scattered in search of him. he had been standing beside them just a few minutes before, but his friends had an exciting hunt for him before they finally discovered the boy seated among the members of the band, beating the end of the bass drum with the bone of a turkey-leg that he had taken from the table in the banquet room. "hello, trot," he said, looking up at the little girl when she found him. "this is the first chance i ever had to pound a drum with a reg'lar drum stick. and i ate all the meat off the bone myself." "come quick. we're going to the land of oz." "oh, what's the hurry?" said button-bright; but she seized his arm and dragged him away to the park, where the others were waiting. trot climbed upon the back of her old friend, the ork leader, and the others took their seats on the backs of his three cousins. as soon as all were placed and clinging to the skinny necks of the creatures, the revolving tails began to whirl and up rose the four monster orks and sailed away toward the mountains. they were so high in the air that when they passed the crest of the highest peak it seemed far below them. no sooner were they well across the barrier than the orks swooped downward and landed their passengers upon the ground. "here we are, safe in the land of oz!" cried the scarecrow joyfully. "oh, are we?" asked trot, looking around her curiously. she could see the shadows of stately trees and the outlines of rolling hills; beneath her feet was soft turf, but otherwise the subdued light of the moon disclosed nothing clearly. "seems jus' like any other country," was cap'n bill's comment. "but it isn't," the scarecrow assured him. "you are now within the borders of the most glorious fairyland in all the world. this part of it is just a corner of the quadling country, and the least interesting portion of it. it's not very thickly settled, around here, i'll admit, but--" he was interrupted by a sudden whir and a rush of air as the four orks mounted into the sky. "good night!" called the shrill voices of the strange creatures, and although trot shouted "good night!" as loudly as she could, the little girl was almost ready to cry because the orks had not waited to be properly thanked for all their kindness to her and to cap'n bill. but the orks were gone, and thanks for good deeds do not amount to much except to prove one's politeness. "well, friends," said the scarecrow, "we mustn't stay here in the meadows all night, so let us find a pleasant place to sleep. not that it matters to me, in the least, for i never sleep; but i know that meat people like to shut their eyes and lie still during the dark hours." "i'm pretty tired," admitted trot, yawning as she followed the straw man along a tiny path, "so, if you don't find a house handy, cap'n bill and i will sleep under the trees, or even on this soft grass." but a house was not very far off, although when the scarecrow stumbled upon it there was no light in it whatever. cap'n bill knocked on the door several times, and there being no response the scarecrow boldly lifted the latch and walked in, followed by the others. and no sooner had they entered than a soft light filled the room. trot couldn't tell where it came from, for no lamp of any sort was visible, but she did not waste much time on this problem, because directly in the center of the room stood a table set for three, with lots of good food on it and several of the dishes smoking hot. the little girl and button-bright both uttered exclamations of pleasure, but they looked in vain for any cook stove or fireplace, or for any person who might have prepared for them this delicious feast. "it's fairyland," muttered the boy, tossing his cap in a corner and seating himself at the table. "this supper smells 'most as good as that turkey-leg i had in jinxland. please pass the muffins, cap'n bill." trot thought it was strange that no people but themselves were in the house, but on the wall opposite the door was a gold frame bearing in big letters the word: "welcome." so she had no further hesitation in eating of the food so mysteriously prepared for them. "but there are only places for three!" she exclaimed. "three are quite enough," said the scarecrow. "i never eat, because i am stuffed full already, and i like my nice clean straw better than i do food." trot and the sailor-man were hungry and made a hearty meal, for not since they had left home had they tasted such good food. it was surprising that button-bright could eat so soon after his feast in jinxland, but the boy always ate whenever there was an opportunity. "if i don't eat now," he said, "the next time i'm hungry i'll wish i had." "really, cap'n," remarked trot, when she found a dish of ice-cream appear beside her plate, "i b'lieve this is fairyland, sure enough." "there's no doubt of it, trot," he answered gravely "i've been here before," said button-bright, "so i know." after supper they discovered three tiny bedrooms adjoining the big living room of the house, and in each room was a comfortable white bed with downy pillows. you may be sure that the tired mortals were not long in bidding the scarecrow good night and creeping into their beds, where they slept soundly until morning. for the first time since they set eyes on the terrible whirlpool, trot and cap'n bill were free from anxiety and care. button-bright never worried about anything. the scarecrow, not being able to sleep, looked out of the window and tried to count the stars. chapter twenty-one dorothy, betsy and ozma i suppose many of my readers have read descriptions of the beautiful and magnificent emerald city of oz, so i need not describe it here, except to state that never has any city in any fairyland ever equalled this one in stately splendor. it lies almost exactly in the center of the land of oz, and in the center of the emerald city rises the wall of glistening emeralds that surrounds the palace of ozma. the palace is almost a city in itself and is inhabited by many of the ruler's especial friends and those who have won her confidence and favor. as for ozma herself, there are no words in any dictionary i can find that are fitted to describe this young girl's beauty of mind and person. merely to see her is to love her for her charming face and manners; to know her is to love her for her tender sympathy, her generous nature, her truth and honor. born of a long line of fairy queens, ozma is as nearly perfect as any fairy may be, and she is noted for her wisdom as well as for her other qualities. her happy subjects adore their girl ruler and each one considers her a comrade and protector. at the time of which i write, ozma's best friend and most constant companion was a little kansas girl named dorothy, a mortal who had come to the land of oz in a very curious manner and had been offered a home in ozma's palace. furthermore, dorothy had been made a princess of oz, and was as much at home in the royal palace as was the gentle ruler. she knew almost every part of the great country and almost all of its numerous inhabitants. next to ozma she was loved better than anyone in all oz, for dorothy was simple and sweet, seldom became angry and had such a friendly, chummy way that she made friends where-ever she wandered. it was she who first brought the scarecrow and the tin woodman and the cowardly lion to the emerald city. dorothy had also introduced to ozma the shaggy man and the hungry tiger, as well as billina the yellow hen, eureka the pink kitten, and many other delightful characters and creatures. coming as she did from our world, dorothy was much like many other girls we know; so there were times when she was not so wise as she might have been, and other times when she was obstinate and got herself into trouble. but life in a fairy-land had taught the little girl to accept all sorts of surprising things as matters-of-course, for while dorothy was no fairy--but just as mortal as we are--she had seen more wonders than most mortals ever do. another little girl from our outside world also lived in ozma's palace. this was betsy bobbin, whose strange adventures had brought her to the emerald city, where ozma had cordially welcomed her. betsy was a shy little thing and could never get used to the marvels that surrounded her, but she and dorothy were firm friends and thought themselves very fortunate in being together in this delightful country. one day dorothy and betsy were visiting ozma in the girl ruler's private apartment, and among the things that especially interested them was ozma's magic picture, set in a handsome frame and hung upon the wall of the room. this picture was a magic one because it constantly changed its scenes and showed events and adventures happening in all parts of the world. thus it was really a "moving picture" of life, and if the one who stood before it wished to know what any absent person was doing, the picture instantly showed that person, with his or her surroundings. the two girls were not wishing to see anyone in particular, on this occasion, but merely enjoyed watching the shifting scenes, some of which were exceedingly curious and remarkable. suddenly dorothy exclaimed: "why, there's button-bright!" and this drew ozma also to look at the picture, for she and dorothy knew the boy well. "who is button-bright?" asked betsy, who had never met him. "why, he's the little boy who is just getting off the back of that strange flying creature," exclaimed dorothy. then she turned to ozma and asked: "what is that thing, ozma? a bird? i've never seen anything like it before." "it is an ork," answered ozma, for they were watching the scene where the ork and the three big birds were first landing their passengers in jinxland after the long flight across the desert. "i wonder," added the girl ruler, musingly, "why those strangers dare venture into that unfortunate country, which is ruled by a wicked king." "that girl, and the one-legged man, seem to be mortals from the outside world," said dorothy. "the man isn't one-legged," corrected betsy; "he has one wooden leg." "it's almost as bad," declared dorothy, watching cap'n bill stump around. "they are three mortal adventurers," said ozma, "and they seem worthy and honest. but i fear they will be treated badly in jinxland, and if they meet with any misfortune there it will reflect upon me, for jinxland is a part of my dominions." "can't we help them in any way?" inquired dorothy. "that seems like a nice little girl. i'd be sorry if anything happened to her." "let us watch the picture for awhile," suggested ozma, and so they all drew chairs before the magic picture and followed the adventures of trot and cap'n bill and button-bright. presently the scene shifted and showed their friend the scarecrow crossing the mountains into jinxland, and that somewhat relieved ozma's anxiety, for she knew at once that glinda the good had sent the scarecrow to protect the strangers. the adventures in jinxland proved very interesting to the three girls in ozma's palace, who during the succeeding days spent much of their time in watching the picture. it was like a story to them. "that girl's a reg'lar trump!" exclaimed dorothy, referring to trot, and ozma answered: "she's a dear little thing, and i'm sure nothing very bad will happen to her. the old sailor is a fine character, too, for he has never once grumbled over being a grasshopper, as so many would have done." when the scarecrow was so nearly burned up the girls all shivered a little, and they clapped their hands in joy when the flock of orks came and saved him. so it was that when all the exciting adventures in jinxland were over and the four orks had begun their flight across the mountains to carry the mortals into the land of oz, ozma called the wizard to her and asked him to prepare a place for the strangers to sleep. the famous wizard of oz was a quaint little man who inhabited the royal palace and attended to all the magical things that ozma wanted done. he was not as powerful as glinda, to be sure, but he could do a great many wonderful things. he proved this by placing a house in the uninhabited part of the quadling country where the orks landed cap'n bill and trot and button-bright, and fitting it with all the comforts i have described in the last chapter. next morning dorothy said to ozma: "oughtn't we to go meet the strangers, so we can show them the way to the emerald city? i'm sure that little girl will feel shy in this beautiful land, and i know if 'twas me i'd like somebody to give me a welcome." ozma smiled at her little friend and answered: "you and betsy may go to meet them, if you wish, but i can not leave my palace just now, as i am to have a conference with jack pumpkinhead and professor wogglebug on important matters. you may take the sawhorse and the red wagon, and if you start soon you will be able to meet the scarecrow and the strangers at glinda's palace." "oh, thank you!" cried dorothy, and went away to tell betsy and to make preparations for the journey. chapter twenty-two the waterfall glinda's castle was a long way from the mountains, but the scarecrow began the journey cheerfully, since time was of no great importance in the land of oz and he had recently made the trip and knew the way. it never mattered much to button-bright where he was or what he was doing; the boy was content in being alive and having good companions to share his wanderings. as for trot and cap'n bill, they now found themselves so comfortable and free from danger, in this fine fairyland, and they were so awed and amazed by the adventures they were encountering, that the journey to glinda's castle was more like a pleasure trip than a hardship, so many wonderful things were there to see. button-bright had been in oz before, but never in this part of it, so the scarecrow was the only one who knew the paths and could lead them. they had eaten a hearty breakfast, which they found already prepared for them and awaiting them on the table when they arose from their refreshing sleep, so they left the magic house in a contented mood and with hearts lighter and more happy than they had known for many a day. as they marched along through the fields, the sun shone brightly and the breeze was laden with delicious fragrance, for it carried with it the breath of millions of wildflowers. at noon, when they stopped to rest by the bank of a pretty river, trot said with a long-drawn breath that was much like a sigh: "i wish we'd brought with us some of the food that was left from our breakfast, for i'm getting hungry again." scarcely had she spoken when a table rose up before them, as if from the ground itself, and it was loaded with fruits and nuts and cakes and many other good things to eat. the little girl's eyes opened wide at this display of magic, and cap'n bill was not sure that the things were actually there and fit to eat until he had taken them in his hand and tasted them. but the scarecrow said with a laugh: "someone is looking after your welfare, that is certain, and from the looks of this table i suspect my friend the wizard has taken us in his charge. i've known him to do things like this before, and if we are in the wizard's care you need not worry about your future." "who's worrying?" inquired button-bright, already at the table and busily eating. the scarecrow looked around the place while the others were feasting, and finding many things unfamiliar to him he shook his head and remarked: "i must have taken the wrong path, back in that last valley, for on my way to jinxland i remember that i passed around the foot of this river, where there was a great waterfall." "did the river make a bend, after the waterfall?" asked cap'n bill. "no, the river disappeared. only a pool of whirling water showed what had become of the river; but i suppose it is under ground, somewhere, and will come to the surface again in another part of the country." "well," suggested trot, as she finished her luncheon, "as there is no way to cross this river, i s'pose we'll have to find that waterfall, and go around it." "exactly," replied the scarecrow; so they soon renewed their journey, following the river for a long time until the roar of the waterfall sounded in their ears. by and by they came to the waterfall itself, a sheet of silver dropping far, far down into a tiny lake which seemed to have no outlet. from the top of the fall, where they stood, the banks gradually sloped away, so that the descent by land was quite easy, while the river could do nothing but glide over an edge of rock and tumble straight down to the depths below. "you see," said the scarecrow, leaning over the brink, "this is called by our oz people the great waterfall, because it is certainly the highest one in all the land; but i think--help!" he had lost his balance and pitched headforemost into the river. they saw a flash of straw and blue clothes, and the painted face looking upward in surprise. the next moment the scarecrow was swept over the waterfall and plunged into the basin below. the accident had happened so suddenly that for a moment they were all too horrified to speak or move. "quick! we must go to help him or he will be drowned," trot exclaimed. even while speaking she began to descend the bank to the pool below, and cap'n bill followed as swiftly as his wooden leg would let him. button-bright came more slowly, calling to the girl: "he can't drown, trot; he's a scarecrow." but she wasn't sure a scarecrow couldn't drown and never relaxed her speed until she stood on the edge of the pool, with the spray dashing in her face. cap'n bill, puffing and panting, had just voice enough to ask, as he reached her side: "see him, trot?" "not a speck of him. oh, cap'n, what do you s'pose has become of him?" "i s'pose," replied the sailor, "that he's in that water, more or less far down, and i'm 'fraid it'll make his straw pretty soggy. but as fer his bein' drowned, i agree with button-bright that it can't be done." there was small comfort in this assurance and trot stood for some time searching with her eyes the bubbling water, in the hope that the scarecrow would finally come to the surface. presently she heard button-bright calling: "come here, trot!" and looking around she saw that the boy had crept over the wet rocks to the edge of the waterfall and seemed to be peering behind it. making her way toward him, she asked: "what do you see?" "a cave," he answered. "let's go in. p'r'aps we'll find the scarecrow there." she was a little doubtful of that, but the cave interested her, and so did it cap'n bill. there was just space enough at the edge of the sheet of water for them to crowd in behind it, but after that dangerous entrance they found room enough to walk upright and after a time they came to an opening in the wall of rock. approaching this opening, they gazed within it and found a series of steps, cut so that they might easily descend into the cavern. trot turned to look inquiringly at her companions. the falling water made such din and roaring that her voice could not be heard. cap'n bill nodded his head, but before he could enter the cave, button-bright was before him, clambering down the steps without a particle of fear. so the others followed the boy. the first steps were wet with spray, and slippery, but the remainder were quite dry. a rosy light seemed to come from the interior of the cave, and this lighted their way. after the steps there was a short tunnel, high enough for them to walk erect in, and then they reached the cave itself and paused in wonder and admiration. they stood on the edge of a vast cavern, the walls and domed roof of which were lined with countless rubies, exquisitely cut and flashing sparkling rays from one to another. this caused a radiant light that permitted the entire cavern to be distinctly seen, and the effect was so marvelous that trot drew in her breath with a sort of a gasp, and stood quite still in wonder. but the walls and roof of the cavern were merely a setting for a more wonderful scene. in the center was a bubbling caldron of water, for here the river rose again, splashing and dashing till its spray rose high in the air, where it took the ruby color of the jewels and seemed like a seething mass of flame. and while they gazed into the tumbling, tossing water, the body of the scarecrow suddenly rose in the center, struggling and kicking, and the next instant wholly disappeared from view. "my, but he's wet!" exclaimed button-bright; but none of the others heard him. trot and cap'n bill discovered that a broad ledge--covered, like the walls, with glittering rubies--ran all around the cavern; so they followed this gorgeous path to the rear and found where the water made its final dive underground, before it disappeared entirely. where it plunged into this dim abyss the river was black and dreary looking, and they stood gazing in awe until just beside them the body of the scarecrow again popped up from the water. chapter twenty three the land of oz the straw man's appearance on the water was so sudden that it startled trot, but cap'n bill had the presence of mind to stick his wooden leg out over the water and the scarecrow made a desperate clutch and grabbed the leg with both hands. he managed to hold on until trot and button-bright knelt down and seized his clothing, but the children would have been powerless to drag the soaked scarecrow ashore had not cap'n bill now assisted them. when they laid him on the ledge of rubies he was the most useless looking scarecrow you can imagine--his straw sodden and dripping with water, his clothing wet and crumpled, while even the sack upon which his face was painted had become so wrinkled that the old jolly expression of their stuffed friend's features was entirely gone. but he could still speak, and when trot bent down her ear she heard him say: "get me out of here as soon as you can." that seemed a wise thing to do, so cap'n bill lifted his head and shoulders, and trot and button-bright each took a leg; among them they partly carried and partly dragged the damp scarecrow out of the ruby cavern, along the tunnel, and up the flight of rock steps. it was somewhat difficult to get him past the edge of the waterfall, but they succeeded, after much effort, and a few minutes later laid their poor comrade on a grassy bank where the sun shone upon him freely and he was beyond the reach of the spray. cap'n bill now knelt down and examined the straw that the scarecrow was stuffed with. "i don't believe it'll be of much use to him, any more," said he, "for it's full of polliwogs an' fish eggs, an' the water has took all the crinkle out o' the straw an ruined it. i guess, trot, that the best thing for us to do is to empty out all his body an' carry his head an' clothes along the road till we come to a field or a house where we can get some fresh straw." "yes, cap'n," she agreed, "there's nothing else to be done. but how shall we ever find the road to glinda's palace, without the scarecrow to guide us?" "that's easy," said the scarecrow, speaking in a rather feeble but distinct voice. "if cap'n bill will carry my head on his shoulders, eyes front, i can tell him which way to go." so they followed that plan and emptied all the old, wet straw out of the scarecrow's body. then the sailor-man wrung out the clothes and laid them in the sun till they were quite dry. trot took charge of the head and pressed the wrinkles out of the face as it dried, so that after a while the scarecrow's expression became natural again, and as jolly as before. this work consumed some time, but when it was completed they again started upon their journey, button-bright carrying the boots and hat, trot the bundle of clothes, and cap'n bill the head. the scarecrow, having regained his composure and being now in a good humor, despite his recent mishaps, beguiled their way with stories of the land of oz. it was not until the next morning, however, that they found straw with which to restuff the scarecrow. that evening they came to the same little house they had slept in before, only now it was magically transferred to a new place. the same bountiful supper as before was found smoking hot upon the table and the same cosy beds were ready for them to sleep in. they rose early and after breakfast went out of doors, and there, lying just beside the house, was a heap of clean, crisp straw. ozma had noticed the scarecrow's accident in her magic picture and had notified the wizard to provide the straw, for she knew the adventurers were not likely to find straw in the country through which they were now traveling. they lost no time in stuffing the scarecrow anew, and he was greatly delighted at being able to walk around again and to assume the leadership of the little party. "really," said trot, "i think you're better than you were before, for you are fresh and sweet all through and rustle beautifully when you move." "thank you, my dear," he replied gratefully. "i always feel like a new man when i'm freshly stuffed. no one likes to get musty, you know, and even good straw may be spoiled by age." "it was water that spoiled you, the last time," remarked button-bright, "which proves that too much bathing is as bad as too little. but, after all, scarecrow, water is not as dangerous for you as fire." "all things are good in moderation," declared the scarecrow. "but now, let us hurry on, or we shall not reach glinda's palace by nightfall." chapter twenty-four the royal reception at about four o'clock of that same day the red wagon drew up at the entrance to glinda's palace and dorothy and betsy jumped out. ozma's red wagon was almost a chariot, being inlaid with rubies and pearls, and it was drawn by ozma's favorite steed, the wooden sawhorse. "shall i unharness you," asked dorothy, "so you can come in and visit?" "no," replied the sawhorse. "i'll just stand here and think. take your time. thinking doesn't seem to bore me at all." "what will you think of?" inquired betsy. "of the acorn that grew the tree from which i was made." so they left the wooden animal and went in to see glinda, who welcomed the little girls in her most cordial manner. "i knew you were on your way," said the good sorceress when they were seated in her library, "for i learned from my record book that you intended to meet trot and button-bright on their arrival here." "is the strange little girl named trot?" asked dorothy. "yes; and her companion, the old sailor, is named cap'n bill. i think we shall like them very much, for they are just the kind of people to enjoy and appreciate our fairyland and i do not see any way, at present, for them to return again to the outside world." "well, there's room enough here for them, i'm sure," said dorothy. "betsy and i are already eager to welcome trot. it will keep us busy for a year, at least, showing her all the wonderful things in oz." glinda smiled. "i have lived here many years," said she, "and i have not seen all the wonders of oz yet." meantime the travelers were drawing near to the palace, and when they first caught sight of its towers trot realized that it was far more grand and imposing than was the king's castle in jinxland. the nearer they came, the more beautiful the palace appeared, and when finally the scarecrow led them up the great marble steps, even button-bright was filled with awe. "i don't see any soldiers to guard the place," said the little girl. "there is no need to guard glinda's palace," replied the scarecrow. "we have no wicked people in oz, that we know of, and even if there were any, glinda's magic would be powerful enough to protect her." button-bright was now standing on the top steps of the entrance, and he suddenly exclaimed: "why, there's the sawhorse and the red wagon! hip, hooray!" and next moment he was rushing down to throw his arms around the neck of the wooden horse, which good-naturedly permitted this familiarity when it recognized in the boy an old friend. button-bright's shout had been heard inside the palace, so now dorothy and betsy came running out to embrace their beloved friend, the scarecrow, and to welcome trot and cap'n bill to the land of oz. "we've been watching you for a long time, in ozma's magic picture," said dorothy, "and ozma has sent us to invite you to her own palace in the em'rald city. i don't know if you realize how lucky you are to get that invitation, but you'll understand it better after you've seen the royal palace and the em'rald city." glinda now appeared in person to lead all the party into her azure reception room. trot was a little afraid of the stately sorceress, but gained courage by holding fast to the hands of betsy and dorothy. cap'n bill had no one to help him feel at ease, so the old sailor sat stiffly on the edge of his chair and said: "yes, ma'am," or "no, ma'am," when he was spoken to, and was greatly embarrassed by so much splendor. the scarecrow had lived so much in palaces that he felt quite at home, and he chatted to glinda and the oz girls in a merry, light-hearted way. he told all about his adventures in jinxland, and at the great waterfall, and on the journey hither--most of which his hearers knew already--and then he asked dorothy and betsy what had happened in the emerald city since he had left there. they all passed the evening and the night at glinda's palace, and the sorceress was so gracious to cap'n bill that the old man by degrees regained his self-possession and began to enjoy himself. trot had already come to the conclusion that in dorothy and betsy she had found two delightful comrades, and button-bright was just as much at home here as he had been in the fields of jinxland or when he was buried in the popcorn snow of the land of mo. the next morning they arose bright and early and after breakfast bade good-bye to the kind sorceress, whom trot and cap'n bill thanked earnestly for sending the scarecrow to jinxland to rescue them. then they all climbed into the red wagon. there was room for all on the broad seats, and when all had taken their places--dorothy, trot and betsy on the rear seat and cap'n bill, button-bright and the scarecrow in front--they called "gid-dap!" to the sawhorse and the wooden steed moved briskly away, pulling the red wagon with ease. it was now that the strangers began to perceive the real beauties of the land of oz, for they were passing through a more thickly settled part of the country and the population grew more dense as they drew nearer to the emerald city. everyone they met had a cheery word or a smile for the scarecrow, dorothy and betsy bobbin, and some of them remembered button-bright and welcomed him back to their country. it was a happy party, indeed, that journeyed in the red wagon to the emerald city, and trot already began to hope that ozma would permit her and cap'n bill to live always in the land of oz. when they reached the great city they were more amazed than ever, both by the concourse of people in their quaint and picturesque costumes, and by the splendor of the city itself. but the magnificence of the royal palace quite took their breath away, until ozma received them in her own pretty apartment and by her charming manners and assuring smiles made them feel they were no longer strangers. trot was given a lovely little room next to that of dorothy, while cap'n bill had the cosiest sort of a room next to trot's and overlooking the gardens. and that evening ozma gave a grand banquet and reception in honor of the new arrivals. while trot had read of many of the people she then met, cap'n bill was less familiar with them and many of the unusual characters introduced to him that evening caused the old sailor to open his eyes wide in astonishment. he had thought the live scarecrow about as curious as anyone could be, but now he met the tin woodman, who was all made of tin, even to his heart, and carried a gleaming axe over his shoulder wherever he went. then there was jack pumpkinhead, whose head was a real pumpkin with the face carved upon it; and professor wogglebug, who had the shape of an enormous bug but was dressed in neat fitting garments. the professor was an interesting talker and had very polite manners, but his face was so comical that it made cap'n bill smile to look at it. a great friend of dorothy and ozma seemed to be a machine man called tik-tok, who ran down several times during the evening and had to be wound up again by someone before he could move or speak. at the reception appeared the shaggy man and his brother, both very popular in oz, as well as dorothy's uncle henry and aunt em, two happy old people who lived in a pretty cottage near the palace. but what perhaps seemed most surprising to both trot and cap'n bill was the number of peculiar animals admitted into ozma's parlors, where they not only conducted themselves quite properly but were able to talk as well as anyone. there was the cowardly lion, an immense beast with a beautiful mane; and the hungry tiger, who smiled continually; and eureka the pink kitten, who lay curled upon a cushion and had rather supercilious manners; and the wooden sawhorse; and nine tiny piglets that belonged to the wizard; and a mule named hank, who belonged to betsy bobbin. a fuzzy little terrier dog, named toto, lay at dorothy's feet but seldom took part in the conversation, although he listened to every word that was said. but the most wonderful of all to trot was a square beast with a winning smile, that squatted in a corner of the room and wagged his square head at everyone in quite a jolly way. betsy told trot that this unique beast was called the woozy, and there was no other like him in all the world. cap'n bill and trot had both looked around expectantly for the wizard of oz, but the evening was far advanced before the famous little man entered the room. but he went up to the strangers at once and said: "i know you, but you don't know me; so let's get acquainted." and they did get acquainted, in a very short time, and before the evening was over trot felt that she knew every person and animal present at the reception, and that they were all her good friends. suddenly they looked around for button-bright, but he was nowhere to be found. "dear me!" cried trot. "he's lost again." "never mind, my dear," said ozma, with her charming smile, "no one can go far astray in the land of oz, and if button-bright isn't lost occasionally, he isn't happy." the wonderful oz books by l. frank baum the wizard of oz the land of oz ozma of oz dorothy and the wizard in oz the road to oz the emerald city of oz the patchwork girl of oz tik-tok of oz the scarecrow of oz rinkitink in oz the lost princess of oz the tin woodman of oz the magic of oz glinda of oz spirits in bondage a cycle of lyrics by clive hamilton [c. s. lewis] in three parts i. the prison house ii. hesitation iii.the escape "the land where i shall never be the love that i shall never see" historical background published under the pseudonym, clive hamilton, spirits in bondage was c. s. lewis' first book. released in by heinemann, it was reprinted in by harcourt brace jovanovich and included in lewis' collected poems. it is the first of lewis' major published works to enter the public domain in the united states. readers should be aware that in other countries it may still be under copyright protection. most of the poems appear to have been written between and , a period during which lewis was a student under w. t. kirkpatrick, a military trainee at oxford, and a soldier serving in the trenches of world war i. their outlook varies from romantic expressions of love for the beauty and simplicity of nature to cynical statements about the presence of evil in this world. in a september , letter to his friend arthur greeves, lewis said that his book was, "mainly strung around the idea that i mentioned to you before--that nature is wholly diabolical & malevolent and that god, if he exists, is outside of and in opposition to the cosmic arrangements." in his cynical poems, lewis is dealing with the same questions about evil in nature that alfred lord tennyson explored from a position of troubled faith in "in memoriam a. h." (stanzas f). in a letter written perhaps to reassure his father, lewis claimed, "you know who the god i blaspheme is and that it is not the god that you or i worship, or any other christian." whatever lewis believed at that time, the attitude in many of these poems is quite different from the attitude he expressed in his many christian books from the s on. attempts in movies and on stage plays to portray lewis as a sheltered professor who knew little about pain until the death of his wife late in life, have to deal not only with the many tragedies he experienced from a boy on, but also with the disturbing issues he faced in many of these early poems. prologue as of old phoenician men, to the tin isles sailing straight against the sunset and the edges of the earth, chaunted loud above the storm and the strange sea's wailing, legends of their people and the land that gave them birth-- sang aloud to baal-peor, sang unto the horned maiden, sang how they should come again with the brethon treasure laden, sang of all the pride and glory of their hardy enterprise, how they found the outer islands, where the unknown stars arise; and the rowers down below, rowing hard as they could row, toiling at the stroke and feather through the wet and weary weather, even they forgot their burden in the measure of a song, and the merchants and the masters and the bondsmen all together, dreaming of the wondrous islands, brought the gallant ship along; so in mighty deeps alone on the chainless breezes blown in my coracle of verses i will sing of lands unknown, flying from the scarlet city where a lord that knows no pity, mocks the broken people praying round his iron throne, sing about the hidden country fresh and full of quiet green. sailing over seas uncharted to a port that none has seen. part i the prison house i. satan speaks i am nature, the mighty mother, i am the law: ye have none other. i am the flower and the dewdrop fresh, i am the lust in your itching flesh. i am the battle's filth and strain, i am the widow's empty pain. i am the sea to smother your breath, i am the bomb, the falling death. i am the fact and the crushing reason to thwart your fantasy's new-born treason. i am the spider making her net, i am the beast with jaws blood-wet. i am a wolf that follows the sun and i will catch him ere day be done. ii. french nocturne (monchy-le-preux) long leagues on either hand the trenches spread and all is still; now even this gross line drinks in the frosty silences divine the pale, green moon is riding overhead. the jaws of a sacked village, stark and grim; out on the ridge have swallowed up the sun, and in one angry streak his blood has run to left and right along the horizon dim. there comes a buzzing plane: and now, it seems flies straight into the moon. lo! where he steers across the pallid globe and surely nears in that white land some harbour of dear dreams! false mocking fancy! once i too could dream, who now can only see with vulgar eye that he's no nearer to the moon than i and she's a stone that catches the sun's beam. what call have i to dream of anything? i am a wolf. back to the world again, and speech of fellow-brutes that once were men our throats can bark for slaughter: cannot sing. iii. the satyr when the flowery hands of spring forth their woodland riches fling, through the meadows, through the valleys goes the satyr carolling. from the mountain and the moor, forest green and ocean shore all the faerie kin he rallies making music evermore. see! the shaggy pelt doth grow on his twisted shanks below, and his dreadful feet are cloven though his brow be white as snow-- though his brow be clear and white and beneath it fancies bright, wisdom and high thoughts are woven and the musics of delight, though his temples too be fair yet two horns are growing there bursting forth to part asunder all the riches of his hair. faerie maidens he may meet fly the horns and cloven feet, but, his sad brown eyes with wonder seeing-stay from their retreat. iv. victory roland is dead, cuchulain's crest is low, the battered war-rear wastes and turns to rust, and helen's eyes and iseult's lips are dust and dust the shoulders and the breasts of snow. the faerie people from our woods are gone, no dryads have i found in all our trees, no triton blows his horn about our seas and arthur sleeps far hence in avalon. the ancient songs they wither as the grass and waste as doth a garment waxen old, all poets have been fools who thought to mould a monument more durable than brass. for these decay: but not for that decays the yearning, high, rebellious spirit of man that never rested yet since life began from striving with red nature and her ways. now in the filth of war, the baresark shout of battle, it is vexed. and yet so oft out of the deeps, of old, it rose aloft that they who watch the ages may not doubt. though often bruised, oft broken by the rod, yet, like the phoenix, from each fiery bed higher the stricken spirit lifts its head and higher-till the beast become a god. v. irish nocturne now the grey mist comes creeping up from the waste ocean's weedy strand and fills the valley, as a cup if filled of evil drink in a wizard's hand; and the trees fade out of sight, like dreary ghosts unhealthily, into the damp, pale night, till you almost think that a clearer eye could see some shape come up of a demon seeking apart his meat, as grendel sought in harte the thanes that sat by the wintry log-- grendel or the shadowy mass of balor, or the man with the face of clay, the grey, grey walker who used to pass over the rock-arch nightly to his prey. but here at the dumb, slow stream where the willows hang, with never a wind to blow the mists apart, bitter and bitter it is for thee. o my heart, looking upon this land, where poets sang, thus with the dreary shroud unwholesome, over it spread, and knowing the fog and the cloud in her people's heart and head even as it lies for ever upon her coasts making them dim and dreamy lest her sons should ever arise and remember all their boasts; for i know that the colourless skies and the blurred horizons breed lonely desire and many words and brooding and never a deed. vi. spooks last night i dreamed that i was come again unto the house where my beloved dwells after long years of wandering and pain. and i stood out beneath the drenching rain and all the street was bare, and black with night, but in my true love's house was warmth and light. yet i could not draw near nor enter in, and long i wondered if some secret sin or old, unhappy anger held me fast; till suddenly it came into my head that i was killed long since and lying dead-- only a homeless wraith that way had passed. so thus i found my true love's house again and stood unseen amid the winter night and the lamp burned within, a rosy light, and the wet street was shining in the rain. vii. apology if men should ask, despoina, why i tell of nothing glad nor noble in my verse to lighten hearts beneath this present curse and build a heaven of dreams in real hell, go you to them and speak among them thus: "there were no greater grief than to recall, down in the rotting grave where the lithe worms crawl, green fields above that smiled so sweet to us." is it good to tell old tales of troynovant or praises of dead heroes, tried and sage, or sing the queens of unforgotten age, brynhild and maeve and virgin bradamant? how should i sing of them? can it be good to think of glory now, when all is done, and all our labour underneath the sun has brought us this-and not the thing we would? all these were rosy visions of the night, the loveliness and wisdom feigned of old. but now we wake. the east is pale and cold, no hope is in the dawn, and no delight. viii. ode for new year's day woe unto you, ye sons of pain that are this day in earth, now cry for all your torment: now curse your hour of birth and the fathers who begat you to a portion nothing worth. and thou, my own beloved, for as brave as ere thou art, bow down thine head, despoina, clasp thy pale arms over it, lie low with fast-closed eyelids, clenched teeth, enduring heart, for sorrow on sorrow is coming wherein all flesh has part. the sky above is sickening, the clouds of god's hate cover it, body and soul shall suffer beyond all word or thought, till the pain and noisy terror that these first years have wrought seem but the soft arising and prelude of the storm that fiercer still and heavier with sharper lightnings fraught shall pour red wrath upon us over a world deform. thrice happy, o despoina, were the men who were alive in the great age and the golden age when still the cycle ran on upward curve and easily, for them both maid and man and beast and tree and spirit in the green earth could thrive. but now one age is ending, and god calls home the stars and looses the wheel of the ages and sends it spinning back amid the death of nations, and points a downward track, and madness is come over us and great and little wars. he has not left one valley, one isle of fresh and green where old friends could forgather amid the howling wreck. it's vainly we are praying. we cannot, cannot check the power who slays and puts aside the beauty that has been. it's truth they tell, despoina, none hears the heart's complaining for nature will not pity, nor the red god lend an ear, yet i too have been mad in the hour of bitter paining and lifted up my voice to god, thinking that he could hear the curse wherewith i cursed him because the good was dead. but lo! i am grown wiser, knowing that our own hearts have made a phantom called the good, while a few years have sped over a little planet. and what should the great lord know of it who tosses the dust of chaos and gives the suns their parts? hither and thither he moves them; for an hour we see the show of it: only a little hour, and the life of the race is done. and here he builds a nebula, and there he slays a sun and works his own fierce pleasure. all things he shall fulfill, and o, my poor despoina, do you think he ever hears the wail of hearts he has broken, the sound of human ill? he cares not for our virtues, our little hopes and fears, and how could it all go on, love, if he knew of laughter and tears? ah, sweet, if a man could cheat him! if you could flee away into some other country beyond the rosy west, to hide in the deep forests and be for ever at rest from the rankling hate of god and the outworn world's decay! ix. night after the fret and failure of this day, and weariness of thought, o mother night, come with soft kiss to soothe our care away and all our little tumults set to right; most pitiful of all death's kindred fair, riding above us through the curtained air on thy dusk car, thou scatterest to the earth sweet dreams and drowsy charms of tender might and lovers' dear delight before to-morrow's birth. thus art thou wont thy quiet lands to leave and pillared courts beyond the milky way, wherein thou tarriest all our solar day while unsubstantial dreams before thee weave a foamy dance, and fluttering fancies play about thy palace in the silver ray of some far, moony globe. but when the hour, the long-expected comes, the ivory gates open on noiseless hinge before thy bower unbidden, and the jewelled chariot waits with magic steeds. thou from the fronting rim bending to urge them, whilst thy sea-dark hair falls in ambrosial ripples o'er each limb, with beautiful pale arms, untrammelled, bare for horsemanship, to those twin chargers fleet dost give full rein across the fires that glow in the wide floor of heaven, from off their feet scattering the powdery star-dust as they go. come swiftly down the sky, o lady night, fall through the shadow-country, o most kind, shake out thy strands of gentle dreams and light for chains, wherewith thou still art used to bind with tenderest love of careful leeches' art the bruised and weary heart in slumber blind. x. to sleep i will find out a place for thee, o sleep-- a hidden wood among the hill-tops green, full of soft streams and little winds that creep the murmuring boughs between. a hollow cup above the ocean placed where nothing rough, nor loud, nor harsh shall be, but woodland light and shadow interlaced and summer sky and sea. there in the fragrant twilight i will raise a secret altar of the rich sea sod, whereat to offer sacrifice and praise unto my lonely god: due sacrifice of his own drowsy flowers, the deadening poppies in an ocean shell round which through all forgotten days and hours the great seas wove their spell. so may he send me dreams of dear delight and draughts of cool oblivion, quenching pain, and sweet, half-wakeful moments in the night to hear the falling rain. and when he meets me at the dusk of day to call me home for ever, this i ask-- that he may lead me friendly on that way and wear no frightful mask. xi. in prison i cried out for the pain of man, i cried out for my bitter wrath against the hopeless life that ran for ever in a circling path from death to death since all began; till on a summer night i lost my way in the pale starlight and saw our planet, far and small, through endless depths of nothing fall a lonely pin-prick spark of light, upon the wide, enfolding night, with leagues on leagues of stars above it, and powdered dust of stars below-- dead things that neither hate nor love it not even their own loveliness can know, being but cosmic dust and dead. and if some tears be shed, some evil god have power, some crown of sorrow sit upon a little world for a little hour-- who shall remember? who shall care for it? xii. de profundis come let us curse our master ere we die, for all our hopes in endless ruin lie. the good is dead. let us curse god most high. four thousand years of toil and hope and thought wherein man laboured upward and still wrought new worlds and better, thou hast made as naught. we built us joyful cities, strong and fair, knowledge we sought and gathered wisdom rare. and all this time you laughed upon our care, and suddenly the earth grew black with wrong, our hope was crushed and silenced was our song, the heaven grew loud with weeping. thou art strong. come then and curse the lord. over the earth gross darkness falls, and evil was our birth and our few happy days of little worth. even if it be not all a dream in vain the ancient hope that still will rise again-- of a just god that cares for earthly pain, yet far away beyond our labouring night, he wanders in the depths of endless light, singing alone his musics of delight; only the far, spent echo of his song our dungeons and deep cells can smite along, and thou art nearer. thou art very strong. o universal strength, i know it well, it is but froth of folly to rebel; for thou art lord and hast the keys of hell. yet i will not bow down to thee nor love thee, for looking in my own heart i can prove thee, and know this frail, bruised being is above thee. our love, our hope, our thirsting for the right, our mercy and long seeking of the light, shall we change these for thy relentless might? laugh then and slay. shatter all things of worth, heap torment still on torment for thy mirth-- thou art not lord while there are men on earth. xiii. satan speaks i am the lord your god: even he that made material things, and all these signs arrayed above you and have set beneath the race of mankind, who forget their father's face and even while they drink my light of day dream of some other gods and disobey my warnings, and despise my holy laws, even tho' their sin shall slay them. for which cause, dreams dreamed in vain, a never-filled desire and in close flesh a spiritual fire, a thirst for good their kind shall not attain, a backward cleaving to the beast again. a loathing for the life that i have given, a haunted, twisted soul for ever riven between their will and mine-such lot i give white still in my despite the vermin live. they hate my world! then let that other god come from the outer spaces glory-shod, and from this castle i have built on night steal forth my own thought's children into light, if such an one there be. but far away he walks the airy fields of endless day, and my rebellious sons have called him long and vainly called. my order still is strong and like to me nor second none i know. whither the mammoth went this creature too shall go. xiv. the witch trapped amid the woods with guile they've led her bound in fetters vile to death, a deadlier sorceress than any born for earth's distress since first the winner of the fleece bore home the colchian witch to greece-- seven months with snare and gin they've sought the maid o'erwise within the forest's labyrinthine shade. the lonely woodman half afraid far off her ragged form has seen sauntering down the alleys green, or crouched in godless prayer alone at eve before a druid stone. but now the bitter chase is won, the quarry's caught, her magic's done, the bishop's brought her strongest spell to naught with candle, book, and bell; with holy water splashed upon her, she goes to burning and dishonour too deeply damned to feel her shame, for, though beneath her hair of flame her thoughtful head be lowly bowed it droops for meditation proud impenitent, and pondering yet things no memory can forget, starry wonders she has seen brooding in the wildwood green with holiness. for who can say in what strange crew she loved to play, what demons or what gods of old deep mysteries unto her have told at dead of night in worship bent at ruined shrines magnificent, or how the quivering will she sent alone into the great alone where all is loved and all is known, who now lifts up her maiden eyes and looks around with soft surprise upon the noisy, crowded square, the city oafs that nod and stare, the bishop's court that gathers there, the faggots and the blackened stake where sinners die for justice' sake? now she is set upon the pile, the mob grows still a little while, till lo! before the eager folk up curls a thin, blue line of smoke. "alas!" the full-fed burghers cry, "that evil loveliness must die!" xv. dungeon grates so piteously the lonely soul of man shudders before this universal plan, so grievous is the burden and the pain, so heavy weighs the long, material chain from cause to cause, too merciless for hate, the nightmare march of unrelenting fate, i think that he must die thereof unless ever and again across the dreariness there came a sudden glimpse of spirit faces, a fragrant breath to tell of flowery places and wider oceans, breaking on the shore from which the hearts of men are always sore. it lies beyond endeavour; neither prayer nor fasting, nor much wisdom winneth there, seeing how many prophets and wise men have sought for it and still returned again with hope undone. but only the strange power of unsought beauty in some casual hour can build a bridge of light or sound or form to lead you out of all this strife and storm; when of some beauty we are grown a part till from its very glory's midmost heart out leaps a sudden beam of larger light into our souls. all things are seen aright amid the blinding pillar of its gold, seven times more true than what for truth we hold in vulgar hours. the miracle is done and for one little moment we are one with the eternal stream of loveliness that flows so calm, aloft from all distress yet leaps and lives around us as a fire making us faint with overstrong desire to sport and swim for ever in its deep-- only a moment. o! but we shall keep our vision still. one moment was enough, we know we are not made of mortal stuff. and we can bear all trials that come after, the hate of men and the fool's loud bestial laughter and nature's rule and cruelties unclean, for we have seen the glory-we have seen. xvi. the philosopher who shall be our prophet then, chosen from all the sons of men to lead his fellows on the way of hidden knowledge, delving deep to nameless mysteries that keep their secret from the solar day! or who shall pierce with surer eye! this shifting veil of bittersweet and find the real things that lie beyond this turmoil, which we greet with such a wasted wealth of tears? who shall cross over for us the bridge of fears and pass in to the country where the ancient mothers dwell? is it an elder, bent and hoar who, where the waste atlantic swell on lonely beaches makes its roar, in his solitary tower through the long night hour by hour pores on old books with watery eye when all his youth has passed him by, and folly is schooled and love is dead and frozen fancy laid abed, while in his veins the gradual blood slackens to a marish flood? for he rejoiceth not in the ocean's might, neither the sun giveth delight, nor the moon by night shall call his feet to wander in the haunted forest lawn. he shall no more rise suddenly in the dawn when mists are white and the dew lies pearly cold and cold on every meadow, to take his joy of the season early, the opening flower and the westward shadow, and scarcely can he dream of laughter and love, they lie so many leaden years behind. such eyes are dim and blind, and the sad, aching head that nods above his monstrous books can never know the secret we would find. but let our seer be young and kind and fresh and beautiful of show, and taken ere the lustyhead and rapture of his youth be dead; ere the gnawing, peasant reason school him over-deep in treason to the ancient high estate of his fancy's principate, that he may live a perfect whole, a mask of the eternal soul, and cross at last the shadowy bar to where the ever-living are. xvii. the ocean strand o leave the labouring roadways of the town, the shifting faces and the changeful hue of markets, and broad echoing streets that drown the heart's own silent music. though they too sing in their proper rhythm, and still delight the friendly ear that loves warm human kind, yet it is good to leave them all behind, now when from lily dawn to purple night summer is queen, summer is queen in all the happy land. far, far away among the valleys green let us go forth and wander hand in hand beyond those solemn hills that we have seen so often welcome home the falling sun into their cloudy peaks when day was done-- beyond them till we find the ocean strand and hear the great waves run, with the waste song whose melodies i'd follow and weary not for many a summer day, born of the vaulted breakers arching hollow before they flash and scatter into spray, on, if we should be weary of their play then i would lead you further into land where, with their ragged walls, the stately rocks shunt in smooth courts and paved with quiet sand to silence dedicate. the sea-god's flocks have rested here, and mortal eyes have seen by great adventure at the dead of noon a lonely nereid drowsing half a-swoon buried beneath her dark and dripping locks. xviii. noon noon! and in the garden bower the hot air quivers o'er the grass, the little lake is smooth as glass and still so heavily the hour drags, that scarce the proudest flower pressed upon its burning bed has strength to lift a languid head:-- rose and fainting violet by the water's margin set swoon and sink as they were dead though their weary leaves be fed with the foam-drops of the pool where it trembles dark and cool wrinkled by the fountain spraying o'er it. and the honey-bee hums his drowsy melody and wanders in his course a-straying through the sweet and tangled glade with his golden mead o'erladen, where beneath the pleasant shade of the darkling boughs a maiden-- milky limb and fiery tress, all at sweetest random laid-- slumbers, drunken with the excess of the noontide's loveliness. xix. milton read again (in surrey) three golden months while summer on us stole i have read your joyful tale another time, breathing more freely in that larger clime and learning wiselier to deserve the whole. your spirit, master, has been close at hand and guided me, still pointing treasures rare, thick-sown where i before saw nothing fair and finding waters in the barren land, barren once thought because my eyes were dim. like one i am grown to whom the common field and often-wandered copse one morning yield new pleasures suddenly; for over him falls the weird spirit of unexplained delight, new mystery in every shady place, in every whispering tree a nameless grace, new rapture on the windy seaward height. so may she come to me, teaching me well to savour all these sweets that lie to hand in wood and lane about this pleasant land though it be not the land where i would dwell. . xx. sonnet the stars come out; the fragrant shadows fall about a dreaming garden still and sweet, i hear the unseen bats above me bleat among the ghostly moths their hunting call, and twinkling glow-worms all about me crawl. now for a chamber dim, a pillow meet for slumbers deep as death, a faultless sheet, cool, white and smooth. so may i reach the hall with poppies strewn where sleep that is so dear with magic sponge can wipe away an hour or twelve and make them naught. why not a year, why could a man not loiter in that bower until a thousand painless cycles wore, and then-what if it held him evermore? xxi. the autumn morning see! the pale autumn dawn is faint, upon the lawn that lies in powdered white of hoar-frost dight and now from tree to tree the ghostly mist we see hung like a silver pall to hallow all. it wreathes the burdened air so strangely everywhere that i could almost fear this silence drear where no one song-bird sings and dream that wizard things mighty for hate or love were close above. white as the fog and fair drifting through the middle air in magic dances dread over my head. yet these should know me too lover and bondman true, one that has honoured well the mystic spell of earth's most solemn hours wherein the ancient powers of dryad, elf, or faun or leprechaun oft have their faces shown to me that walked alone seashore or haunted fen or mountain glen wherefore i will not fear to walk the woodlands sere into this autumn day far, far away. part ii hesitation xxii. l'apprenti sorcier suddenly there came to me the music of a mighty sea that on a bare and iron shore thundered with a deeper roar than all the tides that leap and run with us below the real sun: because the place was far away, above, beyond our homely day, neighbouring close the frozen clime where out of all the woods of time, amid the frightful seraphim the fierce, cold eyes of godhead gleam, revolving hate and misery and wars and famines yet to be. and in my dreams i stood alone upon a shelf of weedy stone, and saw before my shrinking eyes the dark, enormous breakers rise, and hover and fall with deafening thunder of thwarted foam that echoed under the ledge, through many a cavern drear, with hollow sounds of wintry fear. and through the waters waste and grey, thick-strown for many a league away, out of the toiling sea arose many a face and form of those thin, elemental people dear who live beyond our heavy sphere. and all at once from far and near, they all held out their arms to me, crying in their melody, "leap in! leap in and take thy fill of all the cosmic good and ill, be as the living ones that know enormous joy, enormous woe, pain beyond thought and fiery bliss: for all thy study hunted this, on wings of magic to arise, and wash from off thy filmed eyes the cloud of cold mortality, to find the real life and be as are the children of the deep! be bold and dare the glorious leap, or to thy shame, go, slink again back to the narrow ways of men." so all these mocked me as i stood striving to wake because i feared the flood. xxiii. alexandrines there is a house that most of all on earth i hate. though i have passed through many sorrows and have been in bloody fields, sad seas, and countries desolate, yet most i fear that empty house where the grasses green grow in the silent court the gaping flags between, and down the moss-grown paths and terrace no man treads where the old, old weeds rise deep on the waste garden beds. like eyes of one long dead the empty windows stare and i fear to cross the garden, i fear to linger there, for in that house i know a little, silent room where someone's always waiting, waiting in the gloom to draw me with an evil eye, and hold me fast-- yet thither doom will drive me and he will win at last. xxiv. in praise of solid people thank god that there are solid folk who water flowers and roll the lawn, and sit an sew and talk and smoke, and snore all through the summer dawn. who pass untroubled nights and days full-fed and sleepily content, rejoicing in each other's praise, respectable and innocent. who feel the things that all men feel, and think in well-worn grooves of thought, whose honest spirits never reel before man's mystery, overwrought. yet not unfaithful nor unkind, with work-day virtues surely staid, theirs is the sane and humble mind, and dull affections undismayed. o happy people! i have seen no verse yet written in your praise, and, truth to tell, the time has been i would have scorned your easy ways. but now thro' weariness and strife i learn your worthiness indeed, the world is better for such life as stout suburban people lead. too often have i sat alone when the wet night falls heavily, and fretting winds around me moan, and homeless longing vexes me for lore that i shall never know, and visions none can hope to see, till brooding works upon me so a childish fear steals over me. i look around the empty room, the clock still ticking in its place, and all else silent as the tomb, till suddenly, i think, a face grows from the darkness just beside. i turn, and lo! it fades away, and soon another phantom tide of shifting dreams begins to play, and dusky galleys past me sail, full freighted on a faerie sea; i hear the silken merchants hail across the ringing waves to me --then suddenly, again, the room, familiar books about me piled, and i alone amid the gloom, by one more mocking dream beguiled. and still no neared to the light, and still no further from myself, alone and lost in clinging night-- (the clock's still ticking on the shelf). then do i envy solid folk who sit of evenings by the fire, after their work and doze and smoke, and are not fretted by desire. part iii the escape xxv. song of the pilgrims o dwellers at the back of the north wind, what have we done to you? how have we sinned wandering the earth from orkney unto ind? with many deaths our fellowship is thinned, our flesh is withered in the parching wind, wandering the earth from orkney unto ind. we have no rest. we cannot turn again back to the world and all her fruitless pain, having once sought the land where ye remain. some say ye are not. but, ah god! we know that somewhere, somewhere past the northern snow waiting for us the red-rose gardens blow: --the red-rose and the white-rose gardens blow in the green northern land to which we go, surely the ways are long and the years are slow. we have forsaken all things sweet and fair, we have found nothing worth a moment's care because the real flowers are blowing there. land of the lotus fallen from the sun, land of the lake from whence all rivers run, land where the hope of all our dreams is won! shall we not somewhere see at close of day the green walls of that country far away, and hear the music of her fountains play? so long we have been wandering all this while by many a perilous sea and drifting isle, we scarce shall dare to look thereon and smile. yea, when we are drawing very near to thee, and when at last the ivory port we see our hearts will faint with mere felicity: but we shall wake again in gardens bright of green and gold for infinite delight, sleeping beneath the solemn mountains white, while from the flowery copses still unseen sing out the crooning birds that ne'er have been touched by the hand of winter frore and lean; and ever living queens that grow not old and poets wise in robes of faerie gold whisper a wild, sweet song that first was told ere god sat down to make the milky way. and in those gardens we shall sleep and play for ever and for ever and a day. ah, dwellers at the back of the north wind, what have we done to you? how have we sinned, that yes should hide beyond the northern wind? land of the lotus, fallen from the sun, when shall your hidden, flowery vales be won and all the travail of our way be done? very far we have searched; we have even seen the scythian waste that bears no soft nor green, and near the hideous pass our feet have been. we have heard syrens singing all night long beneath the unknown stars their lonely song in friendless seas beyond the pillars strong. nor by the dragon-daughter of hypocras nor the vale of the devil's head we have feared to pass, yet is our labour lost and vain, alas! scouring the earth from orkney unto ind, tossed on the seas and withered in the wind, we seek and seek your land. how have we sinned? or is it all a folly of the wise, bidding us walk these ways with blinded eyes while all around us real flowers arise? but, by the very god, we know, we know that somewhere still, beyond the northern snow waiting for us the red-rose gardens blow. xxvi. song faeries must be in the woods or the satyrs' laughing broods-- tritons in the summer sea, else how could the dead things be half so lovely as they are? how could wealth of star on star dusted o'er the frosty night fill thy spirit with delight and lead thee from this care of thine up among the dreams divine, were it not that each and all of them that walk the heavenly hall is in truth a happy isle, where eternal meadows smile, and golden globes of fruit are seen twinkling through the orchards green; were the other people go on the bright sward to and fro? atoms dead could never thus stir the human heart of us unless the beauty that we see the veil of endless beauty be, filled full of spirits that have trod far hence along the heavenly sod and see the bright footprints of god. xxvii. the ass i woke and rose and slipt away to the heathery hills in the morning grey. in a field where the dew lay cold and deep i met an ass, new-roused from sleep. i stroked his nose and i tickled his ears, and spoke soft words to quiet his fears. his eyes stared into the eyes of me and he kissed my hands of his courtesy. "o big, brown brother out of the waste, how do thistles for breakfast taste? "and do you rejoice in the dawn divine with a heart that is glad no less than mine? "for, brother, the depth of your gentle eyes is strange and mystic as the skies: "what are the thoughts that grope behind, down in the mist of a donkey mind? "can it be true, as the wise men tell, that you are a mask of god as well, "and, as in us, so in you no less speaks the eternal loveliness, "and words of the lips that all things know among the thoughts of a donkey go? "however it be, o four-foot brother, fair to-day is the earth, our mother. "god send you peace and delight thereof, and all green meat of the waste you love, "and guard you well from violent men who'd put you back in the shafts again." but the ass had far too wise a head to answer one of the things i said, so he twitched his fair ears up and down and turned to nuzzle his shoulder brown. xxviii. ballade mystique the big, red-house is bare and lone the stony garden waste and sere with blight of breezes ocean blown to pinch the wakening of the year; my kindly friends with busy cheer my wretchedness could plainly show. they tell me i am lonely here-- what do they know? what do they know? they think that while the gables moan and easements creak in winter drear i should be piteously alone without the speech of comrades dear; and friendly for my sake they fear, it grieves them thinking of me so while all their happy life is near-- what do they know? what do they know? that i have seen the dagda's throne in sunny lands without a tear and found a forest all my own to ward with magic shield and spear, where, through the stately towers i rear for my desire, around me go immortal shapes of beauty clear: they do not know, they do not know. l'envoi the friends i have without a peer beyond the western ocean's glow, whither the faerie galleys steer, they do not know: how should they know? xxix. night i know a little druid wood where i would slumber if i could and have the murmuring of the stream to mingle with a midnight dream, and have the holy hazel trees to play above me in the breeze, and smell the thorny eglantine; for there the white owls all night long in the scented gloom divine hear the wild, strange, tuneless song of faerie voices, thin and high as the bat's unearthly cry, and the measure of their shoon dancing, dancing, under the moon, until, amid the pale of dawn the wandering stars begin to swoon. . . . ah, leave the world and come away! the windy folk are in the glade, and men have seen their revels, laid in secret on some flowery lawn underneath the beechen covers, kings of old, i've heard them say, here have found them faerie lovers that charmed them out of life and kissed their lips with cold lips unafraid, and such a spell around them made that they have passed beyond the mist and found the country-under-wave. . . . kings of old, whom none could save! xxx. oxford it is well that there are palaces of peace and discipline and dreaming and desire, lest we forget our heritage and cease the spirit's work-to hunger and aspire: lest we forget that we were born divine, now tangled in red battle's animal net, murder the work and lust the anodyne, pains of the beast 'gainst bestial solace set. but this shall never be: to us remains one city that has nothing of the beast, that was not built for gross, material gains, sharp, wolfish power or empire's glutted feast. we are not wholly brute. to us remains a clean, sweet city lulled by ancient streams, a place of visions and of loosening chains, a refuge of the elect, a tower of dreams. she was not builded out of common stone but out of all men's yearning and all prayer that she might live, eternally our own, the spirit's stronghold-barred against despair. xxxi. hymn (for boys' voices) all the things magicians do could be done by me and you freely, if we only knew. human children every day could play at games the faeries play if they were but shown the way. every man a god would be laughing through eternity if as god's his eyes could see. all the wizardries of god-- slaying matter with a nod, charming spirits with his rod, with the singing of his voice making lonely lands rejoice, leaving us no will nor choice, drawing headlong me and you as the piping orpheus drew man and beast the mountains through, by the sweetness of his horn calling us from lands forlorn nearer to the widening morn-- all that loveliness of power could be man's peculiar dower, even mine, this very hour; we should reach the hidden land and grow immortal out of hand, if we could but understand! we could revel day and night in all power and all delight if we learn to think aright. xxxii. "our daily bread" we need no barbarous words nor solemn spell to raise the unknown. it lies before our feet; there have been men who sank down into hell in some suburban street, and some there are that in their daily walks have met archangels fresh from sight of god, or watched how in their beans and cabbage-stalks long files of faerie trod. often me too the living voices call in many a vulgar and habitual place, i catch a sight of lands beyond the wall, i see a strange god's face. and some day this work will work upon me so i shall arise and leave both friends and home and over many lands a pilgrim go through alien woods and foam, seeking the last steep edges of the earth whence i may leap into that gulf of light wherein, before my narrowing self had birth, part of me lived aright. xxxiii. how he saw angus the god i heard the swallow sing in the eaves and rose all in a strange delight while others slept, and down the creaking stair, alone, tip-toes, so carefully i crept. the house was dark with silly blinds yet drawn, but outside the clean air was filled with light, and underneath my feet the cold, wet lawn with dew was twinkling bright. the cobwebs hung from every branch and spray gleaming with pearly strands of laden thread, and long and still the morning shadows lay across the meadows spread. at that pure hour when yet no sound of man, stirs in the whiteness of the wakening earth, alone through innocent solitudes i ran singing aloud for mirth. till i had found the open mountain heath yellow with gorse, and rested there and stood to gaze upon the misty sea beneath, or on the neighbouring wood, --that little wood of hazel and tall pine and youngling fir, where oft we have loved to see the level beams of early morning shine freshly from tree to tree. through the denser wood there's many a pool of deep and night-born shadow lingers yet where the new-wakened flowers are damp and cool and the long grass is wet. in the sweet heather long i rested there looking upon the dappled, early sky, when suddenly, from out the shining air a god came flashing by. swift, naked, eager, pitilessly fair, with a live crown of birds about his head, singing and fluttering, and his fiery hair, far out behind him spread, streamed like a rippling torch upon the breeze of his own glorious swiftness: in the grass he bruised no feathery stalk, and through the trees i saw his whiteness pass. but when i followed him beyond the wood, lo! he was changed into a solemn bull that there upon the open pasture stood and browsed his lazy full. xxxiv. the roads i stand on the windy uplands among the hills of down with all the world spread out beneath, meadow and sea and town, and ploughlands on the far-off hills that glow with friendly brown. and ever across the rolling land to the far horizon line, where the blue hills border the misty west, i see the white roads twine, the rare roads and the fair roads that call this heart of mine. i see them dip in the valleys and vanish and rise and bend from shadowy dell to windswept fell, and still to the west they wend, and over the cold blue ridge at last to the great world's uttermost end. and the call of the roads is upon me, a desire in my spirit has grown to wander forth in the highways, 'twixt earth and sky alone, and seek for the lands no foot has trod and the seas no sail has known: for the lands to the west of the evening and east of the morning's birth, where the gods unseen in their valleys green are glad at the ends of the earth and fear no morrow to bring them sorrow, nor night to quench their mirth. xxxv. hesperus through the starry hollow of the summer night i would follow, follow hesperus the bright, to seek beyond the western wave his garden of delight. hesperus the fairest of all gods that are, peace and dreams thou bearest in thy shadowy car, and often in my evening walks i've blessed thee from afar. stars without number, dust the noon of night, thou the early slumber and the still delight of the gentle twilit hours rulest in thy right. when the pale skies shiver, seeing night is done, past the ocean-river, lightly thou dost run, to look for pleasant, sleepy lands, that never fear the sun. where, beyond the waters of the outer sea, thy triple crown of daughters that guards the golden tree sing out across the lonely tide a welcome home to thee. and while the old, old dragon for joy lifts up his head, they bring thee forth a flagon of nectar foaming red, and underneath the drowsy trees of poppies strew thy bed. ah! that i could follow in thy footsteps bright, through the starry hollow of the summer night, sloping down the western ways to find my heart's delight! xxxvi. the star bath a place uplifted towards the midnight sky far, far away among the mountains old, a treeless waste of rocks and freezing cold, where the dead, cheerless moon rode neighbouring by-- and in the midst a silent tarn there lay, a narrow pool, cold as the tide that flows where monstrous bergs beyond varanger stray, rising from sunless depths that no man knows; thither as clustering fireflies have i seen at fixed seasons all the stars come down to wash in that cold wave their brightness clean and win the special fire wherewith they crown the wintry heavens in frost. even as a flock of falling birds, down to the pool they came. i saw them and i heard the icy shock of stars engulfed with hissing of faint flame-- ages ago before the birth of men or earliest beast. yet i was still the same that now remember, knowing not where or when. xxxvii. tu ne quaesieris for all the lore of lodge and myers i cannot heal my torn desires, nor hope for all that man can speer to make the riddling earth grow clear. though it were sure and proven well that i shall prosper, as they tell, in fields beneath a different sun by shores where other oceans run, when this live body that was i lies hidden from the cheerful sky, yet what were endless lives to me if still my narrow self i be and hope and fail and struggle still, and break my will against god's will, to play for stakes of pleasure and pain and hope and fail and hope again, deluded, thwarted, striving elf that through the window of my self as through a dark glass scarce can see a warped and masked reality? but when this searching thought of mine is mingled in the large divine, and laughter that was in my mouth runs through the breezes of the south, when glory i have built in dreams along some fiery sunset gleams, and my dead sin and foolishness grow one with nature's whole distress, to perfect being i shall win, and where i end will life begin. xxxviii. lullaby lullaby! lullaby! there's a tower strong and high built of oak and brick and stone, stands before a wood alone. the doors are of the oak so brown as any ale in oxford town, the walls are builded warm and thick of the old red roman brick, the good grey stone is over all in arch and floor of the tower tall. and maidens three are living there all in the upper chamber fair, hung with silver, hung with pall, and stories painted on the wall. and softly goes the whirring loom in my ladies' upper room, for they shall spin both night and day until the stars do pass away. but every night at evening. the window open wide they fling, and one of them says a word they know and out as three white swans they go, and the murmuring of the woods is drowned in the soft wings' whirring sound, as they go flying round, around, singing in swans' voices high a lonely, lovely lullaby. xxxix. world's desire love, there is a castle built in a country desolate, on a rock above a forest where the trees are grim and great, blasted with the lightning sharp-giant boulders strewn between, and the mountains rise above, and the cold ravine echoes to the crushing roar and thunder of a mighty river raging down a cataract. very tower and forest quiver and the grey wolves are afraid and the call of birds is drowned, and the thought and speech of man in the boiling water's sound. but upon the further side of the barren, sharp ravine with the sunlight on its turrets is the castle seen, calm and very wonderful, white above the green of the wet and waving forest, slanted all away, because the driving northern wind will not rest by night or day. yet the towers are sure above, very mighty is the stead, the gates are made of ivory, the roofs of copper red. round and round the warders grave walk upon the walls for ever and the wakeful dragons couch in the ports of ivory, nothing is can trouble it, hate of the gods nor man's endeavour, and it shall be a resting-place, dear heart, for you and me. through the wet and waving forest with an age-old sorrow laden singing of the world's regret wanders wild the faerie maiden, through the thistle and the brier, through the tangles of the thorn, till her eyes be dim with weeping and her homeless feet are torn. often to the castle gate up she looks with vain endeavour, for her soulless loveliness to the castle winneth never. but within the sacred court, hidden high upon the mountain, wandering in the castle gardens lovely folk enough there be, breathing in another air, drinking of a purer fountain and among that folk, beloved, there's a place for you and me. xl. death in battle open the gates for me, open the gates of the peaceful castle, rosy in the west, in the sweet dim isle of apples over the wide sea's breast, open the gates for me! sorely pressed have i been and driven and hurt beyond bearing this summer day, but the heat and the pain together suddenly fall away, all's cool and green. but a moment agone, among men cursing in fight and toiling, blinded i fought, but the labour passed on a sudden even as a passing thought, and now-alone! ah, to be ever alone, in flowery valleys among the mountains and silent wastes untrod, in the dewy upland places, in the garden of god, this would atone! i shall not see the brutal, crowded faces around me, that in their toil have grown into the faces of devils-yea, even as my own-- when i find thee, o country of dreams! beyond the tide of the ocean, hidden and sunk away, out of the sound of battles, near to the end of day, full of dim woods and streams. the tin woodman of oz by l. frank baum a faithful story of the astonishing adventure undertaken by the tin woodman, assisted by woot the wanderer, the scarecrow of oz, and polychrome, the rainbow's daughter by l. frank baum "royal historian of oz" this book is dedicated to the son of my son frank alden baum to my readers i know that some of you have been waiting for this story of the tin woodman, because many of my correspondents have asked me, time and again what ever became of the "pretty munchkin girl" whom nick chopper was engaged to marry before the wicked witch enchanted his axe and he traded his flesh for tin. i, too, have wondered what became of her, but until woot the wanderer interested himself in the matter the tin woodman knew no more than we did. however, he found her, after many thrilling adventures, as you will discover when you have read this story. i am delighted at the continued interest of both young and old in the oz stories. a learned college professor recently wrote me to ask: "for readers of what age are your books intended?" it puzzled me to answer that properly, until i had looked over some of the letters i have received. one says: "i'm a little boy years old, and i just love your oz stories. my sister, who is writing this for me, reads me the oz books, but i wish i could read them myself." another letter says: "i'm a great girl years old, so you'll be surprised when i tell you i am not too old yet for the oz stories." here's another letter: "since i was a young girl i've never missed getting a baum book for christmas. i'm married, now, but am as eager to get and read the oz stories as ever." and still another writes: "my good wife and i, both more than years of age, believe that we find more real enjoyment in your oz books than in any other books we read." considering these statements, i wrote the college professor that my books are intended for all those whose hearts are young, no matter what their ages may be. i think i am justified in promising that there will be some astonishing revelations about the magic of oz in my book for . always your loving and grateful friend, l. frank baum. royal historian of oz. "ozcot" at hollywood in california . list of chapters woot the wanderer the heart of the tin woodman roundabout the loons of loonville mrs. yoop, the giantess the magic of a yookoohoo the lace apron the menace of the forest the quarrelsome dragons tommy kwikstep jinjur's ranch ozma and dorothy the restoration the green monkey the man of tin captain fyter the workshop of ku-klip the tin woodman talks to himself the invisible country over night polychrome's magic nimmie amee through the tunnel the curtain falls chapter one woot the wanderer the tin woodman sat on his glittering tin throne in the handsome tin hall of his splendid tin castle in the winkie country of the land of oz. beside him, in a chair of woven straw, sat his best friend, the scarecrow of oz. at times they spoke to one another of curious things they had seen and strange adventures they had known since first they two had met and become comrades. but at times they were silent, for these things had been talked over many times between them, and they found themselves contented in merely being together, speaking now and then a brief sentence to prove they were wide awake and attentive. but then, these two quaint persons never slept. why should they sleep, when they never tired? and now, as the brilliant sun sank low over the winkie country of oz, tinting the glistening tin towers and tin minarets of the tin castle with glorious sunset hues, there approached along a winding pathway woot the wanderer, who met at the castle entrance a winkie servant. the servants of the tin woodman all wore tin helmets and tin breastplates and uniforms covered with tiny tin discs sewed closely together on silver cloth, so that their bodies sparkled as beautifully as did the tin castle--and almost as beautifully as did the tin woodman himself. woot the wanderer looked at the man servant--all bright and glittering--and at the magnificent castle--all bright and glittering--and as he looked his eyes grew big with wonder. for woot was not very big and not very old and, wanderer though he was, this proved the most gorgeous sight that had ever met his boyish gaze. "who lives here?" he asked. "the emperor of the winkies, who is the famous tin woodman of oz," replied the servant, who had been trained to treat all strangers with courtesy. "a tin woodman? how queer!" exclaimed the little wanderer. "well, perhaps our emperor is queer," admitted the servant; "but he is a kind master and as honest and true as good tin can make him; so we, who gladly serve him, are apt to forget that he is not like other people." "may i see him?" asked woot the wanderer, after a moment's thought. "if it please you to wait a moment, i will go and ask him," said the servant, and then he went into the hall where the tin woodman sat with his friend the scarecrow. both were glad to learn that a stranger had arrived at the castle, for this would give them something new to talk about, so the servant was asked to admit the boy at once. by the time woot the wanderer had passed through the grand corridors--all lined with ornamental tin--and under stately tin archways and through the many tin rooms all set with beautiful tin furniture, his eyes had grown bigger than ever and his whole little body thrilled with amazement. but, astonished though he was, he was able to make a polite bow before the throne and to say in a respectful voice: "i salute your illustrious majesty and offer you my humble services." "very good!" answered the tin woodman in his accustomed cheerful manner. "tell me who you are, and whence you come." "i am known as woot the wanderer," answered the boy, "and i have come, through many travels and by roundabout ways, from my former home in a far corner of the gillikin country of oz." "to wander from one's home," remarked the scarecrow, "is to encounter dangers and hardships, especially if one is made of meat and bone. had you no friends in that corner of the gillikin country? was it not homelike and comfortable?" to hear a man stuffed with straw speak, and speak so well, quite startled woot, and perhaps he stared a bit rudely at the scarecrow. but after a moment he replied: "i had home and friends, your honorable strawness, but they were so quiet and happy and comfortable that i found them dismally stupid. nothing in that corner of oz interested me, but i believed that in other parts of the country i would find strange people and see new sights, and so i set out upon my wandering journey. i have been a wanderer for nearly a full year, and now my wanderings have brought me to this splendid castle." "i suppose," said the tin woodman, "that in this year you have seen so much that you have become very wise." "no," replied woot, thoughtfully, "i am not at all wise, i beg to assure your majesty. the more i wander the less i find that i know, for in the land of oz much wisdom and many things may be learned." "to learn is simple. don't you ask questions?" inquired the scarecrow. "yes; i ask as many questions as i dare; but some people refuse to answer questions." "that is not kind of them," declared the tin woodman. "if one does not ask for information he seldom receives it; so i, for my part, make it a rule to answer any civil question that is asked me." "so do i," added the scarecrow, nodding. "i am glad to hear this," said the wanderer, "for it makes me bold to ask for something to eat." "bless the boy!" cried the emperor of the winkies; "how careless of me not to remember that wanderers are usually hungry. i will have food brought you at once." saying this he blew upon a tin whistle that was suspended from his tin neck, and at the summons a servant appeared and bowed low. the tin woodman ordered food for the stranger, and in a few minutes the servant brought in a tin tray heaped with a choice array of good things to eat, all neatly displayed on tin dishes that were polished till they shone like mirrors. the tray was set upon a tin table drawn before the throne, and the servant placed a tin chair before the table for the boy to seat himself. "eat, friend wanderer," said the emperor cordially, "and i trust the feast will be to your liking. i, myself, do not eat, being made in such manner that i require no food to keep me alive. neither does my friend the scarecrow. but all my winkie people eat, being formed of flesh, as you are, and so my tin cupboard is never bare, and strangers are always welcome to whatever it contains." the boy ate in silence for a time, being really hungry, but after his appetite was somewhat satisfied, he said: "how happened your majesty to be made of tin, and still be alive?" "that," replied the tin man, "is a long story." "the longer the better," said the boy. "won't you please tell me the story?" "if you desire it," promised the tin woodman, leaning back in his tin throne and crossing his tin legs. "i haven't related my history in a long while, because everyone here knows it nearly as well as i do. but you, being a stranger, are no doubt curious to learn how i became so beautiful and prosperous, so i will recite for your benefit my strange adventures." "thank you," said woot the wanderer, still eating. "i was not always made of tin," began the emperor, "for in the beginning i was a man of flesh and bone and blood and lived in the munchkin country of oz. there i was, by trade, a woodchopper, and contributed my share to the comfort of the oz people by chopping up the trees of the forest to make firewood, with which the women would cook their meals while the children warmed themselves about the fires. for my home i had a little hut by the edge of the forest, and my life was one of much content until i fell in love with a beautiful munchkin girl who lived not far away." "what was the munchkin girl's name?" asked woot. "nimmie amee. this girl, so fair that the sunsets blushed when their rays fell upon her, lived with a powerful witch who wore silver shoes and who had made the poor child her slave. nimmie amee was obliged to work from morning till night for the old witch of the east, scrubbing and sweeping her hut and cooking her meals and washing her dishes. she had to cut firewood, too, until i found her one day in the forest and fell in love with her. after that, i always brought plenty of firewood to nimmie amee and we became very friendly. finally i asked her to marry me, and she agreed to do so, but the witch happened to overhear our conversation and it made her very angry, for she did not wish her slave to be taken away from her. the witch commanded me never to come near nimmie amee again, but i told her i was my own master and would do as i pleased, not realizing that this was a careless way to speak to a witch. "the next day, as i was cutting wood in the forest, the cruel witch enchanted my axe, so that it slipped and cut off my right leg." "how dreadful!" cried woot the wanderer. "yes, it was a seeming misfortune," agreed the tin man, "for a one-legged woodchopper is of little use in his trade. but i would not allow the witch to conquer me so easily. i knew a very skillful mechanic at the other side of the forest, who was my friend, so i hopped on one leg to him and asked him to help me. he soon made me a new leg out of tin and fastened it cleverly to my meat body. it had joints at the knee and at the ankle and was almost as comfortable as the leg i had lost." "your friend must have been a wonderful workman!" exclaimed woot. "he was, indeed," admitted the emperor. "he was a tinsmith by trade and could make anything out of tin. when i returned to nimmie amee, the girl was delighted and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, declaring she was proud of me. the witch saw the kiss and was more angry than before. when i went to work in the forest, next day, my axe, being still enchanted, slipped and cut off my other leg. again i hopped--on my tin leg--to my friend the tinsmith, who kindly made me another tin leg and fastened it to my body. so i returned joyfully to nimmie amee, who was much pleased with my glittering legs and promised that when we were wed she would always keep them oiled and polished. but the witch was more furious than ever, and as soon as i raised my axe to chop, it twisted around and cut off one of my arms. the tinsmith made me a tin arm and i was not much worried, because nimmie amee declared she still loved me." chapter two the heart of the tin woodman the emperor of the winkies paused in his story to reach for an oil-can, with which he carefully oiled the joints in his tin throat, for his voice had begun to squeak a little. woot the wanderer, having satisfied his hunger, watched this oiling process with much curiosity, but begged the tin man to go on with his tale. "the witch with the silver shoes hated me for having defied her," resumed the emperor, his voice now sounding clear as a bell, "and she insisted that nimmie amee should never marry me. therefore she made the enchanted axe cut off my other arm, and the tinsmith also replaced that member with tin, including these finely-jointed hands that you see me using. but, alas! after that, the axe, still enchanted by the cruel witch, cut my body in two, so that i fell to the ground. then the witch, who was watching from a near-by bush, rushed up and seized the axe and chopped my body into several small pieces, after which, thinking that at last she had destroyed me, she ran away laughing in wicked glee. "but nimmie amee found me. she picked up my arms and legs and head, and made a bundle of them and carried them to the tinsmith, who set to work and made me a fine body of pure tin. when he had joined the arms and legs to the body, and set my head in the tin collar, i was a much better man than ever, for my body could not ache or pain me, and i was so beautiful and bright that i had no need of clothing. clothing is always a nuisance, because it soils and tears and has to be replaced; but my tin body only needs to be oiled and polished. "nimmie amee still declared she would marry me, as she still loved me in spite of the witch's evil deeds. the girl declared i would make the brightest husband in all the world, which was quite true. however, the wicked witch was not yet defeated. when i returned to my work the axe slipped and cut off my head, which was the only meat part of me then remaining. moreover, the old woman grabbed up my severed head and carried it away with her and hid it. but nimmie amee came into the forest and found me wandering around helplessly, because i could not see where to go, and she led me to my friend the tinsmith. the faithful fellow at once set to work to make me a tin head, and he had just completed it when nimmie amee came running up with my old head, which she had stolen from the witch. but, on reflection, i considered the tin head far superior to the meat one--i am wearing it yet, so you can see its beauty and grace of outline--and the girl agreed with me that a man all made of tin was far more perfect than one formed of different materials. the tinsmith was as proud of his workmanship as i was, and for three whole days, all admired me and praised my beauty. being now completely formed of tin, i had no more fear of the wicked witch, for she was powerless to injure me. nimmie amee said we must be married at once, for then she could come to my cottage and live with me and keep me bright and sparkling. "'i am sure, my dear nick,' said the brave and beautiful girl--my name was then nick chopper, you should be told--'that you will make the best husband any girl could have. i shall not be obliged to cook for you, for now you do not eat; i shall not have to make your bed, for tin does not tire or require sleep; when we go to a dance, you will not get weary before the music stops and say you want to go home. all day long, while you are chopping wood in the forest, i shall be able to amuse myself in my own way--a privilege few wives enjoy. there is no temper in your new head, so you will not get angry with me. finally, i shall take pride in being the wife of the only live tin woodman in all the world!' which shows that nimmie amee was as wise as she was brave and beautiful." "i think she was a very nice girl," said woot the wanderer. "but, tell me, please, why were you not killed when you were chopped to pieces?" "in the land of oz," replied the emperor, "no one can ever be killed. a man with a wooden leg or a tin leg is still the same man; and, as i lost parts of my meat body by degrees, i always remained the same person as in the beginning, even though in the end i was all tin and no meat." "i see," said the boy, thoughtfully. "and did you marry nimmie amee?" "no," answered the tin woodman, "i did not. she said she still loved me, but i found that i no longer loved her. my tin body contained no heart, and without a heart no one can love. so the wicked witch conquered in the end, and when i left the munchkin country of oz, the poor girl was still the slave of the witch and had to do her bidding day and night." "where did you go?" asked woot. "well, i first started out to find a heart, so i could love nimmie amee again; but hearts are more scarce than one would think. one day, in a big forest that was strange to me, my joints suddenly became rusted, because i had forgotten to oil them. there i stood, unable to move hand or foot. and there i continued to stand--while days came and went--until dorothy and the scarecrow came along and rescued me. they oiled my joints and set me free, and i've taken good care never to rust again." "who was this dorothy?" questioned the wanderer. "a little girl who happened to be in a house when it was carried by a cyclone all the way from kansas to the land of oz. when the house fell, in the munchkin country, it fortunately landed on the wicked witch and smashed her flat. it was a big house, and i think the witch is under it yet." "no," said the scarecrow, correcting him, "dorothy says the witch turned to dust, and the wind scattered the dust in every direction." "well," continued the tin woodman, "after meeting the scarecrow and dorothy, i went with them to the emerald city, where the wizard of oz gave me a heart. but the wizard's stock of hearts was low, and he gave me a kind heart instead of a loving heart, so that i could not love nimmie amee any more than i did when i was heartless." "couldn't the wizard give you a heart that was both kind and loving?" asked the boy. "no; that was what i asked for, but he said he was so short on hearts, just then, that there was but one in stock, and i could take that or none at all. so i accepted it, and i must say that for its kind it is a very good heart indeed." "it seems to me," said woot, musingly, "that the wizard fooled you. it can't be a very kind heart, you know." "why not?" demanded the emperor. "because it was unkind of you to desert the girl who loved you, and who had been faithful and true to you when you were in trouble. had the heart the wizard gave you been a kind heart, you would have gone back home and made the beautiful munchkin girl your wife, and then brought her here to be an empress and live in your splendid tin castle." the tin woodman was so surprised at this frank speech that for a time he did nothing but stare hard at the boy wanderer. but the scarecrow wagged his stuffed head and said in a positive tone: "this boy is right. i've often wondered, myself, why you didn't go back and find that poor munchkin girl." then the tin woodman stared hard at his friend the scarecrow. but finally he said in a serious tone of voice: "i must admit that never before have i thought of such a thing as finding nimmie amee and making her empress of the winkies. but it is surely not too late, even now, to do this, for the girl must still be living in the munchkin country. and, since this strange wanderer has reminded me of nimmie amee, i believe it is my duty to set out and find her. surely it is not the girl's fault that i no longer love her, and so, if i can make her happy, it is proper that i should do so, and in this way reward her for her faithfulness." "quite right, my friend!" agreed the scarecrow. "will you accompany me on this errand?" asked the tin emperor. "of course," said the scarecrow. "and will you take me along?" pleaded woot the wanderer in an eager voice. "to be sure," said the tin woodman, "if you care to join our party. it was you who first told me it was my duty to find and marry nimmie amee, and i'd like you to know that nick chopper, the tin emperor of the winkies, is a man who never shirks his duty, once it is pointed out to him." "it ought to be a pleasure, as well as a duty, if the girl is so beautiful," said woot, well pleased with the idea of the adventure. "beautiful things may be admired, if not loved," asserted the tin man. "flowers are beautiful, for instance, but we are not inclined to marry them. duty, on the contrary, is a bugle call to action, whether you are inclined to act, or not. in this case, i obey the bugle call of duty." "when shall we start?" inquired the scarecrow, who was always glad to embark upon a new adventure. "i don't hear any bugle, but when do we go?" "as soon as we can get ready," answered the emperor. "i'll call my servants at once and order them to make preparations for our journey." chapter three roundabout woot the wanderer slept that night in the tin castle of the emperor of the winkies and found his tin bed quite comfortable. early the next morning he rose and took a walk through the gardens, where there were tin fountains and beds of curious tin flowers, and where tin birds perched upon the branches of tin trees and sang songs that sounded like the notes of tin whistles. all these wonders had been made by the clever winkie tinsmiths, who wound the birds up every morning so that they would move about and sing. after breakfast the boy went into the throne room, where the emperor was having his tin joints carefully oiled by a servant, while other servants were stuffing sweet, fresh straw into the body of the scarecrow. woot watched this operation with much interest, for the scarecrow's body was only a suit of clothes filled with straw. the coat was buttoned tight to keep the packed straw from falling out and a rope was tied around the waist to hold it in shape and prevent the straw from sagging down. the scarecrow's head was a gunnysack filled with bran, on which the eyes, nose and mouth had been painted. his hands were white cotton gloves stuffed with fine straw. woot noticed that even when carefully stuffed and patted into shape, the straw man was awkward in his movements and decidedly wobbly on his feet, so the boy wondered if the scarecrow would be able to travel with them all the way to the forests of the munchkin country of oz. the preparations made for this important journey were very simple. a knapsack was filled with food and given woot the wanderer to carry upon his back, for the food was for his use alone. the tin woodman shouldered an axe which was sharp and brightly polished, and the scarecrow put the emperor's oil-can in his pocket, that he might oil his friend's joints should they need it. "who will govern the winkie country during your absence?" asked the boy. "why, the country will run itself," answered the emperor. "as a matter of fact, my people do not need an emperor, for ozma of oz watches over the welfare of all her subjects, including the winkies. like a good many kings and emperors, i have a grand title, but very little real power, which allows me time to amuse myself in my own way. the people of oz have but one law to obey, which is: 'behave yourself,' so it is easy for them to abide by this law, and you'll notice they behave very well. but it is time for us to be off, and i am eager to start because i suppose that that poor munchkin girl is anxiously awaiting my coming." "she's waited a long time already, seems to me," remarked the scarecrow, as they left the grounds of the castle and followed a path that led eastward. "true," replied the tin woodman; "but i've noticed that the last end of a wait, however long it has been, is the hardest to endure; so i must try to make nimmie amee happy as soon as possible." "ah; that proves you have a kind heart," remarked the scarecrow, approvingly. "it's too bad he hasn't a loving heart," said woot. "this tin man is going to marry a nice girl through kindness, and not because he loves her, and somehow that doesn't seem quite right." "even so, i am not sure it isn't best for the girl," said the scarecrow, who seemed very intelligent for a straw man, "for a loving husband is not always kind, while a kind husband is sure to make any girl content." "nimmie amee will become an empress!" announced the tin woodman, proudly. "i shall have a tin gown made for her, with tin ruffles and tucks on it, and she shall have tin slippers, and tin earrings and bracelets, and wear a tin crown on her head. i am sure that will delight nimmie amee, for all girls are fond of finery." "are we going to the munchkin country by way of the emerald city?" inquired the scarecrow, who looked upon the tin woodman as the leader of the party. "i think not," was the reply. "we are engaged upon a rather delicate adventure, for we are seeking a girl who fears her former lover has forgotten her. it will be rather hard for me, you must admit, when i confess to nimmie amee that i have come to marry her because it is my duty to do so, and therefore the fewer witnesses there are to our meeting the better for both of us. after i have found nimmie amee and she has managed to control her joy at our reunion, i shall take her to the emerald city and introduce her to ozma and dorothy, and to betsy bobbin and tiny trot, and all our other friends; but, if i remember rightly, poor nimmie amee has a sharp tongue when angry, and she may be a trifle angry with me, at first, because i have been so long in coming to her." "i can understand that," said woot gravely. "but how can we get to that part of the munchkin country where you once lived without passing through the emerald city?" "why, that is easy," the tin man assured him. "i have a map of oz in my pocket," persisted the boy, "and it shows that the winkie country, where we now are, is at the west of oz, and the munchkin country at the east, while directly between them lies the emerald city." "true enough; but we shall go toward the north, first of all, into the gillikin country, and so pass around the emerald city," explained the tin woodman. "that may prove a dangerous journey," replied the boy. "i used to live in one of the top corners of the gillikin country, near to oogaboo, and i have been told that in this northland country are many people whom it is not pleasant to meet. i was very careful to avoid them during my journey south." "a wanderer should have no fear," observed the scarecrow, who was wobbling along in a funny, haphazard manner, but keeping pace with his friends. "fear does not make one a coward," returned woot, growing a little red in the face, "but i believe it is more easy to avoid danger than to overcome it. the safest way is the best way, even for one who is brave and determined." "do not worry, for we shall not go far to the north," said the emperor. "my one idea is to avoid the emerald city without going out of our way more than is necessary. once around the emerald city we will turn south into the munchkin country, where the scarecrow and i are well acquainted and have many friends." "i have traveled some in the gillikin country," remarked the scarecrow, "and while i must say i have met some strange people there at times, i have never yet been harmed by them." "well, it's all the same to me," said woot, with assumed carelessness. "dangers, when they cannot be avoided, are often quite interesting, and i am willing to go wherever you two venture to go." so they left the path they had been following and began to travel toward the northeast, and all that day they were in the pleasant winkie country, and all the people they met saluted the emperor with great respect and wished him good luck on his journey. at night they stopped at a house where they were well entertained and where woot was given a comfortable bed to sleep in. "were the scarecrow and i alone," said the tin woodman, "we would travel by night as well as by day; but with a meat person in our party, we must halt at night to permit him to rest." "meat tires, after a day's travel," added the scarecrow, "while straw and tin never tire at all. which proves," said he, "that we are somewhat superior to people made in the common way." woot could not deny that he was tired, and he slept soundly until morning, when he was given a good breakfast, smoking hot. "you two miss a great deal by not eating," he said to his companions. "it is true," responded the scarecrow. "we miss suffering from hunger, when food cannot be had, and we miss a stomachache, now and then." as he said this, the scarecrow glanced at the tin woodman, who nodded his assent. all that second day they traveled steadily, entertaining one another the while with stories of adventures they had formerly met and listening to the scarecrow recite poetry. he had learned a great many poems from professor wogglebug and loved to repeat them whenever anybody would listen to him. of course woot and the tin woodman now listened, because they could not do otherwise--unless they rudely ran away from their stuffed comrade. one of the scarecrow's recitations was like this: "what sound is so sweet as the straw from the wheat when it crunkles so tender and low? it is yellow and bright, so it gives me delight to crunkle wherever i go. "sweet, fresh, golden straw! there is surely no flaw in a stuffing so clean and compact. it creaks when i walk, and it thrills when i talk, and its fragrance is fine, for a fact. "to cut me don't hurt, for i've no blood to squirt, and i therefore can suffer no pain; the straw that i use doesn't lump up or bruise, though it's pounded again and again! "i know it is said that my beautiful head has brains of mixed wheat-straw and bran, but my thoughts are so good i'd not change, if i could, for the brains of a common meat man. "content with my lot, i'm glad that i'm not like others i meet day by day; if my insides get musty, or mussed-up, or dusty, i get newly stuffed right away." chapter four the loons of loonville toward evening, the travelers found there was no longer a path to guide them, and the purple hues of the grass and trees warned them that they were now in the country of the gillikins, where strange peoples dwelt in places that were quite unknown to the other inhabitants of oz. the fields were wild and uncultivated and there were no houses of any sort to be seen. but our friends kept on walking even after the sun went down, hoping to find a good place for woot the wanderer to sleep; but when it grew quite dark and the boy was weary with his long walk, they halted right in the middle of a field and allowed woot to get his supper from the food he carried in his knapsack. then the scarecrow laid himself down, so that woot could use his stuffed body as a pillow, and the tin woodman stood up beside them all night, so the dampness of the ground might not rust his joints or dull his brilliant polish. whenever the dew settled on his body he carefully wiped it off with a cloth, and so in the morning the emperor shone as brightly as ever in the rays of the rising sun. they wakened the boy at daybreak, the scarecrow saying to him: "we have discovered something queer, and therefore we must counsel together what to do about it." "what have you discovered?" asked woot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles and giving three wide yawns to prove he was fully awake. "a sign," said the tin woodman. "a sign, and another path." "what does the sign say?" inquired the boy. "it says that 'all strangers are warned not to follow this path to loonville,'" answered the scarecrow, who could read very well when his eyes had been freshly painted. "in that case," said the boy, opening his knapsack to get some breakfast, "let us travel in some other direction." but this did not seem to please either of his companions. "i'd like to see what loonville looks like," remarked the tin woodman. "when one travels, it is foolish to miss any interesting sight," added the scarecrow. "but a warning means danger," protested woot the wanderer, "and i believe it sensible to keep out of danger whenever we can." they made no reply to this speech for a while. then said the scarecrow: "i have escaped so many dangers, during my lifetime, that i am not much afraid of anything that can happen." "nor am i!" exclaimed the tin woodman, swinging his glittering axe around his tin head, in a series of circles. "few things can injure tin, and my axe is a powerful weapon to use against a foe. but our boy friend," he continued, looking solemnly at woot, "might perhaps be injured if the people of loonville are really dangerous; so i propose he waits here while you and i, friend scarecrow, visit the forbidden city of loonville." "don't worry about me," advised woot, calmly. "wherever you wish to go, i will go, and share your dangers. during my wanderings i have found it more wise to keep out of danger than to venture in, but at that time i was alone, and now i have two powerful friends to protect me." so, when he had finished his breakfast, they all set out along the path that led to loonville. "it is a place i have never heard of before," remarked the scarecrow, as they approached a dense forest. "the inhabitants may be people, of some sort, or they may be animals, but whatever they prove to be, we will have an interesting story to relate to dorothy and ozma on our return." the path led into the forest, but the big trees grew so closely together and the vines and underbrush were so thick and matted that they had to clear a path at each step in order to proceed. in one or two places the tin man, who went first to clear the way, cut the branches with a blow of his axe. woot followed next, and last of the three came the scarecrow, who could not have kept the path at all had not his comrades broken the way for his straw-stuffed body. presently the tin woodman pushed his way through some heavy underbrush, and almost tumbled headlong into a vast cleared space in the forest. the clearing was circular, big and roomy, yet the top branches of the tall trees reached over and formed a complete dome or roof for it. strangely enough, it was not dark in this immense natural chamber in the woodland, for the place glowed with a soft, white light that seemed to come from some unseen source. in the chamber were grouped dozens of queer creatures, and these so astonished the tin man that woot had to push his metal body aside, that he might see, too. and the scarecrow pushed woot aside, so that the three travelers stood in a row, staring with all their eyes. the creatures they beheld were round and ball-like; round in body, round in legs and arms, round in hands and feet and round of head. the only exception to the roundness was a slight hollow on the top of each head, making it saucer-shaped instead of dome-shaped. they wore no clothes on their puffy bodies, nor had they any hair. their skins were all of a light gray color, and their eyes were mere purple spots. their noses were as puffy as the rest of them. "are they rubber, do you think?" asked the scarecrow, who noticed that the creatures bounded, as they moved, and seemed almost as light as air. "it is difficult to tell what they are," answered woot, "they seem to be covered with warts." the loons--for so these folks were called--had been doing many things, some playing together, some working at tasks and some gathered in groups to talk; but at the sound of strange voices, which echoed rather loudly through the clearing, all turned in the direction of the intruders. then, in a body, they all rushed forward, running and bounding with tremendous speed. the tin woodman was so surprised by this sudden dash that he had no time to raise his axe before the loons were on them. the creatures swung their puffy hands, which looked like boxing-gloves, and pounded the three travelers as hard as they could, on all sides. the blows were quite soft and did not hurt our friends at all, but the onslaught quite bewildered them, so that in a brief period all three were knocked over and fell flat upon the ground. once down, many of the loons held them, to prevent their getting up again, while others wound long tendrils of vines about them, binding their arms and legs to their bodies and so rendering them helpless. "aha!" cried the biggest loon of all; "we've got 'em safe; so let's carry 'em to king bal and have 'em tried, and condemned and perforated!" they had to drag their captives to the center of the domed chamber, for their weight, as compared with that of the loons, prevented their being carried. even the scarecrow was much heavier than the puffy loons. but finally the party halted before a raised platform, on which stood a sort of throne, consisting of a big, wide chair with a string tied to one arm of it. this string led upward to the roof of the dome. arranged before the platform, the prisoners were allowed to sit up, facing the empty throne. "good!" said the big loon who had commanded the party. "now to get king bal to judge these terrible creatures we have so bravely captured." as he spoke he took hold of the string and began to pull as hard as he could. one or two of the others helped him and pretty soon, as they drew in the cord, the leaves above them parted and a loon appeared at the other end of the string. it didn't take long to draw him down to the throne, where he seated himself and was tied in, so he wouldn't float upward again. "hello," said the king, blinking his purple eyes at his followers; "what's up now!" "strangers, your majesty--strangers and captives," replied the big loon, pompously. "dear me! i see 'em. i see 'em very plainly," exclaimed the king, his purple eyes bulging out as he looked at the three prisoners. "what curious animals! are they dangerous, do you think, my good panta?" "i'm 'fraid so, your majesty. of course, they may not be dangerous, but we mustn't take chances. enough accidents happen to us poor loons as it is, and my advice is to condemn and perforate 'em as quickly as possible." "keep your advice to yourself," said the monarch, in a peeved tone. "who's king here, anyhow? you or me?" "we made you our king because you have less common sense than the rest of us," answered panta loon, indignantly. "i could have been king myself, had i wanted to, but i didn't care for the hard work and responsibility." as he said this, the big loon strutted back and forth in the space between the throne of king bal and the prisoners, and the other loons seemed much impressed by his defiance. but suddenly there came a sharp report and panta loon instantly disappeared, to the great astonishment of the scarecrow, the tin woodman and woot the wanderer, who saw on the spot where the big fellow had stood a little heap of flabby, wrinkled skin that looked like a collapsed rubber balloon. "there!" exclaimed the king; "i expected that would happen. the conceited rascal wanted to puff himself up until he was bigger than the rest of you, and this is the result of his folly. get the pump working, some of you, and blow him up again." "we will have to mend the puncture first, your majesty," suggested one of the loons, and the prisoners noticed that none of them seemed surprised or shocked at the sad accident to panta. "all right," grumbled the king. "fetch til to mend him." one or two ran away and presently returned, followed by a lady loon wearing huge, puffed-up rubber skirts. also she had a purple feather fastened to a wart on the top of her head, and around her waist was a sash of fibre-like vines, dried and tough, that looked like strings. "get to work, til," commanded king bal. "panta has just exploded." the lady loon picked up the bunch of skin and examined it carefully until she discovered a hole in one foot. then she pulled a strand of string from her sash, and drawing the edges of the hole together, she tied them fast with the string, thus making one of those curious warts which the strangers had noticed on so many loons. having done this, til loon tossed the bit of skin to the other loons and was about to go away when she noticed the prisoners and stopped to inspect them. "dear me!" said til; "what dreadful creatures. where did they come from?" "we captured them," replied one of the loons. "and what are we going to do with them?" inquired the girl loon. "perhaps we'll condemn 'em and puncture 'em," answered the king. "well," said she, still eyeing the "i'm not sure they'll puncture. let's try it, and see." one of the loons ran to the forest's edge and quickly returned with a long, sharp thorn. he glanced at the king, who nodded his head in assent, and then he rushed forward and stuck the thorn into the leg of the scarecrow. the scarecrow merely smiled and said nothing, for the thorn didn't hurt him at all. then the loon tried to prick the tin woodman's leg, but the tin only blunted the point of the thorn. "just as i thought," said til, blinking her purple eyes and shaking her puffy head; but just then the loon stuck the thorn into the leg of woot the wanderer, and while it had been blunted somewhat, it was still sharp enough to hurt. "ouch!" yelled woot, and kicked out his leg with so much energy that the frail bonds that tied him burst apart. his foot caught the loon--who was leaning over him--full on his puffy stomach, and sent him shooting up into the air. when he was high over their heads he exploded with a loud "pop" and his skin fell to the ground. "i really believe," said the king, rolling his spotlike eyes in a frightened way, "that panta was right in claiming these prisoners are dangerous. is the pump ready?" some of the loons had wheeled a big machine in front of the throne and now took panta's skin and began to pump air into it. slowly it swelled out until the king cried "stop!" "no, no!" yelled panta, "i'm not big enough yet." "you're as big as you're going to be," declared the king. "before you exploded you were bigger than the rest of us, and that caused you to be proud and overbearing. now you're a little smaller than the rest, and you will last longer and be more humble." "pump me up--pump me up!" wailed panta "if you don't you'll break my heart." "if we do we'll break your skin," replied the king. so the loons stopped pumping air into panta, and pushed him away from the pump. he was certainly more humble than before his accident, for he crept into the background and said nothing more. "now pump up the other one," ordered the king. til had already mended him, and the loons set to work to pump him full of air. during these last few moments none had paid much attention to the prisoners, so woot, finding his legs free, crept over to the tin woodman and rubbed the bonds that were still around his arms and body against the sharp edge of the axe, which quickly cut them. the boy was now free, and the thorn which the loon had stuck into his leg was lying unnoticed on the ground, where the creature had dropped it when he exploded. woot leaned forward and picked up the thorn, and while the loons were busy watching the pump, the boy sprang to his feet and suddenly rushed upon the group. "pop"--"pop"--"pop!" went three of the loons, when the wanderer pricked them with his thorn, and at the sounds the others looked around and saw their danger. with yells of fear they bounded away in all directions, scattering about the clearing, with woot the wanderer in full chase. while they could run much faster than the boy, they often stumbled and fell, or got in one another's way, so he managed to catch several and prick them with his thorn. it astonished him to see how easily the loons exploded. when the air was let out of them they were quite helpless. til loon was one of those who ran against his thorn and many others suffered the same fate. the creatures could not escape from the enclosure, but in their fright many bounded upward and caught branches of the trees, and then climbed out of reach of the dreaded thorn. woot was getting pretty tired chasing them, so he stopped and came over, panting, to where his friends were sitting, still bound. "very well done, my wanderer," said the tin woodman. "it is evident that we need fear these puffed-up creatures no longer, so be kind enough to unfasten our bonds and we will proceed upon our journey." woot untied the bonds of the scarecrow and helped him to his feet. then he freed the tin woodman, who got up without help. looking around them, they saw that the only loon now remaining within reach was bal loon, the king, who had remained seated in his throne, watching the punishment of his people with a bewildered look in his purple eyes. "shall i puncture the king?" the boy asked his companions. king bal must have overheard the question, for he fumbled with the cord that fastened him to the throne and managed to release it. then he floated upward until he reached the leafy dome, and parting the branches he disappeared from sight. but the string that was tied to his body was still connected with the arm of the throne, and they knew they could pull his majesty down again, if they wanted to. "let him alone," suggested the scarecrow. "he seems a good enough king for his peculiar people, and after we are gone, the loons will have something of a job to pump up all those whom woot has punctured." "every one of them ought to be exploded," declared woot, who was angry because his leg still hurt him. "no," said the tin woodman, "that would not be just fair. they were quite right to capture us, because we had no business to intrude here, having been warned to keep away from loonville. this is their country, not ours, and since the poor things can't get out of the clearing, they can harm no one save those who venture here out of curiosity, as we did." "well said, my friend," agreed tile scarecrow. "we really had no right to disturb their peace and comfort; so let us go away." they easily found the place where they had forced their way into the enclosure, so the tin woodman pushed aside the underbrush and started first along the path. the scarecrow followed next and last came woot, who looked back and saw that the loons were still clinging to their perches on the trees and watching their former captives with frightened eyes. "i guess they're glad to see the last of us," remarked the boy, and laughing at the happy ending of the adventure, he followed his comrades along the path. chapter five mrs. yoop, the giantess when they had reached the end of the path, where they had first seen the warning sign, they set off across the country in an easterly direction. before long they reached rolling lands, which were a succession of hills and valleys where constant climbs and descents were required, and their journey now became tedious, because on climbing each hill, they found before them nothing in the valley below it except grass, or weeds or stones. up and down they went for hours, with nothing to relieve the monotony of the landscape, until finally, when they had topped a higher hill than usual, they discovered a cup-shaped valley before them in the center of which stood an enormous castle, built of purple stone. the castle was high and broad and long, but had no turrets and towers. so far as they could see, there was but one small window and one big door on each side of the great building. "this is strange!" mused the scarecrow. "i'd no idea such a big castle existed in this gillikin country. i wonder who lives here?" "it seems to me, from this distance," remarked the tin woodman, "that it's the biggest castle i ever saw. it is really too big for any use, and no one could open or shut those big doors without a stepladder." "perhaps, if we go nearer, we shall find out whether anybody lives there or not," suggested woot. "looks to me as if nobody lived there." on they went, and when they reached the center of the valley, where the great stone castle stood, it was beginning to grow dark. so they hesitated as to what to do. "if friendly people happen to live here," said woot. "i shall be glad of a bed; but should enemies occupy the place, i prefer to sleep upon the ground." "and if no one at all lives here," added the scarecrow, "we can enter, and take possession, and make ourselves at home." while speaking he went nearer to one of the great doors, which was three times as high and broad as any he had ever seen in a house before, and then he discovered, engraved in big letters upon a stone over the doorway, the words: "yoop castle" "oho!" he exclaimed; "i know the place now. this was probably the home of mr. yoop, a terrible giant whom i have seen confined in a cage, a long way from here. therefore this castle is likely to be empty and we may use it in any way we please." "yes, yes," said the tin emperor, nodding; "i also remember mr. yoop. but how are we to get into his deserted castle? the latch of the door is so far above our heads that none of us can reach it." they considered this problem for a while, and then woot said to the tin man: "if i stand upon your shoulders, i think i can unlatch the door." "climb up, then," was the reply, and when the boy was perched upon the tin shoulders of nick chopper, he was just able to reach the latch and raise it. at once the door swung open, its great hinges making a groaning sound as if in protest, so woot leaped down and followed his companions into a big, bare hallway. scarcely were the three inside, however, when they heard the door slam shut behind them, and this astonished them because no one had touched it. it had closed of its own accord, as if by magic. moreover, the latch was on the outside, and the thought occurred to each one of them that they were now prisoners in this unknown castle. "however," mumbled the scarecrow, "we are not to blame for what cannot be helped; so let us push bravely ahead and see what may be seen." it was quite dark in the hallway, now that the outside door was shut, so as they stumbled along a stone passage they kept close together, not knowing what danger was likely to befall them. suddenly a soft glow enveloped them. it grew brighter, until they could see their surroundings distinctly. they had reached the end of the passage and before them was another huge door. this noiselessly swung open before them, without the help of anyone, and through the doorway they observed a big chamber, the walls of which were lined with plates of pure gold, highly polished. this room was also lighted, although they could discover no lamps, and in the center of it was a great table at which sat an immense woman. she was clad in silver robes embroidered with gay floral designs, and wore over this splendid raiment a short apron of elaborate lace-work. such an apron was no protection, and was not in keeping with the handsome gown, but the huge woman wore it, nevertheless. the table at which she sat was spread with a white cloth and had golden dishes upon it, so the travelers saw that they had surprised the giantess while she was eating her supper. she had her back toward them and did not even turn around, but taking a biscuit from a dish she began to butter it and said in a voice that was big and deep but not especially unpleasant: "why don't you come in and allow the door to shut? you're causing a draught, and i shall catch cold and sneeze. when i sneeze, i get cross, and when i get cross i'm liable to do something wicked. come in, you foolish strangers; come in!" being thus urged, they entered the room and approached the table, until they stood where they faced the great giantess. she continued eating, but smiled in a curious way as she looked at them. woot noticed that the door had closed silently after they had entered, and that didn't please him at all. "well," said the giantess, "what excuse have you to offer?" "we didn't know anyone lived here, madam," explained the scarecrow; "so, being travelers and strangers in these parts, and wishing to find a place for our boy friend to sleep, we ventured to enter your castle." "you knew it was private property, i suppose?" said she, buttering another biscuit. "we saw the words, 'yoop castle,' over the door, but we knew that mr. yoop is a prisoner in a cage in a far-off part of the land of oz, so we decided there was no one now at home and that we might use the castle for the night." "i see," remarked the giantess, nodding her head and smiling again in that curious way--a way that made woot shudder. "you didn't know that mr. yoop was married, or that after he was cruelly captured his wife still lived in his castle and ran it to suit herself." "who captured mr. yoop?" asked woot, looking gravely at the big woman. "wicked enemies. people who selfishly objected to yoop's taking their cows and sheep for his food. i must admit, however, that yoop had a bad temper, and had the habit of knocking over a few houses, now and then, when he was angry. so one day the little folks came in a great crowd and captured mr. yoop, and carried him away to a cage somewhere in the mountains. i don't know where it is, and i don't care, for my husband treated me badly at times, forgetting the respect a giant owes to a giantess. often he kicked me on my shins, when i wouldn't wait on him. so i'm glad he is gone." "it's a wonder the people didn't capture you, too," remarked woot. "well, i was too clever for them," said she, giving a sudden laugh that caused such a breeze that the wobbly scarecrow was almost blown off his feet and had to grab his friend nick chopper to steady himself. "i saw the people coming," continued mrs. yoop, "and knowing they meant mischief i transformed myself into a mouse and hid in a cupboard. after they had gone away, carrying my shin-kicking husband with them, i transformed myself back to my former shape again, and here i've lived in peace and comfort ever since." "are you a witch, then?" inquired woot. "well, not exactly a witch," she replied, "but i'm an artist in transformations. in other words, i'm more of a yookoohoo than a witch, and of course you know that the yookoohoos are the cleverest magic-workers in the world." the travelers were silent for a time, uneasily considering this statement and the effect it might have on their future. no doubt the giantess had wilfully made them her prisoners; yet she spoke so cheerfully, in her big voice, that until now they had not been alarmed in the least. by and by the scarecrow, whose mixed brains had been working steadily, asked the woman: "are we to consider you our friend, mrs. yoop, or do you intend to be our enemy?" "i never have friends," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "because friends get too familiar and always forget to mind their own business. but i am not your enemy; not yet, anyhow. indeed, i'm glad you've come, for my life here is rather lonely. i've had no one to talk to since i transformed polychrome, the daughter of the rainbow, into a canary-bird." "how did you manage to do that?" asked the tin woodman, in amazement. "polychrome is a powerful fairy!" "she was," said the giantess; "but now she's a canary-bird. one day after a rain, polychrome danced off the rainbow and fell asleep on a little mound in this valley, not far from my castle. the sun came out and drove the rainbow away, and before poly wakened, i stole out and transformed her into a canary-bird in a gold cage studded with diamonds. the cage was so she couldn't fly away. i expected she'd sing and talk and we'd have good times together; but she has proved no company for me at all. ever since the moment of her transformation, she has refused to speak a single word." "where is she now?" inquired woot, who had heard tales of lovely polychrome and was much interested in her. "the cage is hanging up in my bedroom," said the giantess, eating another biscuit. the travelers were now more uneasy and suspicious of the giantess than before. if polychrome, the rainbow's daughter, who was a real fairy, had been transformed and enslaved by this huge woman, who claimed to be a yookoohoo, what was liable to happen to them? said the scarecrow, twisting his stuffed head around in mrs. yoop's direction: "do you know, ma'am, who we are?" "of course," said she; "a straw man, a tin man and a boy." "we are very important people," declared the tin woodman. "all the better," she replied. "i shall enjoy your society the more on that account. for i mean to keep you here as long as i live, to amuse me when i get lonely. and," she added slowly, "in this valley no one ever dies." they didn't like this speech at all, so the scarecrow frowned in a way that made mrs. yoop smile, while the tin woodman looked so fierce that mrs. yoop laughed. the scarecrow suspected she was going to laugh, so he slipped behind his friends to escape the wind from her breath. from this safe position he said warningly: "we have powerful friends who will soon come to rescue us." "let them come," she returned, with an accent of scorn. "when they get here they will find neither a boy, nor a tin man, nor a scarecrow, for tomorrow morning i intend to transform you all into other shapes, so that you cannot be recognized." this threat filled them with dismay. the good-natured giantess was more terrible than they had imagined. she could smile and wear pretty clothes and at the same time be even more cruel than her wicked husband had been. both the scarecrow and the tin woodman tried to think of some way to escape from the castle before morning, but she seemed to read their thoughts and shook her head. "don't worry your poor brains," said she. "you can't escape me, however hard you try. but why should you wish to escape? i shall give you new forms that are much better than the ones you now have. be contented with your fate, for discontent leads to unhappiness, and unhappiness, in any form, is the greatest evil that can befall you." "what forms do you intend to give us?" asked woot earnestly. "i haven't decided, as yet. i'll dream over it tonight, so in the morning i shall have made up my mind how to transform you. perhaps you'd prefer to choose your own transformations?" "no," said woot, "i prefer to remain as i am." "that's funny," she retorted. "you are little, and you're weak; as you are, you're not much account, anyhow. the best thing about you is that you're alive, for i shall be able to make of you some sort of live creature which will be a great improvement on your present form." she took another biscuit from a plate and dipped it in a pot of honey and calmly began eating it. the scarecrow watched her thoughtfully. "there are no fields of grain in your valley," said he; "where, then, did you get the flour to make your biscuits?" "mercy me! do you think i'd bother to make biscuits out of flour?" she replied. "that is altogether too tedious a process for a yookoohoo. i set some traps this afternoon and caught a lot of field-mice, but as i do not like to eat mice, i transformed them into hot biscuits for my supper. the honey in this pot was once a wasp's nest, but since being transformed it has become sweet and delicious. all i need do, when i wish to eat, is to take something i don't care to keep, and transform it into any sort of food i like, and eat it. are you hungry?" "i don't eat, thank you," said the scarecrow. "nor do i," said the tin woodman. "i have still a little natural food in my knapsack," said woot the wanderer, "and i'd rather eat that than any wasp's nest." "every one to his taste," said the giantess carelessly, and having now finished her supper she rose to her feet, clapped her hands together, and the supper table at once disappeared. chapter six the magic of a yookoohoo woot had seen very little of magic during his wanderings, while the scarecrow and the tin woodman had seen a great deal of many sorts in their lives, yet all three were greatly impressed by mrs. yoop's powers. she did not affect any mysterious airs or indulge in chants or mystic rites, as most witches do, nor was the giantess old and ugly or disagreeable in face or manner. nevertheless, she frightened her prisoners more than any witch could have done. "please be seated," she said to them, as she sat herself down in a great arm-chair and spread her beautiful embroidered skirts for them to admire. but all the chairs in the room were so high that our friends could not climb to the seats of them. mrs. yoop observed this and waved her hand, when instantly a golden ladder appeared leaning against a chair opposite her own. "climb up," said she, and they obeyed, the tin man and the boy assisting the more clumsy scarecrow. when they were all seated in a row on the cushion of the chair, the giantess continued: "now tell me how you happened to travel in this direction, and where you came from and what your errand is." so the tin woodman told her all about nimmie amee, and how he had decided to find her and marry her, although he had no loving heart. the story seemed to amuse the big woman, who then began to ask the scarecrow questions and for the first time in her life heard of ozma of oz, and of dorothy and jack pumpkinhead and dr. pipt and tik-tok and many other oz people who are well known in the emerald city. also woot had to tell his story, which was very simple and did not take long. the giantess laughed heartily when the boy related their adventure at loonville, but said she knew nothing of the loons because she never left her valley. "there are wicked people who would like to capture me, as they did my giant husband, mr. yoop," said she; "so i stay at home and mind my own business." "if ozma knew that you dared to work magic without her consent, she would punish you severely," declared the scarecrow, "for this castle is in the land of oz, and no persons in the land of oz are permitted to work magic except glinda the good and the little wizard who lives with ozma in the emerald city." "that for your ozma!" exclaimed the giantess, snapping her fingers in derision. "what do i care for a girl whom i have never seen and who has never seen me?" "but ozma is a fairy," said the tin woodman, "and therefore she is very powerful. also, we are under ozma's protection, and to injure us in any way would make her extremely angry." "what i do here, in my own private castle in this secluded valley--where no one comes but fools like you--can never be known to your fairy ozma," returned the giantess. "do not seek to frighten me from my purpose, and do not allow yourselves to be frightened, for it is best to meet bravely what cannot be avoided. i am now going to bed, and in the morning i will give you all new forms, such as will be more interesting to me than the ones you now wear. good night, and pleasant dreams." saying this, mrs. yoop rose from her chair and walked through a doorway into another room. so heavy was the tread of the giantess that even the walls of the big stone castle trembled as she stepped. she closed the door of her bedroom behind her, and then suddenly the light went out and the three prisoners found themselves in total darkness. the tin woodman and the scarecrow didn't mind the dark at all, but woot the wanderer felt worried to be left in this strange place in this strange manner, without being able to see any danger that might threaten. "the big woman might have given me a bed, anyhow," he said to his companions, and scarcely had he spoken when he felt something press against his legs, which were then dangling from the seat of the chair. leaning down, he put out his hand and found that a bedstead had appeared, with mattress, sheets and covers, all complete. he lost no time in slipping down upon the bed and was soon fast asleep. during the night the scarecrow and the emperor talked in low tones together, and they got out of the chair and moved all about the room, feeling for some hidden spring that might open a door or window and permit them to escape. morning found them still unsuccessful in the quest and as soon as it was daylight woot's bed suddenly disappeared, and he dropped to the floor with a thump that quickly wakened him. and after a time the giantess came from her bedroom, wearing another dress that was quite as elaborate as the one in which she had been attired the evening before, and also wearing the pretty lace apron. having seated herself in a chair, she said: "i'm hungry; so i'll have breakfast at once." she clapped her hands together and instantly the table appeared before her, spread with snowy linen and laden with golden dishes. but there was no food upon the table, nor anything else except a pitcher of water, a bundle of weeds and a handful of pebbles. but the giantess poured some water into her coffee-pot, patted it once or twice with her hand, and then poured out a cupful of steaming hot coffee. "would you like some?" she asked woot. he was suspicious of magic coffee, but it smelled so good that he could not resist it; so he answered: "if you please, madam." the giantess poured out another cup and set it on the floor for woot. it was as big as a tub, and the golden spoon in the saucer beside the cup was so heavy the boy could scarcely lift it. but woot managed to get a sip of the coffee and found it delicious. mrs. yoop next transformed the weeds into a dish of oatmeal, which she ate with good appetite. "now, then," said she, picking up the pebbles. "i'm wondering whether i shall have fish-balls or lamb-chops to complete my meal. which would you prefer, woot the wanderer?" "if you please, i'll eat the food in my knapsack," answered the boy. "your magic food might taste good, but i'm afraid of it." the woman laughed at his fears and transformed the pebbles into fish-balls. "i suppose you think that after you had eaten this food it would turn to stones again and make you sick," she remarked; "but that would be impossible. nothing i transform ever gets back to its former shape again, so these fish-balls can never more be pebbles. that is why i have to be careful of my transformations," she added, busily eating while she talked, "for while i can change forms at will i can never change them back again--which proves that even the powers of a clever yookoohoo are limited. when i have transformed you three people, you must always wear the shapes that i have given you." "then please don't transform us," begged woot, "for we are quite satisfied to remain as we are." "i am not expecting to satisfy you, but intend to please myself," she declared, "and my pleasure is to give you new shapes. for, if by chance your friends came in search of you, not one of them would be able to recognize you." her tone was so positive that they knew it would be useless to protest. the woman was not unpleasant to look at; her face was not cruel; her voice was big but gracious in tone; but her words showed that she possessed a merciless heart and no pleadings would alter her wicked purpose. mrs. yoop took ample time to finish her breakfast and the prisoners had no desire to hurry her, but finally the meal was concluded and she folded her napkin and made the table disappear by clapping her hands together. then she turned to her captives and said: "the next thing on the programme is to change your forms." "have you decided what forms to give us?" asked the scarecrow, uneasily. "yes; i dreamed it all out while i was asleep. this tin man seems a very solemn person "--indeed, the tin woodman was looking solemn, just then, for he was greatly disturbed--"so i shall change him into an owl." all she did was to point one finger at him as she spoke, but immediately the form of the tin woodman began to change and in a few seconds nick chopper, the emperor of the winkies, had been transformed into an owl, with eyes as big as saucers and a hooked beak and strong claws. but he was still tin. he was a tin owl, with tin legs and beak and eyes and feathers. when he flew to the back of a chair and perched upon it, his tin feathers rattled against one another with a tinny clatter. the giantess seemed much amused by the tin owl's appearance, for her laugh was big and jolly. "you're not liable to get lost," said she, "for your wings and feathers will make a racket wherever you go. and, on my word, a tin owl is so rare and pretty that it is an improvement on the ordinary bird. i did not intend to make you tin, but i forgot to wish you to be meat. however, tin you were, and tin you are, and as it's too late to change you, that settles it." until now the scarecrow had rather doubted the possibility of mrs. yoop's being able to transform him, or his friend the tin woodman, for they were not made as ordinary people are. he had worried more over what might happen to woot than to himself, but now he began to worry about himself. "madam," he said hastily, "i consider this action very impolite. it may even be called rude, considering we are your guests." "you are not guests, for i did not invite you here," she replied. "perhaps not; but we craved hospitality. we threw ourselves upon your mercy, so to speak, and we now find you have no mercy. therefore, if you will excuse the expression, i must say it is downright wicked to take our proper forms away from us and give us others that we do not care for." "are you trying to make me angry?" she asked, frowning. "by no means," said the scarecrow; "i'm just trying to make you act more ladylike." "oh, indeed! in my opinion, mr. scarecrow, you are now acting like a bear--so a bear you shall be!" again the dreadful finger pointed, this time in the scarecrow's direction, and at once his form began to change. in a few seconds he had become a small brown bear, but he was stuffed with straw as he had been before, and when the little brown bear shuffled across the floor he was just as wobbly as the scarecrow had been and moved just as awkwardly. woot was amazed, but he was also thoroughly frightened. "did it hurt?" he asked the little brown bear. "no, of course not," growled the scarecrow in the bear's form; "but i don't like walking on four legs; it's undignified." "consider my humiliation!" chirped the tin owl, trying to settle its tin feathers smoothly with its tin beak. "and i can't see very well, either. the light seems to hurt my eyes." "that's because you are an owl," said woot. "i think you will see better in the dark." "well," remarked the giantess, "i'm very well pleased with these new forms, for my part, and i'm sure you will like them better when you get used to them. so now," she added, turning to the boy, "it is your turn." "don't you think you'd better leave me as i am?" asked woot in a trembling voice. "no," she replied, "i'm going to make a monkey of you. i love monkeys--they're so cute!--and i think a green monkey will be lots of fun and amuse me when i am sad." woot shivered, for again the terrible magic finger pointed, and pointed directly his way. he felt himself changing; not so very much, however, and it didn't hurt him a bit. he looked down at his limbs and body and found that his clothes were gone and his skin covered with a fine, silk-like green fur. his hands and feet were now those of a monkey. he realized he really was a monkey, and his first feeling was one of anger. he began to chatter as monkeys do. he bounded to the seat of a giant chair, and then to its back and with a wild leap sprang upon the laughing giantess. his idea was to seize her hair and pull it out by the roots, and so have revenge for her wicked transformations. but she raised her hand and said: "gently, my dear monkey--gently! you're not angry; you're happy as can be!" woot stopped short. no; he wasn't a bit angry now; he felt as good-humored and gay as ever he did when a boy. instead of pulling mrs. yoop's hair, he perched on her shoulder and smoothed her soft cheek with his hairy paw. in return, she smiled at the funny green animal and patted his head. "very good," said the giantess. "let us all become friends and be happy together. how is my tin owl feeling?" "quite comfortable," said the owl. "i don't like it, to be sure, but i'm not going to allow my new form to make me unhappy. but, tell me, please: what is a tin owl good for?" "you are only good to make me laugh," replied the giantess. "will a stuffed bear also make you laugh?" inquired the scarecrow, sitting back on his haunches to look up at her. "of course," declared the giantess; "and i have added a little magic to your transformations to make you all contented with wearing your new forms. i'm sorry i didn't think to do that when i transformed polychrome into a canary-bird. but perhaps, when she sees how cheerful you are, she will cease to be silent and sullen and take to singing. i will go get the bird and let you see her." with this, mrs. yoop went into the next room and soon returned bearing a golden cage in which sat upon a swinging perch a lovely yellow canary. "polychrome," said the giantess, "permit me to introduce to you a green monkey, which used to be a boy called woot the wanderer, and a tin owl, which used to be a tin woodman named nick chopper, and a straw-stuffed little brown bear which used to be a live scarecrow." "we already know one another," declared the scarecrow. "the bird is polychrome, the rainbow's daughter, and she and i used to be good friends." "are you really my old friend, the scarecrow?" asked; the bird, in a sweet, low voice. "there!" cried mrs. yoop; "that's the first time she has spoken since she was transformed." "i am really your old friend," answered the scarecrow; "but you must pardon me for appearing just now in this brutal form." "i am a bird, as you are, dear poly," said the tin woodman; "but, alas! a tin owl is not as beautiful as a canary-bird." "how dreadful it all is!" sighed the canary. "couldn't you manage to escape from this terrible yookoohoo?" "no," answered the scarecrow, "we tried to escape, but failed. she first made us her prisoners and then transformed us. but how did she manage to get you, polychrome?" "i was asleep, and she took unfair advantage of me," answered the bird sadly. "had i been awake, i could easily have protected myself." "tell me," said the green monkey earnestly, as he came close to the cage, "what must we do, daughter of the rainbow, to escape from these transformations? can't you help us, being a fairy?" "at present i am powerless to help even myself," replied the canary. "that's the exact truth!" exclaimed the giantess, who seemed pleased to hear the bird talk, even though it complained; "you are all helpless and in my power, so you may as well make up your minds to accept your fate and be content. remember that you are transformed for good, since no magic on earth can break your enchantments. i am now going out for my morning walk, for each day after breakfast i walk sixteen times around my castle for exercise. amuse yourselves while i am gone, and when i return i hope to find you all reconciled and happy." so the giantess walked to the door by which our friends had entered the great hall and spoke one word: "open!" then the door swung open and after mrs. yoop had passed out it closed again with a snap as its powerful bolts shot into place. the green monkey had rushed toward the opening, hoping to escape, but he was too late and only got a bump on his nose as the door slammed shut. chapter seven the lace apron "now," said the canary, in a tone more brisk than before, "we may talk together more freely, as mrs. yoop cannot hear us. perhaps we can figure out a way to escape." "open!" said woot the monkey, still facing the door; but his command had no effect and he slowly rejoined the others. "you cannot open any door or window in this enchanted castle unless you are wearing the magic apron," said the canary. "what magic apron do you mean?" asked the tin owl, in a curious voice. "the lace one, which the giantess always wears. i have been her prisoner, in this cage, for several weeks, and she hangs my cage in her bedroom every night, so that she can keep her eye on me," explained polychrome the canary. "therefore i have discovered that it is the magic apron that opens the doors and windows, and nothing else can move them. when she goes to bed, mrs. yoop hangs her apron on the bedpost, and one morning she forgot to put it on when she commanded the door to open, and the door would not move. so then she put on the lace apron and the door obeyed her. that was how i learned the magic power of the apron." "i see--i see!" said the little brown bear, wagging his stuffed head. "then, if we could get the apron from mrs. yoop, we could open the doors and escape from our prison." "that is true, and it is the plan i was about to suggest," replied polychrome the canary-bird. "however, i don't believe the owl could steal the apron, or even the bear, but perhaps the monkey could hide in her room at night and get the apron while she is asleep." "i'll try it!" cried woot the monkey. "i'll try it this very night, if i can manage to steal into her bedroom." "you mustn't think about it, though," warned the bird, "for she can read your thoughts whenever she cares to do so. and do not forget, before you escape, to take me with you. once i am out of the power of the giantess, i may discover a way to save us all." "we won't forget our fairy friend," promised the boy; "but perhaps you can tell me how to get into the bedroom." "no," declared polychrome, "i cannot advise you as to that. you must watch for a chance, and slip in when mrs. yoop isn't looking." they talked it over for a while longer and then mrs. yoop returned. when she entered, the door opened suddenly, at her command, and closed as soon as her huge form had passed through the doorway. during that day she entered her bedroom several times, on one errand or another, but always she commanded the door to close behind her and her prisoners found not the slightest chance to leave the big hall in which they were confined. the green monkey thought it would be wise to make a friend of the big woman, so as to gain her confidence, so he sat on the back of her chair and chattered to her while she mended her stockings and sewed silver buttons on some golden shoes that were as big as row-boats. this pleased the giantess and she would pause at times to pat the monkey's head. the little brown bear curled up in a corner and lay still all day. the owl and the canary found they could converse together in the bird language, which neither the giantess nor the bear nor the monkey could understand; so at times they twittered away to each other and passed the long, dreary day quite cheerfully. after dinner mrs. yoop took a big fiddle from a big cupboard and played such loud and dreadful music that her prisoners were all thankful when at last she stopped and said she was going to bed. after cautioning the monkey and bear and owl to behave themselves during the night, she picked up the cage containing the canary and, going to the door of her bedroom, commanded it to open. just then, however, she remembered she had left her fiddle lying upon a table, so she went back for it and put it away in the cupboard, and while her back was turned the green monkey slipped through the open door into her bedroom and hid underneath the bed. the giantess, being sleepy, did not notice this, and entering her room she made the door close behind her and then hung the bird-cage on a peg by the window. then she began to undress, first taking off the lace apron and laying it over the bedpost, where it was within easy reach of her hand. as soon as mrs. yoop was in bed the lights all went out, and woot the monkey crouched under the bed and waited patiently until he heard the giantess snoring. then he crept out and in the dark felt around until he got hold of the apron, which he at once tied around his own waist. next, woot tried to find the canary, and there was just enough moonlight showing through the window to enable him to see where the cage hung; but it was out of his reach. at first he was tempted to leave polychrome and escape with his other friends, but remembering his promise to the rainbow's daughter woot tried to think how to save her. a chair stood near the window, and this--showing dimly in the moonlight--gave him an idea. by pushing against it with all his might, he found he could move the giant chair a few inches at a time. so he pushed and pushed until the chair was beneath the bird-cage, and then he sprang noiselessly upon the seat--for his monkey form enabled him to jump higher than he could do as a boy--and from there to the back of the chair, and so managed to reach the cage and take it off the peg. then down he sprang to the floor and made his way to the door. "open!" he commanded, and at once the door obeyed and swung open, but his voice wakened mrs. yoop, who gave a wild cry and sprang out of bed with one bound. the green monkey dashed through the doorway, carrying the cage with him, and before the giantess could reach the door it slammed shut and imprisoned her in her own bed-chamber! the noise she made, pounding upon the door, and her yells of anger and dreadful threats of vengeance, filled all our friends with terror, and woot the monkey was so excited that in the dark he could not find the outer door of the hall. but the tin owl could see very nicely in the dark, so he guided his friends to the right place and when all were grouped before the door woot commanded it to open. the magic apron proved as powerful as when it had been worn by the giantess, so a moment later they had rushed through the passage and were standing in the fresh night air outside the castle, free to go wherever they willed. chapter eight the menace of the forest "quick!" cried polychrome the canary; "we must hurry, or mrs. yoop may find some way to recapture us, even now. let us get out of her valley as soon as possible." so they set off toward the east, moving as swiftly as they could, and for a long time they could hear the yells and struggles of the imprisoned giantess. the green monkey could run over the ground very swiftly, and he carried with him the bird-cage containing polychrome the rain-bow's daughter. also the tin owl could skip and fly along at a good rate of speed, his feathers rattling against one another with a tinkling sound as he moved. but the little brown bear, being stuffed with straw, was a clumsy traveler and the others had to wait for him to follow. however, they were not very long in reaching the ridge that led out of mrs. yoop's valley, and when they had passed this ridge and descended into the next valley they stopped to rest, for the green monkey was tired. "i believe we are safe, now," said polychrome, when her cage was set down and the others had all gathered around it, "for mrs. yoop dares not go outside of her own valley, for fear of being captured by her enemies. so we may take our time to consider what to do next." "i'm afraid poor mrs. yoop will starve to death, if no one lets her out of her bedroom," said woot, who had a heart as kind as that of the tin woodman. "we've taken her magic apron away, and now the doors will never open." "don't worry about that," advised polychrome. "mrs. yoop has plenty of magic left to console her." "are you sure of that?" asked the green monkey. "yes, for i've been watching her for weeks," said the canary. "she has six magic hairpins, which she wears in her hair, and a magic ring which she wears on her thumb and which is invisible to all eyes except those of a fairy, and magic bracelets on both her ankles. so i am positive that she will manage to find a way out of her prison." "she might transform the door into an archway," suggested the little brown bear. "that would be easy for her," said the tin owl; "but i'm glad she was too angry to think of that before we got out of her valley." "well, we have escaped the big woman, to be sure," remarked the green monkey, "but we still wear the awful forms the cruel yookoohoo gave us. how are we going to get rid of these shapes, and become ourselves again?" none could answer that question. they sat around the cage, brooding over the problem, until the monkey fell asleep. seeing this, the canary tucked her head under her wing and also slept, and the tin owl and the brown bear did not disturb them until morning came and it was broad daylight. "i'm hungry," said woot, when he wakened, for his knapsack of food had been left behind at the castle. "then let us travel on until we can find something for you to eat," returned the scarecrow bear. "there is no use in your lugging my cage any farther," declared the canary. "let me out, and throw the cage away. then i can fly with you and find my own breakfast of seeds. also i can search for water, and tell you where to find it." so the green monkey unfastened the door of the golden cage and the canary hopped out. at first she flew high in the air and made great circles overhead, but after a time she returned and perched beside them. "at the east in the direction we were following," announced the canary, "there is a fine forest, with a brook running through it. in the forest there may be fruits or nuts growing, or berry bushes at its edge, so let us go that way." they agreed to this and promptly set off, this time moving more deliberately. the tin owl, which had guided their way during the night, now found the sunshine very trying to his big eyes, so he shut them tight and perched upon the back of the little brown bear, which carried the owl's weight with ease. the canary sometimes perched upon the green monkey's shoulder and sometimes fluttered on ahead of the party, and in this manner they traveled in good spirits across that valley and into the next one to the east of it. this they found to be an immense hollow, shaped like a saucer, and on its farther edge appeared the forest which polychrome had seen from the sky. "come to think of it," said the tin owl, waking up and blinking comically at his friends, "there's no object, now, in our traveling to the munchkin country. my idea in going there was to marry nimmie amee, but however much the munchkin girl may have loved a tin woodman, i cannot reasonably expect her to marry a tin owl." "there is some truth in that, my friend," remarked the brown bear. "and to think that i, who was considered the handsomest scarecrow in the world, am now condemned to be a scrubby, no-account beast, whose only redeeming feature is that he is stuffed with straw!" "consider my case, please," said woot. "the cruel giantess has made a monkey of a boy, and that is the most dreadful deed of all!" "your color is rather pretty," said the brown bear, eyeing woot critically. "i have never seen a pea-green monkey before, and it strikes me you are quite gorgeous." "it isn't so bad to be a bird," asserted the canary, fluttering from one to another with a free and graceful motion, "but i long to enjoy my own shape again." "as polychrome, you were the loveliest maiden i have ever seen--except, of course, ozma," said the tin owl; "so the giantess did well to transform you into the loveliest of all birds, if you were to be transformed at all. but tell me, since you are a fairy, and have a fairy wisdom: do you think we shall be able to break these enchantments?" "queer things happen in the land of oz," replied the canary, again perching on the green monkey's shoulder and turning one bright eye thoughtfully toward her questioner. "mrs. yoop has declared that none of her transformations can ever be changed, even by herself, but i believe that if we could get to glinda the good sorceress, she might find a way to restore us to our natural shapes. glinda, as you know, is the most powerful sorceress in the world, and there are few things she cannot do if she tries." "in that case," said the little brown bear, "let us return southward and try to get to glinda's castle. it lies in the quadling country, you know, so it is a good way from here." "first, however, let us visit the forest and search for something to eat," pleaded woot. so they continued on to the edge of the forest, which consisted of many tall and beautiful trees. they discovered no fruit trees, at first, so the green monkey pushed on into the forest depths and the others followed close behind him. they were traveling quietly along, under the shade of the trees, when suddenly an enormous jaguar leaped upon them from a limb and with one blow of his paw sent the little brown bear tumbling over and over until he was stopped by a tree-trunk. instantly they all took alarm. the tin owl shrieked: "hoot--hoot!" and flew straight up to the branch of a tall tree, although he could scarcely see where he was going. the canary swiftly darted to a place beside the owl, and the green monkey sprang up, caught a limb, and soon scrambled to a high perch of safety. the jaguar crouched low and with hungry eyes regarded the little brown bear, which slowly got upon its feet and asked reproachfully: "for goodness' sake, beast, what were you trying to do?" "trying to get my breakfast," answered the jaguar with a snarl, "and i believe i've succeeded. you ought to make a delicious meal--unless you happen to be old and tough." "i'm worse than that, considered as a breakfast," said the bear, "for i'm only a skin stuffed with straw, and therefore not fit to eat." "indeed!" cried the jaguar, in a disappointed voice; "then you must be a magic bear, or enchanted, and i must seek my breakfast from among your companions." with this he raised his lean head to look up at the tin owl and the canary and the monkey, and he lashed his tail upon the ground and growled as fiercely as any jaguar could. "my friends are enchanted, also," said the little brown bear. "all of them?" asked the jaguar. "yes. the owl is tin, so you couldn't possibly eat him. the canary is a fairy--polychrome, the daughter of the rainbow--and you never could catch her because she can easily fly out of your reach." "there still remains the green monkey," remarked the jaguar hungrily. "he is neither made of tin nor stuffed with straw, nor can he fly. i'm pretty good at climbing trees, myself, so i think i'll capture the monkey and eat him for my breakfast." woot the monkey, hearing this speech from his perch on the tree, became much frightened, for he knew the nature of jaguars and realized they could climb trees and leap from limb to limb with the agility of cats. so he at once began to scamper through the forest as fast as he could go, catching at a branch with his long monkey arms and swinging his green body through space to grasp another branch in a neighboring tree, and so on, while the jaguar followed him from below, his eyes fixed steadfastly on his prey. but presently woot got his feet tangled in the lace apron, which he was still wearing, and that tripped him in his flight and made him fall to the ground, where the jaguar placed one huge paw upon him and said grimly: "i've got you, now!" the fact that the apron had tripped him made woot remember its magic powers, and in his terror he cried out: "open!" without stopping to consider how this command might save him. but, at the word, the earth opened at the exact spot where he lay under the jaguar's paw, and his body sank downward, the earth closing over it again. the last thing woot the monkey saw, as he glanced upward, was the jaguar peering into the hole in astonishment. "he's gone!" cried the beast, with a long-drawn sigh of disappointment; "he's gone, and now i shall have no breakfast." the clatter of the tin owl's wings sounded above him, and the little brown bear came trotting up and asked: "where is the monkey? have you eaten him so quickly?" "no, indeed," answered the jaguar. "he disappeared into the earth before i could take one bite of him!" and now the canary perched upon a stump, a little way from the forest beast, and said: "i am glad our friend has escaped you; but, as it is natural for a hungry beast to wish his breakfast, i will try to give you one." "thank you," replied the jaguar. "you're rather small for a full meal, but it's kind of you to sacrifice yourself to my appetite." "oh, i don't intend to be eaten, i assure you," said the canary, "but as i am a fairy i know something of magic, and though i am now transformed into a bird's shape, i am sure i can conjure up a breakfast that will satisfy you." "if you can work magic, why don't you break the enchantment you are under and return to your proper form?" inquired the beast doubtingly. "i haven't the power to do that," answered the canary, "for mrs. yoop, the giantess who transformed me, used a peculiar form of yookoohoo magic that is unknown to me. however, she could not deprive me of my own fairy knowledge, so i will try to get you a breakfast." "do you think a magic breakfast would taste good, or relieve the pangs of hunger i now suffer?" asked the jaguar. "i am sure it would. what would you like to eat?" "give me a couple of fat rabbits," said the beast. "rabbits! no, indeed. i'd not allow you to eat the dear little things," declared polychrome the canary. "well, three or four squirrels, then," pleaded the jaguar. "do you think me so cruel?" demanded the canary, indignantly. "the squirrels are my especial friends." "how about a plump owl?" asked the beast. "not a tin one, you know, but a real meat owl." "neither beast nor bird shall you have," said polychrome in a positive voice. "give me a fish, then; there's a river a little way off," proposed the jaguar. "no living thing shall be sacrificed to feed you," returned the canary. "then what in the world do you expect me to eat?" said the jaguar in a scornful tone. "how would mush-and-milk do?" asked the canary. the jaguar snarled in derision and lashed his tail against the ground angrily. "give him some scrambled eggs on toast, poly," suggested the bear scarecrow. "he ought to like that." "i will," responded the canary, and fluttering her wings she made a flight of three circles around the stump. then she flew up to a tree and the bear and the owl and the jaguar saw that upon the stump had appeared a great green leaf upon which was a large portion of scrambled eggs on toast, smoking hot. "there!" said the bear; "eat your breakfast, friend jaguar, and be content." the jaguar crept closer to the stump and sniffed the fragrance of the scrambled eggs. they smelled so good that he tasted them, and they tasted so good that he ate the strange meal in a hurry, proving he had been really hungry. "i prefer rabbits," he muttered, licking his chops, "but i must admit the magic breakfast has filled my stomach full, and brought me comfort. so i'm much obliged for the kindness, little fairy, and i'll now leave you in peace." saying this, he plunged into the thick underbrush and soon disappeared, although they could hear his great body crashing through the bushes until he was far distant. "that was a good way to get rid of the savage beast, poly," said the tin woodman to the canary; "but i'm surprised that you didn't give our friend woot a magic breakfast, when you knew he was hungry." "the reason for that," answered polychrome, "was that my mind was so intent on other things that i quite forgot my power to produce food by magic. but where is the monkey boy?" "gone!" said the scarecrow bear, solemnly. "the earth has swallowed him up." chapter nine the quarrelsome dragons the green monkey sank gently into the earth for a little way and then tumbled swiftly through space, landing on a rocky floor with a thump that astonished him. then he sat up, found that no bones were broken, and gazed around him. he seemed to be in a big underground cave, which was dimly lighted by dozens of big round discs that looked like moons. they were not moons, however, as woot discovered when he had examined the place more carefully. they were eyes. the eyes were in the heads of enormous beasts whose bodies trailed far behind them. each beast was bigger than an elephant, and three times as long, and there were a dozen or more of the creatures scattered here and there about the cavern. on their bodies were big scales, as round as pie-plates, which were beautifully tinted in shades of green, purple and orange. on the ends of their long tails were clusters of jewels. around the great, moon-like eyes were circles of diamonds which sparkled in the subdued light that glowed from the eyes. woot saw that the creatures had wide mouths and rows of terrible teeth and, from tales he had heard of such beings, he knew he had fallen into a cavern inhabited by the great dragons that had been driven from the surface of the earth and were only allowed to come out once in a hundred years to search for food. of course he had never seen dragons before, yet there was no mistaking them, for they were unlike any other living creatures. woot sat upon the floor where he had fallen, staring around, and the owners of the big eyes returned his look, silently and motionless. finally one of the dragons which was farthest away from him asked, in a deep, grave voice: "what was that?" and the greatest dragon of all, who was just in front of the green monkey, answered in a still deeper voice: "it is some foolish animal from outside." "is it good to eat?" inquired a smaller dragon beside the great one. "i'm hungry." "hungry!" exclaimed all the dragons, in a reproachful chorus; and then the great one said chidingly: "tut-tut, my son! you've no reason to be hungry at this time." "why not?" asked the little dragon. "i haven't eaten anything in eleven years." "eleven years is nothing," remarked another dragon, sleepily opening and closing his eyes; "i haven't feasted for eighty-seven years, and i dare not get hungry for a dozen or so years to come. children who eat between meals should be broken of the habit." "all i had, eleven years ago, was a rhinoceros, and that's not a full meal at all," grumbled the young one. "and, before that, i had waited sixty-two years to be fed; so it's no wonder i'm hungry." "how old are you now?" asked woot, forgetting his own dangerous position in his interest in the conversation. "why, i'm--i'm--how old am i, father?" asked the little dragon. "goodness gracious! what a child to ask questions. do you want to keep me thinking all the time? don't you know that thinking is very bad for dragons?" returned the big one, impatiently. "how old am i, father?" persisted the small dragon. "about six hundred and thirty, i believe. ask your mother." "no; don't!" said an old dragon in the background; "haven't i enough worries, what with being wakened in the middle of a nap, without being obliged to keep track of my children's ages?" "you've been fast asleep for over sixty years, mother," said the child dragon. "how long a nap do you wish?" "i should have slept forty years longer. and this strange little green beast should be punished for falling into our cavern and disturbing us." "i didn't know you were here, and i didn't know i was going to fall in," explained woot. "nevertheless, here you are," said the great dragon, "and you have carelessly wakened our entire tribe; so it stands to reason you must be punished." "in what way?" inquired the green monkey, trembling a little. "give me time and i'll think of a way. you're in no hurry, are you?" asked the great dragon. "no, indeed," cried woot. "take your time. i'd much rather you'd all go to sleep again, and punish me when you wake up in a hundred years or so." "let me eat him!" pleaded the littlest dragon. "he is too small," said the father. "to eat this one green monkey would only serve to make you hungry for more, and there are no more." "quit this chatter and let me get to sleep," protested another dragon, yawning in a fearful manner, for when he opened his mouth a sheet of flame leaped forth from it and made woot jump back to get out of its way. in his jump he bumped against the nose of a dragon behind him, which opened its mouth to growl and shot another sheet of flame at him. the flame was bright, but not very hot, yet woot screamed with terror and sprang forward with a great bound. this time he landed on the paw of the great chief dragon, who angrily raised his other front paw and struck the green monkey a fierce blow. woot went sailing through the air and fell sprawling upon the rocky floor far beyond the place where the dragon tribe was grouped. all the great beasts were now thoroughly wakened and aroused, and they blamed the monkey for disturbing their quiet. the littlest dragon darted after woot and the others turned their unwieldy bodies in his direction and followed, flashing from their eyes and mouths flames which lighted up the entire cavern. woot almost gave himself up for lost, at that moment, but he scrambled to his feet and dashed away to the farthest end of the cave, the dragons following more leisurely because they were too clumsy to move fast. perhaps they thought there was no need of haste, as the monkey could not escape from the cave. but, away up at the end of the place, the cavern floor was heaped with tumbled rocks, so woot, with an agility born of fear, climbed from rock to rock until he found himself crouched against the cavern roof. there he waited, for he could go no farther, while on over the tumbled rocks slowly crept the dragons--the littlest one coming first because he was hungry as well as angry. the beasts had almost reached him when woot, remembering his lace apron--now sadly torn and soiled--recovered his wits and shouted: "open!" at the cry a hole appeared in the roof of the cavern, just over his head, and through it the sunlight streamed full upon the green monkey. the dragons paused, astonished at the magic and blinking at the sunlight, and this gave woot time to climb through the opening. as soon as he reached the surface of the earth the hole closed again, and the boy monkey realized, with a thrill of joy, that he had seen the last of the dangerous dragon family. he sat upon the ground, still panting hard from his exertions, when the bushes before him parted and his former enemy, the jaguar, appeared. "don't run," said the woodland beast, as woot sprang up; "you are perfectly safe, so far as i am concerned, for since you so mysteriously disappeared i have had my breakfast. i am now on my way home to sleep the rest of the day." "oh, indeed!" returned the green monkey, in a tone both sorry and startled. "which of my friends did you manage to eat?" "none of them," returned the jaguar, with a sly grin "i had a dish of magic scrambled eggs--on toast--and it wasn't a bad feast, at all. there isn't room in me for even you, and i don't regret it because i judge, from your green color, that you are not ripe, and would make an indifferent meal. we jaguars have to be careful of our digestions. farewell, friend monkey. follow the path i made through the bushes and you will find your friends." with this the jaguar marched on his way and woot took his advice and followed the trail he had made until he came to the place where the little brown bear, and the tin owl, and the canary were conferring together and wondering what had become of their comrade, the green monkey. chapter ten tommy kwikstep "our best plan," said the scarecrow bear, when the green monkey had related the story of his adventure with the dragons, "is to get out of this gillikin country as soon as we can and try to find our way to the castle of glinda, the good sorceress. there are too many dangers lurking here to suit me, and glinda may be able to restore us to our proper forms." "if we turn south now," the tin owl replied, "we might go straight into the emerald city. that's a place i wish to avoid, for i'd hate to have my friends see me in this sad plight," and he blinked his eyes and fluttered his tin wings mournfully. "but i am certain we have passed beyond emerald city," the canary assured him, sailing lightly around their heads. "so, should we turn south from here, we would pass into the munchkin country, and continuing south we would reach the quadling country where glinda's castle is located." "well, since you're sure of that, let's start right away," proposed the bear. "it's a long journey, at the best, and i'm getting tired of walking on four legs." "i thought you never tired, being stuffed with straw," said woot. "i mean that it annoys me, to be obliged to go on all fours, when two legs are my proper walking equipment," replied the scarecrow. "i consider it beneath my dignity. in other words, my remarkable brains can tire, through humiliation, although my body cannot tire." "that is one of the penalties of having brains," remarked the tin owl with a sigh. "i have had no brains since i was a man of meat, and so i never worry. nevertheless, i prefer my former manly form to this owl's shape and would be glad to break mrs. yoop's enchantment as soon as possible. i am so noisy, just now, that i disturb myself," and he fluttered his wings with a clatter that echoed throughout the forest. so, being all of one mind, they turned southward, traveling steadily on until the woods were left behind and the landscape turned from purple tints to blue tints, which assured them they had entered the country of the munchkins. "now i feel myself more safe," said the scarecrow bear. "i know this country pretty well, having been made here by a munchkin farmer and having wandered over these lovely blue lands many times. seems to me, indeed, that i even remember that group of three tall trees ahead of us; and, if i do, we are not far from the home of my friend jinjur." "who is jinjur?" asked woot, the green monkey. "haven't you heard of jinjur?" exclaimed the scarecrow, in surprise. "no," said woot. "is jinjur a man, a woman, a beast or a bird?" "jinjur is a girl," explained the scarecrow bear. "she's a fine girl, too, although a bit restless and liable to get excited. once, a long time ago, she raised an army of girls and called herself 'general jinjur.' with her army she captured the emerald city, and drove me out of it, because i insisted that an army in oz was highly improper. but ozma punished the rash girl, and afterward jinjur and i became fast friends. now jinjur lives peacefully on a farm, near here, and raises fields of cream-puffs, chocolate-caramels and macaroons. they say she's a pretty good farmer, and in addition to that she's an artist, and paints pictures so perfect that one can scarcely tell them from nature. she often repaints my face for me, when it gets worn or mussy, and the lovely expression i wore when the giantess transformed me was painted by jinjur only a month or so ago." "it was certainly a pleasant expression," agreed woot. "jinjur can paint anything," continued the scarecrow bear, with enthusiasm, as they walked along together. "once, when i came to her house, my straw was old and crumpled, so that my body sagged dreadfully. i needed new straw to replace the old, but jinjur had no straw on all her ranch and i was really unable to travel farther until i had been restuffed. when i explained this to jinjur, the girl at once painted a straw-stack which was so natural that i went to it and secured enough straw to fill all my body. it was a good quality of straw, too, and lasted me a long time." this seemed very wonderful to woot, who knew that such a thing could never happen in any place but a fairy country like oz. the munchkin country was much nicer than the gillikin country, and all the fields were separated by blue fences, with grassy lanes and paths of blue ground, and the land seemed well cultivated. they were on a little hill looking down upon this favored country, but had not quite reached the settled parts, when on turning a bend in the path they were halted by a form that barred their way. a more curious creature they had seldom seen, even in the land of oz, where curious creatures abound. it had the head of a young man--evidently a munchkin--with a pleasant face and hair neatly combed. but the body was very long, for it had twenty legs--ten legs on each side--and this caused the body to stretch out and lie in a horizontal position, so that all the legs could touch the ground and stand firm. from the shoulders extended two small arms; at least, they seemed small beside so many legs. this odd creature was dressed in the regulation clothing of the munchkin people, a dark blue coat neatly fitting the long body and each pair of legs having a pair of sky-blue trousers, with blue-tinted stockings and blue leather shoes turned up at the pointed toes. "i wonder who you are?" said polychrome the canary, fluttering above the strange creature, who had probably been asleep on the path. "i sometimes wonder, myself, who i am," replied the many-legged young man; "but, in reality, i am tommy kwikstep, and i live in a hollow tree that fell to the ground with age. i have polished the inside of it, and made a door at each end, and that's a very comfortable residence for me because it just fits my shape." "how did you happen to have such a shape?" asked the scarecrow bear, sitting on his haunches and regarding tommy kwikstep with a serious look. "is the shape natural?" "no; it was wished on me," replied tommy, with a sigh. "i used to be very active and loved to run errands for anyone who needed my services. that was how i got my name of tommy kwikstep. i could run an errand more quickly than any other boy, and so i was very proud of myself. one day, however, i met an old lady who was a fairy, or a witch, or something of the sort, and she said if i would run an errand for her--to carry some magic medicine to another old woman--she would grant me just one wish, whatever the wish happened to be. of course i consented and, taking the medicine, i hurried away. it was a long distance, mostly up hill, and my legs began to grow weary. without thinking what i was doing i said aloud: 'dear me; i wish i had twenty legs!' and in an instant i became the unusual creature you see beside you. twenty legs! twenty on one man! you may count them, if you doubt my word." "you've got 'em, all right," said woot the monkey, who had already counted them. "after i had delivered the magic medicine to the old woman, i returned and tried to find the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, who had given me the unlucky wish, so she could take it away again. i've been searching for her ever since, but never can i find her," continued poor tommy kwikstep, sadly. "i suppose," said the tin owl, blinking at him, "you can travel very fast, with those twenty legs." "at first i was able to," was the reply; "but i traveled so much, searching for the fairy, or witch, or whatever she was, that i soon got corns on my toes. now, a corn on one toe is not so bad, but when you have a hundred toes--as i have--and get corns on most of them, it is far from pleasant. instead of running, i now painfully crawl, and although i try not to be discouraged i do hope i shall find that witch or fairy, or whatever she was, before long." "i hope so, too," said the scarecrow. "but, after all, you have the pleasure of knowing you are unusual, and therefore remarkable among the people of oz. to be just like other persons is small credit to one, while to be unlike others is a mark of distinction." "that sounds very pretty," returned tommy kwikstep, "but if you had to put on ten pair of trousers every morning, and tie up twenty shoes, you would prefer not to be so distinguished." "was the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, an old person, with wrinkled skin and half her teeth gone?" inquired the tin owl. "no," said tommy kwikstep. "then she wasn't old mombi," remarked the transformed emperor. "i'm not interested in who it wasn't, so much as i am in who it was," said the twenty-legged young man. "and, whatever or whomsoever she was, she has managed to keep out of my way." "if you found her, do you suppose she'd change you back into a two-legged boy?" asked woot. "perhaps so, if i could run another errand for her and so earn another wish." "would you really like to be as you were before?" asked polychrome the canary, perching upon the green monkey's shoulder to observe tommy kwikstep more attentively. "i would, indeed," was the earnest reply. "then i will see what i can do for you," promised the rainbow's daughter, and flying to the ground she took a small twig in her bill and with it made several mystic figures on each side of tommy kwikstep. "are you a witch, or fairy, or something of the sort?" he asked as he watched her wonderingly. the canary made no answer, for she was busy, but the scarecrow bear replied: "yes; she's something of the sort, and a bird of a magician." the twenty-legged boy's transformation happened so queerly that they were all surprised at its method. first, tommy kwikstep's last two legs disappeared; then the next two, and the next, and as each pair of legs vanished his body shortened. all this while polychrome was running around him and chirping mystical words, and when all the young man's legs had disappeared but two he noticed that the canary was still busy and cried out in alarm: "stop--stop! leave me two of my legs, or i shall be worse off than before." "i know," said the canary. "i'm only removing with my magic the corns from your last ten toes." "thank you for being so thoughtful," he said gratefully, and now they noticed that tommy kwikstep was quite a nice looking young fellow. "what will you do now?" asked woot the monkey. "first," he answered, "i must deliver a note which i've carried in my pocket ever since the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, granted my foolish wish. and i am resolved never to speak again without taking time to think carefully on what i am going to say, for i realize that speech without thought is dangerous. and after i've delivered the note, i shall run errands again for anyone who needs my services." so he thanked polychrome again and started away in a different direction from their own, and that was the last they saw of tommy kwikstep. chapter eleven jinjur's ranch as they followed a path down the blue-grass hillside, the first house that met the view of the travelers was joyously recognized by the scarecrow bear as the one inhabited by his friend jinjur, so they increased their speed and hurried toward it. on reaching the place, how ever, they found the house deserted. the front door stood open, but no one was inside. in the garden surrounding the house were neat rows of bushes bearing cream-puffs and macaroons, some of which were still green, but others ripe and ready to eat. farther back were fields of caramels, and all the land seemed well cultivated and carefully tended. they looked through the fields for the girl farmer, but she was nowhere to be seen. "well," finally remarked the little brown bear, "let us go into the house and make ourselves at home. that will be sure to please my friend jinjur, who happens to be away from home just now. when she returns, she will be greatly surprised." "would she care if i ate some of those ripe cream-puffs?" asked the green monkey. "no, indeed; jinjur is very generous. help yourself to all you want," said the scarecrow bear. so woot gathered a lot of the cream-puffs that were golden yellow and filled with a sweet, creamy substance, and ate until his hunger was satisfied. then he entered the house with his friends and sat in a rocking-chair--just as he was accustomed to do when a boy. the canary perched herself upon the mantel and daintily plumed her feathers; the tin owl sat on the back of another chair; the scarecrow squatted on his hairy haunches in the middle of the room. "i believe i remember the girl jinjur," remarked the canary, in her sweet voice. "she cannot help us very much, except to direct us on our way to glinda's castle, for she does not understand magic. but she's a good girl, honest and sensible, and i'll be glad to see her." "all our troubles," said the owl with a deep sigh, "arose from my foolish resolve to seek nimmie amee and make her empress of the winkies, and while i wish to reproach no one, i must say that it was woot the wanderer who put the notion into my head." "well, for my part, i am glad he did," responded the canary. "your journey resulted in saving me from the giantess, and had you not traveled to the yoop valley, i would still be mrs. yoop's prisoner. it is much nicer to be free, even though i still bear the enchanted form of a canary-bird." "do you think we shall ever be able to get our proper forms back again?" asked the green monkey earnestly. polychrome did not make reply at once to this important question, but after a period of thoughtfulness she said: "i have been taught to believe that there is an antidote for every magic charm, yet mrs. yoop insists that no power can alter her transformations. i realize that my own fairy magic cannot do it, although i have thought that we sky fairies have more power than is accorded to earth fairies. the yookoohoo magic is admitted to be very strange in its workings and different from the magic usually practiced, but perhaps glinda or ozma may understand it better than i. in them lies our only hope. unless they can help us, we must remain forever as we are." "a canary-bird on a rainbow wouldn't be so bad," asserted the tin owl, winking and blinking with his round tin eyes, "so if you can manage to find your rainbow again you need have little to worry about." "that's nonsense, friend chopper," exclaimed woot. "i know just how polychrome feels. a beautiful girl is much superior to a little yellow bird, and a boy--such as i was--far better than a green monkey. neither of us can be happy again unless we recover our rightful forms." "i feel the same way," announced the stuffed bear. "what do you suppose my friend the patchwork girl would think of me, if she saw me wearing this beastly shape?" "she'd laugh till she cried," admitted the tin owl. "for my part, i'll have to give up the notion of marrying nimmie amee, but i'll try not to let that make me unhappy. if it's my duty, i'd like to do my duty, but if magic prevents my getting married i'll flutter along all by myself and be just as contented." their serious misfortunes made them all silent for a time, and as their thoughts were busy in dwelling upon the evils with which fate had burdened them, none noticed that jinjur had suddenly appeared in the doorway and was looking at them in astonishment. the next moment her astonishment changed to anger, for there, in her best rocking-chair, sat a green monkey. a great shiny owl perched upon another chair and a brown bear squatted upon her parlor rug. jinjur did not notice the canary, but she caught up a broomstick and dashed into the room, shouting as she came: "get out of here, you wild creatures! how dare you enter my house?" with a blow of her broom she knocked the brown bear over, and the tin owl tried to fly out of her reach and made a great clatter with his tin wings. the green monkey was so startled by the sudden attack that he sprang into the fireplace--where there was fortunately no fire--and tried to escape by climbing up the chimney. but he found the opening too small, and so was forced to drop down again. then he crouched trembling in the fireplace, his pretty green hair all blackened with soot and covered with ashes. from this position woot watched to see what would happen next. "stop, jinjur--stop!" cried the brown bear, when the broom again threatened him. "don't you know me? i'm your old friend the scarecrow?" "you're trying to deceive me, you naughty beast! i can see plainly that you are a bear, and a mighty poor specimen of a bear, too," retorted the girl. "that's because i'm not properly stuffed," he assured her. "when mrs. yoop transformed me, she didn't realize i should have more stuffing." "who is mrs. yoop?" inquired jinjur, pausing with the broom still upraised. "a giantess in the gillikin country." "oh; i begin to understand. and mrs. yoop transformed you? you are really the famous scarecrow of oz." "i was, jinjur. just now i'm as you see me--a miserable little brown bear with a poor quality of stuffing. that tin owl is none other than our dear tin woodman--nick chopper, the emperor of the winkies--while this green monkey is a nice little boy we recently became acquainted with, woot the wanderer." "and i," said the canary, flying close to jinjur, "am polychrome, the daughter of the rainbow, in the form of a bird." "goodness me!" cried jinjur, amazed; "that giantess must be a powerful sorceress, and as wicked as she is powerful." "she's a yookoohoo," said polychrome. "fortunately, we managed to escape from her castle, and we are now on our way to glinda the good to see if she possesses the power to restore us to our former shapes." "then i must beg your pardons; all of you must forgive me," said jinjur, putting away the broom. "i took you to be a lot of wild, unmannerly animals, as was quite natural. you are very welcome to my home and i'm sorry i haven't the power to help you out of your troubles. please use my house and all that i have, as if it were your own." at this declaration of peace, the bear got upon his feet and the owl resumed his perch upon the chair and the monkey crept out of the fireplace. jinjur looked at woot critically, and scowled. "for a green monkey," said she, "you're the blackest creature i ever saw. and you'll get my nice clean room all dirty with soot and ashes. whatever possessed you to jump up the chimney?" "i--i was scared," explained woot, somewhat ashamed. "well, you need renovating, and that's what will happen to you, right away. come with me!" she commanded. "what are you going to do?" asked woot. "give you a good scrubbing," said jinjur. now, neither boys nor monkeys relish being scrubbed, so woot shrank away from the energetic girl, trembling fearfully. but jinjur grabbed him by his paw and dragged him out to the back yard, where, in spite of his whines and struggles, she plunged him into a tub of cold water and began to scrub him with a stiff brush and a cake of yellow soap. this was the hardest trial that woot had endured since he became a monkey, but no protest had any influence with jinjur, who lathered and scrubbed him in a business-like manner and afterward dried him with a coarse towel. the bear and the owl gravely watched this operation and nodded approval when woot's silky green fur shone clear and bright in the afternoon sun. the canary seemed much amused and laughed a silvery ripple of laughter as she said: "very well done, my good jinjur; i admire your energy and judgment. but i had no idea a monkey could look so comical as this monkey did while he was being bathed." "i'm not a monkey!" declared woot, resentfully; "i'm just a boy in a monkey's shape, that's all." "if you can explain to me the difference," said jinjur, "i'll agree not to wash you again--that is, unless you foolishly get into the fireplace. all persons are usually judged by the shapes in which they appear to the eyes of others. look at me, woot; what am i?" woot looked at her. "you're as pretty a girl as i've ever seen," he replied. jinjur frowned. that is, she tried hard to frown. "come out into the garden with me," she said, "and i'll give you some of the most delicious caramels you ever ate. they're a new variety, that no one can grow but me, and they have a heliotrope flavor." chapter twelve ozma and dorothy in her magnificent palace in the emerald city, the beautiful girl ruler of all the wonderful land of oz sat in her dainty boudoir with her friend princess dorothy beside her. ozma was studying a roll of manuscript which she had taken from the royal library, while dorothy worked at her embroidery and at times stooped to pat a shaggy little black dog that lay at her feet. the little dog's name was toto, and he was dorothy's faithful companion. to judge ozma of oz by the standards of our world, you would think her very young--perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age--yet for years she had ruled the land of oz and had never seemed a bit older. dorothy appeared much younger than ozma. she had been a little girl when first she came to the land of oz, and she was a little girl still, and would never seem to be a day older while she lived in this wonderful fairyland. oz was not always a fairyland, i am told. once it was much like other lands, except it was shut in by a dreadful desert of sandy wastes that lay all around it, thus preventing its people from all contact with the rest of the world. seeing this isolation, the fairy band of queen lurline, passing over oz while on a journey, enchanted the country and so made it a fairyland. and queen lurline left one of her fairies to rule this enchanted land of oz, and then passed on and forgot all about it. from that moment no one in oz ever died. those who were old remained old; those who were young and strong did not change as years passed them by; the children remained children always, and played and romped to their hearts' content, while all the babies lived in their cradles and were tenderly cared for and never grew up. so people in oz stopped counting how old they were in years, for years made no difference in their appearance and could not alter their station. they did not get sick, so there were no doctors among them. accidents might happen to some, on rare occasions, it is true, and while no one could die naturally, as other people do, it was possible that one might be totally destroyed. such incidents, however, were very unusual, and so seldom was there anything to worry over that the oz people were as happy and contented as can be. another strange thing about this fairy land of oz was that whoever managed to enter it from the outside world came under the magic spell of the place and did not change in appearance as long as they lived there. so dorothy, who now lived with ozma, seemed just the same sweet little girl she had been when first she came to this delightful fairyland. perhaps all parts of oz might not be called truly delightful, but it was surely delightful in the neighborhood of the emerald city, where ozma reigned. her loving influence was felt for many miles around, but there were places in the mountains of the gillikin country, and the forests of the quadling country, and perhaps in far-away parts of the munchkin and winkie countries, where the inhabitants were somewhat rude and uncivilized and had not yet come under the spell of ozma's wise and kindly rule. also, when oz first became a fairyland, it harbored several witches and magicians and sorcerers and necromancers, who were scattered in various parts, but most of these had been deprived of their magic powers, and ozma had issued a royal edict forbidding anyone in her dominions to work magic except glinda the good and the wizard of oz. ozma herself, being a real fairy, knew a lot of magic, but she only used it to benefit her subjects. this little explanation will help you to understand better the story you are reaching, but most of it is already known to those who are familiar with the oz people whose adventures they have followed in other oz books. ozma and dorothy were fast friends and were much together. everyone in oz loved dorothy almost as well as they did their lovely ruler, for the little kansas girl's good fortune had not spoiled her or rendered her at all vain. she was just the same brave and true and adventurous child as before she lived in a royal palace and became the chum of the fairy ozma. in the room in which the two sat--which was one of ozma's private suite of apartments--hung the famous magic picture. this was the source of constant interest to little dorothy. one had but to stand before it and wish to see what any person was doing, and at once a scene would flash upon the magic canvas which showed exactly where that person was, and like our own moving pictures would reproduce the actions of that person as long as you cared to watch them. so today, when dorothy tired of her embroidery, she drew the curtains from before the magic picture and wished to see what her friend button bright was doing. button bright, she saw, was playing ball with ojo, the munchkin boy, so dorothy next wished to see what her aunt em was doing. the picture showed aunt em quietly engaged in darning socks for uncle henry, so dorothy wished to see what her old friend the tin woodman was doing. the tin woodman was then just leaving his tin castle in the company of the scarecrow and woot the wanderer. dorothy had never seen this boy before, so she wondered who he was. also she was curious to know where the three were going, for she noticed woot's knapsack and guessed they had started on a long journey. she asked ozma about it, but ozma did not know. that afternoon dorothy again saw the travelers in the magic picture, but they were merely tramping through the country and dorothy was not much interested in them. a couple of days later, however, the girl, being again with ozma, wished to see her friends, the scarecrow and the tin woodman in the magic picture, and on this occasion found them in the great castle of mrs. yoop, the giantess, who was at the time about to transform them. both dorothy and ozma now became greatly interested and watched the transformations with indignation and horror. "what a wicked giantess!" exclaimed dorothy. "yes," answered ozma, "she must be punished for this cruelty to our friends, and to the poor boy who is with them." after this they followed the adventure of the little brown bear and the tin owl and the green monkey with breathless interest, and were delighted when they escaped from mrs. yoop. they did not know, then, who the canary was, but realized it must be the transformation of some person of consequence, whom the giantess had also enchanted. when, finally, the day came when the adventurers headed south into the munchkin country, dorothy asked anxiously: "can't something be done for them, ozma? can't you change 'em back into their own shapes? they've suffered enough from these dreadful transformations, seems to me." "i've been studying ways to help them, ever since they were transformed," replied ozma. "mrs. yoop is now the only yookoohoo in my dominions, and the yookoohoo magic is very peculiar and hard for others to understand, yet i am resolved to make the attempt to break these enchantments. i may not succeed, but i shall do the best i can. from the directions our friends are taking, i believe they are going to pass by jinjur's ranch, so if we start now we may meet them there. would you like to go with me, dorothy?" "of course," answered the little girl; "i wouldn't miss it for anything." "then order the red wagon," said ozma of oz, "and we will start at once." dorothy ran to do as she was bid, while ozma went to her magic room to make ready the things she believed she would need. in half an hour the red wagon stood before the grand entrance of the palace, and before it was hitched the wooden sawhorse, which was ozma's favorite steed. this sawhorse, while made of wood, was very much alive and could travel swiftly and without tiring. to keep the ends of his wooden legs from wearing down short, ozma had shod the sawhorse with plates of pure gold. his harness was studded with brilliant emeralds and other jewels and so, while he himself was not at all handsome, his outfit made a splendid appearance. since the sawhorse could understand her spoken words, ozma used no reins to guide him. she merely told him where to go. when she came from the palace with dorothy, they both climbed into the red wagon and then the little dog, toto, ran up and asked: "are you going to leave me behind, dorothy?" dorothy looked at ozma, who smiled in return and said: "toto may go with us, if you wish him to." so dorothy lifted the little dog into the wagon, for, while he could run fast, he could not keep up with the speed of the wonderful sawhorse. away they went, over hills and through meadows, covering the ground with astonishing speed. it is not surprising, therefore, that the red wagon arrived before jinjur's house just as that energetic young lady had finished scrubbing the green monkey and was about to lead him to the caramel patch. chapter thirteen the restoration the tin owl gave a hoot of delight when he saw the red wagon draw up before jinjur's house, and the brown bear grunted and growled with glee and trotted toward ozma as fast as he could wobble. as for the canary, it flew swiftly to dorothy's shoulder and perched there, saying in her ear: "thank goodness you have come to our rescue!" "but who are you?" asked dorothy "don't you know?" returned the canary. "no; for the first time we noticed you in the magic picture, you were just a bird, as you are now. but we've guessed that the giant woman had transformed you, as she did the others." "yes; i'm polychrome, the rainbow's daughter," announced the canary. "goodness me!" cried dorothy. "how dreadful." "well, i make a rather pretty bird, i think," returned polychrome, "but of course i'm anxious to resume my own shape and get back upon my rainbow." "ozma will help you, i'm sure," said dorothy. "how does it feel, scarecrow, to be a bear?" she asked, addressing her old friend. "i don't like it," declared the scarecrow bear. "this brutal form is quite beneath the dignity of a wholesome straw man." "and think of me," said the owl, perching upon the dashboard of the red wagon with much noisy clattering of his tin feathers. "don't i look horrid, dorothy, with eyes several sizes too big for my body, and so weak that i ought to wear spectacles?" "well," said dorothy critically, as she looked him over, "you're nothing to brag of, i must confess. but ozma will soon fix you up again." the green monkey had hung back, bashful at meeting two lovely girls while in the form of a beast; but jinjur now took his hand and led him forward while she introduced him to ozma, and woot managed to make a low bow, not really ungraceful, before her girlish majesty, the ruler of oz. "you have all been forced to endure a sad experience," said ozma, "and so i am anxious to do all in my power to break mrs. yoop's enchantments. but first tell me how you happened to stray into that lonely valley where yoop castle stands." between them they related the object of their journey, the scarecrow bear telling of the tin woodman's resolve to find nimmie amee and marry her, as a just reward for her loyalty to him. woot told of their adventures with the loons of loonville, and the tin owl described the manner in which they had been captured and transformed by the giantess. then polychrome related her story, and when all had been told, and dorothy had several times reproved toto for growling at the tin owl, ozma remained thoughtful for a while, pondering upon what she had heard. finally she looked up, and with one of her delightful smiles, said to the anxious group: "i am not sure my magic will be able to restore every one of you, because your transformations are of such a strange and unusual character. indeed, mrs. yoop was quite justified in believing no power could alter her enchantments. however, i am sure i can restore the scarecrow to his original shape. he was stuffed with straw from the beginning, and even the yookoohoo magic could not alter that. the giantess was merely able to make a bear's shape of a man's shape, but the bear is stuffed with straw, just as the man was. so i feel confident i can make a man of the bear again." "hurrah!" cried the brown bear, and tried clumsily to dance a jig of delight. "as for the tin woodman, his case is much the same," resumed ozma, still smiling. "the power of the giantess could not make him anything but a tin creature, whatever shape she transformed him into, so it will not be impossible to restore him to his manly form. anyhow, i shall test my magic at once, and see if it will do what i have promised." she drew from her bosom a small silver wand and, making passes with the wand over the head of the bear, she succeeded in the brief space of a moment in breaking his enchantment. the original scarecrow of oz again stood before them, well stuffed with straw and with his features nicely painted upon the bag which formed his head. the scarecrow was greatly delighted, as you may suppose, and he strutted proudly around while the powerful fairy, ozma of oz, broke the enchantment that had transformed the tin woodman and made a tin owl into a tin man again. "now, then," chirped the canary, eagerly; "i'm next, ozma!" "but your case is different," replied ozma, no longer smiling but wearing a grave expression on her sweet face. "i shall have to experiment on you, polychrome, and i may fail in all my attempts." she then tried two or three different methods of magic, hoping one of them would succeed in breaking polychrome's enchantment, but still the rainbow's daughter remained a canary-bird. finally, however, she experimented in another way. she transformed the canary into a dove, and then transformed the dove into a speckled hen, and then changed the speckled hen into a rabbit, and then the rabbit into a fawn. and at the last, after mixing several powders and sprinkling them upon the fawn, the yookoohoo enchantment was suddenly broken and before them stood one of the daintiest and loveliest creatures in any fairyland in the world. polychrome was as sweet and merry in disposition as she was beautiful, and when she danced and capered around in delight, her beautiful hair floated around her like a golden mist and her many-hued raiment, as soft as cobwebs, reminded one of drifting clouds in a summer sky. woot was so awed by the entrancing sight of this exquisite sky fairy that he quite forgot his own sad plight until be noticed ozma gazing upon him with an intent expression that denoted sympathy and sorrow. dorothy whispered in her friend's ear, but the ruler of oz shook her head sadly. jinjur, noticing this and understanding ozma's looks, took the paw of the green monkey in her own hand and patted it softly. "never mind," she said to him. "you are a very beautiful color, and a monkey can climb better than a boy and do a lot of other things no boy can ever do." "what's the matter?" asked woot, a sinking feeling at his heart. "is ozma's magic all used up?" ozma herself answered him. "your form of enchantment, my poor boy," she said pityingly, "is different from that of the others. indeed, it is a form that is impossible to alter by any magic known to fairies or yookoohoos. the wicked giantess was well aware, when she gave you the form of a green monkey, that the green monkey must exist in the land of oz for all future time." woot drew a long sigh. "well, that's pretty hard luck," he said bravely, "but if it can't be helped i must endure it; that's all. i don't like being a monkey, but what's the use of kicking against my fate?" they were all very sorry for him, and dorothy anxiously asked ozma: "couldn't glinda save him?" "no," was the reply. "glinda's power in transformations is no greater than my own. before i left my palace i went to my magic room and studied woot's case very carefully. i found that no power can do away with the green monkey. he might transfer, or exchange his form with some other person, it is true; but the green monkey we cannot get rid of by any magic arts known to science." "but--see here," said the scarecrow, who had listened intently to this explanation, "why not put the monkey's form on some one else?" "who would agree to make the change?" asked ozma. "if by force we caused anyone else to become a green monkey, we would be as cruel and wicked as mrs. yoop. and what good would an exchange do?" she continued. "suppose, for instance, we worked the enchantment, and made toto into a green monkey. at the same moment woot would become a little dog." "leave me out of your magic, please," said toto, with a reproachful growl. "i wouldn't become a green monkey for anything." "and i wouldn't become a dog," said woot. "a green monkey is much better than a dog, it seems to me." "that is only a matter of opinion," answered toto. "now, here's another idea," said the scarecrow. "my brains are working finely today, you must admit. why not transform toto into woot the wanderer, and then have them exchange forms? the dog would become a green monkey and the monkey would have his own natural shape again." "to be sure!" cried jinjur. "that's a fine idea." "leave me out of it," said toto. "i won't do it." "wouldn't you be willing to become a green monkey--see what a pretty color it is--so that this poor boy could be restored to his own shape?" asked jinjur, pleadingly. "no," said toto. "i don't like that plan the least bit," declared dorothy, "for then i wouldn't have any little dog." "but you'd have a green monkey in his place," persisted jinjur, who liked woot and wanted to help him. "i don't want a green monkey," said dorothy positively. "don't speak of this again, i beg of you," said woot. "this is my own misfortune and i would rather suffer it alone than deprive princess dorothy of her dog, or deprive the dog of his proper shape. and perhaps even her majesty, ozma of oz, might not be able to transform anyone else into the shape of woot the wanderer." "yes; i believe i might do that," ozma returned; "but woot is quite right; we are not justified in inflicting upon anyone--man or dog--the form of a green monkey. also it is certain that in order to relieve the boy of the form he now wears, we must give it to someone else, who would be forced to wear it always." "i wonder," said dorothy, thoughtfully, "if we couldn't find someone in the land of oz who would be willing to become a green monkey? seems to me a monkey is active and spry, and he can climb trees and do a lot of clever things, and green isn't a bad color for a monkey--it makes him unusual." "i wouldn't ask anyone to take this dreadful form," said woot; "it wouldn't be right, you know. i've been a monkey for some time, now, and i don't like it. it makes me ashamed to be a beast of this sort when by right of birth i'm a boy; so i'm sure it would be wicked to ask anyone else to take my place." they were all silent, for they knew he spoke the truth. dorothy was almost ready to cry with pity and ozma's sweet face was sad and disturbed. the scarecrow rubbed and patted his stuffed head to try to make it think better, while the tin woodman went into the house and began to oil his tin joints so that the sorrow of his friends might not cause him to weep. weeping is liable to rust tin, and the emperor prided himself upon his highly polished body--now doubly dear to him because for a time he had been deprived of it. polychrome had danced down the garden paths and back again a dozen times, for she was seldom still a moment, yet she had heard ozma's speech and understood very well woot's unfortunate position. but the rainbow's daughter, even while dancing, could think and reason very clearly, and suddenly she solved the problem in the nicest possible way. coming close to ozma, she said: "your majesty, all this trouble was caused by the wickedness of mrs. yoop, the giantess. yet even now that cruel woman is living in her secluded castle, enjoying the thought that she has put this terrible enchantment on woot the wanderer. even now she is laughing at our despair because we can find no way to get rid of the green monkey. very well, we do not wish to get rid of it. let the woman who created the form wear it herself, as a just punishment for her wickedness. i am sure your fairy power can give to mrs. yoop the form of woot the wanderer--even at this distance from her--and then it will be possible to exchange the two forms. mrs. yoop will become the green monkey, and woot will recover his own form again." ozma's face brightened as she listened to this clever proposal. "thank you, polychrome," said she. "the task you propose is not so easy as you suppose, but i will make the attempt, and perhaps i may succeed." chapter fourteen the green monkey they now entered the house, and as an interested group, watched jinjur, at ozma's command, build a fire and put a kettle of water over to boil. the ruler of oz stood before the fire silent and grave, while the others, realizing that an important ceremony of magic was about to be performed, stood quietly in the background so as not to interrupt ozma's proceedings. only polychrome kept going in and coming out, humming softly to herself as she danced, for the rainbow's daughter could not keep still for long, and the four walls of a room always made her nervous and ill at ease. she moved so noiselessly, however, that her movements were like the shifting of sunbeams and did not annoy anyone. when the water in the kettle bubbled, ozma drew from her bosom two tiny packets containing powders. these powders she threw into the kettle and after briskly stirring the contents with a branch from a macaroon bush, ozma poured the mystic broth upon a broad platter which jinjur had placed upon the table. as the broth cooled it became as silver, reflecting all objects from its smooth surface like a mirror. while her companions gathered around the table, eagerly attentive--and dorothy even held little toto in her arms that he might see--ozma waved her wand over the mirror-like surface. at once it reflected the interior of yoop castle, and in the big hall sat mrs. yoop, in her best embroidered silken robes, engaged in weaving a new lace apron to replace the one she had lost. the giantess seemed rather uneasy, as if she had a faint idea that someone was spying upon her, for she kept looking behind her and this way and that, as though expecting danger from an unknown source. perhaps some yookoohoo instinct warned her. woot saw that she had escaped from her room by some of the magical means at her disposal, after her prisoners had escaped her. she was now occupying the big hall of her castle as she used to do. also woot thought, from the cruel expression on the face of the giantess, that she was planning revenge on them, as soon as her new magic apron was finished. but ozma was now making passes over the platter with her silver wand, and presently the form of the giantess began to shrink in size and to change its shape. and now, in her place sat the form of woot the wanderer, and as if suddenly realizing her transformation mrs. yoop threw down her work and rushed to a looking-glass that stood against the wall of her room. when she saw the boy's form reflected as her own, she grew violently angry and dashed her head against the mirror, smashing it to atoms. just then ozma was busy with her magic wand, making strange figures, and she had also placed her left hand firmly upon the shoulder of the green monkey. so now, as all eyes were turned upon the platter, the form of mrs. yoop gradually changed again. she was slowly transformed into the green monkey, and at the same time woot slowly regained his natural form. it was quite a surprise to them all when they raised their eyes from the platter and saw woot the wanderer standing beside ozma. and, when they glanced at the platter again, it reflected nothing more than the walls of the room in jinjur's house in which they stood. the magic ceremonial was ended, and ozma of oz had triumphed over the wicked giantess. "what will become of her, i wonder?" said dorothy, as she drew a long breath. "she will always remain a green monkey," replied ozma, "and in that form she will be unable to perform any magical arts whatsoever. she need not be unhappy, however, and as she lives all alone in her castle she probably won't mind the transformation very much after she gets used to it." "anyhow, it serves her right," declared dorothy, and all agreed with her. "but," said the kind hearted tin woodman, "i'm afraid the green monkey will starve, for mrs. yoop used to get her food by magic, and now that the magic is taken away from her, what can she eat?" "why, she'll eat what other monkeys do," returned the scarecrow. "even in the form of a green monkey, she's a very clever person, and i'm sure her wits will show her how to get plenty to eat." "don't worry about her," advised dorothy. "she didn't worry about you, and her condition is no worse than the condition she imposed on poor woot. she can't starve to death in the land of oz, that's certain, and if she gets hungry at times it's no more than the wicked thing deserves. let's forget mrs. yoop; for, in spite of her being a yookoohoo, our fairy friends have broken all of her transformations." chapter fifteen the man of tin ozma and dorothy were quite pleased with woot the wanderer, whom they found modest and intelligent and very well mannered. the boy was truly grateful for his release from the cruel enchantment, and he promised to love, revere and defend the girl ruler of oz forever afterward, as a faithful subject. "you may visit me at my palace, if you wish," said ozma, "where i will be glad to introduce you to two other nice boys, ojo the munchkin and button-bright." "thank your majesty," replied woot, and then he turned to the tin woodman and inquired: "what are your further plans, mr. emperor? will you still seek nimmie amee and marry her, or will you abandon the quest and return to the emerald city and your own castle?" the tin woodman, now as highly polished and well-oiled as ever, reflected a while on this question and then answered: "well, i see no reason why i should not find nimmie amee. we are now in the munchkin country, where we are perfectly safe, and if it was right for me, before our enchantment, to marry nimmie amee and make her empress of the winkies, it must be right now, when the enchantment has been broken and i am once more myself. am i correct, friend scarecrow?" "you are, indeed," answered the scarecrow. "no one can oppose such logic." "but i'm afraid you don't love nimmie amee," suggested dorothy. "that is just because i can't love anyone," replied the tin woodman. "but, if i cannot love my wife, i can at least be kind to her, and all husbands are not able to do that." "do you s'pose nimmie amee still loves you, after all these years?" asked dorothy. "i'm quite sure of it, and that is why i am going to her to make her happy. woot the wanderer thinks i ought to reward her for being faithful to me after my meat body was chopped to pieces and i became tin. what do you think, ozma?" ozma smiled as she said: "i do not know your nimmie amee, and so i cannot tell what she most needs to make her happy. but there is no harm in your going to her and asking her if she still wishes to marry you. if she does, we will give you a grand wedding at the emerald city and, afterward, as empress of the winkies, nimmie amee would become one of the most important ladies in all oz." so it was decided that the tin woodman would continue his journey, and that the scarecrow and woot the wanderer should accompany him, as before. polychrome also decided to join their party, somewhat to the surprise of all. "i hate to be cooped up in a palace," she said to ozma, "and of course the first time i meet my rainbow i shall return to my own dear home in the skies, where my fairy sisters are even now awaiting me and my father is cross because i get lost so often. but i can find my rainbow just as quickly while traveling in the munchkin country as i could if living in the emerald city--or any other place in oz--so i shall go with the tin woodman and help him woo nimmie amee." dorothy wanted to go, too, but as the tin woodman did not invite her to join his party, she felt she might be intruding if she asked to be taken. she hinted, but she found he didn't take the hint. it is quite a delicate matter for one to ask a girl to marry him, however much she loves him, and perhaps the tin woodman did not desire to have too many looking on when he found his old sweetheart, nimmie amee. so dorothy contented herself with the thought that she would help ozma prepare a splendid wedding feast, to be followed by a round of parties and festivities when the emperor of the winkies reached the emerald city with his bride. ozma offered to take them all in the red wagon to a place as near to the great munchkin forest as a wagon could get. the red wagon was big enough to seat them all, and so, bidding good-bye to jinjur, who gave woot a basket of ripe cream-puffs and caramels to take with him, ozma commanded the wooden sawhorse to start, and the strange creature moved swiftly over the lanes and presently came to the road of yellow bricks. this road led straight to a dense forest, where the path was too narrow for the red wagon to proceed farther, so here the party separated. ozma and dorothy and toto returned to the emerald city, after wishing their friends a safe and successful journey, while the tin woodman, the scarecrow, woot the wanderer and polychrome, the rainbow's daughter, prepared to push their way through the thick forest. however, these forest paths were well known to the tin man and the scarecrow, who felt quite at home among the trees. "i was born in this grand forest," said nick chopper, the tin emperor, speaking proudly, "and it was here that the witch enchanted my axe and i lost different parts of my meat body until i became all tin. here, also--for it is a big forest--nimmie amee lived with the wicked witch, and at the other edge of the trees stands the cottage of my friend ku-klip, the famous tinsmith who made my present beautiful form." "he must be a clever workman," declared woot, admiringly. "he is simply wonderful," declared the tin woodman. "i shall be glad to make his acquaintance," said woot. "if you wish to meet with real cleverness," remarked the scarecrow, "you should visit the munchkin farmer who first made me. i won't say that my friend the emperor isn't all right for a tin man, but any judge of beauty can understand that a scarecrow is far more artistic and refined." "you are too soft and flimsy," said the tin woodman. "you are too hard and stiff," said the scarecrow, and this was as near to quarreling as the two friends ever came. polychrome laughed at them both, as well she might, and woot hastened to change the subject. at night they all camped underneath the trees. the boy ate cream-puffs for supper and offered polychrome some, but she preferred other food and at daybreak sipped the dew that was clustered thick on the forest flowers. then they tramped onward again, and presently the scarecrow paused and said: "it was on this very spot that dorothy and i first met the tin woodman, who was rusted so badly that none of his joints would move. but after we had oiled him up, he was as good as new and accompanied us to the emerald city." "ah, that was a sad experience," asserted the tin woodman soberly. "i was caught in a rainstorm while chopping down a tree for exercise, and before i realized it, i was firmly rusted in every joint. there i stood, axe in hand, but unable to move, for days and weeks and months! indeed, i have never known exactly how long the time was; but finally along came dorothy and i was saved. see! this is the very tree i was chopping at the time i rusted." "you cannot be far from your old home, in that case," said woot. "no; my little cabin stands not a great way off, but there is no occasion for us to visit it. our errand is with nimmie amee, and her house is somewhat farther away, to the left of us." "didn't you say she lives with a wicked witch, who makes her a slave?" asked the boy. "she did, but she doesn't," was the reply. "i am told the witch was destroyed when dorothy's house fell on her, so now nimmie amee must live all alone. i haven't seen her, of course, since the witch was crushed, for at that time i was standing rusted in the forest and had been there a long time, but the poor girl must have felt very happy to be free from her cruel mistress." "well," said the scarecrow, "let's travel on and find nimmie amee. lead on, your majesty, since you know the way, and we will follow." so the tin woodman took a path that led through the thickest part of the forest, and they followed it for some time. the light was dim here, because vines and bushes and leafy foliage were all about them, and often the tin man had to push aside the branches that obstructed their way, or cut them off with his axe. after they had proceeded some distance, the emperor suddenly stopped short and exclaimed: "good gracious!" the scarecrow, who was next, first bumped into his friend and then peered around his tin body, and said in a tone of wonder: "well, i declare!" woot the wanderer pushed forward to see what was the matter, and cried out in astonishment: "for goodness' sake!" then the three stood motionless, staring hard, until polychrome's merry laughter rang out behind them and aroused them from their stupor. in the path before them stood a tin man who was the exact duplicate of the tin woodman. he was of the same size, he was jointed in the same manner, and he was made of shining tin from top to toe. but he stood immovable, with his tin jaws half parted and his tin eyes turned upward. in one of his hands was held a long, gleaming sword. yes, there was the difference, the only thing that distinguished him from the emperor of the winkies. this tin man bore a sword, while the tin woodman bore an axe. "it's a dream; it must be a dream!" gasped woot. "that's it, of course," said the scarecrow; "there couldn't be two tin woodmen." "no," agreed polychrome, dancing nearer to the stranger, "this one is a tin soldier. don't you see his sword?" the tin woodman cautiously put out one tin hand and felt of his double's arm. then he said in a voice that trembled with emotion: "who are you, friend?" there was no reply "can't you see he's rusted, just as you were once?" asked polychrome, laughing again. "here, nick chopper, lend me your oil-can a minute!" the tin woodman silently handed her his oil-can, without which he never traveled, and polychrome first oiled the stranger's tin jaws and then worked them gently to and fro until the tin soldier said: "that's enough. thank you. i can now talk. but please oil my other joints." woot seized the oil-can and did this, but all the others helped wiggle the soldier's joints as soon as they were oiled, until they moved freely. the tin soldier seemed highly pleased at his release. he strutted up and down the path, saying in a high, thin voice: "the soldier is a splendid man when marching on parade, and when he meets the enemy he never is afraid. he rights the wrongs of nations, his country's flag defends, the foe he'll fight with great delight, but seldom fights his friends." chapter sixteen captain fyter "are you really a soldier?" asked woot, when they had all watched this strange tin person parade up and down the path and proudly flourish his sword. "i was a soldier," was the reply, "but i've been a prisoner to mr. rust so long that i don't know exactly what i am." "but--dear me!" cried the tin woodman, sadly perplexed; "how came you to be made of tin?" "that," answered the soldier, "is a sad, sad story i was in love with a beautiful munchkin girl, who lived with a wicked witch. the witch did not wish me to marry the girl, so she enchanted my sword, which began hacking me to pieces. when i lost my legs i went to the tinsmith, ku-klip, and he made me some tin legs. when i lost my arms, ku-klip made me tin arms, and when i lost my head he made me this fine one out of tin. it was the same way with my body, and finally i was all tin. but i was not unhappy, for ku-klip made a good job of me, having had experience in making another tin man before me." "yes," observed the tin woodman, "it was ku-klip who made me. but, tell me, what was the name of the munchkin girl you were in love with?" "she is called nimmie amee," said the tin soldier. hearing this, they were all so astonished that they were silent for a time, regarding the stranger with wondering looks. finally the tin woodman ventured to ask: "and did nimmie amee return your love?" "not at first," admitted the soldier. "when first i marched into the forest and met her, she was weeping over the loss of her former sweetheart, a woodman whose name was nick chopper." "that is me," said the tin woodman. "she told me he was nicer than a soldier, because he was all made of tin and shone beautifully in the sun. she said a tin man appealed to her artistic instincts more than an ordinary meat man, as i was then. but i did not despair, because her tin sweetheart had disappeared, and could not be found. and finally nimmie amee permitted me to call upon her and we became friends. it was then that the wicked witch discovered me and became furiously angry when i said i wanted to marry the girl. she enchanted my sword, as i said, and then my troubles began. when i got my tin legs, nimmie amee began to take an interest in me; when i got my tin arms, she began to like me better than ever, and when i was all made of tin, she said i looked like her dear nick chopper and she would be willing to marry me. "the day of our wedding was set, and it turned out to be a rainy day. nevertheless i started out to get nimmie amee, because the witch had been absent for some time, and we meant to elope before she got back. as i traveled the forest paths the rain wetted my joints, but i paid no attention to this because my thoughts were all on my wedding with beautiful nimmie amee and i could think of nothing else until suddenly my legs stopped moving. then my arms rusted at the joints and i became frightened and cried for help, for now i was unable to oil myself. no one heard my calls and before long my jaws rusted, and i was unable to utter another sound. so i stood helpless in this spot, hoping some wanderer would come my way and save me. but this forest path is seldom used, and i have been standing here so long that i have lost all track of time. in my mind i composed poetry and sang songs, but not a sound have i been able to utter. but this desperate condition has now been relieved by your coming my way and i must thank you for my rescue." "this is wonderful!" said the scarecrow, heaving a stuffy, long sigh. "i think ku-klip was wrong to make two tin men, just alike, and the strangest thing of all is that both you tin men fell in love with the same girl." "as for that," returned the soldier, seriously, "i must admit i lost my ability to love when i lost my meat heart. ku-klip gave me a tin heart, to be sure, but it doesn't love anything, as far as i can discover, and merely rattles against my tin ribs, which makes me wish i had no heart at all." "yet, in spite of this condition, you were going to marry nimmie amee?" "well, you see i had promised to marry her, and i am an honest man and always try to keep my promises. i didn't like to disappoint the poor girl, who had been disappointed by one tin man already." "that was not my fault," declared the emperor of the winkies, and then he related how he, also, had rusted in the forest and after a long time had been rescued by dorothy and the scarecrow and had traveled with them to the emerald city in search of a heart that could love. "if you have found such a heart, sir," said the soldier, "i will gladly allow you to marry nimmie amee in my place." "if she loves you best, sir," answered the woodman, "i shall not interfere with your wedding her. for, to be quite frank with you, i cannot yet love nimmie amee as i did before i became tin." "still, one of you ought to marry the poor girl," remarked woot; "and, if she likes tin men, there is not much choice between you. why don't you draw lots for her?" "that wouldn't be right," said the scarecrow. "the girl should be permitted to choose her own husband," asserted polychrome. "you should both go to her and allow her to take her choice. then she will surely be happy." "that, to me, seems a very fair arrangement," said the tin soldier. "i agree to it," said the tin woodman, shaking the hand of his twin to show the matter was settled. "may i ask your name, sir?" he continued. "before i was so cut up," replied the other, "i was known as captain fyter, but afterward i was merely called 'the tin soldier.'" "well, captain, if you are agreeable, let us now go to nimmie amee's house and let her choose between us." "very well; and if we meet the witch, we will both fight her--you with your axe and i with my sword." "the witch is destroyed," announced the scarecrow, and as they walked away he told the tin soldier of much that had happened in the land of oz since he had stood rusted in the forest. "i must have stood there longer than i had imagined," he said thoughtfully. chapter seventeen the workshop of ku-klip it was not more than a two hours' journey to the house where nimmie amee had lived, but when our travelers arrived there they found the place deserted. the door was partly off its hinges, the roof had fallen in at the rear and the interior of the cottage was thick with dust. not only was the place vacant, but it was evident that no one had lived there for a long time. "i suppose," said the scarecrow, as they all stood looking wonderingly at the ruined house, "that after the wicked witch was destroyed, nimmie amee became lonely and went somewhere else to live." "one could scarcely expect a young girl to live all alone in a forest," added woot. "she would want company, of course, and so i believe she has gone where other people live." "and perhaps she is still crying her poor little heart out because no tin man comes to marry her," suggested polychrome. "well, in that case, it is the clear duty of you two tin persons to seek nimmie amee until you find her," declared the scarecrow. "i do not know where to look for the girl," said the tin soldier, "for i am almost a stranger to this part of the country." "i was born here," said the tin woodman, "but the forest has few inhabitants except the wild beasts. i cannot think of anyone living near here with whom nimmie amee might care to live." "why not go to ku-klip and ask him what has become of the girl?" proposed polychrome. that struck them all as being a good suggestion, so once more they started to tramp through the forest, taking the direct path to ku-klip's house, for both the tin twins knew the way, having followed it many times. ku-klip lived at the far edge of the great forest, his house facing the broad plains of the munchkin country that lay to the eastward. but, when they came to this residence by the forest's edge, the tinsmith was not at home. it was a pretty place, all painted dark blue with trimmings of lighter blue. there was a neat blue fence around the yard and several blue benches had been placed underneath the shady blue trees which marked the line between forest and plain. there was a blue lawn before the house, which was a good sized building. ku-klip lived in the front part of the house and had his work-shop in the back part, where he had also built a lean-to addition, in order to give him more room. although they found the tinsmith absent on their arrival, there was smoke coming out of his chimney, which proved that he would soon return. "and perhaps nimmie amee will be with him," said the scarecrow in a cheerful voice. while they waited, the tin woodman went to the door of the workshop and, finding it unlocked, entered and looked curiously around the room where he had been made. "it seems almost like home to me," hie told his friends, who had followed him in. "the first time i came here i had lost a leg, so i had to carry it in my hand while i hopped on the other leg all the way from the place in the forest where the enchanted axe cut me. i remember that old ku-klip carefully put my meat leg into a barrel--i think that is the same barrel, still standing in the corner yonder--and then at once he began to make a tin leg for me. he worked fast and with skill, and i was much interested in the job." "my experience was much the same," said the tin soldier. "i used to bring all the parts of me, which the enchanted sword had cut away, here to the tinsmith, and ku-klip would put them into the barrel." "i wonder," said woot, "if those cast-off parts of you two unfortunates are still in that barrel in the corner?" "i suppose so." replied the tin woodman. "in the land of oz no part of a living creature can ever be destroyed." "if that is true, how was that wicked witch destroyed?" inquired woot. "why, she was very old and was all dried up and withered before oz became a fairyland," explained the scarecrow. "only her magic arts had kept her alive so long, and when dorothy's house fell upon her she just turned to dust, and was blown away and scattered by the wind. i do not think, however, that the parts cut away from these two young men could ever be entirely destroyed and, if they are still in those barrels, they are likely to be just the same as when the enchanted axe or sword severed them." "it doesn't matter, however," said the tin woodman; "our tin bodies are more brilliant and durable, and quite satisfy us." "yes, the tin bodies are best," agreed the tin soldier. "nothing can hurt them." "unless they get dented or rusted," said woot, but both the tin men frowned on him. scraps of tin, of all shapes and sizes, lay scattered around the workshop. also there were hammers and anvils and soldering irons and a charcoal furnace and many other tools such as a tinsmith works with. against two of the side walls had been built stout work-benches and in the center of the room was a long table. at the end of the shop, which adjoined the dwelling, were several cupboards. after examining the interior of the workshop until his curiosity was satisfied, woot said: "i think i will go outside until ku-klip comes. it does not seem quite proper for us to take possession of his house while he is absent." "that is true," agreed the scarecrow, and they were all about to leave the room when the tin woodman said: "wait a minute," and they halted in obedience to the command. chapter eighteen the tin woodman talks to himself the tin woodman had just noticed the cupboards and was curious to know what they contained, so he went to one of them and opened the door. there were shelves inside, and upon one of the shelves which was about on a level with his tin chin the emperor discovered a head--it looked like a doll's head, only it was larger, and he soon saw it was the head of some person. it was facing the tin woodman and as the cupboard door swung back, the eyes of the head slowly opened and looked at him. the tin woodman was not at all surprised, for in the land of oz one runs into magic at every turn. "dear me!" said the tin woodman, staring hard. "it seems as if i had met you, somewhere, before. good morning, sir!" "you have the advantage of me," replied the head. "i never saw you before in my life." "still, your face is very familiar," persisted the tin woodman. "pardon me, but may i ask if you--eh--eh--if you ever had a body?" "yes, at one time," answered the head, "but that is so long ago i can't remember it. did you think," with a pleasant smile, "that i was born just as i am? that a head would be created without a body?" "no, of course not," said the other. "but how came you to lose your body?" "well, i can't recollect the details; you'll have to ask ku-klip about it," returned the head. "for, curious as it may seem to you, my memory is not good since my separation from the rest of me. i still possess my brains and my intellect is as good as ever, but my memory of some of the events i formerly experienced is quite hazy." "how long have you been in this cupboard?" asked the emperor. "i don't know." "haven't you a name?" "oh, yes," said the head; "i used to be called nick chopper, when i was a woodman and cut down trees for a living." "good gracious!" cried the tin woodman in astonishment. "if you are nick chopper's head, then you are me--or i'm you--or--or--what relation are we, anyhow?" "don't ask me," replied the head. "for my part, i'm not anxious to claim relationship with any common, manufactured article, like you. you may be all right in your class, but your class isn't my class. you're tin." the poor emperor felt so bewildered that for a time he could only stare at his old head in silence. then he said: "i must admit that i wasn't at all bad looking before i became tin. you're almost handsome--for meat. if your hair was combed, you'd be quite attractive." "how do you expect me to comb my hair without help?" demanded the head, indignantly. "i used to keep it smooth and neat, when i had arms, but after i was removed from the rest of me, my hair got mussed, and old ku-klip never has combed it for me." "i'll speak to him about it," said the tin woodman. "do you remember loving a pretty munchkin girl named nimmie amee?" "no," answered the head. "that is a foolish question. the heart in my body--when i had a body--might have loved someone, for all i know, but a head isn't made to love; it's made to think." "oh; do you think, then?" "i used to think." "you must have been shut up in this cupboard for years and years. what have you thought about, in all that time?" "nothing. that's another foolish question. a little reflection will convince you that i have had nothing to think about, except the boards on the inside of the cupboard door, and it didn't take me long to think of everything about those boards that could be thought of. then, of course, i quit thinking." "and are you happy?" "happy? what's that?" "don't you know what happiness is?" inquired the tin woodman. "i haven't the faintest idea whether it's round or square, or black or white, or what it is. and, if you will pardon my lack of interest in it, i will say that i don't care." the tin woodman was much puzzled by these answers. his traveling companions had grouped themselves at his back, and had fixed their eyes on the head and listened to the conversation with much interest, but until now, they had not interrupted because they thought the tin woodman had the best right to talk to his own head and renew acquaintance with it. but now the tin soldier remarked: "i wonder if my old head happens to be in any of these cupboards," and he proceeded to open all the cupboard doors. but no other head was to be found on any of the shelves. "oh, well; never mind," said woot the wanderer; "i can't imagine what anyone wants of a cast-off head, anyhow." "i can understand the soldier's interest," asserted polychrome, dancing around the grimy workshop until her draperies formed a cloud around her dainty form. "for sentimental reasons a man might like to see his old head once more, just as one likes to revisit an old home." "and then to kiss it good-bye," added the scarecrow. "i hope that tin thing won't try to kiss me good-bye!" exclaimed the tin woodman's former head. "and i don't see what right you folks have to disturb my peace and comfort, either." "you belong to me," the tin woodman declared. "i do not!" "you and i are one." "we've been parted," asserted the head. "it would be unnatural for me to have any interest in a man made of tin. please close the door and leave me alone." "i did not think that my old head could be so disagreeable," said the emperor. "i--i'm quite ashamed of myself; meaning you." "you ought to be glad that i've enough sense to know what my rights are," retorted the head. "in this cupboard i am leading a simple life, peaceful and dignified, and when a mob of people in whom i am not interested disturb me, they are the disagreeable ones; not i." with a sigh the tin woodman closed and latched the cupboard door and turned away. "well," said the tin soldier, "if my old head would have treated me as coldly and in so unfriendly a manner as your old head has treated you, friend chopper, i'm glad i could not find it." "yes; i'm rather surprised at my head, myself," replied the tin woodman, thoughtfully. "i thought i had a more pleasant disposition when i was made of meat." but just then old ku-klip the tinsmith arrived, and he seemed surprised to find so many visitors. ku-klip was a stout man and a short man. he had his sleeves rolled above his elbows, showing muscular arms, and he wore a leathern apron that covered all the front of him, and was so long that woot was surprised he didn't step on it and trip whenever he walked. and ku-klip had a gray beard that was almost as long as his apron, and his head was bald on top and his ears stuck out from his head like two fans. over his eyes, which were bright and twinkling, he wore big spectacles. it was easy to see that the tinsmith was a kind hearted man, as well as a merry and agreeable one. "oh-ho!" he cried in a joyous bass voice; "here are both my tin men come to visit me, and they and their friends are welcome indeed. i'm very proud of you two characters, i assure you, for you are so perfect that you are proof that i'm a good workman. sit down. sit down, all of you--if you can find anything to sit on--and tell me why you are here." so they found seats and told him all of their adventures that they thought he would like to know. ku-klip was glad to learn that nick chopper, the tin woodman, was now emperor of the winkies and a friend of ozma of oz, and the tinsmith was also interested in the scarecrow and polychrome. he turned the straw man around, examining him curiously, and patted him on all sides, and then said: "you are certainly wonderful, but i think you would be more durable and steady on your legs if you were made of tin. would you like me to--" "no, indeed!" interrupted the scarecrow hastily; "i like myself better as i am." but to polychrome the tinsmith said: "nothing could improve you, my dear, for you are the most beautiful maiden i have ever seen. it is pure happiness just to look at you." "that is praise, indeed, from so skillful a workman," returned the rainbow's daughter, laughing and dancing in and out the room. "then it must be this boy you wish me to help," said ku-klip, looking at woot. "no," said woot, "we are not here to seek your skill, but have merely come to you for information." then, between them, they related their search for nimmie amee, whom the tin woodman explained he had resolved to marry, yet who had promised to become the bride of the tin soldier before he unfortunately became rusted. and when the story was told, they asked ku-klip if he knew what had become of nimmie amee. "not exactly," replied the old man, "but i know that she wept bitterly when the tin soldier did not come to marry her, as he had promised to do. the old witch was so provoked at the girl's tears that she beat nimmie amee with her crooked stick and then hobbled away to gather some magic herbs, with which she intended to transform the girl into an old hag, so that no one would again love her or care to marry her. it was while she was away on this errand that dorothy's house fell on the wicked witch, and she turned to dust and blew away. when i heard this good news, i sent nimmie amee to find the silver shoes which the witch had worn, but dorothy had taken them with her to the emerald city." "yes, we know all about those silver shoes," said the scarecrow. "well," continued ku-klip, "after that, nimmie amee decided to go away from the forest and live with some people she was acquainted with who had a house on mount munch. i have never seen the girl since." "do you know the name of the people on mount munch, with whom she went to live?" asked the tin woodman. "no, nimmie amee did not mention her friend's name, and i did not ask her. she took with her all that she could carry of the goods that were in the witch's house, and she told me i could have the rest. but when i went there i found nothing worth taking except some magic powders that i did not know how to use, and a bottle of magic glue." "what is magic glue?" asked woot. "it is a magic preparation with which to mend people when they cut themselves. one time, long ago, i cut off one of my fingers by accident, and i carried it to the witch, who took down her bottle and glued it on again for me. see!" showing them his finger, "it is as good as ever it was. no one else that i ever heard of had this magic glue, and of course when nick chopper cut himself to pieces with his enchanted axe and captain fyter cut himself to pieces with his enchanted sword, the witch would not mend them, or allow me to glue them together, because she had herself wickedly enchanted the axe and sword. nothing remained but for me to make them new parts out of tin; but, as you see, tin answered the purpose very well, and i am sure their tin bodies are a great improvement on their meat bodies." "very true," said the tin soldier. "i quite agree with you," said the tin woodman. "i happened to find my old head in your cupboard, a while ago, and certainly it is not as desirable a head as the tin one i now wear." "by the way," said the tin soldier, "what ever became of my old head, ku-klip?" "and of the different parts of our bodies?" added the tin woodman. "let me think a minute," replied ku-klip. "if i remember right, you two boys used to bring me most of your parts, when they were cut off, and i saved them in that barrel in the corner. you must not have brought me all the parts, for when i made chopfyt i had hard work finding enough pieces to complete the job. i finally had to finish him with one arm." "who is chopfyt?" inquired woot. "oh, haven't i told you about chopfyt?" exclaimed ku-klip. "of course not! and he's quite a curiosity, too. you'll be interested in hearing about chopfyt. this is how he happened: "one day, after the witch had been destroyed and nimmie amee had gone to live with her friends on mount munch, i was looking around the shop for something and came upon the bottle of magic glue which i had brought from the old witch's house. it occurred to me to piece together the odds and ends of you two people, which of course were just as good as ever, and see if i couldn't make a man out of them. if i succeeded, i would have an assistant to help me with my work, and i thought it would be a clever idea to put to some practical use the scraps of nick chopper and captain fyter. there were two perfectly good heads in my cupboard, and a lot of feet and legs and parts of bodies in the barrel, so i set to work to see what i could do. "first, i pieced together a body, gluing it with the witch's magic glue, which worked perfectly. that was the hardest part of my job, however, because the bodies didn't match up well and some parts were missing. but by using a piece of captain fyter here and a piece of nick chopper there, i finally got together a very decent body, with heart and all the trimmings complete." "whose heart did you use in making the body?" asked the tin woodman anxiously. "i can't tell, for the parts had no tags on them and one heart looks much like another. after the body was completed, i glued two fine legs and feet onto it. one leg was nick chopper's and one was captain fyter's and, finding one leg longer than the other, i trimmed it down to make them match. i was much disappointed to find that i had but one arm. there was an extra leg in the barrel, but i could find only one arm. having glued this onto the body, i was ready for the head, and i had some difficulty in making up my mind which head to use. finally i shut my eyes and reached out my hand toward the cupboard shelf, and the first head i touched i glued upon my new man." "it was mine!" declared the tin soldier, gloomily. "no, it was mine," asserted ku-klip, "for i had given you another in exchange for it--the beautiful tin head you now wear. when the glue had dried, my man was quite an interesting fellow. i named him chopfyt, using a part of nick chopper's name and a part of captain fyter's name, because he was a mixture of both your cast-off parts. chopfyt was interesting, as i said, but he did not prove a very agreeable companion. he complained bitterly because i had given him but one arm--as if it were my fault!--and he grumbled because the suit of blue munchkin clothes, which i got for him from a neighbor, did not fit him perfectly." "ah, that was because he was wearing my old head," remarked the tin soldier. "i remember that head used to be very particular about its clothes." "as an assistant," the old tinsmith continued, "chopfyt was not a success. he was awkward with tools and was always hungry. he demanded something to eat six or eight times a day, so i wondered if i had fitted his insides properly. indeed, chopfyt ate so much that little food was left for myself; so, when he proposed, one day, to go out into the world and seek adventures, i was delighted to be rid of him. i even made him a tin arm to take the place of the missing one, and that pleased him very much, so that we parted good friends." "what became of chopfyt after that?" the scarecrow inquired. "i never heard. he started off toward the east, into the plains of the munchkin country, and that was the last i ever saw of him." "it seems to me," said the tin woodman reflectively, "that you did wrong in making a man out of our cast-off parts. it is evident that chopfyt could, with justice, claim relationship with both of us." "don't worry about that," advised ku-klip cheerfully; "it is not likely that you will ever meet the fellow. and, if you should meet him, he doesn't know who he is made of, for i never told him the secret of his manufacture. indeed, you are the only ones who know of it, and you may keep the secret to yourselves, if you wish to." "never mind chopfyt," said the scarecrow. "our business now is to find poor nimmie amee and let her choose her tin husband. to do that, it seems, from the information ku-klip has given us, we must travel to mount munch." "if that's the programme, let us start at once," suggested woot. so they all went outside, where they found polychrome dancing about among the trees and talking with the birds and laughing as merrily as if she had not lost her rainbow and so been separated from all her fairy sisters. they told her they were going to mount munch, and she replied: "very well; i am as likely to find my rainbow there as here, and any other place is as likely as there. it all depends on the weather. do you think it looks like rain?" they shook their heads, and polychrome laughed again and danced on after them when they resumed their journey. chapter nineteen the invisible country they were proceeding so easily and comfortably on their way to mount munch that woot said in a serious tone of voice: "i'm afraid something is going to happen." "why?" asked polychrome, dancing around the group of travelers. "because," said the boy, thoughtfully, "i've noticed that when we have the least reason for getting into trouble, something is sure to go wrong. just now the weather is delightful; the grass is beautifully blue and quite soft to our feet; the mountain we are seeking shows clearly in the distance and there is no reason anything should happen to delay us in getting there. our troubles all seem to be over, and--well, that's why i'm afraid," he added, with a sigh. "dear me!" remarked the scarecrow, "what unhappy thoughts you have, to be sure. this is proof that born brains cannot equal manufactured brains, for my brains dwell only on facts and never borrow trouble. when there is occasion for my brains to think, they think, but i would be ashamed of my brains if they kept shooting out thoughts that were merely fears and imaginings, such as do no good, but are likely to do harm." "for my part," said the tin woodman, "i do not think at all, but allow my velvet heart to guide me at all times." "the tinsmith filled my hollow head with scraps and clippings of tin," said the soldier, "and he told me they would do nicely for brains, but when i begin to think, the tin scraps rattle around and get so mixed that i'm soon bewildered. so i try not to think. my tin heart is almost as useless to me, for it is hard and cold, so i'm sure the red velvet heart of my friend nick chopper is a better guide." "thoughtless people are not unusual," observed the scarecrow, "but i consider them more fortunate than those who have useless or wicked thoughts and do not try to curb them. your oil can, friend woodman, is filled with oil, but you only apply the oil to your joints, drop by drop, as you need it, and do not keep spilling it where it will do no good. thoughts should be restrained in the same way as your oil, and only applied when necessary, and for a good purpose. if used carefully, thoughts are good things to have." polychrome laughed at him, for the rainbow's daughter knew more about thoughts than the scarecrow did. but the others were solemn, feeling they had been rebuked, and tramped on in silence. suddenly woot, who was in the lead, looked around and found that all his comrades had mysteriously disappeared. but where could they have gone to? the broad plain was all about him and there were neither trees nor bushes that could hide even a rabbit, nor any hole for one to fall into. yet there he stood, alone. surprise had caused him to halt, and with a thoughtful and puzzled expression on his face he looked down at his feet. it startled him anew to discover that he had no feet. he reached out his hands, but he could not see them. he could feel his hands and arms and body; he stamped his feet on the grass and knew they were there, but in some strange way they had become invisible. while woot stood, wondering, a crash of metal sounded in his ears and he heard two heavy bodies tumble to the earth just beside him. "good gracious!" exclaimed the voice of the tin woodman. "mercy me!" cried the voice of the tin soldier. "why didn't you look where you were going?" asked the tin woodman reproachfully. "i did, but i couldn't see you," said the tin soldier. "something has happened to my tin eyes. i can't see you, even now, nor can i see anyone else!" "it's the same way with me," admitted the tin woodman. woot couldn't see either of them, although he heard them plainly, and just then something smashed against him unexpectedly and knocked him over; but it was only the straw-stuffed body of the scarecrow that fell upon him and while he could not see the scarecrow he managed to push him off and rose to his feet just as polychrome whirled against him and made him tumble again. sitting upon the ground, the boy asked: "can you see us, poly?" "no, indeed," answered the rainbow's daughter; "we've all become invisible." "how did it happen, do you suppose?" inquired the scarecrow, lying where he had fallen. "we have met with no enemy," answered poly-chrome, "so it must be that this part of the country has the magic quality of making people invisible--even fairies falling under the charm. we can see the grass, and the flowers, and the stretch of plain before us, and we can still see mount munch in the distance; but we cannot see ourselves or one another." "well, what are we to do about it?" demanded woot. "i think this magic affects only a small part of the plain," replied polychrome; "perhaps there is only a streak of the country where an enchantment makes people become invisible. so, if we get together and hold hands, we can travel toward mount munch until the enchanted streak is passed." "all right," said woot, jumping up, "give me your hand, polychrome. where are you?" "here," she answered. "whistle, woot, and keep whistling until i come to you." so woot whistled, and presently polychrome found him and grasped his hand. "someone must help me up," said the scarecrow, lying near them; so they found the straw man and sat him upon his feet, after which he held fast to polychrome's other hand. nick chopper and the tin soldier had managed to scramble up without assistance, but it was awkward for them and the tin woodman said: "i don't seem to stand straight, somehow. but my joints all work, so i guess i can walk." guided by his voice, they reached his side, where woot grasped his tin fingers so they might keep together. the tin soldier was standing near by and the scarecrow soon touched him and took hold of his arm. "i hope you're not wobbly," said the straw man, "for if two of us walk unsteadily we will be sure to fall." "i'm not wobbly," the tin soldier assured him, "but i'm certain that one of my legs is shorter than the other. i can't see it, to tell what's gone wrong, but i'll limp on with the rest of you until we are out of this enchanted territory." they now formed a line, holding hands, and turning their faces toward mount munch resumed their journey. they had not gone far, however, when a terrible growl saluted their ears. the sound seemed to come from a place just in front of them, so they halted abruptly and remained silent, listening with all their ears. "i smell straw!" cried a hoarse, harsh voice, with more growls and snarls. "i smell straw, and i'm a hip-po-gy-raf who loves straw and eats all he can find. i want to eat this straw! where is it? where is it?" the scarecrow, hearing this, trembled but kept silent. all the others were silent, too, hoping that the invisible beast would be unable to find them. but the creature sniffed the odor of the straw and drew nearer and nearer to them until he reached the tin woodman, on one end of the line. it was a big beast and it smelled of the tin woodman and grated two rows of enormous teeth against the emperor's tin body. "bah! that's not straw," said the harsh voice, and the beast advanced along the line to woot. "meat! pooh, you're no good! i can't eat meat," grumbled the beast, and passed on to polychrome. "sweetmeats and perfume--cobwebs and dew! nothing to eat in a fairy like you," said the creature. now, the scarecrow was next to polychrome in the line, and he realized if the beast devoured his straw he would be helpless for a long time, because the last farmhouse was far behind them and only grass covered the vast expanse of plain. so in his fright he let go of polychrome's hand and put the hand of the tin soldier in that of the rainbow's daughter. then he slipped back of the line and went to the other end, where he silently seized the tin woodman's hand. meantime, the beast had smelled the tin soldier and found he was the last of the line. "that's funny!" growled the hip-po-gy-raf; "i can smell straw, but i can't find it. well, it's here, somewhere, and i must hunt around until i do find it, for i'm hungry." his voice was now at the left of them, so they started on, hoping to avoid him, and traveled as fast as they could in the direction of mount munch. "i don't like this invisible country," said woot with a shudder. "we can't tell how many dreadful, invisible beasts are roaming around us, or what danger we'll come to next." "quit thinking about danger, please," said the scarecrow, warningly. "why?" asked the boy. "if you think of some dreadful thing, it's liable to happen, but if you don't think of it, and no one else thinks of it, it just can't happen. do you see?" "no," answered woot. "i won't be able to see much of anything until we escape from this enchantment." but they got out of the invisible strip of country as suddenly as they had entered it, and the instant they got out they stopped short, for just before them was a deep ditch, running at right angles as far as their eyes could see and stopping all further progress toward mount munch. "it's not so very wide," said woot, "but i'm sure none of us can jump across it." polychrome began to laugh, and the scarecrow said: "what's the matter?" "look at the tin men!" she said, with another burst of merry laughter. woot and the scarecrow looked, and the tin men looked at themselves. "it was the collision," said the tin woodman regretfully. "i knew something was wrong with me, and now i can see that my side is dented in so that i lean over toward the left. it was the soldier's fault; he shouldn't have been so careless." "it is your fault that my right leg is bent, making it shorter than the other, so that i limp badly," retorted the soldier. "you shouldn't have stood where i was walking." "you shouldn't have walked where i was standing," replied the tin woodman. it was almost a quarrel, so polychrome said soothingly: "never mind, friends; as soon as we have time i am sure we can straighten the soldier's leg and get the dent out of the woodman's body. the scarecrow needs patting into shape, too, for he had a bad tumble, but our first task is to get over this ditch." "yes, the ditch is the most important thing, just now," added woot. they were standing in a row, looking hard at the unexpected barrier, when a fierce growl from behind them made them all turn quickly. out of the invisible country marched a huge beast with a thick, leathery skin and a surprisingly long neck. the head on the top of this neck was broad and flat and the eyes and mouth were very big and the nose and ears very small. when the head was drawn down toward the beast's shoulders, the neck was all wrinkles, but the head could shoot up very high indeed, if the creature wished it to. "dear me!" exclaimed the scarecrow, "this must be the hip-po-gy-raf." "quite right," said the beast; "and you're the straw which i'm to eat for my dinner. oh, how i love straw! i hope you don't resent my affectionate appetite?" with its four great legs it advanced straight toward the scarecrow, but the tin woodman and the tin soldier both sprang in front of their friend and flourished their weapons. "keep off!" said the tin woodman, warningly, "or i'll chop you with my axe." "keep off!" said the tin soldier, "or i'll cut you with my sword." "would you really do that?" asked the hip-po-gy-raf, in a disappointed voice. "we would," they both replied, and the tin woodman added: "the scarecrow is our friend, and he would be useless without his straw stuffing. so, as we are comrades, faithful and true, we will defend our friend's stuffing against all enemies." the hip-po-gy-raf sat down and looked at them sorrowfully. "when one has made up his mind to have a meal of delicious straw, and then finds he can't have it, it is certainly hard luck," he said. "and what good is the straw man to you, or to himself, when the ditch keeps you from going any further?" "well, we can go back again," suggested woot. "true," said the hip-po; "and if you do, you'll be as disappointed as i am. that's some comfort, anyhow." the travelers looked at the beast, and then they looked across the ditch at the level plain beyond. on the other side the grass had grown tall, and the sun had dried it, so there was a fine crop of hay that only needed to be cut and stacked. "why don't you cross over and eat hay?" the boy asked the beast. "i'm not fond of hay," replied the hip-po-gy-raf; "straw is much more delicious, to my notion, and it's more scarce in this neighborhood, too. also i must confess that i can't get across the ditch, for my body is too heavy and clumsy for me to jump the distance. i can stretch my neck across, though, and you will notice that i've nibbled the hay on the farther edge--not because i liked it, but because one must eat, and if one can't get the sort of food he desires, he must take what is offered or go hungry." "ah, i see you are a philosopher," remarked the scarecrow. "no, i'm just a hip-po-gy-raf," was the reply. polychrome was not afraid of the big beast. she danced close to him and said: "if you can stretch your neck across the ditch, why not help us over? we can sit on your big head, one at a time, and then you can lift us across." "yes; i can, it is true," answered the hip-po; "but i refuse to do it. unless--" he added, and stopped short. "unless what?" asked polychrome. "unless you first allow me to eat the straw with which the scarecrow is stuffed." "no," said the rainbow's daughter, "that is too high a price to pay. our friend's straw is nice and fresh, for he was restuffed only a little while ago." "i know," agreed the hip-po-gy-raf. "that's why i want it. if it was old, musty straw, i wouldn't care for it." "please lift us across," pleaded polychrome. "no," replied the beast; "since you refuse my generous offer, i can be as stubborn as you are." after that they were all silent for a time, but then the scarecrow said bravely: "friends, let us agree to the beast's terms. give him my straw, and carry the rest of me with you across the ditch. once on the other side, the tin soldier can cut some of the hay with his sharp sword, and you can stuff me with that material until we reach a place where there is straw. it is true i have been stuffed with straw all my life and it will be somewhat humiliating to be filled with common hay, but i am willing to sacrifice my pride in a good cause. moreover, to abandon our errand and so deprive the great emperor of the winkies--or this noble soldier--of his bride, would be equally humiliating, if not more so." "you're a very honest and clever man!" exclaimed the hip-po-gy-raf, admiringly. "when i have eaten your head, perhaps i also will become clever." "you're not to eat my head, you know," returned the scarecrow hastily. "my head isn't stuffed with straw and i cannot part with it. when one loses his head he loses his brains." "very well, then; you may keep your head," said the beast. the scarecrow's companions thanked him warmly for his loyal sacrifice to their mutual good, and then he laid down and permitted them to pull the straw from his body. as fast as they did this, the hip-po-gy-raf ate up the straw, and when all was consumed polychrome made a neat bundle of the clothes and boots and gloves and hat and said she would carry them, while woot tucked the scarecrow's head under his arm and promised to guard its safety. "now, then," said the tin woodman, "keep your promise, beast, and lift us over the ditch." "m-m-m-mum, but that was a fine dinner!" said the hip-po, smacking his thick lips in satisfaction, "and i'm as good as my word. sit on my head, one at a time, and i'll land you safely on the other side." he approached close to the edge of the ditch and squatted down. polychrome climbed over his big body and sat herself lightly upon the flat head, holding the bundle of the scarecrow's raiment in her hand. slowly the elastic neck stretched out until it reached the far side of the ditch, when the beast lowered his head and permitted the beautiful fairy to leap to the ground. woot made the queer journey next, and then the tin soldier and the tin woodman went over, and all were well pleased to have overcome this serious barrier to their progress. "now, soldier, cut the hay," said the scarecrow's head, which was still held by woot the wanderer. "i'd like to, but i can't stoop over, with my bent leg, without falling," replied captain fyter. "what can we do about that leg, anyhow?" asked woot, appealing to polychrome. she danced around in a circle several times without replying, and the boy feared she had not heard him; but the rainbow's daughter was merely thinking upon the problem, and presently she paused beside the tin soldier and said: "i've been taught a little fairy magic, but i've never before been asked to mend tin legs with it, so i'm not sure i can help you. it all depends on the good will of my unseen fairy guardians, so i'll try, and if i fail, you will be no worse off than you are now." she danced around the circle again, and then laid both hands upon the twisted tin leg and sang in her sweet voice: "fairy powers, come to my aid! this bent leg of tin is made; make it straight and strong and true, and i'll render thanks to you." "ah!" murmured captain fyter in a glad voice, as she withdrew her hands and danced away, and they saw he was standing straight as ever, because his leg was as shapely and strong as it had been before his accident. the tin woodman had watched polychrome with much interest, and he now said: "please take the dent out of my side, poly, for i am more crippled than was the soldier." so the rainbow's daughter touched his side lightly and sang: "here's a dent by accident; such a thing was never meant. fairy powers, so wondrous great, make our dear tin woodman straight!" "good!" cried the emperor, again standing erect and strutting around to show his fine figure. "your fairy magic may not be able to accomplish all things, sweet polychrome, but it works splendidly on tin. thank you very much." "the hay--the hay!" pleaded the scarecrow's head. "oh, yes; the hay," said woot. "what are you waiting for, captain fyter?" at once the tin soldier set to work cutting hay with his sword and in a few minutes there was quite enough with which to stuff the scarecrow's body. woot and polychrome did this and it was no easy task because the hay packed together more than straw and as they had little experience in such work their job, when completed, left the scarecrow's arms and legs rather bunchy. also there was a hump on his back which made woot laugh and say it reminded him of a camel, but it was the best they could do and when the head was fastened on to the body they asked the scarecrow how he felt. "a little heavy, and not quite natural," he cheerfully replied; "but i'll get along somehow until we reach a straw-stack. don't laugh at me, please, because i'm a little ashamed of myself and i don't want to regret a good action." they started at once in the direction of mount munch, and as the scarecrow proved very clumsy in his movements, woot took one of his arms and the tin woodman the other and so helped their friend to walk in a straight line. and the rainbow's daughter, as before, danced ahead of them and behind them and all around them, and they never minded her odd ways, because to them she was like a ray of sunshine. chapter twenty over night the land of the munchkins is full of surprises, as our travelers had already learned, and although mount munch was constantly growing larger as they advanced toward it, they knew it was still a long way off and were not certain, by any means, that they had escaped all danger or encountered their last adventure. the plain was broad, and as far as the eye could see, there seemed to be a level stretch of country between them and the mountain, but toward evening they came upon a hollow, in which stood a tiny blue munchkin dwelling with a garden around it and fields of grain filling in all the rest of the hollow. they did not discover this place until they came close to the edge of it, and they were astonished at the sight that greeted them because they had imagined that this part of the plain had no inhabitants. "it's a very small house," woot declared. "i wonder who lives there?" "the way to find out is to knock on the door and ask," replied the tin woodman. "perhaps it is the home of nimmie amee." "is she a dwarf?" asked the boy. "no, indeed; nimmie amee is a full sized woman." "then i'm sure she couldn't live in that little house," said woot. "let's go down," suggested the scarecrow. "i'm almost sure i can see a straw-stack in the back yard." they descended the hollow, which was rather steep at the sides, and soon came to the house, which was indeed rather small. woot knocked upon a door that was not much higher than his waist, but got no reply. he knocked again, but not a sound was heard. "smoke is coming out of the chimney," announced polychrome, who was dancing lightly through the garden, where cabbages and beets and turnips and the like were growing finely. "then someone surely lives here," said woot, and knocked again. now a window at the side of the house opened and a queer head appeared. it was white and hairy and had a long snout and little round eyes. the ears were hidden by a blue sunbonnet tied under the chin. "oh; it's a pig!" exclaimed woot. "pardon me; i am mrs. squealina swyne, wife of professor grunter swyne, and this is our home," said the one in the window. "what do you want?" "what sort of a professor is your husband?" inquired the tin woodman curiously. "he is professor of cabbage culture and corn perfection. he is very famous in his own family, and would be the wonder of the world if he went abroad," said mrs. swyne in a voice that was half proud and half irritable. "i must also inform you intruders that the professor is a dangerous individual, for he files his teeth every morning until they are sharp as needles. if you are butchers, you'd better run away and avoid trouble." "we are not butchers," the tin woodman assured her. "then what are you doing with that axe? and why has the other tin man a sword?" "they are the only weapons we have to defend our friends from their enemies," explained the emperor of the winkies, and woot added: "do not be afraid of us, mrs. swyne, for we are harmless travelers. the tin men and the scarecrow never eat anything and polychrome feasts only on dewdrops. as for me, i'm rather hungry, but there is plenty of food in your garden to satisfy me." professor swyne now joined his wife at the window, looking rather scared in spite of the boy's assuring speech. he wore a blue munchkin hat, with pointed crown and broad brim, and big spectacles covered his eyes. he peeked around from behind his wife and after looking hard at the strangers, he said: "my wisdom assures me that you are merely travelers, as you say, and not butchers. butchers have reason to be afraid of me, but you are safe. we cannot invite you in, for you are too big for our house, but the boy who eats is welcome to all the carrots and turnips he wants. make yourselves at home in the garden and stay all night, if you like; but in the morning you must go away, for we are quiet people and do not care for company." "may i have some of your straw?" asked the scarecrow. "help yourself," replied professor swyne. "for pigs, they're quite respectable," remarked woot, as they all went toward the straw-stack. "i'm glad they didn't invite us in," said captain fyter. "i hope i'm not too particular about my associates, but i draw the line at pigs." the scarecrow was glad to be rid of his hay, for during the long walk it had sagged down and made him fat and squatty and more bumpy than at first. "i'm not specially proud," he said, "but i love a manly figure, such as only straw stuffing can create. i've not felt like myself since that hungry hip-po ate my last straw." polychrome and woot set to work removing the hay and then they selected the finest straw, crisp and golden, and with it stuffed the scarecrow anew. he certainly looked better after the operation, and he was so pleased at being reformed that he tried to dance a little jig, and almost succeeded. "i shall sleep under the straw-stack tonight," woot decided, after he had eaten some of the vegetables from the garden, and in fact he slept very well, with the two tin men and the scarecrow sitting silently beside him and polychrome away somewhere in the moonlight dancing her fairy dances. at daybreak the tin woodman and the tin soldier took occasion to polish their bodies and oil their joints, for both were exceedingly careful of their personal appearance. they had forgotten the quarrel due to their accidental bumping of one another in the invisible country, and being now good friends the tin woodman polished the tin soldier's back for him and then the tin soldier polished the tin woodman's back. for breakfast the wanderer ate crisp lettuce and radishes, and the rainbow's daughter, who had now returned to her friends, sipped the dewdrops that had formed on the petals of the wild-flowers. as they passed the little house to renew their journey, woot called out: "good-bye, mr. and mrs. swyne!" the window opened and the two pigs looked out. "a pleasant journey," said the professor. "have you any children?" asked the scarecrow, who was a great friend of children. "we have nine," answered the professor; "but they do not live with us, for when they were tiny piglets the wizard of oz came here and offered to care for them and to educate them. so we let him have our nine tiny piglets, for he's a good wizard and can be relied upon to keep his promises." "i know the nine tiny piglets," said the tin woodman. "so do i," said the scarecrow. "they still live in the emerald city, and the wizard takes good care of them and teaches them to do all sorts of tricks." "did they ever grow up?" inquired mrs. squealina swyne, in an anxious voice. "no," answered the scarecrow; "like all other children in the land of oz, they will always remain children, and in the case of the tiny piglets that is a good thing, because they would not be nearly so cute and cunning if they were bigger." "but are they happy?" asked mrs. swyne. "everyone in the emerald city is happy," said the tin woodman. "they can't help it." then the travelers said good-bye, and climbed the side of the basin that was toward mount munch. chapter twenty-one polychrome's magic on this morning, which ought to be the last of this important journey, our friends started away as bright and cheery as could be, and woot whistled a merry tune so that polychrome could dance to the music. on reaching the top of the hill, the plain spread out before them in all its beauty of blue grasses and wildflowers, and mount munch seemed much nearer than it had the previous evening. they trudged on at a brisk pace, and by noon the mountain was so close that they could admire its appearance. its slopes were partly clothed with pretty evergreens, and its foot-hills were tufted with a slender waving bluegrass that had a tassel on the end of every blade. and, for the first time, they perceived, near the foot of the mountain, a charming house, not of great size but neatly painted and with many flowers surrounding it and vines climbing over the doors and windows. it was toward this solitary house that our travelers now directed their steps, thinking to inquire of the people who lived there where nimmie amee might be found. there were no paths, but the way was quite open and clear, and they were drawing near to the dwelling when woot the wanderer, who was then in the lead of the little party, halted with such an abrupt jerk that he stumbled over backward and lay flat on his back in the meadow. the scarecrow stopped to look at the boy. "why did you do that?" he asked in surprise. woot sat up and gazed around him in amazement. "i--i don't know!" he replied. the two tin men, arm in arm, started to pass them when both halted and tumbled, with a great clatter, into a heap beside woot. polychrome, laughing at the absurd sight, came dancing up and she, also, came to a sudden stop, but managed to save herself from falling. everyone of them was much astonished, and the scarecrow said with a puzzled look: "i don't see anything." "nor i," said woot; "but something hit me, just the same." "some invisible person struck me a heavy blow," declared the tin woodman, struggling to separate himself from the tin soldier, whose legs and arms were mixed with his own. "i'm not sure it was a person," said polychrome, looking more grave than usual. "it seems to me that i merely ran into some hard substance which barred my way. in order to make sure of this, let me try another place." she ran back a way and then with much caution advanced in a different place, but when she reached a position on a line with the others she halted, her arms outstretched before her. "i can feel something hard--something smooth as glass," she said, "but i'm sure it is not glass." "let me try," suggested woot, getting up; but when he tried to go forward, he discovered the same barrier that polychrome had encountered. "no," he said, "it isn't glass. but what is it?" "air," replied a small voice beside him. "solid air; that's all." they all looked downward and found a sky-blue rabbit had stuck his head out of a burrow in the ground. the rabbit's eyes were a deeper blue than his fur, and the pretty creature seemed friendly and unafraid. "air!" exclaimed woot, staring in astonishment into the rabbit's blue eyes; "whoever heard of air so solid that one cannot push it aside?" "you can't push this air aside," declared the rabbit, "for it was made hard by powerful sorcery, and it forms a wall that is intended to keep people from getting to that house yonder." "oh; it's a wall, is it?" said the tin woodman. "yes, it is really a wall," answered the rabbit, "and it is fully six feet thick." "how high is it?" inquired captain fyter, the tin soldier. "oh, ever so high; perhaps a mile," said the rabbit. "couldn't we go around it?" asked woot. "of course, for the wall is a circle," explained the rabbit. "in the center of the circle stands the house, so you may walk around the wall of solid air, but you can't get to the house." "who put the air wall around the house?" was the scarecrow's question. "nimmie amee did that." "nimmie amee!" they all exclaimed in surprise. "yes," answered the rabbit. "she used to live with an old witch, who was suddenly destroyed, and when nimmie amee ran away from the witch's house, she took with her just one magic formula--pure sorcery it was--which enabled her to build this air wall around her house--the house yonder. it was quite a clever idea, i think, for it doesn't mar the beauty of the landscape, solid air being invisible, and yet it keeps all strangers away from the house." "does nimmie amee live there now?" asked the tin woodman anxiously. "yes, indeed," said the rabbit. "and does she weep and wail from morning till night?" continued the emperor. "no; she seems quite happy," asserted the rabbit. the tin woodman seemed quite disappointed to hear this report of his old sweetheart, but the scarecrow reassured his friend, saying: "never mind, your majesty; however happy nimmie amee is now, i'm sure she will be much happier as empress of the winkies." "perhaps," said captain fyter, somewhat stiffly, "she will be still more happy to become the bride of a tin soldier." "she shall choose between us, as we have agreed," the tin woodman promised; "but how shall we get to the poor girl?" polychrome, although dancing lightly back and forth, had listened to every word of the conversation. now she came forward and sat herself down just in front of the blue rabbit, her many-hued draperies giving her the appearance of some beautiful flower. the rabbit didn't back away an inch. instead, he gazed at the rainbow's daughter admiringly. "does your burrow go underneath this wall of air?" asked polychrome. "to be sure," answered the blue rabbit; "i dug it that way so i could roam in these broad fields, by going out one way, or eat the cabbages in nimmie amee's garden by leaving my burrow at the other end. i don't think nimmie amee ought to mind the little i take from her garden, or the hole i've made under her magic wall. a rabbit may go and come as he pleases, but no one who is bigger than i am could get through my burrow." "will you allow us to pass through it, if we are able to?" inquired polychrome. "yes, indeed," answered the blue rabbit. "i'm no especial friend of nimmie amee, for once she threw stones at me, just because i was nibbling some lettuce, and only yesterday she yelled 'shoo!' at me, which made me nervous. you're welcome to use my burrow in any way you choose." "but this is all nonsense!" declared woot the wanderer. "we are every one too big to crawl through a rabbit's burrow." "we are too big now," agreed the scarecrow, "but you must remember that polychrome is a fairy, and fairies have many magic powers." woot's face brightened as he turned to the lovely daughter of the rainbow. "could you make us all as small as that rabbit?" he asked eagerly. "i can try," answered polychrome, with a smile. and presently she did it--so easily that woot was not the only one astonished. as the now tiny people grouped themselves before the rabbit's burrow the hole appeared to them like the entrance to a tunnel, which indeed it was. "i'll go first," said wee polychrome, who had made herself grow as small as the others, and into the tunnel she danced without hesitation. a tiny scarecrow went next and then the two funny little tin men. "walk in; it's your turn," said the blue rabbit to woot the wanderer. "i'm coming after, to see how you get along. this will be a regular surprise party to nimmie amee." so woot entered the hole and felt his way along its smooth sides in the dark until he finally saw the glimmer of daylight ahead and knew the journey was almost over. had he remained his natural size, the distance could have been covered in a few steps, but to a thumb-high woot it was quite a promenade. when he emerged from the burrow he found himself but a short distance from the house, in the center of the vegetable garden, where the leaves of rhubarb waving above his head seemed like trees. outside the hole, and waiting for him, he found all his friends. "so far, so good!" remarked the scarecrow cheerfully. "yes; so far, but no farther," returned the tin woodman in a plaintive and disturbed tone of voice. "i am now close to nimmie amee, whom i have come ever so far to seek, but i cannot ask the girl to marry such a little man as i am now." "i'm no bigger than a toy soldier!" said captain fyter, sorrowfully. "unless polychrome can make us big again, there is little use in our visiting nimmie amee at all, for i'm sure she wouldn't care for a husband she might carelessly step on and ruin." polychrome laughed merrily. "if i make you big, you can't get out of here again," said she, "and if you remain little nimmie amee will laugh at you. so make your choice." "i think we'd better go back," said woot seriously "no," said the tin woodman, stoutly, "i have decided that it's my duty to make nimmie amee happy, in case she wishes to marry me." "so have i," announced captain fyter. "a good soldier never shrinks from doing his duty." "as for that," said the scarecrow, "tin doesn't shrink any to speak of, under any circumstances. but woot and i intend to stick to our comrades, whatever they decide to do, so we will ask polychrome to make us as big as we were before." polychrome agreed to this request and in half a minute all of them, including herself, had been enlarged again to their natural sizes. they then thanked the blue rabbit for his kind assistance, and at once approached the house of nimme amee. chapter twenty-two nimmie amee we may be sure that at this moment our friends were all anxious to see the end of the adventure that had caused them so many trials and troubles. perhaps the tin woodman's heart did not beat any faster, because it was made of red velvet and stuffed with sawdust, and the tin soldier's heart was made of tin and reposed in his tin bosom without a hint of emotion. however, there is little doubt that they both knew that a critical moment in their lives had arrived, and that nimmie amee's decision was destined to influence the future of one or the other. as they assumed their natural sizes and the rhubarb leaves that had before towered above their heads now barely covered their feet, they looked around the garden and found that no person was visible save themselves. no sound of activity came from the house, either, but they walked to the front door, which had a little porch built before it, and there the two tinmen stood side by side while both knocked upon the door with their tin knuckles. as no one seemed eager to answer the summons they knocked again; and then again. finally they heard a stir from within and someone coughed. "who's there?" called a girl's voice. "it's i!" cried the tin twins, together. "how did you get there?" asked the voice. they hesitated how to reply, so woot answered for them: "by means of magic." "oh," said the unseen girl. "are you friends, or foes?" "friends!" they all exclaimed. then they heard footsteps approach the door, which slowly opened and revealed a very pretty munchkin girl standing in the doorway. "nimmie amee!" cried the tin twins. "that's my name," replied the girl, looking at them in cold surprise. "but who can you be?" "don't you know me, nimmie?" said the tin woodman. "i'm your old sweetheart, nick chopper!" "don't you know me, my dear?" said the tin soldier. "i'm your old sweetheart, captain fyter!" nimmie amee smiled at them both. then she looked beyond them at the rest of the party and smiled again. however, she seemed more amused than pleased. "come in," she said, leading the way inside. "even sweethearts are forgotten after a time, but you and your friends are welcome." the room they now entered was cosy and comfortable, being neatly furnished and well swept and dusted. but they found someone there besides nimmie amee. a man dressed in the attractive munchkin costume was lazily reclining in an easy chair, and he sat up and turned his eves on the visitors with a cold and indifferent stare that was almost insolent. he did not even rise from his seat to greet the strangers, but after glaring at them he looked away with a scowl, as if they were of too little importance to interest him. the tin men returned this man's stare with interest, but they did not look away from him because neither of them seemed able to take his eyes off this munchkin, who was remarkable in having one tin arm quite like their own tin arms. "seems to me," said captain fyter, in a voice that sounded harsh and indignant, "that you, sir, are a vile impostor!" "gently--gently!" cautioned the scarecrow; "don't be rude to strangers, captain." "rude?" shouted the tin soldier, now very much provoked; "why, he's a scoundrel--a thief! the villain is wearing my own head!" "yes," added the tin woodman, "and he's wearing my right arm! i can recognize it by the two warts on the little finger." "good gracious!" exclaimed woot. "then this must be the man whom old ku-klip patched together and named chopfyt." the man now turned toward them, still scowling. "yes, that is my name," he said in a voice like a growl, "and it is absurd for you tin creatures, or for anyone else, to claim my head, or arm, or any part of me, for they are my personal property." "you? you're a nobody!" shouted captain fyter. "you're just a mix-up," declared the emperor. "now, now, gentlemen," interrupted nimmie amee, "i must ask you to be more respectful to poor chopfyt. for, being my guests, it is not polite for you to insult my husband." "your husband!" the tin twins exclaimed in dismay. "yes," said she. "i married chopfyt a long time ago, because my other two sweethearts had deserted me." this reproof embarrassed both nick chopper and captain fyter. they looked down, shamefaced, for a moment, and then the tin woodman explained in an earnest voice: "i rusted." "so did i," said the tin soldier. "i could not know that, of course," asserted nimmie amee. "all i knew was that neither of you came to marry me, as you had promised to do. but men are not scarce in the land of oz. after i came here to live, i met mr. chopfyt, and he was the more interesting because he reminded me strongly of both of you, as you were before you became tin. he even had a tin arm, and that reminded me of you the more. "no wonder!" remarked the scarecrow. "but, listen, nimmie amee!" said the astonished woot; "he really is both of them, for he is made of their cast-off parts." "oh, you're quite wrong," declared polychrome, laughing, for she was greatly enjoying the confusion of the others. "the tin men are still themselves, as they will tell you, and so chopfyt must be someone else." they looked at her bewildered, for the facts in the case were too puzzling to be grasped at once. "it is all the fault of old ku-klip," muttered the tin woodman. "he had no right to use our castoff parts to make another man with." "it seems he did it, however," said nimmie amee calmly, "and i married him because he resembled you both. i won't say he is a husband to be proud of, because he has a mixed nature and isn't always an agreeable companion. there are times when i have to chide him gently, both with my tongue and with my broomstick. but he is my husband, and i must make the best of him." "if you don't like him," suggested the tin woodman, "captain fyter and i can chop him up with our axe and sword, and each take such parts of the fellow as belong to him. then we are willing for you to select one of us as your husband." "that is a good idea," approved captain fyter, drawing his sword. "no," said nimmie amee; "i think i'll keep the husband i now have. he is now trained to draw the water and carry in the wood and hoe the cabbages and weed the flower-beds and dust the furniture and perform many tasks of a like character. a new husband would have to be scolded--and gently chided--until he learns my ways. so i think it will be better to keep my chopfyt, and i see no reason why you should object to him. you two gentlemen threw him away when you became tin, because you had no further use for him, so you cannot justly claim him now. i advise you to go back to your own homes and forget me, as i have forgotten you." "good advice!" laughed polychrome, dancing. "are you happy?" asked the tin soldier. "of course i am," said nimmie amee; "i'm the mistress of all i survey--the queen of my little domain." "wouldn't you like to be the empress of the winkies?" asked the tin woodman. "mercy, no," she answered. "that would be a lot of bother. i don't care for society, or pomp, or posing. all i ask is to be left alone and not to be annoyed by visitors." the scarecrow nudged woot the wanderer. "that sounds to me like a hint," he said. "looks as if we'd had our journey for nothing," remarked woot, who was a little ashamed and disappointed because he had proposed the journey. "i am glad, however," said the tin woodman, "that i have found nimmie amee, and discovered that she is already married and happy. it will relieve me of any further anxiety concerning her." "for my part," said the tin soldier, "i am not sorry to be free. the only thing that really annoys me is finding my head upon chopfyt's body." "as for that, i'm pretty sure it is my body, or a part of it, anyway," remarked the emperor of the winkies. "but never mind, friend soldier; let us be willing to donate our cast-off members to insure the happiness of nimmie amee, and be thankful it is not our fate to hoe cabbages and draw water--and be chided--in the place of this creature chopfyt." "yes," agreed the soldier, "we have much to be thankful for." polychrome, who had wandered outside, now poked her pretty head through an open window and exclaimed in a pleased voice: "it's getting cloudy. perhaps it is going to rain!" chapter twenty-three through the tunnel it didn't rain just then, although the clouds in the sky grew thicker and more threatening. polychrome hoped for a thunder-storm, followed by her rainbow, but the two tin men did not relish the idea of getting wet. they even preferred to remain in nimmie amee's house, although they felt they were not welcome there, rather than go out and face the coming storm. but the scarecrow, who was a very thoughtful person, said to his friends: "if we remain here until after the storm, and polychrome goes away on her rainbow, then we will be prisoners inside the wall of solid air; so it seems best to start upon our return journey at once. if i get wet, my straw stuffing will be ruined, and if you two tin gentlemen get wet, you may perhaps rust again, and become useless. but even that is better than to stay here. once we are free of the barrier, we have woot the wanderer to help us, and he can oil your joints and restuff my body, if it becomes necessary, for the boy is made of meat, which neither rusts nor gets soggy or moldy." "come along, then!" cried polychrome from the window, and the others, realizing the wisdom of the scarecrow's speech, took leave of nimmie amee, who was glad to be rid of them, and said good-bye to her husband, who merely scowled and made no answer, and then they hurried from the house. "your old parts are not very polite, i must say," remarked the scarecrow, when they were in the garden. "no," said woot, "chopfyt is a regular grouch. he might have wished us a pleasant journey, at the very least." "i beg you not to hold us responsible for that creature's actions," pleaded the tin woodman. "we are through with chopfyt and shall have nothing further to do with him." polychrome danced ahead of the party and led them straight to the burrow of the blue rabbit, which they might have had some difficulty in finding without her. there she lost no time in making them all small again. the blue rabbit was busy nibbling cabbage leaves in nimmie amee's garden, so they did not ask his permission but at once entered the burrow. even now the raindrops were beginning to fall, but it was quite dry inside the tunnel and by the time they had reached the other end, outside the circular wall of solid air, the storm was at its height and the rain was coming down in torrents. "let us wait here," proposed polychrome, peering out of the hole and then quickly retreating. "the rainbow won't appear until after the storm and i can make you big again in a jiffy, before i join my sisters on our bow." "that's a good plan," said the scarecrow approvingly. "it will save me from getting soaked and soggy." "it will save me from rusting," said the tin soldier. "it will enable me to remain highly polished," said the tin woodman. "oh, as for that, i myself prefer not to get my pretty clothes wet," laughed the rainbow's daughter. "but while we wait i will bid you all adieu. i must also thank you for saving me from that dreadful giantess, mrs. yoop. you have been good and patient comrades and i have enjoyed our adventures together, but i am never so happy as when on my dear rainbow." "will your father scold you for getting left on the earth?" asked woot. "i suppose so," said polychrome gaily; "i'm always getting scolded for my mad pranks, as they are called. my sisters are so sweet and lovely and proper that they never dance off our rainbow, and so they never have any adventures. adventures to me are good fun, only i never like to stay too long on earth, because i really don't belong here. i shall tell my father the rainbow that i'll try not to be so careless again, and he will forgive me because in our sky mansions there is always joy and happiness." they were indeed sorry to part with their dainty and beautiful companion and assured her of their devotion if they ever chanced to meet again. she shook hands with the scarecrow and the tin men and kissed woot the wanderer lightly upon his forehead. and then the rain suddenly ceased, and as the tiny people left the burrow of the blue rabbit, a glorious big rainbow appeared in the sky and the end of its arch slowly descended and touched the ground just where they stood. woot was so busy watching a score of lovely maidens--sisters of polychrome--who were leaning over the edge of the bow, and another score who danced gaily amid the radiance of the splendid hues, that he did not notice he was growing big again. but now polychrome joined her sisters on the rainbow and the huge arch lifted and slowly melted away as the sun burst from the clouds and sent its own white beams dancing over the meadows. "why, she's gone!" exclaimed the boy, and turned to see his companions still waving their hands in token of adieu to the vanished polychrome. chapter twenty-four the curtain falls well, the rest of the story is quickly told, for the return journey of our adventurers was without any important incident. the scarecrow was so afraid of meeting the hip-po-gy-raf, and having his straw eaten again, that he urged his comrades to select another route to the emerald city, and they willingly consented, so that the invisible country was wholly avoided. of course, when they reached the emerald city their first duty was to visit ozma's palace, where they were royally entertained. the tin soldier and woot the wanderer were welcomed as warmly as any strangers might be who had been the traveling companions of ozma's dear old friends, the scarecrow and the tin woodman. at the banquet table that evening they related the manner in which they had discovered nimmie amee, and told how they had found her happily married to chopfyt, whose relationship to nick chopper and captain fyter was so bewildering that they asked ozma's advice what to do about it. "you need not consider chopfyt at all," replied the beautiful girl ruler of oz. "if nimmie amee is content with that misfit man for a husband, we have not even just cause to blame ku-klip for gluing him together." "i think it was a very good idea," added little dorothy, "for if ku-klip hadn't used up your castoff parts, they would have been wasted. it's wicked to be wasteful, isn't it?" "well, anyhow," said woot the wanderer, "chopfyt, being kept a prisoner by his wife, is too far away from anyone to bother either of you tin men in any way. if you hadn't gone where he is and discovered him, you would never have worried about him." "what do you care, anyhow," betsy bobbin asked the tin woodman, "so long as nimmie amee is satisfied?" "and just to think," remarked tiny trot, "that any girl would rather live with a mixture like chopfyt, on far-away mount munch, than to be the empress of the winkies!" "it is her own choice," said the tin woodman contentedly; "and, after all, i'm not sure the winkies would care to have an empress." it puzzled ozma, for a time, to decide what to do with the tin soldier. if he went with the tin woodman to the emperor's castle, she felt that the two tin men might not be able to live together in harmony, and moreover the emperor would not be so distinguished if he had a double constantly beside him. so she asked captain fyter if he was willing to serve her as a soldier, and he promptly declared that nothing would please him more. after he had been in her service for some time, ozma sent him into the gillikin country, with instructions to keep order among the wild people who inhabit some parts of that unknown country of oz. as for woot, being a wanderer by profession, he was allowed to wander wherever he desired, and ozma promised to keep watch over his future journeys and to protect the boy as well as she was able, in case he ever got into more trouble. all this having been happily arranged, the tin woodman returned to his tin castle, and his chosen comrade, the scarecrow, accompanied him on the way. the two friends were sure to pass many pleasant hours together in talking over their recent adventures, for as they neither ate nor slept they found their greatest amusement in conversation. the famous oz books by l. frank baum: the wizard of oz the land of oz ozma of oz dorothy and the wizard in oz the road to oz the emerald city of oz the patchwork girl of oz tik-tok of oz the scarecrow of oz rinkitink in oz the lost princess of oz the tin woodman of oz the magic of oz glinda of oz proofreading team from images provided by the million book project the meaning of good--a dialogue by g. lowes dickinson fellow of king's college, cambridge, and author of a modern symposium third edition dedication how do the waves along the level shore follow and fly in hurrying sheets of foam, for ever doing what they did before, for ever climbing what is never clomb! is there an end to their perpetual haste, their iterated round of low and high, or is it one monotony of waste under the vision of the vacant sky? and thou, who on the ocean of thy days dost like a swimmer patiently contend, and though thou steerest with a shoreward gaze misdoubtest of a harbour or an end, what would the threat, or what the promise be, could i but read the riddle of the sea! preface an attempt at philosophic dialogue may seem to demand a word of explanation, if not of apology. for, it may be said, the dialogue is a literary form not only exceedingly difficult to handle, but, in its application to philosophy, discredited by a long series of failures. i am not indifferent to this warning; yet i cannot but think that i have chosen the form best suited to my purpose. for, in the first place, the problems i have undertaken to discuss have an interest not only philosophic but practical; and i was ambitious to treat them in a way which might perhaps appeal to some readers who are not professed students of philosophy. and, secondly, my subject is one which belongs to the sphere of right opinion and perception, rather than to that of logic and demonstration; and seems therefore to be properly approached in the tentative spirit favoured by the dialogue form. on such topics most men, i think, will feel that it is in conversation that they get their best lights; and dialogue is merely an attempt to reproduce in literary form this natural genesis of opinion. lastly, my own attitude in approaching the issues with which i have dealt was, i found, so little dogmatic, so sincerely speculative, that i should have felt myself hampered by the form of a treatise. i was more desirous to set forth various points of view than finally to repudiate or endorse them; and though i have taken occasion to suggest certain opinions of my own, i have endeavoured to do so in the way which should be least imprisoning to my own thought, and least provocative of the reader's antagonism. it has been my object, to borrow a phrase of renan, 'de présenter des séries d'idées se développant selon un ordre logique, et non d'inculquer une opinion ou de prêcher un systême déterminé.' and i may add, with him, 'moins que jamais je me sens l'audace de parler doctrinalernent en pareille matière.' in conclusion, there is one defect which is, i think, inherent in the dialogue form, even if it were treated with far greater skill than any to which i can pretend. the connection of the various phases of the discussion can hardly be as clearly marked as it would be in a formal treatise; and in the midst of digressions and interruptions, such as are natural in conversation, the main thread of the reasoning may sometimes be lost i have therefore appended a brief summary of the argument, set forth in its logical connections. argument book i. i. after a brief introduction, the discussion starts with a consideration of the diversity of men's ideas about good, a diversity which suggests _primâ facie_ a scepticism as to the truth of any of these ideas. the sceptical position is stated; and, in answer, an attempt is made to show that the position is one which is not really accepted by thinking men. for such men, it is maintained, regulate their lives by their ideas about good, and thus by implication admit their belief in these ideas. this is admitted; but the further objection is made, that for the regulation of life it is only necessary for a man to admit a good for himself, without admitting also a general good or good of all. it is suggested, in reply, that the conduct of thinking men commonly does imply a belief in a general good. against this it is urged that the belief implied is not in a good of all, but merely in the mutual compatibility of the goods of individuals; so that each whilst pursuing exclusively his own good, may also believe that he is contributing to that of others. in reply, it is suggested ( ) that such a belief is not borne out by fact; ( ) that the belief does itself admit a good common to all, namely, society and its institutions. in conclusion, it is urged that to disbelieve in a general good is to empty life of what constitutes, for most thinking men, its main value. ii. the position has now been taken up ( ) that men who reflect do, whatever may be their theoretical opinion, imply, in their actual conduct, a belief in their ideas about good, ( ) but that there seems to be no certainty that such ideas are true. this latter proposition is distasteful to some of the party, who endeavour to maintain that there really is no uncertainty as to what is good. thus it is argued: ( ) that the criterion of good is a simple infallible instinct. to which it is replied that there appear to be many such 'instincts' conflicting among themselves. ( ) that the criterion of good is the course of nature; good being defined as the end to which nature is tending. to which it is replied that such a judgment is as _a priori_ and unbased as any other, and as much open to dispute. it is then urged that if we reject the proposed criterion, we can have no scientific basis for ethics; which leads to a brief discussion of the nature of science, and the applicability of its methods to ethics. ( ) that the criterion of good is current convention. to which it is replied, that conventions are always changing, and that the moral reformer is precisely the man who disputes those which are current. especially, it is urged that our own conventions are, in fact, vigorously challenged, e.g. by nietzsche. ( ) that the criterion of good is pleasure, or the "greatest happiness of the greatest number." to which it is replied: (a) that this view is not, as is commonly urged, in accordance with 'common sense.' (b) that either pleasure must be taken in the simplest and narrowest sense; in which case it is palpably inadequate as a criterion of good; or its meaning must be so widely extended that the term pleasure becomes as indefinite as the term good. (c) that if the criterion of pleasure were to be fairly applied, it would lead to results that would shock those who profess to adopt it. iii. these methods of determining good having been set aside, it is suggested that it is only by 'interrogating experience' that we can discover, tentatively, what things are good. to this it is objected, that perhaps all our ideas derived from experience are false, and that the only method of determining good would be metaphysical, and _a priori_. in reply, the bare possibility of such a method is admitted; but it is urged that no one really believes that all our opinions derived from experience are false, and that such a belief, if held, would deprive life of all ethical significance and worth. finally, it is suggested that the position in which we do actually find ourselves, is that of men who have a real, though imperfect perception of a real good, and who are endeavouring, by practice, to perfect that perception. in this respect an analogy is drawn between our perception of good and our perception of beauty. it is further suggested that the end of life is not merely a knowledge but an experience of good; this end being conceived as one to be realised in time. iv. on this, the point is raised, whether it is not necessary to conceive good as eternally existing, rather than as something to be brought into existence in the course of time? on this view, evil must be conceived as mere 'appearance.' in reply, it is suggested: ( ) that it is impossible to reconcile the conception of eternal good with the obvious fact of temporal evil. ( ) that such a view reduces to an absurdity all action directed to ends in time. and yet it seems that such action not only is but ought to be pursued, as appears to be admitted even by those who hold that good exists eternally, since they make it an end of action that they should come to see that everything is good. ( ) that this latter conception of the end of action--namely, that we should bring ourselves to see that what appears to be evil is really good--is too flagrantly opposed to common sense to be seriously accepted. to sum up: in this book the following positions have been discussed and rejected: ( ) that our ideas about good have no relation to any real fact. ( ) that we have easy and simple criteria of good--such as (a) an infallible instinct, (b) the course of nature, (c) current conventions, (d) pleasure. ( ) that all reality is good, and all evil is mere 'appearance.' and it has been suggested that our experience is, or may be made, a progressive discovery of good. in the following book the question of the content of good is approached. * * * * * book ii. this book comprises an attempt to examine some kinds of good, to point out their defects and limitations, and to suggest the character of a good which we might hold to be perfect--here referred to as '_the_ good.' the attitude adopted is tentative, for it is based on the position, at which we are supposed to have arrived, that the experience of any one person, or set of persons, about good is limited and imperfect, and that therefore in any attempt to describe what it is that we hold to be good, to compare goods among one another, and to suggest an absolute good, we can only hope, at best, to arrive at some approximation to truth. i. this attitude is explained at the outset, and certain preliminary points are then discussed. these are: ( ) can any good be an end for us unless it is conceived to be an object of consciousness? the negative answer is suggested. ( ) in pursuing good, for whom do we pursue it? it is suggested that the good we pursue is (a) that of future generations. some difficulties in this view are brought out; and it is hinted that what we really pursue is the good of 'the whole,' though it is not easy to see what we mean by that. (b) that of 'the species.' but this view too is seen to be involved in difficulty. ii. the difficulty is left unsolved, and the conversation passes on to an examination of some of our activities from the point of view of good. in this examination a double object is kept in view: ( ) to bring out the characteristics and defects of each kind of good; ( ) to suggest a good which might be conceived to be free from defects, such a good being referred to as '_the_ good.' ( ) it is first suggested that _all_ activities are good, if pursued in the proper order and proportion; and that what seems bad in each, viewed in isolation, is seen to be good in a general survey of them all. this view, it is argued, is too extravagant to be tenable. ( ) it is suggested that good consists in ethical activity. to this it is objected that ethical actions are always means to an end, and that it is this end that must be conceived to be really good. ( ) the activity of the senses in their direct contact with physical objects is discussed. this is admitted to be a kind of good; but such good, it is maintained, is defective, not only because it is precarious, but because it depends upon objects of which it is not the essence to produce that good, but which, on the contrary, just as much and as often produce evil. ( ) this leads to a discussion of art. in art, it seems, we are brought into relation with objects of which it may be said: (a) that they have, by their essence, that good which is called beauty. (b) that, in a certain sense, they may be said to be eternal. (c) that, though complex, they are such that their parts are necessarily connected, in the sense that each is essential to the total beauty. on the other hand, the good of art suffers from the defects: (a) that outside and independent of art there is the 'real world,' so that this good is only a partial one. (b) that art is a creation of man, whereas we seem to demand, for a thing that shall be perfectly good, that it shall be so of its own nature, without our intervention. ( ) it is suggested that perhaps we may find the good we seek in knowledge. this raises the difficulty that various views are held as to the nature of knowledge. of these, two are discussed: (a) the view that knowledge is 'the description and summing up in brief formulæ, of the routine of our perceptions.' it is questioned whether there is really much good in such an activity. and it is argued that, whatever good it may have, it cannot be _the_ good, seeing that knowledge may be, and frequently is, knowledge of bad. (b) the view that knowledge consists in the perception of 'necessary connections,' viewed from the standpoint of good, this seems to be open to the same objection as (a). but, further, it is argued that the perpetual contemplation of necessary relations among ideas does not satisfy our conception of the good; but that we require an element analogous somehow to that of sense, though not, like sense, unintelligible and obscure. ( ) finally, it is suggested that in our relation to other persons, where the relation takes the form of love, we may perhaps find something that comes nearer than any other of our experiences to being absolutely good. for in that relation, it is urged, we are in contact (a) with objects, not 'mere ideas.' (b) with objects that are good in themselves and (c) intelligible and (d) harmonious to our own nature. it is objected that love, so conceived, is (a) rarely, perhaps never, experienced. (b) in any case, is neither eternal nor universal. this is admitted; but it is maintained that the best love we know comes nearer than anything else to what we might conceive to be absolutely good. iii. the question is now raised: if 'the good' be so conceived, is it not clearly unattainable? the answer to this question seems to depend on whether or not we believe in personal immortality. the following points are therefore discussed: (a) whether personal immortality is conceivable? (b) whether a belief in it is essential to a reasonable pursuit of good? on these points no dogmatic solution is offered; and the dialogue closes with the description of a dream. book i. every summer, for several years past, it has been my custom to arrange in some pleasant place, either in england or on the continent, a gathering of old college friends. in this way i have been enabled not only to maintain some happy intimacies, but (what to a man of my occupation is not unimportant) to refresh and extend, by an interchange of ideas with men of various callings, an experience of life which might be otherwise unduly monotonous and confined. last year, in particular, our meeting was rendered to me especially agreeable by the presence of a very dear friend, philip audubon, whom, since his business lay in the east, i had not had an opportunity of seeing for many years. i mention him particularly, because, although, as will be seen, he did not take much part in the discussion i am about to describe, he was, in a sense, the originator of it. for, in the first place, it was he who had invited us to the place in which we were staying,--an upland valley in switzerland, where he had taken a house; and, further, it was through my renewed intercourse with him that i was led into the train of thought which issued in the following conversation. his life in the east, a life laborious and monotonous in the extreme, had confirmed in him a melancholy to which he was constitutionally inclined, and which appeared to be rather heightened than diminished by exceptional success in a difficult career. i hesitate to describe his attitude as pessimistic, for the word has associations with the schools from which he was singularly free. his melancholy was not the artificial product of a philosophic system; it was temperamental rather than intellectual, and might be described, perhaps, as an intuition rather than a judgment of the worthlessness and irrationality of the world. such a position is not readily shaken by argument, nor did i make any direct attempt to assail it; but it could not fail to impress itself strongly upon my mind, and to keep my thoughts constantly employed upon that old problem of the worth of things, in which, indeed, for other reasons, i was already sufficiently interested. a further impulse in the same direction was given by the arrival of another old friend, arthur ellis. he and i had been drawn together at college by a common interest in philosophy; but in later years our paths had diverged widely. fortune and inclination had led him into an active career, and for some years he had been travelling abroad as correspondent to one of the daily papers. i felt, therefore, some curiosity to renew my acquaintance with him, and to ascertain how far his views had been modified by his experience of the world. the morning after his arrival he joined audubon and myself in a kind of loggia at the back of the house, which was our common place of rendezvous. we exchanged the usual greetings, and for some minutes nothing more was said, so pleasant was it to sit silent in the shade listening to the swish of scythes (they were cutting the grass in the meadow opposite) and to the bubbling of a little fountain in the garden on our right, while the sun grew hotter every minute on the fir-covered slopes beyond. i wanted to talk, and yet i was unwilling to begin; but presently ellis turned to me and said: "well, my dear philosopher, and how goes the world with you? what have you been doing in all these years since we met?" "oh," i replied, "nothing worth talking about." "what have you been thinking then?" "just now i have been thinking how well you look. knocking about the world seems to suit you." "i think it does. and yet at this moment, whether it be the quiet of the place, or whether it be the sight of your philosophic countenance, i feel a kind of yearning for the contemplative life. i believe if i stayed here long you would lure me back to philosophy; and yet i thought i had finally escaped when i broke away from you before." "it is not so easy," i said, "to escape from that net, once one is caught. but it was not i who spread the snare; i was only trying to help you out, or, at least, to get out myself." "and have you found a way?" "no, i cannot say that i have. that's why i want to talk to you and hear how you have fared." "i? oh, i have given the whole subject up." "you can hardly give up the subject till you give up life. you may have given up reading books about it; and, for that matter, so have i. but that is only because i want to grapple with it more closely." "what do you do, then, if you do not read books?" "i talk to as many people as i can, and especially to those who have had no special education in philosophy; and try to find out to what conclusions they have been led by their own direct experience." "conclusions about what?" "about many things. but in particular about the point we used to be fondest of discussing in the days before you had, as you say, given up the subject--i mean the whole question of the values we attach, or ought to attach, to things." "oh!" he said, "well, as to all that, my opinion is the same as of old. 'there's nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so,' so i used to say at college and so i say now." "i remember," i replied, "that that is what you always used to say; but i thought i had refuted you over and over again." "so you may have done, as far as logic can refute; but every bit of experience which i have had since last we met has confirmed me in my original view." "that," i said, "is very interesting, and is just what i want to hear about. what is it that experience has done for you? for, as you know, i have so little of my own, i try to get all i can out of other people's." "well," he said, "the effect of mine has been to bring home to me, in a way i could never realize before, the extraordinary diversity of men's ideals." "that, you find, is the effect of travel?" "i think so. travelling really does open the eyes. for instance, until i went to the east i never really felt the antagonism between the oriental view of life and our own. now, it seems to me clear that either they are mad or we are; and upon my word, i don't know which. of course, when one is here, one supposes it is they. but when one gets among them and really talks to them, when one realizes how profound and intelligent is their contempt for our civilization, how worthless they hold our aims and activities, how illusory our progress, how futile our intelligence, one begins to wonder whether, after all, it is not merely by an effect of habit that one judges them to be wrong and ourselves right, and whether there is anything at all except blind prejudice in any opinions and ideas about right and wrong." "in fact," interposed audubon, "you agree, like me, with sir richard burton: "'there is no good, there is no bad, these be the whims of mortal will; what works me weal that call i good, what harms and hurts i hold as ill. they change with space, they shift with race, and in the veriest span of time, each vice has worn a virtue's crown, all good been banned as sin or crime.'" "yes," he assented, "and that is what is brought home to one by travel. though really, if one had penetration enough, it would not be necessary to travel to make the discovery. a single country, a single city, almost a single village, would illustrate, to one who can look below the surface, the same truth. under the professed uniformity of beliefs, even here in england, what discrepancies and incongruities are concealed! every type, every individual almost, is distinguished from every other in precisely this point of the judgments he makes about good. what does the soldier and adventurer think of the life of a studious recluse? or the city man of that of the artist? and vice versa? behind the mask of good manners we all of us go about judging and condemning one another root and branch. we are in no real agreement as to the worth either of men or things. it is an illusion of the 'canting moralist' (to use stevenson's phrase) that there is any fixed and final standard of good. good is just what any one thinks it to be; and one man has as much right to his opinion as another." "but," i objected, "it surely does not follow that because there are different opinions about good, they are all equally valuable." "no. i should infer rather that they are all equally worthless." "that does not seem to me legitimate either; and i venture to doubt whether you really believe it yourself." "well, at any rate i am inclined to think i do." "in a sense perhaps you do; but not in the sense which seems to me most important. i mean that when it comes to the point, you act, and are practically bound to act, upon your opinion about what is good, as though you did believe it to be true." "how do you mean 'practically bound?'" "i mean that it is only by so acting that you are able to introduce any order or system into your life, or in fact to give it to yourself any meaning at all. without the belief that what you hold to be good really somehow is so, your life, i think, would resolve itself into mere chaos." "i don't see that" "well, i may be wrong, but my notion is that what systematizes a life is choice; and choice, i believe, means choice of what we hold to be good." "surely not! surely we may choose what we hold to be bad." "i doubt it" "but how then do you account for what you call bad men?" "i should say they are men who choose what i think bad but they think good." "but are there not men who deliberately choose what they think bad, like milton's satan--'evil be thou my good'?" "yes, but by the very terms of the expression he was choosing what he thought good; only he thought that evil was good." "but that is a contradiction." "yes, it is the contradiction in which he was involved, and in which i believe everyone is involved who chooses, as you say, the bad. to them it is not only bad, it is somehow also good." "does that apply to nero, for example?" "yes, i think it very well might; the things which he chose, power and wealth and the pleasures of the senses, he chose because he thought them good; if his choice also involved what he thought bad, such as murder and rapine and the like (if he did think these bad, which i doubt), then there was a contradiction not so much in his choice as in its consequences. but even if i were to admit that he and others have chosen and do choose what they believe to be bad, it would not affect the point i want to make. for to choose bad must be, in your view, as absurd as to choose good; since, i suppose, you do not believe, that our opinions about the one have any more validity than our opinions about the other. so that if we are to abandon good as a principle of choice, it is idle to say we may fall back upon bad." "no, i don't say that we may; nor do i see that we must we do not need either the one or the other. you must have noticed--i am sure i have--that men do not in practice choose with any direct reference to good or bad; they choose what they think will bring them pleasure, or fame, or power, or, it may be, barely a livelihood." "but believing, surely, that these things are good?" "not necessarily; not thinking at all about it, perhaps." "perhaps not thinking about it as we are now; but still, so far believing that what they have chosen is good, that if you were to go to them and suggest that, after all, it is bad they would be seriously angry and distressed." "but, probably," interposed audubon, "like me, they could not help themselves. we are none of us free, in the way you seem to imagine. we have to choose the best we can, and often it is bad enough." "no doubt," i replied, "but still, as you say yourself, what we choose is the best we can, that is, the most good we can. the criterion is good, only it is very little of it that we are able to realize." "no," objected ellis, "i am not prepared to admit that the criterion is good. you will find that men will frankly confess that other pursuits or occupations are, in their opinion, better than those they have chosen, and that these better things were and are open to themselves, and yet they continue to devote themselves to the worse, knowing it all the time to be the worse." "but in most cases," i replied, "these better things, surely, are not really 'open' to them, except so far as external circumstances are concerned. they are hampered in their choice by passions and desires, by that part of them which does not choose, but is passively carried away by alien attractions; and the course they actually adopt is the best they can choose, though they see a better which they would choose if they could. the choice is always of good, but it may be diverted by passion to less good." "i don't know," he said, "that that is a fair account of the matter." "nor do i. it is so hard to analyse what goes on in one's own consciousness, much more what goes on in other people's. still, that is the kind of way i should describe my own experience, and i should expect that most people who reflect would agree with me. they would say, i think, that they always choose the best they can, though regretting that they cannot choose better than they do; and it would seem to them, i think, absurd to suggest that they choose bad, or choose without any reference either to good or bad." "well," he said, "granting, for the moment, that you are right--what follows?" "why, then," i said, "it follows that we are, as i said, 'practically bound' to accept as valid, for the moment at least, our opinions about what is good; for otherwise we should have no principle to choose by, if it be true that the principle of choice is good." "very well," he said, "then we should have to do without choosing!" "but could we?" "i don't see why not; many people do." "but what sort of people? i mean what sort of life would it be?" ellis was preparing to answer when we were interrupted by a voice from behind. the place in which we were sitting opened at the back into one of those large lofty barns which commonly form part of a swiss house; and as the floor of this room was covered with straw, it was possible to approach that way without making much noise. for this reason, two others of our party had been able to join us without our observing it. their names were parry and leslie; the former a man of thirty, just getting into practice at the bar, the latter still almost a boy in years, though a very precocious one, whom i had brought with me, ostensibly as a pupil, but really as a companion. he was an eager student of philosophy, and had something of that contempt of youth for any one older than twenty-five, which i can never find it in my heart to resent, though have long passed the age which qualifies me to become the object of it. he it was who was speaking, in a passionate way he had, when anything like a philosophic discussion was proceeding. "why," he was saying, in answer to my last remark, "without choice one would be a mere slave of passion, a creature of every random mood and impulse, a beast, a thing, not a man at all!" ellis looked round rather amused. "well," he said, "you fire-eater, and why not? i don't know that impulse is such a bad thing. a good impulse is better than a bad calculation any day!" "yes, but you deny the validity of the distinction between good and bad, so it's absurd for you to talk about a good impulse." "what _is_ your position, ellis?" asked parry. "i've been trying in vain to make head or tail of it" "why should i take a position at all?" rejoined ellis "i protest against this bullying." "but you _must_ take a position," cried leslie, "if we are to discuss." "i don't see why; you might take one instead." "yes, but you began." "well," he conceded, "anything to oblige you. my position, then, to go back again to the beginning, is this. seeing that there are so many different opinions about what things are good, and that no criterion has been discovered for testing these opinions----" "my dear ellis," interrupted parry, "i protest against all that from the very beginning. for all practical purposes there is a substantial agreement about what is good." "my dear parry," retorted ellis, "if i am to state a position, let me state it without interruption. considering, as i was saying, that there are so many different opinions about what things are good, and that no criterion has been discovered for testing them, i hold that we have no reason to attach any validity to these opinions, or to suppose that it is possible to have any true opinions on the subject at all." "and what do you say to that?" asked parry, turning to me. "i said, or rather i suggested, for the whole matter is very difficult to me, that in spite of the divergency of opinions on the point, and the difficulty of bringing them into harmony, we are nevertheless practically bound, whether we can justify it to our reason or not, to believe that our own opinions about what is good have somehow some validity." "but how 'practically bound'?" asked leslie. "why, as i was trying to get ellis to admit when you interrupted--and your interruption really completed my argument--i imagine it to be impossible for us not to make choices; and in making choices, as i think, we use our ideas about good as a principle of choice." "but you must remember," said ellis, "that i have never admitted the truth of that last statement." "but," i said, "if you do not admit it generally--and generally, i confess, i do not see how it could be proved or disproved, except by an appeal to every individual's experience--do you not admit it in your own case? do you not find that, in choosing, you follow your idea of what is good, so far as you can under the limitations of your own passions and of external circumstances?" "well," he replied, "i wish to be candid, and i am ready to admit that i do." "and that you cannot conceive yourself as choosing otherwise? i mean that if you had to abandon as a principle of choice your opinion about good, you would have nothing else to fall back upon?" "no; i think in that case i should simply cease to choose." "and can you conceive yourself doing that? can you conceive yourself living, as perhaps many men do, at random and haphazard, from moment to moment, following blindly any impulse that may happen to turn up, without any principle by which you might subordinate one to the other?" "no," he said, "i don't think i can." "that, then," i said, "is what i meant, when i suggested that you, at any rate, and i, and other people like us, are practically bound to believe that our opinions about what is good have some validity, even though we cannot say what or how much." "you say, then, that we have to accept in practice what we deny in theory?" "yes, if you like. i say, at least, that the consequence of the attempt to bring our theoretical denial to bear upon our practice would be to reduce our life to a moral chaos, by denying the only principle of choice which we find ourselves actually able to accept. in your case and mine, as it seems, it is our opinion about good that engenders order among our passions and desires; and without it we should sink back to be mere creatures of blind impulse, such as perhaps in fact, many men really are." "what!" cried audubon, interrupting in a tone of half indignant protest, "do you mean to say that it is some idea about good that brings order into a man's life? all i can say is that, for my part, i never once think, from one year's end to another, of anything so abstract and remote. i simply go on, day after day, plodding the appointed round, without reflexion, without reason, simply because i have to. there's order in my life, heaven knows! but it has nothing to do with ideas about good. and altogether," he ejaculated, in a kind of passion, "it's a preposterous thing to tell me that i believe in good, merely because i lead a life like a mill-horse! that would be an admirable reason for believing in bad--but good!" he lapsed again into silence; and i was half unwilling to press him further, knowing that he felt our dialectics to be a kind of insult to his concrete woes. however, it seemed to be necessary for the sake of the argument to give some answer, so i began:-- "but if you don't like the life of a mill-horse, why do you lead it?" "why? because i have to!" he replied; "you don't suppose i would do it if i could help it?" "no," i said, "but why can't you help it?" "because," he said, "i have to earn my living." "then is it a good thing to earn your living?" "no, but it's a necessary thing." "necessary, why?" "because one must live." "then it is a good thing to live?" "no, it's a very bad one." "why do you live, then?" "because i can't help it." "but it is always possible to stop living." "no, it isn't" "but why not?" "because there are other people dependent on me, and i don't choose to be such a mean skunk as to run away myself and leave other people here to suffer. besides, it's a sort of point of honour. as i'm here, i'm going to play the game. all i say is that the game is not worth the playing; and you will never persuade me into the belief that it is." "but, my dear philip," i said, "there is no need for me to persuade you, for it is clear that you are persuaded already. you believe, as you have really admitted in principle, that it is good to live rather than to die; and to live, moreover, a monotonous, laborious life, which you say you detest take away that belief, and your whole being is transformed. either you change your manner of life, abandon the routine which you hate, break up the order imposed (as i said at first) by your idea about good, and give yourself up to the chaos of chance desires; or you depart from life altogether, on the hypothesis that that is the good thing to do. but in any case the truth appears to remain that somehow or other you do believe in good; and that it is this belief which determines the whole course of your life." "well," he said, "it's no use arguing the point, but i am unconvinced." and he sank back to his customary silence. i thought it useless to pursue the subject with him; but ellis took up the argument. "i agree with audubon," he said. "for even if i admitted your general contention, i should still maintain that it is not by virtue of any conscious idea of good that we introduce order into our lives. we simply find ourselves, as a matter of fact, by nature and character, preferring one object to another, suppressing or developing this or that tendency. our choices are not determined by our abstract notion of good; on the contrary, our notion of good is deduced from our choices." "you mean, i suppose, that we collect from our particular choices our general idea of the kind of things which we consider good. that may be. but the point i insist upon is that we do attach validity to these choices; they are, to us, our choices of our good, those that we approve as distinguished from those that we do not. and my contention is that, in spite of all diversity of opinions as to what really are the good things to choose, we are bound to attach, each of us, some validity to our own, under penalty of reducing our life to a moral chaos." "but what do you mean by 'validity'?" asked leslie. "do you mean that we must believe that our opinions are right?" "yes," i said, "or, at least, if not that they are right, that they are the rightest we can attain to for the time being, and until we see something righter. but above all, that opinions on this subject really are either right or wrong, or more right and less right; and that of this rightness or wrongness we really have some kind of perception, however difficult it may be to give an account of it, and that in accordance with such perception we may come to change our opinions or those of other people, by the methods of discussion and persuasion and the like. and all this, as i understand, is what ellis was denying." "certainly," said ellis, "i was; and i still do not see that you have proved it." "no," i said, "i have not even tried to. i have only tried to show that in spite of your denial you really do believe it, because a belief in it is implied in all your practical activity. and that, i thought, you did admit yourself." "but even so," he replied, "it remains to be considered whether my theory is not more reasonable than my practice." "perhaps," i replied; "but that, i admit, is not the question that really interests me. what i want to get at is the belief which underlies the whole life of people like ourselves, and of which, it seems, we cannot practically divest ourselves. and such a belief, i think, is this which we have been discussing as to the validity of our opinions about good." "i see," he said; "in fact you are concerning yourself not with philosophy but with psychology." "if you like; it matters little what you call it. only, whatever it be, you will do me a service if for the moment you will place yourself at my standpoint, and see with me how things look from there." "very well," he said, "i have no objection, and so far, on the whole, i do agree with you; though i am bound to point out that you might easily find an opponent less complaisant. your argument is very much one _ad hominem_." "it is," i said, "and that, i confess, is the only kind of argument in which i much believe in these matters. i am content, for the present, if you and the others here go along with me." "i do," said parry, "but you seem to me to be only stating, in an unnecessarily elaborate way, what after all is a mere matter of common sense." "perhaps it is," i replied, "though i have always thought myself rather deficient in that kind of sense. but what does leslie say?" "oh," he said, "i can't think how you can be content with anything so lame and impotent! some method there must be, absolute and _à priori_, by which we may prove for certain that good is, and discover, as well, what things are good." "well," i said, "if there be such a method, you, if anyone, should find it; and i wish you from my heart good luck in the quest. it is only in default of anything better that i fall back on this--i dare not call it method; this appeal to opinion and belief." "and even so," said ellis, "it is little enough that you have shown, or rather, that i have chosen to admit. for even if it were granted that individuals, in order to choose, must believe in good, it doesn't follow that they believe in anything except each a good for himself. so that, even on your own hypothesis, all we could say would be that there are a number of different and perhaps incompatible goods, each good for some particular individual, but none necessarily good for all. i, at least, admit no more than that." "how do you mean?" i asked, "for i am getting lost again." "i mean," he replied, "something that i should have thought was familiar enough. granted that there really is a good which each individual ought to choose, and does choose, if you like, as far as he can see it; or granted, at least, that he is bound to believe this, under penalty of reducing his life to moral chaos; still, i see no reason to suppose that the thing which one individual ought to choose is identical, or even compatible, with that which another ought to choose. there may be a whole series of distinct and mutually exclusive moral worlds. in other words, even though i may admit a good for each, i am not prepared to admit a good for all." "but then," i objected, "each of these goods will also be a not-good; and that seems to be a contradiction." "not at all," he replied, "for each of them only professes to be good for me, and that is quite compatible with being bad for another." "but," cried leslie, trembling with excitement, "your whole conception is absurd. good is simply good; it is not good for anybody or anything; it is good in its own nature, one, simple, immutable eternal." "it may be," replied ellis, "but i hope you will not actually tear me to pieces if i humbly confess that i cannot see it. i see no reason to admit any such good; it even has no meaning to me." "well, anyhow, nothing else can have any meaning!" "but, to me, something else has a meaning." "well, what?" "why, what i have been trying, apparently without success, to explain." "but don't you see that each of those things you call goods, oughtn't to be called good at all, but each of them by some other particular name of its own?" "oh, i don't want to quarrel about names; but i call each of them good because from one point of view--that of some particular individual--each of them is something that ought to be. i, at any rate, admit no more than that. for each individual there is something that ought to be; but this, which ought to be for him, is very likely something that ought not to be for somebody else." on this leslie threw himself back with a gesture of disgust and despair; and i took the opportunity of intervening. "let us have some concrete instances," i said, "of these incompatible goods." "by all means," he replied, "nothing can be simpler. it is good, say, for nero, to preserve supreme power; but it is bad for the people who come in his way. it is good for an american millionaire to make and increase his fortune; but it is bad for the people he ruins in the process. and so on, _ad infinitum_; one has only to look at the world to see that the goods of individuals are not only diverse but incompatible one with another." "of course," i said, "it is true that people do hold things to be good which are in this way mutually incompatible. but does not the fact of this incompatibility make one suspect that perhaps the things in question are not really good?" "it may, in some cases, but i see no ground for the suspicion. it may very well be that what is good for me is in the nature of things incompatible with what is good for you." "i don't say it may not be so; but does one believe it to be so? doesn't one believe that what is really good for one must somehow be compatible with what is really good for others?" "some people may believe it, but many don't; and it can never be proved." "no; and so i am driven back upon my argument _ad hominem_. do not you, as a matter of fact, believe it?" "no, i don't know that i do." "do you believe then that there is nothing which is good for people in general?" "i don't see what is to prevent my believing it." "but, at any rate you do not act as if you believed it." "in what way do i not?" "why, for instance, you said last night that you intended to enter parliament." "well?" "and in a few weeks you will be making speeches all over the country in favour of--well, i don't quite know what--shall we say in favour of the war?" "say so, by all means, if you like." "and this war, i presume, you believe to be a good thing?" "well?" "good, that is, not merely for yourself but for the world at large? or at least for the english or the boers, or one or other of them? do you admit that?" "oh," he said, "i am nothing if not frank! at present, we will admit, i think the war a good thing (whatever that may mean); but what of that? very probably i am wrong." "very probably you are; but that is not the point. the main thing is, that you admit that it is possible to be wrong or right at all; that there is something to be wrong or right about." "but i don't know that i do admit it, or, at any rate, that i shall always admit it. probably, after changing my opinions again and again, i shall come to the conclusion that none of them are worth anything at all; that, in fact, there's nothing to have an opinion about; and then i shall retire from politics altogether; and then--then how will you get hold of me?" "oh," i replied, "easily enough! for you will still continue, i suppose, to do some kind of work, and work which will necessarily affect innumerable people besides yourself; and you will believe, i presume, that somehow or other the work you do is contributing to some general good?" "'you presume'! you do indeed presume! suppose i believe nothing of the kind? suppose i deny altogether a general good?" "we will suppose it, if you like," i said. "and now let us go on to examine the consequences of the supposition." "by all means!" he said, "proceed!" "well," i began, "since you are still living in society, (for that, i suppose, you allow me to assume,) you are, by the nature of the case, interchanging with others innumerable offices. at the same time, on the supposition we are adopting, that you deny a general good, your only object in this interchange will be your own good, (in which you admit that you do believe.) if, for example, you are a doctor, your aim, at the highest, is to develop yourself, to increase your knowledge, your skill, your self-control; at the lowest, it is to accumulate a fortune; but in neither case can your purpose be to alleviate or cure disease, nor to contribute to the advance of science; for that would be to suppose that these ends, although they purport to be general, nevertheless are somehow good, which is the hypothesis we were excluding. similarly, if you are a lawyer, you will not set your heart on doing justice, or perfecting the law; such ends as these for you are mere illusions; for even if justice exist at all, it certainly is not a good, for if it were, it would be a good for all, and, as we agree, there is no such thing. men like bentham, therefore, to you will be mere visionaries, and the legal system as a whole will have no sense or purport, except so far as it contributes to sharpen your wits and fill your pocket and so, in general, with all professions and occupations; whichever you may adopt, you will treat it merely as a means to your own good; and since you have no good which is also common to other men, you will use these others without scruple to further what you conceive to be your own advantage, without necessarily paying any regard to what they may conceive to be theirs." "well," he said, "and why not?" "i don't ask 'why not'?" i replied, "i ask merely whether it would be so? whether you do, as a matter of fact, conceive it possible that you should ever adopt such an attitude?" "well, no," he admitted, "i don't think it is; but that is an idiosyncrasy of mine; and i have no doubt there are plenty of other men who are precisely in the position you describe. take, for example, a man like the late jay gould. do you suppose that he, in his business operations, ever had any regard for anything except his own personal advantage? do you suppose he cared how many people he ruined? do you suppose he cared even whether he ruined his country, except so far as such ruin might interfere with his own profit? or look again at the famous mr. leiter of chicago! what do you suppose it mattered to him that he might be starving half the world, and imperilling the governments of europe? it was enough for him that he should realize a fortune; of all the rest, i suppose, he washed his hands. he and men like him adopt, i have no doubt, precisely the position which you are trying to show is impossible." "no," i said, "i am not trying to show that it is impossible in general; i am only trying to show that it is impossible for you. and my object is to suggest that if a man does deny a general good, he denies it, as i say, at his peril. if his denial is genuine, and not merely verbal, it will lead him to conduct of the kind i have described." "but surely," interrupted leslie, "you have no right to assume that a disbelief in a general good, however genuine, necessarily involves a sheer egoism in conduct? for a man might find that his own good consisted in furthering the good of other people; and in that case of course he will try to further it." "but," i replied, "on our hypothesis there is no good of other people. each individual, we agreed, has his good, but there is no good common to all. and thus we could have no guarantee that in furthering the good of one we are also furthering that of others. so that even supposing a man to believe that his own good consists in furthering the good of others, yet he will not be able to put his belief into practice, but at most will be able to help some one man, with the likelihood that in so doing he is thwarting and injuring many others. though, therefore, he may not wish to be an egoist, yet he cannot work for a common good; and that simply because there is no common good to work for." at this point parry, who had been sitting silent during the discussion, probably because of its somewhat abstract character, suddenly broke in upon it as follows. he had a great fund of optimism and what is sometimes called common sense, which to me was rather pleasant and refreshing, though some of the others, and especially leslie and ellis, were apt, i think, to find it irritating. his present speech was characteristic of his manner. "ah!" he began, "there you touch upon the point which has vitiated your argument throughout. you seem to assume that because every man has his own good, and there is no good we can affirm to be common to all, therefore these individual goods are incompatible one with another, so that a man who is intent on his own good is necessarily hindering, or, at least, not helping, other people who are intent on theirs. but i believe, and my view is borne out by all experience, that exactly the opposite is the case. every man, in pursuing his own advantage, is also enabling the rest to pursue theirs. the world, if you like to put it so, is a world of egoists; but a world constructed with such exquisite art, that the egoism of one is not only compatible with, but indispensable to that of another. on this principle all society rests. the producer, seeking his own profit, is bound to satisfy the consumer; the capitalist cannot exist without supporting the labourer; the borrower and lender are knit by the closest ties of mutual advantage; and so with all the ranks and divisions of mankind, social, political, economic, or what you will. balanced, one against the other, in delicate counterpoise, in subtlest interaction of part with part, they sweep on in one majestic system, an equilibrium for ever disturbed, yet ever recovering itself anew, created, it is true, and maintained by countless individual impulses, yet summing up and reflecting all of these in a single, perfect, all-harmonious whole. and when we consider----" but here he was interrupted by a kind of groan from audubon; and ellis, seeing his opportunity, broke in ironically, as follows: "the theme, my dear parry, is indeed a vast one, and suggests countless developments. when, for example, we consider (to borrow your own phrase) the reciprocal relations of the householder and the thief, of the murderer and his victim, of the investor and the fraudulent company-promoter; when, turning from these private examples, we cast our eyes on international relations, when we observe the perfect accord of interest between all the great powers in the far east; when we note the smooth harmonious working of that flawless political machine so aptly named the european concert, each member pursuing its own advantage, yet co-operating without friction to a common end; or when, reverting to the economic sphere, we contemplate the exquisite adjustment that prevails between the mutual interest of labour and capital--an adjustment broken only now and again by an occasional disturbance, just to show that the centre of gravity is changing; when we observe the world trust quietly, without a creak or a groan, annihilating the individual producer; or when, to take the sublime example which has already been quoted, we perceive a single individual, in the pursuit of his own good, positively co-operating with revolutionists on the other side of the globe, and contributing, by the process of starvation, to the deliverance of a great and oppressed people--if indeed, in such a world as ours, anyone can be said to be oppressed--when, my dear parry, we contemplate these things, then--then--words fail me! finish the sentence as you only can." "oh," said parry, good-naturedly enough, "of course i know very well you can make anything ridiculous if you like. but i still maintain that we must take broad views of these matters, and that the position adopted is substantially correct, if you take long enough periods of time. every man in the long run by pursuing his own good does contribute also to the good of others." "well," i said, anxious to keep the argument to the main point, "let us admit for the moment that it is so. you assert, then, that everyone's good is distinct from everyone else's, and that there is no common good; but that each one's pursuit of his own good is essential to the realization of the good of all the rest" "yes," he said; "roughly, that is the kind of thing i believe." "well, but," i continued, "on that system there is at least one thing which we shall have to call a common good." "and what is that?" "society itself! for society is the condition indispensable to all alike for the realization of any individual good; and a common condition of good is, i suppose, in a sense, a common good." "yes," he replied, "i suppose, in a sense, it is." "well," i said, "i want no larger admission. for under 'society' what is not included! sanction society, and you sanction, or at least you admit the possibility of a sanction for every kind of common activity and end; and the motives of men in undertaking these common activities become a matter of comparative indifference. whatever they are consciously aiming at, whether it be their own good, or the good of all, or, as is more probable, a varying mixture of both, the fact remains that they do, and we do, admit a common good, the maintenance and development of society itself. and that is all i was concerned to get you to agree to." "but," said leslie, "do you really think that there is no common good except this, which you yourself admit to be rather a condition of good than good itself?" "no," i replied, "that is not my view. i do not, myself, regard society as nothing but a condition of the realization of independent, individual goods. on the contrary, i think that the good of each individual consists in his relations with other individuals. but this i do not know that i am in a position to establish. meantime, however, we can, i think, maintain, that few candid men, understanding the issue, will really deny altogether a common good; for they will have to admit that in society we have at the very least a common condition of good." "but still," objected leslie, "even so we have no proof that there is a common good, but only that most civilized men, if pressed, would probably admit one." "certainly," i replied, "and i pretend nothing more. i have not attempted to prove that there is a common good, nor even that it is impossible not to believe in one. i merely wished to show, as before, that if a man disbelieves, he disbelieves, so to speak, at his own peril. and to sum up the argument, what i think we have shown is, that to deny a common good is, in the first place, to deny to one's life and action all worth except what is bound up with one's own good, to the complete exclusion of any good of all. in the second place, it is to deny all worth to every public and social institution--to religion, law, government, the family, all activities, in a word, which contribute to and make up what we call society. further, it is to empty history, which is the record of society, of its main interest and significance, and in particular to eliminate the idea of progress; for progress, of course, implies a common good towards which progress is directed. in brief, it is to strip a man of his whole social self, and reveal him a poor, naked, shivering ego, implicated in relations from which he may derive what advantage he can for himself, but which, apart from that advantage, have no point or purport or aim; it is to make him an egoist even against his will; leaving him for his solitary ideal a cult of self-development, deprived of its main attraction by its dissociation from the development of others. now, if any man, having a full sense of what is implied in his words (a sense, not merely conceived by the intellect, but felt, as it were, in every nerve and tissue) will seriously and deliberately deny that he believes in a common good; if he will not merely make the denial with his lips, but actually carry it out in his daily life, adjusting to his verbal proposition his habitual actions, feelings, and thoughts; if he will and can really and genuinely do this, then i, for my part, am willing to admit that i cannot prove him to be wrong. all i can do is to set my experience against his, and to appeal to the experience of others; and we must wait till further experience on either side leads (if it ever is to lead) to an agreement. but, on the other hand, if a man merely makes the denial with his lips, because, perhaps, he conceives it impossible to prove the opposite, or because he sees that what is good cannot be defined beyond dispute, or whatever other plausible reason he may have; and if, while he persists in his denial, he continues to act as if the contrary were true, taking part with zest and enthusiasm in the common business of life, pushing causes, supporting institutions, subscribing to societies, and the like, and that without any pretence that in so doing he is seeking merely his own good--in that case i shall take leave to think that he does not really believe what he says (though no doubt he may genuinely think he does), and i shall take his life and his habits, the whole tissue of his instincts and desires, as a truer index to his real opinion than the propositions he enunciates with his lips." "but," cried leslie, "that is a mere appeal to prejudice! of course we all want to believe that there is a common good; the question is, whether we have a right to." "perhaps," i replied, "but the question i wished to raise was the more modest one, whether we can help it? whether we have a right or no is another matter, more difficult and more profound than i care to approach at present. if, indeed, it could be proved beyond dispute to the reason, either that certain things are good or that they are not, there would be no place for such discussions as this. but, it appears, such proof has not yet been given,--or do you think it has?" "no!" he said, "but i think it might be and must be!" "possibly," i said, "but meantime, perhaps, it is wiser to fall back on this kind of reasoning which you call an appeal to prejudice,--and so no doubt in a sense it is; for it is an appeal to the passion men have to find worth in their lives, and their refusal to accept any view by which such worth is denied. to anyone who refuses to accept any judgment about what is good, i prove, or endeavour to prove, that such refusal cuts away the whole basis of his life; and i ask him if he is prepared to accept that consequence. if he affirms that he is, and affirms it not only with his lips but in his action, then i have no more to say; but if he cannot accept the consequences, then, i suppose, he will reconsider the premisses, and admit that he does really believe that judgments about what is good may be true, and, provisionally, that his own are true, or at least as true as he can make them, and that he does in fact accept and act upon them as true, and intends to do so until he is convinced that they are false. and this attitude of his feelings, you may call, if you like, an attitude of faith; it is, i think, the attitude most men would adopt if they were pressed home upon the subject; and to my mind it is reasonable enough, and rather to be praised than to be condemned." "i don't think so at all," cried leslie, "i consider it very unsatisfactory." "so do i," said parry, "and for my part, i can't see what you're all driving at. you seem to be making a great fuss about nothing." "oh no!" retorted ellis, "not about nothing! about a really delightful paradox! we have arrived at the conclusion that we are bound to believe in good, but that we haven't the least notion what it is!" "exactly!" said parry, "and that is just what i dispute!" "what? that we are bound to believe in good?" "no! but that we don't know what good is, or rather, what things are good." "oh!" i cried, "do you really think we do know? i wish i could think that! the trouble with me is, that while i seem to see that we are bound to trust our judgments about what is good, yet i cannot see that we know that they are true. indeed, from their very diversity, it seems as if they could not all be true. my only hope is, that perhaps they do all contain some truth, although they may contain falsehood as well." "but surely," said parry, "you exaggerate the difficulty. all the confusion seems to me to arise from the assumption that we can't see what lies under our noses. i don't believe, myself, that there is all this difficulty in discovering good. philosophers always assume, as you seem to be doing, that it is all a matter of opinion and reasoning, and that opinions and reasons really determine conduct. whereas in fact, i believe, conduct is determined, at least in essentials, by something very much more like instinct. and it is to this instinct which, by the nature of the case, is simple and infallible, that we ought to look to tell us what is good, and not to our reason, which, as you admit yourself, can only land us in contradictory judgments. i know, of course, that you have a prejudice against any such view." "not at all!" i said, "if only i could understand it. i should be glad of any simple and infallible criterion; only i have never yet been able to find one." "that, i believe, is because you look for it in the wrong place; or, perhaps, because you look for it instead of simply seeing it. you will never discover what is good by any process of rational inquiry. it's a matter of direct perception, above and beyond all argument." "perhaps it is," i said, "but surely not of perception, as you said, simple and infallible?" "if not that, at least sufficiently clear and distinct for all practical purposes. and to my mind, all discussion about good is for this reason rather factitious and unreal. i don't mean to say, of course, that it isn't amusing, among ourselves, to pass an hour or two in this kind of talk; but i should think it very unfortunate if the habit of it were to spread among the mass of men. for inquiry does tend in the long run to influence opinion, and generally to influence it in the wrong way; whereas, if people simply go on following their instinct, they are much more likely to do what is right, than if they try to act on so-called rational grounds." "but," cried leslie, who during this speech had found obvious difficulty in containing himself, "what is this instinct which you bid us follow? what authority has it? what validity? what is its content? what _is_ it, anyhow, that it should be set up in this way above reason?" "as to authority," replied parry, "the point about an instinct is, that its authority is unimpeachable. it commands and we obey; there's no question about it." "but there _is_ question about the content of good." "i should rather say that we make question. but, after all, how small a part of our life is affected by our theories! as a rule, we act simply and without reflection; and such action is the safest and most prosperous." "the safest and most prosperous! but how do you know that? what standard are you applying? where do you get it from?" "from common sense." "and what is common sense?" "oh, a kind of instinct too!" "a kind of instinct? how many are there then? and does every instinct require another to justify it, and so _ad infinitum_?" "logomachy, my dear leslie!" cried parry, with imperturbable good-humour. he had a habit of treating leslie as if he were a clever child. "but really, parry," i interposed, "this is the critical point. is it your view that an instinct is its own sufficient justification, or does it require justification by something else?" "no," he said, "it justifies itself. take, for example, a strong instinct, like that of self-preservation. how completely it stands above all criticism! not that it cannot be criticised in a kind of dilettante, abstract way; but in the moment of action the criticism simply disappears in face of the overwhelming fact it challenges." "do you mean to say, then," said leslie, "that because this instinct is so strong therefore it is always good to follow it?" "i should say so, generally speaking." "how is it, then, that you consider it disgraceful that a man should run away in battle?" "ah!" replied parry, "that is a very interesting point! there you get a superposition of the social upon the merely individual instinct." "and how does that come about?" "that may be a matter of some dispute; but it has been ingeniously explained as follows. we start with the primary instinct of self-preservation. this means, at first, that each individual strives to preserve himself. but as time goes on individuals discover that they can only preserve themselves by associating with others, and that they must defend society if they want to defend themselves. they thus form a habit of defending society; and this habit becomes in time a second instinct, and an instinct so strong that it even overrides the primary one from which it was derived; till at last you get individuals sacrificing in defence of the community those very lives which they originally entered the community to preserve." "what a charming paradox!" cried ellis. "and so it is really true that every soldier who dies on the field of battle does so only by virtue of a miscalculation? and if he could but pull himself up and remember that, after all, the preservation of his life was the only motive that induced him to endanger it, he would run away like a sensible man, and try some other device to achieve his end, the device of society having evidently broken down, so far as he is concerned." "there you are again," said parry, "with your crude rationalism! the point is that the social habit has now become an instinct, and has therefore, as i say, imperative authority! no operations of the reason touch it in the least" "well," rejoined ellis, "i must say that it seems to me very hard that a man can't rectify such an important error. the imposition is simply monstrous! here are a number of fellows shut up in society on the distinct understanding, to begin with, that society was to help them to preserve their lives; instead of which, it starves them and hangs them and sends them to be shot in battle, and they aren't allowed to raise a word of protest or even to perceive what a fraud is being perpetrated upon them!" "i don't see that it's hard at all," replied parry; "it seems to me a beautiful device of nature to ensure the predominance of the better instincts." "the better instincts!" i cried, "but there is the point! these instincts of yours, it seems, conflict; in battle, for example, the instinct to run away conflicts with the instinct to stay and fight?" "no doubt," he admitted. "and sometimes one prevails and sometimes the other?" "yes." "and in the one case we say that the man does right, when he stays and fights; and in the other that he does wrong, when he runs away?" "i suppose so." "well, then, how does your theory of instincts help us to know what is good? for it seems that after all we have to choose between instincts, to approve one and condemn another. and our problem still remains, how can we do this? how can we get any certainty of standard?" "perhaps the faculty that judges is itself an instinct?" "perhaps it is," i replied, "i don't really know what an instinct is. my quarrel is not with the word instinct, but with what seemed to be your assumption that whatever it is in us that judges about good judges in a single, uniform, infallible way. whereas, in fact, as you had to admit, sometimes at the same moment it pronounces judgments not only diverse but contradictory." "but," he replied, "those seem to me to be exceptional cases. as a rule the difficulty doesn't occur. when it does, i admit that we require a criterion. but i should expect to find it in science rather than in philosophy." "in science!" exclaimed leslie. "what has science to do with it?" "what has _not_ science to do with?" said a new voice from behind. it was wilson who, in his turn, had joined us from the breakfast room (he always breakfasted late), and had overheard the last remark. he was a lecturer in biology at cambridge, rather distinguished in that field, and an enthusiastic believer in the capacity of the scientific method to solve all problems. "i was saying," leslie repeated in answer to his question, "that science has nothing to do with the good." "so much the worse for the good," rejoined wilson, "if indeed that be true." "but you, i suppose, would never admit that it is," i interposed. i was anxious to hear what he had to say, though at the same time i was desirous to avoid a discussion between him and leslie, for their types of mind and habits of thought were so radically opposed that it was as idle for them to engage in debate as for two bishops of opposite colour to attempt to capture one another upon a chessboard. he answered readily enough to my challenge. "i think," he said, "that there is only one method of knowledge, and that is the method we call scientific." "but do you think there is any knowledge of good at all, even by that method? or that there is nothing but erroneous opinions?" "i think," he replied, "that there is a possibility of knowledge, but only if we abjure dialectics. here, as everywhere, the only safe guide is the actual concrete operation of nature." "how do you mean?" asked leslie, his voice vibrating with latent hostility. "i mean that the real significance of what we call good is only to be ascertained by observing the course of nature; good being in fact identical with the condition towards which she tends, and morality the means to attaining it." "but----" leslie was beginning, when parry cut him short. "wait a moment!" he said. "let wilson have a fair hearing!" "this end and this means," continued wilson, "we can only ascertain by a study of the facts of animal and human evolution. biology and sociology, throwing light back and forward upon one another, are rapidly superseding the pseudo-science of ethics." "oh dear!" cried ellis, _sotto-voce_, "here comes the social organism! i knew it would be upon us sooner or later." "and though at present, i admit," proceeded wilson, not hearing, or ignoring, this interruption, "we are hardly in a position to draw any certain conclusions, yet to me, at least, it seems pretty clear what kind of results we shall arrive at." "yes!" cried parry, eagerly, "and what are they?" "well," replied wilson, "i will indicate, if you like, the position i am inclined to take up, though of course it must be regarded as provisional." "of course! pray go on!" "well," he proceeded, "biology, as you know, starts with the single cell----" "how do you spell it?" said ellis, with shameless frivolity, "with a c or with an s?" "of these cells," continued wilson, imperturbably, "every animal body is a compound or aggregation; the aggregation involving a progressive modification in the structure of each cell, the differentiation of groups of cells to perform special functions,--digestive, respiratory, and the rest,--and the subordination of each cell or group of cells to the whole. similarly, in sociology----" "dear wilson," cried ellis, unable any longer to contain himself, "mightn't we take all this for granted?" "wait a minute," i said, "let him finish his analogy." "that's just it!" cried leslie, "it's nothing but an analogy. and i don't see how----" "hush, hush!" said parry. "do let him speak!" "i was about to say," continued wilson, "when i was interrupted, that in the social organism----" "ah!" interjected ellis, "here it is!" "in the social organism, the individual corresponds to the cell, the various trades and professions to the organs. society has thus its alimentary system, in the apparatus of production and exchange; its circulatory system, in the network of communications; its nervous system, in the government machinery; its----" "by the bye," interrupted ellis, "could you tell me, for i never could find it in herbert spencer, what exactly in society corresponds to the spleen?" "or the liver?" added leslie. "or the vermiform appendix?" ellis pursued. "oh, well," said wilson, a little huffed at last, "if you are tired of being serious it's no use for me to continue." "i'm sorry, wilson!" said ellis. "i won't do it again; but one does get a little tired of the social organism." "more people talk about it," answered wilson, "than really understand it." "very true," retorted ellis, "especially among biologists." at this point i began to fear we should lose our subject in polemics; so i ventured to recall wilson to the real issue. "supposing," i said, "that we grant the whole of your position, how does it help us to judge what is good?" "why," he said, "in this way. what we learn from biology is, that it is the constant effort of nature to combine cells into individuals and individuals into societies--the protozoon, in other words, evolves into the animal, the animal into what some have called the 'hyper-zoon,' or super-organism. well, now, to this physical evolution corresponds a psychical one. what kind of consciousness an animal may have, we can indeed only conjecture; and we cannot even go so far as conjecture in the case of the cell; but we may reasonably assume that important psychical changes of the original elements are accompaniments and conditions of their aggregation into larger entities; and the morality (if you will permit the word) of the cell that is incorporated in an animal body will consist in adapting itself as perfectly as may be to the new conditions, in subordinating its consciousness to that of the whole--briefly, in acquiring a social instead of an individual self. and now, to follow the clue thus obtained into the higher manifestations of life. as the cell is to the animal, so is the individual to society, and that on the psychical as well as on the physical side. nature has perfected the animal; she is perfecting society; that is the end and goal of all her striving. when, therefore, you raise the question, what is good, biology has this simple answer to give you: good is the perfect social soul in the perfect social body." as he concluded, ellis exclaimed softly,"'_parturiunt montes_,'" and leslie took it up with: "and not even a mouse!" "whether it is a mouse or no," i said, "it would be hard to say, until we had examined it more closely. at present it seems to me more like a cloud, which may or may not conceal the goddess truth. but the question i really want to ask is, what particular advantage wilson gets from the biological method? for the conclusion itself, i suppose, might have been reached, and commonly is, without any recourse to the aid of natural science." "no doubt," he said, "but my contention is, that it is only by the scientific method that you get proof. you, for example, may assert that you believe the social virtues ought to prevail over individual passions; but if your position were challenged, i don't see how you would defend it. whereas i can simply point to the whole evolution of nature as tending towards the good i advocate; and can say:--if you resist that tendency you are resisting nature herself!" "but isn't it rather odd," said ellis, "that we should be able to resist nature?" "not at all," he replied, "for our very resistance is part of the plan; it's the lower stage persisting into the higher, but destined sooner or later to be absorbed." "i see," i said, "and the keynote of your position is, as you said at the beginning, that good is simply what nature wants. so that, instead of looking within to find our criterion, we ought really to look without, to discover, if we can, the tendency of nature and to acquiesce in that as the goal of our aspiration." "precisely," he replied, "that is the position." "well," i said, "it is plausible enough; but the plausibility, i am inclined to think, comes from the fact that you have been able to make out, more or less, that the tendency of nature is in the direction which, on the whole, we prefer." "how do you mean?" "well," i said, "supposing your biological researches had led you to just the opposite conclusion, that the tendency of nature was not from the cell to the animal, and from the individual to society, but in precisely the reverse direction, so that the end of all things was a resolution into the primitive elements--do you think you would have been as ready to assert that it is the goal of nature that must determine our ideal of good?" "but why consider such a hypothetical case?" "i am not so sure," i replied, "that it is more hypothetical than the other. at any rate it is a hypothesis adopted by one of your authorities. mr. herbert spencer, you will remember, conceives the process of nature to be one, not, as you appear to think, of continuous progress, but rather of a circular movement, from the utmost simplicity to the utmost complexity of being, and back again to the original condition. what you were describing is the movement which we call upward, and which we can readily enough believe to be good, at any rate upon a superficial view of it. but now, suppose us to have reached the point at which the opposite movement begins; suppose what we had to look forward to and to describe as the course of nature were a process, not from simple to complex, from homogeneous to heterogeneous, or whatever the formula may be, but one in exactly the contrary direction, a dissolution of society into its individuals, of animals into the cells of which they are composed, of life into chemistry, of chemistry into mechanism, and so on through the scale of being, reversing the whole course of evolution--should we, in such a case, still have to say that the process of nature was right, and that she is to give the law to our judgment about good?" "yes," he replied, "i think we should; and for this reason. only those who do on the whole approve the course of nature have the qualities enabling them to survive; the others will, in the long run, be eliminated. there is thus a constant tendency to harmonize opinions with the actual process of the world; and that, no doubt, is why we approve what you call the upward movement, which is the one in which nature is at present engaged. but, for the same reason, if, or when, a movement in the opposite direction should set in, people holding opinions like ours will tend to be eliminated, while those will tend to survive more and more who approve the current of evolution then prevailing." "and in this way," said ellis, "an exquisite unanimity will be at last attained, by the simple process of eliminating the dissentients!" "precisely!" "well," cried leslie, "no doubt that will be very satisfactory for the people who survive; but it does not help us much. what we want to know is, what _we_ are to judge to be good, not what somebody else will be made to judge, centuries hence." "and for my part," said ellis, "i'm not much impressed by the argument you attribute to nature, that if we don't agree with her we shall be knocked on the head. i, for instance, happen to object strongly to her whole procedure: i don't much believe in the harmony of the final consummation--even if it were to be final, and not merely the turn of the tide; and i am sensibly aware of the horrible discomfort of the intermediate stages, the pushing, kicking, trampling of the host, and the wounded and dead left behind on the march. of all this i venture to disapprove; then comes nature and says, 'but you ought to approve!' i ask why, and she says, 'because the procedure is mine.' i still demur, and she comes down on me with a threat--'very good, approve or no, as you like; but if you don't approve you will be eliminated!' 'by all means,' i say, and cling to my old opinion with the more affection that i feel myself invested with something of the glory of a martyr. nature, it seems, is waiting for me round the corner because i venture to stick to my principles. 'ruat caelum!' i cry; and in my humble opinion it's nature, not _i_, that cuts a poor figure!" "my dear ellis," protested wilson, "what's the use of talking like that? it's not really sublime, it's only ridiculous!" "certainly!" retorted ellis; "it's you who are sublime. i prefer the ridiculous." "so," i said, "does wilson, if one may judge by appearances. for i cannot help thinking he is really laughing at us." "not at all," he replied, "i am perfectly serious." "but surely," i said, "you must see that any discussion about good must turn somehow upon our perception of it? the course of nature may, as you say, be good; but nature cannot be the measure of good; the measure can only be good itself; and the most that the study of nature could do would be to illuminate our perception by giving it new material for judgment. judge we must, in the last resort; and the judgment can never be a mere statement as to the course which nature is pursuing." "well," said wilson, "but you will admit at least the paramount importance of the study of nature, if we are ever to form a right judgment?" "i feel much more strongly," i replied, "the importance of the study of man; however, we need not at present discuss that. all that i wanted to insist upon was, that the contention which you have been trying to sustain, that it is possible, somehow or other, to get rid of the subjectivity of our judgments about good by substituting for them a statement about the tendencies of nature--that this contention cannot be upheld." "if that be so," he said, "i don't see how you are ever to get a scientific basis for your judgment." "i don't know," i replied, "that we can. it depends upon what you include under science." "oh," he said, "by science i mean the resumption in brief formulæ of the sequence of phenomena; or, more briefly, a description of what happens." "if that be so," i replied, "the method of judging about good can certainly not be scientific; for judgments about good are judgments of what ought to be, not of what is." "but then," objected wilson, "what method is left you? you have nothing to fall back upon but a chaos of opinions." "but might there not be some way of judging between opinions?" "how should there be, in the absence of any external objective test?" "what do you mean by that?" "why," he replied, "the kind of test which you have in the case of the sciences. they depend, in the last resort, not on ideas of ours, but on the routine of common sense-perception; a routine which is independent of our choice or will, but is forced upon us from without with an absolute authority such as no imaginings of our own can impugn. thus we get a certainty upon which, by the power of inference, whose mechanism we need not now discuss, we are able to build up a knowledge of what is. but when, on the other hand, we turn to such of our ideas as deal with the good, the beautiful, and the like--here we have no test external to ourselves, no authority superior and independent. invite a group of men to witness a scientific experiment, and none of them will be able to deny either the sequence of the phenomena produced, or the chain of reasoning (supposing it to be sound) which leads to the conclusion based upon them. invite the same men to judge of a picture, or consult them on a question of moral casuistry, and they will propound the most opposite opinions; nor will there be any objective test by which you can affirm that one opinion is more correct than another. the deliverances of the external sense are, or at least can be made, by correction of the personal equation, infallible and the same for all; those of the internal sense are different not only in different persons, but in the same person at different times." "yes," said leslie, impatiently, "we have all admitted that! the question is whether--" "excuse me," wilson interposed, "i haven't yet come to my main point. i was going to say that not merely are there these differences of opinion, but even if there were not, even if the opinions were uniform, they would still, as opinions, be subjective and devoid of scientific validity. it is the external reference that gives its certainty to science; and such a reference is impossible in the case of judgments about the beautiful and the good. such judgments are merely records of what we think or feel. these ideas of ours may or may not happen to be consistent one with another; but whether they are so or not, they are merely our ideas, and have nothing to do with the essential nature of reality." "i am not sure," i replied, "that the distinction really holds in the way in which you put it. let us take for a moment the point of view of god--only for the sake of argument," i added, seeing him about to protest. "god, we will suppose, knows all being through and through as it really is; and along with this knowledge of reality he has a conviction that reality is good. now, with this conviction of his none other, _ex hypothesi_, can compete; for he being god, we must at any rate admit that if anybody can be right, it must be he. no one then can dispute or shake his opinion; and since he is eternal he will not change it of himself. is there then, under the circumstances, any distinction of validity between his judgment that what is, is, and his judgment that what is, is good?" "i don't see the use," he replied, "of considering such an imaginary case. but if you press me i can only say that i still adhere to my view that any judgment about good, whether made by god or anybody else, can be no more than a subjective expression of opinion." "but," i rejoined, "in a sense, all certainty is subjective, in so far as the certainty has to be perceived. it is impossible to eliminate the subject. in the case, for example, upon which you dwelt, of the impressions of external sense, the certainty of the impressions is your and my certainty that we have them; and so in the case of a cogent argument; for any given person the test of the cogency is his perception that the cogency is there. and it is the same with the beautiful and the good; there is no conceivable test except perception. our difficulty here is simply that perceptions conflict; not that we have no independent test. but if, as in the case i imagined, the perception of good was harmonious with itself, then the certainty on that point would be as final and complete as the certainty in the proof of a proposition of euclid." "i am afraid," said wilson, "i don't follow you. you're beginning to talk metaphysics." "call it what you will," i replied, "so long only as it is sense." "no doubt," he said, "but i don't feel sure that it is." "in that case you can show me where i am wrong." "no," he replied, "for, as i said, i can't follow you." "he means he won't," said ellis, breaking in with his usual air of an unprejudiced outsider, "but after all, what does it really matter? whatever the reason may be for our uncertainty as to good, the fact remains that we are uncertain. there's my good, thy good, his good, our good, your good, their good; and all these goods in process of flux, according to the time of day, the time of life, and the state of the liver. that being so, what is the use of discussing good in itself? and why be so disturbed about it? there's leslie, for instance, looking as if the bottom were knocked out of the universe because he can't discover his objective standard! my dear boy, life goes on just the same, my life, his life, your life, all the lives. why not make an end of the worry at once by admitting frankly that good is a chimæra, and that we get on very well without it?" "but i don't get on well without it!" leslie protested. "no," i said, "and i hoped that by this time we were agreed that none of us could. but ellis is incorrigible." "you don't suppose," he replied, "that i am going to agree with you merely because you override me in argument--even if you did, which you don't." "but at least," cried leslie, "you needn't tell us so often that you disagree." "very well," he said, "i am dumb." and for a moment there was silence, till i began to fear that our argument would collapse; when, to my relief, parry returned to the charge. "you will think me," he began, "as obstinate as ellis; but i can't help coming back to my old point of view. somehow or other, i feel sure you are making a difficulty which the practical man does not really feel. you object to my saying that he knows what is good by instinct; but somehow or other i am sure that he does know it. and what i suggest now is, that he finds it written in experience." "in whose experience?" leslie asked defiantly. "in that of the race, or, at least, in that of his own age and country. now, do be patient a moment, and let me explain! what i want to suggest is, that every civilization worth the name possesses, in its laws and institutions, in the customs it blindly follows, the moral code it instinctively obeys, an actual objective standard, worked out in minute detail, of what, in every department of life, really is good. to this standard every plain man, without reasoning, and even without reflexion, does in fact simply and naturally conform; so do all of us who are discussing here, in all the common affairs of our daily life. we know, if i may say so, better than we know; and the difficulties into which we are driven, in speculations such as that upon which we are engaged, arise, to my mind, from a false and unnecessary abstraction--from putting aside all the rich content of actual life, and calling into the wilderness for the answer to a question which solves itself in the street and the market-place." "well," i said, "for my own part, i am a good deal in sympathy with what you say. at the same time there is a difficulty." "a difficulty!" cried leslie, "there are hundreds and thousands!" "perhaps," i replied, "but the particular one to which i was referring is this. every civilization, no doubt, has its own standard of good; but these standards are different and even opposite; so that it would seem we require some criterion by which to compare and judge them." "no," cried parry, "that is just what i protest against. we are not concerned with other ideals than our own. every great civilization believes in itself. take, for instance, the ancient greeks, of whom you are so fond of talking. in my opinion they are absurdly over-estimated; but they had at least that good quality--they believed in themselves. to them the whole non-greek world was barbarian; the standard of good was frankly their own standard; and it was a standard knowable and known, however wide might be the deviations from it in practice. we find accordingly that for them the ideal was rooted in the real. plato, even, in constructing his imaginary republic, does not build in the void, evoking from his own consciousness a cloud-cuckoo-city for the birds; on the contrary, he bases his structure upon the actual, following the general plan of the institutions of sparta and crete; and neither to him nor to aristotle does it ever occur that there is, or could be, any form of state worth considering, except the city-state with which they were familiar. it is the same with their treatment of ethics; their ideal is that of the greeks, not of man in general, and stands in close relation to the facts of contemporary life. so, too, with their art; it is not, like that of our modern romanticists, an impotent yearning for vaguely-imagined millenniums. on the contrary, it is an ideal interpretation of their own activity, a mirror focussing into feature and form the very same fact which they saw distorted and blurred in the troubled stream of time. the good, in the greek world, was simply the essence and soul of the real; and the socrates of xenophon who frankly identified justice with the laws, was only expressing, and hardly with exaggeration, the current convictions of his countrymen. that, to my mind, is the attitude of health; and it is the one natural to the plain man in every well-organized society. good is best known when it is not investigated; and people like ourselves would do no useful service if we were to induce in others the habit of discussion which education has made a second nature to ourselves." "my dear parry!" cried ellis, "you alarm me! is it possible that we are all anarchists in disguise?" "parry," i observed, "seems to agree with the view attributed by browning to paracelsus, that thought is disease, and natural health is ignorance." "well," rejoined ellis, "there is a good deal to be said for that." "there's a good deal to be said for everything," i rejoined. "but if thought indeed be disease, we must recognise the fact that we are suffering from it; and so, i fear, is the whole modern world. it was easy for the greeks to be 'healthy'; practically they had no past. but for us the past overweights the present; we cannot, if we would, get rid of the burden of it. all that was once absolute has become relative, including our own conceptions and ideals; and as we look back down the ages and see civilization after civilization come into being, flourish and decay, it is impossible for us to believe that the society in which we happen to be born is more ultimate than any of these, or that its ideal, as reflected in its institutions, has any more claim than theirs to be regarded as a final and absolute expression of good." "well," said parry, "let us admit, if you like, that ideals evolve, but, in any case, the ideal of our own time has more validity for us than any other. as to those of the past, they were, no doubt, important in their day, but they have no importance for the modern world. the very fact that they are past is proof that they are also superseded." "what!" cried leslie, indignantly, "do you mean to say that everything that is later in time is also better? that we are better artists than the greeks? better citizens than the romans? more spiritual than the men of the middle ages? more vigorous than those of the renaissance?" "i don't know," replied parry, "that i am bound to maintain all that. i only say that on the whole i believe that ideals progress; and that therefore it is the ideals of our own time, and that alone, which we ought practically to consider." "the ideal of our own time?" i said, "but which of them? there are so many." "no, there is really only one, as i said before; the one that is embodied in current laws and customs." "but these are always themselves in process of change." "yes, gradual change." "not necessarily gradual; and even if it were, still change. and to sanction a change, however slight, may always mean, in the end, the sanctioning of a whole revolution." "besides," cried leslie, "even if there were anything finally established, what right have we to judge that the established is the good?" "i don't know that we have any right; but i am sure it is what we do." "perhaps we do, many of us," i said, "but always, so far as we reflect, with a lurking sense that we may be all wrong. or how else do you account for the curious, almost physical, sinking and disquiet we are apt to experience in the presence of a bold denier?" "i don't know that i do experience it." "do you not? i do so often; and only yesterday i had a specially vivid experience of the kind." "what was that?" "well, i was reading nietzsche." "who is he?" "a german writer. it does not much matter, but i had him in my mind when i was speaking." "well, but what does he say?" "it's not so much what he says, as what he denies." "what does he deny, then?" "everything that you, i suppose, would assert. i should conjecture, at least, that you believe in progress, democracy, and all the rest of it." "well?" "well, he repudiates all that. everything that you would reckon as progress, he reckons as decadence. democracy he regards, with all that it involves, as a revolt of the weak against the strong, of the bad against the good, of the herd against the master. every great society, in his view, is aristocratic, and aristocratic in the sense that the many are deliberately and consciously sacrificed to the few; and that, not as a painful necessity, but with a good conscience, in free obedience to the universal law of the world. 'be strong, be hard' are his ultimate ethical principles. the modern virtues, or what we affect to consider such, sympathy, pity, justice, thrift, unselfishness and the like, are merely symptoms of moral degeneration. the true and great and noble man is above all things selfish; and the highest type of humanity is to be sought in napoleon or cæsar borgia." "but that's mere raving!" "so you are pleased to say; and so, indeed, it really may be. but not simply because it contradicts those current notions which we are embodying, as fast as we can, in our institutions. it is precisely those notions that it challenges; and it is idle to meet it with a bare denial." "i can conceive no better way of meeting it!" "perhaps, for purposes of battle. yet, even so, you would surely be stronger if you had reason for your faith." "but i think my reason sufficient--those are not the ideas of the age." "but for all you know they may be those of the next." "well, that will be its concern." "but surely, on your own theory, it must also be yours; for you said that the later was also the better. and the better, i suppose, is what you want to attain." "well!" "well then, in supporting the ideas and institutions generally current, you may be hindering instead of helping the realization of the good you want to achieve." "but i don't believe nietzsche's ideas ever could represent the good!" "why not?" "because i don't." "but, at any rate, do you abandon the position that we can take the ideas of our time as a final criterion?" "i suppose so--i don't know--i'm sure there's something in it! do you believe yourself that they have no import for us?" "i didn't say that; but i think we have to find what the import is. we cannot substitute for our own judgment the mere fact of a current convention, any more than we can substitute the mere fact of the tendency of nature. for, after all, it is the part of a moral reformer to modify the convention. or do you not think so?" "perhaps," he admitted, "it may be!" "perhaps it may be!" cried leslie, "but palpably it is! is there any institution or law or opinion you could name which is not open to obvious criticism? take what you will--parliamentary government, the family, the law of real property--is there one of them that could be adequately and successfully defended?" "certainly!" began parry, with some indignation. "the family--" "oh," i interrupted, "we are not yet in a position to discuss that! but upon one thing we seem to be agreed--that whatever may be the value of current standards of good in assisting our judgment, we cannot permit them simply to supersede it by an act of authority. and so once more we are thrown back each upon his own opinions." "to which, according to you," interposed parry, "we are bound to attach some validity." "and yet which we are aware," added ellis, "cannot possibly have any." i was about to protest against this remark when i saw, coming round from the garden, bartlett and dennis, the two remaining members of our party. they had just returned from a mountaineering expedition; and now, having had their bath, had come out to join us in our usual place of assembly. bartlett had in his hand the _times_ and the _daily chronicle_. he was a keen business man, and a radical politician of some note; and though not naturally inclined to speculative thought, would sometimes take part in our discussions if ever they seemed to touch on any practical issue. on these occasions his remarks were often very much to the point; but his manner being somewhat aggressive and polemic, his interposition did not always tend to make smooth the course of debate. it was therefore with mingled feelings of satisfaction and anxiety that i greeted his return. after some talk about their expedition, he turned to me and said, "we ought to apologise, i suppose, for interrupting a discussion?" "not at all!" i replied; "but, as you are here, perhaps you will be willing to help us?" "oh," he said, "i leave that to dennis. this kind of thing isn't much in my line." "what kind of thing?" leslie interjected. "i don't believe you even know what we're talking about!" "talking about. why, philosophy, of course! what else should it be when you get together?" "this time," i said, "it's not exactly philosophy, but something more like ethics." "what is the question?" asked dennis. dennis was always ready for a discussion, and the more abstract the theme, the better he was pleased. he had been trained for the profession of medicine, but coming into possession of a fortune, had not found it necessary to practise, and had been devoting his time for some years past to art and metaphysics. i always enjoyed talking to him, though the position he had come to hold was one which i found it very difficult to understand, and i am not sure that i have been able to represent it fairly. "we have been discussing," i said, in answer to his question, "our judgments about what is good, and trying without much success to get over the difficulty, that whereas, on the one hand, we seem to be practically obliged to trust these judgments, on the other we find it hard to say which of them, if any, are true, and how far and in what sense." "oh," he replied, "then bartlett ought really to be able to help you. at any rate he's very positive himself about what's good and what's bad. curiously enough, he and i have been touching upon the same point as you, and i find, among other things, that he is a convinced utilitarian." "i never said so," said bartlett, "but i have no objection to the word. it savours of healthy homes and pure beer!" "and is that your idea of good?" asked leslie, irritated, as i could see, by this obtrusion of the concrete. "yes," he replied, "why not? it's as good an idea as most." "i suppose," i said, "all of us here should agree that the things you speak of are good. but somebody might very well deny it." "of course somebody can deny anything, if only for the sake of argument." "you mean that no one could be serious in such a denial?" "i mean that everybody really knows perfectly well what is good and what is bad; the difficulty is, not to know it, but to do it!" "but surely you will admit that opinions do differ?" "they don't differ nearly so much as people pretend, on important points; or, if they do, the difference is not about what ought to be done, but about how to do it." "what ought to be done, then?" asked leslie defiantly. "well, for example we ought to make our cities decent and healthy." "why?" "because we ought; or, if you like, because it will make people happy." "but i don't like at all! i don't see that it's necessarily good to make people happy." "oh well, if you deny that--" "well, if i deny that?" "i don't believe you to be serious, that's all. good simply means, what makes people happy; and you must know that as well as i do." "you see!" interposed dennis; "i told you he was a utilitarian." "i daresay i am; at any rate, that's what i think; and so, i believe, does everybody else." "'the universe,'" murmured ellis, "'so far as sane conjecture can go, is an immeasurable swine's trough, consisting of solid and liquid, and of other contrasts and kinds; especially consisting of attainable and unattainable, the latter in immensely greater quantities for most pigs.'" "that's very unfair," parry protested, "as an account of hedonism." "i don't see that it is at all," cried leslie. "i think," i said, "that it represents bentham's position well enough, though probably not bartlett's." "oh well," said parry, "bentham was only an egoistic hedonist." "a what?" said bartlett. "an egoistic hedonist." "and what may that be?" "an egoistic hedonist," parry was beginning, but ellis cut him short. "it's best explained," he said, "by an example. here, for example, is bentham's definition of the pleasures of friendship; they are, he says, 'those which accompany the persuasion of possessing the goodwill of such and such individuals, and the right of expecting from them, in consequence, spontaneous and gratuitous services.'" we all laughed, though parry, who loved fair play, could not help protesting. "you really can't judge," he said, "by a single example." "can't you?" cried ellis; "well then, here's another. 'the pleasures of piety' are 'those which accompany the persuasion of acquiring or possessing the favour of god; and the power, in consequence, of expecting particular favours from him, either in this life or in another.'" we laughed again; and parry said, "well, i resign myself to your levity. and after all, it doesn't much matter, for no one now is an egoistic hedonist." "what are we then," asked bartlett, "you and i?" "why, of course, altruistic hedonists," said parry. "and what's the difference?" "the difference is," parry began to explain, but ellis interrupted him again. "the difference is," he cried, "that one is a brute and the other a prig." "really, ellis," parry began in a tone of remonstrance. "but, parry," i interposed, "are you a utilitarian?" "not precisely," he replied; "but my conclusions are much the same as theirs. and of all the _à priori_ systems i prefer utilitarianism, because it is at least clear, simple, and precise." "that is what i can never see that it is." "why, what is your difficulty?" "in the first place," i said, "the system appears to rest upon a dogma." "true," he said, "but that particular dogma--the greatest happiness of the greatest number--is one which commends itself to everyone's consciousness." "i don't believe it!" said ellis. "let us take an example. a crossing-sweeper, we will suppose, is suffering from a certain disease about which the doctors know nothing. their only chance of discovering how to cure it is to vivisect the patient; and it is found, by the hedonistic calculus, that if they do so, a general preponderance of pleasure over pain will result. accordingly, they go to the crossing-sweeper and say,'o crossing-sweeper! in the name of the utilitarian philosophy we call upon you to submit to vivisection. the tortures you will have to endure, it is true, will be inconceivable: but think of the result! a general preponderance in the community at large of pleasure over pain! for every atom of pain inflicted on you, an atom of pleasure will accrue to somebody else. upon you, it is true, will fall the whole of the pain; whereas the pleasure will be so minutely distributed among innumerable individuals that the increment in each case will be almost imperceptible. no matter, it will be there! and our arithmetic assures us that the total gain in pleasure will exceed the total loss in pain. it will also be distributed among a greater number of individuals. thus all the requirements of the hedonistic calculus are satisfied! your duty lies plain before you! rise to the height of your destiny, and follow us to the dissecting room! what do you think the crossing-sweeper would say? i leave it to bartlett to express his sentiments!" "my dear ellis," said parry, "your example is absurd. the case, to begin with, is one that could not possibly occur. and even if it did, one could not expect the man who was actually to suffer, to take an impartial view of the situation." "but," i said, "putting the sufferer out of the question, what would really be the opinion of the people for whom he was to suffer? do you think they would believe they ought to accept the sacrifice? every man, i think, would repudiate it with horror for himself; and what right has he to accept it for other people?" "on the utilitarian hypothesis," said parry, "he certainly ought to." "no doubt; but would he? utilitarianism claims to rest upon common sense, but, in the case adduced, i venture to think common sense would repudiate it." "perhaps," he said, "but the example is misleading. it is a case, as i said, that could not occur--a mere marginal case." "still," i said, "a marginal case may suggest a fundamental fallacy. anyhow, i cannot see myself that the judgment that the greatest happiness of the greatest number is good has a more obvious and indisputable validity than any other judgments of worth. it seems to me to be just one judgment among others; and, like the others, it may be true or false. however, i will not press that point. but what i should like to insist upon is, that the doctrine which bartlett seemed to hold--" "i hold no doctrine," interrupted bartlett; "i merely expressed an opinion, which i am not likely to change for all the philosophy in the world." and with that he opened the _chronicle_, and presently becoming absorbed, paid for some time no further attention to the course of our debate. "well," i continued, "the doctrine, whether bartlett holds it or no, that the ultimately good thing is the greatest happiness of the greatest number, cannot be insisted upon as one which appeals at once to everyone's consciousness as true, so that, in fact, since its enunciation, the controversy about good may be regarded as closed. it will hardly be maintained, i imagine, even by parry, that the truth of the doctrine is a direct and simple intuition, so that it has only to be stated to be accepted?" "certainly not," parry replied, "the contention of the utilitarians is that everyone who has the capacity and will take the trouble to reflect will, in fact, arrive at their conclusions." "the conclusions being like other conclusions about what is good, the result of a difficult process of analysis, in which there are many possibilities of error, and no more self-evident and simple than any other judgment of the kind?" he agreed. "and further, the general principle, tentative and uncertain as it is, requiring itself to be perpetually interpreted anew for every fresh case that turns up." "how do you mean?" "why," i said, "even if we grant that the end of action is the greatest happiness of the greatest number, yet we have still to discover wherein that happiness consists." "but," he said, "happiness we define quite simply as pleasure." "yes; but how do we define pleasure?" "we don't need to define it. pleasure and pain are simply sensations. if i cut my finger, i feel pain; if i drink when i am thirsty, i feel pleasure. there can be no mistake about these feelings; they are simple and radical." "undoubtedly. but if you limit pleasure and pain to such simple cases as these, you will never get out of them a system of ethics. and, on the other hand, if you extend the terms indefinitely, they lose at once all their boasted precision, and become as difficult to interpret as good and evil." "how do you mean?" "why," i said, "if all conduct turned on such simple choices as that between thick soup and clear, then perhaps its rules might be fairly summed up in the utilitarian formula. but in fact, as everyone knows, the choices are far more difficult; they are between, let us say, a bottle of port and a beethoven symphony; leisure and liberty now, or £ a-year twenty years hence; art and fame at the cost of health, or sound nerves and obscurity; and so on, and so on through all the possible cases, infinitely more complex in reality than i could attempt to indicate here, all of which, no doubt, could be brought under your formula, but none of which the formula would help to solve." "of course," said parry, "the hedonistic calculus is difficult to apply. no one, that i know of, denies that." "no one could very well deny it," i replied. "but now, see what follows. granting, for the moment, for the sake of argument, that in making these difficult choices we really do apply what you call the hedonistic calculus--" "which i, for my part, altogether deny!" cried leslie. "well," i resumed, "but granting it for the moment, yet the important point is not the criterion, but the result. it is a small thing to know in general terms (supposing even it were true that we do know it) that what we ought to seek is a preponderance of pleasure over pain; the whole problem is to discover, in innumerable detailed cases, wherein precisely the preponderance consists. but this can only be learnt, if at all, by long and difficult, and, it may be, painful experience. we do not really know, _à priori_, what things are pleasurable, in the extended sense which we must give to the word if the doctrine is to be at all plausible, any more definitely than we know what things are good. and the utilitarians by substituting the word pleasure for the word good, even if the substitution were legitimate, have not really done much to help us in our choice." "but," he objected, "we do at least know what pleasure is, even if we do not know what things are pleasurable." "and so i might say we do know what good is, even if we do not know what things are good." "but we know pleasure by direct sensation." "and so i might say we know good by direct perception." "but you cannot define good." "neither can you define pleasure. both must be recognised by direct experience." "but, at any rate," he said, "there is this distinction, that in the case of pleasure everyone _does_ recognise it when it occurs; whereas there is no such general recognition of good." "that," i admitted, "may, perhaps, be true; i am not sure." "but," broke in leslie, "what does it matter whether it be true or no? what has all this to do with the question? it's immaterial whether pleasure or good is the more easily and generally recognisable. the point is that they are radically different things." "no," objected parry, "_our_ point is that they are the same thing." "but i don't believe you really think so, or that anyone can." "and _i_ don't believe that anyone _cannot_!" "do you mean to say that you really agree with bentham that, quantity of pleasure being equal, pushpin is as good as poetry?" "yes; at least i agree with what he means, though the particular example doesn't appeal to me, for i hardly know what either pushpin or poetry is." "well then, let us take plato's example. do you think that, quantity of pleasure being equal, scratching oneself when one itches is as good as, say, pursuing scientific research." "yes. but of course the point is that quantity of pleasure is not equal." "you mean," interposed ellis, "that there is more pleasure in scratching?" "no, of course not." "but at least you will admit that there is more pleasure in some physical experiences? plato, for example, takes the case of a catamite." "i admit nothing of the kind. in the first place, these gross physical pleasures do not last." "but suppose they did? imagine an eternal, never-changing bliss of scratching, or of--" "i don't see the use of discussing the matter in this kind of way. it seems to me to deserve serious treatment" "but i am perfectly serious. i do genuinely believe that a heaven of scratching, or at any rate of some analogous but intenser experience, would involve an indefinitely greater sum of pleasure than a heaven of scientific research." "well, all i can say is, i don't agree with you." "but why not?" cried leslie. "if you were candid i believe you would. the fact is that you have predetermined that scientific research is a better thing than such physical pleasure, and then you bring out your calculation of pleasure so as to agree with that foregone conclusion. and that is what the utilitarians always do. being ordinary decent people they accept the same values as the rest of the world, and on the same grounds as the rest of the world. and then they pretend, and no doubt believe themselves, that they have been led to their conclusions by the hedonistic calculus. but really, if they made an impartial attempt to apply the calculus fairly, they would arrive at quite different results, results which would surprise and shock themselves, and destroy the whole plausibility of their theory." "that is your view of the matter." "but isn't it yours?" "no, certainly not." "at any rate," i interposed, "it seems to be clear that this utilitarian doctrine has nothing absolute or final or self-evident about it. all we can say is that among the many opinions about what things are good, there is also this opinion, very widely held, that all pleasurable things are good, and that nothing is good that is not pleasurable. but that, like any other opinion, can be and is disputed. so that we return pretty much to the point we left, that there are a number of conflicting opinions about what things are good, that to these opinions some validity must be attached, but that it is difficult to see how we are to reconcile them or to choose between them. only, somehow or other, as it seems to me, the truth about good must be adumbrated in these opinions, and by interrogating the actual experience of men in their judgments about good things, we may perhaps be able to get at least some, shadowy notion of the object of our quest" "and so," said ellis, getting up and stretching himself, "even by your own confession we end where we began." "not quite," i replied. "besides, have we ended?" for some minutes it seemed as though we had. the mid-day heat (it was now twelve o'clock) and the silence broken only by the murmur of the fountain (for the mowers opposite had gone home to their dinner) seemed to have induced a general disinclination to the effort of speech or thought even dennis whom i had never known to be tired in body or mind, and who was always debating something--it seemed to matter very little what--even he, i thought at first, was ready to let the discussion drop. but presently it became clear that he was only revolving my last words in his mind, for before long he turned to me and said: "i don't know what you mean by 'interrogating experience,' or what results you hope to attain by that process." at this leslie pricked up his ears, and i saw that he at least was as eager as ever to pursue the subject further. "why," continued dennis, "should there not be a method of discovering good independently of all experience?" the phrase immediately arrested wilson's attention. "'a method independent of experience,'" he cried, "why, what kind of a method would that be?" "it is not so easy to describe," replied dennis. "but i was thinking of the kind of method, for example, that is worked out by hegel in his _logic_?" "i have never read hegel," said wilson. "so that doesn't convey much to my mind." "well," said dennis, "i am afraid i can't summarize him!" "can't you?" cried ellis, "i can! here he is in a nutshell! take any statement you like--for example, 'nothing exists!'--put it into the dialectical machine, turn the handle, and hey presto! out comes the absolute! the thing's infallible; it does not matter what you put in; you always get out the same identical sausage." dennis laughed. "there, wilson," he said, "i hope you understand now!" "i can't say i do," replied wilson, "but i daresay it doesn't much matter." "perhaps, then," said ellis, "you would prefer the kantian plan." "what is that?" "oh, it's much simpler than the other. you go into your room, lock the door, and close the shutters, excluding all light then you proceed to invert the mind, so as to relieve it of all its contents; look steadily into the empty vessel, as if it were a well; and at the bottom you will find truth in the form of a categorical imperative. or, if you don't like that, there's the method of fichte. you take an ego, by preference yourself; convert it into a proposition; negate it, affirm it, negate it again, and so on _ad infinitum_, until you get out the whole universe in the likeness of yourself. but that's rather a difficult method; probably you would prefer spinoza's. you take--" "no!" cried dennis, "there i protest! spinoza is too venerable a name." "so are they all, all venerable names," said ellis. "but the question is, to which of them do you swear allegiance? for they all arrive at totally different results." "i don't know that i swear allegiance to any of them," he replied. "i merely ventured to suggest that it is only by some such method of pure reason that one can ever hope to discover good." "you do not profess then," i said, "to have discovered any such method yourself?" "no." "nor do you feel sure that anyone else has?" "no." "you simply lie down and block the road?" "yes," he said, "and you may walk over me if you can." "no," i said, "it will be simpler, i think, if possible, to walk round you." for by this time an idea had occurred to me. "do so," he said, "by all means, if you can." "well" i began, "let us suppose for the sake of argument that there really is some such method as you suggest of discovering good--a purely rational method, independent of all common experience." "let us suppose it," he said, "if you are willing." "is it your idea then," i continued, "that this good so discovered, would be out of all relation to what we call goods? or would it be merely the total reality of which they are imperfect and inadequate expressions?" "i do not see," he said, "why it should have any relationship to them. all the things we call good may really be bad; or some good and some bad in a quite chaotic fashion. there is no reason to suppose that our ideas about good have any validity unless it were by an accidental coincidence." "and further," i said, "though we really do believe there is a good, and that there is a purely rational and _à priori_ method of discovering it, yet we do not profess to have ascertained that method ourselves, nor do we feel sure that it has been ascertained by anyone? in any case, we admit, i suppose, that to the great mass of men, both of our own and all previous ages, such a method has remained unknown and unsuspected?" he agreed. "but these men, nevertheless, have been pursuing goods under the impression that they were really good." "yes." "and in this pursuit they have been expending, great men and small alike, or rather those whom we call great and small, all that store of energy, of passion, and blood and tears which makes up the drama of history?" "undoubtedly!" "but that expenditure, as we now see, was futile and absurd. the purposes to which it was directed were not really good, nor had they any tendency to promote good, unless it were in some particular case by some fortunate chance. whatever men have striven to achieve, whether like christ, to found a religion, or, like cæsar, to found a polity, whether their quest were virtue or power or truth, or any other of the ends we are accustomed to value and praise, or whether they sought the direct opposites of these, or simply lived from hour to hour following without reflexion the impulse of the moment, in any and every case all alike, great and small, good and bad, leaders and followers, or however else we may class them, were, in fact, equally insignificant and absurd, the idle sport of illusions, one as empty and baseless as another. the history of nations, the lives of individual men, are stripped, in this view, of all interest and meaning; nowhere is there advance or retrogression, nowhere better or worse, nowhere sense or consistency at all. systems, however imposing, structures, however vast, fly into dust and powder at a touch. the stars fall from the human firmament; the beacon-lights dance like will-o'-the-wisps; the whole universe of history opens, cracks, and dissolves in smoke; and we, from an ever-vanishing shore, gaze with impotent eyes at the last gleam on the wings of the dove of reason as it dips for ever down to eternal night. will not that be the only view we can take of the course of human action if we hold that what we believe to be goods have no relation to the true good?" "yes," he admitted, "i suppose it will." "and if we turn," i continued, "from the past to the present and the future, we find ourselves, i think, in even worse case. for we shall all, those of us who may come to accept the hypothesis you put forward, be deprived of the consolation even of imagining a reason and purpose in our lives. the great men of the past, at any rate, could and did believe that they were helping to realize great goods; but we, in so far as we are philosophers, shall have to forego even that satisfaction. we shall believe, indeed, that good exists, and that there is a method of discovering it by pure reason; but this method, we may safely assume, we shall not most of us have ascertained. or do you think we shall?" "i cannot tell," he said; "i do not profess to have ascertained it myself." "and meantime," i said, "you have not even the right to assume that it is a good thing to endeavour to ascertain it. for the pursuit of truth, it must be admitted, is one of the things which we call good; and these, we agreed, have not any relation to the true good. consider, then, the position of these unfortunate men who have learnt indeed that there is a good, but who know nothing about it, except that it has nothing to do with what they call good. what kind of life will they live? whatever they may put their hand to, they will at once be paralyzed by the thought that it cannot possibly be worth pursuing. politics, art, pleasure, science--of these and all other ends they know but one thing, that all is vanity. as by the touch of enchantment, their world is turned to dust. like tantalus they stretch lips and hands towards a water for ever vanishing, a fruit for ever withdrawn. at war with empty phantoms, they 'strike with their spirit's knife,' as shelley has it, 'invulnerable nothings,' dizzy and lost they move about in worlds not only unrealized, but unrealizable, 'children crying in the night, with no language but a cry,' and no father to cry to. and in all this blind confusion the only comfort vouchsafed is that somehow or other they may, they cannot tell how, discover a good of which the only thing they know is that it has no connection with the goods they have lost. is not this a fair account of the condition to which men would be reduced who really did accept and believe your hypothesis?" "yes," he said, "perhaps it is, but still i must protest against this appeal to prejudice and passion. supposing the truth really were as i suggested, we should have to face it, whether or no it seemed to ruin our own life." "yes," i agreed, "supposing the truth were so. but, after all, we have no sufficient theoretical reason for believing it to be so, and every kind of practical reason against it. we cannot, it is true, demonstrate--and that was admitted from the first--that any of our judgments about what is good are true; but there is no reason why we should not believe--and i should say we must believe--that somehow or other they do at least have truth in them." "well, and if so?" "if so, we do not depend, as you said we do, or at least we do not believe ourselves to depend, for our knowledge about good, upon some purely rational process not yet discovered; but those things which we judge to be good really, we think, in some sense or so, and by analyzing and classifying and comparing our experiences of such things we may come to see more clearly what it is in them that we judge to be good; and again by increasing experience we may come to know more good than we knew; and generally, if we once admit that we have some light, we may hope, by degrees, to get more; and that getting of more light will be the most important business, not only of philosophy, but of life." "but if we can judge of good at all, why do we not judge rightly? if we really have a perception, how is it that it is confused, not clear?" "i cannot tell how or why; but perhaps it is something of this kind. our experience, in the first place, is limited, and we cannot know good except in so far as we experience it--so, at least, i think, though perhaps you may not agree. and if that be so, even if our judgments about good that we have experienced were clear, our conclusions drawn from them would yet be very imperfect and tentative, because there would be so much good that we had not experienced. but, in fact, as it seems, our judgments even about what we do experience are confused, because every experience is indefinitely complex, and contains, along with the good, so much that is indifferent or bad. and to analyze out precisely what it is that we are judging to be good is often a difficult and laborious task, though it is one that should be a main preoccupation with us all." "you think, then, that there are two reasons for the obscurity and confusion that prevail in our judgments about good--one, that our experience is limited, the other that it is complex?" "yes; and our position in this respect, as it always seems to me, is like that of people who are learning to see, or to develop some other sense. something they really do perceive, but they find it hard to say what. their knowledge of the object depends on the state of the organ; and it is only by the progressive perfecting of that, that they can settle their doubts and put an end to their disputes, whether with themselves or with other people." "how do you mean?" "well, if you will allow me to elaborate my metaphor, i conceive that we have a kind of internal sense, like a rudimentary eye, whose nature it is to be sensitive to good, just as it is the nature of the physical eye to be sensitive to light. but this eye of the soul, being, as i said, rudimentary, does not as yet perceive good with any clearness or precision, but only in a faint imperfect way, catching now one aspect of it, now another, but never resting content in any of these, being driven on by the impulse to realize itself to ever surer and finer discrimination, with the sense that it is learning its own nature as it learns that of its object, and that it will never be itself a true and perfect organ until it is confronted with the true and perfect good. and as by the physical eye we learn by degrees to distinguish colours and forms, to separate and combine them, and arrange them in definite groups, and then, going further, after discerning in this way a world of physical things, proceed to fashion for our delight a world of art, in that finer experience becoming aware of our own finer self; so, by this eye of hers, does the soul, by long and tentative effort, learn to distinguish and appraise the goods which nature presents to her; and then, still unsatisfied, proceed to shape for herself a new world, as it were, of moral art, fashioning the relations of man to nature and to his fellow-man under the stress of her need to realize herself, ever creating and ever destroying only to create anew, learning in the process her own nature, yet aware that she has never learnt it, but passing on without rest to that unimagined consummation wherein the impulse that urges her on will be satisfied at last, and she will rest in the perfect enjoyment of that which she knows to be good, because in it she has found not only her object but herself. is not this a possible conception?" "i do not say," he replied, "that it is impossible; but i still feel a difficulty." "what is it?" i said, "for i am anxious not to shirk anything." "well," he said, "you will remember when parry suggested that the perception of good might perhaps be an instinct, you objected that instincts conflict one with another, and that we therefore require another faculty to choose between them. now it seems to me that your own argument is open to the same objection. you postulate some faculty--which perhaps you might as well call an instinct--and this faculty, as i understand you, in the effort to realize itself, proceeds to discriminate various objects as good. but, now, does this same faculty also know that the goods are good, and which is better than which, and generally in what relations they stand to one another and to the absolutely good? or do we not require here, too, another faculty to make these judgments, and must not this faculty, as i said at first, have previously achieved, by some method of its own, a knowledge of good, in order that it may judge between goods?" "no," i said, "in that way you will get, as you hint, nothing but an infinite regress. the perception of good, whenever it comes, must be, in the last analysis, something direct, immediate, and self-evident; and so far i am in agreement with parry. my only quarrel with him was in regard to his assumption that the judgments we make about good are final and conclusive. the experiences we recognize as good are always, it seems to me, also bad; because we are never able to apprehend or experience what is absolutely good. only, as i like to believe--you may say i have no grounds for the belief--we are always progressing towards such a good; and the more of it we apprehend and experience, the more we are aware of our own well-being; or perhaps i ought to say, of the well-being of that part of us, whatever it may be--i call it the soul--which pursues after good. for her attitude, perhaps you will agree, towards her object, is not simply one of perception, but one of appetency and enjoyment. her aim is not merely to know good, but to experience it; so that along with her apprehension of good goes her apprehension of her own well-being, dependent upon and varying with her relation to that, her object. thus she is aware of a tension, as it were, when she cannot expand, of a drooping and inanition when nutriment fails, of a rush of health and vigour as she passes into a new and larger life, as she freely unfolds this or that aspect of her complex being, triumphs at last over an obstacle that has long hemmed and thwarted her course, and rests for a moment in free and joyous consciousness of self, like a stream newly escaped from a rocky gorge, to meander in the sun through a green melodious valley. and this perception she has of her own condition is like our perception of health and disease. we know when we are well, not by any process of ratiocination, by applying from without a standard of health deduced by pure thought, but simply by direct sensation of well-being. so it is with this soul of ours, which is conversant with good. her perception of good is but the other side of her perception of her own well-being, for her well-being consists in her conformity to good. thus every phase of her growth (in so far as she grows) is in one sense good, and in another bad; good in so far as it is self-expression, bad in so far as the expression is incomplete. from the limitations of her being she flies, towards its expansion she struggles; and by her perception that every good she attains is also bad, she is driven on in her quest of that ultimate good which would be, if she could reach it, at once the complete realization of herself, and her complete conformity to good." "but," he objected, "apart from other difficulties, in your method of discovering the good is there no place for reason at all?" "i would not say that," i replied, "though i am bound to confess that i see no place for what you call pure reason. it is the part of reason, on my hypothesis, to tabulate and compare results. she does not determine directly what is good, but works, as in all the sciences, upon given data, recording the determinations not (in this case) of the outer but of the inner sense, noticing what kinds of activity satisfy, and to what degree, the expanding nature of this soul that seeks good, and deducing therefrom, so far as may be, temporary rules of conduct based upon that unique and central experience which is the root and foundation of the whole. temporary rules, i say, because, by the nature of the case, they can have in them nothing absolute and final, inasmuch as they are mere deductions from a process which is always developing and transforming itself. systems of morals, maxims of conduct are so many landmarks left to show the route by which the soul is marching; casts, as it were, of her features at various stages of her growth, but never the final record of her perfect countenance. and that is why the current morality, the positive institutions and laws, on which parry insisted with so much force, both have and have not the value he assigned to them. they are in truth invaluable records of experience, and he is rash who attacks them without understanding; and yet, in a sense, they are only to be understood in order to be superseded, because the experience they resume is not final, but partial and incomplete. would you agree with that, parry, or no?" "i am not sure," he said. "it would be a dangerous doctrine to put in practice." "yes," i said, "but i fear that life itself is a dangerous thing, and nothing we can do will make it safe. our only hope is courage and sanity." "but," said dennis, "to return to the other point, on your view is our knowledge of good altogether subsequent to experience?" "yes," i replied, "our knowledge is, if you like; but it is a knowledge of experience in good. we first recognize good by what i call direct perception; then we analyze and define what we have recognized; and the results of this process, i suppose, is what we call knowledge, so far as it goes." "and there can be no knowledge of good independent of experience?" "i do not know; perhaps there might be; only i should like to suggest that even if we could arrive at such a knowledge by pure reason, we should have achieved only a definition of good, not good itself; for good, i suppose you will agree, must be a state of experience, not a formula." "even if it be so," he said, "it might still be possible to arrive at its formula by pure reason." "it may be so," i replied, "only i console myself with the thought, that if, as is the case with so many of us, we cannot see our way to any such method, we are not left, on my hypothesis, altogether forlorn. for though we cannot know good, we can go on realizing goods, and so making progress towards the ultimate good, which is the goal not merely of knowledge but of action." "and how, may i ask," said wilson, after a pause, "in your conception, is good related to happiness?" "that," i replied, "is one of the points we have to ascertain by experience. for i regard the statement that happiness is the end as one of the numerous attempts which men have made to interpret the deliverances of their internal sense. i do not imagine the interpretation to be final and complete, and indeed it is too abstract and general to have very much meaning. but some meaning, no doubt, it has; and exactly what, may form the subject of much interesting discussion in detail, which belongs, however, rather to the question of the content of good, than to that of the method of discovering it." "the method!" replied wilson, "but have you really indicated a method at all?" "i have indicated," i replied "what i suppose to be the method of all science, namely, the interpretation of experience." "but," he objected, "everything depends on the kind of interpretation." "true," i admitted, "but long ago i did my best to prove that we could not learn anything about good by the scientific method as you defined it. for that can tell us only about what is, not about what ought to be. at the same time, the recording and comparing and classifying of the deliverances of this internal sense, has a certain analogy to the procedure of science. at any rate, it might, i think, fairly be called a method, though a method difficult to apply, and one, above all, which only he can apply who has within himself the requisite experience. and in this respect the study of the good resembles the study of the beautiful." "how do you mean?" "why," i said, "those who are conversant with the arts are well aware that there is such a thing as a true canon, though they do not profess to be in complete possession of it. they have a perception of the beautiful, not ready-made and final, but tentative and in process of growth. this perception they cultivate by constant observation of beautiful works, some more and some less, according to their genius and opportunities; and thus they are always coming to see, though they never see perfectly, just as i said was the case in the matter of the good." "but," objected parry, "what proof is there that there is any standard at all in such matters?" "there is no proof," i replied, "except the perception itself; and that is sufficient proof to those who have it. and to some slight extent, no doubt, all men have it; only many do not care to develop it; and so, feeling in themselves that they have no standard of judgment in art, they suppose that all others are like themselves; and that there really is no standard and no knowledge possible in such matters. and it is the same with good; if a man will not choose to cultivate his inner sense, and to train it to clear and ever clearer perception, he will either never believe that there is any knowledge of good, or any meaning at all in the word; or else, since all men feel the need of an end for action, he will have recourse to a fixed dogma, taken up by accident and clung to with obstinate desperation, without any root in his true inner nature; and to him all discussion about good will seem to be mere folly, since he will believe either that he possesses it already or that it cannot be possessed at all. or if he ask after the method of discovering it, he will be unable to understand it, because he does not choose to develop the necessary experience; and so he will go through life for ever unconvinced, arguing often and angrily, but always with no result, while all the time the knowledge he denies is lying hidden within him, if only he had the patience and faith to seek it there. but without that, there is no possibility of convincing him; and it will be wiser altogether to leave him alone. this, whether you call it a method or no, is the only idea i can form as to the possibility of discovering what is beautiful and good." there was silence for a few moments, and then wilson said: "do you mean to imply, on your hypothesis, that we all are always seeking good?" "no," i said; "whatever i may think on that point, i have not committed myself. it is enough for my purpose if we admit that we have the faculty of seeking good, supposing we choose to do so." "and also the faculty of seeking bad?" "possibly; i do not pronounce upon that." "well, anyhow, do you admit the existence of bad?" "oh yes," i cried, "as much as you like; for it is bad, to my mind, that we should be in a difficult quest of good, instead of in secure possession of it. and about the nature of that quest i make no facile assumption. i do not pretend that what i have called the growth of the soul from within is a smooth and easy process, a quiet unfolding of leafy green in a bright and windless air. if i recognize the delight of expansion, i recognize also the pain of repression--the thwarted desire, the unfulfilled hope, the passion vain and abortive. i do not say even whether or no, in this dim travail of the spirit, pleasure prevails over pain, evil over good. the most i would claim is to have suggested a meaning for our life in terms of good; and my view, i half hoped, would have appealed in particular to you, because what i have offered is not an abstract formula, hard to interpret, hard to relate to the actual facts of life, but an attempt to suggest the significance of those facts themselves, to supply a key to the cryptogram we call experience. and in proportion as we really believed this view to be true, it would lead us not away from but into life, not shutting us up, as has been too much the bent of philosophy, like the homunculus of goethe's 'faust,' in the crystal phial of a set and rigid system, to ring our little chiming bell and flash our tiny light over the vast sea of experience, which all around us foams and floods, myriad-streaming, immense, and clearly seen, yet never felt, through that transparent barrier; but rather, like him when he broke the glass, made free of the illimitable main, to follow under the yellow moon the car of galatea, her masque of nymphs and tritons, her gliding pomp of cymbals and conchs, away through tempest and calm, by night or day, companioned or alone, to the haunts of the far cabeiri, and the home where the mothers dwell." as i concluded, i looked across at audubon, to see if i had made any impression upon him. but he only smiled at me rather ironically and said, "is that meant, may i ask, for an account of everyday experience?" "rather," i replied, "for an interpretation of it." "it would need a great deal of interpretation," he said, "to make anything of the kind out of mine." "no doubt," i said; "yet i am not without hope that the interpretation may be true; and that some day you may recognize it to be so yourself. meantime, perhaps, i, who look on, see more of the game than you who play it; and surely in moments of leisure like this you will not refuse to listen to my poor attempt to read the riddle of the sphinx." "oh," he said, "i listen gladly enough, but as i would to a poem." "and do you think," i replied, "that there is not more truth in poetry than in philosophy or science?" but wilson entered a vigorous protest, and for a time there was a babel of argument and declamation, from which no clear line of thought disengaged itself. dennis, however, in his persistent way, had been revolving in his mind what i had said, and at the first opportunity he turned to me with the remark, "there's one point in your position that i can't understand. do you mean to say that it is our seeking that determines the good, or the good that determines our seeking." "really," i said, "i don't know. i should say both are true. we, in the process of our seeking, affirm what we find to be good, and in that sense determine for ourselves what for us was previously indeterminate; but, on the other hand, our determination is not mere caprice; it is determination of good, which we must therefore suppose somehow or other to 'be' before we discern it." "but then, in what sense _is_ it?" "that is what it is so hard to say. perhaps it is the law of our seeking, the creative and urging principle of the world, striving through us to realize itself, and recognized by us in that effort and strain." "then your hypothesis is that good has to be brought about, even while you admit that in some sense it is?" "yes, it exists partially, and it ought to come to exist completely." "well now, that is exactly what seems to me absurd. if good is at all it is eternal and complete." "but then, i ask in my turn, in what sense _is_ it?" "in the only sense that anything really is. the rest is nothing but appearance." "what we call evil, you mean, is nothing but appearance." "yes." "you think, in fact, with the poet, that 'all that is, is good'?" "yes," he replied, "all that really is." "ah!" i said, "but in that 'really' lies the crux of the matter. take, for instance, a simple fact of our own experience--pain. would you say, perhaps, that pain is good?" "no," he replied, "not as it appears to us; but as it really is." "as it really is to whom, or in whom?" "to the absolute, we will say; to god, if you like." "well, but what is the relation of the pain as it is in god to the pain that appears to us?" "i don't pretend to know," he said, "but that is hardly the point. the point is, that it is only in connection with what is in god that the word good has any real meaning. appearance is neither good nor bad; it is simply not real." "but," cried audubon, interrupting in a kind of passion, "it is in appearance that we live and move and have our being. what is the use of saying that appearance is neither good nor bad, when we are feeling it as the one or the other every moment of our lives? and as to the good that is in god, who knows or cares about it? what consolation is it to me when i am suffering from the toothache, to be told that god is enjoying the pain that tortures me? it is simply absurd to call god's good good at all, unless it has some kind of relation to our good." "well," said dennis, "as to that, i can only say that, in my opinion, it is nothing but our weakness that leads us to take such a view. when i am really at my best, when my intellect and imagination are working freely, and the humours and passions of the flesh are laid to rest, i seem to see, with a kind of direct intuition, that the world, just as it is, is good, and that it is only the confusion and obscurity due to imperfect vision that makes us call it defective and wish to alter it for the better. when i perceive truth at all, i perceive that it is also good; and i cannot then distinguish between what is, and what ought to be." "really," cried audubon, "really? well, that i cannot understand." "i hardly know how to make it clear," he replied, "unless it were by a concrete example. i find that when i think out any particular aspect of things, so far, that is to say, as i can think it out at all, all the parts and details fall into such perfect order and arrangement that it becomes impossible for me any longer to desire that anything should be other than it is. and that, even in the regions where at other times i am most prone to discover error and defect. you know, for instance, that i am something of an economist?" "what are you not?" i said. "if you sin, it is not from lack of light!" "well," he continued, "there is, i suppose, no department of affairs which one is more inclined to criticise than this. and yet the more one investigates the more one discovers, even here, the harmony and necessity that pervade the whole universe. the ebb and flow of business from this trade or country to that, the rise and fall of wages, or of the rate of interest, the pouring of capital into or out of one industry or another, the varying relations of imports to exports, the periods of depression and recovery, and in close connection with all this the ever-changing conditions of the lives of countless workmen throughout the world, their well-being or ill-being, it may be their very life and death, together with the whole fate of future generations in health, capacity, opportunity, and the like,--all this complexus of things, so chaotic and unintelligible at the first view, so full, as we say, of iniquity, injustice, and the like, falls, as we penetrate further, into one vast and harmonious system, so inspiring to the imagination, so inevitable to the understanding, that our objections and cavillings, ethical, æsthetic, or what you will, simply vanish away at the clearer vision, or, if they persist, persist as mere irrelevant illusions; while we abandon ourselves to the contemplation of the whole, as of some world-symphony, whose dissonances, no less than its concords, are taken up and resolved in the irresistible march and progress, the ocean-flooding of the whole. you will think," he continued, "that i am absurdly rhapsodical over what, after all, is matter prosaic enough; but what i wanted to suggest was that it is reality so conceived that appeals to me at once as truth and as good. this partial vision of mine in the economic sphere is a kind of type of the way in which i conceive the absolute. i conceive him to be a being necessary and therefore perfect; a being in face of whom our own incoherent and tentative criticisms, our complaints that this or that should, if only it could, be otherwise, our regrets, desires, aspirations, and the like, shew but as so many testimonies to our own essential imperfection, weaknesses to be surmounted, rather than signs of worth to stamp us, as we vainly boast, the elect of creation." he finished; and i half expected that leslie would intervene, since i saw, as i thought, many weak points in the position. but he kept silence, impressed, perhaps, by that idea of the perfect and eternal which has a natural home in the minds of the generous and the young. so i began myself rather tentatively: "i think," i said, "i understand the position you wish to indicate; and so stated, in general terms, no doubt it is attractive. it is when we endeavour to work it out in detail that the difficulties appear. the position, as i understand it, is, that, from the point of view of the absolute, what we call evil and what we call good simply have no existence. good and evil, in our sense, are mere appearances; and good, in the absolute sense, is identical with the absolute or with god?" "yes," he said, "that is my notion." "and so, for example, to apply the idea in detail, in the region which you yourself selected, all that we regret, or hate, or fear in our social system--poverty, disease, starvation and the rest--is not really evil at all, does not in fact exist, but is merely what appears to us? there is, in fact, no social evil?" "no," he replied, "in the sense i have explained there is none." "well then," i continued, "how is it with all our social and other ideals? our desire to make our own lives and other people's lives happier? our efforts to subdue nature, to conquer disease, to introduce order and harmony where there appears to be discord and confusion? how is it with those finer and less directly practical impulses by which you yourself are mainly pre-occupied--the quest of knowledge or of beauty for their own sake, the mere putting of ourselves into right relations with the universe, apart from any attempt to modify it? are all these desires and activities mere illusions of ours, or worse than illusions, errors and even vices, impious misapprehensions of the absolutely good, frivolous attempts to adapt the perfect to our own imperfections?" "no," he replied, "i would not put it so. some meaning, i apprehend, there must be in time and change, and some meaning also in our efforts, though not, i believe, the meaning which we imagine. the divine life, as i conceive it, is a process; only a process that is somehow eternal, circular, so to speak, not rectilinear, much as milton appears to imagine it when he describes the blessed spirits 'progressing the dateless and irrevoluble circle of eternity'; and of this eternal process our activity, which we suppose to be moving towards an end, is somehow or other an essential element. so that, in this way, it is necessary and right that we should strive after ideals; only, when we are thinking philosophically, we ought to make clear to ourselves that in truth the ideal is eternally fulfilled, its fulfilment consisting precisely in that process which we are apt to regard as a mere means to its realization. this, as hegel has it, is the 'cunning' of the absolute reason, which deludes us into the belief that there is a purpose to be attained, and by the help of that delusion preserves that energy of action which all the time is really itself the end." i looked up at him as he finished, to see whether he was quite serious; and as he appeared to be so, and as leslie still kept silence, i took up the argument as follows. "i understand," i said, "in a sort of way what you mean; but still the same difficulty recurs which audubon has already put forward. on your hypothesis there seems to be an impassable gulf between god's conception of good and ours. to god, as it seems, the world is eternally good; and in its goodness is included that illusion by which it appears to us so bad, that we are continually employed in trying to make it better. the maintenance of this illusion is essential to the nature of the world; to us, evil always must appear. but, as we know by experience, the evil that _appears_ is just as terrible and just as hateful as it would be if it really _were_. a toothache, as audubon put it, is no less a pain to us because it is a pleasure to god. we cannot, if we would, adopt his point of view; and clearly it would be impious to try, since we should be endeavouring to defeat his ingenious plan to keep the world going by hoodwinking us. we therefore are chained and bound to the whirling wheel of appearance; to us what seems good is good, and what seems bad, bad; and your contention that all existence is somehow eternally good is for us simply irrelevant; it belongs to the point of view of god to which we have no access." "yes," cried audubon, "and what a god to call god at all! why not just as much the devil? what are we to think of the being who is responsible for a world of whose economy our evil is not merely an accident, a mistake, but positively an essential, inseparable condition!" "what, indeed!" exclaimed leslie. "call him god, by all means, if you like, but such a god as zeus was to prometheus, omnipotent, indeed, and able to exact with infallible precision his daily and hourly toll of blood and tears, but powerless at least to chain the mind he has created free, or to exact allegiance and homage from spirits greater, though weaker, than himself." this was the sort of talk, i knew, that rather annoyed dennis. i did not therefore, for the moment, leave him time to reply, but proceeded to a somewhat different point: "even putting aside," i said, "the moral character of god, as it appears in your scheme of the universe, must we not perhaps accuse him of a slight lapse of intelligence? for, as i understand the matter, it was essential to the success of the absolute's plan that we should never discover the deception that is being played upon us. but, it seems, we do discover it. hegel, for example, by your own confession, has not only detected but exposed it. well then, what is to be done? do you suppose that we could, even if we would, continue to lend ourselves to the imposition? must not our aims and purposes cease to have any interest for us, once we are clear that they are not true ends? and that which, according to the hypothesis, _is_ the true end, the 'dateless and irrevoluble circle' of activity, that, surely, we at least cannot sanction or approve, seeing that it involves and perpetuates the very misery and pain whose destruction was our only motive for acting at all. for, whatever may be the case with god, we, you will surely admit, are forbidden by all that in us is highest and best, to approve or even to acquiesce in the deliberate perpetuation of a world of whose existence all that we call evil is an essential and eternal constituent so that, as i said at first, it looks as if the absolute reason had not been, after all, quite as cunning as it thought, since it has allowed us to discover and expose the very imposition it had invented to cheat us into concurrence with its plans." dennis laughed a little at this; and then, "well," he began, "between you, with your genial irony, and audubon and leslie with their heaven-defying rhetoric, i scarcely know whether i stand on my head or my heels. but, the fact is, i think i made a slip in stating my view; or perhaps there was really a latent contradiction in my mind. at any rate, what i believe, whether or no i can believe it consistently, is that it is possible for us, so to speak, to take god's point of view; so that the evil against which we rebel we may come at last to acquiesce in, as seen from the higher point of view. and, seriously, don't you think it is conceivable that that may be, after all, the true meaning of the discipline of life?" "i cannot tell," i said, "perhaps it may. but, meantime, allow me to press home the importance of your admission. for, as you say, there is at least one of our aims which has a real significance, namely, that of reaching the point of view of god. but this is something that lies in the future, something to be brought about. and so, on your own hypothesis, good, after all, would not be that which eternally exists, but something which has to be realized in time--namely, a change of mind on the part of all rational beings, whereby they view the world no longer in a partial imperfect way, but, in spinoza's phrase, '_sub specie æternitatis_'" "no," he said, "i cannot admit that that is an end for the absolute, though i admit it is an end for us. the absolute, somehow or other, is eternally perfect and good; and this eternal perfection and goodness are unaffected by any change that may take place in our minds." "well," i said, "i must leave it to the absolute and yourself to settle how that can possibly be. meantime, i am content with your admission that, for us, at least, there is an end and a good lying before us to be realized in the future. for that, as i understand, you do admit. in your own life, for example, even if you aim at nothing else, or at nothing else which you wholly approve, yet you do aim, at least, with your whole nature at this--to attain a view of the world as it may be conceived in its essence to be, not merely as it appears to us." "yes," he said, "i admit that is my aim." "that aim, then, is your good?" "i suppose so." "and it is something, as i said, that lies in the future? for you do not, i suppose, count yourself to have attained, or at least to have attained as perfectly as you hope to?" he agreed again. "well then," i continued, "what may be the relation of this good of yours, awaiting realization in the future, to that eternal good of god in which you also believe, we will reserve, with your permission, for some future inquiry. it is enough for our present purpose that even you, who assert the eternal perfection of the world, do nevertheless at the same time admit a future good; and much more do other men admit it, who have no idea that the world is perfect at all. so that we may, i think, safely suppose it to be generally agreed that the good is something to be realized in the future, so far, at any rate as it concerns us--and, for my part, i have no desire to go farther than that." "well," he said, "i am content for the present to leave the matter so. but i reserve the right to go back upon the argument." "of course!" i replied, "for it is not, i hope, an argument, but a discussion; and a discussion not for victory but for truth. meantime, then, let us take as a hypothesis that good is something to be brought about; and let us consider next the other point that is included in your position. according to you, as i understand, what requires to be brought about, if ever good is to be realized, is not any change in the actual stuff, so to speak, of the world, in the structure, as it were, of our experience, but only a change in our attitude towards all this--a change in the subject, as they say, and not in the object. our aim should be not to abolish what we call evil, by successive modifications of physical and social conditions, but rather, all these remaining essentially the same, to come to see that what appears to be evil is not really so." "yes," he said, "that is the view i would suggest." "so that, for example, though we might still experience a toothache, we should no longer regard it as an evil; and so with all the host of things we are in the habit of calling bad: they would continue unchanged 'in themselves,' as you hegelians say, only to us they would appear no longer bad, but good?" "yes; as i said at first, all reality is good, and all evil, so-called, is merely illusion." i was about to reply when i was forestalled by bartlett. for some time past the discussion had been left pretty much to dennis and myself, with an occasional incursion from audubon and leslie. ellis had gone indoors; parry and wilson were talking together about something else; and bartlett appeared to be still absorbed in the _chronicle_. i noticed, however, that for the last few moments he had been getting restless, and i suspected that he was listening, behind his newspaper, to what we were saying. i was not therefore altogether surprised when, upon dennis' last remark, he suddenly broke into our debate with the exclamation; "would it be' in order' to introduce a concrete example? there is a curiously apt one here in the _chronicle_." and upon our assenting, he read us a long extract about phosphorus-poisoning, the details of which i now forget, but at any rate it brought before us, very vividly, a tale of cruel suffering and oppression. "now," he said, as he finished, "is that, may i ask, the kind of thing that it amuses you to call mere illusion?" "yes," replied dennis stoutly, "that will do very well for an example." "well," he rejoined, "i do not propose to dispute about words; but for my own part i should have thought that, if anything is real, that is; and so, i think, you would find it, if you yourself were the sufferer." "but," objected dennis, "do you think that it is in the moment of suffering that one is most competent to judge about the reality of pain?" "certainly, for it is only in the moment of suffering that one really knows what it is that one is judging about." "i am not sure about that. i doubt whether it is true that experience involves knowledge and _vice versa_. it is, indeed, to my mind, part of the irony of life, that we know so much which we can never experience, and experience so much which we can never know." "i don't follow that," said bartlett, "but of one thing i am sure, that you will never get rid of evil by calling it illusion." "no," dennis conceded, "you will never of course get rid of it, in the sense you mean, by that, or indeed, in my opinion, by any other means. but we were discussing not what we are to do with evil, but how we are to conceive it." "but," he objected, "if you begin by conceiving it as illusion, you will never do anything with it at all." "perhaps not, but i am not sure that that is my business." "at any rate, dennis," i interposed, "you will, i expect, admit, that for us, while we live in the region of what you call 'appearance,' evil is at least as pressing and as obvious as good." "yes," he said, "i am ready to admit that." "and," i continued, "for my part i agree with bartlett and with leslie, that it is appearance with which we are concerned. what i have been contending for throughout, is that in the world in which we live (whether we are to call it reality or appearance), evil and good are the really dominating facts; and that we cannot dismiss them from our consideration either on the ground that we know nothing of them (as ellis was inclined to maintain) or on the ground that we know all about them (as parry and wilson seemed to think). on the contrary, it is, i believe, our main business to find out about them; and that we can find out about them is with me an article of faith, and so, i believe, it is with most people, whether or no they are aware of it or are ready to admit it." dennis was preparing to reply, when ellis reappeared to summon us to lunch. we followed him in gladly enough, for it was past our usual hour and we were hungry; and the conversation naturally taking a lighter turn, i have nothing further to record until we reassembled in the afternoon. book ii. when we reassembled for coffee on the loggia after lunch, i did not suppose we should continue the morning's discussion. the conversation had been turning mostly on climbing, and other such topics, and finally had died away into a long silence, which, for my own part, i felt no particular inclination to break. we had let down an awning to shelter us from the sun, where it began to shine in upon us, so that it was still cool and pleasant where we sat; and so delightful did i feel the situation to be, that i was almost vexed to be challenged to renew our interrupted debate. the challenge, rather to my surprise, came from audubon, who suddenly said to me, _à propos_ of nothing, in a tone at once ironic and genial: "well, i thought you talked very well this morning." "really!" i rejoined, "i imagined you were thinking it all great nonsense." "so no doubt it was," he replied; "still, it amused me to hear you." "i am glad of that, at any rate; i was afraid perhaps you were bored." "not at all. of course, i couldn't fail to see that you weren't arriving anywhere. but that i never expected. in fact, what amuses me most about you is, the way in which you continue to hope that you're going to get at some result." "but didn't we?" "i don't see that you did. you showed, or tried to show, that we must believe in good; but you made no attempt to discover what good is." "no," i admitted; "that, of course, is much more difficult." "exactly; but it is the only point of importance." "well," i said, "perhaps if we were to try, we should find that we can come to some agreement even about that." "i don't believe it." "but why not?" "because people are so radically different, that there is no common ground to build upon." "but is the difference really so radical as all that?" "yes," he said, "i think so. at any rate, the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and i make you an offer. here are eight of us, all englishmen, all contemporaries, all brought up more or less in the same way. and i venture to say that, if you will raise the question, you won't find, even among ourselves, with all the chances in your favour, any substantial agreement about what we think good." this direct challenge was rather alarming. i didn't feel that i could refuse to take it up, but i was anxious to guard myself against the consequences of failure. so i began, with some hesitation, "you must remember that i have never maintained that at any given moment any given set of people will be found to be in agreement on all points. all i ventured to suggest was, that instead of our all being made, as you contend, radically different, we have, underneath our differences, a common nature, capable of judging, and judging truly, about good, though only on the basis of actual experience of good. and on this view i shall, of course, expect to find differences of opinion, corresponding to differences of experience, even among people as much alike as ourselves; only i shall not expect the differences to be finally irreconcilable, but that we shall be able to supplement and elucidate one another's conclusions by bringing to bear each his own experience upon that of the rest." "well," he said, "we shall see. i have invited you to make the experiment." "i am willing," i replied, "if it is agreeable to the others. only i must ask you to understand from the beginning precisely what it is i am trying to do. i shall be merely describing to you what i have been able to perceive, with such experience as i have had, in this difficult matter; and you will judge, all of you, whether or no, and to what extent, your perceptions coincide with mine, the object being simply to clear up these perceptions of ours, if we can; to define somehow, as it were, what we have seen, in the hope of coming to see something more." they agreed to take me on my own terms, and i was about to begin, when, happening to catch dennis' eye, i suddenly felt discouraged. "after all," i said, "i doubt whether it's much use my making the attempt." "why, what's the matter?" "nothing," i said. "at least--well, i may as well confess it, though it seems like giving away my whole case. the fact is, that there are certain quite fundamental points in this connection on which dennis and i have never been able to agree; and although i believe we should in time come to understand one another, i doubt whether we can do so here and now. at any rate, he doesn't look at all as if he meant to make it easy for me; and if i cannot carry him along with me, i suppose i may as well give up at once." "oh," said audubon, "if that is all, i will make a concession. we will leave dennis out of the reckoning. it shall be enough if you can persuade the rest of us." "but," i urged, "i doubt, even so, whether dennis will ever allow me to get to the end. you see, he never lets things pass if he doesn't happen to agree." "oh," cried ellis, "it's all right. we will keep him in order." dennis laughed. "you're disposing of me," he said, "in a very easy manner. but perhaps i had better go away altogether; for, if i stay, i certainly cannot pledge myself not to interrupt." "no," i said, "that seems hardly fair. what i propose is, that we should both try to be as conciliatory as we can. and then, by the process of 'give and take,' i shall perhaps slip past you without any really scandalous concession on either side." "well," he said, "you can try." so, after casting about in my mind, i began, with some hesitation, as follows: "the first thing, then, that i want to say is this: good, as it seems to me, necessarily involves some form of conscious activity." as i had expected, dennis interrupted me at once. "i don't see that at all," he said. "consciousness may have nothing to do with it." "perhaps, indeed, it may not," i replied, with all the suavity i could command. "i should rather have said that i, as a matter of fact, can form no idea of good except in connection with consciousness." "can you not?" he exclaimed, "but i can! if a thing is good it's good, so it appears to me, whether or no there is any consciousness of it." "but," i said, "i, you see, myself, have no experience of anything existing apart from consciousness, so it is difficult for me to know whether such a thing would be good or no. but you, perhaps, are differently constituted." "not in that point," he replied. "i admit, of course, that there is no experience without consciousness. but we can surely conceive that of which we have no experience? and i should have thought it was clear that good, like truth, _is_, whether or no anyone is aware of it. or would you say that + = is only true when someone is thinking of it?" "as to that," i replied, "i would rather not say anything about it just now. on the logical point you may be right; but that, i think, need not at present detain us, because what i am trying to get at, for the moment, is something rather different. i will put it like this: good, if it is to be conceived as an object of human action, must be conceived, must it not, as an object of consciousness? for otherwise do you think we should trouble to pursue it?" "i don't know," he said, "whether we should; but perhaps we ought to." "but," i urged, "do you really think we ought? do you think, to take an example, that it could be a possible or a right aim for an artist, say, to be perpetually producing, in a state of complete unconsciousness, works which on completion should be immediately hermetically sealed and buried for all eternity at the bottom of the sea? do you think that he could or ought to consider such production as a good? and so with all the works of man. do we, and really ought we to, do anything except with some reference to consciousness?" "i don't know whether we do," he replied, "but i think it quite possible that we ought." "well," i said, "we shall not, i suppose, just now, come to a closer agreement but is there anyone else who shares your view? for, if not, i will, with your permission, go on to the next point" none spoke, and dennis made no further opposition. so, after a pause, i proceeded as follows: "i shall assume, then, that good, in the sense in which i am conceiving it, as an end of human action, involves some kind of conscious activity. and the next question would seem to be, activity of whom?" "that, at any rate," said leslie, "appears to be simple enough. it must be an activity of some person or persons." "once more," murmured dennis, "i protest." but this time i ventured to ignore him, and merely said, in answer to leslie, "the question, then, will be, what persons?" "why," he replied, "ourselves, i suppose!" "what do you say, parry?" i asked. "i don't quite understand," he replied, "the kind of way you put your questions. but my own idea has always been, what i suppose is most people's now, that the good we are working for is that of some future generation." at this leslie made some inarticulate interjection, which i thought it better to ignore. and, answering parry, i said, "suppose, then, we were to make a beginning by examining your hypothesis." "by all means," he said, "though i should have thought we should all have accepted it--unless, perhaps, it were dennis." "i most certainly don't!" cried leslie. "nor i," added audubon. "oh you!" cried parry, "you accept nothing!" "true"; he replied, "my motto is 'j'attends.'" "well," i resumed, "let us follow the argument and see where it leads us. the hypothesis is, that good involves some state of activity of some generation indefinitely remote. is not that so, parry?" "yes," he said, "and one can more or less define what the state of activity, as you call it, will be." "of course," interposed ellis, "it will be one of heterogeneous, co-ordinate, coherent----" "that," i interrupted, "is not at present the question. the question is merely as to the location of good. according to parry, it is located in this particular remote generation, and, i suppose, in those that follow it. but now, what about all the other generations, from the beginning of the world onward? good, it would seem, can have no meaning for them, since it is the special privilege of those who come after them." "oh, yes, it has!" he replied, "for it is their business to bring it about, not indeed for themselves, but for their successors." "but," cried leslie, "what an absurd idea! countless myriads of men and women are born upon the earth, live through their complex lives of action and suffering, pleasure and pain, hopes, fears, satisfactions, aspirations, and the like, pursuing what they call good, and avoiding what they call bad, under the naïf impression that there is good and bad for them--and yet the significance of all this is not really for themselves at all, but for some quite other people who will have the luck to be born in the remote future, and for whose sake alone their fellow-creatures, from the very beginning of time, have been brought into being like so many lifeless tools, to be used up and laid aside, when done with, on the black infinite ash-heap of the dead." "oh, come!" said parry, "you exaggerate! these tools, as you call them, have a good enough time. it does not follow, because the final good lies in the future, that the present has no good at all. it has just as much good as people can get out of it." "but then," said leslie, "in that case it is this good of their own with which each generation is really concerned. so far as they do get good at all they get it as an activity in themselves." "certainly," said ellis; "and for my own part, i am sick of that cant of living for future generations. let us, at least, live for ourselves, whether we live well or badly." "well," replied parry, rather stiffly, "of course every one has his own ideas. but i confess that, for my own part, the men i admire are those who have sacrificed themselves for the future." "but, parry," i interposed, "let us get clear about this; and with a view to clearness let us take our own case. we, as i understand you, have to keep in view a double good: first, a good for ourselves, which is not indeed the perfect good (for that is reserved for a future generation), but still is something good as far as it goes--whether it be a certain degree of happiness, or however else we may have to define it; and as to this good, there appears to be no difficulty, for we who pursue it are also the people who get it that is so, is it not?" he agreed. "but now," i continued, "we come to the point of dispute. for besides this good of our own, we have also, according to the theory, to consider a good in which we have no share, that of those who are to be born in some indefinite future. and to this remote and alien good we have even, on occasion, to sacrifice our own." "certainly," he said, "all good citizens will think so." "i believe," i admitted, "that they will. and yet, how strange it seems! for consider it in this way. imagine that the successive generations can somehow be viewed as contemporaneous--being projected, as it were, from the plane of time into that of space." "it's rather hard," he said, "to imagine that." "well, but try, for the sake of argument; and consider what we shall have. we shall have a society divided into two classes, composed, the one of all the generations who, if they followed one another in time, would precede the first millenarian one; the other of all the millenarian-generations themselves. and of these two classes the first would be perpetually engaged in working for the second, sacrificing to it, if need be, on occasion, all its own good, but without any hope or prospect of ever entering itself into that other good which is the monopoly of the other class, but to the production of which its own efforts are directed. what should we say of such a society? should we not say that it was founded on injustice and inequality, and all those other phrases with which we are wont to denounce a system of serfdom or slavery?" "but," he objected, "your projection of time into space has falsified the whole situation. for in fact the millenarian generation would not come into being until the others had ceased to be; and therefore the latter would not be being sacrificed to it." "no," i said, "but they would have been sacrificed; and surely it comes to the same thing?" "i am not sure," he replied, "and anyhow, i don't think sacrifice is the right word. in a society every man's interest is in the whole; and when he works for the whole he is also working for himself." "no doubt that is true," i replied, "in a society properly constituted, but i question whether it would be true in such a society as i have described. and then there is a further difficulty--and here, i confess, my projection of time into space really does falsify the issue; for in the succession of generations in time, where _is_ the whole? each generation comes into being, passes, and disappears; but how, or in what, are they summed up?" "why," he said, "in a sense they are all summed up in the last generation." "but in what sense? do you mean that their consciousness somehow persists into it, so that they actually enjoy its good?" "of course not," he said, "but i mean that it was conditioned by them, and is the result of their labour and activities." "in that sense," i replied, "you might say that the oysters i eat are summed up in me. but it would be a poor consolation to the oysters!" "well," he rejoined, "whatever you may say, i still think it right that each generation should sacrifice itself (as you call it) for the next. and so, i believe, would you, when it came to the point. at any rate, i have often heard you inveigh against the shortsightedness of modern politicians, and their unwillingness to run great risks and undertake great labours for the future." "quite true," i said, "that is the view i take. but i was trying to see how the view could be justified. for it seems to me, i confess, that we can only be expected to labour for what is, in some sense or other, our own good; and i do not see how the good of future generations, in your way of putting it, is also ours." "but," he said, "we have an instinct that it is." "i believe we have," i replied, "but the question would be, what that instinct really means. somehow or other, i think it must mean, as you yourself suggested, that our good is the good of the whole. only the difficulty is to see how there is a whole at all." "well," he said, "perhaps there is no whole. what then?" "why, then," i replied, "how can we justify an instinct which bids us labour and sacrifice ourselves for a good, which, on this hypothesis, has no significance for us, but only for other people." "perhaps," he said, "we cannot justify it, but i am sure we ought to obey it; and, indeed, i believe we cannot do otherwise. even taking the view that the order of the world is altogether unjust, as i admit it would be on the view we are considering, yet, since we cannot remedy the injustice, we are bound at least to make the best of it; and the best we can do is to prepare the good for those who come after us, even though we can never enter into it ourselves." "i am not so sure about that," ellis interrupted, "i think the best we can do is to try and realize good for ourselves--as much as we can get, even if we admit that this is but little. for we do at least know, or may hope to discover, what good for ourselves is; whereas good for other people is far more hypothetical." "but, surely," he objected, "that would lead to action we cannot approve--to a sacrifice of all larger goods to our own pleasure of the moment. we should breed, for example, without any regard to the future efficacy of the race----" "that," interrupted ellis, "we do as it is." "yes, but we don't justify it--those of us, at least, who think. and, again, we should squander on immediate gratifications wealth which ought to be stored up against the future. and so on, and so on; it is not necessary to multiply examples." "but," i objected, "we should only do these things if we thought that kind of short-sighted activity to be good; but, as a matter of fact, we do not, we who object to it. and that is because, as i hinted before, our idea of even our own good is that of an activity in and for the whole, and not merely in and for ourselves. and, whether it is reasonable or no, we cannot help extending the idea of the whole, so as to include future generations. but, as it seems to me, the real meaning and justification of our action is not merely that we are seeking the good of future generations but that we are endeavouring to realize our own good, which consists in some such form of activity. so that really, as was suggested at the beginning, good will be a kind of activity in ourselves, even though that activity be directed towards ends in which we do not expect to share." at this point, dennis, who had been struggling to speak, broke in at last, in spite of ellis's efforts to restrain him. "why do you keep saying '_our_ good'?" he cried. "why do you not say _the_ good? i can't understand this talk of me and thee, our good, and their good, as if there were as many goods as there are people." "well," i said, "the distinction, after all, was introduced by parry, who said that we ought to aim at the good of a future generation. still, i admit that i was getting a little unhappy myself at the kind of language into which i was betrayed. but what i want to say is this: so far as it is true at all that it is good to labour for future generations, goodness consists in the activity of so labouring, as much, at least, as in the result produced in those for whose sake the labour is. that, at least, is the only way in which i can find the position reasonable at all." "i don't see it," said parry, and was preparing to re-state his position, when wilson suddenly intervened with a new train of thought. "the fact is," he said, "you have begun altogether at the wrong end." "i daresay," i said, "i can't find the end; it's all such a coil." "well," he said, "this is where i believe the trouble came in. you started with the idea that the good must be good for individuals; and that was sure to land you in confusion." "what then is your idea?" i asked. "why," he said, "as you might expect from a biologist, i regard everything from the point of view of the species." at this i saw ellis sit up and prepare for an encounter. "nature," continued wilson, "has always in view the whole not the part, the species not the individual. and this law, which is true of the whole creation, is thrown into special relief in the case of man, because there the interest of the species is embodied in a particular form--the society or the state--and may be clearly envisaged, as a thing apart, towards the maintenance of which conscious efforts may be directed." "and this, which is the end of nature, according to you, is also the good?" "naturally." "well," i said, "i will not recapitulate here the objections i have already urged against the view that the course of nature determines the content of the good. for, quite apart from that, it is a view which many people hold--and one which was held long before there was a science of biology--that the community is the end, and the individual only the means." "but," he said, "biology has given a new basis and a new colour to the view." "i don't know about that," cried ellis, unable any longer to restrain himself, "but i am sure it has given us a new kind of language. in the old days, when wilson's opinion was represented by plato, men were still men, and were spoken of as such, however much they might be subordinated to the community. but now!--why, if you open one of these sociological books, mostly, i am bound to say, in german, 'entwurf einer sozial-anthropologie,' 'versuch einer anthropologischen darstellung der menschlichen gesellschaft vom sozial-biologischen standpunkt aus,' and the like--you will hardly be able to realize that you are dealing with human beings at all. i have seen an unmarried woman called a 'female non-childbearing human.' and at the worst, men actually cease to be even animals; they become mere numbers; they are calculated by the theory of combinations; they are masses, averages, classes, curves, anything but men! for every million of the population, it has been solemnly estimated, there will be one genius, one imbecile, , individuals just above the mean, , just below it! observe, , ! not, as one might have been tempted to believe, , ! what a saving grace in that odd unit! and this is the kind of thing that is revolutionizing history and politics! no more great men, no more heroic actions, no more inspirations, passions, and ideals! nothing but calculations of the chances that a will meet and breed out of b! nothing but analysis of the mechanism of survival! nothing but----" "my dear ellis," interrupted wilson, "you appear to me to be digressing." "digressing!" he cried "would that i could digress out of this world altogether! would that i could digress to a planet where they have no arithmetic! where a man could be a man, not a figure in an addition sum, a unit in an average, an individual in a species----" "where," exclaimed audubon, taking him up, "a man could be himself, as i have often said, 'imperial, plain, and true.'" there was a chorus of protestation at the too familiar quotation; and for a time i was unable to lay hold of the broken thread of the argument. but at last i got a hearing for the question i was anxious to address to wilson. "you say," i began, "that by good we mean the good of the community?" "i say," he replied, "that that is what we ought to mean." "but in what sense do you understand the word community?" "in the sense of that organization of individuals which represents, so to speak, the species." "how represents?" "in the sense that it is its function to maintain and perfect the species." "but is that the function of the community?" "if it is not, it ought to be; and to a great extent it is. if you look at the social mechanism, not with the eyes of a mere historian, who usually sees nothing, but with those of a biologist and man of science, intent upon essentials, you will find that it is nothing but an elaborate apparatus of selection, natural or artificial, as you like to call it. first, there is the struggle of races, which may be traced not only in war and conquest, but more insidiously under the guise of peace, so that, for example, at this day you may witness throughout europe the gradual extinction of the long-headed fair by the round-headed dark stock. then there is the struggle of nation with nation, resulting in the gradual elimination of the weaker--that, of course, is obvious enough; but what is not always so clearly seen is the not less certain fact, that within the limits of each society the same process is everywhere at work. to pass over the economic struggle for existence, of which we are perhaps sufficiently aware, what else is our system of examinations but a mechanism of selection, whereby it is determined that certain persons only shall have access to certain professions? what else is the convention whereby marriages are confined to people of the same class, thus securing the perpetuation of certain types, and especially of the better-gifted and better-disposed? turn where we may we find the same phenomenon. society is a machine for sifting out the various elements of the race, combining the like, disparting the unlike, bringing some to the top, others to the bottom, preserving these, eliminating those, indifferent to the fate, good or bad, of the individuals it controls, but envisaging always the well-being of the whole." "but," i objected, "is it so certain that it is well-being that is kept in view? do you not recognize a process of deterioration as well as of improvement? you mentioned, for instance, that the long-headed fair race, is giving place to what i understand is regarded as an inferior type." "no doubt," he admitted, "there are periods of decline. still, on the whole, the movement is an upward one." "well," i replied, "that, after all, is not the question we are at present discussing. your main point is, that when we speak of good we mean, or should mean, the good, not of the individual, but of the species. but what, i should like to know, is the species? is it somehow an entity, or being, that it has a good?" "no," he replied, "it is merely, of course, a general name for the individuals; only for all the individuals taken together, not one by one or in groups." "the good of the species, then, is the good of all the individuals taken together." "yes." "but" i said, "how can that be? it is good for the species, according to you, that certain individuals should be eliminated, or should sink to the bottom, or whatever else their fate may be. but is that also good for the individual in question?" "i don't know about that," he replied, "and i don't see that it matters. i only say that it is good for the species." "but they are part of the species; so that if it is good for the species it is good for them." "no! for the good of the species consists in the selection of the best individuals. it is indifferent to all the rest" "then by the good of the species you mean the good of the selected individuals?" "not exactly; i mean it is good that those individuals should be selected." "but good for whom, if not for them? for the individuals who are eliminated? or for you who look on? or perhaps, for god?" "god! no! i mean good, simply good." "i'm afraid i don't understand," i said. "does good then hang, as it were, in the air, being good for nobody at all?" "well, if you like, we will say it is good for nature." "but is nature, then, a conscious being?" "i don't say that" "i am very sorry," i said, "but really i cannot understand you. if you reject god, i see only two alternatives remaining. either the good you speak of is that of all the individuals of the species taken together, or it is that of the best individuals; and in either case i seem to see difficulties." "what difficulties?" asked parry. for wilson did not speak. "why," i said, "taking the first alternative, i do not see how it can be good for the inferior individuals to be degraded or eliminated. i should have thought, if there were any good for them, it would consist in their being made better." "i don't see that," objected dennis; "it might be the best possible thing, for them, to be eliminated." "but in that case," i said, "the best possible thing would be absence of bad, not good. and so far as we could talk of good at all, we could not apply it to them?" "perhaps not" "well then, in that case we have to fall back upon the other alternative, and say that by the good of the species we mean that of the ultimately selected individuals." "well, what then?" "why, then, we return, do we not, to the position of parry, that the good is that of some particular generation? and there, too, we were met by difficulties. so that altogether i do not really see what meaning to attach to wilson's conception." "there is no meaning to be attached to it!" cried ellis. "the species is a mere screen invented to conceal the massacre of individuals. i'm sick of these biologico-sociologico-anthropologico-historico treatises, with their talk of races, of nations, of classes, never of men! their prate about laws as if they were the real entities, and the people who are supposed to be subject to them mere indifferent particles of stuff! their analysis of the perfection with which the machine works, its combinations, differentiations, subordinations, co-ordinations, and all the other abominations of desolations standing where they ought not, as depressing to the mind as they are cacophonous to the ear! and, worst of all, their impudent demand that we should admire the diabolical process! admire! as though we should be asked to admire the beauty of the rack and the thumbscrew!" "it's a matter of taste, no doubt," said wilson, "but in me the spectacle of natural law does awaken feelings of admiration." "in me," replied ellis, "it awakens, just as often, feelings of disgust, and especially when its theatre is human life." "at any rate, whether you admire it or not, the spectacle is there." "no doubt, if you choose to look at it; but why should you? it's not a good drama; it isn't up to date; it has no first-hand knowledge, nor original vision of life. it simply ignores all the important facts." "which do you call the important facts?" "why, of course, the emotions; the hopes, fears, aspirations, sympathies and the rest! there's more valuable information contained in even an inferior novel that in all the sociological treatises that ever have been or will be written." "oh, come!" cried parry. "i assure you," replied ellis, "i am serious. take, for example, these unfortunate creatures who are in process of elimination. to the sociologist their elimination is their only _raison d'être_. he cancels them out with the same delight as if they were figures in a complex fraction. but pick up any novel dealing with the life of the slums, and you find that these figures are really composed of innumerable individual units, existing each for himself, and each his own sufficient justification, each a sacred book comprising its own unique secret, a master-piece of the divine tragedian, a universe self-moved and self-contained, a centre of infinity, a mirror of totality, in a word, a human soul." "all that i altogether deny," said wilson, "but, even if it were true, it would not affect the sociological laws." "i don't say it would. i only say that the sociological laws are as unimportant, if possible, as the law of gravitation." "which," replied wilson, "may be regarded as a _reductio ad absurdum_ of your view." "anyhow," i interposed, "we are digressing from our point. what i really want to know is whether wilson has any more light to throw on my difficulties with regard to his notion of the species." "i have nothing more to say," he replied, "than i have said already." "but i have!" cried dennis, "and something very much to the point. you see now the absurdities into which you are led by the position you insisted on assuming, that good involves conscious activity. if it does, as you rightly inquired (though with a suicidal audacity), conscious activity in whom? and to that question, of course, you can find no answer." "and yet," i said, endeavouring to turn the tables upon him, "i have known you to maintain yourself that good not merely involves, but is, a conscious activity; only an activity in or of god." "rather," he replied, "that it _is_ god. but i don't really know whether we ought to call god a conscious activity. whatever he or it be, is something that transcends our imagination. only the things we call good are somehow reflexes of god; and we have to accept them as such without further inquiry. at any rate, we have no right to endeavour, as you keep doing, to locate good in some individual persons." "well," i said, "here we come again to a fundamental difference of view. all the good of which i am aware as actually existing is associated, somehow or other, with personal consciousness. i am willing to admit, for the sake of argument, that the ultimate good, if ever we come to know it, might, perhaps, not be so associated. but of that, as yet, i know nothing; you, perhaps, are more fortunate. and if you can give us an account of good, i mean, of course, of its content, which shall represent it intelligibly to us as independent of any consciousness like our own, i am quite ready to relinquish the argument to you." "i don't know," he replied, "that i can represent it to you in a way that you would admit to be intelligible. i don't profess to have had what you call 'experience' of it." "well, then," said ellis, "what's the good of talking?" "what, indeed!" i echoed, in some despondency. for i began to feel it was impossible to carry on the conversation. but at this point, to my great relief, bartlett came to the rescue, not indeed with a solution of the difficulty in which we were involved, but with a diversion of which i was only too glad to take advantage. "it seems to me," he said, "that you are getting off the track! whatever the ultimate good may be, what we really want to know, is the kind of thing we can conceive to be good for people like ourselves. and i thought that was what you were going to discuss." "so i was," i said, "if dennis would have let me." "i will let you, by all means," dennis interposed, "so long as it is quite understood that everything you say has nothing to do with the real subject." "very well," said bartlett, "that's understood. and now let's get along, on the basis of you and me and the man in the street. what are we trying to get, when we try to get good? that i take it is the real question." "and i can only answer," i said, "as i did before, that we are trying to get some state of conscious experience, to enter into some activity." "very well, then, what activity?" he inquired, catching me up sharp, as if he were afraid of dennis interposing again. "what activity!" cried ellis, "why all and every one as much as another, and the more the merrier." "what!" i exclaimed, rather taken aback, "all at once do you mean? whether they be good or whether they be bad, all alike indifferently?" "there are no bad activities," he replied, "none bad essentially in themselves. their goodness and badness depends on the way in which they are interchanged or combined. any pursuit or occupation palls in time if it is followed exclusively; but all may be delightful in the just measure and proportion. we are complex creatures, and we ought to employ all our faculties alike, never one alone at the cost of all the others." "that may be sound enough," i said, "but will you not describe more in detail the kind of life which you consider to be good?" "how can i?" he replied. "it is like trying to sum infinity! the most i can do is to hint and rhapsodize." "hint away, then!" cried parry; "rhapsodize away! we're all listening." "well, then," he said, "my ideal of the good life would be to move in a cycle of ever-changing activity, tasting to the full the peculiar flavour of each new phase in the shock of its contrast with that of all the rest. to pass, let us say, from the city with all its bustle, smoke, and din, its press of business, gaiety, and crime, straight away, without word or warning, breaking all engagements, to the farthest and loneliest corner of the world. to hunt or fish for weeks and months in strange wild places, camping out among strange beasts and birds, lost in pathless forests, or wandering over silent plains. then, suddenly, back in the crowd, to feel the press of business, to make or lose millions in a week, to adventure, compete, and win; but always, at the moment when this might pall, with a haven of rest in view, an ancient english mansion, stately, formal, and august, islanded, over its sunken fence, by acres of buttercups. there to study, perhaps to write, perhaps to experiment, dreaming in my garden at night of new discoveries, to revolutionize science and bring the world of commerce to my feet. then, before i have time to tire, to be off on my travels again, washing gold in klondike, trading for furs in siberia, fighting in madagascar, in cuba, or in crete, or smoking hasheesh in tents with persian mystics. to make my end action itself, not anything action may gain, choosing not to pursue the good for fear i should let slip goods, but, in my pursuit of goods, attaining the only good i can conceive--a full and harmonious exercise of all my faculties and powers." on hearing him speak thus i felt, i confess, such a warmth of sympathy that i hesitated to attempt an answer. but leslie, who was young enough still to live mainly in ideas, broke in with his usual zeal and passion. "but," he said, "all this activity of which you speak is no more good than it is bad; every phase of it, by your own confession, is so imperfect in itself that it requires to be constantly exchanged for some other, equally defective." "not at all," answered ellis, "each phase is good in its time and place; but each becomes bad if it is pursued exclusively to the detriment of others." "but is each good in itself? or, at least, is it more good than bad? you choose, in imagination, to dwell upon the good aspect of each; but in practice you would have to experience also the bad. your hunting in trackless forests will involve exposure, fatigue, and hunger; your fighting in madagascar, fever, wounds, and disillusionment; and so through all your chapter of accidents--for accidents they are at best, and never the substance of good; rather, indeed, a substance of evil, dogged by a shadow of good." "oh!" cried ellis, "what a horrid prosaic view--from an idealist, too! why, the bad is all part of the good; one takes the rough with the smooth. or rather the good stands above what you call good and bad; it consists in the activity itself which feeds upon both alike. if i were dennis i should say it is the synthesis of both." "well," said leslie, "i never heard before of a synthesis produced by one side of the antithesis simply swallowing the other." "didn't you?" said ellis. "then you have a great deal yet to learn. this is known as the synthesis of the lion and the lamb." "oh, synthesis!" cried parry. "heaven save us from synthesis! what is it you are trying to say?" "that's what i want to know," i said "we seem to be coming perilously near to dennis's position, that what we call evil is mere appearance." "well," said ellis, "extremes meet! dennis arrived at his view by a denial of the world; i arrive at mine by an affirmation of it." "but do you really think," i urged, "that everything in the world is good?" "i think," he replied, "that everything may be made to minister to good if you approach it in the proper way." "that reads," said audubon, "like an extract from a sermon." "as i remarked before," replied ellis, "extremes meet" "but, ellis," i protested, "do explain! how are you going to answer leslie?" "leslie is really too young," he replied, "to be answerable at all. but if you insist on my being serious, what i meant to suggest is, that when our activity is freshest and keenest we find delight in what is called evil no less than in what is called good. the complexity of the world charms us, its 'downs' as well as its 'ups,' its abysses and glooms no less than its sunny levels. we would not alter it if we could; it is better than we could make it; and we accept it not merely with acquiescence but with triumph." "oh, do we!" said audubon. "we," answered ellis, "not you! you, of course, do not accept anything." "but who are 'we'?" asked leslie. "all of us," he replied, "who try to make an art of living. yes, art, that is the word! to me life appears like a great tragi-comedy. it has its shadows as well as its lights, but we would not lose one of them, for fear of destroying the harmony of the whole. call it good, or call it bad, no matter, so it is. the villain no less than the hero claims our applause; it would be dull without him. we can't afford to miss anything or anyone." "in fact," cried audubon, "'konx ompax! totality!' you and dennis are strangely agreed for once!" "yes," he replied, "but for very different reasons, as the judge said on the one occasion when he concurred with his colleagues. dennis accepts the whole because he finds it a perfect logical system; i, because i find it a perfect work of art. his prophet is hegel; mine is walt whitman." "walt whitman! and you profess to be an artist!" "so was he, not in words but in life. one thing to him was no better nor worse than another; small and great, high and low, good and bad, he accepts them all, with the instinctive delight of an actual physical contact. listen to him!" and he began to quote: "i do not call one greater and one smaller, that which fills its period and place is equal to any. i believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars. and the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg of the wren, and the tree-toad is a 'chef-d'oeuvre' for the highest; and the running blackberry would adorn the parlours of heaven, and the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery, and the cow-crunching with depressed head surpasses any statue, and a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels." "that's all very well," objected leslie, "though, of course, it's rather absurd; but it does not touch the question of evil at all." "wait a bit," cried ellis, "he's ready for you there." "i am not the poet of goodness only, i do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also. what blurt is this about virtue and about vice? evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, i stand indifferent, my gait is no fault-finder's or rejector's gait, i moisten the roots of all that grows." * * * * * "this is the meal equally set, this is the meat for natural hunger, it is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, i make appointment with all, i will not have a single person slighted or kept away, the kept-woman, spunger, thief are hereby invited, the heavy-lipped slave is invited, the venerealee is invited; there shall be no difference between them and the rest." "that's rather strong," remarked parry. "don't you like it?" ellis inquired. "i think i might like it if i were drunk." "ah, but a poet, you see, is always drunk!" 'well, i unfortunately, am often sober; and then i find the sponger and the venerealee anything but agreeable objects." "besides," said audubon, "though it's very good of walt whitman to invite us all, the mere fact of dining with him, however miscellaneous the company, doesn't alter the character of the dinner." "no," cried leslie, "and that's just the point ellis has missed all through. even if it be true that the world appears to him as a work of art, it doesn't appear so to the personages of the drama. what's play to him is grim earnest to them; and, what's more, he himself is an actor not a mere spectator, and may have that fact brought home to him, any moment, in his flesh and blood." "of course!" replied ellis, "and i wouldn't have it otherwise. the point of the position is that one should play one's part oneself, but play it as an artist with one's eye upon the total effect, never complaining of evil merely because one happens to suffer, but taking the suffering itself as an element in the æsthetic perfection of the whole." "i should like to see you doing that," said bartlett, rather brutally, "when you were down with a fit of yellow fever." "or shut up in a mad-house," said leslie. "or working eight hours a day at business," said audubon, "with the thermometer degrees in the shade." "oh well," answered ellis, "those are the confounded accidents of our unhealthy habits of life." "i am afraid," i said, "they are accidents very essential to the substance of the world." "besides," cried parry, "there's the whole moral question, which you seem to ignore altogether. if there be any activity that is good, it must be, i suppose, the one that is right; and the activity you describe seems to have nothing to do with right and wrong." "right and wrong! right and wrong!" echoed ellis, "das hör ich sechzlg jahre wiederholen, ich fluche drauf, aber verstohlen." "you may curse as much as you like," replied parry, "but you can hardly deny that there is an intimate connection between good and right." instead of replying ellis began to whistle; so i took up parry's point and said, "yes, but what is the connection? my own idea is that right is really a means to good. and i should separate off all activity that is merely a means from that which is really an end in itself, and good." "but is there any activity," objected leslie, "which is not merely a means?" "oh yes," i said, "i should have thought so. most men, it seems to me, are well enough content with what they are doing for its own sake; even though at the same time they have remoter ends in view, and if these were cut off would cease, perhaps, to take pleasure in the work of the moment. the attitude is not very logical, perhaps, but i think it is very common. why else is it that men who believe and maintain that they only work in order to make money, nevertheless are so unwilling to retire when the money is made; or, if they do, are so often dissatisfied and unhappy?" "oh," said audubon, "that is only because boredom is worse than pain. it is not that they find any satisfaction in their work; it's only that they find even greater distress in idleness." "but, surely," i replied, "even you yourself would hardly maintain that there is nothing men do for its own sake, and because they take delight in it. if there were nothing else at least there is play--and i have known you play cricket yourself!" "known him play cricket!" cried ellis. "why, if he had his way, he would do nothing else, except at the times when he was riding or shooting." "well," i said, "that's enough, for the moment, to refute him. and, in fact, i suppose none of us would seriously maintain that there is no form of activity which men feel to be good for its own sake, though the good of course may be partial and precarious." "no," said ellis, "i should rather inquire whether there is any form which they pursue merely and exclusively as a means to something else." "oh, surely!" i said. "one might mention, for instance, the act of visiting the dentist. or what is more important, and what, i suppose, parry had in his mind, there is the whole class of activities which one distinguishes as moral." "do you mean to say," said parry, "that moral action has no good in itself but is only a means to some other good?" "i don't know," i replied; "i am rather inclined to think so. but it all depends upon how we define it." "and how do you define it?" "i should say that its specific quality consists in the refusal to seize some immediate and inferior good with a view to the attainment of one that is remoter but higher." "oh, well, of course," cried leslie, "if you define it so, your proposition follows of itself." "so i thought," i said. "but how would you define it?" "i should say it is a free and perfect activity in good." "in that case, it is of course the very activity we are in quest of, and we should come upon it, if we were successful, at the end of our inquiry. but i was supposing that the essence of morality is expressed in the word 'ought'; and in that i take to be implied the definition i suggested--namely, action pursued not for its own sake, but for the sake of something else." "oh, oh!" cried dennis, "there i really must protest! i've kept silent as long as i possibly could; but when it comes to describing as a mere means the only kind of activity which is an end in itself----" "the only kind that is an end in itself!" i repeated, in some dismay. "is that really what you think?" "of course it is! why not?" "i don't know. i have always supposed that, when we are doing what we ought, we are acting with a view to some ultimate good." "well, i, on the contrary, believe that we ought absolutely, without reference to anything else. it is a unique form of activity, dependent on nothing but itself; and for anything we have yet shown, it may be the good we are in quest of." this suggestion, unexpected as it was, threw me into great perplexity. i did not see exactly how to meet it; yet it awakened no response in me, nor as i thought in any of the others. but while i was hesitating, leslie began: "do you mean that the good might consist simply in doing what we ought, without any other accompaniment or conditions?" "yes, i think it might." "so that, for example, a man might be in possession of the good, even while he was being racked or burnt alive, so long only as he was doing what he ought" "yes, i suppose he might be." "it's a trifle paradoxical," said ellis. "in fact," added bartlett, "it might be called nonsense." "i don't see why," replied dennis; "for we haven't yet shown that the good is dependent on the things we call good." "no," i said, "but we did show--or at least for the time being we agreed to admit--that it must have some relation to what we call goods; that they do somehow or other, and more or less, express its nature; and indeed our whole present inquiry is based upon the hypothesis that it is by examining goods that we may get to know something about the good. so that i do not see how we can entertain an idea of good which flatly contradicts all our experience of goods." "well," said dennis, "i ought perhaps to modify the position. let us say that the good consists in the activity of doing what we ought, only that activity can't exist in its true perfection unless everybody participates in it at once. but if everybody participated in it, there would be no more burnings; and so leslie's difficulty would not arise." "well," i said, "the modification is very radical! but even so, i don't know what to make of the position. for it is very difficult to conceive a society perpetually and exclusively occupied, so to speak, in 'oughting.' just imagine the kind of life it would be--without pleasure, without business, without knowledge, without anything at all analogous to what we call good, purged wholly and completely of all that might taint the purity of the moral sense, of philanthropy, of friendship, of love, even, i suppose, of the love of virtue, a life simply of obligation, without anything to be obliged to except a law." "but," he protested, "you are taking an absurd and impossible case." "i am taking the case which you yourself put, when you said that good consisted simply in doing what one ought, independently of all other accompaniment or condition. but perhaps that is not what you really meant?" "no," he said; "of course, what i meant was that it is life according to the moral law that is good; but i did not intend to separate the law from the life, and call it good all by itself." "but is the life the better for the law, in the sense, i mean, in which law involves constraint? or would it not be better still if the same life were pursued freely for its own sake?" "perhaps so." "but, then, in that case, the more we realized good the less we should be aware of obligation. and would a life without conscious and felt obligation be a life specifically ethical, in the sense in which you seemed to be using the word?" "i should think not; for 'ought' in the ethical sense does certainly seem to me to involve the idea of obligation." "in that case it would seem to be truer to say that activity is good, not in so far as it is ethical but precisely in so far as it is not. at any rate, i should maintain that we come nearer to a realization of good in the activities which we pursue without effort or friction, than in those which involve a struggle between duty and inclination." "but the activities we pursue without effort or friction often enough are bad." "no doubt; but some of them are good, and it is to those i should look for the best idea i could form of what good might be." "well," he said, "go on! once more i have entered my protest; and now i leave the road clear." "the worst of you is," said ellis, "that you always turn up in front! when we think we have passed you once for all, you take a short cut across the fields, and there you are in the middle of the road, with the same old story, that we're altogether on the wrong track." "well," said dennis, sententiously, "i do my duty." "and," replied ellis, "no doubt you have your reward! proceed!" he continued, turning to me. "well," i said, "i suppose i must try to go through to the end, though these tactics of dennis make me very nervous. i shall suppose, however, that i have convinced him that it is not in ethical activity as such that we can expect to find the most perfect example of good. and now i propose to examine in turn some other of our activities, starting with that which seems to be the most primitive of all." "and which is that?" "i was thinking of the activity of our bodily senses, our direct contact, so to speak, with objects, without the intermediation of reflection, through the touch, the sight, the hearing, and the rest. is there anything in all this which we could call good?" "is there anything!" cried ellis. "what a question to ask!" and he broke out with the lines from browning's "saul": "oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock, the strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver shock of the plunge in a pool's living water, the hunt of the bear, and the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair. and the meal, the rich dates yellowed over with gold dust divine, and the locust-flesh steeped in the pitcher, the full draught of wine, and the sleep in the dried river-channel where bulrushes tell that the water was wont to go warbling so softly and well. how good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses for ever in joy." the quotation seemed to loosen all tongues; and there followed a flood of such talk as may be heard in almost every company of englishmen, in praise of sport and physical exercise, touched with a sentiment not far removed from poetry--the only poetry of which they are not half-ashamed. audubon even joined in, forgetting for the moment his customary pose, and rhapsodizing with the rest over his favourite pursuits of snipe-shooting and cricket. much of this talk was lost upon me, for i am nothing of a sportsman; but some touches there were that recalled experiences of my own, and for that reason, i suppose, have lingered in my memory. thus, i recollect, some one spoke of skating on derwentwater, the miles of black, virgin ice, the ringing and roaring of the skates, the sunset glow, and the moon rising full over the mountains; and another recalled a bathe on the shore of Ægina, the sun on the rocks and the hot scent of the firs, as though the whole naked body were plunged in some æthereal liqueur, drinking it in with every sense and at every pore, like a great sponge of sheer sensation. after some minutes of this talk, as i still sat silent, ellis turned to me with the appeal, "but what about you, who are supposed to be our protagonist? here are we all rhapsodizing and you sit silent. have you nothing to contribute to your own theme?" "oh," i replied, "any experiences of mine would be so trivial they would be hardly worth recording. the most that could be said of them would be that they might, perhaps, illustrate more exactly than yours what one might call the pure goods of sense. for, as far as i can understand, the delights you have been describing are really very complex. in addition to pleasures of mere sensation, there is clearly an æsthetic charm--you kept speaking of heather and sunrises, and colours and wide prospects; and then there is the satisfaction you evidently feel in skill, acquiring or acquired, and in the knowledge you possess of the habits of beasts and birds. all this, of course, goes beyond the delight of simple sense perception, though, no doubt, inextricably bound up with it but what i was thinking of at first was something less complex and more elementary in which, nevertheless, i think we can detect good--good of sheer unadulterated sensation. think, for example, of the joys of a cold bath when one is dusty and hot! you will laugh at me, but sometimes when i have felt the water pouring down my back i have shouted to myself in my tub 'nunc dimittis.'" they burst out laughing, and ellis cried: "you gross sensualist! and to think of all this being concealed behind that masque of austere philosophy!" then they set off again in praise of the delights of such simple sensations, and especially of those of the palate, instancing, i remember, the famous tale about keats--how he covered his tongue and throat with cayenne pepper that he might enjoy, as he said, "the delicious coolness of claret in all its glory." and when this had gone on for some time, "perhaps enough has been said," i began, "to illustrate this particular kind of good. we have, i think, recognized to the full its merits; and we shall be equally ready, i suppose, to recognize its defects." "i don't know about that," said ellis. "i, for my part, at any rate, shall be very loth to dwell upon them. i sometimes think these are the only pure goods." "but at least," i replied, "you will admit that they are precarious. it is only at moments, and at moments that come and go without choice of ours, that this harmonious relation becomes established between our senses and the outer world. the very same things which at such times appear to be perfectly at one with ourselves, as if they had been made for us and we for them, we see and feel to have also a nature not only distinct but even alien and hostile to our own. the water which cools our skin and quenches our thirst also drowns; the fire which warms and comforts also burns; and so on through all the chapter--i need not weary you with details. nature, you will agree, not only ministers to our bodies, she torments and destroys them; she is our foe in ways at least as varied and efficacious as she is our friend." "but," objected ellis, "that is only because we don't treat her properly; we have to learn how to manage her." "perhaps," i replied, "though i should prefer to say, we have to learn how to fight and subdue her. but in any case we have laid our finger here upon a defect in this first kind of goods--they are, as i said, precarious. and the discovery of that fact, one might say, was the sword of the angel that drove man out of his imaginary eden. for at first we may suppose him, (if wilson will permit me to romance a little,) seizing every delight as it offered itself, under an instinctive impression that there were nothing but delights to be met with, eating when he was hungry, drinking when he was thirsty, sleeping when he was tired, and so on, in unquestioning trust of his natural impulses. but then, as he learnt by experience how evil follows good, and pleasure often enough is bought by pain, he would begin, would he not, instead of simply accepting good where it is, to endeavour to create it where it is not, sacrificing often enough the present to the future, and rejecting many immediate delights for the sake of those more remote? and this involves a complete change in his attitude; for he is endeavouring now to establish by his own effort that harmony between himself and the world which he fondly hoped at first was immediately given." "but," objected wilson, "he never did hope anything of the kind. this reconstruction of the past is all imaginary." "i dare say it may be," i replied, "but that is of little consequence, if it helps us to seize our point more clearly; for we are not at present writing history. man, then, we will suppose, is thus set out upon what is, whether he knows it or not, his quest to create, since he is unable to find ready-made, a world of objects harmonious to himself. but in this quest has he been, should you say, successful?" "more or less, i suppose," answered parry, "for he is progressively satisfying his needs, even if they are never completely satisfied." "perhaps," i replied, "though i sometimes have my doubts. the relation of man to nature, i have thought, is very strange and obscure. it is as though he began with the idea that he had only to remove a few blemishes from her face to make her completely accordant with his desire. but no sooner has he gone to work than these surface blemishes, as he thought them, prove to have roots deeper than all his probings; the more he cuts away the more he exposes of an element radically alien to himself, terrible and incomprehensible, branching wide and striking deep, and throwing up from depths unknown those symptoms and symbols of itself which he mistook for mere superficial stains." "really," protested parry, "i see no grounds for such a view." "perhaps not," i said, "but anyhow you will, i suppose, admit that a certain precariousness does attach to these goods of sense, whether they be freely offered by nature or painfully acquired by the labour of man." "not necessarily," he objected, "for we are constantly reducing to order and routine what was once haphazard and uncontrolled. for the great mass of civilized men the primitive goods of life, food, shelter, clothing and the like, are practically secured against all chance." "are they?" cried bartlett, "i admire your optimism!" "and i too," i said. "but even granting that it were as you say, we are then met by this curious fact, that the goods we really care about, in our practical activity, are never those that are secure but those that are precarious. as soon as we are safe against one risk we proceed to take another, so that there is always a margin, as it were, of precarious goods, and those exactly the ones which we hold most precious." "in fact," said audubon, "as soon as you get your good it ceases to be good. that's precisely what i am always saying." "then," i said, "there is the less need to labour the point. one way or other, it seems, either because they are difficult to secure, or because, when secured, they lose their specific quality. goods of this kind are caught in the wheels of chance and change, whether they be offered to man by the free gift of nature, or wrung from her in the sweat of his brow. in other words, they are, as i said, precarious. and now, have they any other defects?" "have they any?" cried leslie, "why they have nothing else!" "well," i said, "but what in particular?" "oh," he replied, "it's all summed up, i suppose, in the fact that they are goods of sense, and not of intellect or of imagination." "is it then," i asked, "a defect in content that you are driving at? do you mean that they satisfy only a part of our nature, not the whole? for that, i suppose, would be equally true of the other goods you mentioned, such as those of the intellect." "yes," he replied, "but it is the inferior part to which the goods we are speaking of appeal." "perhaps; but in what respect inferior?" "why, simply as the body is inferior to the soul." "but how is that? you will think me very stupid, but the more i think of it the less i understand this famous distinction between body and soul, and the relation of one to the other." "i doubt," said wilson, "whether there is a distinction at all." "i don't say that," i replied. "i only say that i can't understand it; and i should be thankful, if possible, to keep it out of our discussion." "so should i!" said wilson. "well, but," leslie protested, "how can we?" "i think perhaps we might," i said. "for instance, in the case before us, why should we not try directly to define that specific property of the goods of sense which, according to you, constitutes their defect, without having recourse to these difficult terms body and soul at all?" "well," he agreed, "we might try." "what, then" i said, "do you suggest?" he hesitated a little, and then began in a tentative kind of way: "i think what i feel about these goods is that we are somehow their slaves; they possess us, instead of our possessing them. they come upon us we hardly know how or whence; they satisfy our desires we can't tell why; our relation to them seems to be passive rather than active." "and that, you think, would not be the case with a true and perfect good?" "no, i think not" "how, then, should we feel towards such a good?" "we should feel, i think, that it was somehow an expression of ourselves, and we of it; that it was its nature and its whole nature to present itself as a good and our nature and our whole nature to experience it as such. there would be nothing in it alien to us and nothing in us alien to it." "whereas in the case of goods of sense----?" "whereas in their case," he said, "surely nothing of the kind applies. for these goods appear to arise in things and under circumstances which have quite another nature than that of being good for us. it is not the essence of water to quench our thirst, of fire to cook for us, or of the sun to give us light----" "or of cork-trees to stop our ginger-beer bottles," added ellis. "quite so," he continued; "in every case these things that do us good are also quite as ready to do us harm, and, for that matter, to do innumerable things which have no relation to us at all. so that the goodness they have in them, so far as it is goodness to our senses, they have, as it were, only by accident; and we feel that essentially either they are not goods, or their goodness is something beyond and different from that which is revealed to sense." "your quarrel, then" i said, "with the goods of sense, so far as i understand you, is that they inhere, as it were, in a substance which, so far as we can tell, is indifferent to good, or at any rate to good of that kind?" "yes." "whereas a true good, you think, must be good in essence and substance?" "yes; don't you think so too?" "i do," i replied, "but how about the others?" dennis assented, and the others did not object, not appearing, indeed, to have attended much to the argument. so i continued, "we have then, so far, discovered in this class of goods, two main defects, the first, that they are precarious; the second, which is closely connected with the other, and is in fact, i suppose, its explanation, that they are, shall we say, accidental, understanding the word in the sense we have just defined. now, let us see if we cannot find any class of goods similar to these, but free from their defects." "but similar in what respect," he asked, "if they are not to have similar defects?" "similar, i meant, in being direct presentations to sense." "but are there any such goods?" "i think so," i said. "what do you say to works of art? these, are they not, are direct presentations to sense? yet such that it is their whole nature and essence on the one hand to be beautiful, and to that extent good--for i suppose you will admit that the beautiful is a kind of good; and on the other hand, if i may dare to say so, to be, in a certain sense, eternal." "eternal!" cried ellis, "i only wish they were! what wouldn't we give for the works of polygnotus and apelles!" "oh yes," i said, "of course, in that way, regarded as material objects, they are as perishable as all the works of nature. but i was talking of them as art, not as mere things; and from that point of view, surely, each is a moment, or a series of moments, cut away, as it were, from the contact of chance or change and set apart in a timeless world of its own, never of its own nature, to pass into something else, but only through the alien nature of the matter to which it is bound." "what do you mean?" cried parry. "i am quite at sea." "perhaps," i said, "you will understand the point better if i give it you in the words of a poet." and i quoted the well-known stanzas from keats' "ode on a grecian urn": "heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd. pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone; fair youth beneath the trees, thou canst not leave thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss, though winning near the goal--yet, do not grieve; she cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, for ever wilt thou love and she be fair! "ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu; and, happy melodist, unwearied, for ever piping songs for ever new; more happy love! more happy, happy love! for ever warm and still to be enjoyed, for ever panting and for ever young; all breathing human passion far above, that leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed, a burning forehead, and a parching tongue." "well," said parry, when i had done, "that's very pretty; but i don't see how it bears on the argument." "i think," i replied, "that it illustrates the point i wanted to make. part, i mean, of the peculiar charm of works of art consists in the fact that they arrest a fleeting moment of delight, lift it from our sphere of corruption and change, and fix it like a star in the eighth heaven." "yes," said ellis, "we grant you that" "or at least," added parry, "we don't care to dispute it" "and the other point which i want to make is, i think, clearer still--that the good of works of art, that is to say their beauty, results from the very principle of their nature, and is not a mere accident of circumstances." "of course," said leslie, "their beauty is their only _raison d'être_?" "and yet," i went on, "they are still goods of sense, and so far resemble the other goods of which we were speaking before." "yes," said dennis, "but with what a difference! that is the point i have been waiting to come to." "what point?" i asked. "why," he said, "in the case of what you call goods of sense, in their simplest and purest form, making abstraction from all æsthetic and other elements--as in the example you gave of a cold bath--the relation of the object to the sense is so simple and direct, that really, if we were to speak accurately, we should have, i think, to say, that so far as the perception of good is concerned the object is merged in the subject, and what you get is simply a good sensation." "perhaps," i agreed, "that is how we ought to put it. but at the time i did not think it necessary to be so precise." "but it has become necessary now, i think," he replied, "if we are to bring out a characteristic of works of art which will throw light, i believe, on the general nature of good." "what characteristic is that?" "why," he replied, "when we come to works of art, the important thing is the object, not the subject; if there is any merging of the one in the other, it is the subject that is merged in the object, not _vice versa_. we have to contemplate the object, anyhow, as having a character of its own; and it is to this character that i want to draw attention." "in what respect?" "in respect that every work of art, and, for that matter, every work of nature--so far as it can be viewed æsthetically--comprises a number of elements necessarily connected in a whole; and this necessary connection is the point on which we ought to insist" "but necessary how?" asked wilson. "do you mean logically necessary?" "no," he replied, "æsthetically. i mean, that we have a direct perception that nothing in the work could be omitted or altered without destroying the whole. this, at any rate, is the ideal; and it holds, more or less, in proportion as the work is more or less perfect. everyone, i suppose, who understands these things would agree to that." no one seemed inclined to dispute the statement; certainly i was not, myself; so i answered, "no doubt what you say is true of works of art; but will your contention be that it is also true of good in general?" "yes," he said, "i think so, in so far at least as good is to be conceived as comprising a number of elements. for no one, i suppose, would imagine that such elements might be thrown together haphazard and yet constitute a good whole." "i suppose not," i agreed, "and, if you are right, what we seem to have arrived at is this: among the works which man creates in his quest of the good, there is one class, that of works of art, which, in the first place, may be said, in a sense, to be not precarious, seeing that by their form, through which they are art, they are set above the flux of time, though by their matter, we admit, they are bound to it and, in the second place, the good which they have, they have by virtue of their essence; good is their substance, not an accident of their changing relations. and, lastly, being complex wholes, the parts of which they are composed are bound together in necessary connection. these characteristics, at any rate, we have discovered in works of art: and no doubt many more might be discoverable. but now, let us turn to the other side, and consider the defects in which this class of goods is involved." "ah!" cried bartlett, "when you come to that, i have something to say." "well," i said, "what is it? we shall be glad of any help." "it can be summed up," he replied, "in a single word. whatever may be the merits of a work of art--and they may be all that you say--it has this one grand defect--it isn't real!" "real!" cried leslie. "what is real? the word's the plague of my life! people use it as if they meant something by it, something very tremendous and august, and when you press them they never know what it is. they talk of 'real life'--real life! what is it? as if one life wasn't as real as another!" "oh, as to real life," said ellis, "i can tell you what that is. real life is the shady side of life." "nonsense," said parry, "real life is the life of men of the world." "or," retorted ellis, "more generally, it is the life of the person speaking, as opposed to that of the person to whom he speaks." "well, but," i interposed, "it is not 'real life' that is our present concern, but bartlett's meaning when he used the word 'real.' in what sense is art not real?" "why," he replied, "by your own confession art is something ideal. it is beautiful, it is good, it is lifted above chance and change; its connection with matter, that is to say with reality, is a kind of flaw, an indecency from which we discreetly turn our eyes. the real world is nothing of all this; on the contrary, it is ugly, brutal, material, coarse, and bad as bad can be!" "i don't see that it is at all!" cried leslie, "and, even if it were, you have no right to assume that that is the reality of it. how do you know that its reality doesn't consist precisely in the ideal, as all poets and philosophers have thought? and, in that case, art would be more real than what you would call reality, because it would represent the essence of the world, the thing it would like to be if it could, and is, so far as it can. that was aristotle's view, anyhow." "then all i can say is," replied bartlett, "that i don't agree with aristotle! anyhow, even if art represents what the world would like to be, it certainly doesn't represent what it is." "i don't know; surely it does, sometimes," said parry, "for instance, there's the realistic novel!" "oh, that!" cried ellis. "that's the most ideal of all--only it's apt to be such bad idealism!" "anyhow," said bartlett, "in so far as it is real, it's not art, in the sense, in which we have been using the word." i began to be afraid that we should drift away into a discussion of realism in art. so, to recall the conversation to the point at issue, i turned to bartlett, and said: "your criticism seems to me to be fair enough as far as it goes. you say that the world of art is a world by itself; that side by side of it, and unaffected by it, moves the world of what you call real life. and that whatever be the relation between the two worlds, whether we are to say that the one imitates the other, or interprets it, or idealizes it, it does not, in any case, set it aside. art is a refuge from life, not a substitute for it; a little blessed island in the howling sea of fact. its good is thus only a partial good; whereas the true good, i suppose, would be somehow universal." "still," said leslie, "as far as it goes it is a good without blemish." "i am not so sure," i said, "even of that. i am inclined to think that bartlett's criticism, if we squeeze it tight, will yield us more than we have yet got out of it--perhaps even more than he knows is in it" "you don't mean to say," cried bartlett, "that you are coming over to my side!" "yes," i said, "like a spy to the enemy's camp to see where your strength really lies." "i have no objection," he replied, "if it ends in your discovering new defences for me." "well," i said, "we shall see. anyhow, this is what i had in my mind. we were saying just now that when people talk about 'real life,' the 'real world,' and so on, they are not always very clear as to what they mean. but one thing, i think, perhaps they have obscurely in their heads--that the real is something from which you cannot escape; something which forces itself upon you without reference to choice or desire, having a nature of its own which may or may not conform, more or less to yours, but in any case is distinct and independent. that is why they would say, for example, that the illusions of a madman are not real, meaning that they do not represent real things, however vivid their appearance may be, because they are the productions merely of his own consciousness; whereas the very same appearances presented to a sane man would be called without hesitation real, because they would be conceived to proceed from objects having an independent nature of their own. something of this kind, i suppose, is included in the notion 'real' as it is held by ordinary people." "perhaps" said leslie, "but what then? and how does it bear upon art?" "i am not sure," i replied, "but it occurred to me that works of art, though of course they are real objects, are such that a certain violence, as it were, has been done to their reality in our interest. what i mean will be best understood, i think, if we put ourselves for the moment into the position of the artist. to him certain materials are presented which of course are real in our present acceptation of the term, being such as they are of their own nature, without any dependence upon him. upon these materials he flings himself, and shapes them according to his desire, impressing, as it were, his own nature upon theirs, till they confront him as a kind of image of himself in an alien stuff. so far, then, he has a good, and a good presented to him as real; but for the goodness of this reality he is himself responsible. in so far as it is, so to speak, merely real, it has still the nature which was first presented to him, before he began his work--a nature indifferent, if not opposed, to all his operations, as is shown by the fact that it changes and passes away into something else, just as it would have done if he had never touched it. to this nature he has, as i said, done a certain violence in order to stamp upon it the appearance of good; but the good is still, in a sense, only an appearance; the reality of the thing remains independent and alien. so that what the man has found, in so far as he has found good, is after all only a form of himself; and one can conceive him feeling a kind of despair, like that of wotan in the walküre, when in his quest for a free, substantial, self-subsistent good he finds after all, for ever, nothing but images of himself: "'das andre, das ich ersehne, das andre, erseh' ich nie.' "i don't know whether what i am saying is intelligible, for i find it rather hard to put it into words." "yes," he said, "i think i understand. but what you are saying, so far as it is true, seems to be true only for the artist himself. to all others the work of art must appear as something independent of themselves." "true," i said, "and yet i think that they too feel, or might be made to fed if it were brought home to them, this same antagonism between the nature of the stuff and the form that has been given to it. the form will seem from this point of view something factitious and artificial given to the stuff, not indeed by themselves, but by one like themselves, and in their interest. they will contrast, perhaps, as is often done, a picture of the landscape with the landscape itself. the picture, they will say, however beautiful, is not a 'natural' good, not a real good, not a good in its own right; it is a kind of makeshift produced by human effort, beautiful, if you will, admirable, if you will, to be sought, to be cherished, to be loved in default of a better, with the best faculties of brain and soul, but still not that ultimate thing we wanted, that good in and of itself, as well as through and for us, good by its own nature apart from our interposition, self-moved, self-determined, self-dependent, and in which alone our desires could finally rest.--don't you think that some such feeling may, perhaps, be at the bottom of bartlett's criticism of art as unreal?" bartlett laughed. "if so," he said, "it is quite unknown to myself. for to tell the truth, i have not understood a word that you have said." "well," i said, "in that case, at any rate you can't disagree with me. but what do the others think?" and i turned to dennis and leslie, for wilson and parry did not seem to be attending. leslie assented with enthusiasm. but dennis shook his head. "i don't know," he said, "what to think about all that. it seems to me rather irrelevant to the work of art as such." "perhaps," i said, "but surely not to the work of art as good? or do you not agree with me that the true good must be such purely of its own nature?" "perhaps so," he replied; "it wants thinking over. but in any case i agree with you so far, that i should never place the good in art." "in what then?" "i should be much more inclined to place it in knowledge." "in knowledge!" i repeated. "that seems to me very strange!" "but why strange?" he said. "surely there is good authority for the view. it was aristotle's for example, and spinoza's." "i know," i replied, "and i used to think it was also mine. but of late i have come to realize more clearly what knowledge is; and now i see, or seem to see, that whatever its value may be, it is something that falls very far short of good." "why," he said, "what is your idea of knowledge?" "you had better ask wilson," i replied, "it is he who has instructed me." "very well," he said, "i appeal to wilson." and wilson, nothing loth, enunciated his definition of knowledge. "knowledge," he said, "is the description and summing up in brief formulæ of the routine of our perceptions." "there!" i exclaimed. "no one, i suppose, would identify that with good?" "but"--objected dennis--"in the first place, i don't understand the definition; and, in the second place, i don't agree with it." "as to understanding it," replied wilson, "there need be no difficulty there. you have only to seize clearly one or two main positions. first, that knowledge is of perceptions only, not of things in themselves; secondly, that these perceptions occur in fixed routines; thirdly ..." "but," interrupted dennis, "what is a perception? i suppose it's a perception of something?" "no," he said, "i don't know that it is." "what then? simply a state in me?" "very likely." "then does nothing exist except my states?" "nothing else exists primarily for you." "then what about the world before i existed, and after i cease to exist?" "you infer such a world from your states." "then there is something besides my states--this world which i infer; and that, i suppose, and not merely my perceptions, is the reality of which i have knowledge?" "not exactly," he replied, "the fact is ..." "i don't think," i interrupted, "that we ought to plunge into a discussion of the nature of reality. it is good with which we are at present concerned." "but," said dennis, "we wanted to find out the connection of knowledge with good; and to do so we must first discover what knowledge is." "well then," i said, "let us first take wilson's account of knowledge, and see what he makes of that with regard to good; and then we will take yours, and see what we make of that. and if we don't find that either satisfies the requirements of good we will leave knowledge and go on to something else." "very well," he replied, "i am content, so long as i get my chance." "you shall have your chance. but first we will take wilson. and i dare say he will not keep us long. for you will hardly maintain, i suppose," i continued, turning to him, "that knowledge, as you define it, could be identified with good?" "i don't know," he said; "to tell the truth, i don't much believe in good, in any absolute sense. but that knowledge, as i define it, is a good thing, i have no doubt whatever." "neither have i," i replied; "but good, as it seems to me, mainly as a means, in so far as it enables us to master nature." "well," he said, "and what greater good could there be?" "i don't dispute the greatness of such a good. i merely wish to point out that if we look at it so, it is in the mastery of nature that the good in question consists, and not in the knowledge itself. or should you say that there is good in the scientific activity itself, quite apart from any practical results to which it may lead?" "certainly," he replied, "and the former, in my opinion, is the higher and more ideal good." "this activity itself of inventing brief formulæ to resume the routine of our perceptions?" "yes." "well, but what _is_ the good of it? that is what it is so hard for a layman to get hold of. does it consist in the discovery of reality? for that, i could understand, would be good." "no," he said, "for we do not profess to touch reality. we deal merely with our perceptions." "so that when, for example, you conceive such and such a perfect fluid, or whatever you call it, and such and such motions in it, you do not suppose this fluid to be real." "no. it is merely a conception by means of which we are enabled to give an account of the order in which certain of our perceptions occur. but it is very satisfactory to be able to give such an account." "i suppose it must be," i said, "but once more, could you say more precisely wherein the satisfaction consists? is it, perhaps, in the discovery of necessary connections?" "no," he said, "we don't admit necessity. we admit only an order which is, as a matter of fact, regular." "you say, for example, that it so happens that all bodies do move in relation to one another in the way summed up in the law of gravitation; but that you see no reason why they should?" "yes." "but ..." began dennis, who had found difficulty all this time in restraining himself. "one moment!" i pleaded, "let wilson have his say." and turning to him i continued: "if, then, the satisfaction to be derived from scientific activity does not consist in the discovery of reality, nor yet in that of necessary connection, wherein should you say, does it consist? perhaps in the regulating of expectation?" "what do you mean by that?" "i mean, that it is painful for us to live in a world in which we don't know what to expect; it excites not only our fears and apprehensions, but also a kind of intellectual disgust. and, conversely, it is a relief and a pleasure to discover an order among our experiences, not only because it enables us the better to utilize them for our ends (for that belongs to the practical results of science), but because in itself we prefer order to disorder, even if no other advantage were to be got out of it." "i don't know that we do!" objected ellis, "it depends on the kind of order. an order of dull routine is far more intolerable than a disorder of splendid possibilities! ask the oriental why he objects to british rule! simply because it is regular! he prefers the chances of rapine, violent and picturesque, to the dreary machine-like depredations of the tax-collector." "yes," i said, "but there you take in a number of complex factors. i was thinking merely of the good to be got out of scientific activity as such. and i think there is an intellectual satisfaction in the discovery of order, even though it be dissociated from necessity." "no doubt there is," said wilson, "but i shouldn't say that is the only reason for our delight in knowledge. the fact is, knowledge is an extension of experience, and is good simply as such. the sense of more and still more beyond what has yet been discovered, of new facts, new successions, new combinations, of ever fresh appeals to our interest, our wonder, our admiration, the mere excitement of discovery for its own sake, quite apart from anything else to which it may lead, a dash of adventure, too, a heightening of life--that is what is the real spur to science and, to my mind, its sufficient justification." "but," i objected, "that is rather an account of the general process of experience than of the special one of knowledge. no doubt there is an attraction in all activity--ellis has already expounded it; and all experience involves a kind of knowledge; but what we wanted to get at was the special attraction of scientific activity; and that seems to be, so far as i can see, simply the discovery of order." "well," he said, "if you like--what then?" "why, then," i said, "we can easily see the defect in this kind of activity, when viewed from the standpoint of good." "what is it?" "why, clearly, that that in which we discover the order may be bad. there is a science of disease as well as of health; and an activity concerned with the bad could hardly be purely good, even though it were a discovery of order in the bad. or do you think that if all men were diseased, they would nevertheless be in possession of the good, if only they had perfect knowledge of the laws of disease?" "no," he said, "of course not. we have to take into account, not only the character of knowledge, but the character of the object known." "quite so, that is my point. you agree then with me that knowledge may be in various ways good, but that in so far as it is, or may be knowledge of bad, it cannot be said by itself to constitute the good." "i think," he agreed, "that i might admit that." "well, then," i said, "let us leave it there. and now, what has dennis to say?" "ah!" he said, "you unmuzzle me at last. it has really been very hard to sit by in silence and listen to these heresies without a protest." "heresies!" retorted wilson, "if it comes to that, which of us is the heretic?" "what," i asked, "is the point of disagreement?" "it's a fundamental one. on wilson's view, knowledge is merely the discovery of order among our perceptions. if that were all, i shouldn't value it much. but on my view, it is the discovery of necessary connection; and in the necessity lies the fascination." "but where," argued wilson, "do you find your necessity? all that is really given is succession. the necessity is merely what we read into the facts." "not at all! the necessity is 'given,' as you call it, as much as anything else, if only you choose to look for it. the type of all knowledge is mathematical knowledge; and all mathematical knowledge is necessary." "but it is all based on assumptions." "that may be; but granting the assumptions, it deduces from them necessary consequences. and all true science is of that type. a law of nature is not a mere description of a routine; it's a statement that, given such and such conditions, such and such results follow of necessity." "still, you admit that the conditions have to be given! everything is based ultimately on certain successions and coincidences of which all that can be said is simply that they exist, without any possibility of getting behind them." "i don't know about that," he said, "but at any rate it would be the ideal of knowledge to establish necessary connections throughout; so that, given any one phenomenon of the universe, all the rest would inevitably follow. and it is only in so far as it progresses towards this consummation that knowledge is knowledge at all. a routine simply given without internal coherence is to my mind a contradiction in terms; either the routine is necessary, or it's not a routine at all, but at best a mere appearance of a routine." "i think," i interposed, "we must leave you and wilson to fight this out in private. at present, let us assume that your conception of knowledge is the true one, as we did with his, and examine it from the point of view of the good. your conception, then, to begin with, seems to me to be involved in the same defect we have already noted--namely, that it may be knowledge of bad just as much as knowledge of good. and i suppose you would hardly maintain, any more than wilson did, that the good may consist in knowledge of bad?" "but," he objected, "i protest altogether against this notion that there is knowledge on the one hand and something of which there is knowledge on the other. true knowledge, if ever we could attain to it, would be a unique kind of activity, in which there would be no distinction, or at least no antagonism, between thinking on the one hand and the thing thought on the other." "i don't know," i said, "that i quite understand. have we in fact any knowledge of that kind, that might serve as a kind of type of what you mean?" "yes," he replied, "i think we have. for example, if we are dealing with pure number, as in arithmetic, we have an object which is somehow native to our thought, commensurate with it, or however you like to put it; and it is the same with other abstract notions, such as substance and causation." "i see," i said. "and on the other hand, the element which is alien to thought, and which is the cause of the impurity of most of what we call knowledge, is the element of sense--the something given, which thought cannot, as it were, digest, though it may dress and serve it up in its own sauce?" "yes," he said, "that is my idea." "so that knowledge, to be perfect, must not be of sense, but only of pure thought, as plato suggested long ago?" "yes." "and such a knowledge, if we could attain it, you would call the good?" "i think so." "well," i said, "in the first place, i have to point out that such a good (if it be one) implies an existence not merely better than that of which we have an experience, but radically and fundamentally different. for our whole life is bathed in sense. not only are we sunk in it up to the neck, but the greater part of the time our heads are under too,--in fact most of us never get them out at all; it is only a few philosophers every now and again who emerge for a moment or two into sun and air, to breathe that element of pure thought which is too fine even for them, except as a rare indulgence. at other times, they too must be content with the grosser atmosphere which is the common sustenance of common men." "well," he said, "but what of that? we have not been maintaining that the good is within easy reach of all." "no," cried ellis. "but even if it were, and were such as you describe it, very few people would care to put out their hands to take it. i, at any rate, for my part can see hardly a vestige of good in the kind of activity i understand you to mean. it is as though you should say, that good consists in the perpetual perception that + = ." "but that is an absurd parody. for the point of knowledge would be, that it would be a closed circle of necessary connections. one would move in it, as in infinity, with a motion that is also rest, central at once and peripheral, free and yet bound by law. that is my ideal of a perfect activity!" "in form, perhaps," i said, "but surely not in content! for what, in fact, in our experience comes nearest to what you describe? i suppose the movement of a logic like hegel's?" "yes; only that, of course, is imperfect, full of lapses and flaws!" "but even if it were perfect," cried ellis, "would it be any the better? imagine being deprived of the whole content of life--of nature, of history, of art, of religion, of everything in which we are really interested; imagine being left to turn for ever, like a squirrel in a cage, or rather like the idea of a squirrel in the idea of a cage, round and round the wheel of these hollow notions, without hands, without feet, without anything anywhere by which we could lay hold of a something that is not thought, a something solid, resistant, palpitating, 'luscious and aplomb,' as walt whitman might say, a sense, a flesh, call it what you will, the unintelligible, but still the indispensable, that which, even if it be bad, we cannot afford to miss, and which, if it be not the good itself, the good must somehow include!" dennis appeared to be somewhat struck by this way of putting the matter. "but," he urged, "my difficulty is that if you admit sense, or anything analogous to it, anything at once directly presented and also alien to thought, you get, as you said yourself, something which is unintelligible; and a good which is not intelligible will be, so far, not good." "but," i said, "what do you mean by intelligible?" "i think," he replied, "that i mean two things, both of which must be present. first, that there shall be a necessary connection among the elements presented; and secondly, that the elements themselves should be of such a kind as to be, as it were, transparent to that which apprehends them, so that it asks no questions as to what they are or whence they come, but accepts them naturally and as a matter of course, with the same inevitability as it accepts its own being." "and these conditions, you think, are fulfilled by the objects of thought as you defined them? "i think so." "i am not so sure of that," i said, "it would require a long discussion. but, anyhow, you also seemed to admit, when ellis pressed you, that thought of that kind could hardly be identified absolutely with good." "i admit," he replied, "that there are difficulties in that view." "but at the same time the good, whatever it be, ought to be intelligible in the sense you have explained?" "i should say so." "and so should i. but now, the question is, can we not conceive of any other kind of object, which might have, on the one hand, the intelligibility you ascribe to pure ideas, and on the other, that immediate something, 'luscious and aplomb,' to borrow ellis's quotation, which he desiderated as a constituent of the good?" "i don't know," he said, "perhaps we might. what is it you have in your mind?" "well," i replied, "let us recur for a moment to works of art. in them we have, to begin with, directly presented elements other than mere ideas." "no doubt." "and further, these elements, we agreed, have a necessary connection one with the other." "yes, but not logically necessary." "no doubt, but still a necessary connection. and it is the necessity of the connection, surely, that is important; the character of the necessity is a secondary consideration." "perhaps." "one condition, then, of intelligibility is satisfied by a work of art. but how is it with the other? how is it with the elements themselves? are they transparent, to use your phrase, to that which apprehends them?" "certainly not, for they are mere sense--of all things the most obscure and baffling." "and yet," i replied, "not mere sense, for they are sense made beautiful; as beautiful, they are akin to us, and, so far, intelligible." "you suggest, then, that beauty is akin to something in us, in a way analogous to that in which, according to me, ideas are akin to thought?" "it seems so to me. in so far as a thing is beautiful it does not, i think, demand explanation, but only in so far as it is something else as well." "perhaps. but anyhow, inasmuch as a work of art is also sense, so far at least it is not intelligible." "true; and here we come by a new path upon the defect which we noticed before in works of art--that their beauty, or goodness, is not essential to their whole nature, but is something imposed, as it were, on an alien stuff. and it is this alien element that we now pronounce to be unintelligible." "yes; and so, as we agreed before, we cannot pronounce works of art to be absolutely good." "no. but what are we to do then? where are we to turn? is there nothing in our experience to suggest the kind of object we seem to want?" no one answered. i looked round in vain for any help, and then, in a kind of despair, moved by i know not what impulse, i made a direct appeal to audubon. "come!" i cried, "you have said nothing for the last hour! i am sure you must have something to suggest." "no," he said, "i haven't. your whole way of dealing with these things is a mystery to me. i can't conceive, for example, why you have never once referred all through to what i should have thought was the best good we know--if, indeed, we know any good at all." "what do you mean?" "why," he said, "one's relations to persons. they're the only things that i think really worth having--if anything were worth having." a light suddenly broke on me, and i cried, "yes! an idea!" "well," said ellis, "what is it, you man of forlorn hopes?" "why," i said, "suppose the very object we are in search of should be found just there?" "where?" "why, in persons!" "persons!" he repeated. "but what persons? any, every, all?" "wait one moment," i cried, "and don't confuse me! let me approach the matter properly." "very well," he said, "you shan't be hurried! you shall have your chance." "let us remind ourselves, then," i proceeded, "of the point we had reached. the good, we agreed, so far as we have been able to form a conception of it, must be something immediately presented, and presented in such a way, that it should be directly intelligible--intelligible not only in the relations that obtain between its elements, but also in the substance, so to speak, of the elements themselves. of such intelligibility we had a type, as dennis maintained, in the objects of pure thought, ideas and their relations. but the good, we held, could not consist in these. it must be something, we felt, somehow analogous to sense, and yet it could not be sense, for sense did not seem to be intelligible. but now, when audubon spoke, it occurred to me that perhaps we might find in persons what we want and that is what i should like to examine now." "well," said ellis, "proceed." "to begin with, then, a person, i suppose we shall agree, is not sense, though he is manifested through sense." "what does that mean?" said wilson. "it means only, that a person is not his body, although we know him through his body." "if he isn't his body," said wilson, "he is probably only a function of it." "oh!" i said, "i know nothing about that. i only know that when we talk of a person, we don't mean merely his body." "no," said ellis, "but we certainly mean also his body. heaven save me from a mere naked soul, 'ganz ohne körper, ganz abstrakt,' as heine says." "but, at any rate," i said, "let me ask you, for the moment, to consider the soul apart from the body." "the soul," cried wilson, "i thought we weren't to talk about body and soul." "well," i said, "i didn't intend to, but i seem to have been driven into it unawares." "but what do you mean by the soul?" "i mean," i replied, "what i suppose to be the proper object of psychology--for even people who object to the word 'soul' don't mind talking (in greek, of course) of the science of the soul. anyhow, what i mean is that which thinks and feels and wills." "well, but what about it?" said ellis. "the first thing about it is that it is, as it seems to me, of all things the most intelligible." "i should have said," wilson objected, "that it was of all things the least." "yes; but we are probably thinking of different things. what you have in your mind is the connection of this thing which you refuse to call the soul, with the body, the genesis and relations of its various faculties, the measurement of its response to stimuli, and all the other points which are examined in books of psychology. all that i agree is very unintelligible; i, at least, make no profession of understanding it. but what i meant was, that looking at persons as we know them in ordinary life, or as they are shown to us in literature and art, they really are intelligible to us in the same way that we are intelligible to ourselves." "and how is that?" "why, through motives and passions. there is, i suppose, no feeling or action of which human beings are capable, from the very highest to the very lowest, which other human beings may not sympathetically understand, through the mere fact that they have the same nature. they will understand more or less according as they have more or less sympathy and insight; but in any case they are capable of understanding, and it is the business of literature and art to make them understand." "that is surely a curious use of the word 'understand.'" "but it is the one, i think, which is important for us. at any rate, what i mean is that the object presented is so akin, not indeed (as in the case of ideas) merely to our thought, but to our whole complex nature, that it does not demand explanation." "what!" cried audubon. "well, all i can say is that most of the people i, at any rate, come across do most emphatically demand explanation. i don't see why they're there, or what they're doing, or what they're for. their existence is a perpetual problem to me! and what's worse, probably my existence is the same to them!" "but," i said, "surely if you had leisure or inclination to study them all sympathetically, you would end by understanding them." "i don't think i should. at least i might in a sort of pathological way, as one comes to understand a disease; but i shouldn't understand why they exist. it seems to me, most people aren't fit to exist; and i dare say they have the same opinion about me." "but are there no people of whose existence you approve?" "yes, a few: my friends." "surely," cried ellis, "you flatter us! how often have you said that you don't see why we are this, that, or the other! how often have you complained of our faces, our legs, our arms, in fact, our whole physique, not to mention spiritual blemishes!" "well," he replied, "i don't deny that it's a great grief to me to be unable really and objectively to approve of any of my friends. still----" "still," i interrupted, "you have given me the suggestion i wanted. for the relation of affection, however imperfect it may be, gives us at least something which perhaps we shall find comes nearer to what we might conceive to be absolutely good than anything else we have yet hit upon." "how so?" "well, to begin with, one's friend appears to one, does he not, as an object good in its own nature, not merely by imposition of our own ideal upon an alien stuff, as we said was the case with works of art?" "i don't know about that!" said audubon. "in my own case, at any rate, i am sure that my friends never see me at all as i really am, but simply read into me their own ideal. they have just as much imposed upon me their own conception, as if i were the marble out of which they had carded a statue." "you must allow us to be the judges of that," i replied. "well, but," he said, "anyhow you can't deny that such illusions are common. what lover ever saw his mistress as she really is?" "no," i said, "i don't deny that. but at the same time i should affirm that the truer the love, the less the illusion. in what is commonly called love, no doubt, the physical element is the predominant, or even the only one present; and in that case there may be illusion to an indefinite extent. but the love which is based upon years of common experience, which has grown with the growth of the whole person, in power and intelligence and insight, which has survived countless disappointments and surmounted countless obstacles, the love of husband and wife, the love, as we began by saying, of friends--such love, as browning says boldly, 'is never blind.' and such love, i suppose you will admit, does exist, however rarely?" "yes, i suppose so." "well, then, in the case of such a love, it is the object as it really is, not as it has been falsely fashioned by the imagination, that is directly apprehended as good. and you cannot fairly say that its good is merely the ideal of the lover transferred to the person of the loved." "but," objected leslie, "though that may be so, yet still the good, that is the person, does inhere in an alien stuff--the body." "but," i replied,"_is_ the body alien? is it not rather an expression of the person? as essential, somehow or other, as the soul?" "certainly!" cried ellis. "give me the flesh, the flesh! "'not with my soul, love!--bid no soul like mine lap thee around nor leave the poor sense room! take sense too--let me love entire and whole-- not with my soul.'" "i don't agree with the sentiment of that," said leslie, "and anyhow, i don't see how it bears on the question. for the point of the poem is rather to emphasize than to deny the opposition between body and soul." "yes," replied ellis, "but also to suggest what you idealists call the transcending of it." "do you mean that in the marriage relation, for example ..." "yes, i mean that in that act the flesh, so to speak, is annihilated at the very moment of its assertion, and what you get is a feeling of total union with the person, body and soul at once, or rather, neither one nor the other, but simply that which is in and through both." "i should have thought," objected leslie, "it was rather a case of the soul being merged in the body." "that depends," replied ellis. "yes," i said, "it depends on many things! but what i was thinking of was that, quite apart from that experience, and in the moments of sober observation, one does feel, does one not, a ^correspondence between body and soul, as though the one were the expression of the other?" "i don't know," objected audubon. "what i feel is much more often a discrepancy." "but still," i urged, "even when there appears to be a discrepancy to begin with, don't you think that in the course of years the spirit does tend to stamp its own likeness on the flesh, and especially on the features of the face?" "'for soul is form,'" quoted leslie, "'and doth the body make.'" "yes," i said, "and that verse, i believe, is not merely a beautiful fancy of the poet's, but rather as the greeks maintained--and on such a point they were good judges--a profound and significant truth. at any rate, i find it to be so in the case of the people i care about--though there i know audubon will dissent. in them, every change of expression, every tone of voice, every gesture has its significance; there is nothing that is not expressive--not a curl of the hair, not a lift of the eyebrows, not a trick of speech or gait. the body becomes, as it were, transparent and pervious to the soul; and that inexplicable element of sense, which baffles us everywhere else, seems here at last to receive its explanation in presenting itself as the perfect medium of spirit." "if you come to that," cried ellis, "you might as well extend your remarks to the clothes. for they, to a lover's eyes, are often as expressive and adorable as the body itself." "well," i said, "the clothes, too, are a sort of image of the soul, 'an imitation of an imitation,' as plato would say. but, seriously, don't you agree with me that there is something in the view which regards the body as the 'word made flesh,' a direct expression of the person, not a mere stuff in which he inheres?" "yes," he said, "there may be something in it. at any rate, i understand what you mean." "and in so far as that is so," i continued, "the body, though it be a thing of sense, would nevertheless be directly intelligible in the same way as the soul?" "perhaps, in a sort of way." "and so we should have in the person loved an object which, though presented to sense, would be at once good and intelligible; and our activity in relation to this object, the activity, that is, of love, would come nearer than any other experience of ours to what we might call a perfect good?" "but," objected leslie, "it is still far enough from being the good itself. for after all, say what you may about the body being the medium of the soul, it is still body, still sense, and, like other sensible things, subject to change and decay, and in the end to death. and with the fate of the body, so far as we know, that of the person is involved. so that this, too, like all other goods of sense, is precarious.' "perhaps it is," i said, "i cannot tell. but all that i mean to maintain at present is that in the activity of love, as we have analysed it, we have something which gives us, if it be only for a moment, yet still in a real experience, an idea, at least, a suggestion, to say no more, of what we might mean by a perfect good, even though we could not say that it be the good itself." "but what, then, would you call the good itself?" "a love, i suppose, which in the first place would be eternal, and in the second all-comprehensive. for there is another defect in love, as we know it, to which you did not refer, namely, that it is a relation only to one or two individuals, while outside and beyond it proceeds the main current of our lives, involving innumerable relations of a very different kind from this." "yes," cried ellis, "and that is why this gospel of love, with all its attractiveness, which i admit, seems to me, nevertheless, so trivial and absurd. just consider! here is the great round world with all that in it is, infinite in time, infinite in space, infinite in complexity; here is the whole range of human relations, to say nothing of those that are not human, of activities innumerable in and upon nature and man himself, of inventions, discoveries, institutions, laws, arts, sciences, religions; and the meaning and purpose and end of all this we calmly assert to be--what? a girl and a boy kissing on the village green!" "but," i protested, "who said anything about boys and girls and kisses and village greens?" "well, i suppose that is love, of a sort?" "yes, of a sort, no doubt; but not a very good one." "you are thinking, then, of a special kind of love?" "i am thinking of the kind which i conceive to be the best." "and what is that?" "one, as i said just now, that should be eternal and all-comprehensive." "and so, in the end, you have nothing better than an imaginary heaven to land us in!" "i have no power, i fear, to land you there. but i believe there is that dwelling within you which will not let you rest in anything short." "then i fear i shall never rest!" "that may be. but meantime all i want to do is to ascertain, if we can, the meaning of your unrest. i have no interest in what you call an imaginary heaven, except in so far as its conception is necessary to enable us to interpret the world we know." "but how should it be necessary? i have never found it so." "it is necessary, i think, to explain our dissatisfaction. for the goods we actually realize always point away from themselves to some other good whose realization perhaps, as you say, for us is impossible. but even if the good were chimerical, we cannot deny the passion that pursues it; for it is the same passion that urges us to the pursuit of such goods as we really can attain. and if we want to understand the nature of that passion, we must understand the nature of its good, whether it be attainable or no. only it is for the sake of life here that we need that comprehension, not for the sake of life somewhere else." "but do you reduce our passion for good to this passion for love?" "i don't 'reduce' it; i interpret it so." "and so we come back to the girl and the boy and the village green!" "no! we come back to the whole of life, of which that is only an episode. let me try to explain how the thing presents itself to me." "by all means! that is what i want." "very well; i will do my best. let us look then at life just as it is. here we find ourselves involved with one another in the most complex relations--economic, political, social, domestic, and the rest; and about and in these relations centres the interest of our life, whether it be pleasurable or painful, empty or full, or whatever its character. among these relations some few perhaps--or, it may be, even none--realize for a longer or shorter time, with more or less completeness, that ultimate identity in diversity, that 'me in thee' which we call love; the rest comprise various degrees of attraction and repulsion, hatred, contempt, indifference, toleration, respect, sympathy, and so on; and all together, always changing, dissolving, and combining anew, weave about us, as they cross and intertwine, the shifting, restless web we call life. now these relations are an effect and result of the pursuit of good; but they are never the final goal of that pursuit. the goal, i think, would be a perfect union of all with all; and is not attained by anything that falls short of this, whether the defect be in depth or in extent. and that is how it is that love itself, even in its richer phases, and still more in those which are merely light and sensual, though, as i think, through it alone can we form our truest conception of good, yet, as we have it, never is the good, even if it appear to be so for the moment; for those who seek good, i believe, will never feel that they have found it merely in union with one other person. for what love gains in intension it is apt to lose in extension; so that in practice it may even come to frustrate the very end it seeks, limiting instead of expanding, narrowing just in proportion as it deepens, and, by causing the disruption of all other ties, impoverishing the natures it should have enriched. or don't you think that this happens sometimes, for instance in married life?" "i do indeed." "and, on the other hand," i continued, "it may very well be that one who passes through life without attaining the fruition of love, yet with his gaze always set upon it, in and through many other connections, may yet come closer to the end of his seeking than one who, having known love, has sunk to rest in it then and there, as though he had come already to his journey's end, when really he has only reached an inn upon the road. so that i am far from thinking, as you pretended to suppose, that the boy and girl on the village green realize then and there the consummation of the world." "still," he objected, "i do not see, in the scheme you put forward, what place is left for the common business of life--for the things which really do, for the most part, occupy and possess men's minds, and the more, in my opinion, the greater their force and capacity." "you mean, i suppose, war and politics, and such things as that? "yes, and generally all that one calls business." "well," i said, "what these things mean to those who pursue them, i am not as competent as you to say. but surely, what they are in essence is just, like most other activities, relations between human beings--relations of command and obedience, of respect, admiration, antagonism, comradeship, infinitely complex, infinitely various, but still all of them strung, as it were, upon a single thread of passion; all of them at tension to become something else; all pointing to the consummation which it is the nature of that which created them to seek, and all, in that sense, paradoxical as it may sound, only means to love." "you don't repudiate such activities then?" "how should i? i repudiate nothing. i am not trying to judge, but, if i could, to explain. it is the men of action, i suppose, who have the greatest extension of life, and sometimes, no doubt, the greatest intension too. but every man has to live his own way, according to his opportunities and capacity. only, as i think myself, all are involved in the same scheme, and all are driven to the same consummation." "a consummation in the clouds!" "i do not know about that; but at any rate, and this is the important point, that which urges us to it is here and now. everything is rooted in it. our pleasures and pains alike, our longing and dissatisfaction, our restlessness never-to-be-quenched, our counting as nothing what has been attained in the pressing on to more, our lying down and rising up, our stumbling and recovering, whether we fail, as we call it, or succeed, whether we act or suffer, whether we hate or love, all that we are, all that we hope to be springs from the passion for good, and points, if we are right in our analysis, to love as its end." upon this audubon broke out:--"that's all very well! but the one crucial point you persistently evade. it may be quite true, for aught i know, that the good you describe is the good we seek--though i am not aware of seeking it myself. but, after all, the real question is, can we get it? if not, we are mere fools to seek it." "so," i said, "you have brought me to bay at last! and, since you challenge me, i am bound to admit that i don't know whether we can get it or no." "well then," he said, impatiently, "what is the good of all this discussion?" "clearly," i replied, "no good at all, if there be no good, which is the point to which you are always harking back. but you have surely forgotten the basis of our whole argument?" "what basis?" "why, that from the very beginning we have been trying to find out, not so much what we know (for on that point i admit that we know little enough), as what it is necessary for us to believe, if we are to find significance in life." "but how can we believe what we don't know?" "why," i replied, "we can surely adopt postulates, as indeed we always do in practical life. every man who is about to undertake anything makes the assumption, in the first place, that it is worth doing, and in the second place that it is possible to be done. he may be wrong in both these assumptions, but without them he could not move a step. and so with regard to the business of life, as a whole, it is necessary to assume, if we are to make anything of it at all, both that there is good, and that we know something about it; and also, i think, that it is somehow or other realizable; but i do not know that any of these assumptions could be proved." "but what right have we, then, to make such assumptions?" "we have none at all, so far as knowledge is concerned. indeed, to my mind, it is necessary, if we are to be honest with ourselves, that we should never forget that they are assumptions, so long as they have not received definite proof. but still they are, i think, as i said, assumptions we are bound to make, if we are to give any meaning to life. we might perhaps call them 'postulates of the will'; and our attitude, when we adopt them, that of faith." "faith!" protested wilson, "that is a dangerous word!" "it is," i agreed. "yet i doubt whether we can dispense with it. only we must remember that to have 'faith' in a proposition is not to affirm that it is true, but to live as we should do if it were. it is, in fact, an attitude of the will, not of the understanding; the attitude of the general going into battle, not of the philosopher in his closet." "but," he objected, "where we do not know, the proper attitude is suspense of mind." "in many matters, no doubt," i replied, "but surely not in those with which we are dealing. for we must live or die; and if we are to choose to do either, we must do so by virtue of some assumption about the good." "but why should we choose to do either? why should not we simply wait?" "but wait how? wait affirming or denying? active or passive? is it possible to wait without adopting an attitude? is not waiting itself an attitude, an acting on the assumption that it is good to wait?" "but, at any rate, it does not involve assumptions as large as those which you are trying to make us accept." "i am not trying to make you do anything; i am only trying to discover what you make yourself do. and do you, as a matter of fact, really dispute the main conclusions to which we have come, or rather, if you will accept my phrase, the main 'postulates of the will' which we have elicited?" "what are they? let me have them again." "well," i said, "here they are. first, that good has some meaning." "agreed!" "second, that we know something about that meaning." "doubtful!" said dennis. "but it will be no use now to resume that controversy." "no," i replied, "only i thought i had shown that if we know nothing about it, then, for us, it has no meaning; and so our first assumption is also destroyed, and with it all significance in life." "well," he said, "go on. we can't go over all that again." "third," i continued, "that among our experiences the one which comes nearest to good is that which we called love." "possible!" said dennis, "but a very tentative approximation." "certainly," i agreed, "and subject to constant revision." "and after that?" "well," i said, "now comes the point audubon raised. is it necessary to include also the postulate that good can be realized?" "but surely," objected wilson, "here at least there is no room for what you call faith. for whether or no the good can be realized is a question of knowledge." "no doubt," i replied, "and so are all questions--if only we could know. but i was assuming that this is one of the things we do not know." "but," he said, "it is one we are always coming to know. every year we are learning more and more about the course and destiny of mankind." "should you say, then," i asked, "that we are nearer to knowing whether or no the soul is immortal?" he looked at me in sheer amazement; and then, "what a question!" he cried. "i should say that we have long known that it isn't" "then," i said, "if so, we know that the good cannot be realized." "what!" he exclaimed. "i had not understood that your conception of the good involved the idea of personal immortality." "i am almost afraid it does," i replied, "but i am not quite sure. we have already touched upon the point, if you remember, when we were considering whether we must regard the good as realizable in ourselves, or only in some generation of people to come. and we thought then that it must somehow be realizable in us." "but we did not see at the time what that would involve, though i was afraid all along of something of the kind." "well," i said, "for fear you should think you have been cheated, we will reconsider the point; and first, if you like, we will suppose that we mean by the good of some future generation, still retaining for good the signification we gave to it. the question then of whether or no the good can be realized, will be the question whether or no it is possible that at some future time all individuals should be knit together in that ultimate relation which we called love." "but," cried leslie, "the love was to be eternal! so that _their_ souls at least would have to be immortal; and if theirs, why not ours?" i looked at wilson; and "well," i said, "what are we to say?" "for my part," he replied, "i have nothing to say. i consider the whole idea of immortality illegitimate." "yet on that," i said, "hangs the eternal nature of our good. but may we retain, perhaps, the all-comprehensiveness?" "how could we!" cried leslie, "for it is only the individuals who happened to be alive who could be comprehended so long as they were alive." "another glory shorn from our good!" i said. "still, let us hold fast to what we may! shall we say that if the good is to be realized the individuals then alive, so long as they are alive, will be bound together in this relation?" "you can say that if you like," said wilson, "and something of that kind i suppose one would envisage as the end. only i'm not sure that i very well know what you mean by love." "alas!" i cried, "is even that to go? is nothing at all to be left of my poor conception?" "you, can say if you like," he replied, "and i suppose it comes to much the same thing, that all individuals will be related in a perfectly harmonious way." "in other words," cried ellis, "that you will have a society perfectly definite, heterogeneous, and co-ordinate! 'there's glory for you!' as humpty dumpty said." "well," i said, "this is something very different from what we defined to be good! but this, at any rate, you think, on grounds of positive science, that it might be possible to realize?" "yes," replied wilson; "or if not that, i think at any rate that science may ultimately be in a position to decide whether or no it can be realized." "but," i said, "do you not think the same about personal immortality?" "to be honest," he replied, "i do not think that the question of personal immortality is one which science ought even to entertain." "but," i urged, "i thought science was beginning to entertain it. does not the 'society for psychical research' deal with such questions?" "'the society for psychical research!'" he exclaimed. "i do not call that science." "well," i said, "at any rate there are men of a scientific turn of mind connected with it" and i mentioned the names of one or two, whereupon wilson broke out into indignation, declaring with much vehemence that the gentlemen in question were bringing discredit both upon themselves and the university to which they belonged; and then followed a discussion upon the proper objects and methods of science, which i do not exactly recall. only i remember that wilson took up a position which led ellis, with some justice as i thought, to declare that science appeared to be developing all the vices of theology without any of its virtues--the dogmatism, the "index expurgatorius," and the whole machinery for suppressing speculation, without any of the capacity to impose upon the conscience a clear and well-defined scheme of life. this debate, however, was carried on in a tone too polemic to elicit any really fruitful result; and as soon as i was able i endeavoured to steer the conversation back into the smoother waters from which it had been driven. "let us admit," i said, "if you like, for the sake of argument, that on the question of the immortality of the soul we do not and cannot know anything at all." "but," objected wilson, "i maintain that we do know that there is no foundation at all for the idea. it is a mere reflection of our hopes and fears, or of those of our ancestors." "but," i said, "even if it be, that does not prove that it is not true; it merely shows that we have no sufficient reason for thinking it to be true." "well," he said, "put it so, if you like; that is enough to relegate the notion to the limbo of centaurs and chimæras. what we have no reason to suppose to be true, we have no reason to concern ourselves with." "pardon me," i replied, "but i think we have, if the idea is one that interests us, as is the case with what we are discussing. we may not know whether or no it is true, but we cannot help profoundly caring." "well," he said, "i may be peculiarly constituted, but, honestly, i do not myself care in the least" "but," i said, "perhaps you ought to, if you care about the good; and that is really the question i want to come back to. what is the minimum we must believe if we are to make life significant? is it sufficient to believe in what you call the 'progress of the race'? or must we also believe in the progress of the individual, involving, as it does, personal immortality?" "well," said wilson, "i don't profess to take lofty views of life--that i leave to the philosophers. but i must say it seems to me to be a finer thing to work for a future in which one knows one will not participate oneself than for one in which one's personal happiness is involved. i have always sympathized with comte, pedant as he was, in the remark he made when he was dying." "which one?" interrupted ellis. "'quelle perte irréparable?' that always struck me as the most humorous thing ever said." "no," said wilson, gravely, "but when he said that the prospect of death would be to him infinitely less sublime, if it did not involve his own extinction; the notion being, i suppose, that death is the triumphant affirmation of the supremacy of the race over the individual. and that, i think myself, is the sound and healthy and manly view." "my dear wilson," cried ellis, "you talk of lofty views; but this is a pinnacle of loftiness to which i, for one, could never aspire. positively, to rejoice in the extinction of the individual with his faculties undeveloped, his opportunities unrealized, his ambitions unfulfilled--why it's sublime! its kiplingese--there's no other word for it! shake hands, wilson! you're a hero." "really," said wilson, rather impatiently, "i see nothing strained or high-faluting in the view. and as to what you say about faculties undeveloped and the rest, that seems to me unreal and exaggerated! most men have a good enough time, and get pretty much what they deserve. a healthy, normal man is ready to die--he has done what he had it in him to do, and passed on his work to the next generation." "i have often wondered," said ellis, meditatively, "what 'normal' means. does it mean one in a million, should you say? or perhaps that is too large a proportion? some people say, do they not, that there never was a normal man?" "by 'normal,'" retorted wilson, doggedly, "i mean average, and i include every one except a few decadents and faddists." at this point, seeing that we were threatened with another digression, i thought it best to intervene again. "we are diverging," i said, "a little from the issue. wilson's position, as i understand him, is that the prospect of the future good of the race is sufficient to give significance to the life of the individual, even though he realize no good for himself." "no," replied wilson, "i don't say that; for i think he always does realize sufficient good for himself." "but is it because of that good which he realizes for himself that his life has significance? or because of the future good of the race?" "i don't know; both, i suppose." "you do not think then that the future good of the race is sufficient, by itself, to give significance to the lives of individuals who are never to partake in it?" "i don't like that way of putting the question. what i believe is, that in realizing his own good a man is also contributing to that of the race. there is no such antagonism between the two ends as you seem to suggest." "i don't say that there is an antagonism; but i do insist that there is a distinction. and i cannot help feeling--and this is where we seem to disagree--that in estimating the good of individual lives we must have regard to that which they realize in and for themselves, not merely to that which they may be contributing to produce some day in somebody else." "these 'somebody elses,'" cried ellis, "being after all nothing but other individuals like themselves! so that you get an infinite series of people doing good to one another, and none of them getting any good for themselves, like the: islanders who lived by taking in one another's washing!" "well, but," said wilson, "supposing i consent, for the sake of argument, to let you estimate the worth of life by the good which individuals realize in themselves. what follows then?" "why, then" i said, "it would, i think, be very hard to maintain that we do most of us realize good enough to make it seem worth while to have lived at all, if indeed we are simply extinguished at death. at any rate, if we set aside an exceptional few, and look frankly at the mass of men and women, judging them not as means to something else, but as ends in themselves, with reference not to happiness, or content, or acquiescence, or indifference, but simply to good--if we look at them so, can we honestly say that there is enough significance in their lives to justify the labour and expense of producing and maintaining them?" "i don't know," he replied, "they probably think themselves that there is." "probably," i rejoined, "they do not think about it at all. but what i should like to know is, what do you think?" "i don't see," he objected, "how i can have any opinion; the problem is too vast and indeterminate." "is it?" cried audubon, intervening in his curious abrupt way, and with more than his usual energy of protest "well, indeterminate or no, it's the one point on which i have no doubt. most people are only fit to have their necks broken, and it would be the kindest thing for them if some one would do it." "well," i said, "at any rate that is a vigorous opinion. does anyone else share it?" "i do," said leslie, "on the whole. most men, if they are not actually bad, are at best indifferent--'sacs merely, floating with open mouths for food to slip in.'" "upon my word!" cried bartlett, "it's wonderful how much you know about them, considering how very little you've seen of them!" "oh!" i said, turning to him, "then you do not agree with this estimate?" "i!" he said. "oh, no! i am not a superior person! most men, i suppose, are as good as we are, and probably a great deal better!" "they might well be that," i replied, "without being particularly good. but perhaps, as you seem to suggest, it might be better to confine ourselves to our own experience and consider whether for ourselves, so far as we can see, we should think life much worth having, supposing death to be the end of it all." "oh, as to that, of course i should, for my part," cried ellis, "and so, i hope, should we all. in fact, i consider it rather monstrous to ask the question at all." "my dear ellis," i protested, "you are really the most inconsistent of men! not a minute ago you were laughing at wilson for his acquiescence in the extinction of the individual 'with his opportunities unrealized, his faculties undeveloped,' and all the rest of it. and now you appear to be adopting precisely the same attitude yourself." "i can't help it," he replied; "consistent or no, life's good enough for me. and so it should be for you, you ungrateful ruffian!" "i am not so sure," i said, "that it should be; not so sure as i was a few years ago." "why, you methuselah, what has age got to do with it?" "just this," i replied, "that up to a certain time of life all the good that we get we take to be prophetic of more good to come. what we actually realize we value less for itself than for something else which it promises. the moments of good experience we expand till they fill all infinity; the intervening tracts of indifferent or bad we simply forget or ignore. life is good, we say, because the universe is good; and this goodness we expect to grasp in its entirety, not to-day, perhaps, nor to-morrow, but at least the day after. and so, like the proverbial ass, we are lured on by a wisp of hay. but being, at bottom, intelligent brutes, we begin, in time, to reflect; we put back our ears, and plant our feet stiff and rigid where we stand, and refuse to budge an inch till we have some further information as to the meaning of the journey into which we are being enticed. that, at least, is the point that has been reached by this ass who is now addressing you. i want to know something more about that bundle of hay; and that is why i am interested in the question of personal immortality." "which means--to drop the metaphor----?" "which means, that i have come to realize that i am not likely to get more good out of life than i have already had, and that i may very likely get less; or if more in some respects, then less in others. for, in the first place, the world, as it seems, is just as much bad as good, and whether good or bad predominate i cannot say. and in the second place, even of what good there is--and i do not under-estimate its worth--it is but an infinitesimal portion that i am capable of realizing, so limited am i by temperament and circumstance, so bound by the errors and illusions of the past, so hampered by the disabilities crowding in from the future. for though, as i think, the older i get the more clearly i recognize what is good, and the more i learn to value and to perceive it, yet at the same time the less do i become capable of making it my own, and must in the nature of things become less and less so, in so far at least as goods other than those of the intellect are concerned. and this is a position which seems to be involved in the mere fact of age and death frankly seen from the naturalistic point of view; and so it has always been felt and expressed from the time of the greeks onwards, and not least effectively, perhaps, by browning in his 'cleon'--you remember the passage: "'... every day my sense of joy grows more acute, my soul (intensified by power and insight) more enlarged, more keen; while every day my hairs fall more and more, my hand shakes, and the heavy years increase-- the horror quickening still from year to year, the consummation coming past escape, when i shall know most, and yet least enjoy-- when all my works wherein i prove my worth, being present still to mock me in men's mouths, alive still in the phrase of such as thou, i, i the feeling, thinking, acting man, the man who loved his life so over-much, shall sleep in my urn.' "you see the point; indeed, it is so familiar, i have laboured it, perhaps, too much. but the result seems to be, that while it is natural enough that in youth, for those who are capable of good, life should seem to be pre-eminently worth the having, yet the last judgment of age, for those who believe that death is the end, will be a doubt, and perhaps more than a doubt, even in the case of those most favoured by fortune, whether after all a life has been worth the trouble of living which has unfolded such infinite promise only to bury it fruitless in the grave." "i think that's rather a morbid view!" said parry. "i do not know," i said, "whether it is morbid, nor do i very much care; the question is, whether it is reasonable, and whether it is not the position naturally and perhaps inevitably adopted not by the worst but by the best men among those who have abandoned the belief in personal immortality." "that," interposed wilson, "is surely not the case. one knows of people who, though they have no belief in survival after death, yet maintain a perfectly cheerful and healthy attitude towards life. harriet martineau is one that occurs to me. to her, you may remember, life appeared not less but more worth living when she had become convinced of her own annihilation at death; and she awaited with perfect equanimity and calm its imminent approach, not as a deliverance from a condition which was daily becoming more intolerable, but as a fitting crown and consummation to a career of untiring and fruitful activity." "that," exclaimed parry with enthusiasm, "is what i call magnanimous!" "i don't!" retorted leslie, "i call it simply stupid and unimaginative." "call it what you like," said wilson; "anyhow it is a position which can be and has been adopted." "yes," i agreed, "but one which, i think, a clearer analysis of the facts, a franker survey and a more penetrating insight, would make it increasingly difficult to sustain. and after all, an estimate which is to endure must be not only magnanimous but reasonable." "but to her, and to others like her, it did and does appear to be reasonable. and you ought to admit, i think, that there are cases in which life is well worth living quite apart from the hypothesis of personal immortality." "i am ready to admit," i replied, "that there are people to whom it seems to be so, but i doubt whether they are very numerous, among those, i mean, who have reflected on the subject, and whose opinions alone we need consider. i, at any rate, have commonly found in talking to people about death--supposing, which is unusual, that they are willing to talk about it at all--that they adopt one of two views, either of which presupposes the worthlessness of life, if life, as we know it, be indeed all" "what views do you mean?" "why, either they believe that death means annihilation, and rejoice in the prospect as a deliverance from an intolerable evil; or they hold that there is a life beyond, and that they will find there the reason and justification for existence which they have never been able to discover here." "you forget, surely," said wilson, "a third point of view, which i should have thought was as common as either of the others,--that of those who believe in a life after death, but look forward to it with inexpressible fear of the possible evils which it may contain." "true," i said, "but such fear, i suppose, is a reflex of actual experience, and implies, does it not, a vivid sense of the evils of existence as we know it? so that these people, too, i should maintain, have not really found life satisfactory, or they would look forward with hope rather than fear to the possibility of its continuance." "but in their case, at any rate, the hypothesis of personal immortality is an aggravation, not a remedy, of the evil." "no doubt; but i have been assuming throughout that the hypothesis involves the realization of that good which, without it, we recognize to be unattainable; and it is only in that sense, and from that point of view, that i have introduced it." "well," he persisted, "considering how improbable the hypothesis is, i should be very loth to admit that it is one which it is practically necessary to adopt. and i still maintain that most people do not require it--ordinary simple people, i mean, who do their work and make no fuss about it." "perhaps not," i replied, "for it is characteristic of such people to make no hypothesis at all, but to adopt for the moment any view suggested by the state of their spirits. but i believe that if ever you can get a man, no matter how plain and unsophisticated, to reflect fairly upon his own experience, and to look impartially at the facts all round, abstracting from all bias of habit and mood and prejudice, he will admit that if it be true that the individual is extinguished at death, together with all his possibilities of realizing good, then life cannot rationally be judged to be worth the living, however imperatively we may be compelled to continue to live it." "but it is just that imperative compulsion," cried parry, "on which i rely! that seems to me the justification of life--the fact that we are forced to live! i trust that instinct more than all the inclination in the world!" "but," i said, "when you say that you trust the instinct, do you mean that you judge it to be good?" "yes, i suppose so." "then in trusting the instinct you are really trusting your reason, which judges the instinct to be good, or, if not your reason, the faculty, whatever it be, which judges of good. and the only difference between us is, that i try to ascertain what we do really believe to be good, whereas you accept and cling to a particular judgment about good, without any attempt to test it and harmonize it with others." "but you admit yourself that all your results are tentative and problematical in the extreme." "certainly." "and yet these results you venture to set in opposition to a simple, profound, imperative cry of nature!" "why should i not? for i have no right to suppose that nature is good, except in so far as i can reasonably judge her to be so." "that seems to me a sort of blasphemy." "i am afraid," i said, "if i must choose, i would rather blaspheme nature than reason. but i hope i am not blaspheming either. for it may be that what you call nature has provided for the realization of good. that, at any rate, is the hypothesis i was suggesting; and it is you who appear to be setting it aside." "but," objected wilson, "you talk of this hypothesis as if it were something one could really entertain! to me it is not a hypothesis at all; it's simply an inconceivability." "do you mean that it is self-contradictory?" "no, not exactly that. simply that it is unimaginable." "oh!" i said; "but what one can imagine depends on the quality of one's imagination! to me, for example, the immortality of the soul does not seem any harder to imagine than birth and life, and death and consciousness. it's all such a mystery together, if once one begins trying to realize it." "no one," interposed ellis, "has put that point better than walt whitman." "true," i replied, "and that reminds me that i think you hardly did justice to his view when you were quoting him a little while ago. it is true that he does, as you said, accept all facts, good and bad, and even appears at times to obliterate the distinction between them. but also, whether consistently or no, he regards them all as phases of a process, good only because of what they promise to be. so that his view really requires a belief in immortality to justify it; and to him such belief is as natural and simple as to wilson it is absurd. there is a passage somewhere, i remember--perhaps you can quote it--it begins, 'is it wonderful that i should be immortal?'" "yes," he said, "i remember": "is it wonderful that i should be immortal? as every one is immortal; "i know it is wonderful--but my eyesight is equally wonderful, and how i was conceived in my mother's womb is equally wonderful, "and passed from a babe, in the creeping trance of a couple of summers and winters to articulate and walk. all this is equally wonderful. "and that my soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and never perhaps to see each other, is every bit as wonderful. "and that i can think such thoughts as these is just as wonderful, "and that i can remind you, and you think them and know them to be true, is just as wonderful. "and that the moon spins round the earth, and on with the earth, is equally wonderful, "and that they balance themselves with the sun and stars is equally wonderful." "that," i said, "is the passage i meant, and it shows that whitman, at any rate, did not share wilson's feeling that the immortality of the soul is unimaginable." "well," said wilson, "imaginable or no, we have no reason to believe it to be true." "no reason, indeed," i agreed, "so far as demonstration is concerned, though equally, as i think, no reason to deny it. but the point i raised was, whether, if we are to take a positive view of life and hold that it somehow has a good significance, we are not bound to adopt this, hypothesis of immortality--to believe, that is, that, somehow or other, there awaits us a state of being in which all souls shall be bound together in that harmonious and perfect relation of which we have a type and foretaste in what we call love. for, if it be true that perfect good does involve some such relation, and yet that it is one unattainable under the conditions of our present life, then we must say either that such good is unattainable--and in that case why should we idly pursue it?--or that we believe we shall attain it under some other conditions of existence. and according as we adopt one or the other position--so it seems to me--our attitude towards life will be one of affirmation or of negation." "but," he objected, "even if you were right in your conception of good, and even if it be true that good in its perfection is unattainable, yet we might still choose to get at least what good we can--and some good you admit we can get--and might find in that pursuit a sufficient justification for life." "we might, indeed," i admitted, "but also we might very well find, that the good we can attain is so small, and the evil so immensely preponderant, that we ought to labour rather to bring to an end an existence so pitiful than to perpetuate it indefinitely in the persons of our luckless descendants." "that, thank heaven," said parry, "is not the view which is taken by the western world." "the west" i replied, "has not yet learned to reflect. its activity is the slave of instinct, blind and irresponsible." "yes," he assented eagerly, "and that is its saving grace! this instinct, which you call blind, is health and sanity and vigour." "i know," i said, "that you think so, and so does mr. kipling, and all the train of violent and bloody bards who follow the camp of the modern army of progress. i have no quarrel with you or with them; you may very well be right in your somewhat savage worship of activity. i am only trying to ascertain the conditions of your being right, and i seem to find it in personal immortality." "no," he persisted. "we are right without condition, right absolutely and beyond all argument. pursue good is the one ultimate law; whether or no it can be attained is a minor matter; and if to inquire into the conditions of its attainment is only to weaken us in the pursuit, then i say the inquiry is wrong, and ought to be discouraged." "well" i said, "i will not dispute with you further. whether you are right or wrong i cannot but admire your strenuous belief in good and in our obligation to pursue it. and that, after all, was my main point. on the other question about what good is and whether it is attainable, i could hardly wish to make converts, so conscious am i that i have infinitely more to learn than to teach. only, that there is really something to learn, of that i am profoundly convinced. perhaps even audubon will agree with me there?" "i don't know that i do," he replied, "and anyhow it doesn't seem to me to make much difference. whatever we may think about good, that doesn't affect the nature of reality--and reality, i believe, is bad!" "ah, reality!" i rejoined, "but what is reality? is it just what we see and touch and handle?" "yes, i suppose so." "that is a sober view, and one which i have constantly tried to impress upon myself. sometimes, even, i think i have succeeded, under the combined stress of logic and experience. but there comes an unguarded moment, some evening in summer, like this, when i am walking, perhaps, alone in a solitary wood, or in a meadow beside a quiet stream; and suddenly all my work is undone, and i am overwhelmed by a direct apprehension, or what seems at least for the moment to be such, that everything i hear and see and touch is mere illusion after all, and behind it lies the true reality, if only i could find the way to seize it. it is due, i suppose, to some native and ineradicable strain of mysticism; or perhaps, as i sometimes think, to the memory of a strange experience which i once underwent and have never been able to forget" "what was that?" "it will not be very easy, i fear, to describe, but perhaps it may be worth while to make the attempt, for it bears, more or less, on the subject of our conversation. once then, you must know, and once only, a good many years ago now, i was put under the influence of anæsthetics; and during the time i was unconscious, or rather, conscious in a new way, i had a very curious dream, if dream it were, which has never ceased to affect my thoughts and my life. it was as follows: "as soon as i lost consciousness of the world without, my soul, i thought, which seemed at first to be diffused throughout my body, began to draw itself upward, beginning at the feet. it passed through the veins of the legs and belly to the heart, which was beating like a thousand drums, and thence by the aorta and the carotids to the brain, whence it emerged by the fissures of the skull into the outer air. no sooner was it free (though still attached, as i felt with some uneasiness, by a thin elastic cord to the pia mater) than it gathered itself together (into what form i could not say), and with incredible speed shot upwards, till it reached what seemed to be the floor of heaven. through this it passed, i know not how, and found itself all at once in a new world. "what this world was like i must now endeavour to explain, difficult though it be to find suitable language; for the things here, of which our words are symbols, are themselves only symbols of the things there. the feeling i had, however, (for i was now identified with my soul, and had forgotten all about my body)--the feeling i had was that of sitting alone beside a river. what kind of country it was i can hardly describe, for there was nowhere any definite colour or form, only a suggestion, such as i have seen in drawings, of vast infinite tracts of empty space. i could not even say there was light or darkness, for my organ of perception did not seem to be the eye; only i was aware of an emotional effect similar to that of twilight, cold, grey, and formless as night itself. the silence was absolute, if indeed silence it were, for it was not by the ear that i perceived either sound or its absence; but something there was, analogous to silence in its effect and in the midst of the silence and the twilight (since so i must call them) flowed the river, or what seemed such, distinguishable, as i thought at first, rather by the fact that it flowed, than by any peculiarity of substance, colour, or form, from the stretches of empty space that formed its banks. but presently, as i looked more closely, i saw, rising from its surface, dipping, rising, and dipping again, in a regular rhythm, without change or pause, what i can only compare to a shoal of flying fish. not that they looked like fish, or indeed like anything i had ever seen, but that was the image suggested by their motion. as soon as i saw them i knew what they were: they were souls; and the river down which they passed was the river of time; and their dipping in and out again was the sequence of their lives and deaths. "all this did not surprise me at all. rather, i felt it was something i had always known, yet something inexpressibly flat and disillusioning. 'of course!' i said to myself, or thought, or whatever may have been my mode of cognition--'of course! that is it, and that is all! souls are indeed immortal--why should we ever have imagined otherwise? they are immortal, and what of it? i see the death-side now as i saw the life-side then; and one has as little meaning as the other. as it has been, so it will be, now, henceforth, and for ever, in and out, in and out, without pause or stint, futile, trivial, silly, stale, tedious, monotonous, and vain!' the long pre-occupation of men with religion, philosophy, and art, seemed to me now as incomprehensible as it was ridiculous. there was nothing after all to be interested about! there was simply this! the dreariness of my mood was indescribable, and corresponded so closely to the scene before me that i found myself wondering which was effect, which cause. the silence, the tracts of unformed space, the unsubstantial river, the ceaseless vibration along its surface of infinite moving points, all this was a reflex of my thoughts and they of it. my misery was intolerable; to escape became my only object; and with this in view i rose and began to move, i knew not whither, along the silent shore. "as i went, i presently became aware of what looked like high towers standing along the margin of the stream. i say they looked like towers, but i should rather have said they symbolized them; for they had no specific shape, round or square, nor any definite substance or dimensions. they suggested rather, if i may say so, the idea of verticality; and otherwise were as blank and void of form or colour as everything else in this strange land. i made my way towards them along the bank; and when i had come close under the first, i saw that there was a door in it, and written over the door, in a language i cannot now recall, but which then i knew that i had always known, an inscription whose sense was: "'_i am the eye; come into me and see_.' "miserable as i was, it was impossible that i should hesitate; i did not know, it is true, what might await me within, but it could not be worse and might well be better than my present plight. the door was open; i stepped in; and no sooner had i crossed the threshold than i was aware of an experience more extraordinary and delightful than it had ever been my lot to encounter. i had the sensation of seeing light for the first time! for hitherto, as i have tried to explain, though it has been necessary to speak in terms of sight, i have done so only by a metaphor, and it was not really by vision that i became acquainted with the scene i have described. but now i saw, and saw pure light! and yet not only saw, but, as i thought apprehended it with the other senses, both with those we know and with others of which we have not yet dreamt. i heard light, i tasted and touched it, it enveloped and embraced me; i swam in it as in an element, wafted and washed and luxuriantly lapped. pure light, and nothing else! no objects, at first! it was only by degrees, and as the first intoxication subsided, that i began to be aware of anything but the medium itself. i saw then that i was standing at what seemed to be a window, looking out over the scene i had just left but how changed it was! the river now, like a blue and golden snake, ran through a sunny champaign bright with flowers; above it hung a cloudless summer sky; and the happy souls went leaping in and out like dolphins on a calm day in the mediterranean. on all this i gazed with inexpressible delight; but as i looked an extraordinary thing occurred. the flowery plain before me seemed to globe itself into a sphere; the blue river clasped it like a girdle; for a moment it hung before me like a star, then opened out and split into a thousand more, and these again into others and yet others, till a whole heaven of stars was revolving about me in the most wonderful dance-measure you can conceive, infinitely complex, but never for a moment confused, for the stars were of various colours, more beautiful far than any of ours, and by these, as they crossed and intertwined in exquisite harmonies, the threads of the intricate figure were kept distinct. "what i was looking upon, i knew, was the same heaven that our astronomers describe; only i was privileged actually to perceive the movements they can only infer and predict. for here on earth our faculties are proportioned to our needs, and our apprehension of time and change is measured by units too small for us to be able to embrace by sense the large and spacious circuits of the stars. but i, in my then condition, had powers commensurate with all existence; so that not only could i follow with the eye the coils of that celestial morrice, but in each one of the whirling orbs, as they approached or receded in the dance, i could trace, so far as i was minded, the course of its secular history; whole series of changes and transformations such as we laboriously infer, from fossils and rocks and hard unmalleable things, being there (as though petrifaction were reversed and solidest things made fluid) unrolled before me, molten and glowing and swift, in a stream of torrential evolution whose moments were centuries. wonderful it was, and strange, to see the first trembling film creep like a mantle over a globe of fire, shiver, and break, and form again, and gradually harden and cohere, now crushed into ridges and pits, now extended into plains, and tossing the hissing seas from bed to bed, as the levels of the viscous surface rose and fell. wonderful, too, when the crust was formed and life became possible, how everywhere, in wet or dry, hot or cold alike, wherever footing could be found, came up and flourished and decayed things that root and things that move, winged or finned or legged, creeping, flying, running, breeding, in mud or sand, in jungle, forest, and marsh, pursuing and pursued, devouring and devoured, pairing, contending, killing, things huge beyond belief, mammoth and icthyosaurus, things minute and numerous past the power of calculation, coming and going as they could find space, species succeeding to species, and crowding every point and vantage for life on the heaving tumultuous bosom of eddying worlds. "wonderful it was, but terrible, too; for what struck me with a kind of chill, even while i was wrapt in admiration, was the fact that though everything was in constant change, and in the change there was clearly an order and routine, yet i could not detect anything that seemed like purpose. direction there was, but not direction to an end; for the end was no better than the beginning, it was only different; the idea of good, in short, did not apply. and this fact, which was striking enough in the case of the phenomena i have described, made itself felt with even more insistence when i turned to consider the course of human history. for that too i saw unrolled before me, not only on our own, but on innumerable other worlds, in various phases and in various forms, both those which we know, and others of which we have no conception, and which i am now quite unable to recall. men i saw housing in caves, or on piles in swamps and lakes, dwellers in wagons and tents, hunters, or shepherds under the stars, men of the mountain, men of the plain, of the river-valley and the coast, nomad tribes, village tribes, cities, kingdoms, empires, wars and peace, politics, laws, manners, arts and sciences. yet in all this, so far as i could observe, although, through all vacillations, there appeared to be a steady trend in a definite direction, there was nothing to indicate what we call purpose. men, i saw, had ideas about good, but these ideas of theirs, though they were part of the efficient causes of events, were in no sense the explanation of the process. there was no explanation, for there was no final cause, no purpose, end, or justification at all. man, like nature, was the plaything of a blind fate. the idea of good had no application. "the horror i felt as this truth (for so i thought it) was borne in upon me was proportioned to my previous delight. i had now but one desire, to escape, even though it were only back to what i had left. and as the angel-boys in 'faust' cry out to pater seraphicus for release, when they can no longer bear the sights they see through his eyes, so i, in my anguish, cried, 'let me out! let me out!' and instantly i found myself standing again at the foot of the tower, in that land of twilight, silence, and infinite space, with the souls going down the river, in and out, in and out, futile, trivial, tedious, monotonous, and vain. looking up, i saw written over the door from which i had emerged, and which was opposite to that by which i had entered, words whose sense was: "'_eye hath not seen_.' "i walked round the tower, and found a third door facing the river; and over that was written: "'_turris scientiae_.' "but all these doors were now closed; nor indeed, had they been open, should i have felt any inclination to renew the experience from which i had escaped. i therefore turned away sadly enough and made my way along the bank towards the second tower. "over the door of this was written in the same language as before: "'_i am the ear; come into me and hear_.' "the door was open, and i went in, this time with some apprehension, but with still more curiosity and hope. no sooner was i within than i was overwhelmed by an experience analogous to that which had greeted me in the tower of sight, but even more ravishingly sweet. this time what i felt was the sensation of pure sound: sound, not merely heard, but, as before in the case of light, apprehended at once by every avenue of sense, and folding and sustaining, as it seemed, my whole being in a clear and buoyant element of tone. it was only by degrees that out of this absolute essence of sheer sound distinctions of rhythm and pitch began to appear, and to assume definite musical form. the theme at first was pastoral and sweet, suggestive of rustling grasses and murmuring reeds, interwoven with which was an exquisite lilting tune, the song of the souls as they sped down the river. but one by one other elements crept into the strain; it increased in volume and variety of tone, in complexity of rhythm and tune, till it grew at length into a symphony so august, so solemn, and so profound, that there is nothing i know of in our music here to which i can fitly compare it. it reminded me, however, of wagner more than of any other composer, in the richness of its colour, the insistence and force of its rhythms, its fragments of ineffable melody, and above all, its endless chromatic sequences, for ever suggesting but never actually reaching the full close which i knew not whether most to dread or to desire. the music itself was wonderful enough; but more wonderful still was my clear perception, while i listened, that what was being presented to me now through the medium of sound was precisely the same world which i had seen from the tower of sight. every phenomenon, and sequence of phenomena, which i had witnessed there, i recognized now, in appropriate musical form. the foundation of all was a great basal rhythm, given out on something that throbbed like drums, terrible in its persistence and yet beautiful too; and this, i knew, represented the mechanical basis of the world, the processes which science knows as 'laws of motion' and the like, but which really, as i then perceived, might more aptly be described as the more inveterate of nature's habits. upon this foundation, which varied, indeed, but by almost imperceptible gradations, was built up an infinitely complex structure of intermediate parts, increasing from below upwards in freedom, ease and beauty of form, till high above all floated on the ear snatches of melody, haunting, poignant, meltingly tender, or, as it might be, martial and gay exquisite in themselves, yet never complete, fragments rather, as it seemed, of some theme yet to come, which they had hardly time to suggest before they were torn, as it were, from their roots and sent drifting down the stream, to reappear in new settings, richer combinations, and fairer forms; and these, i knew, were symbols of the lives and deaths of conscious beings. "as this character of the music and its representative meaning grew gradually clearer to me, there began to mingle with my delight a certain feeling of anguish. for while, on the one hand, i passionately desired to hear given out in full the theme which as yet had been only suggested in fragmentary hints, on the other, i knew that with its appearance the music would come to a close, just at the moment when its cessation would involve the keenest revulsion of feeling. and this moment, i felt, was rapidly approaching. the rhythm grew more and more rapid, the instruments scaled higher and higher, the tension of chromatic progressions was strained to what seemed breaking point, till suddenly, with an effect as though a stream, long pent in a gorge, had escaped with a burst into broad sunny meadows, the whole symphony broke away into the major key, and high and clear, chanted, as it seemed, on ten thousand trumpets, silver, æthereal, and exquisitely sweet for all their resonant clangour, i heard the ultimate melody of things. for a moment only; for, as i had foreseen, with the emergence of that air, the music came abruptly to a close; and i found myself sitting bathed in tears at the door of the tower on the opposite side to that by which i had entered; and there once more was the land of silence, twilight, and infinite space, with the souls going down the river, in and out, in and out, futile, trivial, tedious, monotonous and vain! "as soon as i had recovered myself, i looked up and saw written over the door the inscription: "'_ear hath not heard_.' "and going round to the side facing the river, i saw there inscribed: "'_turris artis_?' "whereupon, full of perplexity, i made my way down towards the third tower, reflecting, as i went; in a curious passion at once of hope and fear, 'neither this, then, nor that, neither eye nor ear, has given me what i sought. each is a symbol; but this, as it seems, a more perfect symbol than that; for it, at least, is beauty, and the other was only power. but is there, then, nothing but symbols? or shall i, in one of these towers, shall i perhaps find the thing that is symbolized?' "by this time i had reached the third tower, and over the door facing me i saw written: "'_i am the heart; come into me and feel_.' "i entered without hesitation, and this time i was met by an experience even stranger and more delightful than before, but also, i fear, more indescribable. at first, i was aware of nothing but a pure feeling, which was not of any particular sense, (as, before, of sight and hearing,) but was rather, i think, the general feeling of life itself, the kind of diffused sensation of well-being one has in health, underlying all particular activities. in this sensation i seemed, as before, to be lapped, as in an element; but this time the feeling did not pass. on the contrary, i found, when i came to myself, that i actually was in the river, leaping along with the other souls in such an ecstasy of physical delight as i have never felt before or since. such, at least, was my first impression; but gradually it changed into something which i despair of rendering in words, for indeed i can hardly render it in my own thoughts. conceive, however, that as, according to the teaching of science, every part of matter is affected by every other, insomuch that, as they say, the fall of an apple disturbs the balance of the universe; so, in my experience then, (and this, i believe, is really true) all souls were intimately connected by spiritual ties. nothing that happened in one but was somehow or other, more or less obscurely, reflected in the rest, so that all were so closely involved and embraced in a network of fine relations that they formed what may be compared to a planetary system, sustained in their various orbits by force of attraction and repulsion, distinguished into greater and lesser constellations, and fulfilling in due proportion their periods and paths under the control of spiritual laws. of this system i was myself a member; about me were grouped some of my dearest friends; and beyond and around stretched away, like infinite points of light, in a clear heaven of passion, the world of souls. i speak, of course, in a figure, for what i am describing in terms of space, i apprehended through the medium of feeling; and by 'feeling' i mean all degrees of affection, from extreme of love to extreme of hate. for hate there was, as well as love, the one representing repulsion, the other attraction; and by their joint influence the whole system was sustained. it was not, however, in equilibrium; at least, not in stable equilibrium. there was a trend, as i soon became aware, towards a centre. the energy of love was constantly striving to annihilate distance and unite in a single sphere the scattered units that were only kept apart by the energy of hate. this effort i felt proceeding in every particular group, and, more faintly, from one group to another: i felt it with an intensity at once of pain and of rapture, such as i cannot now even imagine, much less describe; and most of all did i feel it within the limits of my own group, of which some of those now present were members. but within this group in particular i was aware of an extraordinary resistance. one of its members, i thought, (i mention no names,) steadily refused either to form a closer union with the rest of us, or to enter into more intimate relations with other groups. this resistance i felt in the form of an indescribable tension, a tension which grew more and more acute, till suddenly the whole system seemed to collapse, and i found myself in darkness and alone, being dragged down, down, by the cord which attached me to my body. at the same time there was a roaring in my ears, and i saw my body, as i thought, like a fearful wild beast with open jaws; it swallowed me down, and i awoke with a shock to find myself in the operator's room, with a voice in my ears which somehow sounded like audubon's, though i afterwards ascertained it was really that of the assistant, uttering the rather ridiculous words, 'i don't see why!' "that, then, was the end of my dream, and i have never since been able to continue it, and to discover what was written over the other doors of the third tower, or what lay within the towers i did not enter. so that i have had to go on ever since with the knowledge i then acquired, that whatever reality may ultimately be, it is in the life of the affections, with all its confused tangle of loves and hates, attractions, repulsions, and, worst of all, indifferences, it is in this intricate commerce of souls that we may come nearest to apprehending what perhaps we shall never wholly apprehend, but the quest of which alone, as i believe, gives any significance to life, and makes it a thing which a wise and brave man will be able to persuade himself it is right to endure." with that i ended; and wilson was just beginning to explain to me that my dream had no real significance, but was just a confused reproduction of what i must have been thinking about before i took the æther, when we were interrupted by the arrival of tea. in the confusion that ensued audubon came over to me and said: "it was curious your dreaming that about me, for it is exactly the way i should behave." "of course it is," i replied, "and that, no doubt, is why i dreamt it." "well," he said, "you can say what you like, but i really do _not_ see why!" and with that the conversation i had to report closed. the nature of goodness by george herbert palmer alford professor of philosophy in harvard university [illustration: tout bien ou rien] a. f. p. bonitate singulari multis dilectae venustate litteris consiliis praestanti nuper e domo et gaudio meo ereptae preface the substance of these chapters was delivered as a course of lectures at harvard university, dartmouth and wellesley colleges, western reserve university, the university of california, and the twentieth century club of boston. a part of the sixth chapter was used as an address before the phi beta kappa society of harvard, and another part before the philosophical union of berkeley, california. several of these audiences have materially aided my work by their searching criticisms, and all have helped to clear my thought and simplify its expression. since discussions necessarily so severe have been felt as vital by companies so diverse, i venture to offer them here to a wider audience. previously, in "the field of ethics," i marked out the place which ethics occupies among the sciences. in this book the first problem of ethics is examined. the two volumes will form, i hope, an easy yet serious introduction to this gravest and most perpetual of studies. contents chapter i the double aspect of goodness i. difficulties of the investigation ii. gains to be expected iii. extrinsic goodness iv. imperfections of extrinsic goodness v. intrinsic goodness vi. relations of the two kinds vii. diagram chapter ii misconceptions of goodness i. enlargement of the diagram ii. greater and lesser good iii. higher and lower good iv. order and wealth v. satisfaction of desire vi. adaptation to environment vii. definitions chapter iii self-consciousness i. the four factors of personal goodness ii. unconsciousness iii. reflex action iv. conscious experience v. self-consciousness vi. its degrees vii. its acquisition viii. its instability chapter iv self-direction i. consciousness a factor ii. (a) the intention iii. ( ) the end, aim, or ideal iv. ( ) desire v. ( ) decision vi. (b) the volition vii. ( ) deliberation viii. ( ) effort ix. ( ) satisfaction chapter v self-development i. reflex influence of self-direction ii. varieties of change iii. accidental change iv. destructive change v. transforming change vi. development vii. self-development viii. method of self-development ix. test of self-development x. actual extent of personality xi. possible extent of personality xii. practical consequences chapter vi self-sacrifice i. difficulties of the conception ii. it is impossible iii. it is a sign of degradation iv. it is needless v. it is irrational vi. its frequency vii. definition viii. its rationality ix. distinguished from culture x. its self-assertion xi. its incalculability xii. its positive character xiii. conclusion chapter vii nature and spirit i. summary of the preceding argument ii. spirit superior to nature iii. naturalistic tendency of the fine arts iv. naturalistic tendency of science and philosophy v. naturalism in social estimates vi. self-consciousness burdensome vii. impossibility of full conscious guidance viii. advantages of unconscious action chapter viii the three stages of goodness i. advantage of conscious guidance ii. example of piano-playing iii. the mechanization of conduct iv. contrast of the first and third stages v. the cure for self-consciousness vi. the revision of habits vii. the doctrine of praise viii. the propriety of praise i the double aspect of goodness in undertaking the following discussion i foresee two grave difficulties. my reader may well feel that goodness is already the most familiar of all the thoughts we employ, and yet he may at the same time suspect that there is something about it perplexingly abstruse and remote. familiar it certainly is. it attends all our wishes, acts, and projects as nothing else does, so that no estimate of its influence can be excessive. when we take a walk, read a book, make a dress, hire a servant, visit a friend, attend a concert, choose a wife, cast a vote, enter into business, we always do it in the hope of attaining something good. the clue of goodness is accordingly a veritable guide of life. on it depend actions far more minute than those just mentioned. we never raise a hand, for example, unless with a view to improve in some respect our condition. motionless we should remain forever, did we not believe that by placing the hand elsewhere we might obtain something which we do not now possess. consequently we employ the word or some synonym of it during pretty much every waking hour of our lives. wishing some test of this frequency i turned to shakespeare, and found that he uses the word "good" fifteen hundred times, and it's derivatives "goodness," "better," and "best," about as many more. he could not make men and women talk right without incessant reference to this directive conception. but while thus familiar and influential when mixed with action, and just because of that very fact, the notion of goodness is bewilderingly abstruse and remote. people in general do not observe this curious circumstance. since they are so frequently encountering goodness, both laymen and scholars are apt to assume that it is altogether clear and requires no explanation. but the very reverse is the truth. familiarity obscures. it breeds instincts and not understanding. so inwoven has goodness become with the very web of life that it is hard to disentangle. we cannot easily detach it from encompassing circumstance, look at it nakedly, and say what in itself it really is. never appearing in practical affairs except as an element, and always intimately associated with something else, we are puzzled how to break up that intimacy and give to goodness independent meaning. it is as if oxygen were never found alone, but only in connection with hydrogen, carbon, or some other of the eighty elements which compose our globe. we might feel its wide influence, but we should have difficulty in describing what the thing itself was. just so if any chance dozen persons should be called on to say what they mean by goodness, probably not one could offer a definition which he would be willing to hold to for fifteen minutes. it is true, this strange state of things is not peculiar to goodness. other familiar conceptions show a similar tendency, and just about in proportion, too, to their importance. those which count for most in our lives are least easy to understand. what, for example, do we mean by love? everybody has experienced it since the world began. for a century or more, novelists have been fixing our attention on it as our chief concern. yet nobody has yet succeeded in making the matter quite plain. what is the state? socialists are trying to tell us, and we are trying to tell them; but each, it must be owned, has about as much difficulty in understanding himself as in understanding his opponent, though the two sets of vague ideas still contain reality enough for vigorous strife. or take the very simplest of conceptions, the conception of force--that which is presupposed in every species of physical science; ages are likely to pass before it is satisfactorily defined. now the conception of goodness is something of this sort, something so wrought into the total framework of existence that it is hidden from view and not separately observable. we know so much about it that we do not understand it. for ordinary purposes probably it is well not to seek to understand it. acquaintance with the structure of the eye does not help seeing. to determine beforehand just how polite we should be would not facilitate human intercourse. and possibly a completed scheme of goodness would rather confuse than ease our daily actions. science does not readily connect with life. for most of us all the time, and for all of us most of the time, instinct is the better prompter. but if we mean to be ethical students and to examine conduct scientifically, we must evidently at the outset come face to face with the meaning of goodness. i am consequently often surprised on looking into a treatise on ethics to find no definition of goodness proposed. the author assumes that everybody knows what goodness is, and that his own business is merely to point out under what conditions it may be had. but few readers do know what goodness is. one suspects that frequently the authors of these treatises themselves do not, and that a hazy condition of mind on this central subject is the cause of much loose talk afterwards. at any rate, i feel sure that nothing can more justly be demanded of a writer on ethics at the beginning of his undertaking than that he should attempt to unravel the subtleties of this all-important conception. having already in a previous volume marked out the field of ethics, i believe i cannot wisely go on discussing the science that i love, until i have made clear what meaning i everywhere attach to the obscure and familiar word _good_. this word being the ethical writer's chief tool, both he and his readers must learn its construction before they proceed to use it. to the study of that curious nature i dedicate this volume. ii to those who join in the investigation i cannot promise hours of ease. the task is an arduous one, calling for critical discernment and a kind of disinterested delight in studying the high intricacies of our personal structure. my readers must follow me with care, and indeed do much of the work themselves, i being but a guide. for my purpose is not so much to impart as to reveal. wishing merely to make people aware of what has always been in their minds, i think at the end of my book i shall be able to say, "these readers of mine know now no more than they did at, the beginning." yet if i say that, i hope to be able to add, "but they see vastly more significance in it than they once did, and henceforth will find the world interesting in a degree they never knew before." in attaining this new interest they will have experienced too that highest of human pleasures,--the joy of clear, continuous, and energetic thinking. few human beings are so inert that they are not ready to look into the dark places of their minds if, by doing so, they can throw light on obscurities there. i ought, however, to say that i cannot promise one gain which some of my readers may be seeking. in no large degree can i induce in them that goodness of which we talk. some may come to me in conscious weakness, desiring to be made better. but this i do not undertake. my aim is a scientific one. i am an ethical teacher. i want to lead men to understand what goodness is, and i must leave the more important work of attracting them to pursue it to preacher and moralist. still, indirectly there is moral gain to be had here. one cannot contemplate long such exalted themes without receiving an impulse, and being lifted into a region where doing wrong becomes a little strange. when, too, we reflect how many human ills spring from misunderstanding and intellectual obscurity, we see that whatever tends to illuminate mental problems is of large consequence in the practical issues of life. in considering what we mean by goodness, we are apt to imagine that the term applies especially, possibly entirely, to persons. it seems as if persons alone are entitled to be called good. but a little reflection shows that this is by no means the case. there are about as many good things in the world as good persons, and we are obliged to speak of them about as often. the goodness which we see in things is, however, far simpler and more easily analyzed than that which appears in persons. it may accordingly be well in these first two chapters to say nothing whatever about such goodness as is peculiar to persons, but to confine our attention to those phases of it which are shared alike by persons and things. iii how then do we employ the word "good"? i do not ask how we ought to employ it, but how we do. for the present we shall be engaged in a psychological inquiry, not an ethical one. we need to get at the plain facts of usage. i will therefore ask each reader to look into his own mind, see on what occasions he uses the word, and decide what meaning he attaches to it. taking up a few of the simplest possible examples, we will through them inquire when and why we call things good. here is a knife. when is it a good knife? why, a knife is made for something, for cutting. whenever the knife slides evenly through a piece of wood, unimpeded by anything in its own structure, and with a minimum of effort on the part of him who steers it, when there is no disposition of its edge to bend or break, but only to do its appointed work effectively, then we know that a good knife is at work. or, looking at the matter from another point of view, whenever the handle of the knife neatly fits the hand, following its lines and presenting no obstruction, so that it is a pleasure to use it, we may say that in these respects also the knife is a good knife. that is, the knife becomes good through adaptation to its work, an adaptation realized in its cleavage of the wood and in its conformity to the hand. its goodness always has reference to something outside itself, and is measured by its performance of an external task. a similar goodness is also found in persons. when we call the president of the united states good, we mean that he adapts himself easily and efficiently to the needs of his people. he detects those needs before others fully feel them, is sagacious in devices for meeting them, and powerful in carrying out his patriotic purposes through whatever selfish opposition. the president's goodness, like the knife's, refers to qualities within him only so far as these are adjusted to that which lies beyond. or take something not so palpable. what glorious weather! when we woke this morning, drew aside our curtains and looked out, we said "it is a good day!" and of what qualities of the day were we thinking? we meant, i suppose, that the day was well fitted to its various purposes. intending to go to our office, we saw there was nothing to hinder our doing so. we knew that the streets would be clear, people in amiable mood, business and social duties would move forward easily. health itself is promoted by such sunshine. in fact, whatever our plans, in calling the day a good day we meant to speak of it as excellently adapted to something outside itself. this signification of goodness is lucidly put in the remark of shakespeare's portia, "nothing i see is good without respect." we must have some respect or end in mind in reference to which the goodness is reckoned. good always means good _for_. that little preposition cannot be absent from our minds, though it need not audibly be uttered. the knife is good for cutting, the day for business, the president for the blind needs of his country. omit the _for_, and goodness ceases. to be bad or good implies external reference. to be good means to further something, to be an efficient means; and the end to be furthered must be already in mind before the word good is spoken. the respects or ends in reference to which goodness is calculated are often, it is true, obscure and difficult to seize if one is unfamiliar with the currents of men's thoughts. i sometimes hear the question asked about a merchant, "is he good?"--a question natural enough in churches and sunday-schools, but one which sounds rather queer on "'change." but those who ask it have a special respect in mind. i believe they mean, "will the man meet his notes?" in their mode of thinking a merchant is of consequence only in financial life. when they have learned whether he is capable of performing his functions there, they go no farther. he may be the most vicious of men or a veritable saint. it will make no difference in inducing commercial associates to call him good. for them the word indicates solely responsibility for business paper. a usage more curious still occurs in the nursery. there when the question is asked, "has the baby been good?" one discovers by degrees that the anxious mother wishes to know if it has been crying or quiet. this elementary life has as yet not acquired positive standards of measurement. it must be reckoned in negative terms, failure to disturb. heaven knows it does not always attain to this. but it is its utmost virtue, quietude. in short, whenever we inspect the usage of the word good, we always find behind it an implication of some end to be reached. good is a relative term, signifying promotive of, conducive to. the good is the useful, and it must be useful for something. silent or spoken, it is the mental reference to something else which puts all meaning into it. so hamlet says, "there's nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." if i have in mind a as an end sought, then x is good. but if b is the end, x is bad. x has no goodness or badness of its own. no new quality is added to an object or act when it becomes good. iv but this result is disappointing, not to say paradoxical. to call a thing good only with reference to what lies outside itself would be almost equivalent to saying that nothing is good. for if the moment anything becomes good it refers all its goodness to something beyond its own walls, should we ever be able to discover an object endowed with goodness at all? the knife is good in reference to the stick of wood; the wood, in reference to the table; the table, in reference to the writing; the writing, in reference to a reader's eyes; his eyes, in reference to supporting his family--where shall we ever stop? we can never catch up with goodness. it is always promising to disclose itself a little way beyond, and then evading us, slipping from under our fingers just when we are about to touch it. this meaning of goodness is self-contradictory. and it is also too large. it includes more to goodness than properly belongs there. if we call everything good which is good _for_, everything which shows adaptation to an end, then we shall be obliged to count a multitude of matters good which we are accustomed to think of as evil. filth will be good, for it promotes fevers as nothing else does. earthquakes are good, for shaking down houses. it is inapposite to urge that we do not want fevers or shaken houses. wishes are provided no place in our meaning of good. goodness merely assists, promotes, is conducive to any result whatever. it marks the functional character, without regard to the desirability of that which the function effects. but this is unsatisfactory and may well set us on a search for supplementary meanings. v when we ask if the venus of milo is a good statue, we have to confess that it is good beyond almost any object on which our eyes have ever rested. and yet it is not good _for_ anything; it is no means for an outside end. rather, it is good in itself. this possibility that things may be good in themselves was once brought forcibly to my attention by a trivial incident. wandering over my fields with my farmer in autumn, we were surveying the wrecks of summer. there on the ploughed ground lay a great golden object. he pointed to it, saying, "that is a good big pumpkin." i said, "yes, but i don't care about pumpkins." "no," he said, "nor do i." i said, "you care for them, though, as they grow large. you called this a good big one." "no! on the contrary, a pumpkin that is large is worth less. growing makes it coarser. but that is a good big pumpkin." i saw there was some meaning in his mind, but i could not make out what it was. soon after i heard a schoolboy telling about having had a "good big thrashing." i knew that he did not like such things. his phrase could not indicate approval, and what did it signify? he coupled the two words _good_ and _big_; and i asked myself if there was between them any natural connection? on reflection i thought there was. if you wish to find the full pumpkin nature, here you have it. all that a pumpkin can be is set forth here as nowhere else. and for that matter, anybody who might foolishly wish to explore a thrashing would find all he sought in this one. in short, what seemed to be intended was that all the functions constituting the things talked about were present in these instances and hard at work, mutually assisting one another, and joining to make up such a rounded whole that from it nothing was omitted which possibly might render its organic wholeness complete. here then is a notion of goodness widely unlike the one previously developed. goodness now appears shut up within verifiable bounds where it is not continually referred to something which lies beyond. an object is here reckoned not as good _for_, but as good in itself. the venus of milo is a good statue not through what it does, but through what it is. and perhaps it may conduce to clearness if we now give technical names to our two contrasted conceptions and call the former extrinsic goodness and the latter intrinsic. extrinsic goodness will then signify the adjustment of an object to something which lies outside itself; intrinsic will say that the many powers of an object are so adjusted to one another that they cooperate to render the object a firm totality. both will indicate relationship; but in the one case the relations considered are _extra se_, in the other _inter se_. goodness, however, will everywhere point to organic adjustment. if this double aspect of goodness is as clear and important as i believe it to be, it must have left its record in language. and in fact we find that popular speech distinguishes worth and value in much the same way as i have distinguished intrinsic and extrinsic goodness. to say that an object has value is to declare it of consequence in reference to something other than itself. to speak of its worth is to call attention to what its own nature involves. in a somewhat similar fashion mr. bradley distinguishes the extension and harmony of goodness, and mr. alexander the right and the perfect. vi when, however, we have got the two sorts of goodness distinctly parted, our next business is to get them together again. are they in fact altogether separate? is the extrinsic goodness of an object entirely detachable from its intrinsic? i think not. they are invariably found together. indeed, extrinsic goodness would be impossible in an object which did not possess a fair degree of intrinsic. how could a table, for example, be useful for holding a glass of water if the table were not well made, if powers appropriate to tables were not present and mutually cooperating? unless equipped with intrinsic goodness, the table can exhibit no extrinsic goodness whatever. and, on the other hand, intrinsic goodness, coherence of inner constitution, is always found attended by some degree of extrinsic goodness, or influence over other things. nothing exists entirely by itself. each object has its relationships, and through these is knitted into the frame of the universe. still, though the two forms of goodness are thus regularly united, we may fix our attention on the one or the other. according as we do so, we speak of an object as intrinsically or extrinsically good. for that matter, one of the two may sometimes seem to be present in a preponderating degree, and to determine by its presence the character of the object. in judging ordinary physical things, i believe we usually test them by their serviceability to us--by their extrinsic goodness, that is--rather than bother our heads with asking what is their inner structure, and how full of organization they may be. whereas, when we come to estimate human beings, we ordinarily regard it as a kind of indignity to assess primarily their extrinsic goodness, _i. e_., to ask chiefly how serviceable they may be and to ignore their inner worth. to sum up a man in terms of his labor value is the moral error of the slaveholder. if, however, we seek the highest point to which either kind of excellence may be carried, it will be found where each most fully assists the other. but this is not easy to imagine. when i set a glass of water on the table, the table is undoubtedly slightly shaken by the strain. if i put a large book upon it, the strain of the table becomes apparent. putting a hundred pound weight upon it is an experiment that is perilous. for the extrinsic goodness of the table is at war with the intrinsic; that is, the employment of the table wears it out. in doing its work and fitting into the large relationships for which tables exist, its inner organization becomes disjointed. in time it will go to pieces. we can, however, imagine a magic table, which might be consolidated by all it does. at first it was a little weak, but by upholding the glass of water it grew stronger. as i laid the book on it, its joints acquired a tenacity which they lacked before; and only after receiving the hundred pound weight did it acquire the full strength of which it was capable. that would indeed be a marvelous table, where use and inner construction continually helped each other. something like it we may hereafter find possible in certain regions of personal goodness, but no such perpetual motion is possible to things. for them employment is costly. vii i have already strained my readers' attention sufficiently by these abstract statements of matters technical and minute. let us stop thinking for a while and observe. i will draw a picture of goodness and teach the eye what sort of thing it is. we have only to follow in our drawing the conditions already laid down. we agreed that when an object was good it was good _for_ something; so that if a is good, it must be good for b. this instrumental relation, of means to end, may well be indicated by an arrow pointing out the direction in which the influence moves. but if b is also to be good, it too must be connected by an arrow with another object, c, and this in the same way with d. the process might evidently be continued forever, but will be sufficiently shown in the three stages of figure . here the arrow always expresses the extrinsic goodness of the letter which lies behind it, in reference to the letter which lies before. [fig. ] but drawing our diagram in this fashion and finding a little gap between d and a, the completing mind of man longs to fill up that gap. we have no warrant for doing anything of the sort; but let us try the experiment and see what effect will follow. under the new arrangement we find that not only is d good for a, but that a, being good for b and for c, is also good for d. to express these facts in full it would be necessary to put a point on each end of the arrow connecting a and d. [fig. ] but the same would be true of the relation between a and b; that is, b, being good for c and for d, is also good for a. or, as similar reasoning would hold throughout the figure, all the arrows appearing there should be supplied with heads at both ends. and there is one further correction. a is good for b and for c; that is, a is good for c. the same relation should also be indicated between b and d. so that to render our diagram complete it would be necessary to supply it with two diagonal arrows having double heads. it would then assume the following form. [fig. ] here is a picture of intrinsic goodness. in this figure we have a whole represented in which every part is good for every other part. but this is merely a pictorial statement of the definition which kant once gave of an organism. by an organism he says, we mean that assemblage of active and differing parts in which each part is both means and end. extrinsic goodness, the relation of means to end, we have expressed in our diagram by the pointed arrow. but as soon as we filled in the gap between d and a each arrow was obliged to point in two directions. we had an organic whole instead of a lot of external adjustments. in such a whole each part has its own function to perform, is active; and all must differ from one another, or there would be mere repetition and aggregation instead of organic supplementation of end by means. an organism has been more briefly defined, and the curious mutuality of its support expressed, by saying that it is a unit made up of cooperant parts. and each of these definitions expresses the notion of intrinsic goodness which we have already reached. intrinsic goodness is the expression of the fullness of function in the construction of an organism. i have elsewhere (the field of ethics) explained the epoch-making character in any life of this conception of an organism. until one has come in sight of it, he is a child. when once he begins to view things organically, he is--at least in outline--a scientific, an artistic, a moral man. experience then becomes coherent and rational, and the disjointed modes of immaturity, ugliness, and sin no longer attract. at no period of the world's history has this truly formative conception exercised a wider influence than today. it is accordingly worth while to depict it with distinctness, and to show how fully it is wrought into the very nature of goodness. references on the double aspect of goodness alexander's moral order and progress, bk. ii. ch. ii. bradley's appearance and reality, ch. xxv. sidgwick's methods, bk. i. ch. ix. spencer's principles of ethics, pt. i. ch. iii. muirhead's elements of ethics, bk. iv. ch. ii. ladd's philosophy of conduct, ch. iii. kant's practical reason, bk. i. ch. ii. the meaning of good, by g.l. dickinson. ii misconceptions of goodness i our diagram of goodness, as drawn in the last chapter, has its special imperfections, and through these cannot fail to suggest certain erroneous notions of goodness. to these i now turn. the first of them is connected with its own method of construction. it will be remembered that we arbitrarily threw an arrow from d to a, thus making what was hitherto an end become a means to its own means. was this legitimate? does any such closed circle exist? it certainly does not. our universe contains nothing that can be represented by that figure. indeed if anywhere such a self-sufficing organism did exist, we could never know it. for, by the hypothesis, it would be altogether adequate to itself and without relations beyond its own bounds. and if it were thus cut off from connection with everything except itself, it could not even affect our knowledge. it would be a closed universe within our universe, and be for us as good as zero. we must own, then, that we have no acquaintance with any such perfect organism, while the facts of life reveal conditions widely unlike those here represented. what these conditions are becomes apparent when we put significance into the letters hitherto employed. let our diagram become a picture of the organic life of john. then a might represent his physical life, b his business life, c his civil, d his domestic; and we should have asserted that each of these several functions in the life of john assists all the rest. his physical health favors his commercial and political success, while at the same time making him more valuable in the domestic circle. but home life, civic eminence, and business prosperity also tend to confirm his health. in short, every one of these factors in the life of john mutually affects and is affected by all the others. but when thus supplied with meaning, figure evidently fails to express all it should say. b is intended to exhibit the business life of john. but this is surely not lived alone. though called a function of john, it is rather a function of the community, and he merely shares it. i had no right to confine to john himself that which plainly stretches beyond him. let us correct the figure, then, by laying off another beside it to represent peter, one of those who shares in the business experience of john. this common business life [fig. ] of theirs, b, we may say, enables peter to gratify his own adventurous disposition, e; and this again stimulates his scientific tastes, f. but peter's eminence in science commends him so to his townsmen that he comes to share again c, the civic life of john. yet as before in the case of john, each of peter's powers works forward, backward, and across, constructing in peter an organic whole which still is interlocked with the life of john. each, while having functions of his own, has also functions which are shared with his neighbor. nor would this involvement of functions pause with peter. to make our diagram really representative, each of the two individuals thus far drawn would need to be surrounded by a multitude of others, all sharing in some degree the functions of their neighbors. or rather each individual, once connected with his neighbors, would find all his functions affected by all those possessed by his entire group. for fear of making my figure unintelligible [fig .] through its fullness of relations, i have sent out arrows in all directions from the letter a only; but in reality they would run from all to all. and i have also thought that we persons affect one another quite as decidedly through the wholeness of our characters as we do through any interlocking of single traits. such totality of relationship i have tried to suggest by connecting the centres of each little square with the centres of adjacent ones. john as a whole is thus shown to be good for peter as a whole. we have successively found ourselves obliged to broaden our conception until the goodness of a single object has come to imply that of a group. the two phases of goodness are thus seen to be mutually dependent. extrinsic goodness or serviceability, that where an object employs an already constituted wholeness to further the wholeness of another, cannot proceed except through intrinsic goodness, or that where fullness and adjustment of functions are expressed in the construction of an organism. nor can intrinsic goodness be supposed to exist shut up to itself and parted from extrinsic influence. the two are merely different modes or points of view for assessing goodness everywhere. goodness in its most elementary form appears where one object is connected with another as means to end. but the more elaborately complicated the relation becomes, and the richer the entanglement of means and ends--internal and external--in the adjustment of object or person, so much ampler is the goodness. each object, in order to possess any good, must share in that of the universe. ii but the diagram suggests a second question. are all the functions here represented equally influential in forming the organism? our figure implies that they are, and i see no way of drawing it so as to avoid the implication. but it is an error. in nature our powers have different degrees of influence. we cannot suppose that john's physical, commercial, domestic, and political life will have precisely equal weight in the formation of his being. one or the other of them will play a larger part. accordingly we very properly speak of greater goods and lesser goods, meaning by the former those which are more largely contributory to the organism. in our physical being, for example, we may inquire whether sight or digestion is the greater good; and our only means of arriving at an answer would be to stop each function and then note the comparative consequence to the organism. without digestion, life ceases; without sight, it is rendered uncomfortable. if we are considering merely the relative amounts of bodily gain from the two functions, we must call digestion the greater good. in a table, excellence of make is apt to be a greater good than excellence of material, the character of the carpentry having more effect on its durability than does the special kind of wood employed. the very doubts about such results which arise in certain cases confirm the truth of the definition here proposed; for when we hesitate, it is on account of the difficulty we find in determining how far maintenance of the organism depends on the one or the other of the qualities compared. the meaning of the terms greater and lesser is clearer than their application. a function or quality is counted a greater good in proportion as it is believed to be more completely of the nature of a means. iii another question unsettled by the diagram is so closely connected with the one just examined as often to be confused with it. it is this: are all functions of the same kind, rank, or grade? they are not; and this qualitative difference is indicated by the terms higher and lower, as the quantitative difference was by greater and less. but differences of rank are more slippery matters than difference of amount, and easily lend themselves to arbitrary and capricious treatment. in ordinary speech we are apt to employ the words high and low as mere signs of approval or disapproval. we talk of one occupation, enjoyment, work of art, as superior to another, and mean hardly more than that we like it better. probably there is not another pair of terms current in ethics where the laudatory usage is so liable to slip into the place of the descriptive. our opponent's ethics always seem to embody low ideals, our own to be of a higher type. accordingly the terms should not be used in controversy unless we have in mind for them a precise meaning other than eulogy or disparagement. and such a meaning they certainly may possess. as the term greater good is employed to indicate the degree in which a quality serves as a means, so may the higher good show the degree in which it is an end. digestion, which was just now counted a greater good than sight, might still be rightly reckoned a lower; for while it contributes more largely to the constitution of the human organism, it on that very account expresses less the purposes to which that organism will be put. it is true we have seen how in any organism every power is both means and end. it would be impossible, then, to part out its powers, and call some altogether great and others altogether high. but though there is purpose in all, and construction in all, certain are more markedly the one than the other. some express the superintending functions; others, the subservient. some condition, others are conditioned by. in man, for example, the intellectual powers certainly serve our bodily needs. but that is not their principal office; rather, in them the aims of the entire human being receive expression. to abolish the distinction of high and low would be to try to obliterate from our understanding of the world all estimates of the comparative worth of its parts; and with these estimates its rational order would also disappear. such attempts have often been made. in extreme polytheism there are no superiors among the gods and no inferiors, and chaos consequently reigns. a similar chaos is projected into life when, as in the poetry of walt whitman, all grades of importance are stripped from the powers of man and each is ranked as of equal dignity with every other. that there is difficulty in applying the distinction, and determining which function is high and which low, is evident. to fix the purposes of an object would often be presumptuous. with such perplexities i am not concerned. i merely wish to point out a perfectly legitimate and even important signification of the terms high and low, quite apart from their popular employment as laudatory or depreciative epithets. it surely is not amiss to call the legibility of a book a higher good than its shape, size, or weight, though in each of these some quality of the book is expressed. iv a further point of possible misconception in our diagram is the number of factors represented. as here shown, these are but four. they might better be forty. the more richly functional a thing or person is, the greater its goodness. poverty of powers is everywhere a form of evil. for how can there be largeness of organization where there is little to organize? or what is the use of organization except as a mode of furnishing the smoothest and most compact expression to powers? wealth and order are accordingly everywhere the double traits of goodness, and a chief test of the worth of any organism will be the diversity of the powers it includes. throughout my discussion i have tried to help the reader to keep this twofold goodness in mind by the use of such phrases as "fullness of organization." yet it must be confessed that between the two elements of goodness there is a kind of opposition, needful though both are for each other. order has in it much that is repressive; and wealth--in the sense of fecundity of powers--is, especially at its beginning, apt to be disorderly. when a new power springs into being, it is usually chaotic or rebellious. it has something else to attend to besides bringing itself into accord with what already exists. there is violence in it, a lack of sobriety, and only by degrees does it find its place in the scheme of things. this is most observable in living beings, because it is chiefly they who acquire new powers. but there are traces of it even among things. a chemical acid and base meeting, are pretty careless of everything except the attainment of their own action. human beings are born, and for some time remain, clamorous, obliging the world around to attend more to them than they to it. there is ever a confusion in exuberant life which bewilders the onlooker, even while he admits that life had better be. the deep opposition between these contrasted sides of goodness is mirrored in the conflicting moral ideals of conservatism and radicalism, of socialism and individualism, which have never been absent from the societies of men, nor even, i believe, from those of animals. conservatism insists on unity and order; radicalism on wealthy life, diversified powers, particular independence. either, left to itself, would crush society, one by emptying it of initiative, the other by splitting it into a company of warring atoms. ordinarily each is dimly aware of its need of an opponent, yet does not on that account denounce him the less, or less eagerly struggle to expel him from provinces asserted to be its own. by temperament certain classes of the community are naturally disposed to become champions of the one or the other of these supplemental ideals. artists, for the most part, incline to the ideal of abounding life, exult in each novel manifestation which it can be made to assume, and scoff at order as philistinism. moralists, on the other hand, lay grievous stress on order, as if it had any value apart from its promotion of life. assuming that sufficient exuberance will come, unfostered by morality, they shut it out from their charge, make duty to consist in checking instinct, and devote themselves to pruning the sprouting man. but this is absurdly to narrow ethics, whose true aim is to trace the laws involved in the construction of a good person. in such construction the supply of moral material, and the fostering of a wide diversity of vigorous powers, is as necessary as bringing these powers into proper working form. richness of character is as important as correctness. the world's benefactors have often been one-sided and faulty men. none of us can be complete; and we had better not be much disturbed over the fact, but rather set ourselves to grow strong enough to carry off our defects. because ethics has not always kept its eyes open to this obvious duality of goodness it has often incurred the contempt of practical men. the ethical writers of our time have done better. they have come to see that the goodness of a person or thing consists in its being as richly diversified as is possible up to the limit of harmonious, working, and also in being orderly up to the limit of repression of powers. beyond either of these limits evil begins. what i have expressed in my diagram as the fullest organization is intended to lie within them. v it remains to compare the view of goodness here presented with two others which have met with wide approval. the competence of my own will be tested by seeing whether it can explain these, or they it. goodness is sometimes defined as that which satisfies desire. things are not good in themselves, but only as they respond to human wishes. a certain combination of colors or sounds is good, because i like it. a republic we americans consider the best form of government because we believe that this more completely than any other meets the legitimate desires of its people. i know a little boy who after tasting with gusto his morning's oatmeal would turn for sympathy to each other person at table with the assertive inquiry, "good? good? good?" he knew no good but enjoyment, and this was so keen that he expected to find it repeated in each of his friends. it is true we often call actions good which are not immediately pleasing; for example, the cutting off of a leg which is crushed past the possibility of cure. but the leg, if left, will cause still more distress or even death. in the last analysis the word good will be found everywhere to refer to some satisfaction of human desire. if we count afflictions good, it is because we believe that through them permanent peace may best be reached. and rightly do those name the bible the good book who think that it more than any other has helped to alleviate the woes of man. with this definition i shall not quarrel. so far as it goes, it seems to me not incorrect. in all good i too find satisfaction of desire. only, though true, the definition is in my judgment vague and inadequate. for we shall still need some standard to test the goodness of desires. they themselves may be good, and some of them are better than others. it is good to eat candy, to love a friend, to hate a foe, to hear the sound of running water, to practice medicine, to gather wealth, learning, or postage stamps. but though each of these represents a natural desire, they cannot all be counted equally good. they must be tried by some standard other than themselves. for desires are not detachable facts. each is significant only as a piece of a life. in connection with that life it must be judged. and when we ask if any desire is good or bad, we really inquire how far it may play a part in company with other desires in making up a harmonious existence. by its organic quality, accordingly, we must ultimately determine the goodness of whatever we desire. if it is organic, it certainly will satisfy desire. but we cannot reverse this statement and assert that whatever satisfies desire will be organically good. my own mode of statement is, therefore, clearer and more adequate than the one here examined, because it brings out fully important considerations which in this are only implied. whatever contributes to the solidity and wealth of an organism is, from the point of view of that organism, good. vi a second inadequate definition of goodness is that it is adaptation to environment. this is a far more important conception than the preceding; but again, while not untrue, is still, in my judgment, partial and ambiguous. when its meaning is made clear and exact, it seems to coincide with my own; for it points out that nothing can be separately good, but becomes so through fulfillment of relations. each thing or person is surrounded by many others. to them it must fit itself. being but a part, its goodness is found in serving that whole with which it is connected. that is a good oar which suits well the hands of the rower, the row-lock of the boat, and the resisting water. the white fur of the polar bear, the tawny hide of the lion, the camel's hump, giraffe's neck, and the light feet of the antelope, are all alike good because they adapt these creatures to their special conditions of existence and thus favor their survival. nor is there a different standard for moral man. his actions which are accounted good are called so because they are those through which he is adapted to his surroundings, fitted for the society of his fellows, and adjusted with the best chance of survival to his encompassing physical world. while i have warm approval for much that appears in such a doctrine, i think those who accept it may easily overlook certain important elements of goodness. at best it is a description of extrinsic goodness, for it separates the object from its environment and makes the response of the former to an external call the measure of its worth. of that inner worth, or intrinsic goodness, where fullness and adjustment of relations go on within and not without, it says nothing. yet i have shown how impossible it is to conceive one of these kinds of goodness without the other. but a graver objection still--or rather the same objection pressed more closely--is this. the present definition naturally brings up the picture of certain constant and stable surroundings enclosing an environed object which is to be changed at their demand. no such state of things exists. there is no fixed environment. it is always fixable. every environment is plastic and derives its character, at least partially, from the environed object. each stone sends out its little gravitative and chemical influence upon surrounding stones, and they are different through being in its neighborhood. the two become mutually affected, and it is no more suitable to say that the object must adapt itself to its environment than that the environment must be adapted to its object. indeed, in persons this second form of statement is the more important; for the forcing of circumstances into accordance with human needs may be said to be the chief business of human life. the man who adapts himself to his ignorant, licentious, or malarial surroundings, is not a type of the good man. of course disregard of environment is not good either. circumstances have their honorable powers, and these require to be studied, respected, and employed. sometimes they are so strong as to leave a person no other course than to adapt himself to them. he cannot adapt them to himself. plato has a good story of how a native of the little village of seriphus tried to explain themistocles by means of environment. "you would not," he said to the great man, "have been eminent if you had been born in seriphus." "probably not," answered themistocles, "nor you, if you had been born in athens." the definition we are discussing, then, is not true--indeed it is hardly intelligible--if we take it in the one-sided way in which it is usually announced. the demand for adaptation does not proceed exclusively from environment, surroundings, circumstance. the stone, the tree, the man, conforms these to itself as truly as it is conformed to them. there is mutual adaptation. undoubtedly this is implied in the definition, and the petty employment of it which i have been attacking would be rejected also by its wiser defenders. but when its meaning is thus filled out, its vagueness rendered clear, and the mutual influence which is implied becomes clearly announced, the definition turns into the one which i have offered. goodness is the expression of the largest organization. its aim is everywhere to bring object and environment into fullest cooperation. we have seen how in any organic relationship every part is both means and end. goodness tends toward organism; and so far as it obtains, each member of the universe receives its own appropriate expansion and dignity. the present definition merely states the great truth of organization with too objective an emphasis; as that which found the satisfaction of desire to be the ground of goodness over-emphasized the subjective side. the one is too legal, the other too aesthetic. yet each calls attention to an important and supplementary factor in the formation of goodness. vii in closing these dull defining chapters, in which i have tried to sum up the notion of goodness in general--a conception so thin and empty that it is equally applicable to things and persons--it may be well to gather together in a single group the several definitions we have reached. intrinsic goodness expresses the fulfillment of function in the construction of an organism. by an organism is meant such an assemblage of active and differing parts that in it each part both aids and is aided by all the others. extrinsic goodness is found when an object employs an already constituted wholeness to further the wholeness of others. a part is good when it furnishes that and that only which may add value to other parts. a greater good is one more largely contributory to the organism as its end. a higher good is one more fully expressive of that end. probably, too, it will be found convenient to set down here a couple of other definitions which will hereafter be explained and employed. a good act is the expression of selfhood as service. by an ideal we mean a mental picture of a better state of existence than we feel has actually been reached. references on misconceptions of goodness alexander's moral order and progress, bk. iii. ch. i. section . martineau's types of ethical theory, vol. ii. bk. i. ch. i. section . mackenzie's manual of ethics, ch. v. section & ch. vii. section . janet's theory of morals, ch. iii. dewey's outlines of ethics, section lxvii. spencer's principles of ethics, pt. i. ch. . iii self-consciousness i in the preceding chapters i have examined only those features of goodness which are common alike to persons and to things. goodness was there seen to be the expression of function in the construction of an organism. that is, when we ask if any being, object, or quality is good, we are really inquiring how organic it is, how much it contributes of riches or solidity to some whole or other. there must, then, be as many varieties of goodness as there are modes of constructing organisms. a special set of functions will produce one kind of organism, a different set another; and each of these will express a peculiar variety of goodness. if, then, into the construction of a person conditions enter which are not found in the making of things, these conditions will render personal goodness to some extent unlike the goodness of everything else. now i suppose that in the contacts of life we all feel a marked difference between persons and things. we know a person when we see him, and are quite sure he is not a thing. yet if we were called on to say precisely what it is we know, and how we know it, we should find ourselves in some difficulty. no doubt we usually recognize a human being by his form and motions, but we assume that certain inner traits regularly attend these outward matters, and that in these traits the real ground of difference between person and thing is to be found. how many such distinguishing differences exist? obviously a multitude; but these are, i believe, merely various manifestations of a few fundamental characteristics. probably all can be reduced to four,-- they are self-consciousness, self-direction, self-development, and self-sacrifice. wherever these four traits are found, we feel at once that the being who has them is a person. whatever creature lacks them is but a thing, and requires no personal attention. i might say more. these four are so likely to go together that the appearance of one gives confidence of the rest. if, for example, we discover a being sacrificing itself for another, even though we have not previously thought of it as a person, it will so stir sympathy that we shall see in it a likeness to our own kind. or, finding a creature capable of steering itself, of deciding what its ends shall be, and adjusting its many powers to reach them, we cannot help feeling that there is much in such a being like ourselves, and we are consequently indisposed to refer its movements to mechanic adjustment. if, then, these are the four conditions of personality, the distinctive functions by which it becomes organically good, they will evidently need to be examined somewhat minutely before we can rightly comprehend the nature of personal goodness, and detect its separation from goodness in general. such an examination will occupy this and the three succeeding chapters. but i shall devote myself exclusively to such features of the four functions as connect them with ethics. many interesting metaphysical and psychological questions connected with them i pass by. ii there is no need of elaborating the assertion that a person is a conscious being. to this all will at once agree. more important is it to inspect the stages through which we rise to consciousness, for these are often overlooked. people imagine that they are self- conscious through and through, and that they always have been. they assume that the entire life of a person is the expression of consciousness alone. but this is erroneous. to a large degree we are allied with things. while self-consciousness is our distinctive prerogative, it is far from being our only possession. rather we might say that all which belongs to the under world is ours too, while self- consciousness appears in us as a kind of surplusage. no doubt it is by the distinctive traits, those which are not shared with other creatures, that we define our special character; but these are not our sole endowment. our life is grounded in unconsciousness, and with this, as students of personal goodness, we must first make acquaintance. yet how can we become acquainted with it? how grow conscious of the unconscious? we can but mark it in a negative way and call it the absence of consciousness. that is all. we cannot be directly aware of ourselves as unconscious. indeed, we cannot be quite sure that the physical things about us, even organic objects, are unconscious. if somebody should declare that the covers of this book are conscious, and respond to everything wise or foolish which the writer puts between them, there would be no way of confuting him. all i could say would be, "i see no signs of it." my readers occasionally give a response and show that they do or do not agree with what i say. but the volume itself lies in stolid passivity, offering no resistance to whatever i record in it. since, then, there is no evidence in behalf of consciousness, i do not unwarrantably assume its presence. i save my belief for objects where it is indicated, and indicate its absence elsewhere by calling such objects unconscious. but if in human beings consciousness appears, what are its marks, and how is it known? ought we not to define it at starting? i believe it cannot be defined. definition is taking an idea to pieces. but there are no pieces in the idea of consciousness. it is elementary, something in which all other pieces begin. that is, in attempting to define consciousness, i must in every definition employed really assume that my hearer is acquainted with it already. i cannot then define it without covert reference to experience. i might vary the term and call it awaredness, internal observation, psychic response. i might say it is that which accompanies all experience and makes it to be experience. but these are not definitions. a simple way to fix attention on it is to say that it is what we feel less and less as we sink into a swoon. what this is, i cannot more precisely state. but in swoon or sleep we are all familiar with its diminution or increase, and we recognize in it the very color of our being. after my friend's remark i am in a different state from that in which i was before. something has affected me which may abide. this is not the case with a stone post, or at least there are no signs of it there. the post, then, is unconscious. we call ourselves conscious. in unconsciousness our lives began, and from it they have not altogether emerged. yet unconsciousness is a matter of degree. we may be very much aware, aware but slightly, vanishingly, not at all. even though we never existed unconsciously, we may fairly assume such a blank terminus in order the better to figure the present condition of our minds. they show sinking degrees moving off in that direction; when we think out the series, we come logically to a point where there is no consciousness at all. such a point analogy also inclines us to concede. in our body we come upon unconscious sections. this body seems to have some connection with myself; yet of its large results only, and not of its minuter operations, can i be distinctly aware. in like manner it is held that within the mind processes cumulate and rise to a certain height before they cross the threshold of consciousness. below that threshold, though actual processes, they are unknown to us. the teaching of modern psychology is that all mental action is at the start unconscious, requiring a certain bulk of stimulus in order to emerge into conditions where we become aware of it. the cumulated result we know; the minute factors which must be gathered together to form that result, we do not know. i do not pronounce judgment on this psychological question. i state the belief merely in order to show how probable it is that our conscious life is superposed upon unconscious conditions. in conduct itself i believe every one will acknowledge that his moments of consciousness are like vivid peaks, while the great mass of his acts--even those with which he is most familiar--occur unconsciously. when we read a word on the printed page, how much of it do we consciously observe? modern teachers of reading often declare that detailed consciousness is here unnecessary or even injurious. better, they say, take the word, not the letter, as the unit of consciousness. but taking merely the letter, how minutely are we conscious of its curvatures? somewhere consciousness must stop, resting on the support of unconscious experiences. matthew arnold has declared conduct to be three fourths of life. if we mean by conduct consciously directed action, it is not one fourth. yet however fragmentary, it is that which renders all the rest significant. iii just above our unconscious mental modifications appear the reflex actions, or instincts. here experience is translated into action before it reaches consciousness; that is, though the actions accomplish intelligent ends, there is no previous knowledge of the ends to be accomplished. a flash of light falls on my eye, and the lid closes. it seems a wise act. the brilliant light is too fierce. it might damage the delicate organ. prudently, therefore, i draw the small curtain until the light has gone, then raise it and resume communication with the outer world. my action seems planned for protection. in reality there was no plan. probably enough i did not perceive the flash; the lid, at any rate, would close equally well if i did not. in falling from a height i do not decide to sacrifice my arms rather than my body, and accordingly stretch them out. they stretch themselves, without intention on my part. how anything so blind yet so sagacious can occur will become clearer if we take an illustration from a widely different field. to-day we are all a good deal dependent on the telephone; though, not being a patient man, i can seldom bring myself to use it. it has one irritating feature, the central office, or perhaps i might more accurately say, the central office girl. whenever i try to communicate with my friend, i must first call up the central office, as it is briefly called and longly executed. not until attention there has been with difficulty obtained can i come into connection with my friend; for through a human consciousness at that mediating point every message must pass. in that central office are accordingly three necessary things; viz., an incoming wire, a consciousness, and an outgoing wire; and i am helpless till all these three have been brought into cooperation. really i have often thought life too short for the performance of such tasks. and apparently our creator thought so at the beginning, when in contriving machinery for us he dispensed with the hindering factor of a central office operator. for applied to our previous example of a flash of light, the incoming message corresponds to the sensuous report of the flash, the outgoing message to the closure of the eye, and the unfortunate central office girl has disappeared. the afferent nerve reports directly to the efferent, without passing the message through consciousness. a fortune awaits him who will contrive a similar improvement for the telephone. a special sound sent into the switch-box must automatically, and without human intervention, oblige an indicated wire to take up the uttered words. the continuous arc thus established, without employment of the at present necessary girl, will exactly represent the exquisite machinery of reflex action which each of us bears about in his own brain. here, as in our improved telephone, the announcement itself establishes the connections needful for farther transmission, without employing the judgment of any operating official. by such means power is economized and action becomes extremely swift and sure. promptness, too, being of the utmost importance for protective purposes, creatures which are rich in such instincts have a large practical advantage over those who lack them. it is often assumed that brutes alone are instinctive, and that man must deliberate over each occasion. but this is far from the fact. probably at birth man has as many instincts as any other animal. and though as consciousness awakes and takes control, some of these become unnecessary and fall away, new ones--as will hereafter be shown--are continually established, and by them the heavy work of life is for the most part performed. personal goodness cannot be rightly understood till we perceive how it is superposed on a broad reflex mechanism. iv but higher in the personal life than unconsciousness, higher than the reflex instincts, are the conscious experiences. by these, we for the first time became aware of what is going on within us and without. messages sent from the outer world are stopped at a central office established in consciousness, looked over, and deciphered. we judge whether they require to be sent in one direction or another, or whether we may not rest in their simple cognizance. every moment we receive a multitude of such messages. they are not always called for, but they come of themselves. my hand carelessly falling on the table reports in terms of touch. a person near me laughs, and i must hear. i see the flowers on the table; smell reports them too; while taste declares their leaves to be bitter and pungent. all this time the inner organs, with the processes of breathing, blood circulation, and nervous action, are announcing their acute or massive experiences. continually, and not by our own choice, our minds are affected by the transactions around. sensations occur-- "the eye, it cannot choose but see; we cannot bid the ear be still; our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will." these itemized experiences thus pouring in upon our passive selves are found to vary endlessly also in degree, time, and locality. through such variations indeed they become itemized. "therefore is space and therefore time," says emerson, "that men may know that things are not huddled and lumped, but sundered and divisible." v have we not, then, here reached the highest point of personal life, self-consciousness? no, that is a peak higher still, for this is but consciousness. undoubtedly from consciousness self-consciousness grows, often appearing by degrees and being extremely difficult to discriminate. yet the two are not the same. possibly in marking the contrast between them i may be able to gain the collateral advantage of ridding myself of those disturbers of ethical discussion, the brutes. whenever i am nearing an explanation of some moral intricacy one of my students is sure to come forward with a dog and to ask whether what i have said shows that dog to be a moral and responsible being. so i like to watch afar and banish the brutes betimes. perhaps if i bestow a little attention on them at present, i may keep the creatures out of my pages for the future. many writers maintain that brutes differ from us precisely in this particular, that while they possess consciousness they have not self- consciousness. a brute, they say, has just such experiences as i have been describing: he tastes, smells, hears, sees, touches. all this he may do with greater intensity and precision than we. but he is entirely wrapped up in these separate sensations. the single experience holds his attention. he knows no other self than that; or, strictly speaking, he knows no self at all. it is the experience he knows, and not himself the experiencer. we say, "the cat feels herself warm;" but is it quite so? does she feel herself, or does she feel warm? which? if we may trust the writers to whom i have referred, we ought rather to say, "the cat feels warm" than that "she feels herself warm;" for this latter statement implies a distinction of which she is in no way aware. she does not set off her passing moods in contrast to a self who might be warm or cold, active or idle, hungry or satiated. the experience of the instant occupies her so entirely that in reality the cat ceases to be a cat and becomes for the moment just warm. so it is in all her seeming activities. when she chases a mouse we rightly say, "she _is_ chasing a mouse," for then she is nothing else. such a state of things is at least conceivable. we can imagine momentary experiences to be so engrossing that the animal is exclusively occupied with them, unable to note connections with past and future, or even with herself, their perceiver. through very fullness of consciousness brutes may be lacking in self-consciousness. whether this is the case with the brutes or not, something quite different occurs in us. no particular experience can satisfy us; we accordingly say, not "i am an experience," but "i have an experience." to be able to throw off the bondage of the moment is the distinctive characteristic of a person. when shelley watches the skylark, he envies him his power of whole-heartedly seizing a momentary joy. then turning to himself, and feeling that his own condition, if broader, is on that very account more liable to sorrow, he cries,-- "we look before and after, and pine for what is not." that is the mark of man. he looks before and after. the outlook of the brute, if the questionable account which i have given of him is correct, is different. he looks to the present exclusively. the momentary experience takes all his attention. if it does not, he too in his little degree is a person. could we determine this simple point in the brute's psychology, he would at once become available for ethical material. at present we cannot use him for such purposes, nor say whether he is selfish or self-sacrificing, possessed of moral standards and accountable, or driven by subtle yet automatic reflexes. the obvious facts of him may be interpreted plausibly in either way, and he cannot speak. till he can give us a clearer account of this central fact of his being, we shall not know whether he is a poor relation of ours or is rather akin to rocks, and clouds, and trees. i incline to the former guess, and am ready to believe that between him and us there is only a difference of degree. but since in any case he stands at an extreme distance from ourselves, we may for purposes of explanation assume that distance to be absolute, and talk of him as having no share in the prerogative announced by shelley. so regarded, we shall say of him that he does not compare or adjust. he does not organize experiences and know a single self running through them all. whenever an experience takes him, it swallows his self--a self, it is true, which he never had. it is sometimes assumed that shelley was the first to announce this weighty distinction. philosophers of course were familiar with it long ago, but the poets too had noticed it before the skylark told shelley. burns says to the mouse:-- "still thou art blest, compared wi' me! the present only toucheth thee: but, ooh! i backward cast my e'e on prospects drear! an' forward tho' i canna see, i guess an' fear." this looking backward and forward which is the ground of man's grandeur, is also, burns thinks, the ground of his misery; for in it is rooted his self-consciousness, something widely unlike the itemized consciousness of the brute. shakespeare, too, found in us the same distinctive trait. hamlet reflects how god has made us "with such discourse, looking before and after." we possess discourse, can move about intellectually, and are not shut up to the moment. but ages before shakespeare the fact had been observed. homer knew all about it, and in the last book of the odyssey extols halitherses, the son of mastor, as one "able to look before and after." [greek text omitted.] this is the mark of the wise man, not merely marking off person from brute, but person from person according to the degree of personality attained. it is characteristic of the child to show little foresight, little hindsight. he takes the present as it comes, and lives in it. we who are more mature and rational contemplate him with the same envy we feel for the skylark and the mouse, and often say, "would i too could so suck the joys of the present, without reflecting that something else is coming and something else is gone." vi yet after becoming possessed of self-consciousness, we do not steadily retain it. states of mind occur where the self slips out, though vivid consciousness remains. as i sit in my chair and fix my eye on the distance, a daydream or reverie comes over me. i see a picture, another, another. somebody speaks and i am recalled. "why, here i am! this is i." i find myself once more. i had lost myself--paradoxical yet accurate expression. we have many such to indicate the disappearance of self-consciousness at moments of elation. "i was absorbed in thought," we say; the i was sucked out by strenuous attention elsewhere. "i was swept away with grief," i.e., i vanished, while grief held sway. "i was transported with delight," "i was overwhelmed with shame," and--perhaps most beautiful of all these fragments of poetic psychology,--"i was beside myself with terror," i felt myself, to be near, but was still parted; through the fear i could merely catch glimpses of the one who was terrified. these and similar phrases suggest the instability of self- consciousness. it is not fixed, once and forever, but varies continually and within a wide range of degree. we like to think that man possesses full self-consciousness, while other creatures have none. our minds are disposed to part off things with sharpness, but nature cares less about sharp divisions and seems on the whole to prefer subtle gradations and unstable varieties. so the self has all degrees of vividness. of it we never have an experience barely. it is always in some condition, colored by what it is mixed with. i know myself speaking or angry or hearing; i know myself, that is, in some special mood. but never am i able to sunder this self from the special mass of consciousness in which it is immersed and to gaze upon it pure and simple. at times that mass of consciousness is so engrossing that hardly a trace of the self remains. at times the sense of being shut up to one's self is positively oppressive. between the two extremes there is endless variation. when we call self-consciousness the prerogative of man we do not mean that he fully possesses it, but only that he may possess it, may possess it more and more; and that in it, rather than in the merely conscious life, the significance of his being is found. vii probably we are born without it. we know how gradually the infant acquires a mastery of its sensuous experience; and it is likely that for a long time after it has obtained command of its single experiences it remains unaware of its selfhood. in a classic passage of "in memoriam" tennyson has stated the case with that blending of witchery and scientific precision of which he alone among the poets seems capable:-- "the baby, new to earth and sky, what time his tender palm is prest against the circle of the breast, has never thought that 'this is i.' "but as he grows he gathers much, and learns the use of 'i' and 'me,' and finds 'i am not what i see, and other than the things i touch.' "so rounds he to a separate mind, from whence clear memory may begin, as thro' the frame that binds him in his isolation grows defined." until he has separated his mind from the objects around, and even from his own conscious states, he cannot perceive himself and obtain clear memory. no child recalls his first year, for the simple reason that during that year he was not there. of course there was experience during that year, there was consciousness; but the child could not discriminate himself from the crowding experiences and so reach self- consciousness. at what precise time this momentous possibility occurs cannot be told. probably the time varies widely in different children. in any single child it announces itself by degrees, and usually so subtly that its early manifestations are hardly perceptible. occasionally, especially when long deferred, it breaks with the suddenness of an epoch, and the child is aware of a new existence. a little girl of my acquaintance turned from play to her mother with the cry, "why, mamma, little girls don't know that they are." she had just discovered it. in a famous passage of his autobiography, jean paul richter has recorded the great change in himself: "never shall i forget the inward experience of the birth of self-consciousness. i well remember the time and place. i stood one afternoon, a very young child, at the house-door, and looked at the logs of wood piled on the left. suddenly an inward consciousness, 'i am a me,' came like a flash of lightning from heaven, and has remained ever since. at that moment my existence became conscious of itself, and forever." the knowledge that i am an i cannot be conveyed to me by another human being, nor can i perceive anything similar in him. each must ascertain it for himself. accordingly there is only one word in every language which is absolutely unique, bearing a different meaning for every one who employs it. that is the word i. for me to use it in the sense that you do would prove that i had lost my wits. whatever enters into my usage is out of it in yours. obviously, then, the meaning of this word cannot be taught. everything else may be. what the table is, what is a triangle, what virtue, heaven, or a spherodactyl, you can teach me. what i am, you cannot; for no one has ever had an experience corresponding to this except myself. people in speaking to me call me john, baby, or ned, an externally descriptive name which has substantially a common meaning for all who see me. when i begin to talk i repeat this name imitatively, and thinking of myself as others do. i speak of myself in the third person. yet how early that reference to a third person begins to be saturated with self- consciousness, who can say? before the word "i" is employed, "johnny" or "baby" may have been diverted into an egoistic significance. all we can say is that "i" cannot be rightly employed until consciousness has risen to self-consciousness. viii and when it has so risen, its unity and coherence are by no means secure. i have already pointed out how often it is lost in moments when the conscious element becomes particularly intense. but in morbid conditions too it sometimes undergoes a disruption still more peculiar. just as disintegration may attack any other organic unit, so may it appear in the personal life. the records of hypnotism and other related phenomena show cases where self-consciousness appears to be distributed among several selves. these curious experiences have received more attention in recent years than ever before. they do not, however, belong to my field, and to consider them at any length would only divert attention from my proper topic. but they deserve mention in passing in order to make plain how wayward is self-consciousness,-- how far from an assured possession of its unity. this unity seems temporarily suspended on occasion of swoon or nervous shock. an interesting case of its loss occurred in my own experience. many years ago i was fond of horseback riding; and having a horse that was unusually easy in the saddle, i persisted in riding him long after my groom had warned me of danger. he had grown weak in the knees and was inclined to stumble. riding one evening, i came to a little bridge. i remember watching the rays of the sunset as i approached it. something too of my college work was in my mind, associated with the evening colors. and then--well, there was no "then." the next i knew a voice was calling, "is that you?" and i was surprised to find that it was. i was entering my own gateway, leading my horse. i answered blindly, "something has happened. i must have been riding. perhaps i have fallen." i put my hand to my face and found it bloody. i led my horse to his post, entered the house, and relapsed again into unconsciousness. when i came to myself, and was questioned about my last remembrance, i recalled the little bridge. we went to it the next day. there lay my riding whip. there in the sand were the marks of a body which had been dragged. plainly it was there that the accident had occurred, yet it was three quarters of a mile from my house. when thrown, i had struck on my forehead, making an ugly hole in it. two or three gashes were on other parts of the head. but i had apparently still held the rein, had risen with the horse, had walked by his side till i came to four corners in the road, had there taken the proper turn, passed three houses, and entering my own gate then for the first time became aware of what was happening. what had been happening? about twenty minutes would be required to perform this elaborate series of actions, and they had been performed exactly as if i had been guiding them, while in reality i knew nothing about them. shall we call my conduct unconscious cerebration? yes, if we like large words which cover ignorance. i do not see how we can certainly say what was going on. perhaps during all this time i had neither consciousness nor self-consciousness. i may have been a mere automaton, under the control of a series of reflex actions. the feeling of the reins in my hands may have set me erect. the feeling of the ground beneath my feet may have projected these along their way; and all this with no more consciousness than the falling man has in stretching out his hands. or, on the contrary, i may have been separately conscious in each little instant; but in the shaken condition of the brain may not have had power to spare for gluing together these instants and knitting them into a whole. it may be it was only memory which failed. i cite the case to show the precarious character of self-consciousness. it appears and disappears. our life is glorified by its presence, and from it obtains its whole significance. whatever we are convinced possesses it we certainly declare to be a person. yet it is a gradual acquisition, and must be counted rather a goal than a possession. under it, as the height of our being, are ranged the three other stages,--consciousness, reflex action, and unconsciousness. references on self-consciousness james's psychology, ch. x. royce's studies of good and evil, ch. vi.-ix. ferrier's philosophy of consciousness, in his philosophical remains. calkins's introduction to psychology, bk. ii. wundt's human and animal psychology, lect. xxvii. iv self-direction i in the last chapter i began to discuss the nature of goodness distinctively personal. this has its origin in the differing constitutions of persons and things. into the making of a person four characteristics enter which are not needed in the formation of a thing. the most fundamental of these i examined. persons and things are unlike in this, that each force which stirs within a self- conscious person is correlated with all his other forces. so great and central is this correlation that a person can say, "i have an experience," not--as, possibly, the brutes--"i am an experience." yet although a person tends thus to be an organic whole, he did not begin his existence in conscious unity. probably the early stages of our life are to be sought rather in the regions of unconsciousness. rising out of unconscious conditions into reflex actions--those ingenious provisions for our security at times when we have no directing powers of our own--we gradually pass into conditions of consciousness, where we are able to seize the single experience and to be absorbed in it. out of this emerges by degrees an apprehension of ourselves contrasted with our experiences. even, however, when this self-consciousness is once established, it may on vivacious or morbid occasions be overthrown. it by no means attends all the events of our lives. yet it marks all conduct that can be called good. goodness which is distinctively personal must in some way express the formation and maintenance of a self-conscious life. but more is needed. a person fashioned in the way described would be aware of himself, aware of his mental changes, perhaps aware of an objective order of things producing these changes, and still might have no real share himself in what was going on. we can at least imagine a being merely contemplative. he sits as a spectator at his own drama. trains of associated ideas pass before his interested gaze; a multitude of transactions occur in his contemplated surroundings; but he is powerless to intervene. he passively beholds, and does nothing. if such a state of things can be imagined, and if something like it occasionally occurs in our experience, it does not represent our normal condition. our life is no mere affair of vision. self- consciousness counts as a factor. through it changes arise both without and within. i accordingly entitle this fourth chapter self- direction. in it i propose to consider how our life goes forth in action; for in fact wherever self-consciousness appears, there is developed also a centre of activity, and an activity of an altogether peculiar kind. it is well known that in interpreting these facts of action the judgment of ethical writers is divided. libertarians and determinists are here at issue. into their controversy i do not desire to enter. i mean to attempt a brief summary of those facts relating to human action which are tolerably well agreed upon by writers of both schools. in these there are intricacies enough. to raise the hand, to wave it in the air, to lay it on the table again, would ordinarily be reckoned simple matters. yet operations so simple as these i shall show pass through half a dozen steps, though they are ordinarily performed so swiftly that we do not notice their several parts. in life much is knitted together which cannot be understood without dissection. in such dissection i must now engage. as a good pedagogue i must discuss operations separately which in reality get all their meaning through being found together. against the necessary distortions of such a method the reader must be on his guard. ii in the total process of self-direction there are evidently two main divisions,--a mental purpose must be formed, and then this purpose must be sent forth into the outer world. it is there accepted by those agencies of a physical sort which wait to do our bidding. the formation of the mental purpose i will, for the sake of brevity, call the intention, and to the sending of it forth i will give the name volition. that these terms are not always confined within these limits is plain. but i shall not force their meaning unduly by employing them so, and i need a pair of terms to mark the great contrasted sides of self-direction. the intention (a) shall designate the subjective side. but those objective adjustments which fit it to emerge and seek in an outer world its full expression i shall call the volition (b). for the present, then, regarding entirely the former, let us see how an intention arises,--how self-consciousness sets to work in stirring up activity. to gain clearness i shall distinguish three subordinate stages, designating them by special names and numerals. iii at the start we are guided by an end or ideal of what we would bring about. to a being destitute of self-consciousness only a single sort of action is at any moment possible. when a certain force falls upon it, it meets with a fixed response. or, if the causative forces are many, what happens is but the well-established resultant of these forces operating upon a being as definite in nature as they. such a being contemplates no future to be reached through motions set up within it. its motions do not occur for the sake of realizing in coming time powers as yet but half-existent. it is not guided by ideals. its actions set forth merely what it steadily is, not what it might be. something like the opposite of all this shapes personal acts. a person has imagination. he contemplates future events as possible before they occur, and this contemplation is one of the very factors which bring them about. for example: while writing here, i can emancipate my thought from this present act and set myself to imagining my situation an hour hence. at that time i perceive i may be still at my writing-desk, i may be walking the streets, i may be at the theatre, or calling on my friend. a dozen, a hundred, future possibilities are depicted as open to me. on one or another of these i fix my attention, thereby giving it a causal force over other present ideas, and rendering its future realization likely. so enormously important is imagination. by it we effect our emancipation from the present. without this power to summon pictures of situations which at present are not, we should be exactly like the things or brutes already described. for in the thing a determined sequence follows every impulse. there is no ambiguous future disclosed, no variety of possibilities, no alternatives. present things under definite causes have but a single issue; and if the account given of the brute is correct, his condition is unlike that of things only in this respect, that in him curious automatic springs are provided which set him in appropriate motion whenever he is exposed to harm, so enabling him suitably to face a future of which, however, he forms no image. in both brutes and things there is entire limitation to the present. this is not the case with a person. he takes the future into his reckoning, and over him it is at least as influential as the past. a person, through imagination laying hold of future possibilities, has innumerable auxiliary forces at his command. choice appears. a depicted future thus held by attention for causal purposes is no longer a mere idea; it becomes an ideal. but in order to transform the depicted future from an idea to an ideal, i must conceive it as rooted in my nature, and in some degree dependent on my power. attracted by the brilliancy of the crescent moon, i think what sport it would be to hang on one of its horns and kick my heels in the air. but no, that remains a mere picture. it will not become an ideal, for it has no relation to my structure and powers. but there are other imaginable futures,--going to europe, becoming a physician, writing a book, buying a house, which, though not fully compatible with one another, still represent, each one of them, some capacity of mine. attention to one or the other of these will make it a reality in my life. they are competing ideals, and because of such competition my future is uncertain. the ambiguous future is accordingly a central characteristic of a person. he can imagine all sorts of states of himself which as yet have no existence, and one of these selected as an ideal may become efficient. this first stage, then, in the formation of the purpose, where various depicted future possibilities are summoned for assessment, may be called our fashioning of an ideal. iv but a second stage succeeds, the stage of desire. indeed, though i call it a second, it is really but a special aspect of the first; for the ideal which i form always represents some improvement in myself. an ideal which did not promise to better me in some way would be no ideal at all. it would be quite inoperative. i never rise from my chair except with the hope of being better off. without this, i should sit forever. but i feel uneasiness in my present position, and conceive the possibility of not being constrained; or i think of some needful work which remains unexecuted as long as i sit here, and that work undone i perceive will leave my life less satisfactory than it might be. and this imagined betterment must always be in some sense my own. if it is a picture of the gains of some one else quite unconnected with myself, it will not start my action. but it will be objected that we do often act unselfishly and in behalf of other persons. indeed we do. perhaps our impulses are more largely derived from others than from ourselves, yet from desire our own share is never quite eliminated. i give to the poor. but it is because i hate poverty; or because i am attracted by the face, the story, or the supposed character of him who receives; or because i am unable to separate my interests from those of humanity everywhere. in some subtle form the i-element enters. leave it out, and the action would lose its value and become mechanical. what i did would be no expression of self-conscious me. and such undoubtedly is the case with much of our conduct. the reflex actions, described in the last chapter, and many of our habits too, contain no precise reference to our self. intelligent, purposeful, moral conduct, however, is everywhere shaped by the hope of improving the condition of him who acts. we do not act till we find something within or about us unsatisfactory. if contemplating myself in my actual conditions i could pronounce them all good, creation would for me be at an end. to start it, some sense of need is required. accordingly i have named desire as the second state in the formation of a purpose, for desire is precisely this sense of disparity between our actual self and that possible bettered self depicted in the ideal. popular speech, however, does not here state the matter quite fully. we often talk as if our desires were for other things than ourselves. we say, for example, "i want a glass of water." in reality it is not the water i want. that is but a fragment of my desire. it is water plus self. only so is the desire fully uttered. beholding my present self, my thirsty and defective self, i perceive a side of myself requiring to be bettered. accordingly, among imagined pictures of possible futures i identify myself with that one which represents me supplied with water. but it is not water that is the object of my desire, it is myself as bettered by water. since, however, this betterment of self is a constant factor of all desire, we do not ordinarily name it. we say, "i desire wealth, i desire the success of my friend, or the freedom of my country," omitting the important and never absent portion of the desire, the betterment of self. of course a stage in the formation of the purpose so important as desire receives a multitude of names. perhaps the simplest is appetite. in appetite i do not know what i want. i am blindly impelled in a certain direction. i do not perceive that i have a suffering self, nor know that this particular suffering would be bettered by that particular supply. appetite is a mere instinct. in the mechanic structure of my being it is planned that without comprehension of the want i shall be impelled to the source of supply. but when appetite is permeated with a consciousness of what is lacking, i apprehend it as a need. through needs we become persons. the capacity for dissatisfaction is the sublime thing in man. we can know our poor estate. we can say, that which i am i would not be. passing the blind point of appetite, we come into the region of want or need; if we then can discern what is requisite to supply this need, we may be said to have a desire. that desire, if specific and urgent, we call a wish. all these varieties of desire include the same two factors: on the one hand a recognition of present defect in ourselves, on the other imagination of possible bettered conditions. diminish either, and personal power is narrowed. the richer a man's imagination, and the more abundant his pictures of possible futures, the more resourceful he becomes. pondering on desire as rooted in the sense of defect, we may feel less regret that our age is one not easily satisfied. never were there so many discontents, because there were never so many aspirations. it is true there may be a devilish discontent or a divine one. there is a discontent without definite aims, one which merely rejects what is now possessed; and there is one which seeks what is wisely attainable. yet after all, it is a small price to pay for aspiration that it is often attended by vagueness and unwisdom. v but before the formation of the purpose is complete it must pass through a third stage, the stage of decision. ideals and desires are not enough, or rather they are too many; for there may be a multitude of them. certain ideals are desired for supplying certain of my wants, others for supplying others. but on examination these many desirable ideals will often prove conflicting; all cannot be attained, or at least not all at once. among them i must pick and choose, reducing and ordering their number. this process is decision. starting with my ambiguous future, imagination brings multifold possibilities of good before me. but before these can be allowed to issue miscellaneously into action, comparison and selection reduce them to a single best. i accordingly assess the many desirable but competing ideals and see which of them will on the whole most harmoniously supplement my imperfections. on that i fasten, and the intention is complete. all this is obvious. but one part of the process, and perhaps the most important part, is apt to receive less attention than it deserves. in decision we easily become engrossed with the single selected ideal, and do not so fully perceive that our choice implies a rejection of all else. yet this it is--this cutting off--which rightly gives a name to the whole operation. the best is arrived at only by a process of exclusion in which we successively cut off such ideals as do not tend to the largest supply of our contemplated defects. walking by the candy-shop, and seeing the tempting chocolates, i feel a strong desire for them. my mouth waters. i hurry into the shop and deposit my five- cent piece. in the evening i find that by spending five cents for the chocolates i am cut off from obtaining my newspaper, a loss unconsidered at the time. but to decide for anything is to decide against a multitude of other things. taking is still more largely leaving. the full extent of this negative decision often escapes our notice, and through the very fact of choosing a good we blindly neglect a best. vi here, then, are the three steps in the formation of the purpose,--the ideal, the desire, and the decision,--each earlier one preparing the way for that which is to follow. but an intention is altogether useless if it pauses here. it was formed to be sent forth, to he entrusted to forces stretching beyond the intending mind. the laws of nature are to take it in charge. the germans have a good proverb: "a stone once thrown belongs to the devil." when once it parts from our hands, it is no longer ours. it is taken up, for evil or for good, by agencies other than our own. if we mistake the agency to which we intrust it, enormous mischief may ensue, and we shall he helpless. these agencies, accordingly, need careful scrutiny before being called on to work their will. the business of scrutinizing them and of turning over the purpose to their keeping, forms the second half (b) of self-direction. in contrast with (a), the formation of the purpose or the intention, this may be called the realization of the purpose, or volition. volition, it is true, is often employed more comprehensively, but we shall do the term no violence if we confine its meaning to the discharge of our subjective purpose into the objective world. volition then will also, under our scheme, have three subordinate stages. vii the first of them i will call deliberation, in order to approximate it as closely as possible to the preceding decision. having now my purpose decisively formed, i have to ask myself what physical means will best carry it out. i summon before my mind as complete a list as possible of nature's conveyances, and judge which of them will with the greatest efficiency and economy execute my intention. here i am at a friend's house, but i have decided to go to my own. i must compare, then, the different modes of getting there, so as to pick out just that one which involves the least expenditure and the most certain result. one way occurs to me which i have never tried before, a swift and interesting way. i might go by balloon. in that balloon i could sail at my ease over the tops of the houses and across the beautiful river. when the tower of memorial hall comes in sight, i could pull a cord and drop gently down at my own door, having meanwhile had the seclusion and exaltation of an unusual ride. what a delightful experience! but there is one disadvantage. balloons are not always at hand. i might be obliged to wait here for hours, for days, before getting one. i dismiss the thought of a balloon. it does not altogether suit my purpose. or, i might call a carriage. so i should secure solitude and a certain speed, but should pay for these with noise, jolting, and more money than i can well spare. there would be waiting, too, before the carriage comes. perhaps i had better ask my friend to lend me his arm and to escort me home. in this there would be dignity and a saving of my strength. we could talk by the way, and i always find him interesting. but should i be willing to be so much beholden to him, and would not the wind to-day make our walk and talk difficult? better postpone till summer weather. and after all there is boston's most common mode of locomotion right at hand, the electric car. strange it was not thought of before! the five-cent piece saved from the chocolates will carry me, swiftly, safely, and with independence. it is in this way that we go through the process of deliberation. all the possible means of effecting our purpose are summoned for judgment. the feasibility of each is examined, and the cost involved in its employment. comparison is made between the advantages offered by different agencies; and oftentimes at the close we are in a sad puzzle, finding these advantages and disadvantages so nearly balanced. one, however, is finally judged superior in fitness. to this we tie ourselves, making it the channel for our out-go. the whole process, then, in its detailed comparison and final fixation, is identical with that to which i have given the name of decision, except that the comparisons of decision refer to inner facts, those of deliberation to outer. viii we now reach the climax of the whole process, effort, the actual sending forth through the deliberately chosen channel of the ideal desired and decided on. to it all the rest is merely preliminary, and in it the final move is made which commits us to the deed. about it, therefore, we may well desire the completest information. to tell the truth, i have none to give, and nobody else has. the nature of the operation is substantially unknown. though something which we have been performing all day long, we and all our ancestors, no one of us has succeeded in getting a good sight of what actually takes place. our purposes are prepared as i have described, and then those purposes--something altogether mental--change on a sudden to material motions. how is the transmutation accomplished? how do we pass from a mental picture to a set of motions in the physical world? what is the bridge connecting the two? the bridge is always down when we direct our gaze upon it, though firm when any act would cross. nor can we trace our passage any more easily in the opposite direction. when my eyes are turned on my watch, for example, the vibrations of light striking its face are reflected on the pupil of my eye. there the little motions, previously existing only in the surrounding ether, are communicated to my optic nerve. this vibrates too, and by its motion excites the matter of my brain, and then--well, i have a sensation of the white face of my watch. but what was contained in that _then_ is precisely what we do not understand. incoming motions may be transmuted into thought; or, as in effort, outgoing thought may be transmuted into motion. but alike in both cases, on the nature of that transmutation, the very thing we most desire to know, we get no light. in regard to this crucial point no one, materialist or idealist, can offer a suggestion. we may of course, in fault of explanation, restate the facts in clumsy circumlocution. calling thought a kind of motion, we may say that in action it propagates itself from the mind through the brain into the outer world; while in the apprehension of an idea motions of the outer world pass into the brain, and there set up those motions which we know as thought. but after such explanations the mystery remains exactly where it was before. how does a "mental motion" come out of a bodily motion, or a bodily from a mental? it is wiser to acknowledge a mystery and to mark the spot where it occurs. this marking of the spot may, however, illuminate the surrounding territory. if we cannot explain the nature of the crucial act, it may still be well to study its range. how widely is effort exercised? we should naturally answer, as widely as the habitable globe. i can sit in my office in boston and carry on business in china. when i touch a button, great ships are loaded on the opposite side of the earth and cross the intervening oceans to work the bidding of a person they have never seen. perhaps some day we may send our volition beyond the globe and enter into communication with the inhabitants of mars. it would seem idle, then, to talk about the limitations of volition and a restricted range of will. but in fact that will is restricted, and its range is much narrower than the globe. for when we consider the matter, with precision, it is not exactly i who have operated in china. i operate only where i am. in touching the button my direct agency ceases. it is true that connected with that button are wires conducting to a wide variety of consequences. but about the details of that conduction i need know nothing. the wire will work equally well whether i understand or do not understand electricity. its working is not mine, but its own. the pressure of my finger ends my act, which is then taken up and carried forward by automatic and mechanical adjustments requiring neither supervision nor consciousness on my part. we might then more accurately say that my direct volition is circumscribed by my own body. my finger tips, my lips, my nodding head are the points where i part with full control, though indefinitely beyond these i can forecast changes which the automatic agencies, once set astir, will induce. am i niggardly in thus confining the action of each of us within his own body? is the range of volition thus marked out too narrow? on the contrary, it is probably still too wide. we are as powerless to direct our bodies as we are to manage affairs in china. this, at least, is the modern psychological doctrine of effort. it is now believed that volition is entirely a mental affair, and is confined to the single act of attention. it is alleged that when i attend to an ideal, fixing my mind fully upon it, the results are altogether similar to what occurred on my touching the button. every idea tends to pass automatically into action through agencies about which i know as little as i do about ocean telegraphs. this physical frame of mine is a curious organic mechanism, in which reflex actions and instincts do their blind work at a hint from me. i am said to raise my arm. but never having been a student of anatomy and physiology, i have not the least idea how the rise was effected; and if i am told that nerves excite muscles, and these in turn contract like cords and pull the arm this way or that, the rise will not be accomplished a bit better for the information. for, as in electric transmission, it is not i who do the work. my part is attention. the rest is adapted automatism. when i have driven everything else out of my mind except the picture of the rising arm, it rises of itself, the after-effects on nerves and muscles being apprehended by me as the sense of effort. we cannot, then, exercise our will with a wandering mind. so long as several ideas are conflictingly attended to, they hinder each other. this we verify in regrettable experiences every day. on waking this morning, for example, i saw it was time to get up. but the bed was comfortable, and there were interesting matters to think of. i meant to get up, for breakfast was waiting, and there was that new book to be examined, and that letter to be written. how long would this require, and how should the letter be planned? but i must get up. possibly those callers may come. and shall i want to see them? it is really time to get up. what a curious figure the pattern of the paper makes, viewed in this light! the breakfast bell! out of my head go all vagrant reflections, and suddenly, before i can notice the process, i find myself in the middle of the floor. that is the way. from wavering thoughts nothing comes. but suddenly some sound, some sight, some significant interest, raises the depicted act into exclusive vividness of attention, and our part is done. the spring has been touched, and the physical machinery, of which we may know little or nothing, does its work. there it stands ready, the automatic machinery of this exquisite frame of ours, waiting for the unconfused signal,--our only part in the performance,--then automatically it springs to action and pushes our purpose into the outer world. such at least is the fashionable teaching of psychologists to-day. volition is full attention. it has no wider scope. with bodily adjustments it does not meddle. these move by their own mechanic law. of real connection between body and mind we know nothing. we can only say that such parallelism exists that physical action occurs on occasion of complete mental vision. no doubt this theory leaves much to be desired in the way of clearness. what is meant by fixing the attention exclusively? is unrelated singleness possible among our mental pictures? or how narrowly must the field of attention be occupied before these strange springs are set in motion? at the end of the explanation do not most of the puzzling problems of scope, freedom, and selection remain, existing now as problems about the nature and working of attention instead of, as formerly, problems about the emergence of the intention into outward nature? no doubt these classical problems puzzle us still. but a genuine advance toward clarity is made when we confine them within a small area by identifying volition with mental attention. nor will it be anything to the point to say, "but i know myself as a physical creature to be involved in effort. the strain of volition is felt in my head, in my arm, throughout my entire body." nobody denies it. after we have attended, and the machinery is set in motion, we feel its results. the physical changes involved in action are as apprehensible in our experience as are any other natural facts, and are remembered and anticipated in each new act. ix only one stage more remains, and that is an invariable one, the stage of satisfaction. it is fortunately provided that pleasure shall attend every act. pleasure probably is nothing else but the sense that some one of our functions has been appropriately exercised. every time, then, that an intention has been taken, up in the way just described, carried forth into the complex world, and there conducted to its mark, a gratified feeling arises. "yes, i have accomplished it. that is good. i felt a defect, i desired to remove it, and betterment is here." we cannot speak a word, or raise a hand, perhaps even draw a breath, without something of this glad sense of life. it may be intense, it may be slight or middling; but in some degree it is always there. for through action we realize our powers. this seemingly fixed world is found to be plastic in our hands. we modify it. we direct something, mean something. no longer idle drifters on the tide, through our desires we bring that tide our way. and in the sense of self-directed power we find a satisfaction, great or small according to the magnitude of our undertaking. in such a catalogue of the elements of action as has just been given there is something uncanny. can we not pick up a pin without going through all six stages? should we ever do anything, if to do even the simplest we were obliged to do six things? have i not made matters needlessly elaborate? no, i have not unduly elaborated. we are made just so complex. yet as a good teacher i have falsified. for the sake of clearness i have been treating separately matters which go together. there are not six operations, there is but one. in this one there are six stages; that is, there are six points of view from which the single operation may advantageously be surveyed. but these do not exist apart. they are all intimately blended, each affecting all the rest. because of our dull faculties we cannot understand, though we can work, them _en bloc_. he who would render them comprehensible must commit the violence of plucking them asunder, holding them up detachedly, and saying, "of such diverse stuff is our active life composed." but in reality each gets its meaning through connection with all the others. life need not terrify because for purposes of verification it must be represented as so intricate an affair. it is i who have broken up its simplicity, and it belongs to my reader to put it together again. reference on self-direction james's psychology, ch. xxvi. sigwart's der begriff des wollen's, in his kleine schriften. a. alexander's theories of the will. munsterberg's die willenshandlung. hoffding's psychology, ch. vii. v self-development i conceivably a being such, as has been described might advance no farther. conscious he might be, observant of everything going on within him and without; occupied too with inducing the very changes he observes, and yet with no aim to enlarge himself or improve the world through any of the changes so induced. complete within himself at the beginning, he might be equally so at the close, his activity being undertaken for the mere sake of action, and not for any beneficial results following in its train. still, even such a being would be better off while acting than if quiet, and by his readiness to act would show that he felt the need of at least temporary betterment. in actual cases the need goes deeper. a being capable of self-direction ordinarily has capacities imperfectly realized. changing other things, he also changes himself; and it becomes a part of his aim in action to make these changes advantageous, and each act helpfully reactive. accordingly the aim at self-development regularly attends self-direction. i could not, therefore, properly discuss my last topic without in some measure anticipating this. every ideal of action, i was obliged to say, includes within it an aim at some sort of betterment of the actor. our business, then, in the present chapter is not to announce a new theme, but simply to render explicit what before was implied. we must detach from action the influence which it throws back upon us, the actors. we must make this influence plain, exhibit its method, and show wherein it differs from other processes in some respects similar. ii the most obvious fact about self-development is that it is a species of change, and that change is associated with sadness. heraclitus, the weeping philosopher of the greeks, discovered this fact five hundred years before christ. "nothing abides," he said, "all is fleeting." we stand in a moving tide, unable to bathe twice in the same stream; before we can stoop a second time the flood is gone. in every age this is the common theme of lamentation for poet, moralist, common man and woman. all other causes of sadness are secondary to it. as soon as we have comprehended anything, have fitted it to our lives and learned to love it, it is gone. such is the aspect which change ordinarily presents. it is tied up with grief. we regard what is precious as stable; and yet we are obliged to confess that nothing on earth is stable--nothing among physical things, and just as little among mental and spiritual things. but there are many kinds of change. we are apt to confuse them with one another, and in so doing to carry over to the nobler sorts thoughts applicable only to the lower. in beginning, then, the discussion of self-development, i think it will conduce to clearness if i offer a conspectus of all imaginable changes. i will set them in groups and show their different kinds, exhibiting first those which are most elementary, then those more complex, and finally those so dark and important that they pass over into a region of mystery and paradox. iii probably all will agree that the simplest possible change is the accidental sort, that where only relations of space are altered. my watch, now lying in the middle of the desk, is shifted to the right side, is laid in its case, or is lost in the street. i call these changes accidental, because they in no way affect the nature of the watch. they are not really changes in it, but in its surroundings. the watch still remains what it was before. to the same group we might refer a large number of other changes where no inner alteration is wrought. the watch is now in a brilliant light; i lay my hand on it, and it is in darkness. its place has not been changed, but that of the light has been. many of the commonest changes in life are of this sort. they are accidental or extraneous changes. in them, through all its change, the thing abides. there is no necessary alteration of its nature. iv but unhappily this is not the only species of change. it is not that which has brought a wail from the ages, when men have seen what they prize slip away. the common root of sorrow has been destructive change. holding the watch in my hand, i may drop it on the floor; and at once the crystal, which has been so transparently protective, is gone. if the floor is of stone, the back of the watch may be wrenched away, the wheels of its delicate machinery jarred asunder. destruction has come upon it, and not merely an extraneous accident. in consequence of altered surroundings, dissolution is wrought within. change of a lamentable sort has come. what before was a beautiful whole, organically constituted in the way described in my first two chapters, has been torn asunder. what we formerly beheld with delight has disappeared. and let us not accept false comfort. we often hear it said that, after all, destruction is an illusion. there is no such thing. what is once in the world is here forever. no particle of the watch can by any possibility be lost. and what is true of the watch is true of things far higher, of persons even. when persons decay and die, may not their destruction be only in outward seeming? we cannot imagine absolute cessation. as well imagine an absolute beginning. there is no loss. everything abides. only to our apprehension do destructive changes occur. we are all familiar with consolation of this sort, and how inwardly unsatisfactory it is! for while it is true that no particle of the watch is destroyed, it is precisely those particles which were in our minds of little consequence. almost equally well they might have been of gold, silver, or steel. the precious part of the, watch was the organization of its particles, and that is gone. the face and form of my friend can indeed be blotted out in no single item. but i care nothing for its material items, the totality may be wrecked, and it is that totality to which my affections cling. and so it is in the world around--material remains, organic wholeness goes. it is almost a sarcasm of nature that she counts our precious things so cheap, while the bricks and mortar of which these are made--matters on which no human affection can fasten--she holds for everlasting. the lamentations of the ages, then, have not erred. something tragic is involved in the framework of the universe. in order to abide, divulsion must occur. destruction of organism is going on all around us, and ever will go on. things must unceasingly be torn apart. one might call this destructive and lamentable change the only steadfast feature of the world. v yet after all, and often in this very process of divulsion, we catch glimpses of a nobler sort of change, for there is a third species to which i might perhaps give the name of transforming: change. when, for example, a certain portion of oxygen and a certain portion of hydrogen, each having its own distinctive qualities, are brought into contact with one another, they utterly change. the qualities of both disappear, and a new set of qualities takes their place. the old ones are gone,--gone, but not lost; for they have been transformed into new ones of a predetermined and constant kind. only a single sort of change is open to these elements when in each other's presence, and in precisely that way they will always change. in so changing they do not, it is true, fully keep their past; but a fixed relation to it they do keep, and under certain conditions may return to it again. the transforming changes of chemistry, then, are of a different nature from those of the mechanic destruction just described. in those the ruined organism leaves not a wrack behind. in chemic change something definite is held, something that originally was planned and can he prophesied. an end is attained: the fixed combination of just so much oxygen with just so much hydrogen for the making of the new substance, water. here change is productive, and is not mere waste, as in organic destruction. something, however, is lost--the old qualities; for these cannot be restored except through the disruption of the new substance, the water in which they are combined. vi but there is a more peculiar change of a higher order still, that which we speak of as development, evolution, growth. this sort of change might be described as movement toward a mark. when the seed begins to be transformed in the earth, it is adapted not merely to the next stage; but that stage has reference to one farther on, and that to still others. it would hardly be a metaphor to declare that the whole elm is already prophesied when its seed is laid in the earth. for though the entire tree is not there, though in order that the seed may become an elm it must have a helpful environment, still a certain plan of movement elmwards is, we may say, already schemed in the seed. here accordingly, change--far from being a loss--is a continual increment and revelation. and since the later stages successively disclose the meaning of those which went before, these later stages might with accuracy he styled the truth of their predecessors, and those be accounted in comparison trivial and meaningless until thus changed. this sort of change carries its past along with it. in the destructive changes which we were lamenting a moment ago, the past was lost and the new began as an independent affair. even in chemic change this was true to a certain extent. yet there, though the past was lost, a future was prophesied. in the case of development the future, so far from annihilating the past, is its exhibition on a larger scale. the full significance of any single stage is not manifest until the final one is reached. i suppose when we arrive at this thought of change as expressing development, our lamentation may well turn to rejoicing. possibly this may be the reason why the gloom which is a noticeable feature of the thought of many preceding centuries has in our time somewhat disappeared. while our ambitions are generally wider, and we might seem, therefore, more exposed to disappointment, i think the last half of the century which has closed has been a time of large hopefulness. perhaps it has not yet gone so far as rejoicing, for failure and sorrow are still by no means extirpated. but at least the thoughts of our day have become turned rather to the future than the past, a result which has attended the wider comprehension of development. to call development the discovery of our century would, however, be absurd. aristotle bases his whole philosophy upon it, and it was already venerable in his time. yet the many writers who have expounded the doctrine during the last fifty years have brought the thought of it home to the common man. it has entered into daily life as never before, and has done much to protect us against the sadness of destructive change. perceiving that changes, apparently destructive, repeatedly bring to light meaning previously undisclosed, we more willingly than our ancestors part with the imperfect that a path to the perfect may be opened. is not this, then, the great conception of change which we now need to study as self-development? i believe not. one essential feature is omitted. in the typical example which i have just reviewed, the growth of an elm from its seed, we cannot say that the seed expands itself with a view to becoming a tree. that would be to carry over into the tree's existence notions borrowed from an alien sphere. indeed, to assert that there has been any genuine development from the seed up to the finished tree is to use terms in an accommodated, metaphoric, and hypothetical way. development there certainly has been as estimated by an outsider, an onlooker, but not as perceived by the tree itself. it has not known where it was going. out of the unknown earth the seed pushes its way into the still less known air. but in doing so it is devoid of purpose. nor, if we endow it with consciousness, can we suppose it would behold its end and seek it. the forces driving it toward that end are not conscious forces; they are mechanic forces. through every stage it is pushed from behind, not drawn from before. there is no causative goal set up, alluring the seed onward. in speaking as if there were, we employ language which can have significance only for rational beings. we may hold that there is a rational plan of the universe which that seed is fulfilling. but if so, the plan does not belong to the seed. it is imposed from without, and the seed does its bidding unawares. vii but we may imagine a different state of affairs. let us assume that when the seed sprouted it foreknew the elm that was to be. every time it sucked in its slight moisture it was gently adapting this nourishment to the fulfillment of its ultimate end, asking itself whether the small material had better be bestowed on the left bough or the right, whether certain leaves should curve more obliquely toward the sun, and whether it had better wave its branches and catch the passing breeze or leave them quiet. if we could rightly imagine such a state of things, our tree would be much unlike its brothers of the forest; for, superintending its own development, it would be not a thing at all but a person. we persons are in this very way entrusted with our growth. a plan there is, a normal mode of growth, a significance to which we may attain. but that significance is not imposed on us from without, as an inevitable event, already settled through our past. on the contrary, we detect it afar as a possibility, are thus put in charge of it, and so become in large degree our own upbuilders. development is movement toward a mark. in self-development the mark to be reached is in the conscious keeping of him who is to reach it. toward it he may more or less fully direct his course. and what an astonishing state of things then appears! self-development involves a kind of contradiction in terms. how can i build if at present there is no i? why should i build if at present there is an i? whichever alternative we take, we fall into what looks like absurdity. yet on that absurdity personal life is based. there is no avoiding it. wordsworth has daringly stated the paradox: "so build we up the being that we are." on coming into the world we are only sketched out. of each of us there is a ground plan of which we progressively become aware. hidden from us in our early years, it resides in the minds of our parents, just as the plan of the tree's structure is in the keeping of nature. gradually through our advancing years and the care of those around us we catch sight of what we might be. detecting in ourselves possibilities, we make out their relation to a plan not yet realized. we accordingly take ourselves in hand and say, "if any personal good is to come to me, it must be of my making. i cannot own myself till i am largely the author of myself. from day to day i must construct, and whenever i act study how the action will affect my betterment,--whether by performing it i am likely to degrade or to consolidate myself." and to this process there must be no end. obviously, nothing like this could occur if our actual condition were our ideal condition. self-development is open only to a being in whom there are possibilities as yet unfulfilled. the things around us have their definite constitution. they can do exactly thus and no more. what shall be the effect of any impulse falling on them is already assured. if the condition of the brutes is anything like that which we disrespectfully attributed to them, then they are in the same case; they too are shut up to fixed responses, and have in them no unfulfilled capacities. it is the possession of such empty capacities which makes us personal. well has it been said that he who can declare, "i am that i am," is either god or a brute. no human being can say it. to describe myself as if i were a settled fact is to make myself a thing. my life is in that which may be. the ideals of existence are my realities, and "ought" is my peculiar verb. "is" has no other application to a person than to mark how far he has advanced along his ideal line. were he to pause at any point as if complete, he would cease to be a person. viii but it is necessary to trace somewhat carefully the method of such self-development. how do we proceed? before the architect built the state house, he drew up a plan of the finished building, and there was no moving of stone, mortar, or tool, till everything was complete on paper. each workman who did anything subsequently did it in deference to that perfected design. each stone brought for the great structure was numbered for its place and had its jointing cut in adaptation to the remaining stones. if, then, each one of us is to become an architect of himself, it might seem necessary to lay out a plan of our complete existence before setting out in life, or at whatever moment we become aware that henceforth our construction is to be in our own charge. only with such a plan in hand would orderly building seem possible. this is a common belief, but in my judgment an erroneous one. indeed the whole analogy of the architect and his mechanisms is misleading. we rarely have in mind the total plan of our unrealized being and rarely ought we to have. our work begins at a different point. we do not, like the architect, usually begin with a thought of completion. bather we are first stirred by a sense of weakness. in my own education i find this to be true. after some years as a boy in a boston public school, i went to phillips academy in andover, then to harvard college, and subsequently to a german university, and why did i do all this? did i have in mind the picture of myself as a learned man? i will not deny that such a fancy drifted through my brain. but it was indistinct and occasional. i did not even know what it was to be a learned man. i do not know now. the driving force that was on me was something quite different. i found myself disagreeably ignorant. reading books and newspapers, i continually found matters referred to of which i knew nothing. looking out on the universe, i did not understand it; and looking into the yet more marvelous universe within, i was still more grievously perplexed. i thought life not worth living on such terms. i determined to get rid of my ignorance and to endure such limitations of knowledge no longer. is there, i asked, any place where at least a portion of my stupidity may be set aside? i removed a little fraction at school, but revealed also enormous expanses which i had not suspected before. i therefore pressed on farther, and to-day am still engaged in the almost hopeless attempt to extirpate my ignorance. what incites me continually is the sense of how small i am, not that which a few moments ago seemed my best incentive--the picture of myself as large. that on the whole has had comparatively little influence. of course i do not assert that we are altogether without visions of a larger life. that is far from being the case. were it so, desire would cease. we must contrast the poverty of the present with the fullness of a possible future, or we should not incline to turn from that present. yet our grand driving force is that sense of limitation, of want or need, which was discussed in the last chapter. and our aim is rather at a better than at a best, at the removal of some small distinct hindrance than at arrival at a completed goal. we come upon excellence piecemeal, and do not, like the architect, look upon it in its entirety at the outset. yet in the pursuit of this "better," the more vividly we can figure the coming stages, the more easily will they be attained. for this purpose the careers of those who have gone before us are helpful,-- reports about the great ones of the past, and the revelations of themselves which they have left us in literature and institutions. example is a powerful agent in making our footsteps quick and true. but it has its dangers, and may be a means of terrifying unless we feel that even in our low estate there are capacities allying us with our exemplar. the first vision of excellence is overwhelming. we draw back, knowing that we do not look like that, and we cannot bear to behold what is so superior. but by degrees, feeling our kinship with excellence, we are befriended. i would not, then, make rigid statements in regard to this point of method. grateful as i believe we should be for every sense of need, this is obviously not enough. to some extent we must have in mind the betterment which we may obtain through supplying that need. yet i do not think a full plan of our ultimate goal is usually desirable. in small matters it is often possible and convenient. i plan my stay in europe before going there. i figure my business prospects before forming a partnership. but in profounder affairs, i more wisely set out from the thought of the present, and the patent need of improving it, than from the future with its ideal perfection. goethe's rule is a good one:-- "willst du ins unendliebe schreiten? so sucht das endliche, nach allen seiten." would you reach the infinite? then enter into finite things, working out all that they contain. ix if in working them out a test is wanted to enable us to decide whether we are working wisely or to our harm, i believe such a test may be found in the congruity of the new with the old. shall i by adding a fresh power to myself strengthen those i already possess? by taking this path, rich in a certain sort of good as it undoubtedly is, shall i be diverted from paths where my special goods lie? here i am, a student of ethics. a friend calls and tells me of the charms of astronomy, a study undoubtedly majestic and delightful. since i desire to take all knowledge for my province, why not hurry off at once to study astronomy? no indeed. no astronomy for me. i draw a ring about that subject and say, "precious subject, fundamentally valuable for all men. but i will remain ignorant of it, because it is not quite congruous with the studies i already have on hand." that must be my test: not how important is the study itself, but how important is it for me? how far will it help me to accept and develop those limitations to which i am now pledged? in this acceptance of limitation, therefore, which seems at first so humiliating, i believe we have the starting point of all self- development. our very imperfections, once accepted, prove our best means of discerning more. that is a profound remark of hegel's that knowledge of a limit is a knowledge beyond that limit. let us consider for a moment what it means. suppose i should come upon kaspar hauser, shut in his little room. "and how long have you been here," i ask. "ever since i was born," he answers. "indeed! how much, then, do you know?" "nothing beyond the walls of this room." might i not fairly reply, "you contradict yourself. how can you know anything about walls of a room unless you also know of much beyond them?" we cannot conceive a limit except as a limit from something. accordingly, when we detect our ignorance we become by that very fact not ignorant. we have gone beyond ourselves and have seen that we are not what we should be. and this is the way of self-development. becoming aware of our imperfections, we by that very fact continually lay hold on whatever perfect is within our reach. x when then we ask whether at any moment we are fully persons, we must answer, no. the actual extent of personality is at any time small. it is rather a goal than something ever attained. we have seen that it is not to be described in terms of the verb "to be." we cannot say "i am a person," but, only "i ought to be a person. i am seeking to be." the great body of our life is, we know, a purely natural affair. our instincts, our wayward impulses, our unconnected disorderly purposes-- these, which fill the larger portion of our existence, do not express our personal nature. each of them goes on its own way, neglectful of the whole. therefore we must confess that at no time can we account ourselves completed persons. justly we use such strange expressions as "he is much of a person," "he is very little of a person." personality is an affair of degree. we are moving toward it, but have not yet arrived. "man partly is and wholly hopes to be." and can we ever arrive? i do not see how. we are chasing a flying goal. the nearer we approach, the farther it removes. shall we call this fact discouraging, then, or even say that self-development is a useless process, since it never can be fulfilled? i think not. i should rather specify this feature of it as our chief source of encouragement; for i hold that only those aims which do thus contain an infinite element and are, strictly speaking, unattainable, move mankind to passionate pursuit. probably all will agree that riches, fame, and wisdom are ideals which predominantly move us, and they are all unattainable. suppose, some morning, when i see a merchant setting off for his office quite too early, i ask him why he is hastening so. he answers, "why, there is money to be made. and as i intend to be a rich man some day, i must leave home comforts and be prompt at my desk." but i persist, "you have forgotten something. it occurs to me that you never can be rich. no rich man was ever seen. whoever has obtained a million dollars can get a million more, and the man of two millions can become one of three. obviously, then, neither you nor any one can become a completely rich man." should i stay that merchant from his exit by remarks of this kind? if he answered at all, he would merely say, "don't read too much. you had better mix more with men." and i should get no better treatment from the scholar, the man who is seeking wisdom. it is true no really wise man ever was on earth, or ever will be. but that is the very reason why we are all so impassioned for wisdom, because every bit we seize only opens the door to more. if we could get it in full, if some time or other, knowing that we are now wise, we could sit down in our armchairs with nothing further to do, it would be a death blow to our colleges. nobody would attend them or care for wisdom longer. an aim which one can reach, and discover to be finally ended, moves only children. they will make collections of birds' eggs, though conceivably they might obtain every species in the neighborhood. but these are not the things which excite earnest men. they run after fame, because they can never be quite famous. they may become known to every person on their street, but there is the street beyond. or to every one in their town, but there are other towns. or if to every person on earth, there are still the after ages. entire fame cannot be had; and exactly on that account it stirs every impulse of our nature in pursuit. now the aim at personal perfection is precisely of this sort. as servants of righteousness we cannot accept any other precept than "be ye perfect as your father which is in heaven is perfect." but we know such perfection to be unattainable, yet i sometimes doubt whether we state the matter truly so. would it not be juster to say that perfection can always be attained, and that it is about the only thing which can be? we might well say of all the infinite ideals that they differ from the finite ones simply in this, that the finite can be attained but once, and then are ended, while the infinite are continually attained. at no moment of his life shall the merchant be cut off from becoming richer, or the scholar from growing wiser, or the public benefactor from acquiring further fame. these aims, then, are always attainable; for in them what we think of as the goal is not, as in other cases, a single point which, once reached, renders the rest of life useless and listless. the goal here is the line of increase. to be moving along that line should be our daily endeavor. our proper utterance should be, "i was never so good as to-day, and i hope never to be so bad again." xi but when we have seen how slender is our actual perfection, how slight must be reckoned the attainment of personality at any moment, we are brought face to face with the profound problem of its possible extent. how far can the self be developed? infinitely? is each one of us an infinite being? i will not say so. i do not like to make a statement which runs beyond my own experience. but confining myself to this, let us see what it will show. when at any time i seek to perfect myself, does my attainment of any grade of improvement prevent or further another step? all will agree that it simply opens a new door. perhaps i am seeking to withdraw from habits of mendacity, and beginning to tell the truth. then every time i tell the truth i shall discover more truth to tell. and will this process ever come to an end? i have nothing to do with "evers." i can only say that each time i try it, advance is more possible, not less possible. in the personal life there is, if i may say so, no provision for checkage. as i understand it, in the animal life there is such provision. in my first chapter i was pointing out the difference between extrinsic and intrinsic goodness; and i said that the table's entering into use and holding objects on its top tended to destroy it, though we might imagine a magic table in which every exercise of function would be preservative. now in the personal nature we find just such a magical provision. each time a person normally exerts himself he makes further exertion in those normal ways more possible. and if this is true of all personal action within our experience, what right have we to set a limit to it anywhere? it may not be suitable to say that i know myself infinite, but it is certainly true that i cannot conceive myself as finite. i can readily see that this body of mine has in it what i have called a provision for checkage. every time the blood moves in my veins it leaves its little deposit. further motion of that blood is slightly impeded. but every time a moral purpose moves my life, it makes the next move surer. it is impossible to draw lines of limitation in moral development. xii such, then, is the vast conception with which we have been dealing. goodness, to be personal, must express perpetual self-development. all the moral aims of life may be summed up in the single word, "self- realization." could i fully realize myself, i should have fulfilled all righteousness, and this view is sanctioned by the great teacher when he asks, "what shall a man give in exchange for his life?"--his life, his soul, his self. if any one fully believed this, and lived as if all his desires were fulfilled so long as he had opportunities of self-development, he might be said to have insured himself against every catastrophe. little could harm him. whatever occurred, instead of exclaiming, "how calamitous!" he would simply ask, "what fresh opportunities do these strange circumstances present for enlarged living? let me add this new discipline to what i had before. seeking as i am to become expanded into the infinite, this experience discloses a new avenue thither. all things work together for good to them that love the lord." references on self-development bradley's ethical studies, essay vi. green's prolegomena of ethics, bk. iii. ch. ii. alexander's moral order and progress, bk. iii. ch. iv. muirhead's elements of ethics, bk. iii. ch. iii. mackenzie's manual of ethics, pt. i. ch. vii. dewey in philos. journal, dec., . vi self-sacrifice i the view of human goodness presented in the preceding chapter is one which is at present finding remarkably wide acceptance. philosophers are often reproached with an indisposition to agree, and naturally where inquiry is active diversity will obtain. but to-day there appears a strange unanimity as regards the ultimate formula of ethics. the empirical schools state this as the highest form of the struggle for existence; the idealistic, as self-realization. the two are the same so far as they both regard morality as having to do with the development of life in persons. these curious beings, both also acknowledge, can never rest till they attain a completeness now incalculable. of course there is abundant diversity in the application of such formulae. in interpreting them we come upon problems no less urgent and tangled than those which vexed our fathers. who and what is a person? how far is he detachable from nature? how far from his fellow men? is his individuality an illusion, and each of us only an imperfect phase of a single universal being, so that in strictness we must own that there is none good but one, that is god? these and kindred questions naturally oppress the thought of our time. yet all are but so many attempts to push the formula of self-realization into entire clearness. the considerable agreement in ethical formulae everywhere noticeable shows that at least so much advance has been made: morality has ceased to be primarily repressive, and is now regarded as the amplest exhibit of human nature, free from every external precept, however sacred. man is the measure of the moral universe, and the development of himself his single duty. but when we thus accept self-realization as our supreme aim, we bring ourselves into seeming conflict with one of our profoundest moral instincts. it is self-sacrifice that calls forth from all mankind, as nothing else does, the distinctively moral response of reverence. intelligence, skill, beauty, learning--we admire them all; but when we see an act of self-sacrifice, however small, an awe falls on us; we bow our heads, fearful that we might not have been capable of anything so glorious. we thus acknowledge self-sacrifice to be the very culmination of the moral life. he who understand it has comprehended all righteousness, human and divine. but how does self-sacrifice accord with self-development? will he who is busy cultivating himself sacrifice himself? is there not a kind of conflict between the two? yet can we abandon either? and if not, must not the formula of self- realization accept modification? this, then, is the problem to which i must now turn: the possible adjustment of these two imperative claims,--the claim to realize one's self and the claim to sacrifice one's self. and i shall most easily set my theme before my readers if i state at once the four historic objections to the reality of self-sacrifice. i call them historic, for they have appeared and reappeared in the history of ethics, and have been worked out there on a great scale. while not altogether consistent with one another, no one of them is unimportant. together they compactly present those conflicting considerations which must be borne in mind when we attempt to comprehend the subtleties of self- sacrifice. i will endeavor to state them briefly and sympathetically. first, self-sacrifice is psychologically impossible. no man ever performs a strictly disinterested act, as has been shown in my chapter on self-direction. before desire will start, his own interest must be engaged. in action we seek to accomplish something, and between that something and ourselves some sort of valued connection must be felt. every wish indicates that the wisher experiences a need which he thinks might be supplied by the object wished for. it is true that wishes and wills are often directed upon external objects, but only because we believe that our own well-being is involved in their union with us. i devote myself to my friend as _my_ friend, counting his happiness and my own inseparable. were he so entirely a foreigner that i had no interest in him, my sacrifices for him--even if conceivable--would be meaningless. they acquire meaning only through my sense of a tie between him and me. my service of him may be regarded as my escape from petty selfishness into broad selfishness, from immediate gain to remote gain. but the prospect of gain in some form, proximate or ultimate, gain often of an impalpable and spiritual sort, always attends my wish and will. the aim at self-realization, however hidden, is everywhere the root of action. no belittlement of ourselves can appear desirable except as a step toward ultimate enlargement. self-sacrifice in any true and thorough-going sense never occurs. so cogent is this objection, and so frequently does it appear, not only in ethical discussion but in the minds of the struggling multitude, that he who has not faced it, and taken its truth well to heart, can have little comprehension of self-sacrifice. but it is a blessed fact that thousands who comprehend self-sacrifice little practise it largely. iii a second objection strips off the glory of self-sacrifice and regards it as a sad necessity. while there is nothing in it to attract or be approved, the lamentable fact is that we are so crowded together and disposed to trample on one another that, partially to escape, we must each agree to abate something of our own in behalf of a neighbor's gain. we cannot each be all we would. it is a sign of our mean estate that again and again we need to cut off sections of what we count valuable in order to save any portion. only by such compromises are we able to get along with one another. he who refuses them finds himself exposed to still greater loss. the hard conditions under which we live appear in the fact that such restraint is inevitable. i call self- sacrifice, therefore, a sad necessity. this theory of sacrifice is urged by hobbes and by the later moralists who follow his daring lead. it should be counted among the objections because, while it admits the fact of self-sacrifice, it denies its dignity. iv a third objection declares sacrifice to be needless. its very appearance rests on a misconception. we mistakenly suppose that in abating our own for the sake of our neighbor's good, we lose. in reality this is our true mode of enlargement. the interests of the individual and society are not hostile or alien, but supplemental. society is nothing but the larger individual; so that he alone realizes himself who enters most fully into social relations, making the well-being of society his own. this is plain enough when we study the working of a small and comprehensible portion of society. the child does not lose through identification with family life. that is his great means of realizing himself. to assume contrast and antagonism between family interest and the interest of the child is palpably unwarranted and untrue. equally unwarranted is a similar assumption in the broader ranges of society. when we talk of sacrifice, we refer merely to the first stage and outer aspect of the act. underneath, self-interest is guarded, the individual giving up his individuality only through obtaining a larger individuality still. such identity of interest between society and the individual the moralists of the eighteenth century are never tired of pointing out. if they are right, and the identity is complete, then sacrifice is abolished or is only a generous illusion. but these men never quite succeeded in persuading the english people of their doctrine, at least they never carried their thought fully over into the common mind. v that common mind has always thought of sacrifice in a widely different way, but in one which renders it still more incomprehensible. self- sacrifice it regards as a glorious madness. though the only act which ever forces us to bow in reverent awe, it is insolubly mysterious, irrational, crazy perhaps, but superb. for in it we do not deliberate. we hear a call, we shut our ears to prudence, and with courageous blindness as regards damage of our own, we hasten headlong to meet the needs of others. to reckon heroism, to count, up opposing gains and losses, balancing them one against another in order clear-sightedly to act, is to render heroism impossible. into it there enters an element of insanity. the sacrificer must feel that he cares nothing for what is rational, but only for what is holy, for his duty. the rational and the holy,--in the mind of him who has not been disturbed by theoretic controversy these two stand in harsh antithesis, and the antithesis has been approved by important ethical writers of our time. the rational man is, of course, needed in the humdrum work of life. his assertive and sagacious spirit clears many a tangled pathway. but he gets no reverence, the characteristic response of self-sacrifice. this is reserved for him who says, "no prudence for me! i will he admirably crazy. let me fling myself away, so only there come salvation to others." such, then, are the four massive objections: self-sacrifice is unreal psychologically, aesthetically, morally, or rationally: but negative considerations are not enough. no amount of demonstration of what a thing is not will ever reveal what it is. objections are merely of value for clearing a field and marking the spots on which a structure cannot be reared. the serious task of erecting that structure somewhere still remains. to it i now address myself. vi what we need to consider first is the reality and wide range of self- sacrifice. the moment the term is mentioned there spring up before our minds certain typical examples of it. we see the soldier advancing toward the battlefield, to stake his life for a country in whose prosperity he may never share. we see the infant falling into the water, and the full-grown man flinging in after it his own assured and valued life in hopes of rescuing that incipient and uncertain thing, a little child. yes, i myself came on a case of heroism hardly less striking. i was riding my bicycle along the public street when there dashed past me a runaway horse with a carriage at his heels, both moving so madly that i thought all the city was in danger. i pursued as rapidly as i could, and as i neared my home, saw horse and carriage standing by the sidewalk. by the horse's head stood a negro. i went up to him and said, "did you catch that horse?" "yes, sir," he answered. "but," i said, "he was going at a furious pace." "yes, sir." "and he might have run you down." "yes, sir, but i know horses, and i was afraid he would hurt some of these children." there he stood, the big brown hero, unexalted, soothing the still restive horse and unaware of having done anything out of the ordinary. i entered my house ashamed. had i possessed such skill, would i have ventured my life in such a fashion? such are some of the shining examples of self-sacrifice which occur to us at the first mention of the word. but we shall mislead ourselves if we confine our thoughts to cases so climactic, triumphant, and spectacular. deeds like these dazzle and do not invite to full analysis of their nature. let us turn to affairs more usual. i have happened to know intimately members of three professions-- ministers, nurses, teachers-and i find self-sacrifice a matter of daily practice with them all. to it the minister is dedicated. he must not look for gain. he has a salary, of course; but it is much in the nature of a fee, a means of insuring him a certain kind of living. and while it is common enough to find a minister studying how he may make money in his parish, it is commoner far to find one bent on seeing how he can make righteousness prevail there, though it overwhelm him. the other professions do not so manifestly aim at self-sacrifice. they are distinctly money-making. they exact a given sum for a given service. still, in them too how constantly do we see that that which is given far outruns that which is paid for. i have watched pretty closely the work of a dozen or more trained nurses, and i believe it would be hard to find any class in the community showing a higher average of estimable character. how quiet they are under the most irritating circumstances! how fully they pour themselves into the lives of their patients! how prompt is the deft hand! how considerate the swift intelligence! their hearts are aglow over what can be given, not over what can be got. a similar temper is widely observable among teachers, especially among those of the lower grades. paid though they are for a certain task, how indisposed they are to limit themselves to that task or to confine their care of their children to the schoolroom! the hard-worked creatures acquire an intimate interest in the little lives and, heedless of themselves, are continually ready to spend and be spent for those who cannot know what they receive. among such teachers i find self-sacrifice as broad, as deep, as genuine, if not so striking, as that of the soldier in the field. evidently, then, self-sacrifice may be wide-spread and may permeate the institutions of ordinary life; being found even in occupations primarily ordered by principles of give and take, where it expresses itself in a kind of surplusage of giving above what is prescribed in the contract. in this form it enters into trade. the high-minded merchant is not concerned merely with getting his money back from an article sold. he interests himself in the thoroughly excellent quality of that article, in the accommodation of his customers, the soundness of his business methods, and the honorable standing of his firm. and when we turn to our public officials, how frequent it is--how frequent in spite of what the newspapers say--to find men eager for the public good, men ready to take labor on themselves if only the state may be saved from cost and damage! but i still underestimate the prevalence of the principle. our instances must be homelier yet. each day come petty citations to self- sacrifice which are accepted as a matter of course. as i walk to my lecture-room somebody stops me and says, "what is the way to berkeley street?" do i reprovingly answer, "you must have made a mistake. i have no interest in berkeley street. i think it is you who are going there, and why are you putting me to inconvenience merely that you may the more easily find your way?" should i answer so, he would think and possibly say, "there are strange people in cambridge, remoter from human kind than any known elsewhere." every one would feel astonishment at the man who declined to bear his little portion of a neighbor's burden. our commonest acceptance of society involves self- sacrifice, and in all our trivial intercourse we expect to put ourselves to unrewarded inconvenience for the sake of others. vii what i have set myself to make plain in this series of graded examples is simply this: self-sacrifice is not something exceptional, something occurring at crises of our lives, something for which we need perpetually to be preparing ourselves, so that when the great occasion comes we may be ready to lay ourselves upon its altar. such romanticism distorts and obscures. self-sacrifice is an everyday affair. by it we live. it is the very air of our moral lungs. without it society could not go on for an hour. and that is precisely why we reverence it so--not for its rarity, but for its importance. nothing else, i suppose, so instantly calls on the beholder for a bowing of the head. even a slight exhibit of it sends through the sensitive observer a thrill of reverent abasement. other acts we may admire; others we may envy; this we adore. perhaps we are now prepared to sum up our descriptive account and throw what we have observed into a sort of definition. i mean by self- sacrifice any diminution of my own possessions, pleasures, or powers, in order to increase those of others. naturally what we first think of is the parting with possessions. that is what the word charity most readily suggests, the giving up of some physical object owned by us which, even at the moment of giving, we ourselves desire. but the gift may be other than a physical object. when i would gladly sit, i may stand in the car for the sake of giving another ease. but the greatest conceivable self-sacrifice is when i give myself: when, that is, i in some way allow my own powers to be narrowed in order that those of some one else may be enlarged. parents are familiar with such exquisite charity, parents who put themselves to daily hardship because they want education for their boys. but they have no monopoly in this kind. i who stand in the guardianship of youth have frequent occasion to miss a favorite pupil, boy or girl, who throws up a college training and goes home--often, in my judgment, mistakenly--to support, or merely to cheer, the family there. of course such gifts are incomparable. no parting with one's goods, no abandonment of one's pleasures, can be measured against them. yet this is what is going on all over the country where devoted mother, gallant son, loyal husband, are limiting their own range of existence for the sake of broadening that of certain whom they hold dear. viii but when we have thus assembled our omnipresent facts and set them in order for cool assessment, the enigma of self-sacrifice only appears the more clearly. why _should_ a man sacrifice himself? why voluntarily accept loss? each of us has but a single life. each feels the pressure of his own needs and desires. these point the way to enlargement. how, then, can i disinterestedly prefer another's gain? each of us is penned within the range of his solitary consciousness, which may be broadened or narrowed but cannot be passed. it is incumbent on us, therefore, to study our own enrichment. anticipating whatever might confirm or crumble our being, we should strenuously seize the one and reject the other. deliberately to turn toward loss would seem to be crazy. what should a man accept in exchange for his life? here is the difficulty, a difficulty of the profoundest and most instructive sort. if we could see our way clearly through it, little in ethics would remain obscure. the common mode of meeting it is to leave it thus paradoxical. self-sacrifice banishes rationality and is a glorious madness. but such a conclusion is a repellent one. how can it be? reason is man's distinctive characteristic. while brutes act blindly, while the punctual physical universe minutely obeys laws of which it knows nothing, usually it is open to man to judge the path he will pursue. shall we then say that, though reason is a convenience in all the lower stretches of life, when we reach self-sacrifice, our single awesome height, it ceases? i cannot think so. on the contrary, i hold that in self-sacrifice we have a case not of glorious madness, but of somewhat extreme rationality. how, then, is rational contrasted with irrational guidance? as we here approach the central and most difficult part of our discussion, clearness will oblige me to enter into some detail. when a child looks at a watch, he sees a single object. it is something there, a something altogether detached from his consciousness, from the table, from other objects around. it is a brute fact, one single thing, complete in itself. such is the child's perception. but a man of understanding looks at it differently. its detached singleness is not to him the most important truth in regard to it. its meaning must rather be found in the relations in which it stands, relations which, seeming at first to lie outside it, really enter into it and make it what it is. the rational man would accordingly see it all alive with the qualities of gold, brass, steel, the metals of which it is composed. he would find it incomprehensible apart from the mind of its maker, and would not regard that mind and watch as two things, but as matters essentially related. indeed, these relations would run wider still, and reason would not rest satisfied until the watch was united to time itself, to the very framework of the universe. apart from this it would be meaningless. in short, if a man comprehends the watch in a rational way he must comprehend it in what may he called a conjunct way. the child might picture it as abstract and single, but it could really be known only in connection with all that exists. of course we pause far short of such full knowledge. our reason cannot stretch to the infinity of things. but just so far as relations can be traced between this object and all other objects, so much the more rational does the knowledge of the watch become. rationality is the comprehending of anything in its relations. the perceptive, isolated view is irrational. but if this is true of so simple a matter as a watch, it is doubly true of a complex human being. the child imagines he can comprehend a person too in isolation, but rational proverb-makers long ago told us, "one person, no person." each person must be conceived as tied in with all his fellows. we have seen how in the case of the watch we were almost obliged to abandon the thought of a single object and to speak of it as a kind of centre of constitutive relations. a plexus of ties runs in every direction, and where these cross there is the watch. so it is among human beings. if we try for a moment to conceive a person as single and detached, we shall find he would have no powers to exercise. no emotions would be his, whether of love or hate, for they imply objects to arouse them, no occupations of civilized life, for these involve mutual dependency. from speech he would be cut off, if there were nobody to speak to; nor would any such instrument as language be ready for his use, if ancestors had not cooperated in its construction. his very thoughts would become a meaningless series of impressions if they indicated no reality beside themselves. so empty would be that fiction, the single and isolated individual. the real creature, rational and conjunct man, is he who stands in living relationship with his fellows, they being a veritable part of him and he of them. man is essentially a social being, not a being who happens to be living in society. society enters into his inmost fibre, and apart from society he is not. yet this does not mean that society, any more than the individual, has an independent existence, prior, complete, and authoritative. what would society be, parted from the individuals who compose it? no more than an individual who does not embody social relationships. the two are mutual conceptions, different aspects of the same thing. we may view a person abstractly, fixing attention on his single centre of consciousness; or we may view him conjunctly, attending to his multifarious ties. now what is distinctive of self-sacrifice is that it insists in a somewhat extreme way on this second and rational mode of regard. it is a frank confession of interlocking lives. it says, "i have nothing to do with the abstract, isolated, and finite self. that is a matter of no consequence. what i care about is the conjunct, social, and infinite self--that self which is inseparable from others. where that calls, i serve." the self-sacrificing person knows no interest of his own separate from those of his father and mother, his wife and children. he cannot ask what is good for himself and set it in contrast with what is good for them. for his own broader existence is presented in these dear members of his family. and such a man, so far from being mad, is wise as few of us are. glorious indeed is the self- sacrificer, because he is so sane, because in him all pettiness and detachment are swept away. he appears mad only to those who stand at the opposite point of view, but in his eyes it is they who are ridiculous. in fact, each must be counted crazy or wise according to the view we take of what constitutes the real person. i remember a story current in our newspapers during the civil war. just before a battle, an officer of our army, knowing of what consequence it was that his regiment should hold its ground, hastened to the rear to see that none of his men were straggling. he met a cowardly fellow trying to regain the camp. turning upon him in a passion of disgust, he said, "what! do you count your miserable little life worth more than that of this great army?" "worth more to me, sir," the man replied. how sensible! how entirely just from his own point of view, that of the isolated self! taking only this into account, he was but a moral child, incapable of comprehending anything so difficult as a conjunct self. he imagined that could he but save this eating, breathing, feeling self, no matter if the country were lost, he would be a gainer. what folly! what would existence be worth outside the total inter-relationship of human beings called his land? but this fact he could not perceive. to risk his separate self in such a cause seemed absurd. turn for a moment and see how absurd the separate self appears from the point of view of the conjunct. when our lord hung upon the cross, the jeering soldiers shouted, "he saved others, himself he cannot save." no, he could not; and his inability seemed to them ridiculous, while it was in reality his glory. his true self he was saving--himself and all mankind--the only self he valued. ix now it is this strange complexity of our being, compelling us to view ourselves in both a separate and a conjunct way, which creates all the difficulty in the problem of self-sacrifice. but i dare say that when i have thus shown the reality and worth of the conjunct self, it will be felt that self-sacrifice is altogether illusory; for while it seems to produce loss, it is in fact the avoidance of what entails littleness. so says emerson:-- "let love repine and reason chafe, there came a voice without reply: 't is man's perdition to be safe when for the truth he ought to die." have we not, then, by explaining the rationality of self-sacrifice, explained away the whole matter and practically identified it with self-culture? there is plausibility in this view--and it has often been maintained--but not complete truth. for evidently the emotions excited by culture and sacrifice are directly antagonistic. toward a man pursuing the aim of culture we experience a feeling of approval, not unmixed with suspicion, but we give him none of that reverent adoration which is the proper response to sacrifice. and if the feelings of the beholder are contrasted, so also are the psychological processes of the performer. the man of culture starts with a sense of defect which he seeks to supplement; the sacrificer, with a sense of fullness which he seeks to empty. he who turns to self-culture says, "i have progressed thus far. i have gained thus much of what i would acquire. but still i am poor. i need more. let me gather as abundantly as possible on every side." but the thought of him who turns to self- sacrifice is, "i have been gaining, but i only gained to give. here is my opportunity. let me pour out as largely as i may." he contemplates final impoverishment. accordingly i was obliged to say in my definition that the self-sacrificer seeks to heighten another's possessions, pleasures, or powers at the cost of his own. undoubtedly at the end of the process he often finds himself richer than at the beginning. perhaps this is the normal result; but it is not contemplated. psychologically the sacrificer is facing in a different direction. x yet, though the motive agencies of the two are thus contrasted, i think we must acknowledge that sacrifice no less than culture is a powerful form of self-assertion. to miss this is to miss its essential character, and at the same time to miss the safeguards which should protect it against waste. for to say, "i will sacrifice myself" is to leave the important part of the business unexpressed. the weighty matter is in the covert preposition _for_.--"i will sacrifice myself _for_," an approved object is aimed at. we are not primarily interested in negating ourselves. only our estimate of the importance of the object justifies our intended loss. this object should accordingly be scrutinized. self-sacrifice is noble if its end is noble, but become reprehensible when its object is petty or undeserving. omit or overlook that word _for_, and self-sacrifice loses its exalted character. it sinks into asceticism, one often most degrading of moral aberrations. in asceticism we prize self-sacrifice for its own sake. we hunt out what we value most; we judge what would most completely fulfill our needs; and then we abolish it. abolish it for what? for nothing but the mere sake of abolishing. this is to turn morality upside down; and in place of the christian ideal of abounding life, to set up the pessimistic aim of impoverishment. there is nothing of this kind in self-sacrifice. here we assert ourselves, our conjunct selves. we estimate what will be best for the community of man and seek to further this at whatever cost to our isolated individuality. by this dedication to a deserving object sacrifice is purified, ennobled, and made strong. we speak of the glorious deed of him who plunges into the water to save a child. but it is a foolish and immoral thing to risk one's life for a stone, a coin, or nothing at all. "is the object deserving?" we must ask, "or shall i reserve myself for greater need?" too easily does our sympathetic and sentimental age, recklessly eulogistic of altruism, hurry into self-sacrifice. altruism in itself is worthless. that an act is unselfish can never justify its performance. he who would be a great giver must first be a great person. our men, and still more our women, need as urgently the gospel of self-development as that of self-sacrifice; though the two are naturally supplemental. our only means of estimating the propriety and dignity of sacrifice is to inquire how closely connected with ourselves is its object. until we can justify this connection, we have no right to incur it, for genuine sacrifice is always an act of self- assertion. in saving his regiment and contributing his share toward saving his country, the soldier asserts his own interests. he is a good soldier in proportion as he feels these interests to be his; while the deserter is condemned, not for refusing to give his life to an alien country and regiment, but because he was small enough to imagine that these great constituents of himself were alien. i tell the man on the street the way home because i cannot part his bewilderment from my own. the problem always is, what may i suitably regard as mine? and in solving it, we should study as carefully that for which we propose to sacrifice ourselves as anything which we might seek to obtain. triviality or lack of permanent consequence is as objectionable in the one case as in the other. the only safe rule is that self-sacrifice is self-assertion, is a judgment as regards what we would welcome to be a portion of our conjunct self. perhaps an extreme case will show this most clearly. jesus prayed, "not my will, but thine, be done." he did not then lose his will. he asserted and obtained it. for his will was that the divine will should be fulfilled, and fulfilled it was. he set aside one form of his will, his private and isolated will, knowing it to be delusive. but his true or conjunct will--and he knew it to be his true one--he abundantly obtained. it is no wonder, then, that in explaining these things to his disciples he says, "my meat it is to do the will of my father." that is always the language of genuine self-sacrifice. the act is not complete until the sense of loss has disappeared. xi yet while i hold that self-sacrifice is thus the very extreme of rationality, grounding as it does all worth in the relational or conjunct selfhood, i cannot disguise from myself that it contains an element of tragedy too. this my readers will already have felt and will have begun to rebel against my insistence that self-sacrifice is the fulfillment of our being. for though it is true that when opposition arises between the conjunct and separate selves our largest safety is with the former, the very fact that such opposition is possible involves tragedy. one part of the nature becomes arrayed against another. we must die to live. our lower goods are found incompatible with our higher. pleasure, comfort, property, friends, possibly life itself, have become hostile to our more inclusive aims and must be cast aside. it is true that when the tragic antithesis is presented and we can reach our higher goods only by loss of the lower, hesitation is ruin. it is true too that on account of that element of self-assertion to which i have drawn, attention, the genuine sacrificer is ordinarily unaware of any such tragedy. but none the less tragedy is there. to suppose it absent would strip sacrifice of what we regard as most characteristic. nor can we pause here. those who would call self-sacrifice a glorious madness have still further justification. a leap into the dark we must at least admit it to be, for trace it rationally as far as we may, there always remains uncertainty at the close. there is, for example, uncertainty about ultimate results. the mother toiling for her child, and neglecting for its sake most of what would render her own life rich, can never know that this child will grow up to power. the day may come when she will wish it had died in childhood. the glory of her action is bound up with this darkness. were the soldier, marching to the field, sure that his side would be victorious, he would be only half a hero. the consequences of self-sacrifice can never be certain, foreseen, calculable. there must be risk. omit it, and the sacrifice disappears. indeed nothing in life which calls forth high admiration is free from this touch of faith and courage, this movement into the unknown. it is at the very heart of self-sacrifice. but besides the unknown character of the result there is usually uncertainty as regards the cost. the sacrificer does not give according to measure. i do not say i will attend to this sick person up to such and such a point, but when that point is reached i shall have done enough. this would hardly be self-sacrifice. i rather say, "here i am. take me, use me to the full, spend of me whatever you need. how much that will be, i do not know." so there is an element of darkness in ourselves. and possibly i ought to mention a third variety of these incalculabilities of sacrifice. we do not plan the case. a while ago, meeting a literary man whose product is of much consequence to the community and himself, i asked him how his book was coming on. "badly," he answered. "just now an aged relative has fallen ill. there is no other place where she can be properly disposed, and so she has been brought to my house. i must care for her, my home will be much broken up, and my work must be set aside." i said, "is that your duty? have you not a more important obligation to your book?" but he answered, "one cannot choose a duty." i did not fully agree. i think we should carefully weigh duties, even if we do not choose them. morality would otherwise become the sport of accident. but i perceive that in the last analysis no duty is made by ourselves. it is given us by something more authoritative than we, something which we cannot alter, fully estimate, or without damage evade. necessity is laid upon us, sometimes an invading necessity. we are walking our well-ordered path, pursuing some dear aims, when harsh before us stands a waiting duty, bidding us lay aside that in which we are engaged and take it. i have said i believe a degree of scrutiny is needful here. we should ask, what for? we should correlate the new duty with those already pledged. and probably an interrupting duty is less often the one it is well to follow than one which has had something of our time and care. few fresh calls can have the weighty claim of loyalty to obligation already incurred. but, after all, that on which we finally decide has not sprung from our own wishes. it subjects those wishes to itself. standing over against us, it summons us to do its bidding, and allows us no more to be our own self-directed masters. xii summing up, then, the jarring characteristics of self-sacrifice,--its frequency, rationality, assertiveness, nearness to self--culture; yes, and its darker traits of risk, immeasurability, and authoritativeness, --does it not begin to appear that i have been calling it by a wrong name? self-sacrifice is a negative term. it lays stress on the thought that i set myself aside, become in some way less than i was before. and no doubt through all this intricate discussion certain belittlements have been acknowledged, though these have also been shown to lie along the path of largeness. there are, therefore, in self-sacrifice both negative and positive elements. but why select its name from the subordinate part? why turn to the front its incidental negations? this is topsy-turvy nomenclature. better blot the word self-sacrifice from our dictionaries. devotion, service, love, dedication to a cause, --these words mark its real nature and are the only descriptions of it which its practicers will recognize. that damage to the abstract self which chiefly impresses the outsider is something of which the sacrificer is hardly aware. how exquisitely astonished are the men in the parable when called to receive reward for their generous gifts! "lord, when saw we thee an hungered and fed thee, or thirsty and gave thee drink? when saw we thee sick or in prison and came unto thee?" they thought they had only been following their own desires. perhaps the most admirable case of self-sacrifice is that in which no single person appears who is profited by our loss. the scholar, the artist, the scientific man dedicate themselves to the interests of undifferentiated humanity. they serve their undecipherable race, not knowing who will obtain gains through their toils. in their sublime benefactions they study the wants of no individual person, not even of themselves. yet, turn to a man of this type and try to call his attention to the privations he endures, and what will be his answer? "i have no coat? i have no dinner? i have little money? people do not honor me as they honor others? yes, i believe i lack these trifles. but think what i possess! this great subject; or rather, it possesses me. and it shall have of me whatever it requires." in such service of the absolute is found the highest expression of self-sacrifice, of social service, of self-realization. the doctrine that though union with a reason and righteousness not exclusively our own each of us may hourly be renewed is the very heart of ethics. xiii i have attempted to cut out a clear path through an ethical jungle overgrown with the exuberance of human life. i have not succeeded, and it is probably impossible to succeed. in the subject itself there is paradox. conflicting elements enter into the very constitution of a person. to trace them even imperfectly one must be patient of refinements, accessible to qualifications, and ever ready to admit the opposite of what has been laboriously established. we all desire through study to win a swift simplicity. but nature abhors simplicity: she complicates; she forces those who would know to take pains, to proceed cautiously, and to feel their way along from point to point. this i have tried to do; and i believe that the inquiry, though intricate, primarily scientific, and only partially successful, need not altogether lack practical consequence. our age is bewildered between heroism and greed. to each it is drawn more powerfully than any age preceding. neither of the two does it quite comprehend. if we can render the nobler somewhat more intelligible, we may increase the confidence of those who now, half-ashamed, follow its glorious but blindly compulsive call. references on self-sacrifice spencer's principles of ethics, pt. i. ch. xi., xii. bradley's appearance and reality, p. - . paulsen's ethics, bk. ii. ch. . wundt's facts of the moral life, ch. iii., section (g). sidgwick's methods, concluding chapter. kidd's social evolution, ch. . s. bryant in journal of ethics, apr. . bradley in journal of ethics, oct. . mackenzie, in journal of ethics, apr. . vii nature and spirit i at this culmination of our long discussion, a discussion much confused by its necessary mass of details, it may be well to pause a moment, to fix attention on the great lines along which we have been moving, and to mark the points on which they appear to converge. we have regarded goodness as divided into two very unequal parts. the first two chapters treated of goodness in general, a species which being shared alike by persons and things is in no sense distinctive of persons. the last four chapters have been given to the more complex task of exploring the goodness of persons. in things we found that goodness consists in having their manifold parts drawn into integral wholeness. and this is true also of persons. but the modes of organization in the two cases were so unlike as to require long elucidation. our conclusion would seem to be that while goodness is everywhere expressive of organization, personal conduct is good only when consciously organized, guided, and aimed at the development of a social self. we have seen how self-consciousness lies at the foundation of personality, sharply discriminating persons from things. we have seen too that wherever it is present, the person curiously directs himself, passing through all the varieties of purposive activity which were catalogued in the chapter on self- direction. but such activity implies a being of variable, not of fixed powers, a being accordingly capable of enlargement, and with possibilities in him which every moment renders real. this progressive realization of himself, this development, he--so far as he is good-- consciously conducts. and finally we found in the person the strange fact that he conceives of his good self as essentially in conjunction with his fellow man, and recognizes that parted off and in separate abstractness he is no person at all. accordingly personal organization, direction, enlargement, conjunction. under our analysis two antithetic worlds emerge, a world of nature and of spirit, the former guided by blind forces, the latter self-managed. unlike spiritual beings, natural objects are under alien control; have not the power of development, and when brought into close conjunction with others are liable to disruption. ii accepting this vital distinction, we see that the work of spiritual man will consist in progressively subjugating whatever natural powers he finds within him and without, rendering them all expressive of self-conscious purpose. for we men are not altogether spiritual; in us two elements meet. our spirituality is superposed on a natural basis. like things, we have our natural aptitudes, blind tendencies, established functions of body and mind. these are all serviceable and organic; but to become spiritual all need to be redeemed, or drawn over into the field of consciousness, where our special stamp may be set upon them. when we speak of a good act, we mean an act which shows the results of such redemption, one whose every part has been studied in relation to every other part, and has thus been made to bear our own image and superscription. and this is essentially the christian ideal, that spirit shall be lord of nature. i ought to reject my natural life, accounting it not my life at all. until shaped by myself, it is merely my opportunity for life, material furnished, out of which my true and conscious life may be constructed. widely is this contrasted with the pagan conceptions, where man appears with powers as fixed as the things around him. indeed, in many forms of paganism there is no distinction between persons and things. they are blended. and such blending usually operates to the disparagement of the person; for things being more numerous, and their laws more urgent, the powers of man become lost in those of nature. or if distinction is made, and men in some dim fashion become aware that they are different from things, still it is the tendency of paganism to subordinate person to nature. the child is sacrificed to the sun. the sun is not thought of as existing for the child. from the christian point of view everything seems turned upside down. man is absorbed in natural forces, natural forces are reverenced as divine, and self-consciousness--if noticed at all--is regarded as an impertinent accident. in the christian ideal all this is reversed. man is called to be master of himself, and therefore of all else. the many beautiful adjustments of the natural world are thought to possess dignity only so far as they accept the conscious purposes put by us in their keeping. and in man himself goodness is held to exist only in proportion as his conduct expresses fullness of self-consciousness, fullness of direction, and fullness of conscious conjunction with other persons. i do not see how we can escape this conclusion. the careful argumentation through which the previous chapters have brought us obliges us to count conduct valuable in proportion as it bears the impress of self-conscious mind. iii yet it must be owned that during the last few centuries doubts have arisen about the justice of this christian ideal. the simple conception of a world of spirit and a world of nature arrayed against each other, the one of them exactly what the other is not, the world of spirit the superior, the world of nature to be frowned on, used possibly, but always in subordination to spiritual purposes,--this view, dominant as it was in the middle ages, and still largely influential, has been steadily falling into disrepute. there is even a tendency in present estimates to reverse the ancient valuation and allow superiority to nature. such a transformation is strikingly evident in those sensitive recorders of human ideals, the fine arts. let us see what at different times they have judged best worthy of record. early painting dealt with man alone, or rather with persons; for personality in its transcendent forms--saints, angels, god himself-- was usually preferred above little man. except the spiritual, nothing was regarded as of consequence. the principle of early painting might be summed in the proud saying, "on earth there is nothing great but man; in man there is nothing great but mind." it is true when man is thus detached from nature he hardly appears to advantage or in his appropriate setting. but the early painters would tolerate nothing natural near their splendid persons. they covered their backgrounds with gilding, so that a glory surrounded the entire figure, throwing out the personality sharp and strong. nothing broke its effect. but after all, one comes to see that we inhabit a world; nature is continually about us, and man really shows his eminence most fully when standing dominant over nature. early painting, accordingly, began to set in a little landscape around the human figures, contrasting the person with that which was not himself. but an independent interest could not fail to spring up in these accessories. by degrees the landscape is elaborated and the figure subordinated. the figure is there by prescription, the landscape because people enjoy it. nature begins to assert her claims; and man, the eminent and worthy representative of old ideals, retires from his ancient prominence. when the renaissance revolted against the teachings of the mediaeval church, the disposition to return to nature was insolently strong. natural impulses were glorified, the physical world attracted attention, and even began to be studied. hitherto it had been thought deserving of study only because in a few respects it was able to minister to man. but in the renaissance men studied it for its own sake. gradually the distinction between man and nature grew faint, so that a kind of pantheism arose in which a general power, at once natural and spiritual, appeared as the ruler of all. we individual men emerge for a moment from this great central power, ultimately relapsing into it. nature had acquired coordinate, if not superior, rights. yet the full expression of this independent interest in nature is more recent than is usually observed. landscape painting goes back but little beyond the year sixteen hundred. it is only two or three centuries ago that painters discovered the physical world to be worthy of representation for its own sake. as the worth of nature thus became vindicated in painting, parallel changes were wrought in the other arts. arts less distinctly rational began to assert themselves, and even to take the lead. the art most characteristic of modern times, the one which most widely and poignantly appeals to us, is music. but in music we are not distinctly conscious of a meaning. most of us in listening to music forget ourselves under its lulling charms, abandon ourselves to its spell, and by it are swept away, perhaps to the infinite, perhaps to an obliteration of all clear thought. is it not largely because we are so hard pressed under the anxious conditions of modern life that music becomes such an enormous solace and strength? i do not say that no other factors have contributed to the vogue of music, but certainly it is widely prized as an effective means of escape from ourselves. music too, though early known in calm and elementary forms, has within the last two centuries been developed into almost a new art. of all the arts poetry is the most strikingly rational and articulate. its material is plain thought, plain words. we employ in it the apparatus of conscious life. poetry was therefore concerned in early times entirely with things of the spirit. it dealt with persons, and with them alone. it celebrated epic actions, recorded sagacious judgments, or uttered in lyric song emotions primarily felt by an individual, yet interpreting the common lot of man. but there has occurred a great change in poetry too, a change notable during the last century but initiated long before. poetry has been growing naturalistic, and is to-day disposed to reject all severance of body and spirit. the great nature movement which we associate with the names of cowper, burns, and wordsworth, has withdrawn man's attention from conscious responsibility, and has taught him to adore blind and vast forces which he cannot fully comprehend. we all know the refreshment and the deepening of life which this mystic new poetry has brought. but it is hard to say whether poetry is nowadays a spiritual or a natural art. many of us would incline to the latter view, and would hold that even in dealing with persons it treats them as embodiments of natural forces. our instincts and unguided passions, the features which most identify us with the physical world, are coming more and more to be the subjects of modern poetry. iv nature, meanwhile, that part of the universe which is not consciously guided, has become within a century our favorite field of scientific study. the very word science is popularly appropriated to naturalistic investigation. of course this is a perversion. originally it was believed that the proper study of mankind was man. and probably we should all still acknowledge that the study of personal structure is as truly science as study of the structure of physical objects. yet so powerfully is the tide setting toward reverence for the unconscious and the sub-conscious that science, our word for knowledge, has lost its universality and has taken on an almost exclusively physical character. perhaps there was only one farther step possible. philosophy itself, the study of mind, might be regarded as a study of the unconscious. and this step has been taken. books now bear the paradoxical title "philosophy of the unconscious," and investigation of the sub- conscious processes is perhaps the most distinctive trait of philosophy to-day. more and more it is believed that we cannot adequately explore a person without probing beneath consciousness. the blind processes can no longer be ruled out. nature and spirit cannot be parted as our fathers supposed they might. probably kant is the last great scholar who will ever try to hold that distinction firm, and he is hardly successful. in spite of his vigorous antitheses, hints of covert connection between the opposed forces are not absent. indeed, if the two are so widely parted as his usual language asserts, it is hard to see how his ethics can have mundane worth. curiously enough too, at the very time when kant was reviving this ancient distinction, and offering it as the solid basis of personal and social life, the opposite belief received its most clamorous announcement, resounding through the civilized world in the teachings of rousseau. rousseau warns us that the conscious constructions of man are full of artifice and deceit, and lead to corruption and pain. conscious guidance should, consequently, be banished, and man should return to the peace, the ease, and the certainty of nature. v now i do not think it is worth while to blame or praise a movement so vast as this. if it is folly to draw an indictment against a nation, it is greater folly to indict all modern civilization. we must not say that philosophy and the fine arts took a wrong turn at the renaissance,--at least it is useless to call on them now to turn back. the world seldom turns back. it absorbs, it re-creates, it brings new significance into the older thought. all progress, goethe tells us, is spiral,--coming out at the place where it was before, but higher up. no, we cannot wisely blame or praise, but we may patiently study and understand. that is what i am attempting to do here. the movement described is no negligible accident of our time. it is world-wide, and shows progress steadily in a single direction. in order, however, to prove that such a change in moral estimates has occurred, it was hardly necessary to survey the course of history. the evidence lies close around us, and is found in the standards of the society in which we move. who are the people most prized? are they the most self-conscious? that should be the case if our long argument is sound. our preceding chapters would urge us to fill life with consciousness. in proportion as consciousness droops, human goodness becomes meagre; as our acts are filled with it, they grow excellent. these are our theoretic conclusions, but the experience of daily life does not bear them out. if, for example, i find the person who is talking to me watches each word he utters, pauses again and again for correction, choosing the determined word and rejecting the one which instinctively comes to his lips, i do not trust what he says, or even listen to it; while he is shaping his exact sentences i attend to something else. in general, if a man's small actions impress us as minutely planned, we turn from him. it is not the self-reflecting persons, cautious of all they do, say, or think, who are popular. it is rather those instinctively spontaneous creatures characterized by abandon--men and women who let themselves go, and with all the wealth of the world in them, allow it to come out of itself--that we take to our hearts. we prize them for their want of deliberation. in short, we give our unbiased endorsement not to the spiritual or consciously guided person, but to him, on the contrary, who shows the closest adjustment to nature. vi yet even so, we have gone too far afield for evidence. first we surveyed the ages, then we surveyed one another. but there is one proof-spot nearer still. let us survey ourselves. i am much mistaken if there are not among my readers persons who have all their lives suffered from self-consciousness. they have longed to be rid of it, to be free to think of the other person, of the matter in hand. instead of this, their thoughts are forever reverting to their own share in any affair. too contemptible to be avowed, and more distressing than almost any other species of suffering, excessive self-consciousness shames us with our selfishness, yet will not allow us to turn from it. when i go into company where everybody is spontaneous and free, easily uttering what the occasion calls for, i can utter only what i call for and not at all what the occasion asks. between the two demands there is always an awkward jar. when tortured by such experiences it does not soothe to have others carelessly remark, "oh, just be natural!" that is precisely what we should like to be, but how? that little point is continually left unexplained. yet obviously self- consciousness involves something like a deadlock. for how can one consciously exert himself to be unconscious and try not to try? we cannot arrange our lives so as to have no arrangement in them, and when shaking hands with a friend, for example, be on our guard against noticing. once locked up in this vicious circle, we seem destined to be prisoners forever. that is what constitutes the anguish of the situation. the most tyrannical of jailers--one's self--is over us, and from his bondage we are powerless to escape. the trouble is by no means peculiar to our time, though probably commoner forty years ago than at any other period of the world's history. but it had already attracted the attention of shakespeare, who bases on it one of his greatest plays. when hamlet would act, self-consciousness stands in his way. the hindering process is described in the famous soliloquy with astonishing precision and vividness, if only we substitute our modern term "self-consciousness" for that which was its ancient equivalent:-- "thus conscience does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action." and such is our experience. we, too, have purposed all manner of important and serviceable acts; but just as we were setting them in execution, consideration fell upon us. we asked whether it was the proper moment, whether he to whom it was to be done was really needy, or were we the fit doer, or should it be done in this way or that. we hesitated, and the moment was gone. self-consciousness had again demonstrated its incompetence for superintending a task. many of us, far from regarding self-consciousness as a ground of goodness, are disposed to look upon it as a curse. vii before, however, attempting to discover whether our theoretic conclusions may he drawn into some sort of living accord with these results of experience, let us probe a little more minutely into these latter, and try to learn what reasons there may be for this very general distrust of self-consciousness as a guide. hitherto i have exhibited that distrust as a fact. we always find it so; our neighbors find it so, the ages have found it so. but why? i have not pointed out precisely the reasons for the continual fact. let me devote a page or two to rational diagnosis. to begin with, i suppose it will be conceded that we really cannot guide ourselves through and through. there are certain large tracts of life totally unamenable to consciousness. of our two most important acts, and those by which the remaining ones are principally affected, birth and death, the one is necessarily removed from conscious guidance, and the other is universally condemned if so guided. we do not--as we have previously seen--happen to be present at our birth, and so are quite cut off from controlling that. yet the conditions of birth very considerably shape everything else in life. we cannot, then, be purely spiritual; it is impossible. we must be natural beings at our beginning; and at the other end the state of things is largely similar, for we are not allowed to fix the time of our departure. the stoics were. "if the house smokes," they said, "leave it." when life is no longer worth while, depart. but christianity will not allow this. death must be a natural affair, not a spiritual. i am to wait till a wandering bacillus alights in my lung. he will provide a suitable exit for me. but neither i nor my neighbors must decide my departure. let laws of nature reign. and if these two tremendous events are altogether removed from conscious guidance, many others are but slightly amenable to it. the great organic processes both of mind and body are only indirectly, or to a partial extent, under the control of consciousness. a few persons, i believe, can voluntarily suspend the beating of their hearts. they are hardly to be envied. the majority of us let our hearts alone, and they work better than if we tried to work them. though it is true that we can control our breathing, and that we occasionally do so, this also in general we wisely leave to natural processes. a similar state of affairs we find when we turn to the mind itself. the association of ideas, that curious process by which one thought sticks to another and through being thus linked draws after it material for use in all our intellectual constructions, goes on for the most part unguided. it would be plainly useless, therefore, to treat our great distinction as something hard and fast. nature and spirit may be contrasted; they cannot be sundered. spirit removed from nature would become impotent, while nature would then proceed on a meaningless career. then too there are all sorts of degrees in consciousness. no man was ever so conscious of himself and his acts that he could not be more so. when introspection is causing us our sharpest distress, it may still be rendered more minute. that is one cause of its peculiar anguish. we are always uncertain whether our troubles have not arisen from too little self-consciousness, and we whip ourselves into greater nicety and elaborateness of personal observation. varying through a multitude of degrees, the fullness of consciousness is never reached. a more thorough exercise of it is always possible. at the last, nature must be admitted as a partner in the control of our lives, and her share in that partnership the present age believes to be a large one. viii for could we always consciously steer our conduct, we should be unwise to do so. consciousness hinders action. acts are excellent in proportion as they are sure, swift, and easy. when we undertake anything, we seek to do exactly that thing, reach precisely that end, and not merely to hit something in the neighborhood. occasions, too, run fast, and should be seized on the minute. action is excellent only when it meets the urgent and evasive demands of life. faltering and hesitation are fatal. nor must action unduly weary. good conduct effects its results with the least necessary expenditure of effort. when there are so many demands pressing upon us, we should not allow ourselves to become exhausted by a single act, but should keep ourselves fresh for further needs. efficient action, then, is sure, swift, and easy. now the peculiarity of self-consciousness is that it hinders all this and makes action inaccurate, slow, and fatiguing. inaccuracy is almost certain. when we study how something is to be done, we are apt to lay stress on certain features of the situation, and not to bring others into due prominence. it is difficult separately to correlate the many elements which go to make up a desired result. sometimes we become altogether puzzled and for the moment the action ceases. when i have had occasion to drive a screw in some unusual and inconvenient place, after setting the blade of the screw-driver into the slot i have asked myself, "in which direction does this screw turn?" but the longer i ask, the more uncertain i am. my only solution lies in trusting my hand, which knows a great deal more about the matter than i. when we once begin to meditate how a word is spelled, how helpless we are! it is better to drop the question, and pick up the dictionary. in all such cases consideration tends to confuse. it tends to delay, too, as everybody knows. to survey all the relations in which a given act may stand, to balance their relative gains and losses, and with full sight to decide on the course which offers the greatest profit, would require the years of methuselah. but at what point shall we cut the process short? to obtain full knowledge, we should pass in review all that relates to the act we propose; should inquire what its remoter consequences will be, and how it will affect not merely myself, my cousin, my great-grandchild, but the man in the next street, city, or state. there is no stopping. to carry conscious verification over a moderate range is slow business. if on the impulse of occasion we dash off an action unreflectingly, life will be swift and simple. if we try to anticipate all consequences of our task it will be slow and endless. nor need i dwell on the fatigue such conscious work involves. in writing a letter, we usually sit down before our paper, our minds occupied with what we would say. we allow our fingers to stroll of themselves across the page, and we hardly notice whether they move or not. if anybody should ask, "how did you write the letter _s?_" we should be obliged to look on the paper to see. but suppose, instead of writing in this way, i come to the task to-morrow determined to superintend all the work consciously. how shall i hold my pen in the best possible manner? how shape this letter so that each of its curves gets its exact bulge? how give the correct slant to what is above or below the line? i will not ask how long a time a letter prepared in this fashion would require, or whether when written it would be fit to read, for i wish to fix attention on the exhaustion of the writer. he certainly could endure such fatigue for no more than a single epistle. the schoolboy, when forced to it, seldom holds out for more than half a page, though he employs every contortion of shoulder, tongue, and leg to ease and diversify the struggle. a dozen years ago some nonsense verses were running through the papers,--verses pointing out with humorous precision the very infelicities of conscious control to which i am now directing attention. they put the case thus:-- "the centipede was happy, quite, until the toad for fun said, 'pray which leg comes after which?' this worked her mind to such a pitch she lay distracted in a ditch, considering how to run." and no wonder! problems so complex as this should be left to the disposal of nature, and not be drawn over into the region of spiritual guidance. but the complexities of the centipede are simple matters when compared with the elaborate machinery of man. the human mind offers more alternatives in a minute than does the centipede in a lifetime. if spiritual guidance is inadequate to the latter, and is found merely to hinder action, why is not the blind control of nature necessary for the former also? our age believes it is and, ever disparaging the conscious world, attaches steadily greater consequence to the unconscious. "it is the unintelligent me," writes dr. o. w. holmes, "stupid as an idiot, that has to try a thing a thousand times before he can do it and then never knows how he does it, that at last does it well. we have to educate ourselves through the pretentious claims of intellect into the humble accuracy of instinct; and we end at last by acquiring the dexterity, the perfection, the certainty which those masters of arts, the bee and the spider, inherit from nature." references on nature and spirit green's prolegomena, section . dewey's study of ethics, section xli. seth's study of ethical principles, pt. i. ch. , section . alexander's moral order and progress, bk. i. ch. i. section iii. earle's english prose, p. - . palmer in the forum, jan. . vii the three stages of goodness i such is the mighty argument conducted through several centuries in behalf of nature against spirit as a director of conduct. i have stated it at length both because of its own importance and because it is in seeming conflict with the results of my early chapters. but those results stand fast. they were reached with care. to reject them would be to obliterate all distinction between persons and things. self-consciousness is the indisputable prerogative of persons. only so far as we possess it and apply it in action do we rise above the impersonal world around. and even if we admit the contention in behalf of nature as substantially sound, we are not obliged to accept it as complete. it may be that neither nature nor spirit can be dispensed with in the supply of human needs. each may have its characteristic office; for though in the last chapter i have been setting forth the superiorities of natural guidance, in spiritual guidance there are advantages too, advantages of an even more fundamental kind. let us see what they are. they may be summarily stated in a single sentence: consciousness alone gives fresh initiative. disturbing as the influence of consciousness confessedly is, on its employment depends every possibility of progress. natural action is regular, constant, conformed to a pattern. in the natural world event follows event in a fixed order, under the same conditions the same result appears an indefinite number of times. the most objectionable form of this rigidity is found in mechanism. i sometimes hear ladies talking about "real lace" and am on such occasions inclined to speak of my real boots. they mean, i find, not lace that is the reverse of ghostly, but simply that which bears the impress of personality. it is lace which is made by hand and shows the marks of hand work. little irregularities are in it, contrasting it with the machine sort, where every piece is identical with every other piece. it might be more accurately called personal lace. the machine kind is no less real--unfortunately--but mechanism is hopelessly dull, says the same thing day after day, and never can say anything else. now though this coarse form of monotonous process nowhere appears in what we call the world of nature, a restriction substantially similar does; for natural objects vary slowly and within the narrowest limits. outside such orderly variations, they are subjected to external and distorting agencies effecting changes in them regardless of their gains. branches of trees have their wayward and subtle curvatures, and are anything but mechanical in outline. but none the less are they helpless, unprogressive, and incapable of learning. the forces which play upon them, being various, leave a truly varied record. but each of these forces was an invariable one, and their several influences cannot be sorted, judged, and selected by the tree with reference to its future growth. criticism and choice have no place here, and accordingly anything like improvement from year to year is impossible. the case of us human beings would be the same if we were altogether managed by the sure, swift, and easy forces of nature. progress would cease. we should move on our humdrum round as fixedly constituted, as submissive to external influence, and with as little exertion of intelligence as the dumb objects we behold. every power within us would be actual, displayed in its full extent, and involving no variety of future possibility. we should live altogether in the present, and no changes would be imagined or sought. from this dull routine we are saved by the admixture of consciousness. for a gain so great we may well be ready to encounter those difficulties of conscious guidance which my last chapter detailed. let the process of advance be inaccurate, slow, and severe, so only there be advance. for progress no cost is too great. i am sometimes inclined to congratulate those who are acute sufferers through self-consciousness, because to them the door of the future is open. the instinctive, uncritical person, who takes life about as it comes, and with ready acceptance responds promptly to every suggestion that calls, may be as popular as the sunshine, but he is as incapable of further advance. except in attractiveness, such a one is usually in later life about what he was in youth; for progress is a product of forecasting intelligence. when any new creation is to be introduced, only consciousness can prepare its path. evidently, then, there are strong advantages in guidance through the spirit. but natural guidance has advantages no less genuine. human life is a complex and demanding affair, requiring for its ever- enlarging good whatever strength can be summoned from every side. probably we must abandon that magnificent conception of our ancestors, that spirit is all in all and nature unimportant. but must we, in deference to the temper of our time, eliminate conscious guidance altogether? may not the disparagement of recent ages have arisen in reaction against attempts to push conscious guidance into regions where it is unsuitable? conceivably the two agencies may be supplementary. possibly we may call on our fellow of the natural world for aid in spiritual work. the complete ideal, at any rate, of good conduct unites the swiftness, certainty, and ease of natural action with the selective progressiveness of spiritual. till such a combination is found, either conduct will be insignificant or great distress of self-consciousness will be incurred. both of these evils will be avoided if nature can be persuaded to do the work which we clearly intend. that is what goodness calls on us to effect. to showing the steps through which it may be reached the remainder of this chapter will be given. ii let us, then, take a case of action where we are trying to create a new power, to develop ourselves in some direction in which we have not hitherto gone. for such an undertaking consciousness is needed, but let us see how far we are able to hand over its work to unconsciousness. suppose, when entirely ignorant of music, i decide to learn to play the piano. evidently it will require the minutest watchfulness. approaching the strange instrument with some uneasiness, i try to secure exactly that position on the stool which will allow my arms their proper range along the keyboard. there is difficulty in getting my sheet of music to stand as it should. when it is adjusted, i examine it anxiously. what is that little mark? probably the note c. among these curious keys there must also be a c. i look up and down. there it is! but can i bring my finger down upon it at just the right angle? that is accomplished, and gradually note after note is captured, until i have conquered the entire score. if now during my laborious performance a friend enters the room, he might well say, "i do not like spiritual music. give me the natural kind which is not consciously directed." but let him return three years later. he will find me sitting at the piano quite at my ease, tossing off notes by the unregarded handful. he approaches and enters into conversation with me. i do not cease my playing; but as i talk, i still keep my mind free enough to observe the swaying boughs outside the window and to enjoy the fragrance of the flowers which my friend has brought. the musical phrases which drop from my fingers appear to regulate themselves and to call for little conscious regard. yet if my friend should try to show me how mistaken i had been in the past, attempting to manage consciously what should have been left to nature, if he should eulogize my natural action now and contrast it with my former awkwardness, he would plainly be in error. my present naturalness is the result of long spiritual endeavor, and cannot be had on cheaper terms; and the unconsciousness which is now noticeable in me is not the same thing as that which was with me when i began to play. it is true the incidental hardships connected with my first attack on the piano have ceased. i find myself in possession of a new and seemingly unconscious power. an automatic train of movements has been constructed which i now direct as a whole, its parts no longer requiring special volitional prompting. but i still direct it, only that a larger unit has been constituted for consciousness to act upon. the naturalness which thus becomes possible is accordingly of an altogether new sort; and since the result is a completer expression of conscious intention, it may as truly be called spiritual as natural. iii it has now become plain that our early reckoning of actions as either natural or spiritual was too simple and incomplete. conduct has three stages, not two. let us get them clearly in mind. at the beginning of life we are at the beck and call of every impulse, not having yet attained reflective command of ourselves. this first stage we may rightly call that of nature or of unconsciousness, and manifestly most of us continue in it to some extent and as regards certain tracts of action throughout life. then reflection is aroused; we become aware of what we are doing. the many details of each act and the relations which surround it come separately into conscious attention for assessment, approval, or rejection. this is the stage of spirit, or consciousness. but it is not the final stage. as we have seen in our example, a stage is possible when action runs swiftly to its intended end, but with little need of conscious supervision. this mechanized, purposeful action presents conduct in its third stage, that of second nature or negative consciousness. as this third is least understood, is often confused with the first, and yet is in reality the complete expression of the moral ideal and of that reconciliation of nature and spirit of which we are in search, i will devote a few pages to its explanation. the phrase negative consciousness describes its character most exactly, though the meaning is not at once apparent. positive consciousness marks the second stage. there we are obliged to think of each point involved, in order to bring it into action. in piano- playing, for example, i had to study my seat at the piano, the music on the rack, the letters of the keyboard, the position of my fingers, and the coordination of all these with one another. to each such matter a separate and positive attention is given. but even at the last, when i am playing at my ease, we cannot say that consciousness is altogether absent. i am conscious of the harmony, and if i do not direct, i still verify results. as an entire phrase of music rolls off my rapid fingers, i judge it to be good. but if one of the notes sticks, or i perceive that the phrase might be improved by a slightly changed stress, i can check my spontaneous movements and correct the error. there is therefore a watchful, if not a prompting, consciousness at work. it is true that, the first note started, all the others follow of themselves in natural sequence. though i withdraw attention from my fingers, they run their round as a part of the associated train. but if they go awry, consciousness is ready with its inhibition. i accordingly call this the stage of negative consciousness. in it consciousness is not employed as a positive guiding force, but the moment inhibition or check is required for reaching the intended result, consciousness is ready and asserts itself in the way of forbiddal. this third stage, therefore, differs from the first through having its results embody a conscious purpose; from the second, through having consciousness superintend the process in a negative and hindering, rather than in a positive and prompting way. it is the stage of habit. i call it second nature because it is worked, not by original instincts, but by a new kind of associative mechanism which must first be laboriously constructed. years ago when i began to teach at harvard college, we used to regard our students as roaring animals, likely to destroy whatever came in their way. we instructors were warned to keep the doors of our lecture rooms barred. as we came out, we must never fail to lock them. so always in going to a lecture, as i passed through the stone entry and approached the door my hand sought my pocket, the key came out, was inserted in the keyhole, turned, was withdrawn, fell back into my pocket, and i entered the room. this series of acts repeated day after day had become so mechanized that if on entering the room i had been asked whether on that particular day i had really unlocked the door, i could not have told. the train took care of itself and i was not concerned in it sufficiently for remembrance. yet it remained my act. on one or two occasions, after shoving in the key in my usual unconscious fashion, i heard voices in the room and knew that it would be inappropriate to enter. instantly i stopped and checked the remainder of the train. habitual though the series of actions was, and ordinarily executed without conscious guidance, it as a whole was aimed at a definite end. if this were unattainable, the train stopped. all are aware how large a part is played by such mechanization of conduct. without it, life could not go on. when a man walks to the door, he does not decide where to set his foot, what shall be the length of his step, how he shall maintain his balance on the foot that is down while the other is raised. these matters were decided when he was a child. in those infant years which seem to us intellectually so stationary, a human being is probably making as large acquisitions as at any period of his later life. he is testing alternatives and organizing experience into ordered trains. but in the rest of us a consolidation substantially similar should be going on in some section of our experience as long as we live. for this is the way we develop: not the total man at once, but this year one tract of conduct is surveyed, judged, mechanized; and next year another goes through the same maturing process. not until such mechanization has been accomplished is the conduct truly ours. when, for example, i am winning the power of speech, i gradually cease to study exactly the word i utter, the tone in which it is enunciated, how my tongue, lips, and teeth shall be adjusted in reference to one another. while occupied with these things, i am no speaker. i become such only when, the moment i think of a word, the actions needed for its utterance set themselves in motion. with them i have only a negative concern. indeed, as we grow maturer of speech, collocations of words stick naturally together and offer themselves to our service. when we require a certain range of words from which to draw our means of communication, there they stand ready. we have no need to rummage the dimness of the past for them. mechanically they are prepared for our service. of course this does not imply that at one period we foolishly believed consciousness to be an important guide, but subsequently becoming wiser, discarded its aid. on the contrary, the mechanization of second nature is simply a mode of extending the influence of consciousness more widely. the conclusions of our early lectures were sound. the more fully expressive conduct can be of a self-conscious personality, so much the more will it deserve to be called good. but in order that it may in any wide extent receive this impress of personal life, we must summon to our aid agencies other than spiritual. the more we mechanize conduct the better. that is what maturing ourselves means. when we say that a man has acquired character, we mean that he has consciously surveyed certain large tracts of life, and has decided what in those regions it is best to do. there, at least, he will no longer need to deliberate about action. as soon as a case from this region presents itself, some electric button in his moral organism is touched, and the whole mechanism runs off in the surest, swiftest, easiest possible way. thus his consciousness is set free to busy itself with other affairs. for in this third stage we do not so much abandon consciousness as direct it upon larger units; and this not because smaller units do not deserve attention, but because they have been already attended to. once having decided what is our best mode of action in regard to them, we wisely turn them over to mechanical control. iv such is the nature of moral habit. before goodness can reach excellence, it must be rendered habitual. consideration, the mark of the second stage, disappears in the third. we cannot count a person honest so long as he has to decide on each occasion whether to take advantage of his neighbor. long ago he should have disciplined himself into machine-like action as regards these matters, so that the dishonest opportunity would be instinctively and instantly dismissed, the honest deed appearing spontaneously. that man has not an amiable character who is obliged to restrain his irritation, and through all excitement and inner rage curbs himself courageously. not until conduct is spontaneous, rooted in a second nature, does it indicate the character of him from whom it proceeds. that unconsciousness is necessary for the highest goodness is a cardinal principle in the teaching of jesus. other teachers of his nation undertook clearly to survey the entirety of human life, to classify its situations and coolly to decide the amount of good and evil contained in each. righteousness according to the pharisees was found in conscious conformity to these decisions. theirs was the method of casuistry, the method of minute, critical, and instructed judgment. the fields of morality and the law were practically identified, goodness becoming externalized and regarded as everywhere substantially the same for one man as for another. pharisaism, in short, stuck in the second stage. jesus emphasized the unconscious and subjective factor. he denounced the considerate conduct of the pharisees as not righteousness at all. it was mere will-worship. jesus preached a religion of the heart, and taught that righteousness must become an individual passion, similar to the passions of hunger and thirst, if it would attain to any worth. so long as evil is easy and natural for us, and good difficult, we are evil. we must be born again. we must attain a new nature. our right hand must not know what our left hand does. we must become as little children, if we would enter into the kingdom of heaven. the chief difficulty in comprehending this doctrine of the three stages lies in the easy confusion of the first and the third. jesus guards against this, not bidding us to be or to remain children, but to become such. the unconsciousness and simplicity of childhood is the goal, not the starting-point. the unconsciousness aimed at is not of the same kind as that with which we set out. in early life we catch the habits of our home or even derive our conduct from hereditary bias. we begin, therefore, as purely natural creatures, not asking whether the ways we use are the best. those ways are already fixed in the usages of speech, the etiquettes of society, the laws of our country. these things make up the uncriticised warp and woof of our lives, often admirably beautiful lives. when speaking in my last chapter of the way in which our age has come to eulogize guidance by natural conditions, i might have cited as a striking illustration the prevalent worship of childhood. only within the last century has the child cut much of a figure in literature. he is an important enough figure to-day, both in and out of books. in him nature is displayed within the spiritual field, nature with the possibilities of spirit, but those possibilities not yet realized. we accordingly reverence the child and delight to watch him. how charming he is, graceful in movement, swift of speech, picturesque in action! enviable little being! the more so because he is able to retain his perfection for so brief a time. but we all know the unhappy period from seven to fourteen when he who formerly was all grace and spontaneity discovers that he has too many arms and legs. how disagreeable the boy then becomes! before, we liked to see him playing about the room. now we ask why he is allowed to remain. for he is a ceaseless disturber; constantly noisy and constantly aware of making a noise, his excuses are as bad as his indiscretions. he cannot speak without making some awkward blunder. he is forever asking questions without knowing what to do with the answers. a confused and confusing creature! we say he has grown backward. where before he was all that is estimable, he has become all that we do not wish him to be. all that _we_ do not wish him to be, but certainly much more what god wishes him to be. for if we could get rid of our sense of annoyance, we should see that he is here reaching a higher stage, coming into his heritage and obtaining a life of his own. formerly he lived merely the life of those about him. he laid a self-conscious grasp on nothing of his own. when now at length he does lay that grasp, we must permit him to be awkward, and to us disagreeable. we should aid him through the inaccurate, slow, and fatiguing period of his existence until, having tested many tracts of life and learned in them how to mechanize desirable conduct, he comes back on their farther side to a childhood more beautiful than the original. many a man and woman possesses this disciplined childhood through life. goodness seems the very atmosphere they breathe, and everything they do to be exactly fitting. their acts are performed with full self-expression, yet without strut or intrusion of consciousness. whatever comes from them is happily blended and organized into the entirety of life. such should be our aim. we should seek to be born again, and not to remain where we were originally born. v in what has now been said there is a good deal of comfort for those who suffer the pains of self-consciousness, previously described. they need not seek a lower degree of self-consciousness, but only to distribute more wisely what they now possess. in fullness of consciousness they may well rejoice, recognizing its possession as a power. but they should take a larger unit for its exercise. in meeting a friend, for example, we are prone to think of ourselves, how we are speaking or poising our body. but suppose we transfer our consciousness to the subject of our talk, and allow ourselves a hearty interest in that. leaving the details of speech and posture to mechanized past habits, we may turn all the force of our conscious attention on the fresh issues of the discussion. with these we may identify ourselves, and so experience the enlargement which new materials bring. when we were studying the intricacies of self- sacrifice, we found that the generous man is not so much the self- denier or even the self-forgetter, but rather he who is mindful of his larger self. he turns consciousness from his abstract and isolated self and fixes it upon his related and conjunct self. but that is a process which may go on everywhere. our rule should be to withdraw attention from isolated minutiae, for which a glance is sufficient. giving merely that glance, we may then leave them to themselves. encouraging them to become mechanized, we should use these mechanized trains in the higher ranges of living. the cure for self-consciousness is not suppression, but the turning of it upon something more significant. vi every habit, however, requires perpetual adjustment, or it may rule us instead of allowing us instead to rule through it. we do well to let alone our mechanized trains while they do not lead us into evil. so long as they run in the right direction, instincts are better than intentions. but repeatedly we need to study results,--and see if we are arriving at the goal where we would be. if not, then habit requires readjustment. from such negative control a habit should never be allowed to escape. this great world of ours does not stand still. every moment its conditions are altering. whatever action fits it now will be pretty sure to be a slight misfit next year. no one can be thoroughly good who is not a flexible person, capable of drawing back his trains, reexamining them, and bringing them into better adjustment to his purposes. it is meaningless, then, to ask whether we should be intuitive and spontaneous, or considerate and deliberate. there is no such alternative. we need both dispositions. we should seek to attain a condition of swift spontaneity, of abounding freedom, of the absence of all restraint, and should not rest satisfied with the conditions in which we were born. but we must not suffer that even the new nature should be allowed to become altogether natural. it should be but the natural engine for spiritual ends, itself repeatedly scrutinized with a view to their better fulfillment. vii the doctrine of the three stages of conduct, elaborated in this chapter, explains some curious anomalies in the bestowal of praise, and at the same time receives from that doctrine farther elucidation. when is conduct praiseworthy? when may we fairly claim honor from our fellows and ourselves? there is a ready answer. nothing is praiseworthy which is not the result of effort. i do not praise a lady for her beauty, i admire her. the athlete's splendid body i envy, wishing that mine were like it. but i do not praise him. or does the reader hesitate; and while acknowledging that admiration and envy may be our leading feelings here, think that a certain measure of praise is also due? it may be. perhaps the lady has been kind enough by care to heighten her beauty. perhaps those powerful muscles are partly the result of daily discipline. these persons, then, are not undeserving of praise, at least to the extent that they have used effort. seeing a collection of china, i admire the china, but praise the collector. it is hard to obtain such pieces. large expense is required, long training too, and constant watchfulness. accordingly i am interested in more than the collection. i give praise to the owner. a learned man we admire, honor, envy, but also praise. his wisdom is the result of effort. plainly, then, praise and blame are attributable exclusively to spiritual beings. nature is unfit for honor. we may admire her, may wish that our ways were like hers, and envy her great law-abiding calm. but it would be foolish to praise her, or even to blame when her volcanoes overwhelm our friends. we praise spirit only, conscious deeds. where self-directed action forces its path to a worthy goal, we rightly praise the director. now, if all this is true, there seems often-times a strange unsuitableness in praise. we may well decline to receive it. to praise some of our good qualities, pretty fundamental ones too, often strikes us as insulting. you are asked a sudden question and put in a difficult strait for an answer. "yes," i say, "but you actually did tell the truth. i wish to congratulate you. you were successful and deserve much praise." but who would feel comfortable under such eulogy? and why not? if telling the truth is a spiritual excellence and the result of effort, why should it not be praised? but there lies the trouble. i assumed that to be a truth-teller required strain on your part. in reality it would have required greater strain for falsehood. it might then seem that i should praise those who are not easily excellent, since i am forbidden to praise those who are. and something like this seems actually approved. if a boy on the street, who has been trained hardly to distinguish truth from lies, some day stumbles into a bit of truth, i may justly praise him. "splendid fellow! no word of falsehood there!" but when i see the father of his country bearing his little hatchet, praise is unfit; for george washington cannot tell a lie. absurd as this conclusion appears, i believe it states our soundest moral judgment; for praise never escapes an element of disparagement. it implies that the unexpected has happened. if i praise a man for learning, it is because i had supposed him ignorant; if for helping the unfortunate, i hint that i did not anticipate that he would regard any but himself. wherever praise appears, we cannot evade the suggestion that excellence is a matter of surprise. and as nobody likes to be thought ill-adapted to excellence, praise may rightly be resented. it is true, there is a group of cases where praise seems differently employed. we can praise those whom we recognize as high and lifted up. "sing praises unto the lord, sing praises," the psalmist says. and our hearts respond. we feel it altogether appropriate. we do not disparage god by daily praise. no, but the element of disparagement is still present, for we are really disparaging ourselves. that is the true significance of praise offered to the confessedly great. for them, the praise is inappropriate. but it is, nevertheless, appropriate that it should be offered by us little people who stand below and look up. praising the wise man, i really declare my ignorance to be so great that i have difficulty in conceiving myself in his place. for me, it would require long years of forbidding work before i could attain to his wisdom. and even in the extreme form of this praise of superiors, substantially the same meaning holds. we praise god in order to abase ourselves. him we cannot really praise. that we understand at the start. he is beyond commendation. excellence covers him like a garment, and is not attained, like ours, by struggle through obstacles. yet this difference between him and us we can only express by trying to imagine ourselves like him, and saying how difficult such excellence would then be. we have here, therefore, a sort of reversed praise, where the disparagement which praise always carries falls exclusively on the praiser. and such cases are by no means uncommon, cases in which there is at least a pretense on the praiser's part of setting himself below the one praised. but praise usually proceeds down from above, and then, implicitly, we disparage him whom we profess to exalt. nor do i see how this is to be avoided; for praise belongs to goodness gained by effort, while excellence is not reached till effort ceases in second nature. to assert through praise that goodness is still a struggle is to set the good man back from our third stage to our second. in fact by the time he really reaches excellence praise has lost its fitness, goodness now being easier than badness, and no longer something difficult, unexpected, and demanding reward. for this reason those persons are usually most greedy of praise who have a rather low opinion of themselves. being afraid that they are not remarkable, they are peculiarly delighted when people assure them that they are. accordingly the greatest protection against vanity is pride. the proud man, assured of his powers, hears the little praisers and is amused. how much more he knows about it than they! inner worth stops the greedy ear. when we have something to be vain about, we are seldom vain. viii but if all this is true, why should praise be sweet? in candor most of us will own that there is little else so desired. when almost every other form of dependence is laid by, to our secret hearts the good words of neighbors are dear. and well they may be! our pleasure testifies how closely we are knitted together. we cannot be satisfied with a separated consciousness, but demand that the consciousness of all shall respond to our own. a glorious infirmity then! and the peculiar sweetness which praise brings is grounded in the consciousness of our weakness. in certain regions of my life, it is true, goodness has become fairly natural; and there of course praise strikes me as ill-adjusted and distasteful. i do not like to have my manners praised, my honesty, or my diligence. but there are other tracts where i know i am still in the stage of conscious effort. in this extensive region, aware of my feebleness and hearing an inward call to greater heights, it will always be cheering to hear those about me say, "well done!" of course in saying this they will inevitably hint that i have not yet reached an end, and their praises will displease unless i too am ready to acknowledge my incompleteness. but when this is acknowledged, praise is welcome and invigorating. i suspect we deal in it too little. if imagination were more active, and we were more willing to enter sympathetically the inner life of our struggling and imperfect comrades, we should bestow it more liberally. occasion is always at hand. none of us ever quite passes beyond the deliberate, conscious, and praise-deserving line. in some parts of our being we are farther advanced, and may there be experiencing the peace and assurance of a considerable second nature. but there too perpetual verification is necessary. and so many tracts remain unsubdued or capable of higher cultivation that throughout our lives, perhaps on into eternity, effort will still find room for work, and suitable praises may attend it. references on the three stages of goodness james's psychology, ch. iv. bain's emotions and the will, ch. ix. wundt's facts of the moral life, ch. iii. stephen's science of ethics, ch. vii. section iii. martineau's types of ethical theory, pt. ii. bk. i. ch. iii. tik-tok of oz by l. frank baum to louis f. gottschalk, whose sweet and dainty melodies breathe the true spirit of fairyland, this book is affectionately dedicated to my readers the very marked success of my last year's fairy book, "the patchwork girl of oz," convinces me that my readers like the oz stories "best of all," as one little girl wrote me. so here, my dears, is a new oz story in which is introduced ann soforth, the queen of oogaboo, whom tik-tok assisted in conquering our old acquaintance, the nome king. it also tells of betsy bobbin and how, after many adventures, she finally reached the marvelous land of oz. there is a play called "the tik-tok man of oz," but it is not like this story of "tik-tok of oz," although some of the adventures recorded in this book, as well as those in several other oz books, are included in the play. those who have seen the play and those who have read the other oz books will find in this story a lot of strange characters and adventures that they have never heard of before. in the letters i receive from children there has been an urgent appeal for me to write a story that will take trot and cap'n bill to the land of oz, where they will meet dorothy and ozma. also they think button-bright ought to get acquainted with ojo the lucky. as you know, i am obliged to talk these matters over with dorothy by means of the "wireless," for that is the only way i can communicate with the land of oz. when i asked her about this idea, she replied: "why, haven't you heard?" i said "no." "well," came the message over the wireless, "i'll tell you all about it, by and by, and then you can make a book of that story for the children to read." so, if dorothy keeps her word and i am permitted to write another oz book, you will probably discover how all these characters came together in the famous emerald city. meantime, i want to tell all my little friends--whose numbers are increasing by many thousands every year--that i am very grateful for the favor they have shown my books and for the delightful little letters i am constantly receiving. i am almost sure that i have as many friends among the children of america as any story writer alive; and this, of course, makes me very proud and happy. l. frank baum. "ozcot" at hollywood in california, . list of chapters - ann's army - out of oogaboo - magic mystifies the marchers - betsy braves the bellows - the roses repulse the refugees - shaggy seeks his stray brother - polychrome's pitiful plight - tik-tok tackles a tough task - ruggedo's rage is rash and reckless - a terrible tumble through a tube - the famous fellowship of fairies - the lovely lady of light - the jinjin's just judgment - the long-eared hearer learns by listening - the dragon defies danger - the naughty nome - a tragic transformation - a clever conquest - king kaliko - quox quietly quits - a bashful brother - kindly kisses - ruggedo reforms - dorothy is delighted - the land of love tik-tok of oz chapter one ann's army "i won't!" cried ann; "i won't sweep the floor. it is beneath my dignity." "some one must sweep it," replied ann's younger sister, salye; "else we shall soon be wading in dust. and you are the eldest, and the head of the family." "i'm queen of oogaboo," said ann, proudly. "but," she added with a sigh, "my kingdom is the smallest and the poorest in all the land of oz." this was quite true. away up in the mountains, in a far corner of the beautiful fairyland of oz, lies a small valley which is named oogaboo, and in this valley lived a few people who were usually happy and contented and never cared to wander over the mountain pass into the more settled parts of the land. they knew that all of oz, including their own territory, was ruled by a beautiful princess named ozma, who lived in the splendid emerald city; yet the simple folk of oogaboo never visited ozma. they had a royal family of their own--not especially to rule over them, but just as a matter of pride. ozma permitted the various parts of her country to have their kings and queens and emperors and the like, but all were ruled over by the lovely girl queen of the emerald city. the king of oogaboo used to be a man named jol jemkiph soforth, who for many years did all the drudgery of deciding disputes and telling his people when to plant cabbages and pickle onions. but the king's wife had a sharp tongue and small respect for the king, her husband; therefore one night king jol crept over the pass into the land of oz and disappeared from oogaboo for good and all. the queen waited a few years for him to return and then started in search of him, leaving her eldest daughter, ann soforth, to act as queen. now, ann had not forgotten when her birthday came, for that meant a party and feasting and dancing, but she had quite forgotten how many years the birthdays marked. in a land where people live always, this is not considered a cause for regret, so we may justly say that queen ann of oogaboo was old enough to make jelly--and let it go at that. but she didn't make jelly, or do any more of the housework than she could help. she was an ambitious woman and constantly resented the fact that her kingdom was so tiny and her people so stupid and unenterprising. often she wondered what had become of her father and mother, out beyond the pass, in the wonderful land of oz, and the fact that they did not return to oogaboo led ann to suspect that they had found a better place to live. so, when salye refused to sweep the floor of the living room in the palace, and ann would not sweep it, either, she said to her sister: "i'm going away. this absurd kingdom of oogaboo tires me." "go, if you want to," answered salye; "but you are very foolish to leave this place." "why?" asked ann. "because in the land of oz, which is ozma's country, you will be a nobody, while here you are a queen." "oh, yes! queen over eighteen men, twenty-seven women and forty-four children!" returned ann bitterly. "well, there are certainly more people than that in the great land of oz," laughed salye. "why don't you raise an army and conquer them, and be queen of all oz?" she asked, trying to taunt ann and so to anger her. then she made a face at her sister and went into the back yard to swing in the hammock. her jeering words, however, had given queen ann an idea. she reflected that oz was reported to be a peaceful country and ozma a mere girl who ruled with gentleness to all and was obeyed because her people loved her. even in oogaboo the story was told that ozma's sole army consisted of twenty-seven fine officers, who wore beautiful uniforms but carried no weapons, because there was no one to fight. once there had been a private soldier, besides the officers, but ozma had made him a captain-general and taken away his gun for fear it might accidentally hurt some one. the more ann thought about the matter the more she was convinced it would be easy to conquer the land of oz and set herself up as ruler in ozma's place, if she but had an army to do it with. afterward she could go out into the world and conquer other lands, and then perhaps she could find a way to the moon, and conquer that. she had a warlike spirit that preferred trouble to idleness. it all depended on an army, ann decided. she carefully counted in her mind all the men of her kingdom. yes; there were exactly eighteen of them, all told. that would not make a very big army, but by surprising ozma's unarmed officers her men might easily subdue them. "gentle people are always afraid of those that bluster," ann told herself. "i don't wish to shed any blood, for that would shock my nerves and i might faint; but if we threaten and flash our weapons i am sure the people of oz will fall upon their knees before me and surrender." this argument, which she repeated to herself more than once, finally determined the queen of oogaboo to undertake the audacious venture. "whatever happens," she reflected, "can make me no more unhappy than my staying shut up in this miserable valley and sweeping floors and quarreling with sister salye; so i will venture all, and win what i may." that very day she started out to organize her army. the first man she came to was jo apple, so called because he had an apple orchard. "jo," said ann, "i am going to conquer the world, and i want you to join my army." "don't ask me to do such a fool thing, for i must politely refuse your majesty," said jo apple. "i have no intention of asking you. i shall command you, as queen of oogaboo, to join," said ann. "in that case, i suppose i must obey," the man remarked, in a sad voice. "but i pray you to consider that i am a very important citizen, and for that reason am entitled to an office of high rank." "you shall be a general," promised ann. "with gold epaulets and a sword?" he asked. "of course," said the queen. then she went to the next man, whose name was jo bunn, as he owned an orchard where graham-buns and wheat-buns, in great variety, both hot and cold, grew on the trees. "jo," said ann, "i am going to conquer the world, and i command you to join my army." "impossible!" he exclaimed. "the bun crop has to be picked." "let your wife and children do the picking," said ann. "but i'm a man of great importance, your majesty," he protested. "for that reason you shall be one of my generals, and wear a cocked hat with gold braid, and curl your mustaches and clank a long sword," she promised. so he consented, although sorely against his will, and the queen walked on to the next cottage. here lived jo cone, so called because the trees in his orchard bore crops of excellent ice-cream cones. "jo," said ann, "i am going to conquer the world, and you must join my army." "excuse me, please," said jo cone. "i am a bad fighter. my good wife conquered me years ago, for she can fight better than i. take her, your majesty, instead of me, and i'll bless you for the favor." "this must be an army of men--fierce, ferocious warriors," declared ann, looking sternly upon the mild little man. "and you will leave my wife here in oogaboo?" he asked. "yes; and make you a general." "i'll go," said jo cone, and ann went on to the cottage of jo clock, who had an orchard of clock-trees. this man at first insisted that he would not join the army, but queen ann's promise to make him a general finally won his consent. "how many generals are there in your army?" he asked. "four, so far," replied ann. "and how big will the army be?" was his next question. "i intend to make every one of the eighteen men in oogaboo join it," she said. "then four generals are enough," announced jo clock. "i advise you to make the rest of them colonels." ann tried to follow his advice. the next four men she visited--who were jo plum, jo egg, jo banjo and jo cheese, named after the trees in their orchards--she made colonels of her army; but the fifth one, jo nails, said colonels and generals were getting to be altogether too common in the army of oogaboo and he preferred to be a major. so jo nails, jo cake, jo ham and jo stockings were all four made majors, while the next four--jo sandwich, jo padlocks, jo sundae and jo buttons--were appointed captains of the army. but now queen ann was in a quandary. there remained but two other men in all oogaboo, and if she made these two lieutenants, while there were four captains, four majors, four colonels and four generals, there was likely to be jealousy in her army, and perhaps mutiny and desertions. one of these men, however, was jo candy, and he would not go at all. no promises could tempt him, nor could threats move him. he said he must remain at home to harvest his crop of jackson-balls, lemon-drops, bonbons and chocolate-creams. also he had large fields of crackerjack and buttered pop corn to be mowed and threshed, and he was determined not to disappoint the children of oogaboo by going away to conquer the world and so let the candy crop spoil. finding jo candy so obstinate, queen ann let him have his own way and continued her journey to the house of the eighteenth and last man in oogaboo, who was a young fellow named jo files. this files had twelve trees which bore steel files of various sorts; but also he had nine book-trees, on which grew a choice selection of story-books. in case you have never seen books growing upon trees, i will explain that those in jo files' orchard were enclosed in broad green husks which, when fully ripe, turned to a deep red color. then the books were picked and husked and were ready to read. if they were picked too soon, the stories were found to be confused and uninteresting and the spelling bad. however, if allowed to ripen perfectly, the stories were fine reading and the spelling and grammar excellent. files freely gave his books to all who wanted them, but the people of oogaboo cared little for books and so he had to read most of them himself, before they spoiled. for, as you probably know, as soon as the books were read the words disappeared and the leaves withered and faded--which is the worst fault of all books which grow upon trees. when queen ann spoke to this young man files, who was both intelligent and ambitious, he said he thought it would be great fun to conquer the world. but he called her attention to the fact that he was far superior to the other men of her army. therefore, he would not be one of her generals or colonels or majors or captains, but claimed the honor of being sole private. ann did not like this idea at all. "i hate to have a private soldier in my army," she said; "they're so common. i am told that princess ozma once had a private soldier, but she made him her captain-general, which is good evidence that the private was unnecessary." "ozma's army doesn't fight," returned files; "but your army must fight like fury in order to conquer the world. i have read in my books that it is always the private soldiers who do the fighting, for no officer is ever brave enough to face the foe. also, it stands to reason that your officers must have some one to command and to issue their orders to; therefore i'll be the one. i long to slash and slay the enemy and become a hero. then, when we return to oogaboo, i'll take all the marbles away from the children and melt them up and make a marble statue of myself for all to look upon and admire." ann was much pleased with private files. he seemed indeed to be such a warrior as she needed in her enterprise, and her hopes of success took a sudden bound when files told her he knew where a gun-tree grew and would go there at once and pick the ripest and biggest musket the tree bore. chapter two out of oogaboo three days later the grand army of oogaboo assembled in the square in front of the royal palace. the sixteen officers were attired in gorgeous uniforms and carried sharp, glittering swords. the private had picked his gun and, although it was not a very big weapon, files tried to look fierce and succeeded so well that all his commanding officers were secretly afraid of him. the women were there, protesting that queen ann soforth had no right to take their husbands and fathers from them; but ann commanded them to keep silent, and that was the hardest order to obey they had ever received. the queen appeared before her army dressed in an imposing uniform of green, covered with gold braid. she wore a green soldier-cap with a purple plume in it and looked so royal and dignified that everyone in oogaboo except the army was glad she was going. the army was sorry she was not going alone. "form ranks!" she cried in her shrill voice. salye leaned out of the palace window and laughed. "i believe your army can run better than it can fight," she observed. "of course," replied general bunn, proudly. "we're not looking for trouble, you know, but for plunder. the more plunder and the less fighting we get, the better we shall like our work." "for my part," said files, "i prefer war and carnage to anything. the only way to become a hero is to conquer, and the story-books all say that the easiest way to conquer is to fight." "that's the idea, my brave man!" agreed ann. "to fight is to conquer and to conquer is to secure plunder and to secure plunder is to become a hero. with such noble determination to back me, the world is mine! good-bye, salye. when we return we shall be rich and famous. come, generals; let us march." at this the generals straightened up and threw out their chests. then they swung their glittering swords in rapid circles and cried to the colonels: "for-ward march!" then the colonels shouted to the majors: "for-ward march!" and the majors yelled to the captains: "for-ward march!" and the captains screamed to the private: "for-ward march!" so files shouldered his gun and began to march, and all the officers followed after him. queen ann came last of all, rejoicing in her noble army and wondering why she had not decided long ago to conquer the world. in this order the procession marched out of oogaboo and took the narrow mountain pass which led into the lovely fairyland of oz. chapter three magic mystifies the marchers princess ozma was all unaware that the army of oogaboo, led by their ambitious queen, was determined to conquer her kingdom. the beautiful girl ruler of oz was busy with the welfare of her subjects and had no time to think of ann soforth and her disloyal plans. but there was one who constantly guarded the peace and happiness of the land of oz and this was the official sorceress of the kingdom, glinda the good. in her magnificent castle, which stands far north of the emerald city where ozma holds her court, glinda owns a wonderful magic record book, in which is printed every event that takes place anywhere, just as soon as it happens. the smallest things and the biggest things are all recorded in this book. if a child stamps its foot in anger, glinda reads about it; if a city burns down, glinda finds the fact noted in her book. the sorceress always reads her record book every day, and so it was she knew that ann soforth, queen of oogaboo, had foolishly assembled an army of sixteen officers and one private soldier, with which she intended to invade and conquer the land of oz. there was no danger but that ozma, supported by the magic arts of glinda the good and the powerful wizard of oz--both her firm friends--could easily defeat a far more imposing army than ann's; but it would be a shame to have the peace of oz interrupted by any sort of quarreling or fighting. so glinda did not even mention the matter to ozma, or to anyone else. she merely went into a great chamber of her castle, known as the magic room, where she performed a magical ceremony which caused the mountain pass that led from oogaboo to make several turns and twists. the result was that when ann and her army came to the end of the pass they were not in the land of oz at all, but in an adjoining territory that was quite distinct from ozma's domain and separated from oz by an invisible barrier. as the oogaboo people emerged into this country, the pass they had traversed disappeared behind them and it was not likely they would ever find their way back into the valley of oogaboo. they were greatly puzzled, indeed, by their surroundings and did not know which way to go. none of them had ever visited oz, so it took them some time to discover they were not in oz at all, but in an unknown country. "never mind," said ann, trying to conceal her disappointment; "we have started out to conquer the world, and here is part of it. in time, as we pursue our victorious journey, we will doubtless come to oz; but, until we get there, we may as well conquer whatever land we find ourselves in." "have we conquered this place, your majesty?" anxiously inquired major cake. "most certainly," said ann. "we have met no people, as yet, but when we do, we will inform them that they are our slaves." "and afterward we will plunder them of all their possessions," added general apple. "they may not possess anything," objected private files; "but i hope they will fight us, just the same. a peaceful conquest wouldn't be any fun at all." "don't worry," said the queen. "_we_ can fight, whether our foes do or not; and perhaps we would find it more comfortable to have the enemy surrender promptly." it was a barren country and not very pleasant to travel in. moreover, there was little for them to eat, and as the officers became hungry they became fretful. many would have deserted had they been able to find their way home, but as the oogaboo people were now hopelessly lost in a strange country they considered it more safe to keep together than to separate. queen ann's temper, never very agreeable, became sharp and irritable as she and her army tramped over the rocky roads without encountering either people or plunder. she scolded her officers until they became surly, and a few of them were disloyal enough to ask her to hold her tongue. others began to reproach her for leading them into difficulties and in the space of three unhappy days every man was mourning for his orchard in the pretty valley of oogaboo. files, however, proved a different sort. the more difficulties he encountered the more cheerful he became, and the sighs of the officers were answered by the merry whistle of the private. his pleasant disposition did much to encourage queen ann and before long she consulted the private soldier more often than she did his superiors. it was on the third day of their pilgrimage that they encountered their first adventure. toward evening the sky was suddenly darkened and major nails exclaimed: "a fog is coming toward us." "i do not think it is a fog," replied files, looking with interest at the approaching cloud. "it seems to me more like the breath of a rak." "what is a rak?" asked ann, looking about fearfully. "a terrible beast with a horrible appetite," answered the soldier, growing a little paler than usual. "i have never seen a rak, to be sure, but i have read of them in the story-books that grew in my orchard, and if this is indeed one of those fearful monsters, we are not likely to conquer the world." hearing this, the officers became quite worried and gathered closer about their soldier. "what is the thing like?" asked one. "the only picture of a rak that i ever saw in a book was rather blurred," said files, "because the book was not quite ripe when it was picked. but the creature can fly in the air and run like a deer and swim like a fish. inside its body is a glowing furnace of fire, and the rak breathes in air and breathes out smoke, which darkens the sky for miles around, wherever it goes. it is bigger than a hundred men and feeds on any living thing." the officers now began to groan and to tremble, but files tried to cheer them, saying: "it may not be a rak, after all, that we see approaching us, and you must not forget that we people of oogaboo, which is part of the fairyland of oz, cannot be killed." "nevertheless," said captain buttons, "if the rak catches us, and chews us up into small pieces, and swallows us--what will happen then?" "then each small piece will still be alive," declared files. "i cannot see how that would help us," wailed colonel banjo. "a hamburger steak is a hamburger steak, whether it is alive or not!" "i tell you, this may not be a rak," persisted files. "we will know, when the cloud gets nearer, whether it is the breath of a rak or not. if it has no smell at all, it is probably a fog; but if it has an odor of salt and pepper, it is a rak and we must prepare for a desperate fight." they all eyed the dark cloud fearfully. before long it reached the frightened group and began to envelop them. every nose sniffed the cloud--and every one detected in it the odor of salt and pepper. "the rak!" shouted private files, and with a howl of despair the sixteen officers fell to the ground, writhing and moaning in anguish. queen ann sat down upon a rock and faced the cloud more bravely, although her heart was beating fast. as for files, he calmly loaded his gun and stood ready to fight the foe, as a soldier should. they were now in absolute darkness, for the cloud which covered the sky and the setting sun was black as ink. then through the gloom appeared two round, glowing balls of red, and files at once decided these must be the monster's eyes. he raised his gun, took aim and fired. there were several bullets in the gun, all gathered from an excellent bullet-tree in oogaboo, and they were big and hard. they flew toward the monster and struck it, and with a wild, weird cry the rak came fluttering down and its huge body fell plump upon the forms of the sixteen officers, who thereupon screamed louder than before. "badness me!" moaned the rak. "see what you've done with that dangerous gun of yours!" "i can't see," replied files, "for the cloud formed by your breath darkens my sight!" "don't tell me it was an accident," continued the rak, reproachfully, as it still flapped its wings in a helpless manner. "don't claim you didn't know the gun was loaded, i beg of you!" "i don't intend to," replied files. "did the bullets hurt you very badly?" "one has broken my jaw, so that i can't open my mouth. you will notice that my voice sounds rather harsh and husky, because i have to talk with my teeth set close together. another bullet broke my left wing, so that i can't fly; and still another broke my right leg, so that i can't walk. it was the most careless shot i ever heard of!" "can't you manage to lift your body off from my commanding officers?" inquired files. "from their cries i'm afraid your great weight is crushing them." "i hope it is," growled the rak. "i want to crush them, if possible, for i have a bad disposition. if only i could open my mouth, i'd eat all of you, although my appetite is poorly this warm weather." with this the rak began to roll its immense body sidewise, so as to crush the officers more easily; but in doing this it rolled completely off from them and the entire sixteen scrambled to their feet and made off as fast as they could run. private files could not see them go but he knew from the sound of their voices that they had escaped, so he ceased to worry about them. "pardon me if i now bid you good-bye," he said to the rak. "the parting is caused by our desire to continue our journey. if you die, do not blame me, for i was obliged to shoot you as a matter of self-protection." "i shall not die," answered the monster, "for i bear a charmed life. but i beg you not to leave me!" "why not?" asked files. "because my broken jaw will heal in about an hour, and then i shall be able to eat you. my wing will heal in a day and my leg will heal in a week, when i shall be as well as ever. having shot me, and so caused me all this annoyance, it is only fair and just that you remain here and allow me to eat you as soon as i can open my jaws." "i beg to differ with you," returned the soldier firmly. "i have made an engagement with queen ann of oogaboo to help her conquer the world, and i cannot break my word for the sake of being eaten by a rak." "oh; that's different," said the monster. "if you've an engagement, don't let me detain you." so files felt around in the dark and grasped the hand of the trembling queen, whom he led away from the flapping, sighing rak. they stumbled over the stones for a way but presently began to see dimly the path ahead of them, as they got farther and farther away from the dreadful spot where the wounded monster lay. by and by they reached a little hill and could see the last rays of the sun flooding a pretty valley beyond, for now they had passed beyond the cloudy breath of the rak. here were huddled the sixteen officers, still frightened and panting from their run. they had halted only because it was impossible for them to run any farther. queen ann gave them a severe scolding for their cowardice, at the same time praising files for his courage. "we are wiser than he, however," muttered general clock, "for by running away we are now able to assist your majesty in conquering the world; whereas, had files been eaten by the rak, he would have deserted your army." after a brief rest they descended into the valley, and as soon as they were out of sight of the rak the spirits of the entire party rose quickly. just at dusk they came to a brook, on the banks of which queen ann commanded them to make camp for the night. each officer carried in his pocket a tiny white tent. this, when placed upon the ground, quickly grew in size until it was large enough to permit the owner to enter it and sleep within its canvas walls. files was obliged to carry a knapsack, in which was not only his own tent but an elaborate pavilion for queen ann, besides a bed and chair and a magic table. this table, when set upon the ground in ann's pavilion, became of large size, and in a drawer of the table was contained the queen's supply of extra clothing, her manicure and toilet articles and other necessary things. the royal bed was the only one in the camp, the officers and private sleeping in hammocks attached to their tent poles. there was also in the knapsack a flag bearing the royal emblem of oogaboo, and this flag files flew upon its staff every night, to show that the country they were in had been conquered by the queen of oogaboo. so far, no one but themselves had seen the flag, but ann was pleased to see it flutter in the breeze and considered herself already a famous conqueror. chapter four betsy braves the billows the waves dashed and the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled and the ship struck a rock. betsy bobbin was running across the deck and the shock sent her flying through the air until she fell with a splash into the dark blue water. the same shock caught hank, a thin little, sad-faced mule, and tumbled him also into the sea, far from the ship's side. when betsy came up, gasping for breath because the wet plunge had surprised her, she reached out in the dark and grabbed a bunch of hair. at first she thought it was the end of a rope, but presently she heard a dismal "hee-haw!" and knew she was holding fast to the end of hank's tail. suddenly the sea was lighted up by a vivid glare. the ship, now in the far distance, caught fire, blew up and sank beneath the waves. betsy shuddered at the sight, but just then her eye caught a mass of wreckage floating near her and she let go the mule's tail and seized the rude raft, pulling herself up so that she rode upon it in safety. hank also saw the raft and swam to it, but he was so clumsy he never would have been able to climb upon it had not betsy helped him to get aboard. they had to crowd close together, for their support was only a hatch-cover torn from the ship's deck; but it floated them fairly well and both the girl and the mule knew it would keep them from drowning. the storm was not over, by any means, when the ship went down. blinding bolts of lightning shot from cloud to cloud and the clamor of deep thunderclaps echoed far over the sea. the waves tossed the little raft here and there as a child tosses a rubber ball and betsy had a solemn feeling that for hundreds of watery miles in every direction there was no living thing besides herself and the small donkey. perhaps hank had the same thought, for he gently rubbed his nose against the frightened girl and said "hee-haw!" in his softest voice, as if to comfort her. "you'll protect me, hank dear, won't you?" she cried helplessly, and the mule said "hee-haw!" again, in tones that meant a promise. on board the ship, during the days that preceded the wreck, when the sea was calm, betsy and hank had become good friends; so, while the girl might have preferred a more powerful protector in this dreadful emergency, she felt that the mule would do all in a mule's power to guard her safety. all night they floated, and when the storm had worn itself out and passed away with a few distant growls, and the waves had grown smaller and easier to ride, betsy stretched herself out on the wet raft and fell asleep. hank did not sleep a wink. perhaps he felt it his duty to guard betsy. anyhow, he crouched on the raft beside the tired sleeping girl and watched patiently until the first light of dawn swept over the sea. the light wakened betsy bobbin. she sat up, rubbed her eyes and stared across the water. "oh, hank; there's land ahead!" she exclaimed. "hee-haw!" answered hank in his plaintive voice. the raft was floating swiftly toward a very beautiful country and as they drew near betsy could see banks of lovely flowers showing brightly between leafy trees. but no people were to be seen at all. chapter five the roses repulse the refugees gently the raft grated on the sandy beach. then betsy easily waded ashore, the mule following closely behind her. the sun was now shining and the air was warm and laden with the fragrance of roses. "i'd like some breakfast, hank," remarked the girl, feeling more cheerful now that she was on dry land; "but we can't eat the flowers, although they do smell mighty good." "hee-haw!" replied hank and trotted up a little pathway to the top of the bank. betsy followed and from the eminence looked around her. a little way off stood a splendid big greenhouse, its thousands of crystal panes glittering in the sunlight. "there ought to be people somewhere 'round," observed betsy thoughtfully; "gardeners, or somebody. let's go and see, hank. i'm getting hungrier ev'ry minute." so they walked toward the great greenhouse and came to its entrance without meeting with anyone at all. a door stood ajar, so hank went in first, thinking if there was any danger he could back out and warn his companion. but betsy was close at his heels and the moment she entered was lost in amazement at the wonderful sight she saw. the greenhouse was filled with magnificent rosebushes, all growing in big pots. on the central stem of each bush bloomed a splendid rose, gorgeously colored and deliciously fragrant, and in the center of each rose was the face of a lovely girl. as betsy and hank entered, the heads of the roses were drooping and their eyelids were closed in slumber; but the mule was so amazed that he uttered a loud "hee-haw!" and at the sound of his harsh voice the rose leaves fluttered, the roses raised their heads and a hundred startled eyes were instantly fixed upon the intruders. "i--i beg your pardon!" stammered betsy, blushing and confused. "o-o-o-h!" cried the roses, in a sort of sighing chorus; and one of them added: "what a horrid noise!" "why, that was only hank," said betsy, and as if to prove the truth of her words the mule uttered another loud "hee-haw!" at this all the roses turned on their stems as far as they were able and trembled as if some one were shaking their bushes. a dainty moss rose gasped: "dear me! how dreadfully dreadful!" "it isn't dreadful at all," said betsy, somewhat indignant. "when you get used to hank's voice it will put you to sleep." the roses now looked at the mule less fearfully and one of them asked: "is that savage beast named hank?" "yes; hank's my comrade, faithful and true," answered the girl, twining her arms around the little mule's neck and hugging him tight. "aren't you, hank?" hank could only say in reply: "hee-haw!" and at his bray the roses shivered again. "please go away!" begged one. "can't you see you're frightening us out of a week's growth?" "go away!" echoed betsy. "why, we've no place to go. we've just been wrecked." "wrecked?" asked the roses in a surprised chorus. "yes; we were on a big ship and the storm came and wrecked it," explained the girl. "but hank and i caught hold of a raft and floated ashore to this place, and--we're tired and hungry. what country _is_ this, please?" "this is the rose kingdom," replied the moss rose, haughtily, "and it is devoted to the culture of the rarest and fairest roses grown." "i believe it," said betsy, admiring the pretty blossoms. "but only roses are allowed here," continued a delicate tea rose, bending her brows in a frown; "therefore you must go away before the royal gardener finds you and casts you back into the sea." "oh! is there a royal gardener, then?" inquired betsy. "to be sure." "and is he a rose, also?" "of course not; he's a man--a wonderful man," was the reply. "well, i'm not afraid of a man," declared the girl, much relieved, and even as she spoke the royal gardener popped into the greenhouse--a spading fork in one hand and a watering pot in the other. he was a funny little man, dressed in a rose-colored costume, with ribbons at his knees and elbows, and a bunch of ribbons in his hair. his eyes were small and twinkling, his nose sharp and his face puckered and deeply lined. "o-ho!" he exclaimed, astonished to find strangers in his greenhouse, and when hank gave a loud bray the gardener threw the watering pot over the mule's head and danced around with his fork, in such agitation that presently he fell over the handle of the implement and sprawled at full length upon the ground. betsy laughed and pulled the watering pot off from hank's head. the little mule was angry at the treatment he had received and backed toward the gardener threateningly. "look out for his heels!" called betsy warningly and the gardener scrambled to his feet and hastily hid behind the roses. "you are breaking the law!" he shouted, sticking out his head to glare at the girl and the mule. "what law?" asked betsy. "the law of the rose kingdom. no strangers are allowed in these domains." "not when they're shipwrecked?" she inquired. "the law doesn't except shipwrecks," replied the royal gardener, and he was about to say more when suddenly there was a crash of glass and a man came tumbling through the roof of the greenhouse and fell plump to the ground. chapter six shaggy seeks his stray brother this sudden arrival was a queer looking man, dressed all in garments so shaggy that betsy at first thought he must be some animal. but the stranger ended his fall in a sitting position and then the girl saw it was really a man. he held an apple in his hand, which he had evidently been eating when he fell, and so little was he jarred or flustered by the accident that he continued to munch this apple as he calmly looked around him. "good gracious!" exclaimed betsy, approaching him. "who _are_ you, and where did you come from?" "me? oh, i'm shaggy man," said he, taking another bite of the apple. "just dropped in for a short call. excuse my seeming haste." "why, i s'pose you couldn't help the haste," said betsy. "no. i climbed an apple tree, outside; branch gave way and--here i am." as he spoke the shaggy man finished his apple, gave the core to hank--who ate it greedily--and then stood up to bow politely to betsy and the roses. the royal gardener had been frightened nearly into fits by the crash of glass and the fall of the shaggy stranger into the bower of roses, but now he peeped out from behind a bush and cried in his squeaky voice: "you're breaking the law! you're breaking the law!" shaggy stared at him solemnly. "is the glass the law in this country?" he asked. "breaking the glass is breaking the law," squeaked the gardener, angrily. "also, to intrude in any part of the rose kingdom is breaking the law." "how do you know?" asked shaggy. "why, it's printed in a book," said the gardener, coming forward and taking a small book from his pocket. "page thirteen. here it is: 'if any stranger enters the rose kingdom he shall at once be condemned by the ruler and put to death.' so you see, strangers," he continued triumphantly, "it's death for you all and your time has come!" but just here hank interposed. he had been stealthily backing toward the royal gardener, whom he disliked, and now the mule's heels shot out and struck the little man in the middle. he doubled up like the letter "u" and flew out of the door so swiftly--never touching the ground--that he was gone before betsy had time to wink. but the mule's attack frightened the girl. "come," she whispered, approaching the shaggy man and taking his hand; "let's go somewhere else. they'll surely kill us if we stay here!" "don't worry, my dear," replied shaggy, patting the child's head. "i'm not afraid of anything, so long as i have the love magnet." "the love magnet! why, what is that?" asked betsy. "it's a charming little enchantment that wins the heart of everyone who looks upon it," was the reply. "the love magnet used to hang over the gateway to the emerald city, in the land of oz; but when i started on this journey our beloved ruler, ozma of oz, allowed me to take it with me." "oh!" cried betsy, staring hard at him; "are you really from the wonderful land of oz?" "yes. ever been there, my dear?" "no; but i've heard about it. and do you know princess ozma?" "very well indeed." "and--and princess dorothy?" "dorothy's an old chum of mine," declared shaggy. "dear me!" exclaimed betsy. "and why did you ever leave such a beautiful land as oz?" "on an errand," said shaggy, looking sad and solemn. "i'm trying to find my dear little brother." "oh! is he lost?" questioned betsy, feeling very sorry for the poor man. "been lost these ten years," replied shaggy, taking out a handkerchief and wiping a tear from his eye. "i didn't know it until lately, when i saw it recorded in the magic record book of the sorceress glinda, in the land of oz. so now i'm trying to find him." "where was he lost?" asked the girl sympathetically. "back in colorado, where i used to live before i went to oz. brother was a miner, and dug gold out of a mine. one day he went into his mine and never came out. they searched for him, but he was not there. disappeared entirely," shaggy ended miserably. "for goodness sake! what do you s'pose became of him?" she asked. "there is only one explanation," replied shaggy, taking another apple from his pocket and eating it to relieve his misery. "the nome king probably got him." "the nome king! who is he?" "why, he's sometimes called the metal monarch, and his name is ruggedo. lives in some underground cavern. claims to own all the metals hidden in the earth. don't ask me why." "why?" "'cause i don't know. but this ruggedo gets wild with anger if anyone digs gold out of the earth, and my private opinion is that he captured brother and carried him off to his underground kingdom. no--don't ask me why. i see you're dying to ask me why. but i don't know." "but--dear me!--in that case you will never find your lost brother!" exclaimed the girl. "maybe not; but it's my duty to try," answered shaggy. "i've wandered so far without finding him, but that only proves he is not where i've been looking. what i seek now is the hidden passage to the underground cavern of the terrible metal monarch." "well," said betsy doubtfully, "it strikes me that if you ever manage to get there the metal monarch will make you, too, his prisoner." "nonsense!" answered shaggy, carelessly. "you mustn't forget the love magnet." "what about it?" she asked. "when the fierce metal monarch sees the love magnet, he will love me dearly and do anything i ask." "it must be wonderful," said betsy, with awe. "it is," the man assured her. "shall i show it to you?" "oh, do!" she cried; so shaggy searched in his shaggy pocket and drew out a small silver magnet, shaped like a horseshoe. the moment betsy saw it she began to like the shaggy man better than before. hank also saw the magnet and crept up to shaggy to rub his head lovingly against the man's knee. but they were interrupted by the royal gardener, who stuck his head into the greenhouse and shouted angrily: "you are all condemned to death! your only chance to escape is to leave here instantly." this startled little betsy, but the shaggy man merely waved the magnet toward the gardener, who, seeing it, rushed forward and threw himself at shaggy's feet, murmuring in honeyed words: "oh, you lovely, lovely man! how fond i am of you! every shag and bobtail that decorates you is dear to me--all i have is yours! but for goodness' sake get out of here before you die the death." "i'm not going to die," declared shaggy man. "you must. it's the law," exclaimed the gardener, beginning to weep real tears. "it breaks my heart to tell you this bad news, but the law says that all strangers must be condemned by the ruler to die the death." "no ruler has condemned us yet," said betsy. "of course not," added shaggy. "we haven't even seen the ruler of the rose kingdom." "well, to tell the truth," said the gardener, in a perplexed tone of voice, "we haven't any real ruler, just now. you see, all our rulers grow on bushes in the royal gardens, and the last one we had got mildewed and withered before his time. so we had to plant him, and at this time there is no one growing on the royal bushes who is ripe enough to pick." "how do you know?" asked betsy. "why, i'm the royal gardener. plenty of royalties are growing, i admit; but just now they are all green. until one ripens, i am supposed to rule the rose kingdom myself, and see that its laws are obeyed. therefore, much as i love you, shaggy, i must put you to death." "wait a minute," pleaded betsy. "i'd like to see those royal gardens before i die." "so would i," added shaggy man. "take us there, gardener." "oh, i can't do that," objected the gardener. but shaggy again showed him the love magnet and after one glance at it the gardener could no longer resist. he led shaggy, betsy and hank to the end of the great greenhouse and carefully unlocked a small door. passing through this they came into the splendid royal garden of the rose kingdom. it was all surrounded by a tall hedge and within the enclosure grew several enormous rosebushes having thick green leaves of the texture of velvet. upon these bushes grew the members of the royal family of the rose kingdom--men, women and children in all stages of maturity. they all seemed to have a light green hue, as if unripe or not fully developed, their flesh and clothing being alike green. they stood perfectly lifeless upon their branches, which swayed softly in the breeze, and their wide open eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing and unintelligent. while examining these curious growing people, betsy passed behind a big central bush and at once uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. for there, blooming in perfect color and shape, stood a royal princess, whose beauty was amazing. "why, she's ripe!" cried betsy, pushing aside some of the broad leaves to observe her more clearly. "well, perhaps so," admitted the gardener, who had come to the girl's side; "but she's a girl, and so we can't use her for a ruler." "no, indeed!" came a chorus of soft voices, and looking around betsy discovered that all the roses had followed them from the greenhouse and were now grouped before the entrance. "you see," explained the gardener, "the subjects of rose kingdom don't want a girl ruler. they want a king." "a king! we want a king!" repeated the chorus of roses. "isn't she royal?" inquired shaggy, admiring the lovely princess. "of course, for she grows on a royal bush. this princess is named ozga, as she is a distant cousin of ozma of oz; and, were she but a man, we would joyfully hail her as our ruler." the gardener then turned away to talk with his roses and betsy whispered to her companion: "let's pick her, shaggy." "all right," said he. "if she's royal, she has the right to rule this kingdom, and if we pick her she will surely protect us and prevent our being hurt, or driven away." so betsy and shaggy each took an arm of the beautiful rose princess and a little twist of her feet set her free of the branch upon which she grew. very gracefully she stepped down from the bush to the ground, where she bowed low to betsy and shaggy and said in a delightfully sweet voice: "i thank you." but at the sound of these words the gardener and the roses turned and discovered that the princess had been picked, and was now alive. over every face flashed an expression of resentment and anger, and one of the roses cried aloud. "audacious mortals! what have you done?" "picked a princess for you, that's all," replied betsy, cheerfully. "but we won't have her! we want a king!" exclaimed a jacque rose, and another added with a voice of scorn: "no girl shall rule over us!" the newly-picked princess looked from one to another of her rebellious subjects in astonishment. a grieved look came over her exquisite features. "have i no welcome here, pretty subjects?" she asked gently. "have i not come from my royal bush to be your ruler?" "you were picked by mortals, without our consent," replied the moss rose, coldly; "so we refuse to allow you to rule us." "turn her out, gardener, with the others!" cried the tea rose. "just a second, please!" called shaggy, taking the love magnet from his pocket. "i guess this will win their love, princess. here--take it in your hand and let the roses see it." princess ozga took the magnet and held it poised before the eyes of her subjects; but the roses regarded it with calm disdain. "why, what's the matter?" demanded shaggy in surprise. "the magnet never failed to work before!" "i know," said betsy, nodding her head wisely. "these roses have no hearts." "that's it," agreed the gardener. "they're pretty, and sweet, and alive; but still they are roses. their stems have thorns, but no hearts." the princess sighed and handed the magnet to the shaggy man. "what shall i do?" she asked sorrowfully. "turn her out, gardener, with the others!" commanded the roses. "we will have no ruler until a man-rose--a king--is ripe enough to pick." "very well," said the gardener meekly. "you must excuse me, my dear shaggy, for opposing your wishes, but you and the others, including ozga, must get out of rose kingdom immediately, if not before." "don't you love me, gardy?" asked shaggy, carelessly displaying the magnet. "i do. i dote on thee!" answered the gardener earnestly; "but no true man will neglect his duty for the sake of love. my duty is to drive you out, so--out you go!" with this he seized a garden fork and began jabbing it at the strangers, in order to force them to leave. hank the mule was not afraid of the fork and when he got his heels near to the gardener the man fell back to avoid a kick. but now the roses crowded around the outcasts and it was soon discovered that beneath their draperies of green leaves were many sharp thorns which were more dangerous than hank's heels. neither betsy nor ozga nor shaggy nor the mule cared to brave those thorns and when they pressed away from them they found themselves slowly driven through the garden door into the greenhouse. from there they were forced out at the entrance and so through the territory of the flower-strewn rose kingdom, which was not of very great extent. the rose princess was sobbing bitterly; betsy was indignant and angry; hank uttered defiant "hee-haws" and the shaggy man whistled softly to himself. the boundary of the rose kingdom was a deep gulf, but there was a drawbridge in one place and this the royal gardener let down until the outcasts had passed over it. then he drew it up again and returned with his roses to the greenhouse, leaving the four queerly assorted comrades to wander into the bleak and unknown country that lay beyond. "i don't mind, much," remarked shaggy, as he led the way over the stony, barren ground. "i've got to search for my long-lost little brother, anyhow, so it won't matter where i go." "hank and i will help you find your brother," said betsy in her most cheerful voice. "i'm so far away from home now that i don't s'pose i'll ever find my way back; and, to tell the truth, it's more fun traveling around and having adventures than sticking at home. don't you think so, hank?" "hee-haw!" said hank, and the shaggy man thanked them both. "for my part," said princess ozga of roseland, with a gentle sigh, "i must remain forever exiled from my kingdom. so i, too, will be glad to help the shaggy man find his lost brother." "that's very kind of you, ma'am," said shaggy. "but unless i can find the underground cavern of ruggedo, the metal monarch, i shall never find poor brother." (this king was formerly named "roquat," but after he drank of the "waters of oblivion" he forgot his own name and had to take another.) "doesn't anyone know where it is?" inquired betsy. "_some_ one must know, of course," was shaggy's reply. "but we are not the ones. the only way to succeed is for us to keep going until we find a person who can direct us to ruggedo's cavern." "we may find it ourselves, without any help," suggested betsy. "who knows?" "no one knows that, except the person who's writing this story," said shaggy. "but we won't find anything--not even supper--unless we travel on. here's a path. let's take it and see where it leads to." chapter seven polychrome's pitiful plight the rain king got too much water in his basin and spilled some over the brim. that made it rain in a certain part of the country--a real hard shower, for a time--and sent the rainbow scampering to the place to show the gorgeous colors of his glorious bow as soon as the mist of rain had passed and the sky was clear. the coming of the rainbow is always a joyous event to earth folk, yet few have ever seen it close by. usually the rainbow is so far distant that you can observe its splendid hues but dimly, and that is why we seldom catch sight of the dancing daughters of the rainbow. in the barren country where the rain had just fallen there appeared to be no human beings at all; but the rainbow appeared, just the same, and dancing gayly upon its arch were the rainbow's daughters, led by the fairylike polychrome, who is so dainty and beautiful that no girl has ever quite equalled her in loveliness. polychrome was in a merry mood and danced down the arch of the bow to the ground, daring her sisters to follow her. laughing and gleeful, they also touched the ground with their twinkling feet; but all the daughters of the rainbow knew that this was a dangerous pastime, so they quickly climbed upon their bow again. all but polychrome. though the sweetest and merriest of them all, she was likewise the most reckless. moreover, it was an unusual sensation to pat the cold, damp earth with her rosy toes. before she realized it the bow had lifted and disappeared in the billowy blue sky, and here was polychrome standing helpless upon a rock, her gauzy draperies floating about her like brilliant cobwebs and not a soul--fairy or mortal--to help her regain her lost bow! "dear me!" she exclaimed, a frown passing across her pretty face, "i'm caught again. this is the second time my carelessness has left me on earth while my sisters returned to our sky palaces. the first time i enjoyed some pleasant adventures, but this is a lonely, forsaken country and i shall be very unhappy until my rainbow comes again and i can climb aboard. let me think what is best to be done." she crouched low upon the flat rock, drew her draperies about her and bowed her head. it was in this position that betsy bobbin spied polychrome as she came along the stony path, followed by hank, the princess and shaggy. at once the girl ran up to the radiant daughter of the rainbow and exclaimed: "oh, what a lovely, lovely creature!" polychrome raised her golden head. there were tears in her blue eyes. "i'm the most miserable girl in the whole world!" she sobbed. the others gathered around her. "tell us your troubles, pretty one," urged the princess. "i--i've lost my bow!" wailed polychrome. "take me, my dear," said shaggy man in a sympathetic tone, thinking she meant "beau" instead of "bow." "i don't want you!" cried polychrome, stamping her foot imperiously; "i want my _rain_bow." "oh; that's different," said shaggy. "but try to forget it. when i was young i used to cry for the rainbow myself, but i couldn't have it. looks as if _you_ couldn't have it, either; so please don't cry." polychrome looked at him reproachfully. "i don't like you," she said. "no?" replied shaggy, drawing the love magnet from his pocket; "not a little bit?--just a wee speck of a like?" "yes, yes!" said polychrome, clasping her hands in ecstasy as she gazed at the enchanted talisman; "i love you, shaggy man!" "of course you do," said he calmly; "but i don't take any credit for it. it's the love magnet's powerful charm. but you seem quite alone and friendless, little rainbow. don't you want to join our party until you find your father and sisters again?" "where are you going?" she asked. "we don't just know that," said betsy, taking her hand; "but we're trying to find shaggy's long-lost brother, who has been captured by the terrible metal monarch. won't you come with us, and help us?" polychrome looked from one to another of the queer party of travelers and a bewitching smile suddenly lighted her face. "a donkey, a mortal maid, a rose princess and a shaggy man!" she exclaimed. "surely you need help, if you intend to face ruggedo." "do you know him, then?" inquired betsy. "no, indeed. ruggedo's caverns are beneath the earth's surface, where no rainbow can ever penetrate. but i've heard of the metal monarch. he is also called the nome king, you know, and he has made trouble for a good many people--mortals and fairies--in his time," said polychrome. "do you fear him, then?" asked the princess, anxiously. "no one can harm a daughter of the rainbow," said polychrome proudly. "i'm a sky fairy." "then," said betsy, quickly, "you will be able to tell us the way to ruggedo's cavern." "no," returned polychrome, shaking her head, "that is one thing i cannot do. but i will gladly go with you and help you search for the place." this promise delighted all the wanderers and after the shaggy man had found the path again they began moving along it in a more happy mood. the rainbow's daughter danced lightly over the rocky trail, no longer sad, but with her beautiful features wreathed in smiles. shaggy came next, walking steadily and now and then supporting the rose princess, who followed him. betsy and hank brought up the rear, and if she tired with walking the girl got upon hank's back and let the stout little donkey carry her for awhile. at nightfall they came to some trees that grew beside a tiny brook and here they made camp and rested until morning. then away they tramped, finding berries and fruits here and there which satisfied the hunger of betsy, shaggy and hank, so that they were well content with their lot. it surprised betsy to see the rose princess partake of their food, for she considered her a fairy; but when she mentioned this to polychrome, the rainbow's daughter explained that when ozga was driven out of her rose kingdom she ceased to be a fairy and would never again be more than a mere mortal. polychrome, however, was a fairy wherever she happened to be, and if she sipped a few dewdrops by moonlight for refreshment no one ever saw her do it. as they continued their wandering journey, direction meant very little to them, for they were hopelessly lost in this strange country. shaggy said it would be best to go toward the mountains, as the natural entrance to ruggedo's underground cavern was likely to be hidden in some rocky, deserted place; but mountains seemed all around them except in the one direction that they had come from, which led to the rose kingdom and the sea. therefore it mattered little which way they traveled. by and by they espied a faint trail that looked like a path and after following this for some time they reached a crossroads. here were many paths, leading in various directions, and there was a signpost so old that there were now no words upon the sign. at one side was an old well, with a chain windlass for drawing water, yet there was no house or other building anywhere in sight. while the party halted, puzzled which way to proceed, the mule approached the well and tried to look into it. "he's thirsty," said betsy. "it's a dry well," remarked shaggy. "probably there has been no water in it for many years. but, come; let us decide which way to travel." no one seemed able to decide that. they sat down in a group and tried to consider which road might be the best to take. hank, however, could not keep away from the well and finally he reared up on his hind legs, got his head over the edge and uttered a loud "hee-haw!" betsy watched her animal friend curiously. "i wonder if he sees anything down there?" she said. at this, shaggy rose and went over to the well to investigate, and betsy went with him. the princess and polychrome, who had become fast friends, linked arms and sauntered down one of the roads, to find an easy path. "really," said shaggy, "there does seem to be something at the bottom of this old well." "can't we pull it up, and see what it is?" asked the girl. there was no bucket at the end of the windlass chain, but there was a big hook that at one time was used to hold a bucket. shaggy let down this hook, dragged it around on the bottom and then pulled it up. an old hoopskirt came with it, and betsy laughed and threw it away. the thing frightened hank, who had never seen a hoopskirt before, and he kept a good distance away from it. several other objects the shaggy man captured with the hook and drew up, but none of these was important. "this well seems to have been the dump for all the old rubbish in the country," he said, letting down the hook once more. "i guess i've captured everything now. no--the hook has caught again. help me, betsy! whatever this thing is, it's heavy." she ran up and helped him turn the windlass and after much effort a confused mass of copper came in sight. "good gracious!" exclaimed shaggy. "here is a surprise, indeed!" "what is it?" inquired betsy, clinging to the windlass and panting for breath. for answer the shaggy man grasped the bundle of copper and dumped it upon the ground, free of the well. then he turned it over with his foot, spread it out, and to betsy's astonishment the thing proved to be a copper man. "just as i thought," said shaggy, looking hard at the object. "but unless there are two copper men in the world this is the most astonishing thing i ever came across." at this moment the rainbow's daughter and the rose princess approached them, and polychrome said: "what have you found, shaggy one?" "either an old friend, or a stranger," he replied. "oh, here's a sign on his back!" cried betsy, who had knelt down to examine the man. "dear me; how funny! listen to this." then she read the following words, engraved upon the copper plates of the man's body: smith & tinker's patent double-action, extra-responsive, thought-creating, perfect-talking mechanical man fitted with our special clockwork attachment. thinks, speaks, acts, and does everything but live. "isn't he wonderful!" exclaimed the princess. "yes; but here's more," said betsy, reading from another engraved plate: directions for using: for thinking:--wind the clockwork man under his left arm, (marked no. ). for speaking:--wind the clockwork man under his right arm, (marked no. ). for walking and action:--wind clockwork man in the middle of his back, (marked no. ). n. b.--this mechanism is guaranteed to work perfectly for a thousand years. "if he's guaranteed for a thousand years," said polychrome, "he ought to work yet." "of course," replied shaggy. "let's wind him up." in order to do this they were obliged to set the copper man upon his feet, in an upright position, and this was no easy task. he was inclined to topple over, and had to be propped again and again. the girls assisted shaggy, and at last tik-tok seemed to be balanced and stood alone upon his broad feet. "yes," said shaggy, looking at the copper man carefully, "this must be, indeed, my old friend tik-tok, whom i left ticking merrily in the land of oz. but how he came to this lonely place, and got into that old well, is surely a mystery." "if we wind him, perhaps he will tell us," suggested betsy. "here's the key, hanging to a hook on his back. what part of him shall i wind up first?" "his thoughts, of course," said polychrome, "for it requires thought to speak or move intelligently." so betsy wound him under his left arm, and at once little flashes of light began to show in the top of his head, which was proof that he had begun to think. "now, then," said shaggy, "wind up his phonograph." "what's that?" she asked. "why, his talking-machine. his thoughts may be interesting, but they don't tell us anything." so betsy wound the copper man under his right arm, and then from the interior of his copper body came in jerky tones the words: "ma-ny thanks!" "hurrah!" cried shaggy, joyfully, and he slapped tik-tok upon the back in such a hearty manner that the copper man lost his balance and tumbled to the ground in a heap. but the clockwork that enabled him to speak had been wound up and he kept saying: "pick-me-up! pick-me-up! pick-me-up!" until they had again raised him and balanced him upon his feet, when he added politely: "ma-ny thanks!" "he won't be self-supporting until we wind up his action," remarked shaggy; so betsy wound it, as tight as she could--for the key turned rather hard--and then tik-tok lifted his feet, marched around in a circle and ended by stopping before the group and making them all a low bow. "how in the world did you happen to be in that well, when i left you safe in oz?" inquired shaggy. "it is a long sto-ry," replied tik-tok, "but i'll tell it in a few words. af-ter you had gone in search of your broth-er, oz-ma saw you wan-der-ing in strange lands when-ev-er she looked in her mag-ic pic-ture, and she also saw your broth-er in the nome king's cavern; so she sent me to tell you where to find your broth-er and told me to help you if i could. the sor-cer-ess, glin-da the good, trans-port-ed me to this place in the wink of an eye; but here i met the nome king him-self--old rug-ge-do, who is called in these parts the met-al mon-arch. rug-ge-do knew what i had come for, and he was so an-gry that he threw me down the well. af-ter my works ran down i was help-less un-til you came a-long and pulled me out a-gain. ma-ny thanks." "this is, indeed, good news," said shaggy. "i suspected that my brother was the prisoner of ruggedo; but now i know it. tell us, tik-tok, how shall we get to the nome king's underground cavern?" "the best way is to walk," said tik-tok. "we might crawl, or jump, or roll o-ver and o-ver until we get there; but the best way is to walk." "i know; but which road shall we take?" "my ma-chin-er-y is-n't made to tell that," replied tik-tok. "there is more than one entrance to the underground cavern," said polychrome; "but old ruggedo has cleverly concealed every opening, so that earth dwellers can not intrude in his domain. if we find our way underground at all, it will be by chance." "then," said betsy, "let us select any road, haphazard, and see where it leads us." "that seems sensible," declared the princess. "it may require a lot of time for us to find ruggedo, but we have more time than anything else." "if you keep me wound up," said tik-tok, "i will last a thou-sand years." "then the only question to decide is which way to go," added shaggy, looking first at one road and then at another. but while they stood hesitating, a peculiar sound reached their ears--a sound like the tramping of many feet. "what's coming?" cried betsy; and then she ran to the left-hand road and glanced along the path. "why, it's an army!" she exclaimed. "what shall we do, hide or run?" "stand still," commanded shaggy. "i'm not afraid of an army. if they prove to be friendly, they can help us; if they are enemies, i'll show them the love magnet." chapter eight tik-tok tackles a tough task while shaggy and his companions stood huddled in a group at one side, the army of oogaboo was approaching along the pathway, the tramp of their feet being now and then accompanied by a dismal groan as one of the officers stepped on a sharp stone or knocked his funnybone against his neighbor's sword-handle. then out from among the trees marched private files, bearing the banner of oogaboo, which fluttered from a long pole. this pole he stuck in the ground just in front of the well and then he cried in a loud voice: "i hereby conquer this territory in the name of queen ann soforth of oogaboo, and all the inhabitants of the land i proclaim her slaves!" some of the officers now stuck their heads out of the bushes and asked: "is the coast clear, private files?" "there is no coast here," was the reply, "but all's well." "i hope there's water in it," said general cone, mustering courage to advance to the well; but just then he caught a glimpse of tik-tok and shaggy and at once fell upon his knees, trembling and frightened and cried out: "mercy, kind enemies! mercy! spare us, and we will be your slaves forever!" the other officers, who had now advanced into the clearing, likewise fell upon their knees and begged for mercy. files turned around and, seeing the strangers for the first time, examined them with much curiosity. then, discovering that three of the party were girls, he lifted his cap and made a polite bow. "what's all this?" demanded a harsh voice, as queen ann reached the place and beheld her kneeling army. "permit us to introduce ourselves," replied shaggy, stepping forward. "this is tik-tok, the clockwork man--who works better than some meat people. and here is princess ozga of roseland, just now unfortunately exiled from her kingdom of roses. i next present polychrome, a sky fairy, who lost her bow by an accident and can't find her way home. the small girl here is betsy bobbin, from some unknown earthly paradise called oklahoma, and with her you see mr. hank, a mule with a long tail and a short temper." "puh!" said ann, scornfully; "a pretty lot of vagabonds you are, indeed; all lost or strayed, i suppose, and not worth a queen's plundering. i'm sorry i've conquered you." "but you haven't conquered us yet," called betsy indignantly. "no," agreed files, "that is a fact. but if my officers will kindly command me to conquer you, i will do so at once, after which we can stop arguing and converse more at our ease." the officers had by this time risen from their knees and brushed the dust from their trousers. to them the enemy did not look very fierce, so the generals and colonels and majors and captains gained courage to face them and began strutting in their most haughty manner. "you must understand," said ann, "that i am the queen of oogaboo, and this is my invincible army. we are busy conquering the world, and since you seem to be a part of the world, and are obstructing our journey, it is necessary for us to conquer you--unworthy though you may be of such high honor." "that's all right," replied shaggy. "conquer us as often as you like. we don't mind." "but we won't be anybody's slaves," added betsy, positively. "we'll see about that," retorted the queen, angrily. "advance, private files, and bind the enemy hand and foot!" but private files looked at pretty betsy and fascinating polychrome and the beautiful rose princess and shook his head. "it would be impolite, and i won't do it," he asserted. "you must!" cried ann. "it is your duty to obey orders." "i haven't received any orders from my officers," objected the private. but the generals now shouted: "forward, and bind the prisoners!" and the colonels and majors and captains repeated the command, yelling it as loud as they could. all this noise annoyed hank, who had been eyeing the army of oogaboo with strong disfavor. the mule now dashed forward and began backing upon the officers and kicking fierce and dangerous heels at them. the attack was so sudden that the officers scattered like dust in a whirlwind, dropping their swords as they ran and trying to seek refuge behind the trees and bushes. betsy laughed joyously at the comical rout of the "noble army," and polychrome danced with glee. but ann was furious at this ignoble defeat of her gallant forces by one small mule. "private files, i command you to do your duty!" she cried again, and then she herself ducked to escape the mule's heels--for hank made no distinction in favor of a lady who was an open enemy. betsy grabbed her champion by the forelock, however, and so held him fast, and when the officers saw that the mule was restrained from further attacks they crept fearfully back and picked up their discarded swords. "private files, seize and bind these prisoners!" screamed the queen. "no," said files, throwing down his gun and removing the knapsack which was strapped to his back, "i resign my position as the army of oogaboo. i enlisted to fight the enemy and become a hero, but if you want some one to bind harmless girls you will have to hire another private." then he walked over to the others and shook hands with shaggy and tik-tok. "treason!" shrieked ann, and all the officers echoed her cry. "nonsense," said files. "i've the right to resign if i want to." "indeed you haven't!" retorted the queen. "if you resign it will break up my army, and then i cannot conquer the world." she now turned to the officers and said: "i must ask you to do me a favor. i know it is undignified in officers to fight, but unless you immediately capture private files and force him to obey my orders there will be no plunder for any of us. also it is likely you will all suffer the pangs of hunger, and when we meet a powerful foe you are liable to be captured and made slaves." the prospect of this awful fate so frightened the officers that they drew their swords and rushed upon files, who stood beside shaggy, in a truly ferocious manner. the next instant, however, they halted and again fell upon their knees; for there, before them, was the glistening love magnet, held in the hand of the smiling shaggy man, and the sight of this magic talisman at once won the heart of every oogabooite. even ann saw the love magnet, and forgetting all enmity and anger threw herself upon shaggy and embraced him lovingly. quite disconcerted by this unexpected effect of the magnet, shaggy disengaged himself from the queen's encircling arms and quickly hid the talisman in his pocket. the adventurers from oogaboo were now his firm friends, and there was no more talk about conquering and binding any of his party. "if you insist on conquering anyone," said shaggy, "you may march with me to the underground kingdom of ruggedo. to conquer the world, as you have set out to do, you must conquer everyone under its surface as well as those upon its surface, and no one in all the world needs conquering so much as ruggedo." "who is he?" asked ann. "the metal monarch, king of the nomes." "is he rich?" inquired major stockings in an anxious voice. "of course," answered shaggy. "he owns all the metal that lies underground--gold, silver, copper, brass and tin. he has an idea he also owns all the metals above ground, for he says all metal was once a part of his kingdom. so, by conquering the metal monarch, you will win all the riches in the world." "ah!" exclaimed general apple, heaving a deep sigh, "that would be plunder worth our while. let's conquer him, your majesty." the queen looked reproachfully at files, who was sitting next to the lovely princess and whispering in her ear. "alas," said ann, "i have no longer an army. i have plenty of brave officers, indeed, but no private soldier for them to command. therefore i cannot conquer ruggedo and win all his wealth." "why don't you make one of your officers the private?" asked shaggy; but at once every officer began to protest and the queen of oogaboo shook her head as she replied: "that is impossible. a private soldier must be a terrible fighter, and my officers are unable to fight. they are exceptionally brave in commanding others to fight, but could not themselves meet the enemy and conquer." "very true, your majesty," said colonel plum, eagerly. "there are many kinds of bravery and one cannot be expected to possess them all. i myself am brave as a lion in all ways until it comes to fighting, but then my nature revolts. fighting is unkind and liable to be injurious to others; so, being a gentleman, i never fight." "nor i!" shouted each of the other officers. "you see," said ann, "how helpless i am. had not private files proved himself a traitor and a deserter, i would gladly have conquered this ruggedo; but an army without a private soldier is like a bee without a stinger." "i am not a traitor, your majesty," protested files. "i resigned in a proper manner, not liking the job. but there are plenty of people to take my place. why not make shaggy man the private soldier?" "he might be killed," said ann, looking tenderly at shaggy, "for he is mortal, and able to die. if anything happened to him, it would break my heart." "it would hurt me worse than that," declared shaggy. "you must admit, your majesty, that i am commander of this expedition, for it is my brother we are seeking, rather than plunder. but i and my companions would like the assistance of your army, and if you help us to conquer ruggedo and to rescue my brother from captivity we will allow you to keep all the gold and jewels and other plunder you may find." this prospect was so tempting that the officers began whispering together and presently colonel cheese said: "your majesty, by combining our brains we have just evolved a most brilliant idea. we will make the clockwork man the private soldier!" "who? me?" asked tik-tok. "not for a sin-gle sec-ond! i can-not fight, and you must not for-get that it was rug-ge-do who threw me in the well." "at that time you had no gun," said polychrome. "but if you join the army of oogaboo you will carry the gun that mr. files used." "a sol-dier must be a-ble to run as well as to fight," protested tik-tok, "and if my works run down, as they of-ten do, i could nei-ther run nor fight." "i'll keep you wound up, tik-tok," promised betsy. "why, it isn't a bad idea," said shaggy. "tik-tok will make an ideal soldier, for nothing can injure him except a sledge hammer. and, since a private soldier seems to be necessary to this army, tik-tok is the only one of our party fitted to undertake the job." "what must i do?" asked tik-tok. "obey orders," replied ann. "when the officers command you to do anything, you must do it; that is all." "and that's enough, too," said files. "do i get a salary?" inquired tik-tok. "you get your share of the plunder," answered the queen. "yes," remarked files, "one-half of the plunder goes to queen ann, the other half is divided among the officers, and the private gets the rest." "that will be sat-is-fac-tor-y," said tik-tok, picking up the gun and examining it wonderingly, for he had never before seen such a weapon. then ann strapped the knapsack to tik-tok's copper back and said: "now we are ready to march to ruggedo's kingdom and conquer it. officers, give the command to march." "fall--in!" yelled the generals, drawing their swords. "fall--in!" cried the colonels, drawing their swords. "fall--in!" shouted the majors, drawing their swords. "fall--in!" bawled the captains, drawing their swords. tik-tok looked at them and then around him in surprise. "fall in what? the well?" he asked. "no," said queen ann, "you must fall in marching order." "can-not i march without fall-ing in-to it?" asked the clockwork man. "shoulder your gun and stand ready to march," advised files; so tik-tok held the gun straight and stood still. "what next?" he asked. the queen turned to shaggy. "which road leads to the metal monarch's cavern?" "we don't know, your majesty," was the reply. "but this is absurd!" said ann with a frown. "if we can't get to ruggedo, it is certain that we can't conquer him." "you are right," admitted shaggy; "but i did not say we could not get to him. we have only to discover the way, and that was the matter we were considering when you and your magnificent army arrived here." "well, then, get busy and discover it," snapped the queen. that was no easy task. they all stood looking from one road to another in perplexity. the paths radiated from the little clearing like the rays of the midday sun, and each path seemed like all the others. files and the rose princess, who had by this time become good friends, advanced a little way along one of the roads and found that it was bordered by pretty wild flowers. "why don't you ask the flowers to tell you the way?" he said to his companion. "the flowers?" returned the princess, surprised at the question. "of course," said files. "the field-flowers must be second-cousins to a rose princess, and i believe if you ask them they will tell you." she looked more closely at the flowers. there were hundreds of white daisies, golden buttercups, bluebells and daffodils growing by the roadside, and each flower-head was firmly set upon its slender but stout stem. there were even a few wild roses scattered here and there and perhaps it was the sight of these that gave the princess courage to ask the important question. she dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the kingdom of ruggedo, the nome king?" at once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "that's it!" cried files joyfully. "now we know the way." ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "no, indeed," replied files. "there is not a breath of wind stirring. but these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as i knew they would." chapter nine ruggedo's rage is rash and reckless the way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. but always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. in this he was quite correct. far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous nome king, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. ruggedo, the monarch of all the metals and precious stones of the underground world, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. one would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. the metal monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. he hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright, uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. the sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. the nomes trembled at the sound of the king's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. the heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and kaliko, the king's high chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "what's up, your majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "up?" roared ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "those foolish mortals are up, that's what! and they want to come down." "down here?" inquired kaliko. "yes!" "how do you know?" continued the chamberlain, yawning again. "i feel it in my bones," said ruggedo. "i can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my kingdom. i am positive, kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and i hate mortals more than i do catnip tea!" "well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the king. so kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. the tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "ho--hum," said he. "i see 'em, your majesty." "what do they look like?" inquired the monarch. "that's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures i never yet beheld," replied the nome. "however, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. there's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "bah! that's only tik-tok," said ruggedo. "i'm not afraid of him. why, only the other day i met the fellow and threw him down a well." "then some one must have pulled him out again," said kaliko. "and there's a little girl--" "dorothy?" asked ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "no; some other girl. in fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but dorothy is not with them, nor is ozma." "that's good!" exclaimed the king, sighing in relief. kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "i see," said he, "an army of men from oogaboo. they are all officers and carry swords. and there is a shaggy man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "pooh!" cried ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "i've no fear of such a mob as that. a dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "i'm not so sure of that," said kaliko. "the people of oogaboo are hard to destroy, and i believe the rose princess is a fairy. as for polychrome, you know very well that the rainbow's daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "polychrome! is she among them?" asked the king. "yes; i have just recognized her." "then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "in fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. i hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "very true," said kaliko. "i must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. where are they now?" "just now they are crossing the rubber country, your majesty." "good! are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "i think so," replied kaliko. "is it your royal will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "it is," answered ruggedo. "i want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." now, shaggy had no idea that he was in a rubber country, nor had any of his companions. they noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. tik-tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and queen ann. after them came betsy bobbin and hank, polychrome and shaggy, and last of all the rose princess with files. the clockwork man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. the result was astonishing. first he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent tik-tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. general apple did not see tik-tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. general cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. there was tik-tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. and there was general apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. and there, also, appeared general cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and polychrome echoed her laughter. but ozga was grave and wondering, while queen ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the army of oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. she shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the army. "why did you do that?" demanded ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "don't ask them why," said shaggy earnestly. "i knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. the reason is plain. those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. even this path is not a path; it's rubber. unless we are very careful, your majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and tik-tok did." "then let's be careful," remarked files, who was full of wisdom; but polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "there is no rubber over here," she called to them. "suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as polychrome had done. then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the rainbow's daughter. "come on, hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. he managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "it's dry water," said polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "in that case," returned betsy, "they can all walk through the water." she called to ozga and shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. at once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping stones, and made the crossing with ease. this encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the nome king's dominions. when kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "bad luck, your majesty! all the invaders have passed the rubber country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. finally the king said: "there's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the hollow tube." kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "if you do that, your majesty," he said, "you will make tititi-hoochoo very angry." "never mind that," retorted ruggedo. "tititi-hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do i care for his anger?" kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the hollow tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." the metal monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. what do you suppose these invaders want?" "let the long-eared hearer listen to them," suggested kaliko. "call him here at once!" commanded ruggedo eagerly. so in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the king. "strangers are approaching," said ruggedo, "and i wish to know their errand. listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." the nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. for half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the king and kaliko grew impatient at the delay. at last the long-eared hearer spoke: "shaggy man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "ha, the ugly one!" exclaimed ruggedo. "well, shaggy man may have his ugly brother, for all i care. he's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. where is the ugly one now, kaliko?" "the last time your majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the metal forest, which i did. i suppose he is still there." "very good. the invaders will have a hard time finding the metal forest," said the king, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time i can't find it myself. yet i created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. but tell me, hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "the army of oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." when he heard this ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but kaliko grabbed up the king's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his royal chamberlain around the throne. the hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the king had tired himself out chasing kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "you'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested kaliko. "there will be a terrible battle when the army of oogaboo gets here." "the army won't get here," said the king, still coughing and panting. "i'll drop 'em down the hollow tube--every man jack and every girl jill of 'em!" "and defy tititi-hoochoo?" asked kaliko. "yes. go at once to my chief magician and order him to turn the path toward the hollow tube, and to make the tip of the tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought ruggedo was making a great mistake. he found the magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the hollow tube, and this opening he made invisible. having obeyed the orders of his master, the royal chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "pretty soon," he said to himself, "i shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty tititi-hoochoo. and in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." chapter ten a terrible tumble through a tube i suppose that polychrome, and perhaps queen ann and her army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of ruggedo's chief magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the rainbow's daughter was a fairy and as oogaboo is a part of the land of oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the nome king could command. but no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when tik-tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. the officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. queen ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. betsy bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to shaggy and polychrome, who were just behind. suddenly hank pitched forward and began falling and betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. all around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. once betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. they were, indeed, descending the "hollow tube" that led to the other side of the world. "stop, hank--stop!" cried the girl; but hank only uttered a plaintive "hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. after several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, betsy gained courage. she could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the tube. whether she and hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. but had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. there was tik-tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. and there were the officers of the army of oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. now followed queen ann, who had struck the tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid betsy and hank, while behind them were shaggy and polychrome and finally files and the princess. when first they tumbled into the tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the nome king's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "this is awful, hank!" cried betsy in a loud voice, and queen ann heard her and called out: "are you safe, betsy?" "mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "how could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" then, after a pause, she added: "but where do you s'pose we're going to, your maj'sty?" "don't ask her that, please don't!" said shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "and please don't ask me why, either." "why?" said betsy. "no one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied shaggy, and then he yelled "ouch!" for polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. the rainbow's daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that betsy echoed it and hank said "hee haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "i'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said polychrome. "but isn't this an odd experience? here am i, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where i never expected to be!" "how do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "why, we can t be anywhere else," replied polychrome. "i have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a magician who was a great traveler. he thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "the star exploded?" asked betsy wonderingly. "yes; the magician hit it so hard." "and what became of the magician?" inquired the girl. "no one knows that," answered polychrome. "but i don't think it matters much." "it matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said queen ann, with a moan. "don't worry," advised polychrome. "i believe the magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "it's fast enough to suit me," remarked shaggy, gently removing polychrome's heel from his left eye. "couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "i'll try," laughed the rainbow's daughter. all this time they were swiftly falling through the tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. but although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them, considerably. files and ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. an hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. then, just as they began to fear the tube would never end, tik-tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "for the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a peculiar person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "what can all this mean?" for answer, queen ann sailed up from the tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the peculiar person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. the mule was heavier and had betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the queen and the peculiar person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the peculiar person so that he could not attack their queen again. by this time, shaggy, polychrome, ozga and files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the tube. it was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. but as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the peculiar person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "where did you come from and how did you get here?" betsy tried to answer him, for queen ann was surly and silent. "i can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause i don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the hollow tube." "don't call it a 'hollow' tube, please," exclaimed the peculiar person in an irritated tone of voice. "if it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "why?" asked betsy. "because all tubes are made that way. but this tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "we didn't do it on purpose," explained betsy, and polychrome added: "i am quite sure that ruggedo, the nome king, pushed us down that tube." "ha! ruggedo! did you say ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "that is what she said," replied shaggy, "and i believe she is right. we were on our way to conquer the nome king when suddenly we fell into the tube." "then you are enemies of ruggedo?" inquired the peculiar person. "not exac'ly enemies," said betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "true," agreed the man. he looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. it will be best to take these strangers to the private citizen." "very well, tubekins," responded a voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. all our friends gave a jump, at this. even polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. shaggy shook his head and sighed; queen ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. but soon they gained courage to look more closely at the peculiar person. as he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, i will try to tell you what he looked like. his face was beautiful, but lacked expression. his eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. his hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. so far no one could find any fault with his appearance. he wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. on the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. his arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. he had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "tubekins" said: "follow me to the residence--all of you!" but just then a voice exclaimed: "here's another of them, tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." "gracious!" cried betsy; "it must be tik-tok, and he'll drown." "water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. but before they could reach it, invisible hands raised tik-tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. he next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted tik-tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "shall i wind him up?" asked betsy, feeling very sorry for tik-tok. "i think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied shaggy. at once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand. shaggy took the can and tried to oil tik-tok's joints. as if to assist him, a strong current of warm air was directed against the copper man which quickly dried him. soon he was able to say "ma-ny thanks!" quite smoothly and his joints worked fairly well. "come!" commanded tubekins, and turning his back upon them he walked up the path toward the castle. "shall we go?" asked queen ann, uncertainly; but just then she received a shove that almost pitched her forward on her head; so she decided to go. the officers who hesitated received several energetic kicks, but could not see who delivered them; therefore they also decided--very wisely--to go. the others followed willingly enough, for unless they ventured upon another terrible journey through the tube they must make the best of the unknown country they were in, and the best seemed to be to obey orders. chapter eleven the famous fellowship of fairies after a short walk through very beautiful gardens they came to the castle and followed tubekins through the entrance and into a great domed chamber, where he commanded them to be seated. from the crown which he wore, betsy had thought this man must be the king of the country they were in, yet after he had seated all the strangers upon benches that were ranged in a semicircle before a high throne, tubekins bowed humbly before the vacant throne and in a flash became invisible and disappeared. the hall was an immense place, but there seemed to be no one in it beside themselves. presently, however, they heard a low cough near them, and here and there was the faint rustling of a robe and a slight patter as of footsteps. then suddenly there rang out the clear tone of a bell and at the sound all was changed. gazing around the hall in bewilderment they saw that it was filled with hundreds of men and women, all with beautiful faces and staring blue eyes and all wearing scarlet robes and jeweled crowns upon their heads. in fact, these people seemed exact duplicates of tubekins and it was difficult to find any mark by which to tell them apart. "my! what a lot of kings and queens!" whispered betsy to polychrome, who sat beside her and appeared much interested in the scene but not a bit worried. "it is certainly a strange sight," was polychrome's reply; "but i cannot see how there can be more than one king, or queen, in any one country, for were these all rulers, no one could tell who was master." one of the kings who stood near and overheard this remark turned to her and said: "one who is master of himself is always a king, if only to himself. in this favored land all kings and queens are equal, and it is our privilege to bow before one supreme ruler--the private citizen." "who's he?" inquired betsy. as if to answer her, the clear tones of the bell again rang out and instantly there appeared seated in the throne the man who was lord and master of all these royal ones. this fact was evident when with one accord they fell upon their knees and touched their foreheads to the floor. the private citizen was not unlike the others, except that his eyes were black instead of blue and in the centers of the black irises glowed red sparks that seemed like coals of fire. but his features were very beautiful and dignified and his manner composed and stately. instead of the prevalent scarlet robe, he wore one of white, and the same dragon's head that decorated the others was embroidered upon its bosom. "what charge lies against these people, tubekins?" he asked in quiet, even tones. "they came through the forbidden tube, o mighty citizen," was the reply. "you see, it was this way," said betsy. "we were marching to the nome king, to conquer him and set shaggy's brother free, when on a sudden--" "who are you?" demanded the private citizen sternly. "me? oh, i'm betsy bobbin, and--" "who is the leader of this party?" asked the citizen. "sir, i am queen ann of oogaboo, and--" "then keep quiet," said the citizen. "who is the leader?" no one answered for a moment. then general bunn stood up. "sit down!" commanded the citizen. "i can see that sixteen of you are merely officers, and of no account." "but we have an army," said general clock, blusteringly, for he didn't like to be told he was of no account. "where is your army?" asked the citizen. "it's me," said tik-tok, his voice sounding a little rusty. "i'm the on-ly pri-vate sol-dier in the par-ty." hearing this, the citizen rose and bowed respectfully to the clockwork man. "pardon me for not realizing your importance before," said he. "will you oblige me by taking a seat beside me on my throne?" tik-tok rose and walked over to the throne, all the kings and queens making way for him. then with clanking steps he mounted the platform and sat on the broad seat beside the citizen. ann was greatly provoked at this mark of favor shown to the humble clockwork man, but shaggy seemed much pleased that his old friend's importance had been recognized by the ruler of this remarkable country. the citizen now began to question tik-tok, who told in his mechanical voice about shaggy's quest of his lost brother, and how ozma of oz had sent the clockwork man to assist him, and how they had fallen in with queen ann and her people from oogaboo. also he told how betsy and hank and polychrome and the rose princess had happened to join their party. "and you intended to conquer ruggedo, the metal monarch and king of the nomes?" asked the citizen. "yes. that seemed the on-ly thing for us to do," was tik-tok's reply. "but he was too clev-er for us. when we got close to his cav-ern he made our path lead to the tube, and made the op-en-ing in-vis-i-ble, so that we all fell in-to it be-fore we knew it was there. it was an eas-y way to get rid of us and now rug-gedo is safe and we are far a-way in a strange land." the citizen was silent a moment and seemed to be thinking. then he said: "most noble private soldier, i must inform you that by the laws of our country anyone who comes through the forbidden tube must be tortured for nine days and ten nights and then thrown back into the tube. but it is wise to disregard laws when they conflict with justice, and it seems that you and your followers did not disobey our laws willingly, being forced into the tube by ruggedo. therefore the nome king is alone to blame, and he alone must be punished." "that suits me," said tik-tok. "but rug-ge-do is on the o-ther side of the world where he is a-way out of your reach." the citizen drew himself up proudly. "do you imagine anything in the world or upon it can be out of the reach of the great jinjin?" he asked. "oh! are you, then, the great jinjin?" inquired tik-tok. "i am." "then your name is ti-ti-ti-hoo-choo?" "it is." queen ann gave a scream and began to tremble. shaggy was so disturbed that he took out a handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his brow. polychrome looked sober and uneasy for the first time, while files put his arms around the rose princess as if to protect her. as for the officers, the name of the great jinjin set them moaning and weeping at a great rate and every one fell upon his knees before the throne, begging for mercy. betsy was worried at seeing her companions so disturbed, but did not know what it was all about. only tik-tok was unmoved at the discovery. "then," said he, "if you are ti-ti-ti-hoo-choo, and think rug-ge-do is to blame, i am sure that some-thing queer will hap-pen to the king of the nomes." "i wonder what 'twill be," said betsy. the private citizen--otherwise known as tititi-hoochoo, the great jinjin--looked at the little girl steadily. "i will presently decide what is to happen to ruggedo," said he in a hard, stern voice. then, turning to the throng of kings and queens, he continued: "tik-tok has spoken truly, for his machinery will not allow him to lie, nor will it allow his thoughts to think falsely. therefore these people are not our enemies and must be treated with consideration and justice. take them to your palaces and entertain them as guests until to-morrow, when i command that they be brought again to my residence. by then i shall have formed my plans." no sooner had tititi-hoochoo spoken than he disappeared from sight. immediately after, most of the kings and queens likewise disappeared. but several of them remained visible and approached the strangers with great respect. one of the lovely queens said to betsy: "i trust you will honor me by being my guest. i am erma, queen of light." "may hank come with me?" asked the girl. "the king of animals will care for your mule," was the reply. "but do not fear for him, for he will be treated royally. all of your party will be reunited on the morrow." "i--i'd like to have _some_ one with me," said betsy, pleadingly. queen erma looked around and smiled upon polychrome. "will the rainbow's daughter be an agreeable companion?" she asked. "oh, yes!" exclaimed the girl. so polychrome and betsy became guests of the queen of light, while other beautiful kings and queens took charge of the others of the party. the two girls followed erma out of the hall and through the gardens of the residence to a village of pretty dwellings. none of these was so large or imposing as the castle of the private citizen, but all were handsome enough to be called palaces--as, in fact, they really were. chapter twelve the lovely lady of light the palace of the queen of light stood on a little eminence and was a mass of crystal windows, surmounted by a vast crystal dome. when they entered the portals erma was greeted by six lovely maidens, evidently of high degree, who at once aroused betsy's admiration. each bore a wand in her hand, tipped with an emblem of light, and their costumes were also emblematic of the lights they represented. erma introduced them to her guests and each made a graceful and courteous acknowledgment. first was sunlight, radiantly beautiful and very fair; the second was moonlight, a soft, dreamy damsel with nut-brown hair; next came starlight, equally lovely but inclined to be retiring and shy. these three were dressed in shimmering robes of silvery white. the fourth was daylight, a brilliant damsel with laughing eyes and frank manners, who wore a variety of colors. then came firelight, clothed in a fleecy flame-colored robe that wavered around her shapely form in a very attractive manner. the sixth maiden, electra, was the most beautiful of all, and betsy thought from the first that both sunlight and daylight regarded electra with envy and were a little jealous of her. but all were cordial in their greetings to the strangers and seemed to regard the queen of light with much affection, for they fluttered around her in a flashing, radiant group as she led the way to her regal drawing-room. this apartment was richly and cosily furnished, the upholstery being of many tints, and both betsy and polychrome enjoyed resting themselves upon the downy divans after their strenuous adventures of the day. the queen sat down to chat with her guests, who noticed that daylight was the only maiden now seated beside erma. the others had retired to another part of the room, where they sat modestly with entwined arms and did not intrude themselves at all. the queen told the strangers all about this beautiful land, which is one of the chief residences of fairies who minister to the needs of mankind. so many important fairies lived there that, to avoid rivalry, they had elected as their ruler the only important personage in the country who had no duties to mankind to perform and was, in effect, a private citizen. this ruler, or jinjin, as was his title, bore the name of tititi-hoochoo, and the most singular thing about him was that he had no heart. but instead of this he possessed a high degree of reason and justice and while he showed no mercy in his judgments he never punished unjustly or without reason. to wrong-doers tititi-hoochoo was as terrible as he was heartless, but those who were innocent of evil had nothing to fear from him. all the kings and queens of this fairyland paid reverence to jinjin, for as they expected to be obeyed by others they were willing to obey the one in authority over them. the inhabitants of the land of oz had heard many tales of this fearfully just jinjin, whose punishments were always equal to the faults committed. polychrome also knew of him, although this was the first time she had ever seen him face to face. but to betsy the story was all new, and she was greatly interested in tititi-hoochoo, whom she no longer feared. time sped swiftly during their talk and suddenly betsy noticed that moonlight was sitting beside the queen of light, instead of daylight. "but tell me, please," she pleaded, "why do you all wear a dragon's head embroidered on your gowns?" erma's pleasant face became grave as she answered: "the dragon, as you must know, was the first living creature ever made; therefore the dragon is the oldest and wisest of living things. by good fortune the original dragon, who still lives, is a resident of this land and supplies us with wisdom whenever we are in need of it. he is old as the world and remembers everything that has happened since the world was created." "did he ever have any children?" inquired the girl. "yes, many of them. some wandered into other lands, where men, not understanding them, made war upon them; but many still reside in this country. none, however, is as wise as the original dragon, for whom we have great respect. as he was the first resident here, we wear the emblem of the dragon's head to show that we are the favored people who alone have the right to inhabit this fairyland, which in beauty almost equals the fairyland of oz, and in power quite surpasses it." "i understand about the dragon, now," said polychrome, nodding her lovely head. betsy did not quite understand, but she was at present interested in observing the changing lights. as daylight had given way to moonlight, so now starlight sat at the right hand of erma the queen, and with her coming a spirit of peace and content seemed to fill the room. polychrome, being herself a fairy, had many questions to ask about the various kings and queens who lived in this far-away, secluded place, and before erma had finished answering them a rosy glow filled the room and firelight took her place beside the queen. betsy liked firelight, but to gaze upon her warm and glowing features made the little girl sleepy, and presently she began to nod. thereupon erma rose and took betsy's hand gently in her own. "come," said she; "the feast time has arrived and the feast is spread." "that's nice," exclaimed the small mortal. "now that i think of it, i'm awful hungry. but p'raps i can't eat your fairy food." the queen smiled and led her to a doorway. as she pushed aside a heavy drapery a flood of silvery light greeted them, and betsy saw before her a splendid banquet hall, with a table spread with snowy linen and crystal and silver. at one side was a broad, throne-like seat for erma and beside her now sat the brilliant maid electra. polychrome was placed on the queen's right hand and betsy upon her left. the other five messengers of light now waited upon them, and each person was supplied with just the food she liked best. polychrome found her dish of dewdrops, all fresh and sparkling, while betsy was so lavishly served that she decided she had never in her life eaten a dinner half so good. "i s'pose," she said to the queen, "that miss electra is the youngest of all these girls." "why do you suppose that?" inquired erma, with a smile. "'cause electric'ty is the newest light we know of. didn't mr. edison discover it?" "perhaps he was the first mortal to discover it," replied the queen. "but electricity was a part of the world from its creation, and therefore my electra is as old as daylight or moonlight, and equally beneficent to mortals and fairies alike." betsy was thoughtful for a time. then she remarked, as she looked at the six messengers of light: "we couldn't very well do without any of 'em; could we?" erma laughed softly. "_i_ couldn't, i'm sure," she replied, "and i think mortals would miss any one of my maidens, as well. daylight cannot take the place of sunlight, which gives us strength and energy. moonlight is of value when daylight, worn out with her long watch, retires to rest. if the moon in its course is hidden behind the earth's rim, and my sweet moonlight cannot cheer us, starlight takes her place, for the skies always lend her power. without firelight we should miss much of our warmth and comfort, as well as much cheer when the walls of houses encompass us. but always, when other lights forsake us, our glorious electra is ready to flood us with bright rays. as queen of light, i love all my maidens, for i know them to be faithful and true." "i love 'em, too!" declared betsy. "but sometimes, when i'm _real_ sleepy, i can get along without any light at all." "are you sleepy now?" inquired erma, for the feast had ended. "a little," admitted the girl. so electra showed her to a pretty chamber where there was a soft, white bed, and waited patiently until betsy had undressed and put on a shimmery silken nightrobe that lay beside her pillow. then the light-maid bade her good night and opened the door. when she closed it after her betsy was in darkness. in six winks the little girl was fast asleep. chapter thirteen the jinjin's just judgment all the adventurers were reunited next morning when they were brought from various palaces to the residence of tititi-hoochoo and ushered into the great hall of state. as before, no one was visible except our friends and their escorts until the first bell sounded. then in a flash the room was seen to be filled with the beautiful kings and queens of the land. the second bell marked the appearance in the throne of the mighty jinjin, whose handsome countenance was as composed and expressionless as ever. all bowed low to the ruler. their voices softly murmured: "we greet the private citizen, mightiest of rulers, whose word is law and whose law is just." tititi-hoochoo bowed in acknowledgment. then, looking around the brilliant assemblage, and at the little group of adventurers before him, he said: "an unusual thing has happened. inhabitants of other lands than ours, who are different from ourselves in many ways, have been thrust upon us through the forbidden tube, which one of our people foolishly made years ago and was properly punished for his folly. but these strangers had no desire to come here and were wickedly thrust into the tube by a cruel king on the other side of the world, named ruggedo. this king is an immortal, but he is not good. his magic powers hurt mankind more than they benefit them. because he had unjustly kept the shaggy man's brother a prisoner, this little band of honest people, consisting of both mortals and immortals, determined to conquer ruggedo and to punish him. fearing they might succeed in this, the nome king misled them so that they fell into the tube. "now, this same ruggedo has been warned by me, many times, that if ever he used this forbidden tube in any way he would be severely punished. i find, by referring to the fairy records, that this king's servant, a nome named kaliko, begged his master not to do such a wrong act as to drop these people into the tube and send them tumbling into our country. but ruggedo defied me and my orders. "therefore these strangers are innocent of any wrong. it is only ruggedo who deserves punishment, and i will punish him." he paused a moment and then continued in the same cold, merciless voice: "these strangers must return through the tube to their own side of the world; but i will make their fall more easy and pleasant than it was before. also i shall send with them an instrument of vengeance, who in my name will drive ruggedo from his underground caverns, take away his magic powers and make him a homeless wanderer on the face of the earth--a place he detests." there was a little murmur of horror from the kings and queens at the severity of this punishment, but no one uttered a protest, for all realized that the sentence was just. "in selecting my instrument of vengeance," went on tititi-hoochoo, "i have realized that this will be an unpleasant mission. therefore no one of us who is blameless should be forced to undertake it. in this wonderful land it is seldom one is guilty of wrong, even in the slightest degree, and on examining the records i found no king or queen had erred. nor had any among their followers or servants done any wrong. but finally i came to the dragon family, which we highly respect, and then it was that i discovered the error of quox. "quox, as you well know, is a young dragon who has not yet acquired the wisdom of his race. because of this lack, he has been disrespectful toward his most ancient ancestor, the original dragon, telling him once to mind his own business and again saying that the ancient one had grown foolish with age. we are aware that dragons are not the same as fairies and cannot be altogether guided by our laws, yet such disrespect as quox has shown should not be unnoticed by us. therefore i have selected quox as my royal instrument of vengeance and he shall go through the tube with these people and inflict upon ruggedo the punishment i have decreed." all had listened quietly to this speech and now the kings and queens bowed gravely to signify their approval of the jinjin's judgment. tititi-hoochoo turned to tubekins. "i command you," said he, "to escort these strangers to the tube and see that they all enter it." the king of the tube, who had first discovered our friends and brought them to the private citizen, stepped forward and bowed. as he did so, the jinjin and all the kings and queens suddenly disappeared and only tubekins remained visible. "all right," said betsy, with a sigh; "i don't mind going back so _very_ much, 'cause the jinjin promised to make it easy for us." indeed, queen ann and her officers were the only ones who looked solemn and seemed to fear the return journey. one thing that bothered ann was her failure to conquer this land of tititi-hoochoo. as they followed their guide through the gardens to the mouth of the tube she said to shaggy: "how can i conquer the world, if i go away and leave this rich country unconquered?" "you can't," he replied. "don't ask me why, please, for if you don't know i can't inform you." "why not?" said ann; but shaggy paid no attention to the question. this end of the tube had a silver rim and around it was a gold railing to which was attached a sign that read. "if you are out, stay there. if you are in, don't come out." on a little silver plate just inside the tube was engraved the words: "burrowed and built by hiergargo the magician, in the year of the world for his own exclusive uses." "he was some builder, i must say," remarked betsy, when she had read the inscription; "but if he had known about that star i guess he'd have spent his time playing solitaire." "well, what are we waiting for?" inquired shaggy, who was impatient to start. "quox," replied tubekins. "but i think i hear him coming." "is the young dragon invisible?" asked ann, who had never seen a live dragon and was a little fearful of meeting one. "no, indeed," replied the king of the tube. "you'll see him in a minute; but before you part company i'm sure you'll wish he _was_ invisible." "is he dangerous, then?" questioned files. "not at all. but quox tires me dreadfully," said tubekins, "and i prefer his room to his company." at that instant a scraping sound was heard, drawing nearer and nearer until from between two big bushes appeared a huge dragon, who approached the party, nodded his head and said: "good morning." had quox been at all bashful i am sure he would have felt uncomfortable at the astonished stare of every eye in the group--except tubekins, of course, who was not astonished because he had seen quox so often. betsy had thought a "young" dragon must be a small dragon, yet here was one so enormous that the girl decided he must be full grown, if not overgrown. his body was a lovely sky-blue in color and it was thickly set with glittering silver scales, each one as big as a serving-tray. around his neck was a pink ribbon with a bow just under his left ear, and below the ribbon appeared a chain of pearls to which was attached a golden locket about as large around as the end of a bass drum. this locket was set with many large and beautiful jewels. the head and face of quox were not especially ugly, when you consider that he was a dragon; but his eyes were so large that it took him a long time to wink and his teeth seemed very sharp and terrible when they showed, which they did whenever the beast smiled. also his nostrils were quite large and wide, and those who stood near him were liable to smell brimstone--especially when he breathed out fire, as it is the nature of dragons to do. to the end of his long tail was attached a big electric light. perhaps the most singular thing about the dragon's appearance at this time was the fact that he had a row of seats attached to his back, one seat for each member of the party. these seats were double, with curved backs, so that two could sit in them, and there were twelve of these double seats, all strapped firmly around the dragon's thick body and placed one behind the other, in a row that extended from his shoulders nearly to his tail. "aha!" exclaimed tubekins; "i see that tititi-hoochoo has transformed quox into a carryall." "i'm glad of that," said betsy. "i hope, mr. dragon, you won't mind our riding on your back." "not a bit," replied quox. "i'm in disgrace just now, you know, and the only way to redeem my good name is to obey the orders of the jinjin. if he makes me a beast of burden, it is only a part of my punishment, and i must bear it like a dragon. i don't blame you people at all, and i hope you'll enjoy the ride. hop on, please. all aboard for the other side of the world!" silently they took their places. hank sat in the front seat with betsy, so that he could rest his front hoofs upon the dragon's head. behind them were shaggy and polychrome, then files and the princess, and queen ann and tik-tok. the officers rode in the rear seats. when all had mounted to their places the dragon looked very like one of those sightseeing wagons so common in big cities--only he had legs instead of wheels. "all ready?" asked quox, and when they said they were he crawled to the mouth of the tube and put his head in. "good-bye, and good luck to you!" called tubekins; but no one thought to reply, because just then the dragon slid his great body into the tube and the journey to the other side of the world had begun. at first they went so fast that they could scarcely catch their breaths, but presently quox slowed up and said with a sort of cackling laugh: "my scales! but that is some tumble. i think i shall take it easy and fall slower, or i'm likely to get dizzy. is it very far to the other side of the world?" "haven't you ever been through this tube before?" inquired shaggy. "never. nor has anyone else in our country; at least, not since i was born." "how long ago was that?" asked betsy. "that i was born? oh, not very long ago. i'm only a mere child. if i had not been sent on this journey, i would have celebrated my three thousand and fifty-sixth birthday next thursday. mother was going to make me a birthday cake with three thousand and fifty-six candles on it; but now, of course, there will be no celebration, for i fear i shall not get home in time for it." "three thousand and fifty-six years!" cried betsy. "why, i had no idea anything could live that long!" "my respected ancestor, whom i would call a stupid old humbug if i had not reformed, is so old that i am a mere baby compared with him," said quox. "he dates from the beginning of the world, and insists on telling us stories of things that happened fifty thousand years ago, which are of no interest at all to youngsters like me. in fact, grandpa isn't up to date. he lives altogether in the past, so i can't see any good reason for his being alive to-day.... are you people able to see your way, or shall i turn on more light?" "oh, we can see very nicely, thank you; only there's nothing to see but ourselves," answered betsy. this was true. the dragon's big eyes were like headlights on an automobile and illuminated the tube far ahead of them. also he curled his tail upward so that the electric light on the end of it enabled them to see one another quite clearly. but the tube itself was only dark metal, smooth as glass but exactly the same from one of its ends to the other. therefore there was no scenery of interest to beguile the journey. they were now falling so gently that the trip was proving entirely comfortable, as the jinjin had promised it would be; but this meant a longer journey and the only way they could make time pass was to engage in conversation. the dragon seemed a willing and persistent talker and he was of so much interest to them that they encouraged him to chatter. his voice was a little gruff but not unpleasant when one became used to it. "my only fear," said he presently, "is that this constant sliding over the surface of the tube will dull my claws. you see, this hole isn't straight down, but on a steep slant, and so instead of tumbling freely through the air i must skate along the tube. fortunately, there is a file in my tool-kit, and if my claws get dull they can be sharpened again." "why do you want sharp claws?" asked betsy. "they are my natural weapons, and you must not forget that i have been sent to conquer ruggedo." "oh, you needn't mind about that," remarked queen ann, in her most haughty manner; "for when we get to ruggedo i and my invincible army can conquer him without your assistance." "very good," returned the dragon, cheerfully. "that will save me a lot of bother--if you succeed. but i think i shall file my claws, just the same." he gave a long sigh, as he said this, and a sheet of flame, several feet in length, shot from his mouth. betsy shuddered and hank said "hee-haw!" while some of the officers screamed in terror. but the dragon did not notice that he had done anything unusual. "is there fire inside of you?" asked shaggy. "of course," answered quox. "what sort of a dragon would i be if my fire went out?" "what keeps it going?" betsy inquired. "i've no idea. i only know it's there," said quox. "the fire keeps me alive and enables me to move; also to think and speak." "ah! you are ver-y much like my-self," said tik-tok. "the on-ly dif-fer-ence is that i move by clock-work, while you move by fire." "i don't see a particle of likeness between us, i must confess," retorted quox, gruffly. "you are not a live thing; you're a dummy." "but i can do things, you must ad-mit," said tik-tok. "yes, when you are wound up," sneered the dragon. "but if you run down, you are helpless." "what would happen to you, quox, if you ran out of gasoline?" inquired shaggy, who did not like this attack upon his friend. "i don't use gasoline." "well, suppose you ran out of fire." "what's the use of supposing that?" asked quox. "my great-great-great-grandfather has lived since the world began, and he has never once run out of fire to keep him going. but i will confide to you that as he gets older he shows more smoke and less fire. as for tik-tok, he's well enough in his way, but he's merely copper. and the metal monarch knows copper through and through. i wouldn't be surprised if ruggedo melted tik-tok in one of his furnaces and made copper pennies of him." "in that case, i would still keep going," remarked tik-tok, calmly. "pennies do," said betsy regretfully. "this is all nonsense," said the queen, with irritation. "tik-tok is my great army--all but the officers--and i believe he will be able to conquer ruggedo with ease. what do you think, polychrome?" "you might let him try," answered the rainbow's daughter, with her sweet ringing laugh, that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells. "and if tik-tok fails, you have still the big fire-breathing dragon to fall back on." "ah!" said the dragon, another sheet of flame gushing from his mouth and nostrils; "it's a wise little girl, this polychrome. anyone would know she is a fairy." chapter fourteen the long-eared hearer learns by listening during this time ruggedo, the metal monarch and king of the nomes, was trying to amuse himself in his splendid jeweled cavern. it was hard work for ruggedo to find amusement to-day, for all the nomes were behaving well and there was no one to scold or to punish. the king had thrown his sceptre at kaliko six times, without hitting him once. not that kaliko had done anything wrong. on the contrary, he had obeyed the king in every way but one: he would not stand still, when commanded to do so, and let the heavy sceptre strike him. we can hardly blame kaliko for this, and even the cruel ruggedo forgave him; for he knew very well that if he mashed his royal chamberlain he could never find another so intelligent and obedient. kaliko could make the nomes work when their king could not, for the nomes hated ruggedo and there were so many thousands of the quaint little underground people that they could easily have rebelled and defied the king had they dared to do so. sometimes, when ruggedo abused them worse than usual, they grew sullen and threw down their hammers and picks. then, however hard the king scolded or whipped them, they would not work until kaliko came and begged them to. for kaliko was one of themselves and was as much abused by the king as any nome in the vast series of caverns. but to-day all the little people were working industriously at their tasks and ruggedo, having nothing to do, was greatly bored. he sent for the long-eared hearer and asked him to listen carefully and report what was going on in the big world. "it seems," said the hearer, after listening for awhile, "that the women in america have clubs." "are there spikes in them?" asked ruggedo, yawning. "i cannot hear any spikes, your majesty," was the reply. "then their clubs are not as good as my sceptre. what else do you hear?' "there's a war. "bah! there's always a war. what else?" for a time the hearer was silent, bending forward and spreading out his big ears to catch the slightest sound. then suddenly he said: "here is an interesting thing, your majesty. these people are arguing as to who shall conquer the metal monarch, seize his treasure and drive him from his dominions." "what people?" demanded ruggedo, sitting up straight in his throne. "the ones you threw down the hollow tube." "where are they now?" "in the same tube, and coming back this way," said the hearer. ruggedo got out of his throne and began to pace up and down the cavern. "i wonder what can be done to stop them," he mused. "well," said the hearer, "if you could turn the tube upside down, they would be falling the other way, your majesty." ruggedo glared at him wickedly, for it was impossible to turn the tube upside down and he believed the hearer was slyly poking fun at him. presently he asked: "how far away are those people now?" "about nine thousand three hundred and six miles, seventeen furlongs, eight feet and four inches--as nearly as i can judge from the sound of their voices," replied the hearer. "aha! then it will be some time before they arrive," said ruggedo, "and when they get here i shall be ready to receive them." he rushed to his gong and pounded upon it so fiercely that kaliko came bounding into the cavern with one shoe off and one shoe on, for he was just dressing himself after a swim in the hot bubbling lake of the underground kingdom. "kaliko, those invaders whom we threw down the tube are coming back again!" he exclaimed. "i thought they would," said the royal chamberlain, pulling on the other shoe. "tititi-hoochoo would not allow them to remain in his kingdom, of course, and so i've been expecting them back for some time. that was a very foolish action of yours, rug." "what, to throw them down the tube?" "yes. tititi-hoochoo has forbidden us to throw even rubbish into the tube." "pooh! what do i care for the jinjin?" asked ruggedo scornfully. "he never leaves his own kingdom, which is on the other side of the world." "true; but he might send some one through the tube to punish you," suggested kaliko. "i'd like to see him do it! who could conquer my thousands of nomes?" "why, they've been conquered before, if i remember aright," answered kaliko with a grin. "once i saw you running from a little girl named dorothy, and her friends, as if you were really afraid." "well, i _was_ afraid, that time," admitted the nome king, with a deep sigh, "for dorothy had a yellow hen that laid eggs!" the king shuddered as he said "eggs," and kaliko also shuddered, and so did the long-eared hearer; for eggs are the only things that the nomes greatly dread. the reason for this is that eggs belong on the earth's surface, where birds and fowl of all sorts live, and there is something about a hen's egg, especially, that fills a nome with horror. if by chance the inside of an egg touches one of these underground people, he withers up and blows away and that is the end of him--unless he manages quickly to speak a magical word which only a few of the nomes know. therefore ruggedo and his followers had very good cause to shudder at the mere mention of eggs. "but dorothy," said the king, "is not with this band of invaders; nor is the yellow hen. as for tititi-hoochoo, he has no means of knowing that we are afraid of eggs." "you mustn't be too sure of that," kaliko warned him. "tititi-hoochoo knows a great many things, being a fairy, and his powers are far superior to any we can boast." ruggedo shrugged impatiently and turned to the hearer. "listen," said he, "and tell me if you hear any eggs coming through the tube." the long-eared one listened and then shook his head. but kaliko laughed at the king. "no one can hear an egg, your majesty," said he. "the only way to discover the truth is to look through the magic spyglass." "that's it!" cried the king. "why didn't i think of it before? look at once, kaliko!" so kaliko went to the spyglass and by uttering a mumbled charm he caused the other end of it to twist around, so that it pointed down the opening of the tube. then he put his eye to the glass and was able to gaze along all the turns and windings of the magic spyglass and then deep into the tube, to where our friends were at that time falling. "dear me!" he exclaimed. "here comes a dragon." "a big one?" asked ruggedo. "a monster. he has an electric light on the end of his tail, so i can see him very plainly. and the other people are all riding upon his back." "how about the eggs?" inquired the king. kaliko looked again. "i can see no eggs at all," said he; "but i imagine that the dragon is as dangerous as eggs. probably tititi-hoochoo has sent him here to punish you for dropping those strangers into the forbidden tube. i warned you not to do it, your majesty." this news made the nome king anxious. for a few minutes he paced up and down, stroking his long beard and thinking with all his might. after this he turned to kaliko and said: "all the harm a dragon can do is to scratch with his claws and bite with his teeth." "that is not all, but it's quite enough," returned kaliko earnestly. "on the other hand, no one can hurt a dragon, because he's the toughest creature alive. one flop of his huge tail could smash a hundred nomes to pancakes, and with teeth and claws he could tear even you or me into small bits, so that it would be almost impossible to put us together again. once, a few hundred years ago, while wandering through some deserted caverns, i came upon a small piece of a nome lying on the rocky floor. i asked the piece of nome what had happened to it. fortunately the mouth was a part of this piece--the mouth and the left eye--so it was able to tell me that a fierce dragon was the cause. it had attacked the poor nome and scattered him in every direction, and as there was no friend near to collect his pieces and put him together, they had been separated for a great many years. so you see, your majesty, it is not in good taste to sneer at a dragon." the king had listened attentively to kaliko. said he: "it will only be necessary to chain this dragon which tititi-hoochoo has sent here, in order to prevent his reaching us with his claws and teeth." "he also breathes flames," kaliko reminded him. "my nomes are not afraid of fire, nor am i," said ruggedo. "well, how about the army of oogaboo?" "sixteen cowardly officers and tik-tok! why, i could defeat them single-handed; but i won't try to. i'll summon my army of nomes to drive the invaders out of my territory, and if we catch any of them i intend to stick needles into them until they hop with pain." "i hope you won't hurt any of the girls," said kaliko. "i'll hurt 'em all!" roared the angry metal monarch. "and that braying mule i'll make into hoof-soup, and feed it to my nomes, that it may add to their strength." "why not be good to the strangers and release your prisoner, the shaggy man's brother?" suggested kaliko. "never!" "it may save you a lot of annoyance. and you don't want the ugly one." "i don't want him; that's true. but i won't allow anybody to order me around. i'm king of the nomes and i'm the metal monarch, and i shall do as i please and what i please and when i please!" with this speech ruggedo threw his sceptre at kaliko's head, aiming it so well that the royal chamberlain had to fall flat upon the floor in order to escape it. but the hearer did not see the sceptre coming and it swept past his head so closely that it broke off the tip of one of his long ears. he gave a dreadful yell that quite startled ruggedo, and the king was sorry for the accident because those long ears of the hearer were really valuable to him. so the nome king forgot to be angry with kaliko and ordered his chamberlain to summon general guph and the army of nomes and have them properly armed. they were then to march to the mouth of the tube, where they could seize the travelers as soon as they appeared. chapter fifteen the dragon defies danger although the journey through the tube was longer, this time, than before, it was so much more comfortable that none of our friends minded it at all. they talked together most of the time and as they found the dragon good-natured and fond of the sound of his own voice they soon became well acquainted with him and accepted him as a companion. "you see," said shaggy, in his frank way, "quox is on our side, and therefore the dragon is a good fellow. if he happened to be an enemy, instead of a friend, i am sure i should dislike him very much, for his breath smells of brimstone, he is very conceited and he is so strong and fierce that he would prove a dangerous foe." "yes, indeed," returned quox, who had listened to this speech with pleasure; "i suppose i am about as terrible as any living thing. i am glad you find me conceited, for that proves i know my good qualities. as for my breath smelling of brimstone, i really can't help it, and i once met a man whose breath smelled of onions, which i consider far worse." "i don't," said betsy; "i love onions. "and i love brimstone," declared the dragon, "so don't let us quarrel over one another's peculiarities." saying this, he breathed a long breath and shot a flame fifty feet from his mouth. the brimstone made betsy cough, but she remembered about the onions and said nothing. they had no idea how far they had gone through the center of the earth, nor when to expect the trip to end. at one time the little girl remarked: "i wonder when we'll reach the bottom of this hole. and isn't it funny, shaggy man, that what is the bottom to us now, was the top when we fell the other way?" "what puzzles me," said files, "is that we are able to fall both ways." "that," announced tik-tok, "is be-cause the world is round." "exactly," responded shaggy. "the machinery in your head is in fine working order, tik-tok. you know, betsy, that there is such a thing as the attraction of gravitation, which draws everything toward the center of the earth. that is why we fall out of bed, and why everything clings to the surface of the earth." "then why doesn't everything go on down to the center of the earth?" inquired the little girl. "i was afraid you were going to ask me that," replied shaggy in a sad tone. "the reason, my dear, is that the earth is so solid that other solid things can't get through it. but when there's a hole, as there is in this case, we drop right down to the center of the world." "why don't we stop there?" asked betsy. "because we go so fast that we acquire speed enough to carry us right up to the other end." "i don't understand that, and it makes my head ache to try to figure it out," she said after some thought. "one thing draws us to the center and another thing pushes us away from it. but--" "don't ask me why, please," interrupted the shaggy man. "if you can't understand it, let it go at that." "do _you_ understand it?" she inquired. "all the magic isn't in fairyland," he said gravely. "there's lots of magic in all nature, and you may see it as well in the united states, where you and i once lived, as you can here." "i never did," she replied. "because you were so used to it all that you didn't realize it was magic. is anything more wonderful than to see a flower grow and blossom, or to get light out of the electricity in the air? the cows that manufacture milk for us must have machinery fully as remarkable as that in tik-tok's copper body, and perhaps you've noticed that--" and then, before shaggy could finish his speech, the strong light of day suddenly broke upon them, grew brighter, and completely enveloped them. the dragon's claws no longer scraped against the metal tube, for he shot into the open air a hundred feet or more and sailed so far away from the slanting hole that when he landed it was on the peak of a mountain and just over the entrance to the many underground caverns of the nome king. some of the officers tumbled off their seats when quox struck the ground, but most of the dragon's passengers only felt a slight jar. all were glad to be on solid earth again and they at once dismounted and began to look about them. queerly enough, as soon as they had left the dragon, the seats that were strapped to the monster's back disappeared, and this probably happened because there was no further use for them and because quox looked far more dignified in just his silver scales. of course he still wore the forty yards of ribbon around his neck, as well as the great locket, but these only made him look "dressed up," as betsy remarked. now the army of nomes had gathered thickly around the mouth of the tube, in order to be ready to capture the band of invaders as soon as they popped out. there were, indeed, hundreds of nomes assembled, and they were led by guph, their most famous general. but they did not expect the dragon to fly so high, and he shot out of the tube so suddenly that it took them by surprise. when the nomes had rubbed the astonishment out of their eyes and regained their wits, they discovered the dragon quietly seated on the mountainside far above their heads, while the other strangers were standing in a group and calmly looking down upon them. general guph was very angry at the escape, which was no one's fault but his own. "come down here and be captured!" he shouted, waving his sword at them. "come up here and capture us--if you dare!" replied queen ann, who was winding up the clockwork of her private soldier, so he could fight more briskly. guph's first answer was a roar of rage at the defiance; then he turned and issued a command to his nomes. these were all armed with sharp spears and with one accord they raised these spears and threw them straight at their foes, so that they rushed through the air in a perfect cloud of flying weapons. some damage might have been done had not the dragon quickly crawled before the others, his body being so big that it shielded every one of them, including hank. the spears rattled against the silver scales of quox and then fell harmlessly to the ground. they were magic spears, of course, and all straightway bounded back into the hands of those who had thrown them, but even guph could see that it was useless to repeat the attack. it was now queen ann's turn to attack, so the generals yelled "for--ward march!" and the colonels and majors and captains repeated the command and the valiant army of oogaboo, which seemed to be composed mainly of tik-tok, marched forward in single column toward the nomes, while betsy and polychrome cheered and hank gave a loud "hee-haw!" and shaggy shouted "hooray!" and queen ann screamed: "at 'em, tik-tok--at 'em!" the nomes did not await the clockwork man's attack but in a twinkling disappeared into the underground caverns. they made a great mistake in being so hasty, for tik-tok had not taken a dozen steps before he stubbed his copper toe on a rock and fell flat to the ground, where he cried: "pick me up! pick me up! pick me up!" until shaggy and files ran forward and raised him to his feet again. the dragon chuckled softly to himself as he scratched his left ear with his hind claw, but no one was paying much attention to quox just then. it was evident to ann and her officers that there could be no fighting unless the enemy was present, and in order to find the enemy they must boldly enter the underground kingdom of the nomes. so bold a step demanded a council of war. "don't you think i'd better drop in on ruggedo and obey the orders of the jinjin?" asked quox. "by no means!" returned queen ann. "we have already put the army of nomes to flight and all that yet remains is to force our way into those caverns, and conquer the nome king and all his people." "that seems to me something of a job," said the dragon, closing his eyes sleepily. "but go ahead, if you like, and i'll wait here for you. don't be in any hurry on my account. to one who lives thousands of years the delay of a few days means nothing at all, and i shall probably sleep until the time comes for me to act." ann was provoked at this speech. "you may as well go back to tititi-hoochoo now," she said, "for the nome king is as good as conquered already." but quox shook his head. "no," said he; "i'll wait." chapter sixteen the naughty nome shaggy man had said nothing during the conversation between queen ann and quox, for the simple reason that he did not consider the matter worth an argument. safe within his pocket reposed the love magnet, which had never failed to win every heart. the nomes, he knew, were not like the heartless roses and therefore could be won to his side as soon as he exhibited the magic talisman. shaggy's chief anxiety had been to reach ruggedo's kingdom and now that the entrance lay before him he was confident he would be able to rescue his lost brother. let ann and the dragon quarrel as to who should conquer the nomes, if they liked; shaggy would let them try, and if they failed he had the means of conquest in his own pocket. but ann was positive she could not fail, for she thought her army could do anything. so she called the officers together and told them how to act, and she also instructed tik-tok what to do and what to say. "please do not shoot your gun except as a last resort," she added, "for i do not wish to be cruel or to shed any blood--unless it is absolutely necessary." "all right," replied tik-tok; "but i do not think rug-ge-do would bleed if i filled him full of holes and put him in a ci-der press." then the officers fell in line, the four generals abreast and then the four colonels and the four majors and the four captains. they drew their glittering swords and commanded tik-tok to march, which he did. twice he fell down, being tripped by the rough rocks, but when he struck the smooth path he got along better. into the gloomy mouth of the cavern entrance he stepped without hesitation, and after him proudly pranced the officers and queen ann. the others held back a little, waiting to see what would happen. of course the nome king knew they were coming and was prepared to receive them. just within the rocky passage that led to the jeweled throne-room was a deep pit, which was usually covered. ruggedo had ordered the cover removed and it now stood open, scarcely visible in the gloom. the pit was so large around that it nearly filled the passage and there was barely room for one to walk around it by pressing close to the rock walls. this tik-tok did, for his copper eyes saw the pit clearly and he avoided it; but the officers marched straight into the hole and tumbled in a heap on the bottom. an instant later queen ann also walked into the pit, for she had her chin in the air and was careless where she placed her feet. then one of the nomes pulled a lever which replaced the cover on the pit and made the officers of oogaboo and their queen fast prisoners. as for tik-tok, he kept straight on to the cavern where ruggedo sat in his throne and there he faced the nome king and said: "i here-by con-quer you in the name of queen ann so-forth of oo-ga-boo, whose ar-my i am, and i de-clare that you are her pris-on-er!" ruggedo laughed at him. "where is this famous queen?" he asked. "she'll be here in a min-ute," said tik-tok. "per-haps she stopped to tie her shoe-string." "now, see here, tik-tok," began the nome king, in a stern voice, "i've had enough of this nonsense. your queen and her officers are all prisoners, having fallen into my power, so perhaps you'll tell me what you mean to do." "my or-ders were to con-quer you," replied tik-tok, "and my ma-chin-er-y has done the best it knows how to car-ry out those or-ders." ruggedo pounded on his gong and kaliko appeared, followed closely by general guph. "take this copper man into the shops and set him to work hammering gold," commanded the king. "being run by machinery he ought to be a steady worker. he ought never to have been made, but since he exists i shall hereafter put him to good use." "if you try to cap-ture me," said tik-tok, "i shall fight." "don't do that!" exclaimed general guph, earnestly, "for it will be useless to resist and you might hurt some one." but tik-tok raised his gun and took aim and not knowing what damage the gun might do the nomes were afraid to face it. while he was thus defying the nome king and his high officials, betsy bobbin rode calmly into the royal cavern, seated upon the back of hank the mule. the little girl had grown tired of waiting for "something to happen" and so had come to see if ruggedo had been conquered. "nails and nuggets!" roared the king; "how dare you bring that beast here and enter my presence unannounced?" "there wasn't anybody to announce me," replied betsy. "i guess your folks were all busy. are you conquered yet?" "no!" shouted the king, almost beside himself with rage. "then please give me something to eat, for i'm awful hungry," said the girl. "you see, this conquering business is a good deal like waiting for a circus parade; it takes a long time to get around and don't amount to much anyhow." the nomes were so much astonished at this speech that for a time they could only glare at her silently, not finding words to reply. the king finally recovered the use of his tongue and said: "earth-crawler! this insolence to my majesty shall be your death-warrant. you are an ordinary mortal, and to stop a mortal from living is so easy a thing to do that i will not keep you waiting half so long as you did for my conquest." "i'd rather you wouldn't stop me from living," remarked betsy, getting off hank's back and standing beside him. "and it would be a pretty cheap king who killed a visitor while she was hungry. if you'll give me something to eat, i'll talk this killing business over with you afterward; only, i warn you now that i don't approve of it, and never will." her coolness and lack of fear impressed the nome king, although he bore an intense hatred toward all mortals. "what do you wish to eat?" he asked gruffly. "oh, a ham-sandwich would do, or perhaps a couple of hard-boiled eggs--" "eggs!" shrieked the three nomes who were present, shuddering till their teeth chattered. "what's the matter?" asked betsy wonderingly. "are eggs as high here as they are at home?" "guph," said the king in an agitated voice, turning to his general, "let us destroy this rash mortal at once! seize her and take her to the slimy cave and lock her in." guph glanced at tik-tok, whose gun was still pointed, but just then kaliko stole softly behind the copper man and kicked his knee-joints so that they suddenly bent forward and tumbled tik-tok to the floor, his gun falling from his grasp. then guph, seeing tik-tok helpless, made a grab at betsy. at the same time hank's heels shot out and caught the general just where his belt was buckled. he rose into the air swift as a cannon-ball, struck the nome king fairly and flattened his majesty against the wall of rock on the opposite side of the cavern. together they fell to the floor in a dazed and crumpled condition, seeing which kaliko whispered to betsy: "come with me--quick!--and i will save you." she looked into kaliko's face inquiringly and thought he seemed honest and good-natured, so she decided to follow him. he led her and the mule through several passages and into a small cavern very nicely and comfortably furnished. "this is my own room," said he, "but you are quite welcome to use it. wait here a minute and i'll get you something to eat." when kaliko returned he brought a tray containing some broiled mushrooms, a loaf of mineral bread and some petroleum-butter. the butter betsy could not eat, but the bread was good and the mushrooms delicious. "here's the door key," said kaliko, "and you'd better lock yourself in." "won't you let polychrome and the rose princess come here, too?" she asked. "i'll see. where are they?" "i don't know. i left them outside," said betsy. "well, if you hear three raps on the door, open it," said kaliko; "but don't let anyone in unless they give the three raps." "all right," promised betsy, and when kaliko left the cosy cavern she closed and locked the door. in the meantime ann and her officers, finding themselves prisoners in the pit, had shouted and screamed until they were tired out, but no one had come to their assistance. it was very dark and damp in the pit and they could not climb out because the walls were higher than their heads and the cover was on. the queen was first angry and then annoyed and then discouraged; but the officers were only afraid. every one of the poor fellows heartily wished he was back in oogaboo caring for his orchard, and some were so unhappy that they began to reproach ann for causing them all this trouble and danger. finally the queen sat down on the bottom of the pit and leaned her back against the wall. by good luck her sharp elbow touched a secret spring in the wall and a big flat rock swung inward. ann fell over backward, but the next instant she jumped up and cried to the others: "a passage! a passage! follow me, my brave men, and we may yet escape." then she began to crawl through the passage, which was as dark and dank as the pit, and the officers followed her in single file. they crawled, and they crawled, and they kept on crawling, for the passage was not big enough to allow them to stand upright. it turned this way and twisted that, sometimes like a corkscrew and sometimes zigzag, but seldom ran for long in a straight line. "it will never end--never!" moaned the officers, who were rubbing all the skin off their knees on the rough rocks. "it _must_ end," retorted ann courageously, "or it never would have been made. we don't know where it will lead us to, but any place is better than that loathsome pit." so she crawled on, and the officers crawled on, and while they were crawling through this awful underground passage polychrome and shaggy and files and the rose princess, who were standing outside the entrance to ruggedo's domains, were wondering what had become of them. chapter seventeen a tragic transformation "don't let us worry," said shaggy to his companions, "for it may take the queen some time to conquer the metal monarch, as tik-tok has to do everything in his slow, mechanical way." "do you suppose they are likely to fail?" asked the rose princess. "i do, indeed," replied shaggy. "this nome king is really a powerful fellow and has a legion of nomes to assist him, whereas our bold queen commands a clockwork man and a band of faint-hearted officers." "she ought to have let quox do the conquering," said polychrome, dancing lightly upon a point of rock and fluttering her beautiful draperies. "but perhaps the dragon was wise to let her go first, for when she fails to conquer ruggedo she may become more modest in her ambitions." "where is the dragon now?" inquired ozga. "up there on the rocks," replied files. "look, my dear; you may see him from here. he said he would take a little nap while we were mixing up with ruggedo, and he added that after we had gotten into trouble he would wake up and conquer the nome king in a jiffy, as his master the jinjin has ordered him to do." "quox means well," said shaggy, "but i do not think we shall need his services; for just as soon as i am satisfied that queen ann and her army have failed to conquer ruggedo, i shall enter the caverns and show the king my love magnet. that he cannot resist; therefore the conquest will be made with ease." this speech of shaggy man's was overheard by the long-eared hearer, who was at that moment standing by ruggedo's side. for when the king and guph had recovered from hank's kick and had picked themselves up, their first act was to turn tik-tok on his back and put a heavy diamond on top of him, so that he could not get up again. then they carefully put his gun in a corner of the cavern and the king sent guph to fetch the long-eared hearer. the hearer was still angry at ruggedo for breaking his ear, but he acknowledged the nome king to be his master and was ready to obey his commands. therefore he repeated shaggy's speech to the king, who at once realized that his kingdom was in grave danger. for ruggedo knew of the love magnet and its powers and was horrified at the thought that shaggy might show him the magic talisman and turn all the hatred in his heart into love. ruggedo was proud of his hatred and abhorred love of any sort. "really," said he, "i'd rather be conquered and lose my wealth and my kingdom than gaze at that awful love magnet. what can i do to prevent the shaggy man from taking it out of his pocket?" kaliko returned to the cavern in time to overhear this question, and being a loyal nome and eager to serve his king, he answered by saying: "if we can manage to bind the shaggy man's arms, tight to his body, he could not get the love magnet out of his pocket." "true!" cried the king in delight at this easy solution of the problem. "get at once a dozen nomes, with ropes, and place them in the passage where they can seize and bind shaggy as soon as he enters." this kaliko did, and meanwhile the watchers outside the entrance were growing more and more uneasy about their friends. "i don't worry so much about the oogaboo people," said polychrome, who had grown sober with waiting, and perhaps a little nervous, "for they could not be killed, even though ruggedo might cause them much suffering and perhaps destroy them utterly. but we should not have allowed betsy and hank to go alone into the caverns. the little girl is mortal and possesses no magic powers whatever, so if ruggedo captures her she will be wholly at his mercy." "that is indeed true," replied shaggy. "i wouldn't like to have anything happen to dear little betsy, so i believe i'll go in right away and put an end to all this worry." "we may as well go with you," asserted files, "for by means of the love magnet, you can soon bring the nome king to reason." so it was decided to wait no longer. shaggy walked through the entrance first, and after him came the others. they had no thought of danger to themselves, and shaggy, who was going along with his hands thrust into his pockets, was much surprised when a rope shot out from the darkness and twined around his body, pinning down his arms so securely that he could not even withdraw his hands from the pockets. then appeared several grinning nomes, who speedily tied knots in the ropes and then led the prisoner along the passage to the cavern. no attention was paid to the others, but files and the princess followed on after shaggy, determined not to desert their friend and hoping that an opportunity might arise to rescue him. as for polychrome, as soon as she saw that trouble had overtaken shaggy she turned and ran lightly back through the passage and out of the entrance. then she easily leaped from rock to rock until she paused beside the great dragon, who lay fast asleep. "wake up, quox!" she cried. "it is time for you to act." but quox did not wake up. he lay as one in a trance, absolutely motionless, with his enormous eyes tight closed. the eyelids had big silver scales on them, like all the rest of his body. polychrome might have thought quox was dead had she not known that dragons do not die easily or had she not observed his huge body swelling as he breathed. she picked up a piece of rock and pounded against his eyelids with it, saying: "wake up, quox--wake up!" but he would not waken. "dear me, how unfortunate!" sighed the lovely rainbow's daughter. "i wonder what is the best and surest way to waken a dragon. all our friends may be captured and destroyed while this great beast lies asleep." she walked around quox two or three times, trying to discover some tender place on his body where a thump or a punch might be felt; but he lay extended along the rocks with his chin flat upon the ground and his legs drawn underneath his body, and all that one could see was his thick sky-blue skin--thicker than that of a rhinoceros--and his silver scales. then, despairing at last of wakening the beast, and worried over the fate of her friends, polychrome again ran down to the entrance and hurried along the passage into the nome king's cavern. here she found ruggedo lolling in his throne and smoking a long pipe. beside him stood general guph and kaliko, and ranged before the king were the rose princess, files and the shaggy man. tik-tok still lay upon the floor, weighted down by the big diamond. ruggedo was now in a more contented frame of mind. one by one he had met the invaders and easily captured them. the dreaded love magnet was indeed in shaggy's pocket, only a few feet away from the king, but shaggy was powerless to show it and unless ruggedo's eyes beheld the talisman it could not affect him. as for betsy bobbin and her mule, he believed kaliko had placed them in the slimy cave, while ann and her officers he thought safely imprisoned in the pit. ruggedo had no fear of files or ozga, but to be on the safe side he had ordered golden handcuffs placed upon their wrists. these did not cause them any great annoyance but prevented them from making an attack, had they been inclined to do so. the nome king, thinking himself wholly master of the situation, was laughing and jeering at his prisoners when polychrome, exquisitely beautiful and dancing like a ray of light, entered the cavern. "oho!" cried the king; "a rainbow under ground, eh?" and then he stared hard at polychrome, and still harder, and then he sat up and pulled the wrinkles out of his robe and arranged his whiskers. "on my word," said he, "you are a very captivating creature; moreover, i perceive you are a fairy." "i am polychrome, the rainbow's daughter," she said proudly. "well," replied ruggedo, "i like you. the others i hate. i hate everybody--but you! wouldn't you like to live always in this beautiful cavern, polychrome? see! the jewels that stud the walls have every tint and color of your rainbow--and they are not so elusive. i'll have fresh dewdrops gathered for your feasting every day and you shall be queen of all my nomes and pull kaliko's nose whenever you like." "no, thank you," laughed polychrome. "my home is in the sky, and i'm only on a visit to this solid, sordid earth. but tell me, ruggedo, why my friends have been wound with cords and bound with chains?" "they threatened me," answered ruggedo. "the fools did not know how powerful i am." "then, since they are now helpless, why not release them and send them back to the earth's surface?" "because i hate 'em and mean to make 'em suffer for their invasion. but i'll make a bargain with you, sweet polly. remain here and live with me and i'll set all these people free. you shall be my daughter or my wife or my aunt or grandmother--whichever you like--only stay here to brighten my gloomy kingdom and make me happy!" polychrome looked at him wonderingly. then she turned to shaggy and asked: "are you sure he hasn't seen the love magnet?" "i'm positive," answered shaggy. "but you seem to be something of a love magnet yourself, polychrome." she laughed again and said to ruggedo: "not even to rescue my friends would i live in your kingdom. nor could i endure for long the society of such a wicked monster as you." "you forget," retorted the king, scowling darkly, "that you also are in my power." "not so, ruggedo. the rainbow's daughter is beyond the reach of your spite or malice." "seize her!" suddenly shouted the king, and general guph sprang forward to obey. polychrome stood quite still, yet when guph attempted to clutch her his hands met in air, and now the rainbow's daughter was in another part of the room, as smiling and composed as before. several times guph endeavored to capture her and ruggedo even came down from his throne to assist his general; but never could they lay hands upon the lovely sky fairy, who flitted here and there with the swiftness of light and constantly defied them with her merry laughter as she evaded their efforts. so after a time they abandoned the chase and ruggedo returned to his throne and wiped the perspiration from his face with a finely-woven handkerchief of cloth-of-gold. "well," said polychrome, "what do you intend to do now?" "i'm going to have some fun, to repay me for all my bother," replied the nome king. then he said to kaliko: "summon the executioners." kaliko at once withdrew and presently returned with a score of nomes, all of whom were nearly as evil looking as their hated master. they bore great golden pincers, and prods of silver, and clamps and chains and various wicked-looking instruments, all made of precious metals and set with diamonds and rubies. "now, pang," said ruggedo, addressing the leader of the executioners, "fetch the army of oogaboo and their queen from the pit and torture them here in my presence--as well as in the presence of their friends. it will be great sport." "i hear your majesty, and i obey your majesty," answered pang, and went with his nomes into the passage. in a few minutes he returned and bowed to ruggedo. "they're all gone," said he. "gone!" exclaimed the nome king. "gone where?" "they left no address, your majesty; but they are not in the pit." "picks and puddles!" roared the king; "who took the cover off?" "no one," said pang. "the cover was there, but the prisoners were not under it." "in that case," snarled the king, trying to control his disappointment, "go to the slimy cave and fetch hither the girl and the donkey. and while we are torturing them kaliko must take a hundred nomes and search for the escaped prisoners--the queen of oogaboo and her officers. if he does not find them, i will torture kaliko." kaliko went away looking sad and disturbed, for he knew the king was cruel and unjust enough to carry out this threat. pang and the executioners also went away, in another direction, but when they came back betsy bobbin was not with them, nor was hank. "there is no one in the slimy cave, your majesty," reported pang. "jumping jellycakes!" screamed the king. "another escape? are you sure you found the right cave?" "there is but one slimy cave, and there is no one in it," returned pang positively. ruggedo was beginning to be alarmed as well as angry. however, these disappointments but made him the more vindictive and he cast an evil look at the other prisoners and said: "never mind the girl and the donkey. here are four, at least, who cannot escape my vengeance. let me see; i believe i'll change my mind about tik-tok. have the gold crucible heated to a white, seething heat, and then we'll dump the copper man into it and melt him up." "but, your majesty," protested kaliko, who had returned to the room after sending a hundred nomes to search for the oogaboo people, "you must remember that tik-tok is a very curious and interesting machine. it would be a shame to deprive the world of such a clever contrivance." "say another word, and you'll go into the furnace with him!" roared the king. "i'm getting tired of you, kaliko, and the first thing you know i'll turn you into a potato and make saratoga-chips of you! the next to consider," he added more mildly, "is the shaggy man. as he owns the love magnet, i think i'll transform him into a dove, and then we can practice shooting at him with tik-tok's gun. now, this is a very interesting ceremony and i beg you all to watch me closely and see that i've nothing up my sleeve." he came out of his throne to stand before the shaggy man, and then he waved his hands, palms downward, in seven semicircles over his victim's head, saying in a low but clear tone of voice the magic wugwa: "adi, edi, idi, odi, udi, oo-i-oo! idu, ido, idi, ide, ida, woo!" the effect of this well-known sorcery was instantaneous. instead of the shaggy man, a pretty dove lay fluttering upon the floor, its wings confined by tiny cords wound around them. ruggedo gave an order to pang, who cut the cords with a pair of scissors. being freed, the dove quickly flew upward and alighted on the shoulder of the rose princess, who stroked it tenderly. "very good! very good!" cried ruggedo, rubbing his hands gleefully together. "one enemy is out of my way, and now for the others." (perhaps my readers should be warned not to attempt the above transformation; for, although the exact magical formula has been described, it is unlawful in all civilized countries for anyone to transform a person into a dove by muttering the words ruggedo used. there were no laws to prevent the nome king from performing this transformation, but if it should be attempted in any other country, and the magic worked, the magician would be severely punished.) when polychrome saw shaggy man transformed into a dove and realized that ruggedo was about to do something as dreadful to the princess and files, and that tik-tok would soon be melted in a crucible, she turned and ran from the cavern, through the passage and back to the place where quox lay asleep. chapter eighteen a clever conquest the great dragon still had his eyes closed and was even snoring in a manner that resembled distant thunder; but polychrome was now desperate, because any further delay meant the destruction of her friends. she seized the pearl necklace, to which was attached the great locket, and jerked it with all her strength. the result was encouraging. quox stopped snoring and his eyelids flickered. so polychrome jerked again--and again--till slowly the great lids raised and the dragon looked at her steadily. said he, in a sleepy tone: "what's the matter, little rainbow?" "come quick!" exclaimed polychrome. "ruggedo has captured all our friends and is about to destroy them." "well, well," said quox, "i suspected that would happen. step a little out of my path, my dear, and i'll make a rush for the nome king's cavern." she fell back a few steps and quox raised himself on his stout legs, whisked his long tail and in an instant had slid down the rocks and made a dive through the entrance. along the passage he swept, nearly filling it with his immense body, and now he poked his head into the jeweled cavern of ruggedo. but the king had long since made arrangements to capture the dragon, whenever he might appear. no sooner did quox stick his head into the room than a thick chain fell from above and encircled his neck. then the ends of the chain were drawn tight--for in an adjoining cavern a thousand nomes were pulling on them--and so the dragon could advance no further toward the king. he could not use his teeth or his claws and as his body was still in the passage he had not even room to strike his foes with his terrible tail. ruggedo was delighted with the success of his stratagem. he had just transformed the rose princess into a fiddle and was about to transform files into a fiddle bow, when the dragon appeared to interrupt him. so he called out: "welcome, my dear quox, to my royal entertainment. since you are here, you shall witness some very neat magic, and after i have finished with files and tik-tok i mean to transform you into a tiny lizard--one of the chameleon sort--and you shall live in my cavern and amuse me." "pardon me for contradicting your majesty," returned quox in a quiet voice, "but i don't believe you'll perform any more magic." "eh? why not?" asked the king in surprise. "there's a reason," said quox. "do you see this ribbon around my neck?" "yes; and i'm astonished that a dignified dragon should wear such a silly thing." "do you see it plainly?" persisted the dragon, with a little chuckle of amusement. "i do," declared ruggedo. "then you no longer possess any magical powers, and are as helpless as a clam," asserted quox. "my great master, tititi-hoochoo, the jinjin, enchanted this ribbon in such a way that whenever your majesty looked upon it all knowledge of magic would desert you instantly, nor will any magical formula you can remember ever perform your bidding." "pooh! i don't believe a word of it!" cried ruggedo, half frightened, nevertheless. then he turned toward files and tried to transform him into a fiddle bow. but he could not remember the right words or the right pass of the hands and after several trials he finally gave up the attempt. by this time the nome king was so alarmed that he was secretly shaking in his shoes. "i told you not to anger tititi-hoochoo," grumbled kaliko, "and now you see the result of your disobedience." ruggedo promptly threw his sceptre at his royal chamberlain, who dodged it with his usual cleverness, and then he said with an attempt to swagger: "never mind; i don't need magic to enable me to destroy these invaders; fire and the sword will do the business and i am still king of the nomes and lord and master of my underground kingdom!" "again i beg to differ with your majesty," said quox. "the great jinjin commands you to depart instantly from this kingdom and seek the earth's surface, where you will wander for all time to come, without a home or country, without a friend or follower, and without any more riches than you can carry with you in your pockets. the great jinjin is so generous that he will allow you to fill your pockets with jewels or gold, but you must take nothing more." ruggedo now stared at the dragon in amazement. "does tititi-hoochoo condemn me to such a fate?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "he does," said quox. "and just for throwing a few strangers down the forbidden tube?" "just for that," repeated quox in a stern, gruff voice. "well, i won't do it. and your crazy old jinjin can't make me do it, either!" declared ruggedo. "i intend to remain here, king of the nomes, until the end of the world, and i defy your tititi-hoochoo and all his fairies--as well as his clumsy messenger, whom i have been obliged to chain up!" the dragon smiled again, but it was not the sort of smile that made ruggedo feel very happy. instead, there was something so cold and merciless in the dragon's expression that the condemned nome king trembled and was sick at heart. there was little comfort for ruggedo in the fact that the dragon was now chained, although he had boasted of it. he glared at the immense head of quox as if fascinated and there was fear in the old king's eyes as he watched his enemy's movements. for the dragon was now moving; not abruptly, but as if he had something to do and was about to do it. very deliberately he raised one claw, touched the catch of the great jeweled locket that was suspended around his neck, and at once it opened wide. nothing much happened at first; half a dozen hen's eggs rolled out upon the floor and then the locket closed with a sharp click. but the effect upon the nomes of this simple thing was astounding. general guph, kaliko, pang and his band of executioners were all standing close to the door that led to the vast series of underground caverns which constituted the dominions of the nomes, and as soon as they saw the eggs they raised a chorus of frantic screams and rushed through the door, slamming it in ruggedo's face and placing a heavy bronze bar across it. ruggedo, dancing with terror and uttering loud cries, now leaped upon the seat of his throne to escape the eggs, which had rolled steadily toward him. perhaps these eggs, sent by the wise and crafty tititi-hoochoo, were in some way enchanted, for they all rolled directly after ruggedo and when they reached the throne where he had taken refuge they began rolling up the legs to the seat. this was too much for the king to bear. his horror of eggs was real and absolute and he made a leap from the throne to the center of the room and then ran to a far corner. the eggs followed, rolling slowly but steadily in his direction. ruggedo threw his sceptre at them, and then his ruby crown, and then he drew off his heavy golden sandals and hurled these at the advancing eggs. but the eggs dodged every missile and continued to draw nearer. the king stood trembling, his eyes staring in terror, until they were but half a yard distant; then with an agile leap he jumped clear over them and made a rush for the passage that led to the outer entrance. of course the dragon was in his way, being chained in the passage with his head in the cavern, but when he saw the king making toward him he crouched as low as he could and dropped his chin to the floor, leaving a small space between his body and the roof of the passage. ruggedo did not hesitate an instant. impelled by fear, he leaped to the dragon's nose and then scrambled to his back, where he succeeded in squeezing himself through the opening. after the head was passed there was more room and he slid along the dragon's scales to his tail and then ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the entrance. not pausing here, so great was his fright, the king dashed on down the mountain path, but before he had gone very far he stumbled and fell. when he picked himself up he observed that no one was following him, and while he recovered his breath he happened to think of the decree of the jinjin--that he should be driven from his kingdom and made a wanderer on the face of the earth. well, here he was, driven from his cavern in truth; driven by those dreadful eggs; but he would go back and defy them; he would not submit to losing his precious kingdom and his tyrannical powers, all because tititi-hoochoo had said he must. so, although still afraid, ruggedo nerved himself to creep back along the path to the entrance, and when he arrived there he saw the six eggs lying in a row just before the arched opening. at first he paused a safe distance away to consider the case, for the eggs were now motionless. while he was wondering what could be done, he remembered there was a magical charm which would destroy eggs and render them harmless to nomes. there were nine passes to be made and six verses of incantation to be recited; but ruggedo knew them all. now that he had ample time to be exact, he carefully went through the entire ceremony. but nothing happened. the eggs did not disappear, as he had expected; so he repeated the charm a second time. when that also failed, he remembered, with a moan of despair, that his magic power had been taken away from him and in the future he could do no more than any common mortal. and there were the eggs, forever barring him from the kingdom which he had ruled so long with absolute sway! he threw rocks at them, but could not hit a single egg. he raved and scolded and tore his hair and beard, and danced in helpless passion, but that did nothing to avert the just judgment of the jinjin, which ruggedo's own evil deeds had brought upon him. from this time on he was an outcast--a wanderer upon the face of the earth--and he had even forgotten to fill his pockets with gold and jewels before he fled from his former kingdom! chapter nineteen king kaliko after the king had made good his escape files said to the dragon, in a sad voice: "alas! why did you not come before? because you were sleeping instead of conquering, the lovely rose princess has become a fiddle without a bow, while poor shaggy sits there a cooing dove!" "don't worry," replied quox. "tititi-hoochoo knows his business, and i have my orders from the great jinjin himself. bring the fiddle here and touch it lightly to my pink ribbon." files obeyed and at the moment of contact with the ribbon the nome king's charm was broken and the rose princess herself stood before them as sweet and smiling as ever. the dove, perched on the back of the throne, had seen and heard all this, so without being told what to do it flew straight to the dragon and alighted on the ribbon. next instant shaggy was himself again and quox said to him grumblingly: "please get off my left toe, shaggy man, and be more particular where you step." "i beg your pardon!" replied shaggy, very glad to resume his natural form. then he ran to lift the heavy diamond off tik-tok's chest and to assist the clockwork man to his feet. "ma-ny thanks!" said tik-tok. "where is the wicked king who want-ed to melt me in a cru-ci-ble?" "he has gone, and gone for good," answered polychrome, who had managed to squeeze into the room beside the dragon and had witnessed the occurrences with much interest. "but i wonder where betsy bobbin and hank can be, and if any harm has befallen them." "we must search the cavern until we find them," declared shaggy; but when he went to the door leading to the other caverns he found it shut and barred. "i've a pretty strong push in my forehead," said quox, "and i believe i can break down that door, even though it's made of solid gold." "but you are a prisoner, and the chains that hold you are fastened in some other room, so that we cannot release you," files said anxiously. "oh, never mind that," returned the dragon. "i have remained a prisoner only because i wished to be one," and with this he stepped forward and burst the stout chains as easily as if they had been threads. but when he tried to push in the heavy metal door, even his mighty strength failed, and after several attempts he gave it up and squatted himself in a corner to think of a better way. "i'll o-pen the door," asserted tik-tok, and going to the king's big gong he pounded upon it until the noise was almost deafening. kaliko, in the next cavern, was wondering what had happened to ruggedo and if he had escaped the eggs and outwitted the dragon. but when he heard the sound of the gong, which had so often called him into the king's presence, he decided that ruggedo had been victorious; so he took away the bar, threw open the door and entered the royal cavern. great was his astonishment to find the king gone and the enchantments removed from the princess and shaggy. but the eggs were also gone and so kaliko advanced to the dragon, whom he knew to be tititi-hoochoo's messenger, and bowed humbly before the beast. "what is your will?" he inquired. "where is betsy?" demanded the dragon. "safe in my own private room," said kaliko. "go and get her!" commanded quox. so kaliko went to betsy's room and gave three raps upon the door. the little girl had been asleep, but she heard the raps and opened the door. "you may come out now," said kaliko. "the king has fled in disgrace and your friends are asking for you." so betsy and hank returned with the royal chamberlain to the throne cavern, where she was received with great joy by her friends. they told her what had happened to ruggedo and she told them how kind kaliko had been to her. quox did not have much to say until the conversation was ended, but then he turned to kaliko and asked: "do you suppose you could rule your nomes better than ruggedo has done?" "me?" stammered the chamberlain, greatly surprised by the question. "well, i couldn't be a worse king, i'm sure." "would the nomes obey you?" inquired the dragon. "of course," said kaliko. "they like me better than ever they did ruggedo." "then hereafter you shall be the metal monarch, king of the nomes, and tititi-hoochoo expects you to rule your kingdom wisely and well," said quox. "hooray!" cried betsy; "i'm glad of that. king kaliko, i salute your majesty and wish you joy in your gloomy old kingdom!" "we all wish him joy," said polychrome; and then the others made haste to congratulate the new king. "will you release my dear brother?" asked shaggy. "the ugly one? very willingly," replied kaliko. "i begged ruggedo long ago to send him away, but he would not do so. i also offered to help your brother to escape, but he would not go." "he's so conscientious!" said shaggy, highly pleased. "all of our family have noble natures. but is my dear brother well?" he added anxiously. "he eats and sleeps very steadily," replied the new king. "i hope he doesn't work too hard," said shaggy. "he doesn't work at all. in fact, there is nothing he can do in these dominions as well as our nomes, whose numbers are so great that it worries us to keep them all busy. so your brother has only to amuse himself." "why, it's more like visiting, than being a prisoner," asserted betsy. "not exactly," returned kaliko. "a prisoner cannot go where or when he pleases, and is not his own master." "where is my brother now?" inquired shaggy. "in the metal forest." "where is that?" "the metal forest is in the great domed cavern, the largest in all our dominions," replied kaliko. "it is almost like being out of doors, it is so big, and ruggedo made the wonderful forest to amuse himself, as well as to tire out his hard-working nomes. all the trees are gold and silver and the ground is strewn with precious stones, so it is a sort of treasury." "let us go there at once and rescue my dear brother," pleaded shaggy earnestly. kaliko hesitated. "i don't believe i can find the way," said he. "ruggedo made three secret passages to the metal forest, but he changes the location of these passages every week, so that no one can get to the metal forest without his permission. however, if we look sharp, we may be able to discover one of these secret ways." "that reminds me to ask what has become of queen ann and the officers of oogaboo," said files. "i'm sure i can't say," replied kaliko. "do you suppose ruggedo destroyed them?" "oh, no; i'm quite sure he didn't. they fell into the big pit in the passage, and we put the cover on to keep them there; but when the executioners went to look for them they had all disappeared from the pit and we could find no trace of them." "that's funny," remarked betsy thoughtfully. "i don't believe ann knew any magic, or she'd have worked it before. but to disappear like that _seems_ like magic; now, doesn't it?" they agreed that it did, but no one could explain the mystery. "however," said shaggy, "they are gone, that is certain, so we cannot help them or be helped by them. and the important thing just now is to rescue my dear brother from captivity." "why do they call him the ugly one?" asked betsy. "i do not know," confessed shaggy. "i cannot remember his looks very well, it is so long since i have seen him; but all of our family are noted for their handsome faces." betsy laughed and shaggy seemed rather hurt; but polychrome relieved his embarrassment by saying softly: "one can be ugly in looks, but lovely in disposition." "our first task," said shaggy, a little comforted by this remark, "is to find one of those secret passages to the metal forest." "true," agreed kaliko. "so i think i will assemble the chief nomes of my kingdom in this throne room and tell them that i am their new king. then i can ask them to assist us in searching for the secret passages. "that's a good idea," said the dragon, who seemed to be getting sleepy again. kaliko went to the big gong and pounded on it just as ruggedo used to do; but no one answered the summons. "of course not," said he, jumping up from the throne, where he had seated himself. "that is my call, and i am still the royal chamberlain, and will be until i appoint another in my place." so he ran out of the room and found guph and told him to answer the summons of the king's gong. having returned to the royal cavern, kaliko first pounded the gong and then sat in the throne, wearing ruggedo's discarded ruby crown and holding in his hand the sceptre which ruggedo had so often thrown at his head. when guph entered he was amazed. "better get out of that throne before old ruggedo comes back," he said warningly. "he isn't coming back, and i am now the king of the nomes, in his stead," announced kaliko. "all of which is quite true," asserted the dragon, and all of those who stood around the throne bowed respectfully to the new king. seeing this, guph also bowed, for he was glad to be rid of such a hard master as ruggedo. then kaliko, in quite a kingly way, informed guph that he was appointed the royal chamberlain, and promised not to throw the sceptre at his head unless he deserved it. all this being pleasantly arranged, the new chamberlain went away to tell the news to all the nomes of the underground kingdom, every one of whom would be delighted with the change in kings. chapter twenty quox quietly quits when the chief nomes assembled before their new king they joyfully saluted him and promised to obey his commands. but, when kaliko questioned them, none knew the way to the metal forest, although all had assisted in its making. so the king instructed them to search carefully for one of the passages and to bring him the news as soon as they had found it. meantime quox had managed to back out of the rocky corridor and so regain the open air and his old station on the mountain-side, and there he lay upon the rocks, sound asleep, until the next day. the others of the party were all given as good rooms as the caverns of the nomes afforded, for king kaliko felt that he was indebted to them for his promotion and was anxious to be as hospitable as he could. much wonderment had been caused by the absolute disappearance of the sixteen officers of oogaboo and their queen. not a nome had seen them, nor were they discovered during the search for the passages leading to the metal forest. perhaps no one was unhappy over their loss, but all were curious to know what had become of them. on the next day, when our friends went to visit the dragon, quox said to them: "i must now bid you good-bye, for my mission here is finished and i must depart for the other side of the world, where i belong." "will you go through the tube again?" asked betsy. "to be sure. but it will be a lonely trip this time, with no one to talk to, and i cannot invite any of you to go with me. therefore, as soon as i slide into the hole i shall go to sleep, and when i pop out at the other end i will wake up at home." they thanked the dragon for befriending them and wished him a pleasant journey. also they sent their thanks to the great jinjin, whose just condemnation of ruggedo had served their interests so well. then quox yawned and stretched himself and ambled over to the tube, into which he slid headforemost and disappeared. they really felt as if they had lost a friend, for the dragon had been both kind and sociable during their brief acquaintance with him; but they knew it was his duty to return to his own country. so they went back to the caverns to renew the search for the hidden passages that led to the forest, but for three days all efforts to find them proved in vain. it was polychrome's custom to go every day to the mountain and watch for her father, the rainbow, for she was growing tired with wandering upon the earth and longed to rejoin her sisters in their sky palaces. and on the third day, while she sat motionless upon a point of rock, whom should she see slyly creeping up the mountain but ruggedo! the former king looked very forlorn. his clothes were soiled and torn and he had no sandals upon his feet or hat upon his head. having left his crown and sceptre behind when he fled, the old nome no longer seemed kingly, but more like a beggerman. several times had ruggedo crept up to the mouth of the caverns, only to find the six eggs still on guard. he knew quite well that he must accept his fate and become a homeless wanderer, but his chief regret now was that he had neglected to fill his pockets with gold and jewels. he was aware that a wanderer with wealth at his command would fare much better than one who was a pauper, so he still loitered around the caverns wherein he knew so much treasure was stored, hoping for a chance to fill his pockets. that was how he came to recollect the metal forest. "aha!" said he to himself, "i alone know the way to that forest, and once there i can fill my pockets with the finest jewels in all the world." he glanced at his pockets and was grieved to find them so small. perhaps they might be enlarged, so that they would hold more. he knew of a poor woman who lived in a cottage at the foot of the mountain, so he went to her and begged her to sew pockets all over his robe, paying her with the gift of a diamond ring which he had worn upon his finger. the woman was delighted to possess so valuable a ring and she sewed as many pockets on ruggedo's robe as she possibly could. then he returned up the mountain and, after gazing cautiously around to make sure he was not observed, he touched a spring in a rock and it swung slowly backward, disclosing a broad passageway. this he entered, swinging the rock in place behind him. however, ruggedo had failed to look as carefully as he might have done, for polychrome was seated only a little distance off and her clear eyes marked exactly the manner in which ruggedo had released the hidden spring. so she rose and hurried into the cavern, where she told kaliko and her friends of her discovery. "i've no doubt that that is a way to the metal forest," exclaimed shaggy. "come, let us follow ruggedo at once and rescue my poor brother!" they agreed to this and king kaliko called together a band of nomes to assist them by carrying torches to light their way. "the metal forest has a brilliant light of its own," said he, "but the passage across the valley is likely to be dark." polychrome easily found the rock and touched the spring, so in less than an hour after ruggedo had entered they were all in the passage and following swiftly after the former king. "he means to rob the forest, i'm sure," said kaliko; "but he will find he is no longer of any account in this kingdom and i will have my nomes throw him out." "then please throw him as hard as you can," said betsy, "for he deserves it. i don't mind an honest, out-an'-out enemy, who fights square; but changing girls into fiddles and ordering 'em put into slimy caves is mean and tricky, and ruggedo doesn't deserve any sympathy. but you'll have to let him take as much treasure as he can get in his pockets, kaliko." "yes, the jinjin said so; but we won't miss it much. there is more treasure in the metal forest than a million nomes could carry in their pockets." it was not difficult to walk through this passage, especially when the torches lighted the way, so they made good progress. but it proved to be a long distance and betsy had tired herself with walking and was seated upon the back of the mule when the passage made a sharp turn and a wonderful and glorious light burst upon them. the next moment they were all standing upon the edge of the marvelous metal forest. it lay under another mountain and occupied a great domed cavern, the roof of which was higher than a church steeple. in this space the industrious nomes had built, during many years of labor, the most beautiful forest in the world. the trees--trunks, branches and leaves--were all of solid gold, while the bushes and underbrush were formed of filigree silver, virgin pure. the trees towered as high as natural live oaks do and were of exquisite workmanship. on the ground were thickly strewn precious gems of every hue and size, while here and there among the trees were paths pebbled with cut diamonds of the clearest water. taken all together, more treasure was gathered in this metal forest than is contained in all the rest of the world--if we except the land of oz, where perhaps its value is equalled in the famous emerald city. our friends were so amazed at the sight that for a while they stood gazing in silent wonder. then shaggy exclaimed. "my brother! my dear lost brother! is he indeed a prisoner in this place?" "yes," replied kaliko. "the ugly one has been here for two or three years, to my positive knowledge." "but what could he find to eat?" inquired betsy. "it's an awfully swell place to live in, but one can't breakfast on rubies and di'monds, or even gold." "one doesn't need to, my dear," kaliko assured her. "the metal forest does not fill all of this great cavern, by any means. beyond these gold and silver trees are other trees of the real sort, which bear foods very nice to eat. let us walk in that direction, for i am quite sure we will find shaggy's brother in that part of the cavern, rather than in this." so they began to tramp over the diamond-pebbled paths, and at every step they were more and more bewildered by the wondrous beauty of the golden trees with their glittering foliage. suddenly they heard a scream. jewels scattered in every direction as some one hidden among the bushes scampered away before them. then a loud voice cried: "halt!" and there was the sound of a struggle. chapter twenty-one a bashful brother with fast beating hearts they all rushed forward and, beyond a group of stately metal trees, came full upon a most astonishing scene. there was ruggedo in the hands of the officers of oogaboo, a dozen of whom were clinging to the old nome and holding him fast in spite of his efforts to escape. there also was queen ann, looking grimly upon the scene of strife; but when she observed her former companions approaching she turned away in a shamefaced manner. for ann and her officers were indeed a sight to behold. her majesty's clothing, once so rich and gorgeous, was now worn and torn into shreds by her long crawl through the tunnel, which, by the way, had led her directly into the metal forest. it was, indeed, one of the three secret passages, and by far the most difficult of the three. ann had not only torn her pretty skirt and jacket, but her crown had become bent and battered and even her shoes were so cut and slashed that they were ready to fall from her feet. the officers had fared somewhat worse than their leader, for holes were worn in the knees of their trousers, while sharp points of rock in the roof and sides of the tunnel had made rags of every inch of their once brilliant uniforms. a more tattered and woeful army never came out of a battle, than these harmless victims of the rocky passage. but it had seemed their only means of escape from the cruel nome king; so they had crawled on, regardless of their sufferings. when they reached the metal forest their eyes beheld more plunder than they had ever dreamed of; yet they were prisoners in this huge dome and could not escape with the riches heaped about them. perhaps a more unhappy and homesick lot of "conquerors" never existed than this band from oogaboo. after several days of wandering in their marvelous prison they were frightened by the discovery that ruggedo had come among them. rendered desperate by their sad condition, the officers exhibited courage for the first time since they left home and, ignorant of the fact that ruggedo was no longer king of the nomes, they threw themselves upon him and had just succeeded in capturing him when their fellow adventurers reached the spot. "goodness gracious!" cried betsy. "what has happened to you all?" ann came forward to greet them, sorrowful and indignant. "we were obliged to escape from the pit through a small tunnel, which was lined with sharp and jagged rocks," said she, "and not only was our clothing torn to rags but our flesh is so bruised and sore that we are stiff and lame in every joint. to add to our troubles we find we are still prisoners; but now that we have succeeded in capturing the wicked metal monarch we shall force him to grant us our liberty." "ruggedo is no longer metal monarch, or king of the nomes," files informed her. "he has been deposed and cast out of his kingdom by quox; but here is the new king, whose name is kaliko, and i am pleased to assure your majesty that he is our friend." "glad to meet your majesty, i'm sure," said kaliko, bowing as courteously as if the queen still wore splendid raiment. the officers, having heard this explanation, now set ruggedo free; but, as he had no place to go, he stood by and faced his former servant, who was now king in his place, in a humble and pleading manner. "what are you doing here?" asked kaliko sternly. "why, i was promised as much treasure as i could carry in my pockets," replied ruggedo; "so i came here to get it, not wishing to disturb your majesty." "you were commanded to leave the country of the nomes forever!" declared kaliko. "i know; and i'll go as soon as i have filled my pockets," said ruggedo, meekly. "then fill them, and be gone," returned the new king. ruggedo obeyed. stooping down, he began gathering up jewels by the handful and stuffing them into his many pockets. they were heavy things, these diamonds and rubies and emeralds and amethysts and the like, so before long ruggedo was staggering with the weight he bore, while the pockets were not yet filled. when he could no longer stoop over without falling, betsy and polychrome and the rose princess came to his assistance, picking up the finest gems and tucking them into his pockets. at last these were all filled and ruggedo presented a comical sight, for surely no man ever before had so many pockets, or any at all filled with such a choice collection of precious stones. he neglected to thank the young ladies for their kindness, but gave them a surly nod of farewell and staggered down the path by the way he had come. they let him depart in silence, for with all he had taken, the masses of jewels upon the ground seemed scarcely to have been disturbed, so numerous were they. also they hoped they had seen the last of the degraded king. "i'm awful glad he's gone," said betsy, sighing deeply. "if he doesn't get reckless and spend his wealth foolishly, he's got enough to start a bank when he gets to oklahoma." "but my brother--my dear brother! where is he?" inquired shaggy anxiously. "have you seen him, queen ann?" "what does your brother look like?" asked the queen. shaggy hesitated to reply, but betsy said: "he's called the ugly one. perhaps you'll know him by that." "the only person we have seen in this cavern," said ann, "has run away from us whenever we approached him. he hides over yonder, among the trees that are not gold, and we have never been able to catch sight of his face. so i cannot tell whether he is ugly or not." "that must be my dear brother!" exclaimed shaggy. "yes, it must be," assented kaliko. "no one else inhabits this splendid dome, so there can be no mistake." "but why does he hide among those green trees, instead of enjoying all these glittery golden ones?" asked betsy. "because he finds food among the natural trees," replied kaliko, "and i remember that he has built a little house there, to sleep in. as for these glittery golden trees, i will admit they are very pretty at first sight. one cannot fail to admire them, as well as the rich jewels scattered beneath them; but if one has to look at them always, they become pretty tame." "i believe that is true," declared shaggy. "my dear brother is very wise to prefer real trees to the imitation ones. but come; let us go there and find him." shaggy started for the green grove at once, and the others followed him, being curious to witness the final rescue of his long-sought, long-lost brother. not far from the edge of the grove they came upon a small hut, cleverly made of twigs and golden branches woven together. as they approached the place they caught a glimpse of a form that darted into the hut and slammed the door tight shut after him. shaggy man ran to the door and cried aloud: "brother! brother!" "who calls," demanded a sad, hollow voice from within. "it is shaggy--your own loving brother--who has been searching for you a long time and has now come to rescue you." "too late!" replied the gloomy voice. "no one can rescue me now." "oh, but you are mistaken about that," said shaggy. "there is a new king of the nomes, named kaliko, in ruggedo's place, and he has promised you shall go free." "free! i dare not go free!" said the ugly one, in a voice of despair. "why not, brother?" asked shaggy, anxiously. "do you know what they have done to me?" came the answer through the closed door. "no. tell me, brother, what have they done?" "when ruggedo first captured me i was very handsome. don't you remember, shaggy?" "not very well, brother; you were so young when i left home. but i remember that mother thought you were beautiful." "she was right! i am sure she was right," wailed the prisoner. "but ruggedo wanted to injure me--to make me ugly in the eyes of all the world--so he performed a wicked enchantment. i went to bed beautiful--or you might say handsome--to be very modest i will merely claim that i was good-looking--and i wakened the next morning the homeliest man in all the world! i am so repulsive that when i look in a mirror i frighten myself." "poor brother!" said shaggy softly, and all the others were silent from sympathy. "i was so ashamed of my looks," continued the voice of shaggy's brother, "that i tried to hide; but the cruel king ruggedo forced me to appear before all the legion of nomes, to whom he said: 'behold the ugly one!' but when the nomes saw my face they all fell to laughing and jeering, which prevented them from working at their tasks. seeing this, ruggedo became angry and pushed me into a tunnel, closing the rock entrance so that i could not get out. i followed the length of the tunnel until i reached this huge dome, where the marvelous metal forest stands, and here i have remained ever since." "poor brother!" repeated shaggy. "but i beg you now to come forth and face us, who are your friends. none here will laugh or jeer, however unhandsome you may be." "no, indeed," they all added pleadingly. but the ugly one refused the invitation. "i cannot," said he; "indeed, i cannot face strangers, ugly as i am." shaggy man turned to the group surrounding him. "what shall i do?" he asked in sorrowful tones. "i cannot leave my dear brother here, and he refuses to come out of that house and face us." "i'll tell you," replied betsy. "let him put on a mask." "the very idea i was seeking!" exclaimed shaggy joyfully; and then he called out: "brother, put a mask over your face, and then none of us can see what your features are like." "i have no mask," answered the ugly one. "look here," said betsy; "he can use my handkerchief." shaggy looked at the little square of cloth and shook his head. "it isn't big enough," he objected; "i'm sure it isn't big enough to hide a man's face. but he can use mine." saying this he took from his pocket his own handkerchief and went to the door of the hut. "here, my brother," he called, "take this handkerchief and make a mask of it. i will also pass you my knife, so that you may cut holes for the eyes, and then you must tie it over your face." the door slowly opened, just far enough for the ugly one to thrust out his hand and take the handkerchief and the knife. then it closed again. "don't forget a hole for your nose," cried betsy. "you must breathe, you know." for a time there was silence. queen ann and her army sat down upon the ground to rest. betsy sat on hank's back. polychrome danced lightly up and down the jeweled paths while files and the princess wandered through the groves arm in arm. tik-tok, who never tired, stood motionless. by and by a noise sounded from within the hut. "are you ready?" asked shaggy. "yes, brother," came the reply and the door was thrown open to allow the ugly one to step forth. betsy might have laughed aloud had she not remembered how sensitive to ridicule shaggy's brother was, for the handkerchief with which he had masked his features was a red one covered with big white polka dots. in this two holes had been cut--in front of the eyes--while two smaller ones before the nostrils allowed the man to breathe freely. the cloth was then tightly drawn over the ugly one's face and knotted at the back of his neck. he was dressed in clothes that had once been good, but now were sadly worn and frayed. his silk stockings had holes in them, and his shoes were stub-toed and needed blackening. "but what can you expect," whispered betsy, "when the poor man has been a prisoner for so many years?" shaggy had darted forward, and embraced his newly found brother with both his arms. the brother also embraced shaggy, who then led him forward and introduced him to all the assembled company. "this is the new nome king," he said when he came to kaliko. "he is our friend, and has granted you your freedom." "that is a kindly deed," replied ugly in a sad voice, "but i dread to go back to the world in this direful condition. unless i remain forever masked, my dreadful face would curdle all the milk and stop all the clocks." "can't the enchantment be broken in some way?" inquired betsy. shaggy looked anxiously at kaliko, who shook his head. "i am sure i can't break the enchantment," he said. "ruggedo was fond of magic, and learned a good many enchantments that we nomes know nothing of." "perhaps ruggedo himself might break his own enchantment," suggested ann; "but unfortunately we have allowed the old king to escape." "never mind, my dear brother," said shaggy consolingly; "i am very happy to have found you again, although i may never see your face. so let us make the most of this joyful reunion." the ugly one was affected to tears by this tender speech, and the tears began to wet the red handkerchief; so shaggy gently wiped them away with his coat sleeve. chapter twenty-two kindly kisses "won't you be dreadful sorry to leave this lovely place?" betsy asked the ugly one. "no, indeed," said he. "jewels and gold are cold and heartless things, and i am sure i would presently have died of loneliness had i not found this natural forest at the edge of the artificial one. anyhow, without these real trees i should soon have starved to death." betsy looked around at the quaint trees. "i don't just understand that," she admitted. "what could you find to eat here?" "the best food in the world," ugly answered. "do you see that grove at your left?" he added, pointing it out; "well, such trees as those do not grow in your country, or in any other place but this cavern. i have named them 'hotel trees,' because they bear a certain kind of table d'hote fruit called 'three-course nuts.'" "that's funny!" said betsy. "what are the 'three-course nuts' like?" "something like cocoanuts, to look at," explained the ugly one. "all you have to do is to pick one of them and then sit down and eat your dinner. you first unscrew the top part and find a cupfull of good soup. after you've eaten that, you unscrew the middle part and find a hollow filled with meat and potatoes, vegetables and a fine salad. eat that, and unscrew the next section, and you come to the dessert in the bottom of the nut. that is, pie and cake, cheese and crackers, and nuts and raisins. the three-course nuts are not all exactly alike in flavor or in contents, but they are all good and in each one may be found a complete three-course dinner." "but how about breakfasts?" inquired betsy. "why, there are breakfast trees for that, which grow over there at the right. they bear nuts, like the others, only the nuts contain coffee or chocolate, instead of soup; oatmeal instead of meat-and-potatoes, and fruits instead of dessert. sad as has been my life in this wonderful prison, i must admit that no one could live more luxuriously in the best hotel in the world than i have lived here; but i will be glad to get into the open air again and see the good old sun and the silvery moon and the soft green grass and the flowers that are kissed by the morning dew. ah, how much more lovely are those blessed things than the glitter of gems or the cold gleam of gold!" "of course," said betsy. "i once knew a little boy who wanted to catch the measles, because all the little boys in his neighborhood but him had had 'em, and he was really unhappy 'cause he couldn't catch 'em, try as he would. so i'm pretty certain that the things we want, and can't have, are not good for us. isn't that true, shaggy?" "not always, my dear," he gravely replied. "if we didn't want anything, we would never get anything, good or bad. i think our longings are natural, and if we act as nature prompts us we can't go far wrong." "for my part," said queen ann, "i think the world would be a dreary place without the gold and jewels." "all things are good in their way," said shaggy; "but we may have too much of any good thing. and i have noticed that the value of anything depends upon how scarce it is, and how difficult it is to obtain." "pardon me for interrupting you," said king kaliko, coming to their side, "but now that we have rescued shaggy's brother i would like to return to my royal cavern. being the king of the nomes, it is my duty to look after my restless subjects and see that they behave themselves." so they all turned and began walking through the metal forest to the other side of the great domed cave, where they had first entered it. shaggy and his brother walked side by side and both seemed rejoiced that they were together after their long separation. betsy didn't dare look at the polka dot handkerchief, for fear she would laugh aloud; so she walked behind the two brothers and led hank by holding fast to his left ear. when at last they reached the place where the passage led to the outer world, queen ann said, in a hesitating way that was unusual with her: "i have not conquered this nome country, nor do i expect to do so; but i would like to gather a few of these pretty jewels before i leave this place." "help yourself, ma'am," said king kaliko, and at once the officers of the army took advantage of his royal permission and began filling their pockets, while ann tied a lot of diamonds in a big handkerchief. this accomplished, they all entered the passage, the nomes going first to light the way with their torches. they had not proceeded far when betsy exclaimed: "why, there are jewels here, too!" all eyes were turned upon the ground and they found a regular trail of jewels strewn along the rock floor. "this is queer!" said kaliko, much surprised. "i must send some of my nomes to gather up these gems and replace them in the metal forest, where they belong. i wonder how they came to be here?" all the way along the passage they found this trail of jewels, but when they neared the end the mystery was explained. for there, squatted upon the floor with his back to the rock wall, sat old ruggedo, puffing and blowing as if he was all tired out. then they realized it was he who had scattered the jewels, from his many pockets, which one by one had burst with the weight of their contents as he had stumbled along the passage. "but i don't mind," said ruggedo, with a deep sigh. "i now realize that i could not have carried such a weighty load very far, even had i managed to escape from this passage with it. the woman who sewed the pockets on my robe used poor thread, for which i shall thank her." "have you any jewels left?" inquired betsy. he glanced into some of the remaining pockets. "a few," said he, "but they will be sufficient to supply my wants, and i no longer have any desire to be rich. if some of you will kindly help me to rise, i'll get out of here and leave you, for i know you all despise me and prefer my room to my company." shaggy and kaliko raised the old king to his feet, when he was confronted by shaggy's brother, whom he now noticed for the first time. the queer and unexpected appearance of the ugly one so startled ruggedo that he gave a wild cry and began to tremble, as if he had seen a ghost. "wh--wh--who is this?" he faltered. "i am that helpless prisoner whom your cruel magic transformed from a handsome man into an ugly one!" answered shaggy's brother, in a voice of stern reproach. "really, ruggedo," said betsy, "you ought to be ashamed of that mean trick." "i am, my dear," admitted ruggedo, who was now as meek and humble as formerly he had been cruel and vindictive. "then," returned the girl, "you'd better do some more magic and give the poor man his own face again." "i wish i could," answered the old king; "but you must remember that tititi-hoochoo has deprived me of all my magic powers. however, i never took the trouble to learn just how to break the charm i cast over shaggy's brother, for i intended he should always remain ugly." "every charm," remarked pretty polychrome, "has its antidote; and, if you knew this charm of ugliness, ruggedo, you must have known how to dispel it." he shook his head. "if i did, i--i've forgotten," he stammered regretfully. "try to think!" pleaded shaggy, anxiously. "_please_ try to think!" ruggedo ruffled his hair with both hands, sighed, slapped his chest, rubbed his ear, and stared stupidly around the group. "i've a faint recollection that there _was_ one thing that would break the charm," said he; "but misfortune has so addled my brain that i can't remember what it was." "see here, ruggedo," said betsy, sharply, "we've treated you pretty well, so far, but we won't stand for any nonsense, and if you know what's good for yourself you'll think of that charm!" "why?" he demanded, turning to look wonderingly at the little girl. "because it means so much to shaggy's brother. he's dreadfully ashamed of himself, the way he is now, and you're to blame for it. fact is, ruggedo, you've done so much wickedness in your life that it won't hurt you to do a kind act now." ruggedo blinked at her, and sighed again, and then tried very hard to think. "i seem to remember, dimly," said he, "that a certain kind of a kiss will break the charm of ugliness." "what kind of a kiss?" "what kind? why, it was--it was--it was either the kiss of a mortal maid; or--or--the kiss of a mortal maid who had once been a fairy; or--or the kiss of one who is still a fairy. i can't remember which. but of course no maid, mortal or fairy, would ever consent to kiss a person so ugly--so dreadfully, fearfully, terribly ugly--as shaggy's brother." "i'm not so sure of that," said betsy, with admirable courage; "i'm a mortal maid, and if it is _my_ kiss that will break this awful charm, i--i'll do it!" "oh, you really couldn't," protested ugly. "i would be obliged to remove my mask, and when you saw my face, nothing could induce you to kiss me, generous as you are." "well, as for that," said the little girl, "i needn't see your face at all. here's my plan: you stay in this dark passage, and we'll send away the nomes with their torches. then you'll take off the handkerchief, and i--i'll kiss you." "this is awfully kind of you, betsy!" said shaggy, gratefully. "well, it surely won't kill me," she replied; "and, if it makes you and your brother happy, i'm willing to take some chances." so kaliko ordered the torch-bearers to leave the passage, which they did by going through the rock opening. queen ann and her army also went out; but the others were so interested in betsy's experiment that they remained grouped at the mouth of the passageway. when the big rock swung into place, closing tight the opening, they were left in total darkness. "now, then," called betsy in a cheerful voice, "have you got that handkerchief off your face, ugly?" "yes," he replied. "well, where are you, then?" she asked, reaching out her arms. "here," said he. "you'll have to stoop down, you know." he found her hands and clasping them in his own stooped until his face was near to that of the little girl. the others heard a clear, smacking kiss, and then betsy exclaimed: "there! i've done it, and it didn't hurt a bit!" "tell me, dear brother; is the charm broken?" asked shaggy. "i do not know," was the reply. "it may be, or it may not be. i cannot tell." "has anyone a match?" inquired betsy. "i have several," said shaggy. "then let ruggedo strike one of them and look at your brother's face, while we all turn our backs. ruggedo made your brother ugly, so i guess he can stand the horror of looking at him, if the charm isn't broken." agreeing to this, ruggedo took the match and lighted it. he gave one look and then blew out the match. "ugly as ever!" he said with a shudder. "so it wasn't the kiss of a mortal maid, after all." "let me try," proposed the rose princess, in her sweet voice. "i am a mortal maid who was once a fairy. perhaps my kiss will break the charm." files did not wholly approve of this, but he was too generous to interfere. so the rose princess felt her way through the darkness to shaggy's brother and kissed him. ruggedo struck another match, while they all turned away. "no," announced the former king; "that didn't break the charm, either. it must be the kiss of a fairy that is required--or else my memory has failed me altogether." "polly," said betsy, pleadingly, "won't _you_ try?" "of course i will!" answered polychrome, with a merry laugh. "i've never kissed a mortal man in all the thousands of years i have existed, but i'll do it to please our faithful shaggy man, whose unselfish affection for his ugly brother deserves to be rewarded." even as polychrome was speaking she tripped lightly to the side of the ugly one and quickly touched his cheek with her lips. "oh, thank you--thank you!" he fervently cried. "i've changed, this time, i know. i can feel it! i'm different. shaggy--dear shaggy--i am myself again!" files, who was near the opening, touched the spring that released the big rock and it suddenly swung backward and let in a flood of daylight. everyone stood motionless, staring hard at shaggy's brother, who, no longer masked by the polka-dot handkerchief, met their gaze with a glad smile. "well," said shaggy man, breaking the silence at last and drawing a long, deep breath of satisfaction, "you are no longer the ugly one, my dear brother; but, to be entirely frank with you, the face that belongs to you is no more handsome than it ought to be." "i think he's rather good looking," remarked betsy, gazing at the man critically. "in comparison with what he was," said king kaliko, "he is really beautiful. you, who never beheld his ugliness, may not understand that; but it was my misfortune to look at the ugly one many times, and i say again that, in comparison with what he was, the man is now beautiful." "all right," returned betsy, briskly, "we'll take your word for it, kaliko. and now let us get out of this tunnel and into the world again." chapter twenty-three ruggedo reforms it did not take them long to regain the royal cavern of the nome king, where kaliko ordered served to them the nicest refreshments the place afforded. ruggedo had come trailing along after the rest of the party and while no one paid any attention to the old king they did not offer any objection to his presence or command him to leave them. he looked fearfully to see if the eggs were still guarding the entrance, but they had now disappeared; so he crept into the cavern after the others and humbly squatted down in a corner of the room. there betsy discovered him. all of the little girl's companions were now so happy at the success of shaggy's quest for his brother, and the laughter and merriment seemed so general, that betsy's heart softened toward the friendless old man who had once been their bitter enemy, and she carried to him some of the food and drink. ruggedo's eyes filled with tears at this unexpected kindness. he took the child's hand in his own and pressed it gratefully. "look here, kaliko," said betsy, addressing the new king, "what's the use of being hard on ruggedo? all his magic power is gone, so he can't do any more harm, and i'm sure he's sorry he acted so badly to everybody." "are you?" asked kaliko, looking down at his former master. "i am," said ruggedo. "the girl speaks truly. i'm sorry and i'm harmless. i don't want to wander through the wide world, on top of the ground, for i'm a nome. no nome can ever be happy any place but underground." "that being the case," said kaliko, "i will let you stay here as long as you behave yourself; but, if you try to act badly again, i shall drive you out, as tititi-hoochoo has commanded, and you'll have to wander." "never fear. i'll behave," promised ruggedo. "it is hard work being a king, and harder still to be a good king. but now that i am a common nome i am sure i can lead a blameless life." they were all pleased to hear this and to know that ruggedo had really reformed. "i hope he'll keep his word," whispered betsy to shaggy; "but if he gets bad again we will be far away from the nome kingdom and kaliko will have to 'tend to the old nome himself." polychrome had been a little restless during the last hour or two. the lovely daughter of the rainbow knew that she had now done all in her power to assist her earth friends, and so she began to long for her sky home. "i think," she said, after listening intently, "that it is beginning to rain. the rain king is my uncle, you know, and perhaps he has read my thoughts and is going to help me. anyway i must take a look at the sky and make sure." so she jumped up and ran through the passage to the outer entrance, and they all followed after her and grouped themselves on a ledge of the mountain-side. sure enough, dark clouds had filled the sky and a slow, drizzling rain had set in. "it can't last for long," said shaggy, looking upward, "and when it stops we shall lose the sweet little fairy we have learned to love. alas," he continued, after a moment, "the clouds are already breaking in the west, and--see!--isn't that the rainbow coming?" betsy didn't look at the sky; she looked at polychrome, whose happy, smiling face surely foretold the coming of her father to take her to the cloud palaces. a moment later a gleam of sunshine flooded the mountain and a gorgeous rainbow appeared. with a cry of gladness polychrome sprang upon a point of rock and held out her arms. straightway the rainbow descended until its end was at her very feet, when with a graceful leap she sprang upon it and was at once clasped in the arms of her radiant sisters, the daughters of the rainbow. but polychrome released herself to lean over the edge of the glowing arch and nod, and smile and throw a dozen kisses to her late comrades. "good-bye!" she called, and they all shouted "good-bye!" in return and waved their hands to their pretty friend. slowly the magnificent bow lifted and melted into the sky, until the eyes of the earnest watchers saw only fleecy clouds flitting across the blue. "i'm dreadful sorry to see polychrome go," said betsy, who felt like crying; "but i s'pose she'll be a good deal happier with her sisters in the sky palaces." "to be sure," returned shaggy, nodding gravely. "it's her home, you know, and those poor wanderers who, like ourselves, have no home, can realize what that means to her." "once," said betsy, "i, too, had a home. now, i've only--only--dear old hank!" she twined her arms around her shaggy friend who was not human, and he said: "hee-haw!" in a tone that showed he understood her mood. and the shaggy friend who was human stroked the child's head tenderly and said: "you're wrong about that, betsy, dear. i will never desert you." "nor i!" exclaimed shaggy's brother, in earnest tones. the little girl looked up at them gratefully, and her eyes smiled through their tears. "all right," she said. "it's raining again, so let's go back into the cavern." rather soberly, for all loved polychrome and would miss her, they reentered the dominions of the nome king. chapter twenty-four dorothy is delighted "well," said queen ann, when all were again seated in kaliko's royal cavern, "i wonder what we shall do next. if i could find my way back to oogaboo i'd take my army home at once, for i'm sick and tired of these dreadful hardships." "don't you want to conquer the world?" asked betsy. "no; i've changed my mind about that," admitted the queen. "the world is too big for one person to conquer and i was happier with my own people in oogaboo. i wish--oh, how earnestly i wish--that i was back there this minute!" "so do i!" yelled every officer in a fervent tone. now, it is time for the reader to know that in the far-away land of oz the lovely ruler, ozma, had been following the adventures of her shaggy man, and tik-tok, and all the others they had met. day by day ozma, with the wonderful wizard of oz seated beside her, had gazed upon a magic picture in a radium frame, which occupied one side of the ruler's cosy boudoir in the palace of the emerald city. the singular thing about this magic picture was that it showed whatever scene ozma wished to see, with the figures all in motion, just as it was taking place. so ozma and the wizard had watched every action of the adventurers from the time shaggy had met shipwrecked betsy and hank in the rose kingdom, at which time the rose princess, a distant cousin of ozma, had been exiled by her heartless subjects. when ann and her people so earnestly wished to return to oogaboo, ozma was sorry for them and remembered that oogaboo was a corner of the land of oz. she turned to her attendant and asked: "can not your magic take these unhappy people to their old home, wizard?" "it can, your highness," replied the little wizard. "i think the poor queen has suffered enough in her misguided effort to conquer the world," said ozma, smiling at the absurdity of the undertaking, "so no doubt she will hereafter be contented in her own little kingdom. please send her there, wizard, and with her the officers and files." "how about the rose princess?" asked the wizard. "send her to oogaboo with files," answered ozma. "they have become such good friends that i am sure it would make them unhappy to separate them." "very well," said the wizard, and without any fuss or mystery whatever he performed a magical rite that was simple and effective. therefore those seated in the nome king's cavern were both startled and amazed when all the people of oogaboo suddenly disappeared from the room, and with them the rose princess. at first they could not understand it at all; but presently shaggy suspected the truth, and believing that ozma was now taking an interest in the party he drew from his pocket a tiny instrument which he placed against his ear. ozma, observing this action in her magic picture, at once caught up a similar instrument from a table beside her and held it to her own ear. the two instruments recorded the same delicate vibrations of sound and formed a wireless telephone, an invention of the wizard. those separated by any distance were thus enabled to converse together with perfect ease and without any wire connection. "do you hear me, shaggy man?" asked ozma. "yes, your highness," he replied. "i have sent the people of oogaboo back to their own little valley," announced the ruler of oz; "so do not worry over their disappearance." "that was very kind of you," said shaggy. "but your highness must permit me to report that my own mission here is now ended. i have found my lost brother, and he is now beside me, freed from the enchantment of ugliness which ruggedo cast upon him. tik-tok has served me and my comrades faithfully, as you requested him to do, and i hope you will now transport the clockwork man back to your fairyland of oz." "i will do that," replied ozma. "but how about yourself, shaggy?" "i have been very happy in oz," he said, "but my duty to others forces me to exile myself from that delightful land. i must take care of my new-found brother, for one thing, and i have a new comrade in a dear little girl named betsy bobbin, who has no home to go to, and no other friends but me and a small donkey named hank. i have promised betsy never to desert her as long as she needs a friend, and so i must give up the delights of the land of oz forever." he said this with a sigh of regret, and ozma made no reply but laid the tiny instrument on her table, thus cutting off all further communication with the shaggy man. but the lovely ruler of oz still watched her magic picture, with a thoughtful expression upon her face, and the little wizard of oz watched ozma and smiled softly to himself. in the cavern of the nome king shaggy replaced the wireless telephone in his pocket and turning to betsy said in as cheerful a voice as he could muster: "well, little comrade, what shall we do next?" "i don't know, i'm sure," she answered with a puzzled face. "i'm kind of sorry our adventures are over, for i enjoyed them, and now that queen ann and her people are gone, and polychrome is gone, and--dear me!--where's tik-tok, shaggy?" "he also has disappeared," said shaggy, looking around the cavern and nodding wisely. "by this time he is in ozma's palace in the land of oz, which is his home." "isn't it your home, too?" asked betsy. "it used to be, my dear; but now my home is wherever you and my brother are. we are wanderers, you know, but if we stick together i am sure we shall have a good time." "then," said the girl, "let us get out of this stuffy, underground cavern and go in search of new adventures. i'm sure it has stopped raining." "i'm ready," said shaggy, and then they bade good-bye to king kaliko, and thanked him for his assistance, and went out to the mouth of the passage. the sky was now clear and a brilliant blue in color; the sun shone brightly and even this rugged, rocky country seemed delightful after their confinement underground. there were but four of them now--betsy and hank, and shaggy and his brother--and the little party made their way down the mountain and followed a faint path that led toward the southwest. during this time ozma had been holding a conference with the wizard, and later with tik-tok, whom the magic of the wizard had quickly transported to ozma's palace. tik-tok had only words of praise for betsy bobbin, "who," he said, "is al-most as nice as dor-o-thy her-self." "let us send for dorothy," said ozma, and summoning her favorite maid, who was named jellia jamb, she asked her to request princess dorothy to attend her at once. so a few moments later dorothy entered ozma's room and greeted her and the wizard and tik-tok with the same gentle smile and simple manner that had won for the little girl the love of everyone she met. "did you want to see me, ozma?" she asked. "yes, dear. i am puzzled how to act, and i want your advice." "i don't b'lieve it's worth much," replied dorothy, "but i'll do the best i can. what is it all about, ozma?" "you all know," said the girl ruler, addressing her three friends, "what a serious thing it is to admit any mortals into this fairyland of oz. it is true i have invited several mortals to make their home here, and all of them have proved true and loyal subjects. indeed, no one of you three was a native of oz. dorothy and the wizard came here from the united states, and tik-tok came from the land of ev. but of course he is not a mortal. shaggy is another american, and he is the cause of all my worry, for our dear shaggy will not return here and desert the new friends he has found in his recent adventures, because he believes they need his services." "shaggy man was always kind-hearted," remarked dorothy. "but who are these new friends he has found?" "one is his brother, who for many years has been a prisoner of the nome king, our old enemy ruggedo. this brother seems a kindly, honest fellow, but he has done nothing to entitle him to a home in the land of oz." "who else?" asked dorothy. "i have told you about betsy bobbin, the little girl who was shipwrecked--in much the same way you once were--and has since been following the shaggy man in his search for his lost brother. you remember her, do you not?" "oh, yes!" exclaimed dorothy. "i've often watched her and hank in the magic picture, you know. she's a dear little girl, and old hank is a darling! where are they now?" "look and see," replied ozma with a smile at her friend's enthusiasm. dorothy turned to the picture, which showed betsy and hank, with shaggy and his brother, trudging along the rocky paths of a barren country. "seems to me," she said, musingly, "that they're a good way from any place to sleep, or any nice things to eat." "you are right," said tik-tok. "i have been in that coun-try, and it is a wil-der-ness." "it is the country of the nomes," explained the wizard, "who are so mischievous that no one cares to live near them. i'm afraid shaggy and his friends will endure many hardships before they get out of that rocky place, unless--" he turned to ozma and smiled. "unless i ask you to transport them all here?" she asked. "yes, your highness." "could your magic do that?" inquired dorothy. "i think so," said the wizard. "well," said dorothy, "as far as betsy and hank are concerned, i'd like to have them here in oz. it would be such fun to have a girl playmate of my own age, you see. and hank is such a dear little mule!" ozma laughed at the wistful expression in the girl's eyes, and then she drew dorothy to her and kissed her. "am i not your friend and playmate?" she asked. dorothy flushed. "you know how dearly i love you, ozma!" she cried. "but you're so busy ruling all this land of oz that we can't always be together." "i know, dear. my first duty is to my subjects, and i think it would be a delight to us all to have betsy with us. there's a pretty suite of rooms just opposite your own where she can live, and i'll build a golden stall for hank in the stable where the sawhorse lives. then we'll introduce the mule to the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, and i'm sure they will soon become firm friends. but i cannot very well admit betsy and hank into oz unless i also admit shaggy's brother." "and, unless you admit shaggy's brother, you will keep out poor shaggy, whom we are all very fond of," said the wizard. "well, why not ad-mit him?" demanded tik-tok. "the land of oz is not a refuge for all mortals in distress," explained ozma. "i do not wish to be unkind to shaggy man, but his brother has no claim on me." "the land of oz isn't crowded," suggested dorothy. "then you advise me to admit shaggy's brother?" inquired ozma. "well, we can't afford to lose our shaggy man, can we?" "no, indeed!" returned ozma. "what do you say, wizard?" "i'm getting my magic ready to transport them all." "and you, tik-tok?" "shag-gy's broth-er is a good fel-low, and we can't spare shag-gy." "so, then; the question is settled," decided ozma. "perform your magic, wizard!" he did so, placing a silver plate upon a small standard and pouring upon the plate a small quantity of pink powder which was contained in a crystal vial. then he muttered a rather difficult incantation which the sorceress glinda the good had taught him, and it all ended in a puff of perfumed smoke from the silver plate. this smoke was so pungent that it made both ozma and dorothy rub their eyes for a moment. "you must pardon these disagreeable fumes," said the wizard. "i assure you the smoke is a very necessary part of my wizardry." "look!" cried dorothy, pointing to the magic picture; "they're gone! all of them are gone." indeed, the picture now showed the same rocky landscape as before, but the three people and the mule had disappeared from it. "they are gone," said the wizard, polishing the silver plate and wrapping it in a fine cloth, "because they are here." at that moment jellia jamb entered the room. "your highness," she said to ozma, "the shaggy man and another man are in the waiting room and ask to pay their respects to you. shaggy is crying like a baby, but he says they are tears of joy." "send them here at once, jellia!" commanded ozma. "also," continued the maid, "a girl and a small-sized mule have mysteriously arrived, but they don't seem to know where they are or how they came here. shall i send them here, too?" "oh, no!" exclaimed dorothy, eagerly jumping up from her chair; "i'll go to meet betsy myself, for she'll feel awful strange in this big palace." and she ran down the stairs two at a time to greet her new friend, betsy bobbin. chapter twenty-five the land of love "well, is 'hee-haw' all you are able to say?" inquired the sawhorse, as he examined hank with his knot eyes and slowly wagged the branch that served him for a tail. they were in a beautiful stable in the rear of ozma's palace, where the wooden sawhorse--very much alive--lived in a gold-paneled stall, and where there were rooms for the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, which were filled with soft cushions for them to lie upon and golden troughs for them to eat from. beside the stall of the sawhorse had been placed another for hank, the mule. this was not quite so beautiful as the other, for the sawhorse was ozma's favorite steed; but hank had a supply of cushions for a bed (which the sawhorse did not need because he never slept) and all this luxury was so strange to the little mule that he could only stand still and regard his surroundings and his queer companions with wonder and amazement. the cowardly lion, looking very dignified, was stretched out upon the marble floor of the stable, eyeing hank with a calm and critical gaze, while near by crouched the huge hungry tiger, who seemed equally interested in the new animal that had just arrived. the sawhorse, standing stiffly before hank, repeated his question: "is 'hee-haw' all you are able to say?" hank moved his ears in an embarrassed manner. "i have never said anything else, until now," he replied; and then he began to tremble with fright to hear himself talk. "i can well understand that," remarked the lion, wagging his great head with a swaying motion. "strange things happen in this land of oz, as they do everywhere else. i believe you came here from the cold, civilized, outside world, did you not?" "i did," replied hank. "one minute i was outside of oz--and the next minute i was inside! that was enough to give me a nervous shock, as you may guess; but to find myself able to talk, as betsy does, is a marvel that staggers me." "that is because you are in the land of oz," said the sawhorse. "all animals talk, in this favored country, and you must admit it is more sociable than to bray your dreadful 'hee-haw,' which nobody can understand." "mules understand it very well," declared hank. "oh, indeed! then there must be other mules in your outside world," said the tiger, yawning sleepily. "there are a great many in america," said hank. "are you the only tiger in oz?" "no," acknowledged the tiger, "i have many relatives living in the jungle country; but i am the only tiger living in the emerald city." "there are other lions, too," said the sawhorse; "but i am the only horse, of any description, in this favored land." "that is why this land is favored," said the tiger. "you must understand, friend hank, that the sawhorse puts on airs because he is shod with plates of gold, and because our beloved ruler, ozma of oz, likes to ride upon his back." "betsy rides upon _my_ back," declared hank proudly. "who is betsy?" "the dearest, sweetest girl in all the world!" the sawhorse gave an angry snort and stamped his golden feet. the tiger crouched and growled. slowly the great lion rose to his feet, his mane bristling. "friend hank," said he, "either you are mistaken in judgment or you are willfully trying to deceive us. the dearest, sweetest girl in the world is our dorothy, and i will fight anyone--animal or human--who dares to deny it!" "so will i!" snarled the tiger, showing two rows of enormous white teeth. "you are all wrong!" asserted the sawhorse in a voice of scorn. "no girl living can compare with my mistress, ozma of oz!" hank slowly turned around until his heels were toward the others. then he said stubbornly: "i am not mistaken in my statement, nor will i admit there can be a sweeter girl alive than betsy bobbin. if you want to fight, come on--i'm ready for you!" while they hesitated, eyeing hank's heels doubtfully, a merry peal of laughter startled the animals and turning their heads they beheld three lovely girls standing just within the richly carved entrance to the stable. in the center was ozma, her arms encircling the waists of dorothy and betsy, who stood on either side of her. ozma was nearly half a head taller than the two other girls, who were almost of one size. unobserved, they had listened to the talk of the animals, which was a very strange experience indeed to little betsy bobbin. "you foolish beasts!" exclaimed the ruler of oz, in a gentle but chiding tone of voice. "why should you fight to defend us, who are all three loving friends and in no sense rivals? answer me!" she continued, as they bowed their heads sheepishly. "i have the right to express my opinion, your highness," pleaded the lion. "and so have the others," replied ozma. "i am glad you and the hungry tiger love dorothy best, for she was your first friend and companion. also i am pleased that my sawhorse loves me best, for together we have endured both joy and sorrow. hank has proved his faith and loyalty by defending his own little mistress; and so you are all right in one way, but wrong in another. our land of oz is a land of love, and here friendship outranks every other quality. unless you can all be friends, you cannot retain our love." they accepted this rebuke very meekly. "all right," said the sawhorse, quite cheerfully; "shake hoofs, friend mule." hank touched his hoof to that of the wooden horse. "let us be friends and rub noses," said the tiger. so hank modestly rubbed noses with the big beast. the lion merely nodded and said, as he crouched before the mule: "any friend of a friend of our beloved ruler is a friend of the cowardly lion. that seems to cover your case. if ever you need help or advice, friend hank, call on me." "why, this is as it should be," said ozma, highly pleased to see them so fully reconciled. then she turned to her companions: "come, my dears, let us resume our walk." as they turned away betsy said wonderingly: "do all the animals in oz talk as we do?" "almost all," answered dorothy. "there's a yellow hen here, and she can talk, and so can her chickens; and there's a pink kitten upstairs in my room who talks very nicely; but i've a little fuzzy black dog, named toto, who has been with me in oz a long time, and he's never said a single word but 'bow-wow!'" "do you know why?" asked ozma. "why, he's a kansas dog; so i s'pose he's different from these fairy animals," replied dorothy. "hank isn't a fairy animal, any more than toto," said ozma, "yet as soon as he came under the spell of our fairyland he found he could talk. it was the same way with billina, the yellow hen whom you brought here at one time. the same spell has affected toto, i assure you; but he's a wise little dog and while he knows everything that is said to him he prefers not to talk." "goodness me!" exclaimed dorothy. "i never s'pected toto was fooling me all this time." then she drew a small silver whistle from her pocket and blew a shrill note upon it. a moment later there was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and a shaggy black dog came running up the path. dorothy knelt down before him and shaking her finger just above his nose she said: "toto, haven't i always been good to you?" toto looked up at her with his bright black eyes and wagged his tail. "bow-wow!" he said, and betsy knew at once that meant yes, as well as dorothy and ozma knew it, for there was no mistaking the tone of toto's voice. "that's a dog answer," said dorothy. "how would you like it, toto, if i said nothing to you but 'bow-wow'?" toto's tail was wagging furiously now, but otherwise he was silent. "really, dorothy," said betsy, "he can talk with his bark and his tail just as well as we can. don't you understand such dog language?" "of course i do," replied dorothy. "but toto's got to be more sociable. see here, sir!" she continued, addressing the dog, "i've just learned, for the first time, that you can say words--if you want to. don't you want to, toto?" "woof!" said toto, and that meant "no." "not just one word, toto, to prove you're as any other animal in oz?" "woof!" "just one word, toto--and then you may run away." he looked at her steadily a moment. "all right. here i go!" he said, and darted away as swift as an arrow. dorothy clapped her hands in delight, while betsy and ozma both laughed heartily at her pleasure and the success of her experiment. arm in arm they sauntered away through the beautiful gardens of the palace, where magnificent flowers bloomed in abundance and fountains shot their silvery sprays far into the air. and by and by, as they turned a corner, they came upon shaggy man and his brother, who were seated together upon a golden bench. the two arose to bow respectfully as the ruler of oz approached them. "how are you enjoying our land of oz?" ozma asked the stranger. "i am very happy here, your highness," replied shaggy's brother. "also i am very grateful to you for permitting me to live in this delightful place." "you must thank shaggy for that," said ozma. "being his brother, i have made you welcome here." "when you know brother better," said shaggy earnestly, "you will be glad he has become one of your loyal subjects. i am just getting acquainted with him myself and i find much in his character to admire." leaving the brothers, ozma and the girls continued their walk. presently betsy exclaimed: "shaggy's brother can't ever be as happy in oz as _i_ am. do you know, dorothy, i didn't believe any girl could ever have such a good time--_anywhere_--as i'm having now?" "i know," answered dorothy. "i've felt that way myself, lots of times." "i wish," continued betsy, dreamily, "that every little girl in the world could live in the land of oz; and every little boy, too!" ozma laughed at this. "it is quite fortunate for us, betsy, that your wish cannot be granted," said she, "for all that army of girls and boys would crowd us so that we would have to move away." "yes," agreed betsy, after a little thought, "i guess that's true." the end the wonderful oz books by l. frank baum the wizard of oz the land of oz ozma of oz dorothy and the wizard in oz the road to oz the emerald city of oz the patchwork girl of oz tik-tok of oz the scarecrow of oz rinkitink in oz the lost princess of oz the tin woodman of oz the magic of oz glinda of oz the lost princess of oz by l. frank baum this book is dedicated to my granddaughter ozma baum to my readers some of my youthful readers are developing wonderful imaginations. this pleases me. imagination has brought mankind through the dark ages to its present state of civilization. imagination led columbus to discover america. imagination led franklin to discover electricity. imagination has given us the steam engine, the telephone, the talking-machine and the automobile, for these things had to be dreamed of before they became realities. so i believe that dreams--day dreams, you know, with your eyes wide open and your brain-machinery whizzing--are likely to lead to the betterment of the world. the imaginative child will become the imaginative man or woman most apt to create, to invent, and therefore to foster civilization. a prominent educator tells me that fairy tales are of untold value in developing imagination in the young. i believe it. among the letters i receive from children are many containing suggestions of "what to write about in the next oz book." some of the ideas advanced are mighty interesting, while others are too extravagant to be seriously considered--even in a fairy tale. yet i like them all, and i must admit that the main idea in "the lost princess of oz" was suggested to me by a sweet little girl of eleven who called to see me and to talk about the land of oz. said she: "i s'pose if ozma ever got lost, or stolen, ev'rybody in oz would be dreadful sorry." that was all, but quite enough foundation to build this present story on. if you happen to like the story, give credit to my little friend's clever hint. l. frank baum royal historian of oz list of chapters a terrible loss the troubles of glinda the good the robbery of cayke the cookie cook among the winkies ozma's friends are perplexed the search party the merry-go-round mountains the mysterious city the high coco-lorum of thi toto loses something button-bright loses himself the czarover of herku the truth pond the unhappy ferryman the big lavender bear the little pink bear the meeting the conference ugu the shoemaker more surprises magic against magic in the wicker castle the defiance of ugu the shoemaker the little pink bear speaks truly ozma of oz dorothy forgives the lost princess by l. frank baum chapter a terrible loss there could be no doubt of the fact: princess ozma, the lovely girl ruler of the fairyland of oz, was lost. she had completely disappeared. not one of her subjects--not even her closest friends--knew what had become of her. it was dorothy who first discovered it. dorothy was a little kansas girl who had come to the land of oz to live and had been given a delightful suite of rooms in ozma's royal palace just because ozma loved dorothy and wanted her to live as near her as possible so the two girls might be much together. dorothy was not the only girl from the outside world who had been welcomed to oz and lived in the royal palace. there was another named betsy bobbin, whose adventures had led her to seek refuge with ozma, and still another named trot, who had been invited, together with her faithful companion cap'n bill, to make her home in this wonderful fairyland. the three girls all had rooms in the palace and were great chums; but dorothy was the dearest friend of their gracious ruler and only she at any hour dared to seek ozma in her royal apartments. for dorothy had lived in oz much longer than the other girls and had been made a princess of the realm. betsy was a year older than dorothy and trot was a year younger, yet the three were near enough of an age to become great playmates and to have nice times together. it was while the three were talking together one morning in dorothy's room that betsy proposed they make a journey into the munchkin country, which was one of the four great countries of the land of oz ruled by ozma. "i've never been there yet," said betsy bobbin, "but the scarecrow once told me it is the prettiest country in all oz." "i'd like to go, too," added trot. "all right," said dorothy. "i'll go and ask ozma. perhaps she will let us take the sawhorse and the red wagon, which would be much nicer for us than having to walk all the way. this land of oz is a pretty big place when you get to all the edges of it." so she jumped up and went along the halls of the splendid palace until she came to the royal suite, which filled all the front of the second floor. in a little waiting room sat ozma's maid, jellia jamb, who was busily sewing. "is ozma up yet?" inquired dorothy. "i don't know, my dear," replied jellia. "i haven't heard a word from her this morning. she hasn't even called for her bath or her breakfast, and it is far past her usual time for them." "that's strange!" exclaimed the little girl. "yes," agreed the maid, "but of course no harm could have happened to her. no one can die or be killed in the land of oz, and ozma is herself a powerful fairy, and she has no enemies so far as we know. therefore i am not at all worried about her, though i must admit her silence is unusual." "perhaps," said dorothy thoughtfully, "she has overslept. or she may be reading or working out some new sort of magic to do good to her people." "any of these things may be true," replied jellia jamb, "so i haven't dared disturb our royal mistress. you, however, are a privileged character, princess, and i am sure that ozma wouldn't mind at all if you went in to see her." "of course not," said dorothy, and opening the door of the outer chamber, she went in. all was still here. she walked into another room, which was ozma's boudoir, and then, pushing back a heavy drapery richly broidered with threads of pure gold, the girl entered the sleeping-room of the fairy ruler of oz. the bed of ivory and gold was vacant; the room was vacant; not a trace of ozma was to be found. very much surprised, yet still with no fear that anything had happened to her friend, dorothy returned through the boudoir to the other rooms of the suite. she went into the music room, the library, the laboratory, the bath, the wardrobe, and even into the great throne room, which adjoined the royal suite, but in none of these places could she find ozma. so she returned to the anteroom where she had left the maid, jellia jamb, and said: "she isn't in her rooms now, so she must have gone out." "i don't understand how she could do that without my seeing her," replied jellia, "unless she made herself invisible." "she isn't there, anyhow," declared dorothy. "then let us go find her," suggested the maid, who appeared to be a little uneasy. so they went into the corridors, and there dorothy almost stumbled over a queer girl who was dancing lightly along the passage. "stop a minute, scraps!" she called, "have you seen ozma this morning?" "not i!" replied the queer girl, dancing nearer. "i lost both my eyes in a tussle with the woozy last night, for the creature scraped 'em both off my face with his square paws. so i put the eyes in my pocket, and this morning button-bright led me to aunt em, who sewed 'em on again. so i've seen nothing at all today, except during the last five minutes. so of course i haven't seen ozma." "very well, scraps," said dorothy, looking curiously at the eyes, which were merely two round, black buttons sewed upon the girl's face. there were other things about scraps that would have seemed curious to one seeing her for the first time. she was commonly called "the patchwork girl" because her body and limbs were made from a gay-colored patchwork quilt which had been cut into shape and stuffed with cotton. her head was a round ball stuffed in the same manner and fastened to her shoulders. for hair, she had a mass of brown yarn, and to make a nose for her a part of the cloth had been pulled out into the shape of a knob and tied with a string to hold it in place. her mouth had been carefully made by cutting a slit in the proper place and lining it with red silk, adding two rows of pearls for teeth and a bit of red flannel for a tongue. in spite of this queer make-up, the patchwork girl was magically alive and had proved herself not the least jolly and agreeable of the many quaint characters who inhabit the astonishing fairyland of oz. indeed, scraps was a general favorite, although she was rather flighty and erratic and did and said many things that surprised her friends. she was seldom still, but loved to dance, to turn handsprings and somersaults, to climb trees and to indulge in many other active sports. "i'm going to search for ozma," remarked dorothy, "for she isn't in her rooms, and i want to ask her a question." "i'll go with you," said scraps, "for my eyes are brighter than yours, and they can see farther." "i'm not sure of that," returned dorothy. "but come along, if you like." together they searched all through the great palace and even to the farthest limits of the palace grounds, which were quite extensive, but nowhere could they find a trace of ozma. when dorothy returned to where betsy and trot awaited her, the little girl's face was rather solemn and troubled, for never before had ozma gone away without telling her friends where she was going, or without an escort that befitted her royal state. she was gone, however, and none had seen her go. dorothy had met and questioned the scarecrow, tik-tok, the shaggy man, button-bright, cap'n bill, and even the wise and powerful wizard of oz, but not one of them had seen ozma since she parted with her friends the evening before and had gone to her own rooms. "she didn't say anything las' night about going anywhere," observed little trot. "no, and that's the strange part of it," replied dorothy. "usually ozma lets us know of everything she does." "why not look in the magic picture?" suggested betsy bobbin. "that will tell us where she is in just one second." "of course!" cried dorothy. "why didn't i think of that before?" and at once the three girls hurried away to ozma's boudoir, where the magic picture always hung. this wonderful magic picture was one of the royal ozma's greatest treasures. there was a large gold frame in the center of which was a bluish-gray canvas on which various scenes constantly appeared and disappeared. if one who stood before it wished to see what any person anywhere in the world was doing, it was only necessary to make the wish and the scene in the magic picture would shift to the scene where that person was and show exactly what he or she was then engaged in doing. so the girls knew it would be easy for them to wish to see ozma, and from the picture they could quickly learn where she was. dorothy advanced to the place where the picture was usually protected by thick satin curtains and pulled the draperies aside. then she stared in amazement, while her two friends uttered exclamations of disappointment. the magic picture was gone. only a blank space on the wall behind the curtains showed where it had formerly hung. chapter the troubles of glinda the good that same morning there was great excitement in the castle of the powerful sorceress of oz, glinda the good. this castle, situated in the quadling country, far south of the emerald city where ozma ruled, was a splendid structure of exquisite marbles and silver grilles. here the sorceress lived, surrounded by a bevy of the most beautiful maidens of oz, gathered from all the four countries of that fairyland as well as from the magnificent emerald city itself, which stood in the place where the four countries cornered. it was considered a great honor to be allowed to serve the good sorceress, whose arts of magic were used only to benefit the oz people. glinda was ozma's most valued servant, for her knowledge of sorcery was wonderful, and she could accomplish almost anything that her mistress, the lovely girl ruler of oz, wished her to. of all the magical things which surrounded glinda in her castle, there was none more marvelous than her great book of records. on the pages of this record book were constantly being inscribed, day by day and hour by hour, all the important events that happened anywhere in the known world, and they were inscribed in the book at exactly the moment the events happened. every adventure in the land of oz and in the big outside world, and even in places that you and i have never heard of, were recorded accurately in the great book, which never made a mistake and stated only the exact truth. for that reason, nothing could be concealed from glinda the good, who had only to look at the pages of the great book of records to know everything that had taken place. that was one reason she was such a great sorceress, for the records made her wiser than any other living person. this wonderful book was placed upon a big gold table that stood in the middle of glinda's drawing room. the legs of the table, which were incrusted with precious gems, were firmly fastened to the tiled floor, and the book itself was chained to the table and locked with six stout golden padlocks, the keys to which glinda carried on a chain that was secured around her own neck. the pages of the great book were larger in size than those of an american newspaper, and although they were exceedingly thin, there were so many of them that they made an enormous, bulky volume. with its gold cover and gold clasps, the book was so heavy that three men could scarcely have lifted it. yet this morning when glinda entered her drawing room after breakfast, the good sorceress was amazed to discover that her great book of records had mysteriously disappeared. advancing to the table, she found the chains had been cut with some sharp instrument, and this must have been done while all in the castle slept. glinda was shocked and grieved. who could have done this wicked, bold thing? and who could wish to deprive her of her great book of records? the sorceress was thoughtful for a time, considering the consequences of her loss. then she went to her room of magic to prepare a charm that would tell her who had stolen the record book. but when she unlocked her cupboard and threw open the doors, all of her magical instruments and rare chemical compounds had been removed from the shelves. the sorceress has now both angry and alarmed. she sat down in a chair and tried to think how this extraordinary robbery could have taken place. it was evident that the thief was some person of very great power, or the theft could not have been accomplished without her knowledge. but who, in all the land of oz, was powerful and skillful enough to do this awful thing? and who, having the power, could also have an object in defying the wisest and most talented sorceress the world has ever known? glinda thought over the perplexing matter for a full hour, at the end of which time she was still puzzled how to explain it. but although her instruments and chemicals were gone, her knowledge of magic had not been stolen, by any means, since no thief, however skillful, can rob one of knowledge, and that is why knowledge is the best and safest treasure to acquire. glinda believed that when she had time to gather more magical herbs and elixirs and to manufacture more magical instruments, she would be able to discover who the robber was and what had become of her precious book of records. "whoever has done this," she said to her maidens, "is a very foolish person, for in time he is sure to be found out and will then be severely punished." she now made a list of the things she needed and dispatched messengers to every part of oz with instructions to obtain them and bring them to her as soon as possible. and one of her messengers met the little wizard of oz, who was seated on the back of the famous live sawhorse and was clinging to its neck with both his arms, for the sawhorse was speeding to glinda's castle with the velocity of the wind, bearing the news that royal ozma, ruler of all the great land of oz, had suddenly disappeared and no one in the emerald city knew what had become of her. "also," said the wizard as he stood before the astonished sorceress, "ozma's magic picture is gone, so we cannot consult it to discover where she is. so i came to you for assistance as soon as we realized our loss. let us look in the great book of records." "alas," returned the sorceress sorrowfully, "we cannot do that, for the great book of records has also disappeared!" chapter the robbery of cayke the cookie cook one more important theft was reported in the land of oz that eventful morning, but it took place so far from either the emerald city or the castle of glinda the good that none of those persons we have mentioned learned of the robbery until long afterward. in the far southwestern corner of the winkie country is a broad tableland that can be reached only by climbing a steep hill, whichever side one approaches it. on the hillside surrounding this tableland are no paths at all, but there are quantities of bramble bushes with sharp prickers on them, which prevent any of the oz people who live down below from climbing up to see what is on top. but on top live the yips, and although the space they occupy is not great in extent, the wee country is all their own. the yips had never--up to the time this story begins--left their broad tableland to go down into the land of oz, nor had the oz people ever climbed up to the country of the yips. living all alone as they did, the yips had queer ways and notions of their own and did not resemble any other people of the land of oz. their houses were scattered all over the flat surface; not like a city, grouped together, but set wherever their owners' fancy dictated, with fields here, trees there, and odd little paths connecting the houses one with another. it was here, on the morning when ozma so strangely disappeared from the emerald city, that cayke the cookie cook discovered that her diamond-studded gold dishpan had been stolen, and she raised such a hue and cry over her loss and wailed and shrieked so loudly that many of the yips gathered around her house to inquire what was the matter. it was a serious thing in any part of the land of oz to accuse one of stealing, so when the yips heard cayke the cookie cook declare that her jeweled dishpan had been stolen, they were both humiliated and disturbed and forced cayke to go with them to the frogman to see what could be done about it. i do not suppose you have ever before heard of the frogman, for like all other dwellers on that tableland, he had never been away from it, nor had anyone come up there to see him. the frogman was in truth descended from the common frogs of oz, and when he was first born he lived in a pool in the winkie country and was much like any other frog. being of an adventurous nature, however, he soon hopped out of his pool and began to travel, when a big bird came along and seized him in its beak and started to fly away with him to its nest. when high in the air, the frog wriggled so frantically that he got loose and fell down, down, down into a small hidden pool on the tableland of the yips. now that pool, it seems, was unknown to the yips because it was surrounded by thick bushes and was not near to any dwelling, and it proved to be an enchanted pool, for the frog grew very fast and very big, feeding on the magic skosh which is found nowhere else on earth except in that one pool. and the skosh not only made the frog very big so that when he stood on his hind legs he was as tall as any yip in the country, but it made him unusually intelligent, so that he soon knew more than the yips did and was able to reason and to argue very well indeed. no one could expect a frog with these talents to remain in a hidden pool, so he finally got out of it and mingled with the people of the tableland, who were amazed at his appearance and greatly impressed by his learning. they had never seen a frog before, and the frog had never seen a yip before, but as there were plenty of yips and only one frog, the frog became the most important. he did not hop any more, but stood upright on his hind legs and dressed himself in fine clothes and sat in chairs and did all the things that people do, so he soon came to be called the frogman, and that is the only name he has ever had. after some years had passed, the people came to regard the frogman as their adviser in all matters that puzzled them. they brought all their difficulties to him, and when he did not know anything, he pretended to know it, which seemed to answer just as well. indeed, the yips thought the frogman was much wiser than he really was, and he allowed them to think so, being very proud of his position of authority. there was another pool on the tableland which was not enchanted but contained good, clear water and was located close to the dwellings. here the people built the frogman a house of his own, close to the edge of the pool so that he could take a bath or a swim whenever he wished. he usually swam in the pool in the early morning before anyone else was up, and during the day he dressed himself in his beautiful clothes and sat in his house and received the visits of all the yips who came to him to ask his advice. the frogman's usual costume consisted of knee-breeches made of yellow satin plush, with trimmings of gold braid and jeweled knee-buckles; a white satin vest with silver buttons in which were set solitaire rubies; a swallow-tailed coat of bright yellow; green stockings and red leather shoes turned up at the toes and having diamond buckles. he wore, when he walked out, a purple silk hat and carried a gold-headed cane. over his eyes he wore great spectacles with gold rims, not because his eyes were bad, but because the spectacles made him look wise, and so distinguished and gorgeous was his appearance that all the yips were very proud of him. there was no king or queen in the yip country, so the simple inhabitants naturally came to look upon the frogman as their leader as well as their counselor in all times of emergency. in his heart the big frog knew he was no wiser than the yips, but for a frog to know as much as a person was quite remarkable, and the frogman was shrewd enough to make the people believe he was far more wise than he really was. they never suspected he was a humbug, but listened to his words with great respect and did just what he advised them to do. now when cayke the cookie cook raised such an outcry over the theft of her diamond-studded dishpan, the first thought of the people was to take her to the frogman and inform him of the loss, thinking that of course he would tell her where to find it. he listened to the story with his big eyes wide open behind his spectacles, and said in his deep, croaking voice, "if the dishpan is stolen, somebody must have taken it." "but who?" asked cayke anxiously. "who is the thief?" "the one who took the dishpan, of course," replied the frogman, and hearing this all the yips nodded their heads gravely and said to one another, "it is absolutely true!" "but i want my dishpan!" cried cayke. "no one can blame you for that wish," remarked the frogman. "then tell me where i may find it," she urged. the look the frogman gave her was a very wise look, and he rose from his chair and strutted up and down the room with his hands under his coattails in a very pompous and imposing manner. this was the first time so difficult a matter had been brought to him, and he wanted time to think. it would never do to let them suspect his ignorance, and so he thought very, very hard how best to answer the woman without betraying himself. "i beg to inform you," said he, "that nothing in the yip country has ever been stolen before." "we know that already," answered cayke the cookie cook impatiently. "therefore," continued the frogman, "this theft becomes a very important matter." "well, where is my dishpan?" demanded the woman. "it is lost, but it must be found. unfortunately, we have no policemen or detectives to unravel the mystery, so we must employ other means to regain the lost article. cayke must first write a proclamation and tack it to the door of her house, and the proclamation must read that whoever stole the jeweled dishpan must return it at once." "but suppose no one returns it," suggested cayke. "then," said the frogman, "that very fact will be proof that no one has stolen it." cayke was not satisfied, but the other yips seemed to approve the plan highly. they all advised her to do as the frogman had told her to, so she posted the sign on her door and waited patiently for someone to return the dishpan--which no one ever did. again she went, accompanied by a group of her neighbors, to the frogman, who by this time had given the matter considerable thought. said he to cayke, "i am now convinced that no yip has taken your dishpan, and since it is gone from the yip country, i suspect that some stranger came from the world down below us in the darkness of night when all of us were asleep and took away your treasure. there can be no other explanation of its disappearance. so if you wish to recover that golden, diamond-studded dishpan, you must go into the lower world after it." this was indeed a startling proposition. cayke and her friends went to the edge of the flat tableland and looked down the steep hillside to the plains below. it was so far to the bottom of the hill that nothing there could be seen very distinctly, and it seemed to the yips very venturesome, if not dangerous, to go so far from home into an unknown land. however, cayke wanted her dishpan very badly, so she turned to her friends and asked, "who will go with me?" no one answered the question, but after a period of silence one of the yips said, "we know what is here on the top of this flat hill, and it seems to us a very pleasant place, but what is down below we do not know. the chances are it is not so pleasant, so we had best stay where we are." "it may be a far better country than this is," suggested the cookie cook. "maybe, maybe," responded another yip, "but why take chances? contentment with one's lot is true wisdom. perhaps in some other country there are better cookies than you cook, but as we have always eaten your cookies and liked them--except when they are burned on the bottom--we do not long for any better ones." cayke might have agreed to this argument had she not been so anxious to find her precious dishpan, but now she exclaimed impatiently, "you are cowards, all of you! if none of you are willing to explore with me the great world beyond this small hill, i will surely go alone." "that is a wise resolve," declared the yips, much relieved. "it is your dishpan that is lost, not ours. and if you are willing to risk your life and liberty to regain it, no one can deny you the privilege." while they were thus conversing, the frogman joined them and looked down at the plain with his big eyes and seemed unusually thoughtful. in fact, the frogman was thinking that he'd like to see more of the world. here in the yip country he had become the most important creature of them all, and his importance was getting to be a little tame. it would be nice to have other people defer to him and ask his advice, and there seemed no reason so far as he could see why his fame should not spread throughout all oz. he knew nothing of the rest of the world, but it was reasonable to believe that there were more people beyond the mountain where he now lived than there were yips, and if he went among them he could surprise them with his display of wisdom and make them bow down to him as the yips did. in other words, the frogman was ambitious to become still greater than he was, which was impossible if he always remained upon this mountain. he wanted others to see his gorgeous clothes and listen to his solemn sayings, and here was an excuse for him to get away from the yip country. so he said to cayke the cookie cook, "i will go with you, my good woman," which greatly pleased cayke because she felt the frogman could be of much assistance to her in her search. but now, since the mighty frogman had decided to undertake the journey, several of the yips who were young and daring at once made up their minds to go along, so the next morning after breakfast the frogman and cayke the cookie cook and nine of the yips started to slide down the side of the mountain. the bramble bushes and cactus plants were very prickly and uncomfortable to the touch, so the frogman quickly commanded the yips to go first and break a path, so that when he followed them he would not tear his splendid clothes. cayke, too, was wearing her best dress and was likewise afraid of the thorns and prickers, so she kept behind the frogman. they made rather slow progress and night overtook them before they were halfway down the mountainside, so they found a cave in which they sought shelter until morning. cayke had brought along a basket full of her famous cookies, so they all had plenty to eat. on the second day the yips began to wish they had not embarked on this adventure. they grumbled a good deal at having to cut away the thorns to make the path for the frogman and the cookie cook, for their own clothing suffered many tears, while cayke and the frogman traveled safely and in comfort. "if it is true that anyone came to our country to steal your diamond dishpan," said one of the yips to cayke, "it must have been a bird, for no person in the form of a man, woman or child could have climbed through these bushes and back again." "and, allowing he could have done so," said another yip, "the diamond-studded gold dishpan would not have repaid him for his troubles and his tribulations." "for my part," remarked a third yip, "i would rather go back home and dig and polish some more diamonds and mine some more gold and make you another dishpan than be scratched from head to heel by these dreadful bushes. even now, if my mother saw me, she would not know i am her son." cayke paid no heed to these mutterings, nor did the frogman. although their journey was slow, it was being made easy for them by the yips, so they had nothing to complain of and no desire to turn back. quite near to the bottom of the great hill they came upon a great gulf, the sides of which were as smooth as glass. the gulf extended a long distance--as far as they could see in either direction--and although it was not very wide, it was far too wide for the yips to leap across it. and should they fall into it, it was likely they might never get out again. "here our journey ends," said the yips. "we must go back again." cayke the cookie cook began to weep. "i shall never find my pretty dishpan again, and my heart will be broken!" she sobbed. the frogman went to the edge of the gulf and with his eye carefully measured the distance to the other side. "being a frog," said he, "i can leap, as all frogs do, and being so big and strong, i am sure i can leap across this gulf with ease. but the rest of you, not being frogs, must return the way you came." "we will do that with pleasure," cried the yips, and at once they turned and began to climb up the steep mountain, feeling they had had quite enough of this unsatisfactory adventure. cayke the cookie cook did not go with them, however. she sat on a rock and wept and wailed and was very miserable. "well," said the frogman to her, "i will now bid you goodbye. if i find your diamond-decorated gold dishpan, i will promise to see that it is safely returned to you." "but i prefer to find it myself!" she said. "see here, frogman, why can't you carry me across the gulf when you leap it? you are big and strong, while i am small and thin." the frogman gravely thought over this suggestion. it was a fact that cayke the cookie cook was not a heavy person. perhaps he could leap the gulf with her on his back. "if you are willing to risk a fall," said he, "i will make the attempt." at once she sprang up and grabbed him around his neck with both her arms. that is, she grabbed him where his neck ought to be, for the frogman had no neck at all. then he squatted down, as frogs do when they leap, and with his powerful rear legs he made a tremendous jump. over the gulf they sailed, with the cookie cook on his back, and he had leaped so hard--to make sure of not falling in--that he sailed over a lot of bramble bushes that grew on the other side and landed in a clear space which was so far beyond the gulf that when they looked back they could not see it at all. cayke now got off the frogman's back and he stood erect again and carefully brushed the dust from his velvet coat and rearranged his white satin necktie. "i had no idea i could leap so far," he said wonderingly. "leaping is one more accomplishment i can now add to the long list of deeds i am able to perform." "you are certainly fine at leap-frog," said the cookie cook admiringly, "but, as you say, you are wonderful in many ways. if we meet with any people down here, i am sure they will consider you the greatest and grandest of all living creatures." "yes," he replied, "i shall probably astonish strangers, because they have never before had the pleasure of seeing me. also, they will marvel at my great learning. every time i open my mouth, cayke, i am liable to say something important." "that is true," she agreed, "and it is fortunate your mouth is so very wide and opens so far, for otherwise all the wisdom might not be able to get out of it." "perhaps nature made it wide for that very reason," said the frogman. "but come, let us now go on, for it is getting late and we must find some sort of shelter before night overtakes us." chapter among the winkies the settled parts of the winkie country are full of happy and contented people who are ruled by a tin emperor named nick chopper, who in turn is a subject of the beautiful girl ruler, ozma of oz. but not all of the winkie country is fully settled. at the east, which part lies nearest the emerald city, there are beautiful farmhouses and roads, but as you travel west, you first come to a branch of the winkie river, beyond which there is a rough country where few people live, and some of these are quite unknown to the rest of the world. after passing through this rude section of territory, which no one ever visits, you would come to still another branch of the winkie river, after crossing which you would find another well-settled part of the winkie country extending westward quite to the deadly desert that surrounds all the land of oz and separates that favored fairyland from the more common outside world. the winkies who live in this west section have many tin mines, from which metal they make a great deal of rich jewelry and other articles, all of which are highly esteemed in the land of oz because tin is so bright and pretty and there is not so much of it as there is of gold and silver. not all the winkies are miners, however, for some till the fields and grow grains for food, and it was at one of these far-west winkie farms that the frogman and cayke the cookie cook first arrived after they had descended from the mountain of the yips. "goodness me!" cried nellary the winkie wife when she saw the strange couple approaching her house. "i have seen many queer creatures in the land of oz, but none more queer than this giant frog who dresses like a man and walks on his hind legs. come here, wiljon," she called to her husband, who was eating his breakfast, "and take a look at this astonishing freak." wiljon the winkie came to the door and looked out. he was still standing in the doorway when the frogman approached and said with a haughty croak, "tell me, my good man, have you seen a diamond-studded gold dishpan?" "no, nor have i seen a copper-plated lobster," replied wiljon in an equally haughty tone. the frogman stared at him and said, "do not be insolent, fellow!" "no," added cayke the cookie cook hastily, "you must be very polite to the great frogman, for he is the wisest creature in all the world." "who says that?" inquired wiljon. "he says so himself," replied cayke, and the frogman nodded and strutted up and down, twirling his gold-headed cane very gracefully. "does the scarecrow admit that this overgrown frog is the wisest creature in the world?" asked wiljon. "i do not know who the scarecrow is," answered cayke the cookie cook. "well, he lives at the emerald city, and he is supposed to have the finest brains in all oz. the wizard gave them to him, you know." "mine grew in my head," said the frogman pompously, "so i think they must be better than any wizard brains. i am so wise that sometimes my wisdom makes my head ache. i know so much that often i have to forget part of it, since no one creature, however great, is able to contain so much knowledge." "it must be dreadful to be stuffed full of wisdom," remarked wiljon reflectively and eyeing the frogman with a doubtful look. "it is my good fortune to know very little." "i hope, however, you know where my jeweled dishpan is," said the cookie cook anxiously. "i do not know even that," returned the winkie. "we have trouble enough in keeping track of our own dishpans without meddling with the dishpans of strangers." finding him so ignorant, the frogman proposed that they walk on and seek cayke's dishpan elsewhere. wiljon the winkie did not seem greatly impressed by the great frogman, which seemed to that personage as strange as it was disappointing. but others in this unknown land might prove more respectful. "i'd like to meet that wizard of oz," remarked cayke as they walked along a path. "if he could give a scarecrow brains, he might be able to find my dishpan." "poof!" grunted the frogman scornfully. "i am greater than any wizard. depend on me. if your dishpan is anywhere in the world, i am sure to find it." "if you do not, my heart will be broken," declared the cookie cook in a sorrowful voice. for a while the frogman walked on in silence. then he asked, "why do you attach so much importance to a dishpan?" "it is the greatest treasure i possess," replied the woman. "it belonged to my mother and to all my grandmothers since the beginning of time. it is, i believe, the very oldest thing in all the yip country--or was while it was there--and," she added, dropping her voice to an awed whisper, "it has magic powers!" "in what way?" inquired the frogman, seeming to be surprised at this statement. "whoever has owned that dishpan has been a good cook, for one thing. no one else is able to make such good cookies as i have cooked, as you and all the yips know. yet the very morning after my dishpan was stolen, i tried to make a batch of cookies and they burned up in the oven! i made another batch that proved too tough to eat, and i was so ashamed of them that i buried them in the ground. even the third batch of cookies, which i brought with me in my basket, were pretty poor stuff and no better than any woman could make who does not own my diamond-studded gold dishpan. in fact, my good frogman, cayke the cookie cook will never be able to cook good cookies again until her magic dishpan is restored to her." "in that case," said the frogman with a sigh, "i suppose we must manage to find it." chapter ozma's friends are perplexed "really," said dorothy, looking solemn, "this is very s'prising. we can't even find a shadow of ozma anywhere in the em'rald city, and wherever she's gone, she's taken her magic picture with her." she was standing in the courtyard of the palace with betsy and trot, while scraps, the patchwork girl, danced around the group, her hair flying in the wind. "p'raps," said scraps, still dancing, "someone has stolen ozma." "oh, they'd never dare do that!" exclaimed tiny trot. "and stolen the magic picture, too, so the thing can't tell where she is," added the patchwork girl. "that's nonsense," said dorothy. "why, ev'ryone loves ozma. there isn't a person in the land of oz who would steal a single thing she owns." "huh!" replied the patchwork girl. "you don't know ev'ry person in the land of oz." "why don't i?" "it's a big country," said scraps. "there are cracks and corners in it that even ozma doesn't know of." "the patchwork girl's just daffy," declared betsy. "no, she's right about that," replied dorothy thoughtfully. "there are lots of queer people in this fairyland who never come near ozma or the em'rald city. i've seen some of 'em myself, girls. but i haven't seen all, of course, and there might be some wicked persons left in oz yet, though i think the wicked witches have all been destroyed." just then the wooden sawhorse dashed into the courtyard with the wizard of oz on his back. "have you found ozma?" cried the wizard when the sawhorse stopped beside them. "not yet," said dorothy. "doesn't glinda the good know where she is?" "no. glinda's book of records and all her magic instruments are gone. someone must have stolen them." "goodness me!" exclaimed dorothy in alarm. "this is the biggest steal i ever heard of. who do you think did it, wizard?" "i've no idea," he answered. "but i have come to get my own bag of magic tools and carry them to glinda. she is so much more powerful than i that she may be able to discover the truth by means of my magic quicker and better than i could myself." "hurry, then," said dorothy, "for we've all gotten terr'bly worried." the wizard rushed away to his rooms but presently came back with a long, sad face. "it's gone!" he said. "what's gone?" asked scraps. "my black bag of magic tools. someone must have stolen it!" they looked at one another in amazement. "this thing is getting desperate," continued the wizard. "all the magic that belongs to ozma or to glinda or to me has been stolen." "do you suppose ozma could have taken them, herself, for some purpose?" asked betsy. "no indeed," declared the wizard. "i suspect some enemy has stolen ozma and for fear we would follow and recapture her has taken all our magic away from us." "how dreadful!" cried dorothy. "the idea of anyone wanting to injure our dear ozma! can't we do anything to find her, wizard?" "i'll ask glinda. i must go straight back to her and tell her that my magic tools have also disappeared. the good sorceress will be greatly shocked, i know." with this, he jumped upon the back of the sawhorse again, and the quaint steed, which never tired, dashed away at full speed. the three girls were very much disturbed in mind. even the patchwork girl seemed to realize that a great calamity had overtaken them all. ozma was a fairy of considerable power, and all the creatures in oz as well as the three mortal girls from the outside world looked upon her as their protector and friend. the idea of their beautiful girl ruler's being overpowered by an enemy and dragged from her splendid palace a captive was too astonishing for them to comprehend at first. yet what other explanation of the mystery could there be? "ozma wouldn't go away willingly, without letting us know about it," asserted dorothy, "and she wouldn't steal glinda's great book of records or the wizard's magic, 'cause she could get them any time just by asking for 'em. i'm sure some wicked person has done all this." "someone in the land of oz?" asked trot. "of course. no one could get across the deadly desert, you know, and no one but an oz person could know about the magic picture and the book of records and the wizard's magic or where they were kept, and so be able to steal the whole outfit before we could stop 'em. it must be someone who lives in the land of oz." "but who--who--who?" asked scraps. "that's the question. who?" "if we knew," replied dorothy severely, "we wouldn't be standing here doing nothing." just then two boys entered the courtyard and approached the group of girls. one boy was dressed in the fantastic munchkin costume--a blue jacket and knickerbockers, blue leather shoes and a blue hat with a high peak and tiny silver bells dangling from its rim--and this was ojo the lucky, who had once come from the munchkin country of oz and now lived in the emerald city. the other boy was an american from philadelphia and had lately found his way to oz in the company of trot and cap'n bill. his name was button-bright; that is, everyone called him by that name and knew no other. button-bright was not quite as big as the munchkin boy, but he wore the same kind of clothes, only they were of different colors. as the two came up to the girls, arm in arm, button-bright remarked, "hello, dorothy. they say ozma is lost." "who says so?" she asked. "ev'rybody's talking about it in the city," he replied. "i wonder how the people found it out," dorothy asked. "i know," said ojo. "jellia jamb told them. she has been asking everywhere if anyone has seen ozma." "that's too bad," observed dorothy, frowning. "why?" asked button-bright. "there wasn't any use making all our people unhappy till we were dead certain that ozma can't be found." "pshaw," said button-bright, "it's nothing to get lost. i've been lost lots of times." "that's true," admitted trot, who knew that the boy had a habit of getting lost and then finding himself again, "but it's diff'rent with ozma. she's the ruler of all this big fairyland, and we're 'fraid that the reason she's lost is because somebody has stolen her away." "only wicked people steal," said ojo. "do you know of any wicked people in oz, dorothy?" "no," she replied. "they're here, though," cried scraps, dancing up to them and then circling around the group. "ozma's stolen; someone in oz stole her; only wicked people steal; so someone in oz is wicked!" there was no denying the truth of this statement. the faces of all of them were now solemn and sorrowful. "one thing is sure," said button-bright after a time, "if ozma has been stolen, someone ought to find her and punish the thief." "there may be a lot of thieves," suggested trot gravely, "and in this fairy country they don't seem to have any soldiers or policemen." "there is one soldier," claimed dorothy. "he has green whiskers and a gun and is a major-general, but no one is afraid of either his gun or his whiskers, 'cause he's so tender-hearted that he wouldn't hurt a fly." "well, a soldier is a soldier," said betsy, "and perhaps he'd hurt a wicked thief if he wouldn't hurt a fly. where is he?" "he went fishing about two months ago and hasn't come back yet," explained button-bright. "then i can't see that he will be of much use to us in this trouble," sighed little trot. "but p'raps ozma, who is a fairy, can get away from the thieves without any help from anyone." "she might be able to," answered dorothy reflectively, "but if she had the power to do that, it isn't likely she'd have let herself be stolen. so the thieves must have been even more powerful in magic than our ozma." there was no denying this argument, and although they talked the matter over all the rest of that day, they were unable to decide how ozma had been stolen against her will or who had committed the dreadful deed. toward evening the wizard came back, riding slowly upon the sawhorse because he felt discouraged and perplexed. glinda came later in her aerial chariot drawn by twenty milk-white swans, and she also seemed worried and unhappy. more of ozma's friends joined them, and that evening they all had a big talk together. "i think," said dorothy, "we ought to start out right away in search of our dear ozma. it seems cruel for us to live comf'tably in her palace while she is a pris'ner in the power of some wicked enemy." "yes," agreed glinda the sorceress, "someone ought to search for her. i cannot go myself, because i must work hard in order to create some new instruments of sorcery by means of which i may rescue our fair ruler. but if you can find her in the meantime and let me know who has stolen her, it will enable me to rescue her much more quickly." "then we'll start tomorrow morning," decided dorothy. "betsy and trot and i won't waste another minute." "i'm not sure you girls will make good detectives," remarked the wizard, "but i'll go with you to protect you from harm and to give you my advice. all my wizardry, alas, is stolen, so i am now really no more a wizard than any of you, but i will try to protect you from any enemies you may meet." "what harm could happen to us in oz?" inquired trot. "what harm happened to ozma?" returned the wizard. "if there is an evil power abroad in our fairyland, which is able to steal not only ozma and her magic picture, but glinda's book of records and all her magic, and my black bag containing all my tricks of wizardry, then that evil power may yet cause us considerable injury. ozma is a fairy, and so is glinda, so no power can kill or destroy them, but you girls are all mortals and so are button-bright and i, so we must watch out for ourselves." "nothing can kill me," said ojo the munchkin boy. "that is true," replied the sorceress, "and i think it may be well to divide the searchers into several parties, that they may cover all the land of oz more quickly. so i will send ojo and unc nunkie and dr. pipt into the munchkin country, which they are well acquainted with; and i will send the scarecrow and the tin woodman into the quadling country, for they are fearless and brave and never tire; and to the gillikin country, where many dangers lurk, i will send the shaggy man and his brother, with tik-tok and jack pumpkinhead. dorothy may make up her own party and travel into the winkie country. all of you must inquire everywhere for ozma and try to discover where she is hidden." they thought this a very wise plan and adopted it without question. in ozma's absence, glinda the good was the most important person in oz, and all were glad to serve under her direction. chapter the search party next morning as soon as the sun was up, glinda flew back to her castle, stopping on the way to instruct the scarecrow and the tin woodman, who were at that time staying at the college of professor h. m. wogglebug, t.e., and taking a course of his patent educational pills. on hearing of ozma's loss, they started at once for the quadling country to search for her. as soon as glinda had left the emerald city, tik-tok and the shaggy man and jack pumpkinhead, who had been present at the conference, began their journey into the gillikin country, and an hour later ojo and unc nunkie joined dr. pipt and together they traveled toward the munchkin country. when all these searchers were gone, dorothy and the wizard completed their own preparations. the wizard hitched the sawhorse to the red wagon, which would seat four very comfortably. he wanted dorothy, betsy, trot and the patchwork girl to ride in the wagon, but scraps came up to them mounted upon the woozy, and the woozy said he would like to join the party. now this woozy was a most peculiar animal, having a square head, square body, square legs and square tail. his skin was very tough and hard, resembling leather, and while his movements were somewhat clumsy, the beast could travel with remarkable swiftness. his square eyes were mild and gentle in expression, and he was not especially foolish. the woozy and the patchwork girl were great friends, and so the wizard agreed to let the woozy go with them. another great beast now appeared and asked to go along. this was none other than the famous cowardly lion, one of the most interesting creatures in all oz. no lion that roamed the jungles or plains could compare in size or intelligence with this cowardly lion, who--like all animals living in oz--could talk and who talked with more shrewdness and wisdom than many of the people did. he said he was cowardly because he always trembled when he faced danger, but he had faced danger many times and never refused to fight when it was necessary. this lion was a great favorite with ozma and always guarded her throne on state occasions. he was also an old companion and friend of the princess dorothy, so the girl was delighted to have him join the party. "i'm so nervous over our dear ozma," said the cowardly lion in his deep, rumbling voice, "that it would make me unhappy to remain behind while you are trying to find her. but do not get into any danger, i beg of you, for danger frightens me terribly." "we'll not get into danger if we can poss'bly help it," promised dorothy, "but we shall do anything to find ozma, danger or no danger." the addition of the woozy and the cowardly lion to the party gave betsy bobbin an idea, and she ran to the marble stables at the rear of the palace and brought out her mule, hank by name. perhaps no mule you ever saw was so lean and bony and altogether plain looking as this hank, but betsy loved him dearly because he was faithful and steady and not nearly so stupid as most mules are considered to be. betsy had a saddle for hank, and he declared she would ride on his back, an arrangement approved by the wizard because it left only four of the party to ride on the seats of the red wagon--dorothy and button-bright and trot and himself. an old sailor man who had one wooden leg came to see them off and suggested that they put a supply of food and blankets in the red wagon inasmuch as they were uncertain how long they would be gone. this sailor man was called cap'n bill. he was a former friend and comrade of trot and had encountered many adventures in company with the little girl. i think he was sorry he could not go with her on this trip, but glinda the sorceress had asked cap'n bill to remain in the emerald city and take charge of the royal palace while everyone else was away, and the one-legged sailor had agreed to do so. they loaded the back end of the red wagon with everything they thought they might need, and then they formed a procession and marched from the palace through the emerald city to the great gates of the wall that surrounded this beautiful capital of the land of oz. crowds of citizens lined the streets to see them pass and to cheer them and wish them success, for all were grieved over ozma's loss and anxious that she be found again. first came the cowardly lion, then the patchwork girl riding upon the woozy, then betsy bobbin on her mule hank, and finally the sawhorse drawing the red wagon, in which were seated the wizard and dorothy and button-bright and trot. no one was obliged to drive the sawhorse, so there were no reins to his harness; one had only to tell him which way to go, fast or slow, and he understood perfectly. it was about this time that a shaggy little black dog who had been lying asleep in dorothy's room in the palace woke up and discovered he was lonesome. everything seemed very still throughout the great building, and toto--that was the little dog's name--missed the customary chatter of the three girls. he never paid much attention to what was going on around him, and although he could speak, he seldom said anything, so the little dog did not know about ozma's loss or that everyone had gone in search of her. but he liked to be with people, and especially with his own mistress, dorothy, and having yawned and stretched himself and found the door of the room ajar, he trotted out into the corridor and went down the stately marble stairs to the hall of the palace, where he met jellia jamb. "where's dorothy?" asked toto. "she's gone to the winkie country," answered the maid. "when?" "a little while ago," replied jellia. toto turned and trotted out into the palace garden and down the long driveway until he came to the streets of the emerald city. here he paused to listen, and hearing sounds of cheering, he ran swiftly along until he came in sight of the red wagon and the woozy and the lion and the mule and all the others. being a wise little dog, he decided not to show himself to dorothy just then, lest he be sent back home, but he never lost sight of the party of travelers, all of whom were so eager to get ahead that they never thought to look behind them. when they came to the gates in the city wall, the guardian of the gates came out to throw wide the golden portals and let them pass through. "did any strange person come in or out of the city on the night before last when ozma was stolen?" asked dorothy. "no indeed, princess," answered the guardian of the gates. "of course not," said the wizard. "anyone clever enough to steal all the things we have lost would not mind the barrier of a wall like this in the least. i think the thief must have flown through the air, for otherwise he could not have stolen from ozma's royal palace and glinda's faraway castle in the same night. moreover, as there are no airships in oz and no way for airships from the outside world to get into this country, i believe the thief must have flown from place to place by means of magic arts which neither glinda nor i understand." on they went, and before the gates closed behind them, toto managed to dodge through them. the country surrounding the emerald city was thickly settled, and for a while our friends rode over nicely paved roads which wound through a fertile country dotted with beautiful houses, all built in the quaint oz fashion. in the course of a few hours, however, they had left the tilled fields and entered the country of the winkies, which occupies a quarter of all the territory in the land of oz but is not so well known as many other parts of ozma's fairyland. long before night the travelers had crossed the winkie river near to the scarecrow's tower (which was now vacant) and had entered the rolling prairie where few people live. they asked everyone they met for news of ozma, but none in this district had seen her or even knew that she had been stolen. and by nightfall they had passed all the farmhouses and were obliged to stop and ask for shelter at the hut of a lonely shepherd. when they halted, toto was not far behind. the little dog halted, too, and stealing softly around the party, he hid himself behind the hut. the shepherd was a kindly old man and treated the travelers with much courtesy. he slept out of doors that night, giving up his hut to the three girls, who made their beds on the floor with the blankets they had brought in the red wagon. the wizard and button-bright also slept out of doors, and so did the cowardly lion and hank the mule. but scraps and the sawhorse did not sleep at all, and the woozy could stay awake for a month at a time if he wished to, so these three sat in a little group by themselves and talked together all through the night. in the darkness, the cowardly lion felt a shaggy little form nestling beside his own, and he said sleepily, "where did you come from, toto?" "from home," said the dog. "if you roll over, roll the other way so you won't smash me." "does dorothy know you are here?" asked the lion. "i believe not," admitted toto, and he added a little anxiously, "do you think, friend lion, we are now far enough from the emerald city for me to risk showing myself, or will dorothy send me back because i wasn't invited?" "only dorothy can answer that question," said the lion. "for my part, toto, i consider this affair none of my business, so you must act as you think best." then the huge beast went to sleep again, and toto snuggled closer to the warm, hairy body and also slept. he was a wise little dog in his way, and didn't intend to worry when there was something much better to do. in the morning the wizard built a fire, over which the girls cooked a very good breakfast. suddenly dorothy discovered toto sitting quietly before the fire, and the little girl exclaimed, "goodness me, toto! where did you come from?" "from the place you cruelly left me," replied the dog in a reproachful tone. "i forgot all about you," admitted dorothy, "and if i hadn't, i'd prob'ly left you with jellia jamb, seeing this isn't a pleasure trip but stric'ly business. but now that you're here, toto, i s'pose you'll have to stay with us, unless you'd rather go back again. we may get ourselves into trouble before we're done, toto." "never mind that," said toto, wagging his tail. "i'm hungry, dorothy." "breakfas'll soon be ready, and then you shall have your share," promised his little mistress, who was really glad to have her dog with her. she and toto had traveled together before, and she knew he was a good and faithful comrade. when the food was cooked and served, the girls invited the old shepherd to join them in the morning meal. he willingly consented, and while they ate he said to them, "you are now about to pass through a very dangerous country, unless you turn to the north or to the south to escape its perils." "in that case," said the cowardly lion, "let us turn, by all means, for i dread to face dangers of any sort." "what's the matter with the country ahead of us?" inquired dorothy. "beyond this rolling prairie," explained the shepherd, "are the merry-go-round mountains, set close together and surrounded by deep gulfs so that no one is able to get past them. beyond the merry-go-round mountains it is said the thistle-eaters and the herkus live." "what are they like?" demanded dorothy. "no one knows, for no one has ever passed the merry-go-round mountains," was the reply, "but it is said that the thistle-eaters hitch dragons to their chariots and that the herkus are waited upon by giants whom they have conquered and made their slaves." "who says all that?" asked betsy. "it is common report," declared the shepherd. "everyone believes it." "i don't see how they know," remarked little trot, "if no one has been there." "perhaps the birds who fly over that country brought the news," suggested betsy. "if you escaped those dangers," continued the shepherd, "you might encounter others still more serious before you came to the next branch of the winkie river. it is true that beyond that river there lies a fine country inhabited by good people, and if you reached there, you would have no further trouble. it is between here and the west branch of the winkie river that all dangers lie, for that is the unknown territory that is inhabited by terrible, lawless people." "it may be, and it may not be," said the wizard. "we shall know when we get there." "well," persisted the shepherd, "in a fairy country such as ours, every undiscovered place is likely to harbor wicked creatures. if they were not wicked, they would discover themselves and by coming among us submit to ozma's rule and be good and considerate, as are all the oz people whom we know." "that argument," stated the little wizard, "convinces me that it is our duty to go straight to those unknown places, however dangerous they may be, for it is surely some cruel and wicked person who has stolen our ozma, and we know it would be folly to search among good people for the culprit. ozma may not be hidden in the secret places of the winkie country, it is true, but it is our duty to travel to every spot, however dangerous, where our beloved ruler is likely to be imprisoned." "you're right about that," said button-bright approvingly. "dangers don't hurt us. only things that happen ever hurt anyone, and a danger is a thing that might happen and might not happen, and sometimes don't amount to shucks. i vote we go ahead and take our chances." they were all of the same opinion, so they packed up and said goodbye to the friendly shepherd and proceeded on their way. chapter the merry-go-round mountains the rolling prairie was not difficult to travel over, although it was all uphill and downhill, so for a while they made good progress. not even a shepherd was to be met with now, and the farther they advanced the more dreary the landscape became. at noon they stopped for a "picnic luncheon," as betsy called it, and then they again resumed their journey. all the animals were swift and tireless, and even the cowardly lion and the mule found they could keep up with the pace of the woozy and the sawhorse. it was the middle of the afternoon when first they came in sight of a cluster of low mountains. these were cone-shaped, rising from broad bases to sharp peaks at the tops. from a distance the mountains appeared indistinct and seemed rather small--more like hills than mountains--but as the travelers drew nearer, they noted a most unusual circumstance: the hills were all whirling around, some in one direction and some the opposite way. "i guess these are the merry-go-round mountains, all right," said dorothy. "they must be," said the wizard. "they go 'round, sure enough," agreed trot, "but they don't seem very merry." there were several rows of these mountains, extending both to the right and to the left for miles and miles. how many rows there might be none could tell, but between the first row of peaks could be seen other peaks, all steadily whirling around one way or another. continuing to ride nearer, our friends watched these hills attentively, until at last, coming close up, they discovered there was a deep but narrow gulf around the edge of each mountain, and that the mountains were set so close together that the outer gulf was continuous and barred farther advance. at the edge of the gulf they all dismounted and peered over into its depths. there was no telling where the bottom was, if indeed there was any bottom at all. from where they stood it seemed as if the mountains had been set in one great hole in the ground, just close enough together so they would not touch, and that each mountain was supported by a rocky column beneath its base which extended far down in the black pit below. from the land side it seemed impossible to get across the gulf or, succeeding in that, to gain a foothold on any of the whirling mountains. "this ditch is too wide to jump across," remarked button-bright. "p'raps the lion could do it," suggested dorothy. "what, jump from here to that whirling hill?" cried the lion indignantly. "i should say not! even if i landed there and could hold on, what good would it do? there's another spinning mountain beyond it, and perhaps still another beyond that. i don't believe any living creature could jump from one mountain to another when both are whirling like tops and in different directions." "i propose we turn back," said the wooden sawhorse with a yawn of his chopped-out mouth as he stared with his knot eyes at the merry-go-round mountains. "i agree with you," said the woozy, wagging his square head. "we should have taken the shepherd's advice," added hank the mule. the others of the party, however they might be puzzled by the serious problem that confronted them, would not allow themselves to despair. "if we once get over these mountains," said button-bright, "we could probably get along all right." "true enough," agreed dorothy. "so we must find some way, of course, to get past these whirligig hills. but how?" "i wish the ork was with us," sighed trot. "but the ork isn't here," said the wizard, "and we must depend upon ourselves to conquer this difficulty. unfortunately, all my magic has been stolen, otherwise i am sure i could easily get over the mountains." "unfortunately," observed the woozy, "none of us has wings. and we're in a magic country without any magic." "what is that around your waist, dorothy?" asked the wizard. "that? oh, that's just the magic belt i once captured from the nome king," she replied. "a magic belt! why, that's fine. i'm sure a magic belt would take you over these hills." "it might if i knew how to work it," said the little girl. "ozma knows a lot of its magic, but i've never found out about it. all i know is that while i am wearing it, nothing can hurt me." "try wishing yourself across and see if it will obey you," suggested the wizard. "but what good would that do?" asked dorothy. "if i got across, it wouldn't help the rest of you, and i couldn't go alone among all those giants and dragons while you stayed here." "true enough," agreed the wizard sadly. and then, after looking around the group, he inquired, "what is that on your finger, trot?" "a ring. the mermaids gave it to me," she explained, "and if ever i'm in trouble when i'm on the water, i can call the mermaids and they'll come and help me. but the mermaids can't help me on the land, you know, 'cause they swim, and--and--they haven't any legs." "true enough," repeated the wizard, more sadly. there was a big, broad, spreading tree near the edge of the gulf, and as the sun was hot above them, they all gathered under the shade of the tree to study the problem of what to do next. "if we had a long rope," said betsy, "we could fasten it to this tree and let the other end of it down into the gulf and all slide down it." "well, what then?" asked the wizard. "then, if we could manage to throw the rope up the other side," explained the girl, "we could all climb it and be on the other side of the gulf." "there are too many 'if's' in that suggestion," remarked the little wizard. "and you must remember that the other side is nothing but spinning mountains, so we couldn't possibly fasten a rope to them, even if we had one." "that rope idea isn't half bad, though," said the patchwork girl, who had been dancing dangerously near to the edge of the gulf. "what do you mean?" asked dorothy. the patchwork girl suddenly stood still and cast her button eyes around the group. "ha, i have it!" she exclaimed. "unharness the sawhorse, somebody. my fingers are too clumsy." "shall we?" asked button-bright doubtfully, turning to the others. "well, scraps has a lot of brains, even if she is stuffed with cotton," asserted the wizard. "if her brains can help us out of this trouble, we ought to use them." so he began unharnessing the sawhorse, and button-bright and dorothy helped him. when they had removed the harness, the patchwork girl told them to take it all apart and buckle the straps together, end to end. and after they had done this, they found they had one very long strap that was stronger than any rope. "it would reach across the gulf easily," said the lion, who with the other animals had sat on his haunches and watched this proceeding. "but i don't see how it could be fastened to one of those dizzy mountains." scraps had no such notion as that in her baggy head. she told them to fasten one end of the strap to a stout limb of the tree, pointing to one which extended quite to the edge of the gulf. button-bright did that, climbing the tree and then crawling out upon the limb until he was nearly over the gulf. there he managed to fasten the strap, which reached to the ground below, and then he slid down it and was caught by the wizard, who feared he might fall into the chasm. scraps was delighted. she seized the lower end of the strap, and telling them all to get out of her way, she went back as far as the strap would reach and then made a sudden run toward the gulf. over the edge she swung, clinging to the strap until it had gone as far as its length permitted, when she let go and sailed gracefully through the air until she alighted upon the mountain just in front of them. almost instantly, as the great cone continued to whirl, she was sent flying against the next mountain in the rear, and that one had only turned halfway around when scraps was sent flying to the next mountain behind it. then her patchwork form disappeared from view entirely, and the amazed watchers under the tree wondered what had become of her. "she's gone, and she can't get back," said the woozy. "my, how she bounded from one mountain to another!" exclaimed the lion. "that was because they whirl so fast," the wizard explained. "scraps had nothing to hold on to, and so of course she was tossed from one hill to another. i'm afraid we shall never see the poor patchwork girl again." "i shall see her," declared the woozy. "scraps is an old friend of mine, and if there are really thistle-eaters and giants on the other side of those tops, she will need someone to protect her. so here i go!" he seized the dangling strap firmly in his square mouth, and in the same way that scraps had done swung himself over the gulf. he let go the strap at the right moment and fell upon the first whirling mountain. then he bounded to the next one back of it--not on his feet, but "all mixed up," as trot said--and then he shot across to another mountain, disappearing from view just as the patchwork girl had done. "it seems to work, all right," remarked button-bright. "i guess i'll try it." "wait a minute," urged the wizard. "before any more of us make this desperate leap into the beyond, we must decide whether all will go or if some of us will remain behind." "do you s'pose it hurt them much to bump against those mountains?" asked trot. "i don't s'pose anything could hurt scraps or the woozy," said dorothy, "and nothing can hurt me, because i wear the magic belt. so as i'm anxious to find ozma, i mean to swing myself across too." "i'll take my chances," decided button-bright. "i'm sure it will hurt dreadfully, and i'm afraid to do it," said the lion, who was already trembling, "but i shall do it if dorothy does." "well, that will leave betsy and the mule and trot," said the wizard, "for of course i shall go that i may look after dorothy. do you two girls think you can find your way back home again?" he asked, addressing trot and betsy. "i'm not afraid. not much, that is," said trot. "it looks risky, i know, but i'm sure i can stand it if the others can." "if it wasn't for leaving hank," began betsy in a hesitating voice. but the mule interrupted her by saying, "go ahead if you want to, and i'll come after you. a mule is as brave as a lion any day." "braver," said the lion, "for i'm a coward, friend hank, and you are not. but of course the sawhorse--" "oh, nothing ever hurts me," asserted the sawhorse calmly. "there's never been any question about my going. i can't take the red wagon, though." "no, we must leave the wagon," said the wizard, "and also we must leave our food and blankets, i fear. but if we can defy these merry-go-round mountains to stop us, we won't mind the sacrifice of some of our comforts." "no one knows where we're going to land!" remarked the lion in a voice that sounded as if he were going to cry. "we may not land at all," replied hank, "but the best way to find out what will happen to us is to swing across as scraps and the woozy have done." "i think i shall go last," said the wizard, "so who wants to go first?" "i'll go," decided dorothy. "no, it's my turn first," said button-bright. "watch me!" even as he spoke, the boy seized the strap, and after making a run swung himself across the gulf. away he went, bumping from hill to hill until he disappeared. they listened intently, but the boy uttered no cry until he had been gone some moments, when they heard a faint "hullo-a!" as if called from a great distance. the sound gave them courage, however, and dorothy picked up toto and held him fast under one arm while with the other hand she seized the strap and bravely followed after button-bright. when she struck the first whirling mountain, she fell upon it quite softly, but before she had time to think, she flew through the air and lit with a jar on the side of the next mountain. again she flew and alighted, and again and still again, until after five successive bumps she fell sprawling upon a green meadow and was so dazed and bewildered by her bumpy journey across the merry-go-round mountains that she lay quite still for a time to collect her thoughts. toto had escaped from her arms just as she fell, and he now sat beside her panting with excitement. then dorothy realized that someone was helping her to her feet, and here was button-bright on one side of her and scraps on the other, both seeming to be unhurt. the next object her eyes fell upon was the woozy, squatting upon his square back end and looking at her reflectively, while toto barked joyously to find his mistress unhurt after her whirlwind trip. "good!" said the woozy. "here's another and a dog, both safe and sound. but my word, dorothy, you flew some! if you could have seen yourself, you'd have been absolutely astonished." "they say 'time flies,'" laughed button-bright, "but time never made a quicker journey than that." just then, as dorothy turned around to look at the whirling mountains, she was in time to see tiny trot come flying from the nearest hill to fall upon the soft grass not a yard away from where she stood. trot was so dizzy she couldn't stand at first, but she wasn't at all hurt, and presently betsy came flying to them and would have bumped into the others had they not retreated in time to avoid her. then, in quick succession, came the lion, hank and the sawhorse, bounding from mountain to mountain to fall safely upon the greensward. only the wizard was now left behind, and they waited so long for him that dorothy began to be worried. but suddenly he came flying from the nearest mountain and tumbled heels over head beside them. then they saw that he had wound two of their blankets around his body to keep the bumps from hurting him and had fastened the blankets with some of the spare straps from the harness of the sawhorse. chapter the mysterious city there they sat upon the grass, their heads still swimming from their dizzy flights, and looked at one another in silent bewilderment. but presently, when assured that no one was injured, they grew more calm and collected, and the lion said with a sigh of relief, "who would have thought those merry-go-round mountains were made of rubber?" "are they really rubber?" asked trot. "they must be," replied the lion, "for otherwise we would not have bounded so swiftly from one to another without getting hurt." "that is all guesswork," declared the wizard, unwinding the blankets from his body, "for none of us stayed long enough on the mountains to discover what they are made of. but where are we?" "that's guesswork," said scraps. "the shepherd said the thistle-eaters live this side of the mountains and are waited on by giants." "oh no," said dorothy, "it's the herkus who have giant slaves, and the thistle-eaters hitch dragons to their chariots." "how could they do that?" asked the woozy. "dragons have long tails, which would get in the way of the chariot wheels." "and if the herkus have conquered the giants," said trot, "they must be at least twice the size of giants. p'raps the herkus are the biggest people in all the world!" "perhaps they are," assented the wizard in a thoughtful tone of voice. "and perhaps the shepherd didn't know what he was talking about. let us travel on toward the west and discover for ourselves what the people of this country are like." it seemed a pleasant enough country, and it was quite still and peaceful when they turned their eyes away from the silently whirling mountains. there were trees here and there and green bushes, while throughout the thick grass were scattered brilliantly colored flowers. about a mile away was a low hill that hid from them all the country beyond it, so they realized they could not tell much about the country until they had crossed the hill. the red wagon having been left behind, it was now necessary to make other arrangements for traveling. the lion told dorothy she could ride upon his back as she had often done before, and the woozy said he could easily carry both trot and the patchwork girl. betsy still had her mule, hank, and button-bright and the wizard could sit together upon the long, thin back of the sawhorse, but they took care to soften their seat with a pad of blankets before they started. thus mounted, the adventurers started for the hill, which was reached after a brief journey. as they mounted the crest and gazed beyond the hill, they discovered not far away a walled city, from the towers and spires of which gay banners were flying. it was not a very big city, indeed, but its walls were very high and thick, and it appeared that the people who lived there must have feared attack by a powerful enemy, else they would not have surrounded their dwellings with so strong a barrier. there was no path leading from the mountains to the city, and this proved that the people seldom or never visited the whirling hills, but our friends found the grass soft and agreeable to travel over, and with the city before them they could not well lose their way. when they drew nearer to the walls, the breeze carried to their ears the sound of music--dim at first, but growing louder as they advanced. "that doesn't seem like a very terr'ble place," remarked dorothy. "well, it looks all right," replied trot from her seat on the woozy, "but looks can't always be trusted." "my looks can," said scraps. "i look patchwork, and i am patchwork, and no one but a blind owl could ever doubt that i'm the patchwork girl." saying which, she turned a somersault off the woozy and, alighting on her feet, began wildly dancing about. "are owls ever blind?" asked trot. "always, in the daytime," said button-bright. "but scraps can see with her button eyes both day and night. isn't it queer?" "it's queer that buttons can see at all," answered trot. "but good gracious! what's become of the city?" "i was going to ask that myself," said dorothy. "it's gone!" "it's gone!" the animals came to a sudden halt, for the city had really disappeared, walls and all, and before them lay the clear, unbroken sweep of the country. "dear me!" exclaimed the wizard. "this is rather disagreeable. it is annoying to travel almost to a place and then find it is not there." "where can it be, then?" asked dorothy. "it cert'nly was there a minute ago." "i can hear the music yet," declared button-bright, and when they all listened, the strains of music could plainly be heard. "oh! there's the city over at the left," called scraps, and turning their eyes, they saw the walls and towers and fluttering banners far to the left of them. "we must have lost our way," suggested dorothy. "nonsense," said the lion. "i, and all the other animals, have been tramping straight toward the city ever since we first saw it." "then how does it happen--" "never mind," interrupted the wizard, "we are no farther from it than we were before. it is in a different direction, that's all, so let us hurry and get there before it again escapes us." so on they went directly toward the city, which seemed only a couple of miles distant. but when they had traveled less than a mile, it suddenly disappeared again. once more they paused, somewhat discouraged, but in a moment the button eyes of scraps again discovered the city, only this time it was just behind them in the direction from which they had come. "goodness gracious!" cried dorothy. "there's surely something wrong with that city. do you s'pose it's on wheels, wizard?" "it may not be a city at all," he replied, looking toward it with a speculative glance. "what could it be, then?" "just an illusion." "what's that?" asked trot. "something you think you see and don't see." "i can't believe that," said button-bright. "if we only saw it, we might be mistaken, but if we can see it and hear it, too, it must be there." "where?" asked the patchwork girl. "somewhere near us," he insisted. "we will have to go back, i suppose," said the woozy with a sigh. so back they turned and headed for the walled city until it disappeared again, only to reappear at the right of them. they were constantly getting nearer to it, however, so they kept their faces turned toward it as it flitted here and there to all points of the compass. presently the lion, who was leading the procession, halted abruptly and cried out, "ouch!" "what's the matter?" asked dorothy. "ouch--ouch!" repeated the lion, and leaped backward so suddenly that dorothy nearly tumbled from his back. at the same time hank the mule yelled "ouch!" "ouch! ouch!" repeated the lion and leaped backward so suddenly that dorothy nearly tumbled from his back. at the same time, hank the mule yelled "ouch!" almost as loudly as the lion had done, and he also pranced backward a few paces. "it's the thistles," said betsy. "they prick their legs." hearing this, all looked down, and sure enough the ground was thick with thistles, which covered the plain from the point where they stood way up to the walls of the mysterious city. no pathways through them could be seen at all; here the soft grass ended and the growth of thistles began. "they're the prickliest thistles i ever felt," grumbled the lion. "my legs smart yet from their stings, though i jumped out of them as quickly as i could." "here is a new difficulty," remarked the wizard in a grieved tone. "the city has stopped hopping around, it is true, but how are we to get to it over this mass of prickers?" "they can't hurt me," said the thick-skinned woozy, advancing fearlessly and trampling among the thistles. "nor me," said the wooden sawhorse. "but the lion and the mule cannot stand the prickers," asserted dorothy, "and we can't leave them behind." "must we all go back?" asked trot. "course not!" replied button-bright scornfully. "always when there's trouble, there's a way out of it if you can find it." "i wish the scarecrow was here," said scraps, standing on her head on the woozy's square back. "his splendid brains would soon show us how to conquer this field of thistles." "what's the matter with your brains?" asked the boy. "nothing," she said, making a flip-flop into the thistles and dancing among them without feeling their sharp points. "i could tell you in half a minute how to get over the thistles if i wanted to." "tell us, scraps!" begged dorothy. "i don't want to wear my brains out with overwork," replied the patchwork girl. "don't you love ozma? and don't you want to find her?" asked betsy reproachfully. "yes indeed," said scraps, walking on her hands as an acrobat does at the circus. "well, we can't find ozma unless we get past these thistles," declared dorothy. scraps danced around them two or three times without reply. then she said, "don't look at me, you stupid folks. look at those blankets." the wizard's face brightened at once. "why didn't we think of those blankets before?" "because you haven't magic brains," laughed scraps. "such brains as you have are of the common sort that grow in your heads, like weeds in a garden. i'm sorry for you people who have to be born in order to be alive." but the wizard was not listening to her. he quickly removed the blankets from the back of the sawhorse and spread one of them upon the thistles, just next the grass. the thick cloth rendered the prickers harmless, so the wizard walked over this first blanket and spread the second one farther on, in the direction of the phantom city. "these blankets," said he, "are for the lion and the mule to walk upon. the sawhorse and the woozy can walk on the thistles." so the lion and the mule walked over the first blanket and stood upon the second one until the wizard had picked up the one they had passed over and spread it in front of them, when they advanced to that one and waited while the one behind them was again spread in front. "this is slow work," said the wizard, "but it will get us to the city after a while." "the city is a good half mile away yet," announced button-bright. "and this is awful hard work for the wizard," added trot. "why couldn't the lion ride on the woozy's back?" asked dorothy. "it's a big, flat back, and the woozy's mighty strong. perhaps the lion wouldn't fall off." "you may try it if you like," said the woozy to the lion. "i can take you to the city in a jiffy and then come back for hank." "i'm--i'm afraid," said the cowardly lion. he was twice as big as the woozy. "try it," pleaded dorothy. "and take a tumble among the thistles?" asked the lion reproachfully. but when the woozy came close to him, the big beast suddenly bounded upon its back and managed to balance himself there, although forced to hold his four legs so close together that he was in danger of toppling over. the great weight of the monster lion did not seem to affect the woozy, who called to his rider, "hold on tight!" and ran swiftly over the thistles toward the city. the others stood on the blanket and watched the strange sight anxiously. of course, the lion couldn't "hold on tight" because there was nothing to hold to, and he swayed from side to side as if likely to fall off any moment. still, he managed to stick to the woozy's back until they were close to the walls of the city, when he leaped to the ground. next moment the woozy came dashing back at full speed. "there's a little strip of ground next the wall where there are no thistles," he told them when he had reached the adventurers once more. "now then, friend hank, see if you can ride as well as the lion did." "take the others first," proposed the mule. so the sawhorse and the woozy made a couple of trips over the thistles to the city walls and carried all the people in safety, dorothy holding little toto in her arms. the travelers then sat in a group on a little hillock just outside the wall and looked at the great blocks of gray stone and waited for the woozy to bring hank to them. the mule was very awkward, and his legs trembled so badly that more than once they thought he would tumble off, but finally he reached them in safety, and the entire party was now reunited. more than that, they had reached the city that had eluded them for so long and in so strange a manner. "the gates must be around the other side," said the wizard. "let us follow the curve of the wall until we reach an opening in it." "which way?" asked dorothy. "we must guess that," he replied. "suppose we go to the left. one direction is as good as another." they formed in marching order and went around the city wall to the left. it wasn't a big city, as i have said, but to go way around it outside the high wall was quite a walk, as they became aware. but around it our adventurers went without finding any sign of a gateway or other opening. when they had returned to the little mound from which they had started, they dismounted from the animals and again seated themselves on the grassy mound. "it's mighty queer, isn't it?" asked button-bright. "there must be some way for the people to get out and in," declared dorothy. "do you s'pose they have flying machines, wizard?" "no," he replied, "for in that case they would be flying all over the land of oz, and we know they have not done that. flying machines are unknown here. i think it more likely that the people use ladders to get over the walls." "it would be an awful climb over that high stone wall," said betsy. "stone, is it?" scraps, who was again dancing wildly around, for she never tired and could never keep still for long. "course it's stone," answered betsy scornfully. "can't you see?" "yes," said scraps, going closer. "i can see the wall, but i can't feel it." and then, with her arms outstretched, she did a very queer thing. she walked right into the wall and disappeared. "for goodness sake!" dorothy, amazed, as indeed they all were. chapter the high coco-lorum of thi and now the patchwork girl came dancing out of the wall again. "come on!" she called. "it isn't there. there isn't any wall at all." "what? no wall?" exclaimed the wizard. "nothing like it," said scraps. "it's a make-believe. you see it, but it isn't. come on into the city; we've been wasting our time." with this, she danced into the wall again and once more disappeared. button-bright, who was rather venture-some, dashed away after her and also became invisible to them. the others followed more cautiously, stretching out their hands to feel the wall and finding, to their astonishment, that they could feel nothing because nothing opposed them. they walked on a few steps and found themselves in the streets of a very beautiful city. behind them they again saw the wall, grim and forbidding as ever, but now they knew it was merely an illusion prepared to keep strangers from entering the city. but the wall was soon forgotten, for in front of them were a number of quaint people who stared at them in amazement as if wondering where they had come from. our friends forgot their good manners for a time and returned the stares with interest, for so remarkable a people had never before been discovered in all the remarkable land of oz. their heads were shaped like diamonds, and their bodies like hearts. all the hair they had was a little bunch at the tip top of their diamond-shaped heads, and their eyes were very large and round, and their noses and mouths very small. their clothing was tight fitting and of brilliant colors, being handsomely embroidered in quaint designs with gold or silver threads; but on their feet they wore sandals with no stockings whatever. the expression of their faces was pleasant enough, although they now showed surprise at the appearance of strangers so unlike themselves, and our friends thought they seemed quite harmless. "i beg your pardon," said the wizard, speaking for his party, "for intruding upon you uninvited, but we are traveling on important business and find it necessary to visit your city. will you kindly tell us by what name your city is called?" they looked at one another uncertainly, each expecting some other to answer. finally, a short one whose heart-shaped body was very broad replied, "we have no occasion to call our city anything. it is where we live, that is all." "but by what name do others call your city?" asked the wizard. "we know of no others except yourselves," said the man. and then he inquired, "were you born with those queer forms you have, or has some cruel magician transformed you to them from your natural shapes?" "these are our natural shapes," declared the wizard, "and we consider them very good shapes, too." the group of inhabitants was constantly being enlarged by others who joined it. all were evidently startled and uneasy at the arrival of strangers. "have you a king?" asked dorothy, who knew it was better to speak with someone in authority. but the man shook his diamond-like head. "what is a king?" he asked. "isn't there anyone who rules over you?" inquired the wizard. "no," was the reply, "each of us rules himself, or at least tries to do so. it is not an easy thing to do, as you probably know." the wizard reflected. "if you have disputes among you," said he after a little thought, "who settles them?" "the high coco-lorum," they answered in a chorus. "and who is he?" "the judge who enforces the laws," said the man who had first spoken. "then he is the principal person here?" continued the wizard. "well, i would not say that," returned the man in a puzzled way. "the high coco-lorum is a public servant. however, he represents the laws, which we must all obey." "i think," said the wizard, "we ought to see your high coco-lorum and talk with him. our mission here requires us to consult one high in authority, and the high coco-lorum ought to be high, whatever else he is." the inhabitants seemed to consider this proposition reasonable, for they nodded their diamond-shaped heads in approval. so the broad one who had been their spokesman said, "follow me," and turning led the way along one of the streets. the entire party followed him, the natives falling in behind. the dwellings they passed were quite nicely planned and seemed comfortable and convenient. after leading them a few blocks, their conductor stopped before a house which was neither better nor worse than the others. the doorway was shaped to admit the strangely formed bodies of these people, being narrow at the top, broad in the middle and tapering at the bottom. the windows were made in much the same way, giving the house a most peculiar appearance. when their guide opened the gate, a music box concealed in the gatepost began to play, and the sound attracted the attention of the high coco-lorum, who appeared at an open window and inquired, "what has happened now?" but in the same moment his eyes fell upon the strangers and he hastened to open the door and admit them--all but the animals, which were left outside with the throng of natives that had now gathered. for a small city there seemed to be a large number of inhabitants, but they did not try to enter the house and contented themselves with staring curiously at the strange animals. toto followed dorothy. our friends entered a large room at the front of the house, where the high coco-lorum asked them to be seated. "i hope your mission here is a peaceful one," he said, looking a little worried, "for the thists are not very good fighters and object to being conquered." "are your people called thists?" asked dorothy. "yes. i thought you knew that. and we call our city thi." "oh!" "we are thists because we eat thistles, you know," continued the high coco-lorum. "do you really eat those prickly things?" inquired button-bright wonderingly. "why not?" replied the other. "the sharp points of the thistles cannot hurt us, because all our insides are gold-lined." "gold-lined!" "to be sure. our throats and stomachs are lined with solid gold, and we find the thistles nourishing and good to eat. as a matter of fact, there is nothing else in our country that is fit for food. all around the city of thi grow countless thistles, and all we need do is to go and gather them. if we wanted anything else to eat, we would have to plant it, and grow it, and harvest it, and that would be a lot of trouble and make us work, which is an occupation we detest." "but tell me, please," said the wizard, "how does it happen that your city jumps around so, from one part of the country to another?" "the city doesn't jump. it doesn't move at all," declared the high coco-lorum. "however, i will admit that the land that surrounds it has a trick of turning this way or that, and so if one is standing upon the plain and facing north, he is likely to find himself suddenly facing west or east or south. but once you reach the thistle fields, you are on solid ground." "ah, i begin to understand," said the wizard, nodding his head. "but i have another question to ask: how does it happen that the thists have no king to rule over them?" "hush!" whispered the high coco-lorum, looking uneasily around to make sure they were not overheard. "in reality, i am the king, but the people don't know it. they think they rule themselves, but the fact is i have everything my own way. no one else knows anything about our laws, and so i make the laws to suit myself. if any oppose me or question my acts, i tell them it's the law and that settles it. if i called myself king, however, and wore a crown and lived in royal style, the people would not like me and might do me harm. as the high coco-lorum of thi, i am considered a very agreeable person." "it seems a very clever arrangement," said the wizard. "and now, as you are the principal person in thi, i beg you to tell us if the royal ozma is a captive in your city." "no," answered the diamond-headed man. "we have no captives. no strangers but yourselves are here, and we have never before heard of the royal ozma." "she rules over all of oz," said dorothy, "and so she rules your city and you, because you are in the winkie country, which is a part of the land of oz." "it may be," returned the high coco-lorum, "for we do not study geography and have never inquired whether we live in the land of oz or not. and any ruler who rules us from a distance and unknown to us is welcome to the job. but what has happened to your royal ozma?" "someone has stolen her," said the wizard. "do you happen to have any talented magician among your people, one who is especially clever, you know?" "no, none especially clever. we do some magic, of course, but it is all of the ordinary kind. i do not think any of us has yet aspired to stealing rulers, either by magic or otherwise." "then we've come a long way for nothing!" exclaimed trot regretfully. "but we are going farther than this," asserted the patchwork girl, bending her stuffed body backward until her yarn hair touched the floor and then walking around on her hands with her feet in the air. the high coco-lorum watched scraps admiringly. "you may go farther on, of course," said he, "but i advise you not to. the herkus live back of us, beyond the thistles and the twisting lands, and they are not very nice people to meet, i assure you." "are they giants?" asked betsy. "they are worse than that," was the reply. "they have giants for their slaves and they are so much stronger than giants that the poor slaves dare not rebel for fear of being torn to pieces." "how do you know?" asked scraps. "everyone says so," answered the high coco-lorum. "have you seen the herkus yourself?" inquired dorothy. "no, but what everyone says must be true, otherwise what would be the use of their saying it?" "we were told before we got here that you people hitch dragons to your chariots," said the little girl. "so we do," declared the high coco-lorum. "and that reminds me that i ought to entertain you as strangers and my guests by taking you for a ride around our splendid city of thi." he touched a button, and a band began to play. at least, they heard the music of a band, but couldn't tell where it came from. "that tune is the order to my charioteer to bring around my dragon-chariot," said the high coco-lorum. "every time i give an order, it is in music, which is a much more pleasant way to address servants than in cold, stern words." "does this dragon of yours bite?" asked button-bright. "mercy no! do you think i'd risk the safety of my innocent people by using a biting dragon to draw my chariot? i'm proud to say that my dragon is harmless, unless his steering gear breaks, and he was manufactured at the famous dragon factory in this city of thi. here he comes, and you may examine him for yourselves." they heard a low rumble and a shrill squeaking sound, and going out to the front of the house, they saw coming around the corner a car drawn by a gorgeous jeweled dragon, which moved its head to right and left and flashed its eyes like headlights of an automobile and uttered a growling noise as it slowly moved toward them. when it stopped before the high coco-lorum's house, toto barked sharply at the sprawling beast, but even tiny trot could see that the dragon was not alive. its scales were of gold, and each one was set with sparkling jewels, while it walked in such a stiff, regular manner that it could be nothing else than a machine. the chariot that trailed behind it was likewise of gold and jewels, and when they entered it, they found there were no seats. everyone was supposed to stand up while riding. the charioteer was a little, diamond-headed fellow who straddled the neck of the dragon and moved the levers that made it go. "this," said the high coco-lorum pompously, "is a wonderful invention. we are all very proud of our auto-dragons, many of which are in use by our wealthy inhabitants. start the thing going, charioteer!" the charioteer did not move. "you forgot to order him in music," suggested dorothy. "ah, so i did." he touched a button and a music box in the dragon's head began to play a tune. at once the little charioteer pulled over a lever, and the dragon began to move, very slowly and groaning dismally as it drew the clumsy chariot after it. toto trotted between the wheels. the sawhorse, the mule, the lion and the woozy followed after and had no trouble in keeping up with the machine. indeed, they had to go slow to keep from running into it. when the wheels turned, another music box concealed somewhere under the chariot played a lively march tune which was in striking contrast with the dragging movement of the strange vehicle, and button-bright decided that the music he had heard when they first sighted this city was nothing else than a chariot plodding its weary way through the streets. all the travelers from the emerald city thought this ride the most uninteresting and dreary they had ever experienced, but the high coco-lorum seemed to think it was grand. he pointed out the different buildings and parks and fountains in much the same way that the conductor does on an american "sightseeing wagon" does, and being guests they were obliged to submit to the ordeal. but they became a little worried when their host told them he had ordered a banquet prepared for them in the city hall. "what are we going to eat?" asked button-bright suspiciously. "thistles," was the reply. "fine, fresh thistles, gathered this very day." scraps laughed, for she never ate anything, but dorothy said in a protesting voice, "our insides are not lined with gold, you know." "how sad!" exclaimed the high coco-lorum, and then he added as an afterthought, "but we can have the thistles boiled, if you prefer." "i'm 'fraid they wouldn't taste good even then," said little trot. "haven't you anything else to eat?" the high coco-lorum shook his diamond-shaped head. "nothing that i know of," said he. "but why should we have anything else when we have so many thistles? however, if you can't eat what we eat, don't eat anything. we shall not be offended, and the banquet will be just as merry and delightful." knowing his companions were all hungry, the wizard said, "i trust you will excuse us from the banquet, sir, which will be merry enough without us, although it is given in our honor. for, as ozma is not in your city, we must leave here at once and seek her elsewhere." "sure we must!" dorothy, and she whispered to betsy and trot, "i'd rather starve somewhere else than in this city, and who knows, we may run across somebody who eats reg'lar food and will give us some." so when the ride was finished, in spite of the protests of the high coco-lorum, they insisted on continuing their journey. "it will soon be dark," he objected. "we don't mind the darkness," replied the wizard. "some wandering herku may get you." "do you think the herkus would hurt us?" asked dorothy. "i cannot say, not having had the honor of their acquaintance. but they are said to be so strong that if they had any other place to stand upon they could lift the world." "all of them together?" asked button-bright wonderingly. "any one of them could do it," said the high coco-lorum. "have you heard of any magicians being among them?" asked the wizard, knowing that only a magician could have stolen ozma in the way she had been stolen. "i am told it is quite a magical country," declared the high coco-lorum, "and magic is usually performed by magicians. but i have never heard that they have any invention or sorcery to equal our wonderful auto-dragons." they thanked him for his courtesy, and mounting their own animals rode to the farther side of the city and right through the wall of illusion out into the open country. "i'm glad we got away so easily," said betsy. "i didn't like those queer-shaped people." "nor did i," agreed dorothy. "it seems dreadful to be lined with sheets of pure gold and have nothing to eat but thistles." "they seemed happy and contented, though," remarked the wizard, "and those who are contented have nothing to regret and nothing more to wish for." chapter toto loses something for a while the travelers were constantly losing their direction, for beyond the thistle fields they again found themselves upon the turning-lands, which swung them around one way and then another. but by keeping the city of thi constantly behind them, the adventurers finally passed the treacherous turning-lands and came upon a stony country where no grass grew at all. there were plenty of bushes, however, and although it was now almost dark, the girls discovered some delicious yellow berries growing upon the bushes, one taste of which set them all to picking as many as they could find. the berries relieved their pangs of hunger for a time, and as it now became too dark to see anything, they camped where they were. the three girls lay down upon one of the blankets--all in a row--and the wizard covered them with the other blanket and tucked them in. button-bright crawled under the shelter of some bushes and was asleep in half a minute. the wizard sat down with his back to a big stone and looked at the stars in the sky and thought gravely upon the dangerous adventure they had undertaken, wondering if they would ever be able to find their beloved ozma again. the animals lay in a group by themselves, a little distance from the others. "i've lost my growl!" said toto, who had been very silent and sober all that day. "what do you suppose has become of it?" "if you had asked me to keep track of your growl, i might be able to tell you," remarked the lion sleepily. "but frankly, toto, i supposed you were taking care of it yourself." "it's an awful thing to lose one's growl," said toto, wagging his tail disconsolately. "what if you lost your roar, lion? wouldn't you feel terrible?" "my roar," replied the lion, "is the fiercest thing about me. i depend on it to frighten my enemies so badly that they won't dare to fight me." "once," said the mule, "i lost my bray so that i couldn't call to betsy to let her know i was hungry. that was before i could talk, you know, for i had not yet come into the land of oz, and i found it was certainly very uncomfortable not to be able to make a noise." "you make enough noise now," declared toto. "but none of you have answered my question: where is my growl?" "you may search me," said the woozy. "i don't care for such things, myself." "you snore terribly," asserted toto. "it may be," said the woozy. "what one does when asleep one is not accountable for. i wish you would wake me up sometime when i'm snoring and let me hear the sound. then i can judge whether it is terrible or delightful." "it isn't pleasant, i assure you," said the lion, yawning. "to me it seems wholly unnecessary," declared hank the mule. "you ought to break yourself of the habit," said the sawhorse. "you never hear me snore, because i never sleep. i don't even whinny as those puffy meat horses do. i wish that whoever stole toto's growl had taken the mule's bray and the lion's roar and the woozy's snore at the same time." "do you think, then, that my growl was stolen?" "you have never lost it before, have you?" inquired inquired the sawhorse. "only once, when i had a sore throat from barking too long at the moon." "is your throat sore now?" asked the woozy. "no," replied the dog. "i can't understand," said hank, "why dogs bark at the moon. they can't scare the moon, and the moon doesn't pay any attention to the bark. so why do dogs do it?" "were you ever a dog?" asked toto. "no indeed," replied hank. "i am thankful to say i was created a mule--the most beautiful of all beasts--and have always remained one." the woozy sat upon his square haunches to examine hank with care. "beauty," he said, "must be a matter of taste. i don't say your judgment is bad, friend hank, or that you are so vulgar as to be conceited. but if you admire big, waggy ears and a tail like a paintbrush and hoofs big enough for an elephant and a long neck and a body so skinny that one can count the ribs with one eye shut--if that's your idea of beauty, hank, then either you or i must be much mistaken." "you're full of edges," sneered the mule. "if i were square as you are, i suppose you'd think me lovely." "outwardly, dear hank, i would," replied the woozy. "but to be really lovely, one must be beautiful without and within." the mule couldn't deny this statement, so he gave a disgusted grunt and rolled over so that his back was toward the woozy. but the lion, regarding the two calmly with his great, yellow eyes, said to the dog, "my dear toto, our friends have taught us a lesson in humility. if the woozy and the mule are indeed beautiful creatures as they seem to think, you and i must be decidedly ugly." "not to ourselves," protested toto, who was a shrewd little dog. "you and i, lion, are fine specimens of our own races. i am a fine dog, and you are a fine lion. only in point of comparison, one with another, can we be properly judged, so i will leave it to the poor old sawhorse to decide which is the most beautiful animal among us all. the sawhorse is wood, so he won't be prejudiced and will speak the truth." "i surely will," responded the sawhorse, wagging his ears, which were chips set in his wooden head. "are you all agreed to accept my judgment?" "we are!" they declared, each one hopeful. "then," said the sawhorse, "i must point out to you the fact that you are all meat creatures, who tire unless they sleep and starve unless they eat and suffer from thirst unless they drink. such animals must be very imperfect, and imperfect creatures cannot be beautiful. now, i am made of wood." "you surely have a wooden head," said the mule. "yes, and a wooden body and wooden legs, which are as swift as the wind and as tireless. i've heard dorothy say that 'handsome is as handsome does,' and i surely perform my duties in a handsome manner. therefore, if you wish my honest judgment, i will confess that among us all i am the most beautiful." the mule snorted, and the woozy laughed; toto had lost his growl and could only look scornfully at the sawhorse, who stood in his place unmoved. but the lion stretched himself and yawned, saying quietly, "were we all like the sawhorse, we would all be sawhorses, which would be too many of the kind. were we all like hank, we would be a herd of mules; if like toto, we would be a pack of dogs; should we all become the shape of the woozy, he would no longer be remarkable for his unusual appearance. finally, were you all like me, i would consider you so common that i would not care to associate with you. to be individual, my friends, to be different from others, is the only way to become distinguished from the common herd. let us be glad, therefore, that we differ from one another in form and in disposition. variety is the spice of life, and we are various enough to enjoy one another's society; so let us be content." "there is some truth in that speech," remarked toto reflectively. "but how about my lost growl?" "the growl is of importance only to you," responded the lion, "so it is your business to worry over the loss, not ours. if you love us, do not afflict your burdens on us; be unhappy all by yourself." "if the same person stole my growl who stole ozma," said the little dog, "i hope we shall find him very soon and punish him as he deserves. he must be the most cruel person in all the world, for to prevent a dog from growling when it is his nature to growl is just as wicked, in my opinion, as stealing all the magic in oz." chapter button-bright loses himself the patchwork girl, who never slept and who could see very well in the dark, had wandered among the rocks and bushes all night long, with the result that she was able to tell some good news the next morning. "over the crest of the hill before us," she said, "is a big grove of trees of many kinds on which all sorts of fruits grow. if you will go there, you will find a nice breakfast awaiting you." this made them eager to start, so as soon as the blankets were folded and strapped to the back of the sawhorse, they all took their places on the animals and set out for the big grove scraps had told them of. as soon as they got over the brow of the hill, they discovered it to be a really immense orchard, extending for miles to the right and left of them. as their way led straight through the trees, they hurried forward as fast as possible. the first trees they came to bore quinces, which they did not like. then there were rows of citron trees and then crab apples and afterward limes and lemons. but beyond these they found a grove of big, golden oranges, juicy and sweet, and the fruit hung low on the branches so they could pluck it easily. they helped themselves freely and all ate oranges as they continued on their way. then, a little farther along, they came to some trees bearing fine, red apples, which they also feasted on, and the wizard stopped here long enough to tie a lot of the apples in one end of a blanket. "we do not know what will happen to us after we leave this delightful orchard," he said, "so i think it wise to carry a supply of apples with us. we can't starve as long as we have apples, you know." scraps wasn't riding the woozy just now. she loved to climb the trees and swing herself by the branches from one tree to another. some of the choicest fruit was gathered by the patchwork girl from the very highest limbs and tossed down to the others. suddenly, trot asked, "where's button-bright?" and when the others looked for him, they found the boy had disappeared. "dear me!" cried dorothy. "i guess he's lost again, and that will mean our waiting here until we can find him." "it's a good place to wait," suggested betsy, who had found a plum tree and was eating some of its fruit. "how can you wait here and find button-bright at one and the same time?" inquired the patchwork girl, hanging by her toes on a limb just over the heads of the three mortal girls. "perhaps he'll come back here," answered dorothy. "if he tries that, he'll prob'ly lose his way," said trot. "i've known him to do that lots of times. it's losing his way that gets him lost." "very true," said the wizard. "so all the rest of you must stay here while i go look for the boy." "won't you get lost, too?" asked betsy. "i hope not, my dear." "let me go," said scraps, dropping lightly to the ground. "i can't get lost, and i'm more likely to find button-bright than any of you." without waiting for permission, she darted away through the trees and soon disappeared from their view. "dorothy," said toto, squatting beside his little mistress, "i've lost my growl." "how did that happen?" she asked. "i don't know," replied toto. "yesterday morning the woozy nearly stepped on me, and i tried to growl at him and found i couldn't growl a bit." "can you bark?" inquired dorothy. "oh, yes indeed." "then never mind the growl," said she. "but what will i do when i get home to the glass cat and the pink kitten?" asked the little dog in an anxious tone. "they won't mind if you can't growl at them, i'm sure," said dorothy. "i'm sorry for you, of course, toto, for it's just those things we can't do that we want to do most of all; but before we get back, you may find your growl again." "do you think the person who stole ozma stole my growl?" dorothy smiled. "perhaps, toto." "then he's a scoundrel!" cried the little dog. "anyone who would steal ozma is as bad as bad can be," agreed dorothy, "and when we remember that our dear friend, the lovely ruler of oz, is lost, we ought not to worry over just a growl." toto was not entirely satisfied with this remark, for the more he thought upon his lost growl, the more important his misfortune became. when no one was looking, he went away among the trees and tried his best to growl--even a little bit--but could not manage to do so. all he could do was bark, and a bark cannot take the place of a growl, so he sadly returned to the others. now button-bright had no idea that he was lost at first. he had merely wandered from tree to tree seeking the finest fruit until he discovered he was alone in the great orchard. but that didn't worry him just then, and seeing some apricot trees farther on, he went to them. then he discovered some cherry trees; just beyond these were some tangerines. "we've found 'most ev'ry kind of fruit but peaches," he said to himself, "so i guess there are peaches here, too, if i can find the trees." he searched here and there, paying no attention to his way, until he found that the trees surrounding him bore only nuts. he put some walnuts in his pockets and kept on searching, and at last--right among the nut trees--he came upon one solitary peach tree. it was a graceful, beautiful tree, but although it was thickly leaved, it bore no fruit except one large, splendid peach, rosy-cheeked and fuzzy and just right to eat. in his heart he doubted this statement, for this was a solitary peach tree, while all the other fruits grew upon many trees set close to one another; but that one luscious bite made him unable to resist eating the rest of it, and soon the peach was all gone except the pit. button-bright was about to throw this peach pit away when he noticed that it was of pure gold. of course, this surprised him, but so many things in the land of oz were surprising that he did not give much thought to the golden peach pit. he put it in his pocket, however, to show to the girls, and five minutes afterward had forgotten all about it. for now he realized that he was far separated from his companions, and knowing that this would worry them and delay their journey, he began to shout as loud as he could. his voice did not penetrate very far among all those trees, and after shouting a dozen times and getting no answer, he sat down on the ground and said, "well, i'm lost again. it's too bad, but i don't see how it can be helped." as he leaned his back against a tree, he looked up and saw a bluefinch fly down from the sky and alight upon a branch just before him. the bird looked and looked at him. first it looked with one bright eye and then turned its head and looked at him with the other eye. then, fluttering its wings a little, it said, "oho! so you've eaten the enchanted peach, have you?" "was it enchanted?" asked button-bright. "of course," replied the bluefinch. "ugu the shoemaker did that." "but why? and how was it enchanted? and what will happen to one who eats it?" questioned the boy. "ask ugu the shoemaker. he knows," said the bird, preening its feathers with its bill. "and who is ugu the shoemaker?" "the one who enchanted the peach and placed it here--in the exact center of the great orchard--so no one would ever find it. we birds didn't dare to eat it; we are too wise for that. but you are button-bright from the emerald city, and you, you, you ate the enchanted peach! you must explain to ugu the shoemaker why you did that." and then, before the boy could ask any more questions, the bird flew away and left him alone. button-bright was not much worried to find that the peach he had eaten was enchanted. it certainly had tasted very good, and his stomach didn't ache a bit. so again he began to reflect upon the best way to rejoin his friends. "whichever direction i follow is likely to be the wrong one," he said to himself, "so i'd better stay just where i am and let them find me--if they can." a white rabbit came hopping through the orchard and paused a little way off to look at him. "don't be afraid," said button-bright. "i won't hurt you." "oh, i'm not afraid for myself," returned the white rabbit. "it's you i'm worried about." "yes, i'm lost," said the boy. "i fear you are, indeed," answered the rabbit. "why on earth did you eat the enchanted peach?" the boy looked at the excited little animal thoughtfully. "there were two reasons," he explained. "one reason was that i like peaches, and the other reason was that i didn't know it was enchanted." "that won't save you from ugu the shoemaker," declared the white rabbit, and it scurried away before the boy could ask any more questions. "rabbits and birds," he thought, "are timid creatures and seem afraid of this shoemaker, whoever he may be. if there was another peach half as good as that other, i'd eat it in spite of a dozen enchantments or a hundred shoemakers!" just then, scraps came dancing along and saw him sitting at the foot of the tree. "oh, here you are!" she said. "up to your old tricks, eh? don't you know it's impolite to get lost and keep everybody waiting for you? come along, and i'll lead you back to dorothy and the others." button-bright rose slowly to accompany her. "that wasn't much of a loss," he said cheerfully. "i haven't been gone half a day, so there's no harm done." dorothy, however, when the boy rejoined the party, gave him a good scolding. "when we're doing such an important thing as searching for ozma," said she, "it's naughty for you to wander away and keep us from getting on. s'pose she's a pris'ner in a dungeon cell! do you want to keep our dear ozma there any longer than we can help?" "if she's in a dungeon cell, how are you going to get her out?" inquired the boy. "never you mind. we'll leave that to the wizard. he's sure to find a way." the wizard said nothing, for he realized that without his magic tools he could do no more than any other person. but there was no use reminding his companions of that fact; it might discourage them. "the important thing just now," he remarked, "is to find ozma, and as our party is again happily reunited, i propose we move on." as they came to the edge of the great orchard, the sun was setting and they knew it would soon be dark. so it was decided to camp under the trees, as another broad plain was before them. the wizard spread the blankets on a bed of soft leaves, and presently all of them except scraps and the sawhorse were fast asleep. toto snuggled close to his friend the lion, and the woozy snored so loudly that the patchwork girl covered his square head with her apron to deaden the sound. chapter the czarover of herku trot wakened just as the sun rose, and slipping out of the blankets, went to the edge of the great orchard and looked across the plain. something glittered in the far distance. "that looks like another city," she said half aloud. "and another city it is," declared scraps, who had crept to trot's side unheard, for her stuffed feet made no sound. "the sawhorse and i made a journey in the dark while you were all asleep, and we found over there a bigger city than thi. there's a wall around it, too, but it has gates and plenty of pathways." "did you get in?" asked trot. "no, for the gates were locked and the wall was a real wall. so we came back here again. it isn't far to the city. we can reach it in two hours after you've had your breakfasts." trot went back, and finding the other girls now awake, told them what scraps had said. so they hurriedly ate some fruit--there were plenty of plums and fijoas in this part of the orchard--and then they mounted the animals and set out upon the journey to the strange city. hank the mule had breakfasted on grass, and the lion had stolen away and found a breakfast to his liking; he never told what it was, but dorothy hoped the little rabbits and the field mice had kept out of his way. she warned toto not to chase birds and gave the dog some apple, with which he was quite content. the woozy was as fond of fruit as of any other food except honey, and the sawhorse never ate at all. except for their worry over ozma, they were all in good spirits as they proceeded swiftly over the plain. toto still worried over his lost growl, but like a wise little dog kept his worry to himself. before long, the city grew nearer and they could examine it with interest. in outward appearance the place was more imposing than thi, and it was a square city, with a square, four-sided wall around it, and on each side was a square gate of burnished copper. everything about the city looked solid and substantial; there were no banners flying, and the towers that rose above the city wall seemed bare of any ornament whatever. a path led from the fruit orchard directly to one of the city gates, showing that the inhabitants preferred fruit to thistles. our friends followed this path to the gate, which they found fast shut. but the wizard advanced and pounded upon it with his fist, saying in a loud voice, "open!" at once there rose above the great wall a row of immense heads, all of which looked down at them as if to see who was intruding. the size of these heads was astonishing, and our friends at once realized that they belonged to giants who were standing within the city. all had thick, bushy hair and whiskers, on some the hair being white and on others black or red or yellow, while the hair of a few was just turning gray, showing that the giants were of all ages. however fierce the heads might seem, the eyes were mild in expression, as if the creatures had been long subdued, and their faces expressed patience rather than ferocity. "what's wanted?" asked one old giant in a low, grumbling voice. "we are strangers, and we wish to enter the city," replied the wizard. "do you come in war or peace?" asked another. "in peace, of course," retorted the wizard, and he added impatiently, "do we look like an army of conquest?" "no," said the first giant who had spoken, "you look like innocent tramps; but you never can tell by appearances. wait here until we report to our masters. no one can enter here without the permission of vig, the czarover." "who's that?" inquired dorothy. but the heads had all bobbed down and disappeared behind the walls, so there was no answer. they waited a long time before the gate rolled back with a rumbling sound, and a loud voice cried, "enter!" but they lost no time in taking advantage of the invitation. on either side of the broad street that led into the city from the gate stood a row of huge giants, twenty of them on a side and all standing so close together that their elbows touched. they wore uniforms of blue and yellow and were armed with clubs as big around as treetrunks. each giant had around his neck a broad band of gold, riveted on, to show he was a slave. as our friends entered riding upon the lion, the woozy, the sawhorse and the mule, the giants half turned and walked in two files on either side of them, as if escorting them on their way. it looked to dorothy as if all her party had been made prisoners, for even mounted on their animals their heads scarcely reached to the knees of the marching giants. the girls and button-bright were anxious to know what sort of a city they had entered, and what the people were like who had made these powerful creatures their slaves. through the legs of the giants as they walked, dorothy could see rows of houses on each side of the street and throngs of people standing on the sidewalks, but the people were of ordinary size and the only remarkable thing about them was the fact that they were dreadfully lean and thin. between their skin and their bones there seemed to be little or no flesh, and they were mostly stoop-shouldered and weary looking, even to the little children. more and more, dorothy wondered how and why the great giants had ever submitted to become slaves of such skinny, languid masters, but there was no chance to question anyone until they arrived at a big palace located in the heart of the city. here the giants formed lines to the entrance and stood still while our friends rode into the courtyard of the palace. then the gates closed behind them, and before them was a skinny little man who bowed low and said in a sad voice, "if you will be so obliging as to dismount, it will give me pleasure to lead you into the presence of the world's most mighty ruler, vig the czarover." "i don't believe it!" said dorothy indignantly. "what don't you believe?" asked the man. "i don't believe your czarover can hold a candle to our ozma." "he wouldn't hold a candle under any circumstances, or to any living person," replied the man very seriously, "for he has slaves to do such things and the mighty vig is too dignified to do anything that others can do for him. he even obliges a slave to sneeze for him, if ever he catches cold. however, if you dare to face our powerful ruler, follow me." "we dare anything," said the wizard, "so go ahead." through several marble corridors having lofty ceilings they passed, finding each corridor and doorway guarded by servants. but these servants of the palace were of the people and not giants, and they were so thin that they almost resembled skeletons. finally, they entered a great circular room with a high, domed ceiling, where the czarover sat on a throne cut from a solid block of white marble and decorated with purple silk hangings and gold tassels. the ruler of these people was combing his eyebrows when our friends entered the throne room and stood before him, but he put the comb in his pocket and examined the strangers with evident curiosity. then he said, "dear me, what a surprise! you have really shocked me. for no outsider has ever before come to our city of herku, and i cannot imagine why you have ventured to do so." "we are looking for ozma, the supreme ruler of the land of oz," replied the wizard. "do you see her anywhere around here?" asked the czarover. "not yet, your majesty, but perhaps you may tell us where she is." "no, i have my hands full keeping track of my own people. i find them hard to manage because they are so tremendously strong." "they don't look very strong," said dorothy. "it seems as if a good wind would blow 'em way out of the city if it wasn't for the wall." "just so, just so," admitted the czarover. "they really look that way, don't they? but you must never trust to appearances, which have a way of fooling one. perhaps you noticed that i prevented you from meeting any of my people. i protected you with my giants while you were on the way from the gates to my palace so that not a herku got near you." "are your people so dangerous, then?" asked the wizard. "to strangers, yes. but only because they are so friendly. for if they shake hands with you, they are likely to break your arms or crush your fingers to a jelly." "why?" asked button-bright. "because we are the strongest people in all the world." "pshaw!" exclaimed the boy. "that's bragging. you prob'ly don't know how strong other people are. why, once i knew a man in philadelphi' who could bend iron bars with just his hands!" "but mercy me, it's no trick to bend iron bars," said his majesty. "tell me, could this man crush a block of stone with his bare hands?" "no one could do that," declared the boy. "if i had a block of stone, i'd show you," said the czarover, looking around the room. "ah, here is my throne. the back is too high, anyhow, so i'll just break off a piece of that." he rose to his feet and tottered in an uncertain way around the throne. then he took hold of the back and broke off a piece of marble over a foot thick. "this," said he, coming back to his seat, "is very solid marble and much harder than ordinary stone. yet i can crumble it easily with my fingers, a proof that i am very strong." even as he spoke, he began breaking off chunks of marble and crumbling them as one would a bit of earth. the wizard was so astonished that he took a piece in his own hands and tested it, finding it very hard indeed. just then one of the giant servants entered and exclaimed, "oh, your majesty, the cook has burned the soup! what shall we do?" "how dare you interrupt me?" asked the czarover, and grasping the immense giant by one of his legs, he raised him in the air and threw him headfirst out of an open window. "now, tell me," he said, turning to button-bright, "could your man in philadelphia crumble marble in his fingers?" "i guess not," said button-bright, much impressed by the skinny monarch's strength. "what makes you so strong?" inquired dorothy. "it's the zosozo," he explained, "which is an invention of my own. i and all my people eat zosozo, and it gives us tremendous strength. would you like to eat some?" "no thank you," replied the girl. "i--i don't want to get so thin." "well, of course one can't have strength and flesh at the same time," said the czarover. "zosozo is pure energy, and it's the only compound of its sort in existence. i never allow our giants to have it, you know, or they would soon become our masters, since they are bigger that we; so i keep all the stuff locked up in my private laboratory. once a year i feed a teaspoonful of it to each of my people--men, women and children--so every one of them is nearly as strong as i am. wouldn't you like a dose, sir?" he asked, turning to the wizard. "well," said the wizard, "if you would give me a little zosozo in a bottle, i'd like to take it with me on my travels. it might come in handy on occasion." "to be sure. i'll give you enough for six doses," promised the czarover. "but don't take more than a teaspoonful at a time. once ugu the shoemaker took two teaspoonsful, and it made him so strong that when he leaned against the city wall, he pushed it over, and we had to build it up again." "who is ugu the shoemaker?" button-bright curiously, for he now remembered that the bird and the rabbit had claimed ugu the shoemaker had enchanted the peach he had eaten. "why, ugu is a great magician who used to live here. but he's gone away now," replied the czarover. "where has he gone?" asked the wizard quickly. "i am told he lives in a wickerwork castle in the mountains to the west of here. you see, ugu became such a powerful magician that he didn't care to live in our city any longer for fear we would discover some of his secrets. so he went to the mountains and built him a splendid wicker castle which is so strong that even i and my people could not batter it down, and there he lives all by himself." "this is good news," declared the wizard, "for i think this is just the magician we are searching for. but why is he called ugu the shoemaker?" "once he was a very common citizen here and made shoes for a living," replied the monarch of herku. "but he was descended from the greatest wizard and sorcerer who ever lived in this or in any other country, and one day ugu the shoemaker discovered all the magical books and recipes of his famous great-grandfather, which had been hidden away in the attic of his house. so he began to study the papers and books and to practice magic, and in time he became so skillful that, as i said, he scorned our city and built a solitary castle for himself." "do you think," asked dorothy anxiously, "that ugu the shoemaker would be wicked enough to steal our ozma of oz?" "and the magic picture?" asked trot. "and the great book of records of glinda the good?" asked betsy. "and my own magic tools?" asked the wizard. "well," replied the czarover, "i won't say that ugu is wicked, exactly, but he is very ambitious to become the most powerful magician in the world, and so i suppose he would not be too proud to steal any magic things that belonged to anybody else--if he could manage to do so." "but how about ozma? why would he wish to steal her?" questioned dorothy. "don't ask me, my dear. ugu doesn't tell me why he does things, i assure you." "then we must go and ask him ourselves," declared the little girl. "i wouldn't do that if i were you," advised the czarover, looking first at the three girls and then at the boy and the little wizard and finally at the stuffed patchwork girl. "if ugu has really stolen your ozma, he will probably keep her a prisoner, in spite of all your threats or entreaties. and with all his magical knowledge he would be a dangerous person to attack. therefore, if you are wise, you will go home again and find a new ruler for the emerald city and the land of oz. but perhaps it isn't ugu the shoemaker who has stolen your ozma." "the only way to settle that question," replied the wizard, "is to go to ugu's castle and see if ozma is there. if she is, we will report the matter to the great sorceress glinda the good, and i'm pretty sure she will find a way to rescue our darling ruler from the shoemaker." "well, do as you please," said the czarover, "but if you are all transformed into hummingbirds or caterpillars, don't blame me for not warning you." they stayed the rest of that day in the city of herku and were fed at the royal table of the czarover and given sleeping rooms in his palace. the strong monarch treated them very nicely and gave the wizard a little golden vial of zosozo to use if ever he or any of his party wished to acquire great strength. even at the last, the czarover tried to persuade them not to go near ugu the shoemaker, but they were resolved on the venture, and the next morning bade the friendly monarch a cordial goodbye and, mounting upon their animals, left the herkus and the city of herku and headed for the mountains that lay to the west. chapter the truth pond it seems a long time since we have heard anything of the frogman and cayke the cookie cook, who had left the yip country in search of the diamond-studded dishpan which had been mysteriously stolen the same night that ozma had disappeared from the emerald city. but you must remember that while the frogman and the cookie cook were preparing to descend from their mountaintop, and even while on their way to the farmhouse of wiljon the winkie, dorothy and the wizard and their friends were encountering the adventures we have just related. so it was that on the very morning when the travelers from the emerald city bade farewell to the czarover of the city of herku, cayke and the frogman awoke in a grove in which they had passed the night sleeping on beds of leaves. there were plenty of farmhouses in the neighborhood, but no one seemed to welcome the puffy, haughty frogman or the little dried-up cookie cook, and so they slept comfortably enough underneath the trees of the grove. the frogman wakened first on this morning, and after going to the tree where cayke slept and finding her still wrapped in slumber, he decided to take a little walk and seek some breakfast. coming to the edge of the grove, he observed half a mile away a pretty yellow house that was surrounded by a yellow picket fence, so he walked toward this house and on entering the yard found a winkie woman picking up sticks with which to build a fire to cook her morning meal. "for goodness sake!" she exclaimed on seeing the frogman. "what are you doing out of your frog-pond?" "i am traveling in search of a jeweled gold dishpan, my good woman," he replied with an air of great dignity. "you won't find it here, then," said she. "our dishpans are tin, and they're good enough for anybody. so go back to your pond and leave me alone." she spoke rather crossly and with a lack of respect that greatly annoyed the frogman. "allow me to tell you, madam," said he, "that although i am a frog, i am the greatest and wisest frog in all the world. i may add that i possess much more wisdom than any winkie--man or woman--in this land. wherever i go, people fall on their knees before me and render homage to the great frogman! no one else knows so much as i; no one else is so grand, so magnificent!" "if you know so much," she retorted, "why don't you know where your dishpan is instead of chasing around the country after it?" "presently," he answered, "i am going where it is, but just now i am traveling and have had no breakfast. therefore i honor you by asking you for something to eat." "oho! the great frogman is hungry as any tramp, is he? then pick up these sticks and help me to build the fire," said the woman contemptuously. "me! the great frogman pick up sticks?" he exclaimed in horror. "in the yip country where i am more honored and powerful than any king could be, people weep with joy when i ask them to feed me." "then that's the place to go for your breakfast," declared the woman. "i fear you do not realize my importance," urged the frogman. "exceeding wisdom renders me superior to menial duties." "it's a great wonder to me," remarked the woman, carrying her sticks to the house, "that your wisdom doesn't inform you that you'll get no breakfast here." and she went in and slammed the door behind her. the frogman felt he had been insulted, so he gave a loud croak of indignation and turned away. after going a short distance, he came upon a faint path which led across a meadow in the direction of a grove of pretty trees, and thinking this circle of evergreens must surround a house where perhaps he would be kindly received, he decided to follow the path. and by and by he came to the trees, which were set close together, and pushing aside some branches he found no house inside the circle, but instead a very beautiful pond of clear water. now the frogman, although he was so big and well educated and now aped the ways and customs of human beings, was still a frog. as he gazed at this solitary, deserted pond, his love for water returned to him with irresistible force. "if i cannot get a breakfast, i may at least have a fine swim," said he, and pushing his way between the trees, he reached the bank. there he took off his fine clothing, laying his shiny purple hat and his gold-headed cane beside it. a moment later, he sprang with one leap into the water and dived to the very bottom of the pond. the water was deliciously cool and grateful to his thick, rough skin, and the frogman swam around the pond several times before he stopped to rest. then he floated upon the surface and examined the pond. the bottom and sides were all lined with glossy tiles of a light pink color; just one place in the bottom where the water bubbled up from a hidden spring had been left free. on the banks, the green grass grew to the edge of the pink tiling. and now, as the frogman examined the place, he found that on one side of the pool, just above the water line, had been set a golden plate on which some words were deeply engraved. he swam toward this plate, and on reaching it read the following inscription: _this is_ the truth pond _whoever bathes in this water must always afterward tell_ the truth. this statement startled the frogman. it even worried him, so that he leaped upon the bank and hurriedly began to dress himself. "a great misfortune has befallen me," he told himself, "for hereafter i cannot tell people i am wise, since it is not the truth. the truth is that my boasted wisdom is all a sham, assumed by me to deceive people and make them defer to me. in truth, no living creature can know much more than his fellows, for one may know one thing, and another know another thing, so that wisdom is evenly scattered throughout the world. but--ah me!--what a terrible fate will now be mine. even cayke the cookie cook will soon discover that my knowledge is no greater than her own, for having bathed in the enchanted water of the truth pond, i can no longer deceive her or tell a lie." more humbled than he had been for many years, the frogman went back to the grove where he had left cayke and found the woman now awake and washing her face in a tiny brook. "where has your honor been?" she asked. "to a farmhouse to ask for something to eat," said he, "but the woman refused me." "how dreadful!" she exclaimed. "but never mind, there are other houses where the people will be glad to feed the wisest creature in all the world." "do you mean yourself?" he asked. "no, i mean you." the frogman felt strongly impelled to tell the truth, but struggled hard against it. his reason told him there was no use in letting cayke know he was not wise, for then she would lose much respect for him, but each time he opened his mouth to speak, he realized he was about to tell the truth and shut it again as quickly as possible. he tried to talk about something else, but the words necessary to undeceive the woman would force themselves to his lips in spite of all his struggles. finally, knowing that he must either remain dumb or let the truth prevail, he gave a low groan of despair and said, "cayke, i am not the wisest creature in all the world; i am not wise at all." "oh, you must be!" she protested. "you told me so yourself, only last evening." "then last evening i failed to tell you the truth," he admitted, looking very shamefaced for a frog. "i am sorry i told you this lie, my good cayke, but if you must know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, i am not really as wise as you are." the cookie cook was greatly shocked to hear this, for it shattered one of her most pleasing illusions. she looked at the gorgeously dressed frogman in amazement. "what has caused you to change your mind so suddenly?" she inquired. "i have bathed in the truth pond," he said, "and whoever bathes in that water is ever afterward obliged to tell the truth." "you were foolish to do that," declared the woman. "it is often very embarrassing to tell the truth. i'm glad i didn't bathe in that dreadful water!" the frogman looked at his companion thoughtfully. "cayke," said he, "i want you to go to the truth pond and take a bath in its water. for if we are to travel together and encounter unknown adventures, it would not be fair that i alone must always tell you the truth, while you could tell me whatever you pleased. if we both dip in the enchanted water, there will be no chance in the future of our deceiving one another." "no," she asserted, shaking her head positively, "i won't do it, your honor. for if i told you the truth, i'm sure you wouldn't like me. no truth pond for me. i'll be just as i am, an honest woman who can say what she wants to without hurting anyone's feelings." with this decision the frogman was forced to be content, although he was sorry the cookie cook would not listen to his advice. chapter the unhappy ferryman leaving the grove where they had slept, the frogman and the cookie cook turned to the east to seek another house, and after a short walk came to one where the people received them very politely. the children stared rather hard at the big, pompous frogman, but the woman of the house, when cayke asked for something to eat, at once brought them food and said they were welcome to it. "few people in need of help pass this way," she remarked, "for the winkies are all prosperous and love to stay in their own homes. but perhaps you are not a winkie," she added. "no," said cayke, "i am a yip, and my home is on a high mountain at the southeast of your country." "and the frogman, is he also a yip?" "i do not know what he is, other than a very remarkable and highly educated creature," replied the cookie cook. "but he has lived many years among the yips, who have found him so wise and intelligent that they always go to him for advice." "may i ask why you have left your home and where you are going?" said the winkie woman. then cayke told her of the diamond-studded gold dishpan and how it had been mysteriously stolen from her house, after which she had discovered that she could no longer cook good cookies. so she had resolved to search until she found her dishpan again, because a cookie cook who cannot cook good cookies is not of much use. the frogman, who had wanted to see more of the world, had accompanied her to assist in the search. when the woman had listened to this story, she asked, "then you have no idea as yet who has stolen your dishpan?" "i only know it must have been some mischievous fairy, or a magician, or some such powerful person, because none other could have climbed the steep mountain to the yip country. and who else could have carried away my beautiful magic dishpan without being seen?" the woman thought about this during the time that cayke and the frogman ate their breakfast. when they had finished, she said, "where are you going next?" "we have not decided," answered the cookie cook. "our plan," explained the frogman in his important way, "is to travel from place to place until we learn where the thief is located and then to force him to return the dishpan to its proper owner." "the plan is all right," agreed the woman, "but it may take you a long time before you succeed, your method being sort of haphazard and indefinite. however, i advise you to travel toward the east." "why?" asked the frogman. "because if you went west, you would soon come to the desert, and also because in this part of the winkie country no one steals, so your time here would be wasted. but toward the east, beyond the river, live many strange people whose honesty i would not vouch for. moreover, if you journey far enough east and cross the river for a second time, you will come to the emerald city, where there is much magic and sorcery. the emerald city is ruled by a dear little girl called ozma, who also rules the emperor of the winkies and all the land of oz. so, as ozma is a fairy, she may be able to tell you just who has taken your precious dishpan. provided, of course, you do not find it before you reach her." "this seems to be to be excellent advice," said the frogman, and cayke agreed with him. "the most sensible thing for you to do," continued the woman, "would be to return to your home and use another dishpan, learn to cook cookies as other people cook cookies, without the aid of magic. but if you cannot be happy without the magic dishpan you have lost, you are likely to learn more about it in the emerald city than at any other place in oz." they thanked the good woman, and on leaving her house faced the east and continued in that direction all the way. toward evening they came to the west branch of the winkie river and there, on the riverbank, found a ferryman who lived all alone in a little yellow house. this ferryman was a winkie with a very small head and a very large body. he was sitting in his doorway as the travelers approached him and did not even turn his head to look at them. "good evening," said the frogman. the ferryman made no reply. "we would like some supper and the privilege of sleeping in your house until morning," continued the frogman. "at daybreak, we would like some breakfast, and then we would like to have you row us across the river." the ferryman neither moved nor spoke. he sat in his doorway and looked straight ahead. "i think he must be deaf and dumb," cayke whispered to her companion. then she stood directly in front of the ferryman, and putting her mouth close to his ear, she yelled as loudly as she could, "good evening!" the ferryman scowled. "why do you yell at me, woman?" he asked. "can you hear what i say?" asked in her ordinary tone of voice. "of course," replied the man. "then why didn't you answer the frogman?" "because," said the ferryman, "i don't understand the frog language." "he speaks the same words that i do and in the same way," declared cayke. "perhaps," replied the ferryman, "but to me his voice sounded like a frog's croak. i know that in the land of oz animals can speak our language, and so can the birds and bugs and fishes; but in my ears, they sound merely like growls and chirps and croaks." "why is that?" asked the cookie cook in surprise. "once, many years ago, i cut the tail off a fox which had taunted me, and i stole some birds' eggs from a nest to make an omelet with, and also i pulled a fish from the river and left it lying on the bank to gasp for lack of water until it died. i don't know why i did those wicked things, but i did them. so the emperor of the winkies--who is the tin woodman and has a very tender tin heart--punished me by denying me any communication with beasts, birds or fishes. i cannot understand them when they speak to me, although i know that other people can do so, nor can the creatures understand a word i say to them. every time i meet one of them, i am reminded of my former cruelty, and it makes me very unhappy." "really," said cayke, "i'm sorry for you, although the tin woodman is not to blame for punishing you." "what is he mumbling about?" asked the frogman. "he is talking to me, but you don't understand him," she replied. and then she told him of the ferryman's punishment and afterward explained to the ferryman that they wanted to stay all night with him and be fed. he gave them some fruit and bread, which was the only sort of food he had, and he allowed cayke to sleep in a room of his cottage. but the frogman he refused to admit to his house, saying that the frog's presence made him miserable and unhappy. at no time would he look directly at the frogman, or even toward him, fearing he would shed tears if he did so; so the big frog slept on the riverbank where he could hear little frogs croaking in the river all the night through. but that did not keep him awake; it merely soothed him to slumber, for he realized how much superior he was to them. just as the sun was rising on a new day, the ferryman rowed the two travelers across the river--keeping his back to the frogman all the way--and then cayke thanked him and bade him goodbye and the ferryman rowed home again. on this side of the river, there were no paths at all, so it was evident they had reached a part of the country little frequented by travelers. there was a marsh at the south of them, sandhills at the north, and a growth of scrubby underbrush leading toward a forest at the east. so the east was really the least difficult way to go, and that direction was the one they had determined to follow. now the frogman, although he wore green patent-leather shoes with ruby buttons, had very large and flat feet, and when he tramped through the scrub, his weight crushed down the underbrush and made a path for cayke to follow him. therefore they soon reached the forest, where the tall trees were set far apart but were so leafy that they shaded all the spaces between them with their branches. "there are no bushes here," said cayke, much pleased, "so we can now travel faster and with more comfort." chapter the big lavender bear it was a pleasant place to wander, and the two travelers were proceeding at a brisk pace when suddenly a voice shouted, "halt!" they looked around in surprise, seeing at first no one at all. then from behind a tree there stepped a brown, fuzzy bear whose head came about as high as cayke's waist--and cayke was a small woman. the bear was chubby as well as fuzzy; his body was even puffy, while his legs and arms seemed jointed at the knees and elbows and fastened to his body by pins or rivets. his ears were round in shape and stuck out in a comical way, while his round, black eyes were bright and sparkling as beads. over his shoulder the little brown bear bore a gun with a tin barrel. the barrel had a cork in the end of it, and a string was attached to the cork and to the handle of the gun. both the frogman and cayke gazed hard at this curious bear, standing silent for some time. but finally the frogman recovered from his surprise and remarked, "it seems to me that you are stuffed with sawdust and ought not to be alive." "that's all you know about it," answered the little brown bear in a squeaky voice. "i am stuffed with a very good quality of curled hair, and my skin is the best plush that was ever made. as for my being alive, that is my own affair and cannot concern you at all, except that it gives me the privilege to say you are my prisoners." "prisoners! why do you speak such nonsense?" the frogman angrily. "do you think we are afraid of a toy bear with a toy gun?" "you ought to be," was the confident reply, "for i am merely the sentry guarding the way to bear center, which is a city containing hundreds of my race, who are ruled by a very powerful sorcerer known as the lavender bear. he ought to be a purple color, you know, seeing he is a king, but he's only light lavender, which is, of course, second cousin to royal purple. so unless you come with me peaceably as my prisoners, i shall fire my gun and bring a hundred bears of all sizes and colors to capture you." "why do you wish to capture us?" inquired the frogman, who had listened to his speech with much astonishment. "i don't wish to, as a matter of fact," replied the little brown bear, "but it is my duty to, because you are now trespassing on the domain of his majesty, the king of bear center. also, i will admit that things are rather quiet in our city just now, and the excitement of your capture, followed by your trial and execution, should afford us much entertainment." "we defy you!" said the frogman. "oh no, don't do that," pleaded cayke, speaking to her companion. "he says his king is a sorcerer, so perhaps it is he or one of his bears who ventured to steal my jeweled dishpan. let us go to the city of the bears and discover if my dishpan is there." "i must now register one more charge against you," remarked the little brown bear with evident satisfaction. "you have just accused us of stealing, and that is such a dreadful thing to say that i am quite sure our noble king will command you to be executed." "but how could you execute us?" inquired the cookie cook. "i've no idea. but our king is a wonderful inventor, and there is no doubt he can find a proper way to destroy you. so tell me, are you going to struggle, or will you go peaceably to meet your doom?" it was all so ridiculous that cayke laughed aloud, and even the frogman's wide mouth curled in a smile. neither was a bit afraid to go to the bear city, and it seemed to both that there was a possibility they might discover the missing dishpan. so the frogman said, "lead the way, little bear, and we will follow without a struggle." "that's very sensible of you, very sensible indeed," declared the brown bear. "so for-ward, march!" and with the command he turned around and began to waddle along a path that led between the trees. cayke and the frogman, as they followed their conductor, could scarce forbear laughing at his stiff, awkward manner of walking, and although he moved his stuffy legs fast, his steps were so short that they had to go slowly in order not to run into him. but after a time they reached a large, circular space in the center of the forest, which was clear of any stumps or underbrush. the ground was covered by a soft, gray moss, pleasant to tread upon. all the trees surrounding this space seemed to be hollow and had round holes in their trunks, set a little way above the ground, but otherwise there was nothing unusual about the place and nothing, in the opinion of the prisoners, to indicate a settlement. but the little brown bear said in a proud and impressive voice (although it still squeaked), "this is the wonderful city known to fame as bear center!" "but there are no houses, there are no bears living here at all!" exclaimed cayke. "oh indeed!" retorted their captor, and raising his gun he pulled the trigger. the cork flew out of the tin barrel with a loud "pop!" and at once from every hole in every tree within view of the clearing appeared the head of a bear. they were of many colors and of many sizes, but all were made in the same manner as the bear who had met and captured them. at first a chorus of growls arose, and then a sharp voice cried, "what has happened, corporal waddle?" "captives, your majesty!" answered the brown bear. "intruders upon our domain and slanderers of our good name." "ah, that's important," answered the voice. then from out the hollow trees tumbled a whole regiment of stuffed bears, some carrying tin swords, some popguns and others long spears with gay ribbons tied to the handles. there were hundreds of them, altogether, and they quietly formed a circle around the frogman and the cookie cook, but kept at a distance and left a large space for the prisoners to stand in. presently, this circle parted, and into the center of it stalked a huge toy bear of a lovely lavender color. he walked upon his hind legs, as did all the others, and on his head he wore a tin crown set with diamonds and amethysts, while in one paw he carried a short wand of some glittering metal that resembled silver but wasn't. "his majesty the king!" corporal waddle, and all the bears bowed low. some bowed so low that they lost their balance and toppled over, but they soon scrambled up again, and the lavender king squatted on his haunches before the prisoners and gazed at them steadily with his bright, pink eyes. chapter the little pink bear "one person and one freak," said the big lavender bear when he had carefully examined the strangers. "i am sorry to hear you call poor cayke the cookie cook a freak," remonstrated the frogman. "she is the person," asserted the king. "unless i am mistaken, it is you who are the freak." the frogman was silent, for he could not truthfully deny it. "why have you dared intrude in my forest?" demanded the bear king. "we didn't know it was your forest," said cayke, "and we are on our way to the far east, where the emerald city is." "ah, it's a long way from here to the emerald city," remarked the king. "it is so far away, indeed, that no bear among us has even been there. but what errand requires you to travel such a distance?" "someone has stolen my diamond-studded gold dishpan," explained cayke, "and as i cannot be happy without it, i have decided to search the world over until i find it again. the frogman, who is very learned and wonderfully wise, has come with me to give me his assistance. isn't it kind of him?" the king looked at the frogman. "what makes you so wonderfully wise?" he asked. "i'm not," was the candid reply. "the cookie cook and some others in the yip country think because i am a big frog and talk and act like a man that i must be very wise. i have learned more than a frog usually knows, it is true, but i am not yet so wise as i hope to become at some future time." the king nodded, and when he did so, something squeaked in his chest. "did your majesty speak?" asked cayke. "not just then," answered the lavender bear, seeming to be somewhat embarrassed. "i am so built, you must know, that when anything pushes against my chest, as my chin accidentally did just then, i make that silly noise. in this city it isn't considered good manners to notice. but i like your frogman. he is honest and truthful, which is more than can be said of many others. as for your late lamented dishpan, i'll show it to you." with this he waved three times the metal wand which he held in his paw, and instantly there appeared upon the ground midway between the king and cayke a big, round pan made of beaten gold. around the top edge was a row of small diamonds; around the center of the pan was another row of larger diamonds; and at the bottom was a row of exceedingly large and brilliant diamonds. in fact, they all sparkled magnificently, and the pan was so big and broad that it took a lot of diamonds to go around it three times. cayke stared so hard that her eyes seemed about to pop out of her head. "o-o-o-h!" she exclaimed, drawing a deep breath of delight. "is this your dishpan?" inquired the king. "it is, it is!" cried the cookie cook, and rushing forward, she fell on her knees and threw her arms around the precious pan. but her arms came together without meeting any resistance at all. cayke tried to seize the edge, but found nothing to grasp. the pan was surely there, she thought, for she could see it plainly; but it was not solid; she could not feel it at all. with a moan of astonishment and despair, she raised her head to look at the bear king, who was watching her actions curiously. then she turned to the pan again, only to find it had completely disappeared. "poor creature!" murmured the king pityingly. "you must have thought, for the moment, that you had actually recovered your dishpan. but what you saw was merely the image of it, conjured up by means of my magic. it is a pretty dishpan, indeed, though rather big and awkward to handle. i hope you will some day find it." cayke was grievously disappointed. she began to cry, wiping her eyes on her apron. the king turned to the throng of toy bears surrounding him and asked, "has any of you ever seen this golden dishpan before?" "no," they answered in a chorus. the king seemed to reflect. presently he inquired, "where is the little pink bear?" "at home, your majesty," was the reply. "fetch him here," commanded the king. several of the bears waddled over to one of the trees and pulled from its hollow a tiny pink bear, smaller than any of the others. a big, white bear carried the pink one in his arms and set it down beside the king, arranging the joints of its legs so that it would stand upright. this pink bear seemed lifeless until the king turned a crank which protruded from its side, when the little creature turned its head stiffly from side to side and said in a small, shrill voice, "hurrah for the king of bear center!" "very good," said the big lavender bear. "he seems to be working very well today. tell me, my pink pinkerton, what has become of this lady's jeweled dishpan?" "u-u-u," said the pink bear, and then stopped short. the king turned the crank again. "u-g-u the shoemaker has it," said the pink bear. "who is ugu the shoemaker?" demanded the king, again turning the crank. "a magician who lives on a mountain in a wickerwork castle," was the reply. "where is the mountain?" was the next question. "nineteen miles and three furlongs from bear center to the northeast." "and is the dishpan still at the castle of ugu the shoemaker?" asked the king. "it is." the king turned to cayke. "you may rely on this information," said he. "the pink bear can tell us anything we wish to know, and his words are always words of truth." "is he alive?" asked the frogman, much interested in the pink bear. "something animates him when you turn his crank," replied the king. "i do not know if it is life or what it is or how it happens that the little pink bear can answer correctly every question put to him. we discovered his talent a long time ago, and whenever we wish to know anything--which is not very often--we ask the pink bear. there is no doubt whatever, madam, that ugu the magician has your dishpan, and if you dare to go to him, you may be able to recover it. but of that i am not certain." "can't the pink bear tell?" asked cayke anxiously. "no, for that is in the future. he can tell anything that has happened, but nothing that is going to happen. don't ask me why, for i don't know." "well," said the cookie cook after a little thought, "i mean to go to this magician, anyhow, and tell him i want my dishpan. i wish i knew what ugu the shoemaker is like." "then i'll show him to you," promised the king. "but do not be frightened. it won't be ugu, remember, but only his image." with this, he waved his metal wand, and in the circle suddenly appeared a thin little man, very old and skinny, who was seated on a wicker stool before a wicker table. on the table lay a great book with gold clasps. the book was open, and the man was reading in it. he wore great spectacles which were fastened before his eyes by means of a ribbon that passed around his head and was tied in a bow at the neck. his hair was very thin and white; his skin, which clung fast to his bones, was brown and seared with furrows; he had a big, fat nose and little eyes set close together. on no account was ugu the shoemaker a pleasant person to gaze at. as his image appeared before them, all were silent and intent until corporal waddle, the brown bear, became nervous and pulled the trigger of his gun. instantly, the cork flew out of the tin barrel with a loud "pop!" that made them all jump. and at this sound, the image of the magician vanished. "so that's the thief, is it?" said cayke in an angry voice. "i should think he'd be ashamed of himself for stealing a poor woman's diamond dishpan! but i mean to face him in his wicker castle and force him to return my property." "to me," said the bear king reflectively, "he looked like a dangerous person. i hope he won't be so unkind as to argue the matter with you." the frogman was much disturbed by the vision of ugu the shoemaker, and cayke's determination to go to the magician filled her companion with misgivings. but he would not break his pledged word to assist the cookie cook, and after breathing a deep sigh of resignation, he asked the king, "will your majesty lend us this pink bear who answers questions that we may take him with us on our journey? he would be very useful to us, and we will promise to bring him safely back to you." the king did not reply at once. he seemed to be thinking. "please let us take the pink bear," begged cayke. "i'm sure he would be a great help to us." "the pink bear," said the king, "is the best bit of magic i possess, and there is not another like him in the world. i do not care to let him out of my sight, nor do i wish to disappoint you; so i believe i will make the journey in your company and carry my pink bear with me. he can walk when you wind the other side of him, but so slowly and awkwardly that he would delay you. but if i go along, i can carry him in my arms, so i will join your party. whenever you are ready to start, let me know." "but your majesty!" exclaimed corporal waddle in protest, "i hope you do not intend to let these prisoners escape without punishment." "of what crime do you accuse them?" inquired the king. "why, they trespassed on your domain, for one thing," said the brown bear. "we didn't know it was private property, your majesty," said the cookie cook. "and they asked if any of us had stolen the dishpan!" continued corporal waddle indignantly. "that is the same thing as calling us thieves and robbers and bandits and brigands, is it not?" "every person has the right to ask questions," said the frogman. "but the corporal is quite correct," declared the lavender bear. "i condemn you both to death, the execution to take place ten years from this hour." "but we belong in the land of oz, where no one ever dies," cayke reminded him. "very true," said the king. "i condemn you to death merely as a matter of form. it sounds quite terrible, and in ten years we shall have forgotten all about it. are you ready to start for the wicker castle of ugu the shoemaker?" "quite ready, your majesty." "but who will rule in your place while you are gone?" asked a big yellow bear. "i myself will rule while i am gone," was the reply. "a king isn't required to stay at home forever, and if he takes a notion to travel, whose business is it but his own? all i ask is that you bears behave yourselves while i am away. if any of you is naughty, i'll send him to some girl or boy in america to play with." this dreadful threat made all the toy bears look solemn. they assured the king in a chorus of growls that they would be good. then the big lavender bear picked up the little pink bear, and after tucking it carefully under one arm, he said, "goodbye till i come back!" and waddled along the path that led through the forest. the frogman and cayke the cookie cook also said goodbye to the bears and then followed after the king, much to the regret of the little brown bear, who pulled the trigger of his gun and popped the cork as a parting salute. chapter the meeting while the frogman and his party were advancing from the west, dorothy and her party were advancing from the east, and so it happened that on the following night they all camped at a little hill that was only a few miles from the wicker castle of ugu the shoemaker. but the two parties did not see one another that night, for one camped on one side of the hill while the other camped on the opposite side. but the next morning, the frogman thought he would climb the hill and see what was on top of it, and at the same time scraps, the patchwork girl, also decided to climb the hill to find if the wicker castle was visible from its top. so she stuck her head over an edge just as the frogman's head appeared over another edge, and both, being surprised, kept still while they took a good look at one another. scraps recovered from her astonishment first, and bounding upward, she turned a somersault and landed sitting down and facing the big frogman, who slowly advanced and sat opposite her. "well met, stranger!" cried the patchwork girl with a whoop of laughter. "you are quite the funniest individual i have seen in all my travels." "do you suppose i can be any funnier than you?" asked the frogman, gazing at her in wonder. "i'm not funny to myself, you know," returned scraps. "i wish i were. and perhaps you are so used to your own absurd shape that you do not laugh whenever you see your reflection in a pool or in a mirror." "no," said the frogman gravely, "i do not. i used to be proud of my great size and vain of my culture and education, but since i bathed in the truth pond, i sometimes think it is not right that i should be different from all other frogs." "right or wrong," said the patchwork girl, "to be different is to be distinguished. now in my case, i'm just like all other patchwork girls because i'm the only one there is. but tell me, where did you come from?" "the yip country," said he. "is that in the land of oz?" "of course," replied the frogman. "and do you know that your ruler, ozma of oz, has been stolen?" "i was not aware that i had a ruler, so of course i couldn't know that she was stolen." "well, you have. all the people of oz," explained scraps, "are ruled by ozma, whether they know it or not. and she has been stolen. aren't you angry? aren't you indignant? your ruler, whom you didn't know you had, has positively been stolen!" "that is queer," remarked the frogman thoughtfully. "stealing is a thing practically unknown in oz, yet this ozma has been taken, and a friend of mine has also had her dishpan stolen. with her i have traveled all the way from the yip country in order to recover it." "i don't see any connection between a royal ruler of oz and a dishpan!" declared scraps. "they've both been stolen, haven't they?" "true. but why can't your friend wash her dishes in another dishpan?" asked scraps. "why can't you use another royal ruler? i suppose you prefer the one who is lost, and my friend wants her own dishpan, which is made of gold and studded with diamonds and has magic powers." "magic, eh?" exclaimed scraps. "there is a link that connects the two steals, anyhow, for it seems that all the magic in the land of oz was stolen at the same time, whether it was in the emerald city of in glinda's castle or in the yip country. seems mighty strange and mysterious, doesn't it?" "it used to seem that way to me," admitted the frogman, "but we have now discovered who took our dishpan. it was ugu the shoemaker." "ugu? good gracious! that's the same magician we think has stolen ozma. we are now on our way to the castle of this shoemaker." "so are we," said the frogman. "then follow me, quick! and let me introduce you to dorothy and the other girls and to the wizard of oz and all the rest of us." she sprang up and seized his coatsleeve, dragging him off the hilltop and down the other side from that whence he had come. and at the foot of the hill, the frogman was astonished to find the three girls and the wizard and button-bright, who were surrounded by a wooden sawhorse, a lean mule, a square woozy, and a cowardly lion. a little black dog ran up and smelled at the frogman, but couldn't growl at him. "i've discovered another party that has been robbed," shouted scraps as she joined them. "this is their leader, and they're all going to ugu's castle to fight the wicked shoemaker!" they regarded the frogman with much curiosity and interest, and finding all eyes fixed upon him, the newcomer arranged his necktie and smoothed his beautiful vest and swung his gold-headed cane like a regular dandy. the big spectacles over his eyes quite altered his froglike countenance and gave him a learned and impressive look. used as she was to seeing strange creatures in the land of oz, dorothy was amazed at discovering the frogman. so were all her companions. toto wanted to growl at him, but couldn't, and he didn't dare bark. the sawhorse snorted rather contemptuously, but the lion whispered to the wooden steed, "bear with this strange creature, my friend, and remember he is no more extraordinary than you are. indeed, it is more natural for a frog to be big than for a sawhorse to be alive." on being questioned, the frogman told them the whole story of the loss of cayke's highly prized dishpan and their adventures in search of it. when he came to tell of the lavender bear king and of the little pink bear who could tell anything you wanted to know, his hearers became eager to see such interesting animals. "it will be best," said the wizard, "to unite our two parties and share our fortunes together, for we are all bound on the same errand, and as one band we may more easily defy this shoemaker magician than if separate. let us be allies." "i will ask my friends about that," replied the frogman, and he climbed over the hill to find cayke and the toy bears. the patchwork girl accompanied him, and when they came upon the cookie cook and the lavender bear and the pink bear, it was hard to tell which of the lot was the most surprised. "mercy me!" cried cayke, addressing the patchwork girl. "however did you come alive?" scraps stared at the bears. "mercy me!" she echoed, "you are stuffed, as i am, with cotton, and you appear to be living. that makes me feel ashamed, for i have prided myself on being the only live cotton-stuffed person in oz." "perhaps you are," returned the lavender bear, "for i am stuffed with extra-quality curled hair, and so is the little pink bear." "you have relieved my mind of a great anxiety," declared the patchwork girl, now speaking more cheerfully. "the scarecrow is stuffed with straw and you with hair, so i am still the original and only cotton-stuffed!" "i hope i am too polite to criticize cotton as compared with curled hair," said the king, "especially as you seem satisfied with it." then the frogman told of his interview with the party from the emerald city and added that the wizard of oz had invited the bears and cayke and himself to travel in company with them to the castle of ugu the shoemaker. cayke was much pleased, but the bear king looked solemn. he set the little pink bear on his lap and turned the crank in its side and asked, "is it safe for us to associate with those people from the emerald city?" and the pink bear at once replied, "safe for you and safe for me; perhaps no others safe will be." "that 'perhaps' need not worry us," said the king, "so let us join the others and offer them our protection." even the lavender bear was astonished, however, when on climbing over the hill he found on the other side the group of queer animals and the people from the emerald city. the bears and cayke were received very cordially, although button-bright was cross when they wouldn't let him play with the little pink bear. the three girls greatly admired the toy bears, and especially the pink one, which they longed to hold. "you see," explained the lavender king in denying them this privilege, "he's a very valuable bear, because his magic is a correct guide on all occasions, and especially if one is in difficulties. it was the pink bear who told us that ugu the shoemaker had stolen the cookie cook's dishpan." "and the king's magic is just as wonderful," added cayke, "because it showed us the magician himself." "what did he look like?" inquired dorothy. "he was dreadful!" "he was sitting at a table and examining an immense book which had three golden clasps," remarked the king. "why, that must have been glinda's great book of records!" exclaimed dorothy. "if it is, it proves that ugu the shoemaker stole ozma, and with her all the magic in the emerald city." "and my dishpan," said cayke. and the wizard added, "it also proves that he is following our adventures in the book of records, and therefore knows that we are seeking him and that we are determined to find him and reach ozma at all hazards." "if we can," added the woozy, but everybody frowned at him. the wizard's statement was so true that the faces around him were very serious until the patchwork girl broke into a peal of laughter. "wouldn't it be a rich joke if he made prisoners of us, too?" she said. "no one but a crazy patchwork girl would consider that a joke," grumbled button-bright. and then the lavender bear king asked, "would you like to see this magical shoemaker?" "wouldn't he know it?" dorothy inquired. "no, i think not." then the king waved his metal wand and before them appeared a room in the wicker castle of ugu. on the wall of the room hung ozma's magic picture, and seated before it was the magician. they could see the picture as well as he could, because it faced them, and in the picture was the hillside where they were now sitting, all their forms being reproduced in miniature. and curiously enough, within the scene of the picture was the scene they were now beholding, so they knew that the magician was at this moment watching them in the picture, and also that he saw himself and the room he was in become visible to the people on the hillside. therefore he knew very well that they were watching him while he was watching them. in proof of this, ugu sprang from his seat and turned a scowling face in their direction; but now he could not see the travelers who were seeking him, although they could still see him. his actions were so distinct, indeed, that it seemed he was actually before them. "it is only a ghost," said the bear king. "it isn't real at all except that it shows us ugu just as he looks and tells us truly just what he is doing." "i don't see anything of my lost growl, though," said toto as if to himself. then the vision faded away, and they could see nothing but the grass and trees and bushes around them. chapter the conference "now then," said the wizard, "let us talk this matter over and decide what to do when we get to ugu's wicker castle. there can be no doubt that the shoemaker is a powerful magician, and his powers have been increased a hundredfold since he secured the great book of records, the magic picture, all of glinda's recipes for sorcery, and my own black bag, which was full of tools of wizardry. the man who could rob us of those things and the man with all their powers at his command is one who may prove somewhat difficult to conquer, therefore we should plan our actions well before we venture too near to his castle." "i didn't see ozma in the magic picture," said trot. "what do you suppose ugu has done with her?" "couldn't the little pink bear tell us what he did with ozma?" asked button-bright. "to be sure," replied the lavender king. "i'll ask him." so he turned the crank in the little pink bear's side and inquired, "did ugu the shoemaker steal ozma of oz?" "yes," answered the little pink bear. "then what did he do with her?" asked the king. "shut her up in a dark place," answered the little pink bear. "oh, that must be a dungeon cell!" cried dorothy, horrified. "how dreadful!" "well, we must get her out of it," said the wizard. "that is what we came for, and of course we must rescue ozma. but how?" each one looked at some other one for an answer, and all shook their heads in a grave and dismal manner. all but scraps, who danced around them gleefully. "you're afraid," said the patchwork girl, "because so many things can hurt your meat bodies. why don't you give it up and go home? how can you fight a great magician when you have nothing to fight with?" dorothy looked at her reflectively. "scraps," said she, "you know that ugu couldn't hurt you a bit, whatever he did, nor could he hurt me, 'cause i wear the gnome king's magic belt. s'pose just we two go on together and leave the others here to wait for us." "no, no!" said the wizard positively. "that won't do at all. ozma is more powerful than either of you, yet she could not defeat the wicked ugu, who has shut her up in a dungeon. we must go to the shoemaker in one mighty band, for only in union is there strength." "that is excellent advice," said the lavender bear approvingly. "but what can we do when we get to ugu?" inquired the cookie cook anxiously. "do not expect a prompt answer to that important question," replied the wizard, "for we must first plan our line of conduct. ugu knows, of course, that we are after him, for he has seen our approach in the magic picture, and he has read of all we have done up to the present moment in the great book of records. therefore we cannot expect to take him by surprise." "don't you suppose ugu would listen to reason?" asked betsy. "if we explained to him how wicked he has been, don't you think he'd let poor ozma go?" "and give me back my dishpan?" added the cookie cook eagerly. "yes, yes, won't he say he's sorry and get on his knees and beg our pardon?" cried scraps, turning a flip-flop to show her scorn of the suggestion. "when ugu the shoemaker does that, please knock at the front door and let me know." the wizard sighed and rubbed his bald head with a puzzled air. "i'm quite sure ugu will not be polite to us," said he, "so we must conquer this cruel magician by force, much as we dislike to be rude to anyone. but none of you has yet suggested a way to do that. couldn't the little pink bear tell us how?" he asked, turning to the bear king. "no, for that is something that is going to happen," replied the lavender bear. "he can only tell us what already has happened." again, they were grave and thoughtful. but after a time, betsy said in a hesitating voice, "hank is a great fighter. perhaps he could conquer the magician." the mule turned his head to look reproachfully at his old friend, the young girl. "who can fight against magic?" he asked. "the cowardly lion could," said dorothy. the lion, who was lying with his front legs spread out, his chin on his paws, raised his shaggy head. "i can fight when i'm not afraid," said he calmly, "but the mere mention of a fight sets me to trembling." "ugu's magic couldn't hurt the sawhorse," suggested tiny trot. "and the sawhorse couldn't hurt the magician," declared that wooden animal. "for my part," said toto, "i am helpless, having lost my growl." "then," said cayke the cookie cook, "we must depend upon the frogman. his marvelous wisdom will surely inform him how to conquer the wicked magician and restore to me my dishpan." all eyes were now turned questioningly upon the frogman. finding himself the center of observation, he swung his gold-headed cane, adjusted his big spectacles, and after swelling out his chest, sighed and said in a modest tone of voice: "respect for truth obliges me to confess that cayke is mistaken in regard to my superior wisdom. i am not very wise. neither have i had any practical experience in conquering magicians. but let us consider this case. what is ugu, and what is a magician? ugu is a renegade shoemaker, and a magician is an ordinary man who, having learned how to do magical tricks, considers himself above his fellows. in this case, the shoemaker has been naughty enough to steal a lot of magical tools and things that did not belong to him, and he is more wicked to steal than to be a magician. yet with all the arts at his command, ugu is still a man, and surely there are ways in which a man may be conquered. how, do you say, how? allow me to state that i don't know. in my judgment, we cannot decide how best to act until we get to ugu's castle. so let us go to it and take a look at it. after that, we may discover an idea that will guide us to victory." "that may not be a wise speech, but it sounds good," said dorothy approvingly. "ugu the shoemaker is not only a common man, but he's a wicked man and a cruel man and deserves to be conquered. we mustn't have any mercy on him till ozma is set free. so let's go to his castle as the frogman says and see what the place looks like." no one offered any objection to this plan, and so it was adopted. they broke camp and were about to start on the journey to ugu's castle when they discovered that button-bright was lost again. the girls and the wizard shouted his name, and the lion roared and the donkey brayed and the frogman croaked and the big lavender bear growled (to the envy of toto, who couldn't growl but barked his loudest), yet none of them could make button-bright hear. so after vainly searching for the boy a full hour, they formed a procession and proceeded in the direction of the wicker castle of ugu the shoemaker. "button-bright's always getting lost," said dorothy. "and if he wasn't always getting found again, i'd prob'ly worry. he may have gone ahead of us, and he may have gone back, but wherever he is, we'll find him sometime and somewhere, i'm almost sure." chapter ugu the shoemaker a curious thing about ugu the shoemaker was that he didn't suspect in the least that he was wicked. he wanted to be powerful and great, and he hoped to make himself master of all the land of oz that he might compel everyone in that fairy country to obey him, his ambition blinded him to the rights of others, and he imagined anyone else would act just as he did if anyone else happened to be as clever as himself. when he inhabited his little shoemaking shop in the city of herku, he had been discontented, for a shoemaker is not looked upon with high respect, and ugu knew that his ancestors had been famous magicians for many centuries past and therefore his family was above the ordinary. even his father practiced magic when ugu was a boy, but his father had wandered away from herku and had never come back again. so when ugu grew up, he was forced to make shoes for a living, knowing nothing of the magic of his forefathers. but one day, in searching through the attic of his house, he discovered all the books of magical recipes and many magical instruments which had formerly been in use in his family. from that day, he stopped making shoes and began to study magic. finally, he aspired to become the greatest magician in oz, and for days and weeks and months he thought on a plan to render all the other sorcerers and wizards, as well as those with fairy powers, helpless to oppose him. from the books of his ancestors, he learned the following facts: ( ) that ozma of oz was the fairy ruler of the emerald city and the land of oz and that she could not be destroyed by any magic ever devised. also, by means of her magic picture she would be able to discover anyone who approached her royal palace with the idea of conquering it. ( ) that glinda the good was the most powerful sorceress in oz, among her other magical possessions being the great book of records, which told her all that happened anywhere in the world. this book of records was very dangerous to ugu's plans, and glinda was in the service of ozma and would use her arts of sorcery to protect the girl ruler. ( ) that the wizard of oz, who lived in ozma's palace, had been taught much powerful magic by glinda and had a bag of magic tools with which he might be able to conquer the shoemaker. ( ) that there existed in oz--in the yip country--a jeweled dishpan made of gold, which dishpan would grow large enough for a man to sit inside it. then, when he grasped both the golden handles, the dishpan would transport him in an instant to any place he wished to go within the borders of the land of oz. no one now living except ugu knew of the powers of the magic dishpan, so after long study, the shoemaker decided that if he could manage to secure the dishpan, he could by its means rob ozma and glinda and the wizard of oz of all their magic, thus becoming himself the most powerful person in all the land. his first act was to go away from the city of herku and build for himself the wicker castle in the hills. here he carried his books and instruments of magic, and here for a full year he diligently practiced all the magical arts learned from his ancestors. at the end of that time, he could do a good many wonderful things. then, when all his preparations were made, he set out for the yip country, and climbing the steep mountain at night he entered the house of cayke the cookie cook and stole her diamond-studded gold dishpan while all the yips were asleep, taking his prize outside, he set the pan upon the ground and uttered the required magic word. instantly, the dishpan grew as large as a big washtub, and ugu seated himself in it and grasped the two handles. then he wished himself in the great drawing room of glinda the good. he was there in a flash. first he took the great book of records and put it in the dishpan. then he went to glinda's laboratory and took all her rare chemical compounds and her instruments of sorcery, placing these also in the dishpan, which he caused to grow large enough to hold them. next he seated himself amongst the treasures he had stolen and wished himself in the room in ozma's palace which the wizard occupied and where he kept his bag of magic tools. this bag ugu added to his plunder and then wished himself in the apartments of ozma. here he first took the magic picture from the wall and then seized all the other magical things which ozma possessed. having placed these in the dishpan, he was about to climb in himself when he looked up and saw ozma standing beside him. her fairy instinct had warned her that danger was threatening her, so the beautiful girl ruler rose from her couch and leaving her bedchamber at once confronted the thief. ugu had to think quickly, for he realized that if he permitted ozma to rouse the inmates of her palace, all his plans and his present successes were likely to come to naught. so he threw a scarf over the girl's head so she could not scream, and pushed her into the dishpan and tied her fast so she could not move. then he climbed in beside her and wished himself in his own wicker castle. the magic dishpan was there in an instant, with all its contents, and ugu rubbed his hands together in triumphant joy as he realized that he now possessed all the important magic in the land of oz and could force all the inhabitants of that fairyland to do as he willed. so quickly had his journey been accomplished that before daylight the robber magician had locked ozma in a room, making her a prisoner, and had unpacked and arranged all his stolen goods. the next day he placed the book of records on his table and hung the magic picture on his wall and put away in his cupboards and drawers all the elixirs and magic compounds he had stolen. the magical instruments he polished and arranged, and this was fascinating work and made him very happy. by turns the imprisoned ruler wept and scolded the shoemaker, haughtily threatening him with dire punishment for the wicked deeds he had done. ugu became somewhat afraid of his fairy prisoner, in spite of the fact that he believed he had robbed her of all her powers; so he performed an enchantment that quickly disposed of her and placed her out of his sight and hearing. after that, being occupied with other things, he soon forgot her. but now, when he looked into the magic picture and read the great book of records, the shoemaker learned that his wickedness was not to go unchallenged. two important expeditions had set out to find him and force him to give up his stolen property. one was the party headed by the wizard and dorothy, while the other consisted of cayke and the frogman. others were also searching, but not in the right places. these two groups, however, were headed straight for the wicker castle, and so ugu began to plan how best to meet them and to defeat their efforts to conquer him. chapter more surprises all that first day after the union of the two parties, our friends marched steadily toward the wicker castle of ugu the shoemaker. when night came, they camped in a little grove and passed a pleasant evening together, although some of them were worried because button-bright was still lost. "perhaps," said toto as the animals lay grouped together for the night, "this shoemaker who stole my growl and who stole ozma has also stolen button-bright." "how do you know that the shoemaker stole your growl?" demanded the woozy. "he has stolen about everything else of value in oz, hasn't he?" replied the dog. "he has stolen everything he wants, perhaps," agreed the lion, "but what could anyone want with your growl?" "well," said the dog, wagging his tail slowly, "my recollection is that it was a wonderful growl, soft and low and--and--" "and ragged at the edges," said the sawhorse. "so," continued toto, "if that magician hadn't any growl of his own, he might have wanted mine and stolen it." "and if he has, he will soon wish he hadn't," remarked the mule. "also, if he has stolen button-bright, he will be sorry." "don't you like button-bright, then?" asked the lion in surprise. "it isn't a question of liking him," replied the mule. "it's a question of watching him and looking after him. any boy who causes his friends so much worry isn't worth having around. i never get lost." "if you did," said toto, "no one would worry a bit. i think button-bright is a very lucky boy because he always gets found." "see here," said the lion, "this chatter is keeping us all awake, and tomorrow is likely to be a busy day. go to sleep and forget your quarrels." "friend lion," retorted the dog, "if i hadn't lost my growl, you would hear it now. i have as much right to talk as you have to sleep." the lion sighed. "if only you had lost your voice when you lost your growl," said he, "you would be a more agreeable companion." but they quieted down after that, and soon the entire camp was wrapped in slumber. next morning they made an early start, but had hardly proceeded on their way an hour when, on climbing a slight elevation, they beheld in the distance a low mountain on top of which stood ugu's wicker castle. it was a good-sized building and rather pretty because the sides, roofs and domes were all of wicker, closely woven as it is in fine baskets. "i wonder if it is strong?" said dorothy musingly as she eyed the queer castle. "i suppose it is, since a magician built it," answered the wizard. "with magic to protect it, even a paper castle might be as strong as if made of stone. this ugu must be a man of ideas, because he does things in a different way from other people." "yes. no one else would steal our dear ozma," sighed tiny trot. "i wonder if ozma is there?" said betsy, indicating the castle with a nod of her head. "where else could she be?" asked scraps. "suppose we ask the pink bear," suggested dorothy. that seemed a good idea, so they halted the procession, and the bear king held the little pink bear on his lap and turned the crank in its side and asked, "where is ozma of oz?" and the little pink bear answered, "she is in a hole in the ground a half mile away at your left." "good gracious!" cried dorothy. "then she is not in ugu's castle at all." "it is lucky we asked that question," said the wizard, "for if we can find ozma and rescue her, there will be no need for us to fight that wicked and dangerous magician." "indeed!" said cayke. "then what about my dishpan?" the wizard looked puzzled at her tone of remonstrance, so she added, "didn't you people from the emerald city promise that we would all stick together, and that you would help me to get my dishpan if i would help you to get your ozma? and didn't i bring to you the little pink bear, which has told you where ozma is hidden?" "she's right," said dorothy to the wizard. "we must do as we agreed." "well, first of all, let us go and rescue ozma," proposed the wizard. "then our beloved ruler may be able to advise us how to conquer ugu the shoemaker." so they turned to the left and marched for half a mile until they came to a small but deep hole in the ground. at once, all rushed to the brim to peer into the hole, but instead of finding there princess ozma of oz, all that they saw was button-bright, who was lying asleep on the bottom. their cries soon wakened the boy, who sat up and rubbed his eyes. when he recognized his friends, he smiled sweetly, saying, "found again!" "where is ozma?" inquired dorothy anxiously. "i don't know," answered button-bright from the depths of the hole. "i got lost yesterday, as you may remember, and in the night while i was wandering around in the moonlight trying to find my way back to you, i suddenly fell into this hole." "and wasn't ozma in it then?" "there was no one in it but me, and i was sorry it wasn't entirely empty. the sides are so steep i can't climb out, so there was nothing to be done but sleep until someone found me. thank you for coming. if you'll please let down a rope, i'll empty this hole in a hurry." "how strange!" said dorothy, greatly disappointed. "it's evident the pink bear didn't tell the truth." "he never makes a mistake," declared the lavender bear king in a tone that showed his feelings were hurt. and then he turned the crank of the little pink bear again and asked, "is this the hole that ozma of oz is in?" "yes," answered the pink bear. "that settles it," said the king positively. "your ozma is in this hole in the ground." "don't be silly," returned dorothy impatiently. "even your beady eyes can see there is no one in the hole but button-bright." "perhaps button-bright is ozma," suggested the king. "and perhaps he isn't! ozma is a girl, and button-bright is a boy." "your pink bear must be out of order," said the wizard, "for, this time at least, his machinery has caused him to make an untrue statement." the bear king was so angry at this remark that he turned away, holding the pink bear in his paws, and refused to discuss the matter in any further way. "at any rate," said the frogman, "the pink bear has led us to your boy friend and so enabled you to rescue him." scraps was leaning so far over the hole trying to find ozma in it that suddenly she lost her balance and pitched in head foremost. she fell upon button-bright and tumbled him over, but he was not hurt by her soft, stuffed body and only laughed at the mishap. the wizard buckled some straps together and let one end of them down into the hole, and soon both scraps and the boy had climbed up and were standing safely beside the others. they looked once more for ozma, but the hole was now absolutely vacant. it was a round hole, so from the top they could plainly see every part of it. before they left the place, dorothy went to the bear king and said, "i'm sorry we couldn't believe what the little pink bear said, 'cause we don't want to make you feel bad by doubting him. there must be a mistake, somewhere, and we prob'ly don't understand just what the little pink bear said. will you let me ask him one more question?" the lavender bear king was a good-natured bear, considering how he was made and stuffed and jointed, so he accepted dorothy's apology and turned the crank and allowed the little girl to question his wee pink bear. "is ozma really in this hole?" asked dorothy. "no," said the little pink bear. this surprised everybody. even the bear king was now puzzled by the contradictory statements of his oracle. "where is she?" asked the king. "here, among you," answered the little pink bear. "well," said dorothy, "this beats me entirely! i guess the little pink bear has gone crazy." "perhaps," called scraps, who was rapidly turning "cartwheels" all around the perplexed group, "ozma is invisible." "of course!" cried betsy. "that would account for it." "well, i've noticed that people can speak, even when they've been made invisible," said the wizard. and then he looked all around him and said in a solemn voice, "ozma, are you here?" there was no reply. dorothy asked the question, too, and so did button-bright and trot and betsy, but none received any reply at all. "it's strange, it's terrible strange!" muttered cayke the cookie cook. "i was sure that the little pink bear always tells the truth." "i still believe in his honesty," said the frogman, and this tribute so pleased the bear king that he gave these last speakers grateful looks, but still gazed sourly on the others. "come to think of it," remarked the wizard, "ozma couldn't be invisible, for she is a fairy, and fairies cannot be made invisible against their will. of course, she could be imprisoned by the magician or enchanted or transformed, in spite of her fairy powers, but ugu could not render her invisible by any magic at his command." "i wonder if she's been transformed into button-bright?" said dorothy nervously. then she looked steadily at the boy and asked, "are you ozma? tell me truly!" button-bright laughed. "you're getting rattled, dorothy," he replied. "nothing ever enchants me. if i were ozma, do you think i'd have tumbled into that hole?" "anyhow," said the wizard, "ozma would never try to deceive her friends or prevent them from recognizing her in whatever form she happened to be. the puzzle is still a puzzle, so let us go on to the wicker castle and question the magician himself. since it was he who stole our ozma, ugu is the one who must tell us where to find her." chapter magic against magic the wizard's advice was good, so again they started in the direction of the low mountain on the crest of which the wicker castle had been built. they had been gradually advancing uphill, so now the elevation seemed to them more like a round knoll than a mountaintop. however, the sides of the knoll were sloping and covered with green grass, so there was a stiff climb before them yet. undaunted, they plodded on and had almost reached the knoll when they suddenly observed that it was surrounded by a circle of flame. at first, the flames barely rose above the ground, but presently they grew higher and higher until a circle of flaming tongues of fire taller than any of their heads quite surrounded the hill on which the wicker castle stood. when they approached the flames, the heat was so intense that it drove them back again. "this will never do for me!" exclaimed the patchwork girl. "i catch fire very easily." "it won't do for me either," grumbled the sawhorse, prancing to the rear. "i also strongly object to fire," said the bear king, following the sawhorse to a safe distance and hugging the little pink bear with his paws. "i suppose the foolish shoemaker imagines these blazes will stop us," remarked the wizard with a smile of scorn for ugu. "but i am able to inform you that this is merely a simple magic trick which the robber stole from glinda the good, and by good fortune i know how to destroy these flames as well as how to produce them. will some one of you kindly give me a match?" you may be sure the girls carried no matches, nor did the frogman or any of the animals. but button-bright, after searching carefully through his pockets, which contained all sorts of useful and useless things, finally produced a match and handed it to the wizard, who tied it to the end of a branch which he tore from a small tree growing near them. then the little wizard carefully lighted the match, and running forward thrust it into the nearest flame. instantly, the circle of fire began to die away, and soon vanished completely leaving the way clear for them to proceed. "that was funny!" laughed button-bright. "yes," agreed the wizard, "it seems odd that a little match could destroy such a great circle of fire, but when glinda invented this trick, she believed no one would ever think of a match being a remedy for fire. i suppose even ugu doesn't know how we managed to quench the flames of his barrier, for only glinda and i know the secret. glinda's book of magic which ugu stole told how to make the flames, but not how to put them out." they now formed in marching order and proceeded to advance up the slope of the hill, but had not gone far when before them rose a wall of steel, the surface of which was thickly covered with sharp, gleaming points resembling daggers. the wall completely surrounded the wicker castle, and its sharp points prevented anyone from climbing it. even the patchwork girl might be ripped to pieces if she dared attempt it. "ah!" exclaimed the wizard cheerfully, "ugu is now using one of my own tricks against me. but this is more serious than the barrier of fire, because the only way to destroy the wall is to get on the other side of it." "how can that be done?" asked dorothy. the wizard looked thoughtfully around his little party, and his face grew troubled. "it's a pretty high wall," he sadly remarked. "i'm pretty sure the cowardly lion could not leap over it." "i'm sure of that, too!" said the lion with a shudder of fear. "if i foolishly tried such a leap, i would be caught on those dreadful spikes." "i think i could do it, sir," said the frogman with a bow to the wizard. "it is an uphill jump as well as being a high jump, but i'm considered something of a jumper by my friends in the yip country, and i believe a good, strong leap will carry me to the other side." "i'm sure it would," agreed the cookie cook. "leaping, you know, is a froglike accomplishment," continued the frogman modestly, "but please tell me what i am to do when i reach the other side of the wall." "you're a brave creature," said the wizard admiringly. "has anyone a pin?" betsy had one, which she gave him. "all you need do," said the wizard to the frogman, giving him the pin, "is to stick this into the other side of the wall." "but the wall is of steel!" exclaimed the big frog. "i know. at least, it seems to be steel, but do as i tell you. stick the pin into the wall, and it will disappear." the frogman took off his handsome coat and carefully folded it and laid it on the grass. then he removed his hat and laid it together with his gold-headed cane beside the coat. he then went back a way and made three powerful leaps in rapid succession. the first two leaps took him to the wall, and the third leap carried him well over it, to the amazement of all. for a short time, he disappeared from their view, but when he had obeyed the wizard's injunction and had thrust the pin into the wall, the huge barrier vanished and showed them the form of the frogman, who now went to where his coat lay and put it on again. "we thank you very much," said the delighted wizard. "that was the most wonderful leap i ever saw, and it has saved us from defeat by our enemy. let us now hurry on to the castle before ugu the shoemaker thinks up some other means to stop us." "we must have surprised him so far," declared dorothy. "yes indeed. the fellow knows a lot of magic--all of our tricks and some of his own," replied the wizard. "so if he is half as clever as he ought to be, we shall have trouble with him yet." he had scarcely spoken these words when out from the gates of the wicker castle marched a regiment of soldiers, clad in gay uniforms and all bearing long, pointed spears and sharp battle axes. these soldiers were girls, and the uniforms were short skirts of yellow and black satin, golden shoes, bands of gold across their foreheads and necklaces of glittering jewels. their jackets were scarlet, braided with silver cords. there were hundreds of these girl-soldiers, and they were more terrible than beautiful, being strong and fierce in appearance. they formed a circle all around the castle and faced outward, their spears pointed toward the invaders, and their battle axes held over their shoulders, ready to strike. of course, our friends halted at once, for they had not expected this dreadful array of soldiery. the wizard seemed puzzled, and his companions exchanged discouraged looks. "i'd no idea ugu had such an army as that," said dorothy. "the castle doesn't look big enough to hold them all." "it isn't," declared the wizard. "but they all marched out of it." "they seemed to, but i don't believe it is a real army at all. if ugu the shoemaker had so many people living with him, i'm sure the czarover of herku would have mentioned the fact to us." "they're only girls!" laughed scraps. "girls are the fiercest soldiers of all," declared the frogman. "they are more brave than men, and they have better nerves. that is probably why the magician uses them for soldiers and has sent them to oppose us." no one argued this statement, for all were staring hard at the line of soldiers, which now, having taken a defiant position, remained motionless. "here is a trick of magic new to me," admitted the wizard after a time. "i do not believe the army is real, but the spears may be sharp enough to prick us, nevertheless, so we must be cautious. let us take time to consider how to meet this difficulty." while they were thinking it over, scraps danced closer to the line of girl soldiers. her button eyes sometimes saw more than did the natural eyes of her comrades, and so after staring hard at the magician's army, she boldly advanced and danced right through the threatening line! on the other side, she waved her stuffed arms and called out, "come on, folks. the spears can't hurt you." said the wizard gaily. "an optical illusion, as i thought. let us all follow the patchwork girl." the three little girls were somewhat nervous in attempting to brave the spears and battle axes, but after the others had safely passed the line, they ventured to follow. and when all had passed through the ranks of the girl army, the army itself magically disappeared from view. all this time our friends had been getting farther up the hill and nearer to the wicker castle. now, continuing their advance, they expected something else to oppose their way, but to their astonishment nothing happened, and presently they arrived at the wicker gates, which stood wide open, and boldly entered the domain of ugu the shoemaker. chapter in the wicker castle no sooner were the wizard of oz and his followers well within the castle entrance when the big gates swung to with a clang and heavy bars dropped across them. they looked at one another uneasily, but no one cared to speak of the incident. if they were indeed prisoners in the wicker castle, it was evident they must find a way to escape, but their first duty was to attend to the errand on which they had come and seek the royal ozma, whom they believed to be a prisoner of the magician, and rescue her. they found they had entered a square courtyard, from which an entrance led into the main building of the castle. no person had appeared to greet them so far, although a gaudy peacock perched upon the wall cackled with laughter and said in its sharp, shrill voice, "poor fools! poor fools!" "i hope the peacock is mistaken," remarked the frogman, but no one else paid any attention to the bird. they were a little awed by the stillness and loneliness of the place. as they entered the doors of the castle, which stood invitingly open, these also closed behind them and huge bolts shot into place. the animals had all accompanied the party into the castle because they felt it would be dangerous for them to separate. they were forced to follow a zigzag passage, turning this way and that, until finally they entered a great central hall, circular in form and with a high dome from which was suspended an enormous chandelier. the wizard went first, and dorothy, betsy and trot followed him, toto keeping at the heels of his little mistress. then came the lion, the woozy and the sawhorse, then cayke the cookie cook and button-bright, then the lavender bear carrying the pink bear, and finally the frogman and the patchwork girl, with hank the mule tagging behind. so it was the wizard who caught the first glimpse of the big, domed hall, but the others quickly followed and gathered in a wondering group just within the entrance. upon a raised platform at one side was a heavy table on which lay glinda's great book of records, but the platform was firmly fastened to the floor and the table was fastened to the platform and the book was chained fast to the table, just as it had been when it was kept in glinda's palace. on the wall over the table hung ozma's magic picture. on a row of shelves at the opposite side of the hall stood all the chemicals and essences of magic and all the magical instruments that had been stolen from glinda and ozma and the wizard, with glass doors covering the shelves so that no one could get at them. and in a far corner sat ugu the shoemaker, his feet lazily extended, his skinny hands clasped behind his head. he was leaning back at his ease and calmly smoking a long pipe. around the magician was a sort of cage, seemingly made of golden bars set wide apart, and at his feet, also within the cage, reposed the long-sought diamond-studded dishpan of cayke the cookie cook. princess ozma of oz was nowhere to be seen. "well, well," said ugu when the invaders had stood in silence for a moment, staring about them. "this visit is an unexpected pleasure, i assure you. i knew you were coming, and i know why you are here. you are not welcome, for i cannot use any of you to my advantage, but as you have insisted on coming, i hope you will make the afternoon call as brief as possible. it won't take long to transact your business with me. you will ask me for ozma, and my reply will be that you may find her--if you can." "sir," answered the wizard in a tone of rebuke, "you are a very wicked and cruel person. i suppose you imagine, because you have stolen this poor woman's dishpan and all the best magic in oz, that you are more powerful than we are and will be able to triumph over us." "yes," said ugu the shoemaker, slowly filling his pipe with fresh tobacco from a silver bowl that stood beside him, "that is exactly what i imagine. it will do you no good to demand from me the girl who was formerly the ruler of oz, because i will not tell you where i have hidden her, and you can't guess in a thousand years. neither will i restore to you any of the magic i have captured. i am not so foolish. but bear this in mind: i mean to be the ruler of oz myself, hereafter, so i advise you to be careful how you address your future monarch." "ozma is still ruler of oz, wherever you may have hidden her," declared the wizard. "and bear this in mind, miserable shoemaker: we intend to find her and to rescue her in time, but our first duty and pleasure will be to conquer you and then punish you for your misdeeds." "very well, go ahead and conquer," said ugu. "i'd really like to see how you can do it." now although the little wizard had spoken so boldly, he had at the moment no idea how they might conquer the magician. he had that morning given the frogman, at his request, a dose of zosozo from his bottle, and the frogman had promised to fight a good fight if it was necessary, but the wizard knew that strength alone could not avail against magical arts. the toy bear king seemed to have some pretty good magic, however, and the wizard depended to an extent on that. but something ought to be done right away, and the wizard didn't know what it was. while he considered this perplexing question and the others stood looking at him as their leader, a queer thing happened. the floor of the great circular hall on which they were standing suddenly began to tip. instead of being flat and level, it became a slant, and the slant grew steeper and steeper until none of the party could manage to stand upon it. presently they all slid down to the wall, which was now under them, and then it became evident that the whole vast room was slowly turning upside down! only ugu the shoemaker, kept in place by the bars of his golden cage, remained in his former position, and the wicked magician seemed to enjoy the surprise of his victims immensely. first they all slid down to the wall back of them, but as the room continued to turn over, they next slid down the wall and found themselves at the bottom of the great dome, bumping against the big chandelier which, like everything else, was now upside down. the turning movement now stopped, and the room became stationary. looking far up, they saw ugu suspended in his cage at the very top, which had once been the floor. "ah," said he, grinning down at them, "the way to conquer is to act, and he who acts promptly is sure to win. this makes a very good prison, from which i am sure you cannot escape. please amuse yourselves in any way you like, but i must beg you to excuse me, as i have business in another part of my castle." saying this, he opened a trap door in the floor of his cage (which was now over his head) and climbed through it and disappeared from their view. the diamond dishpan still remained in the cage, but the bars kept it from falling down on their heads. "well, i declare," said the patchwork girl, seizing one of the bars of the chandelier and swinging from it, "we must peg one for the shoemaker, for he has trapped us very cleverly." "get off my foot, please," said the lion to the sawhorse. "and oblige me, mr. mule," remarked the woozy, "by taking your tail out of my left eye." "it's rather crowded down here," explained dorothy, "because the dome is rounding and we have all slid into the middle of it. but let us keep as quiet as possible until we can think what's best to be done." "dear, dear!" wailed cayke, "i wish i had my darling dishpan," and she held her arms longingly toward it. "i wish i had the magic on those shelves up there," sighed the wizard. "don't you s'pose we could get to it?" asked trot anxiously. "we'd have to fly," laughed the patchwork girl. but the wizard took the suggestion seriously, and so did the frogman. they talked it over and soon planned an attempt to reach the shelves where the magical instruments were. first the frogman lay against the rounding dome and braced his foot on the stem of the chandelier; then the wizard climbed over him and lay on the dome with his feet on the frogman's shoulders; the cookie cook came next; then button-bright climbed to the woman's shoulders; then dorothy climbed up and betsy and trot, and finally the patchwork girl, and all their lengths made a long line that reached far up the dome, but not far enough for scraps to touch the shelves. "wait a minute. perhaps i can reach the magic," called the bear king, and began scrambling up the bodies of the others. but when he came to the cookie cook, his soft paws tickled her side so that she squirmed and upset the whole line. down they came, tumbling in a heap against the animals, and although no one was much hurt, it was a bad mix-up, and the frogman, who was at the bottom, almost lost his temper before he could get on his feet again. cayke positively refused to try what she called "the pyramid act" again, and as the wizard was now convinced they could not reach the magic tools in that manner, the attempt was abandoned. "but something must be done," said the wizard, and then he turned to the lavender bear and asked, "cannot your majesty's magic help us to escape from here?" "my magic powers are limited," was the reply. "when i was stuffed, the fairies stood by and slyly dropped some magic into my stuffing. therefore i can do any of the magic that's inside me, but nothing else. you, however, are a wizard, and a wizard should be able to do anything." "your majesty forgets that my tools of magic have been stolen," said the wizard sadly, "and a wizard without tools is as helpless as a carpenter without a hammer or saw." "don't give up," pleaded button-bright, "'cause if we can't get out of this queer prison, we'll all starve to death." "not i!" laughed the patchwork girl, now standing on top of the chandelier at the place that was meant to be the bottom of it. "don't talk of such dreadful things," said trot, shuddering. "we came here to capture the shoemaker, didn't we?" "yes, and to save ozma," said betsy. "and here we are, captured ourselves, and my darling dishpan up there in plain sight!" wailed the cookie cook, wiping her eyes on the tail of the frogman's coat. "hush!" called the lion with a low, deep growl. "give the wizard time to think." "he has plenty of time," said scraps. "what he needs is the scarecrow's brains." after all, it was little dorothy who came to their rescue, and her ability to save them was almost as much a surprise to the girl as it was to her friends. dorothy had been secretly testing the powers of her magic belt, which she had once captured from the nome king, and experimenting with it in various ways ever since she had started on this eventful journey. at different times she had stolen away from the others of her party and in solitude had tried to find out what the magic belt could do and what it could not do. there were a lot of things it could not do, she discovered, but she learned some things about the belt which even her girl friends did not suspect she knew. for one thing, she had remembered that when the nome king owned it, the magic belt used to perform transformations, and by thinking hard she had finally recalled the way in which such transformations had been accomplished. better than this, however, was the discovery that the magic belt would grant its wearer one wish a day. all she need do was close her right eye and wiggle her left toe and then draw a long breath and make her wish. yesterday she had wished in secret for a box of caramels, and instantly found the box beside her. today she had saved her daily wish in case she might need it in an emergency, and the time had now come when she must use the wish to enable her to escape with her friends from the prison in which ugu had caught them. so without telling anyone what she intended to do--for she had only used the wish once and could not be certain how powerful the magic belt might be--dorothy closed her right eye and wiggled her left big toe and drew a long breath and wished with all her might. the next moment the room began to revolve again, as slowly as before, and by degrees they all slid to the side wall and down the wall to the floor--all but scraps, who was so astonished that she still clung to the chandelier. when the big hall was in its proper position again and the others stood firmly upon the floor of it, they looked far up the dome and saw the patchwork girl swinging from the chandelier. "good gracious!" cried dorothy. "how ever will you get down?" "won't the room keep turning?" asked scraps. "i hope not. i believe it has stopped for good," said princess dorothy. "then stand from under, so you won't get hurt!" shouted the patchwork girl, and as soon as they had obeyed this request, she let go the chandelier and came tumbling down heels over head and twisting and turning in a very exciting manner. plump! she fell on the tiled floor, and they ran to her and rolled her and patted her into shape again. chapter the defiance of ugu the shoemaker the delay caused by scraps had prevented anyone from running to the shelves to secure the magic instruments so badly needed. even cayke neglected to get her diamond-studded dishpan because she was watching the patchwork girl. and now the magician had opened his trap door and appeared in his golden cage again, frowning angrily because his prisoners had been able to turn their upside-down prison right side up. "which of you has dared defy my magic?" he shouted in a terrible voice. "it was i," answered dorothy calmly. "then i shall destroy you, for you are only an earth girl and no fairy," he said, and began to mumble some magic words. dorothy now realized that ugu must be treated as an enemy, so she advanced toward the corner in which he sat, saying as she went, "i am not afraid of you, mr. shoemaker, and i think you'll be sorry, pretty soon, that you're such a bad man. you can't destroy me, and i won't destroy you, but i'm going to punish you for your wickedness." ugu laughed, a laugh that was not nice to hear, and then he waved his hand. dorothy was halfway across the room when suddenly a wall of glass rose before her and stopped her progress. through the glass she could see the magician sneering at her because she was a weak little girl, and this provoked her. although the glass wall obliged her to halt, she instantly pressed both hands to her magic belt and cried in a loud voice, "ugu the shoemaker, by the magic virtues of the magic belt, i command you to become a dove!" the magician instantly realized he was being enchanted, for he could feel his form changing. he struggled desperately against the enchantment, mumbling magic words and making magic passes with his hands. and in one way he succeeded in defeating dorothy's purpose, for while his form soon changed to that of a gray dove, the dove was of an enormous size, bigger even than ugu had been as a man, and this feat he had been able to accomplish before his powers of magic wholly deserted him. and the dove was not gentle, as doves usually are, for ugu was terribly enraged at the little girl's success. his books had told him nothing of the nome king's magic belt, the country of the nomes being outside the land of oz. he knew, however, that he was likely to be conquered unless he made a fierce fight, so he spread his wings and rose in the air and flew directly toward dorothy. the wall of glass had disappeared the instant ugu became transformed. dorothy had meant to command the belt to transform the magician into a dove of peace, but in her excitement she forgot to say more than "dove," and now ugu was not a dove of peace by any means, but rather a spiteful dove of war. his size made his sharp beak and claws very dangerous, but dorothy was not afraid when he came darting toward her with his talons outstretched and his sword-like beak open. she knew the magic belt would protect its wearer from harm. but the frogman did not know that fact and became alarmed at the little girl's seeming danger. so he gave a sudden leap and leaped full upon the back of the great dove. then began a desperate struggle. the dove was as strong as ugu had been, and in size it was considerably bigger than the frogman. but the frogman had eaten the zosozo, and it had made him fully as strong as ugu the dove. at the first leap he bore the dove to the floor, but the giant bird got free and began to bite and claw the frogman, beating him down with its great wings whenever he attempted to rise. the thick, tough skin of the big frog was not easily damaged, but dorothy feared for her champion, and by again using the transformation power of the magic belt, she made the dove grow small until it was no larger than a canary bird. ugu had not lost his knowledge of magic when he lost his shape as a man, and he now realized it was hopeless to oppose the power of the magic belt and knew that his only hope of escape lay in instant action. so he quickly flew into the golden jeweled dishpan he had stolen from cayke the cookie cook, and as birds can talk as well as beasts or men in the fairyland of oz, he muttered the magic word that was required and wished himself in the country of the quadlings, which was as far away from the wicker castle as he believed he could get. our friends did not know, of course, what ugu was about to do. they saw the dishpan tremble an instant and then disappear, the dove disappearing with it, and although they waited expectantly for some minutes for the magician's return, ugu did not come back again. "seems to me," said the wizard in a cheerful voice, "that we have conquered the wicked magician more quickly than we expected to." "don't say 'we.' dorothy did it!" cried the patchwork girl, turning three somersaults in succession and then walking around on her hands. "hurrah for dorothy!" "i thought you said you did not know how to use the magic of the nome king's belt," said the wizard to dorothy. "i didn't know at that time," she replied, "but afterward i remembered how the nome king once used the magic belt to enchant people and transform 'em into ornaments and all sorts of things, so i tried some enchantments in secret, and after a while i transformed the sawhorse into a potato masher and back again, and the cowardly lion into a pussycat and back again, and then i knew the thing would work all right." "when did you perform those enchantments?" asked the wizard, much surprised. "one night when all the rest of you were asleep but scraps, and she had gone chasing moonbeams." "well," remarked the wizard, "your discovery has certainly saved us a lot of trouble, and we must all thank the frogman, too, for making such a good fight. the dove's shape had ugu's evil disposition inside it, and that made the monster bird dangerous." the frogman was looking sad because the bird's talons had torn his pretty clothes, but he bowed with much dignity at this well-deserved praise. cayke, however, had squatted on the floor and was sobbing bitterly. "my precious dishpan is gone!" she wailed. "gone, just as i had found it again!" "never mind," said trot, trying to comfort her, "it's sure to be somewhere, so we'll cert'nly run across it some day." "yes indeed," added betsy, "now that we have ozma's magic picture, we can tell just where the dove went with your dishpan. they all approached the magic picture, and dorothy wished it to show the enchanted form of ugu the shoemaker, wherever it might be. at once there appeared in the frame of the picture a scene in the far quadling country, where the dove was perched disconsolately on the limb of a tree and the jeweled dishpan lay on the ground just underneath the limb. "but where is the place? how far or how near?" asked cayke anxiously. "the book of records will tell us that," answered the wizard. so they looked in the great book and read the following: "ugu the magician, being transformed into a dove by princess dorothy of oz, has used the magic of the golden dishpan to carry him instantly to the northeast corner of the quadling country." "don't worry, cayke, for the scarecrow and the tin woodman are in that part of the country looking for ozma, and they'll surely find your dishpan." "good gracious!" exclaimed button-bright. "we've forgot all about ozma. let's find out where the magician hid her." back to the magic picture they trooped, but when they wished to see ozma wherever she might be hidden, only a round black spot appeared in the center of the canvas. "i don't see how that can be ozma!" said dorothy, much puzzled. "it seems to be the best the magic picture can do, however," said the wizard, no less surprised. "if it's an enchantment, looks as if the magician had transformed ozma into a chunk of pitch." chapter the little pink bear speaks truly for several minutes they all stood staring at the black spot on the canvas of the magic picture, wondering what it could mean. "p'r'aps we'd better ask the little pink bear about ozma," suggested trot. "pshaw!" said button-bright. "he don't know anything." "he never makes a mistake," declared the king. "he did once, surely," said betsy. "but perhaps he wouldn't make a mistake again." "he won't have the chance," grumbled the bear king. "we might hear what he has to say," said dorothy. "it won't do any harm to ask the pink bear where ozma is." "i will not have him questioned," declared the king in a surly voice. "i do not intend to allow my little pink bear to be again insulted by your foolish doubts. he never makes a mistake." "didn't he say ozma was in that hole in the ground?" asked betsy. "he did, and i am certain she was there," replied the lavender bear. scraps laughed jeeringly, and the others saw there was no use arguing with the stubborn bear king, who seemed to have absolute faith in his pink bear. the wizard, who knew that magical things can usually be depended upon and that the little pink bear was able to answer questions by some remarkable power of magic, thought it wise to apologize to the lavender bear for the unbelief of his friends, at the same time urging the king to consent to question the pink bear once more. cayke and the frogman also pleaded with the big bear, who finally agreed, although rather ungraciously, to put the little bear's wisdom to the test once more. so he sat the little one on his knee and turned the crank, and the wizard himself asked the questions in a very respectful tone of voice. "where is ozma?" was his first query. "here in this room," answered the little pink bear. they all looked around the room, but of course did not see her. "in what part of the room is she?" was the wizard's next question. "in button-bright's pocket," said the little pink bear. this reply amazed them all, you may be sure, and although the three girls smiled and scraps yelled "hoo-ray!" in derision, the wizard turned to consider the matter with grave thoughtfulness. "in which one of button-bright's pockets is ozma?" he presently inquired. "in the left-hand jacket pocket," said the little pink bear. "the pink one has gone crazy!" exclaimed button-bright, staring hard at the little bear on the big bear's knee. "i am not so sure of that," declared the wizard. "if ozma proves to be really in your pocket, then the little pink bear spoke truly when he said ozma was in that hole in the ground. for at that time you were also in the hole, and after we had pulled you out of it, the little pink bear said ozma was not in the hole." "he never makes a mistake," asserted the bear king stoutly. "empty that pocket, button-bright, and let's see what's in it," requested dorothy. so button-bright laid the contents of his left jacket pocket on the table. these proved to be a peg top, a bunch of string, a small rubber ball and a golden peach pit. "what's this?" asked the wizard, picking up the peach pit and examining it closely. "oh," said the boy, "i saved that to show to the girls, and then forgot all about it. it came out of a lonesome peach that i found in the orchard back yonder, and which i ate while i was lost. it looks like gold, and i never saw a peach pit like it before." "nor i," said the wizard, "and that makes it seem suspicious." all heads were bent over the golden peach pit. the wizard turned it over several times and then took out his pocket knife and pried the pit open. as the two halves fell apart, a pink, cloud-like haze came pouring from the golden peach pit, almost filling the big room, and from the haze a form took shape and settled beside them. then, as the haze faded away, a sweet voice said, "thank you, my friends!" and there before them stood their lovely girl ruler, ozma of oz. with a cry of delight, dorothy rushed forward and embraced her. scraps turned gleeful flipflops all around the room. button-bright gave a low whistle of astonishment. the frogman took off his tall hat and bowed low before the beautiful girl who had been freed from her enchantment in so startling a manner. for a time, no sound was heard beyond the low murmur of delight that came from the amazed group, but presently the growl of the big lavender bear grew louder, and he said in a tone of triumph, "he never makes a mistake!" chapter ozma of oz "it's funny," said toto, standing before his friend the lion and wagging his tail, "but i've found my growl at last! i am positive now that it was the cruel magician who stole it." "let's hear your growl," requested the lion. "g-r-r-r-r-r!" said toto. "that is fine," declared the big beast. "it isn't as loud or as deep as the growl of the big lavender bear, but it is a very respectable growl for a small dog. where did you find it, toto?" "i was smelling in the corner yonder," said toto, "when suddenly a mouse ran out--and i growled." the others were all busy congratulating ozma, who was very happy at being released from the confinement of the golden peach pit, where the magician had placed her with the notion that she never could be found or liberated. "and only to think," cried dorothy, "that button-bright has been carrying you in his pocket all this time, and we never knew it!" "the little pink bear told you," said the bear king, "but you wouldn't believe him." "never mind, my dears," said ozma graciously, "all is well that ends well, and you couldn't be expected to know i was inside the peach pit. indeed, i feared i would remain a captive much longer than i did, for ugu is a bold and clever magician, and he had hidden me very securely." "you were in a fine peach," said button-bright, "the best i ever ate." "the magician was foolish to make the peach so tempting," remarked the wizard, "but ozma would lend beauty to any transformation." "how did you manage to conquer ugu the shoemaker?" inquired the girl ruler of oz. dorothy started to tell the story, and trot helped her, and button-bright wanted to relate it in his own way, and the wizard tried to make it clear to ozma, and betsy had to remind them of important things they left out, and all together there was such a chatter that it was a wonder that ozma understood any of it. but she listened patiently, with a smile on her lovely face at their eagerness, and presently had gleaned all the details of their adventures. ozma thanked the frogman very earnestly for his assistance, and she advised cayke the cookie cook to dry her weeping eyes, for she promised to take her to the emerald city and see that her cherished dishpan was restored to her. then the beautiful ruler took a chain of emeralds from around her own neck and placed it around the neck of the little pink bear. "your wise answers to the questions of my friends," said she, "helped them to rescue me. therefore i am deeply grateful to you and to your noble king." the bead eyes of the little pink bear stared unresponsive to this praise until the big lavender bear turned the crank in its side, when it said in its squeaky voice, "i thank your majesty." "for my part," returned the bear king, "i realize that you were well worth saving, miss ozma, and so i am much pleased that we could be of service to you. by means of my magic wand i have been creating exact images of your emerald city and your royal palace, and i must confess that they are more attractive than any places i have ever seen--not excepting bear center." "i would like to entertain you in my palace," returned ozma sweetly, "and you are welcome to return with me and to make me a long visit, if your bear subjects can spare you from your own kingdom." "as for that," answered the king, "my kingdom causes me little worry, and i often find it somewhat tame and uninteresting. therefore i am glad to accept your kind invitation. corporal waddle may be trusted to care for my bears in my absence." "and you'll bring the little pink bear?" asked dorothy eagerly. "of course, my dear. i would not willingly part with him." they remained in the wicker castle for three days, carefully packing all the magical things that had been stolen by ugu and also taking whatever in the way of magic the shoemaker had inherited from his ancestors. "for," said ozma, "i have forbidden any of my subjects except glinda the good and the wizard of oz to practice magical arts, because they cannot be trusted to do good and not harm. therefore ugu must never again be permitted to work magic of any sort." "well," remarked dorothy cheerfully, "a dove can't do much in the way of magic, anyhow, and i'm going to keep ugu in the form of a dove until he reforms and becomes a good and honest shoemaker." when everything was packed and loaded on the backs of the animals, they set out for the river, taking a more direct route than that by which cayke and the frogman had come. in this way they avoided the cities of thi and herku and bear center and after a pleasant journey reached the winkie river and found a jolly ferryman who had a fine, big boat and was willing to carry the entire party by water to a place quite near to the emerald city. the river had many windings and many branches, and the journey did not end in a day, but finally the boat floated into a pretty lake which was but a short distance from ozma's home. here the jolly ferryman was rewarded for his labors, and then the entire party set out in a grand procession to march to the emerald city. news that the royal ozma had been found spread quickly throughout the neighborhood, and both sides of the road soon became lined with loyal subjects of the beautiful and beloved ruler. therefore ozma's ears heard little but cheers, and her eyes beheld little else than waving handkerchiefs and banners during all the triumphal march from the lake to the city's gates. and there she met a still greater concourse, for all the inhabitants of the emerald city turned out to welcome her return, and all the houses were decorated with flags and bunting, and never before were the people so joyous and happy as at this moment when they welcomed home their girl ruler. for she had been lost and was now found again, and surely that was cause for rejoicing. glinda was at the royal palace to meet the returning party, and the good sorceress was indeed glad to have her great book of records returned to her, as well as all the precious collection of magic instruments and elixirs and chemicals that had been stolen from her castle. cap'n bill and the wizard at once hung the magic picture upon the wall of ozma's boudoir, and the wizard was so light-hearted that he did several tricks with the tools in his black bag to amuse his companions and prove that once again he was a powerful wizard. for a whole week there was feasting and merriment and all sorts of joyous festivities at the palace in honor of ozma's safe return. the lavender bear and the little pink bear received much attention and were honored by all, much to the bear king's satisfaction. the frogman speedily became a favorite at the emerald city, and the shaggy man and tik-tok and jack pumpkinhead, who had now returned from their search, were very polite to the big frog and made him feel quite at home. even the cookie cook, because she was quite a stranger and ozma's guest, was shown as much deference as if she had been a queen. "all the same, your majesty," said cayke to ozma, day after day with tiresome repetition, "i hope you will soon find my jeweled dishpan, for never can i be quite happy without it." chapter dorothy forgives the gray dove which had once been ugu the shoemaker sat on its tree in the far quadling country and moped, chirping dismally and brooding over its misfortunes. after a time, the scarecrow and the tin woodman came along and sat beneath the tree, paying no heed to the mutterings of the gray dove. the tin woodman took a small oilcan from his tin pocket and carefully oiled his tin joints with it. while he was thus engaged, the scarecrow remarked, "i feel much better, dear comrade, since we found that heap of nice, clean straw and you stuffed me anew with it." "and i feel much better now that my joints are oiled," returned the tin woodman with a sigh of pleasure. "you and i, friend scarecrow, are much more easily cared for than those clumsy meat people, who spend half their time dressing in fine clothes and who must live in splendid dwellings in order to be contented and happy. you and i do not eat, and so we are spared the dreadful bother of getting three meals a day. nor do we waste half our lives in sleep, a condition that causes the meat people to lose all consciousness and become as thoughtless and helpless as logs of wood." "you speak truly," responded the scarecrow, tucking some wisps of straw into his breast with his padded fingers. "i often feel sorry for the meat people, many of whom are my friends. even the beasts are happier than they, for they require less to make them content. and the birds are the luckiest creatures of all, for they can fly swiftly where they will and find a home at any place they care to perch. their food consists of seeds and grains they gather from the fields, and their drink is a sip of water from some running brook. if i could not be a scarecrow or a tin woodman, my next choice would be to live as a bird does." the gray dove had listened carefully to this speech and seemed to find comfort in it, for it hushed its moaning. and just then the tin woodman discovered cayke's dishpan, which was on the ground quite near to him. "here is a rather pretty utensil," he said, taking it in his tin hand to examine it, "but i would not care to own it. whoever fashioned it of gold and covered it with diamonds did not add to its usefulness, nor do i consider it as beautiful as the bright dishpans of tin one usually sees. no yellow color is ever so handsome as the silver sheen of tin," and he turned to look at his tin legs and body with approval. "i cannot quite agree with you there," replied the scarecrow. "my straw stuffing has a light yellow color, and it is not only pretty to look at, but it crunkles most delightfully when i move." "let us admit that all colors are good in their proper places," said the tin woodman, who was too kind-hearted to quarrel, "but you must agree with me that a dishpan that is yellow is unnatural. what shall we do with this one, which we have just found?" "let us carry it back to the emerald city," suggested the scarecrow. "some of our friends might like to have it for a foot-bath, and in using it that way, its golden color and sparkling ornaments would not injure its usefulness." so they went away and took the jeweled dishpan with them. and after wandering through the country for a day or so longer, they learned the news that ozma had been found. therefore they straightway returned to the emerald city and presented the dishpan to princess ozma as a token of their joy that she had been restored to them. ozma promptly gave the diamond-studded gold dishpan to cayke the cookie cook, who was delighted at regaining her lost treasure that she danced up and down in glee and then threw her skinny arms around ozma's neck and kissed her gratefully. cayke's mission was now successfully accomplished, but she was having such a good time at the emerald city that she seemed in no hurry to go back to the country of the yips. it was several weeks after the dishpan had been restored to the cookie cook when one day, as dorothy was seated in the royal gardens with trot and betsy beside her, a gray dove came flying down and alighted at the girl's feet. "i am ugu the shoemaker," said the dove in a soft, mourning voice, "and i have come to ask you to forgive me for the great wrong i did in stealing ozma and the magic that belonged to her and to others." "are you sorry, then?" asked dorothy, looking hard at the bird. "i am very sorry," declared ugu. "i've been thinking over my misdeeds for a long time, for doves have little else to do but think, and i'm surprised that i was such a wicked man and had so little regard for the rights of others. i am now convinced that even had i succeeded in making myself ruler of all oz, i should not have been happy, for many days of quiet thought have shown me that only those things one acquires honestly are able to render one content." "i guess that's so," said trot. "anyhow," said betsy, "the bad man seems truly sorry, and if he has now become a good and honest man, we ought to forgive him." "i fear i cannot become a good man again," said ugu, "for the transformation i am under will always keep me in the form of a dove. but with the kind forgiveness of my former enemies, i hope to become a very good dove and highly respected." "wait here till i run for my magic belt," said dorothy, "and i'll transform you back to your reg'lar shape in a jiffy." "no, don't do that!" pleaded the dove, fluttering its wings in an excited way. "i only want your forgiveness. i don't want to be a man again. as ugu the shoemaker i was skinny and old and unlovely. as a dove i am quite pretty to look at. as a man i was ambitious and cruel, while as a dove i can be content with my lot and happy in my simple life. i have learned to love the free and independent life of a bird, and i'd rather not change back." "just as you like, ugu," said dorothy, resuming her seat. "perhaps you are right, for you're certainly a better dove than you were a man, and if you should ever backslide an' feel wicked again, you couldn't do much harm as a gray dove." "then you forgive me for all the trouble i caused you?" he asked earnestly. "of course. anyone who's sorry just has to be forgiven." "thank you," said the gray dove, and flew away again. the end the wonderful oz books by l. frank baum the wizard of oz the land of oz ozma of oz dorothy and the wizard in oz the road to oz the emerald city of oz the patchwork girl of oz tik-tok of oz the scarecrow of oz rinkitink in oz the lost princess of oz the tin woodman of oz the magic of oz glinda of oz glinda of oz in which are related the exciting experiences of princess ozma of oz, and dorothy, in their hazardous journey to the home of the flatheads, and to the magic isle of the skeezers, and how they were rescued from dire peril by the sorcery of glinda the good. by l. frank baum "royal historian of oz" illustrated by john r. neill this book is dedicated to my son robert stanton baum to our readers glinda the good, lovely sorceress of the land of oz and friend of princess ozma and dorothy, has lots of personal acquaintances who want to know more about her. so, in the new oz story, mr. l. frank baum, royal historian of oz, has written a whole book about how glinda and the wizard worked with all their might to save the princess and dorothy from the dire dangers which threatened them when they went among the warring tribes of the flatheads and skeezers. the wicked queen coo-ee-oh, a vain and evil witch, was really to blame for all the trouble. she surely succeeded in getting every one on the magic, glass-domed island of the skeezers into amazing difficulties. when mr. baum tells you how worried everybody in the land of oz felt about the princess ozma and dorothy and what wonderful sorcery glinda had to perform to save them, you'll be thrilled with excitement and admiration. he reveals the most hidden mysteries of magic. mr. baum did his best to answer all the letters from his small earth-friends before he had to leave them, but he couldn't answer quite all, for there were very many. in may, nineteen hundred nineteen, he went away to take his stories to the little child-souls who had lived here too long ago to read the oz stories for themselves. we are sorry he could not stay here and we are sad to tell you this is his last complete story. but he left some unfinished notes about the princess ozma and dorothy and the oz people and we promise that some day we will put them all together like a picture puzzle and give you more stories of the wonderful land of oz. cordially, your friends, the publishers. list of chapters the call of duty ozma and dorothy the mist maidens the magic tent the magic stairway flathead mountain the magic isle queen coo-ee-oh lady aurex under water the conquest of the skeezers the diamond swan the alarm bell ozma's counsellors the great sorceress the enchanted fishes under the great dome the cleverness of ervic red reera, the yookoohoo a puzzling problem the three adepts the sunken island the magic words glinda's triumph [illustration: glinda of oz] chapter the call to duty glinda, the good sorceress of oz, sat in the grand court of her palace, surrounded by her maids of honor--a hundred of the most beautiful girls of the fairyland of oz. the palace court was built of rare marbles, exquisitely polished. fountains tinkled musically here and there; the vast colonnade, open to the south, allowed the maidens, as they raised their heads from their embroideries, to gaze upon a vista of rose-hued fields and groves of trees bearing fruits or laden with sweet-scented flowers. at times one of the girls would start a song, the others joining in the chorus, or one would rise and dance, gracefully swaying to the music of a harp played by a companion. and then glinda smiled, glad to see her maids mixing play with work. presently among the fields an object was seen moving, threading the broad path that led to the castle gate. some of the girls looked upon this object enviously; the sorceress merely gave it a glance and nodded her stately head as if pleased, for it meant the coming of her friend and mistress--the only one in all the land that glinda bowed to. then up the path trotted a wooden animal attached to a red wagon, and as the quaint steed halted at the gate there descended from the wagon two young girls, ozma, ruler of oz, and her companion, princess dorothy. both were dressed in simple white muslin gowns, and as they ran up the marble steps of the palace they laughed and chatted as gaily as if they were not the most important persons in the world's loveliest fairyland. the maids of honor had risen and stood with bowed heads to greet the royal ozma, while glinda came forward with outstretched arms to greet her guests. "we've just come on a visit, you know," said ozma. "both dorothy and i were wondering how we should pass the day when we happened to think we'd not been to your quadling country for weeks, so we took the sawhorse and rode straight here." "and we came so fast," added dorothy, "that our hair is blown all fuzzy, for the sawhorse makes a wind of his own. usually it's a day's journey from the em'rald city, but i don't s'pose we were two hours on the way." "you are most welcome," said glinda the sorceress, and led them through the court to her magnificent reception hall. ozma took the arm of her hostess, but dorothy lagged behind, kissing some of the maids she knew best, talking with others, and making them all feel that she was their friend. when at last she joined glinda and ozma in the reception hall, she found them talking earnestly about the condition of the people, and how to make them more happy and contented--although they were already the happiest and most contented folks in all the world. this interested ozma, of course, but it didn't interest dorothy very much, so the little girl ran over to a big table on which was lying open glinda's great book of records. this book is one of the greatest treasures in oz, and the sorceress prizes it more highly than any of her magical possessions. that is the reason it is firmly attached to the big marble table by means of golden chains, and whenever glinda leaves home she locks the great book together with five jeweled padlocks, and carries the keys safely hidden in her bosom. i do not suppose there is any magical thing in any fairyland to compare with the record book, on the pages of which are constantly being printed a record of every event that happens in any part of the world, at exactly the moment it happens. and the records are always truthful, although sometimes they do not give as many details as one could wish. but then, lots of things happen, and so the records have to be brief or even glinda's great book could not hold them all. glinda looked at the records several times each day, and dorothy, whenever she visited the sorceress, loved to look in the book and see what was happening everywhere. not much was recorded about the land of oz, which is usually peaceful and uneventful, but today dorothy found something which interested her. indeed, the printed letters were appearing on the page even while she looked. "this is funny!" she exclaimed. "did you know, ozma, that there were people in your land of oz called skeezers?" "yes," replied ozma, coming to her side, "i know that on professor wogglebug's map of the land of oz there is a place marked 'skeezer,' but what the skeezers are like i do not know. no one i know has ever seen them or heard of them. the skeezer country is 'way at the upper edge of the gillikin country, with the sandy, impassable desert on one side and the mountains of oogaboo on another side. that is a part of the land of oz of which i know very little." "i guess no one else knows much about it either, unless it's the skeezers themselves," remarked dorothy. "but the book says: 'the skeezers of oz have declared war on the flatheads of oz, and there is likely to be fighting and much trouble as the result.'" "is that all the book says?" asked ozma. "every word," said dorothy, and ozma and glinda both looked at the record and seemed surprised and perplexed. "tell me, glinda," said ozma, "who are the flatheads?" "i cannot, your majesty," confessed the sorceress. "until now i never have heard of them, nor have i ever heard the skeezers mentioned. in the faraway corners of oz are hidden many curious tribes of people, and those who never leave their own countries and never are visited by those from our favored part of oz, naturally are unknown to me. however, if you so desire, i can learn through my arts of sorcery something of the skeezers and the flatheads." "i wish you would," answered ozma seriously. "you see, glinda, if these are oz people they are my subjects and i cannot allow any wars or troubles in the land i rule, if i can possibly help it." "very well, your majesty," said the sorceress, "i will try to get some information to guide you. please excuse me for a time, while i retire to my room of magic and sorcery." "may i go with you?" asked dorothy, eagerly. "no, princess," was the reply. "it would spoil the charm to have anyone present." so glinda locked herself in her own room of magic and dorothy and ozma waited patiently for her to come out again. in about an hour glinda appeared, looking grave and thoughtful. "your majesty," she said to ozma, "the skeezers live on a magic isle in a great lake. for that reason--because the skeezers deal in magic--i can learn little about them." "why, i didn't know there was a lake in that part of oz," exclaimed ozma. "the map shows a river running through the skeezer country, but no lake." "that is because the person who made the map never had visited that part of the country," explained the sorceress. "the lake surely is there, and in the lake is an island--a magic isle--and on that island live the people called the skeezers." "what are they like?" inquired the ruler of oz. "my magic cannot tell me that," confessed glinda, "for the magic of the skeezers prevents anyone outside of their domain knowing anything about them." "the flatheads must know, if they're going to fight the skeezers," suggested dorothy. "perhaps so," glinda replied, "but i can get little information concerning the flatheads, either. they are people who inhabit a mountain just south of the lake of the skeezers. the mountain has steep sides and a broad, hollow top, like a basin, and in this basin the flatheads have their dwellings. they also are magic-workers and usually keep to themselves and allow no one from outside to visit them. i have learned that the flatheads number about one hundred people--men, women and children--while the skeezers number just one hundred and one." "what did they quarrel about, and why do they wish to fight one another?" was ozma's next question. "i cannot tell your majesty that," said glinda. "but see here!" cried dorothy, "it's against the law for anyone but glinda and the wizard to work magic in the land of oz, so if these two strange people are magic-makers they are breaking the law and ought to be punished!" ozma smiled upon her little friend. "those who do not know me or my laws," she said, "cannot be expected to obey my laws. if we know nothing of the skeezers or the flatheads, it is likely that they know nothing of us." "but they _ought_ to know, ozma, and _we_ ought to know. who's going to tell them, and how are we going to make them behave?" "that," returned ozma, "is what i am now considering. what would you advise, glinda?" the sorceress took a little time to consider this question, before she made reply. then she said: "had you not learned of the existence of the flatheads and the skeezers, through my book of records, you would never have worried about them or their quarrels. so, if you pay no attention to these peoples, you may never hear of them again." "but that wouldn't be right," declared ozma. "i am ruler of all the land of oz, which includes the gillikin country, the quadling country, the winkie country and the munchkin country, as well as the emerald city, and being the princess of this fairyland it is my duty to make all my people--wherever they may be--happy and content and to settle their disputes and keep them from quarreling. so, while the skeezers and flatheads may not know me or that i am their lawful ruler, i now know that they inhabit my kingdom and are my subjects, so i would not be doing my duty if i kept away from them and allowed them to fight." "that's a fact, ozma," commented dorothy. "you've got to go up to the gillikin country and make these people behave themselves and make up their quarrels. but how are you going to do it?" "that is what is puzzling me also, your majesty," said the sorceress. "it may be dangerous for you to go into those strange countries, where the people are possibly fierce and warlike." "i am not afraid," said ozma, with a smile. "'tisn't a question of being 'fraid," argued dorothy. "of course we know you're a fairy, and can't be killed or hurt, and we know you've a lot of magic of your own to help you. but, ozma dear, in spite of all this you've been in trouble before, on account of wicked enemies, and it isn't right for the ruler of all oz to put herself in danger." "perhaps i shall be in no danger at all," returned ozma, with a little laugh. "you mustn't _imagine_ danger, dorothy, for one should only imagine nice things, and we do not know that the skeezers and flatheads are wicked people or my enemies. perhaps they would be good and listen to reason." "dorothy is right, your majesty," asserted the sorceress. "it is true we know nothing of these faraway subjects, except that they intend to fight one another, and have a certain amount of magic power at their command. such folks do not like to submit to interference and they are more likely to resent your coming among them than to receive you kindly and graciously, as is your due." "if you had an army to take with you," added dorothy, "it wouldn't be so bad; but there isn't such a thing as an army in all oz." "i have one soldier," said ozma. "yes, the soldier with the green whiskers; but he's dreadful 'fraid of his gun and never loads it. i'm sure he'd run rather than fight. and one soldier, even if he were brave, couldn't do much against two hundred and one flatheads and skeezers." "what then, my friends, would you suggest?" inquired ozma. "i advise you to send the wizard of oz to them, and let him inform them that it is against the laws of oz to fight, and that you command them to settle their differences and become friends," proposed glinda. "let the wizard tell them they will be punished if they refuse to obey the commands of the princess of all the land of oz." ozma shook her head, to indicate that the advice was not to her satisfaction. "if they refuse, what then?" she asked. "i should be obliged to carry out my threat and punish them, and that would be an unpleasant and difficult thing to do. i am sure it would be better for me to go peacefully, without an army and armed only with my authority as ruler, and plead with them to obey me. then, if they prove obstinate i could resort to other means to win their obedience." "it's a ticklish thing, anyhow you look at it," sighed dorothy. "i'm sorry now that i noticed the record in the great book." "but can't you realize, my dear, that i must do my duty, now that i am aware of this trouble?" asked ozma. "i am fully determined to go at once to the magic isle of the skeezers and to the enchanted mountain of the flatheads, and prevent war and strife between their inhabitants. the only question to decide is whether it is better for me to go alone, or to assemble a party of my friends and loyal supporters to accompany me." "if you go i want to go, too," declared dorothy. "whatever happens it's going to be fun--'cause all excitement is fun--and i wouldn't miss it for the world!" neither ozma nor glinda paid any attention to this statement, for they were gravely considering the serious aspect of this proposed adventure. "there are plenty of friends who would like to go with you," said the sorceress, "but none of them would afford your majesty any protection in case you were in danger. you are yourself the most powerful fairy in oz, although both i and the wizard have more varied arts of magic at our command. however, you have one art that no other in all the world can equal--the art of winning hearts and making people love to bow to your gracious presence. for that reason i believe you can accomplish more good alone than with a large number of subjects in your train." "i believe that also," agreed the princess. "i shall be quite able to take care of myself, you know, but might not be able to protect others so well. i do not look for opposition, however. i shall speak to these people in kindly words and settle their dispute--whatever it may be--in a just manner." "aren't you going to take _me_?" pleaded dorothy. "you'll need _some_ companion, ozma." the princess smiled upon her little friend. "i see no reason why you should not accompany me," was her reply. "two girls are not very warlike and they will not suspect us of being on any errand but a kindly and peaceful one. but, in order to prevent war and strife between these angry peoples, we must go to them at once. let us return immediately to the emerald city and prepare to start on our journey early tomorrow morning." glinda was not quite satisfied with this plan, but could not think of any better way to meet the problem. she knew that ozma, with all her gentleness and sweet disposition, was accustomed to abide by any decision she had made and could not easily be turned from her purpose. moreover she could see no great danger to the fairy ruler of oz in the undertaking, even though the unknown people she was to visit proved obstinate. but dorothy was not a fairy; she was a little girl who had come from kansas to live in the land of oz. dorothy might encounter dangers that to ozma would be as nothing but to an "earth child" would be very serious. the very fact that dorothy lived in oz, and had been made a princess by her friend ozma, prevented her from being killed or suffering any great bodily pain as long as she lived in that fairyland. she could not grow big, either, and would always remain the same little girl who had come to oz, unless in some way she left that fairyland or was spirited away from it. but dorothy was a mortal, nevertheless, and might possibly be destroyed, or hidden where none of her friends could ever find her. she could, for instance, be cut into pieces, and the pieces, while still alive and free from pain, could be widely scattered; or she might be buried deep underground, or "destroyed" in other ways by evil magicians, were she not properly protected. these facts glinda was considering while she paced with stately tread her marble hall. finally the good sorceress paused and drew a ring from her finger, handing it to dorothy. "wear this ring constantly until your return," she said to the girl. "if serious danger threatens you, turn the ring around on your finger once to the right and another turn to the left. that will ring the alarm bell in my palace and i will at once come to your rescue. but do not use the ring unless you are actually in danger of destruction. while you remain with princess ozma i believe she will be able to protect you from all lesser ills." "thank you, glinda," responded dorothy gratefully, as she placed the ring on her finger. "i'm going to wear my magic belt which i took from the nome king, too, so i guess i'll be safe from anything the skeezers and flatheads try to do to me." ozma had many arrangements to make before she could leave her throne and her palace in the emerald city, even for a trip of a few days, so she bade good-bye to glinda and with dorothy climbed into the red wagon. a word to the wooden sawhorse started that astonishing creature on the return journey, and so swiftly did he run that dorothy was unable to talk or do anything but hold tight to her seat all the way back to the emerald city. chapter ozma and dorothy residing in ozma's palace at this time was a live scarecrow, a most remarkable and intelligent creature who had once ruled the land of oz for a brief period and was much loved and respected by all the people. once a munchkin farmer had stuffed an old suit of clothes with straw and put stuffed boots on the feet and used a pair of stuffed cotton gloves for hands. the head of the scarecrow was a stuffed sack fastened to the body, with eyes, nose, mouth and ears painted on the sack. when a hat had been put on the head, the thing was a good imitation of a man. the farmer placed the scarecrow on a pole in his cornfield and it came to life in a curious manner. dorothy, who was passing by the field, was hailed by the live scarecrow and lifted him off his pole. he then went with her to the emerald city, where the wizard of oz gave him some excellent brains, and the scarecrow soon became an important personage. ozma considered the scarecrow one of her best friends and most loyal subjects, so the morning after her visit to glinda she asked him to take her place as ruler of the land of oz while she was absent on a journey, and the scarecrow at once consented without asking any questions. ozma had warned dorothy to keep their journey a secret and say nothing to anyone about the skeezers and flatheads until their return, and dorothy promised to obey. she longed to tell her girl friends, tiny trot and betsy bobbin, of the adventure they were undertaking, but refrained from saying a word on the subject although both these girls lived with her in ozma's palace. indeed, only glinda the sorceress knew they were going, until after they had gone, and even the sorceress didn't know what their errand might be. princess ozma took the sawhorse and the red wagon, although she was not sure there was a wagon road all the way to the lake of the skeezers. the land of oz is a pretty big place, surrounded on all sides by a deadly desert which it is impossible to cross, and the skeezer country, according to the map, was in the farthest northwestern part of oz, bordering on the north desert. as the emerald city was exactly in the center of oz, it was no small journey from there to the skeezers. around the emerald city the country is thickly settled in every direction, but the farther away you get from the city the fewer people there are, until those parts that border on the desert have small populations. also those faraway sections are little known to the oz people, except in the south, where glinda lives and where dorothy has often wandered on trips of exploration. the least known of all is the gillikin country, which harbors many strange bands of people among its mountains and valleys and forests and streams, and ozma was now bound for the most distant part of the gillikin country. "i am really sorry," said ozma to dorothy, as they rode away in the red wagon, "not to know more about the wonderful land i rule. it is my duty to be acquainted with every tribe of people and every strange and hidden country in all oz, but i am kept so busy at my palace making laws and planning for the comforts of those who live near the emerald city, that i do not often find time to make long journeys." "well," replied dorothy, "we'll prob'bly find out a lot on this trip, and we'll learn all about the skeezers and flatheads, anyhow. time doesn't make much diff'rence in the land of oz, 'cause we don't grow up, or get old, or become sick and die, as they do other places; so, if we explore one place at a time, we'll by-an'-by know all about every nook and corner in oz." dorothy wore around her waist the nome king's magic belt, which protected her from harm, and the magic ring which glinda had given her was on her finger. ozma had merely slipped a small silver wand into the bosom of her gown, for fairies do not use chemicals and herbs and the tools of wizards and sorcerers to perform their magic. the silver wand was ozma's one weapon of offense and defense and by its use she could accomplish many things. they had left the emerald city just at sunrise and the sawhorse traveled very swiftly over the roads towards the north, but in a few hours the wooden animal had to slacken his pace because the farm houses had become few and far between and often there were no paths at all in the direction they wished to follow. at such times they crossed the fields, avoiding groups of trees and fording the streams and rivulets whenever they came to them. but finally they reached a broad hillside closely covered with scrubby brush, through which the wagon could not pass. "it will be difficult even for you and me to get through without tearing our dresses," said ozma, "so we must leave the sawhorse and the wagon here until our return." "that's all right," dorothy replied, "i'm tired riding, anyhow. do you s'pose, ozma, we're anywhere near the skeezer country?" "i cannot tell, dorothy dear, but i know we've been going in the right direction, so we are sure to find it in time." the scrubby brush was almost like a grove of small trees, for it reached as high as the heads of the two girls, neither of whom was very tall. they were obliged to thread their way in and out, until dorothy was afraid they would get lost, and finally they were halted by a curious thing that barred their further progress. it was a huge web--as if woven by gigantic spiders--and the delicate, lacy film was fastened stoutly to the branches of the bushes and continued to the right and left in the form of a half circle. the threads of this web were of a brilliant purple color and woven into numerous artistic patterns, but it reached from the ground to branches above the heads of the girls and formed a sort of fence that hedged them in. "it doesn't look very strong, though," said dorothy. "i wonder if we couldn't break through." she tried but found the web stronger than it seemed. all her efforts could not break a single thread. "we must go back, i think, and try to get around this peculiar web," ozma decided. so they turned to the right and, following the web, found that it seemed to spread in a regular circle. on and on they went until finally ozma said they had returned to the exact spot from which they had started. "here is a handkerchief you dropped when we were here before," she said to dorothy. "in that case, they must have built the web behind us, after we walked into the trap," exclaimed the little girl. "true," agreed ozma, "an enemy has tried to imprison us." "and they did it, too," said dorothy. "i wonder who it was." "it's a spider-web, i'm quite sure," returned ozma, "but it must be the work of enormous spiders." "quite right!" cried a voice behind them. turning quickly around they beheld a huge purple spider sitting not two yards away and regarding them with its small bright eyes. then there crawled from the bushes a dozen more great purple spiders, which saluted the first one and said: "the web is finished, o king, and the strangers are our prisoners." dorothy did not like the looks of these spiders at all. they had big heads, sharp claws, small eyes and fuzzy hair all over their purple bodies. "they look wicked," she whispered to ozma. "what shall we do?" ozma gazed upon the spiders with a serious face. "what is your object in making us prisoners?" she inquired. "we need someone to keep house for us," answered the spider king. "there is sweeping and dusting to be done, and polishing and washing of dishes, and that is work my people dislike to do. so we decided that if any strangers came our way we would capture them and make them our servants." "i am princess ozma, ruler of all oz," said the girl with dignity. "well, i am king of all spiders," was the reply, "and that makes me your master. come with me to my palace and i will instruct you in your work." "i won't," said dorothy indignantly. "we won't have anything to do with you." "we'll see about that," returned the spider in a severe tone, and the next instant he made a dive straight at dorothy, opening the claws in his legs as if to grab and pinch her with the sharp points. but the girl was wearing her magic belt and was not harmed. the spider king could not even touch her. he turned swiftly and made a dash at ozma, but she held her magic wand over his head and the monster recoiled as if it had been struck. "you'd better let us go," dorothy advised him, "for you see you can't hurt us." "so i see," returned the spider king angrily. "your magic is greater than mine. but i'll not help you to escape. if you can break the magic web my people have woven you may go; if not you must stay here and starve." with that the spider king uttered a peculiar whistle and all the spiders disappeared. "there is more magic in my fairyland than i dreamed of," remarked the beautiful ozma, with a sigh of regret. "it seems that my laws have not been obeyed, for even these monstrous spiders defy me by means of magic." "never mind that now," said dorothy; "let's see what we can do to get out of this trap." they now examined the web with great care and were amazed at its strength. although finer than the finest silken hairs, it resisted all their efforts to work through, even though both girls threw all their weight against it. "we must find some instrument which will cut the threads of the web," said ozma, finally. "let us look about for such a tool." so they wandered among the bushes and finally came to a shallow pool of water, formed by a small bubbling spring. dorothy stooped to get a drink and discovered in the water a green crab, about as big as her hand. the crab had two big, sharp claws, and as soon as dorothy saw them she had an idea that those claws could save them. "come out of the water," she called to the crab; "i want to talk to you." rather lazily the crab rose to the surface and caught hold of a bit of rock. with his head above the water he said in a cross voice: "what do you want?" "we want you to cut the web of the purple spiders with your claws, so we can get through it," answered dorothy. "you can do that, can't you?" "i suppose so," replied the crab. "but if i do what will you give me?" "what do you wish?" ozma inquired. "i wish to be white, instead of green," said the crab. "green crabs are very common, and white ones are rare; besides the purple spiders, which infest this hillside, are afraid of white crabs. could you make me white if i should agree to cut the web for you?" "yes," said ozma, "i can do that easily. and, so you may know i am speaking the truth, i will change your color now." she waved her silver wand over the pool and the crab instantly became snow-white--all except his eyes, which remained black. the creature saw his reflection in the water and was so delighted that he at once climbed out of the pool and began moving slowly toward the web, by backing away from the pool. he moved so very slowly that dorothy cried out impatiently: "dear me, this will never do!" catching the crab in her hands she ran with him to the web. she had to hold him up even then, so he could reach with his claws strand after strand of the filmy purple web, which he was able to sever with one nip. when enough of the web had been cut to allow them to pass, dorothy ran back to the pool and placed the white crab in the water, after which she rejoined ozma. they were just in time to escape through the web, for several of the purple spiders now appeared, having discovered that their web had been cut, and had the girls not rushed through the opening the spiders would have quickly repaired the cuts and again imprisoned them. ozma and dorothy ran as fast as they could and although the angry spiders threw a number of strands of web after them, hoping to lasso them or entangle them in the coils, they managed to escape and clamber to the top of the hill. chapter the mist maidens from the top of the hill ozma and dorothy looked down into the valley beyond and were surprised to find it filled with a floating mist that was as dense as smoke. nothing in the valley was visible except these rolling waves of mist, but beyond, on the other side, rose a grassy hill that appeared quite beautiful. "well," said dorothy, "what are we to do, ozma? walk down into that thick fog, an' prob'bly get lost in it, or wait till it clears away?" "i'm not sure it will clear away, however long we wait," replied ozma, doubtfully. "if we wish to get on, i think we must venture into the mist." "but we can't see where we're going, or what we're stepping on," protested dorothy. "there may be dreadful things mixed up in that fog, an' i'm scared just to think of wading into it." even ozma seemed to hesitate. she was silent and thoughtful for a little while, looking at the rolling drifts that were so gray and forbidding. finally she said: "i believe this is a mist valley, where these moist clouds always remain, for even the sunshine above does not drive them away. therefore the mist maids must live here, and they are fairies and should answer my call." she placed her two hands before her mouth, forming a hollow with them, and uttered a clear, thrilling, bird-like cry. it floated far out over the mist waves and presently was answered by a similar sound, as of a far-off echo. dorothy was much impressed. she had seen many strange things since coming to this fairy country, but here was a new experience. at ordinary times ozma was just like any little girl one might chance to meet--simple, merry, lovable as could be--yet with a certain reserve that lent her dignity in her most joyous moods. there were times, however, when seated on her throne and commanding her subjects, or when her fairy powers were called into use, when dorothy and all others about her stood in awe of their lovely girl ruler and realized her superiority. ozma waited. presently out from the billows rose beautiful forms, clothed in fleecy, trailing garments of gray that could scarcely be distinguished from the mist. their hair was mist-color, too; only their gleaming arms and sweet, pallid faces proved they were living, intelligent creatures answering the call of a sister fairy. like sea nymphs they rested on the bosom of the clouds, their eyes turned questioningly upon the two girls who stood upon the bank. one came quite near and to her ozma said: "will you please take us to the opposite hillside? we are afraid to venture into the mist. i am princess ozma of oz, and this is my friend dorothy, a princess of oz." the mist maids came nearer, holding out their arms. without hesitation ozma advanced and allowed them to embrace her and dorothy plucked up courage to follow. very gently the mist maids held them. dorothy thought the arms were cold and misty--they didn't seem real at all--yet they supported the two girls above the surface of the billows and floated with them so swiftly to the green hillside opposite that the girls were astonished to find themselves set upon the grass before they realized they had fairly started. "thank you!" said ozma gratefully, and dorothy also added her thanks for the service. the mist maids made no answer, but they smiled and waved their hands in good-bye as again they floated out into the mist and disappeared from view. chapter the magic tent "well," said dorothy with a laugh, "that was easier than i expected. it's worth while, sometimes, to be a real fairy. but i wouldn't like to be that kind, and live in a dreadful fog all the time." they now climbed the bank and found before them a delightful plain that spread for miles in all directions. fragrant wild flowers were scattered throughout the grass; there were bushes bearing lovely blossoms and luscious fruits; now and then a group of stately trees added to the beauty of the landscape. but there were no dwellings or signs of life. the farther side of the plain was bordered by a row of palms, and just in front of the palms rose a queerly shaped hill that towered above the plain like a mountain. the sides of this hill were straight up and down; it was oblong in shape and the top seemed flat and level. "oh, ho!" cried dorothy; "i'll bet that's the mountain glinda told us of, where the flatheads live." "if it is," replied ozma, "the lake of the skeezers must be just beyond the line of palm trees. can you walk that far, dorothy?" "of course, in time," was the prompt answer. "i'm sorry we had to leave the sawhorse and the red wagon behind us, for they'd come in handy just now; but with the end of our journey in sight a tramp across these pretty green fields won't tire us a bit." it was a longer tramp than they suspected, however, and night overtook them before they could reach the flat mountain. so ozma proposed they camp for the night and dorothy was quite ready to approve. she didn't like to admit to her friend she was tired, but she told herself that her legs "had prickers in 'em," meaning they had begun to ache. usually when dorothy started on a journey of exploration or adventure, she carried with her a basket of food, and other things that a traveler in a strange country might require, but to go away with ozma was quite a different thing, as experience had taught her. the fairy ruler of oz only needed her silver wand--tipped at one end with a great sparkling emerald--to provide through its magic all that they might need. therefore ozma, having halted with her companion and selected a smooth, grassy spot on the plain, waved her wand in graceful curves and chanted some mystic words in her sweet voice, and in an instant a handsome tent appeared before them. the canvas was striped purple and white, and from the center pole fluttered the royal banner of oz. "come, dear," said ozma, taking dorothy's hand, "i am hungry and i'm sure you must be also; so let us go in and have our feast." on entering the tent they found a table set for two, with snowy linen, bright silver and sparkling glassware, a vase of roses in the center and many dishes of delicious food, some smoking hot, waiting to satisfy their hunger. also, on either side of the tent were beds, with satin sheets, warm blankets and pillows filled with swansdown. there were chairs, too, and tall lamps that lighted the interior of the tent with a soft, rosy glow. dorothy, resting herself at her fairy friend's command, and eating her dinner with unusual enjoyment, thought of the wonders of magic. if one were a fairy and knew the secret laws of nature and the mystic words and ceremonies that commanded those laws, then a simple wave of a silver wand would produce instantly all that men work hard and anxiously for through weary years. and dorothy wished in her kindly, innocent heart, that all men and women could be fairies with silver wands, and satisfy all their needs without so much work and worry, for then, she imagined, they would have all their working hours to be happy in. but ozma, looking into her friend's face and reading those thoughts, gave a laugh and said: "no, no, dorothy, that wouldn't do at all. instead of happiness your plan would bring weariness to the world. if every one could wave a wand and have his wants fulfilled there would be little to wish for. there would be no eager striving to obtain the difficult, for nothing would then be difficult, and the pleasure of earning something longed for, and only to be secured by hard work and careful thought, would be utterly lost. there would be nothing to do, you see, and no interest in life and in our fellow creatures. that is all that makes life worth our while--to do good deeds and to help those less fortunate than ourselves." "well, you're a fairy, ozma. aren't you happy?" asked dorothy. "yes, dear, because i can use my fairy powers to make others happy. had i no kingdom to rule, and no subjects to look after, i would be miserable. also, you must realize that while i am a more powerful fairy than any other inhabitant of oz, i am not as powerful as glinda the sorceress, who has studied many arts of magic that i know nothing of. even the little wizard of oz can do some things i am unable to accomplish, while i can accomplish things unknown to the wizard. this is to explain that i am not all-powerful, by any means. my magic is simply fairy magic, and not sorcery or wizardry." "all the same," said dorothy, "i'm mighty glad you could make this tent appear, with our dinners and beds all ready for us." ozma smiled. "yes, it is indeed wonderful," she agreed. "not all fairies know that sort of magic, but some fairies can do magic that fills me with astonishment. i think that is what makes us modest and unassuming--the fact that our magic arts are divided, some being given each of us. i'm glad i don't know everything, dorothy, and that there still are things in both nature and in wit for me to marvel at." dorothy couldn't quite understand this, so she said nothing more on the subject and presently had a new reason to marvel. for when they had quite finished their meal table and contents disappeared in a flash. "no dishes to wash, ozma!" she said with a laugh. "i guess you'd make a lot of folks happy if you could teach 'em just that one trick." for an hour ozma told stories, and talked with dorothy about various people in whom they were interested. and then it was bedtime, and they undressed and crept into their soft beds and fell asleep almost as soon as their heads touched their pillows. chapter the magic stairway the flat mountain looked much nearer in the clear light of the morning sun, but dorothy and ozma knew there was a long tramp before them, even yet. they finished dressing only to find a warm, delicious breakfast awaiting them, and having eaten they left the tent and started toward the mountain which was their first goal. after going a little way dorothy looked back and found that the fairy tent had entirely disappeared. she was not surprised, for she knew this would happen. "can't your magic give us a horse an' wagon, or an automobile?" inquired dorothy. "no, dear; i'm sorry that such magic is beyond my power," confessed her fairy friend. "perhaps glinda could," said dorothy thoughtfully. "glinda has a stork chariot that carries her through the air," said ozma, "but even our great sorceress cannot conjure up other modes of travel. don't forget what i told you last night, that no one is powerful enough to do everything." "well, i s'pose i ought to know that, having lived so long in the land of oz," replied dorothy; "but _i_ can't do any magic at all, an' so i can't figure out e'zactly how you an' glinda an' the wizard do it." "don't try," laughed ozma. "but you have at least one magical art, dorothy: you know the trick of winning all hearts." "no, i don't," said dorothy earnestly. "if i really can do it, ozma, i am sure i don't know _how_ i do it." it took them a good two hours to reach the foot of the round, flat mountain, and then they found the sides so steep that they were like the wall of a house. "even my purple kitten couldn't climb 'em," remarked dorothy, gazing upward. "but there is some way for the flatheads to get down and up again," declared ozma; "otherwise they couldn't make war with the skeezers, or even meet them and quarrel with them." "that's so, ozma. let's walk around a ways; perhaps we'll find a ladder or something." they walked quite a distance, for it was a big mountain, and as they circled around it and came to the side that faced the palm trees, they suddenly discovered an entrance way cut out of the rock wall. this entrance was arched overhead and not very deep because it merely led to a short flight of stone stairs. "oh, we've found a way to the top at last," announced ozma, and the two girls turned and walked straight toward the entrance. suddenly they bumped against something and stood still, unable to proceed farther. "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy, rubbing her nose, which had struck something hard, although she could not see what it was; "this isn't as easy as it looks. what has stopped us, ozma? is it magic of some sort?" ozma was feeling around, her hands outstretched before her. "yes, dear, it is magic," she replied. "the flatheads had to have a way from their mountain top from the plain below, but to prevent enemies from rushing up the stairs to conquer them, they have built, at a small distance before the entrance a wall of solid stone, the stones being held in place by cement, and then they made the wall invisible." "i wonder why they did that?" mused dorothy. "a wall would keep folks out anyhow, whether it could be seen or not, so there wasn't any use making it invisible. seems to me it would have been better to have left it solid, for then no one would have seen the entrance behind it. now anybody can see the entrance, as we did. and prob'bly anybody that tries to go up the stairs gets bumped, as we did." ozma made no reply at once. her face was grave and thoughtful. "i think i know the reason for making the wall invisible," she said after a while. "the flatheads use the stairs for coming down and going up. if there was a solid stone wall to keep them from reaching the plain they would themselves be imprisoned by the wall. so they had to leave some place to get around the wall, and, if the wall was visible, all strangers or enemies would find the place to go around it and then the wall would be useless. so the flatheads cunningly made their wall invisible, believing that everyone who saw the entrance to the mountain would walk straight toward it, as we did, and find it impossible to go any farther. i suppose the wall is really high and thick, and can't be broken through, so those who find it in their way are obliged to go away again." "well," said dorothy, "if there's a way around the wall, where is it?" "we must find it," returned ozma, and began feeling her way along the wall. dorothy followed and began to get discouraged when ozma had walked nearly a quarter of a mile away from the entrance. but now the invisible wall curved in toward the side of the mountain and suddenly ended, leaving just space enough between the wall and the mountain for an ordinary person to pass through. the girls went in, single file, and ozma explained that they were now behind the barrier and could go back to the entrance. they met no further obstructions. "most people, ozma, wouldn't have figured this thing out the way you did," remarked dorothy. "if i'd been alone the invisible wall surely would have stumped me." reaching the entrance they began to mount the stone stairs. they went up ten stairs and then down five stairs, following a passage cut from the rock. the stairs were just wide enough for the two girls to walk abreast, arm in arm. at the bottom of the five stairs the passage turned to the right, and they ascended ten more stairs, only to find at the top of the flight five stairs leading straight down again. again the passage turned abruptly, this time to the left, and ten more stairs led upward. the passage was now quite dark, for they were in the heart of the mountain and all daylight had been shut out by the turns of the passage. however, ozma drew her silver wand from her bosom and the great jewel at its end gave out a lustrous, green-tinted light which lighted the place well enough for them to see their way plainly. ten steps up, five steps down, and a turn, this way or that. that was the program, and dorothy figured that they were only gaining five stairs upward each trip that they made. "those flatheads must be funny people," she said to ozma. "they don't seem to do anything in a bold, straightforward manner. in making this passage they forced everyone to walk three times as far as is necessary. and of course this trip is just as tiresome to the flatheads as it is to other folks." "that is true," answered ozma; "yet it is a clever arrangement to prevent their being surprised by intruders. every time we reach the tenth step of a flight, the pressure of our feet on the stone makes a bell ring on top of the mountain, to warn the flatheads of our coming." "how do you know that?" demanded dorothy, astonished. "i've heard the bell ever since we started," ozma told her. "you could not hear it, i know, but when i am holding my wand in my hand i can hear sounds a great distance off." "do you hear anything on top of the mountain 'cept the bell?" inquired dorothy. "yes. the people are calling to one another in alarm and many footsteps are approaching the place where we will reach the flat top of the mountain." this made dorothy feel somewhat anxious. "i'd thought we were going to visit just common, ordinary people," she remarked, "but they're pretty clever, it seems, and they know some kinds of magic, too. they may be dangerous, ozma. p'raps we'd better stayed at home." finally the upstairs-and-downstairs passage seemed coming to an end, for daylight again appeared ahead of the two girls and ozma replaced her wand in the bosom of her gown. the last ten steps brought them to the surface, where they found themselves surrounded by such a throng of queer people that for a time they halted, speechless, and stared into the faces that confronted them. dorothy knew at once why these mountain people were called flatheads. their heads were really flat on top, as if they had been cut off just above the eyes and ears. also the heads were bald, with no hair on top at all, and the ears were big and stuck straight out, and the noses were small and stubby, while the mouths of the flatheads were well shaped and not unusual. their eyes were perhaps their best feature, being large and bright and a deep violet in color. the costumes of the flatheads were all made of metals dug from their mountain. small gold, silver, tin and iron discs, about the size of pennies, and very thin, were cleverly wired together and made to form knee trousers and jackets for the men and skirts and waists for the women. the colored metals were skillfully mixed to form stripes and checks of various sorts, so that the costumes were quite gorgeous and reminded dorothy of pictures she had seen of knights of old clothed in armor. aside from their flat heads, these people were not really bad looking. the men were armed with bows and arrows and had small axes of steel stuck in their metal belts. they wore no hats nor ornaments. chapter flathead mountain when they saw that the intruders on their mountain were only two little girls, the flatheads grunted with satisfaction and drew back, permitting them to see what the mountain top looked like. it was shaped like a saucer, so that the houses and other buildings--all made of rocks--could not be seen over the edge by anyone standing in the plain below. but now a big fat flathead stood before the girls and in a gruff voice demanded: "what are you doing here? have the skeezers sent you to spy upon us?" "i am princess ozma, ruler of all the land of oz." "well, i've never heard of the land of oz, so you may be what you claim," returned the flathead. "this is the land of oz--part of it, anyway," exclaimed dorothy. "so princess ozma rules you flathead people, as well as all the other people in oz." the man laughed, and all the others who stood around laughed, too. some one in the crowd called: "she'd better not tell the supreme dictator about ruling the flatheads. eh, friends?" "no, indeed!" they all answered in positive tones. "who is your supreme dictator?" answered ozma. "i think i'll let him tell you that himself," answered the man who had first spoken. "you have broken our laws by coming here; and whoever you are the supreme dictator must fix your punishment. come along with me." he started down a path and ozma and dorothy followed him without protest, as they wanted to see the most important person in this queer country. the houses they passed seemed pleasant enough and each had a little yard in which were flowers and vegetables. walls of rock separated the dwellings, and all the paths were paved with smooth slabs of rock. this seemed their only building material and they utilized it cleverly for every purpose. directly in the center of the great saucer stood a larger building which the flathead informed the girls was the palace of the supreme dictator. he led them through an entrance hall into a big reception room, where they sat upon stone benches and awaited the coming of the dictator. pretty soon he entered from another room--a rather lean and rather old flathead, dressed much like the others of this strange race, and only distinguished from them by the sly and cunning expression of his face. he kept his eyes half closed and looked through the slits of them at ozma and dorothy, who rose to receive him. "are you the supreme dictator of the flatheads?" inquired ozma. "yes, that's me," he said, rubbing his hands slowly together. "my word is law. i'm the head of the flatheads on this flat headland." "i am princess ozma of oz, and i have come from the emerald city to----" "stop a minute," interrupted the dictator, and turned to the man who had brought the girls there. "go away, dictator felo flathead!" he commanded. "return to your duty and guard the stairway. i will look after these strangers." the man bowed and departed, and dorothy asked wonderingly: "is _he_ a dictator, too?" "of course," was the answer. "everybody here is a dictator of something or other. they're all office holders. that's what keeps them contented. but i'm the supreme dictator of all, and i'm elected once a year. this is a democracy, you know, where the people are allowed to vote for their rulers. a good many others would like to be supreme dictator, but as i made a law that i am always to count the votes myself, i am always elected." "what is your name?" asked ozma. "i am called the su-dic, which is short for supreme dictator. i sent that man away because the moment you mentioned ozma of oz, and the emerald city, i knew who you are. i suppose i'm the only flathead that ever heard of you, but that's because i have more brains than the rest." dorothy was staring hard at the su-dic. "i don't see how you can have any brains at all," she remarked, "because the part of your head is gone where brains are kept." "i don't blame you for thinking that," he said. "once the flatheads had no brains because, as you say, there is no upper part to their heads, to hold brains. but long, long ago a band of fairies flew over this country and made it all a fairyland, and when they came to the flatheads the fairies were sorry to find them all very stupid and quite unable to think. so, as there was no good place in their bodies in which to put brains the fairy queen gave each one of us a nice can of brains to carry in his pocket and that made us just as intelligent as other people. see," he continued, "here is one of the cans of brains the fairies gave us." he took from a pocket a bright tin can having a pretty red label on it which said: "flathead concentrated brains, extra quality." "and does every flathead have the same kind of brains?" asked dorothy. "yes, they're all alike. here's another can." from another pocket he produced a second can of brains. "did the fairies give you a double supply?" inquired dorothy. "no, but one of the flatheads thought he wanted to be the su-dic and tried to get my people to rebel against me, so i punished him by taking away his brains. one day my wife scolded me severely, so i took away her can of brains. she didn't like that and went out and robbed several women of _their_ brains. then i made a law that if anyone stole another's brains, or even tried to borrow them, he would forfeit his own brains to the su-dic. so each one is content with his own canned brains and my wife and i are the only ones on the mountain with more than one can. i have three cans and that makes me very clever--so clever that i'm a good sorcerer, if i do say it myself. my poor wife had four cans of brains and became a remarkable witch, but alas! that was before those terrible enemies, the skeezers, transformed her into a golden pig." "good gracious!" cried dorothy; "is your wife really a golden pig?" "she is. the skeezers did it and so i have declared war on them. in revenge for making my wife a pig i intend to ruin their magic island and make the skeezers the slaves of the flatheads!" the su-dic was very angry now; his eyes flashed and his face took on a wicked and fierce expression. but ozma said to him, very sweetly and in a friendly voice: "i am sorry to hear this. will you please tell me more about your troubles with the skeezers? then perhaps i can help you." she was only a girl, but there was dignity in her pose and speech which impressed the su-dic. "if you are really princess ozma of oz," the flathead said, "you are one of that band of fairies who, under queen lurline, made all oz a fairyland. i have heard that lurline left one of her own fairies to rule oz, and gave the fairy the name of ozma." "if you knew this why did you not come to me at the emerald city and tender me your loyalty and obedience?" asked the ruler of oz. "well, i only learned the fact lately, and i've been too busy to leave home," he explained, looking at the floor instead of into ozma's eyes. she knew he had spoken a falsehood, but only said: "why did you quarrel with the skeezers?" "it was this way," began the su-dic, glad to change the subject. "we flatheads love fish, and as we have no fish on this mountain we would sometimes go to the lake of the skeezers to catch fish. this made the skeezers angry, for they declared the fish in their lake belonged to them and were under their protection and they forbade us to catch them. that was very mean and unfriendly in the skeezers, you must admit, and when we paid no attention to their orders they set a guard on the shore of the lake to prevent our fishing. "now, my wife, rora flathead, having four cans of brains, had become a wonderful witch, and fish being brain food, she loved to eat fish better than any one of us. so she vowed she would destroy every fish in the lake, unless the skeezers let us catch what we wanted. they defied us, so rora prepared a kettleful of magic poison and went down to the lake one night to dump it all in the water and poison the fish. it was a clever idea, quite worthy of my dear wife, but the skeezer queen--a young lady named coo-ee-oh--hid on the bank of the lake and taking rora unawares, transformed her into a golden pig. the poison was spilled on the ground and wicked queen coo-ee-oh, not content with her cruel transformation, even took away my wife's four cans of brains, so she is now a common grunting pig without even brains enough to know her own name." "then," said ozma thoughtfully, "the queen of the skeezers must be a sorceress." "yes," said the su-dic, "but she doesn't know much magic, after all. she is not as powerful as rora flathead was, nor half as powerful as i am now, as queen coo-ee-oh will discover when we fight our great battle and destroy her." "the golden pig can't be a witch any more, of course," observed dorothy. "no; even had queen coo-ee-oh left her the four cans of brains, poor rora, in a pig's shape, couldn't do any witchcraft. a witch has to use her fingers, and a pig has only cloven hoofs." "it seems a sad story," was ozma's comment, "and all the trouble arose because the flatheads wanted fish that did not belong to them." "as for that," said the su-dic, again angry, "i made a law that any of my people could catch fish in the lake of the skeezers, whenever they wanted to. so the trouble was through the skeezers defying my law." "you can only make laws to govern your own people," asserted ozma sternly. "i, alone, am empowered to make laws that must be obeyed by all the peoples of oz." "pooh!" cried the su-dic scornfully. "you can't make _me_ obey your laws, i assure you. i know the extent of your powers, princess ozma of oz, and i know that i am more powerful than you are. to prove it i shall keep you and your companion prisoners in this mountain until after we have fought and conquered the skeezers. then, if you promise to be good, i may let you go home again." dorothy was amazed by this effrontery and defiance of the beautiful girl ruler of oz, whom all until now had obeyed without question. but ozma, still unruffled and dignified, looked at the su-dic and said: "you did not mean that. you are angry and speak unwisely, without reflection. i came here from my palace in the emerald city to prevent war and to make peace between you and the skeezers. i do not approve of queen coo-ee-oh's action in transforming your wife rora into a pig, nor do i approve of rora's cruel attempt to poison the fishes in the lake. no one has the right to work magic in my dominions without my consent, so the flatheads and the skeezers have both broken my laws--which must be obeyed." "if you want to make peace," said the su-dic, "make the skeezers restore my wife to her proper form and give back her four cans of brains. also make them agree to allow us to catch fish in their lake." "no," returned ozma, "i will not do that, for it would be unjust. i will have the golden pig again transformed into your wife rora, and give her one can of brains, but the other three cans must be restored to those she robbed. neither may you catch fish in the lake of the skeezers, for it is their lake and the fish belong to them. this arrangement is just and honorable, and you must agree to it." "never!" cried the su-dic. just then a pig came running into the room, uttering dismal grunts. it was made of solid gold, with joints at the bends of the legs and in the neck and jaws. the golden pig's eyes were rubies, and its teeth were polished ivory. "there!" said the su-dic, "gaze on the evil work of queen coo-ee-oh, and then say if you can prevent my making war on the skeezers. that grunting beast was once my wife--the most beautiful flathead on our mountain and a skillful witch. now look at her!" "fight the skeezers, fight the skeezers, fight the skeezers!" grunted the golden pig. "i _will_ fight the skeezers," exclaimed the flathead chief, "and if a dozen ozmas of oz forbade me i would fight just the same." "not if i can prevent it!" asserted ozma. "you can't prevent it. but since you threaten me, i'll have you confined in the bronze prison until the war is over," said the su-dic. he whistled and four stout flatheads, armed with axes and spears, entered the room and saluted him. turning to the men he said: "take these two girls, bind them with wire ropes and cast them into the bronze prison.". the four men bowed low and one of them asked: "where are the two girls, most noble su-dic?" the su-dic turned to where ozma and dorothy had stood but they had vanished! chapter the magic isle ozma, seeing it was useless to argue with the supreme dictator of the flatheads, had been considering how best to escape from his power. she realized that his sorcery might be difficult to overcome, and when he threatened to cast dorothy and her into a bronze prison she slipped her hand into her bosom and grasped her silver wand. with the other hand she grasped the hand of dorothy, but these motions were so natural that the su-dic did not notice them. then when he turned to meet his four soldiers, ozma instantly rendered both herself and dorothy invisible and swiftly led her companion around the group of flatheads and out of the room. as they reached the entry and descended the stone steps, ozma whispered: "let us run, dear! we are invisible, so no one will see us." dorothy understood and she was a good runner. ozma had marked the place where the grand stairway that led to the plain was located, so they made directly for it. some people were in the paths but these they dodged around. one or two flatheads heard the pattering of footsteps of the girls on the stone pavement and stopped with bewildered looks to gaze around them, but no one interfered with the invisible fugitives. the su-dic had lost no time in starting the chase. he and his men ran so fast that they might have overtaken the girls before they reached the stairway had not the golden pig suddenly run across their path. the su-dic tripped over the pig and fell flat, and his four men tripped over him and tumbled in a heap. before they could scramble up and reach the mouth of the passage it was too late to stop the two girls. there was a guard on each side of the stairway, but of course they did not see ozma and dorothy as they sped past and descended the steps. then they had to go up five steps and down another ten, and so on, in the same manner in which they had climbed to the top of the mountain. ozma lighted their way with her wand and they kept on without relaxing their speed until they reached the bottom. then they ran to the right and turned the corner of the invisible wall just as the su-dic and his followers rushed out of the arched entrance and looked around in an attempt to discover the fugitives. ozma now knew they were safe, so she told dorothy to stop and both of them sat down on the grass until they could breathe freely and become rested from their mad flight. as for the su-dic, he realized he was foiled and soon turned and climbed his stairs again. he was very angry--angry with ozma and angry with himself--because, now that he took time to think, he remembered that he knew very well the art of making people invisible, and visible again, and if he had only thought of it in time he could have used his magic knowledge to make the girls visible and so have captured them easily. however, it was now too late for regrets and he determined to make preparations at once to march all his forces against the skeezers. "what shall we do next?" asked dorothy, when they were rested. "let us find the lake of the skeezers," replied ozma. "from what that dreadful su-dic said i imagine the skeezers are good people and worthy of our friendship, and if we go to them we may help them to defeat the flatheads." "i s'pose we can't stop the war now," remarked dorothy reflectively, as they walked toward the row of palm trees. "no; the su-dic is determined to fight the skeezers, so all we can do is to warn them of their danger and help them as much as possible." "of course you'll punish the flatheads," said dorothy. "well, i do not think the flathead people are as much to blame as their supreme dictator," was the answer. "if he is removed from power and his unlawful magic taken from him, the people will probably be good and respect the laws of the land of oz, and live at peace with all their neighbors in the future." "i hope so," said dorothy with a sigh of doubt. the palms were not far from the mountain and the girls reached them after a brisk walk. the huge trees were set close together, in three rows, and had been planted so as to keep people from passing them, but the flatheads had cut a passage through this barrier and ozma found the path and led dorothy to the other side. beyond the palms they discovered a very beautiful scene. bordered by a green lawn was a great lake fully a mile from shore to shore, the waters of which were exquisitely blue and sparkling, with little wavelets breaking its smooth surface where the breezes touched it. in the center of this lake appeared a lovely island, not of great extent but almost entirely covered by a huge round building with glass walls and a high glass dome which glittered brilliantly in the sunshine. between the glass building and the edge of the island was no grass, flowers or shrubbery, but only an expanse of highly polished white marble. there were no boats on either shore and no signs of life could be seen anywhere on the island. "well," said dorothy, gazing wistfully at the island, "we've found the lake of the skeezers and their magic isle. i guess the skeezers are in that big glass palace, but we can't get at 'em." chapter queen coo-ee-oh princess ozma considered the situation gravely. then she tied her handkerchief to her wand and, standing at the water's edge, waved the handkerchief like a flag, as a signal. for a time they could observe no response. "i don't see what good that will do," said dorothy. "even if the skeezers are on that island and see us, and know we're friends, they haven't any boats to come and get us." but the skeezers didn't need boats, as the girls soon discovered. for on a sudden an opening appeared at the base of the palace and from the opening came a slender shaft of steel, reaching out slowly but steadily across the water in the direction of the place where they stood. to the girls this steel arrangement looked like a triangle, with the base nearest the water. it came toward them in the form of an arch, stretching out from the palace wall until its end reached the bank and rested there, while the other end still remained on the island. then they saw that it was a bridge, consisting of a steel footway just broad enough to walk on, and two slender guide rails, one on either side, which were connected with the footway by steel bars. the bridge looked rather frail and dorothy feared it would not bear their weight, but ozma at once called, "come on!" and started to walk across, holding fast to the rail on either side. so dorothy summoned her courage and followed after. before ozma had taken three steps she halted and so forced dorothy to halt, for the bridge was again moving and returning to the island. "we need not walk after all," said ozma. so they stood still in their places and let the steel bridge draw them onward. indeed, the bridge drew them well into the glass-domed building which covered the island, and soon they found themselves standing in a marble room where two handsomely dressed young men stood on a platform to receive them. ozma at once stepped from the end of the bridge to the marble platform, followed by dorothy, and then the bridge disappeared with a slight clang of steel and a marble slab covered the opening from which it had emerged. the two young men bowed profoundly to ozma, and one of them said: "queen coo-ee-oh bids you welcome, o strangers. her majesty is waiting to receive you in her palace." "lead on," replied ozma with dignity. but instead of "leading on," the platform of marble began to rise, carrying them upward through a square hole above which just fitted it. a moment later they found themselves within the great glass dome that covered almost all of the island. within this dome was a little village, with houses, streets, gardens and parks. the houses were of colored marbles, prettily designed, with many stained-glass windows, and the streets and gardens seemed well cared for. exactly under the center of the lofty dome was a small park filled with brilliant flowers, with an elaborate fountain, and facing this park stood a building larger and more imposing than the others. toward this building the young men escorted ozma and dorothy. on the streets and in the doorways or open windows of the houses were men, women and children, all richly dressed. these were much like other people in different parts of the land of oz, except that instead of seeming merry and contented they all wore expressions of much solemnity or of nervous irritation. they had beautiful homes, splendid clothes, and ample food, but dorothy at once decided something was wrong with their lives and that they were not happy. she said nothing, however, but looked curiously at the skeezers. at the entrance of the palace ozma and dorothy were met by two other young men, in uniform and armed with queer weapons that seemed about halfway between pistols and guns, but were like neither. their conductors bowed and left them, and the two in uniforms led the girls into the palace. in a beautiful throne room, surrounded by a dozen or more young men and women, sat the queen of the skeezers, coo-ee-oh. she was a girl who looked older than ozma or dorothy--fifteen or sixteen, at least--and although she was elaborately dressed as if she were going to a ball she was too thin and plain of feature to be pretty. but evidently queen coo-ee-oh did not realize this fact, for her air and manner betrayed her as proud and haughty and with a high regard for her own importance. dorothy at once decided she was "snippy" and that she would not like queen coo-ee-oh as a companion. the queen's hair was as black as her skin was white and her eyes were black, too. the eyes, as she calmly examined ozma and dorothy, had a suspicious and unfriendly look in them, but she said quietly: "i know who you are, for i have consulted my magic oracle, which told me that one calls herself princess ozma, the ruler of all the land of oz, and the other is princess dorothy of oz, who came from a country called kansas. i know nothing of the land of oz, and i know nothing of kansas." "why, _this_ is the land of oz!" cried dorothy. "it's a _part_ of the land of oz, anyhow, whether you know it or not." "oh, in-deed!" answered queen coo-ee-oh, scornfully. "i suppose you will claim next that this princess ozma, ruling the land of oz, rules me!" "of course," returned dorothy. "there's no doubt of it." the queen turned to ozma. "do you dare make such a claim?" she asked. by this time ozma had made up her mind as to the character of this haughty and disdainful creature, whose self-pride evidently led her to believe herself superior to all others. "i did not come here to quarrel with your majesty," said the girl ruler of oz, quietly. "what and who i am is well established, and my authority comes from the fairy queen lurline, of whose band i was a member when lurline made all oz a fairyland. there are several countries and several different peoples in this broad land, each of which has its separate rulers, kings, emperors and queens. but all these render obedience to my laws and acknowledge me as the supreme ruler." "if other kings and queens are fools that does not interest me in the least," replied coo-ee-oh, disdainfully. "in the land of the skeezers i alone am supreme. you are impudent to think i would defer to you--or to anyone else." "let us not speak of this now, please," answered ozma. "your island is in danger, for a powerful foe is preparing to destroy it." "pah! the flatheads. i do not fear them." "their supreme dictator is a sorcerer." "my magic is greater than his. let the flatheads come! they will never return to their barren mountain-top. i will see to that." ozma did not like this attitude, for it meant that the skeezers were eager to fight the flatheads, and ozma's object in coming here was to prevent fighting and induce the two quarrelsome neighbors to make peace. she was also greatly disappointed in coo-ee-oh, for the reports of su-dic had led her to imagine the queen more just and honorable than were the flatheads. indeed ozma reflected that the girl might be better at heart than her self-pride and overbearing manner indicated, and in any event it would be wise not to antagonize her but to try to win her friendship. "i do not like wars, your majesty," said ozma. "in the emerald city, where i rule thousands of people, and in the countries near to the emerald city, where thousands more acknowledge my rule, there is no army at all, because there is no quarreling and no need to fight. if differences arise between my people, they come to me and i judge the cases and award justice to all. so, when i learned there might be war between two faraway people of oz, i came here to settle the dispute and adjust the quarrel." "no one asked you to come," declared queen coo-ee-oh. "it is _my_ business to settle this dispute, not yours. you say my island is a part of the land of oz, which you rule, but that is all nonsense, for i've never heard of the land of oz, nor of you. you say you are a fairy, and that fairies gave you command over me. i don't believe it! what i _do_ believe is that you are an impostor and have come here to stir up trouble among my people, who are already becoming difficult to manage. you two girls may even be spies of the vile flatheads, for all i know, and may be trying to trick me. but understand this," she added, proudly rising from her jeweled throne to confront them, "i have magic powers greater than any fairy possesses, and greater than any flathead possesses. i am a krumbic witch--the only krumbic witch in the world--and i fear the magic of no other creature that exists! you say you rule thousands. i rule one hundred and one skeezers. but every one of them trembles at my word. now that ozma of oz and princess dorothy are here, i shall rule one hundred and three subjects, for you also shall bow before my power. more than that, in ruling you i also rule the thousands you say you rule." dorothy was very indignant at this speech. "i've got a pink kitten that sometimes talks like that," she said, "but after i give her a good whipping she doesn't think she's so high and mighty after all. if you only knew who ozma is you'd be scared to death to talk to her like that!" queen coo-ee-oh gave the girl a supercilious look. then she turned again to ozma. "i happen to know," said she, "that the flatheads intend to attack us tomorrow, but we are ready for them. until the battle is over, i shall keep you two strangers prisoners on my island, from which there is no chance for you to escape." she turned and looked around the band of courtiers who stood silently around her throne. "lady aurex," she continued, singling out one of the young women, "take these children to your house and care for them, giving them food and lodging. you may allow them to wander anywhere under the great dome, for they are harmless. after i have attended to the flatheads i will consider what next to do with these foolish girls." she resumed her seat and the lady aurex bowed low and said in a humble manner: "i obey your majesty's commands." then to ozma and dorothy she added, "follow me," and turned to leave the throne room. dorothy looked to see what ozma would do. to her surprise and a little to her disappointment ozma turned and followed lady aurex. so dorothy trailed after them, but not without giving a parting, haughty look toward queen coo-ee-oh, who had her face turned the other way and did not see the disapproving look. chapter lady aurex lady aurex led ozma and dorothy along a street to a pretty marble house near to one edge of the great glass dome that covered the village. she did not speak to the girls until she had ushered them into a pleasant room, comfortably furnished, nor did any of the solemn people they met on the street venture to speak. when they were seated lady aurex asked if they were hungry, and finding they were summoned a maid and ordered food to be brought. this lady aurex looked to be about twenty years old, although in the land of oz where people have never changed in appearance since the fairies made it a fairyland--where no one grows old or dies--it is always difficult to say how many years anyone has lived. she had a pleasant, attractive face, even though it was solemn and sad as the faces of all skeezers seemed to be, and her costume was rich and elaborate, as became a lady in waiting upon the queen. ozma had observed lady aurex closely and now asked her in a gentle tone: "do you, also, believe me to be an impostor?" "i dare not say," replied lady aurex in a low tone. "why are you afraid to speak freely?" inquired ozma. "the queen punishes us if we make remarks that she does not like." "are we not alone then, in this house?" "the queen can hear everything that is spoken on this island--even the slightest whisper," declared lady aurex. "she is a wonderful witch, as she has told you, and it is folly to criticise her or disobey her commands." ozma looked into her eyes and saw that she would like to say more if she dared. so she drew from her bosom her silver wand, and having muttered a magic phrase in a strange tongue, she left the room and walked slowly around the outside of the house, making a complete circle and waving her wand in mystic curves as she walked. lady aurex watched her curiously and, when ozma had again entered the room and seated herself, she asked: "what have you done?" "i've enchanted this house in such a manner that queen coo-ee-oh, with all her witchcraft, cannot hear one word we speak within the magic circle i have made," replied ozma. "we may now speak freely and as loudly as we wish, without fear of the queen's anger." lady aurex brightened at this. "can i trust you?" she asked. "ev'rybody trusts ozma," exclaimed dorothy. "she is true and honest, and your wicked queen will be sorry she insulted the powerful ruler of all the land of oz." "the queen does not know me yet," said ozma, "but i want you to know me, lady aurex, and i want you to tell me why you, and all the skeezers, are unhappy. do not fear coo-ee-oh's anger, for she cannot hear a word we say, i assure you." lady aurex was thoughtful a moment; then she said: "i shall trust you, princess ozma, for i believe you are what you say you are--our supreme ruler. if you knew the dreadful punishments our queen inflicts upon us, you would not wonder we are so unhappy. the skeezers are not bad people; they do not care to quarrel and fight, even with their enemies the flatheads; but they are so cowed and fearful of coo-ee-oh that they obey her slightest word, rather than suffer her anger." "hasn't she any heart, then?" asked dorothy. "she never displays mercy. she loves no one but herself," asserted lady aurex, but she trembled as she said it, as if afraid even yet of her terrible queen. "that's pretty bad," said dorothy, shaking her head gravely. "i see you've a lot to do here, ozma, in this forsaken corner of the land of oz. first place, you've got to take the magic away from queen coo-ee-oh, and from that awful su-dic, too. _my_ idea is that neither of them is fit to rule anybody, 'cause they're cruel and hateful. so you'll have to give the skeezers and flatheads new rulers and teach all their people that they're part of the land of oz and must obey, above all, the lawful ruler, ozma of oz. then, when you've done that, we can go back home again." ozma smiled at her little friend's earnest counsel, but lady aurex said in an anxious tone: "i am surprised that you suggest these reforms while you are yet prisoners on this island and in coo-ee-oh's power. that these things should be done, there is no doubt, but just now a dreadful war is likely to break out, and frightful things may happen to us all. our queen has such conceit that she thinks she can overcome the su-dic and his people, but it is said su-dic's magic is very powerful, although not as great as that possessed by his wife rora, before coo-ee-oh transformed her into a golden pig." "i don't blame her very much for doing that," remarked dorothy, "for the flatheads were wicked to try to catch your beautiful fish and the witch rora wanted to poison all the fishes in the lake." "do you know the reason?" asked the lady aurex. "i don't s'pose there _was_ any reason, 'cept just wickedness," replied dorothy. "tell us the reason," said ozma earnestly. "well, your majesty, once--a long time ago--the flatheads and the skeezers were friendly. they visited our island and we visited their mountain, and everything was pleasant between the two peoples. at that time the flatheads were ruled by three adepts in sorcery, beautiful girls who were not flatheads, but had wandered to the flat mountain and made their home there. these three adepts used their magic only for good, and the mountain people gladly made them their rulers. they taught the flatheads how to use their canned brains and how to work metals into clothing that would never wear out, and many other things that added to their happiness and content. "coo-ee-oh was our queen then, as now, but she knew no magic and so had nothing to be proud of. but the three adepts were very kind to coo-ee-oh. they built for us this wonderful dome of glass and our houses of marble and taught us to make beautiful clothing and many other things. coo-ee-oh pretended to be very grateful for these favors, but it seems that all the time she was jealous of the three adepts and secretly tried to discover their arts of magic. in this she was more clever than anyone suspected. she invited the three adepts to a banquet one day, and while they were feasting coo-ee-oh stole their charms and magical instruments and transformed them into three fishes--a gold fish, a silver fish and a bronze fish. while the poor fishes were gasping and flopping helplessly on the floor of the banquet room one of them said reproachfully: 'you will be punished for this, coo-ee-oh, for if one of us dies or is destroyed, you will become shrivelled and helpless, and all your stolen magic will depart from you.' frightened by this threat, coo-ee-oh at once caught up the three fish and ran with them to the shore of the lake, where she cast them into the water. this revived the three adepts and they swam away and disappeared. "i, myself, witnessed this shocking scene," continued lady aurex, "and so did many other skeezers. the news was carried to the flatheads, who then turned from friends to enemies. the su-dic and his wife rora were the only ones on the mountain who were glad the three adepts had been lost to them, and they at once became rulers of the flatheads and stole their canned brains from others to make themselves the more powerful. some of the adepts' magic tools had been left on the mountain, and these rora seized and by the use of them she became a witch. "the result of coo-ee-oh's treachery was to make both the skeezers and the flatheads miserable instead of happy. not only were the su-dic and his wife cruel to their people, but our queen at once became proud and arrogant and treated us very unkindly. all the skeezers knew she had stolen her magic powers and so she hated us and made us humble ourselves before her and obey her slightest word. if we disobeyed, or did not please her, or if we talked about her when we were in our own homes she would have us dragged to the whipping post in her palace and lashed with knotted cords. that is why we fear her so greatly." this story filled ozma's heart with sorrow and dorothy's heart with indignation. "i now understand," said ozma, "why the fishes in the lake have brought about war between the skeezers and the flatheads." "yes," lady aurex answered, "now that you know the story it is easy to understand. the su-dic and his wife came to our lake hoping to catch the silver fish, or gold fish, or bronze fish--any one of them _would_ do--and by destroying it deprive coo-ee-oh of her magic. then they could easily conquer her. also they had another reason for wanting to catch the fish--they feared that in some way the three adepts might regain their proper forms and then they would be sure to return to the mountain and punish rora and the su-dic. that was why rora finally tried to poison all the fishes in the lake, at the time coo-ee-oh transformed her into a golden pig. of course this attempt to destroy the fishes frightened the queen, for her safety lies in keeping the three fishes alive." "i s'pose coo-ee-oh will fight the flatheads with all her might," observed dorothy. "and with all her magic," added ozma, thoughtfully. "i do not see how the flatheads can get to this island to hurt us," said lady aurex. "they have bows and arrows, and i guess they mean to shoot the arrows at your big dome, and break all the glass in it," suggested dorothy. but lady aurex shook her head with a smile. "they cannot do that," she replied. "why not?" "i dare not tell you why, but if the flatheads come to-morrow morning you will yourselves see the reason." "i do not think they will attempt to harm the island," ozma declared. "i believe they will first attempt to destroy the fishes, by poison or some other means. if they succeed in that, the conquest of the island will not be difficult." "they have no boats," said lady aurex, "and coo-ee-oh, who has long expected this war, has been preparing for it in many astonishing ways. i almost wish the flatheads would conquer us, for then we would be free from our dreadful queen; but i do not wish to see the three transformed fishes destroyed, for in them lies our only hope of future happiness." "ozma will take care of you, whatever happens," dorothy assured her. but the lady aurex, not knowing the extent of ozma's power--which was, in fact, not so great as dorothy imagined--could not take much comfort in this promise. it was evident there would be exciting times on the morrow, if the flatheads really attacked the skeezers of the magic isle. chapter under water when night fell all the interior of the great dome, streets and houses, became lighted with brilliant incandescent lamps, which rendered it bright as day. dorothy thought the island must look beautiful by night from the outer shore of the lake. there was revelry and feasting in the queen's palace, and the music of the royal band could be plainly heard in lady aurex's house, where ozma and dorothy remained with their hostess and keeper. they were prisoners, but treated with much consideration. lady aurex gave them a nice supper and when they wished to retire showed them to a pretty room with comfortable beds and wished them a good night and pleasant dreams. "what do you think of all this, ozma?" dorothy anxiously inquired when they were alone. "i am glad we came," was the reply, "for although there may be mischief done to-morrow, it was necessary i should know about these people, whose leaders are wild and lawless and oppress their subjects with injustice and cruelties. my task, therefore, is to liberate the skeezers and the flatheads and secure for them freedom and happiness. i have no doubt i can accomplish this in time." "just now, though, we're in a bad fix," asserted dorothy. "if queen coo-ee-oh conquers to-morrow, she won't be nice to us, and if the su-dic conquers, he'll be worse." "do not worry, dear," said ozma, "i do not think we are in danger, whatever happens, and the result of our adventure is sure to be good." dorothy was not worrying, especially. she had confidence in her friend, the fairy princess of oz, and she enjoyed the excitement of the events in which she was taking part. so she crept into bed and fell asleep as easily as if she had been in her own cosy room in ozma's palace. a sort of grating, grinding sound awakened her. the whole island seemed to tremble and sway, as it might do in an earthquake. dorothy sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of them, and then found it was daybreak. ozma was hurriedly dressing herself. "what is it?" asked dorothy, jumping out of bed. "i'm not sure," answered ozma "but it feels as if the island is sinking." as soon as possible they finished dressing, while the creaking and swaying continued. then they rushed into the living room of the house and found lady aurex, fully dressed, awaiting them. "do not be alarmed," said their hostess. "coo-ee-oh has decided to submerge the island, that is all. but it proves the flatheads are coming to attack us." "what do you mean by sub-sub-merging the island?" asked dorothy. "come here and see," was the reply. lady aurex led them to a window which faced the side of the great dome which covered all the village, and they could see that the island was indeed sinking, for the water of the lake was already half way up the side of the dome. through the glass could be seen swimming fishes, and tall stalks of swaying seaweeds, for the water was clear as crystal and through it they could distinguish even the farther shore of the lake. "the flatheads are not here yet," said lady aurex. "they will come soon, but not until all of this dome is under the surface of the water." "won't the dome leak?" dorothy inquired anxiously. "no, indeed." "was the island ever sub-sub-sunk before?" "oh, yes; on several occasions. but coo-ee-oh doesn't care to do that often, for it requires a lot of hard work to operate the machinery. the dome was built so that the island could disappear. i think," she continued, "that our queen fears the flatheads will attack the island and try to break the glass of the dome." "well, if we're under water, they can't fight us, and we can't fight them," asserted dorothy. "they could kill the fishes, however," said ozma gravely. "we have ways to fight, also, even though our island is under water," claimed lady aurex. "i cannot tell you all our secrets, but this island is full of surprises. also our queen's magic is astonishing." "did she steal it all from the three adepts in sorcery that are now fishes?" "she stole the knowledge and the magic tools, but she has used them as the three adepts never would have done." by this time the top of the dome was quite under water and suddenly the island stopped sinking and became stationary. "see!" cried lady aurex, pointing to the shore. "the flatheads have come." on the bank, which was now far above their heads, a crowd of dark figures could be seen. "now let us see what coo-ee-oh will do to oppose them," continued lady aurex, in a voice that betrayed her excitement. * * * * * the flatheads, pushing their way through the line of palm trees, had reached the shore of the lake just as the top of the island's dome disappeared beneath the surface. the water now flowed from shore to shore, but through the clear water the dome was still visible and the houses of the skeezers could be dimly seen through the panes of glass. "good!" exclaimed the su-dic, who had armed all his followers and had brought with him two copper vessels, which he carefully set down upon the ground beside him. "if coo-ee-oh wants to hide instead of fighting our job will be easy, for in one of these copper vessels i have enough poison to kill every fish in the lake." "kill them, then, while we have time, and then we can go home again," advised one of the chief officers. "not yet," objected the su-dic. "the queen of the skeezers has defied me, and i want to get her into my power, as well as to destroy her magic. she transformed my poor wife into a golden pig, and i must have revenge for that, whatever else we do." "look out!" suddenly exclaimed the officers, pointing into the lake; "something's going to happen." from the submerged dome a door opened and something black shot swiftly out into the water. the door instantly closed behind it and the dark object cleaved its way through the water, without rising to the surface, directly toward the place where the flatheads were standing. * * * * * "what is that?" dorothy asked the lady aurex. "that is one of the queen's submarines," was the reply. "it is all enclosed, and can move under water. coo-ee-oh has several of these boats which are kept in little rooms in the basement under our village. when the island is submerged, the queen uses these boats to reach the shore, and i believe she now intends to fight the flatheads with them." the su-dic and his people knew nothing of coo-ee-oh's submarines, so they watched with surprise as the under-water boat approached them. when it was quite near the shore it rose to the surface and the top parted and fell back, disclosing a boat full of armed skeezers. at the head was the queen, standing up in the bow and holding in one hand a coil of magic rope that gleamed like silver. the boat halted and coo-ee-oh drew back her arm to throw the silver rope toward the su-dic, who was now but a few feet from her. but the wily flathead leader quickly realized his danger and before the queen could throw the rope he caught up one of the copper vessels and dashed its contents full in her face! chapter the conquest of the skeezers queen coo-ee-oh dropped the rope, tottered and fell headlong into the water, sinking beneath the surface, while the skeezers in the submarine were too bewildered to assist her and only stared at the ripples in the water where she had disappeared. a moment later there arose to the surface a beautiful white swan. this swan was of large size, very gracefully formed, and scattered all over its white feathers were tiny diamonds, so thickly placed that as the rays of the morning sun fell upon them the entire body of the swan glistened like one brilliant diamond. the head of the diamond swan had a bill of polished gold and its eyes were two sparkling amethysts. "hooray!" cried the su-dic, dancing up and down with wicked glee. "my poor wife, rora, is avenged at last. you made her a golden pig, coo-ee-oh, and now i have made you a diamond swan. float on your lake forever, if you like, for your web feet can do no more magic and you are as powerless as the pig you made of my wife!" "villain! scoundrel!" croaked the diamond swan. "you will be punished for this. oh, what a fool i was to let you enchant me!" "a fool you were, and a fool you are!" laughed the su-dic, dancing madly in his delight. and then he carelessly tipped over the other copper vessel with his heel and its contents spilled on the sands and were lost to the last drop. the su-dic stopped short and looked at the overturned vessel with a rueful countenance. "that's too bad--too bad!" he exclaimed sorrowfully. "i've lost all the poison i had to kill the fishes with, and i can't make any more because only my wife knew the secret of it, and she is now a foolish pig and has forgotten all her magic." "very well," said the diamond swan scornfully, as she floated upon the water and swam gracefully here and there. "i'm glad to see you are foiled. your punishment is just beginning, for although you have enchanted me and taken away my powers of sorcery you have still the three magic fishes to deal with, and they'll destroy you in time, mark my words." the su-dic stared at the swan a moment. then he yelled to his men: "shoot her! shoot the saucy bird!" they let fly some arrows at the diamond swan, but she dove under the water and the missiles fell harmless. when coo-ee-oh rose to the surface she was far from the shore and she swiftly swam across the lake to where no arrows or spears could reach her. the su-dic rubbed his chin and thought what to do next. near by floated the submarine in which the queen had come, but the skeezers who were in it were puzzled what to do with themselves. perhaps they were not sorry their cruel mistress had been transformed into a diamond swan, but the transformation had left them quite helpless. the under-water boat was not operated by machinery, but by certain mystic words uttered by coo-ee-oh. they didn't know how to submerge it, or how to make the water-tight shield cover them again, or how to make the boat go back to the castle, or make it enter the little basement room where it was usually kept. as a matter of fact, they were now shut out of their village under the great dome and could not get back again. so one of the men called to the supreme dictator of the flatheads, saying: "please make us prisoners and take us to your mountain, and feed and keep us, for we have nowhere to go." then the su-dic laughed and answered: "not so. i can't be bothered by caring for a lot of stupid skeezers. stay where you are, or go wherever you please, so long as you keep away from our mountain." he turned to his men and added: "we have conquered queen coo-ee-oh and made her a helpless swan. the skeezers are under water and may stay there. so, having won the war, let us go home again and make merry and feast, having after many years proved the flatheads to be greater and more powerful than the skeezers." so the flatheads marched away and passed through the row of palms and went back to their mountain, where the su-dic and a few of his officers feasted and all the others were forced to wait on them. "i'm sorry we couldn't have roast pig," said the su-dic, "but as the only pig we have is made of gold, we can't eat her. also the golden pig happens to be my wife, and even were she not gold i am sure she would be too tough to eat." chapter the diamond swan when the flatheads had gone away the diamond swan swam back to the boat and one of the young skeezers named ervic said to her eagerly: "how can we get back to the island, your majesty?" "am i not beautiful?" asked coo-ee-oh, arching her neck gracefully and spreading her diamond-sprinkled wings. "i can see my reflection in the water, and i'm sure there is no bird nor beast, nor human as magnificent as i am!" "how shall we get back to the island, your majesty?" pleaded ervic. "when my fame spreads throughout the land, people will travel from all parts of this lake to look upon my loveliness," said coo-ee-oh, shaking her feathers to make the diamonds glitter more brilliantly. "but, your majesty, we must go home and we do not know how to get there," ervic persisted. "my eyes," remarked the diamond swan, "are wonderfully blue and bright and will charm all beholders." "tell us how to make the boat go--how to get back into the island," begged ervic and the others cried just as earnestly: "tell us, coo-ee-oh; tell us!" "i don't know," replied the queen in a careless tone. "you are a magic-worker, a sorceress, a witch!" "i was, of course, when i was a girl," she said, bending her head over the clear water to catch her reflection in it; "but now i've forgotten all such foolish things as magic. swans are lovelier than girls, especially when they're sprinkled with diamonds. don't you think so?" and she gracefully swam away, without seeming to care whether they answered or not. ervic and his companions were in despair. they saw plainly that coo-ee-oh could not or would not help them. the former queen had no further thought for her island, her people, or her wonderful magic; she was only intent on admiring her own beauty. "truly," said ervic, in a gloomy voice, "the flatheads have conquered us!" * * * * * some of these events had been witnessed by ozma and dorothy and lady aurex, who had left the house and gone close to the glass of the dome, in order to see what was going on. many of the skeezers had also crowded against the dome, wondering what would happen next. although their vision was to an extent blurred by the water and the necessity of looking upward at an angle, they had observed the main points of the drama enacted above. they saw queen coo-ee-oh's submarine come to the surface and open; they saw the queen standing erect to throw her magic rope; they saw her sudden transformation into a diamond swan, and a cry of amazement went up from the skeezers inside the dome. "good!" exclaimed dorothy. "i hate that old su-dic, but i'm glad coo-ee-oh is punished." "this is a dreadful misfortune!" cried lady aurex, pressing her hands upon her heart. "yes," agreed ozma, nodding her head thoughtfully; "coo-ee-oh's misfortune will prove a terrible blow to her people." "what do you mean by that?" asked dorothy in surprise. "seems to _me_ the skeezers are in luck to lose their cruel queen." "if that were all you would be right," responded lady aurex; "and if the island were above water it would not be so serious. but here we all are, at the bottom of the lake, and fast prisoners in this dome." "can't you raise the island?" inquired dorothy. "no. only coo-ee-oh knew how to do that," was the answer. "we can try," insisted dorothy. "if it can be made to go down, it can be made to come up. the machinery is still here, i suppose. "yes; but the machinery works by magic, and coo-ee-oh would never share her secret power with any one of us." dorothy's face grew grave; but she was thinking. "ozma knows a lot of magic," she said. "but not that kind of magic," ozma replied. "can't you learn how, by looking at the machinery?" "i'm afraid not, my dear. it isn't fairy magic at all; it is witchcraft." "well," said dorothy, turning to lady aurex, "you say there are other sub-sub-sinking boats. we can get in one of those, and shoot out to the top of the water, like coo-ee-oh did, and so escape. and then we can help to rescue all the skeezers down here." "no one knows how to work the under-water boats but the queen," declared lady aurex. "isn't there any door or window in this dome that we could open?" "no; and, if there were, the water would rush in to flood the dome, and we could not get out." "the skeezers," said ozma, "could not drown; they only get wet and soggy and in that condition they would be very uncomfortable and unhappy. but _you_ are a mortal girl, dorothy, and if your magic belt protected you from death you would have to lie forever at the bottom of the lake." "no, i'd rather die quickly," asserted the little girl. "but there are doors in the basement that open--to let out the bridges and the boats--and that would not flood the dome, you know." "those doors open by a magic word, and only coo-ee-oh knows the word that must be uttered," said lady aurex. "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy, "that dreadful queen's witchcraft upsets all my plans to escape. i guess i'll give it up, ozma, and let _you_ save us." ozma smiled, but her smile was not so cheerful as usual. the princess of oz found herself confronted with a serious problem, and although she had no thought of despairing she realized that the skeezers and their island, as well as dorothy and herself, were in grave trouble and that unless she could find a means to save them they would be lost to the land of oz for all future time. "in such a dilemma," said she, musingly, "nothing is gained by haste. careful thought may aid us, and so may the course of events. the unexpected is always likely to happen, and cheerful patience is better than reckless action." "all right," returned dorothy; "take your time, ozma; there's no hurry. how about some breakfast, lady aurex?" their hostess led them back to the house, where she ordered her trembling servants to prepare and serve breakfast. all the skeezers were frightened and anxious over the transformation of their queen into a swan. coo-ee-oh was feared and hated, but they had depended on her magic to conquer the flatheads and she was the only one who could raise their island to the surface of the lake again. before breakfast was over several of the leading skeezers came to aurex to ask her advice and to question princess ozma, of whom they knew nothing except that she claimed to be a fairy and the ruler of all the land, including the lake of the skeezers. "if what you told queen coo-ee-oh was the truth," they said to her, "you are our lawful mistress, and we may depend on you to get us out of our difficulties." "i will try to do that," ozma graciously assured them, "but you must remember that the powers of fairies are granted them to bring comfort and happiness to all who appeal to them. on the contrary, such magic as coo-ee-oh knew and practiced is unlawful witchcraft and her arts are such as no fairy would condescend to use. however, it is sometimes necessary to consider evil in order to accomplish good, and perhaps by studying coo-ee-oh's tools and charms of witchcraft i may be able to save us. do you promise to accept me as your ruler and to obey my commands?" they promised willingly. "then," continued ozma, "i will go to coo-ee-oh's palace and take possession of it. perhaps what i find there will be of use to me. in the meantime tell all the skeezers to fear nothing, but have patience. let them return to their homes and perform their daily tasks as usual. coo-ee-oh's loss may not prove a misfortune, but rather a blessing." this speech cheered the skeezers amazingly. really, they had no one now to depend upon but ozma, and in spite of their dangerous position their hearts were lightened by the transformation and absence of their cruel queen. they got out their brass band and a grand procession escorted ozma and dorothy to the palace, where all of coo-ee-oh's former servants were eager to wait upon them. ozma invited lady aurex to stay at the palace also, for she knew all about the skeezers and their island and had also been a favorite of the former queen, so her advice and information were sure to prove valuable. ozma was somewhat disappointed in what she found in the palace. one room of coo-ee-oh's private suite was entirely devoted to the practice of witchcraft, and here were countless queer instruments and jars of ointments and bottles of potions labeled with queer names, and strange machines that ozma could not guess the use of, and pickled toads and snails and lizards, and a shelf of books that were written in blood, but in a language which the ruler of oz did not know. "i do not see," said ozma to dorothy, who accompanied her in her search, "how coo-ee-oh knew the use of the magic tools she stole from the three adept witches. moreover, from all reports these adepts practiced only good witchcraft, such as would be helpful to their people, while coo-ee-oh performed only evil." "perhaps she turned the good things to evil uses?" suggested dorothy. "yes, and with the knowledge she gained coo-ee-oh doubtless invented many evil things quite unknown to the good adepts, who are now fishes," added ozma. "it is unfortunate for us that the queen kept her secrets so closely guarded, for no one but herself could use any of these strange things gathered in this room." "couldn't we capture the diamond swan and make her tell the secrets?" asked dorothy. "no; even were we able to capture her, coo-ee-oh now has forgotten all the magic she ever knew. but until we ourselves escape from this dome we could not capture the swan, and were we to escape we would have no use for coo-ee-oh's magic." "that's a fact," admitted dorothy. "but--say, ozma, here's a good idea! couldn't we capture the three fishes--the gold and silver and bronze ones, and couldn't you transform 'em back to their own shapes, and then couldn't the three adepts get us out of here?" "you are not very practical, dorothy dear. it would be as hard for us to capture the three fishes, from among all the other fishes in the lake, as to capture the swan." "but if we could, it would be more help to us," persisted the little girl. "that is true," answered ozma, smiling at her friend's eagerness. "you find a way to catch the fish, and i'll promise when they are caught to restore them to their proper forms." "i know you think i can't do it," replied dorothy, "but i'm going to try." she left the palace and went to a place where she could look through a clear pane of the glass dome into the surrounding water. immediately she became interested in the queer sights that met her view. the lake of the skeezers was inhabited by fishes of many kinds and many sizes. the water was so transparent that the girl could see for a long distance and the fishes came so close to the glass of the dome that sometimes they actually touched it. on the white sands at the bottom of the lake were star-fish, lobsters, crabs and many shell fish of strange shapes and with shells of gorgeous hues. the water foliage was of brilliant colors and to dorothy it resembled a splendid garden. but the fishes were the most interesting of all. some were big and lazy, floating slowly along or lying at rest with just their fins waving. many with big round eyes looked full at the girl as she watched them and dorothy wondered if they could hear her through the glass if she spoke to them. in oz, where all the animals and birds can talk, many fishes are able to talk also, but usually they are more stupid than birds and animals because they think slowly and haven't much to talk about. in the lake of the skeezers the fish of smaller size were more active than the big ones and darted quickly in and out among the swaying weeds, as if they had important business and were in a hurry. it was among the smaller varieties that dorothy hoped to spy the gold and silver and bronze fishes. she had an idea the three would keep together, being companions now as they were in their natural forms, but such a multitude of fishes constantly passed, the scene shifting every moment, that she was not sure she would notice them even if they appeared in view. her eyes couldn't look in all directions and the fishes she sought might be on the other side of the dome, or far away in the lake. "p'raps, because they were afraid of coo-ee-oh, they've hid themselves somewhere, and don't know their enemy has been transformed," she reflected. she watched the fishes for a long time, until she became hungry and went back to the palace for lunch. but she was not discouraged. "anything new, ozma?" she asked. "no, dear. did you discover the three fishes?" "not yet. but there isn't anything better for me to do, ozma, so i guess i'll go back and watch again." chapter the alarm bell glinda, the good, in her palace in the quadling country, had many things to occupy her mind, for not only did she look after the weaving and embroidery of her bevy of maids, and assist all those who came to her to implore her help--beasts and birds as well as people--but she was a close student of the arts of sorcery and spent much time in her magical laboratory, where she strove to find a remedy for every evil and to perfect her skill in magic. nevertheless, she did not forget to look in the great book of records each day to see if any mention was made of the visit of ozma and dorothy to the enchanted mountain of the flatheads and the magic isle of the skeezers. the records told her that ozma had arrived at the mountain, that she had escaped, with her companion, and gone to the island of the skeezers, and that queen coo-ee-oh had submerged the island so that it was entirely under water. then came the statement that the flatheads had come to the lake to poison the fishes and that their supreme dictator had transformed queen coo-ee-oh into a swan. no other details were given in the great book and so glinda did not know that since coo-ee-oh had forgotten her magic none of the skeezers knew how to raise the island to the surface again. so glinda was not worried about ozma and dorothy until one morning, while she sat with her maids, there came a sudden clang of the great alarm bell. this was so unusual that every maid gave a start and even the sorceress for a moment could not think what the alarm meant. then she remembered the ring she had given dorothy when she left the palace to start on her venture. in giving the ring glinda had warned the little girl not to use its magic powers unless she and ozma were in real danger, but then she was to turn it on her finger once to the right and once to the left and glinda's alarm bell would ring. so the sorceress now knew that danger threatened her beloved ruler and princess dorothy, and she hurried to her magic room to seek information as to what sort of danger it was. the answer to her question was not very satisfactory, for it was only: "ozma and dorothy are prisoners in the great dome of the isle of the skeezers, and the dome is under the water of the lake." "hasn't ozma the power to raise the island to the surface?" inquired glinda. "no," was the reply, and the record refused to say more except that queen coo-ee-oh, who alone could command the island to rise, had been transformed by the flathead su-dic into a diamond swan. then glinda consulted the past records of the skeezers in the great book. after diligent search she discovered that coo-ee-oh was a powerful sorceress, who had gained most of her power by treacherously transforming the adepts of magic, who were visiting her, into three fishes--gold, silver and bronze--after which she had them cast into the lake. glinda reflected earnestly on this information and decided that someone must go to ozma's assistance. while there was no great need of haste, because ozma and dorothy could live in a submerged dome a long time, it was evident they could not get out until someone was able to raise the island. the sorceress looked through all her recipes and books of sorcery, but could find no magic that would raise a sunken island. such a thing had never before been required in sorcery. then glinda made a little island, covered by a glass dome, and sunk it in a pond near her castle, and experimented in magical ways to bring it to the surface. she made several such experiments, but all were failures. it seemed a simple thing to do, yet she could not do it. nevertheless, the wise sorceress did not despair of finding a way to liberate her friends. finally she concluded that the best thing to do was to go to the skeezer country and examine the lake. while there she was more likely to discover a solution to the problem that bothered her, and to work out a plan for the rescue of ozma and dorothy. so glinda summoned her storks and her aerial chariot, and telling her maids she was going on a journey and might not soon return, she entered the chariot and was carried swiftly to the emerald city. in princess ozma's palace the scarecrow was now acting as ruler of the land of oz. there wasn't much for him to do, because all the affairs of state moved so smoothly, but he was there in case anything unforeseen should happen. glinda found the scarecrow playing croquet with trot and betsy bobbin, two little girls who lived at the palace under ozma's protection and were great friends of dorothy and much loved by all the oz people. "something's happened!" cried trot, as the chariot of the sorceress descended near them. "glinda never comes here 'cept something's gone wrong." "i hope no harm has come to ozma, or dorothy," said betsy anxiously, as the lovely sorceress stepped down from her chariot. glinda approached the scarecrow and told him of the dilemma of ozma and dorothy and she added: "we must save them, somehow, scarecrow." "of course," replied the scarecrow, stumbling over a wicket and falling flat on his painted face. the girls picked him up and patted his straw stuffing into shape, and he continued, as if nothing had occurred: "but you'll have to tell me what to do, for i never have raised a sunken island in all my life." "we must have a council of state as soon as possible," proposed the sorceress. "please send messengers to summon all of ozma's counsellors to this palace. then we can decide what is best to be done." the scarecrow lost no time in doing this. fortunately most of the royal counsellors were in the emerald city or near to it, so they all met in the throne room of the palace that same evening. chapter ozma's counsellors no ruler ever had such a queer assortment of advisers as the princess ozma had gathered about her throne. indeed, in no other country could such amazing people exist. but ozma loved them for their peculiarities and could trust every one of them. first there was the tin woodman. every bit of him was tin, brightly polished. all his joints were kept well oiled and moved smoothly. he carried a gleaming axe to prove he was a woodman, but seldom had cause to use it because he lived in a magnificent tin castle in the winkie country of oz and was the emperor of all the winkies. the tin woodman's name was nick chopper. he had a very good mind, but his heart was not of much account, so he was very careful to do nothing unkind or to hurt anyone's feelings. another counsellor was scraps, the patchwork girl of oz, who was made of a gaudy patchwork quilt, cut into shape and stuffed with cotton. this patchwork girl was very intelligent, but so full of fun and mad pranks that a lot of more stupid folks thought she must be crazy. scraps was jolly under all conditions, however grave they might be, but her laughter and good spirits were of value in cheering others and in her seemingly careless remarks much wisdom could often be found. then there was the shaggy man--shaggy from head to foot, hair and whiskers, clothes and shoes--but very kind and gentle and one of ozma's most loyal supporters. tik-tok was there, a copper man with machinery inside him, so cleverly constructed that he moved, spoke and thought by three separate clock-works. tik-tok was very reliable because he always did exactly what he was wound up to do, but his machinery was liable to run down at times and then he was quite helpless until wound up again. a different sort of person was jack pumpkinhead, one of ozma's oldest friends and her companion on many adventures. jack's body was very crude and awkward, being formed of limbs of trees of different sizes, jointed with wooden pegs. but it was a substantial body and not likely to break or wear out, and when it was dressed the clothes covered much of its roughness. the head of jack pumpkinhead was, as you have guessed, a ripe pumpkin, with the eyes, nose and mouth carved upon one side. the pumpkin was stuck on jack's wooden neck and was liable to get turned sidewise or backward and then he would have to straighten it with his wooden hands. the worst thing about this sort of a head was that it did not keep well and was sure to spoil sooner or later. so jack's main business was to grow a field of fine pumpkins each year, and always before his old head spoiled he would select a fresh pumpkin from the field and carve the features on it very neatly, and have it ready to replace the old head whenever it became necessary. he didn't always carve it the same way, so his friends never knew exactly what sort of an expression they would find on his face. but there was no mistaking him, because he was the only pumpkin-headed man alive in the land of oz. a one-legged sailor-man was a member of ozma's council. his name was cap'n bill and he had come to the land of oz with trot, and had been made welcome on account of his cleverness, honesty and good-nature. he wore a wooden leg to replace the one he had lost and was a great friend of all the children in oz because he could whittle all sorts of toys out of wood with his big jack-knife. professor h. m. wogglebug, t. e., was another member of the council. the "h. m." meant highly magnified, for the professor was once a little bug, who became magnified to the size of a man and always remained so. the "t. e." meant that he was thoroughly educated. he was at the head of princess ozma's royal athletic college, and so that the students would not have to study and so lose much time that could be devoted to athletic sports, such as football, baseball and the like, professor wogglebug had invented the famous educational pills. if one of the college students took a geography pill after breakfast, he knew his geography lesson in an instant; if he took a spelling pill he at once knew his spelling lesson, and an arithmetic pill enabled the student to do any kind of sum without having to think about it. these useful pills made the college very popular and taught the boys and girls of oz their lessons in the easiest possible way. in spite of this, professor wogglebug was not a favorite outside his college, for he was very conceited and admired himself so much and displayed his cleverness and learning so constantly, that no one cared to associate with him. ozma found him of value in her councils, nevertheless. perhaps the most splendidly dressed of all those present was a great frog as large as a man, called the frogman, who was noted for his wise sayings. he had come to the emerald city from the yip country of oz and was a guest of honor. his long-tailed coat was of velvet, his vest of satin and his trousers of finest silk. there were diamond buckles on his shoes and he carried a gold-headed cane and a high silk hat. all of the bright colors were represented in his rich attire, so it tired one's eyes to look at him for long, until one became used to his splendor. the best farmer in all oz was uncle henry, who was dorothy's own uncle, and who now lived near the emerald city with his wife aunt em. uncle henry taught the oz people how to grow the finest vegetables and fruits and grains and was of much use to ozma in keeping the royal storehouses well filled. he, too, was a counsellor. the reason i mention the little wizard of oz last is because he was the most important man in the land of oz. he wasn't a big man in size, but he was a big man in power and intelligence and second only to glinda the good in all the mystic arts of magic. glinda had taught him, and the wizard and the sorceress were the only ones in oz permitted by law to practice wizardry and sorcery, which they applied only to good uses and for the benefit of the people. the wizard wasn't exactly handsome but he was pleasant to look at. his bald head was as shiny as if it had been varnished; there was always a merry twinkle in his eyes and he was as spry as a schoolboy. dorothy says the reason the wizard is not as powerful as glinda is because glinda didn't teach him all she knows, but what the wizard knows he knows very well and so he performs some very remarkable magic. the ten i have mentioned assembled, with the scarecrow and glinda, in ozma's throne room, right after dinner that evening, and the sorceress told them all she knew of the plight of ozma and dorothy. "of course we must rescue them," she continued, "and the sooner they are rescued the better pleased they will be; but what we must now determine is how they can be saved. that is why i have called you together in council." "the easiest way," remarked the shaggy man, "is to raise the sunken island of the skeezers to the top of the water again." "tell me how?" said glinda. "i don't know how, your highness, for i have never raised a sunken island." "we might all get under it and lift," suggested professor wogglebug. "how can we get under it when it rests on the bottom of the lake?" asked the sorceress. "couldn't we throw a rope around it and pull it ashore?" inquired jack pumpkinhead. "why not pump the water out of the lake?" suggested the patchwork girl with a laugh. "do be sensible!" pleaded glinda. "this is a serious matter, and we must give it serious thought." "how big is the lake and how big is the island?" was the frogman's question. "none of us can tell, for we have not been there." "in that case," said the scarecrow, "it appears to me we ought to go to the skeezer country and examine it carefully." "quite right," agreed the tin woodman. "we-will-have-to-go-there-any-how," remarked tik-tok in his jerky machine voice. "the question is which of us shall go, and how many of us?" said the wizard. "i shall go of course," declared the scarecrow. "and i," said scraps. "it is my duty to ozma to go," asserted the tin woodman. "i could not stay away, knowing our loved princess is in danger," said the wizard. "we all feel like that," uncle henry said. finally one and all present decided to go to the skeezer country, with glinda and the little wizard to lead them. magic must meet magic in order to conquer it, so these two skillful magic-workers were necessary to insure the success of the expedition. they were all ready to start at a moment's notice, for none had any affairs of importance to attend to. jack was wearing a newly made pumpkin-head and the scarecrow had recently been stuffed with fresh straw. tik-tok's machinery was in good running order and the tin woodman always was well oiled. "it is quite a long journey," said glinda, "and while i might travel quickly to the skeezer country by means of my stork chariot the rest of you will be obliged to walk. so, as we must keep together, i will send my chariot back to my castle and we will plan to leave the emerald city at sunrise to-morrow." chapter the great sorceress betsy and trot, when they heard of the rescue expedition, begged the wizard to permit them to join it and he consented. the glass cat, overhearing the conversation, wanted to go also and to this the wizard made no objection. this glass cat was one of the real curiosities of oz. it had been made and brought to life by a clever magician named dr. pipt, who was not now permitted to work magic and was an ordinary citizen of the emerald city. the cat was of transparent glass, through which one could plainly see its ruby heart beating and its pink brains whirling around in the top of the head. the glass cat's eyes were emeralds; its fluffy tail was of spun glass and very beautiful. the ruby heart, while pretty to look at, was hard and cold and the glass cat's disposition was not pleasant at all times. it scorned to catch mice, did not eat, and was extremely lazy. if you complimented the remarkable cat on her beauty, she would be very friendly, for she loved admiration above everything. the pink brains were always working and their owner was indeed more intelligent than most common cats. three other additions to the rescue party were made the next morning, just as they were setting out upon their journey. the first was a little boy called button bright, because he had no other name that anyone could remember. he was a fine, manly little fellow, well mannered and good humored, who had only one bad fault. he was continually getting lost. to be sure, button bright got found as often as he got lost, but when he was missing his friends could not help being anxious about him. "some day," predicted the patchwork girl, "he won't be found, and that will be the last of him." but that didn't worry button bright, who was so careless that he did not seem to be able to break the habit of getting lost. the second addition to the party was a munchkin boy of about button bright's age, named ojo. he was often called "ojo the lucky," because good fortune followed him wherever he went. he and button bright were close friends, although of such different natures, and trot and betsy were fond of both. the third and last to join the expedition was an enormous lion, one of ozma's regular guardians and the most important and intelligent beast in all oz. he called himself the cowardly lion, saying that every little danger scared him so badly that his heart thumped against his ribs, but all who knew him knew that the cowardly lion's fears were coupled with bravery and that however much he might be frightened he summoned courage to meet every danger he encountered. often he had saved dorothy and ozma in times of peril, but afterward he moaned and trembled and wept because he had been so scared. "if ozma needs help, i'm going to help her," said the great beast. "also, i suspect the rest of you may need me on the journey--especially trot and betsy--for you may pass through a dangerous part of the country. i know that wild gillikin country pretty well. its forests harbor many ferocious beasts." they were glad the cowardly lion was to join them, and in good spirits the entire party formed a procession and marched out of the emerald city amid the shouts of the people, who wished them success and a safe return with their beloved ruler. they followed a different route from that taken by ozma and dorothy, for they went through the winkie country and up north toward oogaboo. but before they got there they swerved to the left and entered the great gillikin forest, the nearest thing to a wilderness in all oz. even the cowardly lion had to admit that certain parts of this forest were unknown to him, although he had often wandered among the trees, and the scarecrow and tin woodman, who were great travelers, never had been there at all. the forest was only reached after a tedious tramp, for some of the rescue expedition were quite awkward on their feet. the patchwork girl was as light as a feather and very spry; the tin woodman covered the ground as easily as uncle henry and the wizard; but tik-tok moved slowly and the slightest obstruction in the road would halt him until the others cleared it away. then, too, tik-tok's machinery kept running down, so betsy and trot took turns in winding it up. the scarecrow was more clumsy but less bother, for although he often stumbled and fell he could scramble up again and a little patting of his straw-stuffed body would put him in good shape again. another awkward one was jack pumpkinhead, for walking would jar his head around on his neck and then he would be likely to go in the wrong direction. but the frogman took jack's arm and then he followed the path more easily. cap'n bill's wooden leg didn't prevent him from keeping up with the others and the old sailor could walk as far as any of them. when they entered the forest the cowardly lion took the lead. there was no path here for men, but many beasts had made paths of their own which only the eyes of the lion, practiced in woodcraft, could discern. so he stalked ahead and wound his way in and out, the others following in single file, glinda being next to the lion. there are dangers in the forest, of course, but as the huge lion headed the party he kept the wild denizens of the wilderness from bothering the travelers. once, to be sure, an enormous leopard sprang upon the glass cat and caught her in his powerful jaws, but he broke several of his teeth and with howls of pain and dismay dropped his prey and vanished among the trees. "are you hurt?" trot anxiously inquired of the glass cat. "how silly!" exclaimed the creature in an irritated tone of voice; "nothing can hurt glass, and i'm too solid to break easily. but i'm annoyed at that leopard's impudence. he has no respect for beauty or intelligence. if he had noticed my pink brains work, i'm sure he would have realized i'm too important to be grabbed in a wild beast's jaws." "never mind," said trot consolingly; "i'm sure he won't do it again." they were almost in the center of the forest when ojo, the munchkin boy, suddenly said: "why, where's button bright?" they halted and looked around them. button bright was not with the party. "dear me," remarked betsy, "i expect he's lost again!" "when did you see him last, ojo?" inquired glinda. "it was some time ago," replied ojo. "he was trailing along at the end and throwing twigs at the squirrels in the trees. then i went to talk to betsy and trot, and just now i noticed he was gone." "this is too bad," declared the wizard, "for it is sure to delay our journey. we must find button bright before we go any farther, for this forest is full of ferocious beasts that would not hesitate to tear the boy to pieces." "but what shall we do?" asked the scarecrow. "if any of us leaves the party to search for button bright he or she might fall a victim to the beasts, and if the lion leaves us we will have no protector. "the glass cat could go," suggested the frogman. "the beasts can do her no harm, as we have discovered." the wizard turned to glinda. "cannot your sorcery discover where button bright is?" he asked. "i think so," replied the sorceress. she called to uncle henry, who had been carrying her wicker box, to bring it to her, and when he obeyed she opened it and drew out a small round mirror. on the surface of the glass she dusted a white powder and then wiped it away with her handkerchief and looked in the mirror. it reflected a part of the forest, and there, beneath a wide-spreading tree, button bright was lying asleep. on one side of him crouched a tiger, ready to spring; on the other side was a big gray wolf, its bared fangs glistening in a wicked way. "goodness me!" cried trot, looking over glinda's shoulder. "they'll catch and kill him sure." everyone crowded around for a glimpse at the magic mirror. "pretty bad--pretty bad!" said the scarecrow sorrowfully. "comes of getting lost!" said cap'n bill, sighing. "guess he's a goner!" said the frogman, wiping his eyes on his purple silk handkerchief. "but where is he? can't we save him?" asked ojo the lucky. "if we knew where he is we could probably save him," replied the little wizard, "but that tree looks so much like all the other trees, that we can't tell whether it's far away or near by." "look at glinda!" exclaimed betsy. glinda, having handed the mirror to the wizard, had stepped aside and was making strange passes with her outstretched arms and reciting in low, sweet tones a mystical incantation. most of them watched the sorceress with anxious eyes, despair giving way to the hope that she might be able to save their friend. the wizard, however, watched the scene in the mirror, while over his shoulders peered trot, the scarecrow and the shaggy man. what they saw was more strange than glinda's actions. the tiger started to spring on the sleeping boy, but suddenly lost its power to move and lay flat upon the ground. the gray wolf seemed unable to lift its feet from the ground. it pulled first at one leg and then at another, and finding itself strangely confined to the spot began to bark and snarl angrily. they couldn't hear the barkings and snarls, but they could see the creature's mouth open and its thick lips move. button bright, however, being but a few feet away from the wolf, heard its cries of rage, which wakened him from his untroubled sleep. the boy sat up and looked first at the tiger and then at the wolf. his face showed that for a moment he was quite frightened, but he soon saw that the beasts were unable to approach him and so he got upon his feet and examined them curiously, with a mischievous smile upon his face. then he deliberately kicked the tiger's head with his foot and catching up a fallen branch of a tree he went to the wolf and gave it a good whacking. both the beasts were furious at such treatment but could not resent it. button bright now threw down the stick and with his hands in his pockets wandered carelessly away. "now," said glinda, "let the glass cat run and find him. he is in that direction," pointing the way, "but how far off i do not know. make haste and lead him back to us as quickly as you can." the glass cat did not obey everyone's orders, but she really feared the great sorceress, so as soon as the words were spoken the crystal animal darted away and was quickly lost to sight. the wizard handed the mirror back to glinda, for the woodland scene had now faded from the glass. then those who cared to rest sat down to await button bright's coming. it was not long before he appeared through the trees and as he rejoined his friends he said in a peevish tone: "don't ever send that glass cat to find me again. she was very impolite and, if we didn't all know that she had no manners, i'd say she insulted me." glinda turned upon the boy sternly. "you have caused all of us much anxiety and annoyance," said she. "only my magic saved you from destruction. i forbid you to get lost again." "of course," he answered. "it won't be _my_ fault if i get lost again; but it wasn't my fault _this_ time." chapter the enchanted fishes i must now tell you what happened to ervic and the three other skeezers who were left floating in the iron boat after queen coo-ee-oh had been transformed into a diamond swan by the magic of the flathead su-dic. the four skeezers were all young men and their leader was ervic. coo-ee-oh had taken them with her in the boat to assist her if she captured the flathead chief, as she hoped to do by means of her silver rope. they knew nothing about the witchcraft that moved the submarine and so, when left floating upon the lake, were at a loss what to do. the submarine could not be submerged by them or made to return to the sunken island. there were neither oars nor sails in the boat, which was not anchored but drifted quietly upon the surface of the lake. the diamond swan had no further thought or care for her people. she had sailed over to the other side of the lake and all the calls and pleadings of ervic and his companions were unheeded by the vain bird. as there was nothing else for them to do, they sat quietly in their boat and waited as patiently as they could for someone to come to their aid. the flatheads had refused to help them and had gone back to their mountain. all the skeezers were imprisoned in the great dome and could not help even themselves. when evening came, they saw the diamond swan, still keeping to the opposite shore of the lake, walk out of the water to the sands, shake her diamond-sprinkled feathers, and then disappear among the bushes to seek a resting place for the night. "i'm hungry," said ervic. "i'm cold," said another skeezer. "i'm tired," said a third. "i'm afraid," said the last one of them. but it did them no good to complain. night fell and the moon rose and cast a silvery sheen over the surface of the water. "go to sleep," said ervic to his companions. "i'll stay awake and watch, for we may be rescued in some unexpected way." so the other three laid themselves down in the bottom of the boat and were soon fast asleep. ervic watched. he rested himself by leaning over the bow of the boat, his face near to the moonlit water, and thought dreamily of the day's surprising events and wondered what would happen to the prisoners in the great dome. suddenly a tiny goldfish popped its head above the surface of the lake, not more than a foot from his eyes. a silverfish then raised its head beside that of the goldfish, and a moment later a bronzefish lifted its head beside the others. the three fish, all in a row, looked earnestly with their round, bright eyes into the astonished eyes of ervic the skeezer. "we are the three adepts whom queen coo-ee-oh betrayed and wickedly transformed," said the goldfish, its voice low and soft but distinctly heard in the stillness of the night. "i know of our queen's treacherous deed," replied ervic, "and i am sorry for your misfortune. have you been in the lake ever since?" "yes," was the reply. "i--i hope you are well--and comfortable," stammered ervic, not knowing what else to say. "we knew that some day coo-ee-oh would meet with the fate she so richly deserves," declared the bronzefish. "we have waited and watched for this time. now if you will promise to help us and will be faithful and true, you can aid us in regaining our natural forms, and save yourself and all your people from the dangers that now threaten you." "well," said ervic, "you can depend on my doing the best i can. but i'm no witch, nor magician, you must know." "all we ask is that you obey our instructions," returned the silverfish. "we know that you are honest and that you served coo-ee-oh only because you were obliged to in order to escape her anger. do as we command and all will be well." "i promise!" exclaimed the young man. "tell me what i am to do first." "you will find in the bottom of your boat the silver cord which dropped from coo-ee-oh's hand when she was transformed," said the goldfish. "tie one end of that cord to the bow of your boat and drop the other end to us in the water. together we will pull your boat to the shore." ervic much doubted that the three small fishes could move so heavy a boat, but he did as he was told and the fishes all seized their end of the silver cord in their mouths and headed toward the nearest shore, which was the very place where the flatheads had stood when they conquered queen coo-ee-oh. at first the boat did not move at all, although the fishes pulled with all their strength. but presently the strain began to tell. very slowly the boat crept toward the shore, gaining more speed at every moment. a couple of yards away from the sandy beach the fishes dropped the cord from their mouths and swam to one side, while the iron boat, being now under way, continued to move until its prow grated upon the sands. ervic leaned over the side and said to the fishes: "what next?" "you will find upon the sand," said the silverfish, "a copper kettle, which the su-dic forgot when he went away. cleanse it thoroughly in the water of the lake, for it has had poison in it. when it is cleaned, fill it with fresh water and hold it over the side of the boat, so that we three may swim into the kettle. we will then instruct you further." "do you wish me to catch you, then?" asked ervic in surprise. "yes," was the reply. so ervic jumped out of the boat and found the copper kettle. carrying it a little way down the beach, he washed it well, scrubbing away every drop of the poison it had contained with sand from the shore. then he went back to the boat. ervic's comrades were still sound asleep and knew nothing of the three fishes or what strange happenings were taking place about them. ervic dipped the kettle in the lake, holding fast to the handle until it was under water. the gold and silver and bronze fishes promptly swam into the kettle. the young skeezer then lifted it, poured out a little of the water so it would not spill over the edge, and said to the fishes: "what next?" "carry the kettle to the shore. take one hundred steps to the east, along the edge of the lake, and then you will see a path leading through the meadows, up hill and down dale. follow the path until you come to a cottage which is painted a purple color with white trimmings. when you stop at the gate of this cottage we will tell you what to do next. be careful, above all, not to stumble and spill the water from the kettle, or you would destroy us and all you have done would be in vain." the goldfish issued these commands and ervic promised to be careful and started to obey. he left his sleeping comrades in the boat, stepping cautiously over their bodies, and on reaching the shore took exactly one hundred steps to the east. then he looked for the path and the moonlight was so bright that he easily discovered it, although it was hidden from view by tall weeds until one came full upon it. this path was very narrow and did not seem to be much used, but it was quite distinct and ervic had no difficulty in following it. he walked through a broad meadow, covered with tall grass and weeds, up a hill and down into a valley and then up another hill and down again. it seemed to ervic that he had walked miles and miles. indeed the moon sank low and day was beginning to dawn when finally he discovered by the roadside a pretty little cottage, painted purple with white trimmings. it was a lonely place--no other buildings were anywhere about and the ground was not tilled at all. no farmer lived here, that was certain. who would care to dwell in such an isolated place? but ervic did not bother his head long with such questions. he went up to the gate that led to the cottage, set the copper kettle carefully down and bending over it asked: "what next?" chapter under the great dome when glinda the good and her followers of the rescue expedition came in sight of the enchanted mountain of the flatheads, it was away to the left of them, for the route they had taken through the great forest was some distance from that followed by ozma and dorothy. they halted awhile to decide whether they should call upon the supreme dictator first, or go on to the lake of the skeezers. "if we go to the mountain," said the wizard, "we may get into trouble with that wicked su-dic, and then we would be delayed in rescuing ozma and dorothy. so i think our best plan will be to go to the skeezer country, raise the sunken island and save our friends and the imprisoned skeezers. afterward we can visit the mountain and punish the cruel magician of the flatheads." "that is sensible," approved the shaggy man. "i quite agree with you." the others, too, seemed to think the wizard's plan the best, and glinda herself commended it, so on they marched toward the line of palm trees that hid the skeezers' lake from view. pretty soon they came to the palms. these were set closely together, the branches, which came quite to the ground, being so tightly interlaced that even the glass cat could scarcely find a place to squeeze through. the path which the flatheads used was some distance away. "here's a job for the tin woodman," said the scarecrow. so the tin woodman, who was always glad to be of use, set to work with his sharp, gleaming axe, which he always carried, and in a surprisingly short time had chopped away enough branches to permit them all to pass easily through the trees. now the clear waters of the beautiful lake were before them and by looking closely they could see the outlines of the great dome of the sunken island, far from shore and directly in the center of the lake. of course every eye was at first fixed upon this dome, where ozma and dorothy and the skeezers were still fast prisoners. but soon their attention was caught by a more brilliant sight, for here was the diamond swan swimming just before them, its long neck arched proudly, the amethyst eyes gleaming and all the diamond-sprinkled feathers glistening splendidly under the rays of the sun. "that," said glinda, "is the transformation of queen coo-ee-oh, the haughty and wicked witch who betrayed the three adepts at magic and treated her people like slaves." "she's wonderfully beautiful now," remarked the frogman. "it doesn't seem like much of a punishment," said trot. "the flathead su-dic ought to have made her a toad." "i am sure coo-ee-oh is punished," said glinda, "for she has lost all her magic power and her grand palace and can no longer misrule the poor skeezers." "let us call to her, and hear what she has to say," proposed the wizard. so glinda beckoned the diamond swan, which swam gracefully to a position near them. before anyone could speak coo-ee-oh called to them in a rasping voice--for the voice of a swan is always harsh and unpleasant--and said with much pride: "admire me, strangers! admire the lovely coo-ee-oh, the handsomest creature in all oz. admire me!" "handsome is as handsome does," replied the scarecrow. "are your deeds lovely, coo-ee-oh?" "deeds? what deeds can a swan do but swim around and give pleasure to all beholders?" said the sparkling bird. "have you forgotten your former life? have you forgotten your magic and witchcraft?" inquired the wizard. "magic--witchcraft? pshaw, who cares for such silly things?" retorted coo-ee-oh. "as for my past life, it seems like an unpleasant dream. i wouldn't go back to it if i could. don't you admire my beauty, strangers?" "tell us, coo-ee-oh," said glinda earnestly, "if you can recall enough of your witchcraft to enable us to raise the sunken island to the surface of the lake. tell us that and i'll give you a string of pearls to wear around your neck and add to your beauty." "nothing can add to my beauty, for i'm the most beautiful creature anywhere in the whole world." "but how can we raise the island?" "i don't know and i don't care. if ever i knew i've forgotten, and i'm glad of it," was the response. "just watch me circle around and see me glitter!" "it's no use," said button bright; "the old swan is too much in love with herself to think of anything else." "that's a fact," agreed betsy with a sigh; "but we've got to get ozma and dorothy out of that lake, somehow or other." "and we must do it in our own way," added the scarecrow. "but how?" asked uncle henry in a grave voice, for he could not bear to think of his dear niece dorothy being out there under water; "how shall we do it?" "leave that to glinda," advised the wizard, realizing he was helpless to do it himself. "if it were just an ordinary sunken island," said the powerful sorceress, "there would be several ways by which i might bring it to the surface again. but this is a magic isle, and by some curious art of witchcraft, unknown to any but queen coo-ee-oh, it obeys certain commands of magic and will not respond to any other. i do not despair in the least, but it will require some deep study to solve this difficult problem. if the swan could only remember the witchcraft that she invented and knew as a woman, i could force her to tell me the secret, but all her former knowledge is now forgotten." "it seems to me," said the wizard after a brief silence had followed glinda's speech, "that there are three fishes in this lake that used to be adepts at magic and from whom coo-ee-oh stole much of her knowledge. if we could find those fishes and return them to their former shapes, they could doubtless tell us what to do to bring the sunken island to the surface." "i have thought of those fishes," replied glinda, "but among so many fishes as this lake contains how are we to single them out?" you will understand, of course, that had glinda been at home in her castle, where the great book of records was, she would have known that ervic the skeezer already had taken the gold and silver and bronze fishes from the lake. but that act had been recorded in the book after glinda had set out on this journey, so it was all unknown to her. "i think i see a boat yonder on the shore," said ojo the munchkin boy, pointing to a place around the edge of the lake. "if we could get that boat and row all over the lake, calling to the magic fishes, we might be able to find them." "let us go to the boat," said the wizard. they walked around the lake to where the boat was stranded upon the beach, but found it empty. it was a mere shell of blackened steel, with a collapsible roof that, when in position, made the submarine water-tight, but at present the roof rested in slots on either side of the magic craft. there were no oars or sails, no machinery to make the boat go, and although glinda promptly realized it was meant to be operated by witchcraft, she was not acquainted with that sort of magic. "however," said she, "the boat is merely a boat, and i believe i can make it obey a command of sorcery, as well as it did the command of witchcraft. after i have given a little thought to the matter, the boat will take us wherever we desire to go." "not all of us," returned the wizard, "for it won't hold so many. but, most noble sorceress, provided you can make the boat go, of what use will it be to us?" "can't we use it to catch the three fishes?" asked button bright. "it will not be necessary to use the boat for that purpose," replied glinda. "wherever in the lake the enchanted fishes may be, they will answer to my call. what i am trying to discover is how the boat came to be on this shore, while the island on which it belongs is under water yonder. did coo-ee-oh come here in the boat to meet the flatheads before the island was sunk, or afterward?" no one could answer that question, of course; but while they pondered the matter three young men advanced from the line of trees, and rather timidly bowed to the strangers. "who are you, and where did you come from!" inquired the wizard. "we are skeezers," answered one of them, "and our home is on the magic isle of the lake. we ran away when we saw you coming, and hid behind the trees, but as you are strangers and seem to be friendly we decided to meet you, for we are in great trouble and need assistance." "if you belong on the island, why are you here?" demanded glinda. so they told her all the story: how the queen had defied the flatheads and submerged the whole island so that her enemies could not get to it or destroy it; how, when the flatheads came to the shore, coo-ee-oh had commanded them, together with their friend ervic, to go with her in the submarine to conquer the su-dic, and how the boat had shot out from the basement of the sunken isle, obeying a magic word, and risen to the surface, where it opened and floated upon the water. then followed the account of how the su-dic had transformed coo-ee-oh into a swan, after which she had forgotten all the witchcraft she ever knew. the young men told how in the night when they were asleep, their comrade ervic had mysteriously disappeared, while the boat in some strange manner had floated to the shore and stranded upon the beach. that was all they knew. they had searched in vain for three days for ervic. as their island was under water and they could not get back to it, the three skeezers had no place to go, and so had waited patiently beside their boat for something to happen. being questioned by glinda and the wizard, they told all they knew about ozma and dorothy and declared the two girls were still in the village under the great dome. they were quite safe and would be well cared for by lady aurex, now that the queen who opposed them was out of the way. when they had gleaned all the information they could from these skeezers, the wizard said to glinda: "if you find you can make this boat obey your sorcery, you could have it return to the island, submerge itself, and enter the door in the basement from which it came. but i cannot see that our going to the sunken island would enable our friends to escape. we would only join them as prisoners." "not so, friend wizard," replied glinda. "if the boat would obey my commands to enter the basement door, it would also obey my commands to come out again, and i could bring ozma and dorothy back with me." "and leave all of our people still imprisoned?" asked one of the skeezers reproachfully. "by making several trips in the boat, glinda could fetch all your people to the shore," replied the wizard. "but what could they do then?" inquired another skeezer. "they would have no homes and no place to go, and would be at the mercy of their enemies, the flatheads." "that is true," said glinda the good. "and as these people are ozma's subjects, i think she would refuse to escape with dorothy and leave the others behind, or to abandon the island which is the lawful home of the skeezers. i believe the best plan will be to summon the three fishes and learn from them how to raise the island." the little wizard seemed to think that this was rather a forlorn hope. "how will you summon them," he asked the lovely sorceress, "and how can they hear you?" "that is something we must consider carefully," responded stately glinda, with a serene smile. "i think i can find a way." all of ozma's counsellors applauded this sentiment, for they knew well the powers of the sorceress. "very well," agreed the wizard. "summon them, most noble glinda." chapter the cleverness of ervic we must now return to ervic the skeezer, who, when he had set down the copper kettle containing the three fishes at the gate of the lonely cottage, had asked, "what next?" the goldfish stuck its head above the water in the kettle and said in its small but distinct voice: "you are to lift the latch, open the door, and walk boldly into the cottage. do not be afraid of anything you see, for however you seem to be threatened with dangers, nothing can harm you. the cottage is the home of a powerful yookoohoo, named reera the red, who assumes all sorts of forms, sometimes changing her form several times in a day, according to her fancy. what her real form may be we do not know. this strange creature cannot be bribed with treasure, or coaxed through friendship, or won by pity. she has never assisted anyone, or done wrong to anyone, that we know of. all her wonderful powers are used for her own selfish amusement. she will order you out of the house but you must refuse to go. remain and watch reera closely and try to see what she uses to accomplish her transformations. if you can discover the secret whisper it to us and we will then tell you what to do next." "that sounds easy," returned ervic, who had listened carefully. "but are you sure she will not hurt me, or try to transform me?" "she may change your form," replied the goldfish, "but do not worry if that happens, for we can break that enchantment easily. you may be sure that nothing will harm you, so you must not be frightened at anything you see or hear." now ervic was as brave as any ordinary young man, and he knew the fishes who spoke to him were truthful and to be relied upon, nevertheless he experienced a strange sinking of the heart as he picked up the kettle and approached the door of the cottage. his hand trembled as he raised the latch, but he was resolved to obey his instructions. he pushed the door open, took three strides into the middle of the one room the cottage contained, and then stood still and looked around him. the sights that met his gaze were enough to frighten anyone who had not been properly warned. on the floor just before ervic lay a great crocodile, its red eyes gleaming wickedly and its wide open mouth displaying rows of sharp teeth. horned toads hopped about; each of the four upper corners of the room was festooned with a thick cobweb, in the center of which sat a spider as big around as a washbasin, and armed with pincher-like claws; a red-and-green lizard was stretched at full length on the window-sill and black rats darted in and out of the holes they had gnawed in the floor of the cottage. but the most startling thing was a huge gray ape which sat upon a bench and knitted. it wore a lace cap, such as old ladies wear, and a little apron of lace, but no other clothing. its eyes were bright and looked as if coals were burning in them. the ape moved as naturally as an ordinary person might, and on ervic's entrance stopped knitting and raised its head to look at him. "get out!" cried a sharp voice, seeming to come from the ape's mouth. ervic saw another bench, empty, just beyond him, so he stepped over the crocodile, sat down upon the bench and carefully placed the kettle beside him. "get out!" again cried the voice. ervic shook his head. "no," said he, "i'm going to stay." the spiders left their four corners, dropped to the floor and made a rush toward the young skeezer, circling around his legs with their pinchers extended. ervic paid no attention to them. an enormous black rat ran up ervic's body, passed around his shoulders and uttered piercing squeals in his ears, but he did not wince. the green-and-red lizard, coming from the window-sill, approached ervic and began spitting a flaming fluid at him, but ervic merely stared at the creature and its flame did not touch him. the crocodile raised its tail and, swinging around, swept ervic off the bench with a powerful blow. but the skeezer managed to save the kettle from upsetting and he got up, shook off the horned toads that were crawling over him and resumed his seat on the bench. all the creatures, after this first attack, remained motionless, as if awaiting orders. the old gray ape knitted on, not looking toward ervic now, and the young skeezer stolidly kept his seat. he expected something else to happen, but nothing did. a full hour passed and ervic was growing nervous. "what do you want?" the ape asked at last. "nothing," said ervic. "you may have that!" retorted the ape, and at this all the strange creatures in the room broke into a chorus of cackling laughter. another long wait. "do you know who i am?" questioned the ape. "you must be reera the red--the yookoohoo," ervic answered. "knowing so much, you must also know that i do not like strangers. your presence here in my home annoys me. do you not fear my anger?" "no," said the young man. "do you intend to obey me, and leave this house?" "no," replied ervic, just as quietly as the yookoohoo had spoken. the ape knitted for a long time before resuming the conversation. "curiosity," it said, "has led to many a man's undoing. i suppose in some way you have learned that i do tricks of magic, and so through curiosity you have come here. you may have been told that i do not injure anyone, so you are bold enough to disobey my commands to go away. you imagine that you may witness some of the rites of witchcraft, and that they may amuse you. have i spoken truly?" "well," remarked ervic, who had been pondering on the strange circumstances of his coming here, "you are right in some ways, but not in others. i am told that you work magic only for your own amusement. that seems to me very selfish. few people understand magic. i'm told that you are the only real yookoohoo in all oz. why don't you amuse others as well as yourself?" "what right have you to question my actions?" "none at all." "and you say you are not here to demand any favors of me?" "for myself i want nothing from you." "you are wise in that. i never grant favors." "that doesn't worry me," declared ervic. "but you are curious? you hope to witness some of my magic transformations?" "if you wish to perform any magic, go ahead," said ervic. "it may interest me and it may not. if you'd rather go on with your knitting, it's all the same to me. i am in no hurry at all." this may have puzzled red reera, but the face beneath the lace cap could show no expression, being covered with hair. perhaps in all her career the yookoohoo had never been visited by anyone who, like this young man, asked for nothing, expected nothing, and had no reason for coming except curiosity. this attitude practically disarmed the witch and she began to regard the skeezer in a more friendly way. she knitted for some time, seemingly in deep thought, and then she arose and walked to a big cupboard that stood against the wall of the room. when the cupboard door was opened ervic could see a lot of drawers inside, and into one of these drawers--the second from the bottom--reera thrust a hairy hand. until now ervic could see over the bent form of the ape, but suddenly the form, with its back to him, seemed to straighten up and blot out the cupboard of drawers. the ape had changed to the form of a woman, dressed in the pretty gillikin costume, and when she turned around he saw that it was a young woman, whose face was quite attractive. "do you like me better this way?" reera inquired with a smile. "you _look_ better," he said calmly, "but i'm not sure i _like_ you any better." she laughed, saying: "during the heat of the day i like to be an ape, for an ape doesn't wear any clothes to speak of. but if one has gentlemen callers it is proper to dress up." ervic noticed her right hand was closed, as if she held something in it. she shut the cupboard door, bent over the crocodile and in a moment the creature had changed to a red wolf. it was not pretty even now, and the wolf crouched beside its mistress as a dog might have done. its teeth looked as dangerous as had those of the crocodile. next the yookoohoo went about touching all the lizards and toads, and at her touch they became kittens. the rats she changed into chipmunks. now the only horrid creatures remaining were the four great spiders, which hid themselves behind their thick webs. "there!" reera cried, "now my cottage presents a more comfortable appearance. i love the toads and lizards and rats, because most people hate them, but i would tire of them if they always remained the same. sometimes i change their forms a dozen times a day." "you are clever," said ervic. "i did not hear you utter any incantations or magic words. all you did was to touch the creatures." "oh, do you think so?" she replied. "well, touch them yourself, if you like, and see if you can change their forms." "no," said the skeezer, "i don't understand magic and if i did i would not try to imitate your skill. you are a wonderful yookoohoo, while i am only a common skeezer." this confession seemed to please reera, who liked to have her witchcraft appreciated. "will you go away now?" she asked. "i prefer to be alone." "i prefer to stay here," said ervic. "in another person's home, where you are not wanted?" "yes." "is not your curiosity yet satisfied?" demanded reera, with a smile. "i don't know. is there anything else you can do?" "many things. but why should i exhibit my powers to a stranger?" "i can think of no reason at all," he replied. she looked at him curiously. "you want no power for yourself, you say, and you're too stupid to be able to steal my secrets. this isn't a pretty cottage, while outside are sunshine, broad prairies and beautiful wildflowers. yet you insist on sitting on that bench and annoying me with your unwelcome presence. what have you in that kettle?" "three fishes," he answered readily. "where did you get them?" "i caught them in the lake of the skeezers." "what do you intend to do with the fishes?" "i shall carry them to the home of a friend of mine who has three children. the children will love to have the fishes for pets." she came over to the bench and looked into the kettle, where the three fishes were swimming quietly in the water. "they're pretty," said reera. "let me transform them into something else." "no," objected the skeezer. "i love to transform things; it's so interesting. and i've never transformed any fishes in all my life." "let them alone," said ervic. "what shapes would you prefer them to have? i can make them turtles, or cute little sea-horses; or i could make them piglets, or rabbits, or guinea-pigs; or, if you like i can make chickens of them, or eagles, or bluejays." "let them alone!" repeated ervic. "you're not a very pleasant visitor," laughed red reera. "people accuse _me_ of being cross and crabbed and unsociable, and they are quite right. if you had come here pleading and begging for favors, and half afraid of my yookoohoo magic, i'd have abused you until you ran away; but you're quite different from that. _you're_ the unsociable and crabbed and disagreeable one, and so i like you, and bear with your grumpiness. it's time for my midday meal; are you hungry?" "no," said ervic, although he really desired food. "well, i am," reera declared and clapped her hands together. instantly a table appeared, spread with linen and bearing dishes of various foods, some smoking hot. there were two plates laid, one at each end of the table, and as soon as reera seated herself all her creatures gathered around her, as if they were accustomed to be fed when she ate. the wolf squatted at her right hand and the kittens and chipmunks gathered at her left. "come, stranger, sit down and eat," she called cheerfully, "and while we're eating let us decide into what forms we shall change your fishes." "they're all right as they are," asserted ervic, drawing up his bench to the table. "the fishes are beauties--one gold, one silver and one bronze. nothing that has life is more lovely than a beautiful fish." "what! am _i_ not more lovely?" reera asked, smiling at his serious face. "i don't object to you--for a yookoohoo, you know," he said, helping himself to the food and eating with good appetite. "and don't you consider a beautiful girl more lovely than a fish, however pretty the fish may be?" "well," replied ervic, after a period of thought, "that might be. if you transformed my three fish into three girls--girls who would be adepts at magic, you know they might please me as well as the fish do. you won't do that of course, because you can't, with all your skill. and, should you be able to do so, i fear my troubles would be more than i could bear. they would not consent to be my slaves--especially if they were adepts at magic--and so they would command _me_ to obey _them_. no, mistress reera, let us not transform the fishes at all." the skeezer had put his case with remarkable cleverness. he realized that if he appeared anxious for such a transformation the yookoohoo would not perform it, yet he had skillfully suggested that they be made adepts at magic. chapter red reera the yookoohoo after the meal was over and reera had fed her pets, including the four monster spiders which had come down from their webs to secure their share, she made the table disappear from the floor of the cottage. "i wish you'd consent to my transforming your fishes," she said, as she took up her knitting again. the skeezer made no reply. he thought it unwise to hurry matters. all during the afternoon they sat silent. once reera went to her cupboard and after thrusting her hand into the same drawer as before, touched the wolf and transformed it into a bird with gorgeous colored feathers. this bird was larger than a parrot and of a somewhat different form, but ervic had never seen one like it before. "sing!" said reera to the bird, which had perched itself on a big wooden peg--as if it had been in the cottage before and knew just what to do. and the bird sang jolly, rollicking songs with words to them--just as a person who had been carefully trained might do. the songs were entertaining and ervic enjoyed listening to them. in an hour or so the bird stopped singing, tucked its head under its wing and went to sleep. reera continued knitting but seemed thoughtful. now ervic had marked this cupboard drawer well and had concluded that reera took something from it which enabled her to perform her transformations. he thought that if he managed to remain in the cottage, and reera fell asleep, he could slyly open the cupboard, take a portion of whatever was in the drawer, and by dropping it into the copper kettle transform the three fishes into their natural shapes. indeed, he had firmly resolved to carry out this plan when the yookoohoo put down her knitting and walked toward the door. "i'm going out for a few minutes," said she; "do you wish to go with me, or will you remain here?" ervic did not answer but sat quietly on his bench. so reera went out and closed the cottage door. as soon as she was gone, ervic rose and tiptoed to the cupboard. "take care! take care!" cried several voices, coming from the kittens and chipmunks. "if you touch anything we'll tell the yookoohoo!" ervic hesitated a moment but, remembering that he need not consider reera's anger if he succeeded in transforming the fishes, he was about to open the cupboard when he was arrested by the voices of the fishes, which stuck their heads above the water in the kettle and called out: "come here, ervic!" so he went back to the kettle and bent over it. "let the cupboard alone," said the goldfish to him earnestly. "you could not succeed by getting that magic powder, for only the yookoohoo knows how to use it. the best way is to allow her to transform us into three girls, for then we will have our natural shapes and be able to perform all the arts of magic we have learned and well understand. you are acting wisely and in the most effective manner. we did not know you were so intelligent, or that reera could be so easily deceived by you. continue as you have begun and try to persuade her to transform us. but insist that we be given the forms of girls." the goldfish ducked its head down just as reera re-entered the cottage. she saw ervic bent over the kettle, so she came and joined him. "can your fishes talk?" she asked. "sometimes," he replied, "for all fishes in the land of oz know how to speak. just now they were asking me for some bread. they are hungry." "well, they can have some bread," said reera. "but it is nearly supper-time, and if you would allow me to transform your fishes into girls they could join us at the table and have plenty of food much nicer than crumbs. why not let me transform them?" "well," said ervic, as if hesitating, "ask the fishes. if they consent, why--why, then, i'll think it over." reera bent over the kettle and asked: "can you hear me, little fishes?" all three popped their heads above water. "we can hear you," said the bronzefish. "i want to give you other forms, such as rabbits, or turtles or girls, or something; but your master, the surly skeezer, does not wish me to. however, he has agreed to the plan if you will consent." "we'd like to be girls," said the silverfish. "no, no!" exclaimed ervic. "if you promise to make us three beautiful girls, we will consent," said the goldfish. "no, no!" exclaimed ervic again. "also make us adepts at magic," added the bronzefish. "i don't know exactly what that means," replied reera musingly, "but as no adept at magic is as powerful as yookoohoo, i'll add that to the transformation." "we won't try to harm you, or to interfere with your magic in any way," promised the goldfish. "on the contrary, we will be your friends." "will you agree to go away and leave me alone in my cottage, whenever i command you to do so?" asked reera. "we promise that," cried the three fishes. "don't do it! don't consent to the transformation," urged ervic. "they have already consented," said the yookoohoo, laughing in his face, "and you have promised me to abide by their decision. so, friend skeezer, i shall perform the transformation whether you like it or not." ervic seated himself on the bench again, a deep scowl on his face but joy in his heart. reera moved over to the cupboard, took something from the drawer and returned to the copper kettle. she was clutching something tightly in her right hand, but with her left she reached within the kettle, took out the three fishes and laid them carefully on the floor, where they gasped in distress at being out of water. reera did not keep them in misery more than a few seconds, for she touched each one with her right hand and instantly the fishes were transformed into three tall and slender young women, with fine, intelligent faces and clothed in handsome, clinging gowns. the one who had been a goldfish had beautiful golden hair and blue eyes and was exceedingly fair of skin; the one who had been a bronzefish had dark brown hair and clear gray eyes and her complexion matched these lovely features. the one who had been a silverfish had snow-white hair of the finest texture and deep brown eyes. the hair contrasted exquisitely with her pink cheeks and ruby-red lips, nor did it make her look a day older than her two companions. as soon as they secured these girlish shapes, all three bowed low to the yookoohoo and said: "we thank you, reera." then they bowed to the skeezer and said: "we thank you, ervic." "very good!" cried the yookoohoo, examining her work with critical approval. "you are much better and more interesting than fishes, and this ungracious skeezer would scarcely allow me to do the transformations. you surely have nothing to thank _him_ for. but now let us dine in honor of the occasion." she clapped her hands together and again a table loaded with food appeared in the cottage. it was a longer table, this time, and places were set for the three adepts as well as for reera and ervic. "sit down, friends, and eat your fill," said the yookoohoo, but instead of seating herself at the head of the table she went to the cupboard, saying to the adepts: "your beauty and grace, my fair friends, quite outshine my own. so that i may appear properly at the banquet table i intend, in honor of this occasion, to take upon myself my natural shape." scarcely had she finished this speech when reera transformed herself into a young woman fully as lovely as the three adepts. she was not quite so tall as they, but her form was more rounded and more handsomely clothed, with a wonderful jeweled girdle and a necklace of shining pearls. her hair was a bright auburn red, and her eyes large and dark. "do you claim this is your natural form?" asked ervic of the yookoohoo. "yes," she replied. "this is the only form i am really entitled to wear. but i seldom assume it because there is no one here to admire or appreciate it and i get tired admiring it myself." "i see now why you are named reera the red," remarked ervic. "it is on account of my red hair," she explained smiling. "i do not care for red hair myself, which is one reason i usually wear other forms." "it is beautiful," asserted the young man; and then remembering the other women present he added: "but, of course, all women should not have red hair, because that would make it too common. gold and silver and brown hair are equally handsome." the smiles that he saw interchanged between the four filled the poor skeezer with embarrassment, so he fell silent and attended to eating his supper, leaving the others to do the talking. the three adepts frankly told reera who they were, how they became fishes and how they had planned secretly to induce the yookoohoo to transform them. they admitted that they had feared, had they asked her to help, that she would have refused them. "you were quite right," returned the yookoohoo. "i make it my rule never to perform magic to assist others, for if i did there would always be crowds at my cottage demanding help and i hate crowds and want to be left alone. "however, now that you are restored to your proper shapes, i do not regret my action and i hope you will be of use in saving the skeezer people by raising their island to the surface of the lake, where it really belongs. but you must promise me that after you go away you will never come here again, nor tell anyone what i have done for you." the three adepts and ervic thanked the yookoohoo warmly. they promised to remember her wish that they should not come to her cottage again and so, with a good-bye, took their departure. chapter a puzzling problem glinda the good, having decided to try her sorcery upon the abandoned submarine, so that it would obey her commands, asked all of her party, including the skeezers, to withdraw from the shore of the lake to the line of palm trees. she kept with her only the little wizard of oz, who was her pupil and knew how to assist her in her magic rites. when they two were alone beside the stranded boat, glinda said to the wizard: "i shall first try my magic recipe no. , which is intended to make inanimate objects move at my command. have you a skeropythrope with you?" "yes, i always carry one in my bag," replied the wizard. he opened his black bag of magic tools and took out a brightly polished skeropythrope, which he handed to the sorceress. glinda had also brought a small wicker bag, containing various requirements of sorcery, and from this she took a parcel of powder and a vial of liquid. she poured the liquid into the skeropythrope and added the powder. at once the skeropythrope began to sputter and emit sparks of a violet color, which spread in all directions. the sorceress instantly stepped into the middle of the boat and held the instrument so that the sparks fell all around her and covered every bit of the blackened steel boat. at the same time glinda crooned a weird incantation in the language of sorcery, her voice sounding low and musical. after a little the violet sparks ceased, and those that had fallen upon the boat had disappeared and left no mark upon its surface. the ceremony was ended and glinda returned the skeropythrope to the wizard, who put it away in his black bag. "that ought to do the business all right," he said confidently. "let us make a trial and see," she replied. so they both entered the boat and seated themselves. speaking in a tone of command the sorceress said to the boat: "carry us across the lake, to the farther shore." at once the boat backed off the sandy beach, turned its prow and moved swiftly over the water. "very good--very good indeed!" cried the wizard, when the boat slowed up at the shore opposite from that whence they had departed. "even coo-ee-oh, with all her witchcraft, could do no better." the sorceress now said to the boat: "close up, submerge and carry us to the basement door of the sunken island--the door from which you emerged at the command of queen coo-ee-oh." the boat obeyed. as it sank into the water the top sections rose from the sides and joined together over the heads of glinda and the wizard, who were thus enclosed in a water-proof chamber. there were four glass windows in this covering, one on each side and one on either end, so that the passengers could see exactly where they were going. moving under water more slowly than on the surface, the submarine gradually approached the island and halted with its bow pressed against the huge marble door in the basement under the dome. this door was tightly closed and it was evident to both glinda and the wizard that it would not open to admit the under-water boat unless a magic word was spoken by them or someone from within the basement of the island. but what was this magic word? neither of them knew. "i'm afraid," said the wizard regretfully, "that we can't get in, after all. unless your sorcery can discover the word to open the marble door." "that is probably some word only known to coo-ee-oh," replied the sorceress. "i may be able to discover what it is, but that will require time. let us go back again to our companions." "it seems a shame, after we have made the boat obey us, to be balked by just a marble door," grumbled the wizard. at glinda's command the boat rose until it was on a level with the glass dome that covered the skeezer village, when the sorceress made it slowly circle all around the great dome. many faces were pressed against the glass from the inside, eagerly watching the submarine, and in one place were dorothy and ozma, who quickly recognized glinda and the wizard through the glass windows of the boat. glinda saw them, too, and held the boat close to the dome while the friends exchanged greetings in pantomime. their voices, unfortunately, could not be heard through the dome and the water and the side of the boat. the wizard tried to make the girls understand, through signs, that he and glinda had come to their rescue, and ozma and dorothy understood this from the very fact that the sorceress and the wizard had appeared. the two girl prisoners were smiling and in safety, and knowing this glinda felt she could take all the time necessary in order to effect their final rescue. as nothing more could be done just then, glinda ordered the boat to return to shore, and it obeyed readily. first it ascended to the surface of the water, then the roof parted and fell into the slots at the side of the boat, and then the magic craft quickly made the shore and beached itself on the sands at the very spot from which it had departed at glinda's command. all the oz people and the skeezers at once ran to the boat to ask if they had reached the island, and whether they had seen ozma and dorothy. the wizard told them of the obstacle they had met in the way of a marble door, and how glinda would now undertake to find a magic way to conquer the door. realizing that it would require several days to succeed in reaching the island, raising it and liberating their friends and the skeezer people, glinda now prepared a camp half way between the lake shore and the palm trees. the wizard's wizardry made a number of tents appear and the sorcery of the sorceress furnished these tents all complete, with beds, chairs, tables, rugs, lamps and even books with which to pass idle hours. all the tents had the royal banner of oz flying from the centerpoles and one big tent, not now occupied, had ozma's own banner moving in the breeze. betsy and trot had a tent to themselves, and button bright and ojo had another. the scarecrow and the tin woodman paired together in one tent and so did jack pumpkinhead and the shaggy man, cap'n bill and uncle henry, tik-tok and professor wogglebug. glinda had the most splendid tent of all, except that reserved for ozma, while the wizard had a little one of his own. whenever it was meal time, tables loaded with food magically appeared in the tents of those who were in the habit of eating, and these complete arrangements made the rescue party just as comfortable as they would have been in their own homes. far into the night glinda sat in her tent studying a roll of mystic scrolls in search of a word that would open the basement door of the island and admit her to the great dome. she also made many magical experiments, hoping to discover something that would aid her. yet the morning found the powerful sorceress still unsuccessful. glinda's art could have opened any ordinary door, you may be sure, but you must realize that this marble door of the island had been commanded not to open save in obedience to one magic word, and therefore all other magic words could have no effect upon it. the magic word that guarded the door had probably been invented by coo-ee-oh, who had now forgotten it. the only way, then, to gain entrance to the sunken island was to break the charm that held the door fast shut. if this could be done no magic would be required to open it. the next day the sorceress and the wizard again entered the boat and made it submerge and go to the marble door, which they tried in various ways to open, but without success. "we shall have to abandon this attempt, i think," said glinda. "the easiest way to raise the island would be for us to gain admittance to the dome and then descend to the basement and see in what manner coo-ee-oh made the entire island sink or rise at her command. it naturally occurred to me that the easiest way to gain admittance would be by having the boat take us into the basement through the marble door from which coo-ee-oh launched it. but there must be other ways to get inside the dome and join ozma and dorothy, and such ways we must find by study and the proper use of our powers of magic." "it won't be easy," declared the wizard, "for we must not forget that ozma herself understands considerable magic, and has doubtless tried to raise the island or find other means of escape from it and failed." "that is true," returned glinda, "but ozma's magic is fairy magic, while you are a wizard and i am a sorceress. in this way the three of us have a great variety of magic to work with, and if we should all fail it will be because the island is raised and lowered by a magic power none of us is acquainted with. my idea therefore is to seek--by such magic as we possess--to accomplish our object in another way." they made the circle of the dome again in their boat, and once more saw ozma and dorothy through their windows and exchanged signals with the two imprisoned girls. ozma realized that her friends were doing all in their power to rescue her and smiled an encouragement to their efforts. dorothy seemed a little anxious but was trying to be as brave as her companion. after the boat had returned to the camp and glinda was seated in her tent, working out various ways by which ozma and dorothy could be rescued, the wizard stood on the shore dreamily eying the outlines of the great dome which showed beneath the clear water, when he raised his eyes and saw a group of strange people approaching from around the lake. three were young women of stately presence, very beautifully dressed, who moved with remarkable grace. they were followed at a little distance by a good-looking young skeezer. the wizard saw at a glance that these people might be very important, so he advanced to meet them. the three maidens received him graciously and the one with the golden hair said: "i believe you are the famous wizard of oz, of whom i have often heard. we are seeking glinda, the sorceress, and perhaps you can lead us to her." "i can, and will, right gladly," answered the wizard. "follow me, please." the little wizard was puzzled as to the identity of the three lovely visitors but he gave no sign that might embarrass them. he understood they did not wish to be questioned, and so he made no remarks as he led the way to glinda's tent. with a courtly bow the wizard ushered the three visitors into the gracious presence of glinda, the good. chapter the three adepts the sorceress looked up from her work as the three maidens entered, and something in their appearance and manner led her to rise and bow to them in her most dignified manner. the three knelt an instant before the great sorceress and then stood upright and waited for her to speak. "whoever you may be," said glinda, "i bid you welcome." "my name is audah," said one. "my name is aurah," said another. "my name is aujah," said the third. glinda had never heard these names before, but looking closely at the three she asked: "are you witches or workers in magic?" "some of the secret arts we have gleaned from nature," replied the brownhaired maiden modestly, "but we do not place our skill beside that of the great sorceress, glinda the good." "i suppose you are aware it is unlawful to practice magic in the land of oz, without the permission of our ruler, princess ozma?" "no, we were not aware of that," was the reply. "we have heard of ozma, who is the appointed ruler of all this great fairyland, but her laws have not reached us, as yet." glinda studied the strange maidens thoughtfully; then she said to them: "princess ozma is even now imprisoned in the skeezer village, for the whole island with its great dome, was sunk to the bottom of the lake by the witchcraft of coo-ee-oh, whom the flathead su-dic transformed into a silly swan. i am seeking some way to overcome coo-ee-oh's magic and raise the isle to the surface again. can you help me do this?" the maidens exchanged glances, and the white-haired one replied "we do not know; but we will try to assist you." "it seems," continued glinda musingly, "that coo-ee-oh derived most of her witchcraft from three adepts at magic, who at one time ruled the flatheads. while the adepts were being entertained by coo-ee-oh at a banquet in her palace, she cruelly betrayed them and after transforming them into fishes cast them into the lake. "if i could find these three fishes and return them to their natural shapes--they might know what magic coo-ee-oh used to sink the island. i was about to go to the shore and call these fishes to me when you arrived. so, if you will join me, we will try to find them." the maidens exchanged smiles now, and the golden-haired one, audah, said to glinda: "it will not be necessary to go to the lake. we are the three fishes." "indeed!" cried glinda. "then you are the three adepts at magic, restored to your proper forms?" "we are the three adepts," admitted aujah. "then," said glinda, "my task is half accomplished. but who destroyed the transformation that made you fishes?" "we have promised not to tell," answered aurah; "but this young skeezer was largely responsible for our release; he is brave and clever, and we owe him our gratitude." glinda looked at ervic, who stood modestly behind the adepts, hat in hand. "he shall be properly rewarded," she declared, "for in helping you he has helped us all, and perhaps saved his people from being imprisoned forever in the sunken isle." the sorceress now asked her guests to seat themselves and a long talk followed, in which the wizard of oz shared. "we are quite certain," said aurah, "that if we could get inside the dome we could discover coo-ee-oh's secrets, for in all her work, after we became fishes, she used the formulas and incantations and arts that she stole from us. she may have added to these things, but they were the foundation of all her work." "what means do you suggest for our getting into the dome?" inquired glinda. the three adepts hesitated to reply, for they had not yet considered what could be done to reach the inside of the great dome. while they were in deep thought, and glinda and the wizard were quietly awaiting their suggestions, into the tent rushed trot and betsy, dragging between them the patchwork girl. "oh, glinda," cried trot, "scraps has thought of a way to rescue ozma and dorothy and all of the skeezers." the three adepts could not avoid laughing merrily, for not only were they amused by the queer form of the patchwork girl, but trot's enthusiastic speech struck them as really funny. if the great sorceress and the famous wizard and the three talented adepts at magic were unable as yet to solve the important problem of the sunken isle, there was little chance for a patched girl stuffed with cotton to succeed. but glinda, smiling indulgently at the earnest faces turned toward her, patted the children's heads and said: "scraps is very clever. tell us what she has thought of, my dear." "well," said trot, "scraps says that if you could dry up all the water in the lake the island would be on dry land, an' everyone could come and go whenever they liked." glinda smiled again, but the wizard said to the girls: "if we should dry up the lake, what would become of all the beautiful fishes that now live in the water?" "dear me! that's so," admitted betsy, crestfallen; "we never thought of that, did we trot?" "couldn't you transform 'em into polliwogs?" asked scraps, turning a somersault and then standing on one leg. "you could give them a little, teeny pond to swim in, and they'd be just as happy as they are as fishes." "no indeed!" replied the wizard, severely. "it is wicked to transform any living creatures without their consent, and the lake is the home of the fishes and belongs to them." "all right," said scraps, making a face at him; "i don't care." "it's too bad," sighed trot, "for i thought we'd struck a splendid idea." "so you did," declared glinda, her face now grave and thoughtful. "there is something in the patchwork girl's idea that may be of real value to us." "i think so, too," agreed the golden-haired adept. "the top of the great dome is only a few feet below the surface of the water. if we could reduce the level of the lake until the dome sticks a little above the water, we could remove some of the glass and let ourselves down into the village by means of ropes." "and there would be plenty of water left for the fishes to swim in," added the white-haired maiden. "if we succeed in raising the island we could fill up the lake again," suggested the brown-haired adept. "i believe," said the wizard, rubbing his hands together in delight, "that the patchwork girl, has shown us the way to success." the girls were looking curiously at the three beautiful adepts, wondering who they were, so glinda introduced them to trot and betsy and scraps, and then sent the children away while she considered how to carry the new idea into effect. not much could be done that night, so the wizard prepared another tent for the adepts, and in the evening glinda held a reception and invited all her followers to meet the new arrivals. the adepts were greatly astonished at the extraordinary personages presented to them, and marveled that jack pumpkinhead and the scarecrow and the tin woodman and tik-tok could really live and think and talk just like other people. they were especially pleased with the lively patchwork girl and loved to watch her antics. it was quite a pleasant party, for glinda served some dainty refreshments to those who could eat, and the scarecrow recited some poems, and the cowardly lion sang a song in his deep bass voice. the only thing that marred their joy was the thought that their beloved ozma and dear little dorothy were yet confined in the great dome of the sunken island. chapter the sunken island as soon as they had breakfasted the next morning, glinda and the wizard and the three adepts went down to the shore of the lake and formed a line with their faces toward the submerged island. all the others came to watch them, but stood at a respectful distance in the background. at the right of the sorceress stood audah and aurah, while at the left stood the wizard and aujah. together they stretched their arms over the water's edge and in unison the five chanted a rhythmic incantation. this chant they repeated again and again, swaying their arms gently from side to side, and in a few minutes the watchers behind them noticed that the lake had begun to recede from the shore. before long the highest point of the dome appeared above the water. gradually the water fell, making the dome appear to rise. when it was three or four feet above the surface glinda gave the signal to stop, for their work had been accomplished. the blackened submarine was now entirely out of water, but uncle henry and cap'n bill managed to push it into the lake. glinda, the wizard, ervic and the adepts got into the boat, taking with them a coil of strong rope, and at the command of the sorceress the craft cleaved its way through the water toward the part of the dome which was now visible. "there's still plenty of water for the fish to swim in," observed the wizard as they rode along. "they might like more but i'm sure they can get along until we have raised the island and can fill up the lake again." the boat touched gently on the sloping glass of the dome, and the wizard took some tools from his black bag and quickly removed one large pane of glass, thus making a hole large enough for their bodies to pass through. stout frames of steel supported the glass of the dome, and around one of these frames the wizard tied the end of a rope. "i'll go down first," said he, "for while i'm not as spry as cap'n bill i'm sure i can manage it easily. are you sure the rope is long enough to reach the bottom?" "quite sure," replied the sorceress. so the wizard let down the rope and climbing through the opening lowered himself down, hand over hand, clinging to the rope with his legs and feet. below in the streets of the village were gathered all the skeezers, men, women and children, and you may be sure that ozma and dorothy, with lady aurex, were filled with joy that their friends were at last coming to their rescue. the queen's palace, now occupied by ozma, was directly in the center of the dome, so that when the rope was let down the end of it came just in front of the palace entrance. several skeezers held fast to the rope's end to steady it and the wizard reached the ground in safety. he hugged first ozma and then dorothy, while all the skeezers cheered as loud as they could. the wizard now discovered that the rope was long enough to reach from the top of the dome to the ground when doubled, so he tied a chair to one end of the rope and called to glinda to sit in the chair while he and some of the skeezers lowered her to the pavement. in this way the sorceress reached the ground quite comfortably and the three adepts and ervic soon followed her. the skeezers quickly recognized the three adepts at magic, whom they had learned to respect before their wicked queen betrayed them, and welcomed them as friends. all the inhabitants of the village had been greatly frightened by their imprisonment under water, but now realized that an attempt was to be made to rescue them. glinda, the wizard and the adepts followed ozma and dorothy into the palace, and they asked lady aurex and ervic to join them. after ozma had told of her adventures in trying to prevent war between the flatheads and the skeezers, and glinda had told all about the rescue expedition and the restoration of the three adepts by the help of ervic, a serious consultation was held as to how the island could be made to rise. "i've tried every way in my power," said ozma, "but coo-ee-oh used a very unusual sort of magic which i do not understand. she seems to have prepared her witchcraft in such a way that a spoken word is necessary to accomplish her designs, and these spoken words are known only to herself." "that is a method we taught her," declared aurah the adept. "i can do no more, glinda," continued ozma, "so i wish you would try what your sorcery can accomplish." "first, then," said glinda, "let us visit the basement of the island, which i am told is underneath the village." a flight of marble stairs led from one of coo-ee-oh's private rooms down to the basement, but when the party arrived all were puzzled by what they saw. in the center of a broad, low room, stood a mass of great cog-wheels, chains and pulleys, all interlocked and seeming to form a huge machine; but there was no engine or other motive power to make the wheels turn. "this, i suppose, is the means by which the island is lowered or raised," said ozma, "but the magic word which is needed to move the machinery is unknown to us." the three adepts were carefully examining the mass of wheels, and soon the golden-haired one said: "these wheels do not control the island at all. on the contrary, one set of them is used to open the doors of the little rooms where the submarines are kept, as may be seen from the chains and pulleys used. each boat is kept in a little room with two doors, one to the basement room where we are now and the other letting into the lake. "when coo-ee-oh used the boat in which she attacked the flatheads, she first commanded the basement door to open and with her followers she got into the boat and made the top close over them. then the basement door being closed, the outer door was slowly opened, letting the water fill the room to float the boat, which then left the island, keeping under water." "but how could she expect to get back again?" asked the wizard. "why the boat would enter the room filled with water and after the outer door was closed a word of command started a pump which pumped all the water from the room. then the boat would open and coo-ee-oh could enter the basement." "i see," said the wizard. "it is a clever contrivance, but won't work unless one knows the magic words." "another part of this machinery," explained the white-haired adept, "is used to extend the bridge from the island to the mainland. the steel bridge is in a room much like that in which the boats are kept, and at coo-ee-oh's command it would reach out, joint by joint, until its far end touched the shore of the lake. the same magic command would make the bridge return to its former position. of course the bridge could not be used unless the island was on the surface of the water." "but how do you suppose coo-ee-oh managed to sink the island, and make it rise again?" inquired glinda. this the adepts could not yet explain. as nothing more could be learned from the basement they mounted the steps to the queen's private suite again, and ozma showed them to a special room where coo-ee-oh kept her magical instruments and performed all her arts of witchcraft. chapter the magic words many interesting things were to be seen in the room of magic, including much that had been stolen from the adepts when they were transformed to fishes, but they had to admit that coo-ee-oh had a rare genius for mechanics, and had used her knowledge in inventing a lot of mechanical apparatus that ordinary witches, wizards and sorcerers could not understand. they all carefully inspected this room, taking care to examine every article they came across. "the island," said glinda thoughtfully, "rests on a base of solid marble. when it is submerged, as it is now, the base of the island is upon the bottom of the lake. what puzzles me is how such a great weight can be lifted and suspended in the water, even by magic." "i now remember," returned aujah, "that one of the arts we taught coo-ee-oh was the way to expand steel, and i think that explains how the island is raised and lowered. i noticed in the basement a big steel pillar that passed through the floor and extended upward to this palace. perhaps the end of it is concealed in this very room. if the lower end of the steel pillar is firmly embedded in the bottom of the lake, coo-ee-oh could utter a magic word that would make the pillar expand, and so lift the entire island to the level of the water." "i've found the end of the steel pillar. it's just here," announced the wizard, pointing to one side of the room where a great basin of polished steel seemed to have been set upon the floor. they all gathered around, and ozma said: "yes, i am quite sure that is the upper end of the pillar that supports the island. i noticed it when i first came here. it has been hollowed out, you see, and something has been burned in the basin, for the fire has left its marks. i wondered what was under the great basin and got several of the skeezers to come up here and try to lift it for me. they were strong men, but could not move it at all." "it seems to me," said audah the adept, "that we have discovered the manner in which coo-ee-oh raised the island. she would burn some sort of magic powder in the basin, utter the magic word, and the pillar would lengthen out and lift the island with it." "what's this?" asked dorothy, who had been searching around with the others, and now noticed a slight hollow in the wall, near to where the steel basin stood. as she spoke dorothy pushed her thumb into the hollow and instantly a small drawer popped out from the wall. the three adepts, glinda and the wizard sprang forward and peered into the drawer. it was half filled with a grayish powder, the tiny grains of which constantly moved as if impelled by some living force. "it may be some kind of radium," said the wizard. "no," replied glinda, "it is more wonderful than even radium, for i recognize it as a rare mineral powder called gaulau by the sorcerers. i wonder how coo-ee-oh discovered it and where she obtained it." "there is no doubt," said aujah the adept, "that this is the magic powder coo-ee-oh burned in the basin. if only we knew the magic word, i am quite sure we could raise the island." "how can we discover the magic word?" asked ozma, turning to glinda as she spoke. "that we must now seriously consider," answered the sorceress. so all of them sat down in the room of magic and began to think. it was so still that after a while dorothy grew nervous. the little girl never could keep silent for long, and at the risk of displeasing her magic-working friends she suddenly said: "well, coo-ee-oh used just three magic words, one to make the bridge work, and one to make the submarines go out of their holes, and one to raise and lower the island. three words. and coo-ee-oh's name is made up of just three words. one is 'coo,' and one is 'ee,' and one is 'oh.'" the wizard frowned but glinda looked wonderingly at the young girl and ozma cried out: "a good thought, dorothy dear! you may have solved our problem." "i believe it is worth a trial," agreed glinda. "it would be quite natural for coo-ee-oh to divide her name into three magic syllables, and dorothy's suggestion seems like an inspiration." the three adepts also approved the trial but the brown-haired one said: "we must be careful not to use the wrong word, and send the bridge out under water. the main thing, if dorothy's idea is correct, is to hit upon the one word that moves the island." "let us experiment," suggested the wizard. in the drawer with the moving gray powder was a tiny golden cup, which they thought was used for measuring. glinda filled this cup with the powder and carefully poured it into the shallow basin, which was the top of the great steel pillar supporting the island. then aurah the adept lighted a taper and touched it to the powder, which instantly glowed fiery red and tumbled about the basin with astonishing energy. while the grains of powder still glowed red the sorceress bent over it and said in a voice of command: "coo!" they waited motionless to see what would happen. there was a grating noise and a whirl of machinery, but the island did not move a particle. dorothy rushed to the window, which overlooked the glass side of the dome. "the boats!" she exclaimed. "the boats are all loose an' sailing under water." "we've made a mistake," said the wizard gloomily. "but it's one which shows we are on the right track," declared aujah the adept. "we know now that coo-ee-oh used the syllables of her name for the magic words." "if 'coo' sends out the boats, it is probable that 'ee' works the bridge," suggested ozma. "so the last part of the name may raise the island." "let us try that next then," proposed the wizard. he scraped the embers of the burned powder out of the basin and glinda again filled the golden cup from the drawer and placed it on top the steel pillar. aurah lighted it with her taper and ozma bent over the basin and murmured the long drawn syllable: "oh-h-h!" instantly the island trembled and with a weird groaning noise it moved upward--slowly, very slowly, but with a steady motion, while all the company stood by in awed silence. it was a wonderful thing, even to those skilled in the arts of magic, wizardry and sorcery, to realize that a single word could raise that great, heavy island, with its immense glass dome. "why, we're way _above_ the lake now!" exclaimed dorothy from the window, when at last the island ceased to move. "that is because we lowered the level of the water," explained glinda. they could hear the skeezers cheering lustily in the streets of the village as they realized that they were saved. "come," said ozma eagerly, "let us go down and join the people." "not just yet," returned glinda, a happy smile upon her lovely face, for she was overjoyed at their success. "first let us extend the bridge to the mainland, where our friends from the emerald city are waiting." it didn't take long to put more powder in the basin, light it and utter the syllable "ee!" the result was that a door in the basement opened and the steel bridge moved out, extended itself joint by joint, and finally rested its far end on the shore of the lake just in front of the encampment. "now," said glinda, "we can go up and receive the congratulations of the skeezers and of our friends of the rescue expedition." across the water, on the shore of the lake, the patchwork girl was waving them a welcome. chapter glinda's triumph of course all those who had joined glinda's expedition at once crossed the bridge to the island, where they were warmly welcomed by the skeezers. before all the concourse of people princess ozma made a speech from a porch of the palace and demanded that they recognize her as their lawful ruler and promise to obey the laws of the land of oz. in return she agreed to protect them from all future harm and declared they would no longer be subjected to cruelty and abuse. this pleased the skeezers greatly, and when ozma told them they might elect a queen to rule over them, who in turn would be subject to ozma of oz, they voted for lady aurex, and that same day the ceremony of crowning the new queen was held and aurex was installed as mistress of the palace. for her prime minister the queen selected ervic, for the three adepts had told of his good judgment, faithfulness and cleverness, and all the skeezers approved the appointment. glinda, the wizard and the adepts stood on the bridge and recited an incantation that quite filled the lake with water again, and the scarecrow and the patchwork girl climbed to the top of the great dome and replaced the pane of glass that had been removed to allow glinda and her followers to enter. when evening came ozma ordered a great feast prepared, to which every skeezer was invited. the village was beautifully decorated and brilliantly lighted and there was music and dancing until a late hour to celebrate the liberation of the people. for the skeezers had been freed, not only from the water of the lake but from the cruelty of their former queen. as the people from the emerald city prepared the next morning to depart queen aurex said to ozma: "there is only one thing i now fear for my people, and that is the enmity of the terrible su-dic of the flatheads. he is liable to come here at any time and try to annoy us, and my skeezers are peaceful folks and unable to fight the wild and wilful flatheads." "do not worry," returned ozma, reassuringly. "we intend to stop on our way at the flatheads' enchanted mountain and punish the su-dic for his misdeeds." that satisfied aurex and when ozma and her followers trooped over the bridge to the shore, having taken leave of their friends, all the skeezers cheered them and waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and the band played and the departure was indeed a ceremony long to be remembered. the three adepts at magic, who had formerly ruled the flatheads wisely and considerately, went with princess ozma and her people, for they had promised ozma to stay on the mountain and again see that the laws were enforced. glinda had been told all about the curious flatheads and she had consulted with the wizard and formed a plan to render them more intelligent and agreeable. when the party reached the mountain ozma and dorothy showed them how to pass around the invisible wall--which had been built by the flatheads after the adepts were transformed--and how to gain the up-and-down stairway that led to the mountain top. the su-dic had watched the approach of the party from the edge of the mountain and was frightened when he saw that the three adepts had recovered their natural forms and were coming back to their former home. he realized that his power would soon be gone and yet he determined to fight to the last. he called all the flatheads together and armed them, and told them to arrest all who came up the stairway and hurl them over the edge of the mountain to the plain below. but although they feared the supreme dictator, who had threatened to punish them if they did not obey his commands, as soon as they saw the three adepts they threw down their arms and begged their former rulers to protect them. the three adepts assured the excited flatheads that they had nothing to fear. seeing that his people had rebelled the su-dic ran away and tried to hide, but the adepts found him and had him cast into a prison, all his cans of brains being taken away from him. after this easy conquest of the su-dic, glinda told the adepts of her plan, which had already been approved by ozma of oz, and they joyfully agreed to it. so, during the next few days, the great sorceress transformed, in a way, every flathead on the mountain. taking them one at a time, she had the can of brains that belonged to each one opened and the contents spread on the flat head, after which, by means of her arts of sorcery, she caused the head to grow over the brains--in the manner most people wear them--and they were thus rendered as intelligent and good looking as any of the other inhabitants of the land of oz. when all had been treated in this manner there were no more flatheads at all, and the adepts decided to name their people mountaineers. one good result of glinda's sorcery was that no one could now be deprived of the brains that belonged to him and each person had exactly the share he was entitled to. even the su-dic was given his portion of brains and his flat head made round, like the others, but he was deprived of all power to work further mischief, and with the adepts constantly watching him he would be forced to become obedient and humble. the golden pig, which ran grunting about the streets, with no brains at all, was disenchanted by glinda, and in her woman's form was given brains and a round head. this wife of the su-dic had once been even more wicked than her evil husband, but she had now forgotten all her wickedness and was likely to be a good woman thereafter. these things being accomplished in a satisfactory manner, princess ozma and her people bade farewell to the three adepts and departed for the emerald city, well pleased with their interesting adventures. they returned by the road over which ozma and dorothy had come, stopping to get the sawhorse and the red wagon where they had left them. "i'm very glad i went to see these peoples," said princess ozma, "for i not only prevented any further warfare between them, but they have been freed from the rule of the su-dic and coo-ee-oh and are now happy and loyal subjects of the land of oz. which proves that it is always wise to do one's duty, however unpleasant that duty may seem to be." transcriber's note archaic and inconsistent spelling, punctuation, and syntax retained. the wonderful wizard of oz by l. frank baum w. w. denslow. [illustration] geo. m. hill co. new york. introduction. folk lore, legends, myths and fairy tales have followed childhood through the ages, for every healthy youngster has a wholesome and instinctive love for stories fantastic, marvelous and manifestly unreal. the winged fairies of grimm and andersen have brought more happiness to childish hearts than all other human creations. yet the old-time fairy tale, having served for generations, may now be classed as "historical" in the children's library; for the time has come for a series of newer "wonder tales" in which the stereotyped genie, dwarf and fairy are eliminated, together with all the horrible and blood-curdling incident devised by their authors to point a fearsome moral to each tale. modern education includes morality; therefore the modern child seeks only entertainment in its wonder-tales and gladly dispenses with all disagreeable incident. [illustration] having this thought in mind, the story of "the wonderful wizard of oz" was written solely to pleasure children of today. it aspires to being a modernized fairy tale, in which the wonderment and joy are retained and the heart-aches and nightmares are left out. l. frank baum. chicago, april, . [illustration] copyright by l. frank baum and w. w. denslow. all rights reserved [illustration] list of chapters. chapter i.--the cyclone. chapter ii.--the council with the munchkins. chapter iii.--how dorothy saved the scarecrow. chapter iv.--the road through the forest. chapter v.--the rescue of the tin woodman. chapter vi.--the cowardly lion. chapter vii.--the journey to the great oz. chapter viii.--the deadly poppy field. chapter ix.--the queen of the field mice. chapter x.--the guardian of the gates. chapter xi.--the wonderful emerald city of oz. chapter xii.--the search for the wicked witch. chapter xiii.--how the four were reunited. chapter xiv.--the winged monkeys. chapter xv.--the discovery of oz the terrible. chapter xvi.--the magic art of the great humbug. chapter xvii.--how the balloon was launched. chapter xviii.--away to the south. chapter xix.--attacked by the fighting trees. chapter xx.--the dainty china country. chapter xxi.--the lion becomes the king of beasts. chapter xxii.--the country of the quadlings. chapter xxiii.--the good witch grants dorothy's wish. chapter xxiv.--home again. _this book is dedicated to my good friend & comrade. my wife l.f.b._ chapter i. the cyclone. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] dorothy lived in the midst of the great kansas prairies, with uncle henry, who was a farmer, and aunt em, who was the farmer's wife. their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles. there were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made one room; and this room contained a rusty looking cooking stove, a cupboard for the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. uncle henry and aunt em had a big bed in one corner, and dorothy a little bed in another corner. there was no garret at all, and no cellar--except a small hole, dug in the ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the family could go in case one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough to crush any building in its path. it was reached by a trap-door in the middle of the floor, from which a ladder led down into the small, dark hole. when dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. not a tree nor a house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached the edge of the sky in all directions. the sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass, with little cracks running through it. even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere. once the house had been painted, but the sun blistered the paint and the rains washed it away, and now the house was as dull and gray as everything else. [illustration: "_she caught toto by the ear._"] when aunt em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife. the sun and wind had changed her, too. they had taken the sparkle from her eyes and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and lips, and they were gray also. she was thin and gaunt, and never smiled, now. when dorothy, who was an orphan, first came to her, aunt em had been so startled by the child's laughter that she would scream and press her hand upon her heart whenever dorothy's merry voice reached her ears; and she still looked at the little girl with wonder that she could find anything to laugh at. uncle henry never laughed. he worked hard from morning till night and did not know what joy was. he was gray also, from his long beard to his rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn, and rarely spoke. it was toto that made dorothy laugh, and saved her from growing as gray as her other surroundings. toto was not gray; he was a little black dog, with long, silky hair and small black eyes that twinkled merrily on either side of his funny, wee nose. toto played all day long, and dorothy played with him, and loved him dearly. [illustration] to-day, however, they were not playing. uncle henry sat upon the door-step and looked anxiously at the sky, which was even grayer than usual. dorothy stood in the door with toto in her arms, and looked at the sky too. aunt em was washing the dishes. from the far north they heard a low wail of the wind, and uncle henry and dorothy could see where the long grass bowed in waves before the coming storm. there now came a sharp whistling in the air from the south, and as they turned their eyes that way they saw ripples in the grass coming from that direction also. suddenly uncle henry stood up. "there's a cyclone coming, em," he called to his wife; "i'll go look after the stock." then he ran toward the sheds where the cows and horses were kept. aunt em dropped her work and came to the door. one glance told her of the danger close at hand. "quick, dorothy!" she screamed; "run for the cellar!" toto jumped out of dorothy's arms and hid under the bed, and the girl started to get him. aunt em, badly frightened, threw open the trap-door in the floor and climbed down the ladder into the small, dark hole. dorothy caught toto at last, and started to follow her aunt. when she was half way across the room there came a great shriek from the wind, and the house shook so hard that she lost her footing and sat down suddenly upon the floor. a strange thing then happened. the house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through the air. dorothy felt as if she were going up in a balloon. the north and south winds met where the house stood, and made it the exact center of the cyclone. in the middle of a cyclone the air is generally still, but the great pressure of the wind on every side of the house raised it up higher and higher, until it was at the very top of the cyclone; and there it remained and was carried miles and miles away as easily as you could carry a feather. it was very dark, and the wind howled horribly around her, but dorothy found she was riding quite easily. after the first few whirls around, and one other time when the house tipped badly, she felt as if she were being rocked gently, like a baby in a cradle. toto did not like it. he ran about the room, now here, now there, barking loudly; but dorothy sat quite still on the floor and waited to see what would happen. once toto got too near the open trap-door, and fell in; and at first the little girl thought she had lost him. but soon she saw one of his ears sticking up through the hole, for the strong pressure of the air was keeping him up so that he could not fall. she crept to the hole, caught toto by the ear, and dragged him into the room again; afterward closing the trap-door so that no more accidents could happen. hour after hour passed away, and slowly dorothy got over her fright; but she felt quite lonely, and the wind shrieked so loudly all about her that she nearly became deaf. at first she had wondered if she would be dashed to pieces when the house fell again; but as the hours passed and nothing terrible happened, she stopped worrying and resolved to wait calmly and see what the future would bring. at last she crawled over the swaying floor to her bed, and lay down upon it; and toto followed and lay down beside her. in spite of the swaying of the house and the wailing of the wind, dorothy soon closed her eyes and fell fast asleep. [illustration] chapter ii. the council with the munchkins. [illustration] [illustration] she was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if dorothy had not been lying on the soft bed she might have been hurt. as it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened; and toto put his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally. dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was not moving; nor was it dark, for the bright sunshine came in at the window, flooding the little room. she sprang from her bed and with toto at her heels ran and opened the door. the little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her, her eyes growing bigger and bigger at the wonderful sights she saw. the cyclone had set the house down, very gently--for a cyclone--in the midst of a country of marvelous beauty. there were lovely patches of green sward all about, with stately trees bearing rich and luscious fruits. banks of gorgeous flowers were on every hand, and birds with rare and brilliant plumage sang and fluttered in the trees and bushes. a little way off was a small brook, rushing and sparkling along between green banks, and murmuring in a voice very grateful to a little girl who had lived so long on the dry, gray prairies. while she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful sights, she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest people she had ever seen. they were not as big as the grown folk she had always been used to; but neither were they very small. in fact, they seemed about as tall as dorothy, who was a well-grown child for her age, although they were, so far as looks go, many years older. [illustration: "_i am the witch of the north._"] three were men and one a woman, and all were oddly dressed. they wore round hats that rose to a small point a foot above their heads, with little bells around the brims that tinkled sweetly as they moved. the hats of the men were blue; the little woman's hat was white, and she wore a white gown that hung in plaits from her shoulders; over it were sprinkled little stars that glistened in the sun like diamonds. the men were dressed in blue, of the same shade as their hats, and wore well polished boots with a deep roll of blue at the tops. the men, dorothy thought, were about as old as uncle henry, for two of them had beards. but the little woman was doubtless much older: her face was covered with wrinkles, her hair was nearly white, and she walked rather stiffly. when these people drew near the house where dorothy was standing in the doorway, they paused and whispered among themselves, as if afraid to come farther. but the little old woman walked up to dorothy, made a low bow and said, in a sweet voice, "you are welcome, most noble sorceress, to the land of the munchkins. we are so grateful to you for having killed the wicked witch of the east, and for setting our people free from bondage." [illustration] dorothy listened to this speech with wonder. what could the little woman possibly mean by calling her a sorceress, and saying she had killed the wicked witch of the east? dorothy was an innocent, harmless little girl, who had been carried by a cyclone many miles from home; and she had never killed anything in all her life. but the little woman evidently expected her to answer; so dorothy said, with hesitation, "you are very kind; but there must be some mistake. i have not killed anything." "your house did, anyway," replied the little old woman, with a laugh; "and that is the same thing. see!" she continued, pointing to the corner of the house; "there are her two toes, still sticking out from under a block of wood." dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. there, indeed, just under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two feet were sticking out, shod in silver shoes with pointed toes. "oh, dear! oh, dear!" cried dorothy, clasping her hands together in dismay; "the house must have fallen on her. what ever shall we do?" "there is nothing to be done," said the little woman, calmly. [illustration] "but who was she?" asked dorothy. "she was the wicked witch of the east, as i said," answered the little woman. "she has held all the munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. now they are all set free, and are grateful to you for the favour." "who are the munchkins?" enquired dorothy. "they are the people who live in this land of the east, where the wicked witch ruled." "are you a munchkin?" asked dorothy. "no; but i am their friend, although i live in the land of the north. when they saw the witch of the east was dead the munchkins sent a swift messenger to me, and i came at once. i am the witch of the north." "oh, gracious!" cried dorothy; "are you a real witch?" "yes, indeed;" answered the little woman. "but i am a good witch, and the people love me. i am not as powerful as the wicked witch was who ruled here, or i should have set the people free myself." "but i thought all witches were wicked," said the girl, who was half frightened at facing a real witch. "oh, no; that is a great mistake. there were only four witches in all the land of oz, and two of them, those who live in the north and the south, are good witches. i know this is true, for i am one of them myself, and cannot be mistaken. those who dwelt in the east and the west were, indeed, wicked witches; but now that you have killed one of them, there is but one wicked witch in all the land of oz--the one who lives in the west." "but," said dorothy, after a moment's thought, "aunt em has told me that the witches were all dead--years and years ago." "who is aunt em?" inquired the little old woman. "she is my aunt who lives in kansas, where i came from." the witch of the north seemed to think for a time, with her head bowed and her eyes upon the ground. then she looked up and said, "i do not know where kansas is, for i have never heard that country mentioned before. but tell me, is it a civilized country?" "oh, yes;" replied dorothy. "then that accounts for it. in the civilized countries i believe there are no witches left; nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. but, you see, the land of oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world. therefore we still have witches and wizards amongst us." "who are the wizards?" asked dorothy. "oz himself is the great wizard," answered the witch, sinking her voice to a whisper. "he is more powerful than all the rest of us together. he lives in the city of emeralds." dorothy was going to ask another question, but just then the munchkins, who had been standing silently by, gave a loud shout and pointed to the corner of the house where the wicked witch had been lying. [illustration] "what is it?" asked the little old woman; and looked, and began to laugh. the feet of the dead witch had disappeared entirely and nothing was left but the silver shoes. "she was so old," explained the witch of the north, "that she dried up quickly in the sun. that is the end of her. but the silver shoes are yours, and you shall have them to wear." she reached down and picked up the shoes, and after shaking the dust out of them handed them to dorothy. "the witch of the east was proud of those silver shoes," said one of the munchkins; "and there is some charm connected with them; but what it is we never knew." dorothy carried the shoes into the house and placed them on the table. then she came out again to the munchkins and said, "i am anxious to get back to my aunt and uncle, for i am sure they will worry about me. can you help me find my way?" the munchkins and the witch first looked at one another, and then at dorothy, and then shook their heads. "at the east, not far from here," said one, "there is a great desert, and none could live to cross it." "it is the same at the south," said another, "for i have been there and seen it. the south is the country of the quadlings." "i am told," said the third man, "that it is the same at the west. and that country, where the winkies live, is ruled by the wicked witch of the west, who would make you her slave if you passed her way." "the north is my home," said the old lady, "and at its edge is the same great desert that surrounds this land of oz. i'm afraid, my dear, you will have to live with us." dorothy began to sob, at this, for she felt lonely among all these strange people. her tears seemed to grieve the kind-hearted munchkins, for they immediately took out their handkerchiefs and began to weep also. as for the little old woman, she took off her cap and balanced the point on the end of her nose, while she counted "one, two, three" in a solemn voice. at once the cap changed to a slate, on which was written in big, white chalk marks: "let dorothy go to the city of emeralds." [illustration] the little old woman took the slate from her nose, and, having read the words on it, asked, "is your name dorothy, my dear?" "yes," answered the child, looking up and drying her tears. "then you must go to the city of emeralds. perhaps oz will help you." "where is this city?" asked dorothy. "it is exactly in the center of the country, and is ruled by oz, the great wizard i told you of." "is he a good man?" enquired the girl, anxiously. "he is a good wizard. whether he is a man or not i cannot tell, for i have never seen him." "how can i get there?" asked dorothy. "you must walk. it is a long journey, through a country that is sometimes pleasant and sometimes dark and terrible. however, i will use all the magic arts i know of to keep you from harm." "won't you go with me?" pleaded the girl, who had begun to look upon the little old woman as her only friend. "no, i cannot do that," she replied; "but i will give you my kiss, and no one will dare injure a person who has been kissed by the witch of the north." she came close to dorothy and kissed her gently on the forehead. where her lips touched the girl they left a round, shining mark, as dorothy found out soon after. "the road to the city of emeralds is paved with yellow brick," said the witch; "so you cannot miss it. when you get to oz do not be afraid of him, but tell your story and ask him to help you. good-bye, my dear." [illustration] the three munchkins bowed low to her and wished her a pleasant journey, after which they walked away through the trees. the witch gave dorothy a friendly little nod, whirled around on her left heel three times, and straightway disappeared, much to the surprise of little toto, who barked after her loudly enough when she had gone, because he had been afraid even to growl while she stood by. but dorothy, knowing her to be a witch, had expected her to disappear in just that way, and was not surprised in the least. chapter iii how dorothy saved the scarecrow. [illustration] when dorothy was left alone she began to feel hungry. so she went to the cupboard and cut herself some bread, which she spread with butter. she gave some to toto, and taking a pail from the shelf she carried it down to the little brook and filled it with clear, sparkling water. toto ran over to the trees and began to bark at the birds sitting there. dorothy went to get him, and saw such delicious fruit hanging from the branches that she gathered some of it, finding it just what she wanted to help out her breakfast. then she went back to the house, and having helped herself and toto to a good drink of the cool, clear water, she set about making ready for the journey to the city of emeralds. dorothy had only one other dress, but that happened to be clean and was hanging on a peg beside her bed. it was gingham, with checks of white and blue; and although the blue was somewhat faded with many washings, it was still a pretty frock. the girl washed herself carefully, dressed herself in the clean gingham, and tied her pink sunbonnet on her head. she took a little basket and filled it with bread from the cupboard, laying a white cloth over the top. then she looked down at her feet and noticed how old and worn her shoes were. "they surely will never do for a long journey, toto," she said. and toto looked up into her face with his little black eyes and wagged his tail to show he knew what she meant. at that moment dorothy saw lying on the table the silver shoes that had belonged to the witch of the east. "i wonder if they will fit me," she said to toto. "they would be just the thing to take a long walk in, for they could not wear out." she took off her old leather shoes and tried on the silver ones, which fitted her as well as if they had been made for her. finally she picked up her basket. "come along, toto," she said, "we will go to the emerald city and ask the great oz how to get back to kansas again." she closed the door, locked it, and put the key carefully in the pocket of her dress. and so, with toto trotting along soberly behind her, she started on her journey. there were several roads near by, but it did not take her long to find the one paved with yellow brick. within a short time she was walking briskly toward the emerald city, her silver shoes tinkling merrily on the hard, yellow roadbed. the sun shone bright and the birds sang sweet and dorothy did not feel nearly as bad as you might think a little girl would who had been suddenly whisked away from her own country and set down in the midst of a strange land. [illustration] she was surprised, as she walked along, to see how pretty the country was about her. there were neat fences at the sides of the road, painted a dainty blue color, and beyond them were fields of grain and vegetables in abundance. evidently the munchkins were good farmers and able to raise large crops. once in a while she would pass a house, and the people came out to look at her and bow low as she went by; for everyone knew she had been the means of destroying the wicked witch and setting them free from bondage. the houses of the munchkins were odd looking dwellings, for each was round, with a big dome for a roof. all were painted blue, for in this country of the east blue was the favorite color. towards evening, when dorothy was tired with her long walk and began to wonder where she should pass the night, she came to a house rather larger than the rest. on the green lawn before it many men and women were dancing. five little fiddlers played as loudly as possible and the people were laughing and singing, while a big table near by was loaded with delicious fruits and nuts, pies and cakes, and many other good things to eat. the people greeted dorothy kindly, and invited her to supper and to pass the night with them; for this was the home of one of the richest munchkins in the land, and his friends were gathered with him to celebrate their freedom from the bondage of the wicked witch. dorothy ate a hearty supper and was waited upon by the rich munchkin himself, whose name was boq. then she sat down upon a settee and watched the people dance. when boq saw her silver shoes he said, "you must be a great sorceress." "why?" asked the girl. "because you wear silver shoes and have killed the wicked witch. besides, you have white in your frock, and only witches and sorceresses wear white." [illustration: "_you must be a great sorceress._"] "my dress is blue and white checked," said dorothy, smoothing out the wrinkles in it. "it is kind of you to wear that," said boq. "blue is the color of the munchkins, and white is the witch color; so we know you are a friendly witch." dorothy did not know what to say to this, for all the people seemed to think her a witch, and she knew very well she was only an ordinary little girl who had come by the chance of a cyclone into a strange land. when she had tired watching the dancing, boq led her into the house, where he gave her a room with a pretty bed in it. the sheets were made of blue cloth, and dorothy slept soundly in them till morning, with toto curled up on the blue rug beside her. she ate a hearty breakfast, and watched a wee munchkin baby, who played with toto and pulled his tail and crowed and laughed in a way that greatly amused dorothy. toto was a fine curiosity to all the people, for they had never seen a dog before. "how far is it to the emerald city?" the girl asked. [illustration] "i do not know," answered boq, gravely, "for i have never been there. it is better for people to keep away from oz, unless they have business with him. but it is a long way to the emerald city, and it will take you many days. the country here is rich and pleasant, but you must pass through rough and dangerous places before you reach the end of your journey." this worried dorothy a little, but she knew that only the great oz could help her get to kansas again, so she bravely resolved not to turn back. she bade her friends good-bye, and again started along the road of yellow brick. when she had gone several miles she thought she would stop to rest, and so climbed to the top of the fence beside the road and sat down. there was a great cornfield beyond the fence, and not far away she saw a scarecrow, placed high on a pole to keep the birds from the ripe corn. dorothy leaned her chin upon her hand and gazed thoughtfully at the scarecrow. its head was a small sack stuffed with straw, with eyes, nose and mouth painted on it to represent a face. an old, pointed blue hat, that had belonged to some munchkin, was perched on this head, and the rest of the figure was a blue suit of clothes, worn and faded, which had also been stuffed with straw. on the feet were some old boots with blue tops, such as every man wore in this country, and the figure was raised above the stalks of corn by means of the pole stuck up its back. [illustration: "_dorothy gazed thoughtfully at the scarecrow._"] while dorothy was looking earnestly into the queer, painted face of the scarecrow, she was surprised to see one of the eyes slowly wink at her. she thought she must have been mistaken, at first, for none of the scarecrows in kansas ever wink; but presently the figure nodded its head to her in a friendly way. then she climbed down from the fence and walked up to it, while toto ran around the pole and barked. "good day," said the scarecrow, in a rather husky voice. "did you speak?" asked the girl, in wonder. "certainly," answered the scarecrow; "how do you do?" "i'm pretty well, thank you," replied dorothy, politely; "how do you do?" "i'm not feeling well," said the scarecrow, with a smile, "for it is very tedious being perched up here night and day to scare away crows." "can't you get down?" asked dorothy. "no, for this pole is stuck up my back. if you will please take away the pole i shall be greatly obliged to you." dorothy reached up both arms and lifted the figure off the pole; for, being stuffed with straw, it was quite light. "thank you very much," said the scarecrow, when he had been set down on the ground. "i feel like a new man." dorothy was puzzled at this, for it sounded queer to hear a stuffed man speak, and to see him bow and walk along beside her. "who are you?" asked the scarecrow, when he had stretched himself and yawned, "and where are you going?" "my name is dorothy," said the girl, "and i am going to the emerald city, to ask the great oz to send me back to kansas." "where is the emerald city?" he enquired; "and who is oz?" "why, don't you know?" she returned, in surprise. "no, indeed; i don't know anything. you see, i am stuffed, so i have no brains at all," he answered, sadly. [illustration] "oh," said dorothy; "i'm awfully sorry for you." "do you think," he asked, "if i go to the emerald city with you, that the great oz would give me some brains?" "i cannot tell," she returned; "but you may come with me, if you like. if oz will not give you any brains you will be no worse off than you are now." "that is true," said the scarecrow. "you see," he continued, confidentially, "i don't mind my legs and arms and body being stuffed, because i cannot get hurt. if anyone treads on my toes or sticks a pin into me, it doesn't matter, for i cant feel it. but i do not want people to call me a fool, and if my head stays stuffed with straw instead of with brains, as yours is, how am i ever to know anything?" "i understand how you feel," said the little girl, who was truly sorry for him. "if you will come with me i'll ask oz to do all he can for you." "thank you," he answered, gratefully. they walked back to the road, dorothy helped him over the fence, and they started along the path of yellow brick for the emerald city. toto did not like this addition to the party, at first. he smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there might be a nest of rats in the straw, and he often growled in an unfriendly way at the scarecrow. "don't mind toto," said dorothy, to her new friend; "he never bites." "oh, i'm not afraid," replied the scarecrow, "he can't hurt the straw. do let me carry that basket for you. i shall not mind it, for i can't get tired. i'll tell you a secret," he continued, as he walked along; "there is only one thing in the world i am afraid of." "what is that?" asked dorothy; "the munchkin farmer who made you?" "no," answered the scarecrow; "it's a lighted match." chapter iv. the road through the forest. [illustration] after a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking grew so difficult that the scarecrow often stumbled over the yellow bricks, which were here very uneven. sometimes, indeed, they were broken or missing altogether, leaving holes that toto jumped across and dorothy walked around. as for the scarecrow, having no brains he walked straight ahead, and so stepped into the holes and fell at full length on the hard bricks. it never hurt him, however, and dorothy would pick him up and set him upon his feet again, while he joined her in laughing merrily at his own mishap. [illustration] the farms were not nearly so well cared for here as they were farther back. there were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and the farther they went the more dismal and lonesome the country became. at noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook, and dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread. she offered a piece to the scarecrow, but he refused. "i am never hungry," he said; "and it is a lucky thing i am not. for my mouth is only painted, and if i should cut a hole in it so i could eat, the straw i am stuffed with would come out, and that would spoil the shape of my head." dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and went on eating her bread. "tell me something about yourself, and the country you came from," said the scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner. so she told him all about kansas, and how gray everything was there, and how the cyclone had carried her to this queer land of oz. the scarecrow listened carefully, and said, "i cannot understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and go back to the dry, gray place you call kansas." [illustration: "_'i was only made yesterday,' said the scarecrow._"] "that is because you have no brains," answered the girl. "no matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. there is no place like home." the scarecrow sighed. "of course i cannot understand it," he said. "if your heads were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in the beautiful places, and then kansas would have no people at all. it is fortunate for kansas that you have brains." "won't you tell me a story, while we are resting?" asked the child. the scarecrow looked at her reproachfully, and answered, "my life has been so short that i really know nothing whatever. i was only made day before yesterday. what happened in the world before that time is all unknown to me. luckily, when the farmer made my head, one of the first things he did was to paint my ears, so that i heard what was going on. there was another munchkin with him, and the first thing i heard was the farmer saying, "'how do you like those ears?' "'they aren't straight,' answered the other. "'never mind,' said the farmer; 'they are ears just the same,' which was true enough. "'now i'll make the eyes,' said the farmer. so he painted my right eye, and as soon as it was finished i found myself looking at him and at everything around me with a great deal of curiosity, for this was my first glimpse of the world. "'that's a rather pretty eye,' remarked the munchkin who was watching the farmer; 'blue paint is just the color for eyes.' "'i think i'll make the other a little bigger,' said the farmer; and when the second eye was done i could see much better than before. then he made my nose and my mouth; but i did not speak, because at that time i didn't know what a mouth was for. i had the fun of watching them make my body and my arms and legs; and when they fastened on my head, at last, i felt very proud, for i thought i was just as good a man as anyone. "'this fellow will scare the crows fast enough,' said the farmer; 'he looks just like a man.' "'why, he is a man,' said the other, and i quite agreed with him. the farmer carried me under his arm to the cornfield, and set me up on a tall stick, where you found me. he and his friend soon after walked away and left me alone. "i did not like to be deserted this way; so i tried to walk after them, but my feet would not touch the ground, and i was forced to stay on that pole. it was a lonely life to lead, for i had nothing to think of, having been made such a little while before. many crows and other birds flew into the cornfield, but as soon as they saw me they flew away again, thinking i was a munchkin; and this pleased me and made me feel that i was quite an important person. by and by an old crow flew near me, and after looking at me carefully he perched upon my shoulder and said, [illustration] "'i wonder if that farmer thought to fool me in this clumsy manner. any crow of sense could see that you are only stuffed with straw.' then he hopped down at my feet and ate all the corn he wanted. the other birds, seeing he was not harmed by me, came to eat the corn too, so in a short time there was a great flock of them about me." "i felt sad at this, for it showed i was not such a good scarecrow after all; but the old crow comforted me, saying: 'if you only had brains in your head you would be as good a man as any of them, and a better man than some of them. brains are the only things worth having in this world, no matter whether one is a crow or a man.' "after the crows had gone i thought this over, and decided i would try hard to get some brains. by good luck, you came along and pulled me off the stake, and from what you say i am sure the great oz will give me brains as soon as we get to the emerald city." "i hope so," said dorothy, earnestly, "since you seem anxious to have them." "oh yes; i am anxious," returned the scarecrow. "it is such an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool." [illustration] "well," said the girl, "let us go." and she handed the basket to the scarecrow. there were no fences at all by the road side now, and the land was rough and untilled. towards evening they came to a great forest, where the trees grew so big and close together that their branches met over the road of yellow brick. it was almost dark under the trees, for the branches shut out the daylight; but the travellers did not stop, and went on into the forest. "if this road goes in, it must come out," said the scarecrow, "and as the emerald city is at the other end of the road, we must go wherever it leads us." "anyone would know that," said dorothy. "certainly; that is why i know it," returned the scarecrow. "if it required brains to figure it out, i never should have said it." after an hour or so the light faded away, and they found themselves stumbling along in the darkness. dorothy could not see at all, but toto could, for some dogs see very well in the dark; and the scarecrow declared he could see as well as by day. so she took hold of his arm, and managed to get along fairly well. "if you see any house, or any place where we can pass the night," she said, "you must tell me; for it is very uncomfortable walking in the dark." soon after the scarecrow stopped. "i see a little cottage at the right of us," he said, "built of logs and branches. shall we go there?" "yes, indeed;" answered the child. "i am all tired out." so the scarecrow led her through the trees until they reached the cottage, and dorothy entered and found a bed of dried leaves in one corner. she lay down at once, and with toto beside her soon fell into a sound sleep. the scarecrow, who was never tired, stood up in another corner and waited patiently until morning came. [illustration] chapter v. the rescue of the tin woodman [illustration] [illustration] when dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and toto had long been out chasing birds and squirrels. she sat up and looked around her. there was the scarecrow, still standing patiently in his corner, waiting for her. "we must go and search for water," she said to him. "why do you want water?" he asked. "to wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat." "it must be inconvenient to be made of flesh," said the scarecrow, thoughtfully; "for you must sleep, and eat and drink. however, you have brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be able to think properly." they left the cottage and walked through the trees until they found a little spring of clear water, where dorothy drank and bathed and ate her breakfast. she saw there was not much bread left in the basket, and the girl was thankful the scarecrow did not have to eat anything, for there was scarcely enough for herself and toto for the day. when she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the road of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan near by. "what was that?" she asked, timidly. "i cannot imagine," replied the scarecrow; "but we can go and see." just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound seemed to come from behind them. they turned and walked through the forest a few steps, when dorothy discovered something shining in a ray of sunshine that fell between the trees. she ran to the place, and then stopped short, with a cry of surprise. one of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and standing beside it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man made entirely of tin. his head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all. dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the scarecrow, while toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth. "did you groan?" asked dorothy. "yes," answered the tin man; "i did. i've been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me." "what can i do for you?" she enquired, softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke. [illustration] "get an oil-can and oil my joints," he answered. "they are rusted so badly that i cannot move them at all; if i am well oiled i shall soon be all right again. you will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage." dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can, and then she returned and asked, anxiously, "where are your joints?" "oil my neck, first," replied the tin woodman. so she oiled it, and as it was quite badly rusted the scarecrow took hold of the tin head and moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely, and then the man could turn it himself. "now oil the joints in my arms," he said. and dorothy oiled them and the scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite free from rust and as good as new. the tin woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe, which he leaned against the tree. "this is a great comfort," he said. "i have been holding that axe in the air ever since i rusted, and i'm glad to be able to put it down at last. now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, i shall be all right once more." so they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very polite creature, and very grateful. "i might have stood there always if you had not come along," he said; "so you have certainly saved my life. how did you happen to be here?" "we are on our way to the emerald city, to see the great oz," she answered, "and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night." "why do you wish to see oz?" he asked. "i want him to send me back to kansas; and the scarecrow wants him to put a few brains into his head," she replied. the tin woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. then he said: "do you suppose oz could give me a heart?" "why, i guess so," dorothy answered; "it would be as easy as to give the scarecrow brains." [illustration: "_'this is a great comfort,' said the tin woodman._"] "true," the tin woodman returned. "so, if you will allow me to join your party, i will also go to the emerald city and ask oz to help me." "come along," said the scarecrow, heartily; and dorothy added that she would be pleased to have his company. so the tin woodman shouldered his axe and they all passed through the forest until they came to the road that was paved with yellow brick. the tin woodman had asked dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket. "for," he said, "if i should get caught in the rain, and rust again, i would need the oil-can badly." it was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the party, for soon after they had begun their journey again they came to a place where the trees and branches grew so thick over the road that the travellers could not pass. but the tin woodman set to work with his axe and chopped so well that soon he cleared a passage for the entire party. dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that she did not notice when the scarecrow stumbled into a hole and rolled over to the side of the road. indeed, he was obliged to call to her to help him up again. "why didn't you walk around the hole?" asked the tin woodman. "i don't know enough," replied the scarecrow, cheerfully. "my head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why i am going to oz to ask him for some brains." "oh, i see;" said the tin woodman. "but, after all, brains are not the best things in the world." "have you any?" enquired the scarecrow. "no, my head is quite empty," answered the woodman; "but once i had brains, and a heart also; so, having tried them both, i should much rather have a heart." "and why is that?" asked the scarecrow. "i will tell you my story, and then you will know." so, while they were walking through the forest, the tin woodman told the following story: "i was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the forest and sold the wood for a living. when i grew up i too became a wood-chopper, and after my father died i took care of my old mother as long as she lived. then i made up my mind that instead of living alone i would marry, so that i might not become lonely. [illustration] "there was one of the munchkin girls who was so beautiful that i soon grew to love her with all my heart. she, on her part, promised to marry me as soon as i could earn enough money to build a better house for her; so i set to work harder than ever. but the girl lived with an old woman who did not want her to marry anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to remain with her and do the cooking and the housework. so the old woman went to the wicked witch of the east, and promised her two sheep and a cow if she would prevent the marriage. thereupon the wicked witch enchanted my axe, and when i was chopping away at my best one day, for i was anxious to get the new house and my wife as soon as possible, the axe slipped all at once and cut off my left leg. "this at first seemed a great misfortune, for i knew a one-legged man could not do very well as a wood-chopper. so i went to a tin-smith and had him make me a new leg out of tin. the leg worked very well, once i was used to it; but my action angered the wicked witch of the east, for she had promised the old woman i should not marry the pretty munchkin girl. when i began chopping again my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. again i went to the tinner, and again he made me a leg out of tin. after this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the other; but, nothing daunted, i had them replaced with tin ones. the wicked witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and at first i thought that was the end of me. but the tinner happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin. "i thought i had beaten the wicked witch then, and i worked harder than ever; but i little knew how cruel my enemy could be. she thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip again, so that it cut right through my body, splitting me into two halves. once more the tinner came to my help and made me a body of tin, fastening my tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that i could move around as well as ever. but, alas! i had now no heart, so that i lost all my love for the munchkin girl, and did not care whether i married her or not. i suppose she is still living with the old woman, waiting for me to come after her. [illustration] "my body shone so brightly in the sun that i felt very proud of it and it did not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could not cut me. there was only one danger--that my joints would rust; but i kept an oil-can in my cottage and took care to oil myself whenever i needed it. however, there came a day when i forgot to do this, and, being caught in a rainstorm, before i thought of the danger my joints had rusted, and i was left to stand in the woods until you came to help me. it was a terrible thing to undergo, but during the year i stood there i had time to think that the greatest loss i had known was the loss of my heart. while i was in love i was the happiest man on earth; but no one can love who has not a heart, and so i am resolved to ask oz to give me one. if he does, i will go back to the munchkin maiden and marry her." both dorothy and the scarecrow had been greatly interested in the story of the tin woodman, and now they knew why he was so anxious to get a new heart. "all the same," said the scarecrow, "i shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one." "i shall take the heart," returned the tin woodman; "for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world." dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to kansas and aunt em it did not matter so much whether the woodman had no brains and the scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted. [illustration] what worried her most was that the bread was nearly gone, and another meal for herself and toto would empty the basket. to be sure neither the woodman nor the scarecrow ever ate anything, but she was not made of tin nor straw, and could not live unless she was fed. chapter vi. the cowardly lion. [illustration] [illustration: "_you ought to be ashamed of yourself!_"] [illustration] all this time dorothy and her companions had been walking through the thick woods. the road was still paved with yellow brick, but these were much covered by dried branches and dead leaves from the trees, and the walking was not at all good. there were few birds in this part of the forest, for birds love the open country where there is plenty of sunshine; but now and then there came a deep growl from some wild animal hidden among the trees. these sounds made the little girl's heart beat fast, for she did not know what made them; but toto knew, and he walked close to dorothy's side, and did not even bark in return. "how long will it be," the child asked of the tin woodman, "before we are out of the forest?" "i cannot tell," was the answer, "for i have never been to the emerald city. but my father went there once, when i was a boy, and he said it was a long journey through a dangerous country, although nearer to the city where oz dwells the country is beautiful. but i am not afraid so long as i have my oil-can, and nothing can hurt the scarecrow, while you bear upon your forehead the mark of the good witch's kiss, and that will protect you from harm." "but toto!" said the girl, anxiously; "what will protect him?" "we must protect him ourselves, if he is in danger," replied the tin woodman. just as he spoke there came from the forest a terrible roar, and the next moment a great lion bounded into the road. with one blow of his paw he sent the scarecrow spinning over and over to the edge of the road, and then he struck at the tin woodman with his sharp claws. but, to the lion's surprise, he could make no impression on the tin, although the woodman fell over in the road and lay still. little toto, now that he had an enemy to face, ran barking toward the lion, and the great beast had opened his mouth to bite the dog, when dorothy, fearing toto would be killed, and heedless of danger, rushed forward and slapped the lion upon his nose as hard as she could, while she cried out: "don't you dare to bite toto! you ought to be ashamed of yourself, a big beast like you, to bite a poor little dog!" "i didn't bite him," said the lion, as he rubbed his nose with his paw where dorothy had hit it. "no, but you tried to," she retorted. "you are nothing but a big coward." "i know it," said the lion, hanging his head in shame; "i've always known it. but how can i help it?" "i don't know, i'm sure. to think of your striking a stuffed man, like the poor scarecrow!" "is he stuffed?" asked the lion, in surprise, as he watched her pick up the scarecrow and set him upon his feet, while she patted him into shape again. "of course he's stuffed," replied dorothy, who was still angry. "that's why he went over so easily," remarked the lion. "it astonished me to see him whirl around so. is the other one stuffed, also?" "no," said dorothy, "he's made of tin." and she helped the woodman up again. "that's why he nearly blunted my claws," said the lion. "when they scratched against the tin it made a cold shiver run down my back. what is that little animal you are so tender of?" "he is my dog, toto," answered dorothy. "is he made of tin, or stuffed?" asked the lion. "neither. he's a--a--a meat dog," said the girl. "oh. he's a curious animal, and seems remarkably small, now that i look at him. no one would think of biting such a little thing except a coward like me," continued the lion, sadly. "what makes you a coward?" asked dorothy, looking at the great beast in wonder, for he was as big as a small horse. [illustration] "it's a mystery," replied the lion. "i suppose i was born that way. all the other animals in the forest naturally expect me to be brave, for the lion is everywhere thought to be the king of beasts. i learned that if i roared very loudly every living thing was frightened and got out of my way. whenever i've met a man i've been awfully scared; but i just roared at him, and he has always run away as fast as he could go. if the elephants and the tigers and the bears had ever tried to fight me, i should have run myself--i'm such a coward; but just as soon as they hear me roar they all try to get away from me, and of course i let them go." "but that isn't right. the king of beasts shouldn't be a coward," said the scarecrow. "i know it," returned the lion, wiping a tear from his eye with the tip of his tail; "it is my great sorrow, and makes my life very unhappy. but whenever there is danger my heart begins to beat fast." "perhaps you have heart disease," said the tin woodman. "it may be," said the lion. "if you have," continued the tin woodman, "you ought to be glad, for it proves you have a heart. for my part, i have no heart; so i cannot have heart disease." "perhaps," said the lion, thoughtfully, "if i had no heart i should not be a coward." "have you brains?" asked the scarecrow. "i suppose so. i've never looked to see," replied the lion. "i am going to the great oz to ask him to give me some," remarked the scarecrow, "for my head is stuffed with straw." "and i am going to ask him to give me a heart," said the woodman. "and i am going to ask him to send toto and me back to kansas," added dorothy. "do you think oz could give me courage?" asked the cowardly lion. "just as easily as he could give me brains," said the scarecrow. "or give me a heart," said the tin woodman. "or send me back to kansas," said dorothy. "then, if you don't mind, i'll go with you," said the lion, "for my life is simply unbearable without a bit of courage." "you will be very welcome," answered dorothy, "for you will help to keep away the other wild beasts. it seems to me they must be more cowardly than you are if they allow you to scare them so easily." "they really are," said the lion; "but that doesn't make me any braver, and as long as i know myself to be a coward i shall be unhappy." so once more the little company set off upon the journey, the lion walking with stately strides at dorothy's side. toto did not approve this new comrade at first, for he could not forget how nearly he had been crushed between the lion's great jaws; but after a time he became more at ease, and presently toto and the cowardly lion had grown to be good friends. during the rest of that day there was no other adventure to mar the peace of their journey. once, indeed, the tin woodman stepped upon a beetle that was crawling along the road, and killed the poor little thing. this made the tin woodman very unhappy, for he was always careful not to hurt any living creature; and as he walked along he wept several tears of sorrow and regret. these tears ran slowly down his face and over the hinges of his jaw, and there they rusted. when dorothy presently asked him a question the tin woodman could not open his mouth, for his jaws were tightly rusted together. he became greatly frightened at this and made many motions to dorothy to relieve him, but she could not understand. the lion was also puzzled to know what was wrong. but the scarecrow seized the oil-can from dorothy's basket and oiled the woodman's jaws, so that after a few moments he could talk as well as before. [illustration] "this will serve me a lesson," said he, "to look where i step. for if i should kill another bug or beetle i should surely cry again, and crying rusts my jaw so that i cannot speak." thereafter he walked very carefully, with his eyes on the road, and when he saw a tiny ant toiling by he would step over it, so as not to harm it. the tin woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything. "you people with hearts," he said, "have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but i have no heart, and so i must be very careful. when oz gives me a heart of course i needn't mind so much." chapter vii. the journey to the great oz. [illustration] [illustration] they were obliged to camp out that night under a large tree in the forest, for there were no houses near. the tree made a good, thick covering to protect them from the dew, and the tin woodman chopped a great pile of wood with his axe and dorothy built a splendid fire that warmed her and made her feel less lonely. she and toto ate the last of their bread, and now she did not know what they would do for breakfast. "if you wish," said the lion, "i will go into the forest and kill a deer for you. you can roast it by the fire, since your tastes are so peculiar that you prefer cooked food, and then you will have a very good breakfast." "don't! please don't," begged the tin woodman. "i should certainly weep if you killed a poor deer, and then my jaws would rust again." [illustration] but the lion went away into the forest and found his own supper, and no one ever knew what it was, for he didn't mention it. and the scarecrow found a tree full of nuts and filled dorothy's basket with them, so that she would not be hungry for a long time. she thought this was very kind and thoughtful of the scarecrow, but she laughed heartily at the awkward way in which the poor creature picked up the nuts. his padded hands were so clumsy and the nuts were so small that he dropped almost as many as he put in the basket. but the scarecrow did not mind how long it took him to fill the basket, for it enabled him to keep away from the fire, as he feared a spark might get into his straw and burn him up. so he kept a good distance away from the flames, and only came near to cover dorothy with dry leaves when she lay down to sleep. these kept her very snug and warm and she slept soundly until morning. when it was daylight the girl bathed her face in a little rippling brook and soon after they all started toward the emerald city. this was to be an eventful day for the travellers. they had hardly been walking an hour when they saw before them a great ditch that crossed the road and divided the forest as far as they could see on either side. it was a very wide ditch, and when they crept up to the edge and looked into it they could see it was also very deep, and there were many big, jagged rocks at the bottom. the sides were so steep that none of them could climb down, and for a moment it seemed that their journey must end. "what shall we do?" asked dorothy, despairingly. "i haven't the faintest idea," said the tin woodman; and the lion shook his shaggy mane and looked thoughtful. but the scarecrow said: "we cannot fly, that is certain; neither can we climb down into this great ditch. therefore, if we cannot jump over it, we must stop where we are." "i think i could jump over it," said the cowardly lion, after measuring the distance carefully in his mind. "then we are all right," answered the scarecrow, "for you can carry us all over on your back, one at a time." "well, i'll try it," said the lion. "who will go first?" "i will," declared the scarecrow; "for, if you found that you could not jump over the gulf, dorothy would be killed, or the tin woodman badly dented on the rocks below. but if i am on your back it will not matter so much, for the fall would not hurt me at all." [illustration] "i am terribly afraid of falling, myself," said the cowardly lion, "but i suppose there is nothing to do but try it. so get on my back and we will make the attempt." the scarecrow sat upon the lion's back, and the big beast walked to the edge of the gulf and crouched down. "why don't you run and jump?" asked the scarecrow. "because that isn't the way we lions do these things," he replied. then giving a great spring, he shot through the air and landed safely on the other side. they were all greatly pleased to see how easily he did it, and after the scarecrow had got down from his back the lion sprang across the ditch again. dorothy thought she would go next; so she took toto in her arms and climbed on the lion's back, holding tightly to his mane with one hand. the next moment it seemed as if she was flying through the air; and then, before she had time to think about it, she was safe on the other side. the lion went back a third time and got the tin woodman, and then they all sat down for a few moments to give the beast a chance to rest, for his great leaps had made his breath short, and he panted like a big dog that has been running too long. [illustration] they found the forest very thick on this side, and it looked dark and gloomy. after the lion had rested they started along the road of yellow brick, silently wondering, each in his own mind, if ever they would come to the end of the woods and reach the bright sunshine again. to add to their discomfort, they soon heard strange noises in the depths of the forest, and the lion whispered to them that it was in this part of the country that the kalidahs lived. "what are the kalidahs?" asked the girl. "they are monstrous beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers," replied the lion; "and with claws so long and sharp that they could tear me in two as easily as i could kill toto. i'm terribly afraid of the kalidahs." "i'm not surprised that you are," returned dorothy "they must be dreadful beasts." the lion was about to reply when suddenly they came to another gulf across the road; but this one was so broad and deep that the lion knew at once he could not leap across it. so they sat down to consider what they should do, and after serious thought the scarecrow said, "here is a great tree, standing close to the ditch. if the tin woodman can chop it down, so that it will fall to the other side, we can walk across it easily." "that is a first rate idea," said the lion. "one would almost suspect you had brains in your head, instead of straw." the woodman set to work at once, and so sharp was his axe that the tree was soon chopped nearly through. then the lion put his strong front legs against the tree and pushed with all his might, and slowly the big tree tipped and fell with a crash across the ditch, with its top branches on the other side. they had just started to cross this queer bridge when a sharp growl made them all look up, and to their horror they saw running toward them two great beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers. "they are the kalidahs!" said the cowardly lion, beginning to tremble. "quick!" cried the scarecrow, "let us cross over." [illustration: "_the tree fell with a crash into the gulf._"] so dorothy went first, holding toto in her arms; the tin woodman followed, and the scarecrow came next. the lion, although he was certainly afraid, turned to face the kalidahs, and then he gave so loud and terrible a roar that dorothy screamed and the scarecrow fell over backwards, while even the fierce beasts stopped short and looked at him in surprise. but, seeing they were bigger than the lion, and remembering that there were two of them and only one of him, the kalidahs again rushed forward, and the lion crossed over the tree and turned to see what they would do next. without stopping an instant the fierce beasts also began to cross the tree, and the lion said to dorothy, "we are lost, for they will surely tear us to pieces with their sharp claws. but stand close behind me, and i will fight them as long as i am alive." "wait a minute!" called the scarecrow. he had been thinking what was best to be done, and now he asked the woodman to chop away the end of the tree that rested on their side of the ditch. the tin woodman began to use his axe at once, and, just as the two kalidahs were nearly across, the tree fell with a crash into the gulf, carrying the ugly, snarling brutes with it, and both were dashed to pieces on the sharp rocks at the bottom. "well," said the cowardly lion, drawing a long breath of relief, "i see we are going to live a little while longer, and i am glad of it, for it must be a very uncomfortable thing not to be alive. those creatures frightened me so badly that my heart is beating yet." "ah." said the tin woodman, sadly, "i wish i had a heart to beat." [illustration] this adventure made the travellers more anxious than ever to get out of the forest, and they walked so fast that dorothy became tired, and had to ride on the lion's back. to their great joy the trees became thinner the further they advanced, and in the afternoon they suddenly came upon a broad river, flowing swiftly just before them. on the other side of the water they could see the road of yellow brick running through a beautiful country, with green meadows dotted with bright flowers and all the road bordered with trees hanging full of delicious fruits. they were greatly pleased to see this delightful country before them. "how shall we cross the river?" asked dorothy. "that is easily done," replied the scarecrow. "the tin woodman must build us a raft, so we can float to the other side." so the woodman took his axe and began to chop down small trees to make a raft, and while he was busy at this the scarecrow found on the river bank a tree full of fine fruit. this pleased dorothy, who had eaten nothing but nuts all day, and she made a hearty meal of the ripe fruit. but it takes time to make a raft, even when one is as industrious and untiring as the tin woodman, and when night came the work was not done. so they found a cozy place under the trees where they slept well until the morning; and dorothy dreamed of the emerald city, and of the good wizard oz, who would soon send her back to her own home again. [illustration] chapter viii. the deadly poppy field. [illustration] [illustration] our little party of travellers awakened next morning refreshed and full of hope, and dorothy breakfasted like a princess off peaches and plums from the trees beside the river. behind them was the dark forest they had passed safely through, although they had suffered many discouragements; but before them was a lovely, sunny country that seemed to beckon them on to the emerald city. to be sure, the broad river now cut them off from this beautiful land; but the raft was nearly done, and after the tin woodman had cut a few more logs and fastened them together with wooden pins, they were ready to start. dorothy sat down in the middle of the raft and held toto in her arms. when the cowardly lion stepped upon the raft it tipped badly, for he was big and heavy; but the scarecrow and the tin woodman stood upon the other end to steady it, and they had long poles in their hands to push the raft through the water. they got along quite well at first, but when they reached the middle of the river the swift current swept the raft down stream, farther and farther away from the road of yellow brick; and the water grew so deep that the long poles would not touch the bottom. "this is bad," said the tin woodman, "for if we cannot get to the land we shall be carried into the country of the wicked witch of the west, and she will enchant us and make us her slaves." "and then i should get no brains," said the scarecrow. "and i should get no courage," said the cowardly lion. [illustration] "and i should get no heart," said the tin woodman. "and i should never get back to kansas," said dorothy. "we must certainly get to the emerald city if we can," the scarecrow continued, and he pushed so hard on his long pole that it stuck fast in the mud at the bottom of the river, and before he could pull it out again, or let go, the raft was swept away and the poor scarecrow left clinging to the pole in the middle of the river. "good bye!" he called after them, and they were very sorry to leave him; indeed, the tin woodman began to cry, but fortunately remembered that he might rust, and so dried his tears on dorothy's apron. of course this was a bad thing for the scarecrow. "i am now worse off than when i first met dorothy," he thought. "then, i was stuck on a pole in a cornfield, where i could make believe scare the crows, at any rate; but surely there is no use for a scarecrow stuck on a pole in the middle of a river. i am afraid i shall never have any brains, after all!" [illustration] down the stream the raft floated, and the poor scarecrow was left far behind. then the lion said: "something must be done to save us. i think i can swim to the shore and pull the raft after me, if you will only hold fast to the tip of my tail." [illustration] so he sprang into the water and the tin woodman caught fast hold of his tail, when the lion began to swim with all his might toward the shore. it was hard work, although he was so big; but by and by they were drawn out of the current, and then dorothy took the tin woodman's long pole and helped push the raft to the land. they were all tired out when they reached the shore at last and stepped off upon the pretty green grass, and they also knew that the stream had carried them a long way past the road of yellow brick that led to the emerald city. "what shall we do now?" asked the tin woodman, as the lion lay down on the grass to let the sun dry him. "we must get back to the road, in some way," said dorothy. "the best plan will be to walk along the river bank until we come to the road again," remarked the lion. so, when they were rested, dorothy picked up her basket and they started along the grassy bank, back to the road from which the river had carried them. it was a lovely country, with plenty of flowers and fruit trees and sunshine to cheer them, and had they not felt so sorry for the poor scarecrow they could have been very happy. they walked along as fast as they could, dorothy only stopping once to pick a beautiful flower; and after a time the tin woodman cried out, "look!" then they all looked at the river and saw the scarecrow perched upon his pole in the middle of the water, looking very lonely and sad. "what can we do to save him?" asked dorothy. the lion and the woodman both shook their heads, for they did not know. so they sat down upon the bank and gazed wistfully at the scarecrow until a stork flew by, which, seeing them, stopped to rest at the water's edge. "who are you, and where are you going?" asked the stork. "i am dorothy," answered the girl; "and these are my friends, the tin woodman and the cowardly lion; and we are going to the emerald city." "this isn't the road," said the stork, as she twisted her long neck and looked sharply at the queer party. "i know it," returned dorothy, "but we have lost the scarecrow, and are wondering how we shall get him again." "where is he?" asked the stork. "over there in the river," answered the girl. "if he wasn't so big and heavy i would get him for you," remarked the stork. "he isn't heavy a bit," said dorothy, eagerly, "for he is stuffed with straw; and if you will bring him back to us we shall thank you ever and ever so much." "well, i'll try," said the stork; "but if i find he is too heavy to carry i shall have to drop him in the river again." so the big bird flew into the air and over the water till she came to where the scarecrow was perched upon his pole. then the stork with her great claws grabbed the scarecrow by the arm and carried him up into the air and back to the bank, where dorothy and the lion and the tin woodman and toto were sitting. when the scarecrow found himself among his friends again he was so happy that he hugged them all, even the lion and toto; and as they walked along he sang "tol-de-ri-de-oh!" at every step, he felt so gay. "i was afraid i should have to stay in the river forever," he said, "but the kind stork saved me, and if i ever get any brains i shall find the stork again and do it some kindness in return." "that's all right," said the stork, who was flying along beside them. "i always like to help anyone in trouble. but i must go now, for my babies are waiting in the nest for me. i hope you will find the emerald city and that oz will help you." "thank you," replied dorothy, and then the kind stork flew into the air and was soon out of sight. [illustration: "_the stork carried him up into the air._"] they walked along listening to the singing of the bright-colored birds and looking at the lovely flowers which now became so thick that the ground was carpeted with them. there were big yellow and white and blue and purple blossoms, besides great clusters of scarlet poppies, which were so brilliant in color they almost dazzled dorothy's eyes. "aren't they beautiful?" the girl asked, as she breathed in the spicy scent of the flowers. "i suppose so," answered the scarecrow. "when i have brains i shall probably like them better." "if i only had a heart i should love them," added the tin woodman. "i always did like flowers," said the lion; "they seem so helpless and frail. but there are none in the forest so bright as these." they now came upon more and more of the big scarlet poppies, and fewer and fewer of the other flowers; and soon they found themselves in the midst of a great meadow of poppies. now it is well known that when there are many of these flowers together their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of the flowers he sleeps on and on forever. but dorothy did not know this, nor could she get away from the bright red flowers that were everywhere about; so presently her eyes grew heavy and she felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep. but the tin woodman would not let her do this. "we must hurry and get back to the road of yellow brick before dark," he said; and the scarecrow agreed with him. so they kept walking until dorothy could stand no longer. her eyes closed in spite of herself and she forgot where she was and fell among the poppies, fast asleep. "what shall we do?" asked the tin woodman. "if we leave her here she will die," said the lion. "the smell of the flowers is killing us all. i myself can scarcely keep my eyes open and the dog is asleep already." it was true; toto had fallen down beside his little mistress. but the scarecrow and the tin woodman, not being made of flesh, were not troubled by the scent of the flowers. [illustration] "run fast," said the scarecrow to the lion, "and get out of this deadly flower-bed as soon as you can. we will bring the little girl with us, but if you should fall asleep you are too big to be carried." so the lion aroused himself and bounded forward as fast as he could go. in a moment he was out of sight. "let us make a chair with our hands, and carry her," said the scarecrow. so they picked up toto and put the dog in dorothy's lap, and then they made a chair with their hands for the seat and their arms for the arms and carried the sleeping girl between them through the flowers. on and on they walked, and it seemed that the great carpet of deadly flowers that surrounded them would never end. they followed the bend of the river, and at last came upon their friend the lion, lying fast asleep among the poppies. the flowers had been too strong for the huge beast and he had given up, at last, and fallen only a short distance from the end of the poppy-bed, where the sweet grass spread in beautiful green fields before them. "we can do nothing for him," said the tin woodman, sadly; "for he is much too heavy to lift. we must leave him here to sleep on forever, and perhaps he will dream that he has found courage at last." "i'm sorry," said the scarecrow; "the lion was a very good comrade for one so cowardly. but let us go on." they carried the sleeping girl to a pretty spot beside the river, far enough from the poppy field to prevent her breathing any more of the poison of the flowers, and here they laid her gently on the soft grass and waited for the fresh breeze to waken her. [illustration] chapter ix. the queen of the field mice. [illustration] [illustration] "we cannot be far from the road of yellow brick, now," remarked the scarecrow, as he stood beside the girl, "for we have come nearly as far as the river carried us away." the tin woodman was about to reply when he heard a low growl, and turning his head (which worked beautifully on hinges) he saw a strange beast come bounding over the grass towards them. it was, indeed, a great, yellow wildcat, and the woodman thought it must be chasing something, for its ears were lying close to its head and its mouth was wide open, showing two rows of ugly teeth, while its red eyes glowed like balls of fire. as it came nearer the tin woodman saw that running before the beast was a little gray field-mouse, and although he had no heart he knew it was wrong for the wildcat to try to kill such a pretty, harmless creature. so the woodman raised his axe, and as the wildcat ran by he gave it a quick blow that cut the beast's head clean off from its body, and it rolled over at his feet in two pieces. the field-mouse, now that it was freed from its enemy, stopped short; and coming slowly up to the woodman it said, in a squeaky little voice, "oh, thank you! thank you ever so much for saving my life." "don't speak of it, i beg of you," replied the woodman. "i have no heart, you know, so i am careful to help all those who may need a friend, even if it happens to be only a mouse." "only a mouse!" cried the little animal, indignantly; "why, i am a queen--the queen of all the field-mice!" "oh, indeed," said the woodman, making a bow. "therefore you have done a great deed, as well as a brave one, in saving my life," added the queen. at that moment several mice were seen running up as fast as their little legs could carry them, and when they saw their queen they exclaimed, [illustration: "_permit me to introduce to you her majesty, the queen._"] "oh, your majesty, we thought you would be killed! how did you manage to escape the great wildcat?" and they all bowed so low to the little queen that they almost stood upon their heads. "this funny tin man," she answered, "killed the wildcat and saved my life. so hereafter you must all serve him, and obey his slightest wish." "we will!" cried all the mice, in a shrill chorus. and then they scampered in all directions, for toto had awakened from his sleep, and seeing all these mice around him he gave one bark of delight and jumped right into the middle of the group. toto had always loved to chase mice when he lived in kansas, and he saw no harm in it. but the tin woodman caught the dog in his arms and held him tight, while he called to the mice: "come back! come back! toto shall not hurt you." at this the queen of the mice stuck her head out from a clump of grass and asked, in a timid voice, "are you sure he will not bite us?" "i will not let him," said the woodman; "so do not be afraid." [illustration] one by one the mice came creeping back, and toto did not bark again, although he tried to get out of the woodman's arms, and would have bitten him had he not known very well he was made of tin. finally one of the biggest mice spoke. "is there anything we can do," it asked, "to repay you for saving the life of our queen?" "nothing that i know of," answered the woodman; but the scarecrow, who had been trying to think, but could not because his head was stuffed with straw, said, quickly, "oh, yes; you can save our friend, the cowardly lion, who is asleep in the poppy bed." "a lion!" cried the little queen; "why, he would eat us all up." "oh, no;" declared the scarecrow; "this lion is a coward." "really?" asked the mouse. "he says so himself," answered the scarecrow, "and he would never hurt anyone who is our friend. if you will help us to save him i promise that he shall treat you all with kindness." "very well," said the queen, "we will trust you. but what shall we do?" "are there many of these mice which call you queen and are willing to obey you?" "oh, yes; there are thousands," she replied. "then send for them all to come here as soon as possible, and let each one bring a long piece of string." the queen turned to the mice that attended her and told them to go at once and get all her people. as soon as they heard her orders they ran away in every direction as fast as possible. "now," said the scarecrow to the tin woodman, "you must go to those trees by the river-side and make a truck that will carry the lion." so the woodman went at once to the trees and began to work; and he soon made a truck out of the limbs of trees, from which he chopped away all the leaves and branches. he fastened it together with wooden pegs and made the four wheels out of short pieces of a big tree-trunk. so fast and so well did he work that by the time the mice began to arrive the truck was all ready for them. they came from all directions, and there were thousands of them: big mice and little mice and middle-sized mice; and each one brought a piece of string in his mouth. it was about this time that dorothy woke from her long sleep and opened her eyes. she was greatly astonished to find herself lying upon the grass, with thousands of mice standing around and looking at her timidly. but the scarecrow told her about everything, and turning to the dignified little mouse, he said, "permit me to introduce to you her majesty, the queen." dorothy nodded gravely and the queen made a courtesy, after which she became quite friendly with the little girl. the scarecrow and the woodman now began to fasten the mice to the truck, using the strings they had brought. one end of a string was tied around the neck of each mouse and the other end to the truck. of course the truck was a thousand times bigger than any of the mice who were to draw it; but when all the mice had been harnessed they were able to pull it quite easily. even the scarecrow and the tin woodman could sit on it, and were drawn swiftly by their queer little horses to the place where the lion lay asleep. [illustration] after a great deal of hard work, for the lion was heavy, they managed to get him up on the truck. then the queen hurriedly gave her people the order to start, for she feared if the mice stayed among the poppies too long they also would fall asleep. [illustration] at first the little creatures, many though they were, could hardly stir the heavily loaded truck; but the woodman and the scarecrow both pushed from behind, and they got along better. soon they rolled the lion out of the poppy bed to the green fields, where he could breathe the sweet, fresh air again, instead of the poisonous scent of the flowers. dorothy came to meet them and thanked the little mice warmly for saving her companion from death. she had grown so fond of the big lion she was glad he had been rescued. then the mice were unharnessed from the truck and scampered away through the grass to their homes. the queen of the mice was the last to leave. "if ever you need us again," she said, "come out into the field and call, and we shall hear you and come to your assistance. good bye!" "good bye!" they all answered, and away the queen ran, while dorothy held toto tightly lest he should run after her and frighten her. after this they sat down beside the lion until he should awaken; and the scarecrow brought dorothy some fruit from a tree near by, which she ate for her dinner. [illustration] chapter x. the guardian of the gate. [illustration] [illustration] it was some time before the cowardly lion awakened, for he had lain among the poppies a long while, breathing in their deadly fragrance; but when he did open his eyes and roll off the truck he was very glad to find himself still alive. "i ran as fast as i could," he said, sitting down and yawning; "but the flowers were too strong for me. how did you get me out?" then they told him of the field-mice, and how they had generously saved him from death; and the cowardly lion laughed, and said, "i have always thought myself very big and terrible; yet such small things as flowers came near to killing me, and such small animals as mice have saved my life. how strange it all is! but, comrades, what shall we do now?" "we must journey on until we find the road of yellow brick again," said dorothy; "and then we can keep on to the emerald city." so, the lion being fully refreshed, and feeling quite himself again, they all started upon the journey, greatly enjoying the walk through the soft, fresh grass; and it was not long before they reached the road of yellow brick and turned again toward the emerald city where the great oz dwelt. [illustration] the road was smooth and well paved, now, and the country about was beautiful; so that the travelers rejoiced in leaving the forest far behind, and with it the many dangers they had met in its gloomy shades. once more they could see fences built beside the road; but these were painted green, and when they came to a small house, in which a farmer evidently lived, that also was painted green. they passed by several of these houses during the afternoon, and sometimes people came to the doors and looked at them as if they would like to ask questions; but no one came near them nor spoke to them because of the great lion, of which they were much afraid. the people were all dressed in clothing of a lovely emerald green color and wore peaked hats like those of the munchkins. [illustration] "this must be the land of oz," said dorothy, "and we are surely getting near the emerald city." "yes," answered the scarecrow; "everything is green here, while in the country of the munchkins blue was the favorite color. but the people do not seem to be as friendly as the munchkins and i'm afraid we shall be unable to find a place to pass the night." "i should like something to eat besides fruit," said the girl, "and i'm sure toto is nearly starved. let us stop at the next house and talk to the people." so, when they came to a good sized farm house, dorothy walked boldly up to the door and knocked. a woman opened it just far enough to look out, and said, "what do you want, child, and why is that great lion with you?" "we wish to pass the night with you, if you will allow us," answered dorothy; "and the lion is my friend and comrade, and would not hurt you for the world." "is he tame?" asked the woman, opening the door a little wider. "oh, yes;" said the girl, "and he is a great coward, too; so that he will be more afraid of you than you are of him." "well," said the woman, after thinking it over and taking another peep at the lion, "if that is the case you may come in, and i will give you some supper and a place to sleep." so they all entered the house, where there were, besides the woman, two children and a man. the man had hurt his leg, and was lying on the couch in a corner. they seemed greatly surprised to see so strange a company, and while the woman was busy laying the table the man asked, "where are you all going?" "to the emerald city," said dorothy, "to see the great oz." "oh, indeed!" exclaimed the man. "are you sure that oz will see you?" "why not?" she replied. "why, it is said that he never lets any one come into his presence. i have been to the emerald city many times, and it is a beautiful and wonderful place; but i have never been permitted to see the great oz, nor do i know of any living person who has seen him." "does he never go out?" asked the scarecrow. "never. he sits day after day in the great throne room of his palace, and even those who wait upon him do not see him face to face." "what is he like?" asked the girl. "that is hard to tell," said the man, thoughtfully. "you see, oz is a great wizard, and can take on any form he wishes. so that some say he looks like a bird; and some say he looks like an elephant; and some say he looks like a cat. to others he appears as a beautiful fairy, or a brownie, or in any other form that pleases him. but who the real oz is, when he is in his own form, no living person can tell." "that is very strange," said dorothy; "but we must try, in some way, to see him, or we shall have made our journey for nothing." [illustration] "why do you wish to see the terrible oz?" asked the man. "i want him to give me some brains," said the scarecrow, eagerly. "oh, oz could do that easily enough," declared the man. "he has more brains than he needs." "and i want him to give me a heart," said the tin woodman. "that will not trouble him," continued the man, "for oz has a large collection of hearts, of all sizes and shapes." "and i want him to give me courage," said the cowardly lion. "oz keeps a great pot of courage in his throne room," said the man, "which he has covered with a golden plate, to keep it from running over. he will be glad to give you some." "and i want him to send me back to kansas," said dorothy. "where is kansas?" asked the man, in surprise. "i don't know," replied dorothy, sorrowfully; "but it is my home, and i'm sure it's somewhere." "very likely. well, oz can do anything; so i suppose he will find kansas for you. but first you must get to see him, and that will be a hard task; for the great wizard does not like to see anyone, and he usually has his own way. but what do you want?" he continued, speaking to toto. toto only wagged his tail; for, strange to say, he could not speak. [illustration: "_the lion ate some of the porridge._"] the woman now called to them that supper was ready, so they gathered around the table and dorothy ate some delicious porridge and a dish of scrambled eggs and a plate of nice white bread, and enjoyed her meal. the lion ate some of the porridge, but did not care for it, saying it was made from oats and oats were food for horses, not for lions. the scarecrow and the tin woodman ate nothing at all. toto ate a little of everything, and was glad to get a good supper again. the woman now gave dorothy a bed to sleep in, and toto lay down beside her, while the lion guarded the door of her room so she might not be disturbed. the scarecrow and the tin woodman stood up in a corner and kept quiet all night, although of course they could not sleep. the next morning, as soon as the sun was up, they started on their way, and soon saw a beautiful green glow in the sky just before them. "that must be the emerald city," said dorothy. as they walked on, the green glow became brighter and brighter, and it seemed that at last they were nearing the end of their travels. yet it was afternoon before they came to the great wall that surrounded the city. it was high, and thick, and of a bright green color. in front of them, and at the end of the road of yellow brick, was a big gate, all studded with emeralds that glittered so in the sun that even the painted eyes of the scarecrow were dazzled by their brilliancy. there was a bell beside the gate, and dorothy pushed the button and heard a silvery tinkle sound within. then the big gate swung slowly open, and they all passed through and found themselves in a high arched room, the walls of which glistened with countless emeralds. before them stood a little man about the same size as the munchkins. he was clothed all in green, from his head to his feet, and even his skin was of a greenish tint. at his side was a large green box. when he saw dorothy and her companions the man asked, "what do you wish in the emerald city?" "we came here to see the great oz," said dorothy. the man was so surprised at this answer that he sat down to think it over. "it has been many years since anyone asked me to see oz," he said, shaking his head in perplexity. "he is powerful and terrible, and if you come on an idle or foolish errand to bother the wise reflections of the great wizard, he might be angry and destroy you all in an instant." [illustration] "but it is not a foolish errand, nor an idle one," replied the scarecrow; "it is important. and we have been told that oz is a good wizard." "so he is," said the green man; "and he rules the emerald city wisely and well. but to those who are not honest, or who approach him from curiosity, he is most terrible, and few have ever dared ask to see his face. i am the guardian of the gates, and since you demand to see the great oz i must take you to his palace. but first you must put on the spectacles." "why?" asked dorothy. "because if you did not wear spectacles the brightness and glory of the emerald city would blind you. even those who live in the city must wear spectacles night and day. they are all locked on, for oz so ordered it when the city was first built, and i have the only key that will unlock them." [illustration] he opened the big box, and dorothy saw that it was filled with spectacles of every size and shape. all of them had green glasses in them. the guardian of the gates found a pair that would just fit dorothy and put them over her eyes. there were two golden bands fastened to them that passed around the back of her head, where they were locked together by a little key that was at the end of a chain the guardian of the gates wore around his neck. when they were on, dorothy could not take them off had she wished, but of course she did not want to be blinded by the glare of the emerald city, so she said nothing. then the green man fitted spectacles for the scarecrow and the tin woodman and the lion, and even on little toto; and all were locked fast with the key. then the guardian of the gates put on his own glasses and told them he was ready to show them to the palace. taking a big golden key from a peg on the wall he opened another gate, and they all followed him through the portal into the streets of the emerald city. chapter xi. the wonderful emerald city of oz. [illustration] even with eyes protected by the green spectacles dorothy and her friends were at first dazzled by the brilliancy of the wonderful city. the streets were lined with beautiful houses all built of green marble and studded everywhere with sparkling emeralds. they walked over a pavement of the same green marble, and where the blocks were joined together were rows of emeralds, set closely, and glittering in the brightness of the sun. the window panes were of green glass; even the sky above the city had a green tint, and the rays of the sun were green. there were many people, men, women and children, walking about, and these were all dressed in green clothes and had greenish skins. they looked at dorothy and her strangely assorted company with wondering eyes, and the children all ran away and hid behind their mothers when they saw the lion; but no one spoke to them. many shops stood in the street, and dorothy saw that everything in them was green. green candy and green pop-corn were offered for sale, as well as green shoes, green hats and green clothes of all sorts. at one place a man was selling green lemonade, and when the children bought it dorothy could see that they paid for it with green pennies. there seemed to be no horses nor animals of any kind; the men carried things around in little green carts, which they pushed before them. everyone seemed happy and contented and prosperous. the guardian of the gates led them through the streets until they came to a big building, exactly in the middle of the city, which was the palace of oz, the great wizard. there was a soldier before the door, dressed in a green uniform and wearing a long green beard. "here are strangers," said the guardian of the gates to him, "and they demand to see the great oz." "step inside," answered the soldier, "and i will carry your message to him." so they passed through the palace gates and were led into a big room with a green carpet and lovely green furniture set with emeralds. the soldier made them all wipe their feet upon a green mat before entering this room, and when they were seated he said, politely, "please make yourselves comfortable while i go to the door of the throne room and tell oz you are here." they had to wait a long time before the soldier returned. when, at last, he came back, dorothy asked, "have you seen oz?" [illustration] "oh, no;" returned the soldier; "i have never seen him. but i spoke to him as he sat behind his screen, and gave him your message. he says he will grant you an audience, if you so desire; but each one of you must enter his presence alone, and he will admit but one each day. therefore, as you must remain in the palace for several days, i will have you shown to rooms where you may rest in comfort after your journey." "thank you," replied the girl; "that is very kind of oz." the soldier now blew upon a green whistle, and at once a young girl, dressed in a pretty green silk gown, entered the room. she had lovely green hair and green eyes, and she bowed low before dorothy as she said, "follow me and i will show you your room." so dorothy said good-bye to all her friends except toto, and taking the dog in her arms followed the green girl through seven passages and up three flights of stairs until they came to a room at the front of the palace. it was the sweetest little room in the world, with a soft, comfortable bed that had sheets of green silk and a green velvet counterpane. there was a tiny fountain in the middle of the room, that shot a spray of green perfume into the air, to fall back into a beautifully carved green marble basin. beautiful green flowers stood in the windows, and there was a shelf with a row of little green books. when dorothy had time to open these books she found them full of queer green pictures that made her laugh, they were so funny. in a wardrobe were many green dresses, made of silk and satin and velvet; and all of them fitted dorothy exactly. "make yourself perfectly at home," said the green girl, "and if you wish for anything ring the bell. oz will send for you to-morrow morning." she left dorothy alone and went back to the others. these she also led to rooms, and each one of them found himself lodged in a very pleasant part of the palace. of course this politeness was wasted on the scarecrow; for when he found himself alone in his room he stood stupidly in one spot, just within the doorway, to wait till morning. it would not rest him to lie down, and he could not close his eyes; so he remained all night staring at a little spider which was weaving its web in a corner of the room, just as if it were not one of the most wonderful rooms in the world. the tin woodman lay down on his bed from force of habit, for he remembered when he was made of flesh; but not being able to sleep he passed the night moving his joints up and down to make sure they kept in good working order. the lion would have preferred a bed of dried leaves in the forest, and did not like being shut up in a room; but he had too much sense to let this worry him, so he sprang upon the bed and rolled himself up like a cat and purred himself asleep in a minute. the next morning, after breakfast, the green maiden came to fetch dorothy, and she dressed her in one of the prettiest gowns--made of green brocaded satin. dorothy put on a green silk apron and tied a green ribbon around toto's neck, and they started for the throne room of the great oz. [illustration] first they came to a great hall in which were many ladies and gentlemen of the court, all dressed in rich costumes. these people had nothing to do but talk to each other, but they always came to wait outside the throne room every morning, although they were never permitted to see oz. as dorothy entered they looked at her curiously, and one of them whispered, "are you really going to look upon the face of oz the terrible?" "of course," answered the girl, "if he will see me." "oh, he will see you," said the soldier who had taken her message to the wizard, "although he does not like to have people ask to see him. indeed, at first he was angry, and said i should send you back where you came from. then he asked me what you looked like, and when i mentioned your silver shoes he was very much interested. at last i told him about the mark upon your forehead, and he decided he would admit you to his presence." just then a bell rang, and the green girl said to dorothy, "that is the signal. you must go into the throne room alone." she opened a little door and dorothy walked boldly through and found herself in a wonderful place. it was a big, round room with a high arched roof, and the walls and ceiling and floor were covered with large emeralds set closely together. in the center of the roof was a great light, as bright as the sun, which made the emeralds sparkle in a wonderful manner. but what interested dorothy most was the big throne of green marble that stood in the middle of the room. it was shaped like a chair and sparkled with gems, as did everything else. in the center of the chair was an enormous head, without body to support it or any arms or legs whatever. there was no hair upon this head, but it had eyes and nose and mouth, and was bigger than the head of the biggest giant. as dorothy gazed upon this in wonder and fear the eyes turned slowly and looked at her sharply and steadily. then the mouth moved, and dorothy heard a voice say: "i am oz, the great and terrible. who are you, and why do you seek me?" it was not such an awful voice as she had expected to come from the big head; so she took courage and answered, "i am dorothy, the small and meek. i have come to you for help." the eyes looked at her thoughtfully for a full minute. then said the voice: "where did you get the silver shoes?" "i got them from the wicked witch of the east, when my house fell on her and killed her," she replied. "where did you get the mark upon your forehead?" continued the voice. "that is where the good witch of the north kissed me when she bade me good-bye and sent me to you," said the girl. again the eyes looked at her sharply, and they saw she was telling the truth. then oz asked, "what do you wish me to do?" "send me back to kansas, where my aunt em and uncle henry are," she answered, earnestly. "i don't like your country, although it is so beautiful. and i am sure aunt em will be dreadfully worried over my being away so long." the eyes winked three times, and then they turned up to the ceiling and down to the floor and rolled around so queerly that they seemed to see every part of the room. and at last they looked at dorothy again. "why should i do this for you?" asked oz. "because you are strong and i am weak; because you are a great wizard and i am only a helpless little girl," she answered. "but you were strong enough to kill the wicked witch of the east," said oz. "that just happened," returned dorothy, simply; "i could not help it." "well," said the head, "i will give you my answer. you have no right to expect me to send you back to kansas unless you do something for me in return. in this country everyone must pay for everything he gets. if you wish me to use my magic power to send you home again you must do something for me first. help me and i will help you." "what must i do?" asked the girl. "kill the wicked witch of the west," answered oz. "but i cannot!" exclaimed dorothy, greatly surprised. "you killed the witch of the east and you wear the silver shoes, which bear a powerful charm. there is now but one wicked witch left in all this land, and when you can tell me she is dead i will send you back to kansas--but not before." the little girl began to weep, she was so much disappointed; and the eyes winked again and looked upon her anxiously, as if the great oz felt that she could help him if she would. "i never killed anything, willingly," she sobbed; "and even if i wanted to, how could i kill the wicked witch? if you, who are great and terrible, cannot kill her yourself, how do you expect me to do it?" [illustration] "i do not know," said the head; "but that is my answer, and until the wicked witch dies you will not see your uncle and aunt again. remember that the witch is wicked--tremendously wicked--and ought to be killed. now go, and do not ask to see me again until you have done your task." sorrowfully dorothy left the throne room and went back where the lion and the scarecrow and the tin woodman were waiting to hear what oz had said to her. "there is no hope for me," she said, sadly, "for oz will not send me home until i have killed the wicked witch of the west; and that i can never do." her friends were sorry, but could do nothing to help her; so she went to her own room and lay down on the bed and cried herself to sleep. the next morning the soldier with the green whiskers came to the scarecrow and said, "come with me, for oz has sent for you." so the scarecrow followed him and was admitted into the great throne room, where he saw, sitting in the emerald throne, a most lovely lady. she was dressed in green silk gauze and wore upon her flowing green locks a crown of jewels. growing from her shoulders were wings, gorgeous in color and so light that they fluttered if the slightest breath of air reached them. when the scarecrow had bowed, as prettily as his straw stuffing would let him, before this beautiful creature, she looked upon him sweetly, and said, "i am oz, the great and terrible. who are you, and why do you seek me?" now the scarecrow, who had expected to see the great head dorothy had told him of, was much astonished; but he answered her bravely. "i am only a scarecrow, stuffed with straw. therefore i have no brains, and i come to you praying that you will put brains in my head instead of straw, so that i may become as much a man as any other in your dominions." "why should i do this for you?" asked the lady. "because you are wise and powerful, and no one else can help me," answered the scarecrow. "i never grant favors without some return," said oz; "but this much i will promise. if you will kill for me the wicked witch of the west i will bestow upon you a great many brains, and such good brains that you will be the wisest man in all the land of oz." "i thought you asked dorothy to kill the witch," said, the scarecrow, in surprise. [illustration] "so i did. i don't care who kills her. but until she is dead i will not grant your wish. now go, and do not seek me again until you have earned the brains you so greatly desire." the scarecrow went sorrowfully back to his friends and told them what oz had said; and dorothy was surprised to find that the great wizard was not a head, as she had seen him, but a lovely lady. "all the same," said the scarecrow, "she needs a heart as much as the tin woodman." on the next morning the soldier with the green whiskers came to the tin woodman and said, "oz has sent for you. follow me," so the tin woodman followed him and came to the great throne room. he did not know whether he would find oz a lovely lady or a head, but he hoped it would be the lovely lady. "for," he said to himself, "if it is the head, i am sure i shall not be given a heart, since a head has no heart of its own and therefore cannot feel for me. but if it is the lovely lady i shall beg hard for a heart, for all ladies are themselves said to be kindly hearted." but when the woodman entered the great throne room he saw neither the head nor the lady, for oz had taken the shape of a most terrible beast. it was nearly as big as an elephant, and the green throne seemed hardly strong enough to hold its weight. the beast had a head like that of a rhinoceros, only there were five eyes in its face. there were five long arms growing out of its body and it also had five long, slim legs. thick, woolly hair covered every part of it, and a more dreadful looking monster could not be imagined. it was fortunate the tin woodman had no heart at that moment, for it would have beat loud and fast from terror. but being only tin, the woodman was not at all afraid, although he was much disappointed. "i am oz, the great and terrible," spake the beast, in a voice that was one great roar. "who are you, and why do you seek me?" [illustration: "_the eyes looked at her thoughtfully._"] "i am a woodman, and made of tin. therefore i have no heart, and cannot love. i pray you to give me a heart that i may be as other men are." "why should i do this?" demanded the beast. "because i ask it, and you alone can grant my request," answered the woodman. oz gave a low growl at this, but said, gruffly, "if you indeed desire a heart, you must earn it." "how?" asked the woodman. "help dorothy to kill the wicked witch of the west," replied the beast. "when the witch is dead, come to me, and i will then give you the biggest and kindest and most loving heart in all the land of oz." so the tin woodman was forced to return sorrowfully to his friends and tell them of the terrible beast he had seen. they all wondered greatly at the many forms the great wizard could take upon himself, and the lion said, [illustration] "if he is a beast when i go to see him, i shall roar my loudest, and so frighten him that he will grant all i ask. and if he is the lovely lady, i shall pretend to spring upon her, and so compel her to do my bidding. and if he is the great head, he will be at my mercy; for i will roll this head all about the room until he promises to give us what we desire. so be of good cheer my friends for all will yet be well." the next morning the soldier with the green whiskers led the lion to the great throne room and bade him enter the presence of oz. the lion at once passed through the door, and glancing around saw, to his surprise, that before the throne was a ball of fire, so fierce and glowing he could scarcely bear to gaze upon it. his first thought was that oz had by accident caught on fire and was burning up; but, when he tried to go nearer, the heat was so intense that it singed his whiskers, and he crept back tremblingly to a spot nearer the door. then a low, quiet voice came from the ball of fire, and these were the words it spoke: [illustration] "i am oz, the great and terrible. who are you, and why do you seek me?" and the lion answered, "i am a cowardly lion, afraid of everything. i come to you to beg that you give me courage, so that in reality i may become the king of beasts, as men call me." "why should i give you courage?" demanded oz. "because of all wizards you are the greatest, and alone have power to grant my request," answered the lion. the ball of fire burned fiercely for a time, and the voice said, "bring me proof that the wicked witch is dead, and that moment i will give you courage. but so long as the witch lives you must remain a coward." the lion was angry at this speech, but could say nothing in reply, and while he stood silently gazing at the ball of fire it became so furiously hot that he turned tail and rushed from the room. he was glad to find his friends waiting for him, and told them of his terrible interview with the wizard. "what shall we do now?" asked dorothy, sadly. "there is only one thing we can do," returned the lion, "and that is to go to the land of the winkies, seek out the wicked witch, and destroy her." "but suppose we cannot?" said the girl. "then i shall never have courage," declared the lion. "and i shall never have brains," added the scarecrow. "and i shall never have a heart," spoke the tin woodman. "and i shall never see aunt em and uncle henry," said dorothy, beginning to cry. "be careful!" cried the green girl, "the tears will fall on your green silk gown, and spot it." so dorothy dried her eyes and said, "i suppose we must try it; but i am sure i do not want to kill anybody, even to see aunt em again." "i will go with you; but i'm too much of a coward to kill the witch," said the lion. "i will go too," declared the scarecrow; "but i shall not be of much help to you, i am such a fool." "i haven't the heart to harm even a witch," remarked the tin woodman; "but if you go i certainly shall go with you." therefore it was decided to start upon their journey the next morning, and the woodman sharpened his axe on a green grindstone and had all his joints properly oiled. the scarecrow stuffed himself with fresh straw and dorothy put new paint on his eyes that he might see better. the green girl, who was very kind to them, filled dorothy's basket with good things to eat, and fastened a little bell around toto's neck with a green ribbon. they went to bed quite early and slept soundly until daylight, when they were awakened by the crowing of a green cock that lived in the back yard of the palace, and the cackling of a hen that had laid a green egg. [illustration: "_the soldier with the green whiskers led them through the streets._"] chapter xii. the search for the wicked witch. [illustration] [illustration] the soldier with the green whiskers led them through the streets of the emerald city until they reached the room where the guardian of the gates lived. this officer unlocked their spectacles to put them back in his great box, and then he politely opened the gate for our friends. "which road leads to the wicked witch of the west?" asked dorothy. "there is no road," answered the guardian of the gates; "no one ever wishes to go that way." "how, then, are we to find her?" enquired the girl. [illustration] "that will be easy," replied the man; "for when she knows you are in the country of the winkies she will find you, and make you all her slaves." "perhaps not," said the scarecrow, "for we mean to destroy her." [illustration] "oh, that is different," said the guardian of the gates. "no one has ever destroyed her before, so i naturally thought she would make slaves of you, as she has of all the rest. but take care; for she is wicked and fierce, and may not allow you to destroy her. keep to the west, where the sun sets, and you cannot fail to find her." they thanked him and bade him good-bye, and turned toward the west, walking over fields of soft grass dotted here and there with daisies and buttercups. dorothy still wore the pretty silk dress she had put on in the palace, but now, to her surprise, she found it was no longer green, but pure white. the ribbon around toto's neck had also lost its green color and was as white as dorothy's dress. the emerald city was soon left far behind. as they advanced the ground became rougher and hillier, for there were no farms nor houses in this country of the west, and the ground was untilled. in the afternoon the sun shone hot in their faces, for there were no trees to offer them shade; so that before night dorothy and toto and the lion were tired, and lay down upon the grass and fell asleep, with the woodman and the scarecrow keeping watch. now the wicked witch of the west had but one eye, yet that was as powerful as a telescope, and could see everywhere. so, as she sat in the door of her castle, she happened to look around and saw dorothy lying asleep, with her friends all about her. they were a long distance off, but the wicked witch was angry to find them in her country; so she blew upon a silver whistle that hung around her neck. at once there came running to her from all directions a pack of great wolves. they had long legs and fierce eyes and sharp teeth. "go to those people," said the witch, "and tear them to pieces." "are you not going to make them your slaves?" asked the leader of the wolves. "no," she answered, "one is of tin, and one of straw; one is a girl and another a lion. none of them is fit to work, so you may tear them into small pieces." "very well," said the wolf, and he dashed away at full speed, followed by the others. it was lucky the scarecrow and the woodman were wide awake and heard the wolves coming. "this is my fight," said the woodman; "so get behind me and i will meet them as they come." he seized his axe, which he had made very sharp, and as the leader of the wolves came on the tin woodman swung his arm and chopped the wolf's head from its body, so that it immediately died. as soon as he could raise his axe another wolf came up, and he also fell under the sharp edge of the tin woodman's weapon. there were forty wolves, and forty times a wolf was killed; so that at last they all lay dead in a heap before the woodman. then he put down his axe and sat beside the scarecrow, who said, "it was a good fight, friend." they waited until dorothy awoke the next morning. the little girl was quite frightened when she saw the great pile of shaggy wolves, but the tin woodman told her all. she thanked him for saving them and sat down to breakfast, after which they started again upon their journey. [illustration] now this same morning the wicked witch came to the door of her castle and looked out with her one eye that could see afar off. she saw all her wolves lying dead, and the strangers still travelling through her country. this made her angrier than before, and she blew her silver whistle twice. straightway a great flock of wild crows came flying toward her, enough to darken the sky. and the wicked witch said to the king crow, "fly at once to the strangers; peck out their eyes and tear them to pieces." the wild crows flew in one great flock toward dorothy and her companions. when the little girl saw them coming she was afraid. but the scarecrow said, "this is my battle; so lie down beside me and you will not be harmed." so they all lay upon the ground except the scarecrow, and he stood up and stretched out his arms. and when the crows saw him they were frightened, as these birds always are by scarecrows, and did not dare to come any nearer. but the king crow said, "it is only a stuffed man. i will peck his eyes out." the king crow flew at the scarecrow, who caught it by the head and twisted its neck until it died. and then another crow flew at him, and the scarecrow twisted its neck also. there were forty crows, and forty times the scarecrow twisted a neck, until at last all were lying dead beside him. then he called to his companions to rise, and again they went upon their journey. when the wicked witch looked out again and saw all her crows lying in a heap, she got into a terrible rage, and blew three times upon her silver whistle. [illustration] forthwith there was heard a great buzzing in the air, and a swarm of black bees came flying towards her. "go to the strangers and sting them to death!" commanded the witch, and the bees turned and flew rapidly until they came to where dorothy and her friends were walking. but the woodman had seen them coming and the scarecrow had decided what to do. "take out my straw and scatter it over the little girl and the dog and the lion," he said to the woodman, "and the bees cannot sting them." this the woodman did, and as dorothy lay close beside the lion and held toto in her arms, the straw covered them entirely. the bees came and found no one but the woodman to sting, so they flew at him and broke off all their stings against the tin, without hurting the woodman at all. and as bees cannot live when their stings are broken that was the end of the black bees, and they lay scattered thick about the woodman, like little heaps of fine coal. then dorothy and the lion got up, and the girl helped the tin woodman put the straw back into the scarecrow again, until he was as good as ever. so they started upon their journey once more. the wicked witch was so angry when she saw her black bees in little heaps like fine coal that she stamped her foot and tore her hair and gnashed her teeth. and then she called a dozen of her slaves, who were the winkies, and gave them sharp spears, telling them to go to the strangers and destroy them. the winkies were not a brave people, but they had to do as they were told; so they marched away until they came near to dorothy. then the lion gave a great roar and sprang toward them, and the poor winkies were so frightened that they ran back as fast as they could. when they returned to the castle the wicked witch beat them well with a strap, and sent them back to their work, after which she sat down to think what she should do next. she could not understand how all her plans to destroy these strangers had failed; but she was a powerful witch, as well as a wicked one, and she soon made up her mind how to act. [illustration] there was, in her cupboard, a golden cap, with a circle of diamonds and rubies running round it. this golden cap had a charm. whoever owned it could call three times upon the winged monkeys, who would obey any order they were given. but no person could command these strange creatures more than three times. twice already the wicked witch had used the charm of the cap. once was when she had made the winkies her slaves, and set herself to rule over their country. the winged monkeys had helped her do this. the second time was when she had fought against the great oz himself, and driven him out of the land of the west. the winged monkeys had also helped her in doing this. only once more could she use this golden cap, for which reason she did not like to do so until all her other powers were exhausted. but now that her fierce wolves and her wild crows and her stinging bees were gone, and her slaves had been scared away by the cowardly lion, she saw there was only one way left to destroy dorothy and her friends. [illustration] so the wicked witch took the golden cap from her cupboard and placed it upon her head. then she stood upon her left foot and said, slowly, "ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!" next she stood upon her right foot and said, "hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!" after this she stood upon both feet and cried in a loud voice, "ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!" now the charm began to work. the sky was darkened, and a low rumbling sound was heard in the air. there was a rushing of many wings; a great chattering and laughing; and the sun came out of the dark sky to show the wicked witch surrounded by a crowd of monkeys, each with a pair of immense and powerful wings on his shoulders. one, much bigger than the others, seemed to be their leader. he flew close to the witch and said, "you have called us for the third and last time. what do you command?" "go to the strangers who are within my land and destroy them all except the lion," said the wicked witch. "bring that beast to me, for i have a mind to harness him like a horse, and make him work." "your commands shall be obeyed," said the leader; and then, with a great deal of chattering and noise, the winged monkeys flew away to the place where dorothy and her friends were walking. [illustration] some of the monkeys seized the tin woodman and carried him through the air until they were over a country thickly covered with sharp rocks. here they dropped the poor woodman, who fell a great distance to the rocks, where he lay so battered and dented that he could neither move nor groan. others of the monkeys caught the scarecrow, and with their long fingers pulled all of the straw out of his clothes and head. they made his hat and boots and clothes into a small bundle and threw it into the top branches of a tall tree. the remaining monkeys threw pieces of stout rope around the lion and wound many coils about his body and head and legs, until he was unable to bite or scratch or struggle in any way. then they lifted him up and flew away with him to the witch's castle, where he was placed in a small yard with a high iron fence around it, so that he could not escape. but dorothy they did not harm at all. she stood, with toto in her arms, watching the sad fate of her comrades and thinking it would soon be her turn. the leader of the winged monkeys flew up to her, his long, hairy arms stretched out and his ugly face grinning terribly; but he saw the mark of the good witch's kiss upon her forehead and stopped short, motioning the others not to touch her. [illustration: "_the monkeys wound many coils about his body._"] "we dare not harm this little girl," he said to them, "for she is protected by the power of good, and that is greater than the power of evil. all we can do is to carry her to the castle of the wicked witch and leave her there." so, carefully and gently, they lifted dorothy in their arms and carried her swiftly through the air until they came to the castle, where they set her down upon the front door step. then the leader said to the witch, "we have obeyed you as far as we were able. the tin woodman and the scarecrow are destroyed, and the lion is tied up in your yard. the little girl we dare not harm, nor the dog she carries in her arms. your power over our band is now ended, and you will never see us again." then all the winged monkeys, with much laughing and chattering and noise, flew into the air and were soon out of sight. [illustration] the wicked witch was both surprised and worried when she saw the mark on dorothy's forehead, for she knew well that neither the winged monkeys nor she, herself, dare hurt the girl in any way. she looked down at dorothy's feet, and seeing the silver shoes, began to tremble with fear, for she knew what a powerful charm belonged to them. at first the witch was tempted to run away from dorothy; but she happened to look into the child's eyes and saw how simple the soul behind them was, and that the little girl did not know of the wonderful power the silver shoes gave her. so the wicked witch laughed to herself, and thought, "i can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power." then she said to dorothy, harshly and severely, "come with me; and see that you mind everything i tell you, for if you do not i will make an end of you, as i did of the tin woodman and the scarecrow." dorothy followed her through many of the beautiful rooms in her castle until they came to the kitchen, where the witch bade her clean the pots and kettles and sweep the floor and keep the fire fed with wood. dorothy went to work meekly, with her mind made up to work as hard as she could; for she was glad the wicked witch had decided not to kill her. with dorothy hard at work the witch thought she would go into the court-yard and harness the cowardly lion like a horse; it would amuse her, she was sure, to make him draw her chariot whenever she wished to go to drive. but as she opened the gate the lion gave a loud roar and bounded at her so fiercely that the witch was afraid, and ran out and shut the gate again. "if i cannot harness you," said the witch to the lion, speaking through the bars of the gate, "i can starve you. you shall have nothing to eat until you do as i wish." so after that she took no food to the imprisoned lion; but every day she came to the gate at noon and asked, "are you ready to be harnessed like a horse?" and the lion would answer, "no. if you come in this yard i will bite you." the reason the lion did not have to do as the witch wished was that every night, while the woman was asleep dorothy carried him food from the cupboard. after he had eaten he would lie down on his bed of straw, and dorothy would lie beside him and put her head on his soft, shaggy mane, while they talked of their troubles and tried to plan some way to escape. but they could find no way to get out of the castle, for it was constantly guarded by the yellow winkies, who were the slaves of the wicked witch and too afraid of her not to do as she told them. the girl had to work hard during the day, and often the witch threatened to beat her with the same old umbrella she always carried in her hand. but, in truth, she did not dare to strike dorothy, because of the mark upon her forehead. the child did not know this, and was full of fear for herself and toto. once the witch struck toto a blow with her umbrella and the brave little dog flew at her and bit her leg, in return. the witch did not bleed where she was bitten, for she was so wicked that the blood in her had dried up many years before. dorothy's life became very sad as she grew to understand that it would be harder than ever to get back to kansas and aunt em again. sometimes she would cry bitterly for hours, with toto sitting at her feet and looking into her face, whining dismally to show how sorry he was for his little mistress. toto did not really care whether he was in kansas or the land of oz so long as dorothy was with him; but he knew the little girl was unhappy, and that made him unhappy too. now the wicked witch had a great longing to have for her own the silver shoes which the girl always wore. her bees and her crows and her wolves were lying in heaps and drying up, and she had used up all the power of the golden cap; but if she could only get hold of the silver shoes they would give her more power than all the other things she had lost. she watched dorothy carefully, to see if she ever took off her shoes, thinking she might steal them. but the child was so proud of her pretty shoes that she never took them off except at night and when she took her bath. the witch was too much afraid of the dark to dare go in dorothy's room at night to take the shoes, and her dread of water was greater than her fear of the dark, so she never came near when dorothy was bathing. indeed, the old witch never touched water, nor ever let water touch her in any way. but the wicked creature was very cunning, and she finally thought of a trick that would give her what she wanted. she placed a bar of iron in the middle of the kitchen floor, and then by her magic arts made the iron invisible to human eyes. so that when dorothy walked across the floor she stumbled over the bar, not being able to see it, and fell at full length. she was not much hurt, but in her fall one of the silver shoes came off, and before she could reach it the witch had snatched it away and put it on her own skinny foot. the wicked woman was greatly pleased with the success of her trick, for as long as she had one of the shoes she owned half the power of their charm, and dorothy could not use it against her, even had she known how to do so. [illustration] the little girl, seeing she had lost one of her pretty shoes, grew angry, and said to the witch, "give me back my shoe!" "i will not," retorted the witch, "for it is now my shoe, and not yours." "you are a wicked creature!" cried dorothy. "you have no right to take my shoe from me." "i shall keep it, just the same," said the witch, laughing at her, "and some day i shall get the other one from you, too." this made dorothy so very angry that she picked up the bucket of water that stood near and dashed it over the witch, wetting her from head to foot. instantly the wicked woman gave a loud cry of fear; and then, as dorothy looked at her in wonder, the witch began to shrink and fall away. "see what you have done!" she screamed. "in a minute i shall melt away." "i'm very sorry, indeed," said dorothy, who was truly frightened to see the witch actually melting away like brown sugar before her very eyes. "didn't you know water would be the end of me?" asked the witch, in a wailing, despairing voice. "of course not," answered dorothy; "how should i?" "well, in a few minutes i shall be all melted, and you will have the castle to yourself. i have been wicked in my day, but i never thought a little girl like you would ever be able to melt me and end my wicked deeds. look out--here i go!" with these words the witch fell down in a brown, melted, shapeless mass and began to spread over the clean boards of the kitchen floor. seeing that she had really melted away to nothing, dorothy drew another bucket of water and threw it over the mess. she then swept it all out the door. after picking out the silver shoe, which was all that was left of the old woman, she cleaned and dried it with a cloth, and put it on her foot again. then, being at last free to do as she chose, she ran out to the court-yard to tell the lion that the wicked witch of the west had come to an end, and that they were no longer prisoners in a strange land. [illustration] chapter xiii. the rescue [illustration] [illustration] the cowardly lion was much pleased to hear that the wicked witch had been melted by a bucket of water, and dorothy at once unlocked the gate of his prison and set him free. they went in together to the castle, where dorothy's first act was to call all the winkies together and tell them that they were no longer slaves. there was great rejoicing among the yellow winkies, for they had been made to work hard during many years for the wicked witch, who had always treated them with great cruelty. they kept this day as a holiday, then and ever after, and spent the time in feasting and dancing. "if our friends, the scarecrow and the tin woodman, were only with us," said the lion, "i should be quite happy." "don't you suppose we could rescue them?" asked the girl, anxiously. "we can try," answered the lion. so they called the yellow winkies and asked them if they would help to rescue their friends, and the winkies said that they would be delighted to do all in their power for dorothy, who had set them free from bondage. so she chose a number of the winkies who looked as if they knew the most, and they all started away. they travelled that day and part of the next until they came to the rocky plain where the tin woodman lay, all battered and bent. his axe was near him, but the blade was rusted and the handle broken off short. the winkies lifted him tenderly in their arms, and carried him back to the yellow castle again, dorothy shedding a few tears by the way at the sad plight of her old friend, and the lion looking sober and sorry. when they reached the castle dorothy said to the winkies, "are any of your people tinsmiths?" "oh, yes; some of us are very good tinsmiths," they told her. "then bring them to me," she said. and when the tinsmiths came, bringing with them all their tools in baskets, she enquired, [illustration: "_the tinsmiths worked for three days and four nights._"] "can you straighten out those dents in the tin woodman, and bend him back into shape again, and solder him together where he is broken?" the tinsmiths looked the woodman over carefully and then answered that they thought they could mend him so he would be as good as ever. so they set to work in one of the big yellow rooms of the castle and worked for three days and four nights, hammering and twisting and bending and soldering and polishing and pounding at the legs and body and head of the tin woodman, until at last he was straightened out into his old form, and his joints worked as well as ever. to be sure, there were several patches on him, but the tinsmiths did a good job, and as the woodman was not a vain man he did not mind the patches at all. when, at last, he walked into dorothy's room and thanked her for rescuing him, he was so pleased that he wept tears of joy, and dorothy had to wipe every tear carefully from his face with her apron, so his joints would not be rusted. at the same time her own tears fell thick and fast at the joy of meeting her old friend again, and these tears did not need to be wiped away. as for the lion, he wiped his eyes so often with the tip of his tail that it became quite wet, and he was obliged to go out into the court-yard and hold it in the sun till it dried. "if we only had the scarecrow with us again," said the tin woodman, when dorothy had finished telling him everything that had happened, "i should be quite happy." "we must try to find him," said the girl. so she called the winkies to help her, and they walked all that day and part of the next until they came to the tall tree in the branches of which the winged monkeys had tossed the scarecrow's clothes. it was a very tall tree, and the trunk was so smooth that no one could climb it; but the woodman said at once, "i'll chop it down, and then we can get the scarecrow's clothes." now while the tinsmiths had been at work mending the woodman himself, another of the winkies, who was a goldsmith, had made an axe-handle of solid gold and fitted it to the woodman's axe, instead of the old broken handle. others polished the blade until all the rust was removed and it glistened like burnished silver. as soon as he had spoken, the tin woodman began to chop, and in a short time the tree fell over with a crash, when the scarecrow's clothes fell out of the branches and rolled off on the ground. dorothy picked them up and had the winkies carry them back to the castle, where they were stuffed with nice, clean straw; and, behold! here was the scarecrow, as good as ever, thanking them over and over again for saving him. now they were reunited, dorothy and her friends spent a few happy days at the yellow castle, where they found everything they needed to make them comfortable. but one day the girl thought of aunt em, and said, "we must go back to oz, and claim his promise." "yes," said the woodman, "at last i shall get my heart." "and i shall get my brains," added the scarecrow, joyfully. "and i shall get my courage," said the lion, thoughtfully. "and i shall get back to kansas," cried dorothy, clapping her hands. "oh, let us start for the emerald city to-morrow!" [illustration] this they decided to do. the next day they called the winkies together and bade them good-bye. the winkies were sorry to have them go, and they had grown so fond of the tin woodman that they begged him to stay and rule over them and the yellow land of the west. finding they were determined to go, the winkies gave toto and the lion each a golden collar; and to dorothy they presented a beautiful bracelet, studded with diamonds; and to the scarecrow they gave a gold-headed walking stick, to keep him from stumbling; and to the tin woodman they offered a silver oil-can, inlaid with gold and set with precious jewels. every one of the travellers made the winkies a pretty speech in return, and all shook hands with them until their arms ached. dorothy went to the witch's cupboard to fill her basket with food for the journey, and there she saw the golden cap. she tried it on her own head and found that it fitted her exactly. she did not know anything about the charm of the golden cap, but she saw that it was pretty, so she made up her mind to wear it and carry her sunbonnet in the basket. then, being prepared for the journey, they all started for the emerald city; and the winkies gave them three cheers and many good wishes to carry with them. chapter xiv. the winged monkeys [illustration] [illustration] you will remember there was no road--not even a pathway--between the castle of the wicked witch and the emerald city. when the four travellers went in search of the witch she had seen them coming, and so sent the winged monkeys to bring them to her. it was much harder to find their way back through the big fields of buttercups and yellow daisies than it was being carried. they knew, of course, they must go straight east, toward the rising sun; and they started off in the right way. but at noon, when the sun was over their heads, they did not know which was east and which was west, and that was the reason they were lost in the great fields. they kept on walking, however, and at night the moon came out and shone brightly. so they lay down among the sweet smelling yellow flowers and slept soundly until morning--all but the scarecrow and the tin woodman. the next morning the sun was behind a cloud, but they started on, as if they were quite sure which way they were going. "if we walk far enough," said dorothy, "we shall sometime come to some place, i am sure." but day by day passed away, and they still saw nothing before them but the yellow fields. the scarecrow began to grumble a bit. "we have surely lost our way," he said, "and unless we find it again in time to reach the emerald city i shall never get my brains." "nor i my heart," declared the tin woodman. "it seems to me i can scarcely wait till i get to oz, and you must admit this is a very long journey." "you see," said the cowardly lion, with a whimper, "i haven't the courage to keep tramping forever, without getting anywhere at all." [illustration] then dorothy lost heart. she sat down on the grass and looked at her companions, and they sat down and looked at her, and toto found that for the first time in his life he was too tired to chase a butterfly that flew past his head; so he put out his tongue and panted and looked at dorothy as if to ask what they should do next. "suppose we call the field mice," she suggested. "they could probably tell us the way to the emerald city." "to be sure they could," cried the scarecrow; "why didn't we think of that before?" dorothy blew the little whistle she had always carried about her neck since the queen of the mice had given it to her. in a few minutes they heard the pattering of tiny feet, and many of the small grey mice came running up to her. among them was the queen herself, who asked, in her squeaky little voice, "what can i do for my friends?" "we have lost our way," said dorothy. "can you tell us where the emerald city is?" [illustration] "certainly," answered the queen; "but it is a great way off, for you have had it at your backs all this time." then she noticed dorothy's golden cap, and said, "why don't you use the charm of the cap, and call the winged monkeys to you? they will carry you to the city of oz in less than an hour." "i didn't know there was a charm," answered dorothy, in surprise. "what is it?" "it is written inside the golden cap," replied the queen of the mice; "but if you are going to call the winged monkeys we must run away, for they are full of mischief and think it great fun to plague us." "won't they hurt me?" asked the girl, anxiously. "oh, no; they must obey the wearer of the cap. good-bye!" and she scampered out of sight, with all the mice hurrying after her. dorothy looked inside the golden cap and saw some words written upon the lining. these, she thought, must be the charm, so she read the directions carefully and put the cap upon her head. "ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!" she said, standing on her left foot. "what did you say?" asked the scarecrow, who did not know what she was doing. "hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!" dorothy went on, standing this time on her right foot. "hello!" replied the tin woodman, calmly. [illustration: "_the monkeys caught dorothy in their arms and flew away with her._"] "ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!" said dorothy, who was now standing on both feet. this ended the saying of the charm, and they heard a great chattering and flapping of wings, as the band of winged monkeys flew up to them. the king bowed low before dorothy, and asked, "what is your command?" "we wish to go to the emerald city," said the child, "and we have lost our way." "we will carry you," replied the king, and no sooner had he spoken than two of the monkeys caught dorothy in their arms and flew away with her. others took the scarecrow and the woodman and the lion, and one little monkey seized toto and flew after them, although the dog tried hard to bite him. the scarecrow and the tin woodman were rather frightened at first, for they remembered how badly the winged monkeys had treated them before; but they saw that no harm was intended, so they rode through the air quite cheerfully, and had a fine time looking at the pretty gardens and woods far below them. dorothy found herself riding easily between two of the biggest monkeys, one of them the king himself. they had made a chair of their hands and were careful not to hurt her. "why do you have to obey the charm of the golden cap?" she asked. "that is a long story," answered the king, with a laugh; "but as we have a long journey before us i will pass the time by telling you about it, if you wish." "i shall be glad to hear it," she replied. "once," began the leader, "we were a free people, living happily in the great forest, flying from tree to tree, eating nuts and fruit, and doing just as we pleased without calling anybody master. perhaps some of us were rather too full of mischief at times, flying down to pull the tails of the animals that had no wings, chasing birds, and throwing nuts at the people who walked in the forest. but we were careless and happy and full of fun, and enjoyed every minute of the day. this was many years ago, long before oz came out of the clouds to rule over this land. "there lived here then, away at the north, a beautiful princess, who was also a powerful sorceress. all her magic was used to help the people, and she was never known to hurt anyone who was good. her name was gayelette, and she lived in a handsome palace built from great blocks of ruby. everyone loved her, but her greatest sorrow was that she could find no one to love in return, since all the men were much too stupid and ugly to mate with one so beautiful and wise. at last, however, she found a boy who was handsome and manly and wise beyond his years. gayelette made up her mind that when he grew to be a man she would make him her husband, so she took him to her ruby palace and used all her magic powers to make him as strong and good and lovely as any woman could wish. when he grew to manhood, quelala, as he was called, was said to be the best and wisest man in all the land, while his manly beauty was so great that gayelette loved him dearly, and hastened to make everything ready for the wedding. "my grandfather was at that time the king of the winged monkeys which lived in the forest near gayalette's palace, and the old fellow loved a joke better than a good dinner. one day, just before the wedding, my grandfather was flying out with his band when he saw quelala walking beside the river. he was dressed in a rich costume of pink silk and purple velvet, and my grandfather thought he would see what he could do. at his word the band flew down and seized quelala, carried him in their arms until they were over the middle of the river, and then dropped him into the water. "'swim out, my fine fellow,'" cried my grandfather, "'and see if the water has spotted your clothes.'" quelala was much too wise not to swim, and he was not in the least spoiled by all his good fortune. he laughed, when he came to the top of the water, and swam in to shore. but when gayelette came running out to him she found his silks and velvet all ruined by the river. [illustration] "the princess was very angry, and she knew, of course, who did it. she had all the winged monkeys brought before her, and she said at first that their wings should be tied and they should be treated as they had treated quelala, and dropped in the river. but my grandfather pleaded hard, for he knew the monkeys would drown in the river with their wings tied, and quelala said a kind word for them also; so that gayelette finally spared them, on condition that the winged monkeys should ever after do three times the bidding of the owner of the golden cap. this cap had been made for a wedding present to quelala, and it is said to have cost the princess half her kingdom. of course my grandfather and all the other monkeys at once agreed to the condition, and that is how it happens that we are three times the slaves of the owner of the golden cap, whomsoever he may be." "and what became of them?" asked dorothy, who had been greatly interested in the story. "quelala being the first owner of the golden cap," replied the monkey, "he was the first to lay his wishes upon us. as his bride could not bear the sight of us, he called us all to him in the forest after he had married her and ordered us to always keep where she could never again set eyes on a winged monkey, which we were glad to do, for we were all afraid of her. "this was all we ever had to do until the golden cap fell into the hands of the wicked witch of the west, who made us enslave the winkies, and afterward drive oz himself out of the land of the west. now the golden cap is yours, and three times you have the right to lay your wishes upon us." as the monkey king finished his story dorothy looked down and saw the green, shining walls of the emerald city before them. she wondered at the rapid flight of the monkeys, but was glad the journey was over. the strange creatures set the travellers down carefully before the gate of the city, the king bowed low to dorothy, and then flew swiftly away, followed by all his band. "that was a good ride," said the little girl. "yes, and a quick way out of our troubles." replied the lion. "how lucky it was you brought away that wonderful cap!" [illustration] chapter xv. the discovery of oz, the terrible. [illustration] [illustration] the four travellers walked up to the great gate of the emerald city and rang the bell. after ringing several times it was opened by the same guardian of the gate they had met before. "what! are you back again?" he asked, in surprise. "do you not see us?" answered the scarecrow. "but i thought you had gone to visit the wicked witch of the west." "we did visit her," said the scarecrow. "and she let you go again?" asked the man, in wonder. "she could not help it, for she is melted," explained the scarecrow. "melted! well, that is good news, indeed," said the man. "who melted her?" "it was dorothy," said the lion, gravely. "good gracious!" exclaimed the man, and he bowed very low indeed before her. then he led them into his little room and locked the spectacles from the great box on all their eyes, just as he had done before. afterward they passed on through the gate into the emerald city, and when the people heard from the guardian of the gate that they had melted the wicked witch of the west they all gathered around the travellers and followed them in a great crowd to the palace of oz. the soldier with the green whiskers was still on guard before the door, but he let them in at once and they were again met by the beautiful green girl, who showed each of them to their old rooms at once, so they might rest until the great oz was ready to receive them. the soldier had the news carried straight to oz that dorothy and the other travellers had come back again, after destroying the wicked witch; but oz made no reply. they thought the great wizard would send for them at once, but he did not. they had no word from him the next day, nor the next, nor the next. the waiting was tiresome and wearing, and at last they grew vexed that oz should treat them in so poor a fashion, after sending them to undergo hardships and slavery. so the scarecrow at last asked the green girl to take another message to oz, saying if he did not let them in to see him at once they would call the winged monkeys to help them, and find out whether he kept his promises or not. when the wizard was given this message he was so frightened that he sent word for them to come to the throne room at four minutes after nine o'clock the next morning. he had once met the winged monkeys in the land of the west, and he did not wish to meet them again. the four travellers passed a sleepless night, each thinking of the gift oz had promised to bestow upon him. dorothy fell asleep only once, and then she dreamed she was in kansas, where aunt em was telling her how glad she was to have her little girl at home again. promptly at nine o'clock the next morning the green whiskered soldier came to them, and four minutes later they all went into the throne room of the great oz. of course each one of them expected to see the wizard in the shape he had taken before, and all were greatly surprised when they looked about and saw no one at all in the room. they kept close to the door and closer to one another, for the stillness of the empty room was more dreadful than any of the forms they had seen oz take. [illustration] presently they heard a voice, seeming to come from somewhere near the top of the great dome, and it said, solemnly. "i am oz, the great and terrible. why do you seek me?" they looked again in every part of the room, and then, seeing no one, dorothy asked, "where are you?" "i am everywhere," answered the voice, "but to the eyes of common mortals i am invisible. i will now seat myself upon my throne, that you may converse with me." indeed, the voice seemed just then to come straight from the throne itself; so they walked toward it and stood in a row while dorothy said: "we have come to claim our promise, o oz." "what promise?" asked oz. "you promised to send me back to kansas when the wicked witch was destroyed," said the girl. "and you promised to give me brains," said the scarecrow. "and you promised to give me a heart," said the tin woodman. "and you promised to give me courage," said the cowardly lion. "is the wicked witch really destroyed?" asked the voice, and dorothy thought it trembled a little. "yes," she answered, "i melted her with a bucket of water." "dear me," said the voice; "how sudden! well, come to me to-morrow, for i must have time to think it over." "you've had plenty of time already," said the tin woodman, angrily. "we shan't wait a day longer," said the scarecrow. "you must keep your promises to us!" exclaimed dorothy. the lion thought it might be as well to frighten the wizard, so he gave a large, loud roar, which was so fierce and dreadful that toto jumped away from him in alarm and tipped over the screen that stood in a corner. as it fell with a crash they looked that way, and the next moment all of them were filled with wonder. for they saw, standing in just the spot the screen had hidden, a little, old man, with a bald head and a wrinkled face, who seemed to be as much surprised as they were. the tin woodman, raising his axe, rushed toward the little man and cried out, [illustration] "who are you?" "i am oz, the great and terrible," said the little man, in a trembling voice, "but don't strike me--please don't!--and i'll do anything you want me to." our friends looked at him in surprise and dismay. "i thought oz was a great head," said dorothy. "and i thought oz was a lovely lady," said the scarecrow. "and i thought oz was a terrible beast," said the tin woodman. "and i thought oz was a ball of fire," exclaimed the lion. "no; you are all wrong," said the little man, meekly. "i have been making believe." "making believe!" cried dorothy. "are you not a great wizard?" "hush, my dear," he said; "don't speak so loud, or you will be overheard--and i should be ruined. i'm supposed to be a great wizard." "and aren't you?" she asked. "not a bit of it, my dear; i'm just a common man." "you're more than that," said the scarecrow, in a grieved tone; "you're a humbug." "exactly so!" declared the little man, rubbing his hands together as if it pleased him; "i am a humbug." "but this is terrible," said the tin woodman; "how shall i ever get my heart?" "or i my courage?" asked the lion. "or i my brains?" wailed the scarecrow, wiping the the tears from his eyes with his coat-sleeve. [illustration: "_exactly so! i am a humbug._"] "my dear friends," said oz, "i pray you not to speak of these little things. think of me, and the terrible trouble i'm in at being found out." "doesn't anyone else know you're a humbug?" asked dorothy. "no one knows it but you four--and myself," replied oz. "i have fooled everyone so long that i thought i should never be found out. it was a great mistake my ever letting you into the throne room. usually i will not see even my subjects, and so they believe i am something terrible." "but, i don't understand," said dorothy, in bewilderment. "how was it that you appeared to me as a great head?" "that was one of my tricks," answered oz. "step this way, please, and i will tell you all about it." he led the way to a small chamber in the rear of the throne room, and they all followed him. he pointed to one corner, in which lay the great head, made out of many thicknesses of paper, and with a carefully painted face. "this i hung from the ceiling by a wire," said oz; "i stood behind the screen and pulled a thread, to make the eyes move and the mouth open." "but how about the voice?" she enquired. "oh, i am a ventriloquist," said the little man, "and i can throw the sound of my voice wherever i wish; so that you thought it was coming out of the head. here are the other things i used to deceive you." he showed the scarecrow the dress and the mask he had worn when he seemed to be the lovely lady; and the tin woodman saw that his terrible beast was nothing but a lot of skins, sewn together, with slats to keep their sides out. as for the ball of fire, the false wizard had hung that also from the ceiling. it was really a ball of cotton, but when oil was poured upon it the ball burned fiercely. "really," said the scarecrow, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself for being such a humbug." "i am--i certainly am," answered the little man, sorrowfully; "but it was the only thing i could do. sit down, please, there are plenty of chairs; and i will tell you my story." so they sat down and listened while he told the following tale: "i was born in omaha--" "why, that isn't very far from kansas!" cried dorothy. "no; but it's farther from here," he said, shaking his head at her, sadly. "when i grew up i became a ventriloquist, and at that i was very well trained by a great master. i can imitate any kind of a bird or beast." here he mewed so like a kitten that toto pricked up his ears and looked everywhere to see where she was. "after a time," continued oz, "i tired of that, and became a balloonist." "what is that?" asked dorothy. "a man who goes up in a balloon on circus day, so as to draw a crowd of people together and get them to pay to see the circus," he explained. [illustration] "oh," she said; "i know." "well, one day i went up in a balloon and the ropes got twisted, so that i couldn't come down again. it went way up above the clouds, so far that a current of air struck it and carried it many, many miles away. for a day and a night i travelled through the air, and on the morning of the second day i awoke and found the balloon floating over a strange and beautiful country. "it came down gradually, and i was not hurt a bit. but i found myself in the midst of a strange people, who, seeing me come from the clouds, thought i was a great wizard. of course i let them think so, because they were afraid of me, and promised to do anything i wished them to. "just to amuse myself, and keep the good people busy, i ordered them to build this city, and my palace; and they did it all willingly and well. then i thought, as the country was so green and beautiful, i would call it the emerald city, and to make the name fit better i put green spectacles on all the people, so that everything they saw was green." "but isn't everything here green?" asked dorothy. "no more than in any other city," replied oz; "but when you wear green spectacles, why of course everything you see looks green to you. the emerald city was built a great many years ago, for i was a young man when the balloon brought me here, and i am a very old man now. but my people have worn green glasses on their eyes so long that most of them think it really is an emerald city, and it certainly is a beautiful place, abounding in jewels and precious metals, and every good thing that is needed to make one happy. i have been good to the people, and they like me; but ever since this palace was built i have shut myself up and would not see any of them. "one of my greatest fears was the witches, for while i had no magical powers at all i soon found out that the witches were really able to do wonderful things. there were four of them in this country, and they ruled the people who live in the north and south and east and west. fortunately, the witches of the north and south were good, and i knew they would do me no harm; but the witches of the east and west were terribly wicked, and had they not thought i was more powerful than they themselves, they would surely have destroyed me. as it was, i lived in deadly fear of them for many years; so you can imagine how pleased i was when i heard your house had fallen on the wicked witch of the east. when you came to me i was willing to promise anything if you would only do away with the other witch; but, now that you have melted her, i am ashamed to say that i cannot keep my promises." "i think you are a very bad man," said dorothy. "oh, no, my dear; i'm really a very good man; but i'm a very bad wizard, i must admit." "can't you give me brains?" asked the scarecrow. "you don't need them. you are learning something every day. a baby has brains, but it doesn't know much. experience is the only thing that brings knowledge, and the longer you are on earth the more experience you are sure to get." "that may all be true," said the scarecrow, "but i shall be very unhappy unless you give me brains." the false wizard looked at him carefully. "well," he said, with a sigh, "i'm not much of a magician, as i said; but if you will come to me to-morrow morning, i will stuff your head with brains. i cannot tell you how to use them, however; you must find that out for yourself." [illustration] "oh, thank you--thank you!" cried the scarecrow. "i'll find a way to use them, never fear!" "but how about my courage?" asked the lion, anxiously. "you have plenty of courage, i am sure," answered oz. "all you need is confidence in yourself. there is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty." "perhaps i have, but i'm scared just the same," said the lion. "i shall really be very unhappy unless you give me the sort of courage that makes one forget he is afraid." "very well; i will give you that sort of courage to-morrow," replied oz. "how about my heart?" asked the tin woodman. "why, as for that," answered oz, "i think you are wrong to want a heart. it makes most people unhappy. if you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart." "that must be a matter of opinion," said the tin woodman. "for my part, i will bear all the unhappiness without a murmur, if you will give me the heart." [illustration] "very well," answered oz, meekly. "come to me to-morrow and you shall have a heart. i have played wizard for so many years that i may as well continue the part a little longer." "and now," said dorothy, "how am i to get back to kansas?" "we shall have to think about that," replied the little man, "give me two or three days to consider the matter and i'll try to find a way to carry you over the desert. in the meantime you shall all be treated as my guests, and while you live in the palace my people will wait upon you and obey your slightest wish. there is only one thing i ask in return for my help--such as it is. you must keep my secret and tell no one i am a humbug." they agreed to say nothing of what they had learned, and went back to their rooms in high spirits. even dorothy had hope that "the great and terrible humbug," as she called him, would find a way to send her back to kansas, and if he did that she was willing to forgive him everything. [illustration] chapter xvi. the magic art of the great humbug. [illustration] [illustration] next morning the scarecrow said to his friends: "congratulate me. i am going to oz to get my brains at last. when i return i shall be as other men are." "i have always liked you as you were," said dorothy, simply. "it is kind of you to like a scarecrow," he replied. "but surely you will think more of me when you hear the splendid thoughts my new brain is going to turn out." then he said good-bye to them all in a cheerful voice and went to the throne room, where he rapped upon the door. "come in," said oz. the scarecrow went in and found the little man sitting down by the window, engaged in deep thought. "i have come for my brains," remarked the scarecrow, a little uneasily. "oh, yes; sit down in that chair, please," replied oz. "you must excuse me for taking your head off, but i shall have to do it in order to put your brains in their proper place." "that's all right," said the scarecrow. "you are quite welcome to take my head off, as long as it will be a better one when you put it on again." so the wizard unfastened his head and emptied out the straw. then he entered the back room and took up a measure of bran, which he mixed with a great many pins and needles. having shaken them together thoroughly, he filled the top of the scarecrow's head with the mixture and stuffed the rest of the space with straw, to hold it in place. when he had fastened the scarecrow's head on his body again he said to him, "hereafter you will be a great man, for i have given you a lot of bran-new brains." the scarecrow was both pleased and proud at the fulfillment of his greatest wish, and having thanked oz warmly he went back to his friends. dorothy looked at him curiously. his head was quite bulging out at the top with brains. "how do you feel?" she asked. [illustration: "_'i feel wise, indeed,' said the scarecrow._"] "i feel wise, indeed," he answered, earnestly. "when i get used to my brains i shall know everything." "why are those needles and pins sticking out of your head?" asked the tin woodman. "that is proof that he is sharp," remarked the lion. "well, i must go to oz and get my heart," said the woodman. so he walked to the throne room and knocked at the door. "come in," called oz, and the woodman entered and said, "i have come for my heart." "very well," answered the little man. "but i shall have to cut a hole in your breast, so i can put your heart in the right place. i hope it won't hurt you." "oh, no;" answered the woodman. "i shall not feel it at all." [illustration] so oz brought a pair of tinners' shears and cut a small, square hole in the left side of the tin woodman's breast. then, going to a chest of drawers, he took out a pretty heart, made entirely of silk and stuffed with sawdust. "isn't it a beauty?" he asked. "it is, indeed!" replied the woodman, who was greatly pleased. "but is it a kind heart?" "oh, very!" answered oz. he put the heart in the woodman's breast and then replaced the square of tin, soldering it neatly together where it had been cut. "there," said he; "now you have a heart that any man might be proud of. i'm sorry i had to put a patch on your breast, but it really couldn't be helped." "never mind the patch," exclaimed the happy woodman. "i am very grateful to you, and shall never forget your kindness." [illustration] "don't speak of it," replied oz. then the tin woodman went back to his friends, who wished him every joy on account of his good fortune. the lion now walked to the throne room and knocked at the door. "come in," said oz. "i have come for my courage," announced the lion, entering the room. "very well," answered the little man; "i will get it for you." he went to a cupboard and reaching up to a high shelf took down a square green bottle, the contents of which he poured into a green-gold dish, beautifully carved. placing this before the cowardly lion, who sniffed at it as if he did not like it, the wizard said, "drink." "what is it?" asked the lion. "well," answered oz, "if it were inside of you, it would be courage. you know, of course, that courage is always inside one; so that this really cannot be called courage until you have swallowed it. therefore i advise you to drink it as soon as possible." the lion hesitated no longer, but drank till the dish was empty. "how do you feel now?" asked oz. "full of courage," replied the lion, who went joyfully back to his friends to tell them of his good fortune. oz, left to himself, smiled to think of his success in giving the scarecrow and the tin woodman and the lion exactly what they thought they wanted. "how can i help being a humbug," he said, "when all these people make me do things that everybody knows can't be done? it was easy to make the scarecrow and the lion and the woodman happy, because they imagined i could do anything. but it will take more than imagination to carry dorothy back to kansas, and i'm sure i don't know how it can be done." chapter xvii. how the balloon was launched. [illustration] for three days dorothy heard nothing from oz. these were sad days for the little girl, although her friends were all quite happy and contented. the scarecrow told them there were wonderful thoughts in his head; but he would not say what they were because he knew no one could understand them but himself. when the tin woodman walked about he felt his heart rattling around in his breast; and he told dorothy he had discovered it to be a kinder and more tender heart than the one he had owned when he was made of flesh. the lion declared he was afraid of nothing on earth, and would gladly face an army of men or a dozen of the fierce kalidahs. thus each of the little party was satisfied except dorothy, who longed more than ever to get back to kansas. on the fourth day, to her great joy, oz sent for her, and when she entered the throne room he said, pleasantly: "sit down, my dear; i think i have found the way to get you out of this country." "and back to kansas?" she asked, eagerly. "well, i'm not sure about kansas," said oz; "for i haven't the faintest notion which way it lies. but the first thing to do is to cross the desert, and then it should be easy to find your way home." "how can i cross the desert?" she enquired. "well, i'll tell you what i think," said the little man. "you see, when i came to this country it was in a balloon. you also came through the air, being carried by a cyclone. so i believe the best way to get across the desert will be through the air. now, it is quite beyond my powers to make a cyclone; but i've been thinking the matter over, and i believe i can make a balloon." "how?" asked dorothy. "a balloon," said oz, "is made of silk, which is coated with glue to keep the gas in it. i have plenty of silk in the palace, so it will be no trouble for us to make the balloon. but in all this country there is no gas to fill the balloon with, to make it float." "if it won't float," remarked dorothy, "it will be of no use to us." "true," answered oz. "but there is another way to make it float, which is to fill it with hot air. hot air isn't as good as gas, for if the air should get cold the balloon would come down in the desert, and we should be lost." "we!" exclaimed the girl; "are you going with me?" "yes, of course," replied oz. "i am tired of being such a humbug. if i should go out of this palace my people would soon discover i am not a wizard, and then they would be vexed with me for having deceived them. so i have to stay shut up in these rooms all day, and it gets tiresome. i'd much rather go back to kansas with you and be in a circus again." [illustration] "i shall be glad to have your company," said dorothy. "thank you," he answered. "now, if you will help me sew the silk together, we will begin to work on our balloon." so dorothy took a needle and thread, and as fast as oz cut the strips of silk into proper shape the girl sewed them neatly together. first there was a strip of light green silk, then a strip of dark green and then a strip of emerald green; for oz had a fancy to make the balloon in different shades of the color about them. it took three days to sew all the strips together, but when it was finished they had a big bag of green silk more than twenty feet long. then oz painted it on the inside with a coat of thin glue, to make it air-tight, after which he announced that the balloon was ready. "but we must have a basket to ride in," he said. so he sent the soldier with the green whiskers for a big clothes basket, which he fastened with many ropes to the bottom of the balloon. when it was all ready, oz sent word to his people that he was going to make a visit to a great brother wizard who lived in the clouds. the news spread rapidly throughout the city and everyone came to see the wonderful sight. oz ordered the balloon carried out in front of the palace, and the people gazed upon it with much curiosity. the tin woodman had chopped a big pile of wood, and now he made a fire of it, and oz held the bottom of the balloon over the fire so that the hot air that arose from it would be caught in the silken bag. gradually the balloon swelled out and rose into the air, until finally the basket just touched the ground. then oz got into the basket and said to all the people in a loud voice: "i am now going away to make a visit. while i am gone the scarecrow will rule over you. i command you to obey him as you would me." the balloon was by this time tugging hard at the rope that held it to the ground, for the air within it was hot, and this made it so much lighter in weight than the air without that it pulled hard to rise into the sky. "come, dorothy!" cried the wizard; "hurry up, or the balloon will fly away." "i can't find toto anywhere," replied dorothy, who did not wish to leave her little dog behind. toto had run into the crowd to bark at a kitten, and dorothy at last found him. she picked him up and ran toward the balloon. [illustration] she was within a few steps of it, and oz was holding out his hands to help her into the basket, when, crack! went the ropes, and the balloon rose into the air without her. [illustration] "come back!" she screamed; "i want to go, too!" "i can't come back, my dear," called oz from the basket. "good-bye!" "good-bye!" shouted everyone, and all eyes were turned upward to where the wizard was riding in the basket, rising every moment farther and farther into the sky. and that was the last any of them ever saw of oz, the wonderful wizard, though he may have reached omaha safely, and be there now, for all we know. but the people remembered him lovingly, and said to one another, "oz was always our friend. when he was here he built for us this beautiful emerald city, and now he is gone he has left the wise scarecrow to rule over us." still, for many days they grieved over the loss of the wonderful wizard, and would not be comforted. chapter xviii. away to the south. [illustration] [illustration] dorothy wept bitterly at the passing of her hope to get home to kansas again; but when she thought it all over she was glad she had not gone up in a balloon. and she also felt sorry at losing oz, and so did her companions. the tin woodman came to her and said, "truly i should be ungrateful if i failed to mourn for the man who gave me my lovely heart. i should like to cry a little because oz is gone, if you will kindly wipe away my tears, so that i shall not rust." [illustration] "with pleasure," she answered, and brought a towel at once. then the tin woodman wept for several minutes, and she watched the tears carefully and wiped them away with the towel. when he had finished he thanked her kindly and oiled himself thoroughly with his jewelled oil-can, to guard against mishap. the scarecrow was now the ruler of the emerald city, and although he was not a wizard the people were proud of him. "for," they said, "there is not another city in all the world that is ruled by a stuffed man." and, so far as they knew, they were quite right. the morning after the balloon had gone up with oz the four travellers met in the throne room and talked matters over. the scarecrow sat in the big throne and the others stood respectfully before him. "we are not so unlucky," said the new ruler; "for this palace and the emerald city belong to us, and we can do just as we please. when i remember that a short time ago i was up on a pole in a farmer's cornfield, and that i am now the ruler of this beautiful city, i am quite satisfied with my lot." "i also," said the tin woodman, "am well pleased with my new heart; and, really, that was the only thing i wished in all the world." "for my part, i am content in knowing i am as brave as any beast that ever lived, if not braver," said the lion, modestly, [illustration: "_the scarecrow sat on the big throne._"] "if dorothy would only be contented to live in the emerald city," continued the scarecrow, "we might all be happy together." "but i don't want to live here," cried dorothy. "i want to go to kansas, and live with aunt em and uncle henry." "well, then, what can be done?" enquired the woodman. the scarecrow decided to think, and he thought so hard that the pins and needles began to stick out of his brains. finally he said: "why not call the winged monkeys, and asked them to carry you over the desert?" "i never thought of that!" said dorothy, joyfully. "it's just the thing. i'll go at once for the golden cap." when she brought it into the throne room she spoke the magic words, and soon the band of winged monkeys flew in through an open window and stood beside her. "this is the second time you have called us," said the monkey king, bowing before the little girl. "what do you wish?" "i want you to fly with me to kansas," said dorothy. but the monkey king shook his head. "that cannot be done," he said. "we belong to this country alone, and cannot leave it. there has never been a winged monkey in kansas yet, and i suppose there never will be, for they don't belong there. we shall be glad to serve you in any way in our power, but we cannot cross the desert. good-bye." and with another bow the monkey king spread his wings and flew away through the window, followed by all his band. dorothy was almost ready to cry with disappointment. "i have wasted the charm of the golden cap to no purpose," she said, "for the winged monkeys cannot help me." "it is certainly too bad!" said the tender hearted woodman. the scarecrow was thinking again, and his head bulged out so horribly that dorothy feared it would burst. "let us call in the soldier with the green whiskers," he said, "and ask his advice." [illustration] so the soldier was summoned and entered the throne room timidly, for while oz was alive he never was allowed to come further than the door. "this little girl," said the scarecrow to the soldier, "wishes to cross the desert. how can she do so?" "i cannot tell," answered the soldier; "for nobody has ever crossed the desert, unless it is oz himself." "is there no one who can help me?" asked dorothy, earnestly. "glinda might," he suggested. "who is glinda?" enquired the scarecrow. "the witch of the south. she is the most powerful of all the witches, and rules over the quadlings. besides, her castle stands on the edge of the desert, so she may know a way to cross it." "glinda is a good witch, isn't she?" asked the child. "the quadlings think she is good," said the soldier, "and she is kind to everyone. i have heard that glinda is a beautiful woman, who knows how to keep young in spite of the many years she has lived." "how can i get to her castle?" asked dorothy. "the road is straight to the south," he answered, "but it is said to be full of dangers to travellers. there are wild beasts in the woods, and a race of queer men who do not like strangers to cross their country. for this reason none of the quadlings ever come to the emerald city." the soldier then left them and the scarecrow said, "it seems, in spite of dangers, that the best thing dorothy can do is to travel to the land of the south and ask glinda to help her. for, of course, if dorothy stays here she will never get back to kansas." "you must have been thinking again," remarked the tin woodman. "i have," said the scarecrow. "i shall go with dorothy," declared the lion, "for i am tired of your city and long for the woods and the country again. i am really a wild beast, you know. besides, dorothy will need someone to protect her." "that is true," agreed the woodman. "my axe may be of service to her; so i, also, will go with her to the land of the south." "when shall we start?" asked the scarecrow. "are you going?" they asked, in surprise. "certainly. if it wasn't for dorothy i should never have had brains. she lifted me from the pole in the cornfield and brought me to the emerald city. so my good luck is all due to her, and i shall never leave her until she starts back to kansas for good and all." "thank you," said dorothy, gratefully. "you are all very kind to me. but i should like to start as soon as possible." "we shall go to-morrow morning," returned the scarecrow. "so now let us all get ready, for it will be a long journey." [illustration] chapter xix. attacked by the fighting trees. [illustration] [illustration] the next morning dorothy kissed the pretty green girl good-bye, and they all shook hands with the soldier with the green whiskers, who had walked with them as far as the gate. when the guardian of the gate saw them again he wondered greatly that they could leave the beautiful city to get into new trouble. but he at once unlocked their spectacles, which he put back into the green box, and gave them many good wishes to carry with them. "you are now our ruler," he said to the scarecrow; "so you must come back to us as soon as possible." "i certainly shall if i am able," the scarecrow replied; "but i must help dorothy to get home, first." as dorothy bade the good-natured guardian a last farewell she said, "i have been very kindly treated in your lovely city, and everyone has been good to me. i cannot tell you how grateful i am." "don't try, my dear," he answered. "we should like to keep you with us, but if it is your wish to return to kansas i hope you will find a way." he then opened the gate of the outer wall and they walked forth and started upon their journey. the sun shone brightly as our friends turned their faces toward the land of the south. they were all in the best of spirits, and laughed and chatted together. dorothy was once more filled with the hope of getting home, and the scarecrow and the tin woodman were glad to be of use to her. as for the lion, he sniffed the fresh air with delight and whisked his tail from side to side in pure joy at being in the country again, while toto ran around them and chased the moths and butterflies, barking merrily all the time. "city life does not agree with me at all," remarked the lion, as they walked along at a brisk pace. "i have lost much flesh since i lived there, and now i am anxious for a chance to show the other beasts how courageous i have grown." [illustration: "_the branches bent down and twined around him._"] they now turned and took a last look at the emerald city. all they could see was a mass of towers and steeples behind the green walls, and high up above everything the spires and dome of the palace of oz. "oz was not such a bad wizard, after all," said the tin woodman, as he felt his heart rattling around in his breast. "he knew how to give me brains, and very good brains, too," said the scarecrow. "if oz had taken a dose of the same courage he gave me," added the lion, "he would have been a brave man." dorothy said nothing. oz had not kept the promise he made her, but he had done his best, so she forgave him. as he said, he was a good man, even if he was a bad wizard. the first day's journey was through the green fields and bright flowers that stretched about the emerald city on every side. they slept that night on the grass, with nothing but the stars over them; and they rested very well indeed. in the morning they travelled on until they came to a thick wood. there was no way of going around it, for it seemed to extend to the right and left as far as they could see; and, besides, they did not dare change the direction of their journey for fear of getting lost. so they looked for the place where it would be easiest to get into the forest. the scarecrow, who was in the lead, finally discovered a big tree with such wide spreading-branches that there was room for the party to pass underneath. so he walked forward to the tree, but just as he came under the first branches they bent down and twined around him, and the next minute he was raised from the ground and flung headlong among his fellow travellers. this did not hurt the scarecrow, but it surprised him, and he looked rather dizzy when dorothy picked him up. "here is another space between the trees," called the lion. [illustration] "let me try it first," said the scarecrow, "for it doesn't hurt me to get thrown about." he walked up to another tree, as he spoke, but its branches immediately seized him and tossed him back again. "this is strange," exclaimed dorothy; "what shall we do?" "the trees seem to have made up their minds to fight us, and stop our journey," remarked the lion. "i believe i will try it myself," said the woodman, and shouldering his axe he marched up to the first tree that had handled the scarecrow so roughly. when a big branch bent down to seize him the woodman chopped at it so fiercely that he cut it in two. at once the tree began shaking all its branches as if in pain, and the tin woodman passed safely under it. "come on!" he shouted to the others; "be quick!" they all ran forward and passed under the tree without injury, except toto, who was caught by a small branch and shaken until he howled. but the woodman promptly chopped off the branch and set the little dog free. the other trees of the forest did nothing to keep them back, so they made up their minds that only the first row of trees could bend down their branches, and that probably these were the policemen of the forest, and given this wonderful power in order to keep strangers out of it. the four travellers walked with ease through the trees until they came to the further edge of the wood. then, to their surprise, they found before them a high wall, which seemed to be made of white china. it was smooth, like the surface of a dish, and higher than their heads. "what shall we do now?" asked dorothy. "i will make a ladder," said the tin woodman, "for we certainly must climb over the wall." chapter xx. the dainty china country. [illustration] [illustration] while the woodman was making a ladder from wood which he found in the forest dorothy lay down and slept, for she was tired by the long walk. the lion also curled himself up to sleep and toto lay beside him. the scarecrow watched the woodman while he worked, and said to him: "i cannot think why this wall is here, nor what it is made of." "rest your brains and do not worry about the wall," replied the woodman; "when we have climbed over it we shall know what is on the other side." after a time the ladder was finished. it looked clumsy, but the tin woodman was sure it was strong and would answer their purpose. the scarecrow waked dorothy and the lion and toto, and told them that the ladder was ready. the scarecrow climbed up the ladder first, but he was so awkward that dorothy had to follow close behind and keep him from falling off. when he got his head over the top of the wall the scarecrow said, "oh, my!" "go on," exclaimed dorothy. so the scarecrow climbed further up and sat down on the top of the wall, and dorothy put her head over and cried, "oh, my!" just as the scarecrow had done. then toto came up, and immediately began to bark, but dorothy made him be still. the lion climbed the ladder next, and the tin woodman came last; but both of them cried, "oh, my!" as soon as they looked over the wall. when they were all sitting in a row on the top of the wall they looked down and saw a strange sight. [illustration: "_these people were all made of china._"] before them was a great stretch of country having a floor as smooth and shining and white as the bottom of a big platter. scattered around were many houses made entirely of china and painted in the brightest colours. these houses were quite small, the biggest of them reaching only as high as dorothy's waist. there were also pretty little barns, with china fences around them, and many cows and sheep and horses and pigs and chickens, all made of china, were standing about in groups. but the strangest of all were the people who lived in this queer country. there were milk-maids and shepherdesses, with bright-colored bodices and golden spots all over their gowns; and princesses with most gorgeous frocks of silver and gold and purple; and shepherds dressed in knee-breeches with pink and yellow and blue stripes down them, and golden buckles on their shoes; and princes with jewelled crowns upon their heads, wearing ermine robes and satin doublets; and funny clowns in ruffled gowns, with round red spots upon their cheeks and tall, pointed caps. and, strangest of all, these people were all made of china, even to their clothes, and were so small that the tallest of them was no higher than dorothy's knee. no one did so much as look at the travellers at first, except one little purple china dog with an extra-large head, which came to the wall and barked at them in a tiny voice, afterwards running away again. "how shall we get down?" asked dorothy. they found the ladder so heavy they could not pull it up, so the scarecrow fell off the wall and the others jumped down upon him so that the hard floor would not hurt their feet. of course they took pains not to light on his head and get the pins in their feet. when all were safely down they picked up the scarecrow, whose body was quite flattened out, and patted his straw into shape again. "we must cross this strange place in order to get to the other side," said dorothy; "for it would be unwise for us to go any other way except due south." they began walking through the country of the china people, and the first thing they came to was a china milk-maid milking a china cow. as they drew near the cow suddenly gave a kick and kicked over the stool, the pail, and even the milk-maid herself, all falling on the china ground with a great clatter. dorothy was shocked to see that the cow had broken her leg short off, and that the pail was lying in several small pieces, while the poor milk-maid had a nick in her left elbow. "there!" cried the milk-maid, angrily; "see what you have done! my cow has broken her leg, and i must take her to the mender's shop and have it glued on again. what do you mean by coming here and frightening my cow?" "i'm very sorry," returned dorothy; "please forgive us." but the pretty milk-maid was much too vexed to make any answer. she picked up the leg sulkily and led her cow away, the poor animal limping on three legs. as she left them the milk-maid cast many reproachful glances over her shoulder at the clumsy strangers, holding her nicked elbow close to her side. [illustration] dorothy was quite grieved at this mishap. "we must be very careful here," said the kind-hearted woodman, "or we may hurt these pretty little people so they will never get over it." a little farther on dorothy met a most beautiful dressed young princess, who stopped short as she saw the strangers and started to run away. dorothy wanted to see more of the princess, so she ran after her; but the china girl cried out, "don't chase me! don't chase me!" she had such a frightened little voice that dorothy stopped and said, "why not?" "because," answered the princess, also stopping, a safe distance away, "if i run i may fall down and break myself." "but couldn't you be mended?" asked the girl. "oh, yes; but one is never so pretty after being mended, you know," replied the princess. "i suppose not," said dorothy. "now there is mr. joker, one of our clowns," continued the china lady, "who is always trying to stand upon his head. he has broken himself so often that he is mended in a hundred places, and doesn't look at all pretty. here he comes now, so you can see for yourself." indeed, a jolly little clown now came walking toward them, and dorothy could see that in spite of his pretty clothes of red and yellow and green he was completely covered with cracks, running every which way and showing plainly that he had been mended in many places. the clown put his hands in his pockets, and after puffing out his cheeks and nodding his head at them saucily he said, "my lady fair, why do you stare at poor old mr. joker? you're quite as stiff and prim as if you'd eaten up a poker!" "be quiet, sir!" said the princess; "can't you see these are strangers, and should be treated with respect?" "well, that's respect, i expect," declared the clown, and immediately stood upon his head. "don't mind mr. joker," said the princess to dorothy; "he is considerably cracked in his head, and that makes him foolish." [illustration] "oh, i don't mind him a bit," said dorothy. "but you are so beautiful," she continued, "that i am sure i could love you dearly. won't you let me carry you back to kansas and stand you on aunt em's mantle-shelf? i could carry you in my basket." "that would make me very unhappy," answered the china princess. "you see, here in our own country we live contentedly, and can talk and move around as we please. but whenever any of us are taken away our joints at once stiffen, and we can only stand straight and look pretty. of course that is all that is expected of us when we are on mantle-shelves and cabinets and drawing-room tables, but our lives are much pleasanter here in our own country." "i would not make you unhappy for all the world!" exclaimed dorothy; "so i'll just say good-bye." "good-bye," replied the princess. they walked carefully through the china country. the little animals and all the people scampered out of their way, fearing the strangers would break them, and after an hour or so the travellers reached the other side of the country and came to another china wall. it was not as high as the first, however, and by standing upon the lion's back they all managed to scramble to the top. then the lion gathered his legs under him and jumped on the wall; but just as he jumped he upset a china church with his tail and smashed it all to pieces. "that was too bad," said dorothy, "but really i think we were lucky in not doing these little people more harm than breaking a cow's leg and a church. they are all so brittle!" "they are, indeed," said the scarecrow, "and i am thankful i am made of straw and cannot be easily damaged. there are worse things in the world than being a scarecrow." chapter xxi. the lion becomes the king of beasts. [illustration] [illustration] after climbing down from the china wall the travellers found themselves in a disagreeable country, full of bogs and marshes and covered with tall, rank grass. it was difficult to walk far without falling into muddy holes, for the grass was so thick that it hid them from sight. however, by carefully picking their way, they got safely along until they reached solid ground. but here the country seemed wilder than ever, and after a long and tiresome walk through the underbrush they entered another forest, where the trees were bigger and older than any they had ever seen. "this forest is perfectly delightful," declared the lion, looking around him with joy; "never have i seen a more beautiful place." "it seems gloomy," said the scarecrow. "not a bit of it," answered the lion; "i should like to live here all my life. see how soft the dried leaves are under your feet and how rich and green the moss is that clings to these old trees. surely no wild beast could wish a pleasanter home." "perhaps there are wild beasts in the forest now," said dorothy. "i suppose there are," returned the lion; "but i do not see any of them about." they walked through the forest until it became too dark to go any farther. dorothy and toto and the lion lay down to sleep, while the woodman and the scarecrow kept watch over them as usual. when morning came they started again. before they had gone far they heard a low rumble, as of the growling of many wild animals. toto whimpered a little but none of the others was frightened and they kept along the well-trodden path until they came to an opening in the wood, in which were gathered hundreds of beasts of every variety. there were tigers and elephants and bears and wolves and foxes and all the others in the natural history, and for a moment dorothy was afraid. but the lion explained that the animals were holding a meeting, and he judged by their snarling and growling that they were in great trouble. as he spoke several of the beasts caught sight of him, and at once the great assemblage hushed as if by magic. the biggest of the tigers came up to the lion and bowed, saying, [illustration] "welcome, o king of beasts! you have come in good time to fight our enemy and bring peace to all the animals of the forest once more." "what is your trouble?" asked the lion, quietly. "we are all threatened," answered the tiger, "by a fierce enemy which has lately come into this forest. it is a most tremendous monster, like a great spider, with a body as big as an elephant and legs as long as a tree trunk. it has eight of these long legs, and as the monster crawls through the forest he seizes an animal with a leg and drags it to his mouth, where he eats it as a spider does a fly. not one of us is safe while this fierce creature is alive, and we had called a meeting to decide how to take care of ourselves when you came among us." the lion thought for a moment. "are there any other lions in this forest?" he asked. "no; there were some, but the monster has eaten them all. and, besides, they were none of them nearly so large and brave as you." "if i put an end to your enemy will you bow down to me and obey me as king of the forest?" enquired the lion. "we will do that gladly," returned the tiger; and all the other beasts roared with a mighty roar: "we will!" "where is this great spider of yours now?" asked the lion. "yonder, among the oak trees," said the tiger, pointing with his fore-foot. "take good care of these friends of mine," said the lion, "and i will go at once to fight the monster." he bade his comrades good-bye and marched proudly away to do battle with the enemy. the great spider was lying asleep when the lion found him, and it looked so ugly that its foe turned up his nose in disgust. its legs were quite as long as the tiger had said, and it's body covered with coarse black hair. it had a great mouth, with a row of sharp teeth a foot long; but its head was joined to the pudgy body by a neck as slender as a wasp's waist. this gave the lion a hint of the best way to attack the creature, and as he knew it was easier to fight it asleep than awake, he gave a great spring and landed directly upon the monster's back. then, with one blow of his heavy paw, all armed with sharp claws, he knocked the spider's head from its body. jumping down, he watched it until the long legs stopped wiggling, when he knew it was quite dead. the lion went back to the opening where the beasts of the forest were waiting for him and said, proudly, "you need fear your enemy no longer." then the beasts bowed down to the lion as their king, and he promised to come back and rule over them as soon as dorothy was safely on her way to kansas. chapter xxii. the country of the quadlings [illustration] [illustration: "_the head shot forward and struck the scarecrow._"] [illustration] the four travellers passed through the rest of the forest in safety, and when they came out from its gloom saw before them a steep hill, covered from top to bottom with great pieces of rock. "that will be a hard climb," said the scarecrow, "but we must get over the hill, nevertheless." so he led the way and the others followed. they had nearly reached the first rock when they heard a rough voice cry out, "keep back!" "who are you?" asked the scarecrow. then a head showed itself over the rock and the same voice said, "this hill belongs to us, and we don't allow anyone to cross it." "but we must cross it," said the scarecrow. "we're going to the country of the quadlings." "but you shall not!" replied the voice, and there stepped from behind the rock the strangest man the travellers had ever seen. he was quite short and stout and had a big head, which was flat at the top and supported by a thick neck full of wrinkles. but he had no arms at all, and, seeing this, the scarecrow did not fear that so helpless a creature could prevent them from climbing the hill. so he said, "i'm sorry not to do as you wish, but we must pass over your hill whether you like it or not," and he walked boldly forward. as quick as lightning the man's head shot forward and his neck stretched out until the top of the head, where it was flat, struck the scarecrow in the middle and sent him tumbling, over and over, down the hill. almost as quickly as it came the head went back to the body, and the man laughed harshly as he said, "it isn't as easy as you think!" a chorus of boisterous laughter came from the other rocks, and dorothy saw hundreds of the armless hammer-heads upon the hillside, one behind every rock. the lion became quite angry at the laughter caused by the scarecrow's mishap, and giving a loud roar that echoed like thunder he dashed up the hill. again a head shot swiftly out, and the great lion went rolling down the hill as if he had been struck by a cannon ball. dorothy ran down and helped the scarecrow to his feet, and the lion came up to her, feeling rather bruised and sore, and said, "it is useless to fight people with shooting heads; no one can withstand them." "what can we do, then?" she asked. "call the winged monkeys," suggested the tin woodman; "you have still the right to command them once more." "very well," she answered, and putting on the golden cap she uttered the magic words. the monkeys were as prompt as ever, and in a few moments the entire band stood before her. "what are your commands?" enquired the king of the monkeys, bowing low. "carry us over the hill to the country of the quadlings," answered the girl. "it shall be done," said the king, and at once the winged monkeys caught the four travellers and toto up in their arms and flew away with them. as they passed over the hill the hammer-heads yelled with vexation, and shot their heads high in the air; but they could not reach the winged monkeys, which carried dorothy and her comrades safely over the hill and set them down in the beautiful country of the quadlings. "this is the last time you can summon us," said the leader to dorothy; "so good-bye and good luck to you." "good-bye, and thank you very much," returned the girl; and the monkeys rose into the air and were out of sight in a twinkling. the country of the quadlings seemed rich and happy. there was field upon field of ripening grain, with well-paved roads running between, and pretty rippling brooks with strong bridges across them. the fences and houses and bridges were all painted bright red, just as they had been painted yellow in the country of the winkies and blue in the country of the munchkins. the quadlings themselves, who were short and fat and looked chubby and good natured, were dressed all in red, which showed bright against the green grass and the yellowing grain. the monkeys had set them down near a farm house, and the four travellers walked up to it and knocked at the door. it was opened by the farmer's wife, and when dorothy asked for something to eat the woman gave them all a good dinner, with three kinds of cake and four kinds of cookies, and a bowl of milk for toto. "how far is it to the castle of glinda?" asked the child. "it is not a great way," answered the farmer's wife. "take the road to the south and you will soon reach it." thanking the good woman, they started afresh and walked by the fields and across the pretty bridges until they saw before them a very beautiful castle. before the gates were three young girls, dressed in handsome red uniforms trimmed with gold braid; and as dorothy approached one of them said to her, "why have you come to the south country?" "to see the good witch who rules here," she answered. "will you take me to her?" "let me have your name and i will ask glinda if she will receive you." they told who they were, and the girl soldier went into the castle. after a few moments she came back to say that dorothy and the others were to be admitted at once. [illustration] chapter xxiii. the good witch grants dorothy's wish. [illustration] [illustration: "_you must give me the golden cap._"] [illustration] before they went to see glinda, however, they were taken to a room of the castle, where dorothy washed her face and combed her hair, and the lion shook the dust out of his mane, and the scarecrow patted himself into his best shape, and the woodman polished his tin and oiled his joints. when they were all quite presentable they followed the soldier girl into a big room where the witch glinda sat upon a throne of rubies. she was both beautiful and young to their eyes. her hair was a rich red in color and fell in flowing ringlets over her shoulders. her dress was pure white; but her eyes were blue, and they looked kindly upon the little girl. "what can i do for you, my child?" she asked. dorothy told the witch all her story; how the cyclone had brought her to the land of oz, how she had found her companions, and of the wonderful adventures they had met with. "my greatest wish now," she added, "is to get back to kansas, for aunt em will surely think something dreadful has happened to me, and that will make her put on mourning; and unless the crops are better this year than they were last i am sure uncle henry cannot afford it." glinda leaned forward and kissed the sweet, upturned face of the loving little girl. "bless your dear heart," she said, "i am sure i can tell you of a way to get back to kansas." then she added: "but, if i do, you must give me the golden cap." "willingly!" exclaimed dorothy; "indeed, it is of no use to me now, and when you have it you can command the winged monkeys three times." "and i think i shall need their service just those three times," answered glinda, smiling. dorothy then gave her the golden cap, and the witch said to the scarecrow, "what will you do when dorothy has left us?" "i will return to the emerald city," he replied, "for oz has made me its ruler and the people like me. the only thing that worries me is how to cross the hill of the hammer-heads." "by means of the golden cap i shall command the winged monkeys to carry you to the gates of the emerald city," said glinda, "for it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler." "am i really wonderful?" asked the scarecrow. "you are unusual," replied glinda. turning to the tin woodman, she asked: "what will become of you when dorothy leaves this country?" he leaned on his axe and thought a moment. then he said, "the winkies were very kind to me, and wanted me to rule over them after the wicked witch died. i am fond of the winkies, and if i could get back again to the country of the west i should like nothing better than to rule over them forever." "my second command to the winged monkeys," said glinda, "will be that they carry you safely to the land of the winkies. your brains may not be so large to look at as those of the scarecrow, but you are really brighter than he is--when you are well polished--and i am sure you will rule the winkies wisely and well." then the witch looked at the big, shaggy lion and asked, "when dorothy has returned to her own home, what will become of you?" "over the hill of the hammer-heads," he answered, "lies a grand old forest, and all the beasts that live there have made me their king. if i could only get back to this forest i would pass my life very happily there." "my third command to the winged monkeys," said glinda, "shall be to carry you to your forest. then, having used up the powers of the golden cap, i shall give it to the king of the monkeys, that he and his band may thereafter be free for evermore." the scarecrow and the tin woodman and the lion now thanked the good witch earnestly for her kindness, and dorothy exclaimed, [illustration] "you are certainly as good as you are beautiful! but you have not yet told me how to get back to kansas." "your silver shoes will carry you over the desert," replied glinda. "if you had known their power you could have gone back to your aunt em the very first day you came to this country." "but then i should not have had my wonderful brains!" cried the scarecrow. "i might have passed my whole life in the farmer's cornfield." "and i should not have had my lovely heart," said the tin woodman. "i might have stood and rusted in the forest till the end of the world." "and i should have lived a coward forever," declared the lion, "and no beast in all the forest would have had a good word to say to me." "this is all true," said dorothy, "and i am glad i was of use to these good friends. but now that each of them has had what he most desired, and each is happy in having a kingdom to rule beside, i think i should like to go back to kansas." "the silver shoes," said the good witch, "have wonderful powers. and one of the most curious things about them is that they can carry you to any place in the world in three steps, and each step will be made in the wink of an eye. all you have to do is to knock the heels together three times and command the shoes to carry you wherever you wish to go." "if that is so," said the child, joyfully, "i will ask them to carry me back to kansas at once." she threw her arms around the lion's neck and kissed him, patting his big head tenderly. then she kissed the tin woodman, who was weeping in a way most dangerous to his joints. but she hugged the soft, stuffed body of the scarecrow in her arms instead of kissing his painted face, and found she was crying herself at this sorrowful parting from her loving comrades. glinda the good stepped down from her ruby throne to give the little girl a good-bye kiss, and dorothy thanked her for all the kindness she had shown to her friends and herself. dorothy now took toto up solemnly in her arms, and having said one last good-bye she clapped the heels of her shoes together three times, saying, "take me home to aunt em!" * * * * * [illustration] instantly she was whirling through the air, so swiftly that all she could see or feel was the wind whistling past her ears. the silver shoes took but three steps, and then she stopped so suddenly that she rolled over upon the grass several times before she knew where she was. at length, however, she sat up and looked about her. "good gracious!" she cried. for she was sitting on the broad kansas prairie, and just before her was the new farm-house uncle henry built after the cyclone had carried away the old one. uncle henry was milking the cows in the barnyard, and toto had jumped out of her arms and was running toward the barn, barking joyously. dorothy stood up and found she was in her stocking-feet. for the silver shoes had fallen off in her flight through the air, and were lost forever in the desert. [illustration] chapter xxiv. home again. aunt em had just come out of the house to water the cabbages when she looked up and saw dorothy running toward her. "my darling child!" she cried, folding the little girl in her arms and covering her face with kisses; "where in the world did you come from?" "from the land of oz," said dorothy, gravely. "and here is toto, too. and oh, aunt em! i'm so glad to be at home again!" [illustration] transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation and spelling errors have been fixed throughout. rinkitink in oz by l. frank baum wherein is recorded the perilous quest of prince inga of pingaree and king rinkitink in the magical isles that lie beyond the borderland of oz by l. frank baum "royal historian of oz" introducing this story here is a story with a boy hero, and a boy of whom you have never before heard. there are girls in the story, too, including our old friend dorothy, and some of the characters wander a good way from the land of oz before they all assemble in the emerald city to take part in ozma's banquet. indeed, i think you will find this story quite different from the other histories of oz, but i hope you will not like it the less on that account. if i am permitted to write another oz book it will tell of some thrilling adventures encountered by dorothy, betsy bobbin, trot and the patchwork girl right in the land of oz, and how they discovered some amazing creatures that never could have existed outside a fairy-land. i have an idea that about the time you are reading this story of rinkitink i shall be writing that story of adventures in oz. don't fail to write me often and give me your advice and suggestions, which i always appreciate. i get a good many letters from my readers, but every one is a joy to me and i answer them as soon as i can find time to do so. "ozcot" at hollywood in california, . l. frank baum royal historian of oz list of chapters the prince of pingaree the coming of king rinkitink the warriors from the north the deserted island the three pearls the magic boat the twin islands rinkitink makes a great mistake a present for zella the cunning of queen cor zella goes to coregos the excitement of bilbil the goat zella saves the prince the escape the flight of the rulers nikobob refuses a crown the nome king inga parts with his pink pearl rinkitink chuckles dorothy to the rescue the wizard finds an enchantment ozma's banquet the pearl kingdom the captive king chapter one the prince of pingaree if you have a map of the land of oz handy, you will find that the great nonestic ocean washes the shores of the kingdom of rinkitink, between which and the land of oz lies a strip of the country of the nome king and a sandy desert. the kingdom of rinkitink isn't very big and lies close to the ocean, all the houses and the king's palace being built near the shore. the people live much upon the water, boating and fishing, and the wealth of rinkitink is gained from trading along the coast and with the islands nearest it. four days' journey by boat to the north of rinkitink is the island of pingaree, and as our story begins here i must tell you something about this island. at the north end of pingaree, where it is widest, the land is a mile from shore to shore, but at the south end it is scarcely half a mile broad; thus, although pingaree is four miles long, from north to south, it cannot be called a very big island. it is exceedingly pretty, however, and to the gulls who approach it from the sea it must resemble a huge green wedge lying upon the waters, for its grass and trees give it the color of an emerald. the grass came to the edge of the sloping shores; the beautiful trees occupied all the central portion of pingaree, forming a continuous grove where the branches met high overhead and there was just space beneath them for the cosy houses of the inhabitants. these houses were scattered everywhere throughout the island, so that there was no town or city, unless the whole island might be called a city. the canopy of leaves, high overhead, formed a shelter from sun and rain, and the dwellers in the grove could all look past the straight tree-trunks and across the grassy slopes to the purple waters of the nonestic ocean. at the big end of the island, at the north, stood the royal palace of king kitticut, the lord and ruler of pingaree. it was a beautiful palace, built entirely of snow-white marble and capped by domes of burnished gold, for the king was exceedingly wealthy. all along the coast of pingaree were found the largest and finest pearls in the whole world. these pearls grew within the shells of big oysters, and the people raked the oysters from their watery beds, sought out the milky pearls and carried them dutifully to their king. therefore, once every year his majesty was able to send six of his boats, with sixty rowers and many sacks of the valuable pearls, to the kingdom of rinkitink, where there was a city called gilgad, in which king rinkitink's palace stood on a rocky headland and served, with its high towers, as a lighthouse to guide sailors to the harbor. in gilgad the pearls from pingaree were purchased by the king's treasurer, and the boats went back to the island laden with stores of rich merchandise and such supplies of food as the people and the royal family of pingaree needed. the pingaree people never visited any other land but that of rinkitink, and so there were few other lands that knew there was such an island. to the southwest was an island called the isle of phreex, where the inhabitants had no use for pearls. and far north of pingaree--six days' journey by boat, it was said--were twin islands named regos and coregos, inhabited by a fierce and warlike people. many years before this story really begins, ten big boatloads of those fierce warriors of regos and coregos visited pingaree, landing suddenly upon the north end of the island. there they began to plunder and conquer, as was their custom, but the people of pingaree, although neither so big nor so strong as their foes, were able to defeat them and drive them all back to the sea, where a great storm overtook the raiders from regos and coregos and destroyed them and their boats, not a single warrior returning to his own country. this defeat of the enemy seemed the more wonderful because the pearl-fishers of pingaree were mild and peaceful in disposition and seldom quarreled even among themselves. their only weapons were their oyster rakes; yet the fact remains that they drove their fierce enemies from regos and coregos from their shores. king kitticut was only a boy when this remarkable battle was fought, and now his hair was gray; but he remembered the day well and, during the years that followed, his one constant fear was of another invasion of his enemies. he feared they might send a more numerous army to his island, both for conquest and revenge, in which case there could be little hope of successfully opposing them. this anxiety on the part of king kitticut led him to keep a sharp lookout for strange boats, one of his men patrolling the beach constantly, but he was too wise to allow any fear to make him or his subjects unhappy. he was a good king and lived very contentedly in his fine palace, with his fair queen garee and their one child, prince inga. the wealth of pingaree increased year by year; and the happiness of the people increased, too. perhaps there was no place, outside the land of oz, where contentment and peace were more manifest than on this pretty island, hidden in the besom of the nonestic ocean. had these conditions remained undisturbed, there would have been no need to speak of pingaree in this story. prince inga, the heir to all the riches and the kingship of pingaree, grew up surrounded by every luxury; but he was a manly little fellow, although somewhat too grave and thoughtful, and he could never bear to be idle a single minute. he knew where the finest oysters lay hidden along the coast and was as successful in finding pearls as any of the men of the island, although he was so slight and small. he had a little boat of his own and a rake for dragging up the oysters and he was very proud indeed when he could carry a big white pearl to his father. there was no school upon the island, as the people of pingaree were far removed from the state of civilization that gives our modern children such advantages as schools and learned professors, but the king owned several manuscript books, the pages being made of sheepskin. being a man of intelligence, he was able to teach his son something of reading, writing and arithmetic. when studying his lessons prince inga used to go into the grove near his father's palace and climb into the branches of a tall tree, where he had built a platform with a comfortable seat to rest upon, all hidden by the canopy of leaves. there, with no one to disturb him, he would pore over the sheepskin on which were written the queer characters of the pingarese language. king kitticut was very proud of his little son, as well he might be, and he soon felt a high respect for inga's judgment and thought that he was worthy to be taken into the confidence of his father in many matters of state. he taught the boy the needs of the people and how to rule them justly, for some day he knew that inga would be king in his place. one day he called his son to his side and said to him: "our island now seems peaceful enough, inga, and we are happy and prosperous, but i cannot forget those terrible people of regos and coregos. my constant fear is that they will send a fleet of boats to search for those of their race whom we defeated many years ago, and whom the sea afterwards destroyed. if the warriors come in great numbers we may be unable to oppose them, for my people are little trained to fighting at best; they surely would cause us much injury and suffering." "are we, then, less powerful than in my grandfather's day?" asked prince inga. the king shook his head thoughtfully. "it is not that," said he. "that you may fully understand that marvelous battle, i must confide to, you a great secret. i have in my possession three magic talismans, which i have ever guarded with utmost care, keeping the knowledge of their existence from anyone else. but, lest i should die, and the secret be lost, i have decided to tell you what these talismans are and where they are hidden. come with me, my son." he led the way through the rooms of the palace until they came to the great banquet hall. there, stopping in the center of the room, he stooped down and touched a hidden spring in the tiled floor. at once one of the tiles sank downward and the king reached within the cavity and drew out a silken bag. this bag he proceeded to open, showing inga that it contained three great pearls, each one as big around as a marble. one had a blue tint and one was of a delicate rose color, but the third was pure white. "these three pearls," said the king, speaking in a solemn, impressive voice, "are the most wonderful the world has ever known. they were gifts to one of my ancestors from the mermaid queen, a powerful fairy whom he once had the good fortune to rescue from her enemies. in gratitude for this favor she presented him with these pearls. each of the three possesses an astonishing power, and whoever is their owner may count himself a fortunate man. this one having the blue tint will give to the person who carries it a strength so great that no power can resist him. the one with the pink glow will protect its owner from all dangers that may threaten him, no matter from what source they may come. the third pearl--this one of pure white--can speak, and its words are always wise and helpful." "what is this, my father!" exclaimed the prince, amazed; "do you tell me that a pearl can speak? it sounds impossible." "your doubt is due to your ignorance of fairy powers," returned the king, gravely. "listen, my son, and you will know that i speak the truth." he held the white pearl to inga's ear and the prince heard a small voice say distinctly: "your father is right. never question the truth of what you fail to understand, for the world is filled with wonders." "i crave your pardon, dear father," said the prince, "for clearly i heard the pearl speak, and its words were full of wisdom." "the powers of the other pearls are even greater," resumed the king. "were i poor in all else, these gems would make me richer than any other monarch the world holds." "i believe that," replied inga, looking at the beautiful pearls with much awe. "but tell me, my father, why do you fear the warriors of regos and coregos when these marvelous powers are yours?" "the powers are mine only while i have the pearls upon my person," answered king kitticut, "and i dare not carry them constantly for fear they might be lost. therefore, i keep them safely hidden in this recess. my only danger lies in the chance that my watchmen might fail to discover the approach of our enemies and allow the warrior invaders to seize me before i could secure the pearls. i should, in that case, be quite powerless to resist. my father owned the magic pearls at the time of the great fight, of which you have so often heard, and the pink pearl protected him from harm, while the blue pearl enabled him and his people to drive away the enemy. often have i suspected that the destroying storm was caused by the fairy mermaids, but that is a matter of which i have no proof." "i have often wondered how we managed to win that battle," remarked inga thoughtfully. "but the pearls will assist us in case the warriors come again, will they not?" "they are as powerful as ever," declared the king. "really, my son, i have little to fear from any foe. but lest i die and the secret be lost to the next king, i have now given it into your keeping. remember that these pearls are the rightful heritage of all kings of pingaree. if at any time i should be taken from you, inga, guard this treasure well and do not forget where it is hidden." "i shall not forget," said inga. then the king returned the pearls to their hiding place and the boy went to his own room to ponder upon the wonderful secret his father had that day confided to his care. chapter two the coming of king rinkitink a few days after this, on a bright and sunny morning when the breeze blew soft and sweet from the ocean and the trees waved their leaf-laden branches, the royal watchman, whose duty it was to patrol the shore, came running to the king with news that a strange boat was approaching the island. at first the king was sore afraid and made a step toward the hidden pearls, but the next moment he reflected that one boat, even if filled with enemies, would be powerless to injure him, so he curbed his fear and went down to the beach to discover who the strangers might be. many of the men of pingaree assembled there also, and prince inga followed his father. arriving at the water's edge, they all stood gazing eagerly at the oncoming boat. it was quite a big boat, they observed, and covered with a canopy of purple silk, embroidered with gold. it was rowed by twenty men, ten on each side. as it came nearer, inga could see that in the stern, seated upon a high, cushioned chair of state, was a little man who was so very fat that he was nearly as broad as he was high this man was dressed in a loose silken robe of purple that fell in folds to his feet, while upon his head was a cap of white velvet curiously worked with golden threads and having a circle of diamonds sewn around the band. at the opposite end of the boat stood an oddly shaped cage, and several large boxes of sandalwood were piled near the center of the craft. as the boat approached the shore the fat little man got upon his feet and bowed several times in the direction of those who had assembled to greet him, and as he bowed he flourished his white cap in an energetic manner. his face was round as an apple and nearly as rosy. when he stopped bowing he smiled in such a sweet and happy way that inga thought he must be a very jolly fellow. the prow of the boat grounded on the beach, stopping its speed so suddenly that the little man was caught unawares and nearly toppled headlong into the sea. but he managed to catch hold of the chair with one hand and the hair of one of his rowers with the other, and so steadied himself. then, again waving his jeweled cap around his head, he cried in a merry voice: "well, here i am at last!" "so i perceive," responded king kitticut, bowing with much dignity. the fat man glanced at all the sober faces before him and burst into a rollicking laugh. perhaps i should say it was half laughter and half a chuckle of merriment, for the sounds he emitted were quaint and droll and tempted every hearer to laugh with him. "heh, heh--ho, ho, ho!" he roared. "didn't expect me, i see. keek-eek-eek-eek! this is funny--it's really funny. didn't know i was coming, did you? hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo! this is certainly amusing. but i'm here, just the same." "hush up!" said a deep, growling voice. "you're making yourself ridiculous." everyone looked to see where this voice came from; but none could guess who had uttered the words of rebuke. the rowers of the boat were all solemn and silent and certainly no one on the shore had spoken. but the little man did not seem astonished in the least, or even annoyed. king kitticut now addressed the stranger, saying courteously: "you are welcome to the kingdom of pingaree. perhaps you will deign to come ashore and at your convenience inform us whom we have the honor of receiving as a guest." "thanks; i will," returned the little fat man, waddling from his place in the boat and stepping, with some difficulty, upon the sandy beach. "i am king rinkitink, of the city of gilgad in the kingdom of rinkitink, and i have come to pingaree to see for myself the monarch who sends to my city so many beautiful pearls. i have long wished to visit this island; and so, as i said before, here i am!" "i am pleased to welcome you," said king kitticut. "but why has your majesty so few attendants? is it not dangerous for the king of a great country to make distant journeys in one frail boat, and with but twenty men?" "oh, i suppose so," answered king rinkitink, with a laugh. "but what else could i do? my subjects would not allow me to go anywhere at all, if they knew it. so i just ran away." "ran away!" exclaimed king kitticut in surprise. "funny, isn't it? heh, heh, heh--woo, hoo!" laughed rinkitink, and this is as near as i can spell with letters the jolly sounds of his laughter. "fancy a king running away from his own ple--hoo, hoo--keek, eek, eek, eek! but i had to, don't you see!" "why?" asked the other king. "they're afraid i'll get into mischief. they don't trust me. keek-eek-eek--oh, dear me! don't trust their own king. funny, isn't it?" "no harm can come to you on this island," said kitticut, pretending not to notice the odd ways of his guest. "and, whenever it pleases you to return to your own country, i will send with you a fitting escort of my own people. in the meantime, pray accompany me to my palace, where everything shall be done to make you comfortable and happy." "much obliged," answered rinkitink, tipping his white cap over his left ear and heartily shaking the hand of his brother monarch. "i'm sure you can make me comfortable if you've plenty to eat. and as for being happy--ha, ha, ha, ha!--why, that's my trouble. i'm too happy. but stop! i've brought you some presents in those boxes. please order your men to carry them up to the palace." "certainly," answered king kitticut, well pleased, and at once he gave his men the proper orders. "and, by the way," continued the fat little king, "let them also take my goat from his cage." "a goat!" exclaimed the king of pingaree. "exactly; my goat bilbil. i always ride him wherever i go, for i'm not at all fond of walking, being a trifle stout--eh, kitticut?--a trifle stout! hoo, hoo, hoo-keek, eek!" the pingaree people started to lift the big cage out of the boat, but just then a gruff voice cried: "be careful, you villains!" and as the words seemed to come from the goat's mouth the men were so astonished that they dropped the cage upon the sand with a sudden jar. "there! i told you so!" cried the voice angrily. "you've rubbed the skin off my left knee. why on earth didn't you handle me gently?" "there, there, bilbil," said king rinkitink soothingly; "don't scold, my boy. remember that these are strangers, and we their guests." then he turned to kitticut and remarked: "you have no talking goats on your island, i suppose." "we have no goats at all," replied the king; "nor have we any animals, of any sort, who are able to talk." "i wish my animal couldn't talk, either," said rinkitink, winking comically at inga and then looking toward the cage. "he is very cross at times, and indulges in language that is not respectful. i thought, at first, it would be fine to have a talking goat, with whom i could converse as i rode about my city on his back; but--keek-eek-eek-eek!--the rascal treats me as if i were a chimney sweep instead of a king. heh, heh, heh, keek, eek! a chimney sweep-hoo, hoo, hoo!--and me a king! funny, isn't it?" this last was addressed to prince inga, whom he chucked familiarly under the chin, to the boy's great embarrassment. "why do you not ride a horse?" asked king kitticut. "i can't climb upon his back, being rather stout; that's why. kee, kee, keek, eek!--rather stout--hoo, hoo, hoo!" he paused to wipe the tears of merriment from his eyes and then added: "but i can get on and off bilbil's back with ease." he now opened the cage and the goat deliberately walked out and looked about him in a sulky manner. one of the rowers brought from the boat a saddle made of red velvet and beautifully embroidered with silver thistles, which he fastened upon the goat's back. the fat king put his leg over the saddle and seated himself comfortably, saying: "lead on, my noble host, and we will follow." "what! up that steep hill?" cried the goat. "get off my back at once, rinkitink, or i won't budge a step. "but-consider, bilbil," remonstrated the king. "how am i to get up that hill unless i ride?" "walk!" growled bilbil. "but i'm too fat. really, bilbil, i'm surprised at you. haven't i brought you all this distance so you may see something of the world and enjoy life? and now you are so ungrateful as to refuse to carry me! turn about is fair play, my boy. the boat carried you to this shore, because you can't swim, and now you must carry me up the hill, because i can't climb. eh, bilbil, isn't that reasonable?" "well, well, well," said the goat, surlily, "keep quiet and i'll carry you. but you make me very tired, rinkitink, with your ceaseless chatter." after making this protest bilbil began walking up the hill, carrying the fat king upon his back with no difficulty whatever. prince inga and his father and all the men of pingaree were much astonished to overhear this dispute between king rinkitink and his goat; but they were too polite to make critical remarks in the presence of their guests. king kitticut walked beside the goat and the prince followed after, the men coming last with the boxes of sandalwood. when they neared the palace, the queen and her maidens came out to meet them and the royal guest was escorted in state to the splendid throne room of the palace. here the boxes were opened and king rinkitink displayed all the beautiful silks and laces and jewelry with which they were filled. every one of the courtiers and ladies received a handsome present, and the king and queen had many rich gifts and inga not a few. thus the time passed pleasantly until the chamberlain announced that dinner was served. bilbil the goat declared that he preferred eating of the sweet, rich grass that grew abundantly in the palace grounds, and rinkitink said that the beast could never bear being shut up in a stable; so they removed the saddle from his back and allowed him to wander wherever he pleased. during the dinner inga divided his attention between admiring the pretty gifts he had received and listening to the jolly sayings of the fat king, who laughed when he was not eating and ate when he was not laughing and seemed to enjoy himself immensely. "for four days i have lived in that narrow boat," said he, "with no other amusement than to watch the rowers and quarrel with bilbil; so i am very glad to be on land again with such friendly and agreeable people." "you do us great honor," said king kitticut, with a polite bow. "not at all--not at all, my brother. this pingaree must be a wonderful island, for its pearls are the admiration of all the world; nor will i deny the fact that my kingdom would be a poor one without the riches and glory it derives from the trade in your pearls. so i have wished for many years to come here to see you, but my people said: 'no! stay at home and behave yourself, or we'll know the reason why.'" "will they not miss your majesty from your palace at gilgad?" inquired kitticut. "i think not," answered rinkitink. "you see, one of my clever subjects has written a parchment entitled 'how to be good,' and i believed it would benefit me to study it, as i consider the accomplishment of being good one of the fine arts. i had just scolded severely my lord high chancellor for coming to breakfast without combing his eyebrows, and was so sad and regretful at having hurt the poor man's feelings that i decided to shut myself up in my own room and study the scroll until i knew how to be good--hee, heek, keek, eek, eek!--to be good! clever idea, that, wasn't it? mighty clever! and i issued a decree that no one should enter my room, under pain of my royal displeasure, until i was ready to come out. they're awfully afraid of my royal displeasure, although not a bit afraid of me. then i put the parchment in my pocket and escaped through the back door to my boat--and here i am. oo, hoo-hoo, keek-eek! imagine the fuss there would be in gilgad if my subjects knew where i am this very minute!" "i would like to see that parchment," said the solemn-eyed prince inga, "for if it indeed teaches one to be good it must be worth its weight in pearls." "oh, it's a fine essay," said rinkitink, "and beautifully written with a goosequill. listen to this: you'll enjoy it--tee, hee, hee!--enjoy it." he took from his pocket a scroll of parchment tied with a black ribbon, and having carefully unrolled it, he proceeded to read as follows: "'a good man is one who is never bad.' how's that, eh? fine thought, what? 'therefore, in order to be good, you must avoid those things which are evil.' oh, hoo-hoo-hoo!--how clever! when i get back i shall make the man who wrote that a royal hippolorum, for, beyond question, he is the wisest man in my kingdom--as he has often told me himself." with this, rinkitink lay back in his chair and chuckled his queer chuckle until he coughed, and coughed until he choked and choked until he sneezed. and he wrinkled his face in such a jolly, droll way that few could keep from laughing with him, and even the good queen was forced to titter behind her fan. when rinkitink had recovered from his fit of laughter and had wiped his eyes upon a fine lace handkerchief, prince inga said to him: "the parchment speaks truly." "yes, it is true beyond doubt," answered rinkitink, "and if i could persuade bilbil to read it he would be a much better goat than he is now. here is another selection: 'to avoid saying unpleasant things, always speak agreeably.' that would hit bilbil, to a dot. and here is one that applies to you, my prince: 'good children are seldom punished, for the reason that they deserve no punishment.' now, i think that is neatly put, and shows the author to be a deep thinker. but the advice that has impressed me the most is in the following paragraph: 'you may not find it as pleasant to be good as it is to be bad, but other people will find it more pleasant.' haw-hoo-ho! keek-eek! 'other people will find it more pleasant!'--hee, hee, heek, keek!--'more pleasant.' dear me--dear me! therein lies a noble incentive to be good, and whenever i get time i'm surely going to try it." then he wiped his eyes again with the lace handkerchief and, suddenly remembering his dinner, seized his knife and fork and began eating. chapter three the warriors from the north king rinkitink was so much pleased with the island of pingaree that he continued his stay day after day and week after week, eating good dinners, talking with king kitticut and sleeping. once in a while he would read from his scroll. "for," said he, "whenever i return home, my subjects will be anxious to know if i have learned 'how to be good,' and i must not disappoint them." the twenty rowers lived on the small end of the island, with the pearl fishers, and seemed not to care whether they ever returned to the kingdom of rinkitink or not. bilbil the goat wandered over the grassy slopes, or among the trees, and passed his days exactly as he pleased. his master seldom cared to ride him. bilbil was a rare curiosity to the islanders, but since there was little pleasure in talking with the goat they kept away from him. this pleased the creature, who seemed well satisfied to be left to his own devices. once prince inga, wishing to be courteous, walked up to the goat and said: "good morning, bilbil." "it isn't a good morning," answered bilbil grumpily. "it is cloudy and damp, and looks like rain." "i hope you are contented in our kingdom," continued the boy, politely ignoring the other's harsh words. "i'm not," said bilbil. "i'm never contented; so it doesn't matter to me whether i'm in your kingdom or in some other kingdom. go away--will you?" "certainly," answered the prince, and after this rebuff he did not again try to make friends with bilbil. now that the king, his father, was so much occupied with his royal guest, inga was often left to amuse himself, for a boy could not be allowed to take part in the conversation of two great monarchs. he devoted himself to his studies, therefore, and day after day he climbed into the branches of his favorite tree and sat for hours in his "tree-top rest," reading his father's precious manuscripts and thinking upon what he read. you must not think that inga was a molly-coddle or a prig, because he was so solemn and studious. being a king's son and heir to a throne, he could not play with the other boys of pingaree, and he lived so much in the society of the king and queen, and was so surrounded by the pomp and dignity of a court, that he missed all the jolly times that boys usually have. i have no doubt that had he been able to live as other boys do, he would have been much like other boys; as it was, he was subdued by his surroundings, and more grave and thoughtful than one of his years should be. inga was in his tree one morning when, without warning, a great fog enveloped the island of pingaree. the boy could scarcely see the tree next to that in which he sat, but the leaves above him prevented the dampness from wetting him, so he curled himself up in his seat and fell fast asleep. all that forenoon the fog continued. king kitticut, who sat in his palace talking with his merry visitor, ordered the candles lighted, that they might be able to see one another. the good queen, inga's mother, found it was too dark to work at her embroidery, so she called her maidens together and told them wonderful stories of bygone days, in order to pass away the dreary hours. but soon after noon the weather changed. the dense fog rolled away like a heavy cloud and suddenly the sun shot his bright rays over the island. "very good!" exclaimed king kitticut. "we shall have a pleasant afternoon, i am sure," and he blew out the candles. then he stood a moment motionless, as if turned to stone, for a terrible cry from without the palace reached his ears--a cry so full of fear and horror that the king's heart almost stopped beating. immediately there was a scurrying of feet as every one in the palace, filled with dismay, rushed outside to see what had happened. even fat little rinkitink sprang from his chair and followed his host and the others through the arched vestibule. after many years the worst fears of king kitticut were realized. landing upon the beach, which was but a few steps from the palace itself, were hundreds of boats, every one filled with a throng of fierce warriors. they sprang upon the land with wild shouts of defiance and rushed to the king's palace, waving aloft their swords and spears and battleaxes. king kitticut, so completely surprised that he was bewildered, gazed at the approaching host with terror and grief. "they are the men of regos and coregos!" he groaned. "we are, indeed, lost!" then he bethought himself, for the first time, of his wonderful pearls. turning quickly, he ran back into the palace and hastened to the hall where the treasures were hidden. but the leader of the warriors had seen the king enter the palace and bounded after him, thinking he meant to escape. just as the king had stooped to press the secret spring in the tiles, the warrior seized him from the rear and threw him backward upon the floor, at the same time shouting to his men to fetch ropes and bind the prisoner. this they did very quickly and king kitticut soon found himself helplessly bound and in the power of his enemies. in this sad condition he was lifted by the warriors and carried outside, when the good king looked upon a sorry sight. the queen and her maidens, the officers and servants of the royal household and all who had inhabited this end of the island of pingaree had been seized by the invaders and bound with ropes. at once they began carrying their victims to the boats, tossing them in as unceremoniously as if they had been bales of merchandise. the king looked around for his son inga, but failed to find the boy among the prisoners. nor was the fat king, rinkitink, to be seen anywhere about. the warriors were swarming over the palace like bees in a hive, seeking anyone who might be in hiding, and after the search had been prolonged for some time the leader asked impatiently: "do you find anyone else?" "no," his men told him. "we have captured them all." "then," commanded the leader, "remove everything of value from the palace and tear down its walls and towers, so that not one stone remains upon another!" while the warriors were busy with this task we will return to the boy prince, who, when the fog lifted and the sun came out, wakened from his sleep and began to climb down from his perch in the tree. but the terrifying cries of the people, mingled with the shouts of the rude warriors, caused him to pause and listen eagerly. then he climbed rapidly up the tree, far above his platform, to the topmost swaying branches. this tree, which inga called his own, was somewhat taller than the other trees that surrounded it, and when he had reached the top he pressed aside the leaves and saw a great fleet of boats upon the shore--strange boats, with banners that he had never seen before. turning to look upon his father's palace, he found it surrounded by a horde of enemies. then inga knew the truth: that the island had been invaded by the barbaric warriors from the north. he grew so faint from the terror of it all that he might have fallen had he not wound his arms around a limb and clung fast until the dizzy feeling passed away. then with his sash he bound himself to the limb and again ventured to look out through the leaves. the warriors were now engaged in carrying king kitticut and queen garee and all their other captives down to the boats, where they were thrown in and chained one to another. it was a dreadful sight for the prince to witness, but he sat very still, concealed from the sight of anyone below by the bower of leafy branches around him. inga knew very well that he could do nothing to help his beloved parents, and that if he came down he would only be forced to share their cruel fate. now a procession of the northmen passed between the boats and the palace, bearing the rich furniture, splendid draperies and rare ornaments of which the royal palace had been robbed, together with such food and other plunder as they could lay their hands upon. after this, the men of regos and coregos threw ropes around the marble domes and towers and hundreds of warriors tugged at these ropes until the domes and towers toppled and fell in ruins upon the ground. then the walls themselves were torn down, till little remained of the beautiful palace but a vast heap of white marble blocks tumbled and scattered upon the ground. prince inga wept bitter tears of grief as he watched the ruin of his home; yet he was powerless to avert the destruction. when the palace had been demolished, some of the warriors entered their boats and rowed along the coast of the island, while the others marched in a great body down the length of the island itself. they were so numerous that they formed a line stretching from shore to shore and they destroyed every house they came to and took every inhabitant prisoner. the pearl fishers who lived at the lower end of the island tried to escape in their boats, but they were soon overtaken and made prisoners, like the others. nor was there any attempt to resist the foe, for the sharp spears and pikes and swords of the invaders terrified the hearts of the defenseless people of pingaree, whose sole weapons were their oyster rakes. when night fell the whole of the island of pingaree had been conquered by the men of the north, and all its people were slaves of the conquerors. next morning the men of regos and coregos, being capable of no further mischief, departed from the scene of their triumph, carrying their prisoners with them and taking also every boat to be found upon the island. many of the boats they had filled with rich plunder, with pearls and silks and velvets, with silver and gold ornaments and all the treasure that had made pingaree famed as one of the richest kingdoms in the world. and the hundreds of slaves they had captured would be set to work in the mines of regos and the grain fields of coregos. so complete was the victory of the northmen that it is no wonder the warriors sang songs of triumph as they hastened back to their homes. great rewards were awaiting them when they showed the haughty king of regos and the terrible queen of coregos the results of their ocean raid and conquest. chapter four the deserted island all through that terrible night prince inga remained hidden in his tree. in the morning he watched the great fleet of boats depart for their own country, carrying his parents and his countrymen with them, as well as everything of value the island of pingaree had contained. sad, indeed, were the boy's thoughts when the last of the boats had become a mere speck in the distance, but inga did not dare leave his perch of safety until all of the craft of the invaders had disappeared beyond the horizon. then he came down, very slowly and carefully, for he was weak from hunger and the long and weary watch, as he had been in the tree for twenty-four hours without food. the sun shone upon the beautiful green isle as brilliantly as if no ruthless invader had passed and laid it in ruins. the birds still chirped among the trees and the butterflies darted from flower to flower as happily as when the land was filled with a prosperous and contented people. inga feared that only he was left of all his nation. perhaps he might be obliged to pass his life there alone. he would not starve, for the sea would give him oysters and fish, and the trees fruit; yet the life that confronted him was far from enticing. the boy's first act was to walk over to where the palace had stood and search the ruins until he found some scraps of food that had been overlooked by the enemy. he sat upon a block of marble and ate of this, and tears filled his eyes as he gazed upon the desolation around him. but inga tried to bear up bravely, and having satisfied his hunger he walked over to the well, intending to draw a bucket of drinking water. fortunately, this well had been overlooked by the invaders and the bucket was still fastened to the chain that wound around a stout wooden windlass. inga took hold of the crank and began letting the bucket down into the well, when suddenly he was startled by a muffled voice crying out: "be careful, up there!" the sound and the words seemed to indicate that the voice came from the bottom of the well, so inga looked down. nothing could be seen, on account of the darkness. "who are you?" he shouted. "it's i--rinkitink," came the answer, and the depths of the well echoed: "tink-i-tink-i-tink!" in a ghostly manner. "are you in the well?" asked the boy, greatly surprised. "yes, and nearly drowned. i fell in while running from those terrible warriors, and i've been standing in this damp hole ever since, with my head just above the water. it's lucky the well was no deeper, for had my head been under water, instead of above it--hoo, hoo, hoo, keek, eek!--under instead of over, you know--why, then i wouldn't be talking to you now! ha, hoo, hee!" and the well dismally echoed: "ha, hoo, hee!" which you must imagine was a laugh half merry and half sad. "i'm awfully sorry," cried the boy, in answer. "i wonder you have the heart to laugh at all. but how am i to get you out?" "i've been considering that all night," said rinkitink, "and i believe the best plan will be for you to let down the bucket to me, and i'll hold fast to it while you wind up the chain and so draw me to the top." "i will try to do that," replied inga, and he let the bucket down very carefully until he heard the king call out: "i've got it! now pull me up--slowly, my boy, slowly--so i won't rub against the rough sides." inga began winding up the chain, but king rinkitink was so fat that he was very heavy and by the time the boy had managed to pull him halfway up the well his strength was gone. he clung to the crank as long as possible, but suddenly it slipped from his grasp and the next minute he heard rinkitink fall "plump!" into the water again. "that's too bad!" called inga, in real distress; "but you were so heavy i couldn't help it." "dear me!" gasped the king, from the darkness below, as he spluttered and coughed to get the water out of his mouth. "why didn't you tell me you were going to let go?" "i hadn't time," said inga, sorrowfully. "well, i'm not suffering from thirst," declared the king, "for there's enough water inside me to float all the boats of regos and coregos or at least it feels that way. but never mind! so long as i'm not actually drowned, what does it matter?" "what shall we do next?" asked the boy anxiously. "call someone to help you," was the reply. "there is no one on the island but myself," said the boy; "--excepting you," he added, as an afterthought. "i'm not on it--more's the pity!--but in it," responded rinkitink. "are the warriors all gone?" "yes," said inga, "and they have taken my father and mother, and all our people, to be their slaves," he added, trying in vain to repress a sob. "so--so!" said rinkitink softly; and then he paused a moment, as if in thought. finally he said: "there are worse things than slavery, but i never imagined a well could be one of them. tell me, inga, could you let down some food to me? i'm nearly starved, and if you could manage to send me down some food i'd be well fed--hoo, hoo, heek, keek, eek!--well fed. do you see the joke, inga?" "do not ask me to enjoy a joke just now, your majesty," begged inga in a sad voice; "but if you will be patient i will try to find something for you to eat." he ran back to the ruins of the palace and began searching for bits of food with which to satisfy the hunger of the king, when to his surprise he observed the goat, bilbil, wandering among the marble blocks. "what!" cried inga. "didn't the warriors get you, either?" "if they had," calmly replied bilbil, "i shouldn't be here." "but how did you escape?" asked the boy. "easily enough. i kept my mouth shut and stayed away from the rascals," said the goat. "i knew that the soldiers would not care for a skinny old beast like me, for to the eye of a stranger i seem good for nothing. had they known i could talk, and that my head contained more wisdom than a hundred of their own noddles, i might not have escaped so easily." "perhaps you are right," said the boy. "i suppose they got the old man?" carelessly remarked bilbil. "what old man?" "rinkitink." "oh, no! his majesty is at the bottom of the well," said inga, "and i don't know how to get him out again." "then let him stay there," suggested the goat. "that would be cruel. i am sure, bilbil, that you are fond of the good king, your master, and do not mean what you say. together, let us find some way to save poor king rinkitink. he is a very jolly companion, and has a heart exceedingly kind and gentle." "oh, well; the old boy isn't so bad, taken altogether," admitted bilbil, speaking in a more friendly tone. "but his bad jokes and fat laughter tire me dreadfully, at times." prince inga now ran back to the well, the goat following more leisurely. "here's bilbil!" shouted the boy to the king. "the enemy didn't get him, it seems." "that's lucky for the enemy," said rinkitink. "but it's lucky for me, too, for perhaps the beast can assist me out of this hole. if you can let a rope down the well, i am sure that you and bilbil, pulling together, will be able to drag me to the earth's surface." "be patient and we will make the attempt," replied inga encouragingly, and he ran to search the ruins for a rope. presently he found one that had been used by the warriors in toppling over the towers, which in their haste they had neglected to remove, and with some difficulty he untied the knots and carried the rope to the mouth of the well. bilbil had lain down to sleep and the refrain of a merry song came in muffled tones from the well, proving that rinkitink was making a patient endeavor to amuse himself. "i've found a rope!" inga called down to him; and then the boy proceeded to make a loop in one end of the rope, for the king to put his arms through, and the other end he placed over the drum of the windlass. he now aroused bilbil and fastened the rope firmly around the goat's shoulders. "are you ready?" asked the boy, leaning over the well. "i am," replied the king. "and i am not," growled the goat, "for i have not yet had my nap out. old rinki will be safe enough in the well until i've slept an hour or two longer." "but it is damp in the well," protested the boy, "and king rinkitink may catch the rheumatism, so that he will have to ride upon your back wherever he goes." hearing this, bilbil jumped up at once. "let's get him out," he said earnestly. "hold fast!" shouted inga to the king. then he seized the rope and helped bilbil to pull. they soon found the task more difficult than they had supposed. once or twice the king's weight threatened to drag both the boy and the goat into the well, to keep rinkitink company. but they pulled sturdily, being aware of this danger, and at last the king popped out of the hole and fell sprawling full length upon the ground. for a time he lay panting and breathing hard to get his breath back, while inga and bilbil were likewise worn out from their long strain at the rope; so the three rested quietly upon the grass and looked at one another in silence. finally bilbil said to the king: "i'm surprised at you. why were you so foolish as to fall down that well? don't you know it's a dangerous thing to do? you might have broken your neck in the fall, or been drowned in the water." "bilbil," replied the king solemnly, "you're a goat. do you imagine i fell down the well on purpose?" "i imagine nothing," retorted bilbil. "i only know you were there." "there? heh-heh-heek-keek-eek! to be sure i was there," laughed rinkitink. "there in a dark hole, where there was no light; there in a watery well, where the wetness soaked me through and through--keek-eek-eek-eek!--through and through!" "how did it happen?" inquired inga. "i was running away from the enemy," explained the king, "and i was carelessly looking over my shoulder at the same time, to see if they were chasing me. so i did not see the well, but stepped into it and found myself tumbling down to the bottom. i struck the water very neatly and began struggling to keep myself from drowning, but presently i found that when i stood upon my feet on the bottom of the well, that my chin was just above the water. so i stood still and yelled for help; but no one heard me." "if the warriors had heard you," said bilbil, "they would have pulled you out and carried you away to be a slave. then you would have been obliged to work for a living, and that would be a new experience." "work!" exclaimed rinkitink. "me work? hoo, hoo, heek-keek-eek! how absurd! i'm so stout--not to say chubby--not to say fat--that i can hardly walk, and i couldn't earn my salt at hard work. so i'm glad the enemy did not find me, bilbil. how many others escaped?" "that i do not know," replied the boy, "for i have not yet had time to visit the other parts of the island. when you have rested and satisfied your royal hunger, it might be well for us to look around and see what the thieving warriors of regos and coregos have left us." "an excellent idea," declared rinkitink. "i am somewhat feeble from my long confinement in the well, but i can ride upon bilbil's back and we may as well start at once." hearing this, bilbil cast a surly glance at his master but said nothing, since it was really the goat's business to carry king rinkitink wherever he desired to go. they first searched the ruins of the palace, and where the kitchen had once been they found a small quantity of food that had been half hidden by a block of marble. this they carefully placed in a sack to preserve it for future use, the little fat king having first eaten as much as he cared for. this consumed some time, for rinkitink had been exceedingly hungry and liked to eat in a leisurely manner. when he had finished the meal he straddled bilbil's back and set out to explore the island, prince inga walking by his side. they found on every hand ruin and desolation. the houses of the people had been pilfered of all valuables and then torn down or burned. not a boat had been left upon the shore, nor was there a single person, man or woman or child, remaining upon the island, save themselves. the only inhabitants of pingaree now consisted of a fat little king, a boy and a goat. even rinkitink, merry hearted as he was, found it hard to laugh in the face of this mighty disaster. even the goat, contrary to its usual habit, refrained from saying anything disagreeable. as for the poor boy whose home was now a wilderness, the tears came often to his eyes as he marked the ruin of his dearly loved island. when, at nightfall, they reached the lower end of pingaree and found it swept as bare as the rest, inga's grief was almost more than he could bear. everything had been swept from him--parents, home and country--in so brief a time that his bewilderment was equal to his sorrow. since no house remained standing, in which they might sleep, the three wanderers crept beneath the overhanging branches of a cassa tree and curled themselves up as comfortably as possible. so tired and exhausted were they by the day's anxieties and griefs that their troubles soon faded into the mists of dreamland. beast and king and boy slumbered peacefully together until wakened by the singing of the birds which greeted the dawn of a new day. chapter five the three pearls when king rinkitink and prince inga had bathed themselves in the sea and eaten a simple breakfast, they began wondering what they could do to improve their condition. "the poor people of gilgad," said rinkitink cheerfully, "are little likely ever again to behold their king in the flesh, for my boat and my rowers are gone with everything else. let us face the fact that we are imprisoned for life upon this island, and that our lives will be short unless we can secure more to eat than is in this small sack." "i'll not starve, for i can eat grass," remarked the goat in a pleasant tone--or a tone as pleasant as bilbil could assume. "true, quite true," said the king. then he seemed thoughtful for a moment and turning to inga he asked: "do you think, prince, that if the worst comes, we could eat bilbil?" the goat gave a groan and cast a reproachful look at his master as he said: "monster! would you, indeed, eat your old friend and servant?" "not if i can help it, bilbil," answered the king pleasantly. "you would make a remarkably tough morsel, and my teeth are not as good as they once were." while this talk was in progress inga suddenly remembered the three pearls which his father had hidden under the tiled floor of the banquet hall. without doubt king kitticut had been so suddenly surprised by the invaders that he had found no opportunity to get the pearls, for otherwise the fierce warriors would have been defeated and driven out of pingaree. so they must still be in their hiding place, and inga believed they would prove of great assistance to him and his comrades in this hour of need. but the palace was a mass of ruins; perhaps he would be unable now to find the place where the pearls were hidden. he said nothing of this to rinkitink, remembering that his father had charged him to preserve the secret of the pearls and of their magic powers. nevertheless, the thought of securing the wonderful treasures of his ancestors gave the boy new hope. he stood up and said to the king: "let us return to the other end of pingaree. it is more pleasant than here in spite of the desolation of my father's palace. and there, if anywhere, we shall discover a way out of our difficulties." this suggestion met with rinkitink's approval and the little party at once started upon the return journey. as there was no occasion to delay upon the way, they reached the big end of the island about the middle of the day and at once began searching the ruins of the palace. they found, to their satisfaction, that one room at the bottom of a tower was still habitable, although the roof was broken in and the place was somewhat littered with stones. the king was, as he said, too fat to do any hard work, so he sat down on a block of marble and watched inga clear the room of its rubbish. this done, the boy hunted through the ruins until he discovered a stool and an armchair that had not been broken beyond use. some bedding and a mattress were also found, so that by nightfall the little room had been made quite comfortable. the following morning, while rinkitink was still sound asleep and bilbil was busily cropping the dewy grass that edged the shore, prince inga began to search the tumbled heaps of marble for the place where the royal banquet hall had been. after climbing over the ruins for a time he reached a flat place which he recognized, by means of the tiled flooring and the broken furniture scattered about, to be the great hall he was seeking. but in the center of the floor, directly over the spot where the pearls were hidden, lay several large and heavy blocks of marble, which had been torn from the dismantled walls. this unfortunate discovery for a time discouraged the boy, who realized how helpless he was to remove such vast obstacles; but it was so important to secure the pearls that he dared not give way to despair until every human effort had been made, so he sat him down to think over the matter with great care. meantime rinkitink had risen from his bed and walked out upon the lawn, where he found bilbil reclining at ease upon the greensward. "where is inga?" asked rinkitink, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles because their vision was blurred with too much sleep. "don't ask me," said the goat, chewing with much satisfaction a cud of sweet grasses. "bilbil," said the king, squatting down beside the goat and resting his fat chin upon his hands and his elbows on his knees, "allow me to confide to you the fact that i am bored, and need amusement. my good friend kitticut has been kidnapped by the barbarians and taken from me, so there is no one to converse with me intelligently. i am the king and you are the goat. suppose you tell me a story. "suppose i don't," said bilbil, with a scowl, for a goat's face is very expressive. "if you refuse, i shall be more unhappy than ever, and i know your disposition is too sweet to permit that. tell me a story, bilbil." the goat looked at him with an expression of scorn. said he: "one would think you are but four years old, rinkitink! but there--i will do as you command. listen carefully, and the story may do you some good--although i doubt if you understand the moral." "i am sure the story will do me good," declared the king, whose eyes were twinkling. "once on a time," began the goat. "when was that, bilbil?" asked the king gently. "don't interrupt; it is impolite. once on a time there was a king with a hollow inside his head, where most people have their brains, and--" "is this a true story, bilbil?" "and the king with a hollow head could chatter words, which had no sense, and laugh in a brainless manner at senseless things. that part of the story is true enough, rinkitink." "then proceed with the tale, sweet bilbil. yet it is hard to believe that any king could be brainless--unless, indeed, he proved it by owning a talking goat." bilbil glared at him a full minute in silence. then he resumed his story: "this empty-headed man was a king by accident, having been born to that high station. also the king was empty-headed by the same chance, being born without brains." "poor fellow!" quoth the king. "did he own a talking goat?" "he did," answered bilbil. "then he was wrong to have been born at all. cheek-eek-eek-eek, oo, hoo!" chuckled rinkitink, his fat body shaking with merriment. "but it's hard to prevent oneself from being born; there's no chance for protest, eh, bilbil?" "who is telling this story, i'd like to know," demanded the goat, with anger. "ask someone with brains, my boy; i'm sure i can't tell," replied the king, bursting into one of his merry fits of laughter. bilbil rose to his hoofs and walked away in a dignified manner, leaving rinkitink chuckling anew at the sour expression of the animal's face. "oh, bilbil, you'll be the death of me, some day--i'm sure you will!" gasped the king, taking out his lace handkerchief to wipe his eyes; for, as he often did, he had laughed till the tears came. bilbil was deeply vexed and would not even turn his head to look at his master. to escape from rinkitink he wandered among the ruins of the palace, where he came upon prince inga. "good morning, bilbil," said the boy. "i was just going to find you, that i might consult you upon an important matter. if you will kindly turn back with me i am sure your good judgment will be of great assistance." the angry goat was quite mollified by the respectful tone in which he was addressed, but he immediately asked: "are you also going to consult that empty-headed king over yonder?" "i am sorry to hear you speak of your kind master in such a way," said the boy gravely. "all men are deserving of respect, being the highest of living creatures, and kings deserve respect more than others, for they are set to rule over many people." "nevertheless," said bilbil with conviction, "rinkitink's head is certainly empty of brains." "that i am unwilling to believe," insisted inga. "but anyway his heart is kind and gentle and that is better than being wise. he is merry in spite of misfortunes that would cause others to weep and he never speaks harsh words that wound the feelings of his friends." "still," growled bilbil, "he is--" "let us forget everything but his good nature, which puts new heart into us when we are sad," advised the boy. "but he is--" "come with me, please," interrupted inga, "for the matter of which i wish to speak is very important." bilbil followed him, although the boy still heard the goat muttering that the king had no brains. rinkitink, seeing them turn into the ruins, also followed, and upon joining them asked for his breakfast. inga opened the sack of food and while he and the king ate of it the boy said: "if i could find a way to remove some of the blocks of marble which have fallen in the banquet hall, i think i could find means for us to escape from this barren island." "then," mumbled rinkitink, with his mouth full, "let us move the blocks of marble." "but how?" inquired prince inga. "they are very heavy." "ah, how, indeed?" returned the king, smacking his lips contentedly. "that is a serious question. but--i have it! let us see what my famous parchment says about it." he wiped his fingers upon a napkin and then, taking the scroll from a pocket inside his embroidered blouse, he unrolled it and read the following words: 'never step on another man's toes.' the goat gave a snort of contempt; inga was silent; the king looked from one to the other inquiringly. "that's the idea, exactly!" declared rinkitink. "to be sure," said bilbil scornfully, "it tells us exactly how to move the blocks of marble." "oh, does it?" responded the king, and then for a moment he rubbed the top of his bald head in a perplexed manner. the next moment he burst into a peal of joyous laughter. the goat looked at inga and sighed. "what did i tell you?" asked the creature. "was i right, or was i wrong?" "this scroll," said rinkitink, "is indeed a masterpiece. its advice is of tremendous value. 'never step on another man's toes.' let us think this over. the inference is that we should step upon our own toes, which were given us for that purpose. therefore, if i stepped upon another man's toes, i would be the other man. hoo, hoo, hoo!--the other man--hee, hee, heek-keek-eek! funny, isn't it?" "didn't i say--" began bilbil. "no matter what you said, my boy," roared the king. "no fool could have figured that out as nicely as i did." "we have still to decide how to remove the blocks of marble," suggested inga anxiously. "fasten a rope to them, and pull," said bilbil. "don't pay any more attention to rinkitink, for he is no wiser than the man who wrote that brainless scroll. just get the rope, and we'll fasten rinkitink to one end of it for a weight and i'll help you pull." "thank you, bilbil," replied the boy. "i'll get the rope at once." bilbil found it difficult to climb over the ruins to the floor of the banquet hall, but there are few places a goat cannot get to when it makes the attempt, so bilbil succeeded at last, and even fat little rinkitink finally joined them, though much out of breath. inga fastened one end of the rope around a block of marble and then made a loop at the other end to go over bilbil's head. when all was ready the boy seized the rope and helped the goat to pull; yet, strain as they might, the huge block would not stir from its place. seeing this, king rinkitink came forward and lent his assistance, the weight of his body forcing the heavy marble to slide several feet from where it had lain. but it was hard work and all were obliged to take a long rest before undertaking the removal of the next block. "admit, bilbil," said the king, "that i am of some use in the world." "your weight was of considerable help," acknowledged the goat, "but if your head were as well filled as your stomach the task would be still easier." when inga went to fasten the rope a second time he was rejoiced to discover that by moving one more block of marble he could uncover the tile with the secret spring. so the three pulled with renewed energy and to their joy the block moved and rolled upon its side, leaving inga free to remove the treasure when he pleased. but the boy had no intention of allowing bilbil and the king to share the secret of the royal treasures of pingaree; so, although both the goat and its master demanded to know why the marble blocks had been moved, and how it would benefit them, inga begged them to wait until the next morning, when he hoped to be able to satisfy them that their hard work had not been in vain. having little confidence in this promise of a mere boy, the goat grumbled and the king laughed; but inga paid no heed to their ridicule and set himself to work rigging up a fishing rod, with line and hook. during the afternoon he waded out to some rocks near the shore and fished patiently until he had captured enough yellow perch for their supper and breakfast. "ah," said rinkitink, looking at the fine catch when inga returned to the shore; "these will taste delicious when they are cooked; but do you know how to cook them?" "no," was the reply. "i have often caught fish, but never cooked them. perhaps your majesty understands cooking." "cooking and majesty are two different things," laughed the little king. "i could not cook a fish to save me from starvation." "for my part," said bilbil, "i never eat fish, but i can tell you how to cook them, for i have often watched the palace cooks at their work." and so, with the goat's assistance, the boy and the king managed to prepare the fish and cook them, after which they were eaten with good appetite. that night, after rinkitink and bilbil were both fast asleep, inga stole quietly through the moonlight to the desolate banquet hall. there, kneeling down, he touched the secret spring as his father had instructed him to do and to his joy the tile sank downward and disclosed the opening. you may imagine how the boy's heart throbbed with excitement as he slowly thrust his hand into the cavity and felt around to see if the precious pearls were still there. in a moment his fingers touched the silken bag and, without pausing to close the recess, he pressed the treasure against his breast and ran out into the moonlight to examine it. when he reached a bright place he started to open the bag, but he observed bilbil lying asleep upon the grass near by. so, trembling with the fear of discovery, he ran to another place, and when he paused he heard rinkitink snoring lustily. again he fled and made his way to the seashore, where he squatted under a bank and began to untie the cords that fastened the mouth of the bag. but now another fear assailed him. "if the pearls should slip from my hand," he thought, "and roll into the water, they might be lost to me forever. i must find some safer place." here and there he wandered, still clasping the silken bag in both hands, and finally he went to the grove and climbed into the tall tree where he had made his platform and seat. but here it was pitch dark, so he found he must wait patiently until morning before he dared touch the pearls. during those hours of waiting he had time for reflection and reproached himself for being so frightened by the possession of his father's treasures. "these pearls have belonged to our family for generations," he mused, "yet no one has ever lost them. if i use ordinary care i am sure i need have no fears for their safety." when the dawn came and he could see plainly, inga opened the bag and took out the blue pearl. there was no possibility of his being observed by others, so he took time to examine it wonderingly, saying to himself: "this will give me strength." taking off his right shoe he placed the blue pearl within it, far up in the pointed toe. then he tore a piece from his handkerchief and stuffed it into the shoe to hold the pearl in place. inga's shoes were long and pointed, as were all the shoes worn in pingaree, and the points curled upward, so that there was quite a vacant space beyond the place where the boy's toes reached when the shoe was upon his foot. after he had put on the shoe and laced it up he opened the bag and took out the pink pearl. "this will protect me from danger," said inga, and removing the shoe from his left foot he carefully placed the pearl in the hollow toe. this, also, he secured in place by means of a strip torn from his handkerchief. having put on the second shoe and laced it up, the boy drew from the silken bag the third pearl--that which was pure white--and holding it to his ear he asked. "will you advise me what to do, in this my hour of misfortune?" clearly the small voice of the pearl made answer: "i advise you to go to the islands of regos and coregos, where you may liberate your parents from slavery." "how could i do that?" exclaimed prince inga, amazed at receiving such advice. "to-night," spoke the voice of the pearl, "there will be a storm, and in the morning a boat will strand upon the shore. take this boat and row to regos and coregos." "how can i, a weak boy, pull the boat so far?" he inquired, doubting the possibility. "the blue pearl will give you strength," was the reply. "but i may be shipwrecked and drowned, before ever i reach regos and coregos," protested the boy. "the pink pearl will protect you from harm," murmured the voice, soft and low but very distinct. "then i shall act as you advise me," declared inga, speaking firmly because this promise gave him courage, and as he removed the pearl from his ear it whispered: "the wise and fearless are sure to win success." restoring the white pearl to the depths of the silken bag, inga fastened it securely around his neck and buttoned his waist above it to hide the treasure from all prying eyes. then he slowly climbed down from the tree and returned to the room where king rinkitink still slept. the goat was browsing upon the grass but looked cross and surly. when the boy said good morning as he passed, bilbil made no response whatever. as inga entered the room the king awoke and asked: "what is that mysterious secret of yours? i've been dreaming about it, and i haven't got my breath yet from tugging at those heavy blocks. tell me the secret." "a secret told is no longer a secret," replied inga, with a laugh. "besides, this is a family secret, which it is proper i should keep to myself. but i may tell you one thing, at least: we are going to leave this island to-morrow morning." the king seemed puzzled' by this statement. "i'm not much of a swimmer," said he, "and, though i'm fat enough to float upon the surface of the water, i'd only bob around and get nowhere at all." "we shall not swim, but ride comfortably in a boat," promised inga. "there isn't a boat on this island!" declared rinkitink, looking upon the boy with wonder. "true," said inga. "but one will come to us in the morning." he spoke positively, for he had perfect faith in the promise of the white pearl; but rinkitink, knowing nothing of the three marvelous jewels, began to fear that the little prince had lost his mind through grief and misfortune. for this reason the king did not question the boy further but tried to cheer him by telling him witty stories. he laughed at all the stories himself, in his merry, rollicking way, and inga joined freely in the laughter because his heart had been lightened by the prospect of rescuing his dear parents. not since the fierce warriors had descended upon pingaree had the boy been so hopeful and happy. with rinkitink riding upon bilbil's back, the three made a tour of the island and found in the central part some bushes and trees bearing ripe fruit. they gathered this freely, for--aside from the fish which inga caught--it was the only food they now had, and the less they had, the bigger rinkitink's appetite seemed to grow. "i am never more happy," said he with a sigh, "than when i am eating." toward evening the sky became overcast and soon a great storm began to rage. prince inga and king rinkitink took refuge within the shelter of the room they had fitted up and there bilbil joined them. the goat and the king were somewhat disturbed by the violence of the storm, but inga did not mind it, being pleased at this evidence that the white pearl might be relied upon. all night the wind shrieked around the island; thunder rolled, lightning flashed and rain came down in torrents. but with morning the storm abated and when the sun arose no sign of the tempest remained save a few fallen trees. chapter six the magic boat prince inga was up with the sun and, accompanied by bilbil, began walking along the shore in search of the boat which the white pearl had promised him. never for an instant did he doubt that he would find it and before he had walked any great distance a dark object at the water's edge caught his eye. "it is the boat, bilbil!" he cried joyfully, and running down to it he found it was, indeed, a large and roomy boat. although stranded upon the beach, it was in perfect order and had suffered in no way from the storm. inga stood for some moments gazing upon the handsome craft and wondering where it could have come from. certainly it was unlike any boat he had ever seen. on the outside it was painted a lustrous black, without any other color to relieve it; but all the inside of the boat was lined with pure silver, polished so highly that the surface resembled a mirror and glinted brilliantly in the rays of the sun. the seats had white velvet cushions upon them and the cushions were splendidly embroidered with threads of gold. at one end, beneath the broad seat, was a small barrel with silver hoops, which the boy found was filled with fresh, sweet water. a great chest of sandalwood, bound and ornamented with silver, stood in the other end of the boat. inga raised the lid and discovered the chest filled with sea-biscuits, cakes, tinned meats and ripe, juicy melons; enough good and wholesome food to last the party a long time. lying upon the bottom of the boat were two shining oars, and overhead, but rolled back now, was a canopy of silver cloth to ward off the heat of the sun. it is no wonder the boy was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful boat; but on reflection he feared it was too large for him to row any great distance. unless, indeed, the blue pearl gave him unusual strength. while he was considering this matter, king rinkitink came waddling up to him and said: "well, well, well, my prince, your words have come true! here is the boat, for a certainty, yet how it came here--and how you knew it would come to us--are puzzles that mystify me. i do not question our good fortune, however, and my heart is bubbling with joy, for in this boat i will return at once to my city of gilgad, from which i have remained absent altogether too long a time." "i do not wish to go to gilgad," said inga. "that is too bad, my friend, for you would be very welcome. but you may remain upon this island, if you wish," continued rinkitink, "and when i get home i will send some of my people to rescue you." "it is my boat, your majesty," said inga quietly. "may be, may be," was the careless answer, "but i am king of a great country, while you are a boy prince without any kingdom to speak of. therefore, being of greater importance than you, it is just and right that i take, your boat and return to my own country in it." "i am sorry to differ from your majesty's views," said inga, "but instead of going to gilgad i consider it of greater importance that we go to the islands of regos and coregos." "hey? what!" cried the astounded king. "to regos and coregos! to become slaves of the barbarians, like the king, your father? no, no, my boy! your uncle rinki may have an empty noddle, as bilbil claims, but he is far too wise to put his head in the lion's mouth. it's no fun to be a slave." "the people of regos and coregos will not enslave us," declared inga. "on the contrary, it is my intention to set free my dear parents, as well as all my people, and to bring them back again to pingaree." "cheek-eek-eek-eek-eek! how funny!" chuckled rinkitink, winking at the goat, which scowled in return. "your audacity takes my breath away, inga, but the adventure has its charm, i must, confess. were i not so fat, i'd agree to your plan at once, and could probably conquer that horde of fierce warriors without any assistance at all--any at all--eh, bilbil? but i grieve to say that i am fat, and not in good fighting trim. as for your determination to do what i admit i can't do, inga, i fear you forget that you are only a boy, and rather small at that." "no, i do not forget that," was inga's reply. "then please consider that you and i and bilbil are not strong enough, as an army, to conquer a powerful nation of skilled warriors. we could attempt it, of course, but you are too young to die, while i am too old. come with me to my city of gilgad, where you will be greatly honored. i'll have my professors teach you how to be good. eh? what do you say?" inga was a little embarrassed how to reply to these arguments, which he knew king rinkitink considered were wise; so, after a period of thought, he said: "i will make a bargain with your majesty, for i do not wish to fail in respect to so worthy a man and so great a king as yourself. this boat is mine, as i have said, and in my father's absence you have become my guest; therefore i claim that i am entitled to some consideration, as well as you." "no doubt of it," agreed rinkitink. "what is the bargain you propose, inga?" "let us both get into the boat, and you shall first try to row us to gilgad. if you succeed, i will accompany you right willingly; but should you fail, i will then row the boat to regos, and you must come with me without further protest." "a fair and just bargain!" cried the king, highly pleased. "yet, although i am a man of mighty deeds, i do not relish the prospect of rowing so big a boat all the way to gilgad. but i will do my best and abide by the result." the matter being thus peaceably settled, they prepared to embark. a further supply of fruits was placed in the boat and inga also raked up a quantity of the delicious oysters that abounded on the coast of pingaree but which he had before been unable to reach for lack of a boat. this was done at the suggestion of the ever-hungry rinkitink, and when the oysters had been stowed in their shells behind the water barrel and a plentiful supply of grass brought aboard for bilbil, they decided they were ready to start on their voyage. it proved no easy task to get bilbil into the boat, for he was a remarkably clumsy goat and once, when rinkitink gave him a push, he tumbled into the water and nearly drowned before they could get him out again. but there was no thought of leaving the quaint animal behind. his power of speech made him seem almost human in the eyes of the boy, and the fat king was so accustomed to his surly companion that nothing could have induced him to part with him. finally bilbil fell sprawling into the bottom of the boat, and inga helped him to get to the front end, where there was enough space for him to lie down. rinkitink now took his seat in the silver-lined craft and the boy came last, pushing off the boat as he sprang aboard, so that it floated freely upon the water. "well, here we go for gilgad!" exclaimed the king, picking up the oars and placing them in the row-locks. then he began to row as hard as he could, singing at the same time an odd sort of a song that ran like this: "the way to gilgad isn't bad for a stout old king and a brave young lad, for a cross old goat with a dripping coat, and a silver boat in which to float. so our hearts are merry, light and glad as we speed away to fair gilgad!" "don't, rinkitink; please don't! it makes me seasick," growled bilbil. rinkitink stopped rowing, for by this time he was all out of breath and his round face was covered with big drops of perspiration. and when he looked over his shoulder he found to his dismay that the boat had scarcely moved a foot from its former position. inga said nothing and appeared not to notice the king's failure. so now rinkitink, with a serious look on his fat, red face, took off his purple robe and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and tried again. however, he succeeded no better than before and when he heard bilbil give a gruff laugh and saw a smile upon the boy prince's face, rinkitink suddenly dropped the oars and began shouting with laughter at his own defeat. as he wiped his brow with a yellow silk handkerchief he sang in a merry voice: "a sailor bold am i, i hold, but boldness will not row a boat. so i confess i'm in distress and just as useless as the goat." "please leave me out of your verses," said bilbil with a snort of anger. "when i make a fool of myself, bilbil, i'm a goat," replied rinkitink. "not so," insisted bilbil. "nothing could make you a member of my superior race." "superior? why, bilbil, a goat is but a beast, while i am a king!" "i claim that superiority lies in intelligence," said the goat. rinkitink paid no attention to this remark, but turning to inga he said: "we may as well get back to the shore, for the boat is too heavy to row to gilgad or anywhere else. indeed, it will be hard for us to reach land again." "let me take the oars," suggested inga. "you must not forget our bargain." "no, indeed," answered rinkitink. "if you can row us to regos, or to any other place, i will go with you without protest." so the king took inga's place at the stern of the boat and the boy grasped the oars and commenced to row. and now, to the great wonder of rinkitink--and even to inga's surprise--the oars became light as feathers as soon as the prince took hold of them. in an instant the boat began to glide rapidly through the water and, seeing this, the boy turned its prow toward the north. he did not know exactly where regos and coregos were located, but he did know that the islands lay to the north of pingaree, so he decided to trust to luck and the guidance of the pearls to carry him to them. gradually the island of pingaree became smaller to their view as the boat sped onward, until at the end of an hour they had lost sight of it altogether and were wholly surrounded by the purple waters of the nonestic ocean. prince inga did not tire from the labor of rowing; indeed, it seemed to him no labor at all. once he stopped long enough to place the poles of the canopy in the holes that had been made for them, in the edges of the boat, and to spread the canopy of silver over the poles, for rinkitink had complained of the sun's heat. but the canopy shut out the hot rays and rendered the interior of the boat cool and pleasant. "this is a glorious ride!" cried rinkitink, as he lay back in the shade. "i find it a decided relief to be away from that dismal island of pingaree. "it may be a relief for a short time," said bilbil, "but you are going to the land of your enemies, who will probably stick your fat body full of spears and arrows." "oh, i hope not!" exclaimed inga, distressed at the thought. "never mind," said the king calmly, "a man can die but once, you know, and when the enemy kills me i shall beg him to kill bilbil, also, that we may remain together in death as in life." "they may be cannibals, in which case they will roast and eat us," suggested bilbil, who wished to terrify his master. "who knows?" answered rinkitink, with a shudder. "but cheer up, bilbil; they may not kill us after all, or even capture us; so let us not borrow trouble. do not look so cross, my sprightly quadruped, and i will sing to amuse you." "your song would make me more cross than ever," grumbled the goat. "quite impossible, dear bilbil. you couldn't be more surly if you tried. so here is a famous song for you." while the boy rowed steadily on and the boat rushed fast over the water, the jolly king, who never could be sad or serious for many minutes at a time, lay back on his embroidered cushions and sang as follows: "a merry maiden went to sea-- sing too-ral-oo-ral-i-do! she sat upon the captain's knee and looked around the sea to see what she could see, but she couldn't see me-- sing too-ral-oo-ral-i-do! "how do you like that, bilbil?" "i don't like it," complained the goat. "it reminds me of the alligator that tried to whistle." "did he succeed, bilbil?" asked the king. "he whistled as well as you sing." "ha, ha, ha, ha, heek, keek, eek!" chuckled the king. "he must have whistled most exquisitely, eh, my friend?" "i am not your friend," returned the goat, wagging his ears in a surly manner. "i am yours, however," was the king's cheery reply; "and to prove it i'll sing you another verse." "don't, i beg of you!" but the king sang as follows: "the wind blew off the maiden's shoe-- sing too-ral-oo-ral-i-do! and the shoe flew high to the sky so blue and the maiden knew 'twas a new shoe, too; but she couldn't pursue the shoe, 'tis true-- sing too-ral-oo-ral-i-do! "isn't that sweet, my pretty goat?" "sweet, do you ask?" retorted bilbil. "i consider it as sweet as candy made from mustard and vinegar." "but not as sweet as your disposition, i admit. ah, bilbil, your temper would put honey itself to shame." "do not quarrel, i beg of you," pleaded inga. "are we not sad enough already?" "but this is a jolly quarrel," said the king, "and it is the way bilbil and i often amuse ourselves. listen, now, to the last verse of all: "the maid who shied her shoe now cried-- sing too-ral-oo-ral-i-do! her tears were fried for the captain's bride who ate with pride her sobs, beside, and gently sighed 'i'm satisfied'-- sing to-ral-oo-ral-i-do!" "worse and worse!" grumbled bilbil, with much scorn. "i am glad that is the last verse, for another of the same kind might cause me to faint." "i fear you have no ear for music," said the king. "i have heard no music, as yet," declared the goat. "you must have a strong imagination, king rinkitink, if you consider your songs music. do you remember the story of the bear that hired out for a nursemaid?" "i do not recall it just now," said rinkitink, with a wink at inga. "well, the bear tried to sing a lullaby to put the baby to sleep." "and then?" said the king. "the bear was highly pleased with its own voice, but the baby was nearly frightened to death." "heh, heb, heh, heh, whoo, hoo, hoo! you are a merry rogue, bilbil," laughed the king; "a merry rogue in spite of your gloomy features. however, if i have not amused you, i have at least pleased myself, for i am exceedingly fond of a good song. so let us say no more about it." all this time the boy prince was rowing the boat. he was not in the least tired, for the oars he held seemed to move of their own accord. he paid little heed to the conversation of rinkitink and the goat, but busied his thoughts with plans of what he should do when he reached the islands of regos and coregos and confronted his enemies. when the others finally became silent, inga inquired. "can you fight, king rinkitink?" "i have never tried," was the answer. "in time of danger i have found it much easier to run away than to face the foe." "but could you fight?" asked the boy. "i might try, if there was no chance to escape by running. have you a proper weapon for me to fight with?" "i have no weapon at all," confessed inga. "then let us use argument and persuasion instead of fighting. for instance, if we could persuade the warriors of regos to lie down, and let me step on them, they would be crushed with ease." prince inga had expected little support from the king, so he was not discouraged by this answer. after all, he reflected, a conquest by battle would be out of the question, yet the white pearl would not have advised him to go to regos and coregos had the mission been a hopeless one. it seemed to him, on further reflection, that he must rely upon circumstances to determine his actions when he reached the islands of the barbarians. by this time inga felt perfect confidence in the magic pearls. it was the white pearl that had given him the boat, and the blue pearl that had given him strength to row it. he believed that the pink pearl would protect him from any danger that might arise; so his anxiety was not for himself, but for his companions. king rinkitink and the goat had no magic to protect them, so inga resolved to do all in his power to keep them from harm. for three days and three nights the boat with the silver lining sped swiftly over the ocean. on the morning of the fourth day, so quickly had they traveled, inga saw before him the shores of the two great islands of regos and coregos. "the pearls have guided me aright!" he whispered to himself. "now, if i am wise, and cautious, and brave, i believe i shall be able to rescue my father and mother and my people." chapter seven the twin islands the island of regos was ten miles wide and forty miles long and it was ruled by a big and powerful king named gos. near to the shores were green and fertile fields, but farther back from the sea were rugged hills and mountains, so rocky that nothing would grow there. but in these mountains were mines of gold and silver, which the slaves of the king were forced to work, being confined in dark underground passages for that purpose. in the course of time huge caverns had been hollowed out by the slaves, in which they lived and slept, never seeing the light of day. cruel overseers with whips stood over these poor people, who had been captured in many countries by the raiding parties of king cos, and the overseers were quite willing to lash the slaves with their whips if they faltered a moment in their work. between the green shores and the mountains were forests of thick, tangled trees, between which narrow paths had been cut to lead up to the caves of the mines. it was on the level green meadows, not far from the ocean, that the great city of regos had been built, wherein was located the palace of the king. this city was inhabited by thousands of the fierce warriors of gos, who frequently took to their boats and spread over the sea to the neighboring islands to conquer and pillage, as they had done at pingaree. when they were not absent on one of these expeditions, the city of regos swarmed with them and so became a dangerous place for any peaceful person to live in, for the warriors were as lawless as their king. the island of coregos lay close beside the island of regos; so close, indeed, that one might have thrown a stone from one shore to another. but coregos was only half the size of regos and instead of being mountainous it was a rich and pleasant country, covered with fields of grain. the fields of coregos furnished food for the warriors and citizens of both countries, while the mines of regos made them all rich. coregos was ruled by queen cor, who was wedded to king gos; but so stern and cruel was the nature of this queen that the people could not decide which of their sovereigns they dreaded most. queen cor lived in her own city of coregos, which lay on that side of her island facing regos, and her slaves, who were mostly women, were made to plow the land and to plant and harvest the grain. from regos to coregos stretched a bridge of boats, set close together, with planks laid across their edges for people to walk upon. in this way it was easy to pass from one island to the other and in times of danger the bridge could be quickly removed. the native inhabitants of regos and coregos consisted of the warriors, who did nothing but fight and ravage, and the trembling servants who waited on them. king gos and queen cor were at war with all the rest of the world. other islanders hated and feared them, for their slaves were badly treated and absolutely no mercy was shown to the weak or ill. when the boats that had gone to pingaree returned loaded with rich plunder and a host of captives, there was much rejoicing in regos and coregos and the king and queen gave a fine feast to the warriors who had accomplished so great a conquest. this feast was set for the warriors in the grounds of king gos's palace, while with them in the great throne room all the captains and leaders of the fighting men were assembled with king gos and queen cor, who had come from her island to attend the ceremony. then all the goods that had been stolen from the king of pingaree were divided according to rank, the king and queen taking half, the captains a quarter, and the rest being divided amongst the warriors. the day following the feast king gos sent king kitticut and all the men of pingaree to work in his mines under the mountains, having first chained them together so they could not escape. the gentle queen of pingaree and all her women, together with the captured children, were given to queen cor, who set them to work in her grain fields. then the rulers and warriors of these dreadful islands thought they had done forever with pingaree. despoiled of all its wealth, its houses torn down, its boats captured and all its people enslaved, what likelihood was there that they might ever again hear of the desolated island? so the people of regos and coregos were surprised and puzzled when one morning they observed approaching their shores from the direction of the south a black boat containing a boy, a fat man and a goat. the warriors asked one another who these could be, and where they had come from? no one ever came to those islands of their own accord, that was certain. prince inga guided his boat to the south end of the island of regos, which was the landing place nearest to the city, and when the warriors saw this action they went down to the shore to meet him, being led by a big captain named buzzub. "those people surely mean us no good," said rinkitink uneasily to the boy. "without doubt they intend to capture us and make us their slaves." "do not fear, sir," answered inga, in a calm voice. "stay quietly in the boat with bilbil until i have spoken with these men." he stopped the boat a dozen feet from the shore, and standing up in his place made a grave bow to the multitude confronting him. said the big captain buzzub in a gruff voice: "well, little one, who may you be? and how dare you come, uninvited and all alone, to the island of regos?" "i am inga, prince of pingaree," returned the boy, "and i have come here to free my parents and my people, whom you have wrongfully enslaved." when they heard this bold speech a mighty laugh arose from the band of warriors, and when it had subsided the captain said: "you love to jest, my baby prince, and the joke is fairly good. but why did you willingly thrust your head into the lion's mouth? when you were free, why did you not stay free? we did not know we had left a single person in pingaree! but since you managed to escape us then, it is really kind of you to come here of your own free will, to be our slave. who is the funny fat person with you?" "it is his majesty, king rinkitink, of the great city of gilgad. he has accompanied me to see that you render full restitution for all you have stolen from pingaree." "better yet!" laughed buzzub. "he will make a fine slave for queen cor, who loves to tickle fat men, and see them jump." king rinkitink was filled with horror when he heard this, but the prince answered as boldly as before, saying: "we are not to be frightened by bluster, believe me; nor are we so weak as you imagine. we have magic powers so great and terrible that no host of warriors can possibly withstand us, and therefore i call upon you to surrender your city and your island to us, before we crush you with our mighty powers." the boy spoke very gravely and earnestly, but his words only aroused another shout of laughter. so while the men of regos were laughing inga drove the boat we'll up onto the sandy beach and leaped out. he also helped rinkitink out, and when the goat had unaided sprung to the sands, the king got upon bilbil's back, trembling a little internally, but striving to look as brave as possible. there was a bunch of coarse hair between the goat's ears, and this inga clutched firmly in his left hand. the boy knew the pink pearl would protect not only himself, but all whom he touched, from any harm, and as rinkitink was astride the goat and inga had his hand upon the animal, the three could not be injured by anything the warriors could do. but captain buzzub did not know this, and the little group of three seemed so weak and ridiculous that he believed their capture would be easy. so he turned to his men and with a wave of his hand said: "seize the intruders!" instantly two or three of the warriors stepped forward to obey, but to their amazement they could not reach any of the three; their hands were arrested as if by an invisible wall of iron. without paying any attention to these attempts at capture, inga advanced slowly and the goat kept pace with him. and when rinkitink saw that he was safe from harm he gave one of his big, merry laughs, and it startled the warriors and made them nervous. captain buzzub's eyes grew big with surprise as the three steadily advanced and forced his men backward; nor was he free from terror himself at the magic that protected these strange visitors. as for the warriors, they presently became terror-stricken and fled in a panic up the slope toward the city, and buzzub was obliged to chase after them and shout threats of punishment before he could halt them and form them into a line of battle. all the men of regos bore spears and bows-and-arrows, and some of the officers had swords and battle-axes; so buzzub ordered them to stand their ground and shoot and slay the strangers as they approached. this they tried to do. inga being in advance, the warriors sent a flight of sharp arrows straight at the boy's breast, while others cast their long spears at him. it seemed to rinkitink that the little prince must surely perish as he stood facing this hail of murderous missiles; but the power of the pink pearl did not desert him, and when the arrows and spears had reached to within an inch of his body they bounded back again and fell harmlessly at his feet. nor were rinkitink or bilbil injured in the least, although they stood close beside inga. buzzub stood for a moment looking upon the boy in silent wonder. then, recovering himself, he shouted in a loud voice: "once again! all together, my men. no one shall ever defy our might and live!" again a flight of arrows and spears sped toward the three, and since many more of the warriors of regos had by this time joined their fellows, the air was for a moment darkened by the deadly shafts. but again all fell harmless before the power of the pink pearl, and bilbil, who had been growing very angry at the attempts to injure him and his party, suddenly made a bolt forward, casting off inga's hold, and butted into the line of warriors, who were standing amazed at their failure to conquer. taken by surprise at the goat's attack, a dozen big warriors tumbled in a heap, yelling with fear, and their comrades, not knowing what had happened but imagining that their foes were attacking them, turned about and ran to the city as hard as they could go. bilbil, still angry, had just time to catch the big captain as he turned to follow his men, and buzzub first sprawled headlong upon the ground, then rolled over two or three times, and finally jumped up and ran yelling after his defeated warriors. this butting on the part of the goat was very hard upon king rinkitink, who nearly fell off bilbil's back at the shock of encounter; but the little fat king wound his arms around the goat's neck and shut his eyes and clung on with all his might. it was not until he heard inga say triumphantly, "we have won the fight without striking a blow!" that rinkitink dared open his eyes again. then he saw the warriors rushing into the city of regos and barring the heavy gates, and he was very much relieved at the sight. "without striking a blow!" said bilbil indignantly. "that is not quite true, prince inga. you did not fight, i admit, but i struck a couple of times to good purpose, and i claim to have conquered the cowardly warriors unaided." "you and i together, bilbil," said rinkitink mildly. "but the next time you make a charge, please warn me in time, so that i may dismount and give you all the credit for the attack." there being no one now to oppose their advance, the three walked to the gates of the city, which had been closed against them. the gates were of iron and heavily barred, and upon the top of the high walls of the city a host of the warriors now appeared armed with arrows and spears and other weapons. for buzzub had gone straight to the palace of king cos and reported his defeat, relating the powerful magic of the boy, the fat king and the goat, and had asked what to do next. the big captain still trembled with fear, but king gos did not believe in magic, and called buzzub a coward and a weakling. at once the king took command of his men personally, and he ordered the walls manned with warriors and instructed them to shoot to kill if any of the three strangers approached the gates. of course, neither rinkitink nor bilbil knew how they had been protected from harm and so at first they were inclined to resent the boy's command that the three must always keep together and touch one another at all times. but when inga explained that his magic would not otherwise save them from injury, they agreed to obey, for they had now seen enough to convince them that the prince was really protected by some invisible power. as they came before the gates another shower of arrows and spears descended upon them, and as before not a single missile touched their bodies. king gos, who was upon the wall, was greatly amazed and somewhat worried, but he depended upon the strength of his gates and commanded his men to continue shooting until all their weapons were gone. inga let them shoot as much as they wished, while he stood before the great gates and examined them carefully. "perhaps bilbil can batter down the gates, suggested rinkitink. "no," replied the goat; "my head is hard, but not harder than iron." "then," returned the king, "let us stay outside; especially as we can't get in." but inga was not at all sure they could not get in. the gates opened inward, and three heavy bars were held in place by means of stout staples riveted to the sheets of steel. the boy had been told that the power of the blue pearl would enable him to accomplish any feat of strength, and he believed that this was true. the warriors, under the direction of king gos, continued to hurl arrows and darts and spears and axes and huge stones upon the invaders, all without avail. the ground below was thickly covered with weapons, yet not one of the three before the gates had been injured in the slightest manner. when everything had been cast that was available and not a single weapon of any sort remained at hand, the amazed warriors saw the boy put his shoulder against the gates and burst asunder the huge staples that held the bars in place. a thousand of their men could not have accomplished this feat, yet the small, slight boy did it with seeming ease. the gates burst open, and inga advanced into the city street and called upon king gos to surrender. but gos was now as badly frightened as were his warriors. he and his men were accustomed to war and pillage and they had carried terror into many countries, but here was a small boy, a fat man and a goat who could not be injured by all his skill in warfare, his numerous army and thousands of death-dealing weapons. moreover, they not only defied king gos's entire army but they had broken in the huge gates of the city--as easily as if they had been made of paper--and such an exhibition of enormous strength made the wicked king fear for his life. like all bullies and marauders, gos was a coward at heart, and now a panic seized him and he turned and fled before the calm advance of prince inga of pingaree. the warriors were like their master, and having thrown all their weapons over the wall and being helpless to oppose the strangers, they all swarmed after gos, who abandoned his city and crossed the bridge of boats to the island of coregos. there was a desperate struggle among these cowardly warriors to get over the bridge, and many were pushed into the water and obliged to swim; but finally every fighting man of regos had gained the shore of coregos and then they tore away the bridge of boats and drew them up on their own side, hoping the stretch of open water would prevent the magic invaders from following them. the humble citizens and serving people of regos, who had been terrified and abused by the rough warriors all their lives, were not only greatly astonished by this sudden conquest of their masters but greatly delighted. as the king and his army fled to coregos, the people embraced one another and danced for very joy, and then they turned to see what the conquerors of regos were like. chapter eight rinkitink makes a great mistake the fat king rode his goat through the streets of the conquered city and the boy prince walked proudly beside him, while all the people bent their heads humbly to their new masters, whom they were prepared to serve in the same manner they had king gos. not a warrior remained in all regos to oppose the triumphant three; the bridge of boats had been destroyed; inga and his companions were free from danger--for a time, at least. the jolly little king appreciated this fact and rejoiced that he had escaped all injury during the battle. how it had all happened he could not tell, nor even guess, but he was content in being safe and free to take possession of the enemy's city. so, as they passed through the lines of respectful civilians on their way to the palace, the king tipped his crown back on his bald head and folded his arms and sang in his best voice the following lines: "oh, here comes the army of king rinkitink! it isn't a big one, perhaps you may think, but it scattered the warriors quicker than wink-- rink-i-tink, tink-i-tink, tink! our bilbil's a hero and so is his king; our foemen have vanished like birds on the wing; i guess that as fighters we're quite the real thing-- rink-i-tink, tink-i-tink, tink!" "why don't you give a little credit to inga?" inquired the goat. "if i remember aright, he did a little of the conquering himself." "so he did," responded the king, "and that's the reason i'm sounding our own praise, bilbil. those who do the least, often shout the loudest and so get the most glory. inga did so much that there is danger of his becoming more important than we are, and so we'd best say nothing about him." when they reached the palace, which was an immense building, furnished throughout in regal splendor, inga took formal possession and ordered the majordomo to show them the finest rooms the building contained. there were many pleasant apartments, but rinkitink proposed to inga that they share one of the largest bedrooms together. "for," said he, "we are not sure that old gos will not return and try to recapture his city, and you must remember that i have no magic to protect me. in any danger, were i alone, i might be easily killed or captured, while if you are by my side you can save me from injury." the boy realized the wisdom of this plan, and selected a fine big bedroom on the second floor of the palace, in which he ordered two golden beds placed and prepared for king rinkitink and himself. bilbil was given a suite of rooms on the other side of the palace, where servants brought the goat fresh-cut grass to eat and made him a soft bed to lie upon. that evening the boy prince and the fat king dined in great state in the lofty-domed dining hall of the palace, where forty servants waited upon them. the royal chef, anxious to win the favor of the conquerors of regos, prepared his finest and most savory dishes for them, which rinkitink ate with much appetite and found so delicious that he ordered the royal chef brought into the banquet hall and presented him with a gilt button which the king cut from his own jacket. "you are welcome to it," said he to the chef, "because i have eaten so much that i cannot use that lower button at all." rinkitink was mightily pleased to live in a comfortable palace again and to dine at a well spread table. his joy grew every moment, so that he came in time to be as merry and cheery as before pingaree was despoiled. and, although he had been much frightened during inga's defiance of the army of king gos, he now began to turn the matter into a joke. "why, my boy," said he, "you whipped the big black-bearded king exactly as if he were a schoolboy, even though you used no warlike weapon at all upon him. he was cowed through fear of your magic, and that reminds me to demand from you an explanation. how did you do it, inga? and where did the wonderful magic come from?" perhaps it would have been wise for the prince to have explained about the magic pearls, but at that moment he was not inclined to do so. instead, he replied: "be patient, your majesty. the secret is not my own, so please do not ask me to divulge it. is it not enough, for the present, that the magic saved you from death to-day?" "do not think me ungrateful," answered the king earnestly. "a million spears fell on me from the wall, and several stones as big as mountains, yet none of them hurt me!" "the stones were not as big as mountains, sire," said the prince with a smile. "they were, indeed, no larger than your head." "are you sure about that?" asked rinkitink. "quite sure, your majesty." "how deceptive those things are!" sighed the king. "this argument reminds me of the story of tom tick, which my father used to tell." "i have never heard that story," inga answered. "well, as he told it, it ran like this: "when tom walked out, the sky to spy, a naughty gnat flew in his eye; but tom knew not it was a gnat-- he thought, at first, it was a cat. "and then, it felt so very big, he thought it surely was a pig till, standing still to hear it grunt, he cried: 'why, it's an elephunt!' "but--when the gnat flew out again and tom was free from all his pain, he said: 'there flew into my eye a leetle, teenty-tiny fly.'" "indeed," said inga, laughing, "the gnat was much like your stones that seemed as big as mountains." after their dinner they inspected the palace, which was filled with valuable goods stolen by king gos from many nations. but the day's events had tired them and they retired early to their big sleeping apartment. "in the morning," said the boy to rinkitink, as he was undressing for bed, "i shall begin the search for my father and mother and the people of pingaree. and, when they are found and rescued, we will all go home again, and be as happy as we were before." they carefully bolted the door of their room, that no one might enter, and then got into their beds, where rinkitink fell asleep in an instant. the boy lay awake for a while thinking over the day's adventures, but presently he fell sound asleep also, and so weary was he that nothing disturbed his slumber until he awakened next morning with a ray of sunshine in his eyes, which had crept into the room through the open window by king rinkitink's bed. resolving to begin the search for his parents without any unnecessary delay, inga at once got out of bed and began to dress himself, while rinkitink, in the other bed, was still sleeping peacefully. but when the boy had put on both his stockings and began looking for his shoes, he could find but one of them. the left shoe, that containing the pink pearl, was missing. filled with anxiety at this discovery, inga searched through the entire room, looking underneath the beds and divans and chairs and behind the draperies and in the corners and every other possible place a shoe might be. he tried the door, and found it still bolted; so, with growing uneasiness, the boy was forced to admit that the precious shoe was not in the room. with a throbbing heart he aroused his companion. "king rinkitink," said he, "do you know what has become of my left shoe?" "your shoe!" exclaimed the king, giving a wide yawn and rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them. "have you lost a shoe?" "yes," said inga. "i have searched everywhere in the room, and cannot find it." "but why bother me about such a small thing?" inquired rinkitink. "a shoe is only a shoe, and you can easily get another one. but, stay! perhaps it was your shoe which i threw at the cat last night." "the cat!" cried inga. "what do you mean?" "why, in the night," explained rinkitink, sitting up and beginning to dress himself, "i was wakened by the mewing of a cat that sat upon a wall of the palace, just outside my window. as the noise disturbed me, i reached out in the dark and caught up something and threw it at the cat, to frighten the creature away. i did not know what it was that i threw, and i was too sleepy to care; but probably it was your shoe, since it is now missing." "then," said the boy, in a despairing tone of voice, "your carelessness has ruined me, as well as yourself, king rinkitink, for in that shoe was concealed the magic power which protected us from danger." the king's face became very serious when he heard this and he uttered a low whistle of surprise and regret. "why on earth did you not warn me of this?" he demanded. "and why did you keep such a precious power in an old shoe? and why didn't you put the shoe under a pillow? you were very wrong, my lad, in not confiding to me, your faithful friend, the secret, for in that case the shoe would not now be lost." to all this inga had no answer. he sat on the side of his bed, with hanging head, utterly disconsolate, and seeing this, rinkitink had pity for his sorrow. "come!" cried the king; "let us go out at once and look for the shoe which i threw at the cat. it must even now be lying in the yard of the palace." this suggestion roused the boy to action. he at once threw open the door and in his stocking feet rushed down the staircase, closely followed by rinkitink. but although they looked on both sides of the palace wall and in every possible crack and corner where a shoe might lodge, they failed to find it. after a half hour's careful search the boy said sorrowfully: "someone must have passed by, as we slept, and taken the precious shoe, not knowing its value. to us, king rinkitink, this will be a dreadful misfortune, for we are surrounded by dangers from which we have now no protection. luckily i have the other shoe left, within which is the magic power that gives me strength; so all is not lost." then he told rinkitink, in a few words, the secret of the wonderful pearls, and how he had recovered them from the ruins and hidden them in his shoes, and how they had enabled him to drive king gos and his men from regos and to capture the city. the king was much astonished, and when the story was concluded he said to inga: "what did you do with the other shoe?" "why, i left it in our bedroom," replied the boy. "then i advise you to get it at once," continued rinkitink, "for we can ill afford to lose the second shoe, as well as the one i threw at the cat." "you are right!" cried inga, and they hastened back to their bedchamber. on entering the room they found an old woman sweeping and raising a great deal of dust. "where is my shoe?" asked the prince, anxiously. the old woman stopped sweeping and looked at him in a stupid way, for she was not very intelligent. "do you mean the one odd shoe that was lying on the floor when i came in?" she finally asked. "yes--yes!" answered the boy. "where is it? tell me where it is!" "why, i threw it on the dust-heap, outside the back gate," said she, "for, it being but a single shoe, with no mate, it can be of no use to anyone." "show us the way to the dust-heap--at once!" commanded the boy, sternly, for he was greatly frightened by this new misfortune which threatened him. the old woman hobbled away and they followed her, constantly urging her to hasten; but when they reached the dust-heap no shoe was to be seen. "this is terrible!" wailed the young prince, ready to weep at his loss. "we are now absolutely ruined, and at the mercy of our enemies. nor shall i be able to liberate my dear father and mother." "well," replied rinkitink, leaning against an old barrel and looking quite solemn, "the thing is certainly unlucky, any way we look at it. i suppose someone has passed along here and, seeing the shoe upon the dust-heap, has carried it away. but no one could know the magic power the shoe contains and so will not use it against us. i believe, inga, we must now depend upon our wits to get us out of the scrape we are in." with saddened hearts they returned to the palace, and entering a small room where no one could observe them or overhear them, the boy took the white pearl from its silken bag and held it to his ear, asking: "what shall i do now?" "tell no one of your loss," answered the voice of the pearl. "if your enemies do not know that you are powerless, they will fear you as much as ever. keep your secret, be patient, and fear not!" inga heeded this advice and also warned rinkitink to say nothing to anyone of the loss of the shoes and the powers they contained. he sent for the shoemaker of king gos, who soon brought him a new pair of red leather shoes that fitted him quite well. when these had been put upon his feet, the prince, accompanied by the king, started to walk through the city. wherever they went the people bowed low to the conqueror, although a few, remembering inga's terrible strength, ran away in fear and trembling. they had been used to severe masters and did not yet know how they would be treated by king gos's successor. there being no occasion for the boy to exercise the powers he had displayed the previous day, his present helplessness was not suspected by any of the citizens of regos, who still considered him a wonderful magician. inga did not dare to fight his way to the mines, at present, nor could he try to conquer the island of coregos, where his mother was enslaved; so he set about the regulation of the city of regos, and having established himself with great state in the royal palace he began to govern the people by kindness, having consideration for the most humble. the king of regos and his followers sent spies across to the island they had abandoned in their flight, and these spies returned with the news that the terrible boy conqueror was still occupying the city. therefore none of them ventured to go back to regos but continued to live upon the neighboring island of coregos, where they passed the days in fear and trembling and sought to plot and plan ways how they might overcome the prince of pingaree and the fat king of gilgad. chapter nine a present for zella now it so happened that on the morning of that same day when the prince of pingaree suffered the loss of his priceless shoes, there chanced to pass along the road that wound beside the royal palace a poor charcoal-burner named nikobob, who was about to return to his home in the forest. nikobob carried an ax and a bundle of torches over his shoulder and he walked with his eyes to the ground, being deep in thought as to the strange manner in which the powerful king gos and his city had been conquered by a boy prince who had come from pingaree. suddenly the charcoal-burner espied a shoe lying upon the ground, just beyond the high wall of the palace and directly in his path. he picked it up and, seeing it was a pretty shoe, although much too small for his own foot, he put it in his pocket. soon after, on turning a corner of the wall, nikobob came to a dust-heap where, lying amidst a mass of rubbish, was another shoe--the mate to the one he had before found. this also he placed in his pocket, saying to himself: "i have now a fine pair of shoes for my daughter zella, who will be much pleased to find i have brought her a present from the city." and while the charcoal-burner turned into the forest and trudged along the path toward his home, inga and rinkitink were still searching for the missing shoes. of course, they could not know that nikobob had found them, nor did the honest man think he had taken anything more than a pair of cast-off shoes which nobody wanted. nikobob had several miles to travel through the forest before he could reach the little log cabin where his wife, as well as his little daughter zella, awaited his return, but he was used to long walks and tramped along the path whistling cheerfully to beguile the time. few people, as i said before, ever passed through the dark and tangled forests of regos, except to go to the mines in the mountain beyond, for many dangerous creatures lurked in the wild jungles, and king gos never knew, when he sent a messenger to the mines, whether he would reach there safely or not. the charcoal-burner, however, knew the wild forest well, and especially this part of it lying between the city and his home. it was the favorite haunt of the ferocious beast choggenmugger, dreaded by every dweller in the island of regos. choggenmugger was so old that everyone thought it must have been there since the world was made, and each year of its life the huge scales that covered its body grew thicker and harder and its jaws grew wider and its teeth grew sharper and its appetite grew more keen than ever. in former ages there had been many dragons in regos, but choggenmugger was so fond of dragons that he had eaten all of them long ago. there had also been great serpents and crocodiles in the forest marshes, but all had gone to feed the hunger of choggenmugger. the people of regos knew well there was no use opposing the great beast, so when one unfortunately met with it he gave himself up for lost. all this nikobob knew well, but fortune had always favored him in his journey through the forest, and although he had at times met many savage beasts and fought them with his sharp ax, he had never to this day encountered the terrible choggenmugger. indeed, he was not thinking of the great beast at all as he walked along, but suddenly he heard a crashing of broken trees and felt a trembling of the earth and saw the immense jaws of choggenmugger opening before him. then nikobob gave himself up for lost and his heart almost ceased to beat. he believed there was no way of escape. no one ever dared oppose choggenmugger. but nikobob hated to die without showing the monster, in some way, that he was eaten only under protest. so he raised his ax and brought it down upon the red, protruding tongue of the monster--and cut it clean off! for a moment the charcoal-burner scarcely believed what his eyes saw, for he knew nothing of the pearls he carried in his pocket or the magic power they lent his arm. his success, however, encouraged him to strike again, and this time the huge scaly jaw of choggenmugger was severed in twain and the beast howled in terrified rage. nikobob took off his coat, to give himself more freedom of action, and then he earnestly renewed the attack. but now the ax seemed blunted by the hard scales and made no impression upon them whatever. the creature advanced with glaring, wicked eyes, and nikobob seized his coat under his arm and turned to flee. that was foolish, for choggenmugger could run like the wind. in a moment it overtook the charcoal-burner and snapped its four rows of sharp teeth together. but they did not touch nikobob, because he still held the coat in his grasp, close to his body, and in the coat pocket were inga's shoes, and in the points of the shoes were the magic pearls. finding himself uninjured, nikobob put on his coat, again seized his ax, and in a short time had chopped choggenmugger into many small pieces--a task that proved not only easy but very agreeable. "i must be the strongest man in all the world!" thought the charcoal-burner, as he proudly resumed his way, "for choggenmugger has been the terror of regos since the world began, and i alone have been able to destroy the beast. yet it is singular' that never before did i discover how powerful a man i am." he met no further adventure and at midday reached a little clearing in the forest where stood his humble cabin. "great news! i have great news for you," he shouted, as his wife and little daughter came to greet him. "king gos has been conquered by a boy prince from the far island of pingaree, and i have this day--unaided--destroyed choggenmugger by the might of my strong arm." this was, indeed, great news. they brought nikobob into the house and set him in an easy chair and made him tell everything he knew about the prince of pingaree and the fat king of gilgad, as well as the details of his wonderful fight with mighty choggenmugger. "and now, my daughter," said the charcoalburner, when all his news had been related for at least the third time, "here is a pretty present i have brought you from the city." with this he drew the shoes from the pocket of his coat and handed them to zella, who gave him a dozen kisses in payment and was much pleased with her gift. the little girl had never worn shoes before, for her parents were too poor to buy her such luxuries, so now the possession of these, which were not much worn, filled the child's heart with joy. she admired the red leather and the graceful curl of the pointed toes. when she tried them on her feet, they fitted as well as if made for her. all the afternoon, as she helped her mother with the housework, zella thought of her pretty shoes. they seemed more important to her than the coming to regos of the conquering prince of pingaree, or even the death of choggenmugger. when zella and her mother were not working in the cabin, cooking or sewing, they often searched the neighboring forest for honey which the wild bees cleverly hid in hollow trees. the day after nikobob's return, as they were starting out after honey, zella decided to put on her new shoes, as they would keep the twigs that covered the ground from hurting her feet. she was used to the twigs, of course, but what is the use of having nice, comfortable shoes, if you do not wear them? so she danced along, very happily, followed by her mother, and presently they came to a tree in which was a deep hollow. zella thrust her hand and arm into the space and found that the tree was full of honey, so she began to dig it out with a wooden paddle. her mother, who held the pail, suddenly cried in warning: "look out, zella; the bees are coming!" and then the good woman ran fast toward the house to escape. zella, however, had no more than time to turn her head when a thick swarm of bees surrounded her, angry because they had caught her stealing their honey and intent on stinging the girl as a punishment. she knew her danger and expected to be badly injured by the multitude of stinging bees, but to her surprise the little creatures were unable to fly close enough to her to stick their dart-like stingers into her flesh. they swarmed about her in a dark cloud, and their angry buzzing was terrible to hear, yet the little girl remained unharmed. when she realized this, zella was no longer afraid but continued to ladle out the honey until she had secured all that was in the tree. then she returned to the cabin, where her mother was weeping and bemoaning the fate of her darling child, and the good woman was greatly astonished to find zella had escaped injury. again they went to the woods to search for honey, and although the mother always ran away whenever the bees came near them, zella paid no attention to the creatures but kept at her work, so that before supper time came the pails were again filled to overflowing with delicious honey. "with such good fortune as we have had this day," said her mother, "we shall soon gather enough honey for you to carry to queen cor." for it seems the wicked queen was very fond of honey and it had been zella's custom to go, once every year, to the city of coregos, to carry the queen a supply of sweet honey for her table. usually she had but one pail. "but now," said zella, "i shall be able to carry two pailsful to the queen, who will, i am sure, give me a good price for it." "true," answered her mother, "and, as the boy prince may take it into his head to conquer coregos, as well as regos, i think it best for you to start on your journey to queen cor tomorrow morning. do you not agree with me, nikobob?" she added, turning to her husband, the charcoal-burner, who was eating his supper. "i agree with you," he replied. "if zella must go to the city of coregos, she may as well start to-morrow morning." chapter ten the cunning of queen cor you may be sure the queen of coregos was not well pleased to have king gos and all his warriors living in her city after they had fled from their own. they were savage natured and quarrelsome men at all times, and their tempers had not improved since their conquest by the prince of pingaree. moreover, they were eating up queen cor's provisions and crowding the houses of her own people, who grumbled and complained until their queen was heartily tired. "shame on you!" she said to her husband, king gos, "to be driven out of your city by a boy, a roly-poly king and a billy goat! why do you not go back and fight them?" "no human can fight against the powers of magic," returned the king in a surly voice. "that boy is either a fairy or under the protection of fairies. we escaped with our lives only because we were quick to run away; but, should we return to regos, the same terrible power that burst open the city gates would crush us all to atoms." "bah! you are a coward," cried the queen, tauntingly. "i am not a coward," said the big king. "i have killed in battle scores of my enemies; by the might of my sword and my good right arm i have conquered many nations; all my life people have feared me. but no one would dare face the tremendous power of the prince of pingaree, boy though he is. it would not be courage, it would be folly, to attempt it." "then meet his power with cunning," suggested the queen. "take my advice, and steal over to regos at night, when it is dark, and capture or destroy the boy while he sleeps." "no weapon can touch his body," was the answer. "he bears a charmed life and cannot be injured." "does the fat king possess magic powers, or the goat?" inquired cor. "i think not," said gos. "we could not injure them, indeed, any more than we could the boy, but they did not seem to have any unusual strength, although the goat's head is harder than a battering-ram." "well," mused the queen, "there is surely some way to conquer that slight boy. if you are afraid to undertake the job, i shall go myself. by some stratagem i shall manage to make him my prisoner. he will not dare to defy a queen, and no magic can stand against a woman's cunning." "go ahead, if you like," replied the king, with an evil grin, "and if you are hung up by the thumbs or cast into a dungeon, it will serve you right for thinking you can succeed where a skilled warrior dares not make the attempt." "i'm not afraid," answered the queen. "it is only soldiers and bullies who are cowards." in spite of this assertion, queen cor was not so brave as she was cunning. for several days she thought over this plan and that, and tried to decide which was most likely to succeed. she had never seen the boy prince but had heard so many tales of him from the defeated warriors, and especially from captain buzzub, that she had learned to respect his power. spurred on by the knowledge that she would never get rid of her unwelcome guests until prince inga was overcome and regos regained for king gos, the queen of coregos finally decided to trust to luck and her native wit to defeat a simple-minded boy, however powerful he might be. inga could not suspect what she was going to do, because she did not know herself. she intended to act boldly and trust to chance to win. it is evident that had the cunning queen known that inga had lost all his magic, she would not have devoted so much time to the simple matter of capturing him, but like all others she was impressed by the marvelous exhibition of power he had shown in capturing regos, and had no reason to believe the boy was less powerful now. one morning queen cor boldly entered a boat, and, taking four men with her as an escort and bodyguard, was rowed across the narrow channel to regos. prince inga was sitting in the palace playing checkers with king rinkitink when a servant came to him, saying that queen cor had arrived and desired an audience with him. with many misgivings lest the wicked queen discover that he had now lost his magic powers, the boy ordered her to be admitted, and she soon entered the room and bowed low before him, in mock respect. cor was a big woman, almost as tall as king gos. she had flashing black eyes and the dark complexion you see on gypsies. her temper, when irritated, was something dreadful, and her face wore an evil expression which she tried to cover by smiling sweetly--often when she meant the most mischief. "i have come," said she in a low voice, "to render homage to the noble prince of pingaree. i am told that your highness is the strongest person in the world, and invincible in battle, and therefore i wish you to become my friend, rather than my enemy." now inga did not know how to reply to this speech. he disliked the appearance of the woman and was afraid of her and he was unused to deception and did not know how to mask his real feelings. so he took time to think over his answer, which he finally made in these words: "i have no quarrel with your majesty, and my only reason for coming here is to liberate my father and mother, and my people, whom you and your husband have made your slaves, and to recover the goods king gos has plundered from the island of pingaree. this i hope soon to accomplish, and if you really wish to be my friend, you can assist me greatly." while he was speaking queen cor had been studying the boy's face stealthily, from the corners of her eyes, and she said to herself: "he is so small and innocent that i believe i can capture him alone, and with ease. he does not seem very terrible and i suspect that king gos and his warriors were frightened at nothing." then, aloud, she said to inga: "i wish to invite you, mighty prince, and your friend, the great king of gilgad, to visit my poor palace at coregos, where all my people shall do you honor. will you come?" "at present," replied inga, uneasily, "i must refuse your kind invitation." "there will be feasting, and dancing girls, and games and fireworks," said the queen, speaking as if eager to entice him and at each word coming a step nearer to where he stood. "i could not enjoy them while my poor parents are slaves," said the boy, sadly. "are you sure of that?" asked queen cor, and by that time she was close beside inga. suddenly she leaned forward and threw both of her long arms around inga's body, holding him in a grasp that was like a vise. now rinkitink sprang forward to rescue his friend, but cor kicked out viciously with her foot and struck the king squarely on his stomach--a very tender place to be kicked, especially if one is fat. then, still hugging inga tightly, the queen called aloud: "i've got him! bring in the ropes." instantly the four men she had brought with her sprang into the room and bound the boy hand and foot. next they seized rinkitink, who was still rubbing his stomach, and bound him likewise. with a laugh of wicked triumph, queen cor now led her captives down to the boat and returned with them to coregos. great was the astonishment of king gos and his warriors when they saw that the mighty prince of pingaree, who had put them all to flight, had been captured by a woman. cowards as they were, they now crowded around the boy and jeered at him, and some of them would have struck him had not the queen cried out: "hands off! he is my prisoner, remember not yours." "well, cor, what are you going to do with him?" inquired king gos. "i shall make him my slave, that he may amuse my idle hours. for he is a pretty boy, and gentle, although he did frighten all of you big warriors so terribly." the king scowled at this speech, not liking to be ridiculed, but he said nothing more. he and his men returned that same day to regos, after restoring the bridge of boats. and they held a wild carnival of rejoicing, both in the king's palace and in the city, although the poor people of regos who were not warriors were all sorry that the kind young prince had been captured by his enemies and could rule them no longer. when her unwelcome guests had all gone back to regos and the queen was alone in her palace, she ordered inga and rinkitink brought before her and their bonds removed. they came sadly enough, knowing they were in serious straits and at the mercy of a cruel mistress. inga had taken counsel of the white pearl, which had advised him to bear up bravely under his misfortune, promising a change for the better very soon. with this promise to comfort him, inga faced the queen with a dignified bearing that indicated both pride and courage. "well, youngster," said she, in a cheerful tone because she was pleased with her success, "you played a clever trick on my poor husband and frightened him badly, but for that prank i am inclined to forgive you. hereafter i intend you to be my page, which means that you must fetch and carry for me at my will. and let me advise you to obey my every whim without question or delay, for when i am angry i become ugly, and when i am ugly someone is sure to feel the lash. do you understand me?" inga bowed, but made no answer. then she turned to rinkitink and said: "as for you, i cannot decide how to make you useful to me, as you are altogether too fat and awkward to work in the fields. it may be, however, that i can use you as a pincushion. "what!" cried rinkitink in horror, "would you stick pins into the king of gilgad?" "why not?" returned queen cor. "you are as fat as a pincushion, as you must yourself admit, and whenever i needed a pin i could call you to me." then she laughed at his frightened look and asked: "by the way, are you ticklish?" this was the question rinkitink had been dreading. he gave a moan of despair and shook his head. "i should love to tickle the bottom of your feet with a feather," continued the cruel woman. "please take off your shoes." "oh, your majesty!" pleaded poor rinkitink, "i beg you to allow me to amuse you in some other way. i can dance, or i can sing you a song." "well," she answered, shaking with laughter, "you may sing a song--if it be a merry one. but you do not seem in a merry mood." "i feel merry--indeed, your majesty, i do!" protested rinkitink, anxious to escape the tickling. but even as he professed to "feel merry" his round, red face wore an expression of horror and anxiety that was really comical. "sing, then!" commanded queen cor, who was greatly amused. rinkitink gave a sigh of relief and after clearing his throat and trying to repress his sobs he began to sing this song-gently, at first, but finally roaring it out at the top of his voice: "oh! there was a baby tiger lived in a men-ag-er-ie-- fizzy-fezzy-fuzzy--they wouldn't set him free; and ev'rybody thought that he was gentle as could be-- fizzy-fezzy-fuzzy--ba-by ti-ger! "oh! they patted him upon his head and shook him by the paw-- fizzy-fezzy-fuzzy--he had a bone to gnaw; but soon he grew the biggest tiger that you ever saw-- fizzy-fezzy-fuzzy--what a ti-ger! "oh! one day they came to pet the brute and he began to fight-- fizzy-fezzy-fuzzy-how he did scratch and bite! he broke the cage and in a rage he darted out of sight-- fizzy-fezzy-fuzzy was a ti-ger!" "and is there a moral to the song?" asked queen cor, when king rinkitink had finished his song with great spirit. "if there is," replied rinkitink, "it is a warning not to fool with tigers." the little prince could not help smiling at this shrewd answer, but queen cor frowned and gave the king a sharp look. "oh," said she; "i think i know the difference between a tiger and a lapdog. but i'll bear the warning in mind, just the same." for, after all her success in capturing them, she was a little afraid of these people who had once displayed such extraordinary powers. chapter eleven zella goes to coregos the forest in which nikobob lived with his wife and daughter stood between the mountains and the city of regos, and a well-beaten path wound among the trees, leading from the city to the mines. this path was used by the king's messengers, and captured prisoners were also sent by this way from regos to work in the underground caverns. nikobob had built his cabin more than a mile away from this path, that he might not be molested by the wild and lawless soldiers of king gos, but the family of the charcoal-burner was surrounded by many creatures scarcely less dangerous to encounter, and often in the night they could hear savage animals growling and prowling about the cabin. because nikobob minded his own business and never hunted the wild creatures to injure them, the beasts had come to regard him as one of the natural dwellers in the forest and did not molest him or his family. still zella and her mother seldom wandered far from home, except on such errands as carrying honey to coregos, and at these times nikobob cautioned them to be very careful. so when zella set out on her journey to queen cor, with the two pails of honey in her hands, she was undertaking a dangerous adventure and there was no certainty that she would return safely to her loving parents. but they were poor, and queen cor's money, which they expected to receive for the honey, would enable them to purchase many things that were needed; so it was deemed best that zella should go. she was a brave little girl and poor people are often obliged to take chances that rich ones are spared. a passing woodchopper had brought news to nikobob's cabin that queen cor had made a prisoner of the conquering prince of pingaree and that gos and his warriors were again back in their city of regos; but these struggles and conquests were matters which, however interesting, did not concern the poor charcoal-burner or his family. they were more anxious over the report that the warriors had become more reckless than ever before, and delighted in annoying all the common people; so zella was told to keep away from the beaten path as much as possible, that she might not encounter any of the king's soldiers. "when it is necessary to choose between the warriors and the wild beasts," said nikobob, "the beasts will be found the more merciful." the little girl had put on her best attire for the journey and her mother threw a blue silk shawl over her head and shoulders. upon her feet were the pretty red shoes her father had brought her from regos. thus prepared, she kissed her parents good-bye and started out with a light heart, carrying the pails of honey in either hand. it was necessary for zella to cross the path that led from the mines to the city, but once on the other side she was not likely to meet with anyone, for she had resolved to cut through the forest and so reach the bridge of boats without entering the city of regos, where she might be interrupted. for an hour or two she found the walking easy enough, but then the forest, which in this part was unknown to her, became badly tangled. the trees were thicker and creeping vines intertwined between them. she had to turn this way and that to get through at all, and finally she came to a place where a network of vines and branches effectually barred her farther progress. zella was dismayed, at first, when she encountered this obstacle, but setting down her pails she made an endeavor to push the branches aside. at her touch they parted as if by magic, breaking asunder like dried twigs, and she found she could pass freely. at another place a great log had fallen across her way, but the little girl lifted it easily and cast it aside, although six ordinary men could scarcely have moved it. the child was somewhat worried at this evidence of a strength she had heretofore been ignorant that she possessed. in order to satisfy herself that it was no delusion, she tested her new-found power in many ways, finding that nothing was too big nor too heavy for her to lift. and, naturally enough, the girl gained courage from these experiments and became confident that she could protect herself in any emergency. when, presently, a wild boar ran toward her, grunting horribly and threatening her with its great tusks, she did not climb a tree to escape, as she had always done before on meeting such creatures, but stood still and faced the boar. when it had come quite close and zella saw that it could not injure her--a fact that astonished both the beast and the girl--she suddenly reached down and seizing it by one ear threw the great beast far off amongst the trees, where it fell headlong to the earth, grunting louder than ever with surprise and fear. the girl laughed merrily at this incident and, picking up her pails, resumed her journey through the forest. it is not recorded whether the wild boar told his adventure to the other beasts or they had happened to witness his defeat, but certain it is that zella was not again molested. a brown bear watched her pass without making any movement in her direction and a great puma--a beast much dreaded by all men--crept out of her path as she approached, and disappeared among the trees. thus everything favored the girl's journey and she made such good speed that by noon she emerged from the forest's edge and found she was quite near to the bridge of boats that led to coregos. this she crossed safely and without meeting any of the rude warriors she so greatly feared, and five minutes later the daughter of the charcoal-burner was seeking admittance at the back door of queen cor's palace. chapter twelve the excitement of bilbil the goat our story must now return to one of our characters whom we have been forced to neglect. the temper of bilbil the goat was not sweet under any circumstances, and whenever he had a grievance he was inclined to be quite grumpy. so, when his master settled down in the palace of king gos for a quiet life with the boy prince, and passed his time in playing checkers and eating and otherwise enjoying himself, he had no use whatever for bilbil, and shut the goat in an upstairs room to prevent his wandering through the city and quarreling with the citizens. but this bilbil did not like at all. he became very cross and disagreeable at being left alone and he did not speak nicely to the servants who came to bring him food; therefore those people decided not to wait upon him any more, resenting his conversation and not liking to be scolded by a lean, scraggly goat, even though it belonged to a conqueror. the servants kept away from the room and bilbil grew more hungry and more angry every hour. he tried to eat the rugs and ornaments, but found them not at all nourishing. there was no grass to be had unless he escaped from the palace. when queen cor came to capture inga and rinkitink, both the prisoners were so filled with despair at their own misfortune that they gave no thought whatever to the goat, who was left in his room. nor did bilbil know anything of the changed fortunes of his comrades until he heard shouts and boisterous laughter in the courtyard below. looking out of a window, with the intention of rebuking those who dared thus to disturb him, bilbil saw the courtyard quite filled with warriors and knew from this that the palace had in some way again fallen into the hands of the enemy. now, although bilbil was often exceedingly disagreeable to king rinkitink, as well as to the prince, and sometimes used harsh words in addressing them, he was intelligent enough to know them to be his friends, and to know that king gos and his people were his foes. in sudden anger, provoked by the sight of the warriors and the knowledge that he was in the power of the dangerous men of regos, bilbil butted his head against the door of his room and burst it open. then he ran to the head of the staircase and saw king gos coming up the stairs followed by a long line of his chief captains and warriors. the goat lowered his head, trembling with rage and excitement, and just as the king reached the top stair the animal dashed forward and butted his majesty so fiercely that the big and powerful king, who did not expect an attack, doubled up and tumbled backward. his great weight knocked over the man just behind him and he in turn struck the next warrior and upset him, so that in an instant the whole line of bilbil's foes was tumbling heels over head to the bottom of the stairs, where they piled up in a heap, struggling and shouting and in the mixup hitting one another with their fists, until every man of them was bruised and sore. finally king gos scrambled out of the heap and rushed up the stairs again, very angry indeed. bilbil was ready for him and a second time butted the king down the stairs; but now the goat also lost his balance and followed the king, landing full upon the confused heap of soldiers. then he kicked out so viciously with his heels that he soon freed himself and dashed out of the doorway of the palace. "stop him!" cried king gos, running after. but the goat was now so wild and excited that it was not safe for anyone to stand in his way. none of the men were armed and when one or two tried to head off the goat, bilbil sent them sprawling upon the ground. most of the warriors, however, were wise enough not to attempt to interfere with his flight. coursing down the street, bilbil found himself approaching the bridge of boats and without pausing to think where it might lead him he crossed over and proceeded on his way. a few moments later a great stone building blocked his path. it was the palace of queen cor, and seeing the gates of the courtyard standing wide open, bilbil rushed through them without slackening his speed. chapter thirteen zella saves the prince the wicked queen of coregos was in a very bad humor this morning, for one of her slave drivers had come from the fields to say that a number of slaves had rebelled and would not work. "bring them here to me!" she cried savagely. "a good whipping may make them change their minds." so the slave driver went to fetch the rebellious ones and queen cor sat down to eat her breakfast, an ugly look on her face. prince inga had been ordered to stand behind his new mistress with a big fan of peacock's feathers, but he was so unused to such service that he awkwardly brushed her ear with the fan. at once she flew into a terrible rage and slapped the prince twice with her hand-blows that tingled, too, for her hand was big and hard and she was not inclined to be gentle. inga took the blows without shrinking or uttering a cry, although they stung his pride far more than his body. but king rinkitink, who was acting as the queen's butler and had just brought in her coffee, was so startled at seeing the young prince punished that he tipped over the urn and the hot coffee streamed across the lap of the queen's best morning gown. cor sprang from her seat with a scream of anger and poor rinkitink would doubtless have been given a terrible beating had not the slave driver returned at this moment and attracted the woman's attention. the overseer had brought with him all of the women slaves from pingaree, who had been loaded down with chains and were so weak and ill they could scarcely walk, much less work in the fields. prince inga's eyes were dimmed with sorrowful tears when he discovered how his poor people had been abused, but his own plight was so helpless that he was unable to aid them. fortunately the boy's mother, queen garee, was not among these slaves, for queen cor had placed her in the royal dairy to make butter. "why do you refuse to work?" demanded cor in a harsh voice, as the slaves from pingaree stood before her, trembling and with downcast eyes. "because we lack strength to perform the tasks your overseers demand," answered one of the women. "then you shall be whipped until your strength returns!" exclaimed the queen, and turning to inga, she commanded: "get me the whip with the seven lashes." as the boy left the room, wondering how he might manage to save the unhappy women from their undeserved punishment, he met a girl entering by the back way, who asked: "can you tell me where to find her majesty, queen cor?" "she is in the chamber with the red dome, where green dragons are painted upon the walls," replied inga; "but she is in an angry and ungracious mood to-day. why do you wish to see her?" "i have honey to sell," answered the girl, who was zella, just come from the forest. "the queen is very fond of my honey." "you may go to her, if you so desire," said the boy, "but take care not to anger the cruel queen, or she may do you a mischief." "why should she harm me, who brings her the honey she so dearly loves?" inquired the child innocently. "but i thank you for your warning; and i will try not to anger the queen." as zella started to go, inga's eyes suddenly fell upon her shoes and instantly he recognized them as his own. for only in pingaree were shoes shaped in this manner: high at the heel and pointed at the toes. "stop!" he cried in an excited voice, and the girl obeyed, wonderingly. "tell me," he continued, more gently, "where did you get those shoes?" "my father brought them to me from regos," she answered. "from regos!" "yes. are they not pretty?" asked zella, looking down at her feet to admire them. "one of them my father found by the palace wall, and the other on an ash-heap. so he brought them to me and they fit me perfectly." by this time inga was trembling with eager joy, which of course the girl could not understand. "what is your name, little maid?" he asked. "i am called zella, and my father is nikobob, the charcoal-burner." "zella is a pretty name. i am inga, prince of pingaree," said he, "and the shoes you are now wearing, zella, belong to me. they were not cast away, as your father supposed, but were lost. will you let me have them again?" zella's eyes filled with tears. "must i give up my pretty shoes, then?" she asked. "they are the only ones i have ever owned." inga was sorry for the poor child, but he knew how important it was that he regain possession of the magic pearls. so he said, pleadingly: "please let me have them, zella. see! i will exchange for them the shoes i now have on, which are newer and prettier than the others." the girl hesitated. she wanted to please the boy prince, yet she hated to exchange the shoes which her father had brought her as a present. "if you will give me the shoes," continued the boy, anxiously, "i will promise to make you and your father and mother rich and prosperous. indeed, i will promise to grant any favors you may ask of me," and he sat down upon the floor and drew off the shoes he was wearing and held them toward the girl. "i'll see if they will fit me," said zella, taking off her left shoe--the one that contained the pink pearl--and beginning to put on one of inga's. just then queen cor, angry at being made to wait for her whip with the seven lashes, rushed into the room to find inga. seeing the boy sitting upon the floor beside zella, the woman sprang toward him to beat him with her clenched fists; but inga had now slipped on the shoe and the queen's blows could not reach his body. then cor espied the whip lying beside inga and snatching it up she tried to lash him with it--all to no avail. while zella sat horrified by this scene, the prince, who realized he had no time to waste, reached out and pulled the right shoe from the girl's foot, quickly placing it upon his own. then he stood up and, facing the furious but astonished queen, said to her in a quiet voice: "madam, please give me that whip." "i won't!" answered cor. "i'm going to lash those pingaree women with it." the boy seized hold of the whip and with irresistible strength drew it from the queen's hand. but she drew from her bosom a sharp dagger and with the swiftness of lightning aimed a blow at inga's heart. he merely stood still and smiled, for the blade rebounded and fell clattering to the floor. then, at last, queen cor understood the magic power that had terrified her husband but which she had ridiculed in her ignorance, not believing in it. she did not know that inga's power had been lost, and found again, but she realized the boy was no common foe and that unless she could still manage to outwit him her reign in the island of coregos was ended. to gain time, she went back to the red-domed chamber and seated herself in her throne, before which were grouped the weeping slaves from pingaree. inga had taken zella's hand and assisted her to put on the shoes he had given her in exchange for his own. she found them quite comfortable and did not know she had lost anything by the transfer. "come with me," then said the boy prince, and led her into the presence of queen cor, who was giving rinkitink a scolding. to the overseer inga said. "give me the keys which unlock these chains, that i may set these poor women at liberty." "don't you do it!" screamed queen cor. "if you interfere, madam," said the boy, "i will put you into a dungeon." by this rinkitink knew that inga had recovered his magic pearls and the little fat king was so overjoyed that he danced and capered all around the room. but the queen was alarmed at the threat and the slave driver, fearing the conqueror of regos, tremblingly gave up the keys. inga quickly removed all the shackles from the women of his country and comforted them, telling them they should work no more but would soon be restored to their homes in pingaree. then he commanded the slave driver to go and get all the children who had been made slaves, and to bring them to their mothers. the man obeyed and left at once to perform his errand, while queen cor, growing more and more uneasy, suddenly sprang from her throne and before inga could stop her had rushed through the room and out into the courtyard of the palace, meaning to make her escape. rinkitink followed her, running as fast as he could go. it was at this moment that bilbil, in his mad dash from regos, turned in at the gates of the courtyard, and as he was coming one way and queen cor was going the other they bumped into each other with great force. the woman sailed through the air, over bilbil's head, and landed on the ground outside the gates, where her crown rolled into a ditch and she picked herself up, half dazed, and continued her flight. bilbil was also somewhat dazed by the unexpected encounter, but he continued his rush rather blindly and so struck poor rinkitink, who was chasing after queen cor. they rolled over one another a few times and then rinkitink sat up and bilbil sat up and they looked at each other in amazement. "bilbil," said the king, "i'm astonished at you!" "your majesty," said bilbil, "i expected kinder treatment at your hands." "you interrupted me," said rinkitink. "there was plenty of room without your taking my path," declared the goat. and then inga came running out and said. "where is the queen?" "gone," replied rinkitink, "but she cannot go far, as this is an island. however, i have found bilbil, and our party is again reunited. you have recovered your magic powers, and again we are masters of the situation. so let us be thankful." saying this, the good little king got upon his feet and limped back into the throne room to help comfort the women. presently the children of pingaree, who had been gathered together by the overseer, were brought in and restored to their mothers, and there was great rejoicing among them, you may be sure. "but where is queen garee, my dear mother?" questioned inga; but the women did not know and it was some time before the overseer remembered that one of the slaves from pingaree had been placed in the royal dairy. perhaps this was the woman the boy was seeking. inga at once commanded him to lead the way to the butter house, but when they arrived there queen garee was nowhere in the place, although the boy found a silk scarf which he recognized as one that his mother used to wear. then they began a search throughout the island of coregos, but could not find inga's mother anywhere. when they returned to the palace of queen cor, rinkitink discovered that the bridge of boats had again been removed, separating them from regos, and from this they suspected that queen cor had fled to her husband's island and had taken queen garee with her. inga was much perplexed what to do and returned with his friends to the palace to talk the matter over. zella was now crying because she had not sold her honey and was unable to return to her parents on the island of regos, but the boy prince comforted her and promised she should be protected until she could be restored to her home. rinkitink found queen cor's purse, which she had had no time to take with her, and gave zella several gold pieces for the honey. then inga ordered the palace servants to prepare a feast for all the women and children of pingaree and to prepare for them beds in the great palace, which was large enough to accommodate them all. then the boy and the goat and rinkitink and zella went into a private room to consider what should be done next. chapter fourteen the escape "our fault," said rinkitink, "is that we conquer only one of these twin islands at a time. when we conquered regos, our foes all came to coregos, and now that we have conquered coregos, the queen has fled to regos. and each time they removed the bridge of boats, so that we could not follow them." "what has become of our own boat, in which we came from pingaree?" asked bilbil. "we left it on the shore of regos," replied the prince, "but i wonder if we could not get it again." "why don't you ask the white pearl?" suggested rinkitink. "that is a good idea," returned the boy, and at once he drew the white pearl from its silken bag and held it to his ear. then he asked: "how may i regain our boat?" the voice of the pearl replied: "go to the south end of the island of coregos, and clap your hands three times and the boat will come to you. "very good!" cried inga, and then he turned to his companions and said: "we shall be able to get our boat whenever we please; but what then shall we do?" "take me home in it!" pleaded zella. "come with me to my city of gilgad," said the king, "where you will be very welcome to remain forever." "no," answered inga, "i must rescue my father and mother, as well as my people. already i have the women and children of pingaree, but the men are with my father in the mines of regos, and my dear mother has been taken away by queen cor. not until all are rescued will i consent to leave these islands." "quite right!" exclaimed bilbil. "on second thought," said rinkitink, "i agree with you. if you are careful to sleep in your shoes, and never take them off again, i believe you will be able to perform the task you have undertaken." they counseled together for a long time as to their mode of action and it was finally considered best to make the attempt to liberate king kitticut first of all, and with him the men from pingaree. this would give them an army to assist them and afterward they could march to regos and compel queen cor to give up the queen of pingaree. zella told them that they could go in their boat along the shore of regos to a point opposite the mines, thus avoiding any conflict with the warriors of king gos. this being considered the best course to pursue, they resolved to start on the following morning, as night was even now approaching. the servants being all busy in caring for the women and children, zella undertook to get a dinner for inga and rinkitink and herself and soon prepared a fine meal in the palace kitchen, for she was a good little cook and had often helped her mother. the dinner was served in a small room overlooking the gardens and rinkitink thought the best part of it was the sweet honey, which he spread upon the biscuits that zella had made. as for bilbil, he wandered through the palace grounds and found some grass that made him a good dinner. during the evening inga talked with the women and cheered them, promising soon to reunite them with their husbands who were working in the mines and to send them back to their own island of pingaree. next morning the boy rose bright and early and found that zella had already prepared a nice breakfast. and after the meal they went to the most southern point of the island, which was not very far away, rinkitink riding upon bilbil's back and inga and zella following behind them, hand in hand. when they reached the water's edge the boy advanced and clapped his hands together three times, as the white pearl had told him to do. and in a few moments they saw in the distance the black boat with the silver lining, coming swiftly toward them from the sea. presently it grounded on the beach and they all got into it. zella was delighted with the boat, which was the most beautiful she had ever seen, and the marvel of its coming to them through the water without anyone to row it, made her a little afraid of the fairy craft. but inga picked up the oars and began to row and at once the boat shot swiftly in the direction of regos. they rounded the point of that island where the city was built and noticed that the shore was lined with warriors who had discovered their boat but seemed undecided whether to pursue it or not. this was probably because they had received no commands what to do, or perhaps they had learned to fear the magic powers of these adventurers from pingaree and were unwilling to attack them unless their king ordered them to. the coast on the western side of the island of regos was very uneven and zella, who knew fairly well the location of the mines from the inland forest path, was puzzled to decide which mountain they now viewed from the sea was the one where the entrance to the underground caverns was located. first she thought it was this peak, and then she guessed it was that; so considerable time was lost through her uncertainty. they finally decided to land and explore the country, to see where they were, so inga ran the boat into a little rocky cove where they all disembarked. for an hour they searched for the path without finding any trace of it and now zella believed they had gone too far to the north and must return to another mountain that was nearer to the city. once again they entered the boat and followed the winding coast south until they thought they had reached the right place. by this time, however, it was growing dark, for the entire day had been spent in the search for the entrance to the mines, and zella warned them that it would be safer to spend the night in the boat than on the land, where wild beasts were sure to disturb them. none of them realized at this time how fatal this day of search had been to their plans and perhaps if inga had realized what was going on he would have landed and fought all the wild beasts in the forest rather than quietly remain in the boat until morning. however, knowing nothing of the cunning plans of queen cor and king gos, they anchored their boat in a little bay and cheerfully ate their dinner, finding plenty of food and drink in the boat's lockers. in the evening the stars came out in the sky and tipped the waves around their boat with silver. all around them was delightfully still save for the occasional snarl of a beast on the neighboring shore. they talked together quietly of their adventures and their future plans and zella told them her simple history and how hard her poor father was obliged to work, burning charcoal to sell for enough money to support his wife and child. nikobob might be the humblest man in all regos, but zella declared he was a good man, and honest, and it was not his fault that his country was ruled by so wicked a king. then rinkitink, to amuse them, offered to sing a song, and although bilbil protested in his gruff way, claiming that his master's voice was cracked and disagreeable, the little king was encouraged by the others to sing his song, which he did. "a red-headed man named ned was dead; sing fiddle-cum-faddle-cum-fi-do! in battle he had lost his head; sing fiddle-cum-faddl-cum-fi-do! 'alas, poor ned,' to him i said, 'how did you lose your head so red?' sing fiddle-cum-faddle-cum-fi-do! "said ned: 'i for my country bled,' sing fiddle-cum-faddle-cum-fi-do! 'instead of dying safe in bed', sing fiddle-cum-faddle-cum-fi-do! 'if i had only fled, instead, i then had been a head ahead.' sing fiddle-cum-faddle-cum-fi-do! "i said to ned--" "do stop, your majesty!" pleaded bilbil. "you're making my head ache." "but the song isn't finished," replied rinkitink, "and as for your head aching, think of poor ned, who hadn't any head at all!" "i can think of nothing but your dismal singing," retorted bilbil. "why didn't you choose a cheerful subject, instead of telling how a man who was dead lost his red head? really, rinkitink, i'm surprised at you. "i know a splendid song about a live man, said the king. "then don't sing it," begged bilbil. zella was both astonished and grieved by the disrespectful words of the goat, for she had quite enjoyed rinkitink's singing and had been taught a proper respect for kings and those high in authority. but as it was now getting late they decided to go to sleep, that they might rise early the following morning, so they all reclined upon the bottom of the big boat and covered themselves with blankets which they found stored underneath the seats for just such occasions. they were not long in falling asleep and did not waken until daybreak. after a hurried breakfast, for inga was eager to liberate his father, the boy rowed the boat ashore and they all landed and began searching for the path. zella found it within the next half hour and declared they must be very close to the entrance to the mines; so they followed the path toward the north, inga going first, and then zella following him, while rinkitink brought up the rear riding upon bilbil's back. before long they saw a great wall of rock towering before them, in which was a low arched entrance, and on either side of this entrance stood a guard, armed with a sword and a spear. the guards of the mines were not so fierce as the warriors of king gos, their duty being to make the slaves work at their tasks and guard them from escaping; but they were as cruel as their cruel master wished them to be, and as cowardly as they were cruel. inga walked up to the two men at the entrance and said: "does this opening lead to the mines of king gos?" "it does," replied one of the guards, "but no one is allowed to pass out who once goes in." "nevertheless," said the boy, "we intend to go in and we shall come out whenever it pleases us to do so. i am the prince of pingaree, and i have come to liberate my people, whom king gos has enslaved." now when the two guards heard this speech they looked at one another and laughed, and one of them said: "the king was right, for he said the boy was likely to come here and that he would try to set his people free. also the king commanded that we must keep the little prince in the mines, and set him to work, together with his companions." "then let us obey the king," replied the other man. inga was surprised at hearing this, and asked: "when did king gos give you this order?" "his majesty was here in person last night," replied the man, "and went away again but an hour ago. he suspected you were coming here and told us to capture you if we could." this report made the boy very anxious, not for himself but for his father, for he feared the king was up to some mischief. so he hastened to enter the mines and the guards did nothing to oppose him or his companions, their orders being to allow him to go in but not to come out. the little group of adventurers passed through a long rocky corridor and reached a low, wide cavern where they found a dozen guards and a hundred slaves, the latter being hard at work with picks and shovels digging for gold, while the guards stood over them with long whips. inga found many of the men from pingaree among these slaves, but king kitticut was not in this cavern; so they passed through it and entered another corridor that led to a second cavern. here also hundreds of men were working, but the boy did not find his father amongst them, and so went on to a third cavern. the corridors all slanted downward, so that the farther they went the lower into the earth they descended, and now they found the air hot and close and difficult to breathe. flaming torches were stuck into the walls to give light to the workers, and these added to the oppressive heat. the third and lowest cavern was the last in the mines, and here were many scores of slaves and many guards to keep them at work. so far, none of the guards had paid any attention to inga's party, but allowed them to proceed as they would, and while the slaves cast curious glances at the boy and girl and man and goat, they dared say nothing. but now the boy walked up to some of the men of pingaree and asked news of his father, telling them not to fear the guards as he would protect them from the whips. then he teamed that king kitticut had indeed been working in this very cavern until the evening before, when king gos had come and taken him away--still loaded with chains. "seems to me," said king rinkitink, when he heard this report, "that gos has carried your father away to regos, to prevent us from rescuing him. he may hide poor kitticut in a dungeon, where we cannot find him." "perhaps you are right," answered the boy, "but i am determined to find him, wherever he may be." inga spoke firmly and with courage, but he was greatly disappointed to find that king gos had been before him at the mines and had taken his father away. however, he tried not to feel disheartened, believing he would succeed in the end, in spite of all opposition. turning to the guards, he said: "remove the chains from these slaves and set them free." the guards laughed at this order, and one of them brought forward a handful of chains, saying: "his majesty has commanded us to make you, also, a slave, for you are never to leave these caverns again." then he attempted to place the chains on inga, but the boy indignantly seized them and broke them apart as easily as if they had been cotton cords. when a dozen or more of the guards made a dash to capture him, the prince swung the end of the chain like a whip and drove them into a corner, where they cowered and begged for mercy. stories of the marvelous strength of the boy prince had already spread to the mines of regos, and although king gos had told them that inga had been deprived of all his magic power, the guards now saw this was not true, so they deemed it wise not to attempt to oppose him. the chains of the slaves had all been riveted fast to their ankles and wrists, but inga broke the bonds of steel with his hands and set the poor men free--not only those from pingaree but all who had been captured in the many wars and raids of king gos. they were very grateful, as you may suppose, and agreed to support prince inga in whatever action he commanded. he led them to the middle cavern, where all the guards and overseers fled in terror at his approach, and soon he had broken apart the chains of the slaves who had been working in that part of the mines. then they approached the first cavern and liberated all there. the slaves had been treated so cruelly by the servants of king gos that they were eager to pursue and slay them, in revenge; but inga held them back and formed them into companies, each company having its own leader. then he called the leaders together and instructed them to march in good order along the path to the city of regos, where he would meet them and tell them what to do next. they readily agreed to obey him, and, arming themselves with iron bars and pick-axes which they brought from the mines, the slaves began their march to the city. zella at first wished to be left behind, that she might make her way to her home, but neither rinkitink nor inga thought it was safe for her to wander alone through the forest, so they induced her to return with them to the city. the boy beached his boat this time at the same place as when he first landed at regos, and while many of the warriors stood on the shore and before the walls of the city, not one of them attempted to interfere with the boy in any way. indeed, they seemed uneasy and anxious, and when inga met captain buzzub the boy asked if anything had happened in his absence. "a great deal has happened," replied buzzub. "our king and queen have run away and left us, and we don't know what to do." "run away!" exclaimed inga. "where did they go to?" "who knows?" said the man, shaking his head despondently. "they departed together a few hours ago, in a boat with forty rowers, and they took with them the king and queen of pingaree!" chapter fifteen the flight of the rulers now it seems that when queen cor fled from her island to regos, she had wit enough, although greatly frightened, to make a stop at the royal dairy, which was near to the bridge, and to drag poor queen garee from the butter-house and across to regos with her. the warriors of king gos had never before seen the terrible queen cor frightened, and therefore when she came running across the bridge of boats, dragging the queen of pingaree after her by one arm, the woman's great fright had the effect of terrifying the waiting warriors. "quick!" cried cor. "destroy the bridge, or we are lost." while the men were tearing away the bridge of boats the queen ran up to the palace of gos, where she met her husband. "that boy is a wizard!" she gasped. "there is no standing against him." "oh, have you discovered his magic at last?" replied gos, laughing in her face. "who, now, is the coward?" "don't laugh!" cried queen cor. "it is no laughing matter. both our islands are as good as conquered, this very minute. what shall we do, gos?" "come in," he said, growing serious, "and let us talk it over." so they went into a room of the palace and talked long and earnestly. "the boy intends to liberate his father and mother, and all the people of pingaree, and to take them back to their island," said cor. "he may also destroy our palaces and make us his slaves. i can see but one way, gos, to prevent him from doing all this, and whatever else he pleases to do." "what way is that?" asked king gos. "we must take the boy's parents away from here as quickly as possible. i have with me the queen of pingaree, and you can run up to the mines and get the king. then we will carry them away in a boat and hide them where the boy cannot find them, with all his magic. we will use the king and queen of pingaree as hostages, and send word to the boy wizard that if he does not go away from our islands and allow us to rule them undisturbed, in our own way, we will put his father and mother to death. also we will say that as long as we are let alone his parents will be safe, although still safely hidden. i believe, gos, that in this way we can compel prince ingato obey us, for he seems very fond of his parents." "it isn't a bad idea," said gos, reflectively; "but where can we hide the king and queen, so that the boy cannot find them?" "in the country of the nome king, on the mainland away at the south," she replied. "the nomes are our friends, and they possess magic powers that will enable them to protect the prisoners from discovery. if we can manage to get the king and queen of pingaree to the nome kingdom before the boy knows what we are doing, i am sure our plot will succeed." gos gave the plan considerable thought in the next five minutes, and the more he thought about it the more clever and reasonable it seemed. so he agreed to do as queen cor suggested and at once hurried away to the mines, where he arrived before prince inga did. the next morning he carried king kitticut back to regos. while gos was gone, queen cor busied herself in preparing a large and swift boat for the journey. she placed in it several bags of gold and jewels with which to bribe the nomes, and selected forty of the strongest oarsmen in regos to row the boat. the instant king gos returned with his royal prisoner all was ready for departure. they quickly entered the boat with their two important captives and without a word of explanation to any of their people they commanded the oarsmen to start, and were soon out of sight upon the broad expanse of the nonestic ocean. inga arrived at the city some hours later and was much distressed when he learned that his father and mother had been spirited away from the islands. "i shall follow them, of course," said the boy to rinkitink, "and if i cannot overtake them on the ocean i will search the world over until i find them. but before i leave here i must arrange to send our people back to pingaree." chapter sixteen nikobob refuses a crown almost the first persons that zella saw when she landed from the silver-lined boat at regos were her father and mother. nikobob and his wife had been greatly worried when their little daughter failed to return from coregos, so they had set out to discover what had become of her. when they reached the city of regos, that very morning, they were astonished to hear news of all the strange events that had taken place; still, they found comfort when told that zella had been seen in the boat of prince inga, which had gone to the north. then, while they wondered what this could mean, the silver-lined boat appeared again, with their daughter in it, and they ran down to the shore to give her a welcome and many joyful kisses. inga invited the good people to the palace of king gos, where he conferred with them, as well as with rinkitink and bilbil. "now that the king and queen of regos and coregos have run away," he said, "there is no one to rule these islands. so it is my duty to appoint a new ruler, and as nikobob, zella's father, is an honest and worthy man, i shall make him the king of the twin islands." "me?" cried nikobob, astounded by this speech. "i beg your highness, on my bended knees, not to do so cruel a thing as to make me king!" "why not?" inquired rinkitink. "i'm a king, and i know how it feels. i assure you, good nikobob, that i quite enjoy my high rank, although a jeweled crown is rather heavy to wear in hot weather." "with you, noble sir, it is different," said nikobob, "for you are far from your kingdom and its trials and worries and may do as you please. but to remain in regos, as king over these fierce and unruly warriors, would be to live in constant anxiety and peril, and the chances are that they would murder me within a month. as i have done no harm to anyone and have tried to be a good and upright man, i do not think that i should be condemned to such a dreadful fate." "very well," replied inga, "we will say no more about your being king. i merely wanted to make you rich and prosperous, as i had promised zella." "please forget that promise," pleaded the charcoal-burner, earnestly; "i have been safe from molestation for many years, because i was poor and possessed nothing that anyone else could envy. but if you make me rich and prosperous i shall at once become the prey of thieves and marauders and probably will lose my life in the attempt to protect my fortune." inga looked at the man in surprise. "what, then, can i do to please you?" he inquired. "nothing more than to allow me to go home to my poor cabin," said nikobob. "perhaps," remarked king rinkitink, "the charcoal-burner has more wisdom concealed in that hard head of his than we gave him credit for. but let us use that wisdom, for the present, to counsel us what to do in this emergency." "what you call my wisdom," said nikobob, "is merely common sense. i have noticed that some men become rich, and are scorned by some and robbed by others. other men become famous, and are mocked at and derided by their fellows. but the poor and humble man who lives unnoticed and unknown escapes all these troubles and is the only one who can appreciate the joy of living." "if i had a hand, instead of a cloven hoof, i'd like to shake hands with you, nikobob," said bilbil the goat. "but the poor man must not have a cruel master, or he is undone." during the council they found, indeed, that the advice of the charcoal-burner was both shrewd and sensible, and they profited much by his words. inga gave captain buzzub the command of the warriors and made him promise to keep his men quiet and orderly--if he could. then the boy allowed all of king gos's former slaves, except those who came from pingaree, to choose what boats they required and to stock them with provisions and row away to their own countries. when these had departed, with grateful thanks and many blessings showered upon the boy prince who had set them free, inga made preparations to send his own people home, where they were told to rebuild their houses and then erect a new royal palace. they were then to await patiently the coming of king kitticut or prince inga. "my greatest worry," said the boy to his friends, "is to know whom to appoint to take charge of this work of restoring pingaree to its former condition. my men are all pearl fishers, and although willing and honest, have no talent for directing others how to work." while the preparations for departure were being made, nikobob offered to direct the men of pingaree, and did so in a very capable manner. as the island had been despoiled of all its valuable furniture and draperies and rich cloths and paintings and statuary and the like, as well as gold and silver and ornaments, inga thought it no more than just that they be replaced by the spoilers. so he directed his people to search through the storehouses of king gos and to regain all their goods and chattels that could be found. also he instructed them to take as much else as they required to make their new homes comfortable, so that many boats were loaded full of goods that would enable the people to restore pingaree to its former state of comfort. for his father's new palace the boy plundered the palaces of both queen cor and king gos, sending enough wares away with his people to make king kitticut's new residence as handsomely fitted and furnished as had been the one which the ruthless invaders from regos had destroyed. it was a great fleet of boats that set out one bright, sunny morning on the voyage to pingaree, carrying all the men, women and children and all the goods for refitting their homes. as he saw the fleet depart, prince inga felt that he had already successfully accomplished a part of his mission, but he vowed he would never return to pingaree in person until he could take his father and mother there with him; unless, indeed, king gos wickedly destroyed his beloved parents, in which case inga would become the king of pingaree and it would be his duty to go to his people and rule over them. it was while the last of the boats were preparing to sail for pingaree that nikobob, who had been of great service in getting them ready, came to inga in a thoughtful mood and said: "your highness, my wife and my daughter zella have been urging me to leave regos and settle down in your island, in a new home. from what your people have told me, pingaree is a better place to live than regos, and there are no cruel warriors or savage beasts there to keep one in constant fear for the safety of those he loves. therefore, i have come to ask to go with my family in one of the boats." inga was much pleased with this proposal and not only granted nikobob permission to go to pingaree to live, but instructed him to take with him sufficient goods to furnish his new home in a comfortable manner. in addition to this, he appointed nikobob general manager of the buildings and of the pearl fisheries, until his father or he himself arrived, and the people approved this order because they liked nikobob and knew him to be just and honest. soon as the last boat of the great flotilla had disappeared from the view of those left at regos, inga and rinkitink prepared to leave the island themselves. the boy was anxious to overtake the boat of king gos, if possible, and rinkitink had no desire to remain in regos. buzzub and the warriors stood silently on the shore and watched the black boat with its silver lining depart, and i am sure they were as glad to be rid of their unwelcome visitors as inga and rinkitink and bilbil were to leave. the boy asked the white pearl what direction the boat of king gos had taken and then he followed after it, rowing hard and steadily for eight days without becoming at all weary. but, although the black boat moved very swiftly, it failed to overtake the barge which was rowed by queen cor's forty picked oarsmen. chapter seventeen the nome king the kingdom of the nomes does not border on the nonestic ocean, from which it is separated by the kingdom of rinkitink and the country of the wheelers, which is a part of the land of ev. rinkitink's country is separated from the country of the nomes by a row of high and steep mountains, from which it extends to the sea. the country of the wheelers is a sandy waste that is open on one side to the nonestic ocean and on the other side has no barrier to separate it from the nome country, therefore it was on the coast of the wheelers that king cos landed--in a spot quite deserted by any of the curious inhabitants of that country. the nome country is very large in extent, and is only separated from the land of oz, on its eastern borders, by a deadly desert that can not be crossed by mortals, unless they are aided by the fairies or by magic. the nomes are a numerous and mischievous people, living in underground caverns of wide extent, connected one with another by arches and passages. the word "nome" means "one who knows," and these people are so called because they know where all the gold and silver and precious stones are hidden in the earth--a knowledge that no other living creatures share with them. the nomes are busy people, constantly digging up gold in one place and taking it to another place, where they secretly bury it, and perhaps this is the reason they alone know where to find it. the nomes were ruled, at the time of which i write, by a king named kaliko. king gos had expected to be pursued by inga in his magic boat, so he made all the haste possible, urging his forty rowers to their best efforts night and day. to his joy he was not overtaken but landed on the sandy beach of the wheelers on the morning of the eighth day. the forty rowers were left with the boat, while queen cor and king cos, with their royal prisoners, who were still chained, began the journey to the nome king. it was not long before they passed the sands and reached the rocky country belonging to the nomes, but they were still a long way from the entrance to the underground caverns in which lived the nome king. there was a dim path, winding between stones and boulders, over which the walking was quite difficult, especially as the path led up hills that were small mountains, and then down steep and abrupt slopes where any misstep might mean a broken leg. therefore it was the second day of their journey before they climbed halfway up a rugged mountain and found themselves at the entrance of the nome king's caverns. on their arrival, the entrance seemed free and unguarded, but gos and cor had been there before, and they were too wise to attempt to enter without announcing themselves, for the passage to the caves was full of traps and pitfalls. so king gos stood still and shouted, and in an instant they were surrounded by a group of crooked nomes, who seemed to have sprung from the ground. one of these had very long ears and was called the long-eared hearer. he said: "i heard you coming early this morning." another had eyes that looked in different directions at the same time and were curiously bright and penetrating. he could look over a hill or around a corner and was called the lookout. said he: "i saw you coming yesterday." "then," said king gos, "perhaps king kaliko is expecting us." "it is true," replied another nome, who wore a gold collar around his neck and carried a bunch of golden keys. "the mighty nome king expects you, and bids you follow me to his presence." with this he led the way into the caverns and gos and cor followed, dragging their weary prisoners with them, for poor king kitticut and his gentle queen had been obliged to carry, all through the tedious journey, the bags of gold and jewels which were to bribe the nome king to accept them as slaves. through several long passages the guide led them and at last they entered a small cavern which was beautifully decorated and set with rare jewels that flashed from every part of the wall, floor and ceiling. this was a waiting-room for visitors, and there their guide left them while he went to inform king kaliko of their arrival. before long they were ushered into a great domed chamber, cut from the solid rock and so magnificent that all of them--the king and queen of pingaree and the king and queen of regos and coregos--drew long breaths of astonishment and opened their eyes as wide as they could. in an ivory throne sat a little round man who had a pointed beard and hair that rose to a tall curl on top of his head. he was dressed in silken robes, richly embroidered, which had large buttons of cut rubies. on his head was a diamond crown and in his hand he held a golden sceptre with a big jeweled ball at one end of it. this was kaliko, the king and ruler of all the nomes. he nodded pleasantly enough to his visitors and said in a cheery voice: "well, your majesties, what can i do for you?" "it is my desire," answered king gos, respectfully, "to place in your care two prisoners, whom you now see before you. they must be carefully guarded, to prevent them from escaping, for they have the cunning of foxes and are not to be trusted. in return for the favor i am asking you to grant, i have brought your majesty valuable presents of gold and precious gems." he then commanded kitticut and garee to lay before the nome king the bags of gold and jewels, and they obeyed, being helpless. "very good," said king kaliko, nodding approval, for like all the nomes he loved treasures of gold and jewels. "but who are the prisoners you have brought here, and why do you place them in my charge instead of guarding them, yourself? they seem gentle enough, i'm sure." "the prisoners," returned king gos, "are the king and queen of pingaree, a small island north of here. they are very evil people and came to our islands of regos and coregos to conquer them and slay our poor people. also they intended to plunder us of all our riches, but by good fortune we were able to defeat and capture them. however, they have a son who is a terrible wizard and who by magic art is trying to find this awful king and queen of pingaree, and to set them free, that they may continue their wicked deeds. therefore, as we have no magic to defend ourselves with, we have brought the prisoners to you for safe keeping." "your majesty," spoke up king kitticut, addressing the nome king with great indignation, "do not believe this tale, i implore you. it is all a lie!" "i know it," said kaliko. "i consider it a clever lie, though, because it is woven without a thread of truth. however, that is none of my business. the fact remains that my good friend king gos wishes to put you in my underground caverns, so that you will be unable to escape. and why should i not please him in this little matter? gos is a mighty king and a great warrior, while your island of pingaree is desolated and your people scattered. in my heart, king kitticut, i sympathize with you, but as a matter of business policy we powerful kings must stand together and trample the weaker ones under our feet." king kitticut was surprised to find the king of the nomes so candid and so well informed, and he tried to argue that he and his gentle wife did not deserve their cruel fate and that it would be wiser for kaliko to side with them than with the evil king of regos. but kaliko only shook his head and smiled, saying: "the fact that you are a prisoner, my poor kitticut, is evidence that you are weaker than king cos, and i prefer to deal with the strong. by the way," he added, turning to the king of regos, "have these prisoners any connection with the land of oz?" "why do you ask?" said gos. "because i dare not offend the oz people," was the reply. "i am very powerful, as you know, but ozma of oz is far more powerful than i; therefore, if this king and queen of pingaree happened to be under ozma's protection, i would have nothing to do with them." "i assure your majesty that the prisoners have nothing to do with the oz people," gos hastened to say. and kitticut, being questioned, admitted that this was true. "but how about that wizard you mentioned?" asked the nome king. "oh, he is merely a boy; but he is very ferocious and obstinate and he is assisted by a little fat sorcerer called rinkitink and a talking goat." "oho! a talking goat, do you say? that certainly sounds like magic; and it also sounds like the land of oz, where all the animals talk," said kaliko, with a doubtful expression. but king gos assured him the talking goat had never been to oz. "as for rinkitink, whom you call a sorcerer," continued the nome king, "he is a neighbor of mine, you must know, but as we are cut off from each other by high mountains beneath which a powerful river runs, i have never yet met king rinkitink. but i have heard of him, and from all reports he is a jolly rogue, and perfectly harmless. however, in spite of your false statements and misrepresentations, i will earn the treasure you have brought me, by keeping your prisoners safe in my caverns. "make them work," advised queen cor. "they are rather delicate, and to make them work will make them suffer delightfully." "i'll do as i please about that," said the nome king sternly. "be content that i agree to keep them safe." the bargain being thus made and concluded, kaliko first examined the gold and jewels and then sent it away to his royal storehouse, which was well filled with like treasure. next the captives were sent away in charge of the nome with the golden collar and keys, whose name was klik, and he escorted them to a small cavern and gave them a good supper. "i shall lock your door," said klik, "so there is no need of your wearing those heavy chains any longer." he therefore removed the chains and left king kitticut and his queen alone. this was the first time since the northmen had carried them away from pingaree that the good king and queen had been alone together and free of all bonds, and as they embraced lovingly and mingled their tears over their sad fate they were also grateful that they had passed from the control of the heartless king gos into the more considerate care of king kaliko. they were still captives but they believed they would be happier in the underground caverns of the nomes than in regos and coregos. meantime, in the king's royal cavern a great feast had been spread. king gos and queen cor, having triumphed in their plot, were so well pleased that they held high revelry with the jolly nome king until a late hour that night. and the next morning, having cautioned kaliko not to release the prisoners under any consideration without their orders, the king and queen of regos and coregos left the caverns of the nomes to return to the shore of the ocean where they had left their boat. chapter eighteen inga parts with his pink pearl the white pearl guided inga truly in his pursuit of the boat of king gos, but the boy had been so delayed in sending his people home to pingaree that it was a full day after gos and cor landed on the shore of the wheeler country that inga's boat arrived at the same place. there he found the forty rowers guarding the barge of queen cor, and although they would not or could not tell the boy where the king and queen had taken his father and mother, the white pearl advised him to follow the path to the country and the caverns of the nomes. rinkitink didn't like to undertake the rocky and mountainous journey, even with bilbil to carry him, but he would not desert inga, even though his own kingdom lay just beyond a range of mountains which could be seen towering southwest of them. so the king bravely mounted the goat, who always grumbled but always obeyed his master, and the three set off at once for the caverns of the nomes. they traveled just as slowly as queen cor and king gos had done, so when they were about halfway they discovered the king and queen coming back to their boat. the fact that gos and cor were now alone proved that they had left inga's father and mother behind them; so, at the suggestion of rinkitink, the three hid behind a high rock until the king of regos and the queen of coregos, who had not observed them, had passed them by. then they continued their journey, glad that they had not again been forced to fight or quarrel with their wicked enemies. "we might have asked them, however, what they had done with your poor parents," said rinkitink. "never mind," answered inga. "i am sure the white pearl will guide us aright." for a time they proceeded in silence and then rinkitink began to chuckle with laughter in the pleasant way he was wont to do before his misfortunes came upon him. "what amuses your majesty?" inquired the boy. "the thought of how surprised my dear subjects would be if they realized how near to them i am, and yet how far away. i have always wanted to visit the nome country, which is full of mystery and magic and all sorts of adventures, but my devoted subjects forbade me to think of such a thing, fearing i would get hurt or enchanted." "are you afraid, now that you are here?" asked inga. "a little, but not much, for they say the new nome king is not as wicked as the old king used to be. still, we are undertaking a dangerous journey and i think you ought to protect me by lending me one of your pearls." inga thought this over and it seemed a reasonable request. "which pearl would you like to have?" asked the boy. "well, let us see," returned rinkitink; "you may need strength to liberate your captive parents, so you must keep the blue pearl. and you will need the advice of the white pearl, so you had best keep that also. but in case we should be separated i would have nothing to protect me from harm, so you ought to lend me the pink pearl." "very well," agreed inga, and sitting down upon a rock he removed his right shoe and after withdrawing the cloth from the pointed toe took out the pink pearl--the one which protected from any harm the person who carried it. "where can you put it, to keep it safely?" he asked. "in my vest pocket," replied the king. "the pocket has a flap to it and i can pin it down in such a way that the pearl cannot get out and become lost. as for robbery, no one with evil intent can touch my person while i have the pearl." so inga gave rinkitink the pink pearl and the little king placed it in the pocket of his red-and-green brocaded velvet vest, pinning the flap of the pocket down tightly. they now resumed their journey and finally reached the entrance to the nome king's caverns. placing the white pearl to his ear, inga asked: "what shall i do now?" and the voice of the pearl replied: "clap your hands together four times and call aloud the word 'klik.' then allow yourselves to be conducted to the nome king, who is now holding your father and mother captive." inga followed these instructions and when klik appeared in answer to his summons the boy requested an audience of the nome king. so klik led them into the presence of king kaliko, who was suffering from a severe headache, due to his revelry the night before, and therefore was unusually cross and grumpy. "i know what you've come for," said he, before inga could speak. "you want to get the captives from regos away from me; but you can't do it, so you'd best go away again." "the captives are my father and mother, and i intend to liberate them," said the boy firmly. the king stared hard at inga, wondering at his audacity. then he turned to look at king rinkitink and said: "i suppose you are the king of gilgad, which is in the kingdom of rinkitink." "you've guessed it the first time," replied rinkitink. "how round and fat you are!" exclaimed kaliko. "i was just thinking how fat and round you are," said rinkitink. "really, king kaliko, we ought to be friends, we're so much alike in everything but disposition and intelligence." then he began to chuckle, while kaliko stared hard at him, not knowing whether to accept his speech as a compliment or not. and now the nome's eyes wandered to bilbil, and he asked: "is that your talking goat?" bilbil met the nome king's glowering look with a gaze equally surly and defiant, while rinkitink answered: "it is, your majesty." "can he really talk?" asked kaliko, curiously. "he can. but the best thing he does is to scold. talk to his majesty, bilbil." but bilbil remained silent and would not speak. "do you always ride upon his back?" continued kaliko, questioning rinkitink. "yes," was the answer, "because it is difficult for a fat man to walk far, as perhaps you know from experience. "that is true," said kaliko. "get off the goat's back and let me ride him a while, to see how i like it. perhaps i'll take him away from you, to ride through my caverns." rinkitink chuckled softly as he heard this, but at once got off bilbil's back and let kaliko get on. the nome king was a little awkward, but when he was firmly astride the saddle he called in a loud voice: "giddap!" when bilbil paid no attention to the command and refused to stir, kaliko kicked his heels viciously against the goat's body, and then bilbil made a sudden start. he ran swiftly across the great cavern, until he had almost reached the opposite wall, when he stopped so abruptly that king kaliko sailed over his head and bumped against the jeweled wall. he bumped so hard that the points of his crown were all mashed out of shape and his head was driven far into the diamond-studded band of the crown, so that it covered one eye and a part of his nose. perhaps this saved kaliko's head from being cracked against the rock wall, but it was hard on the crown. bilbil was highly pleased at the success of his feat and rinkitink laughed merrily at the nome king's comical appearance; but kaliko was muttering and growling as he picked himself up and struggled to pull the battered crown from his head, and it was evident that he was not in the least amused. indeed, inga could see that the king was very angry, and the boy knew that the incident was likely to turn kaliko against the entire party. the nome king sent klik for another crown and ordered his workmen to repair the one that was damaged. while he waited for the new crown he sat regarding his visitors with a scowling face, and this made inga more uneasy than ever. finally, when the new crown was placed upon his head, king kaliko said: "follow me, strangers!" and led the way to a small door at one end of the cavern. inga and rinkitink followed him through the doorway and found themselves standing on a balcony that overlooked an enormous domed cave--so extensive that it seemed miles to the other side of it. all around this circular cave, which was brilliantly lighted from an unknown source, were arches connected with other caverns. kaliko took a gold whistle from his pocket and blew a shrill note that echoed through every part of the cave. instantly nomes began to pour in through the side arches in great numbers, until the immense space was packed with them as far as the eye could reach. all were armed with glittering weapons of polished silver and gold, and inga was amazed that any king could command so great an army. they began marching and countermarching in very orderly array until another blast of the gold whistle sent them scurrying away as quickly as they had appeared. and as soon as the great cave was again empty kaliko returned with his visitors to his own royal chamber, where he once more seated himself upon his ivory throne. "i have shown you," said he to inga, "a part of my bodyguard. the royal armies, of which this is only a part, are as numerous as the sands of the ocean, and live in many thousands of my underground caverns. you have come here thinking to force me to give up the captives of king gos and queen cor, and i wanted to convince you that my power is too mighty for anyone to oppose. i am told that you are a wizard, and depend upon magic to aid you; but you must know that the nomes are not mortals, and understand magic pretty well themselves, so if we are obliged to fight magic with magic the chances are that we are a hundred times more powerful than you can be. think this over carefully, my boy, and try to realize that you are in my power. i do not believe you can force me to liberate king kitticut and queen garee, and i know that you cannot coax me to do so, for i have given my promise to king gos. therefore, as i do not wish to hurt you, i ask you to go away peaceably and let me alone." "forgive me if i do not agree with you, king kaliko," answered the boy. "however difficult and dangerous my task may be, i cannot leave your dominions until every effort to release my parents has failed and left me completely discouraged." "very well," said the king, evidently displeased. "i have warned you, and now if evil overtakes you it is your own fault. i've a headache to-day, so i cannot entertain you properly, according to your rank; but klik will attend you to my guest chambers and to-morrow i will talk with you again." this seemed a fair and courteous way to treat one's declared enemies, so they politely expressed the wish that kaliko's headache would be better, and followed their guide, klik, down a well-lighted passage and through several archways until they finally reached three nicely furnished bedchambers which were cut from solid gray rock and well lighted and aired by some mysterious method known to the nomes. the first of these rooms was given king rinkitink, the second was inga's and the third was assigned to bilbil the goat. there was a swinging rock door between the third and second rooms and another between the second and first, which also had a door that opened upon the passage. rinkitink's room was the largest, so it was here that an excellent dinner was spread by some of the nome servants, who, in spite of their crooked shapes, proved to be well trained and competent. "you are not prisoners, you know," said klik; "neither are you welcome guests, having declared your purpose to oppose our mighty king and all his hosts. but we bear you no ill will, and you are to be well fed and cared for as long as you remain in our caverns. eat hearty, sleep tight, and pleasant dreams to you." saying this, he left them alone and at once rinkitink and inga began to counsel together as to the best means to liberate king kitticut and queen garee. the white pearl's advice was rather unsatisfactory to the boy, just now, for all that the voice said in answer to his questions was: "be patient, brave and determined." rinkitink suggested that they try to discover in what part of the series of underground caverns inga's parents had been confined, as that knowledge was necessary before they could take any action; so together they started out, leaving bilbil asleep in his room, and made their way unopposed through many corridors and caverns. in some places were great furnaces, where gold dust was being melted into bricks. in other rooms workmen were fashioning the gold into various articles and ornaments. in one cavern immense wheels revolved which polished precious gems, and they found many caverns used as storerooms, where treasure of every sort was piled high. also they came to the barracks of the army and the great kitchens. there were nomes everywhere--countless thousands of them--but none paid the slightest heed to the visitors from the earth's surface. yet, although inga and rinkitink walked until they were weary, they were unable to locate the place where the boy's father and mother had been confined, and when they tried to return to their own rooms they found that they had hopelessly lost themselves amid the labyrinth of passages. however, klik presently came to them, laughing at their discomfiture, and led them back to their bedchambers. before they went to sleep they carefully barred the door from rinkitink's room to the corridor, but the doors that connected the three rooms one with another were left wide open. in the night inga was awakened by a soft grating sound that filled him with anxiety because he could not account for it. it was dark in his room, the light having disappeared as soon as he got into bed, but he managed to feel his way to the door that led to rinkitink's room and found it tightly closed and immovable. then he made his way to the opposite door, leading to bilbil's room, to discover that also had been closed and fastened. the boy had a curious sensation that all of his room--the walls, floor and ceiling--was slowly whirling as if on a pivot, and it was such an uncomfortable feeling that he got into bed again, not knowing what else to do. and as the grating noise had ceased and the room now seemed stationary, he soon fell asleep again. when the boy wakened, after many hours, he found the room again light. so he dressed himself and discovered that a small table, containing a breakfast that was smoking hot, had suddenly appeared in the center of his room. he tried the two doors, but finding that he could not open them he ate some breakfast, thoughtfully wondering who had locked him in and why he had been made a prisoner. then he again went to the door which he thought led to rinkitink's chamber and to his surprise the latch lifted easily and the door swung open. before him was a rude corridor hewn in the rock and dimly lighted. it did not look inviting, so inga closed the door, puzzled to know what had become of rinkitink's room and the king, and went to the opposite door. opening this, he found a solid wall of rock confronting him, which effectually prevented his escape in that direction. the boy now realized that king kaliko had tricked him, and while professing to receive him as a guest had plotted to separate him from his comrades. one way had been left, however, by which he might escape and he decided to see where it led to. so, going to the first door, he opened it and ventured slowly into the dimly lighted corridor. when he had advanced a few steps he heard the door of his room slam shut behind him. he ran back at once, but the door of rock fitted so closely into the wall that he found it impossible to open it again. that did not matter so much, however, for the room was a prison and the only way of escape seemed ahead of him. along the corridor he crept until, turning a corner, he found himself in a large domed cavern that was empty and deserted. here also was a dim light that permitted him to see another corridor at the opposite side; so he crossed the rocky floor of the cavern and entered a second corridor. this one twisted and turned in every direction but was not very long, so soon the boy reached a second cavern, not so large as the first. this he found vacant also, but it had another corridor leading out of it, so inga entered that. it was straight and short and beyond was a third cavern, which differed little from the others except that it had a strong iron grating at one side of it. all three of these caverns had been roughly hewn from the rock and it seemed they had never been put to use, as had all the other caverns of the nomes he had visited. standing in the third cavern, inga saw what he thought was still another corridor at its farther side, so he walked toward it. this opening was dark, and that fact, and the solemn silence all around him, made him hesitate for a while to enter it. upon reflection, however, he realized that unless he explored the place to the very end he could not hope to escape from it, so he boldly entered the dark corridor and felt his way cautiously as he moved forward. scarcely had he taken two paces when a crash resounded back of him and a heavy sheet of steel closed the opening into the cavern from which he had just come. he paused a moment, but it still seemed best to proceed, and as inga advanced in the dark, holding his hands outstretched before him to feel his way, handcuffs fell upon his wrists and locked themselves with a sharp click, and an instant later he found he was chained to a stout iron post set firmly in the rock floor. the chains were long enough to permit him to move a yard or so in any direction and by feeling the walls he found he was in a small circular room that had no outlet except the passage by which he had entered, and that was now closed by the door of steel. this was the end of the series of caverns and corridors. it was now that the horror of his situation occurred to the boy with full force. but he resolved not to submit to his fate without a struggle, and realizing that he possessed the blue pearl, which gave him marvelous strength, he quickly broke the chains and set himself free of the handcuffs. next he twisted the steel door from its hinges, and creeping along the short passage, found himself in the third cave. but now the dim light, which had before guided him, had vanished; yet on peering into the gloom of the cave he saw what appeared to be two round disks of flame, which cast a subdued glow over the floor and walls. by this dull glow he made out the form of an enormous man, seated in the center of the cave, and he saw that the iron grating had been removed, permitting the man to enter. the giant was unclothed and its limbs were thickly covered with coarse red hair. the round disks of flame were its two eyes and when it opened its mouth to yawn inga saw that its jaws were wide enough to crush a dozen men between the great rows of teeth. presently the giant looked up and perceived the boy crouching at the other side of the cavern, so he called out in a hoarse, rude voice: "come hither, my pretty one. we will wrestle together, you and i, and if you succeed in throwing me i will let you pass through my cave." the boy made no reply to the challenge. he realized he was in dire peril and regretted that he had lent the pink pearl to king rinkitink. but it was now too late for vain regrets, although he feared that even his great strength would avail him little against this hairy monster. for his arms were not long enough to span a fourth of the giant's huge body, while the monster's powerful limbs would be likely to crush out inga's life before he could gain the mastery. therefore the prince resolved to employ other means to combat this foe, who had doubtless been placed there to bar his return. retreating through the passage he reached the room where he had been chained and wrenched the iron post from its socket. it was a foot thick and four feet long, and being of solid iron was so heavy that three ordinary men would have found it hard to lift. returning to the cavern, the boy swung the great bar above his head and dashed it with mighty force full at the giant. the end of the bar struck the monster upon its forehead, and with a single groan it fell full length upon the floor and lay still. when the giant fell, the glow from its eyes faded away, and all was dark. cautiously, for inga was not sure the giant was dead, the boy felt his way toward the opening that led to the middle cavern. the entrance was narrow and the darkness was intense, but, feeling braver now, the boy stepped boldly forward. instantly the floor began to sink beneath him and in great alarm he turned and made a leap that enabled him to grasp the rocky sides of the wall and regain a footing in the passage through which he had just come. scarcely had he obtained this place of refuge when a mighty crash resounded throughout the cavern and the sound of a rushing torrent came from far below. inga felt in his pocket and found several matches, one of which he lighted and held before him. while it flickered he saw that the entire floor of the cavern had fallen away, and knew that had he not instantly regained his footing in the passage he would have plunged into the abyss that lay beneath him. by the light of another match he saw the opening at the other side of the cave and the thought came to him that possibly he might leap across the gulf. of course, this could never be accomplished without the marvelous strength lent him by the blue pearl, but inga had the feeling that one powerful spring might carry him over the chasm into safety. he could not stay where he was, that was certain, so he resolved to make the attempt. he took a long run through the first cave and the short corridor; then, exerting all his strength, he launched himself over the black gulf of the second cave. swiftly he flew and, although his heart stood still with fear, only a few seconds elapsed before his feet touched the ledge of the opposite passageway and he knew he had safely accomplished the wonderful feat. only pausing to draw one long breath of relief, inga quickly traversed the crooked corridor that led to the last cavern of the three. but when he came in sight of it he paused abruptly, his eyes nearly blinded by a glare of strong light which burst upon them. covering his face with his hands, inga retreated behind a projecting corner of rock and by gradually getting his eyes used to the light he was finally able to gaze without blinking upon the strange glare that had so quickly changed the condition of the cavern. when he had passed through this vault it had been entirely empty. now the flat floor of rock was covered everywhere with a bed of glowing coals, which shot up little tongues of red and white flames. indeed, the entire cave was one monster furnace and the heat that came from it was fearful. inga's heart sank within him as he realized the terrible obstacle placed by the cunning nome king between him and the safety of the other caverns. there was no turning back, for it would be impossible for him again to leap over the gulf of the second cave, the corridor at this side being so crooked that he could get no run before he jumped. neither could he leap over the glowing coals of the cavern that faced him, for it was much larger than the middle cavern. in this dilemma he feared his great strength would avail him nothing and he bitterly reproached himself for parting with the pink pearl, which would have preserved him from injury. however, it was not in the nature of prince inga to despair for long, his past adventures having taught him confidence and courage, sharpened his wits and given him the genius of invention. he sat down and thought earnestly on the means of escape from his danger and at last a clever idea came to his mind. this is the way to get ideas: never to let adverse circumstances discourage you, but to believe there is a way out of every difficulty, which may be found by earnest thought. there were many points and projections of rock in the walls of the crooked corridor in which inga stood and some of these rocks had become cracked and loosened, although still clinging to their places. the boy picked out one large piece, and, exerting all his strength, tore it away from the wall. he then carried it to the cavern and tossed it upon the burning coals, about ten feet away from the end of the passage. then he returned for another fragment of rock, and wrenching it free from its place, he threw it ten feet beyond the first one, toward the opposite side of the cave. the boy continued this work until he had made a series of stepping-stones reaching straight across the cavern to the dark passageway beyond, which he hoped would lead him back to safety if not to liberty. when his work had been completed, inga did not long hesitate to take advantage of his stepping-stones, for he knew his best chance of escape lay in his crossing the bed of coals before the rocks became so heated that they would burn his feet. so he leaped to the first rock and from there began jumping from one to the other in quick succession. a withering wave of heat at once enveloped him, and for a time he feared he would suffocate before he could cross the cavern; but he held his breath, to keep the hot air from his lungs, and maintained his leaps with desperate resolve. then, before he realized it, his feet were pressing the cooler rocks of the passage beyond and he rolled helpless upon the floor, gasping for breath. his skin was so red that it resembled the shell of a boiled lobster, but his swift motion had prevented his being burned, and his shoes had thick soles, which saved his feet. after resting a few minutes, the boy felt strong enough to go on. he went to the end of the passage and found that the rock door by which he had left his room was still closed, so he returned to about the middle of the corridor and was thinking what he should do next, when suddenly the solid rock before him began to move and an opening appeared through which shone a brilliant light. shielding his eyes, which were somewhat dazzled, inga sprang through the opening and found himself in one of the nome king's inhabited caverns, where before him stood king kaliko, with a broad grin upon his features, and klik, the king's chamberlain, who looked surprised, and king rinkitink seated astride bilbil the goat, both of whom seemed pleased that inga had rejoined them. chapter nineteen rinkitink chuckles we will now relate what happened to rinkitink and bilbil that morning, while inga was undergoing his trying experience in escaping the fearful dangers of the three caverns. the king of gilgad wakened to find the door of inga's room fast shut and locked, but he had no trouble in opening his own door into the corridor, for it seems that the boy's room, which was the middle one, whirled around on a pivot, while the adjoining rooms occupied by bilbil and rinkitink remained stationary. the little king also found a breakfast magically served in his room, and while he was eating it, klik came to him and stated that his majesty, king kaliko, desired his presence in the royal cavern. so rinkitink, having first made sure that the pink pearl was still in his vest pocket, willingly followed klik, who ran on some distance ahead. but no sooner had rinkitink set foot in the passage than a great rock, weighing at least a ton, became dislodged and dropped from the roof directly over his head. of course, it could not harm him, protected as he was by the pink pearl, and it bounded aside and crashed upon the floor, where it was shattered by its own weight. "how careless!" exclaimed the little king, and waddled after klik, who seemed amazed at his escape. presently another rock above rinkitink plunged downward, and then another, but none touched his body. klik seemed much perplexed at these continued escapes and certainly kaliko was surprised when rinkitink, safe and sound, entered the royal cavern. "good morning," said the king of gilgad. "your rocks are getting loose, kaliko, and you'd better have them glued in place before they hurt someone." then he began to chuckle: "hoo, hoo, hoo-hee, hee-heek, keek, eek!" and kaliko sat and frowned because he realized that the little fat king was poking fun at him. "i asked your majesty to come here," said the nome king, "to show you a curious skein of golden thread which my workmen have made. if it pleases you, i will make you a present of it." with this he held out a small skein of glittering gold twine, which was really pretty and curious. rinkitink took it in his hand and at once the golden thread began to unwind--so swiftly that the eye could not follow its motion. and, as it unwound, it coiled itself around rinkitink's body, at the same time weaving itself into a net, until it had enveloped the little king from head to foot and placed him in a prison of gold. "aha!" cried kaliko; "this magic worked all right, it seems. "oh, did it?" replied rinkitink, and stepping forward he walked right through the golden net, which fell to the floor in a tangled mass. kaliko rubbed his chin thoughtfully and stared hard at rinkitink. "i understand a good bit of magic," said he, "but your majesty has a sort of magic that greatly puzzles me, because it is unlike anything of the sort that i ever met with before." "now, see here, kaliko," said rinkitink; "if you are trying to harm me or my companions, give it up, for you will never succeed. we're harm-proof, so to speak, and you are merely wasting your time trying to injure us. "you may be right, and i hope i am not so impolite as to argue with a guest," returned the nome king. "but you will pardon me if i am not yet satisfied that you are stronger than my famous magic. however, i beg you to believe that i bear you no ill will, king rinkitink; but it is my duty to destroy you, if possible, because you and that insignificant boy prince have openly threatened to take away my captives and have positively refused to go back to the earth's surface and let me alone. i'm very tender-hearted, as a matter of fact, and i like you immensely, and would enjoy having you as a friend, but--" here he pressed a button on the arm of his throne chair and the section of the floor where rinkitink stood suddenly opened and disclosed a black pit beneath, which was a part of 'the terrible bottomless gulf. but rinkitink did not fall into the pit; his body remained suspended in the air until he put out his foot and stepped to the solid floor, when the opening suddenly closed again. "i appreciate your majesty's friendship," remarked rinkitink, as calmly as if nothing had happened, "but i am getting tired with standing. will you kindly send for my goat, bilbil, that i may sit upon his back to rest?" "indeed i will!" promised kaliko. "i have not yet completed my test of your magic, and as i owe that goat a slight grudge for bumping my head and smashing my second-best crown, i will be glad to discover if the beast can also escape my delightful little sorceries." so klik was sent to fetch bilbil and presently returned with the goat, which was very cross this morning because it had not slept well in the underground caverns. rinkitink lost no time in getting upon the red velvet saddle which the goat constantly wore, for he feared the nome king would try to destroy bilbil and knew that as long as his body touched that of the goat the pink pearl would protect them both; whereas, if bilbil stood alone, there was no magic to save him. bilbil glared wickedly at king kaliko, who moved uneasily in his ivory throne. then the nome king whispered a moment in the ear of klik, who nodded and left the room. "please make yourselves at home here for a few minutes, while i attend to an errand," said the nome king, getting up from the throne. "i shall return pretty soon, when i hope to find you pieceful--ha, ha, ha!--that's a joke you can't appreciate now but will later. be pieceful--that's the idea. ho, ho, ho! how funny." then he waddled from the cavern, closing the door behind him. "well, why didn't you laugh when kaliko laughed?" demanded the goat, when they were left alone in the cavern. "because he means mischief of some sort," replied rinkitink, "and we'll laugh after the danger is over, bilbil. there's an old adage that says: 'he laughs best who laughs last,' and the only way to laugh last is to give the other fellow a chance. where did that knife come from, i wonder." for a long, sharp knife suddenly appeared in the air near them, twisting and turning from side to side and darting here and there in a dangerous manner, without any support whatever. then another knife became visible--and another and another--until all the space in the royal cavern seemed filled with them. their sharp points and edges darted toward rinkitink and bilbil perpetually and nothing could have saved them from being cut to pieces except the protecting power of the pink pearl. as it was, not a knife touched them and even bilbil gave a gruff laugh at the failure of kaliko's clever magic. the goat wandered here and there in the cavern, carrying rinkitink upon his back, and neither of them paid the slightest heed to the knives, although the glitter of the hundreds of polished blades was rather trying to their eyes. perhaps for ten minutes the knives darted about them in bewildering fury; then they disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. kaliko cautiously stuck his head through the doorway and found the goat chewing the embroidery of his royal cloak, which he had left lying over the throne, while rinkitink was reading his manuscript on "how to be good" and chuckling over its advice. the nome king seemed greatly disappointed as he came in and resumed his seat on the throne. said rinkitink with a chuckle: "we've really had a peaceful time, kaliko, although not the pieceful time you expected. forgive me if i indulge in a laugh--hoo, hoo, hoo-hee, heek-keek-eek! and now, tell me; aren't you getting tired of trying to injure us?" "eh--heh," said the nome king. "i see now that your magic can protect you from all my arts. but is the boy inga as, well protected as your majesty and the goat?' "why do you ask?" inquired rinkitink, uneasy at the question because he remembered he had not seen the little prince of pingaree that morning. "because," said kaliko, "the boy has been undergoing trials far greater and more dangerous than any you have encountered, and it has been hundreds of years since anyone has been able to escape alive from the perils of my three trick caverns." king rinkitink was much alarmed at hearing this, for although he knew that inga possessed the blue pearl, that would only give to him marvelous strength, and perhaps strength alone would not enable him to escape from danger. but he would not let kaliko see the fear he felt for inga's safety, so he said in a careless way: "you're a mighty poor magician, kaliko, and i'll give you my crown if inga hasn't escaped any danger you have threatened him with." "your whole crown is not worth one of the valuable diamonds in my crown," answered the nome king, "but i'll take it. let us go at once, therefore, and see what has become of the boy prince, for if he is not destroyed by this time i will admit he cannot be injured by any of the magic arts which i have at my command." he left the room, accompanied by klik, who had now rejoined his master, and by rinkitink riding upon bilbil. after traversing several of the huge caverns they entered one that was somewhat more bright and cheerful than the others, where the nome king paused before a wall of rock. then klik pressed a secret spring and a section of the wall opened and disclosed the corridor where prince inga stood facing them. "tarts and tadpoles!" cried kaliko in surprise. "the boy is still alive!" chapter twenty dorothy to the rescue one day when princess dorothy of oz was visiting glinda the good, who is ozma's royal sorceress, she was looking through glinda's great book of records--wherein is inscribed all important events that happen in every part of the world--when she came upon the record of the destruction of pingaree, the capture of king kitticut and queen garee and all their people, and the curious escape of inga, the boy prince, and of king rinkitink and the talking goat. turning over some of the following pages, dorothy read how inga had found the magic pearls and was rowing the silver-lined boat to regos to try to rescue his parents. the little girl was much interested to know how well inga succeeded, but she returned to the palace of ozma at the emerald city of oz the next day and other events made her forget the boy prince of pingaree for a time. however, she was one day idly looking at ozma's magic picture, which shows any scene you may wish to see, when the girl thought of inga and commanded the magic picture to show what the boy was doing at that moment. it was the time when inga and rinkitink had followed the king of regos and queen of coregos to the nome king's country and she saw them hiding behind the rock as cor and gos passed them by after having placed the king and queen of pingaree in the keeping of the nome king. from that time dorothy followed, by means of the magic picture, the adventures of inga and his friend in the nome king's caverns, and the danger and helplessness of the poor boy aroused the little girl's pity and indignation. so she went to ozma and told the lovely girl ruler of oz all about inga and rinkitink. "i think kaliko is treating them dreadfully mean," declared dorothy, "and i wish you'd let me go to the nome country and help them out of their troubles." "go, my dear, if you wish to," replied ozma, "but i think it would be best for you to take the wizard with you." "oh, i'm not afraid of the nomes," said dorothy, "but i'll be glad to take the wizard, for company. and may we use your magic carpet, ozma?" "of course. put the magic carpet in the red wagon and have the sawhorse take you and the wizard to the edge of the desert. while you are gone, dorothy, i'll watch you in the magic picture, and if any danger threatens you i'll see you are not harmed." dorothy thanked the ruler of oz and kissed her good-bye, for she was determined to start at once. she found the wizard of oz, who was planting shoetrees in the garden, and when she told him inga's story he willingly agreed to accompany the little girl to the nome king's caverns. they had both been there before and had conquered the nomes with ease, so they were not at all afraid. the wizard, who was a cheery little man with a bald head and a winning smile, harnessed the wooden sawhorse to the red wagon and loaded on ozma's magic carpet. then he and dorothy climbed to the seat and the sawhorse started off and carried them swiftly through the beautiful land of oz to the edge of the deadly desert that separated their fairyland from the nome country. even dorothy and the clever wizard would not have dared to cross this desert without the aid of the magic carpet, for it would have quickly destroyed them; but when the roll of carpet had been placed upon the edge of the sands, leaving just enough lying flat for them to stand upon, the carpet straightway began to unroll before them and as they walked on it continued to unroll, until they had safely passed over the stretch of deadly desert and were on the border of the nome king's dominions. this journey had been accomplished in a few minutes, although such a distance would have required several days travel had they not been walking on the magic carpet. on arriving they at once walked toward the entrance to the caverns of the nomes. the wizard carried a little black bag containing his tools of wizardry, while dorothy carried over her arm a covered basket in which she had placed a dozen eggs, with which to conquer the nomes if she had any trouble with them. eggs may seem to you to be a queer weapon with which to fight, but the little girl well knew their value. the nomes are immortal; that is, they do not perish, as mortals do, unless they happen to come in contact with an egg. if an egg touches them--either the outer shell or the inside of the egg--the nomes lose their charm of perpetual life and thereafter are liable to die through accident or old age, just as all humans are. for this reason the sight of an egg fills a nome with terror and he will do anything to prevent an egg from touching him, even for an instant. so, when dorothy took her basket of eggs with her, she knew that she was more powerfully armed than if she had a regiment of soldiers at her back. chapter twenty-one the wizard finds an enchantment after kaliko had failed in his attempts to destroy his guests, as has been related, the nome king did nothing more to injure them but treated them in a friendly manner. he refused, however, to permit inga to see or to speak with his father and mother, or even to know in what part of the underground caverns they were confined. "you are able to protect your lives and persons, i freely admit," said kaliko; "but i firmly believe you have no power, either of magic or otherwise, to take from me the captives i have agreed to keep for king gos." inga would not agree to this. he determined not to leave the caverns until he had liberated his father and mother, although he did not then know how that could be accomplished. as for rinkitink, the jolly king was well fed and had a good bed to sleep upon, so he was not worrying about anything and seemed in no hurry to go away. kaliko and rinkitink were engaged in pitching a game with solid gold quoits, on the floor of the royal chamber, and inga and bilbil were watching them, when klik came running in, his hair standing on end with excitement, and cried out that the wizard of oz and dorothy were approaching. kaliko turned pale on hearing this unwelcome news and, abandoning his game, went to sit in his ivory throne and try to think what had brought these fearful visitors to his domain. "who is dorothy?" asked inga. "she is a little girl who once lived in kansas," replied klik, with a shudder, "but she now lives in ozma's palace at the emerald city and is a princess of oz--which means that she is a terrible foe to deal with." "doesn't she like the nomes?" inquired the boy. "it isn't that," said king kaliko, with a groan, "but she insists on the nomes being goody-goody, which is contrary to their natures. dorothy gets angry if i do the least thing that is wicked, and tries to make me stop it, and that naturally makes me downhearted. i can't imagine why she has come here just now, for i've been behaving very well lately. as for that wizard of oz, he's chock-full of magic that i can't overcome, for he learned it from glinda, who is the most powerful sorceress in the world. woe is me! why didn't dorothy and the wizard stay in oz, where they belong?" inga and rinkitink listened to this with much joy, for at once the idea came to them both to plead with dorothy to help them. even bilbil pricked up his ears when he heard the wizard of oz mentioned, and the goat seemed much less surly, and more thoughtful than usual. a few minutes later a nome came to say that dorothy and the wizard had arrived and demanded admittance, so klik was sent to usher them into the royal presence of the nome king. as soon as she came in the little girl ran up to the boy prince and seized both his hands. "oh, inga!" she exclaimed, "i'm so glad to find you alive and well." inga was astonished at so warm a greeting. making a low bow he said: "i don't think we have met before, princess." "no, indeed," replied dorothy, "but i know all about you and i've come to help you and king rinkitink out of your troubles." then she turned to the nome king and continued: "you ought to be ashamed of yourself, king kaliko, to treat an honest prince and an honest king so badly." "i haven't done anything to them," whined kaliko, trembling as her eyes flashed upon him. "no; but you tried to, an' that's just as bad, if not worse," said dorothy, who was very indignant. "and now i want you to send for the king and queen of pingaree and have them brought here immejitly!" "i won't," said kaliko. "yes, you will!" cried dorothy, stamping her foot at him. "i won't have those poor people made unhappy any longer, or separated from their little boy. why, it's dreadful, kaliko, an' i'm su'prised at you. you must be more wicked than i thought you were." "i can't do it, dorothy," said the nome king, almost weeping with despair. "i promised king gos i'd keep them captives. you wouldn't ask me to break my promise, would you?" "king gos was a robber and an outlaw," she said, "and p'r'aps you don't know that a storm at sea wrecked his boat, while he was going back to regos, and that he and queen cor were both drowned." "dear me!" exclaimed kaliko. "is that so?" "i saw it in glinda's record book," said dorothy. "so now you trot out the king and queen of pingaree as quick as you can." "no," persisted the contrary nome king, shaking his head. "i won't do it. ask me anything else and i'll try to please you, but i can't allow these friendly enemies to triumph over me. "in that case," said dorothy, beginning to remove the cover from her basket, "i'll show you some eggs." "eggs!" screamed the nome king in horror. "have you eggs in that basket?" "a dozen of 'em," replied dorothy. "then keep them there--i beg--i implore you!--and i'll do anything you say," pleaded kaliko, his teeth chattering so that he could hardly speak. "send for the king and queen of pingaree," said dorothy. "go, klik," commanded the nome king, and klik ran away in great haste, for he was almost as much frightened as his master. it was an affecting scene when the unfortunate king and queen of pingaree entered the chamber and with sobs and tears of joy embraced their brave and adventurous son. all the others stood silent until greetings and kisses had been exchanged and inga had told his parents in a few words of his vain struggles to rescue them and how princess dorothy had finally come to his assistance. then king kitticut shook the hands of his friend king rinkitink and thanked him for so loyally supporting his son inga, and queen garee kissed little dorothy's forehead and blessed her for restoring her husband and herself to freedom. the wizard had been standing near bilbil the goat and now he was surprised to hear the animal say: "joyful reunion, isn't it? but it makes me tired to see grown people cry like children." "oho!" exclaimed the wizard. "how does it happen, mr. goat, that you, who have never been to the land of oz, are able to talk?" "that's my business," returned bilbil in a surly tone. the wizard stooped down and gazed fixedly into the animal's eyes. then he said, with a pitying sigh: "i see; you are under an enchantment. indeed, i believe you to be prince bobo of boboland." bilbil made no reply but dropped his head as if ashamed. "this is a great discovery," said the wizard, addressing dorothy and the others of the party. "a good many years ago a cruel magician transformed the gallant prince of boboland into a talking goat, and this goat, being ashamed of his condition, ran away and was never after seen in boboland, which is a country far to the south of here but bordering on the deadly desert, opposite the land of oz. i heard of this story long ago and know that a diligent search has been made for the enchanted prince, without result. but i am well assured that, in the animal you call bilbil, i have discovered the unhappy prince of boboland." "dear me, bilbil," said rinkitink, "why have you never told me this?" "what would be the use?" asked bilbil in a low voice and still refusing to look up. "the use?" repeated rinkitink, puzzled. "yes, that's the trouble," said the wizard. "it is one of the most powerful enchantments ever accomplished, and the magician is now dead and the secret of the anti-charm lost. even i, with all my skill, cannot restore prince bobo to his proper form. but i think glinda might be able to do so and if you will all return with dorothy and me to the land of oz, where ozma will make you welcome, i will ask glinda to try to break this enchantment." this was willingly agreed to, for they all welcomed the chance to visit the famous land of oz. so they bade good-bye to king kaliko, whom dorothy warned not to be wicked any more if he could help it, and the entire party returned over the magic carpet to the land of oz. they filled the red wagon, which was still waiting for them, pretty full; but the sawhorse didn't mind that and with wonderful speed carried them safely to the emerald city. chapter twenty two ozma's banquet ozma had seen in her magic picture the liberation of inga's parents and the departure of the entire party for the emerald city, so with her usual hospitality she ordered a splendid banquet prepared and invited all her quaint friends who were then in the emerald city to be present that evening to meet the strangers who were to become her guests. glinda, also, in her wonderful record book had learned of the events that had taken place in the caverns of the nome king and she became especially interested in the enchantment of the prince of boboland. so she hastily prepared several of her most powerful charms and then summoned her flock of sixteen white storks, which swiftly bore her to ozma's palace. she arrived there before the red wagon did and was warmly greeted by the girl ruler. realizing that the costume of queen garee of pingaree must have become sadly worn and frayed, owing to her hardships and adventures, ozma ordered a royal outfit prepared for the good queen and had it laid in her chamber ready for her to put on as soon as she arrived, so she would not be shamed at the banquet. new costumes were also provided for king kitticut and king rinkitink and prince inga, all cut and made and embellished in the elaborate and becoming style then prevalent in the land of oz, and as soon as the party arrived at the palace ozma's guests were escorted by her servants to their rooms, that they might bathe and dress themselves. glinda the sorceress and the wizard of oz took charge of bilbil the goat and went to a private room where they were not likely to be interrupted. glinda first questioned bilbil long and earnestly about the manner of his enchantment and the ceremony that had been used by the magician who enchanted him. at first bilbil protested that he did not want to be restored to his natural shape, saying that he had been forever disgraced in the eyes of his people and of the entire world by being obliged to exist as a scrawny, scraggly goat. but glinda pointed out that any person who incurred the enmity of a wicked magician was liable to suffer a similar fate, and assured him that his misfortune would make him better beloved by his subjects when he returned to them freed from his dire enchantment. bilbil was finally convinced of the truth of this assertion and agreed to submit to the experiments of glinda and the wizard, who knew they had a hard task before them and were not at all sure they could succeed. we know that glinda is the most complete mistress of magic who has ever existed, and she was wise enough to guess that the clever but evil magician who had enchanted prince bobo had used a spell that would puzzle any ordinary wizard or sorcerer to break; therefore she had given the matter much shrewd thought and hoped she had conceived a plan that would succeed. but because she was not positive of success she would have no one present at the incantation except her assistant, the wizard of oz. first she transformed bilbil the goat into a lamb, and this was done quite easily. next she transformed the lamb into an ostrich, giving it two legs and feet instead of four. then she tried to transform the ostrich into the original prince bobo, but this incantation was an utter failure. glinda was not discouraged, however, but by a powerful spell transformed the ostrich into a tottenhot--which is a lower form of a man. then the tottenhot was transformed into a mifket, which was a great step in advance and, finally, glinda transformed the mifket into a handsome young man, tall and shapely, who fell on his knees before the great sorceress and gratefully kissed her hand, admitting that he had now recovered his proper shape and was indeed prince bobo of boboland. this process of magic, successful though it was in the end, had required so much time that the banquet was now awaiting their presence. bobo was already dressed in princely raiment and although he seemed very much humbled by his recent lowly condition, they finally persuaded him to join the festivities. when rinkitink saw that his goat had now become a prince, he did not know whether to be sorry or glad, for he felt that he would miss the companionship of the quarrelsome animal he had so long been accustomed to ride upon, while at the same time he rejoiced that poor bilbil had come to his own again. prince bobo humbly begged rinkitink's forgiveness for having been so disagreeable to him, at times, saying that the nature of a goat had influenced him and the surly disposition he had shown was a part of his enchantment. but the jolly king assured the prince that he had really enjoyed bilbil's grumpy speeches and forgave him readily. indeed, they all discovered the young prince bobo to be an exceedingly courteous and pleasant person, although he was somewhat reserved and dignified. ah, but it was a great feast that ozma served in her gorgeous banquet hall that night and everyone was as happy as could be. the shaggy man was there, and so was jack pumpkinhead and the tin woodman and cap'n bill. beside princess dorothy sat tiny trot and betsy bobbin, and the three little girls were almost as sweet to look upon as was ozma, who sat at the head of her table and outshone all her guests in loveliness. king rinkitink was delighted with the quaint people of oz and laughed and joked with the tin man and the pumpkin-headed man and found cap'n bill a very agreeable companion. but what amused the jolly king most were the animal guests, which ozma always invited to her banquets and seated at a table by themselves, where they talked and chatted together as people do but were served the sort of food their natures required. the hungry tiger and cowardly lion and the glass cat were much admired by rinkitink, but when he met a mule named hank, which betsy bobbin had brought to oz, the king found the creature so comical that he laughed and chuckled until his friends thought he would choke. then while the banquet was still in progress, rinkitink composed and sang a song to the mule and they all joined in the chorus, which was something like this: "it's very queer how big an ear is worn by mr. donkey; and yet i fear he could not hear if it were on a monkey. 'tis thick and strong and broad and long and also very hairy; it's quite becoming to our hank but might disgrace a fairy!" this song was received with so much enthusiasm that rinkitink was prevailed upon to sing another. they gave him a little time to compose the rhyme, which he declared would be better if he could devote a month or two to its composition, but the sentiment he expressed was so admirable that no one criticized the song or the manner in which the jolly little king sang it. dorothy wrote down the words on a piece of paper, and here they are: "we're merry comrades all, to-night, because we've won a gallant fight and conquered all our foes. we're not afraid of anything, so let us gayly laugh and sing until we seek repose. "we've all our grateful hearts can wish; king gos has gone to feed the fish, queen cor has gone, as well; king kitticut has found his own, prince bobo soon will have a throne relieved of magic spell. "so let's forget the horrid strife that fell upon our peaceful life and caused distress and pain; for very soon across the sea we'll all be sailing merrily to pingaree again." chapter twenty three the pearl kingdom it was unfortunate that the famous scarecrow--the most popular person in all oz, next to ozma--was absent at the time of the banquet, for he happened just then to be making one of his trips through the country; but the scarecrow had a chance later to meet rinkitink and inga and the king and queen of pingaree and prince bobo, for the party remained several weeks at the emerald city, where they were royally entertained, and where both the gentle queen garee and the noble king kitticut recovered much of their good spirits and composure and tried to forget their dreadful experiences. at last, however, the king and queen desired to return to their own pingaree, as they longed to be with their people again and see how well they had rebuilt their homes. inga also was anxious to return, although he had been very happy in oz, and king rinkitink, who was happy anywhere except at gilgad, decided to go with his former friends to pingaree. as for prince bobo, he had become so greatly attached to king rinkitink that he was loth to leave him. on a certain day they all bade good-bye to ozma and dorothy and glinda and the wizard and all their good friends in oz, and were driven in the red wagon to the edge of the deadly desert, which they crossed safely on the magic carpet. they then made their way across the nome kingdom and the wheeler country, where no one molested them, to the shores of the nonestic ocean. there they found the boat with the silver lining still lying undisturbed on the beach. there were no important adventures during the trip and on their arrival at the pearl kingdom they were amazed at the beautiful appearance of the island they had left in ruins. all the houses of the people had been rebuilt and were prettier than before, with green lawns before them and flower gardens in the back yards. the marble towers of king kitticut's new palace were very striking and impressive, while the palace itself proved far more magnificent than it had been before the warriors from regos destroyed it. nikobob had been very active and skillful in directing all this work, and he had also built a pretty cottage for himself, not far from the king's palace, and there inga found zella, who was living very happy and contented in her new home. not only had nikobob accomplished all this in a comparatively brief space of time, but he had started the pearl fisheries again and when king kitticut returned to pingaree he found a quantity of fine pearls already in the royal treasury. so pleased was kitticut with the good judgment, industry and honesty of the former charcoal-burner of regos, that he made nikobob his lord high chamberlain and put him in charge of the pearl fisheries and all the business matters of the island kingdom. they all settled down very comfortably in the new palace and the queen gathered her maids about her once more and set them to work embroidering new draperies for the royal throne. inga placed the three magic pearls in their silken bag and again deposited them in the secret cavity under the tiled flooring of the banquet hall, where they could be quickly secured if danger ever threatened the now prosperous island. king rinkitink occupied a royal guest chamber built especially for his use and seemed in no hurry to leave his friends in pingaree. the fat little king had to walk wherever he went and so missed bilbil more and more; but he seldom walked far and he was so fond of prince bobo that he never regretted bilbil's disenchantment. indeed, the jolly monarch was welcome to remain forever in pingaree, if he wished to, for his merry disposition set smiles on the faces of all his friends and made everyone near him as jolly as he was himself. when king kitticut was not too busy with affairs of state he loved to join his guest and listen to his brother monarch's songs and stories. for he found rinkitink to be, with all his careless disposition, a shrewd philosopher, and in talking over their adventures one day the king of gilgad said: "the beauty of life is its sudden changes. no one knows what is going to happen next, and so we are constantly being surprised and entertained. the many ups and downs should not discourage us, for if we are down, we know that a change is coming and we will go up again; while those who are up are almost certain to go down. my grandfather had a song which well expresses this and if you will listen i will sing it." "of course i will listen to your song," returned kitticut, "for it would be impolite not to." so rinkitink sang his grandfather's song: "a mighty king once ruled the land-- but now he's baking pies. a pauper, on the other hand, is ruling, strong and wise. a tiger once in jungles raged-- but now he's in a zoo; a lion, captive-born and caged, now roams the forest through. a man once slapped a poor boy's pate and made him weep and wail. the boy became a magistrate and put the man in jail. a sunny day succeeds the night; it's summer--then it snows! right oft goes wrong and wrong comes right, as ev'ry wise man knows." chapter twenty-four the captive king one morning, just as the royal party was finishing breakfast, a servant came running to say that a great fleet of boats was approaching the island from the south. king kitticut sprang up at once, in great alarm, for he had much cause to fear strange boats. the others quickly followed him to the shore to see what invasion might be coming upon them. inga was there with the first, and nikobob and zella soon joined the watchers. and presently, while all were gazing eagerly at the approaching fleet, king rinkitink suddenly cried out: "get your pearls, prince inga--get them quick!" "are these our enemies, then?" asked the boy, looking with surprise upon the fat little king, who had begun to tremble violently. "they are my people of gilgad!" answered rinkitink, wiping a tear from his eye. "i recognize my royal standards flying from the boats. so, please, dear inga, get out your pearls to protect me!" "what can you fear at the hands of your own subjects?" asked kitticut, astonished. but before his frightened guest could answer the question prince bobo, who was standing beside his friend, gave an amused laugh and said: "you are caught at last, dear rinkitink. your people will take you home again and oblige you to reign as king." rinkitink groaned aloud and clasped his hands together with a gesture of despair, an attitude so comical that the others could scarcely forbear laughing. but now the boats were landing upon the beach. they were fifty in number, beautifully decorated and upholstered and rowed by men clad in the gay uniforms of the king of gilgad. one splendid boat had a throne of gold in the center, over which was draped the king's royal robe of purple velvet, embroidered with gold buttercups. rinkitink shuddered when he saw this throne; but now a tall man, handsomely dressed, approached and knelt upon the grass before his king, while all the other occupants of the boats shouted joyfully and waved their plumed hats in the air. "thanks to our good fortune," said the man who kneeled, "we have found your majesty at last!" "pinkerbloo," answered rinkitink sternly, "i must have you hanged, for thus finding me against my will." "you think so now, your majesty, but you will never do it," returned pinkerbloo, rising and kissing the king's hand. "why won't i?" asked rinkitink. "because you are much too tender-hearted, your majesty." "it may be--it may be," agreed rinkitink, sadly. "it is one of my greatest failings. but what chance brought you here, my lord pinkerbloo?" "we have searched for you everywhere, sire, and all the people of gilgad have been in despair since you so mysteriously disappeared. we could not appoint a new king, because we did not know but that you still lived; so we set out to find you, dead or alive. after visiting many islands of the nonestic ocean we at last thought of pingaree, from where come the precious pearls; and now our faithful quest has been rewarded." "and what now?" asked rinkitink. "now, your majesty, you must come home with us, like a good and dutiful king, and rule over your people," declared the man in a firm voice. "i will not." "but you must--begging your majesty's pardon for the contradiction." "kitticut," cried poor rinkitink, "you must save me from being captured by these, my subjects. what! must i return to gilgad and be forced to reign in splendid state when i much prefer to eat and sleep and sing in my own quiet way? they will make me sit in a throne three hours a day and listen to dry and tedious affairs of state; and i must stand up for hours at the court receptions, till i get corns on my heels; and forever must i listen to tiresome speeches and endless petitions and complaints!" "but someone must do this, your majesty," said pinkerbloo respectfully, "and since you were born to be our king you cannot escape your duty." "'tis a horrid fate!" moaned rinkitink. "i would die willingly, rather than be a king--if it did not hurt so terribly to die." "you will find it much more comfortable to reign than to die, although i fully appreciate your majesty's difficult position and am truly sorry for you," said pinkerbloo. king kitticut had listened to this conversation thoughtfully, so now he said to his friend: "the man is right, dear rinkitink. it is your duty to reign, since fate has made you a king, and i see no honorable escape for you. i shall grieve to lose your companionship, but i feel the separation cannot be avoided." rinkitink sighed. "then," said he, turning to lord pinkerbloo, "in three days i will depart with you for gilgad; but during those three days i propose to feast and make merry with my good friend king kitticut." then all the people of gilgad shouted with delight and eagerly scrambled ashore to take their part in the festival. those three days were long remembered in pingaree, for never--before nor since--has such feasting and jollity been known upon that island. rinkitink made the most of his time and everyone laughed and sang with him by day and by night. then, at last, the hour of parting arrived and the king of gilgad and ruler of the dominion of rinkitink was escorted by a grand procession to his boat and seated upon his golden throne. the rowers of the fifty boats paused, with their glittering oars pointed into the air like gigantic uplifted sabres, while the people of pingaree--men, women and children--stood upon the shore shouting a royal farewell to the jolly king. then came a sudden hush, while rinkitink stood up and, with a bow to those assembled to witness his departure, sang the following song, which he had just composed for the occasion. "farewell, dear isle of pingaree-- the fairest land in all the sea! no living mortals, kings or churls, would scorn to wear thy precious pearls. "king kitticut, 'tis with regret i'm forced to say farewell; and yet abroad no longer can i roam when fifty boats would drag me home. "good-bye, my prince of pingaree; a noble king some time you'll be and long and wisely may you reign and never face a foe again!" they cheered him from the shore; they cheered him from the boats; and then all the oars of the fifty boats swept downward with a single motion and dipped their blades into the purple-hued waters of the nonestic ocean. as the boats shot swiftly over the ripples of the sea rinkitink turned to prince bobo, who had decided not to desert his former master and his present friend, and asked anxiously: "how did you like that song, bilbil--i mean bobo? is it a masterpiece, do you think?" and bobo replied with a smile: "like all your songs, dear rinkitink, the sentiment far excels the poetry." the wonderful oz books by l. frank baum the wizard of oz the land of oz ozma of oz dorothy and the wizard in oz the road to oz the emerald city of oz the patchwork girl of oz tik-tok of oz the scarecrow of oz rinkitink in oz the lost princess of oz the tin woodman of oz the magic of oz glinda of oz http://www.freeliterature.org asmodeus; or, the devil on two sticks. by alain renÉ le sage. with a biographical notice of the author, by jules janin. [illustration: asmodeus and zambullo fly over madrid] illustrated by tony johannot. [translated by joseph thomas.] george routledge and sons, london: broadway, ludgate hill. new york: broome street. . translator's preface. when i first determined on the publication of a new edition of "the devil on two sticks," i had certainly no idea of engaging in a new translation. i had not read an english version since my boyhood, and naturally conceived that the one which had passed current for upwards of a century must possess sufficient merit to render anything beyond a careful revision, before passing it again through the press, unnecessary. however, on reading a few pages, and on comparing them with the much-loved original, i no longer wondered, as i had so often done, why le diable boiteux was so little esteemed by those who had only known him in his english dress, while gil blas was as great a favourite with the british public as any of its own heroes of story. to account for this, i will not dwell on the want of literal fidelity in the old version, although in some instances that is amusing enough; but the total absence of style, and that too in the translation of a work by one of the greatest masters of verbal melody that ever existed, was so striking as to induce me, rashly perhaps, to endeavour more worthily to interpret the witty and satirical asmodeus for the benefit of those who have not the inestimable pleasure of comprehending him in his _native_ tongue--for, as jules janin observes, he is a devil truly french. in the translation which i here present, i do not myself pretend, at all times, to have rendered the words of the 'graceful cupid' with strict exactness, but i have striven to convey to my reader the ideas which those words import. whether i have succeeded in so doing is for others to determine; but, if i have not, i shall at all events have the satisfaction of failing in company,--which, i am told, however, is only an old bailey sort of feeling after all. i have not thought it necessary to attempt the life of the author; it will be enough to me, for fame, not to have murdered one of his children. i have therefore adopted the life, character, and behaviour of le sage from one of the most talented of modern french writers, and my readers will doubtless congratulate themselves on my resolve. neither have i deemed it needful to enter into the controversy as to the originality of this work, except by a note in page : and this i should probably not have appended, had i, while hunting over the early editions there referred to, observed the original dedication of le sage to 'the illustrious don luis velez de guevara,' in which are the following words: "i have already declared, and do now again declare to the world, that to your diabolo cojuelo i owe the title and plan of this work ...; and i must further own, that if the reader look narrowly into some passages of this performance, he will find i have adopted several of your thoughts. i wish from my soul he could find more, and that the necessity i was under of accommodating my writings to the genius of my own country had not prevented me from copying you exactly." this is surely enough to exonerate le sage from the many charges which have been urged against him; and i quote the concluding sentence of the above, because it is an excuse, from his own pen, for some little liberties which i have, in my turn, thought it necessary to take with his work in the course of my labours. joseph thomas. table of contents. translator's preface. biographical notice of le sage. chapter i. what sort of a devil he of the two sticks was--when and by what accident don cleophas leandro perez zambullo first gained the honour of his acquaintance. chapter ii. what followed the deliverance of asmodeus. chapter iii. where the devil translated the student; and the first fruits of his ecclesiastical elevation. chapter iv. story of the loves of the count de belflor and leonora de cespedes. chapter v. continuation of the story of the loves of the count de belflor and leonora de cespedes. chapter vi. new objects displayed to don cleophas; and his revenge on donna thomasa. chapter vii. the prison, and the prisoners. chapter viii. of various persons exhibited to don cleophas by asmodeus, who reveals to the student what each has done in his day. chapter ix. the madhouse, and its inmates. chapter x. the subject of which is inexhaustible. chapter xi. of the fire, and the doings of asmodeus on the occasion, out of friendship for don cleophas. chapter xii. of the tombs, of their shades, and of death. chapter xiii. the force of friendship. chapter xiv. the squabble between the tragic poet and the comic author. chapter xv. continuation, and conclusion, of the force of friendship. chapter xvi. the dreamers. chapter xvii. in which originals are seen of whom copies are rife. chapter xviii. relating to other matters which the devil exhibited to the student. chapter xix. the captives. chapter xx. of the last history related by asmodeus: how, while concluding it, he was suddenly interrupted; and of the disagreeable manner, for the witty demon, in which he and don cleophas were separated. chapter xxi. of the doings of don cleophas after asmodeus had left him; and of the mode in which the author of this work has thought fit to end it. [illustration: bust of le sage between asmodeus and gil blas] notice of le sage. i shall at once place le sage by the side of molière; he is a comic poet in all the acceptation of that great word,--comedy. he possesses its noble instincts, its good-natured irony, its animated dialogue, its clear and flowing style, its satire without bitterness, he has studied profoundly the various states of life in the heights and depths of the world. he is perfectly acquainted with the manners of comedians and courtiers,--of students and pretty women. exiled from the théâtre-français, of which he would have been the honour, and less fortunate than molière, who had comedians under his direction, and who was the proprietor of his own theatre, le sage found himself obliged more than once to bury in his breast this comedy, from want of a fitting stage for its exhibition, and actors to represent it. thus circumstanced, the author of "turcaret" was compelled to seek a new form, under which he might throw into the world the wit, the grace, the gaiety, the instruction which possessed him. in writing the biography of such men, there is but one thing to do, and that is to praise. the more humble and obscure have they been in their existence, the greater is the duty of him who tells the story of their lives, to heap upon them eulogy and honour. this is a tardy justice, if you will, but it is a justice nevertheless; and besides, of what importance, after all, are these vulgar events? all these biographies are alike. a little more of poverty, a little less of misery, a youth expended in energy, a manhood serious and filled with occupation, an old age respected, honourable; and, at the end of all these labours, all these troubles, all these anguishes of mind and heart, of which your great men alone have the secret,--the académie-française in perspective. then, are you possessed of mediocre talents only? all doors are open to you;--are you a man of genius? the door opens with difficulty;--but, are you perchance one of those excelling spirits who appear but from century to century? it may turn out that the académie-française will not have you at any price. thus did it with the great molière; thus also has it done for le sage; which, by-the-bye, is a great honour for the illustrious author of "gil blas." rené le sage was born in the morbihan, on the th of may, :[ ] and in that year racine produced "les plaideurs," and molière was playing his "avare." the father of le sage was a man slightly lettered,--as much so as could be expected of an honourable provincial attorney, one who lived from day to day like a lord, without troubling himself too much as to the future fortunes of his only son. the father died when the child was only fourteen years of age; and soon afterwards the youthful rené lost his mother. he was now alone, under the guardianship of an uncle, and he was fortunate enough to be placed under the tutelage of those learned masters of the youth of the seventeenth century, the jesuits who subsequently became the instructors of voltaire, as they have been of all france of the great age. thanks to this talented and paternal teaching, our young orphan quickly penetrated into the learned and poetical mysteries of that classic antiquity, which is yet in our days, and will be to the end of time, the exhaustless source of taste, of style, of reason, and of good sense. it is to praise le sage to say that he was educated with as much care and assiduity as molière and racine, as la fontaine and voltaire; they one and all prepared themselves, by severest study, and by respect for their masters, to become masters in their turn; and they have themselves become classic writers, because they reverenced their classic models,--which may, in case of need, serve as an example for the beaux-esprits of our own time. [ ] according to moreri, in his "grand dictionnaire historique," (folio, paris, ,) and he cites as his authority m. titon de tillet's second supplement to the "parnasse français," le sage was born at ruis in brittany, in . there is, however, every reason to believe that m. jules janin is correct, both as to the year and the place of his birth, notwithstanding that mr. chalmers, in his "biographical dictionary," while he assigns to the former the year , places the latter at vannes, as does also the "biographie universelle," which he appears to have followed. but, when this preliminary education was completed, and when he left these learned mansions, all filled with greek and latin, all animated with poetic fervour, le sage encountered those terrible obstacles that await invariably, as he emerges from his studies, every young man without family, and destitute of fortune. the poet juvenal has well expressed it, in one of his sublimest verses: "they with difficulty rise, whose virtues are opposed by the pinching wants of home." "haud facile emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat res angusta domi." but what matters poverty when one is so young,--when our hopes are so vast, our thoughts so powerful and rich? you have nothing, it is true; but the world itself belongs to you,--the world is your patrimony; you are sovereign of the universe; and around you, the twentieth year touches every thing with its golden wand. your clear and sparkling eye may look in the sun's bright face as dauntless as the eagle's. it is accomplished: all the powers of your soul are awakened, all the passions of your heart join in one swelling choir, to chant _hosanna in excelsis!_ what matter then that you are poor! a verse sublime, a noble thought, a well-turned phrase, the hand of a friend, the soft smile of some bright-eyed damsel as she flits across your path,--there is a fortune for a week. those who, at the commencement of every biography, enter into all sorts of lamentation, and deplore with pathetic voice the mournful destiny of their hero, are not in the secret of the facile joys of poetry, of the exquisite happiness of youth,--the simpletons! they amuse themselves in counting, one by one, the rags that cover yonder handsome form; and they see not, through the holes of the cloak which envelopes it, those herculean arms, or that athletic breast! they look with pity on that poor young man with well-worn hat, and beneath that covering deformed they see not those abundant, black, and tended locks, the flowing diadem of youth! they will tell you, with heart-rending sighs, how happy diderot esteemed himself, when to his crust of bread he joined the luxury of cheese, and how this poor rené le sage drank at his repasts but pure spring water;--a lamentable matter, truly! but diderot, while he ate his cheese, already meditated the shocks of his "encyclopædia"; but this same clear fountain from which you drink, at twenty, in the hollow of your hand, as pure, will intoxicate more surely than will, after twenty other years, alas! the sparkling produce of champagne, poured out in cups of crystal. this is sufficient reason why we should not trouble ourselves overmuch as to the early life of le sage; he was young and handsome, and as he marched, his head upturned like a poet, he met as he went along with those first loves which one always meets when the heart is honest and devoted. a charming woman loved him, and he let her love him to her heart's content; and, without concerning himself as to his good fortune, more than would master gil blas have done on a similar occasion, these first amours of our poet lasted just as long as such sort of amours ought to last--long enough that they should leave no subject for regret, not enough that they should evoke hatred. when, therefore, they had loved each other as much as they could, she and he, they separated, still to please themselves; she found a husband of riper age and better off than her lover; he took a wife more beauteous and less wealthy than his mistress. and blessings on the amiable and devoted girl who consented, with a joyous heart, to encounter all the risks, all the vexations, and also to expose herself to the seducing pleasures of a poetic life! thus le sage entered, almost without thinking of it, into that laborious life in which one must daily expend the rarest and most charming treasures of his mind and soul. as a commencement, he made a translation of the letters of calisthenes, without imagining that he was himself possessed of more wit than all the greeks of the fourth century. the work had no success, and it ought not to have had. he who has the genius of le sage must create original works, or not meddle in the craft. to translate is a trade of manual skill--to imitate, is one of plagiary. however, the failure of this first book rendered le sage less proud and haughty; and he accepted, what he would never have done had he at once succeeded, a pension from m. l'abbé de lyonne. this pension amounted to six hundred francs; and thereupon the biographers of our author are in extacies at the generosity of the abbé de lyonne. six hundred francs! and when we reflect that had le sage lived in our day, depending only on his théâtre de la foire, he would have gained thirty thousand francs a year! in our days, a romance like "gil blas" would not be worth less than five hundred thousand francs; "le diable boiteux" would have brought him a hundred thousand, at least: still, we must not be angry with m. l'abbé de lyonne, for having bestowed a pension of six hundred on the author of "gil blas." the abbé did more; he opened to le sage an admirable treasure of wit, of imagination, and of poetry; he taught him the spanish tongue, that lovely and noble instructress of the great corneille; and it is doubtless no slight honour for the language of cervantes to have given birth in our land to "the cid" and to "gil blas." you may imagine with what delight le sage accepted this instruction, and how perfectly at home he found himself in those elegant and gracious manners; with what good will he studied that smiling gallantry, that loyal jealousy; those duennas in appearance so austere, in reality so accessible; those lovely women, their feet ensatined, their head in the mantilla; those charming mansions, all carved without, and within all silence; those exciting windows, lighted by smiles above, while concerts murmur at their feet! you may imagine if he adopted those lively and coquetish waiting-women, those ingenious and rascally valets, those enormous mantles so favourable to love, those ancient bowers so friendly to its modest blisses! thus, when he had discovered this new world of poesy, of which he was about to be the pizarro and the fernando cortes, and of which corneille had been the christopher columbus, rené le sage clapped his hands for joy. in his noble pride, he stamped his feet on this enchanted land; he began to read, you may fancy with what delight, that admirable epic, "don quixote," which he studied for its grace, its charms, its poetry, its passion; putting for the time aside its satire, and the sarcasm concealed in this splendid drama, as weapons for a later use, when he should attack the financiers. certainly, the abbé de lyonne never dreamt that he was opening to the light this exhaustless mine for the man who was to become the first comic poet of france--since molière is one of those geniuses apart, of whom all the nations of the earth, all literary ages, claim alike with equal right the honour and the glory. the first fruit of this spanish cultivation was a volume of comedies which le sage published, and in which he had translated some excellent pieces of the spanish stage. it contained only one from lopez de vega, so ingenious and so fruitful; that was certainly too few: there was in it not one of calderon de la barca; and that was as certainly not enough. in this book, which i have read with care, in search of some of those luminous rays which betoken the presence of the man of genius wherever he has passed, i have met with nothing but the translator. the original writer does not yet display himself: it is because style is a thing which comes but slowly; it is because, in this heart of comedy more especially, there are certain secrets of trade which no talent can replace, and which must be learned at whatever cost. these secrets le sage learned, as every thing is learned, at his own expense. from a simple translator as he was, he became an arranger of dramatic pieces, and in (the eighteenth century had begun its course, but with timid steps, and none could have predicted what it would become) le sage brought out at the théâtre français a comedy in five acts, "le point d'honneur:" it was a mere imitation from the spanish. the imitation had small success, and le sage comprehended not this lesson of the public; he understood not that something whispered to the pit, so reserved in its applause, that there was in this translator an original poet. to avenge himself, what did le sage? he fell into a greater error still: he set to work translating--will you believe it?--the continuation of "don quixote," as if "don quixote" could have a continuation; as if there were a person in the world, even cervantes himself, who had the right to add a chapter to this famous history! verily, it is strange, indeed, that with his taste so pure, his judgment so correct, le sage should have ever thought of this unhappy _continuation_. this time, therefore, again his new attempt had no success; the parisian public, which, whatever may be said to the contrary, is a great judge, was more just for the veritable quixote than le sage himself; and he had once more to begin anew. however, he yet once more attempted this new road, which could lead him to nothing good. he returned to the charge, still with a spanish comedy, "don césar ursin," imitated from calderon. this piece was played for the first time at versailles, and applauded to the skies by the court, which deceived itself almost as often as the town. le sage now thought that the battle at last was won. vain hope! it was again a battle lost, for, brought from versailles to paris, the comedy of "don césar ursin" was hissed off the stage by the parisian pit, which thus unmercifully annihilated the eulogies of the court, and the first victory of the author. it was now full time to yield to the force of evidence. enlightened by these rude instructions, le sage at last comprehended that it was not permitted to him, to him less than to all others, to be a plagiarist; that originality was one of the grand causes of success; and that to confine himself for ever to this servile imitation of the spanish poets was to become a poet lost. now, therefore, behold him, determined in his turn to be an original poet. this time he no longer copies, he invents; he arranges his fable to his mind, and seeks no further refuge in the phantasmagoria of spain. with original ideas, comes to him originality of style; and he at last lights on that wondrous and imperishable dialogue which may be compared to the dialogue of molière, not for its ease, perhaps, but unquestionably for its grace and elegance. he found at the same time, to his great joy, now that he was himself--that he walked in the footsteps of nobody, he found that the business was much more simple; this time he was at his ease in his plot, which he disposed as it pleased him; he breathed freely in the space which he had opened to himself; nothing constrained his march, any more than his poetical caprice. well! at last then we behold him the supreme moderator of his work, we behold him such as the pit would have him, such as we all hoped he was. this happy comedy, which is, beyond all doubt, the first work of le sage, is entitled "crispin, rival de son maître." when he had finished it, le sage, grateful for the reception which the court had given to "don césar ursin," was desirous that the court should also have the first hearing of "crispin, rival de son maître." he remembered, with great delight, that the first applauses he had received had been echoed from versailles! behold him then producing his new comedy before the court. but, alas! this time the opinion of the court had changed: without regard for the plaudits of versailles, the pit of the paris theatre had hissed "don césar ursin"; versailles in its turn, and as if to take its revenge, now hissed "crispin, rival de son maître." we must allow that, for a mind less strong, here was enough to confound a man for ever, and to make him comprehend nothing either as to the success or the failure of his productions. happily, le sage appealed from the public of versailles to the pit of paris; and as much as "crispin, rival de son maître" had been hissed at versailles, so much was this charming comedy applauded at paris. on this occasion, it was not alone to give the lie to the court, that the pit applauded; paris had refound, in truth, in this new piece, all the qualities of true comedy,--the wit, the grace, the easy irony, the exhaustless pleasantry, a noble frankness, much biting satire, and a moderate seasoning of love. as to those who would turn into accusation the hisses of versailles, they should recollect that more than one chef-d'oeuvre, hissed at paris, has been raised again by the suffrages of versailles;--"les plaideurs" of racine, for instance, which the court restored to the poet with extraordinary applause, with the bursting laughter of louis xiv., which come deliciously to trouble the repose of racine, at five o'clock in the morning. happy times, on the contrary, when poets had, to approve them, to try them, this double jurisdiction; when they could appeal from the censures of the court to the praises of the town, from the hisses of versailles to the plaudits of paris! now we behold rené le sage, to whom nothing opposes: he has divined his true vocation, which is comedy; he understands what may be made of the human race, and by what light threads are suspended the human heart. these threads of gold, of silver, or of brass, he holds them at this moment in his hand, and you will see with what skill he weaves them. already in his head, which bears gil blas and his fortune, ferment the most charming recitals of "le diable boiteux." silence! "turcaret" is about to appear,--turcaret, whom molière would not have forgotten if turcaret had lived in his day; but it was necessary to wait till france should have escaped from the reign, so decorous, of louis xiv., to witness the coming, after the man of the church, after the man of the sword, this man without heart and without mind,--the man of money. in a society like our own, the man of money is one of those bastard and insolent powers which grow out of the affairs of every day, as the mushroom grows out from the dunghill. we know not whence comes this inert force,--we know not how it is maintained on the surface of the world, and nothing tells how it disappears, after having thrown its phosphorus of an instant. it is necessary, in truth, that an epoch should be sufficiently corrupt, and sufficiently stained with infamy, when it replaces, by money, the sword of the warrior, by money the sentence of the judge, by money the intelligence of the legislator, by money the sceptre of the king himself. once that a nation has descended so low, as to adore money on its knees--to require neither fine arts, nor poesy, nor love, it is debased as was the jewish people, when it knelt before the golden calf. happily, of all the ephemeral powers in the world, money is the most ephemeral; we extend to it our right hand, it is true, but we buffet it with our left; we prostrate ourselves before it as it passes along,--yes; but when it has passed, we kick it with our foot! this is what le sage marvellously comprehended, like a great comic poet as he was. he found the absurd and frightful side of those gilded men who divide our finances, menials enriched overnight, who, more than once, by a perfectly natural mistake, have mounted behind their own coaches. and such is turcaret. the poet has loaded him with vices the most disgraceful, with follies the most dishonouring; he tears from this heart, debased by money, every natural affection; and nevertheless, even in this fearful picture, le sage has confined himself within the limits of comedy, and not once in this admirable production does contempt or indignation take the place of laughter. it was then with good cause that the whole race of financiers, as soon as they had heard of turcaret, caballed against this chef-d'oeuvre; the cry resounded in all the rich saloons of paris; it was echoed from the usurers who lent their money to the nobles, and re-echoed by the nobles who condescended to borrow from the usurers; it was a general hue and cry. "le tartufe" of molière never met with greater opposition among the devotees than "turcaret" experienced from financiers; and, to make use of the expression of beaumarchais in reference to "figaro," it required as much mind for le sage to cause his comedy to be played as it did to write it. but on this occasion, again, the public, which is the all-powerful manager in these matters, was more potent than intrigue; monseigneur le grand dauphin, that prince so illustrious by his piety and virtue, protected the comedy of le sage, as his ancestor, louis xiv., had protected that of molière. on this, the financiers, perceiving that all was lost as far as intrigue was concerned, had recourse to money, which is the last reason of this description of upstarts, as cannon is the _ultima ratio_ of kings. this time again the attack availed not: the great poet refused a fortune that his comedy might be played, and unquestionably he made a good bargain by his resolve, preferable a hundred thousand times to all the fortunes which have been made and lost in the rue quincampoix.[ ] the success of "turcaret" ( ) was immense; the parisian enjoyed with rare delight the spectacle of these grasping money-hunters devoted to the most cruel ridicule. what if le sage had deferred the production of this masterpiece! these men would have disappeared, to make room for others of the kind, and they would have carried with them into oblivion the comedy they had paid for. it would have been a _chef-d'oeuvre_ lost to us for ever; and never, that we know of, would the good men on 'change have dealt us a more fatal blow. [ ] in this street, in , the famous projector law established his bank; and the rage for speculation which followed, made it for a time the bourse of paris. a hump-backed man made a large fortune by lending himself as a desk, whereon the speculators might sign their contracts, or the transfer of shares. the rue quincampoix is still a leading street for business, but its trade is now confined to more honest wares, such as drugs and grocery. who would credit it, however? after this superb production, which should have rendered him the master of french comedy, le sage was soon compelled to abandon that ungrateful theatre which understood him not. he renounced,--he, the author of "turcaret,"--pure comedy, to write, as a pastime, farces, little one-act pieces mingled with couplets, which made the life of the théâtre de la foire saint laurent, and of the théâtre de la foire saint germain. unfortunate example for le sage to set, in expending, without thought, all his talent, from day to day, without pity for himself, without profit for anyone. what! the author of "turcaret" to fill exactly the same office as m. scribe; to waste his time, his style, and his genius upon that trifling comedy which a breath can hurry away! and the french comedians were all unmoved, and hastened not to throw themselves at the feet of le sage, to pray, to supplicate him to take under his all-powerful protection that theatre elevated by the genius and by the toils of molière! but these senseless comedians were unable to foresee anything. nevertheless, if he had renounced the théâtre français, le sage had not abandoned true comedy. all the comedies which thronged his brain, he heaped them up in that grand work which is called "gil blas," and which includes within itself alone the history of the human heart. what can be said of "gil blas" which has not already been written? how can i sufficiently eulogise the only book truly gay in the french language? the man who wrote "gil blas" has placed himself in the first rank among all the authors of this world; he has made himself, by the magic of his pen, the cousin-german of rabelais and montaigne, the grandfather of voltaire, the brother of cervantes, and the younger brother of molière; he takes his place, in plenitude of right, in the family of comic poets, who have themselves been philosophers. in the same vein, he has further composed the "bachelier de salamanque," which would be a charming book if "gil blas" existed not, if above all, before writing his "gil blas," he had not written this charming book, "le diable boiteux." and now, _sauve qui peut!_ the devil is let loose upon the town, a devil truly french, who has the wit, the grace, and the vivacity of gil blas. beware! look to yourselves, you the ridiculous and the vicious, who have escaped the high comedy of the stage, for, by the virtue of this all-potent wand, not alone your mansions but your very souls shall in a twinkling change to glass. beware! i say; for asmodeus, the terrible scoffer, is about to plunge his pitiless eye into those mysterious places which you deemed so impenetrable, and to each of you he will reveal his secret history; he will strike you without mercy with that ivory crutch which opens all doors and all hearts; he will proclaim aloud your follies and your vices. none shall escape from that vigilant observer, who, astride upon his crutch, glides upon the roofs of the best secured houses, and divines their ambitions, their jealousies, their inquietudes, and, above all, their midnight wakefulness. considered with relation to its wit without bitterness, its satire which laughs at everything, and with regard to its style, which is admirable, "le diable boiteux" is perhaps the book most perfectly french in our language; it is perhaps the only book that molière would have put his name to after "gil blas." such was this life, all filled with most delightful labour, as also with the most serious toil; thus did this man, who was born a great author, and who has raised to perfection the talent of writing, go on from chef-d'oeuvre to chef-d'oeuvre without pause. the number of his productions is not exactly known; at sixty-five years of age, he yet wrote a volume of _mélanges_, and he died without imagining to himself the glories which were reserved for his name. an amiable and light-hearted philosopher, he was to the end full of wit and good sense; an agreeable gossiper, a faithful friend, an indulgent father, he retired to the little town of boulogne-sur-mer, where he became without ceremony a good citizen, whom everybody shook by the hand without any great suspicion that he was a man of genius. of three sons who had been born to him, two became comedians, to the great sorrow of their noble father, who had preserved for the players, as is plainly perceptible in "gil blas," a well-merited dislike. however, le sage pardoned his two children, and he even frequently went to applaud the elder, who had taken the name of monmenil; and when monmenil died, before his father, le sage wept for him, and never from that time ( ) entered a theatre. his third son, the brother of these two comedians, was a good canon of boulogne-sur-mer; and it was to his house that le sage retired with his wife and his daughter, deserving objects of his affection, and who made all the happiness of his latest days. one of the most affable gentlemen of that time, who would have been remarkable by his talents, even though he had not been distinguished by his nobility, m. le comte de tressan, governor of boulogne-sur-mer, was in the habit of seeing the worthy old man during the last year of his life; and upon that fine face, shaded with thick white hairs, he could still discern that love and genius had been there. le sage rose early, and his first steps took him to seek the sun. by degrees, as the luminous rays fell upon him, thought returned to his forehead, motion to his heart, gesture to his hand, and his eyes were lighted with their wonted fire: as the sun mounted in the skies, this awakened intelligence appeared, on its side, more brilliant and more clear; so much so, that you beheld again before you the author of "gil blas." but, alas! all this animation drooped in proportion as the sun declined; and, when night was come, you had before your eyes but a good old man, whose steps must be tended to his dwelling. thus died he, one day in summer. the sun had shown itself in heaven's topmost height on that bright day; and it had not quite left the earth when le sage called the members of his family around to bless them. he was little less than ninety when he died ( ). to give you an idea of the popularity that this man enjoyed even during his life-time, i will finish with this anecdote: when the "diable boiteux" appeared, in , the success of this admirable and ingenious satire upon human life was so great, the public esteemed the lively epigrams it contains so delightful, that the publisher was obliged to print two editions in one week. on the last day of this week, two gentlemen, their swords by their sides, as was then the custom, entered the bookseller's shop to buy the new romance. a single copy remained to sell: one of these gentlemen would have it, the other also claimed it; what was to be done? why, in a moment, there were our two infuriate readers with their swords drawn, and fighting for the first blood, and the last "diable boiteux." but what, i pray you, had they done, were it a question then of the "diable boiteux" illustrated by tony johannot? jules janin. [illustration: a street in madrid] asmodeus; or, the devil on two sticks. chapter i. what sort of a devil he of the two sticks was--when and by what accident don cleophas leandro perez zambullo first gained the honour of his acquaintance. a night in the month of october covered with its thick darkness the famous city of madrid. already the inhabitants, retired to their homes, had left the streets free for lovers who desired to sing their woes or their delights beneath the balconies of their mistresses; already had the tinkling of guitars aroused the care of fathers, or alarmed the jealousy of husbands; in short, it was near midnight, when don cleophas leandro perez zambullo, a student of alcala, suddenly emerged, by the skylight, from a house into which the incautious son of the cytherean goddess had induced him to enter. he sought to preserve his life and his honour, by endeavouring to escape from three or four hired assassins, who followed him closely, for the purpose of either killing him or compelling him to wed a lady with whom they had just surprised him. [illustration: zambullo fleeing from the hired assassins] against such fearful odds he had for some time valiantly defended himself; and had only flown, at last, on losing his sword in the combat. the bravos followed him for some time over the roofs of the neighbouring houses; but, favoured by the darkness, he evaded their pursuit; and perceiving at some distance a light, which love or fortune had placed there to guide him through this perilous adventure, he hastened towards it with all his remaining strength. after having more than once endangered his neck, he at length reached a garret, whence the welcome rays proceeded, and without ceremony entered by the window; as much transported with joy as the pilot who safely steers his vessel into port when menaced with the horrors of shipwreck. he looked cautiously around him; and, somewhat surprised to find nobody in the apartment, which was rather a singular domicile, he began to scrutinize it with much attention. a brass lamp was hanging from the ceiling; books and papers were heaped in confusion on the table; a globe and mariner's compass occupied one side of the room, and on the other were ranged phials and quadrants; all which made him conclude that he had found his way into the haunt of some astrologer, who, if he did not live there, was in the habit of resorting to this hole to make his observations. he was reflecting on the dangers he had by good fortune escaped, and was considering whether he should remain where he was until the morning, or what other course he should pursue, when he heard a deep sigh very near him. he at first imagined it was a mere phantasy of his agitated mind, an illusion of the night; so, without troubling himself about the matter, he was in a moment again busied with his reflections. [illustration: lucifer, the mountebank's devil] but having distinctly heard a second sigh, he no longer doubted its reality; and, although he saw no one in the room, he nevertheless called out,--"who the devil is sighing here?" "it is i, signor student," immediately answered a voice, in which there was something rather extraordinary; "i have been for the last six months enclosed in one of these phials. in this house lodges a learned astrologer, who is also a magician: he it is who, by the power of his art, keeps me confined in this narrow prison." "you are then a spirit?" said don cleophas, somewhat perplexed by this new adventure. "i am a demon," replied the voice; "and you have come in the very nick of time to free me from slavery. i languish in idleness; for of all the devils in hell, i am the most active and indefatigable." [illustration: uriel, patron of tradesmen] these words somewhat alarmed signor zambullo; but, as he was naturally brave, he quickly recovered himself, and said in a resolute tone: "signor diabolus, tell me, i pray you, what rank you may hold among your brethren. are you an aristocrat, or a burgess?" "i am," replied the voice, "a devil of importance, nay, the one of highest repute in this, as in the other world." "perchance," said don cleophas, "you are the renowned lucifer?" "bah," replied the spirit; "why, he is the mountebank's devil." "are you uriel then?" asked the student. "for shame!" hastily interrupted the voice; "no, he is the patron of tradesmen; of tailors, butchers, bakers, and other cheats of the middle classes." "well, perhaps you are beelzebub?" said leandro. "are you joking?" replied the spirit; "he is the demon of duennas and footmen." "that astonishes me," said zambullo; "i thought beelzebub one of the greatest persons at your court." "he is one of the meanest of its subjects," answered the demon; "i see you have no very clear notions of our hell." [illustration: leviathan, belphegor and ashtaroth] "there is no doubt then," said don cleophas, "that you are either leviathan, belphegor, or ashtaroth." "ah! those three now," replied the voice, "are devils of the first order, veritable spirits of diplomacy. they animate the councils of princes, create factions, excite insurrections, and light the torches of war. they are not such peddling devils as the others you have named." "by the bye! tell me," interrupted the scholar, "what post is assigned to flagel?" "he is the soul of special pleading, and the spirit of the bar. he composes the rules of court, invented the law of libel, and that for the imprisonment of insolvent debtors; in short, he inspires pleaders, possesses barristers, and besets even the judges. [illustration: flagel] "for myself, i have other occupations: i make absurd matches; i marry greybeards with minors, masters with servants, girls with small fortunes with tender lovers who have none. it is i who introduced into this world luxury, debauchery, games of chance, and chemistry. i am the author of the first cookery book, the inventor of festivals, of dancing, music, plays, and of the newest fashions; in a word, i am asmodeus, surnamed the devil on two sticks." "what do i hear," cried don cleophas; "are you the famed asmodeus, of whom such honourable mention is made by agrippa and in the clavicula salamonis? verily, you have not told me all your amusements; you have forgotten the best of all. i am well aware that you sometimes divert yourself by assisting unhappy lovers: by this token, last year only, a young friend of mine obtained, by your favour, the good graces of the wife of a doctor in our university, at alcala." "that is true," said the spirit: "i reserved that for my last good quality. i am the demon of voluptuousness, or, to express it more delicately, cupid, the god of love; that being the name for which i am indebted to the poets, who, i must confess, have painted me in very flattering colours. they say i have golden wings, a fillet bound over my eyes; that i carry a bow in my hand, a quiver full of arrows on my shoulders, and have withal inexpressible beauty. of this, however, you may soon judge for yourself, if you will but restore me to liberty." "signor asmodeus," replied leandro perez, "it is, as you know, long since i have been devoted to you: the perils i have just escaped will prove to you how entirely. i am rejoiced to have an opportunity of serving you; but the vessel in which you are confined is undoubtedly enchanted, and i should vainly strive to open, or to break it: so i do not see clearly in what manner i can deliver you from your bondage. i am not much used to these sorts of disenchantments; and, between ourselves, if, cunning devil as you are, you know not how to gain your freedom, what probability is there that a poor mortal like myself can effect it?" "mankind has this power," answered the demon. "the phial which encloses me is but a mere glass bottle, easy to break. you have only to throw it on the ground, and i shall appear before you in human form." "in that case," said the student, "the matter is easier of accomplishment than i imagined. but tell me in which of the phials you are; i see a great number of them, and all so like one another, that there may be a devil in each, for aught i know." "it is the fourth from the window," replied the spirit. "there is the impress of a magical seal on its mouth; but the bottle will break, nevertheless." "enough," said don cleophas; "i am ready to do your bidding. there is, however, one little difficulty which deters me: when i shall have rendered you the service you require, how know i that i shall not have to pay the magician, in my precious person, for the mischief i have done?" "no harm shall befall you," replied the demon: "on the contrary, i promise to content you with the fruits of my gratitude. i will teach you all you can desire to know; i will discover to you the shifting scenes of this world's great stage; i will exhibit to you the follies and the vices of mankind; in short, i will be your tutelary demon: and, more wise than the genius of socrates, i undertake to render you a greater sage than that unfortunate philosopher. in a word, i am yours, with all my good and bad qualities; and they shall be to you equally useful." "fine promises, doubtless," replied the student; "but if report speak truly, you devils are accused of not being religiously scrupulous in the performance of your undertakings." "report is not always a liar," said asmodeus, "and this is an instance to the contrary. the greater part of my brethren think no more of breaking their word than a minister of state; but for myself, not to mention the service you are about to render me, and which i can never sufficiently repay, i am a slave to my engagements; and i swear by all a devil holds sacred, that i will not deceive you. rely on my word, and the assurances i offer: and what must be peculiarly pleasing to you, i engage, this night, to avenge your wrongs on donna thomasa, the perfidious woman who had concealed within her house the four scoundrels who surprised you, that she might compel you to espouse her, and patch up her damaged reputation." the young zambullo was especially delighted with this last promise. to hasten its accomplishment, he seized the phial; and, without further thought on the event, he dashed it on the floor. it broke into a thousand pieces, inundating the apartment with a blackish liquor: this, evaporating by degrees, was converted into a thick vapour, which, suddenly dissipating, revealed to the astonished sight of the student the figure of a man in a cloak, about two feet six inches high, and supported by two crutches. this little monster had the legs of a goat, a long visage, pointed chin, a dark sallow complexion, and a very flat nose; his eyes, to all appearance very small, resembled two burning coals; his enormous mouth was surmounted by a pair of red mustachios, and ornamented with two lips of unequalled ugliness. [illustration: asmodeus revealed to zambullo] the head of this graceful cupid was enveloped in a sort of turban of red crape, relieved by a plume of cock's and peacock's feathers. round his neck was a collar of yellow cloth, upon which were embroidered divers patterns of necklaces and earrings. he wore a short white satin gown, or tunic, encircled about the middle by a large band of parchment of the same colour, covered with talismanic characters. on the gown, also, were painted various bodices, beautifully adapted for the display of the fair wearers' necks; scarfs of different patterns, worked or coloured aprons, and head-dresses of the newest fashion;--all so extravagant, that it was impossible to admire one more than another. [illustration: detail of the cloak: the spanish lady and her admirer] but all this was nothing as compared with his cloak, the foundation of which was also white satin. its exterior presented an infinity of figures delicately tinted in indian ink, and yet with so much freedom and expression that you would have wondered who the devil could have painted it. on one side appeared a spanish lady covered with her mantilla, and leering at a stranger on the promenade; and on the other a parisian grisette, who before her mirror was studying new airs to victimize a young abbé, at that moment opening the door. here, the gay italian was singing to the guitar beneath the balcony of his mistress; and there, the sottish german, with vest unbuttoned, stupefied with wine, and more begrimed with snuff than a french petit-maître, was sitting, surrounded by his companions, at a table covered with the filthy remnants of their debauch. in one place could be perceived a turkish bashaw coming from the bath, attended by all the houris of his seraglio, each watchful for the handkerchief; and in another an english gentleman, who was gallantly presenting to his lady-love a pipe and a glass of porter. [illustration: the gamesters] besides these there were gamesters, marvellously well portrayed; some, elated with joy, filling their hats with pieces of gold and silver; and others, who had lost all but their honour, and willing to stake on that, now turning their sacrilegious eyes to heaven, and now gnawing the very cards in despair. in short, there were as many curious things to be seen on this cloak as on the admirable shield which vulcan forged for achilles, at the prayer of his mother thetis; with this difference however,--the subjects on the buckler of the grecian hero had no relation to his own exploits, while those on the mantle of asmodeus were lively images of all that is done in this world at his suggestion. chapter ii. what followed the deliverance of asmodeus. upon perceiving that his appearance had not prepossessed the student very greatly in his favour, the demon said to him, smiling: "well, signor don cleophas leandro perez zambullo, you behold the charming god of love, that sovereign master of the human heart. what think you of my air and beauty? confess that the poets are excellent painters." "frankly!" replied don cleophas, "i must say they have a little flattered you. i fancy, it was not in this form that you won the love of psyche." "certainly not," replied the devil: "i borrowed the graces of a little french marquis, to make her dote upon me. vice must be hidden under a pleasing veil, or it wins not even woman. i take what shape best pleases me; and i could have discovered myself to you under the form of the apollo belvi, but that as i have nothing to disguise from you, i preferred you should see me under a figure more agreeable to the opinion which the world generally entertains of me and my performances." "i am not surprised," said leandro, "to find you rather ugly--excuse the phrase, i pray you; the transactions we are about to have with each other demand a little frankness: your features indeed almost exactly realise the idea i had formed of you. but tell me, how happens it that you are on crutches?" "why," replied the demon, "many years ago, i had an unfortunate difference with pillardoc, the spirit of gain, and the patron of pawnbrokers. the subject of our dispute was a stripling who came to paris to seek his fortune. as he was capital game, a youth of promising talents, we contested the prize with a noble ardour. we fought in the regions of mid-air; and pillardoc, who excelled me in strength, cast me on the earth after the mode in which jupiter is related by the poets to have tumbled vulcan. the striking resemblance of our mishaps gained me, from my witty comrades, the sobriquet of the limping devil, or the devil on two sticks, which has stuck to me from that time to this. nevertheless, limping as i am, i am tolerably quick in my movements; and you shall witness for my agility. "but," added he, "a truce to idle talk; let us get out of this confounded garret. my friend the magician will be here shortly; as he is hard at work on rendering a handsome damsel, who visits him nightly, immortal. if he should surprise us, i shall be snug in a bottle in no time; and it may go hard but he finds one to fit you also. so let us away! but first to throw the pieces, of that which was once my prison, out of the window; for such 'dead men' as these _do_ tell tales." "what if your friend does find out that you are 'missing?'" "what!" hastily replied the demon; "i see you have never studied the treatise on compulsions. were i hidden at the extremity of the earth, or in the region where dwells the fiery salamander; though i sought the murkiest cavern of the gnomes, or plunged in the most unfathomable depths of the ocean, i should vainly strive to evade the terrors of his wrath. hell itself would tremble at the potency of his spells. in vain should i struggle: despite myself should i be dragged before my master, to feel the weight of his dreaded chains." [illustration: asmodeus carried off] "that being the case," said the student, "i fear that our intimacy will not be of long duration: this redoubtable necromancer will doubtless soon discover your flight." "that is more than i know," replied the spirit; "there is no foreseeing what may happen." "what!" cried leandro perez; "a demon, and ignorant of the future!" "exactly so," answered the devil; "and they are only our dupes who think otherwise. however, there are enough of them to find good employment for diviners and fortune-tellers, especially among your women of quality; for those are always most eager about the future who have best reason to be contented with the present, which and the past are all we know or care for. i am ignorant, therefore, whether my master will soon discover my absence; but let us hope he will not: there are plenty of phials similar to the one in which i was enclosed, and he may never miss that. besides, in his laboratory, i am something like a law-book in the library of a financier. he never thinks of me; or if he does, he would think he did me too great an honour if he condescended to notice me. he is the most haughty enchanter of my acquaintance: long as he has deprived me of my liberty, we have never exchanged a syllable." "that is extraordinary!" said don cleophas; "what have you done to deserve so much hatred or scorn?" "i crossed him in one of his projects," replied asmodeus. "there was a chair vacant in a certain academy, which he had designed for a friend of his, a professor of necromancy; but which i had destined for a particular friend of my own. the magician set to work with one of the most potent talismans of the cabala; but i knew better than that: i had placed my man in the service of the prime minister; whose word is worth a dozen talismans, with the academicians, any day." while the demon was thus conversing, he was busily engaged in collecting every fragment of the broken phial; which having thrown out of the window, "signor zambullo," said he, "let us begone! hold fast by the end of my mantle, and fear nothing." however perilous this appeared to leandro perez, he preferred the possible danger to the certainty of the magician's resentment; and, accordingly, he fastened himself as well as he could to the demon, who in an instant whisked him out of the apartment. [illustration: asmodeus and zambullo flying over madrid] chapter iii. where the devil translated the student; and the first fruits of his ecclesiastical elevation. cleophas found that asmodeus had not vainly boasted of his agility. they darted through the air like an arrow from the bow, and were soon perched on the tower of san salvador. "well, signor leandro," said the demon as they alighted; "what think you now of the justice of those who, as they slowly rumble in some antiquated vehicle, talk of a devilish bad carriage?" "i must, hereafter, think them most unreasonable," politely replied zambullo. "i dare affirm that his majesty of castile has never travelled so easily; and then for speed, at your rate, one might travel round the world nor care to stretch a leg." "you are really too polite," replied the devil; "but can you guess now why i have brought you here? i intend to show you all that is passing in madrid; and as this part of the town is as good to begin with as any, you will allow that i could not have chosen a more appropriate situation. i am about, by my supernatural powers, to take away the roofs from the houses of this great city; and notwithstanding the darkness of the night, to reveal to your eyes whatever is doing within them." as he spake, he extended his right arm, the roofs disappeared, and the student's astonished sight penetrated the interior of the surrounding dwellings as plainly as if the noon-day sun shone over them. "it was," says luis velez de guevara, "like looking into a pasty from which a set of greedy monks had just removed the crust." [illustration: the miser counting his gold and silver] the spectacle was, as you may suppose, sufficiently wonderful to rivet all the student's attention. he looked amazedly around him, and on all sides were objects which most intensely excited his curiosity. at length the devil said to him: "signor don cleophas, this confusion of objects, which you regard with an evident pleasure, is certainly very agreeable to look upon; but i must render useful to you what would be otherwise but a frivolous amusement. to unlock for you the secret chambers of the human heart, i will explain in what all these persons that you see are engaged. all shall be open to you; i will discover the hidden motives of their deeds, and reveal to you their unbidden thoughts. [illustration: the miser's nephews consulting the sorceress] "where shall we begin? see! do you observe this house to my right? observe that old man, who is counting gold and silver into heaps. he is a miserly citizen. his carriage, which he bought for next to nothing at the sale of an alcade of the cortes, and which to save expense still sports the arms of its late owner, is drawn by a pair of worthless mules, which he feeds according to the law of the twelve tables, that is to say, he gives each, daily, one pound of barley: he treats them as the romans treated their slaves--wisely, but not too well. it is now two years since he returned from the indies, bringing with him innumerable bars of gold, which he has since converted into coin. look at the old fool! with what satisfaction he gloats over his riches. and now, see what is passing in an adjoining chamber of the same house. do you observe two young men with an old woman?" "yes," replied cleophas, "they are probably his children." "no, no!" said the devil, "they are his nephews, and, what is better in their opinion, his heirs. in their anxiety for his welfare, they have invited a sorceress to ascertain when death will take from them their dear uncle, and leave to them the division of his spoil. in the next house there are a pair of pictures worth remarking. one is an antiquated coquette who is retiring to rest, after depositing on her toilet, her hair, her eyebrows and her teeth; the other is a gallant sexagenarian, who has just returned from a love campaign. he has already closed one eye, in its case, and placed his whiskers and peruke on the dressing table. his valet is now easing him of an arm and one leg, to put him to bed with the rest." [illustration: the valet removing the sexagenarian's wooden leg] "if i may trust my eyes," cried zambullo, "i see in the next room a tall young damsel, quite a model for an artist. what a lovely form and air!" "i see," said the devil. "well! that young beauty is an elder sister of the gallant i have just described, and is a worthy pendant to the coquette who is under the same roof. her figure, that you so much admire, is really good; but then she is indebted for it to an ingenious mechanist, whom i patronise. her bust and hips are formed after my own patent; and it is only last sunday that she generously dropped her bustle at the door of this very church, on the occasion of a charity sermon. nevertheless, as she affects the juvenile, she has two cavaliers who ardently dispute her favour;--nay, they have even come to blows on the occasion. madmen! two dogs fighting for a bone. [illustration: the old lady being unlaced by her maid] "prithee, laugh with me at an amateur concert which is performing in a neighbouring mansion; an after-supper offering to apollo. they are singing cantatas. an old counsellor has composed the air; and the words are by an alguazil, who does the amiable after that fashion among his friends--an ass who writes verses for his own pleasure, and for the punishment of others. a harpsichord and clarionet form the accompaniment; a lanky chorister, who squeaks marvellously, takes the treble, and a young girl with a hoarse voice the bass." "what a delightful party!" cried don cleophas. "had they tried expressly to get up a musical extravaganza, they could not have succeeded better." [illustration: the amateur concert] "cast your eyes on that superb mansion," continued the demon; "and you will perceive a nobleman lying in a splendid apartment. he has, near his couch, a casket filled with billets-doux; in which he is luxuriating, that the sweet nothings they contain may lull his senses gently to repose. they ought to be dear to him, for they are from a signora he adores; and who so well appreciates the value of her favours, that she will soon reduce him to the necessity of soliciting the exile of a viceroyalty, for his own support. let us leave him to his slumbers, to watch the stir they are making in the next house to the left. can you distinguish a lady in a bed with red damask furniture? her name is donna fabula. she is of high rank, and is about to present an heir to her spouse, the aged don torribio, whom you see by her side, endeavouring to soothe the pangs of his lady until the arrival of the midwife. is it not delightful to witness so much tenderness? the cries of his dear better-half pierce him to the soul: he is overwhelmed with grief; he suffers as much as his wife. with what care,--with what earnestness does he bend over her!" "really," said leandro, "the man does appear deeply affected; but i perceive, in the room above, a youngster apparently a domestic, who sleeps soundly enough: he troubles himself not for the event." "and yet it ought to interest him," replied asmodeus; "for the sleeper is the first cause of his mistress's sufferings. [illustration: don torribio soothing donna fabula] "but see,--a little beyond," continued the demon: "in that low room, you may observe an old wretch who is anointing himself with lard. he is about to join an assembly of wizards, which takes place to-night between san sebastian and fontarabia. i would carry you thither in a moment, as it would amuse you; but that i fear i might be recognised by the devil who personates the goat." "that devil and you then," said the scholar, "are not good friends?" "no, indeed! you are right," replied asmodeus, "he is that same pillardoc of whom i told you. the scoundrel would betray me, and soon inform the magician of my flight." "you have perhaps had some other squabble with this gentleman?" "precisely so," said the demon: "some ten years ago we had a second difference about a young parisian who was thinking of commencing life. he wanted to make him a banker's clerk; and i, a lady-killer. our comrades settled the dispute by making him a wretched monk. this done, they reconciled us: we embraced; and from that time have been mortal foes." "but, have done with this belle assemblée," said don cleophas; "i am not at all curious to witness it: let us continue our scrutiny into what is before us. what is the meaning of those sparks of fire which issue from yonder cellar?" "they proceed from one of the most absurd occupations of mankind," replied the devil. "the grave personage whom you behold near the furnace is an alchymist; and the flames are gradually consuming his rich patrimony, never to yield him what he seeks in return. between ourselves, the philosopher's stone is a chimera that i myself invented to amuse the wit of man, who ever seeks to pass those bounds which the laws of nature have prescribed for his intelligence. "the alchymist's neighbour is an honest apothecary, who you perceive is still at his labours, with his aged wife and assistant. you would never guess what they are about. the apothecary is compounding a progenerative pill for an old advocate who is to be married to-morrow; the assistant is mixing a laxative potion; and the old lady is pounding astringent drugs in a mortar." [illustration: the apothecary, his wife, and his assistant] "i perceive, in the house facing the apothecary's," said zambullo, "a man who has just jumped out of bed, and is hastily dressing." "pshaw!" replied the spirit, "he need not hurry himself. he is a physician; and has been sent for by a prelate who since he has retired to rest--about an hour--has absolutely coughed two or three times. "but look a little further, in a garret on the right, and try if you cannot distinguish a man half dressed, who is walking up and down the room, dimly lighted by a single lamp." "i see," said the student; "and so clearly that i would undertake to furnish you with an inventory of his chattels,--to wit, a truckle-bed, a three-legged stool, and a deal table; the walls seem to be daubed all over with black paint." "that exalted personage," said asmodeus, "is a poet; and what appears to you black paint, are tragic verses with which he has ornamented his apartment, being obliged, for want of paper, to commit his effusions to the wall." "by his agitation and phrenzied air, i conclude he is now busily engaged on some work of importance," said don cleophas. "you are not far out," replied the devil: "he only yesterday completed the last act of an interesting tragedy, intitled the universal deluge. he cannot be reproached with having violated the unity of place, at all events, as the entire action is limited to noah's ark. [illustration: the poet, composing his dedication] "i can assure you it is a first-rate drama: all the animals talk as learnedly as professors. it of course must have a dedication, upon which he has been labouring for the last six hours; and he is, at this moment, turning the last period. it will be indeed a masterpiece of adulatory composition: every social and political virtue; every grace that can adorn; all that tends to render man illustrious, either by his own deeds or those of his ancestors, are attributed to its object;--never was praise more lavishly bestowed, never was incense burnt more liberally." "for whom, then, of all the world, is so magnificent an apotheosis intended?" "why," replied the demon, "the poet himself has not yet determined that; he has put in every thing but the name. however, he hopes to find some vain noble who may be more liberal than those to whom he has dedicated his former productions; although the purchasers of imaginary virtues are becoming every day more rare. it is not my fault that it is so; for it is a fault corrected in the wealthy patrons of literature, and a great benefit rendered to the public, who were certain to be deluged by trash from the swiss of the press, so long as books were written merely for the produce of their dedications. "apropos of this subject," added the demon, "i will relate to you a curious anecdote. it is not long since an illustrious lady accepted the honour of a dedication from a celebrated novelist, who, by the bye, writes so much in praise of other women, that he thinks himself at liberty to abuse the one peculiarly his own. the lady in question was anxious to see the address before it was printed; and not finding herself described to her taste, she wisely undertook the task, and gave herself all those inconvenient virtues, which the world so much admires. she then sent it to the author, who of course had weighty reasons for adopting it." "hollo!" cried leandro, "surely those are robbers who are entering that house by the balcony." "precisely so," said asmodeus; "they are brigands, and the house is a banker's. watch them! you will be amused. see! they have opened the safe, and are ferreting everywhere; but the banker has been before them. he set out yesterday for holland, and has taken with him the contents of his coffers for fear of accidents. they may make a merit of their visit, by informing his unfortunate depositors of their loss." [illustration: the brigands opening the banker's safe] "there is another thief," said zambullo, "mounting by a silken ladder into a neighbouring dwelling." "you are mistaken there," replied the devil; "at all events it is not gold he seeks. he is a marquis, who would rob a young maiden of the name, of which, however, she is not unwilling to part. never was 'stand and deliver' more graciously received: he of course has sworn he will marry her, and she of course believes him; for a marquis's 'promises' have unlimited credit upon love's exchange." [illustration: the registrar and griffael] "i am curious to learn," interrupted the student, "what that man in a night-cap and dressing-gown is about. he is writing very studiously, and near him is a little black figure, who occasionally guides his hand." "he is a registrar of the civil courts," replied the demon; "and to oblige a guardian, is, for a consideration, altering a decree made in favour of the ward: the gentleman in black, who seems enjoying the sport, is griffael the registrars' devil." "griffael, then," said don cleophas, "is a sort of deputy to flagel; for, as he is the spirit of the bar, the registrars are doubtless included in his department." "not so," replied asmodeus; "the registrars have been thought deserving of their peculiar demon, and i assure you they find him quite enough to do." [illustration: the widow, her lover, and her uncle] "near the registrar's house, you will perceive a young lady on the first floor. she is a widow; and the man, whom you see in the same room, is her uncle, who lodges in an apartment over hers. admire the bashfulness of the dame! she is ashamed to put on her chemise before her aged relative; so, modestly seeks the assistance of her lover, who is hidden in her dressing-room. [illustration: donoso receives the pages in his apartment] "in the same house with the registrar lives a stout graduate, who has been lame from his birth, but who has not his equal in the world for pleasantry. volumnius, so highly spoken of by cicero for his delicate yet pungent wit, was a fool to him. he is known throughout madrid as 'the bachelor donoso,' or 'the facetious graduate;' and his company is sought by old and young, at the court and in the town: in short, wherever there is, or should be, conviviality, he is so much the rage, that he has discharged his cook, as he never dines at home; to which he seldom returns until long after midnight. he is at present with the marquis of alcazinas, who is indebted for this visit to chance only." "how, to chance?" interrupted leandro. "why," replied the demon, "this morning, about noon, the graduate's door was besieged by at least half-a-dozen carriages, each sent for the especial honour of securing his society. the bachelor received the assembled pages in his apartment, and, displaying a pack of cards, thus addressed them:--'my friends, as it is impossible for me to dine in six places at one time, and as it would not appear polite to show an undue preference, these cards shall decide the matter. draw! i will dine with the king of clubs.'" [illustration: the cavalier serenades his inamorata] "what object," said don cleophas, "has yonder cavalier, who is sitting at a door on the other side of the street? is he waiting for some pretty waiting-woman to usher him to his lady's chamber?" "no, no," answered asmodeus; "he is a young castilian, whose modesty exceeds his love; so, after the fashion of the gallants of antiquity, he has come to pass the night at his mistress's portal. listen to the twang of that wretched guitar, with which he accompanies his tender strains! on the second floor you may behold his inamorata: she is weeping as she hears him;--but it is for the absence of his rival. "you observe that new building, which is divided into two wings. one is occupied by the proprietor, the old gentleman whom you see now pacing the apartment, now throwing himself into an easy chair." "he is evidently immersed in some grand project," said zambullo: "who is he? if one may judge by the splendour which is displayed in his mansion, he is a grandee of the first order." "nevertheless," said asmodeus, "he is but an ancient clerk of the treasury, who has grown old in such lucrative employment as to enable him to amass four millions of reals. as he has some compunctions of conscience for the means by which all this wealth has been acquired, and as he expects shortly to be called upon to render his account in another world, where bribery is impracticable, he is about to compound for his sins in this, by building a monastery; which done, he flatters himself that peace will revisit his heart. he has already obtained the necessary permission; but, as he has resolved that the establishment shall consist of monks who are extremely chaste, sober, and of the most christian humility, he is much embarrassed in the selection. he need not build a very extensive convent. "the other wing is inhabited by a fair lady, who has just retired to rest after the luxury of a milk bath. this voluptuary is widow of a knight of the order of saint james, who left her at his death her title only; but fortunately her charms have secured for her valuable friends in the persons of two members of the council of castile, who generously divide her favours and the expenses of her household." "hark!" cried the student; "surely i hear the cries of distress. what dreadful misfortune has occurred?" "a very common one," said the demon: "two young cavaliers have been gambling in a hell (the name is a scandal on the infernal regions), which you perceive so brilliantly illuminated. they quarrelled upon an interesting point of the game, and i naturally drew their swords to settle it: unluckily, they were equally skilful with their weapons, and are both mortally wounded. the elder is married, which is unfortunate; and the younger an only son. the wife and father have just come in time to receive their last sighs; and it is their lamentations that you hear. 'unhappy boy,' cries the fond parent over the still breathing body of his son, 'how often have i conjured thee to renounce this dreadful vice!--how often have i warned thee it would one day cost thee thy life. heaven is my witness, that the fault is none of mine!' men," added the demon, "are always selfish, even in their griefs. meanwhile the wife is in despair. although her husband has dissipated the fortune she brought him on their marriage; although he has sold, to maintain his shameful excesses, her jewels, and even her clothes, not a word of reproach escapes her lips. she is inconsolable for her loss. her grief is vented in frantic exclamations, mixed with curses on the cards, and the devil who invented them; on the place in which her husband fell, and on the people who surround her, and to whom she fondly attributes his ruin." [illustration: the expiring duellists] "how much to be lamented," interrupted the student, "is the love of gaming which possesses so large a portion of mankind; in what an awful state of excitement does it plunge its victims. heaven be praised! i am not included in their legion." "you are in high feather," replied the demon, "in another, whose exploits are not much more ennobling, and scarcely less dangerous. is the conquest of a courtezan a glory worth achievement? is the possession of charms common to a whole city worth the peril of a life? man is an amusing animal! the vision of a mole would enable him to discover the vices of his fellows, while that of the vulture could scarce detect a folly of his own. but let us turn to another affecting spectacle. you can discern, in the house just beyond the one we have been contemplating, a fat old man extended on a bed: he is a canon, who is now in a fit of apoplexy. the two persons, whom you see in his room, are said to be his nephew and niece: they are too much affected by his situation to be able to assist him; so, are securing his valuable effects. by the time this is accomplished, he will be dead; and they will be sufficiently recovered, and at leisure, to weep over his remains. [illustration: the canon's nephew and niece steal his possessions] "close by, you may perceive the funeral of two brothers; who, seized with the same disorder, took equally successful but different means of ensuring its fatality. one of them had the most utter confidence in his apothecary; the other eschewed the aid of medicine: the first died because he took all the trash his doctor sent him; the last because he would take nothing." "well! that is very perplexing," said leandro; "what is a poor sick devil to do?" "why," replied asmodeus, "that is more than the one who has the honour of addressing you can determine. i know, for certain, that there are remedies for most ills; but i am not so sure that there are good physicians to administer them when necessary." "and now i have something more amusing to unriddle. do you not hear a frightful din in the next street? a widow of sixty was married this morning to an adonis of seventeen; and all the merry fellows of that part of the town have assembled to celebrate the wedding by a concert of pots and pans, marrow-bones and cleavers." "you told me," said the student, "that these matches were under your control: at all events, you had no hand in this." "no, truly," answered the demon, "not i. had i been free, i should not have meddled with them. the widow had her scruples; and has married for no better reason than that she may enjoy, without remorse, the pleasures she so dearly loves. these are not the unions i care to form; i prefer troubling people's consciences to setting them at rest." "notwithstanding this charming serenade," said zambullo, "it seems to me that it is not the only concert performing in the neighbourhood." "no," said the cripple; "in a tavern in the same street, a lusty flemish captain, a chorister of the french opera, and an officer of the german guard are singing a trio. they have been drinking since eight in the morning; and each deems it a duty to his country, to see the others under the table." [illustration: the three drinkers] "look for a moment on the house which stands by itself, nearly opposite to that of the apoplectic canon: you will see three very pretty but very notorious courtezans enjoying themselves with as many young courtiers." "they are, indeed, lovely!" exclaimed don cleophas. "i am not surprised that they should be notorious: happy are the lovers who possess them! they seem, however, very partial to their present companions: i envy them their good fortune." "why, you are very green!" replied the demon: "their faces are not disguised with greater skill than are their hearts. however prodigal of their caresses, they have not the slightest tenderness for their foolish swains; their affection is bounded to the purses of their lovers. one of them has just secured the promise of a liberal establishment; and the others are prepared with settlements which they are in expectation of securing ere they part. it is the same with them all. men vainly ruin themselves for the sex: gold buys not love. the well-paid mistress soon treats her lover as a husband: that is a rule which i found necessary to establish in my code of intrigue. but we will leave these fools to taste the pleasures they so dearly purchase; while their valets, who are waiting in the street, console themselves with the pleasing anticipation of enjoying them gratis." "tell me," interrupted leandro perez, "what is passing in that splendid mansion on the left. the house is filled with well-dressed cavaliers and ladies; and all seems dancing and conviviality. it is indeed a joyous festival." "it is another wedding," said asmodeus; "and happy as they now are, it is not three days since that house witnessed the deepest affliction. it is a story worth hearing: it is rather long, certainly; but it will repay your patience." the devil then began as follows. chapter iv. story of the loves of the count de belflor and leonora de cespedes. leonora de cespedes was passionately beloved by the young count de belflor, one of the most distinguished nobles of the court. he had, however, no thoughts of suing for her hand; the daughter of a private gentleman might command his love, but had no pretensions in his eyes to rank above his mistress; and such was the honour he designed for her. accordingly, he followed her everywhere; and lost no opportunity of testifying by his glances the extent of his affection for her person; but he was unable to converse with her, or even to communicate by letter, so incessantly and vigilantly was she guarded by an austere duenna, the lady marcella. he was almost in despair; yet, incited by the obstacles which were thus opposed to his desires, he was constantly occupied in devising means for their attainment, and for deceiving the argus who so carefully watched his io. in the meanwhile, leonora had perceived the attention with which the count regarded her; and flattered by that first homage, so delightful to the unworn heart, she soon yielded to the soft persuasion of his eyes, and insensibly formed for him a passion as violent as his own. the flames of love are seldom kindled at the altar but they burn the temple. i did not, however, fan those thus lighted in her bosom, for the magician had put a stopper on my operations; but nature, and woman's nature especially, is generally potent enough in such cases, without my assistance. indeed, i doubt if she does not manage these matters best by herself; the only difference in our modes of procedure being, that nature saps the heart by slow degrees, while i love to carry it by storm. affairs were in this posture, when leonora, and her eternal governante, going one morning to church, were accosted by an old woman, carrying in her hand one of the largest chaplets ever framed by hypocrisy. "heaven bless you!" said she, addressing herself, with a saintly smile, to the duenna, "the peace of god be with you! have i not the honour of speaking to the lady marcella, the chaste widow of the lamented signor martin rosetta?" "you have," replied the governante. "how fortunate!" exclaimed the old hypocrite; "i have a relation, at this moment lying at my house, who would see you ere he dies. he was intimately acquainted with your dear husband, and has matters of the utmost importance to communicate to you. it is only three days since he arrived in madrid, from flanders, for the express purpose of seeing you; but scarcely had he entered my house when he was stretched on a bed of sickness, and he has now, i fear, but a few hours to live. let us hasten, while there is yet time, to soothe the pangs of his passing spirit: a few steps will bring us to his side." [illustration: leonora, marcella and the old woman] the wary duenna, who had seen enough of the world to be suspicious of the best even of her own sex, still, however, hesitated to follow: which the old lady perceiving, "my dear lady marcella," said she, "surely you do not doubt me. you must have heard of la chichona. why! the licentiate marcos de figuerna and the bachelor mira de mesqua would answer for me as for their grandmothers. if i desire that you accompany me to my house, it is for your good only. heaven forbid that i should touch the smallest portion of that which is your due, and which my poor relation is so anxious to repay to the wife of his friend!" at the word "repay," the lady marcella hesitated no longer: "let us go, my child," said she to leonora; "we will see this good woman's relation;--to visit the sick is among the first of our duties." "verily," said the demon, "charity does cover a multitude of sins!" [illustration: at the house of la chichona] they soon arrived at the house of la chichona, who introduced them to a mean apartment, where they found a man in bed: he had a long beard, and if he were not really desperately ill, he at least appeared to be so. "see, cousin!" said the old woman, presenting the governante; "behold the person whom you sought so anxiously; this is the lady marcella, the respected widow of your friend rosetta." at these words, the old man raised himself on his pillow with apparent difficulty; and, making signs for the duenna to approach him, said with a feeble voice,--"heaven be praised, for its mercy in permitting me to live till now!--to see you, my dear lady, was all that i desired upon earth. indeed, i feared to die, without the satisfaction of seeing you, and of rendering into your hands the hundred ducats which your late husband, my dearest friend, so kindly lent me in my dire necessity, at bruges, when but for that assistance my honour had been for ever lost:--but you must have often heard of me and my adventures." "alas! no," replied marcella, "he never mentioned it to me. god rest his soul! he was ever so generous as to forget the services he rendered to his friends; and so far from boasting of such kindnesses as these, i can declare that i even never heard of his doing a good action in his life." "his was indeed a noble mind," replied the sick man, "as i have perhaps better reason to know than most persons; and to prove this to you i must relate the history of the unfortunate affair from which his liberality so happily released me. but as i shall have to speak of things which should be disclosed to no other ears than thine, honourable as they are to the memory of my deceased friend, it were better that we should be alone." "oh, certainly!" cried chichona, "though it would delight me to hear of the good rosetta, whom you are always praising, we will retire to my closet;" saying which, she led leonora into the next apartment. no sooner had she done so, and closed the door, than without ceremony the old woman thus addressed her companion:--"charming leonora, our moments are too precious to be wasted. you know the young count de belflor, at least by sight. need i say how long he has loved you, and how ardently he desires to tell you so? driven to despair by the vigilance and austerity of marcella, he has had recourse to my assistance to procure him an interview; and i, who could refuse nothing to so handsome a cavalier, have dressed up his valet as the sick man you have just seen, that i might engage your governante's attention and bring you hither." as she finished speaking, the count, who was concealed by the drapery of a little window, discovered himself, and, falling at the feet of leonora: "madam," said he, "pardon the stratagem of a lover, who could no longer conceal from you the passion that is destroying the life to which it alone gives value:--but for this good woman's kindness, i had perished in despair." these words, uttered with respectful earnestness, by a man whose appearance was far from displeasing, affected, while they perplexed leonora, and she remained for some time speechless. but at length recovering herself, she looked, or endeavoured to look, haughtily on her prostrate lover, and replied: "truly you are deeply indebted to your obliging confidante for this attention, but i am not so sure that i have equal reason to be thankful, or that you will gain by her kindness the object you desire." in saying these words, she moved towards the door; but the count, gently detaining her, exclaimed: "stay, adorable leonora! deign to listen to me but for an instant. be not alarmed! my affection for you is pure as your own thoughts. i feel that the artifice to which i have descended must revolt you; but consider how vainly i have striven by more honourable means to address you. you cannot be ignorant that for many months, at the church, in the public walk, at the theatre, i have vainly sought to confirm with my lips that passion which my eyes could not disguise. alas! while i implore pardon for a crime to which the cruelty of the merciless duenna has compelled me, let me also entreat your pity for the torments i have endured; and judge, by the charms which your happy mirror discloses, of the extent of his wretchedness who is banished from their sight." [illustration: belflor woos leonora] belflor did not fail to accompany these words with all the arts of persuasion commonly practised with so much success by my devotees: tender looks, heart-broken sighs, and even a few tears were not wanting; and leonora was of course affected. despite herself, she began to feel those little flutterings of the heart, which are the usual preludes of capitulation with woman; but far from yielding without a struggle to her tenderness, or pity, or weakness, the more sensible she became of treason in the garrison, the more hastily she resolved to vacate the place. "count," she exclaimed, "it is in vain you tell me this. i will listen no longer. do not attempt to detain me: let me leave a house in which my honour is exposed to suspicion; or my cries shall alarm the neighbourhood, and expose your audacity which has dared to insult me." this she uttered with so resolute an air that chichona, who was on very punctilious terms with the police, prayed the count not to push matters to extremity. finding his entreaties useless, he released leonora, who hastened from the apartment, and, what never happened to any maiden before, left it as she had entered it. "let us quit this dangerous house," said leonora, on rejoining her governante: "finish this idle talk,--we are deceived." "what ails you, child?" cried marcella in reply; "and why should we leave this poor man so hastily?" "i will tell you," said leonora; "but let us fly: every instant i remain here but adds to my affliction." however desirous was the duenna to learn the cause of her ward's anxiety, she saw that the best way to be satisfied was to yield to her entreaties; and they quitted the apartment with a celerity which quite discomposed the stately governante, leaving chichona, the count, and his valet as much disconcerted as a company of comedians, when the curtain falls on a wretched farce, which the presiding deities of the pit have consigned to a lower deep. when leonora found herself safely in the street, she related, as well as her extreme agitation, and marcella's exclamations of astonishment, would permit, all that had passed in the chamber with the count and chichona. "i must confess, child," said the duenna, when they had reached home, "that i am exceedingly mortified to hear what you have just been telling me. to think that i have been the dupe of that wicked woman! you will allow, however, that i was not without my doubts. why did i yield them? i should have been suspicious of so much kindness and honesty. i have committed a folly which is absolutely inexcusable in a person of my sagacity and experience. ah! why did you not tell me this in her presence? i would have torn her eyes out: i would have loaded the count de belflor with reproaches for his perfidy: and as for the scoundrel with his ducats and his beard, he should not have had a hair left on his head. but i will return, this instant, with the money which i have received as a real restitution; and if i find them still together, they shall not have waited for nothing." so saying, the enraged widow of the generous rosetta folded her mantilla around her, and left leonora to weep over the treachery of mankind. marcella found the count with chichona, in despair at the failure of his design. most of my pupils, in his place, would have been abashed at seeing her: it is extraordinary what scruples i have to overcome. but belflor was of another stamp: to a thousand good qualities, he added that of yielding implicit obedience to my inspirations. when he loved, nothing could exceed the ardour with which he followed the devoted object of his affections; and though naturally what the world calls an honourable man, he was then capable of violating the most sacred duties for the attainment of his desires. no sooner, therefore, did he perceive marcella, than, as he saw that their fulfilment could only be completed through the duenna's agency, he resolved to spare nothing to win her to his interests. he shrewdly guessed that, rigidly virtuous as the lady appeared, she, like her betters, had her price; and as he was disposed to bid pretty liberally, you will own he did no great injustice to a duenna's fidelity: for so rare a commodity will only be found where lovers are not over-rich, or not sufficiently liberal. the instant marcella entered the room, and perceived the three persons she sought, her tongue went as though possessed; and while she poured a torrent of abuse on the count and chichona, she sent the restitution flying at the head of the valet. the count patiently endured the storm; and throwing himself on his knees before the duenna, to render the scene more moving, he pressed her to take back the purse she had rejected; and offering to add to it a thousand pistoles, he besought her compassion on his sufferings. as marcella had never before been so earnestly entreated, it is no wonder that she was, on this occasion, not inexorable: her invectives, therefore, speedily ceased; and on comparing the tempting sum now offered to her, with the paltry recompence she expected from don luis de cespedes, she was not slow in discovering that it would be much more profitable to turn leonora from her duty, than to keep her in its path. accordingly, after some little affectation, she again received the purse, accepted the offer of the thousand pistoles, promised to assist the count in his designs, and departed at once to labour for their accomplishment. [illustration: belflor bribes marcella] as she knew leonora to be strictly virtuous, she was extremely cautious of exciting the least suspicion of her intelligence with the count, lest the plot should be discovered to don luis, her father; so, desirous of skilfully effecting her ruin, she thus addressed her on her return: "my dear leonora, i have revenged myself on the wretches who deceived us. i found them quite confounded at your virtuous resolution; and, threatening the infamous chichona with your father's resentment, and the most rigorous severity of the law, i bestowed on the count de belflor all the insulting epithets that my anger could suggest. i warrant that the signor will make no more attempts of this kind on you; and that henceforth his gallantries will cease to engage my attention. i thank heaven that, by your firmness, you have escaped the snare that was laid for you. i could weep for joy to think that the deceiver has gained nothing by his stratagem; for these noble signors make it their amusement to seduce the young and innocent. indeed, the greater part even of those who pique themselves on their honourable conduct have no scruples on this point, as though it were no disgrace to carry ruin into virtuous families. not that i think the count absolutely of this character, nor even that he intends studiously to deceive you: we should not judge too harshly of our neighbours; and perhaps, after all, he meant you honourably. although his rank would give him pretensions to the hand of the noblest at our court, your beauty may yet have induced him to resolve on marriage with yourself. in fact, i recollect that in his answers to my reproaches, which i heeded not at the time, i might have perceived something of the sort." "what say you, dear marcella?" interrupted leonora. "if that were his intention, he would have sought me of my father, who would never have refused his daughter to a person of his rank." "what you say is perfectly just," replied the governante, "and i am quite of your opinion; the count's proceedings are certainly suspicious, or rather his designs cannot be good: for a trifle, i would return and scold him again." "no, good marcella," replied leonora, "we had better forget the past, and revenge ourselves by contempt." "very true," said the duenna; "i believe that is the best plan: you are more prudent than myself. but, after all, may we not do the count injustice? who knows that he has not been actuated by the purest and most delicate motives? it is possible that, before obtaining your father's consent, he may have resolved to deserve and to please you; to render your union more delightful by first gaining your heart. if that were so, child, would it be a very great sin to listen to him? tell me your thoughts, love; you know my affection: does your heart incline towards the count, or would it be very disagreeable to marry such a man?" to this malicious question, the too-sincere leonora replied, with down-cast eyes, and face suffused with blushes, by avowing that she had no aversion to the count; but, as modesty prevented her explaining herself more openly, the duenna still pressed her to conceal nothing from her; and at last succeeded, by affected tenderness, in obtaining a full confession of her love. "dearest marcella," said the unsuspicious girl, "since you desire me to speak to you without disguise, i must confess that belflor has appeared to me not unworthy of my love. i was struck by his appearance; and i have heard him so much praised, that i could not remain insensible to the affection he displayed for me. your watchful care to guard me from his addresses has cost me many a sigh: nay, i will own i have in secret wept his absence; and repaid with my tears the sufferings your vigilance has caused him. even at this moment, instead of hating him for the insult he has offered to my honour, my heart against my will excuses him, and throws his fault on your severity." "my child," said the governante, "since you give me reason to believe that his attentions are pleasing to you, i will endeavour to secure this lover." "i am very sensible," replied leonora, "of the kindness you intend me. it is not that the count holds the first place at court; were he but an honourable private gentleman, i should prefer him to all others upon earth, but let us not flatter ourselves: belflor is a noble signor, destined, without doubt, for one of the richest heiresses in our kingdom. let us not expect that he would descend to ally himself with don luis, who has but a moderate fortune to offer with his daughter. no, no," she added, "he entertains for me no such favourable thoughts: he thinks not of me as one worthy to bear his name, but seeks only my dishonour." "ah! wherefore," said the duenna, "will you insist he loves you not well enough to seek your hand? love daily works much greater miracles. one would imagine, to hear you, that heaven had made some infinite distinction between you and the count. do yourself more justice, leonora! he would not condescend, in uniting his destiny with yours. you are of an ancient and noble family, and your alliance would never call a blush upon his cheek. however, you love him," continued she; "and i must therefore see him, and sound him on the subject; and if i find his designs as honourable as they should be, i will indulge him with some slight hopes." "not for the world!" cried leonora; "on no account would i have you seek him: should he but suspect my knowledge of your proceedings, he must cease even to esteem me." "oh! i am more cunning than you think me," answered marcella. "i shall begin by accusing him of a design to seduce you. he of course will not fail to defend himself; i shall listen to his excuses, and shall mark the event: in short, my dear child, leave it to me; i will be as careful of your honour as of my own." towards night, the duenna left the house, and found belflor watching in the neighbourhood. she informed him of her conversation with his mistress, not forgetting to boast of the address with which she had elicited from leonora the confession of her love. nothing could more agreeably surprise the count than this discovery; and accordingly his gratitude was displayed in the most ardent manner; that is to say, he promised to marcella the thousand ducats on the morrow, and to himself the most complete success of his enterprise; well knowing, as he did, that a woman prepossessed is half seduced. they then separated, extremely well satisfied with each other, and the duenna returned to her home. leonora, who had waited for her with extreme anxiety, timidly inquired if she brought any news of the count. "the best news you could hear," replied the governante. "i have seen him, and i can assure you of the purity of his intentions: he declared that his only object is to marry you; and this he confirmed by every oath that man holds sacred. i did not, however, as you may suppose, yield implicitly to these protestations. 'if you are sincere,' said i to him, 'why do you not at once apply to don luis, her father?' 'ah! my dear marcella,' replied he, without appearing in the least embarrassed by this question, 'could you, even, approve that, without assuring myself of leonora's affection, and following, blindly, the dictates of a devouring passion, i should seek her of don luis as a slave? no! her happiness is dearer to me than my own desires; and i have too nice a sense of honour, even to endanger that happiness by an indiscreet avowal.' "while he thus spoke," continued the duenna, "i observed him with extreme attention; and employed all my experience to discover in his eyes if he were really possessed of all the love that he expressed. what shall i say?--he appeared to me penetrated by the truest love; i felt elated with joy, which i took good care, however, to conceal: nevertheless, when i felt persuaded of his sincerity, i thought that, in order to secure for you so important a conquest, it would be but proper to give him some faint idea of your feelings towards him. 'signor,' said i, 'leonora has no aversion for you; i know that she esteems you; and, as far as i can judge, her heart would not be grieved by your addresses.' 'great god,' he cried, transported with delight, 'what do i hear? is it possible, that the charming leonora should be disposed so favourably towards me? what do i not owe to you, kindest marcella, for thus relieving me from such torturing suspense? i am the more rejoiced, too, that this should be announced by you;--you, who have ever opposed my love; you, who have inflicted on me such lengthened suffering. but, my dear marcella, complete my bliss! let me see my divine leonora, and pledge to her my faith; let me swear, in your presence, to be hers only for ever.' "to all these expressions of his devotion," continued the governante, "he added others still more touching. at last, my dear child, he entreated me in so pressing a manner to procure for him a secret interview, that i could not forbear promising he should see you." "ah! why have you done so?" exclaimed leonora, with emotion. "how often have you told me, that a virtuous girl should ever shun such secret conversations,--always wrong, and almost always dangerous?" "certainly," replied the duenna, "i acknowledge to have said so, and a very good maxim it is; but you are not obliged to adhere to it strictly on this occasion; for you may look upon the count as your husband." "he is not so yet," said leonora, "and i ought not to see him until my father permits his addresses." marcella, at this moment, repented of having imbued the mind of her pupil with those notions of propriety which she found so much trouble to overcome. determined, however, at any rate to effect her object, she thus recommenced her attack: "my dear leonora! i am proud to witness so much virtuous delicacy. happy fruit of all my cares! you have truly profited by the lessons i have taught you. i am delighted with the result of my labours. but, child, you have read rather too literally; you construe my maxims too rigidly; your susceptibility is indeed somewhat prudish. however much i pique myself on my severity, i do not quite approve of that precise chastity which arms itself indifferently against guilt or innocence. a girl ceases not to be virtuous who yields her ear only to her lover, especially when she is conscious of the purity which chastens his desires; and she is then no more wrong in responding to his love, than she is for her sensibility to the passion. rely upon me, leonora; i have too much experience, and am too much interested in your welfare, to suffer you to take a step that might be prejudicial to it." "but where would you have me see the count?" said leonora. "in this room, to be sure," replied the duenna. "where could you see him so safely? i will introduce him to-morrow evening." "you are not surely serious, marcella!" exclaimed leonora. "what! think you i would permit a man----" "to be sure you will!" interrupted the duenna; "there is nothing so wonderful in that, as you imagine. it happens daily; and would to heaven that every damsel who receives such visits, had desires as pure as those by which you are animated! besides, what have you to fear? shall not i be with you?" "alas!" said leonora, "should my father surprise us!" "do not trouble yourself about that," replied marcella. "your father is perfectly satisfied as to your conduct: he knows my fidelity, and would not do me so much wrong as to suspect it." poor leonora, thus artfully instigated by the duenna, and secretly moved by her own feelings, could withstand no longer; and at last yielded, although unwillingly, to her governante's proposal. the count was soon informed of marcella's success, of which he was so well satisfied, that he at once gave her five hundred pistoles, and a ring of equal value. the duenna, finding his promises so well performed, was determined to be as scrupulously exact in the fulfilment of her own; and, accordingly, on the following night, when she felt assured that every one in the house was fast asleep, she fastened to the balcony a silken ladder, which the count had provided, and introduced his lordship to the chamber of his mistress. in the meanwhile, the fair leonora was immersed in reflections of the most painfully agitating nature. notwithstanding her affection for the count, and despite her governante's assurances, she bitterly reproached herself for her weakness, in yielding a consent to an interview which she still felt was in violation of her duty; nor could a knowledge of the purity of her intentions bring comfort to her bosom. to receive, by night, in her apartment, a man whose love was unsanctioned by her parent, and not certainly known even by herself, now appeared to her not only criminal, but calculated to degrade her in the estimation of her lover also; and this last thought tortured her almost to madness, when that lover entered. he threw himself on his knees before her; and, apparently penetrated by love and gratitude, thanked her for that confidence in his honour, which had permitted this visit, and assured her of his determination to merit it, by shortly espousing her. however, as he was not as explicit upon this point as leonora desired, "count," said she to him, "i am too anxious to believe that you have no other views than those you express to me; but whatever assurances you may offer must always appear to me suspicious, so long as my father is ignorant of your designs, and has not ratified them by his consent." "madam," replied belflor, "that would have been long since demanded by me, had i not feared to have obtained it at the sacrifice of your repose." "alas!" said leonora, "i do not reproach you that you have not yet sought don luis,--i cannot but be sensible of your delicacy; but nothing now restrains you, and you must at once resolve to see my father, or never to see me more." [illustration: belflor climbs up to leonora's balcony] "what do i hear?" exclaimed the count,--"never to see you more! beauteous leonora! how little sensible are you to the charms of love! did you know how to love like me, you would delight in secret to receive my vows; and, for some time at least, to conceal them from your father as from all the world. oh! who can paint the charms of that mysterious intercourse, in which two hearts indulge, united by a passion as intense as pure." "it may have charms for you," replied leonora; "to me, such intercourse would bring but sorrow: this refinement of tenderness but ill becomes a virtuous maiden. speak not to me of such impure delights! did you esteem me, you had not dared to do so; and were your intentions such as you would persuade me, you would, from your soul, reproach me that i could listen to you with patience. but, alas!" she added, while tears filled her eyes, "my weakness alone has exposed me to this outrage: i have indeed deserved it, that i see you here." "adorable leonora!" cried the count, "you wrong my love most cruelly! your virtue, too scrupulous, is causelessly alarmed. what! can you conceive that, because i have been so happy as to prevail on you to favour my passion, i should cease to esteem you? what injustice! no, madam, i know, too well, the value of your kindness; it can never deprive you of my esteem; and i am ready to do as you require me. i will, to-morrow, see don luis; and nothing shall be wanting on my part to ensure my happiness: but i cannot conceal from you, that i scarcely indulge a hope." "how!" replied; leonora, with extreme surprise; "is it possible that my father should refuse me to the count de belflor?"--"ah! it is that very title which gives me cause for alarm. but i see this surprises you: your astonishment, however, will soon cease. "only a few days ago," continued he, "the king was pleased to declare his will, that i should marry: you know how these matters are managed at our court. he has not, however, named the lady for whom i am intended; but has contented himself with intimating that she is one who will do me honour, and that he has set his mind upon our union. as i was then ignorant of your disposition towards me,--for, as you well know, your rigorous severity has never until now, permitted me to divine it,--i did not let him perceive in me any aversion to the accomplishment of his desires. you may now therefore, judge, madam, whether don luis would hazard the king's displeasure, by accepting me as his son-in-law." "no, doubtless," said leonora; "i know my father well: however desirable he might esteem your alliance, he would not hesitate to renounce it, rather than expose himself to the anger of his majesty. but, even though my father had consented to our union, we should not be less unfortunate; for, belflor, how could you possibly bestow on me a hand which the king has destined for another?" "madam," replied the count, "i will not disguise that your question embarrasses me. still, i am not without hope that, by prudent management with the king, and by availing myself of the influence which his friendship for me secures, i should find means to avoid the misfortune which threatens me; and yourself, lovely leonora, might assist me in so doing, did you but deem me worthy of the happiness of being yours." "i assist you!" she exclaimed; "how could i possibly enable you to avert an union which the king proposes for you?" "ah! madam," he replied, with impassioned looks, "would you deign to receive my vows of eternal fidelity to you, i should have no difficulty in preserving my faith inviolate, without offending my sovereign. permit, charming leonora," he continued, throwing himself at her feet, "permit me to espouse you in the presence of our friend marcella; she is a witness who will vouch for the sanctity of our engagements. i shall thus escape the hateful bonds they would impose upon me; for, should the king still press me to accept the lady he designs for me, i will prostrate myself before him, and, on my knees, confess how long and ardently my love has been devoted to you, and that we are secretly married. however desirous he may be to unite me with another, he is too gracious to think of tearing me from the object i adore, and too just to offer so grievous an affront to your honourable family. "what is your opinion, discreet marcella?" added he, turning towards the governante; "what think you of this project with which love has so opportunely inspired me?" "i am charmed with it," said the duenna; "the rogue, cupid, is never at a loss for an expedient." "and you, dearest leonora," resumed the count, "what do you say to it? can your heart, always mistrustful, refuse its assent to my proposal?" "no," she replied, "provided my father consent to it; and i do not doubt that he will, when you have explained to him your reasons for secrecy." "you must be very cautious how you consult him upon the subject," interrupted the abominable duenna; "you do not know don luis: his notions of honour are too scrupulous to permit him to engage himself with secret amours. the proposal of a private marriage would shock him; besides which, he is too prudent not to foresee the possible consequences of one which interfered with the designs of the king. and, once proposed to him, and his suspicion aroused, his eyes will be constantly upon you; and he will take good care to prevent your marriage, by separating you for ever." "and i should die with grief and despair," cried our courtier. "but madam," continued he, addressing himself to marcella, with an air of profound disappointment, "do you really think, then, that there is no chance of don luis yielding to our prayer?" "not the slightest!" replied the governante. "but suppose he should! exact and scrupulous as he is, he would never consent to the omission of a single religious ceremony on the occasion; and if they are all to be observed in your marriage, the secret will be soon known in madrid." "ah! my dear leonora," said the count, taking her hand, and tenderly pressing it within his own, "must we, then, to satisfy a vain notion of decorum, expose ourselves to the frightful danger of an eternal separation? our happiness is in your hands; since it depends on you alone to bestow yourself on me. a father's consent might, perhaps, spare you some uneasiness; but since our kind marcella has convinced us of the impossibility of obtaining it, yield yourself, without further scruple, to my innocent desires. receive my heart and hand; and when the time shall have arrived, that we may inform don luis of our union, we shall have no difficulty in satisfying him as to our reasons for its concealment." "well, count," said leonora, "i consent to your not at once speaking to my father, but that you first sound the king upon the subject. before, however, i receive thus secretly your hand, i would have this done. see his majesty; tell him even, if necessary, that we are married. let us endeavour, by this show of confidence,----" "alas! madam," interrupted belflor, "what do you ask of me? no, my soul revolts at the thoughts of falsehood. i cannot lie; and you would despise me, could i thus dissemble with the king;--besides, how could i hope for pardon at his hands, should he discover the meanness of which i had been guilty?" "i should never have done, signor don cleophas," continued the demon, "were i to repeat word for word all that belflor said, in order to seduce his lovely mistress; i will only add, that he repeated, without my assistance, all those passionate phrases with which i usually inspire gallants upon similar occasions. but in vain did he swear he would publicly confirm, as soon as possible, the faith which he proposed to pledge in secret: leonora's virtue was proof against his oaths; and the blushing day, which surprised him while he called heaven to witness for his fidelity, compelled him to retire less triumphant than he had anticipated." on the following morning, the duenna, conceiving that her honour, or rather her interest, engaged her not to abandon the enterprise, took an opportunity of reverting to the subject. "leonora," said she, "i am confounded by what passed last evening; you appear to disdain the count's affection, or to regard it as inspired by an unworthy motive. perhaps, however, after all, you remarked something in his person or manner that displeased you?" "no, good governante," replied leonora; "he never appeared to me more amiable; and his conversation discovered to me a thousand new charms." "if that be the case," said the duenna, "i am still more perplexed. you acknowledge to be strongly prepossessed in his favour, and yet refuse to yield in a point, the absolute necessity of which he has so clearly demonstrated." "my dear marcella," replied her ward, "you are wiser, and have had more experience in these matters, than myself; but have you sufficiently reflected on the consequences of a marriage contracted without my father's knowledge?" "yes, certainly," answered the duenna, "i have maturely considered all that; and i regret to find you oppose yourself, with an obstinacy of which i deemed you incapable, to the brilliant establishment which fortune presents so uselessly. have a care that your perverseness does not weary and repel your lover; remember that he may discover the inequality of your station and fortune, which his passion overlooks. while he offers you his faith, receive it without hesitation. his word is his bond; there is no tie more sacred with a man of honour, like belflor: besides, i am witness that he acknowledges you as his wife; and i need not tell you that a testimony like mine would be more than sufficient to condemn a lover who should dare to perjure himself, and attempt to evade a legal contract." by this and similar conversations, the resolution of the artless leonora was at last shaken; and the perils which surrounded her were so adroitly concealed by her perfidious governante, that, some days afterwards, she abandoned herself, without further reflection, to the will of the count. belflor was introduced nightly, by the balcony, into his mistress's apartment; which he left again before daybreak, when summoned by the duenna. one morning, the old lady overslept herself; and aurora had already half opened the golden chambers of the east, when the count hastily departed, as usual. unfortunately, in his hurry to descend the ladder, his foot missed, and he fell heavily on the ground. don luis de cespedes, who slept in the room over leonora's, had that morning risen earlier than usual to attend to some important engagements; and hearing the noise of belflor's fall he opened his window to learn whence it proceeded. to his astonishment, he perceived a man just raising himself, with difficulty, from the earth, while marcella was busily engaged in the balcony with the silken ladder, of which the count had made such bad use in his descent. scarcely believing his eyes, and rubbing them to make sure that he was awake, don luis stood for some time in amazement; but he was too soon convinced that what he saw was no illusion; and that the light of day, although just breaking, was bright enough to discover to him, too clearly, his disgrace. [illustration: don luis de cespedes looking out of the window] afflicted at this fatal sight, transported by a just wrath, he instantly sought the apartment of leonora, holding the light by which he had been writing in one hand, and his sword in the other. with a frantic determination of sacrificing his daughter and her governante to his resentment, he struck the door of their chamber violently, and commanded them to admit him. trembling, they obeyed his summons; when he entered with infuriated looks, and displaying his naked sword: "i come," he cried, "to wash out, in the blood of an infamous child, the stains on the wounded honour of her father; and to punish the crime of a perfidious wretch, who has betrayed his confidence." [illustration: don luis confronts leonora and marcella] they were in a moment on their knees before him; and, as he raised his arm, the trembling duenna exclaimed: "in mercy hold, signor! before you inflict on us the punishment you meditate, deign but to listen to me for a moment." "speak, then, unhappy woman," said don luis; "i will retard my vengeance but for the instant you require: speak, i repeat! tell me all the circumstances of my misfortune. but what do i say,--all the circumstances? alas! i am ignorant but of one; it is, the name of the villain who has dishonoured me." "signor," replied marcella, "the cavalier who has just left us is the count de belflor." "the count de belflor!" repeated don luis; "and where did he see my daughter? by what means has he seduced her? on your life, hide nothing from me!" "signor," replied the governante, "i will relate the whole history to you, with all the sincerity of which i am capable." she then related, with infinite art, all the conversations she had previously narrated to leonora, as having passed between herself and the count; whom she painted in the most flattering colours, as a lover tender, delicate, and sincere, beyond description. as, however, there was no escaping the event in which this heroic love most naturally terminated, she was obliged to avow the truth. but she managed this so adroitly, insisting on the weighty reasons which belflor had for secrecy in his nuptials, and on the regret he had always expressed for its necessity, that she gradually appeased the fury of her master. this she was not slow to perceive; and, to completely soften the old man, she wound up by a peroration that would have done as much honour to a wig as to a gown:--"signor," said she, "i have thus told you the simple truth: now punish us if you will, and plunge your sword into your daughter's bosom! but what say i? no! leonora is innocent; she has but followed the faithful counsels of her to whom you confided the guidance of her conduct. it is my heart against which your sword should be directed; it was i who first introduced the count to her apartment; it is i who formed those ties which bind him to your daughter. i would not perceive the irregularity of his engagement, although unauthorised by you: i saw in him but a son-in-law, whom i was anxious to secure to you; but the channel through which the favours of our court might reach you. i forgot all but the happiness of leonora, and the advancement of your family, in the brilliant alliance of the count. i have erred: the excess of my zeal has made me forgetful of my duty." while the subtle marcella was speaking thus, poor leonora was not sparing of her tears; and her grief appeared so excessive that the good old man could not resist it. he was affected. his anger was changed into compassion; his sword fell on the ground; and, quitting the air of an irritated parent: "ah! my daughter," he cried, while tears sprung from his aged eyes, like water from the rock of horeb, "what a fatal passion is love! alas! you know not yet all the causes it will bring you for affliction. the shame which a father's presence alone excites, can bring tears to your eyes at this moment; but you foresee not the woes which your lover is, perhaps even now, preparing for the future. and you, imprudent marcella, what have you done? into what an abyss has your indiscreet zeal for my family plunged us! i allow that an alliance with a man like belflor might dazzle you, and it is that which alone excuses and saves you; but, miserable that you are, why were you not more cautious with a lover of his station? the greater his credit and favour at court, the more guarded should you have been against his approaches. should he not scruple to break his faith with my daughter, how shall i avenge the insult? shall i implore the power of our laws? a person of his rank can easily shelter himself from its severity. i will suppose that, faithful to his oaths, he would abide by his engagements with my daughter: if the king, as you say, has decreed that he shall marry with another, is it likely that our sovereign will fail to be obeyed?" "oh! my father," replied leonora, "that need not alarm us. the count has assured us that the king would never do so great a violence to his feelings--" "of which i am convinced," interrupted the duenna; "for, besides that the monarch loves belflor too much to exercise so great a tyranny upon his favourite, he is of too noble a character to afflict so grievously the valiant don luis de cespedes, who has devoted to the service of the state the best years of his life." "heaven grant," exclaimed the old man, sighing, "that all my fears are vain! i will seek the count, and demand a full explanation of his conduct: the eyes of a father, alarmed for a daughter's welfare, will pierce his very soul. if i find him what i would hope, and what you would persuade me he is, i will pardon what has passed; but," added he firmly, "if in his discourse i discern the perfidy of his heart, you go, both of you, to bewail in retirement, for the rest of your days, the imprudence of which you have been guilty." as he finished, he took up his sword, and retired to his own room, leaving his daughter and her governante to recover themselves from the fright into which this discovery had so unexpectedly thrown them. [illustration: the lady, her husband and her lover] asmodeus was at this moment interrupted in his recital by the student, who thus addressed him:--"my dear devil, interesting as is the history you are relating to me, my eyes have wandered to an object which prevents my listening to you as attentively as i could wish. i see a lady, who is rather good-looking, seated between a young man and a gentleman old enough to be his grandfather. they seem to enjoy the liqueurs which are on the table near them, but what amuses me, is, that as from time to time the amorous old dotard embraces his mistress, the deceiver conveys her hand to the lips of the other, who covers it with silent kisses. he is doubtless her gallant." "on the contrary," replied the cripple, "he is her husband, and the old fool is her lover. he is a man of consequence,--no less than a commandant of the military order of calatrava; and is ruining himself for the lady, whose complaisant husband holds some inferior place at court she bestows her caresses on the sighing knight, for the sake of his gold; and is unfaithful to him in favour of her husband, from inclination." "that is a marvellously pretty picture," said zambullo. "the husband of course is french?" "no, no," replied the demon: "he is a spaniard. oh! the good city of madrid can boast within its walls a fair proportion of such well-bred spouses: still, they do not swarm here as in paris, which is, beyond contradiction, the most fruitful city of the world in such inhabitants." "i thought so," said don cleophas; "but pardon me, signor asmodeus, if i have broken the thread of the fair leonora's story. continue it, i pray you; it interests me exceedingly; and exhibits such variety in the art of seduction as transports me with admiration." chapter v. continuation of the story of the loves of the count de belflor and leonora de cespedes. don luis, (continued asmodeus), on returning to his apartment, dressed himself hastily, and, while it was still early, repaired to the count; who, not suspecting a discovery, was much surprised by this visit. on the old man's entrance, however, belflor ran to meet him, and, embracing him cordially, exclaimed, "ah signor don luis; i am delighted to see you. to what do i owe this happiness? am i so fortunate as to have an opportunity of serving you?" "signor," replied don luis sternly, "i would speak with you alone." belflor desired his attendants to withdraw; and as soon as they were seated, "signor," said cespedes, "i come to ask of you an explanation of circumstances in which my honour and happiness are deeply interested. i saw you this morning leaving the apartment of my daughter. she has disguised nothing from me: she informed that----" "she has told you that i love her," interrupted the count, to avoid hearing what he knew could not be very agreeable; "but she can but have feebly described all that i feel for her. i am enchanted with her; she is an adorable creature: beauty, wit, virtue,--nothing is wanting to perfect her charms. i am told you have a son, too, who is finishing his studies at alcala: does he resemble his sister? if he have her beauty, and have at all inherited the noble bearing of his father, he must be a perfect cavalier. i die with anxiety to see him; and i assure you that i shall be proud to advance his fortunes." "i am obliged to you for so kind an offer," gravely replied don luis; "but to return to the subject of----" "he must enter the service at once," again interrupted the count: "i charge myself with the care of his interests: he shall not grow old among the crowd of subalterns; on that you may depend." "answer me, count!" replied the old man vehemently, "and cease these interruptions. do you intend, or not, to fulfil the promise----?" "yes, certainly," interrupted belflor for the third time; "i engage faithfully to support your son with all the interest i possess: rely on me; i am a man of my word." "this is too much, count," cried cespedes, rising: "after having seduced my daughter, you dare thus to insult me! but i also am a noble; and the injury you have done me shall not remain unpunished." in finishing these words, he left the count, his heart swelling with anger, and his mind tormented with a thousand projects of revenge. [illustration: don luis de cespedes interviews belflor] on arriving at home, still greatly agitated, he immediately went to leonora's apartment, where he found her with marcella. "it was not without reason," said he, addressing them, "that i was suspicious of the count: he is a traitor; but i will avenge myself. for you, you shall at once hide your shame within a convent: both of you, prepare to leave this house to-morrow; and thank heaven that my wrath contents itself with so moderate a punishment." he then left them, to shut himself in his cabinet, that he might maturely reflect on the conduct it would be proper to observe in so delicate a conjuncture. how poignant was the grief of leonora, when thus informed of belflor's perfidy! she remained for some time motionless; a death-like paleness overspread her lovely features; life itself seemed about to abandon her, and she fell senseless into the arms of her governante. the alarmed duenna at first thought that the victim of her intrigues was really dead; but, on perceiving that she still breathed, used every effort to restore her to consciousness, and at last succeeded. existence, however, had no longer charms for leonora; and when, somewhat recovered, she unclosed her eyelids, and perceived the officious governante busy about her person, "cruel marcella!" she exclaimed, sighing deeply; "wherefore have you drawn me from the happy state in which i was? then, i felt not the horror of my destiny. why did you not let me perish? you, who know so well that life henceforth must be but one long misery, why have you sought to preserve it?" the duenna endeavoured to console her, but her words only added to leonora's sufferings. "it is in vain you would comfort me," she cried, "i will not hear you: strive not to combat my despair. rather seek to add to its profundity; you, who have plunged me into the frightful gulph in which all my hopes are swallowed:--you it was who assured me of the count's sincerity; but for you i had never yielded to my passion for him; i should have insensibly triumphed over it, or at least, he would never have had cause to boast of my weakness. but no! i will not," she continued, "attribute to you my misfortunes; it is myself alone i should accuse. i ought not to have followed your advice, in accepting the faith of a man, without the sanction of my father. however flattering to me were the attentions of count de belflor, i should have despised them, rather than have endeavoured to secure them at the price of my honour: i should have mistrusted him, you! marcella, and myself. for my folly in listening to his perfidious oaths, for the affliction i have caused to the unhappy don luis, and for the dishonour i have brought upon my family, i detest myself; and, far from fearing the state of seclusion with which i am menaced, i would willingly conceal my guilt and shame in the most frightful dungeon in the world." [illustration: marcella tries to console leonora] while her grief thus vented itself in exclamations, and tears streamed from her eyes, she frantically tore her clothes, and revenged the injustice of her lover on the beautiful locks which fell around her neck. the duenna, also, to appear in keeping with her mistress's grief, was not sparing of grimaces; she managed to squeeze out some convenient tears, and directed a thousand imprecations against mankind in general, and against belflor in particular. "is it possible," she cried, "that the count, who had all the semblance of amiability and rectitude, should be so great a villain as to have deceived us both? i cannot get over my surprise, or rather, i cannot even yet persuade myself that he is so." "indeed," said leonora, "when i picture him myself at my feet, what maiden could but have confided to so much tenderness,--to his oaths, which he so daringly called on heaven to witness,--to his boundless transports, which seemed so sincere? his eyes to me discovered a love far more intense than his lips could express; and the very sight of me appeared to charm him:--no, he did not deceive me; i cannot believe it. my father has not spoken to him with sufficient caution; they have quarrelled, and the count has replied to his reproaches less as the lover than the lord. still, may i not deceive myself? i will, however, end this horrible suspense. i will write to belflor,--tell him i expect him here this night: i am resolved he comes to reassure my troubled heart, or to confirm, himself, his treachery." marcella loudly applauded this resolution; she even conceived a hope that the count, all ambitious as he was, might yet be affected by the tears of his leonora, which could not fail at this interview, and that he might determine on espousing her in truth. meanwhile, belflor, relieved of the presence of don luis, was revolving in his mind the probable consequences of the reception he had given to the good old man. he felt certain that all the cespedes, enraged at the injury he had done their family, would unite to avenge it: this, however, gave him but little trouble; the possible loss of leonora occasioned him far greater anxiety. she would, he imagined, at once be placed in a convent, or, at least, that she would be carefully guarded from his sight; and that she was consequently lost to him for ever. this thought afflicted him; and he was occupied in devising some means to prevent so great a misfortune, when his valet entered the apartment, and presented a letter which marcella had placed in his hands. it was from leonora, and ran as follows:-- "my still dearest belflor, "i shall to-morrow quit the world, to bury myself in a convent. dishonoured, odious to my family and to myself, such is the deplorable condition to which i am reduced by listening to you. still i will expect you to-night. in my despair, i seek new tortures: come, and avow to me that your heart disowned the protestations which your lips have made to me; or come to confirm them by your sympathy, which alone can soften the harshness of my destiny. as there may, however, be some danger in this meeting, after what has passed between you and my father, be sure you are accompanied by a friend. although you have rendered life worthless to me, i cannot cease to interest myself in thine. "leonora." while the count perused this letter, which he read over several times, his imagination depicted the situation of leonora, in colours more sombre even than the reality, and he was deeply affected. he bitterly reflected on his past conduct: reason, probity, honour, all whose laws he had violated in the phrenzy of his passion, now regained their empire in his breast. the blindness which selfishness inflicts upon its victims was dissipated; and as the fevered convalescent blushes for the follies which, in the access of his disorder, he has committed, so was belflor ashamed of the meanness and artifice of which he had been guilty to satisfy his lust. "what have i done?" he cried; "wretch that i am, what demon has possessed me? i promised leonora to espouse her, and called on heaven to witness for the lie; i falsely told her that the king had designed me for another; lying, treachery, perjury,--i have hesitated at nothing to corrupt innocence itself. what madness! oh! had i used, to control it, the efforts i have made to gratify my passion! to seduce one of whose beauty and virtue i was unworthy, to abandon her to the wrath of her relations, whom i have equally dishonoured, and to plunge her in misery as a return for the happiness she bestowed on me,--what ingratitude! ought i not then to repair the injury i have inflicted? yes, i ought, and i will; my hand shall at the altar fulfil the pledge i gave for it. who shall oppose me in so righteous a determination? should her tenderness for me at all prejudice her virtue? no, i know too well what that cost me to vanquish. she yielded less to my love than to her confidence in my integrity, and to my vows of fidelity. but, on the other hand, if i resolve on this marriage, i make a great sacrifice,--i, who may pretend to the heiresses of the richest and most noble houses in the kingdom, shall i content myself with the daughter of a respectable gentleman, of small fortune? what will they think of me at court? they will say that i have made a splendid alliance indeed!" belflor, thus divided between love and ambition, knew not how to resolve; but although undetermined whether he should marry leonora or not, he had no difficulty in making up his mind to see her that evening, and at once directed his valet so to inform marcella. don luis was all this time in his cabinet, engaged in reflections on the mode he should adopt to vindicate his honour; and he was not a little embarrassed in his choice. to have recourse to the laws, was to publish his disgrace, besides which, he suspected with great reason that justice was likely to be one side, and the judges on the other. again, he dared not to seek reparation of the king himself; as he believed that prince had views with regard to belflor which must render such an application useless. there remained, then, but his own sword and those of his friends, and on these he concluded to rely. in the heat of his resentment, he at first meditated a challenge to the count; but on consideration of his great age and weakness, he feared to trust his arm; so resolved to confide the matter to his son, whose thrust he thought was likely to be surer than his own. he therefore sent one of his domestics to alcala, with a letter commanding his son's immediate presence in madrid, to revenge, as he stated it, an insult offered to the family of the cespedes. "this son, don pedro, is a cavalier of eighteen years of age, perfectly handsome, and so brave, that he passes at alcala for the most valiant student of that university; but you know him," added the devil, "and i need not enlarge on the subject." "i can answer," said don cleophas, "for his having all the valour and all the merit that can adorn a gentleman." "but this young man," resumed asmodeus, "was not then at alcala, as his father imagined. love had brought him also to madrid, where the object of his passion resided; and where he had met her for the first time, on the prado, on the occasion of his last visit to his family. who she was, he knew not: and his fair conquest had exacted of him a pledge that he would take no steps to inform himself on this head,--and although he was as good as his word, it cost him some trouble to keep it. i need hardly add, that she was of higher rank than her lover; and that, wisely mistrusting the discretion and constancy of a student--no offence to your highness--she thought proper to test him as to these necessary qualifications for a suitor, before she disclosed to him her station or name." [illustration: portrait of don pedro] his thoughts were, of course, more occupied by his lovely incognita than with the philosophy of aristotle; and the vicinity of alcala to madrid occasioned the youthful pedro to play truant to his studies as frequent as yourself; but, i must say, with a better excuse than your donna thomasa afforded. to conceal from his father, don luis, his amorous excursions, he usually lodged at a tavern at the other end of the town, where he passed under a borrowed name; and only went abroad at a certain hour in the morning, that he might repair to a house where the lady, for the love of whom he neglected his ovid, did him the honour to wait, in company with a trusty female attendant. during the rest of the day he shut himself up in his hotel; but as soon as night was come, he wandered fearlessly throughout the city. he happened one evening, as he was traversing a bye-street, to hear the sound of instruments and voices, which attracted his attention, and he stopped to listen. it was a serenade, and tolerably performed; but the cavalier, who was drunk, and naturally brutish, no sooner perceived our student than he hurried towards him, and, without preface,--"friend," said he, with an insolent air, "make yourself scarce; or your curiosity may find you more than you expect." "i would have withdrawn," replied don pedro, proudly, "had you requested me to do so with civility; but i shall now stay, to teach you better manners." "we shall see, then," said the serenading gallant, drawing his sword, "which of us two will give place to the other." don pedro also drew his sword, their weapons were crossed in a moment, and a furious combat ensued; but although the student's adversary was not wanting in skill, he could not parry a mortal thrust of don pedro, and fell dead upon the pavement. the musicians, who had already quitted their instruments, or stopped their singing, and had drawn their swords to protect their patron, now came in a body to avenge his death, and attacked don pedro all together. he, however, gave them satisfactory proofs of what he could do upon occasion; for, besides parrying, with surprising dexterity, all the thrusts which they designed for him, he dealt furiously among them, and found work for them all to protect themselves. still, they were so numerous, and apparently so determined on the student's death, that, skilful as he was with his weapon, they would have most probably accomplished their object, had not the count de belflor, who was accidentally passing through the street, come to his assistance. the count was of too noble a nature to see so many armed men striving against one man to hesitate upon the part he should take. his sword was therefore instantly directed against the musicians, and with so much vigour that they were soon put to flight, some wounded, and the others for fear they should be. the field thus cleared, the student, with what breath remained to him, began to express his sense of the valuable service he had so seasonably received; but belflor at once stopped him: "not a word, my dear sir," said he; "are you not wounded?" "no," replied don pedro. "then let us leave this place at once," said the count: "i see you have killed your man; and it will be dangerous to stay in his company, lest the officers of justice surprise you." they immediately decamped as quickly as possible, and did not stop until they had gained a street at some distance from the field of battle. don pedro, filled with a natural gratitude, then begged the count not to conceal from him the name of a person to whom he owed so great an obligation. belflor made no difficulty in complying with this request; but when in turn he asked that of the student, the latter, unwilling to discover himself to any person in madrid, replied, that he was don juan de maros, and that he should eternally bear in his remembrance the debt of gratitude which he owed to the count. [illustration: the swordfight] "well," said belflor to him, "i will this night give you an opportunity of repaying it in full. i have an appointment, which is not without risk; and i was about, when i fell in with you, to seek the protection of a friend. however, i know your valour, don juan: will you accompany me?" "to doubt it, were to insult me," replied the student: "i cannot better employ the life you have preserved, than in exposing it in your defence. go! i am ready to follow you." accordingly, belflor conducted don pedro to the house of don luis, and they both entered, by the balcony, the apartment of leonora. here don cleophas interrupted the devil: "signor asmodeus," said he, "impossible! what! not know his own father's house? no, no, no; that will never do." "it was not possible he should know it," replied the demon; "for it was a new one: don luis had lately changed his habitation, and had only taken this house a week before; which was just what don pedro did not know, and was what i was just going to tell you when you stopped me. you are too sharp; and have that shocking habit of displaying your intelligence by interrupting people in their stories: get rid of that fault, i pray you." "well," continued the devil, "don pedro did not think he was in his father's house; nor did he even perceive that it was marcella who let him into it; since she received him without a light, in an antechamber, where belflor requested his companion to remain while he was in the next room with his mistress. to this the student made no demur; so quietly sat himself down in a chair, with his drawn sword in his hand for fear of surprise, while his thoughts ran on the favours which he suspected love was heaping on the count, and his wishes that he might be as happy with his incognita,--for although he had no great cause of complaint as to her kindness, still it was not exactly paid after the kind of that of leonora for the count." while he was making, upon this subject, all those pleasing reflections which occur so readily to an impassioned lover, he heard some one endeavouring quietly to open a door, which was not that of the delights, but one which discovered a light through the keyhole. he rose quickly, and advanced towards it; and, as the door opened, presented the point of his sword to his father; for he it was who entered leonora's apartments, for the purpose of seeing that the count was not there. the good old man did not exactly suppose, after what had passed, that his daughter and marcella would dare to receive him again, which had prevented his assigning to them other chambers; but he had thought it probable that, as they were to go to a nunnery on the following day, they might desire to converse with him, for the last time, ere they left his roof. "whoever thou art," said the student, "enter not this room, or it may cost thee thy life." at these words, don luis stared at don pedro, who also regarding the old man with attention, they soon recognised each other. "ah! my son," cried the old man, "with what impatience have i expected you: why did you not inform me of your arrival? did you fear to disturb my rest? alas! that is for ever banished, in the cruel situation in which i am placed." "ah, my father!" said don pedro, utterly amazed, "is it you whom i behold? are not my eyes deceived by some fantastic vision?" "whence this astonishment?" replied don luis; "are you not within your father's house? have i not, a week ago, informed you where to find me?" "just heaven!" cried the student, "what do i hear?--and this then is my sister's apartment." as he finished these words, the count, whom the noise had alarmed, and who expected that his escort was attacked, came out, sword in hand, from leonora's chamber. no sooner did the old man perceive him than, with fury in his eyes, he pointed to belflor, and exclaimed to his son,--"there is the villain who has robbed me of my happiness, and who has stained our honour with a mortal taint. revenge! let us hasten to punish the traitor!" as he thus vented his rage, he opened his dressing-gown, and drew from beneath it his sword, with which he was about to fall on the count, when don pedro restrained him. "stay, my father," said he; "moderate, i entreat you, the fury of your wrath: what are you about to do?" "my son," replied the old man, "you withhold my arm. you doubtless think it is too weak to revenge our wrongs. be it so! do you then exact full satisfaction for the injury he has done us: it was for this purpose that i summoned you to madrid. should you perish, i will take your place; for either shall the count fall beneath our arms, or he shall take from both of us our lives, after having blasted our reputation." "my father," said don pedro, "i cannot yield to your impatience that which it requires of me. far from attempting the life of the count, i am now here to defend it. for that my word is pledged,--to that my honour is assured. let us depart, count," continued he, addressing himself to belflor. "ah! wretch," interrupted don luis, while he surveyed his son with anger and astonishment,--"thus to oppose thyself to a vengeance, which it should be the business of thy life to accomplish! my son, my own son, is leagued, then, with the villain who has corrupted my daughter! but think not to escape my resentment: i will place a sword in the hand of every servant in my house, to punish his treachery and thy despicable meanness." [illustration: don pedro restrains don luis from attacking belflor] "signor," replied don pedro, "be more just towards your son. call him not despicable or mean--he merits not those odious appellations. the count this night saved my life. he proposed to me, in ignorance of my real name, to accompany him here; and i freely consented to share the perils he might run, without knowing that my gratitude imprudently engaged my arm against the honour of my family. my word is passed, then, here to defend his life; that done, i stand acquitted of my obligation towards him: but i am not the less insensible of the wrong that he has done to you and to us all; and to-morrow you shall find that i will as readily shed his blood, as you behold me now determined to preserve it from your hands." the count had witnessed in silence all that passed, so much was he surprised at this extraordinary adventure; he now, however, thus addressed the student: "it is possible that the injury i have inflicted might be but imperfectly avenged by your sword; i will, therefore, present to you a means much more certain of repairing it. i will confess to you that, until this day, i did not intend to marry leonora; but i this morning received from her a letter which touched my heart, and her tears have finished what her letter began. the happiness of being united to your sister is now my dearest hope." "but if the king has destined you for another," said don luis, "how can you dispense----?" "the king has not troubled himself upon the subject," interrupted belflor, blushing: "pardon, i beseech you, that fiction, to a man whose reason was deranged by love; it is a crime that the violence of my passion incited me to commit, and which i expiate in avowing to you my shame." "signor," replied the old man, "after this frankness, which belongs only to noble minds, i cannot doubt your sincerity. i see, with joy, that you are anxious to repair the injury you have done us; my anger yields to this assurance of your contrition; i will forget it for ever in your arms." he advanced towards the count, who rushed to meet him, and they embraced each other cordially. then, turning towards don pedro, "and you, false don juan," said belflor,--"you, who have already gained my esteem by your valour, come, let me vow to you a brother's love." don pedro received the count's embraces with a submissive and respectful air, saying, "signor, in offering to me so valuable a friendship, you secure mine for yourself: rely on me, as one devoted to your service to the last moment of his life." while these cavaliers were thus discoursing, leonora was at the door of her chamber, intently listening to every syllable they uttered. she had been, at the first, tempted to discover herself, and to throw herself in the midst of their swords; but fear, and marcella, had withheld her. but when the adroit duenna saw that matters were arranging very amicably, she guessed that the presence of her mistress, and her own, would spoil nothing. accordingly, she appeared, her handkerchief in one hand and her ward in the other; and, with tears in their eyes, they prostrated themselves before don luis. neither of them, indeed, felt perfectly assured; for they recollected the surprise of the previous night, and feared the old man's reproaches for this renewal of their disobedience. however, raising leonora,--"my child," said he, "dry your tears; i will not upbraid you now: since your lover is disposed to keep the faith he has sworn to you, it is fitting that i should forget the past." "yes, signor don luis," interrupted belflor, "i will indeed keep my faith with leonora; and as some amends for the insult i had intended, as the fullest satisfaction i can give to you, and as a pledge of that friendship i have vowed to don pedro, i offer him in marriage my sister eugenia." "signor!" cried don luis, "how can i express my satisfaction at the honour you confer upon my son? was ever father happier than myself? you overpay me, in joy, for the grief you have caused me." [illustration: don luis raises leonora] though the old man was charmed with the count's proposals, i cannot say as much for his son. being sincerely taken with love for his incognita, he was so overcome with surprise and chagrin at belflor's offer, that he had not a word to say for himself; when the latter, who did not observe his embarrassment, took leave, stating that he should at once order the necessary preparations for this double union, and that he was impatient to be bound to them eternally, by ties so endearing. after his departure, don luis left leonora with the duenna, taking with him his son, who, when they had reached his father's apartment, said, with all the frankness of a student: "signor, do not insist, i pray you, on my marriage with the count's sister; it is enough for the honour of our family, that he should espouse leonora." "what! my son," replied the old man, "can you have any objection to an union with eugenia de belflor?" "yes, my father," said don pedro; "i must confess to you, that union would prove to me the most cruel of punishments; and i will not disguise from you the reason. i love, or, rather, i adore another: for the last six months she has listened to my vows: and now, on her alone depends the happiness of my life." "how miserable is the condition of a father!" exclaimed don luis: "how rarely does he find his children disposed to do as he desires them. but who is this lady that has made such deep impression on your heart?" "that, i do not yet know," replied don pedro. "she has promised to inform me of her name when i shall have satisfied her of my constancy and discretion; but i doubt not she does honour to one of the noblest houses of spain." "and you think then," said the old man, changing his tone, "that i shall be so obliging as to sanction this romantic love!--that i shall permit you to renounce an alliance, as glorious as fortune could offer to you, that you may remain faithful to an illustrious lady of whose very name you are ignorant! do not expect so much of my kindness. no, rather strive to vanquish feelings that are inspired by an object which is most probably unworthy of them; and seek, in so doing, to merit the honour which the count proposes for you." "you speak to me in vain, my father," replied the student; "i feel that i can never forget her whom i have sworn to love--unknown though she be,--and that nothing can tear me from her. were the infanta proposed to me----" "hold!" cried the old man angrily; "it is too much to boast thus insolently of a constancy which excites my displeasure: leave me, and let me not see you again until you are prepared to obey my will." don pedro did not dare to reply to these words, for fear of hearing others more unpleasant still; so he retired to his chamber, where he passed the remainder of the night in reflections in which sorrow was not all unmixed with joy. he thought with grief that he was about to estrange himself from his family, by refusing the hand of belflor's sister; but then he was consoled, when he reflected that his incognita would worthily esteem the greatness of the sacrifice. he even flattered himself that, after so convincing a proof of his fidelity, she would no longer conceal from him her station, which he imagined also must be equal at least to that of eugenia. in this hope, as soon as day appeared, he went out, and directed his steps towards the prado, that he might pass away the time until the hour of his meeting with his mistress. with what impatience did he count the minutes as they lingered,--with what joy did he hail the happy moment when it arrived! he found his fair unknown with donna juanna, the lady at whose house they met; but alas, he found her in tears, and apparently in the deepest affliction. what a sight for a lover! his own grief was forgotten: he approached her with tenderness; and throwing himself on his knees before her, "madam," he exclaimed, "what must i think of the condition in which i see you? what dreadful misfortune do these tears, which pierce my heart, forbode?" "you dream not," she replied, "of the fatal news i bring you. cruel fortune is about to separate us for ever;--yes! we shall meet no more." [illustration: don pedro kneels before his fair unknown] she accompanied these words with so many and such heart-rending sighs, that i know not if don pedro was more affected at what she told him, than at the affliction with which she appeared oppressed in telling it. "just heaven!" he cried, in a transport of fury, which he could not control, "is it thy will that they prevent an union whose innocence is worthy of thy protection? but, madam," he continued, "you are perhaps falsely alarmed! is it certain that they would snatch you from the most faithful of lovers? can it be possible that i should be so unhappy?" "our misfortune is but too certain," answered the unknown; "my brother, upon whom my hand depends, has bestowed it this very day; he has this moment announced to me his decision." "and who is the happy man?" exclaimed don pedro. "tell me! in my despair i will seek him, and----" "i do not know his name," interrupted the unknown. "i cared not to ask, nor did my brother inform me; he told me indeed that it was his wish that i should first see the cavalier." "but, madam," said don pedro, "will you then yield without resistance to your brother's will? will you be dragged to the altar, without complaint? will you go, a willing sacrifice, and abandon me so easily? alas! i have not hesitated to expose myself to the anger of a father for love of you; nor could his menaces for a moment shake my fidelity. no! nor threats, nor persuasion, could move me to espouse another, although the lady he proposed for me was one to whom i had hardly dared aspire." "and who is this lady?" asked the unknown. "she is the sister of the count de belflor," replied the scholar. "ah, don pedro!" cried the unknown, with extreme surprise, "surely, you are mistaken; it cannot be she whom they propose to you. what! eugenia, the sister of belflor? are you sure of what you say?" "yes, madam," replied the student; "the count himself offered me her hand." "how!" cried she, "is it possible that you are the cavalier for whom my brother designs me?" "what do i hear?" cried the student in his turn, "is it possible that my incognita is the count de belflor's sister?" "yes, don pedro," replied eugenia. "but i can hardly believe it myself, at this moment; so difficult do i find it to persuade myself of the happiness you assure to me." don pedro now fell again at her feet, and seizing her hand, he kissed it with all the transport that lovers only can feel who pass suddenly from the depths of despair to the highest pinnacle of hope and joy. while he abandoned himself to the feelings of his heart, eugenia for the first time forgot her reserve, and freely returned his caress--she felt that her love was sanctioned, and gave, her lips where her heart had long been engaged. "alas!" said she, when her love could form itself into words, "what tortures had my brother spared me, had he but here named the husband of his choice! what aversion had i already conceived for my future lord! ah, my dear don pedro, how i have hated you!" "lovely eugenia," replied he, "what charms has that hatred for me now! i will endeavour to merit it by adoring you for ever." after the happy pair had exhausted love's vocabulary, and the tumult of their hearts was somewhat calmed, eugenia was anxious to know by what means the student had gained her brother's friendship. don pedro did not conceal from her the amours of the count and his sister, and related all that had passed the night before. it was for eugenia an additional pleasure to learn that belflor was to marry the sister of her own lover. donna juanna was too much interested in the welfare of her friend not to partake of her joy for this happy event, and warmly congratulated her, as also don pedro thereon. at last the lovers separated, after having agreed that they should not appear to know each other when they met before the count and don luis. don pedro returned to his father, who, finding his son disposed to obey him, was the more pleased, inasmuch as he attributed this ready compliance to the firm manner in which he had spoken to him overnight. they presently received a note from belflor, in which he informed them that he had obtained the king's consent to his marriage, as also for that of his sister with don pedro, on whom his majesty had been pleased to confer a considerable appointment. he added, so diligently had his orders for the nuptials been executed, that everything was arranged for their taking place on the following day; and he came soon after they had received his letter, to confirm what he had written, and to present to them his sister eugenia. [illustration: belflor presents eugenia] don luis received the lady with every mark of affection, and leonora kissed her so much that her brother was almost jealous--although, whatever he might feel, he managed to constrain his love and delight, so as not to give the count the least suspicion of their intelligence. as belflor remarked his sister with great attention, he thought he could discover, notwithstanding her reserve, which he attributed to modesty, that don pedro was by no means displeasing to her. to be certain, however, he took an opportunity of speaking to her aside, and drew from her an avowal of her entire satisfaction. he then informed her of the name and rank of her intended, which he would not before communicate, lest the inequality of the stations should prejudice her against him; all which she feigned, marvellously well, to hear as for the first time. at last, after many compliments, which were remarkable for their sincerity, it was resolved that the weddings should take place at the house of don luis the next day, as belflor had arranged. they were accordingly celebrated this evening, the rejoicing still continues, and now you know why they are so merry in that house. every one is delighted--except the lady marcella: she, while all else are laughing, is at this moment in tears. they are real tears too, this time! for the count de belflor, after the ceremony, informed don luis of the facts which preceded it; and the old gentleman has sent the duenna to the _monasterio de las arrepentidas_, where the thousand pistoles she received for seducing leonora will enable her to repent having done so for the rest of her days. chapter vi. new objects displayed to don cleophas; and his revenge on donna thomasa. the demon now directed the student's attention to another part of the city. "you see," he continued, "that house which is directly under us: it contains something curious enough,--a man loaded with debt and sleeping profoundly." "of course then," said leandro, "he is a person of distinction?" "precisely so," answered asmodeus: "he is a marquis, possessed of a hundred thousand ducats per annum, but whose expenses, nevertheless, exceed his income. his table and his mistresses require that he should support them with credit, but that causes him no anxiety; on the contrary, when he opens an account with a tradesman, he thinks that the latter is indebted to him. 'it is you,' said he the other day to a draper, 'it is you, that i shall henceforth trust with the execution of my orders; it is a preference which you owe to my esteem.' "while the marquis enjoys so tranquilly the sweet repose of which he deprives his creditors, look at a man who----" "stay, signor asmodeus," interrupted don cleophas hastily; "i perceive a carriage in the street, and cannot let it pass without asking what it contains." "hush," said the cripple, lowering his voice, as though he feared he should be heard:--"learn that that vehicle conceals one of the most dignified personages in this kingdom, a president, who is going to amuse himself with an elderly lady of asturia, who is devoted to his pleasures. that he may not be known, he has taken the precaution of imitating caligula, who on a similar occasion disguised himself in a wig. "but,--to return to the picture i was about to present to your sight when you interrupted me,--observe, in the very highest part of the mansion, where sleeps the marquis, a man who is writing in a chamber filled with books and manuscripts." "he is probably," said zambullo, "the steward, labouring to devise some means for discharging his master's obligations." "excellent," exclaimed the devil; "that, indeed, forms a great part of the amusement of such gentry in the service of noblemen! they seek rather to profit from derangement of their masters' affairs than to put them in order. he is not, then, the steward whom you see; he is an author: the marquis keeps him in his house, to obtain the reputation of a patron of literature." "this author," replied don cleophas, "is apparently a man of eminence." "judge for yourself!" replied the demon. "he is surrounded by a thousand volumes, and is composing one, on natural history, in which there will not be a line of his own. he pillages these books and manuscripts without mercy; and, although he does nothing but arrange and connect his larcenies, he has more vanity than the most original writer upon earth. [illustration: the author at work] "you are not aware," continued the spirit, "who lives three doors from this mansion: it is la chichona, the very lady who acted so honourable a part in the story of the count de belflor." "ah!" said leandro, "i am delighted to behold her. the dear creature, so considerate for youth, is doubtless one of the two old ladies whom i perceive in that room. one of them is leaning with both her elbows on the table, looking attentively at the other, who is counting out some money. which of them is la chichona?" "not the one who is counting," said the demon; "her name is la pebrada, and she is a distinguished member of the same profession: they are, indeed, partners; and are at this moment dividing the profits of an adventure which, by their assistance, has terminated favourably. [illustration: la chichona and la pebrada divide the profits] "la pebrada is the more successful of the two: she has among her clients several rich widows, who subscribe to her daily register." "what do you mean by her register?" interrupted the student. "why," replied asmodeus, "it contains the names of all handsome foreigners, and particularly frenchmen, who come to madrid. the instant la pebrada hears of an arrival, away she posts to the hotel of the new comer, to learn every particular as to his country, birth, parentage, and education,--his age, form, and appearance, all which are duly reported to her subscribers; and if, on reflection, the heart of any of her widows is inclined to an acquaintance, she adroitly manages a speedy interview with the stranger." "that is extremely convenient," replied zambullo, smiling, "and in some sort very proper; for, in truth, without these kind ladies and their agents, the youthful foreigner, who comes without introductions to madrid, would lose an immense deal of time in gaining them. but, tell me, are there in other countries widows as generous and women as intriguing?" "capital!" exclaimed the devil--"if there are? why! can you doubt it? i should be unworthy of my demonship if i neglected to provide all large towns with them in plenty." "cast your eyes upon chichona's neighbour,--yon printer, who is working at his press, alone. he has dismissed the devils in his employ these three hours; and he is now engaged, for the night, on a work which he is printing privately." "ah! what may it be?" said leandro. "it treats of insults," replied the demon; "and endeavours to prove that religion is preferable to honour; and that it is better to pardon than to avenge an affront." "oh! the scoundrel!" exclaimed the student "well may he print in secret his infamous book. its author had better not acknowledge his production: i would be one of the first to answer it with a horsewhip. what! can religion forbid the preservation of one's honour?" "let us not discuss that point," interrupted asmodeus, with a malicious smile. "it appears that you have made the most of the lectures on morality you listened to at alcala; and i give you joy of the result." "you may say what you please," interrupted cleophas in his turn, "and so may the writer of this wretched absurdity: but though his reasonings were clear as the noon-day sun, i should despise him and them. i am a spaniard, and nothing is to me so delightful as revenge; and, by the by, since you have pledged yourself to satisfy me for the perfidy of my mistress, i call on you at once to keep your promise." "i yield with pleasure," replied the demon, "to the wrath which agitates your breast. oh! how i love those noble spirits who follow without scruple the dictates of their passions! i will obey your will at once; and indeed, the hour to avenge your wrongs is come: but first i wish to show you something which will amuse you vastly. look beyond the printing-office, and observe with attention what is passing in an apartment, hung with drab cloth." "i perceive," said leandro, "five or six women, who are with eagerness offering phials of something to a sort of valet, and they appear desperately agitated." "they are," replied asmodeus, "devotees, who have great reason to be agitated. there is in the next room a sick inquisitor. this venerable personage, who is about thirty-five years old, is attended by two of his dearest penitents, with untiring watchfulness. one is concocting his gruel, while the other at his pillow is employed in keeping his head warm, and is covering his stomach with a kind of blanket made of at least fifty lamb-skins." "what on earth is the matter with him, then?" asked zambullo. "he has a cold in his head," answered the devil; "and there is danger lest the disorder should extend to his lungs." [illustration: the inquisitor nursed by two penitents] "the ladies whom you see in his antechamber have hastened, on the alarm of his indisposition, with all sorts of remedies. one brings, to allay his apprehended cough, syrups of jujubes, mallows, coral, and coltsfoot; another, to preserve the said lungs of his reverence, syrups of long-life, speedwell, amaranth, and the elixir vitæ; this one, to fortify his brain and stomach, has brought balm, cinnamon, and treacle waters, besides gutta vitæ, and the essences of nutmegs and ambergris; that offers anacardine and bezoardic confections; while a fifth carries tinctures of cloves, gilly-flowers, sunflowers, and of coral and emeralds. all these zealous penitents are boasting to the valet of the virtues of the medicines they offer; and each by turns, drawing him aside, and slipping a ducat in his hand, whispers in his ear: 'laurence, my dear laurence, manage so, i beg of you, that what i bring for the dear man may have the preference.'" "by jupiter!" cried don cleophas, "it must be allowed that inquisitors--even sick inquisitors--are happy mortals." "i can answer for that," replied asmodeus; "i almost envy them their lot, myself; and, like the son of philip of macedon, who once said that he would have been diogenes, if he had not been alexander, i can unhesitatingly say, that, if i were not a devil i would be an inquisitor." "but, signor student," continued he, "let us go! let us away, to punish the ingrate who so ill-requited your tenderness." zambullo instantly seized the end of the demon's cloak, and a second time was whirled with him through the air, until they alighted on the house of donna thomasa. this frail damsel was seated at table, with the four gentlemen who, a few hours before, had so eagerly sought the acquaintance of don cleophas on the roof of her house. he trembled with rage, as he beheld them feasting on a brace of partridges and a rabbit, which, with some choice wine, he had sent to the traitress for his own supper; and, to add to his mortification, he perceived that joy reigned in the repast; and that it was evident, by the deportment of the lady, that the company of these scoundrels was much more agreeable to her than that of himself. "oh! the wretches!" he cried, in a perfect fury, "to see them enjoying themselves at my expense! vastly pleasant, is it not?" "why, i must confess," replied the demon, "that you have witnessed spectacles more pleasing; but he who rejoices in the favours of such fair ones must expect to share them. this sort of thing has happened a thousand times; especially in france, among the abbés, the gentlemen of the long robe, and the financiers." "if i had a sword, though," said leandro, "i would fall upon the villains, and spoil their sport for them." "you would be hardly matched," replied the demon;--"what were one among so many? leave your revenge to me! i will manage it better than you could. i will soon set them together by the ears, in inspiring each of them with a fit of tenderness for your mistress: their swords will be out in no time, and you will be delighted with the uproar." [illustration: the guests quarrel over donna thomasa] asmodeus had no sooner spoken than he breathed forcibly, and from his mouth issued a violet-coloured vapour which descended tortuously, like a fiery serpent, and spread itself round the table of donna thomasa. in an instant, one of her guests, more inflammable than his companions, rose from his seat, and, approaching the lady, embraced her amorously; when the others, in whom the spirit had begun to work, hastened together to snatch from him the dainty prize. each claimed a preference: words ensued; a jealous rage possessed them; blows succeeded, and, as the devil had foretold, they drew their weapons and commenced a furious combat. in the meanwhile donna thomasa exerted her lungs, and the neighbourhood was speedily alarmed by her cries. they call for the police; the police arrive: they break open the door, and find two of the hectors extended on the floor. they seize upon the others, and take them with the helen of the party to prison. in vain did she weep; in vain did she tear her locks, and exclaim in despair:--the tears of unfortunate beauty had no more effect on the cavaliers who conducted her, than they had on her former knight zambullo, who almost died with laughter, in which the god of love most unnaturally joined him. "well!" said the demon to the student, "are you content?" "no, no!" replied don cleophas; "to satisfy me in full, place me upon the prison, that i may have the pleasure of beholding in her dungeon, the miserable who trifled with my love. i feel for her, now, a hatred which exceeds even the affection with which she formerly inspired me." "be it so!" said the devil; "you shall ever find me a slave to your will, though it interfered with mine and my interests,--provided always, that it is safe to indulge you." [illustration: donna thomasa in prison] they flew through the air, and were on the prison before the officers arrived with their captives. the two assassins were at once consigned to one of its lowest deeps, while thomasa was led to a bed of straw, which she was to share with three or four other abandoned women, who had fallen into the hands of justice the same day; and with whom she was destined to be transported to the colonies, which a grateful mother country generally endows with this description of female inhabitants. "i am satisfied," said zambullo; "i have tasted a delicious revenge: my dear thomasa will not pass the night quite so pleasantly as she had anticipated. so, now, if you please, we will continue our observations." "we could not be in a better place, then," replied the spirit. "within these walls is much to interest you. innocent and guilty, in somewhat equal numbers, are here enclosed: it is the hell in which commences the punishment of the one, and the purgatory in which the virtue of the others may be purified,--you see i'm a good catholic, signor student! of both of these species of prisoners i will show you examples, and i will inform you why they are here enfettered." chapter vii. the prison, and the prisoners. "and before i commence my memoirs, just observe the gaolers at the entrance of this horrible place. the poets of antiquity placed but one cerberus at the gate of their hell: there are many more here, however, as you perceive. they are creatures who have lost all the feelings of humanity, if they ever possessed any;--the most malicious of my brethren could hardly replace one of them. but i observe that you are looking with horror on those cells whose only furniture consists of a wretched bed,--those fearful dungeons appear to you so many tombs. you are reasonably astonished at the misery you behold; and you deplore the fate of those unhappy persons whom the law restrains; still, they are not all equally to be pitied; and i will enable you to distinguish between them. "to begin, in that large cell to the right are four men sleeping in two beds; one of them is an innkeeper, accused of having poisoned a foreigner who died suddenly the other day in his house. they assert that the deceased owed his death to the quality of the wine he partook of; the host maintains, that the quantity, alone, killed him: and the accused will be believed, for the stranger was a german." "well! who is in the right, the innkeeper or his accusers?" said don cleophas. "it is difficult to decide," replied the devil "the wine was certainly drugged; but, i' faith, the baron drank so largely, that the judges may for the nonce most conscientiously acquit a tavern-keeper of poisoning his customer." "his bedfellow is an assassin by profession;--not a soldier, but one of those scoundrels who are called _valientes_, and who for four or five pistoles obligingly minister to all who will go to so great an expense for the purpose of secretly ridding themselves of some one to whom they owe an obligation. the third prisoner is a dancing-master, who has been teaching one of his female pupils a step not usually practised in genteel society; and the fourth is an unlucky gallant caught by the patrole in the act of entering, by the balcony, the apartment of a lady, whom he was about to console for the absence of her husband. he has only to declare the charitable object of his visit, to withdraw himself from the hands of justice; but he nobly prefers to suffer as a robber, rather than endanger the reputation of his mistress." "he is a model of discretion, indeed," said the student; "but it must be allowed that the cavaliers of spain excel those of all other nations in affairs of gallantry; i would bet anything that a frenchman, for example, would never permit himself to be hanged under similar circumstances." "and i would back you for that," answered the devil; "he would rather scale the balcony of a lady, of whose favours he could boast, in broad day-light, for the express purpose of proclaiming her disgrace." "in a cell near that of the four men i have just spoken of," continued asmodeus, "is a celebrated witch, who enjoys the reputation of doing all impossible things. by the power of her magic, old dowagers can find, they say, youthful admirers who will love them for their bloom; husbands are rendered faithful to their wives; and coquettes sincerely devoted to the rich fools who keep them: all which is, i need not tell you, absurd enough. her only secret is in persuading people that she has one, and in making the most of that opinion. the holy office is jealous of the poor creature, so have called her to account; and she is likely to be burnt at the first _aúto de fé_." "under this cell, in a dark dungeon, lodges a young tavern keeper."--"what! another?" cried leandro,--"surely these people are going to poison all the world." "mine host, in this case," replied asmodeus, "will not suffer for his wine; it is for an illegal traffic in spirits that he was arrested yesterday, at the instance of the holy office also. i will explain the matter to you in a few words. "an old soldier, having risen by his courage, or rather by his patience, to the rank of serjeant, came to madrid in search of recruits, and demanded a lodging in a tavern to which he was directed by his billet. the host told the serjeant that he certainly had spare rooms in his house, but that he could not think of putting him into any one of them, as they were haunted by a ghost who visited them nightly, and most shockingly ill-treated those who had the temerity to occupy them. the serjeant was not however to be daunted: 'place me,' said he, 'in any room you please; give me a light, some wine, a pipe and tobacco, and never trouble yourself for my safety; ghosts, depend upon it, have the highest respect for an old campaigner, whose hairs have whitened under arms.' "as he appeared so resolute, they showed the old soldier to a chamber, gave him all he had required; and he began to smoke and drink at his ease. the hour of midnight sounded, but no ghost appeared to disturb the profound silence that reigned throughout the house; it seemed as though the spirit did indeed respect the valiant bearing of his new guest: but, between one and two o'clock, the wakeful sentinel was alarmed by a horrible din, as of rattling chains, and beheld, entering his apartment, a fearful spectre, clothed in black, and enveloped with iron chains. our old smoker, not in the least alarmed at this spectacle, rose calmly from his chair, advanced towards the spirit, drew his sword, and gave him with the flat side of it, a terrible blow on the head. "the phantom, unaccustomed to find such courageous tenants in his domain, and perceiving that the soldier was preparing to repeat the blow, fell upon his knees before him, crying out,--'pardon, signor serjeant; for the love of heaven, do not kill me: have pity upon a poor devil, who throws himself at your feet to implore your clemency. i conjure you by st james, who, like yourself, was a valiant soldier----' 'if you would preserve your life,' interrupted the serjeant, 'tell me who you are, and what you do here. speak the truth,--or, by our lady, i will cut you in two, as the knights of old split the giants they encountered.' at these words, the spirit, finding with whom he had to do, saw that he had better lose no time in his explanation. [illustration: william kneels before the serjeant] "'i am,' said he, 'the head-waiter of this inn; my name is william; and i love juanilla, the only daughter of the landlord, and i do not love without return; but as her parents have a better match in view, my sweetheart and myself have arranged that, in order to compel them to choose me for their son-in-law, i shall nightly disguise myself in this manner. i clothe myself in a long black cloak, and put the jack-chain round my neck; and, thus equipped, i go about the house, from the cellar to the garret, making all the noise i can, of which you have heard a specimen. when i arrive at the door of my master and mistress's bed-room, i rattle my chains, and cry loud enough for them to hear,--"hope not to rest in peace, until you have married juanilla to your head-waiter, william!"' "'after having pronounced these words in a hoarse and broken voice, i continue my clatter, and vanish by a window into the chamber where juanilla sleeps alone, to inform her of what i have done. and now, signor serjeant, you may be assured that i have told you the whole truth. i know that after this confession you may ruin me, by informing my master of the affair; but if, instead of thus injuring me, you are inclined to serve me, i swear that my gratitude----' 'ah!' interrupted the soldier, 'what service can you hope from me?' 'you have only in the morning,' replied the young man, 'to say that you have seen the ghost, and that it has so terribly frightened you,----' 'what, the deuce! frightened me!' again interrupted the old warrior; 'do you expect that serjeant hannibal antonio quebrantador is going to say that he was frightened? i would rather say that a hundred thousand devils had me----' 'that is not absolutely necessary,' in his turn interrupted william; 'and after all, it is of no great consequence what you say, provided that you but assist me in my design: only let me marry juanilla, and see myself established by the assistance of her father, and i promise to keep open house for you and all your friends.' "'you are a regular seducer, master william,' cried the soldier; 'you want to join me in a downright cheat: the matter may be serious, and you take it so lightly, as to make me, even, tremble for the consequences. but away with you! continue your infernal noise, and go to juanilla to render your account: i will manage the rest.' [illustration: the serjeant speaks to his host and hostess] "accordingly, on the following morning, the serjeant said to his host and hostess: 'well! i have seen the ghost, conversed with it, and found it very civil and reasonable.' "i am," said he to me, "the great-great-grandfather of the master of this house. i had a daughter, whom i solemnly promised to the father of master william's grandfather: nevertheless, despite my pledge, i gave her hand to another, and died shortly afterwards. ever since then, i have remained in purgatory, suffering for this perjury; and i shall continue in torment until some one of my descendants has married into the family of the head waiter. to accomplish this, i come here nightly; but it is in vain that i command them to unite juanilla and young william,--the son of my grandchild turns a deaf ear to my entreaties, as well as his wife; but tell them, if you please, signor serjeant, that if they do not as i desire of them soon, i shall come to extremities with them, and will plague them both in a way they little dream of."' "the host, who is simple enough, was somewhat shaken by this discourse; but the hostess, still more silly than her husband, was so much affected by it, that she fancied she already saw the ghost at her heels, and at once consented to the match, which took place on the following day. william shortly afterwards took an inn in another part of the town, and serjeant quebrantador failed not to visit him frequently. the new tavern-keeper at first, out of gratitude, filled him with wine at discretion; which so pleased the old moustache, that he took all his friends to the house: he even there enrolled his recruits, and made them drunk at the host's expense. "at last, therefore, master william became tired of constantly wetting so many parching throats; but, on communicating his ideas upon the subject to the serjeant, the latter, with a disregard of his own infraction of their treaty which would have fitted him to command an army, was unjust enough to accuse mine host of ingratitude. william replied, the other rejoined, and the conversation ended, as their first had begun, with a blow of the serjeant's long sword on the thick head of the unfortunate tavern-keeper. some passers-by naturally sided with the civilian: of these quebrantador wounded three or four; and his wrath was yet unsatisfied, when he was suddenly assailed by a host of archers, who arrested him as a disturber of the peace. they conducted him to prison, where he declared all that i have told you; and upon his deposition the ex-head-waiter was encaged also. his father-in-law demands a divorce; and the holy office, hearing that william has acquired some considerable property, has kindly undertaken to investigate the matter." [illustration: the serjeant is restrained from attacking william] "egad!" cried don cleophas, "our holy inquisition is ever alive to its interests. no sooner do they light upon a profitable----" "softly!" interrupted the devil, "have a care how you launch out against that tribunal:--for it, the very walls have ears. they echo even words that the mouth has never spoken; and for myself, i hardly dare to mention it without trembling." "over the unfortunate william, in the first chamber to the left, are two men worthy of your pity; one of them is a youthful valet, whom his master's wife privately indulged with the use of more than her husband's clothes. one day, however, the husband surprised them together; when the lady immediately began crying out for help, and accused the valet of having violated her person. the poor fellow was arrested, of course; and, according to appearances, will be sacrificed to his mistress's reputation. his companion, still less guilty than the valet, is also about to pay the forfeit of his life. he was footman to a duchess who has been robbed of a valuable diamond, which they accuse him of having taken. he will be to-morrow put to the torture, until the rack wrings from him a confession of the theft; and in the meanwhile the lady's maid, who is the real culprit, and whom no one dares to suspect, will moralise with the duchess on the depravity of modern servants." "ah! signor asmodeus," said leandro, "let not the wretched footman perish, i entreat you! his innocence interests me for his life. save him, by your power, from the unjust and cruel torture they would inflict: he deserves----" "you cannot expect it, signor student!" interrupted the demon. "what! do you suppose that i would prevent injustice?--that i would snatch the guiltless from destruction? as well might you pray an attorney to desist from the ruin of the widow or the orphan!" "oh! and it please you," added the devil, "expect not of me that which is contrary to my interest, unless indeed it be of great advantage to yourself. besides, were i willing to deliver yonder prisoner from bondage, how could i effect it?" "how!" repeated zambullo, "do you mean to say that you have not the power so to do?" "certainly," replied the cripple. "had you read the enchiridion, or albertus magnus, you would know that neither i, nor any of my brethren, can liberate a prisoner from his cell: even i, were i so unfortunate as to be within the talons of the law, could only hope to escape by bribing my jailer, or my judges. "in the next room, on the same side, lodges a surgeon convicted of having, in a fit of jealousy, drained the warm blood which wantoned in the veins of his handsome wife, after the model of the death of seneca. he was yesterday tenderly questioned on the rack; and having confessed the crime of which he was accused, he let out the secrets of his profession, by detailing a very novel and interesting mode which he had especially adopted for increasing his practice. he stated that he had been in the habit of wounding persons in the street with a bayonet, and of then lancing himself into his house by a back-door. of course the patient used to call out lustily at this unexpected operation; and as the neighbours flocked around at his cries, the surgeon, mingling with the crowd, and finding a man bathed in his blood, very charitably had him carried to his shop, and dressed the wound with the same hand that had given it. "although the rascally practitioner has confessed to this atrocity, for which a thousand deaths were not one too many, he still hopes that his life will be spared; and it is not improbable that it may be so, seeing that he is related to the lady who has the honour of clouting the little princes of spain: besides which, he is the inventor of a marvellous wash, of which the secret would die with him, and which has the virtues of whitening the skin, and of giving to the wrinkled front the juvenile appearance of fifteen. now, as this incomparable water serves as the fountain of youth to three ladies of the palace, who have united their efforts to save him, he relies so confidently on their credit at court, or rather on that of his wash, that he sleeps tranquilly in the soothing hope that he will awaken to the agreeable intelligence of his pardon." "i perceive, upon a bed in the same room," said the student, "another man, who appears to me to be sleeping peaceably enough; his business is not a very bad one, i expect." "it is a very ticklish affair, though," replied the demon. "that cavalier is a gentleman of biscay, who has enriched himself by the fire of a carbine: i will tell you how. about a fortnight ago, shooting in a forest with his elder and only brother, who was in possession of a large estate, he killed him, by mistake, instead of a partridge." "a very lucky mistake, that," cried don cleophas, laughing, "for a younger son." "yes," replied asmodeus: "but a collateral branch of the family, the members of which would have no objection to see the deceased's estate fall within their line, have disinterestedly prosecuted his murderer on the charge of having designedly shot him, that he might succeed to his property. the accused, however, immediately rendered himself into the hands of justice; and he appears to be so deeply afflicted by the death of his brother, that they can scarcely imagine him guilty of deliberately taking his life." "and has he really nothing with which to reproach himself, beyond his fatal awkwardness?" asked leandro. "no," replied asmodeus; "his design was innocent enough; but when an elder son is in possession of all the wealth of his family, i should certainly not advise him to make a shooting-party in company with his younger brother. "observe attentively those two youths who, in a retreat near to that of the fatal shot, are conversing as merrily as though they were at liberty. they are a pair of veritable _picaros;_ and there is one, especially, who may some day amuse the public with one of those details of roguery which never fail to delight it. he is a modern guzman d'alfarache: it is he who wears the brown velvet vest, and has a plume of feathers in his hat. "not three months since, in this very town, he was page to the count d'onato; and he would still have been in the suite of that nobleman but for a little piece of rascality, which gained for him his present lodging, and which i will narrate to you. "one day, this youth, whose name is domingo, received a hundred lashes, which the count's intendant, otherwise governor of the pages, directed to be bestowed on him as a reward for some trick which appeared to deserve it. domingo was, however, impatient under such a load of obligation; and so, proudly resolved to return it on the first opportunity. he had remarked more than once that the signor don como, as the intendant styled himself, delighted to wash his hands with orange-flower water, and to anoint himself with pastes redolent of the pink or jessamine; that he was more careful of his person than an old coquette, and that, in short, he was one of those coxcombs who imagine that no woman of taste can behold them without loving them. these observations inspired domingo with a scheme for revenge, which he communicated to a young waiting-woman who resided in the neighbourhood, whose assistance he required for the execution of his project, and in whose favour he stood so high that she had none left to grant him. "this damsel, called floretta, in order to have the pleasure of an unrestrained intercourse with the page, introduced him as her cousin into the house of donna luziana, her mistress, whose father was at that time absent from madrid. the cunning domingo, after having informed his pretended relative of her part in his design, going one morning into the apartment of don como, found my gentleman trying on a new dress, looking with complacency at his figure in a mirror, and evidently by no means displeased with its reflection. the page affected to be struck with admiration of this narcissus, and exclaimed, in well-feigned transport: 'upon my honour, signor don como, you have the air of royalty itself. i see, daily, nobles richly clad; but notwithstanding the elegance and splendour of their vestments, i discern in none that dignity of mien which distinguishes you. i will not assert,' added he, 'that with the respect i have for you, i may not regard you with eyes somewhat prepossessed in your favour; but this i can say, that i know of no cavalier at court whom you would not totally eclipse.' "the intendant smiled at this discourse, which offered so agreeable a tribute to his vanity, and graciously replied:--'you flatter me, my friend; or rather, as you say, you esteem me so highly, that your friendship endows me with graces that nature has refused.' 'i cannot think so,' replied the parasite; 'for there is no one who does not speak of you in terms which i dare not repeat, lest you should think i flattered you indeed. i wish you had heard what was said to me yesterday by one of my cousins, who is in the service of a lady of quality.' "don como failed not to ask what it was that domingo's cousin had said of him. 'why,' replied the page, 'i ought hardly to tell you; but she enlarged on the majesty of your figure,--on the charms which are everywhere visible in your person; and, what is better, she told me, in confidence, that the greatest delight of donna luziana, her mistress, is to watch for your passing her house, and to feast her eyes with beholding you.' [illustration: the page flattering don como] "'and who is this lady?' said the intendant,--'where does she live?' 'what!' replied domingo; 'do you not know the only daughter of general don fernando, our neighbour?' 'ah! to be sure i do,' replied don como: 'i remember to have frequently heard of the wealth and surpassing beauty of this luziana; she is not to be despised. but is it possible that i can have attracted her attention?' 'can you doubt it?' exclaimed the page. 'besides, my own cousin told me of the fact; and, though in a humble situation, she is incapable of falsehood, and i would answer for her word with my life.' 'in that case,' said the intendant, 'i should be glad to have a little private conversation with your relative, to engage her in my interest by the customary trifling presents to which her situation entitles her; and if she should advise me to pay court to her mistress, egad! i'll try my fortune. and why not? it is true that there is some difference between my rank and that of don fernando; but still i am a gentleman, and have a good four hundred ducats per annum. there are more extraordinary matches than this made every day.' "the page fortified his governor in his resolution, and procured for him an interview with his cousin; who, finding the intendant disposed to swallow anything, assured him of her mistress's inclination in his favour. 'you have no idea,' said she, 'how often luziana has questioned me as to the handsome cavalier who had made such an impression on her heart; and you may be sure that my replies were neither unpleasing to her, nor unfavourable to you: in short, signor, she loves you; and you have everything to hope from her affection. seek then her hand, openly and without hesitation; justify her secret passion, by showing that she loves a cavalier, not only the most charming and well-made, but the most gallant, of all madrid. give her, in serenades, the delightful assurance that your heart responds to hers; and rely on me to picture your devotion in the most pleasing colours,--an office as agreeable to myself as i hope it will be useful to you.' don como, transported with joy at finding the maid so warmly disposed to serve him, almost stifled her with his caresses; and, placing a worthless ring upon her finger, which he had liberally purchased of a jew, and which had served the same purpose fifty times, he exclaimed,--'dearest floretta! accept this ring as an earnest of my gratitude, until i have an opportunity of more worthily recompensing the favours you are about to shower on me.' "never was lover in greater ecstacy than was our intendant at the result of his conversation with floretta; and as he was indebted to domingo for this happiness, the page not only received his thanks, but was rewarded by the magnificent present of a pair of silk stockings, some shirts trimmed with lace, and a promise of the signor's losing no opportunity which might offer for promoting his interests. 'my dear friend,' said he, on leaving floretta, 'what is your opinion of the steps i should take in this matter? do you think i should commence with an impassioned and sublime epistle to my luziana?' 'decidedly,' replied the page. 'make her a declaration of your love in fitting terms: i have a presentiment that it will not be badly received.' 'well! i think so too,' replied the intendant; 'at all events, i will try the experiment.' accordingly, down he sat to compose the missive; and after having torn in pieces at least fifty scrawls, which would have made the fortune of a german romancist, he at last succeeded in composing a billet-doux which satisfied his scruples. it was conceived in the following grandiloquent and affecting terms:-- "'months have rolled like centuries, oh! lovely luziana, since, inspired by the renown which everywhere proclaims your perfections, my too-sensible soul has yielded to the flames of love, to burn for you alone! my heart consumed in secret, a willing prey to the fires that devoured me; and i never dared proclaim my sufferings to you, much less to seek for consolation. but a happy chance has recently revealed the soothing secret that, from behind the jealous screen which conceals your celestial charms from the eyes of men, you sometimes deign to look with pity on me as i pass;--that, directed by the divinity who guards you, and the destiny of your star,--oh, happy star for me!--you even think of me with kindness. i hasten then in all humility to consecrate my life unto your service; and should i be so fortunate as to obtain permission so to do, to renounce in your favour all ladies past, or present, or to come. "'don como de la higuera.' "domingo and floretta were not a little amused, on the receipt of this letter, at the expense of the poor intendant. but, not contented with the folly they had already induced him to commit, they set their wits to work to compose an answer to the billet which should be sufficiently tender. this done, it was copied by floretta, and delivered by the page on the following day to don como. it was in these words:-- "'i know not who can have so well informed you of my secret sentiments. some one has however betrayed me. still, i pardon the treachery, since, to it i owe an avowal of your love. i see many pass before my window, but i look with pleasure upon you alone; and i am too happy to find that i am dear to you. perhaps i am wrong to feel this delight, and still more wrong to dare to tell you so. if it be a fault in me, your virtues have caused, and must excuse it. "'donna luziana.' "although this letter was rather too warm for the daughter of a spanish general, as its authors had not thought much about ceremony, the presumptuous don como received it without suspicion. he thought sufficiently well of himself to imagine that for him a lady might well forget somewhat of the usages of society. 'ah! domingo,' he cried, with an air of triumph, after having read the letter aloud, 'you see, my friend, that the fish bites. congratulate me! i shall soon be son-in-law to don fernando, or my name's not don como de la higuera.' "'it is beyond a doubt,' said the rascally confidant; 'you seem to have made a tremendous impression on the girl. but, à-propos,' added he, 'i must not forget to tell you that my cousin particularly desired me to say, that to-morrow, at latest, you should serenade your mistress, in order to complete her infatuation.' 'i will on no account omit it,' replied the intendant. 'you may assure your cousin that i will in all things follow her advice; and that to-morrow, without fail, in the middle of the night, the street shall resound with one of the most gallant concerts that was ever heard in madrid.' and away went the intendant to secure the assistance of a celebrated musician, to whom he communicated his project, and whom he charged with the care of its execution. "in the meanwhile, floretta, informed of the intended serenade, and finding her mistress in a desirable mood, said to her,--'madam, i am preparing for you an agreeable diversion.' 'what may that be?' asked luziana. 'why,' replied the waiting-maid, laughing until the tears ran from her eyes, 'there is much to amuse you. an original, one don como, governor of the pages of the count d'onato, has taken it into his head to choose you as the sovereign lady of his thoughts; and he intends, to-morrow, in order that you may no longer remain ignorant of his devotion, to gratify you with the sound of music and sweet voices, in an evening serenade.' donna luziana, whose composition was none of the most grave, and who was far from foreseeing an unpleasant consequence to her in the gallantries of the intendant, instead of regarding the matter seriously, was delighted at the anticipated tribute to her charms; and thus, without knowing what she did, assisted in confirming the amorous don como in an illusion, of which it would have shocked her greatly to have been supposed designedly the author. "the night came, and with it appeared, before the balcony of the lady, two carriages, from which descended the gallant como and his confidant, accompanied by six musicians, vocal and instrumental, who commenced a very decent concert, which lasted for a considerable time. they performed many of the newest airs, and sang all the songs in vogue whose verses told the power of love in uniting hearts despite the obstacles of fortune, and the inequality of rank; while at every couplet, which the general's daughter perceived to be directed to herself, her merriment knew no bounds. "when the serenade was over, and the performers had departed in the carriages which brought them, the crowd which the music had attracted dispersed, and our lover remained in the street with domingo alone. he approached the balcony, whence, in a few minutes, the servant-girl, with her mistress's permission, said to him in a feigned voice: 'is that you, signor don como?' 'who asks me that question?' replied the don in a languishing tone. 'it is,' rejoined the girl, 'donna luziana, who would know if the concert she has heard but now, is an offering of your gallantry to her.' 'it is,' exclaimed the intendant, 'but a shadow of those festivals my love prepares for her who is the marvel of our days, if she will deign receive them from a lover who is sacrificed on the altar of her beauty.' "at this brilliant metaphor, luziana with difficulty restrained her laughter; but, coming forward and putting her head partially out of the little window from which her maid had addressed him, she said to the intendant, as seriously as possible: 'signor don como, you are, i perceive, no novice in the art of love; in you, each gallant cavalier who would gain his lady's heart, may find a model for his conduct. i thank you for your serenade, and feel flattered by your attention; but,' added she, 'retire now, lest we should be observed; another time we may, unrestrained, indulge in further conversation.' as she finished these words, she closed the window, leaving the intendant in the street, highly delighted at the kindness she had displayed for him, and the page greatly astonished that the lady had herself undertaken a part in the comedy. "this little fête, including the carriages and the enormous quantity of wine which its bibulous performers had consumed, cost don como upwards of a hundred ducats; and, two days afterwards, his confidant engaged him in a further outlay, in the following manner. having learned that, on the night of st. john,--a night so celebrated in this city,--floretta was about to join the damsels of her class at the _fiesta del sotillo_, domingo undertook to enliven this dance by a magnificent breakfast at the intendant's expense. [illustration: don como serenades luziana] "'accordingly, signor don como,' said he, on the eve of this festival, 'you are aware of what takes place to-morrow. i thought, however, you would like to be informed that donna luziana intends to repair at break of day to the banks of the mançanarez, to witness the _sotillo_. i need say no more to the corypheus of gallant cavaliers;--you are not the man to neglect so favourable an opportunity, and i am certain that your mistress and her companions will not fare badly to-morrow.' 'of that you may be sure,' replied the governor, 'and i am obliged to you for informing me of her intention: you shall see if i know how to kick the ball as it bounds.' in effect, very early on the following day, four of the count's servants, conducted by domingo, and loaded with every description of cold meat, cooked in all fashions, with an infinite number of small loaves and bottles of delicious wines, arrived on the bank of the river, where floretta and her companions were dancing, like nymphs before the golden throne of aurora. "had that goddess herself appeared, she would hardly have been more cordially greeted than were the wines and cold collation which the page brought on the part of don como; offering, as they did, so agreeable a repast after the delightful fatigues of the dance, which they so agreeably interrupted. the damsels seated themselves on the velvet turf of the meadow, and lost no time in paying due honour to the feast, the while laughing immoderately at the dupe who gave it; for domingo's kind cousin had not omitted to inform them of their benefactor, and his amorous adventure. "while they were in the midst of their rejoicing and their breakfast, they perceived the squire, richly dressed, and mounted on one of the count's steeds, which was ambling towards them. he rode up to his confidant, and gaily saluted the ladies, who rose at his approach, and politely thanked him for his generosity. his eyes wandered among the company in search of donna luziana, as he was anxious to deliver himself of a speech, glittering with compliments as the sward beneath his horse's feet with flowers, and which he had composed during his ride in honour of his mistress. great therefore was his grief, when floretta, taking him aside, informed him that a slight indisposition had prevented her lady from joining in the festival. the don, with a proper display of sensibility on the occasion, was particular in his inquiries as to the ailment; but when the girl informed him that luziana suffered from a cold, caught on the previous night from exposure in the balcony without her veil, talking of him and of his serenade, he was not without consolation to find so sad an accident proceeded from a cause so good. he therefore contented himself with the usual expressions of condolence; and, after praying floretta to continue to interest herself in his behalf with his mistress, took the road to his dwelling, rejoicing more and more at his great good fortune. [illustration: don como at the _sotillo_] "about this time, the intendant received a bill of exchange for a thousand crowns from andalusia, as his portion of the effects of one of his uncles, who had died at seville. on turning this bill into cash, he happened to count it over and place it in a coffer in the presence of domingo, who took so lively an interest in the operation, that, in order to repeat it, he was tempted to appropriate, if possible, the shining gold; and resolved, if successful in so doing, to escape with it into portugal. he related his project in confidence to floretta, and even proposed to her that she should accompany him. now this proposition was undoubtedly one which most people would think worthy of reflection; but the girl, as interested in the matter as the page, accepted it without a moment's hesitation. consequently, one night, while the intendant was labouring in his cabinet to compose a touching letter to his mistress, domingo found means to open the coffer in which the money was confined, to release it from its captivity, and to hasten with the enfranchised crowns into the street. he instantly repaired to the balcony of luziana, and, as a signal which had been agreed upon between him and his confederate, commenced a caterwauling, which disturbed the gravity of all the tabbies in the neighbourhood. the girl, ready to wander with him through the world, promptly responded to the amatory call; and in a few minutes they were on the high road from madrid, together. "they reckoned that, in the event of pursuit, they would have plenty of time to gain the frontiers of portugal before they could be overtaken; but, unfortunately for them, don como discovered the theft, and the flight of his confidant that very night. he gave immediate information to the police, whose officers were without loss of time dispersed on all sides in pursuit of the fugitives, and domingo was taken, near zebreros, in company with his lady. they were quickly brought back to madrid: the girl has been sent to join our friend marcella in _las arrepentidas_, and domingo is, as you perceive, as gay as ever within the walls of this prison." "and the intendant," added don cleophas, "has saved his golden crowns; as of course they have been restored to him." "of course they have not," replied the devil: "the thousand pieces are the proof of the robbery, and the officers of justice understand their business too well to give them up; so that don como, whose loving history is spread throughout madrid, has lost his money and his mistress, and is laughed at by everybody into the bargain." "domingo and his fellow-prisoner have for a neighbour," continued the cripple, "a young castilian who has been arrested for having, in the presence of too many witnesses, struck his father." "oh heaven!" cried leandro, "is it possible? lives there a child, however lost to shame, who can raise his impious hand against a father?" "oh yes," said the demon: "yon castilian is not without example; and i will cite you one whose history is rather remarkable. under the reign of don pedro i., surnamed the just and the cruel, the eighth king of portugal, a youth of twenty fell into the hands of justice for the same crime. don pedro, as much surprised as yourself at the novelty of the case, was curious to interrogate the mother of the criminal, and he examined her so adroitly as to obtain from her a confession, that the real father of this child was a certain reverend prelate. if the castilian's judges were discreet enough to interrogate his mother with equal address, it is probable that it would be attended with a similar avowal. "cast your eyes into a large dungeon beneath the prisoners i have just pointed out to you, and observe what is passing there. do you see those three ill-looking rascals? they are highwaymen. see! they are effecting their escape. some one has furnished them with a dumb-file in a loaf of bread; and they have already cut through one of the thick bars of a window, by which they may gain the court-yard, and from thence the street. they have been more than ten months in prison, and it is upwards of eight since they should have received the public recompense due to their exploits; but, thanks to the tardiness of justice, they are about to begin again their career of robbery and murder. [illustration: a prisoner being beaten up by his fellow inmates] "and now look into that low roofed cell where you perceive twenty or thirty men, some of them stretched upon straw. they are mostly pickpockets, shop-lifters, or professors of other branches of the spartan craft. do you observe five or six of them worrying a sort of labourer, who was introduced to their society this morning for having wounded an alguazil with a stone?" "and what are they thrashing him for?" asked zambullo. "why," replied asmodeus, "because he has not paid his entrance-fees. but," added he, "let us leave this horrible place, and the miserable wretches it contains; they are not in my vocation: we will go elsewhere, in search of objects less disgusting." chapter viii. of various persons exhibited to don cleophas by asmodeus, who reveals to the student what each has done in his day. in a few moments, the demon and his pupil were on the roof of a large mansion, at a considerable distance from that part of the city in which they had left the prisoners. "i have brought you here," said asmodeus, "because i am desirous of informing you what the mass of people who reside in the neighbourhood of the house we are on, have been doing in the course of to-day;--it will amuse you." "doubtless!" replied leandro. "begin, i beseech you: and first for yonder cavalier who is booting in such haste: what weighty matters call him from his home in such a night as this, my mentor?" "he is a captain," replied the cripple, "whose steeds are waiting in the street to carry him to catalonia, where his regiment is stationed. "well! yesterday, our hero, being without cash, applied to one of those gentry who, instead of giving to the poor, wisely lend unto the lords, or captains. 'signor sanguisuela,' said he, 'can you not oblige me with the loan of a thousand ducats?' 'signor captain,' replied the usurer, 'i have them not; but i think i know a friend who has, and will lend them to you:--that is to say, if you will give him your note of hand for a thousand ducats, he will give you four hundred; out of which i shall be content to receive sixty only, as my commission. money is so extremely scarce, that----' 'what usury!' interrupted the officer, hastily. 'what! ask six hundred and sixty ducats for the loan of three hundred and forty? infamous extortion! such hard-hearted scoundrels deserve to be hanged.' "'keep your temper, at all events, signor captain, and go elsewhere for your money,' replied the usurer, with the greatest coolness. 'of what do you complain? do i force you to take the three hundred and forty ducats? heaven forbid! you are free to take them or to leave them.' to this the captain had no reply to make, and went his way; but, on reflecting that he must set out for the camp on the morrow, and that he had no time to lose, he resolved to lose his money; so he returned this morning to the usurer, whom he met at his door, dressed in a short black mantle, a plain collar round his neck, his hair closely trimmed, and with a rosary in his hand, garnished with saintly medals. 'here i am again, signor sanguisuela,' said he; 'i will take the three hundred and forty ducats,--necessity compels me to accept your terms.' 'i am going to mass,' gravely replied the usurer; 'on my return, i will give you that amount.' 'ah! no,' exclaimed the captain; 'i pray you give it me at once: it will but delay you for an instant. i would not entreat you, but my haste is great as is my need.' 'i cannot,' replied sanguisuela: 'i hear mass daily, before i think of following my worldly avocations; it is a rule i have prescribed for my conduct, and i will endeavour religiously to observe it while i live.' [illustration: the captain and the usurer leaving church] "however impatient might be our captain to lay his hands upon the money, he was obliged to comport himself with the rule of the pious sanguisuela: he therefore armed himself with patience, and even, as though he feared that the ducats would escape him, followed the usurer to church. mass performed, he was preparing to leave; when sanguisuela inclined his head towards him, and whispered in his ear: 'stay! one of the most talented men in madrid preaches here this morning, and i would not lose his sermon for the world.' "the captain, to whom the mass had appeared over-long, was in despair at this further call on his endurance: however, needs must--and he remained where he had been driven. the preacher mounted the pulpit, and happened to discourse against usury. the officer was delighted; and observing sanguisuela's countenance, he said within himself: 'if this jew is capable of being touched, now,--if he will but give me six hundred ducats, i shall really think he is not too bad, after all.' the sermon ended, they left the church together, when the captain, addressing his companion, said: 'well, what think you of the preacher? did you not find his sermon extremely forcible? for myself, i was quite affected by it.' 'i am quite of your opinion,' replied the usurer; 'he treated his subject admirably. he is a learned man, and deeply skilled in his profession; and now, let us go, and show that we understand ours as well.'" "hollo!" cried don cleophas, "who are those two women in bed together, and laughing so loudly? egad! they seem merry enough." "they are sisters," replied the devil, "who this morning buried their father. he was an old curmudgeon, who had so great a distaste for matrimony, or rather to portioning his daughters, that he would never listen to a word about their marrying, however advantageous might be the offers made to them. they are at this moment discussing the virtues of the dear deceased. 'he is dead at last,' exclaimed the elder; 'he is dead,--the unnatural father, who so cruelly delighted still to keep us maids: he will, however, no longer oppose our innocent desires.' 'well, sister,' said the younger, 'for myself, i love the substantial; i shall look out for a good rich husband,--stupid, if you please; and the fat don blanco is just the man for my money.' 'softly, sister,' replied the elder; 'we shall have for husbands those to whom we are destined; for marriages, they say, are written in heaven.' 'so much the worse for us,' replied the younger; 'for if dear papa has the luck to be there, he will assuredly tear out our leaf.' the eldest could not help laughing at this sally, and it is that which still amuses them both. [illustration: the two sisters in bed] "in the next house to that of these ladies, in a furnished apartment, lodges an aragonese adventuress. you may see her, while others sleep, admiring in a glass those charms on which she relies, and which have gained for her to-day a conquest to be proud of: like a good general, she studies her positions for attack; and she has just discovered a new one, which will finish her campaign with her lover to-morrow. he is well worth all the pains she can take to secure him, and she is well aware of his promising qualities. to-day, for instance, one of her creditors calling to remind her of an account, which he insists on having settled in cash: 'wait, my good friend,' said she; 'wait but for a few days longer: i am on the point of concluding a most advantageous arrangement with one of the principal persons in the customs.'" "i need not ask you," said leandro, "how a certain cavalier, whom i perceive at this moment, has been passing his day: he appears to be a complete letter-writer. what enormous quantities i behold on his table!" "yes," replied the demon; "and, what is most amusing, all these letters are alike in their contents. he is writing to all his absent friends an account of an adventure which befel him this afternoon. he is in love with a widow of thirty, charming and discreet; he pays to her devotions which she does not despise; he proposes for her hand, and she consents to yield it without hesitation. while preparations are making for their nuptials, he has permission to visit her without ceremony. he went to her house to-day after dinner, and as he chanced to meet with no one to announce his coming, he entered the lady's apartment, where he found her stretched on a couch, _en déshabille_, or, to speak more correctly, almost naked. she was sleeping profoundly. what lover could resist the temptation thus offered to his eyes? he approaches her softly, and steals a gentle kiss. she starts, exclaiming as she wakes, 'what, again! i beseech you, ambrose, leave me to repose.' "the cavalier, as an honourable man, made up his mind on the instant to renounce all pretensions to the widow. he therefore immediately left the apartment; and meeting the servant at the door: 'ambrose,' said he, 'stay! your mistress prays you to indulge her with a brief repose.' [illustration: the lover about to kiss the widow] "two doors beyond the house of this cavalier, i perceive an original of a husband, who is sleeping tranquilly,--lulled to rest by reproaches with which his wife is upbraiding him for having passed the entire day from home. she would be still more bitter against her spouse, did she know how he had spent his day." "it has been most probably occupied in some amorous adventure?" said zambullo. "you have guessed it," replied asmodeus; "and shall hear the detail. "the man is a tradesman, named patricio: he is one of those wedded libertines who live without care, as though they had neither wife nor children: the partner of this fellow, nevertheless, is pretty, amiable, and virtuous; and he has two daughters and one son, all three still in their infancy. he left his family this morning, careless if they had bread to eat, which is not unfrequently the case, and directed his steps toward the great square, attracted thither by the preparations which were making for the bull-fight of to-day. the scaffolds were already erected around the place, and already the more curious in these matters began to take their places. "while gazing at the company, examining first one and then another, he observed a lady finely made and very neatly dressed, who discovered, as she descended from the scaffold, a well-turned leg and foot; and their effect was heightened by rose-tinted silken stockings, and garters of silver lace, the ends of which hung down to her ankles: it was enough to have tempted a saint, and our excitable citizen was almost out of his wits at the sight. he advanced towards the lady, who was accompanied by another whose air sufficiently disclosed that they were both damsels of easy virtue. 'ladies,' said he, accosting them, 'can i be of service to you? you have only to command me, and it will be my happiness to obey.' 'signor cavalier,' replied the nymph with the rose-coloured stockings, 'you appear so obliging, that we will take advantage of your kindness: we have already taken our places, but are leaving them to go to breakfast, as we were unwise enough to leave home this morning without first taking our chocolate. since you are so gallant as to offer your services, may we trouble you to escort us to some hotel, where we may eat a morsel of something? but we must beg you will select as retired a place as possible, for ladies, as you know, cannot be too careful of their reputation.' "at these words, patricio, becoming even more civil and polite than the occasion demanded, took the princesses to a tavern in the neighbourhood, and ordered breakfast. 'what would you like to have, sir?' inquired the host. 'i have the remains of a magnificent dinner, which took place here yesterday: there are larded fowls, partridges from léon, pigeons from old castile, and the best part of a ham from estremadura.' 'more than enough, mine host!' exclaimed the conductor of the two vestals. 'ladies, it is for you to choose;--what would you prefer?' 'whatever you please,' replied they: 'your choice shall be ours.' thereupon the citizen ordered a brace of partridges and a couple of cold fowls, to be served in a private room, as the ladies were too modest to think of eating in public. "they were immediately conducted to a small chamber, and in a few minutes the host appeared with the chosen dishes, some bread, and some wine. our lucretias fell to eating with most unfashionable appetites, and the fowls rapidly disappeared; while the simpleton, who was to pay, was occupied in ogling his luisita,--the name of the lady who had taken his fancy,--in admiring the whiteness of her hand, upon which glittered an enormous ring she had gained by her profession,--and, unable to eat for joy of his good fortune, in lavishing upon the lady all the tender epithets, such as his star or his sun, that his imagination could invent. on inquiring of his goddess if she were married, she told him she was not, but was living under the protection of her brother;--had she added,--by descent from our father adam, she would not have been far from the truth. [illustration: breakfast at the inn] "good eating is nothing without good drinking; so the two harpies, having each demolished a fowl, washed them down with a proportionate quantity of wine; and, consequently, the two flagons which had been placed upon the table were soon exhausted. that they might be more speedily replenished, our gallant left the room with the empty vessels; and he had no sooner closed the door than jacintha, luisita's companion, clawed hold of the two partridges, which were yet untouched, and put them in a spacious pocket which her gown conveniently afforded. our adonis, on returning from his chase of the wine, and remarking that the eatables had vanished, was anxious to know if his venus had eaten enough. 'why,' said she, 'if the pigeons of which the host has spoken be very good, perhaps i might be tempted to taste them; or else a morsel of the ham of estremadura will do.' these words were no sooner uttered than away went patricio again in search of provender, and quickly returned, followed by three of the loving birds and a substantial dish of the ham. the two vultures pounced on their prey like lightning; and as the witless citizen was obliged a third time to leave the room for bread, they sent a pair of the pigeons to keep company with the imprisoned partridges. "after the repast, which ended with a dessert composed of all the fruits the season afforded, the amorous patricio began to press luisita for that payment in kind which he expected from her gratitude. the lady, however, was resolved to look upon it as a treat; but at the same time indulged him with the hopes of a return, telling him there was a time for all things, and that a tavern was not a fitting place in which to testify, without reserve, her satisfaction for all his kindness. then, hearing the clock strike one, she assumed an uneasy air, and said to her companion: 'ah! my dear jacintha, how unfortunate! we shall be too late to find a place to see the bull-fight.' 'excuse me,' replied jacintha; 'this gentleman has only to conduct us where he so politely accosted us, and never fear for our finding a place.' "before leaving the tavern, however, it was necessary to settle with the host, who presented an account amounting to fifty reals. the citizen pulled out his purse; but, as it contained but thirty of the requisite pieces, he was obliged to leave, in pawn, his rosary adorned with numerous medals of silver. this done he esquired the frail ones to the place from whence they came, and obtained for them convenient seats upon one of the scaffolds, the proprietor of which, being known to him, gave him credit for their price. "they were no sooner seated, then they demanded further refreshment, 'i am dying with thirst,' cried one,--'that ham was terribly salt.' 'and so am i', replied the other; 'i could drink an ocean of lemonade.' patricio, who understood but too well what all this meant, left them, in search of what they wanted; but suddenly stopping on his way, he exclaimed to himself: 'madman! where art thou going? would one not think thou hadst a hundred pistoles in thy purse, or in thy house? and thou halt not a single maravedi! what shall i do?' added he. 'to return to the lady without that which she requires is impossible;--and must i, then, abandon so promising an adventure? i cannot resolve on that either.' "while thus embarrassed, he perceived among the spectators one of his friends who had frequently tendered him services, which his pride had always prevented him accepting. but now, lost to shame, he hastened towards him, and without hesitation, begged the loan of a double pistole; possessed of which his courage returned, and hurrying to a confectioner's, he ordered them to carry to his princesses so many iced liqueurs, so many biscuits and sweetmeats, that the doubloon hardly sufficed to meet this new expense. "at length the day ended, and with it the festival; when our citizen conducted his lady to her house, in the pleasing hope of at last reaping the reward of all his thoughtless extravagance. but as they arrived near the door of a house which luisita indicated, as her dwelling, a servant-girl came to meet her, saying with much apparent agitation: 'ah! where have you been until now? your brother, don gaspard heridor, has been waiting for you these two hours, swearing like a trooper.' upon this the sister, in well-feigned alarm, turned towards her gallant, and pressing his hand, said to him in a whisper: 'my brother is a man of most violent temper, but his anger is soon appeased. wait here awhile with patience: i will soon set all to rights; and as he sups from home every night, as soon as he has left the house, jacintha shall inform you, and bring you to me.' [illustration: patricio kisses luisita's hand] "patricio, consoled by this promise, kissed with transport the hand of luisita, who returned his caresses, in order to keep up his spirits, and then entered the house with jacintha and the girl. the poor dupe took patience, as directed, and sat himself down on a stone, a few yards from the door, where he waited for a considerable time, never dreaming of the possibility of their playing him a trick. he only wondered at the stay of don gaspard, and began to fear that this cursed brother had lost his appetite with his passion. "ten o'clock, eleven o'clock, the hour of midnight, sounded; and not until then did his confidence begin to evaporate, and some slight doubts of the good faith of his lady to infuse themselves into his mind. all was darkness around him; when, approaching the door, he entered on tip-toe, and found himself in a narrow passage, in the middle of which his hand encountered a staircase. he dared not ascend it; but, listening attentively, his ears were greeted with the discordant concert which might be expected to proceed from a barking dog, a mewing cat, and a crying child, all performing their parts to admiration. he felt that he was deceived; and he was convinced of the fact when, having explored the passage to its termination, he found himself in another street, parallel with that in which he had, so long, waited for his love. "the ghost of his money rose in judgment against him; and he returned to his own house, moralising on the deceptive influences of rose-coloured stockings. he knocked at the door; it was opened by his wife, a chaplet in her hand, and tears in her eyes. 'ah! patricio,' she said, in a voice which told her affliction; 'how can you thus abandon your home? how can you thus neglect your wife--your children? where have you been from six this morning, when you left us?' the husband, whom this question would have puzzled to answer satisfactorily, and who was, besides, somewhat ashamed of himself, had not a word to say; so he undressed, and got into bed in silence. his wife, however, was not in want of a text; and she read him a lecture, the continuous hum of which, as you perceive, has soothed him to sleep." [illustration: patricio lulled to sleep by his wife's lecture] "and now," continued asmodeus, "cast your eyes upon the large house by the side of that in which the cavalier is writing to his friends the story of his rupture with the mistress of ambrose. do you not remark a young lady sleeping in a bed of crimson satin, embroidered with gold?" "wait!--oh, yes!--i see a lady sleeping; and i fancy i see a book, open, on her pillow." "precisely so," answered the demon. "that lady is a talented young countess, full of life and spirit: she has recently suffered extremely from sleepless nights, and having sent for a physician, one of the most dignified of his class, he has prescribed for her a remedy, derived, he says, from hippocrates himself. the lady, nevertheless, ridiculed his prescription; at which the physician, a crabbed sort of animal, who does not understand joking, said to her, with a proper professional gravity: 'madam, hippocrates is not a man to be laughed at.' 'certainly not, signor doctor,' replied the countess, with the most serious air imaginable; 'far from laughing at so celebrated and learned an author, i think so highly of him, that i feel assured the mere opening of his work will cure me of my sleeplessness. i have in my library a new translation from the pen of azero; it is, i believe, the best: here! find it for me,' added she, turning to her attendant. you behold the magic power of hippocrates! she had not read three pages before she sank into profound repose. "in the countess's stables there is a poor, one-armed soldier, whom the grooms, out of charity, permit, by night, to sleep upon the straw. during the day he begs about the city; and a few hours ago, he had an amusing conversation with another mendicant, who lives near buen-retiro, on the road to the palace. the latter has an excellent business, which he manages so well, that his daughter, who is of a marriageable age, passes among the beggars for a rich heiress. this morning, the soldier accosting the father, said to him: 'signor mendigo, i have lost my right arm; i can no longer serve the king; and, like yourself, i am obliged to gain a livelihood by doing the civil to the passers-by. i know well that of all trades there is not one which does more for those who follow it; and that all that is wanting to it is, that it should be a little more highly esteemed.' 'if it were a bit more honourable,' replied the old man, 'it would not be worth following at all, as we should have too much competition;--all the world would beg if it were not for shame.' [illustration: the two beggars in conversation] "'very true!' replied he of the one arm. 'well, now! i am a brother beggar; and i should be happy to ally myself with so distinguished a member of our profession: you shall give me your daughter.' 'hold! my dear sir,' replied the warm old gentleman; 'you cannot think of such a thing. she must have a better match than you will make. you are not half lame enough. my son-in-law must be a miserable-looking object, who would draw blood out of a stone.' 'do you think, then, that you will find one worse off than i am?' 'to be sure! why, you have only lost an arm; and ought to be absolutely ashamed of yourself, to expect that i will give you my daughter. i'd have you to know that i have already refused a fellow without legs, and who goes about the city in a bowl.' "i must on no account," continued the devil, "omit to call your attention to the house which joins that of the sleeping countess, and which contains a drunken old painter and a satirical poet. the artist left home at seven o'clock this morning in search of a confessor, as his wife was at the point of death; but happening to meet with a boon companion, he went with him to a tavern, and forgot his wife until ten this evening, when he returned to find she had died unshriven. the poet, who enjoys the reputation of having frequently received most striking proofs of the merits of his caustic verses, was swaggering in a _café_ this morning; and in speaking of a person who was absent, exclaimed: 'he is a scoundrel, to whom, some of these days, i must give a good drubbing.' 'that is kind of you,' replied a wag who heard him; 'though i believe, by the bye, that you owe him a good many.' "i had nearly forgotten a scene which took place this morning at a banker's in this street. he is only recently established in madrid, having returned with immense riches about three months ago from peru. his father is an honest cobbler of mediana,[ ] a large village of old castile, near the sierra d'avila, where he lives, contented with his lot, and with his wife, who, like himself, is about sixty years of age. [ ] it is curious, that in the original of the latest paris edition, as also in the third edition, of , the earliest i have been able to consult, and which was published under the superintendence of le sage, this passage stands, "un honnête _capareto_ de viejo et de mediana." there is a note to the word "_capareto_" giving its translation into french as _savetier_. being puzzled by the double name of the village,--"de viejo et de mediana," i sought the assistance of a talented spaniard, signor lazeu, and was surprised to find the spanish for cobbler is "_zapatero de viejo_," or, "shoemaker of old (things)," and that it should consequently have stood in the original "_zapatero de viejo_ de mediana." it has been doubted by many, among others the late h. d. inglis, whether le sage were really the author of le diable boiteux and gil blas; and it has been asserted that he merely translated these works from the unpublished manuscripts of some spanish author. if the error in question were really that of le sage, it would certainly go far to confirm this assertion.--trans. "it is upwards of twenty years since the banker left his father's house, for the indies, in search of a better fortune than he could expect from his parents. during all this time, though lost to sight, he was ever present in their thoughts, and every night and morning saw the poor couple on their knees, praying heaven to shield him with its protection; nor did they fail, on each succeeding sabbath, to entreat their friend the curate to recommend their child to the prayers of his humble flock. as soon as the banker had returned to spain, having hastily established his house of business, he resolved to ascertain, in person, the condition of his parents, whom, in his prosperity, he had never forgotten. with this view, having told his domestics he should be absent for a few days, he set out alone, about a fortnight ago, and journeyed on horseback towards the place of his birth. [illustration: the banker reunited with his parents] "it was about ten o'clock at night, and the good old cobbler was sleeping peaceably beside his spouse, when they were suddenly awakened by the noise which the banker made, as he knocked violently at the door of their little house. 'who's there?' cried the startled pair, together. 'open--open the door!' replied a voice; 'it is your son francillo.' 'tell that to the marines!" replied the ancient son of crispin;--'be off with you, scoundrels! there is nothing here worth stealing. francillo is at this moment in the indies, if he be not dead.' 'your son is not now in the indies,' replied the banker; 'he is returned from peru; it is he who speaks to you: will you refuse to receive him in your arms?' 'let us go down, jacobo,' said the wife; 'i think it is indeed francillo; i seem to recollect his voice.' "they immediately dressed themselves hurriedly; and, as soon as the cobbler had struck a light, they descended, and opened the door. the old woman looked at francillo but for an instant, and, with a mother's instinct, recognised her son: she fell upon his neck, and pressed him to her bosom; while master jacobo, as much transported as his wife, threw his arms around them, and kissed them both by turns. it was some time before the happy family, reunited after so long a separation, could tear themselves apart, or cease those expressions of delight which filled their throbbing hearts. "at length, however, the banker was able to think of his horse, which he unsaddled and led to a stable, already occupied by a cow, whose teeming udders daily yielded their sweet food for his parents. on his return to the house, he related the adventures of his life in peru, and told them of the wealth which he had brought with him to spain. the story was somewhat long, and might have appeared annoying to uninterested listeners; but a son who unbosoms himself after a twenty years' absence, rarely fails to fix the attention of a father and mother. to them nothing was indifferent; they greedily devoured every syllable he uttered, and the most trifling details of his life made upon them the most lively impressions of sorrow or of joy. "he finished his history, by telling them that his wealth would lose all its value unless shared by them, and entreated his father to think no longer of working at his stall. 'no, no, my son,' said master jacobo to him: 'no, no! i love my trade, and i will stick to my last.' 'what,' exclaimed francillo, 'is it not time you lived in peace? i do not ask you to go with me to madrid; i know well that a city life would have no charms for you: i do not propose, then, that you should leave the peaceful village where your days have passed; but, at least, spare yourself a painful toil, and live here at your ease, since it is in your power to do so.' "the mother joined her son in besieging the old cobbler with entreaties; and, at last, master jacobo capitulated. 'well! francillo,' said he, 'to satisfy you i will be a gentleman; that is, i will not work any longer for all the village; i will only mend my own shoes, and those of our good friend the curate.' on this convention, the banker, having swallowed a couple of eggs that they had fried for his supper, went to bed beneath his father's roof, the first time for many years, and slept with a calmness of delight that the good alone are capable of enjoying. "the following day, francillo returned to madrid, after leaving with his father a purse of three hundred pistoles. but, this morning, he was not a little astonished at beholding master jacobo suddenly enter his room. 'ah! my father what brings you here!' 'why, my son,' replied the old man, 'i bring you back your purse. there, take your money; i am determined to live by my trade: i have been miserable ever since i left off work.' 'ah, well! my father,' said francillo, 'return to the village, and continue to work as you will: but, at all events, let it be only to amuse you. take back your purse, too, and do not spare mine.' 'and what, then, do you think i can do with so much money?' asked master jacobo. 'it will enable you to relieve the poor,' replied the banker: 'do with it as the curate and your own conscience shall dictate.' the cobbler, satisfied to accept it on these terms, immediately departed for mediana." [illustration: the cobbler attempts to return the purse to his son] don cleophas had listened, with pleasure, to the history of francillo; and he was about to express his admiration of the good-hearted banker's filial affection, when, at the very moment, his attention was distracted by the most piercing shrieks. "signor asmodeus!" he exclaimed, "what frightful noises do i hear?" "those cries, which rend the air," replied the devil, "proceed from a receptacle for madmen, who tear their throats with shouting, or with singing." "we are not far from the place of their confinement, then," said leandro; "so let us look at them at once." "by all means," replied the demon: "i will afford you that amusement and inform you of the causes of their madness." it was no sooner said than done; and, in a moment, the student found himself on the _casa de los locos_. chapter ix. the madhouse, and its inmates. zambullo surveyed, by turns, with much curiosity, the several rooms and the unfortunate creatures they contained; and while he was reflecting on the scene thus presented to his eyes, the devil said to him: "there they are, my master! you see insanity in every form there;--men and women, laughing idiots and raging maniacs, locks grey with age, and cheeks which still retain their bloom. well! now i will tell you what has turned their heads: we will go from room to room, but will begin with the men. "the first whom you observe, and who appears so violent, is a political fanatic of castile. he is a proud citizen of madrid, in the heart of which he was born; and he is more jealous of the honour of his country than was ever citizen of ancient rome. he went mad with chagrin at reading in the gazette, that twenty-five spaniards had suffered themselves to be beaten by a party of fifty portuguese. "his neighbour is a licentiate, who was so anxious to obtain a benefice, that he played the hypocrite at court during ten long years; and whose brain was turned by despair at finding himself constantly overlooked among the promotions: his madness, however, is not without its advantage; seeing that he at present imagines himself to be archbishop of toledo. and what if he deceive himself? his pleasure is none the less: indeed, i think, that he is so much the more to be envied; since his error is a golden dream, which will only end with his life, and he will not be called to account in the other world for the application of his revenues in this. "the next in rotation is a ward, whom his guardian declared to be insane, that he might have the uncontrolled use of his property: the poor youth has become really mad from rage at his unjust confinement. after the minor, comes a schoolmaster, who lost his wits in search of the _paulo post futurum_ of the greek verb; and, then again, we have a merchant, whose reason was shipwrecked with a vessel that belonged to him, although it had stood the shock of two bankruptcies which had before threatened to engulph him. "the person who is lodged in the next room is the ancient captain zanubio, a neapolitan cavalier, who came to establish himself in madrid, and whom jealousy has settled where he is: you shall hear his history. "he delighted in a youthful spouse, the lady aurora, whom he guarded as the apple of his eye. his house was absolutely inaccessible to all mankind; and aurora never left it but for mass, always accompanied by her aged tithon, or to breathe with him the pure air of the pleasant fields, at an estate near alcantara, whither he sometimes led her. despite his vigilance, however, she had been perceived at church by the cavalier don garcia pacheco, who loved her from the instant that he saw her: he was an enterprising youth, and not unworthy the attention of a pretty woman whom fortune had badly matched. [illustration: zanubio and aurora at church, observed by don garcia] "the difficulty of introducing himself into the house of zanubio was not sufficient to deprive don garcia of hope. as his chin was yet unreaped, and he was fair to behold, he disguised himself as a virgin, took with him a hundred pistoles, and betook himself to the captain's seat, where, he had learned, that gentleman and his lady were shortly expected. watching his opportunity to accost the female who acted as gardener in zanubio's establishment, he addressed her in the style of the heroines of chivalry, who fly from some giant's towers: 'kind lady,' said he, 'i come to throw myself within your arms, and to entreat your pity. i am a maiden of toledo, of wealth and name, but my parents would compel me to give my hand to one whom my heart disowns. to escape this tyranny, i have fled by night; and i now seek shelter from a cruel world. here i shall be safe from pursuit. do not deny me, then, to dwell with you until my friends shall be inspired with more kindly sentiments. there is my purse: do not hesitate to receive it, it is all that i can give you now: but i trust the day will come when i may more properly acknowledge the service which you will render me by your protection.' [illustration: don garcia accosts the female gardener] "the gentle gardener, especially affected by the conclusion of this touching address, replied: 'dear lady, i will receive you with pleasure. i know that there are too many youthful maidens who are sacrificed to aged men; and i know, too, that they are not usually reconciled to their lot. i sympathize with your afflictions: you could not have more fortunately addressed yourself than to me. come! i will place you in a little room, where you may live in confidence of security.' "don garcia passed four days, shut up in the gardener's cottage, anxiously awaiting the arrival of aurora. at last she came, guarded as ever by her jealous spouse, who immediately, according to his usual custom, searched every chamber, from the cellar to the garret, to make sure that he was free from the hated form of man, which might endanger his honour. the gardener, who expected this visitation, anticipated it by informing her master of the manner in which a refuge had been sought with her by a youthful female. zanubio, although extremely mistrustful, had not the slightest suspicion of the deceit now practised on him; he was, however, curious to see the unknown. at the interview which followed, the lady begged him to excuse her concealing her name, stating that it was a reserve which she owed to her family, which she in some sort dishonoured by her flight. she then related to him so pathetic a tale, and in a style so romantic, that the captain was charmed; and while he listened to her narration, he felt a rising inclination for this amiable damsel, which ended in an offer of his services and protection; after which he led her to his wife, flattering himself that this adventure would not end disagreeably to himself. "as soon as aurora beheld don garcia, she blushed and trembled, without knowing why. the cavalier, who perceived her uneasiness, shrewdly guessed that she had observed the attention with which he had regarded her at church. to ascertain this fact, as soon as they were alone, he said to her: 'madam, i have a brother who has often spoken to me of you. he saw you for a moment at your devotions, and from that moment, which he delights to recall a thousand times each day, you have been the idol of his heart;--he loves you to madness.' "as he spoke, aurora scrutinized the features of don garcia, and when he had finished she replied to him: 'you resemble your brother too closely to permit me to remain for an instant the dupe of your stratagem: i see too clearly you are that brother in disguise. i remember, one day while at mass, my mantilla fell back from my face; it was but for an instant, but i saw that you perceived me: i afterwards watched you from curiosity, and your eyes remained fixed on my person. when i left the church, i believe that you failed not to follow me, that you might learn who i was, and the house where i dwelt. i say--i believe you did this, for my head dared not turn to observe you; as my husband was with me, jealous of my slightest motions, and would have made, of one glance, a deep crime. on the morrow and following days, when i went to the church, i always saw you; and your features have become so familiar that i know you despite your disguise.' "'well, madam,' replied the lover, 'i must then unmask:--yes, i am a man, the victim of your charms:--it is indeed don garcia pacheco whom love brings here in the guise of the gentler sex----' 'and you doubtless anticipate,' interrupted aurora, 'that i, sharing your foolish passion, shall lend myself to your design, and assist in confirming my husband in his error. you are, however, deceived: i shall at once expose the deception; my honour and my peace demand it of me. besides, i am not sorry to have an opportunity of showing my husband that vigilance is a less certain safeguard than virtue, and that, jealous and mistrustful as he is, i am more difficult to surprise than himself.' "she had hardly spoken when the captain appeared. he had indistinctly heard a portion of his wife's discourse, and requested to be informed of the subject of their conversation. 'we were speaking,' replied aurora, 'of those youthful cavaliers who dare to hope for love from ladies of a tender age, because united to a husband for whom respect claims the place of passion. as you entered i was saying, that should such a gallant dare to address himself to me,--should he endeavour to introduce himself beneath your roof by some of those artifices to which such madmen have recourse, i should know well how to punish his audacity.' "'and you, madam,' said zanubio, turning to don garcia, 'after what fashion should you treat a youthful cavalier in such a case?' our assumption of a virgin was so much disconcerted at this question, that he was unable to reply; and his embarrassment would certainly have attracted zanubio's attention, had not, at the moment, a servant entered the apartment, to inform the captain that a person who had just arrived from madrid wished to speak with him. "zanubio had no sooner gone out than don garcia, throwing himself at aurora's feet, exclaimed: 'ah, madam, how can you delight thus to perplex me? could you be cruel enough to expose me to the wrath of an enraged husband?' 'no, pacheco,' replied the lady, smiling; 'youthful dames who are so unfortunate as to have aged spouses are not so resentful. be not alarmed! i could not resist the temptation to amuse myself at the expense of your fears; but that is the sum of your punishment; and it is surely not exacting too great a price for my kindness in permitting your continuance here.' at these consoling words all don garcia's alarms were dispelled, and they yielded to hopes, of which aurora was too kind long to delay the realization. "one day, while their reciprocal affection was manifested in a form too clear to be misunderstood, the captain surprised them. had he been the most confiding of men, it would have been impossible, unless his confidence were not extended to his own eyes, to doubt that the lovely unknown was a man in disguise. furious at the scene which presented itself, he hastened to his dressing-room in search of his pistols; but, in the meanwhile, the fond couple escaped,--in their hurry to leave the apartment, double-locking the door, and taking with them the key. they lost no time in gaining a neighbouring village, in which don garcia had taken the precaution to leave his valet with two good horses. there, our hero, having abandoned his petticoats, and placed aurora on a crupper on one of the steeds, mounted and rode with her to a convent, where she prayed him to leave her in the care of an aunt, its abbess; after which he returned to madrid to await the termination of his adventure. [illustration: zanubio discovers aurora in garcia's embrace] "poor zanubio, finding himself imprisoned, shouted with all his lungs, and a servant, hearing his voice, hastened to his assistance: but, if love laughs at locksmiths, locks are sometimes extremely unaccommodating. in vain did the servant and captain try to force the door; and at last the latter, his wrath increasing with his efforts, rushed to the window, and threw himself from it, his pistols in his hands: he fell upon his back, wounded his head, and when his attendants arrived they found him senseless. he was carried bleeding to his chamber, and by deluging him with water, and by other gentle torments used on such occasions, they succeeded in bringing him to life; but his fury returned with his senses. 'where is my wife?' he cried. to this interrogatory they replied, by informing him that they had seen her pass from the garden, in company with the unknown lady, by a little private door. he immediately demanded his pistols, which they dared not refuse him, ordered a horse to be saddled, and without reflecting on his wound, set out, but by another road, in pursuit of the lovers. the day passed in this fruitless search; and when he stopped for the night at a village inn, to repose himself, the fatigue and irritation of his wound brought on a fever and delirium, which nearly cost him his life. [illustration: zanubio throws himself out of the window] "the rest is told in a few words. the captain, after being confined to his bed for a fortnight, in the village, returned still unwell to his country seat; and there, by continually dwelling on his misfortune, he shortly afterwards lost his reason. the relations of aurora were no sooner informed of this event, than they caused him to be brought to madrid, and confined where you now see him; and they have resolved that his wife shall remain in the convent for some years to come, as a punishment for her indiscretion, or, more properly, for a fault which their own cupidity placed her in a situation to be tempted to commit. "the next to whom i shall direct your attention," continued the devil, "is the signor don blaz desdichado, a worthy cavalier, whose deplorable malady is also owing to the loss of his wife, but by death." "that indeed surprises me," said don cleophas. "a husband whom the death of his wife renders insane! well! that is more than i ever expected to spring from conjugal love." "not so fast!" interrupted asmodeus: "don blaz did not lose his reason with his wife; but because, having no children, he was obliged to return to the parents of the deceased fifty thousand ducats which he had received with her, and which the marriage contract compelled him to restore." "ah! that is another affair," replied leandro; "the matter is by no means so wonderful as i imagined. but tell me, if you please, who is that young man that is skipping about like a kid in the next room, and from time to time stopping to laugh until he holds his sides? he is a lively fool enough." "yes," replied the cripple, "and it was excess of joy which made him mad. he was porter to a person of quality; when one day, hearing of the death of a rich contador, to whose wealth he was sole heir, he was so affected by the joyous news that his head was not proof against his good fortune. "we have now come to that tall youth who is twanging the guitar, and accompanying the pathetic strain with his voice: his is a melancholy madness. he is a lover, whom the excessive severity of his mistress reduced to despair, until they were obliged to enclose him here." "alas! how i pity him," exclaimed the student; "permit me to express my sorrow for his misfortune;--it is one to which every susceptible heart is exposed. were it my own fate to love a disdainful beauty, i know not but that i too should love to madness." "i can believe you," replied the demon: "that sentiment would stamp you for a true castilian. one must be born in the centre of that ancient kingdom to be capable of loving until reason sinks with a despised heart. your frenchman is not so tender; and would you appreciate the difference between a gay parisian and a fiery spaniard in this respect, i need only repeat to you the song which yon poor fool is singing, and which his passion inspires even at this moment: spanish song. 'mine eyes gush o'er with floods of wild desire, and hopeless love burns fiercely in my breast; yet not my tears can quench my bosom's fire, nor passion's fire my scalding tears arrest.'[ ] [ ] 'ardo y lloro sin sosiego: llorando y ardiendo tanto, que ni el llanto apaga el fuego, ni el fuego consume el llanto.' "it is thus sings a true castilian whom his lady slights; and now i will repeat to you the words in which a frenchman told his griefs, in a similar case, only a few days ago: french song. 'she who within my bosom reigns, a tyrant's stern control maintains; nor sighs, nor tears, nor prayers can move the least relenting look of love. a kind word, kindly spoken, might have turn'd my darkness into light; but, since my suit is urged in vain, i fly to feed my griefs with payen.'[ ] [ ] 'l'objet qui règne dans mon coeur est toujours insensible à mon amour fidèle, mes soins, mes soupirs, ma langueur, ne sauraient attendrir cette beauté cruelle. o ciel! est-il un sort plus affreux que le mien? ah! puisque je ne puis lui plaire, je renonce au jour qui m'éclaire; venez, mes chers amis, m'enterrer chez payen.' "this payen is undoubtedly a tavern-keeper?" said don cleophas. "exactly so," replied the devil. "but let us continue our observations." "let us then turn to the women," exclaimed leandro; "i am impatient to hear their histories." "i will yield to your impatience," answered the spirit; "but there are yet two or three unfortunates on this side of the house, whom i would first show to you: you may profit by their unhappiness. "you observe, close by the melancholy songster, that pale and haggard face; those teeth, which gnash as though they would make nothing of the iron bars that ornament the window. yon is an honest man, born under influence of malignant star, who, with all the merit in the world, has vainly striven, during twenty years, to secure a modest competence; he has scarcely, with all his efforts, succeeded in gaining his daily bread. his reason fled its seat, on his perceiving a worthless fellow of his acquaintance suddenly mount the top of fortune's wheel by a lucky speculation. "his neighbour, again, is an old secretary, whose head was cracked by a stroke of ingratitude, which he received from a courtier, in whose service he lived during sixty years. no praises were too great for the zeal and fidelity of this ancient servant; who, however, never claimed their just reward, content to let his assiduity and services speak for themselves. his master, far from resembling archelaus, king of macedonia, who refused favours when demanded, and bestowed them when unasked, died forgetful of his merits, leaving him just enough to pass his days in misery, and the refuge of a madhouse. "i will only detain you with one more, and it is with the man who, leaning with his elbows on the window, appears plunged in profound meditation. you see in him a signor hidalgo, of tafalla, a small town of navarre, which he left for madrid that he might make the best use of his wealth. he was bitten with a rage for surrounding himself with the literati of the day; and as these animals are always seen to most advantage at feeding-time, he kept open house for their entertainment. authors are an unpolished and ungrateful race; but, although they despised and snarled at their keeper, he was not contented until they had eaten him out of house and home." "poor fellow," said zambullo: "he no doubt went mad with rage at his awful stupidity." "on the contrary," replied asmodeus, "it was with regret at finding himself unable to keep up his menagerie. well! now let us pay our respects to the ladies," added the devil. "why! how is this?" exclaimed the student: "i only see seven or eight of them. i had expected to have found them here by scores." "ah!" said the devil, smiling, "but they are by no means all confined within these walls. i will take you instantly, if you wish it, to another quarter of the city, where there is a larger house than this, full of mad-women to the very roof." "do not trouble yourself, i beg," replied don cleophas; "i am by no means anxious for their acquaintance: these will suffice." "you are right," replied the devil; "and these too, are almost all youthful ladies of distinction. you may perceive by the attention which is paid to their persons, that they are not ordinary subjects. and now for the story of their madness. "in the first room is the wife of a corregidor, who went mad with rage at being termed plebeian by a lady of the court; in the second, is the spouse of the treasurer-general of the council of the indies: anger also made her mad, at being obliged, in a narrow street, to turn back her carriage to make way for that of the duchess of medina-coeli. the third room is the residence of a merchant's widow, whom regret for the loss of a noble signor's hand robbed of her senses; and the fourth is occupied by a girl of highest rank, named donna beatrice, whose misfortunes are worth your attention. "this young lady was united by the most tender friendship with the donna mencia: they were indeed inseparable. it happened, however, that a handsome chevalier of the order of st. james became acquainted with them both, and they soon were rivals for his heart. as he could not marry the two, and as his affections inclined towards the donna mencia, he paid his court to that lady, and she shortly became his wife. "donna beatrice, jealous of the power of her charms, and mortified to excess by the preference shown to another, conceived a passion for revenge, which, like a woman, or a good spaniard, she nourished at the bottom of her heart. while this passion was yet in its infancy, she received from don jacintho de romarate, a neglected lover of the donna mencia, a letter stating that, being as much insulted as herself by the marriage of his mistress, he had resolved to demand satisfaction of the chevalier for their united wrongs. "this letter gave great delight to beatrice, who desiring but the death of the sinner, wished for nothing more than that his rival should fall beneath jacintho's hand. while anxiously awaiting for so christianly a gratification, it happened, however, that her own brother, having chanced to quarrel with this same jacintho, came to blows with her champion, and fell pierced with wounds of which he died. although duty prompted donna beatrice to avenge her brother's death by citing his murderer before the tribunals of his country, she neglected to do so, as this would have interfered with her revenge; which demonstrates, if such proof were needed, that there is no interest so dear to a woman as that of her beauty. need i remind you, that when ajax violated cassandra in the temple of pallas, that goddess did not on the instant punish the sacrilegious greek? no! she reserved her wrath until its victim should have first redressed the insult offered to her charms by the judgment of the hated paris. but, alas! donna beatrice, less fortunate than minerva, never tasted the sweetness of her anticipated vengeance. romarate perished by the sword of the chevalier, and chagrin for her wrongs, still unpunished, drove the lady into this asylum. "the next who offer themselves to your notice are an attorney's grandmother and an aged marchioness. the ill-temper of the first so annoyed her descendant, that he very quietly got rid of her by placing her here: the other is a lady who has ever been an idol to herself, and instead of aging with becoming resignation, has never ceased to weep the decay of that beauty which formed her only happiness; and at last, one day, when her mirror told, too plainly to be doubted, that all her charms were flown, went mad." "so much the better for the ancient dame," added leandro. "in the derangement of her mind, she will no more perceive the ravages of time." "most assuredly not," replied the devil; "far from beholding in her face the marks of age, her complexion seems to her now a happy blending of the lily and the rose; she sees around her but the graces and the loves,--in a word, she thinks that she is venus herself." "ah! well!" exclaimed the student, "were it not better that thousands should be mad, than that they should know themselves for what they are?" "undoubtedly," replied asmodeus; "but come, we have only one other female to observe; and that is she who dwells in the furthest room, and whom sleep has just visited with rest, after three days and nights of raving. look at her well! what think you of the donna emerenciana?" "that she is beautiful, indeed," answered zambullo. "what horror, that so lovely a creature should be mad! by what fatal accident is she reduced to this dreadful situation?" "listen!" replied the demon; "i will tell you the story of her woes. "donna emerenciana, only daughter of don guillem stephani, lived tranquilly at siguença, in the mansion of her father, when don kimen de lizana came to trouble her repose by those attentions with which he sought to win her heart. flattered by his gallantries, she received their homage with delight; she even had the weakness to lend herself to the artifices to which he resorted that he might speak with her in private; and in a short time exchanged with him vows of eternal love and fidelity. [illustration: the mad-woman donna emerenciana] "the lovers were of equal birth; but the lady was one of the richest heiresses of spain, while don kimen was a younger son. but there was still another obstacle to their union,--don guillem hated the family of the lizana. this he never affected to conceal, whenever they were mentioned; and he seemed more averse to don kimen himself, than to any other of his race. emerenciana, though deeply afflicted at her father's sentiments on this subject, which she felt boded unhappily for her passion, could not resolve to abandon its object; and she therefore continued her secret interviews with her lover, who from time to time, through the assistance of a waiting-maid, ventured even into her chamber by night. "it happened, one of these nights, that don guillem chanced to be awake when the gallant was thus introduced, and thought he heard a noise in his daughter's apartment, which was not far from his own. this was quite enough to arouse a father, and especially one so mistrustful as don guillem. suspicious as he was, he had never imagined the possibility of his daughter's intelligence with don kimen; but not being of a disposition to place too much confidence in any one, he rose quietly from his bed, opened a window which looked into the street, and there patiently waited until he saw that cavalier, whom the light of the moon enabled him to recognize, descending from the balcony by a silken ladder. "what a sight for stephani!--for the most vindictive, the most relentless mortal, that even sicily, which gave him birth, had ever produced. he controlled the first emotions of his terrible wrath, and repressed every exclamation of surprise at what he beheld, that the chief victim which his wounded pride demanded might not be warned of his fate, and attempt to escape the avenger's hand. he so far constrained himself as to wait until the morning, when his daughter had risen, ere he entered her apartment. she was alone, as he approached her, with fury sparkling in his eyes; and, with a voice that made her tremble, he addressed her thus: 'unworthy wretch! whom not the honour of thy race restrains from deeds of infamy, prepare to meet their due reward! this steel,' he added, as he drew a dagger from his bosom, 'shall find a sheath within your heart, unless with truth upon your lips you name the daring villain who brought, last night, dishonour on my house.' [illustration: stephani threatens emerenciana with a dagger] "emerenciana was so overcome by this unexpected discovery and her father's threats, that her tongue refused its office. 'ah! miserable,' continued don guillem, 'thy silence and confusion tell me too plainly all thy guilt! dost think, child, whom i blush to call mine own, that i know not what has passed? i know too well! i saw, myself, the villain, and recognized him for don kimen. 'twas not enough, then, to receive a cavalier at night within thy room!--that cavalier must be the man whom most i loathe! but come! tell me how much i owe him. speak without disguise,--thy sincerity alone can save thy shameful life.' "these last words, terrible as they were, brought with them some slight hope to the unfortunate girl of escaping the fate which menaced her, and she recovered from her fright sufficiently to enable her to reply: 'signor, i cannot deny that i am guilty of listening to lizana; but i call heaven to witness for the purity of his sentiments and conduct. aware as he was of your hatred for his name, he dared not to ask your sanction for his addresses; but it was for no other end than to confer with me how that sanction might be obtained that he sought, and i permitted, his coming here.' 'and who, then,' asked stephani, 'was the willing instrument through which you exchanged your communications?' 'it was,' replied his daughter, 'one of your pages to whom we were indebted for that kindness.' 'enough,' interrupted the father; 'and now to execute the design for which i come!' thereupon displaying his poniard, he made emerenciana sit down, and placing paper and ink before her, compelled her to write to her lover the following letter which he dictated:-- "'dearest love,--only delight of my life,--i hasten to inform you that my father has just set out for his estate, whence he will not return until to-morrow. lose not this happy opportunity. i doubt not you will watch for the coming night with as much impatience as your beloved "'emerenciana.' "as soon as this treacherous letter was written and sealed, don guillem said to his daughter: 'and now summon the page who so well performs the duties you impose on him, and direct him to carry this note to don kimen: but hope not to deceive me; i shall conceal myself behind the drapery of your room, whence i can observe your slightest movement; and if while you charge him with this commission you speak one word, or make the smallest sign which may give him suspicion of your message, i will plunge this dagger in your heart.' emerenciana knew her father too well to dare to disobey him: the page was called, and the letter placed as usual in his hands. "not until then did stephani put up his weapon; but he did not leave his daughter for a moment during the day, nor would he let any one approach her, so that she could communicate to lizana intelligence of the snare which was spread for him. accordingly, when night came, the youthful gallant hastened to the wished-for meeting; but hardly had he entered the door of his mistress's house before he found himself seized by three powerful men, who disarmed him in a moment, tied a bandage over his mouth to prevent his cries, another over his eyes, and bound his hands behind his back. they then placed him in a carriage, which was waiting for the purpose, and having all mounted therein for complete security of the betrayed cavalier's person, they carried him to the seat of stephani, situated near the village of miedes, four leagues from siguença, where they arrived before daybreak. [illustration: don kimen is kidnapped] "the first care of the signor was to cause don kimen to be placed in a vault which received but a feeble light from a hole near the top, so small, that escape by that was impossible. he then ordered julio, a confidential servant, to feed him with bread and water only, to give him but a truss of straw to sleep on, and to say to him every time he carried him food: 'here, base seducer: it is thus that don guillem treats those who are mad enough to dare to insult him!' the cruel sicilian was hardly less severe in his treatment of his daughter: he imprisoned her in a chamber which looked into a small courtyard, deprived her of her attendants, and placed her in the custody of a duenna whom he had chosen, because she was unequalled for her skill in tormenting those committed to her charge. "having thus disposed of the two lovers, he was by no means contented with the punishment already inflicted on them: he had resolved to get rid of don kimen, and had only not done so at once because he wished to avoid any unpleasant consequences which might follow his crime; to manage which, appeared to be somewhat difficult. as he had employed three of his servants in the abduction of the cavalier, he could hardly hope that a secret known to so many persons would always remain undiscovered:--what then was he to do, to shun any impertinent explanations which justice might think it necessary to demand? his resolve was worthy of a conqueror; he assembled his accomplices in a small pavilion, a short distance from the chateau, and after telling them how highly satisfied he was with their zeal, he stated that he had brought them there to receive a substantial reward for their services in money, and that he had prepared a little festival, which he invited them to share. they sat down to enjoy themselves, little dreaming that it was a feast of death; for when their brains were heated with wine, the worthy julio by his master's order brought in a poisoned bowl, which soon ended their rejoicing. the pair then fired the pavilion, and before the flames had brought around them the inhabitants of the neighbouring village, they assassinated emerenciana's two female attendants and the page of whom i have spoken, and threw their bodies into the burning heap. it was really amusing, while the remains of these poor wretches were consuming in this infernal pile, which the peasants strove in vain to extinguish, to witness the profound grief displayed by our sicilian: he appeared inconsolable for the loss of his domestics. [illustration: assassination of the maid-servants and page] "nothing remaining to be feared from any want of discretion on the part of his coadjutors, which might have betrayed him, he thus addressed his confidant: 'my dear julio, my mind is now at peace, and the life of don kimen is at my mercy; but, before i immolate him to my wounded honour, i would enjoy the sweet delight of making him feel how much he has offended me;--the misery and horror of a long and solitary confinement will be more dreadful to him than death itself.' in truth, lizana was by no means comfortable; and, hopeless of ever leaving the dungeon where he wasted, he would have welcomed death as a cheap release from his sufferings. "but, despite his boast of peace, the mind of stephani knew no rest after the exploits he had recently achieved; and ere many days had passed, a new source of inquietude presented itself in the fear lest julio, as he daily saw the prisoner for the purpose of taking him food, should suffer himself to be corrupted by promises. this fear made don guillem resolve to get rid of lizana without loss of time, and then to blow out the brains of his friend julio. but the latter was also not without his own misgivings; and, as he shrewdly suspected that were don kimen once out of the way, he would be found in it, he had made his resolution to take himself off some fine night, with all that was portable in the house, when the darkness would excuse his not distinguishing his master's property from his own. "while these honest gentlemen were each meditating an agreeable surprise for the other, they were one day both unwelcomely accosted at a short distance from the chateau, by about twenty archers of st. hermandad, who surrounded, and greeted them in the name of the king and the law! at this salutation don guillem was somewhat confounded; but, calling the colour to his cheeks, he asked the commandant of the archers whom he sought. 'yourself!' replied the officer: 'you are accused of having unlawfully seized on don kimen de lizana; and i am directed to make strict search for that cavalier within your mansion, and further to make you my prisoner.' stephani, convinced by this answer that he was lost, drew from his person a brace of pistols, exclaiming that he would suffer no one to enter his house; and that he would shoot the commandant without ceremony if he did not instantly take himself off with his troop. the leader of the holy brotherhood, despising this threat, advanced at once towards the sicilian; who, as good as his word, fired, and wounded him slightly in the face. this wound, however, cost the life of the madman who gave it; for the archers in a moment stretched him lifeless at the feet of their injured chief. julio surrendered himself without resistance; and, making a virtue of necessity, cleared his conscience by a frank avowal of all that had occurred,--except that, perceiving his master was really dead, he did him the honour to invest his memory with all the glory attaching to the transaction. "he then conducted the archers to the vault, where they found lizana on his straw bed, securely bound. the unfortunate gentleman, who lived in continual expectation of death, thought it was come at last when he saw so many armed men enter his prison; and was, as you may expect, agreeably surprised to find liberators in those whom he had taken for his executioners. when they had released him from his dungeon, and received his thanks, he asked them how they had learned that he was confined in the place where they found him. 'that,' replied the commandant, 'i will tell you in a few words. [illustration: the liberation of don kimen] "'the night you were entrapped,' said the officer, 'one of don guillem's assistants, whose mistress resided in the neighbourhood, stole a few moments while they were waiting for you, to bid adieu to his sweetheart before his departure, and was indiscreet enough to reveal to her the project of stephani. for a wonder, the lady kept the secret for three whole days; but when the news of the fire at miedes reached siguença, as every body thought it strange that all the servants of the sicilian should have perished in the flames, she naturally took it into her head also that the fire was the work of guillem himself. to revenge her lover's death, therefore, she sought the signor don felix, your father, and related to him all she knew. don felix, alarmed at finding you were in the hands of a man capable of everything, accompanied the lady to the corregidor, who on hearing her story had no doubt of stephani's intentions towards you, and that he was the diabolical incendiary the woman suspected. to make inquiries into all the circumstances of the case, the corregidor instantly despatched orders to me at retortillo, where i live, directing me to repair with my brigade to this chateau, to find you if possible, and to take don guillem, dead or alive. i have happily performed my commission as regards yourself; and i only regret that it is out of my power to conduct the criminal to siguença alive. he compelled us by his furious resistance to dispatch him on the spot.' "the officer, having ended his story, thus continued: 'i will now, signor don kimen, draw up a report of all that has happened here; i will not, however, detain you long, and we will then set out together to release your friends from the anxiety they suffer upon your account.' 'stay, signor commandant,' interrupted julio, 'i will furnish you with matter to lengthen your report: you have got another prisoner to liberate. donna emerenciana is confined in a dismal chamber of this chateau, guarded by a merciless duenna, who upbraids her without ceasing for her love of this cavalier, and torments her by every device she can imagine.' 'oh heaven!' cried lizana, 'is it possible that the barbarous stephani should not have been contented to exercise his cruelty on me alone? let us hasten to deliver the unfortunate lady from the tyranny of her gaoler.' "julio lost no time in conducting the commandant, four or five of the archers, and lizana, to the prison of don guillem's daughter. they knocked at the door; it was opened by the surprised duenna, and you may conceive the delight of don kimen at again beholding his mistress, after having lost her as he supposed for ever. all his hopes revived; nor could he reasonably conceive the possibility of their non-fulfilment, since he who alone stood between him and his happiness, was dead. he threw himself in ecstacy at the feet of emerenciana; when,--picture his horror if you can,--he found, instead of the gentle girl who had listened with tender transport to his vows, a maniac. yes! so well had the duenna succeeded in her efforts, that she had effaced the image of the lover by destroying the canvas on which it was depicted. [illustration: don kimen discovers emerenciana has gone mad] "she remained for some time in apparent meditation, then imagining herself to be the fair angelica, besieged by the tartars in the towers of albraca, and the persons who filled her apartment to be so many paladins come to her rescue, she received them with much politeness. addressing the chief of the holy brotherhood as roland, lizana as brandimart, julio as hubert of the lion, and the archers as antifort, clarion, adrian, and the two sons of the marquis olivier, she said to them: 'brave chevaliers, i no longer fear the emperor agrican, nor queen marphisa: your valour would suffice for my defence against the world itself in arms.' "the officer and his followers could not resist an inclination to laugh at this heroic reception; but poor don kimen was so much afflicted by the unexpected condition in which he found her for whom alone he had wished to live, that reason seemed to be on the point of abandoning him also. recovering himself, however, from his first surprise, and hoping that she might be brought to recognize the unhappy author of her misfortunes, he addressed her tenderly: 'dearest emerenciana,' said he, 'it is lizana speaks to thee: recall thy scattered thoughts, he comes to tell thee that thy griefs are at an end. heaven has heard the prayer of those fond hearts itself united; and its wrath has fallen on the wicked head of him who would have separated two beings made for each other.' "the reply to these words was another speech from the daughter of king galafron to the valiant defenders of albraca, who this time however restrained their mirth. even the commandant, whose profession was not favourable to the kindlier feelings of humanity, was touched with compassion, and observing the profound affliction of don kimen, said to him: 'signor cavalier, do not despair! we have, in siguença, physicians celebrated for their skill in curing the disorders of the mind, and there is yet hope for your unfortunate lady. but let us away! you, signor hubert of the lion,' added he, addressing himself to julio, 'you who know the whereabouts of the stables of this castle, take with you antifort and the two sons of the marquis olivier, bring out the fleetest coursers from their stalls and harness them to the car of our princess; in the meanwhile i will prepare my dispatches.' "so saying, he drew out his writing materials, and having finished his report, he presented his hand to angelica and conducted her to the court-yard, where he found a carriage with four mules, which had been prepared for her reception by the paladins. the lady was placed therein by the side of don kimen; and the commandant having compelled the duenna to enter also, as he thought the corregidor would be glad to have some conversation with the dame, he mounted, and they set out for siguença. this is not all: by order of their chief, the archers bound julio, and placed him in another carriage with the body of don guillem; then mounting their horses they followed the same route. "during the journey, the daughter of stephani uttered a thousand extravagancies, every one of which was as a dagger in the heart of her lover. the presence of the duenna was an additional source of disquiet to him. 'it is you, infamous old woman,' said he to her, 'it is you who by your cruelty have tortured emerenciana to madness.' the old hypocrite endeavoured to justify herself by pleading the instructions of her defunct master. 'it is to don guillem alone,' said she, 'that her misfortunes are attributable: daily did that too rigid father visit her in her room; and it is to his reproaches and threats that the loss of her reason is owing.' "on reaching siguença, the commandant immediately went to give an account of his mission to the corregidor, who after examining julio and the duenna found them lodgings in the prisons of that town, where they reside to this time. lizana, after deposing to all he had suffered from don guillem, repaired to his father's house, where his presence restored joy to his alarmed relations. donna emerenciana was sent by the judge to madrid, where she has a kind uncle by her mother's side, who desired nothing better than the administration of his niece's property, and who was nominated her guardian. as he could not creditably do otherwise than appear desirous of her restoration to sanity, he had recourse to the most famed physicians of this city; but he had nothing to fear, for, after having taken a becoming number of fees, they declared her incurable. on this decision, the guardian, no doubt very reluctantly, placed her here; and here, most likely, she is destined to end her days." "and a sad destiny it is," cried don cleophas; "i am really touched by her misfortunes: donna emerenciana deserved a better fate. and don kimen," added he, "what is become of him? i am curious to learn how he acted." "very reasonably," replied asmodeus: "when he heard that the evil was past a remedy, he went to spanish america. he hopes that by change of scene he may insensibly efface the remembrance of those charms that wisdom and his own peace require he should forget.----but," continued the devil, "after having exhibited to you madmen who are confined, it is time i shewed to you those who deserve to be so." [illustration: tailpiece of a physician taking emerenciana's pulse] chapter x. the subject of which is inexhaustible. "run your eyes over the city, and as we discover subjects worthy of being placed in this museum, i will describe them to you. there is one, already; i must not let him escape: he is a newly-married man. it is just a week since, in consequence of reports which reached his ears relative to the coquetries of a damsel whom he affected, he went in a fury to her house, broke one portion of her furniture, threw the other out of windows, and on the next day mended the matter by espousing her." "a proper candidate, indeed," said zambullo, "for a vacant place in this establishment!" "he has a neighbour," resumed the cripple, "who is not much wiser than himself, a bachelor of forty-five, who, with plenty to live on, would yet swell the train of some noble pauper. and yonder is the widow of an advocate, who, having counted three-score years and more, is about to seek the shelter of a convent, that her reputation may not, as she says, suffer scandal in this wicked world. "i perceive also two virgins, or, to speak more properly, two girls of fifty years of age. they pray heaven, in its mercy, to take to it their father, who keeps them mewed like minors; as they hope, when he is gone, to find handsome men who will marry them for love." "and why not?" inquired the scholar; "there are stranger things than such men to be found." "i am perfectly of your opinion," replied asmodeus: "they may find husbands, doubtless; but they ought not to expect to be so fortunate,--it is therein that their folly consists. "there is no country in the world in which women speak the truth in regard to their age. at paris, about a month ago, a maiden of forty-eight and a woman of sixty-nine had occasion to go before a magistrate as witnesses in a case which concerned the honour of a widow of their acquaintance. the magistrate, first addressing himself to the married lady, asked her age; and, although her years might have been counted by the wrinkles on her brow, she unhesitatingly replied, that she was exactly forty. 'and you, madam,' said the man of law, addressing the single lady in her turn, 'may i ask your age also?' 'we can dispense with that, your worship,' replied the damsel; 'it is a question that ought not to be asked.' 'impossible!' replied he; 'are you not aware that the law requires....' 'oh!' interrupted the lady sharply, 'the law requires nothing of the kind: what matters it to the law what my age may be? it is none of its business.' 'but, madam,' said the magistrate, 'i cannot receive your testimony unless your age be stated; it is a necessary preliminary, i assure you.' 'well,' replied the maiden, 'if it be absolutely necessary, look at me with attention, and put down my age conscientiously.' [illustration: the two ladies before the magistrate] "the magistrate looked at her over his spectacles, and was polite enough to decree that she did not appear above twenty-eight. but when to his question, as to how long she had known the widow, the witness replied--before her marriage: 'i have made a mistake,' said he; 'for i have put you down for twenty-eight, whereas it is nine and twenty years since the lady became a wife.' 'you may state then,' cried the maiden, 'that i am thirty: i may have known the widow since i was one year old.' 'that will hardly do,' replied the magistrate; 'we may as well add a dozen years at once.' 'by no means,' said the lady; 'i will allow another year, if you please; but if my own honour were in question instead of the widow's, i would not add one month more to please the law, or any other body in the world.' "when the two witnesses had left the magistrate, the woman said to the maiden: 'do not you wonder at this noodle, who thinks us young enough to tell him our ages to a day? it is enough, surely, that they should be inscribed on the parish registers, without his poking them into his depositions, for the information of all the world. it would be delightful, truly, to hear recited in open court,--madame richard, aged sixty and so many years, and mademoiselle perinelle, aged forty-five, depose such and so forth. it is too absurd: i have taken care to suppress a good score of years; and you were wise enough to follow my example.' 'what do you mean by following your example?' cried the ancient damsel, with youthful indignation: 'i am extremely obliged to you; but i would have you to know that thirty-five years are the utmost i have seen.' 'why! child,' replied the matron, with a malicious smile, 'you forget yourself: i was present at your birth--ah! what a time it is ago! and your poor father! i knew him well. but we must all die; and he was not young, either: it is nearly forty years since we buried him.' 'oh! my father,' interrupted the virgin, hastily, irritated at the precision of the old dame's tender recollections,--'my father was so old when he married my mother, that she was not likely to have any children by him.' "i perceive in that house opposite," continued the spirit, "two men, who are not over-burdened with sense. one is a youth of family, who can neither keep money in his pocket, nor do entirely without it: he has discovered, therefore, an excellent means of always having a supply. when he is in cash, he lays it out in books, and when his purse is empty, he sells them for the half of their cost. the other is a foreign artist, who seeks for patronage among the ladies as a portrait painter: he is clever, draws correctly, colours to perfection, and is extraordinarily successful in the likeness; but--he never flatters his originals, yet expects the women will flock to him. sheer stupidity! _inter stultos referatur._" "what?" cried the scholar, "have you studied the classics?" "you ought hardly to be surprised at that," replied the devil: "i speak fluently all your barbarous tongues--hebrew, greek, persic, and arabic. nevertheless, i am not vain of my attainments; and that, at all events, is an advantage i have over your learned pedants. "you may see in that large mansion, on the left, a sick lady surrounded by several others, who are in attendance upon her: she is the rich widow of a celebrated architect, whose love for her husband's profession has extended itself to the most foolish admiration of the corinthian capital of society--the higher classes. she has just made her will, by which she bequeaths her immense wealth to grandees of the first class, who are ignorant of her very existence, but whose titles have gained for them their legacies. she was asked whether she would not leave something to a person who had rendered her most important services. 'alas! no,' she replied, with an appearance of regret; 'and i am sorry that i cannot do so. i am not so ungrateful as to deny the obligation which i owe to him; but his humble name would disgrace my will.'" "signor asmodeus," interrupted leandro, "tell me, i pray you, whether the old gentleman whom i perceive so busy reading in his study, does not chance to be one of those who merit to be here confined." "he does, indeed, deserve it," answered the demon: "he is an old licentiate, who is reading a proof of a book which he is passing through the press." "doubtless, some work on morals or theology?" said don cleophas. "not it," replied the cripple; "it is a collection of amatory songs, which he wrote in his youth: instead of burning them, or at least suffering them to fall into the oblivion to which he is fast hastening, he has resolved to print them himself, for fear his heirs should be tempted to do so after his death, and that, out of respect for his memory, they should deprive them of their point by rendering them decent. "there is a little lady living in the same house with our anacreon, whom i must not forget: she is so entirely convinced of the power of her attractions, that no man ever spoke to her whom she did not at once place in the list of her admirers. "but let us turn to a wealthy canon, whom i see a few paces beyond her. he has a very singular phantasy. if he lives frugally, it is not with a view to mortify the flesh, or from a dislike to the grape; if his humility does without a coach and six, it is not from avarice. ah! for what object then does he husband his resources? what does he with his revenues? does he bestow them in alms? no! he expends them in the purchase of paintings, expensive furniture, and jewellery. now, you would naturally expect he bought these things to enjoy them while he lived?--no such thing; he only seeks to swell the inventory of his effects when he shall be no more." "oh! impossible!" cried zambullo: "such a madman as you describe cannot exist on the earth!" "i repeat, nevertheless," replied the devil, "that such is his mania. the only pleasure he derives from these things is in the imagination of how they will figure in his said inventory. does he buy, for instance, a superbly inlaid cabinet; it is neatly packed upon the instant, and carefully stowed away; that it may appear quite new in the eyes of the brokers who may come when he is dead to bargain for his relics. "i will show you one of his neighbours that you will think quite as mad as he,--an old bachelor, recently arrived from the philippine isles, with an enormous fortune which he derived from his father, who was auditor of the court at manilla: his conduct is extraordinary enough. you may see him daily in the antechambers of the king, or of the prime minister. do not fancy, however, that it is ambition which leads him there, to solicit some important charge: he seeks no employment; he asks for nothing. 'what then!' you will say to me, 'does he go there simply to pay his devoirs?' colder still! he never speaks to the minister, to whom indeed he is not even known, nor does he desire to be so. 'what then is his object?'--i will tell you. he wishes to persuade the world of his credit at court." "an amusing original, indeed!" cried the student, bursting with laughter; "he takes great pains to little purpose, truly: you may well place him in the list of madmen." "oh! as to that," replied asmodeus, "i shall shew you many others whom it would be unreasonable to think more wise. for instance, look in yonder house, so splendidly illumined, and you will perceive three men and two ladies sitting round a table. they have just supped together, and they are now playing at cards to while away the night, with which only will they leave their occupation. such is the life these gentle cavaliers and ladies lead. they meet regularly every evening, and break up like fogs only with the sun; when they retire to sleep until darkness again calls them to light and life: they have renounced the face of day and the beauties of nature. would not one say, to behold them thus surrounded with waxen tapers, that they were corpses, waiting for the last sad offices that are rendered to the dead?" "there is no necessity to shut those people from the world," said don cleophas;--"they have ceased to belong to it." "i perceive in the arms of sleep," resumed the cripple, "a man whom i esteem, and who is also attached devotedly to me,--a being formed in my own mould. he is an old bachelor, who idolises the fair sex. you cannot speak to him of a pretty woman, without remarking the delight with which he hears you; if you say that her mouth is small, her lips rubies, her teeth pearls, her cheeks roses on an alabaster vase; in a word, if you paint her in detail, at every stroke he sighs and lifts his eyes, and is visibly excited by his voluptuous imagination. only two days ago, passing the shop of a ladies' shoemaker, he stopped to look with admiration on a pair of diminutive slippers which were there exposed. after contemplating them for some time, with more attention than they deserved, he exclaimed with a languishing air, to a cavalier who accompanied him: 'ah! my friend; there now are slippers which enchant my soul! what darling feet for which they were made! i look on them with too much interest: let us away! the very atmosphere around this place is dangerous.'" [illustration: the old bachelor admires the diminutive slippers] "we may mark that gentleman with black, at all events," said leandro perez. "we may indeed," replied the devil; "and you may tar his nearest neighbour with the same brush, while you are about it--an original of an auditor, who, because he keeps a carriage, blushes whenever he is obliged to put his foot into a public vehicle. he again may be worthily paired with one of his own relations, a wealthy dignitary of the church here, who almost always rides in a hired coach, in order to save two very neat ones, and four splendid mules, which he keeps in his stables. "in the immediate neighbourhood of the auditor and our amatory bachelor, i discover a man to whom, without injustice, no one could deny his title to a strait waistcoat. there he is--a cavalier of sixty, making love to a damsel of sixteen. he visits her daily, and thinks to win her affections by a recital of the conquests of his youth; he hopes that she will love him now for the charms of which he formerly could boast. [illustration: the old cavalier wooing the young girl] "we may place in the same category with the aged swain, another who is sleeping about ten paces from us--a french count, who came to madrid to see the court of spain. this old gentleman, who is nearly seventy years of age, shone with great lustre in the court of his own sovereign, fifty years ago; he was indeed perfectly the rage; all the world envying his manly form, his gallant deportment, and above all the exquisite taste which he displayed in his apparel. he scrupulously preserved the dresses so much admired, and has continued to wear them on all occasions despite the changes of fashion, which in paris occur every day. what, however, is most amusing in the matter is, that he fancies himself at this time as graceful and attractive as in the days of his youth." "there is not the slightest doubt," said don cleophas, "that we may book a place in the _casa de los locos_ for this french signor." "i must reserve another though," replied the demon, "for a lady who resides in a garret, next to the count's mansion. she is an elderly widow, who, from excess of affection for her children, has had the kindness to make over to them all her property; reserving only a small stipend for herself, which, with proper filial gratitude, they take good care never to pay. "i have another subject for the same establishment, in a youth of family, who no sooner has a ducat than he spends it; and who, as he cannot do without the ready, is capable of anything to obtain it. a fortnight ago, his washer-woman, to whom he owed thirty pistoles, came to dun him for that sum, stating that she wanted it particularly, as she was going to be married to a valet-de-chambre, who sought her hand. 'you must have more money than this,' said he, 'for where the devil is the valet-de-chambre who would take you to wife for thirty pistoles?' 'oh! yes,' replied the sudorific dame, 'i have two hundred ducats besides.' 'the deuce!' replied our hero, with emotion--'two hundred ducats! you have only to give them to me, i will marry you myself, and we may then cry quits.' he was taken at his word, and the laundress became his wife. "we must retain three places also for the same number of persons, whom you see returning from supper at a celebrated countess's, and now stopping before that house on the left, where they at present reside. one is a nobleman of an inferior grade, who piques himself on his passion for the _belles lettres;_ the second is his brother, your ambassador to timbuctoo, or some such place; and the third is their foster-brother, a literary toady who follows in their train. they are almost always together, and especially when visiting in the clique to which they belong. the noble praises himself only; the ambassador praises his brother and himself also; but the toady has three things to look after,--the praises of the other two, and the mixing of his own praises with theirs. "two places more! one for a floricultural citizen, who, scarcely gaining his own bread, must need keep a gardener and his wife to look after a dozen plants that languish at his suburban villa; the other for an actor, who, complaining the other day to his brethren on the disagreeables inseparable from a strolling life, observed: 'well, my friends, i am utterly disgusted with my profession; yes, so much so, that i would rather be a humble country gentleman with a thousand ducats a year.' "on whichever side i turn my eyes," continued the spirit, "i see nothing but addled brains. there, for instance, is a chevalier of calatrava, who is so proud, or rather vain, of being privately encouraged by the daughter of a noble signor, that he thinks himself on a par with the first persons of the court. he reminds me of villius, who thought himself son-in-law of sylla, because he was on good terms with the daughter of that dictator; and the resemblance is the more striking, because this chevalier, like the roman, has a _longarenus;_ that is to say, a rival of low degree, who, nevertheless, is still more favoured by the lady than himself. "one would be inclined to affirm that the same men are born anew from time to time, but under other circumstances. i recognize, in that secretary of department, bollanus, who kept measures with nobody, and who affronted all whose appearance was, at first sight, unpleasing to him. i behold again, in that old president, fufidius, who lent his money at five per cent. per month; and marsoeus, who gave his paternal mansion to the actress origo, lives once more in that noble stripling, who is spending with a dancer of the ballet the proceeds of a country seat which he has near the escurial." asmodeus was about to continue, when, suddenly hearing the sound of instruments which were tuning in the neighbourhood, he stopped, and said to don cleophas: "there are musicians at the end of this street, who are just commencing a serenade in honour of the daughter of an _alcade de corte;_ if you would like to witness this piece of gallantry, you have only to say so." "i am a great admirer of this sort of concert," replied zambullo; "let us by all means get near them; there may chance to be some decent voices among the lot." he had hardly spoken, when he found himself on a house adjoining that of the alcade. the serenade was commenced by the instruments alone, which played some new italian airs; and then two of the voices sang alternately the following couplets: "list, while the thousand charms i sing, which round thee such enchantment fling, that even love has plumed his wing to seek thy bower. "thy neck, that shames the mountain snow, thy lip, that mocks the peach's glow, bid cupid's self a captive bow beneath thy power. "thine arched brows as bows are bent to speed the shafts thine eyes have sent; e'en armed love's own mail is rent, resisting them. "thou art, in sooth, a queenly maid; yet hast thou every heart betray'd, that thee its trusting pole-star made; thou priceless gem! "oh! would that i some spell possess'd, while painting thee, to touch thy breast; thou evening star, thou heaven of rest, thou morning sun!"[ ] [ ] "si de tu hermosura quieres una copia con mil gracias; escucha, porque pretendo el pintarla. "es tu frente toda nieve y el alabastro, batallas offreciò al amor, haziendo en ella vaya. "amor labrò de tus cejas dos arcos para su aljava: y debaxo ha descubierto quien le mata. "eres duena de el lugar vandolera de las almas, iman de los alvedrios, linda alhaja. "un rasgo de tu hermosura quisiera yo retratarla; que es estrella, es cielo, es sol; no es sino el alva." "the couplets are gallant and delicate," cried the student. "they seem so to you," replied the demon, "because you are a spaniard: if they were translated into french, for instance, they would not be greatly admired. the readers of that nation would think the expressions too figurative; and would discover an extravagance of imagination in the conceptions, which would be to them absolutely laughable. every nation has its own standard of taste and genius, and will admit no other: but enough of these couplets," continued he, "you will hear music of another kind. "follow with your eyes those four men who have suddenly appeared in the street. see! they pounce upon the serenaders: the latter raise their instruments to defend their heads, but their frail bucklers yield to the blows which fall on them, and are shattered into a thousand pieces. and now see, coming to their assistance, two cavaliers; one of whom is the gallant donor of the serenade. with what fury they charge on the four aggressors! again, with what skill and valour do these latter receive them. what fire sparkles from their swords! see! one of the defenders of the serenade has fallen,--it is he who gave it,--he is mortally wounded. his companion, perceiving his fall, flies to preserve his own life; the aggressors, having effected their object, fly also; the musicians have disappeared during the combat; and there remains upon the spot the unfortunate cavalier alone, who has paid for his gallantry with his life. in the meanwhile, observe the alcade's daughter: she is at her window, whence she has observed all that has passed. this lady is so vain of her beauty,--although that is nothing extraordinary either,--that instead of deploring its fatal effect, she rejoices in the force of her attractions, of which she now thinks more than ever. [illustration: the cavalier apprehended by the watch] "this will not be the end of it. you see another cavalier, who has this moment stopped in the street to assist, were it possible, the unfortunate being who is swimming in his blood. while occupied in this charitable office, see! he is surprised by the watch. they are taking him to prison, where he will remain many months: and he will almost pay as dearly for this transaction as though he were the murderer himself." "this is, indeed, a night of misfortunes!" said zambullo. "and this will not be the last of them," added the devil. "were you, this moment, at the gate of the sun, you would be horror-stricken at the spectacle which is now exhibiting. through the negligence of a domestic, a mansion is on fire, which in its rage has already reduced to ashes the magnificent furniture it contains, and threatens to consume the whole building; but great as might be his loss, don pedro de escolano, to whom the house belongs, would not regret it for a moment, could he but save his only daughter, seraphina, who is likely to perish in the flames." don cleophas expressing the greatest anxiety to see this fire, the cripple transported him in an instant to the gate of the sun, and placed him in a house exactly opposite to that which was burning. chapter xi. of the fire, and the doings of asmodeus on the occasion, out of friendship for don cleophas. in the street beneath them nothing was to be heard but a confused noise, arising from cries of fire from one half of the crowd, and the more appropriate one of water from the other. as soon as leandro was able to comprehend the scene, he saw that the grand staircase, which led to the principal apartments of don pedro's mansion, was all in flames, which also were issuing with clouds of smoke, from every window in the house. "the fire is at its height," said the demon; "it has just reached the roof, and its thousand tongues are spitting in the air millions of brilliant sparks. it is a magnificent sight: so much so, that the persons who have flocked from all parts around it, to assist in extinguishing the flames, are awed into helpless amazement. you may discern in the crowd of spectators an old man in a dressing-gown: it is the signor de escolano. do you not hear his cries and lamentations? he is addressing the men who surround him, and conjuring them to rescue his child. but in vain does he implore them,--in vain does he offer all his wealth,--none dares expose his life to save the ill-fated lady, who is only sixteen, and whose beauty is incomparable. the old man is in despair: he accuses them of cowardice; he tears his hair and beard; he beats his breast; the excess of his grief has made him almost mad. seraphina, poor girl, abandoned by her attendants, has just swooned with terror in her own apartment, where, in a few minutes, a dense smoke will stifle her. she is lost to him for ever: no mortal can save her." "ah! signor asmodeus," exclaimed leandro perez, prompted by feelings of generous compassion, "if you love me, yield to the pity which desolates my heart: reject not my humble prayer when i entreat you to save this lovely girl from the horrid death which threatens her. i demand it, as the price of the service i rendered but now to you. do not, this time, oppose yourself to my desires: i shall die with grief if you refuse me." the devil smiled on witnessing the profound emotion of the student. "the fire warms you, signor zambullo," said he. "verily! you would have made an exquisite knight-errant: you are courageous, compassionate for the sufferings of others, and particularly prompt in the service of sorrowing damsels. you would be just the man, now, to throw yourself in the midst of the furnace yonder, like an amadis, to attempt the deliverance of the beauteous seraphina, and to restore her safe and sound to her disconsolate father." "would to heaven!" replied don cleophas, "that it were possible. i would undertake the task without hesitation." "pity that your death," resumed the cripple, "would be the sole reward of so noble an exploit! i have already told you that human courage can avail nothing on the occasion. well! i suppose, to gratify you, i must meddle in the matter; so observe how i shall set about it: you can watch from hence all my operations." he had no sooner spoken these words than, borrowing the form of leandro perez, to the great astonishment of the student, he alighted unobserved amid the crowd, which he elbowed without ceremony, and quickly passing through it, rushed into the fire as into his natural element. the spectators who beheld him, alarmed at the apparent madness of the attempt, uttered a cry of horror. "what insanity!" said one; "is it possible that interest can blind a man to such an extent as this? none but a downright idiot could have been tempted by any proffered recompence to dare such certain death." "the rash youth," said another, "must be the lover of don pedro's daughter; and in the desperation of his grief has resolved to save his mistress or to perish with her." in short, they predicted for him the fate of empedocles,[ ] when, a minute afterwards, they saw him emerge from the flames with seraphina in his arms. the air resounded with acclamations, and the people were loud in their praises of the brave cavalier who had performed so noble a feat. when rashness ends in success, critics are silent; and so this prodigy now appeared to the assembled multitude as a very natural result of a spaniard's daring. [ ] a sicilian poet and philosopher, who threw himself into the crater of mount Ætna. [illustration: the rescue of seraphina] as the lady was still insensible, her father did not dare to give himself up to joy: he feared that, although thus miraculously delivered from the fire, she would die before his eyes, from the terrible impression made upon her mind by the peril she had encountered. he was, however, soon reassured, when, recovering from her swoon, her eyes opened, and looking on the old man, she said to him with an affectionate voice: "signor, i should have had more occasion for affliction than rejoicing at the preservation of my life, were not yours also in safety." "ah! my child," replied her father, embracing her, "nothing is lost since you are saved. but let us thank," exclaimed he, presenting to her the double of cleophas,--"let us testify our gratitude to this young cavalier. he is your preserver; it is to him you owe your life. how can we repay that debt? not all that i possess would suffice to cancel the obligation he has conferred upon us." to these observations the devil replied, with an air which would have done don cleophas credit: "signor, i am noble, and a castilian. i seek no other reward for the service i have had the happiness to render you than the pleasure of having dried your tears, and of having saved from the flames the lovely object which they threatened to devour;--surely such a service is its own reward." the disinterestedness and generosity of their benefactor raised for him the highest feelings of admiration and esteem in the breast of the signor de escolano, who entreated him to call upon them, and offered him his warmest friendship. the devil replied in fitting terms to the frank advances of the old man; and, after many other compliments had passed, the father and daughter retired to a small building which remained uninjured, at the bottom of the garden. the demon then rejoined the student, who, seeing him return under his former guise, said to him: "signor asmodeus, have my eyes deceived me? were you not but now in my shape and figure?" "excuse the liberty," replied the cripple; "and i will tell you the motive for this metamorphosis. i have formed a grand design: i intend that you should marry seraphina, and, under your form, i have already inspired her with a violent passion for your lordship. don pedro, also, is highly satisfied with you, because i told him that in rescuing his daughter i had no other object than to render them both happy, and that the honour of having happily terminated so perilous an adventure was a sufficient reward for a spanish gentleman. the good man has a noble soul, and will not easily be outdone in generosity; and he is at this moment deliberating within himself whether he shall not give you his daughter, as the most worthy return he can make to you for having saved her life. [illustration: don pedro and seraphina thank zambullo] "well! while he is hesitating," added the cripple, "let us get out of this smother into a place more favourable for continuing our observations." and so saying, away he flew with the student to the top of a high church filled with splendid tombs. chapter xii. of the tombs, of their shades, and of death. asmodeus now said to the student: "before we continue our observations on the living, we will for a few moments disturb the peaceful rest of those who lie within this church. i will glance over all the tombs; reveal the secrets they contain, and the feelings which have prompted their elevation. "the first of those which are on our right contains the sad remains of a general officer, who, like another agamemnon, on his return from the wars found an Ægisthus in his house; in the second, reposes a young cavalier of noble birth, who, desirous of displaying in the sight of his mistress his strength and skill at a bull-fight, was gored to death by his furious opponent; and in the third lies an old prelate who left this world rather unceremoniously. he had made his will in the vigour of health, and was imprudent enough to read it to his domestics, whom, like a good master, he had not forgotten: his cook was in a hurry to receive his legacy. "in the fourth mausoleum rests a courtier who never rested in his lifetime. even at sixty years of age, he was daily seen in attendance on the king, from the levée until his majesty retired for the night: in recompense for all these attentions the king loaded him with favours." "and was he, now," said don cleophas, "the man to use his influence for others?" "for no one," replied the devil: "he was liberal of his promises of service to his friends, but he was religiously scrupulous of never keeping them." "the scoundrel!" exclaimed leandro. "were we to think of lopping off the superfluous members of society,--men that like tumours on the body politic draw all its nourishment to themselves, it is with courtiers like this one would begin." "the fifth tomb," resumed asmodeus, "encloses the mortal remains of a signor, ever zealous for the interests of his country, and jealous of the glory of the king his master, in whose service he spent the best years of his life as ambassador to rome or france, to england or portugal. he ruined himself so effectually by his embassies that he did not leave behind him enough to defray the expenses of his funeral, which the king has therefore paid out of gratitude for his services. "let us turn to the monuments on the other side. the first is that of a great merchant who left enormous wealth to his children; but, lest they should forget, in its flood, the humble source from which it, like themselves, was derived, he directed that his name and occupation should be graven on his tomb, to the no small annoyance of his descendants. "the next stone which surpasses every other in the church for its magnificence, is regarded with much admiration by all travellers." "in truth," said zambullo, "it appears to me deserving of its reputation. i am absolutely enchanted by those two kneeling figures--how exquisitely are they chiselled? not phidias himself could have surpassed the sculpture of this splendid work! but tell me, dear asmodeus, what in their lives were those whom these all-breathing marbles represent?" the cripple replied: "you behold a duke and his noble spouse: the former was grand chamberlain to his majesty, and the duchess was celebrated for her extreme piety. i must, however, relate to you an anecdote of her grace, which you will think rather lively for a devotee;--it is as follows. "she had been for a long time in the habit of confessing her sins to a monk of the order of mercy, one don jerome d'aguilar, a good man, and a famous preacher, with whom she was highly satisfied, when there suddenly appeared at madrid a dominican, who captivated the town by the novelty of his style, and the comfortable doctrines on which he insisted. this new orator was named the brother placidus: the people flocked to his sermons as to those of cardinal ximenes; and as his reputation grew, the court, led to hear him by curiosity, became more loud in his praises than the town. "our duchess at first made it a point of honour to hold out against the renown of the new-comer, nor could even curiosity induce her to go to hear him, that she might judge for herself of his eloquence. she acted thus from a desire to prove to her spiritual director, that, like a good and grateful penitent, she sympathised with him in the chagrin which the presence of brother placidus must have caused him. but the dominican made so much noise, that at last she yielded to the temptation of seeing him, still however assured of her own fidelity: she saw him, heard him preach, liked him, followed him; and the little inconstant absolutely formed the project of putting herself under his direction. "it was, however, necessary to get rid of her old confessor, and this was not an easy matter; a spiritual guide cannot be thrown off like a lover; a devotee would not like to be thought a coquette, or to lose the esteem of the director whom she abandons; so what did the duchess? she sought don jerome, and with an air of sorrow which spoke a real affliction, said to him: 'father, i am in despair: you see me in amazement;--in a grief,--in a perplexity of mind which i cannot depict.' 'what ails you then, madam?' replied d'aguilar. 'would you believe it?' she replied; 'my husband, who has ever had the most perfect confidence in my virtue, after having seen me for so long a time under your guidance, has, without appearing in the least suspicious of myself, become suddenly jealous of you, and desires that you may no longer be my confessor. did you ever hear of a similar caprice? in vain have i objected that by his suspicions he insulted not only myself, but a man of the strictest piety, freed from the tyranny of the passions; i only increased his jealous fears by my vindication of your sacred honour.' "don jerome, despite his shrewdness, was taken in by this story: it is true that it was told with such demonstrations of candour as would have deceived all the world. although sorry to lose a penitent of such importance, he did not fail to exhort her to obey her husband's will; but the eyes of his reverence were opened at last, and the trick discovered, when he learned that the lady had chosen brother placidus as his successor. "after the grand chamberlain and his cunning spouse," continued the devil, "comes a more modest tomb, which has only recently received the ill-assorted remains of a president of the council of the indies and his young wife. this president, in his sixty-third year, married a girl of twenty: he had by a former wife two children, whom he was about to leave penniless, when a fit of apoplexy carried him off; and his wife died twenty-four hours after him from vexation at his not having lived three days longer. "and now we have arrived at the most respectable monument this church contains. for it every spaniard has as much veneration, as the romans had for the tomb of romulus." "of what great personage, then, does it contain the ashes?" asked leandro perez. "of a prime minister of spain," replied asmodeus; "and never did that monarchy possess his equal. the king left, with confidence, the cares of government to this great man; who so worthily acquitted himself of the charge, that monarch and subjects were equally contented. under his ministry the state was ever flourishing, and its people happy; for his maxims of government were founded on the sure principles of humanity and religion. still, although his life was blameless, he was not free from apprehension at his death,--the responsibility of his office might indeed make the best of mortals tremble. "in a corner, a little beyond the tomb of this worthy minister, you may discern a marble tablet placed against one of the columns. say! shall i open the sepulchre beneath it, and display before your eyes all that remains of a lowly maiden who perished in the flower of her youth, when her modest beauty won for her the love and admiration of all who beheld her? it has returned to its primeval dust, that fragile form, which in its life possessed so dangerous a beauty as to keep her fond parent in continual alarm, lest its bright temptation should expose her to the wiles of the seducer;--a misfortune which might have befallen had she lived much longer, for already was she the idol of three young cavaliers, who, inconsolable for her loss, died shortly afterwards by their own hands. their tragical history is engraven in letters of gold on the stone i shewed you, with three little figures which represent the despairing lovers in the act of self-destruction: one is draining a glass of poison; another is falling on his sword; and the third is tying a cord about his neck, having chosen to die by hanging." the demon finding that the student laughed with all his might at this sorrowful story, and that the idea of the three figures thus depicted on the maiden's monument amused him, said: "since you find food for mirth in the artist's imagination, i am almost in the mind to carry you this moment to the banks of the tagus, and there shew you a monument erected by the will of a dramatic author, in the church of a village near almaraz, whither he had retired, after having led a long and joyous life at madrid. this scribe had produced a vast number of comedies full of ribald wit and low obscenity; but repenting of his outrages upon decency ere he died, and desirous of expiating the scandal they had caused, he directed that they should carve upon his tomb a sort of pile, composed of books, bearing the names of the various pieces he had written, and that beside it they should place the image of modesty, who, with lighted torch, should be about to consign them to the flames. "besides the dead whose monuments i have described to you, there are within this church an infinity of others without a stone to mark the spot where their ashes repose. i see their shades wandering solemnly around: they glide along, passing and repassing one after another before us, without disturbing the profound quiet which reigns in this holy place. they speak not; but i read in their silence all their thoughts." "i am annoyed without measure," exclaimed don cleophas, "that i cannot, like you, have the pleasure of beholding them!" "that pleasure i can give you then," replied asmodeus; "nothing is more easy." the demon just touched the student's eyes, and by a delusion caused him to perceive a great number of pallid spectres. [illustration: the sculpture of modesty burning the books] as he looked on these apparitions, zambullo trembled. "what!" said the devil to him, "you are agitated! is it with fear of these ghostly visitants? let not their ghastly apparel alarm you! look at it well! it will adorn your own majestic person some of these days. it is the uniform of the shades: collect yourself, and fear nothing. is it possible your assurance can fail you now,--you, who have had the daring to look on me? these gentry are harmless compared with myself." the student, at these words, recalling his wonted courage, looked on the phantoms with tranquillity; which the demon perceiving: "bravo!" said he. "well! now," he continued, "regard these shadows with attention! you will perceive that the occupant of the stately mausoleum is confounded with the inhabitant of the unstoned grave. the ranks by which they were distinguished in their lives died with them; and the grand chamberlain and the prime minister are no more now than the lowliest citizen that moulders in this church. the greatness of these noble shades ended with their days, as that of the strutting hero of a tragedy falls with the curtain." "i have a remark to make," interrupted leandro. "i see a lonely spirit hovering about, and seeming to shun all contact with his fellows." "rather say," replied the demon, "and you will speak the truth, that his fellows shun all company with him: and what now think you is that poor ghost? he was an old notary, who had the vanity to be buried in a leaden coffin; which has so offended the self-love of the more humble tenants of the surrounding tombs, that they resolved to black-ball him, and will not therefore permit his shade to mix with theirs." "i have another observation yet to make," resumed don cleophas. "two shadows, just now, on meeting, stopped for a moment to look upon each other, and then passed each on his way." "they are, or rather were, two intimate friends," replied the devil; "one was a painter, and the other a musician: they both drew their inspiration from the bottle; but were, otherwise, honest fellows enough. it is worthy of note that they both brushed off in the same year; and when their spirits meet, struck by the remembrance of their former delights, they say to each other by their sorrowful but expressive silence: 'ah! my friend, we shall drink no more.'" "grammercy!" cried the student, "what do i see. at the other end of the church are two spirits, who are passing along together, but badly matched. their forms and manners are immensely different: one is of enormous height, and moves with corresponding gravity, while the other is of dwarf-like stature, and passes o'er the ground like a breath." "the giant," replied the cripple, "was a german, who lost his life in a debauch, by drinking three healths with tobacco mixed inadvertently in his wine; and the little ghost is that of a parisian, who, with the gallantry belonging to his countrymen, was imprudent enough, on entering this very church, to present the holy water to a young lady who was leaving it: as a reward for his politeness, he was saluted on the same day with the contents of a carbine, which left him here a moral for all too attentive frenchmen. "for myself," continued asmodeus, "i have been looking at three spirits which i discerned among the crowd; and i must tell you by what means they were separated from their earthly companions. they animated the charming forms of as many female performers, who made as much noise at madrid, in their time, as did origo, cytheris and arbuscula, in theirs, at rome; and, like their said prototypes, they possessed the exquisite art of amusing mankind in public, and of privately ruining the same amiable animal. but, alas! all things must have an end, and these were the finales of those celebrated ladies: one died suddenly of envy, at an apopletic fit of applause, from the pit, which fell upon a lovely first-night; another found in excessive good cheer, at home, the infallible drop which follows it; and, the third, undertaking the dangerous character, for an actress, of a vestal, became so excited with her part that she died of a miscarriage behind the scenes. "but we will leave to their reposes(!) all these shades," again continued the demon; "we have passed them sufficiently in review. i will now present to your sight a spectacle which, as a man, must impress you with a deeper feeling than the sight of the dead. i am about, by the same power which has rendered the shades of the departed visible to your sight, to present to you the vision of death himself. yes! you shall behold that insatiable enemy of the human race, who prowls unceasingly in the haunts of man, unperceived by his victims; who surrounds the earth, in his speed, in the twinkling of an eye; and who strikes by his power, its most distant inhabitants at the same moment. "look towards the east! he rises on your sight. a million birds of baneful omen fly before his advent in terror, and announce his presence with funereal cries. his tireless hand is armed with the fatal scythe which mows successive generations as they spring from earth. but if, as mocking at humanity, on one wing is depicted war, pestilence, famine, shipwreck, conflagration, with other direful modes by which he sweeps upon his prey, the other shows the priests who offer to him daily hecatombs in sport; as youthful doctors, who receive from himself their diplomas, after swearing, in his presence, never to practise surgery or medicine contrary to the rules of the courts." although don cleophas suspected that all he saw was an illusion, and that it was merely to gratify his taste for the marvellous that the devil raised this form of death before his eyes, he could not look on it without trembling. he assumed, however, all the courage he was possessed of, and said to the demon: "this fearful spectre will not, i suppose, pass vainly over madrid: he will doubtless leave some awful traces of his flight?" "yes! certainly," replied the cripple; "he comes not here for nothing; and it depends but on yourself to be the witness of his visitation." "i take you at your word," exclaimed the student; "let us follow in his train; let me visit with him the unhappy families on whom he will expend his present wrath. what tears are about to flow!" "beyond a doubt," replied asmodeus; "but many which come at convenience. death, despite his horrors, causes at least as much joy as grief." [illustration: death flies over the poor man's bed] our two spectators took their flight, and followed the grim monarch in his progress. he entered first a modest house, whose owner lay in helpless sickness on his bed; the autocrat but touched the poor man with his scythe, and he expired in the midst of his weeping relations, who instantly commenced an affecting concert of cries and lamentions. "there is no mockery here," said the demon: "the wife and children of this worthy citizen loved him with real affection: besides, they depended on him for their bread; and the belly is rarely a hypocrite. "not so, however, is it in the next house, in which you perceive his grisly majesty now occupied in releasing a bed-ridden old gentleman from his pains. he is an aged counsellor who, having always lived a bachelor of law, has passed his life as badly as he could, that he might leave behind him a good round sum for the benefit of his three nephews, who have flocked round his bed on hearing that he is about to quit it, at last. they of course displayed an extreme affliction, and very well they did it; but are now, you see, letting fall the mask, and are preparing to do their duties as heirs, after having performed their parts as relations. how they will rummage the old gentleman's effects! what heaps of gold and silver will they discover! 'how delightful!' said one of these heart-broken descendants to another, this moment,--'how delightful is it for nephews to be blessed with avaricious old uncles, who renounce the pleasures of life for their sakes!'" "a superb funeral oration," said leandro perez. "oh! as to that," replied the devil, "the majority of wealthy parents, who live to a good old age, ought not to expect a better from their own children. "while these heritors are joyfully seeking the treasures of the deceased, death is directing his flight to a large house, in which resides a young nobleman who has the small-pox. this noble, one of the brightest ornaments of the court, is about to perish, just as his star is rising, despite the famed physician who attends him,--or rather because he is attended by this learned doctor. [illustration: death approaches the pious monk] "but see! with what rapidity does the fatal scythe perform its operations. already has it completed the destiny of the youthful lord, and its unblunted edge is turned elsewhere. it hovers over yonder convent; it darts into its deepest cell, sweeps over a pious monk, and cuts the thread of the penitent and mortifying life that he has led during forty years. death, all-fearful as he is, had no terrors for this holy man; so, in revenge, he seeks a mansion where his presence will be unwelcome indeed. he flies towards a licentiate of importance, who has only recently been appointed to the bishopric of albarazin. this prelate is busily occupied with preparations for repairing to his diocese with all the pomp which in our day accompanies the princes of the church. nevertheless, he is about to take his departure for the other world, where he will arrive with as few followers as the poor monk; and i am not sure that he will be quite as favourably received." "oh heavens!" cried zambullo; "death stoops upon the palace of the king. alas! one stroke of his fatal scythe, and ail spain will be plunged in dreadful consternation." "well may you tremble," said the cripple; "for the barbarian has no more respect for kings than for their meanest slaves. but be not alarmed," he added, a moment afterwards, "he aims not at the monarch yet; his business now is with a courtier only, one of those noble lords whose only occupation is to swell his master's train: such ministers as these are not exactly those the state can least afford to lose." "but it would seem," replied the student, "that the spectre king is not contented with so mean a prize as the parasite you speak of. see! he hovers still about the royal house; and, this time, near the chamber of the queen." "just so," replied the devil, "and he might be worse employed: he is about to cut the windpipe of an amiable dame who delights to sow divisions in her sovereign's court; and who is now mortally chagrined, because two ladies whom she had cleverly set by the ears, have been unreasonable enough to become sincerely reconciled with each other. [illustration: the grieving wife tears her hair] "and now, my master, you will hear cries of real affliction," continued the demon. "death enters that splendid mansion to the left; and a scene as touching as the world's stage offers is about to be acted there. look, if you can, on the heart-rending tragedy." "in truth," said don cleophas, "i perceive a lady struggling in the arms of her attendants, and tearing her hair with signs of deepest grief. tell me its cause!" "look in the room adjoining, and you will see cause enough," replied the devil. "you observe the man stretched on that stately couch: it is her dying husband,--to her a loss indeed! their story is affecting, and deserves to be written:--i have a great mind to relate it to you." "you will give me great pleasure in so doing," interrupted leandro: "the sorrows of this world do not move less than its vices and follies amuse me." "it is rather long," resumed asmodeus, "but it is too interesting to annoy you on that account. besides, i will confess to you, that, all demon as i am, i am sick of following the track of death: let us leave him in his search of newer victims." "with all my heart," replied zambullo: "i am more curious to hear your promised narrative of suffering humanity, than to see my fellow-mortals, one after another, hurried into eternity." the cripple then commenced as follows, after having transported the student on to the roof of one of the highest houses in the strada d'alcala. chapter xiii. the force of friendship. a young cavalier of toledo, accompanied by his valet-de-chambre, was journeying with all possible speed from the place of his birth, in order to avoid the consequences of a tragical adventure in which he had unfortunately been engaged. he was about two leagues from the town of valencia, when, at the entrance of a wood, he fell in with a lady who was alighting hastily from a carriage. no veil obscured her charms, which were more than enough to dazzle a youthful beholder; and, as the lovely damsel appeared in trouble, it is not to be wondered that the cavalier, imagining that she sought assistance, offered her his protection and his services. "generous unknown," said the lady, "i will not refuse your proffered aid: heaven, it would seem, has sent you here to avert a dreadful misfortune. two cavaliers have met to fight within this wood;--i this moment saw them enter. hasten with me, i entreat you, and assist me to prevent their fatal design." as she spoke, she plunged into the forest, and the toledan, throwing his horse's rein to his attendant, followed her as quickly as he was able. they had not gone a hundred yards before they heard the clashing of arms, and almost immediately discovered the two gentlemen, who were thrusting at each other with becoming fury. the toledan drew his sword but to separate theirs; and by its assistance, and by entreaties uttered in exclamations, he managed to suspend their pastime, while he inquired the subject of their difference. "brave cavalier," said one of the combatants, "you see in me, don fabricio de mendoza, and in my opponent, don alvaro ponza. we both love donna theodora, the lady by whom you are accompanied; but we love to little purpose, for, despite our endeavours to win her affections, she treats our attentions with disdain. for myself, i should have been contented to worship an unwilling deity; but my rival, instead of acting with as much wisdom, has resolved to have the shrine to himself, and so has brought me here." "it is true," interrupted don alvaro, "that i have so determined; and it is because i believe that, my rival away, donna theodora might deign to listen to my vows. i seek then the life of don fabricio, to rid myself of a man who stands in the way of my happiness." "signor cavalier," said the toledan, "i cannot approve of your reasons for duelling; besides that, you are injuring the lady who is the object of your strife. you must be aware that it will soon be known that you have been fighting for her; and the honour of your mistress should surely be dearer to you than happiness or life itself. and what, too, can he who may be successful expect to gain by his victory? can he hope that, after having staked a lady's reputation on the quarrel, she will thank him for his folly? what madness! believe me, it were far better, that, acting as becomes the names you bear, you should control your jealous wrath. be men and pledge me your sacred words to bind yourselves by the terms i shall propose to you, and your quarrel may be adjusted without a deed of blood." [illustration: the toledan cavalier parts the duellists] "ah! but how?" cried don alvaro. "why," replied the toledan, "let the lady determine the question; let her choose between yourself and don fabricio; and let the slighted lover, instead of seeking to injure his more fortunate rival, leave the field at once." "agreed!" said don alvaro; "and i swear it by all that is sacred. let donna theodora decide between us. she may prefer, if she will, my rival to myself: this even would be less unbearable than the dread suspense in which i now exist." "and i," said don fabricio in his turn,--"i call heaven to witness, that if the divine object of my love declares not in my favour, i will fly from the sight of her perfections; and if i cannot forget them, i will at least behold them no more." on this the toledan, turning to donna theodora, said: "madam, it is for you now, by a single word, to disarm these two rivals for your love: you have only to name him whose constancy your favours would reward." "signor cavalier," replied the lady, "try some other means of reconciling them. why should i become the victim of their disagreement? i esteem, in all sincerity, both don fabricio and don alvaro; but i love neither: and it were surely unjust, that, to prevent the stain with which their disputes may sully my name, i should be compelled to excite hopes that my heart disavows." "it is too late to dissemble, madam," resumed the toledan; "you must now declare yourself. although these cavaliers are equally good-looking, i doubt not that you can discern more merit in one than in the other; and i am confirmed in that opinion by the alarm with which but now i saw you agitated." "you misinterpret that alarm," replied donna theodora. "the loss of either of these gentlemen would affect me beyond a doubt, and i should never cease to reproach myself with his death, although its innocent cause; but if i appeared to you greatly agitated, i can assure you that it was the peril to which my own honour was exposed that excited all my fear." the impetuous don alvaro ponza now lost all patience. "enough!" he exclaimed, with an air of fury; "since the lady refuses to end the matter peaceably, let the fate of arms decide;" and as he spoke, he raised his weapon against don fabricio, who on his part prepared to receive him. on this, the lady, more alarmed by the fury of don alvaro than decided by her own inclination, exclaimed wildly: "hold! noble cavaliers; i will do as you desire. since there is no other means of preventing a strife in which my reputation is involved, i declare in favour of don fabricio de mendoza." these words had no sooner escaped her lips, than the discarded ponza, without uttering a syllable, hastened to his horse, which he had fastened to a tree, released it, threw himself into the saddle, and disappeared, after casting one look of intense fury on his rival and implacable mistress. the fortunate mendoza, on the contrary, was in ecstasies; now humbling himself in his joy at the feet of donna theodora, and now embracing the toledan, unable to contain the satisfaction with which his heart was filled, or to find words to express his gratitude. in the meanwhile the lady, freed from the presence of the burning don alvaro, had become more tranquil; and it was with grief she reflected that she had engaged to permit the addresses of a lover, whom, while she truly esteemed his merit, her heart told her she could never love. [illustration: don fabricio at the feet of donna theodora] "signor don fabricio," she said to him, timidly, "i trust you will not abuse the preference i have just avowed for you; you owe it only to the necessity in which i found myself placed of declaring between yourself and don alvaro. i can say with truth that i have ever thought more highly of you than of him;--there are noble qualities that you possess of which alvaro cannot boast; i have always looked on you with justice as the most perfect cavalier valencia contains; i have even no hesitation in saying that the attentions of such a man would be flattering to the vanity of any woman; but, how honourable soever they might be to me, i feel bound to tell you that my heart is still untouched, and that it is with sorrow i behold in you an affection for myself so great as your every action displays. i will not, however, take from you all hope of winning my affections; my present indifference may arise from the effects of that grief which still fills my bosom for the loss of my late husband, don andrea de cifuentes, who died about a year ago. although we were not long united, and although he was advanced in years when my parents, dazzled by his riches, compelled me to espouse him, i was yet much afflicted by his loss, and the wound is still green which his death inflicted. "ah! was he not worthy of my regret?" she added. "he was indeed unlike those aged and jealous tyrants, who, unable to persuade themselves that a youthful wife can be virtuous enough to excuse their weakness, watch all her motions with suspicion, or place over her some hideous duenna as a spy. alas! he had in my honour a confidence of which a young and much-loved husband would be hardly capable. his kindness was unbounded, and his only study, to anticipate my every wish. you may suppose, then, mendoza, that such a man as don andrea de cifuentes is not easily forgotten. no! he is ever present in my thoughts; and the fond recollection of his amiability and love for me may excuse my indifference for objects which might otherwise attract me." "ah! madam," exclaimed don fabricio, interrupting donna theodora, "how great is my delight to learn from those lovely lips that it is from no dislike for myself that you have slighted all my cares! i can still then hope that the day will come when my constancy may be rewarded." "it will not be my fault if that do not happen," replied the lady, "since i consent that you should visit me, and will not forbid you to speak to me of love. you shall strive, then, to win me to the world and to yourself by your attentions; and i promise to conceal not from you any favourable impression you may make: but if, mendoza, despite your efforts, my heart refuses to be happy, remember that i give you no right to reproach me." don fabricio was about to reply; but the lady, placing her hand in that of the toledan, turned away, and hastened towards her carriage. he therefore unbound his horse, and leading it through the thicket by the bridle, followed his mistress, and arrived just in time to see her enter the vehicle, which she did with as much agitation as she had left it, although arising from a very different cause. the toledan and himself accompanied donna theodora to the gate of valencia, where they separated,--she taking the road to her own house, and don fabricio taking the toledan with him to his. after a slight repose, mendoza entertained the stranger with a sumptuous repast, and in the course of conversation asked him what had brought him to valencia, and whether he proposed to stay there for any time. "for as short a time as possible," replied the toledan; "i am here only on my way to the sea, that i may embark in the first vessel that leaves the shores of spain. it matters little to me in what part of the world i go to end a life of unhappiness, except that the more distant from this fatal clime the better." "what do i hear?" exclaimed don fabricio with surprise. "what can have disgusted you with your native land, and caused you to look with hate on that which all men love so fondly?" "after what has occurred to me," replied the toledan, "my country is to me unbearable, and to leave it, for ever, my only desire." "ah! signor cavalier," cried mendoza, affected with compassion, "i am impatient to learn your misfortunes! if i cannot relieve them, i am at least disposed to share them. your appearance from the first prepossessed me in your favour, your bearing and manners charmed me, and already i feel deeply interested in your destiny." "you afford me, signor don fabricio," replied the toledan, "the greatest consolation i could receive; and in return for the kindness you are pleased to express for me, it delights me to be able to say, with truth, that on seeing you with don alvaro ponza my heart inclined towards yourself. a feeling, with which i never was inspired at the first sight of any one before, made me fear lest donna theodora should decide in favour of your rival; and it was with joy i heard her state her preference for you. since then, you have so gained upon that first impression, that, far from desiring to conceal my griefs, i seek with a sort of pleasure to unbosom them to you: learn then my misfortunes. "i was born in toledo, and my name is don juan de zarata. i lost my parents while almost in my infancy; so that at an early age i found myself in the enjoyment of a yearly income of four thousand ducats, which i inherited from them. as my hand was at my own disposal, and as i was rich enough to be able to bestow it where my heart should dictate, i married, early, a maiden of exquisite beauty; careless that she added nothing to my fortune, and that her rank was inferior to my own. i loved her, and i was happy; and that i might enjoy to the full the pleasure of possessing one so dear to me, i had not been long married before i sought with her a small estate which i possessed a few leagues from toledo. "we lived there, for some time, in unity and bliss; when it chanced that the duke de naxera, whose seat was in the neighbourhood, came one day, when he was hunting, to refresh himself at my house. he saw my wife, and unfortunately became enamoured of her. i suspected his passion from the first; and was not long before i was too certainly convinced of its existence by the eagerness with which he sought my friendship, that up to this time he had wholly neglected. his hunting parties were now never complete without me; he loaded me with presents, and still more with his offers of service. "i became alarmed by his evident design, and prepared for our return to toledo. heaven doubtless inspired me with this resolution; for, had i acted upon it, and thus taken from the duke his opportunities of seeing my wife, i should have avoided all the misfortunes which followed a contrary course. my confidence in her virtue, however, soon reassured me. it appeared to me impossible that a being whom i had raised from obscurity to her present position, from motives of affection alone, could be ungrateful enough to consent to my disgrace. alas! i little thought that ambition and vanity, two feelings common to every woman, were the greatest vices in the character of my wife. "no sooner, therefore, had the duke managed to inform her of his sentiments towards her, than she took credit to herself for so important a conquest. the attachment of a man approached by all the world with the titles of your grace and your highness tickled her pride, and filled her mind with the most absurd notions; so that she was indefinitely exalted in her own opinion, and thought the less of me. all that i had done for love of her, instead of exciting feelings of gratitude, now appeared but a contemptible offering to her charms, of which she no longer thought me worthy; and she seems not to have doubted that if the noble duke, who flattered her by his homage, had seen her before she had thrown herself away on me, he would have eagerly sought her hand. infatuated by these absurd notions, and seduced by some well-timed presents which flattered her vanity, she yielded to the secret assiduities of his grace. "although they corresponded frequently, i had not for some time the slightest suspicion of their communications; but, at last, my eyes were unfortunately opened to my disgrace. one day i returned from hunting somewhat earlier than usual, and went directly to the apartment of my wife, who expected nothing less than to see me. she had just received a letter from her paramour, and was at the moment preparing a reply. she could not disguise her emotion at my unexpected coming; and as i perceived on the table paper and ink, i trembled,--for the truth rushed on my mind with the speed of all unwelcome conclusions. i commanded her to show me what she was writing, which she refused; so that i was compelled to use violence in order to satisfy my jealous curiosity, and drew from her bosom, in spite of her resistance, a letter which was to the following effect:-- "'must i for ever languish in the despair of seeing thee again? hast thou then cruelty enough to call sweet hopes into my heart, and let the short-lived blisses perish from delay? don juan leaves thee daily for the chase, or to repair to toledo: would not love then snatch these happy opportunities with eager joy? think of the passion which consumes my life! pity me, lady! and remember that if the happiness is great we hope to share, the greater is the torment which bars us its possession.' [illustration: the toledan reads the duke's letter] "as i read this epistle, my blood boiled with fury. my hand sought the hilt of my stiletto, and my first inclination was to plunge it in the unfaithful breast of her who had betrayed me; but a moment's reflection told me that i should thus revenge but half my shame, and that another victim was demanded to appease my wrath. i therefore controlled myself, and, dissimulating as well as i was able, said to my wife: 'madam, you have done wrong in listening to the duke; the splendour of his rank should not have been sufficient to dazzle you. however, youth finds delight in the trappings of nobility; and i am willing to believe that your guilt extends no further, and that my honour is still in safe keeping with you. i forgive, then, your want of discretion; but it is on condition that you return to the paths of duty, and that henceforth, sensible to the affection which animates my bosom, you will think it enough to deserve it.' "i did not wait for a reply, but left the apartment; as much to give her an opportunity of collecting herself, as to seek that solitude in which alone my mind could free itself from the anger which inflamed me. if i did not regain my tranquillity, i at least affected an air of composure during that and the following day; and on the third, pretending to have business of importance which called me to toledo, i told my wife that i was obliged to leave her for some time, and that i did so in full confidence of her virtue and good conduct. "i set out; but, instead of going to toledo, as soon as night came to assist my project, i returned home secretly, and concealed myself in the room of a trusty servant, whence i could observe any one who entered the house. i had no doubt that the duke was informed of my absence, and that he would not fail to make the most of so desirable a circumstance. how i longed to surprise them together! i promised myself an ample vengeance. "nevertheless, i was deceived in my expectations. instead of remarking any preparations for the reception of an expected lover, i on the contrary perceived that the doors were scrupulously closed against everybody; and three days having passed without the appearance of the duke, or any of his people, i began to think that my wife had repented of her fault, and that she had broken off all connection with her seducer. "as this opinion took possession of my mind, my desire of revenge dissipated; until, at last, yielding to those emotions of affection for my wife which anger had only suspended, i hastened to her apartment, and, embracing her with transport, exclaimed: 'madam, i restore you my esteem and my love. i come to tell you that i have not been to toledo, but that i pretended to have gone there only to test your discretion. you can forgive this deception in a husband whose jealousy was not entirely without foundation. i feared lest your mind, seduced by too brilliant illusions, should be incapable of a return to virtue; but, thank heaven! you have seen your error, and i trust that our felicity may henceforth be unbroken.' "my wife appeared affected at these words, and, while tears fell from her eyes, exclaimed: 'unhappy have i been, to give you reason to suspect my fidelity! in vain do i detest myself for having so justly excited your anger against me! in vain is it that, since i saw you, my eyes have unceasingly o'erflowed with tears; my grief and my remorse are alike unavailing; i can never regain the confidence i have lost.' 'i restore it to you,' i replied, interrupting her, afflicted by the sorrow which she displayed--'i restore it to you; you have repented of the past; and i will, too gladly, forget it.' "i kept my word; and, from that moment, my love for her was as great and as confiding as ever. i began again to taste those joys which had been so cruelly interrupted; they came to me, indeed, with redoubled zest; for my wife, as though she had been anxious to efface from my recollection all traces of the injury she had done me, took greater pains to please me. i thought i found more warmth in her caresses; in short, i almost rejoiced at the event which had told me how much was still left for me to love. "shortly after our reconciliation i was seized with illness. although my ailment was not alarming, it is inconceivable how deeply it appeared to afflict my wife. all day she was by my side; and at night, as i was in a separate room, she never failed to visit me frequently, that she might convince herself of the progress of my recovery: her whole care appeared devoted to me, and all her anxiety to anticipate my every want; it seemed as though her whole life depended solely on mine. you may suppose that i was not insensible to all this show of tenderness, and i was never weary of expressing to her my gratitude for her attentions. however, signor mendoza, they were not so sincere as i imagined. "my health was beginning to improve, when, one night, my valet-de-chambre came to awaken me. 'signor,' said he, with emotion, 'i am sorry to disturb your repose; but i am too much interested in your honour to conceal from you what is at this moment passing beneath your roof. the duke of naxera is with my mistress.' "i was so astounded by this information, that i looked for some time at my servant without being able to speak; and the more i thought of what he told me, the more difficulty i found in believing it. 'no! fabio,' at last i said to him; 'no, it is impossible that my wife can be capable of such infamy! you must be mistaken.' 'signor,' replied fabio; 'would to heaven that i could think so! but my eyes are not easily deceived. ever since you have been ill, i have suspected that the duke was introduced almost nightly into my lady's apartment. this evening, i concealed myself, to confirm or dispel my suspicions; and i have but too good reason to know that they were not unfounded.' [illustration: fabio awakens his master] "i hesitated no longer; but arose, and putting on my dressing gown, armed myself with my sword, and went in a perfect phrenzy towards my wife's chamber, fabio following with a light. as we entered the room, the alarmed duke, who was sitting on the bed, rose, and taking a pistol from his girdle, aimed at me and fired; but thanks to his confusion, he missed me. i rushed on him, and in a moment thrust my sword into his heart. then turning to my wife, who was already more dead than alive: 'and you!' said i, 'infamous wretch, receive the reward of your perfidy.' and so saying, i plunged my sword, still reeking with the blood of her paramour, into her bosom. [illustration: the toledan prepares to kill his wife] "i am sensible of the crime my fury induced me to commit; and i acknowledge, signor don fabricio, that a faithless spouse may be sufficiently punished without taking her life; but where is the man who, under such excitement, could have preserved the cool temperament of the judge? picture to yourself this perfidious woman attending me in sickness; imagine if you can, all that display of affection which she lavished upon me; think of all the circumstances,--of the enormity of her deception, and then say if her death weighs heavily against a husband animated with rage, to whom all this comes suddenly as lightning from the cloud. "my tragical history is finished in a few words. my vengeance thus fully satiated, i dressed hastily, certain that i had no time to lose; for i knew well that the duke's relations would search for me in every corner of spain, and that, as the power of my own family would be but as a feather in the scale to turn their wrath, there was no safety for me but in a foreign country. i therefore chose two of my best horses, and taking with me all the jewels and money i possessed, i left my house before daybreak, followed by the servant of whose fidelity i had recently been so well assured, and took the road to valencia with the intention of sailing in the first vessel which should steer for italy. it thus happened that, passing yesterday near the wood in which you were, i met donna theodora, and, at her entreaty, followed to assist in separating yourself and don alvaro." when the toledan had ended this narrative, don fabricio said to him: "signor don juan, you have justly avenged yourself on the duke de naxera. be not alarmed as to anything his relations can do; you shall stay, if you please, with me, until an opportunity offers for your passage into italy. my uncle is governor of valencia; you will therefore be more secure from danger here than elsewhere, and you will remain with one who would be united with you henceforth in bonds of strictest friendship." zarata replied to mendoza in terms which expressed his grateful sense of the former's kindness, and at once accepted the proffered asylum. "and now it is, signor don cleophas," continued asmodeus, "that i shall exhibit to you the power of sympathy: such was the inclination which drew these two young cavaliers towards each other, that, in a few days, there existed between them a friendship not surpassed by that of orestes and pylades. with dispositions alike formed for virtue, they possessed a similarity of tastes which was certain to render that which pleased don fabricio equally agreeable to don juan--their characters were identical; in short, they were formed for each other. don fabricio, especially, was charmed with the deportment of his new friend; and lost no opportunity of endeavouring to exalt him in the estimation of the donna theodora. "this lady now received them frequently at her house; but, though her doors were open at the bidding of mendoza, her heart was still inaccessible to his attentions. mortified to find his love thus slighted, he could not forbear complaining of her indifference to his friend, who endeavoured to console him with the assurance that the most insensible of women might be won to feeling at the last, and that nothing was wanting to lovers but patience to await for the favourable moment: he bade him then to keep up his courage, and to hope that, sooner or later, his mistress would yield to his assiduity and affection. this advice, though philosophical enough, was insufficient to assure the timid mendoza, who began to despair of success with the widow of cifuentes; and the anxiety of suspense so preyed upon his spirits, that don juan could not behold him without feelings of compassion. alas! poor don juan was himself ere long more to be pitied than his friend. "whatever reason the toledan had to be disgusted with the sex, after the abominable treachery he had met with, he could not long look upon the donna theodora without loving her. far, however, from yielding to a passion which he felt to be an injury to mendoza, he struggled with all his might to vanquish it; and convinced that this was only to be accomplished by flying from the bright eyes which had kindled the flame, he wisely resolved to shun the lady who possessed them. consequently whenever don fabricio asked his company to his mistress's house, he managed to find some pretext to excuse himself from going with him. "on the other hand, mendoza never went to see the donna theodora, but she asked him why he no longer was accompanied by don juan. one day, when, for the hundredth time she put this question to her lover, the latter answered, smiling, that his friend had his reasons for absenting himself. 'and what reasons, then, can he have for flying me?' said donna theodora. 'why, madam,' replied mendoza; 'yesterday, when i pressed him, as usual, to come with me, and expressed some surprise at his refusal to do so, he confided to me a secret, which i must reveal in order to justify him in your eyes. he told me that he had formed a liaison in valencia; and, that as he had not long to stay in this town, every moment was precious to him.' "'i cannot exactly admit the validity of his excuse,' replied the widow of cifuentes, blushing; 'it is not permitted to lovers that they should abandon their friends.' don fabricio, who observed the colour which tinged the cheeks of the donna theodora, thought that self-love alone had caused the blush, and that, like all pretty women, she could not bear to be neglected, even by a person who was indifferent to her. he was, however, deceived. a deeper feeling than wounded vanity inspired the emotion she displayed. she loved: but for fear that mendoza should discover her sentiments, she changed the subject, and, during the conversation that followed, affected a gaiety which would have deceived him, had he not already deceived himself. "as soon as donna theodora was alone, she abandoned herself to reflection. then, for the first time, she felt all the strength of the attachment she had conceived for don juan; and, little thinking how deeply that feeling was shared by its object,--'oh love!' she cried: 'cruel and unjust art thou, who delightest to kindle passion in the hearts of those who care not for each other! i love not don fabricio, and he adores me; i languish for don juan, and his heart is possessed by another. ah! mendoza, reproach me not with my indifference for thee; thy friend has indeed avenged thee.' "as she spoke, grief filled her eyes with tears, and jealousy possessed her breast; but hope, who loves to soothe the sorrows of despairing lovers, took refuge in her mind, and filled it with bright images of joys to come. it suggested to her that her rival could not be very formidable, and that don juan was less the captive of her charms than the object of her favours, and that the ties which bound them could not therefore be difficult to break. she resolved, however, to judge for herself, and at once to see the toledan. with this view she sent word that she wished to speak with him: he came; and, when they were alone, she thus addressed him: "'i could never have believed that love could make a gallant man forgetful of his duties to a lady; nevertheless, don juan, since it has possessed you, you have become a stranger to my house. i think i have a right to upbraid you for this neglect; i am unwilling, however, to believe that you have yourself resolved to shun me, and will suppose that your mistress has forbidden your coming here. tell me, don juan, that it is so, and i will excuse you. i know a lover is not master of his will, and that he dares not disobey the woman to whom he has resigned it.' "'madam,' replied the toledan, 'i confess that my conduct may reasonably surprise you; but, in pity, ask me not to justify myself: content yourself with hearing from my lips that i shun you not without good cause.' 'whatever may be that cause,' interrupted donna theodora, visibly affected, 'i request you will not conceal it.' 'well, madam,' replied don juan, 'you shall be obeyed; but be not angry if you learn from me more than you would wish to know. "'don fabricio,' he continued, 'has doubtless related to you the adventure which compelled me to quit castile. in flying from toledo, my heart filled with hatred against womankind, i bade defiance to the sex ever to touch that heart again. with this disposition, i approached valencia; i met you, and, what perhaps none have ever sustained before, i met your eyes without yielding to their influence. i saw you again and again with impunity; but, alas! dearly i have paid for my pride of heart. you have conquered! your beauty, your mind,--all your charms were turned against a rebel to your sway; in a word, i feel for you now all the love that you were formed by nature to inspire. "'this, madam, is what has driven me from your sight. the mistress, to whom they told you i was devoted, exists but in the imagination of mendoza; and it was to prevent in him a suspicion of the truth, which my constant refusals to accompany him here might have engendered, that i conjured her into life.' "this confession, unexpected as it was by donna theodora, could not fail to fill her bosom with delight, nor could she conceal it from the toledan. it is true she took no great pains to do so, and that, instead of regarding him with indignation for his presumption, her eyes beamed with tenderness as she said: 'you have revealed to me your secret, don juan; it is fair that i should discover mine to you: listen! "'regardless of the overtures of alvaro ponza, and little affected by the addresses of mendoza, i lived in tranquil joy, when chance brought you to the wood where we met. agitated as i was by the scene which then was passing, i was nevertheless struck by the gentle and respectful manner in which you offered me your services; and the frankness and courage which you displayed in separating the two furious rivals for my love inspired me with the most favourable opinion of your character. the means by which you proposed to terminate their disputes, indeed, displeased me, and it was with repugnance that i resolved to choose between the combatants; but, i believe i must not disguise from you, that yourself in great part contributed to increase the difficulty of my decision. at the moment when, compelled by necessity, my tongue proclaimed the name of don fabricio, i felt that my heart had already declared in favour of the unknown. from that day, which, after what you have just avowed, i may call a happy one, your virtues have constantly augmented the esteem you then inspired. "'why should i affect to hide these feelings from you? i confess them with no greater candour than i told mendoza that i loved him not. a woman whose misfortune is to love a being whom she may not hope to wed, may bury in her heart the passion which consumes it; but when her bosom's lord is one who nourishes an equal tenderness for her, silence were weakness, and dissimulation shame. yes, i am indeed happy that your love is mine, and i render thanks to heaven which i trust has destined us for each other.' "having thus spoken, the lady waited for don juan's answer, and to give him an opportunity of expressing all the gratitude which she naturally thought the declaration she had made must inspire; but her lover, instead of appearing enchanted by the confession he had just listened to, remained sad and thoughtful. "'what means this silence?' she at length exclaimed. 'what! when for you, zarata, i forget my sex's pride; and, what another would have deemed a fate to envy, show you a heart all filled with love for you,--can you repel the bliss which such a heart bestows;--be coldly silent to its fond disclosure, and look with grief when all things promise joy? alas! don juan, my kindness for you has a strange effect, indeed.' "'and what other, madam, can it have upon a heart like mine?' replied the toledan, mournfully. 'the greater kindness you avow for me, the greater is the misery i suffer. you are not ignorant of all i owe to don fabricio; you know the tender friendship which unites us: can i then build my happiness upon the ruins of his dearest hopes?' 'you are too scrupulous,' resumed the donna theodora: 'i have promised to mendoza nothing. i can bestow my love, nor merit his reproaches; and you may well accept it, nor yet do him a wrong. i acknowledge that the sorrows of your friend may cause you some unhappiness; but, don juan, can that o'erbalance in your mind the destiny which waits you?' "'yes, madam,' replied the toledan, with respectful firmness; 'a friend like don fabricio has greater weight with me than you can well imagine. could you possibly conceive the tenderness, the strength of that feeling which binds us to each other, you would pity me indeed. mendoza has no secrets now with me; my interests have become his own; the slightest matter which concerns myself commands his strict regard: in a word, madam, i share his soul with you. "'ah! if you wished me to profit by your kindness, you should have disclosed it ere those ties were formed which bind me now to him. delighted to have won your affections, i should then have seen in don fabricio but a rival; and my heart, steeled against the friendship which he offered to me, would have escaped its bonds; i should then have been free from all obligation towards him: but, madam, it is now too late. i have received all the services it was in his power to render me; i have indulged all the feelings which those services induced; gratitude and esteem now unite to reduce me to the cruel necessity of renouncing the inestimable prize you present for my acceptance.' "while the toledan was speaking thus, tears fell fast from the eyes of donna theodora; and, as he concluded, she hid her face in her handkerchief to conceal her distress. don juan was of course affected; his constancy began to evaporate, and he felt that his stay was dangerous. 'adieu, madam,' he continued, while sighs impeded his utterance,--'adieu! i must fly to preserve my honour; your tears overcome me--all else i could withstand. i leave you for ever; and go, far hence, to deplore the loss of that happiness which my friendship for don fabricio inexorably demands as a sacrifice.' and as he finished, he hastily retired, with as much resolution as just enabled him to do so. [illustration: the toledan bids farewell to donna theodora] "after his departure, the widow of cifuentes was distracted by a thousand conflicting emotions. she felt ashamed at having declared her love to a man whom its bright temptation had not won; but, unable to doubt his affection for her person, and assured that his refusal of her hand originated in no other feeling than an unexampled constancy for his friend, she was sufficiently reasonable to admire so rare an instance of virtue. nevertheless, as it is in the nature of men, and more particularly in the nature of women, to feel annoyed when all things do not happen as they wish, she resolved to go into the country on the morrow, in order to dissipate her grief, or rather to augment it; for solitude is nurse to love, and strengthens the young passion while he strives to hush its cries. "meanwhile, don juan, not finding mendoza on his return, shut himself in his own apartment, and gave way to the affliction he had restrained during his interview with donna theodora; for, after what he had sacrificed to friendship, he felt himself at liberty to indulge in grief for its loss. it was not long, however, before mendoza came to break on his retirement, and judging by his friend's appearance that he was ill, he displayed so much uneasiness that don juan was obliged to plead a want of rest, in order to account for his altered looks. mendoza left him to repose; but he went out with so much grief depicted on his countenance, that the toledan was still more afflicted by his sympathy. 'oh heaven!' he exclaimed, 'why is it that the most tender friendship should bring to me nothing but misfortune?' "on the following day, don fabricio was yet in bed, when they came to inform him that donna theodora had set out, with all her establishment, for her seat at villareal, and that it was unlikely she would shortly return to valencia. this information caused him less inquietude on account of his severance from the object of his devotion, than because a mystery had been made to him of her departure. without being able to determine on its cause, a gloomy presentiment pervaded his mind as to its effect on his happiness. "he instantly arose, that he might seek his friend, as much to converse with him on the subject which occupied his mind, as to inquire the state of zarata's health; but, before he had completed his toilet, don juan entered his room, saying: 'i come to dissipate whatever apprehension you may entertain for me; i feel myself again restored to health.' 'the good news you tell me,' replied mendoza, 'consoles me somewhat for the unwelcome intelligence i have just received.' 'ah! what is that?' asked the toledan anxiously. 'why,' replied don fabricio, after having dismissed his attendants, 'donna theodora has gone this morning into the country, where they expect she will remain for some time. this sudden resolution astonishes me. why has it been concealed? what think you, don juan? have i not cause to be alarmed?' "zarata took good care not to communicate his real thoughts upon the subject, but endeavoured to persuade mendoza that donna theodora might change her residence without giving him any reason for alarm. don fabricio, however, unconvinced by the arguments of his friend, interrupted him, saying: 'that is all very well, zarata; but you cannot remove my fears of having imprudently done or said something which has displeased the donna theodora; and it is to punish my indiscretion that she leaves me without deigning even to inform me of my fault. "'i will not, however, remain in uncertainty. let us hasten, don juan, to follow her; i will at once order our horses.' 'i would advise you,' said the toledan, 'to seek her alone; if it be as you think, witnesses are worse than needless.' 'don juan cannot be unwelcome,' replied mendoza; 'donna theodora is aware that you know all that passes in my heart: she esteems you; and far from being in my way, you will assist me to appease her anger against me.' "'no, no, fabricio,' replied the toledan, 'my presence will avail you nothing. take my advice, and go alone, i conjure you!' 'again no, my dear don juan,' interrupted mendoza, 'we will go together; i expect this kindness of your friendship.' 'what tyranny! exclaimed the toledan, with evident vexation; 'why ask you of my friendship what that very feeling should deny you most?' "these words, which don fabricio could not comprehend, and the tone in which they were uttered, surprised him greatly. he looked at his friend for some time without speaking. at last, he said to him gravely: 'don juan, what mean you? what horrible suspicion breaks upon my mind? ah! it is too much, to wound me by your terrible constraint! speak! whence arises this unwillingness to accompany me to donna theodora?' "'i would have concealed it from you,' replied the toledan, 'but, since you compel me to disclose the truth, i will dissimulate no longer. let us, my dear mendoza, no more rejoice in the similarity of our dispositions; it is but too perfect: the shafts which wounded you, have neither spared your friend. donna theodora----' 'what! you my rival?' interrupted don fabricio, turning pale as death. 'from the instant that my love for the widow of cifuentes became apparent to myself,' replied don juan, 'i strove to stifle the passion. i have, as you know, sedulously avoided her sight: i at least triumphed over my feelings, if i could not destroy them. "'yesterday, however, donna theodora sent word that she desired to see me. i went to her; when she asked me why i seemed to shun her. i endeavoured to excuse myself as well as i was able; but, as my excuses did not satisfy her, i was compelled at last to avow the real cause of my absence. i imagined that, after this declaration, she would have approved the motives of my apparent neglect; but my unlucky star had decreed--shall i tell you? yes, mendoza, it is useless attempting to deceive you,--i found theodora disposed to favour my love.' "although don fabricio was one of the mildest and most reasonable of men, yet, at this confession, he was seized with a fury beyond his control; and, again interrupting his friend, he exclaimed: 'hold! don juan, plunge at once your dagger in my breast; but continue not this fatal recital. what! not contented with avowing your passion for her whom i adore, must you tell me too that your love is returned? by heaven! this is a strange confidence you dare to venture on with me. you put our friendship to a test indeed. but what say i! our friendship? you have broken it, in nourishing the traitorous feelings you have just imparted. "'oh! how have i been deceived! i thought you generous even to excess, and find you basely false; stooping to win the heart of her whose love were insult to your friend. this is indeed an unexpected blow; and falls with double weight since coming from the hand ...' 'do me more justice,' in his turn interrupted the toledan; 'reflect with patience ere you speak: i am not the traitor which you deem me. hear me. you will repent the injuries you heap upon your friend.' "don juan then related all that had passed between the widow of cifuentes and himself, the tender confession she had made to him of love, and all the arguments she used to win him to indulge his own. he repeated to him then his firm reply; and, as he spoke of the determination he displayed, the wrath of don fabricio yielded by degrees. 'in short,' added don juan, 'friendship conquered love; and i rejected that of donna theodora, despite her tears. but, gods, those tears! what trouble filled my soul at sight of them! i cannot recollect them now without trembling at the danger i encountered. i began to feel myself relent; and, for a few moments, mendoza, my heart indeed betrayed you. i did not, however, yield to my weakness, but escaped those dangerous tears by hasty flight. still it is not enough to have gone safely through the past,--the future must be feared. i shall therefore hasten my departure from valencia; i will no more behold the lovely theodora. and now, will don fabricio accuse his friend of ingratitude and perfidy?' "'no!' replied mendoza, embracing the toledan; 'my eyes are opened, and i find him faithful as my heart could wish. pardon those unjust reproaches to a jealous lover, who in a moment finds himself deprived of all his hopes. alas! should i have expected that the donna theodora could have long beheld you, and have failed to love?--that she could resist the influence of those attractions which at once so drew you to myself? no! and i embrace my friend again. i attribute my misfortunes but to destiny; and, far from feeling hatred to yourself, my affection is increased by your noble conduct. what! can you renounce for me possession of the lovely theodora,--can you yield for friendship's sake so great a prize, and shall i be insensible of the sacrifice? can you conquer the passion which consumes you, and shall i make no endeavour so to vanquish mine? no! i will not be outdone in generosity of soul. obey, don juan, the dictate of your heart; espouse the object of our mutual affections; my heart may groan in secret if it will; be it so! mendoza intreats you to consult your own.' "'in vain do you intreat me,' replied zarata: 'i love her but too dearly, as i have told you; but, mendoza, your happiness shall never be the price of mine.' 'and the happiness of donna theodora,' said don fabricio, 'shall that then count for nothing? let not false delicacy weigh with us now: her passion for yourself has ended all my hopes. what though, for me, you shunned those fatal eyes, to lead in distant lands a life of woe,--what would it serve me now? she loves me not, and never will; heaven reserved that bliss for you alone. from the moment that she saw you, her heart declared for you; nature prompted the emotion: in a word, you alone can render her happy. receive then the heart she offers with her hand; crown her desires and your own; leave me to my fate; and make not three persons miserable, when the wretchedness of one alone is all that destiny requires.'" asmodeus was here obliged to suspend his narration, and listen to the student, who said to him: "well, all that you tell me is sufficiently surprising; but are there really such amiable people upon earth? i never met within this nether world but friends who strive, not for such mistresses as you depict the donna theodora, but for the arrantest coquettes. what! a lover to renounce the being he adores, by whom his love is shared, and all lest he should render some poor friend unhappy? that may do well for some romancer's pen, which fain would picture men the creatures they should be, for fear of telling them the things they are." "i own, with you," asmodeus replied, "the virtue that i tell you of is rare; but still, my dear cleophas, it exists; not in romances only, but in the principles of man's own nature. it is true that, since the deluge, i have seen but two examples of the like, and this is one; but, let us return to our history. "the two friends continued still their amicable strife, and, as each was still unwilling to yield the palm of generosity to the other, their amorous sentiments remained suspended, during several days. they ceased to talk of donna theodora, each seemed afraid to breathe her very name; but, while friendship triumphed over love in the city of valencia, love, as though he would revenge the insult offered to his power, reigned with tyranny without its walls, and was there obeyed without scruple. "donna theodora was all this time in the solitude of villareal, which was not far distant from the sea. there, abandoning herself to her passion for don juan, she dreamt of its reward; and nuptial visions floated in her mind, despite the friendship the toledan had recently displayed for don fabricio, his too much loved rival. "one day, while the glorious splendour of the setting sun chained her to the margin of its bed, she perceived a boat which made towards the shore. as it approached, she saw that it contained seven or eight men, whose aspect was far from prepossessing; and as they came still nearer, she observed that their faces were covered with masks, and that they were armed. "trembling with fear, for it was not easy to divine any good object for this unlooked-for descent, she turned hastily towards her home. looking from time to time behind her as she fled, she saw them land; and, as they instantly appeared to be endeavouring to overtake her, she began to run with all her might. but as she was not as swift of foot as atalanta, and as the masks were light and fleet, they came up with her, just as she had reached the entrance of her grounds, and seized her. [illustration: donna theodora carried off by the masked men] "the shrieks of the donna theodora, and a girl who accompanied her, were loud enough however to attract the attention of some servants without the house; and these giving the alarm to those within, the whole establishment, to a man, turned out armed with clubs and pitchforks. but in the meantime, two of the most robust among the masqueraders had taken the lady and her damsel in their arms, and bore them towards the boat, while the remainder remained to give battle to the domestics, who, albeit not paid for fighting, did their utmost. the combat was long, but swords carried the day against pitchforks, and the gentlemen in dominoes were fast regaining the vessel to join their prize. it was time indeed they did so; for ere their embarkation was completed, four or five cavaliers were to be distinguished on the road from valencia, riding at their topmost speed, and apparently anxious to be in time for the rescue of the donna theodora. the ravishers saw them; and made such good haste to get out to sea, that the cavaliers arrived too late to attain the accomplishment of their object. [illustration: the masked men rowing away] "these cavaliers were don fabricio and don juan. mendoza had received a letter, only a few hours before, informing him, on good authority, that don alvaro was in the island of majorca; that he had equipped a sort of sloop, and that with some twenty scoundrels who had nothing to lose, he intended to carry off the widow of cifuentes on the first occasion of her visiting her seat at villareal. on this, the toledan and himself, with their personal attendants, had set out immediately from valencia, in order to inform donna theodora of the projected attempt. they had, unfortunately, arrived just in time to discern on the sea-shore a number of persons who appeared to be engaged in mortal strife; and, suspecting that it might be as they feared, had hastened with all expedition to oppose the infamous design of don alvaro. but, with all their haste, they arrived but to witness the abduction they had especially come to prevent. "in the meanwhile, alvaro ponza, joyful at his success, was hurrying from the coast with his prey, and was observed to join a small armed vessel which was awaiting him in the distance. words cannot convey an idea of the grief of the two friends; the air rang with imprecations against don alvaro: their grief and rage, however, were alike unavailing. the domestics of the donna theodora, excited by so laudable an example, were not sparing of their lamentations; the shore resounded with cries: fury, desolation, and despair reigned where all before had been tranquil joy, or the sweet grief of love. the rape of the beauteous helen herself did not excite at the court of sparta an equal consternation." chapter xiv. the squabble between the tragic poet and the comic author. leandro perez, at this point of the narrative, could not help again interrupting the devil: "signor asmodeus," said he, "i really cannot control my curiosity to know the meaning of something which attracts my attention, in spite of the pleasure i receive in listening to you. i see, in a room near us, two men fighting in their shirts, and several others in their dressing-gowns who are hastening to part them: tell me, i pray you, what it is all about." the demon, ever ready to please the student, without further pressing replied as follows: "the persons whom you behold in their shirts, or so much of them as is left in the struggle, are two french authors; and the mediators in the strife are two germans, a fleming, and an italian. they all lodge in that same house, which is a sort of lodging-house devoted exclusively to foreigners. one of these authors writes tragedies, and the other comedies. the former, disgusted for some reason or other with his own country, has come to spain; and the latter also, discontented with his prospects in paris, has performed the same journey, in the hope of finding in madrid a better fortune. "the tragic poet is vain and presumptuous, having obtained, despite the opinions of those whose breath should be fame, a tolerable reputation in his own country. to keep his pegasus in wind, he rides it daily; and not being able to sleep this night, he commenced a piece, the subject of which is taken from the iliad. he has finished one scene; and as his smallest fault is that, so common to his brethren, of cramming into other people's throats the trash which he has ejected, he rose from his table, where he was writing in his shirt, took a candle, and, as he was, went to rouse the comic author, who, making a better use of his time, was sleeping profoundly. "the latter, awakened by the noise made at his door, went to open it to the other, who, with the air of one possessed, entered the room exclaiming: 'down on your knees, my friend; down, and worship a genius whom melpomene inspires. i have given birth to poetry--: but, what do i say?--i have done it! apollo himself dictated the verses to me. were i at paris, i should go from house to house to read the precious lines; i only wait for day that i may charm with them our talented ambassador, and every other frenchman who has the luck to be within madrid; but, before i shew them to a soul, i come to recite them to you.' [illustration: the tragic poet at the comic author's door] "'i am much obliged by the preference,' replied the comic author, yawning with all his might; 'it is rather unlucky though, that you did not choose a better time. i went to bed extremely late,--can hardly keep my eyes unclosed,--and i will not answer for hearing all the verses you have to read to me, without tumbling to sleep again.' 'oh! i will answer for that myself,' interrupted the tragic poet. 'were you dead, the scene that i have just composed would recall you to life again. in my writings, there are none of your namby-pamby sentiments,--none of your common-place expressions, sustained alone by rhyme: masculine thoughts, and easy versification, move the heart and strike upon the mind. i am none of those wretched poetasters, whose pitiable creations glide upon the stage like shadows, and like them depart;--which go to utica to amuse the africans. my compositions, worthy to be consecrated with my statue in the library of apollo palatinus, draw crowds after thirty representations. but come,' added this modest poet, 'you shall hear the verses of which i wish to offer you the first incense. [illustration: phoenix assists achilles's captives] "'this is my tragedy, the death of patroclus. scene the first, brisëis and the other captives of achilles appear. they tear their hair and beat their breasts, to express the grief with which they are filled by the death of patroclus. unable even to support themselves, utterly prostrated by despair, they fall upon the stage. this, you will say, is a little daring; but that is exactly what i aim at. let the small fry who swim in the waters of helicon keep within the narrow bounds of imitation, without daring to o'erleap them; it is well, there is prudence in their timidity: but for me, i love invention; and i hold that, to move and overcome your spectators, you must present to their minds images which they could never have expected. "'the captives, then, are lying on the earth. phoenix, governor of achilles, is with them. he assists them to rise, one after another; and, having placed them on their feet, he commences the argument of the drama in these lines:-- hector shall fall; and troy itself be spread in ruins, to avenge patroclus dead. proud agamemnon, camelus the grave, nestor the wise, and eumelus the brave, leontes, skilled to hurl the spear along, smooth-tongued ulysses, diomed the strong, arm with achilles. lo! that hero drives tow'rds ilium's gates--appalling ilium's wives-- his steeds immortal, urged across the plain so swift, the eye toils after them with pain. but still he cries: dear xanthus, balius, fly! and when around ten thousand corses lie, when pallid trojans scamper off like fillies, regain your camp, but not without achilles. xanthus replies, bowing his head: you may be sure, achilles, we'll your will obey; but, while our pace with your impatience strives, know that to you the fatal hour arrives-- the ox-eyed juno thus the steed enlightening,-- and now the car moves with a speed quite frightening. the greeks, beholding, utter cries of joy, so loud, they shake the very walls of troy. achilles, armed by vulcan for the war, appears more brilliant than the morning star; or like the sun, when, in its bright career, it bursts on earth, dispelling night and fear; or brilliant as the fires on mountains lighted, to guide poor swains, bewilder'd or benighted.[ ] [ ] priam va perdre hector et sa superbe ville; les grecs veulent venger le compagnon d'achille, le fier agamemnon, le divin camélus, nestor, pareil aux dieux, le vaillant eumélus, léonte, de la pique adroit à l'exercice, le nerveux diomède, et l'éloquent ulysse. achille s'y prépare, et déjà ce héros pousse vers ilium ses immortels chevaux; pour arriver plus tôt où sa fureur l'entraîne, quoique l'oeil qui les voit ne les suive qu'à peine, il leur dit: chers xanthus, balius, avancez; et lorsque vous serez du carnage lassés, quand les troyens fuyant rentreront dans leur ville, regagnez notre camp, mais non pas sans achille. xanthus baisse la tête, et répond par ces mots: achille, vous serez content de vos chevaux, ils vont aller au gré de votre impatience; mais de votre trépas l'instant fatal s'avance. junon aux yeux de boeuf ainsi le fait parler, et d'achille aussitôt le char semble voler. les grecs, en le voynt, de mille cris de joie soudain font retentir le rivage de troie. ce prince, revêtu des armes de vulcain, paraît plus éclatant que l'astre du matin, ou tel que le soleil, commençant sa carrière, s'élève pour donner au monde la lumière; ou brillant comme un feu que les villageois font pendant l'obscure nuit sur le sommet du mont. "'i stop,' continued the tragic poet, 'to let you breathe a moment; for if i were to recite to you the whole of my scene at once, the beauty of my versification, and the great number of brilliant passages and sublime ideas that it contains, would smother you to a certainty. but remark the aptness of this comparison,-- or brilliant as the fires on mountains lighted, to guide poor swains bewilder'd or benighted. "'it is not all the world who could appreciate that; but you, who have mind, and a clearness of perception,--you must be enchanted with it.' 'i am so, doubtless,' replied the comic author, smiling contemptuously; 'nothing can be more beautiful; and i am persuaded you will not fail to describe, in your tragedy, the care taken by thetis to drive away the trojan flies which approach the body of patroclus.' 'you may spare your jests as to that,' replied the tragic poet;--'an author who has talent may venture everything. the very incident you mention is perhaps the one most capable of being rendered into heroic verse; and i shall not lose the opportunity, you may depend upon it. "'all my works,' he continued complacently, 'bear the impress of genius; so that when i read them it would delight you to witness the applause they elicit: i am compelled to stop after every verse, to receive its laudatory tribute. i remember that one day, at paris, i was reading a tragedy in the house of a wealthy patron of literature, in which all the wits of the capital generally assemble about dinner-time, and in which i may say, without vanity, that i do not pass for a pradon. the dowager countess of vieille-brune was there, a lady of exquisite taste--i am her favourite poet. well, at the first scene, the hot tears ran down her cheeks; during the reading of my second act, she was obliged to change her handkerchief; her sobs were beyond her control in the third; at the end of the fourth she was nearly in hysterics; and i expected, at the catastrophe, that she would have absolutely died with the hero of my piece.' "at these words, although the comic author endeavoured strenuously to preserve his gravity, a burst of laughter escaped him. 'ah!' he exclaimed, 'how well do i recognize her ladyship by your description! the good countess is one who cannot endure comedy: so strong is her aversion for the merry muse, that she hurries from her box after the dagger or the bowl has done its work, that she may not lose an atom of her mimic grief. tragedy is her pet passion; and be it good or bad, so long as it presents unhappy love, so surely may you bid her tears to flow. honestly, did i pretend to the heroics, i should wish for other admirers than the countess.' "'oh! as to that, i have others too,' replied the tragic poet. 'i am the approved of thousands, male and female, of the highest rank----' 'i should also mistrust the suffrages of the quality,' interrupted the comic author; 'i should have no great confidence in their judgment: i will tell you why. auditors of this description are, for the most part, too much occupied with themselves to pay great attention to the reading of a poem; or are caught for the moment by high-sounding verse, or the feeble delicacy of some sickly sentiment. either is sufficient to induce their praise of an author's labours, whatever else of better they may lack. on the contrary, let but a line rustle their gentle ears too harshly, and it is enough that they exclaim against the piece, however good.' "'well!' resumed the lachrymose inditer, 'since you would have me suspicious of this tribunal, i rely on the applauses of the pit.' 'bah! talk not to me of your pit,' replied the other; 'its judgment is guided by caprice. stupidly won by the novelty of a first representation, it will be for months enraptured by a wretched piece. it is true that in the end it discovers its folly; and, then, it never forgives an author for having received from it an undeserved renown, or cheated it into mercy.' "'that is a misfortune for which i have nothing to fear,' said the tragic poet; 'my pieces are reprinted as often as they are played. this, now, never occurs with comedies; printing exhibits their feebleness. comedies being but trifles,--the lighter productions of mind....' 'softly! my tragic friend; softly!' interrupted the other: 'you are getting somewhat warm. speak, i beg of you, of comedy with less irreverence to me. do you think, now, a comic piece less difficult to write than tragedy? undeceive yourself! it is far less easy to make good men laugh, than it is to make them weep. learn that a subject drawn from ordinary life requires talent of as high an order as do the stilted heroes of antiquity.' "'i'faith,' cried the tragic poet with an air of raillery, 'i am delighted to hear you so express yourself.' 'well! monsieur calidas, to avoid disputation, i agree henceforth to as greatly admire your productions as i have heretofore despised them.' 'i care little for your contempt, monsieur giblet,' hastily replied the comic author; 'and in return for your insolence, i will plainly tell you my opinion of the rubbish you have just been inflicting on me: your verse is a mixture of bombast and absurdity, and the ideas, although borrowed from homer, have, in passing through your brain, become tinctured with its vulgarity. achilles talks to his horses, and his horses reply to him; what nonsense! it is a pity they were not asses, for then you could have put into their mouths with propriety your splendid comparison of the village bonfire on the top of a mountain. it is doing no honour to the ancients to pillage them after this fashion: their works are undoubtedly filled with beauties; but it requires greater taste than you possess to make of them a fitting use, or to enable you to borrow from them to advantage.' "'since you have not sufficient elevation of soul,' retorted giblet, 'to appreciate the merits of my poetry, and to punish you for having dared to criticise my scene, i will not read to you the remainder.' 'what, i wonder, have i done, that i should have been punished by being compelled to listen to the beginning?' replied calidas. 'it well becomes you indeed to despise my comedies! learn that the very worst that i could write will be clever compared with anything that you can compose, and that it is much easier to inflate the cheeks with hollow sentiments and sounding words, than it is to enlighten the mind by pointed wit or a delicate irony.' "'thank heaven!' exclaimed the tragic poet, with an awful expression of disdain, 'if in its rigour it denies me your esteem, i may easily console myself for my misfortune. the court, however, thinks more favourably of my tragedies; and the pension with which in its grace it has been pleased----' 'pshaw! think not to dazzle me with your pensions,' interrupted calidas; 'i know too well how they may be obtained to esteem your works the more for that. and to prove to you your folly, in thinking more highly of yourself than of comic authors, and that it is easier to compose serious dramas than comic pieces, i am resolved if i return to france, and do not succeed in my own line, that i will descend to making tragedies.' "'for a scribbler of farces,' said the tragic poet, 'you are not over modest.' 'for a versifier who only owes his reputation to borrowed plumes,' replied the comic author, 'you would fain have one think rather too highly of you.' 'you are an insolent scoundrel,' exclaimed the sombre genius. 'if i were not in your room, little monsieur calidas, the catastrophe of this adventure should teach you to respect the buskin.' 'let not that consideration restrain you, i entreat, lanky monsieur giblet,' replied calidas; 'if you wish to receive a thrashing, i would as soon give it you in my own room as elsewhere.' [illustration: calidas and giblet come to blows] "immediately, they seized each other by the throat and hair; and kicks and cuffs were exchanged with generous ardour. an italian, who lay in a neighbouring chamber, having listened to the overture of this drama, and hearing the noise of the incidental combat, judged that it was quite time for the spectators to assemble when the play had begun. he rose, therefore, and out of compassion for the french authors, although italian, he filled the house with his cries. on this the fleming and the two germans hastened with himself in their dressing-gowns to the theatre of strife, and the piece is, as you see, just terminating by the separation of the combatants." "this squabble is amusing enough," said don cleophas. "but, it would appear from what you tell me that tragic writers in france imagine themselves to be much more important personages than those who devote themselves to comedy." "certainly!" replied asmodeus. "the former think themselves as much exalted over the latter, as are the stately heroes of tragedies above the intriguing servants of comic pieces." "indeed! and on what do they found this opinion of themselves?" inquired the student. "is it then really so much more difficult to write the one than the other?" "the question you put to me," replied the devil, "is one which has been a hundred times debated, and is so to this day. for myself, this is my decision, with all deference to those who differ from me in opinion. i say that it is not more easy to compose a comic than a tragic piece; for if it were so, we must conclude that a tragic poet would be more capable of writing a comedy, than the best comic author; the which is not borne out by experience. according to me, then, each of these two descriptions of poem requires a genius of a different character, but of an equal capability. "it is time, however, to end this digression. i will therefore resume the thread of the history, which you so unceremoniously interrupted." chapter xv. continuation, and conclusion, of the force of friendship. success had not attended the endeavours of the servants of donna theodora to prevent her being carried away; but they had at least opposed it with courage, and their resistance had been fatal to some of the companions of alvaro ponza. among others, whose wounds had not permitted them to follow their comrades, there was a man, stretched almost lifeless on the sand, whom they recognized as one of alvaro's own attendants. perceiving that he still breathed, they carried him to the house, and spared no pains to restore him to his senses. in this they at last succeeded, although the quantity of blood which had escaped from his numerous wounds had reduced his stream of life to its lowest ebb, and left him extremely weak. to induce him to speak, they promised to take every care to prolong his days, and not to deliver him into the hands of justice, provided that he would inform them of the place to which his master had designed to take the donna theodora. gratified by these assurances, although the state to which he was reduced left him but small hope to profit by their realization, he rallied all his remaining strength, and, with a faltering voice, confirmed by his confession the information that don fabricio had received. he added, however, that don alvaro designed to conduct the widow of cifuentes to sassari, in the island of sardinia, where he had a relation whose protection and power promised him a safe asylum. [illustration: alvaro's attendant is carried away] the deposition of the dying man, for he expired a few hours afterwards, raised mendoza and the toledan from complete despair; and as their stay at donna theodora's seat was now useless, they at once returned to valencia. after debating for some time on the steps most expedient to be taken, they resolved to seek their common enemy in his chosen retreat, and in a few days embarked, without attendants, at denia, for port mahon, not doubting that they would there find some means of transport to the island of sardinia. it so happened that scarcely had they reached their destined port, when they learned that a vessel freighted for cagliari was about to sail, and in it they immediately secured a passage. the vessel left the island of minorca with breezes friendly to their hopes; but five or six hours after their departure there came on a calm, and night brought with it winds directly in their teeth; so that they were obliged to tack about and wait for a favourable change. three days were thus passed in sailing without progress; when, on the fourth, about two hours after noon, they discovered a strange sail, all its canvas spread, and bearing down directly upon them. at first they took it for a merchantman, bound for the shores they steered from; but observing that it came within the range of cannon-shot without showing its colours, they began to fear it was a corsair. they were not deceived: it was a tunisian pirate, which approached them in full expectation that the christians would yield without a blow. as it came near enough, however, for the corsairs to discern what was passing on board of their expected prey, and to observe that the sails were reefed and the guns run out, they guessed that the affair was likely to turn out more seriously than they had expected. they therefore shortened sail, wore round, hurriedly cleared the deck, and prepared for action. a brisk exchange of shots soon commenced, and the christians, taking advantage of the surprise which their unexpected resistance had occasioned, began to prevail over their opponent; but an algerine pirate, larger and of heavier metal than either of the others, arriving in the middle of the action, took part with its brother of tunis, and the christians were thus placed between two fires. [illustration: the slave on the bow of the algerine pirate ship] discouraged by this unlooked-for circumstance, and feeling that it was useless to continue the unequal strife, they gradually slackened their fire, and at last it ceased altogether. on this a slave appeared on the bow of the algerine vessel, who hailed them in their own language, bidding them, if they hoped for mercy, to strike to algiers. a turk then advanced, holding in his hand a green silk flag studded with silver crescents interlacing each other, which he waved in the air. the christians, looking upon further resistance as hopeless, gave themselves up to all the grief that the idea of slavery inspires in the breasts of freemen, until the master of the vessel, fearing that a further delay of submission would only serve to irritate their barbarian conqueror, hauled down his colours, threw himself into a boat with some of his sailors, and went to surrender to the algerine corsair. [illustration: surrender] the latter immediately sent a portion of his crew on board the spanish vessel to examine, or rather to pillage it of all that it contained. the tunisian pirate gave similar orders to some of his men, so that all the passengers it contained were in an instant disarmed and plundered, and were shortly afterwards exchanged into the algerine vessel, when the two pirates divided their prisoners by lot. it would have been at least some consolation for mendoza and his friend to have both fallen into the hands of the same corsair; they would have found their chains somewhat the less heavy to have borne them together; but fortune, apparently disposed to make them feel the terrors of her caprice, allotted don fabricio to the pirate of tunis, and don juan to his competitor of algiers. picture to yourself the grief of the two friends, when told that they must part. they threw themselves at the feet of the corsairs, and entreated them that they might not be separated. but their entreaties were vain; the barbarians before whom they knelt were too much accustomed to the sight of human misery not to be proof against the prayers of their present victims. on the contrary, judging by their demeanour that the two captives were men of wealth and station, and that they would consequently pay a weighty ransom, they were the more resolved to divide them. mendoza and zarata, perceiving that they were in the power of men with hearts insensible to all but gain, turned towards each other, their looks expressing the depth of their affliction. but when the booty had been shared, and the tunisian pirate prepared to return to his own vessel with his proportion, and the slaves which it included, they seemed as though they would expire with despair. mendoza rushed into the arms of the toledan, and embracing him, exclaimed: "must we then separate? cruel necessity! is it not enough that we should be borne to slavery, and unavenged? must we even be denied to bear in union the sorrows to which we are destined? ah! don juan, what have we done that heaven should thus visit us with its terrible wrath?" "seek not elsewhere the cause of our disgrace," replied don juan: "i only am to blame. the death of two unfortunates, immolated to my revenge, although excused to mortal eyes, is deep offence to heaven; and you, my friend, are punished for the fault of loving one who took upon himself the vengeance that belongs to god alone." [illustration: mendoza and zarata are separated] while they spoke thus, tears, strangers to the eyes of men, streamed down their cheeks, and sighs but choked their utterance. so touching was their grief, that those who shared their fate were yet as much affected by the sight as with their own misfortune. not so the wretches who formed the crew of the tunisian corsair. perceiving that mendoza was the last to quit the algerine vessel, they tore him without ceremony from the arms of the toledan; and, as they dragged him away, added blows to insult. "adieu, dear friend," he cried: "adieu for ever! donna theodora is yet unavenged! and, parted from you, the miseries that these wretches prepare will be the least that slavery can bring to me." don juan was unable to reply to the exclamations of his friend; the treatment that he saw him endure filled his breast with a horror which deprived him of speech. and so, signor don cleophas, as the course of my narrative requires that we should follow the toledan, we will leave don fabricio, in solemn silence, to be conducted on board of the tunisian pirate. the algerine returned toward his port, where, having arrived, he conducted his slaves to the house of the superintending basha, and thence to the public market. an officer of the dey, mezzomorto, purchased don juan for his master; and the new slave was at once employed as an assistant in the gardens of the harem. this occupation, although laborious for a gentleman, was however, the less disagreeable to don juan, on account of the solitude to which it left him; for, situated as he was, it was a pleasure to have at least the liberty of indulging his own melancholy thoughts. incessantly occupied with his misfortunes, his mind, far from endeavouring to lighten them with hope, seemed to delight in dwelling on the past, and to inspire his bosom with gloomiest presages for the future. [illustration: mezzomorto approaches zarata in the garden] one day he was occupied with his work, murmuring the while one of his now usual songs of sorrow, when the dey, who was walking in the garden, came upon him without being perceived, and stopped to listen. pleased with his voice, and moved by curiosity, he approached the captive and asked his name. the toledan replied, that he was called alvaro; for, following the usual custom with slaves, of concealing their station, he thought fit to change his name, and, as the outrage upon donna theodora was ever uppermost in his thoughts, the name of the detested alvaro had come soonest to his lips when suddenly asked his own. mezzomorto, who spoke the spanish language tolerably well, then questioned him as to the customs of spain, and particularly as to the conduct observed by those of its cavaliers who would render themselves agreeable to their ladies;--to all of which don juan replied in such a manner as to greatly please the dey. "alvaro," said he to him at last, "you appear to be intelligent; and i judge you to have been a man of rank in your own country: but, however that may be, you are fortunate enough to please me, and i will honour you with my confidence." at these words, don juan prostrated himself before the dey, and with well-affected humility, kissed the hem of his master's robe, and after touching with it his eyes and forehead, arose, and stood before him in silence. "to begin by giving you proof of my regard," resumed the dey, "you know, that in my seraglio, i have some of the fairest women which europe can offer for my pleasures. among these, however, there is one whose beauty is beyond compare; nor do i believe that the grand signor himself possesses so exquisite a creature, although for him the winds of heaven daily waft ships with their lovely burden from all quarters of the globe. in her visage the dazzling sun seems reflected, and her form is graceful as the rose's stem which grows in the gardens of eram. my soul is enchanted with her perfections. [illustration: the unhappy beauty of the seraglio] "alas! this miracle of nature, all beauteous as she is, maintains and nourishes the deepest grief; which neither time nor all the efforts of my love can dissipate. although fortune has yielded her to my will, i have ever respected her grief, and controlled my desires; and unlike those who, placed as i am, seek but the momentary gratifications of sense, i fain would win her heart, and have striven to gain it by respectful attentions, such as the vilest mussulman that lives would feel degraded to offer to the fairest christian slave. "still, all my cares seem but to add to her affliction; and i will not disguise that its obstinacy begins to weary me. the sense of slavery is not imprinted in the minds of others of my slaves in characters so deep, but that a look of favour from myself can soon efface or gild them; so that i may well tire of this incessant grief. nevertheless, before i abandon myself to the passion which transports me, i would make one last endeavour to touch her insensible heart; and i will leave this task to you. as my fair slave is christian, and even of your own country, she may confide in you, and you may persuade her to my wishes better than another. go, then! tell her of my riches and my power; tell her that among my many slaves, i care for only her; and, if it must be so, bid her even hope that she may one day be the honoured wife of mezzomorto. tell her that i would rather win her love, than receive the hand of a sultana from the grace of his highness the sultan himself." don juan threw himself a second time before the dey; and although not over-delighted with this commission, assured him that he would do his utmost to execute it to his satisfaction. "enough!" replied mezzomorto, "leave your work and follow me. i am about, contrary to our usages, to permit you privately to see this slave. but, tremble, if you dare abuse the confidence i place in you! tortures, such as even were never yet inflicted by the turks, shall punish your temerity. strive to overcome your own sorrows, and dream of liberty as the reward of ending the sufferings that i endure." don juan threw down his hoe, and silently followed the dey, who, when they entered the palace, left him, that he might prepare the afflicted captive to receive his messenger of love. [illustration: the unhappy beauty salutes mezzomorto] she was with two aged slaves, who retired as soon as mezzomorto appeared. the beauteous slave herself saluted the dey with great respect, but she could not behold him without greater fear, as indeed had ever been the case when he presented himself before her. he perceived it, and to reassure her mind: "amiable captive," he said, "i come but to inform you that among my slaves there is a spaniard with whom you would perhaps be glad to converse. if you wish to see him, i will give him permission to speak with you, and even alone." as the lovely slave expressed no objection to receive her countryman: "i go," resumed the dey, "to send him to you: may he, by the information he conveys, serve to relieve you of your troubles!" he left her as he spoke; and as he went out, meeting the toledan, said to him in a low voice: "enter! and when you have communicated what i desire, come to my cabinet and inform me of the result." zarata entered as he was directed, closed the door, and bowed before the favoured slave, who returned his salute, without either particularly observing the other. when, however, their eyes at last met, a cry of surprise and joy escaped them both: "oh heaven!" exclaimed the toledan, approaching the captive, "is it not a vision that deceives mine eyes? can it be the donna theodora whom i see?" "ah! don juan," ere he had uttered these words, cried the lady he addressed, "is it indeed yourself who speaks to me?" "yes, madam," replied the toledan, while he fell upon his knee and tenderly kissed her hand, "it is don juan. let these tears, that my eyes, rejoiced to behold you again, cannot restrain; let this transport, that you alone can excite in the heart of him who kneels before you, witness for my presence! i murmur no longer against my destiny, since it conducts me to you--alas! what does my ecstacy inspire? i forget that you are in chains. by what unhappy chance do i find you here? how have you escaped from the frantic passion of alvaro? ah, what horror fills my soul to mention his very name! how do i tremble to learn the fate for which heaven reserved you, when it abandoned you to his perfidy!" [illustration: don juan kisses donna theodora's hand] "heaven," replied the donna theodora, "has avenged me on alvaro ponza. had i but time to relate to you----" "time!" interrupted don juan,--"you have plenty, and to spare. the dey himself permitted me to see you, and, what may well surprise you, alone. profit by the happy moments which his confidence affords, and inform me of all that has happened to you since you were carried off by alvaro." "and who, then, told you that it was by him i was taken away?" inquired donna theodora. "alas! madam, i know it but too well," replied the toledan. he then shortly narrated the manner in which he had become acquainted with alvaro's design, and had witnessed its execution; how mendoza and himself had followed him in the hope of preserving her from his violence, or to revenge it; and of their unfortunate, but for this meeting, encounter with the pirates, and its consequence. as soon as he had finished this recital, donna theodora began the story of heir own sufferings, as follows: "i need not dwell upon my astonishment at finding myself seized by a masked band of ruffians--indeed, i had hardly time to wonder at the outrage, for i swooned in the arms of the first who laid hold of me; and when i recovered my senses, which must have been after the lapse of some hours, i found myself alone with agnes, one of my own attendants, in a cabin on the poop of a vessel, in the open sea, sailing with all its canvass spread before the wind. "the perfidious agnes, on perceiving my tears, exhorted me to bear my misfortune with patience; but from a few words which dropped from her as she spoke, i was not long in divining that she was in the confidence of alvaro, who shortly afterwards appeared. throwing himself at my feet: 'madam,' he exclaimed, 'pardon to a too fond lover the means by which he has dared to possess himself of your person! you know how deeply i have loved you, and how ardently i disputed with mendoza for your heart, up to the fatal day when you declared your preference for him. had my passion been the cold and empty feeling that mortals dignify with the name of love, i might have vanquished it as easily as such a feeling is inspired; but my misfortune was beyond consolation. i live but to adore those charms; and, despised though i be, i cannot free myself from their spell. but, madam, let not the fury of my passion alarm you! i have not deprived you of liberty, that i may rob you of honour; i seek only that, in the retreat unto which we are hastening, a sacred tie may unite our hearts for ever.' "he continued in this strain for some time, but in terms which i cannot remember. to hear him, it would have seemed that, in forcing me to wed him, he did me no wrong; and that where i saw but an insolent ravisher, i should have beheld alone an impassioned lover. as, however, while he spoke thus, i answered him but with tears, and exhibited an evident despair, he left me; but not without making signs to agnes, which i plainly understood as directions for her to second, as well as she was able, the splendid arguments by which he had sought to dazzle my weak understanding. "she did her best; representing to me that, after the éclat of an abduction, i could not do otherwise than graciously accept the offered hand of alvaro ponza; that, whatever aversion i might feel for his excessive tenderness, my reputation demanded of my heart this sacrifice. as, however, the necessity which she painted, of a hated marriage, was not exactly the way to dry my tears, i still remained inconsolable; and agnes had exhausted all her eloquence, when we suddenly heard upon the deck a noise which attracted the attention of us both. "this noise, which proceeded from alvaro's people, was caused by the apparition of a large ship, which was sweeping with its wings all spread upon us; and from which, as our vessel was by no means so good a sailer, there was no escaping. down it came, and we soon heard cries of 'lie to, and send a boat aboard!' but alvaro ponza and his men, who knew what they had to expect from yielding, chose rather to die, or at least to run the chance of a combat. the action was sharp, but of short duration: i cannot pretend to give you its details, and will therefore only say, that alvaro and every one of his crew perished, after fighting like men who preferred death to slavery. for myself and agnes, we were removed into the other vessel, which belonged to mezzomorto, and was commanded by aby aly osman, one of his officers. [illustration: alvaro and his crew are killed] "aby aly looked at me for some time, with much surprise; and recognizing me, by my dress, for a spaniard, he said to me in almost pure castilian: 'moderate your grief, lady, for having fallen into slavery: it is a consolation in our woes to know that they are inevitable. but what do i speak of?--woe! happiness alone awaits you. you are far too lovely for the homage of christian dogs. heaven never made you for the pleasure of the miserable wretches whom we trample under foot. you were formed to receive the admiration of the men of the world; a mussulman alone is worthy to possess such beauty. i shall return at once,' he added, 'to algiers. albeit i have made no other prize, i know our dey too well not to be persuaded that with you i shall not be all unwelcome. i have no great fear that he will condemn my impatience to place within his hands a beauty whom our prophet must have sent on earth expressly for his enjoyment, and to be the light of his harem.' "these compliments, don juan, told me too plainly all i had to fear, and my tears flowed the faster as he spoke. aby aly was pleased, however, to interpret my fears after his own fashion; and, laughing at my timidity, gave orders to sail towards algiers. never was port so dreaded by the ship-bound habitant of ocean! sometimes i threw myself on my knees, and implored heaven for its protection; at others, my doubting spirit wished for the assistance of man in christian guise who might come to my rescue, or sink the pirate vessel, which contained me, in the waves,--or that these in their mercy would engulph us. then, again, i hoped that my tears, and the sorrow which caused them, would render me so unsightly that the tyrant to whom they bore me might fly my sight with horror. vain wishes, that my modesty had formed! we arrived at the dreaded port; they conducted me to the palace; i appeared before mezzomorto. "i know not what aby aly said on presenting me to his master, nor what the latter replied, for they spoke in their own tongue; but i thought i could perceive by the looks and gestures of the dey that i had the misfortune to please him. but what, after they had conversed thus for some time, was addressed to me in my own language, completed my despair by confirming me in the opinion i had formed. [illustration: donna theodora and aby aly before mezzomorto] "vainly i cast myself before him, offering him whatever sum he chose to name as my ransom; in vain did i tempt his avarice by the promise of all that i possessed, or could command: he answered me by saying, that i offered him in my own person more than all the riches in the world could bestow. he then conducted me to this apartment, the most splendid his palace contains, and from that hour to the present moment, he has spared no pains to dispel the grief with which he sees me overcome. all his slaves who either dance, sing, or play, have tried by his command their skill before me. he removed from me agnes, because he thought that she served to remind me of my home, and i am now attended by two aged female slaves, whose sole discourse is of love and the dey, and of the happiness which through his favour i may secure. "need i say, don juan, that all their efforts to divert my grief add but to its intensity, and that nothing can console me? captive in this detestable palace, which resounds from day to day with the cries of innocence oppressed, i suffer less from the mere loss of liberty than from the terror which the hated tenderness of the dey inspires. it is true i have hitherto found in him but a lover gentle and respectful; but i am not the less alarmed. i fear lest, wearied by a semblance of devotion, which cannot but constrain him to put on, he should resume the rights of power; and this fear agitates me without ceasing, making of my life but one long torment." as donna theodora finished these words, she wept; and her tears fell like iron on the heart of poor don juan. "it is not without cause," he at last exclaimed, "that you look on the future with dread; i am, myself, as much alarmed for it as you. the respect of the dey is melting faster than even you imagine; your submissive lover will soon abandon all the mildness he assumes. alas! i know too well the dangers which surround you. "but," he continued, his voice changing as he spoke, "shall i calmly witness your dishonour? slave though i be, he may feel the weight of my despair. before mezzomorto injures you, i will plunge in his heart----" "ah! don juan," interrupted the widow of cifuentes, "what dreadful project do you dream of? for heaven's sake, think of it no more! with what dreadful cruelties would they avenge his death! torments the most refined--i cannot think of them without trembling! besides, to what end would you encounter such a peril? in taking the life of the dey, would you restore me to liberty? alas! i should be sold to some other tyrant who would treat me with less respect than mezzomorto. no!" she exclaimed, throwing herself on her knees, "it is thou, almighty father, who canst alone protect me. thou knowest my weakness, and the infamous designs of him in whose power i am placed. thou, who forbiddest me to save myself by poison or the steel, thou wilt save me in thy justice from a crime that is abhorrent in thy sight." "yes, madam," replied zarata, "heaven will avert the misfortune with which you are threatened! i feel already that it inspires me;--the ideas which flash across my mind are doubtless prompted by its mercy. hear me! the dey has permitted me to see you, only that i might induce you to return his love. it is time that i rendered him an account of our interview; and, in so doing, i shall deceive him. i will tell him that your grief may be overcome; that his conduct towards you has already won for him your esteem, and that, from a continuance in that conduct, he has everything to hope. do you assist me in my design? when he comes next to visit you, let him find you less sorrowful than usual; and appear, at least, to be interested in his conversation." "what a task would you impose on me!" interrupted donna theodora. "how is my soul, always frank and open, to assume such a disguise, and what will be the fruit of so painful a deception?" "the dey," replied zarata, "will be flattered by this change in your deportment, and will be anxious to complete his conquest of you by gentle means. in the meanwhile, i will endeavour to effect your freedom: it will be difficult, i acknowledge; but i am acquainted with a slave on whose address and enterprise some reliance may be placed. "i leave you," he continued, "as no time is to be lost: we shall meet again. i now go to the dey; whose impetuous ardour i hope to restrain by some well-invented fables. and you, madam, prepare to receive him; constrain yourself to deceit. let your eyes, which his presence offends, display neither hatred nor pride; let your lips, which now unclose but to express your affliction, form for him honeyed words of respect; you must indirectly promise all, in order that you may concede nothing." "enough!" replied the lady, "i will do as you desire, since the danger that impends over me compels me to this cruel necessity. go! don juan, employ all your thoughts to end my slavery: my freedom will be doubly sweet, if owing to you." as soon as the toledan repaired to mezzomorto, the latter cried with great emotion: "well! alvaro, what news do you bring to me of my lovely captive? have you inclined her to listen to my vows? tell me not that her ceaseless grief refuses to yield to my tenderness; or i swear, by the head of the commander of the faithful himself, that force shall wring from her what affection cannot win." "signor," replied don juan, "that oath were useless now: you will have no need of violence to gratify your passion. your slave is young,--has never loved;--and she whose pride disdained the offers of the noblest of her native land, in which she lived as queen, and here exists in chains, may well ask time to reconcile her haughty spirit to her new condition. this, proud as she is, habit will soon effect; and even now, i dare affirm, the yoke is felt less heavy: the kindness you have shown, the respectful cares which she could never have expected from yourself, have already lessened her misfortune, and must triumph over her disdain. continue, signor, this gentle observance; continue--and complete the charm which dissipates her grief, by new attentions to each fond caprice; and you will shortly find her yield to your desires, and lose her love of liberty, encircled in your arms." "your words enrapture me," exclaimed the dey: "the hopes which you inspire engage me to what you will. yes! i will restrain my impatient love, that i may satisfy it the more worthily. but, do you not deceive me, or are you not deceived yourself? i will this moment see my lovely mistress; i will endeavour to discern in her eyes some expression of the flattering appearances you speak of." and so saying, he hastened to seek theodora; while the toledan returned to the garden, where he found the slave whose skill he proposed to employ in the liberation of the widow of cifuentes. this slave, named francisco, was a navarrese, and was perfectly acquainted with algiers and its customs, having there served two or three masters before he was purchased by the dey as a gardener. "francisco, my friend," said don juan, accosting him, "you see me in deep affliction. there is, in the harem of the dey, a young lady of the highest distinction of valencia: she has entreated mezzomorto to name a ransom of any amount; but he refuses to do so, having fallen in love with her." "and why should that annoy you so much?" asked francisco. "because i come from the same town," replied the toledan; "her relations and my own are intimately connected; and there is nothing which i would not do to restore her to liberty." "well! though that is no easy matter to accomplish," said francisco, "i dare undertake to bring it about, provided her relations are disposed to come down pretty handsomely." "be assured of that," replied don juan; "i answer for their gratitude, and especially for her own. her name is donna theodora: she is the widow of a man who has left her immense possessions, and she is generous as rich. for myself, i am a spaniard, and a noble; my word may suffice to convince you of what i state." "well, again!" resumed the gardener: "on the faith of your word then, i will seek a catalonian renegade whom i know, and propose to him----" "what say you?" interrupted the toledan, in alarm;--"would you confide in a wretch who has not been ashamed to abandon his religion for----" "although a renegade," interrupted francisco, in his turn, "he is nevertheless an honest man. he is rather deserving of your pity than contempt; and, if the crime he has committed can be excused at all, i think he may be pardoned. i will tell you his history in a few words. "he was born in barcelona, where he practised as a surgeon. finding, however, that he was worse off there than his patients, he resolved to establish himself at carthagena, thinking of course to better his condition. he accordingly embarked with his mother, for that town; but they were taken on the way by a pirate, who brought them hither. they were sold; his mother to a moor, and he to a turk, who used him so badly that he assumed the turban to release himself from slavery, as also to enable him to free his parent, who was no better off in the house of the moor, her master. with this view, he entered into service with the dey, and made several voyages, in which he gained four hundred patacoons: he employed a portion of this in the ransom of his mother; and, to make the best use of the remainder, took it in his head to scour the seas on his own account. "appointed captain, he purchased a small open vessel, and with some turkish seamen who had sailed with him before, he set out to cruize between alicant and carthagena, and returned to algiers, laden with booty. he repeated this several times; and succeeded always so well that at last he was able to arm a large vessel, with which he made several prizes, but was in the end unfortunate. one day, he was imprudent enough to attack a french frigate, which so mauled his ship that it was with difficulty he escaped, and regained algiers. as pirates are judged here, like their betters elsewhere, according to their success, the renegade gained the contempt of the turks as the reward of his misfortune. disgusted by this injustice, he sold his vessel, and retired to a house without the town; where, since then, he has lived on the produce of his ship, and what remained of the fruits of his former enterprises, in company with his mother, and attended by several slaves. "i often go to see him, for he served with me under my first master, and we are intimate friends. he conceals nothing from me; and, only three days ago, he told me, with tears in his eyes, that, despite his wealth, he had known no peace since he had renounced his faith; that to appease the remorse which preyed on him without ceasing, he was sometimes tempted to trample his turban under foot, and, at the risk of being burned alive, to repair, by a public avowal of his repentance, the insult he had offered to the mediator whom in secret he still adored. "such is the renegade whom i am about to consult," continued francisco: "surely, a man like him may be trusted by you. i will seek him, under pretext of going to the bagnio; i will represent to him, that instead of consuming his life in vain regret at his exclusion from the bosom of the church, he should act so as to assure his forgiveness and reception; that to do this he has only to equip a vessel, as if, disgusted with a life of inaction, he intended to resume his piracies; and that, with this vessel, we may gain the coast of valencia, where, once arrived, donna theodora will give him wherewith to pass the remainder of his life in tranquillity at barcelona." "yes! my dear francisco," cried don juan, transported with joy at the hope thus raised by the navarrese slave,--"yes! you may promise all this, and more, to your renegade friend; both he and yourself may be sure of a rich reward. but, do you conceive it possible to execute the project you conceive?" "there may be difficulties," replied francisco, "which i do not contemplate; but, rely on it, that i and my friend will overcome them all." "alvaro," he added, as they parted, "i hope well for our enterprise; and i trust that, when we meet again, i shall have good news to tell you." with what anxiety did the toledan await the return of francisco! at last he came. "i have seen the renegade," he said, "and have opened to him our design. after much deliberation, we have arranged that, to save time, he shall purchase a vessel already fitted for sea; that, as it is permitted to employ slaves as sailors, he shall take with him those who now serve him; that, however, to guard against suspicion, he shall also engage some dozen others, as if he really designed what he pretended; but that, two days before the time fixed for his departure, he shall embark, by night, with his own people, and weigh anchor, after coming for us with his boat to a little door which leads from the garden, close by the sea. this is our plan; of which you can inform the captive lady, assuring her that in a fortnight from this time she shall be free." how great was the joy of zarata, to be able to convey such welcome intelligence to the donna theodora! to obtain permission to see her, on the following day, he sought, without appearing to do so, mezzomorto; and, having met with him: "signor," said he, "dare i enquire how you have found your lovely slave? are my hopes fulfilled?--" "i am delighted," interrupted the dey; "her eyes no longer shun the tender glance of mine; her words, which heretofore presented but the picture of her griefs, no longer breathe complaint; and for the first time, she seemed to listen to my own without aversion. "it is to you, alvaro," he continued, "that i owe this happy change: i see," he added, good-humouredly, "that you are in favour with the ladies of your country. i will trust you, however, to speak with her again, that you may finish well what you have so well begun. exhaust thy fertile genius to attain the bliss i seek, and thy chains are turned to gold. yes! i swear, by the spirit of our holy prophet, that i will restore you to your home, so loaded with my favours, that your christian friends shall not believe you, when you tell them you return from slavery." the toledan, although somewhat conscience-stricken, did not fail to continue mezzomorto in the flattering error he indulged. affecting gratitude for his kindness, and under pretext of hastening its accomplishment, he left the dey at once to see the charming slave; and, finding her alone in her apartment, he lost no time in informing her of what the navarrese and the renegade intended on her behalf. the lady was of course greatly delighted to hear that already such strides were making towards her deliverance. "is it possible," she cried, "that i may hope again to see valencia, my own dear native land? joy, joy!" she continued,--"after so many dangers and alarms, to live in peace once more with you! ah! don juan, this is happiness indeed! can i doubt that your heart partakes of it? remember, zarata, that, in snatching me from the dey, you bear away your wife!" "alas!" replied the toledan, sighing deeply, "how delicious were those words to my expecting soul, did not the remembrance of an unhappy aspirant for thy love dash their sweet fragrance with alloy! pardon me, madam, that at such a moment i should think of aught but you! but you must acknowledge that a friend like mendoza merits thy pity as my own. it was for thee he left valencia; it was in search of thee that he became a slave; and i feel sure that, at tunis, he is not bowed down so much by the weight of his chains, as with despair at failing to avenge thee." "he merited indeed a happier lot," said donna theodora; "and i call heaven to witness that i am deeply affected at what he suffers on my account. yes! i accuse myself of the pains which he endures; but, such is my destiny, my heart can never be their recompense." this conversation was interrupted by the coming of the two old dames who attended on the widow of cifuentes. don juan immediately assumed the confidant of the dey: "yes, fair lady," said he to theodora, "you have deprived him of liberty who keeps you in chains. mezzomorto, your master and my own, the most loving and the most amiable of turks, is your slave. treat him with the favour you now deign to show him, and soon will a joyous end arrive to his sufferings and your own." zarata bowed respectfully as he pronounced these words, the purport of which was well understood by the lady to whom they were addressed, and left the apartment. [illustration: portrait of mezzomorto] during the following week, affairs remained in this position in the palace of the dey. in the meantime, however, the renegade had purchased a small sloop, and was making preparations for its putting to sea; but, six days before it was ready, a new subject for alarm occurred to don juan. mezzomorto sent for him, and, taking him into his cabinet: "alvaro," he said, "thou art free!--free to return when thou wilt to spain; the reward that i have promised now awaits thee. i have seen my lovely slave this day;--ah! how unlike the creature whose sorrow filled my breast with anguish! daily does the feeling of captivity grow weaker; and so bright are now her charms, that i have resolved at once to make her mine: in two days she shall be my wife." don juan changed colour at these words, and, with all the effort that he made to constrain them, could not conceal his trouble and surprise from the dey, who asked him the cause of this emotion. "signor," replied the toledan, with embarrassment, "i cannot control my astonishment at hearing one of the greatest princes of the ottoman empire avow his intention of so far humbling himself as to wed with a slave. i know that this is not without precedent; but, for the illustrious mezzomorto, who might aspire to the daughter of the highest in the service of the sultan, to"--"i agree to what you say," interrupted the dey; "i might marry with the daughter of the grand vizier, and even hope to succeed him in his office: but i have great wealth, and small ambition. i prefer repose, and the delights i enjoy here in my vice-royalty, to the dangerous honours to which we are no sooner elevated, than the fear of our sovereign, or the jealousy of the envious who surround him, prepares for us a fall. besides, i love this slave; and her beauty and virtue render her worthy of the rank to which my affection calls her. "it is however necessary," he added, "that she should at once renounce her religion, to attain the honour for which i destine her. think you that absurd prejudices will induce her to despise that honour?" "no, signor," replied don juan; "i am persuaded that on reflection, she will hold her faith as too small a sacrifice to your love. but, permit me to say that this should not be proposed too hastily. there is no doubt that the idea of abandoning the creed she lisped almost on her mother's bosom will at first revolt her: give her therefore time to reflect on the inducements to a change. when she remembers that, instead of using your power over her person, and then abandoning her to grow old among the neglected slaves of your caprice, you seek to unite her to yourself for ever, by a marriage which crowns her with honour, her gratitude--her woman's vanity--will by degrees vanquish her scruples. defer therefore for a week, at least, the execution of your design." the dey remained for some time in deep thought: the delay that his confidant proposed suited but ill to his desires; nevertheless, the counsel appeared judicious. "i yield to your advice, alvaro," at last he said, "impatient as i am to press the lovely captive to my heart. i will wait a week, as you request. go!" he continued, "see her at once, and dispose her to fulfil my wishes, when that time shall have passed. i am anxious that alvaro, who so well has tutored the fair one to my will, should have the honour of tendering to her my hand." don juan hastened to the apartment of theodora, and informed her of what had passed between the dey and himself, that she might conduct herself accordingly. he also informed her that in six days the vessel would be ready; and, as she was anxious to know how, when the time arrived, she was to escape, seeing that all the doors of the rooms she had to traverse, in the usual way of reaching the staircase, were well secured: "let not that embarrass you," he answered; "a window of your ante-room looks upon the garden; and you may thence descend, by a ladder which i will take care to provide." the six days added their units to eternity, and francisco informed the toledan that the renegade was prepared to sail on the coming night: you may guess with what impatience it was expected. it came, and, graciously for the fugitives, shrouded in its thickest mantle to cover their flight. at the appointed moment, don juan placed the ladder against the window of the ante-room, and the watchful captive hastened to descend, trembling with agitation and suspense. she reached the ground in safety, and leaning on the arm of the toledan, the latter lost no time in conducting her to the little door which opened on the sea. [illustration: donna theodora descends the ladder] they walked with hasty steps, enjoying, by anticipation, the happiness of recovered freedom; but fortune, not even now disposed to favour these unhappy lovers, plunged them into grief more dire than they had yet experienced, and of a nature that they least expected. [illustration: donna theodora and zarata hurry away] they had already left the garden, and were advancing to the shore, where the sloop awaited them, when a man whom they took for an accomplice in their escape, and of whom, therefore, they had no suspicion, came upon don juan, sword in hand, and thrust it in his breast. "perfidious alvaro ponza!" he exclaimed, "it is thus that don fabricio de mendoza punishes a base seducer: you deserve not that i should attack you openly as an honest man." the toledan could not resist the force of the blow, which stretched him on the earth; and, at the same moment, donna theodora, whom he supported, struck with surprise, with grief and fear, fell in a swoon beside him. "ah! mendoza," cried don juan, "what have you done? it is your friend whose bosom you have pierced!" "gracious heaven!" exclaimed don fabricio, "is it possible that i have assassinated----" "i pardon you my death," interrupted zarata; "destiny is alone to blame, or rather it has so willed it, to end our misfortunes. yes! my dear mendoza, i die contented, since i restore to your hands the donna theodora, who will convince you that my friendship for you has never belied itself for an instant." [illustration: zarata stabbed by mendoza] "too generous friend," said don fabricio, prompted by a feeling of despair, "you shall not die alone; the same point which wounded you shall punish your assassin: if my error may excuse my crime, it cannot console me for its committal." as he spoke, he turned his sword against his breast, plunged it therein nearly to the hilt, and fell upon the body of don juan, who fainted less from loss of blood, than from horror at the frenzy of his friend. francisco and the renegade, who were not ten paces from the spot, and who had their reasons for not having defended the slave alvaro, were amazed to hear the last words of don fabricio, and still more so to witness his last act. they had heard enough, however, to know that he had been mistaken, and that the wounded pair were friends, instead of deadly enemies, as they had believed. they now therefore hastened to their assistance; but, finding them both senseless, as also the donna theodora, they were at a loss how to proceed. francisco advised that they should content themselves with bearing off the lady, leaving the two cavaliers on the shore; where, according to him, if they were not already dead, they would soon be so. the renegade, however, was not of this opinion: he said that it would be cruel to abandon the two unfortunates; that their wounds were probably not mortal, and that he would look to them when on board his vessel, where he had been provident enough to stow away all the implements of his ancient trade. to this, francisco made no objection; so, as they both agreed that there was no inducement to stay where they were, by the assistance of some slaves, they carried the unhappy widow of cifuentes, and her still more unfortunate lovers, to the boat, and soon joined their ship. there, no time was lost in spreading the sails; while some upon their knees poured forth to heaven the most fervent prayers which fear could suggest, that they might escape the cruisers of the dey. [illustration: theodora, zarata and mendoza are carried to the boat] the renegade, having left the management of the vessel to a french slave whom he could trust, gave his attention to his passengers. the lady, of course, claimed his first care; and, having restored her to life, he took his measures so skilfully, that don fabricio and the toledan also speedily recovered their senses. donna theodora, who had swooned the instant don juan was struck, was greatly astonished on her recovery to behold mendoza; and, although she soon comprehended that the latter had wounded himself for having incautiously assailed his friend, she could not look upon him but as the murderer of the man she loved. "you would have been affected, don cleophas, could you have seen these three persons at the moment i speak of: the deathlike stillness from which they had emerged would not have commanded half your pity. there was donna theodora, gazing on don juan with eyes which spoke all the feelings of a soul filled with grief and despair; while the two friends, each fondly turning upon her their dying looks, were striving to control the sighs which rent their hearts." the scene lasted for some time in silence, which mendoza was the first to break. "madam," said he, addressing donna theodora, "i die; but i have the satisfaction of knowing you are free. would to heaven that thy liberty were owing to myself! but it has decreed that you should owe that obligation to him whose image you cherish in your heart. i love too much my rival to complain; and trust that the blow which my blindness dealt may be too light to prevent his sweet reward." the lady answered not this touching speech. insensible, for the time, to the fate of mendoza, she could not restrain the feelings of aversion which the condition of the toledan, over whom she hung, inspired in her bosom towards him who had caused it. the regenade surgeon now examined and probed the wounds of the two friends. beginning with zarata, he pronounced it favourable, inasmuch as the sword had only glanced through the muscles of the left breast, without touching any of the vital parts. this report, while it lessened the grief of donna theodora, gave great delight to don fabricio, who, turning his head towards the lady, exclaimed, "madam, i die without regret, since the life of my friend is out of danger: you will forgive me now." he pronounced these words with so much pathos, that the widow of cifuentes was moved beyond expression. as she no longer feared for don juan, she ceased to hate mendoza, and beheld in him now but an object of the deepest pity. "ah! don fabricio," she exclaimed, her generous nature resuming its influence, "let them attend to your wound; it is, i trust, not more dangerous than that of your friend. let not your feelings interfere to render the cares of those who love you useless. live!--if i cannot yield felicity to you, at least i will never bestow it on another. friendship and compassion shall restrain the hand that i would give to don juan: i will sacrifice for you, as he has done, the dearest wishes of my heart." [illustration: mendoza addresses donna theodora] don fabricio would have replied; but the surgeon, fearing that in his case, as in trouble generally, talking would only increase the ill, imposed silence, while he examined his wound. on so doing, he saw that it was likely to prove mortal, as the sword had penetrated the lungs, and the consequent loss of blood had been excessive. having however dressed it with care, he left the cavaliers to repose; and that a matter so essential to them, in their present state, might be secured, he took with him, as he left the cabin, donna theodora, whose presence seemed likely to disturb it. but despite all these precautions, mendoza was seized with fever, and towards midnight the wound began to bleed afresh. the renegade then thought it right to inform him that all hope of recovery was over, and that, if he had anything which he wished to communicate to his friend, or to donna theodora, he had no time to lose. the toledan was greatly affected on hearing the declaration of the surgeon: for don fabricio, he listened to it with indifference. he calmly requested that the regenade would summon the widow of cifuentes to his side. donna theodora hastened to the dying man, in a state more easy to conceive than to describe: tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs choked her utterance;--so violent was her affliction, that mendoza could not repress his agitation at the sight. "madam," he exclaimed, "i am unworthy of the precious drops which dim those lovely eyes: restrain them, i entreat you, and listen to me for a few moments. and you also, my dear zarata," he continued, observing the excess of grief in which his friend indulged, "control your feelings for a while, and hear me. i well know that to you this separation is a painful shock; your friendship is too well assured for me to doubt it; but wait, both of you, until the earth shall have hidden me from your sight; and honour, with those marks of tenderness and pity, my silent grave. "suspend until then your affliction; i feel it now more than the loss of life. let me relate to you the way by which the fate that pursues me conducted me this night to the fatal shore which i have stained with the blood of my friend, and my own. you must be anxious to learn how it happened that i mistook don juan for alvaro; i will tell you, if the short time which it is permitted me to live will enable me to do so. "some hours after the vessel in which i was had quitted that wherein i had left don juan, we met a french privateer, which attacked and took the tunisian pirate, and landed us near alicant. i was no sooner free, than i thought on the ransom of my friend; and, to effect this i went to valencia to obtain the necessary funds. there, learning that at barcelona some brothers of the holy order of redemption were just about to sail for algiers, i set out for the former town. before leaving valencia, however, i begged my uncle the governor, don francisco de mendoza, to use all his influence with the court of madrid to obtain the pardon of zarata, that, on his return with me, he might be reinstated in his former possessions, which had been confiscated in consequence of the death of the duke of naxera. "as soon as we had arrived at algiers, i went to all the places frequented by the slaves; but in vain did i run them through, i found not the object of my search. this morning, i met the regenade catalonian, to whom this vessel belongs, and whom i recognized as a man who had formerly attended my uncle. i told him the motive of my voyage, and requested him to make strict inquiry for my friend. 'i am sorry,' he replied, 'that it is out of my power to serve you. i leave algiers to-night, with a lady of valencia, one of the dey's slaves.' 'and who is this lady,' i demanded. 'she is called the donna theodora,' was his startling answer. "the surprise which i exhibited at this information told the regenade at once that i was interested in this lady's fate. he therefore informed me of the design which he had formed for her liberation; and as, during his recital, he mentioned the slave alvaro, i had no doubt that it was alvaro ponza himself of whom he spoke. when he had finished: 'assist me in my resentment!' i exclaimed, with transport; 'furnish me with the means of avenging myself upon my enemy!' 'you shall soon be satisfied,' replied the regenade; 'but, tell me first what subject of complaint you have against this same alvaro.' i related to him all our history; which, when he had heard: 'enough!' he cried, 'you shall accompany me to-night. they will point out to you your rival; and, when you have punished him for his villany, you shall take his place, and join with us in conducting donna theodora to valencia.' "nevertheless, my impatience did not cause me to forget don juan. i left the money for his ransom in the hands of francisco capati, an italian merchant, who resides at algiers, and who promised me to effect it, if by any means he could discover him. at last, the night arrived; i went to the house of the regenade, who led me, as he had promised to the sea shore. we concealed ourselves near a little door, whence shortly issued a man who came directly towards us, and, pointing to two persons who followed him, said 'there are alvaro and donna theodora.' "furious at this sight, i drew my sword, ran to meet the unfortunate alvaro, and, imagining that it was my hated rival whom i struck, i thrust my weapon into the bosom of the faithful friend whom i had come to seek. but, heaven be praised!" he continued with emotion, "my error will not cost him his life, nor cause eternal grief to donna theodora." "ah! mendoza," interrupted the lady, "you do injustice to my tears; never shall i console myself for your own loss. even should i espouse your friend, it will be only to unite our griefs: your love, your friendship, your misfortunes will ever be present to our recollection,--the sole topic for our tongues." "it is too much, madam," replied don fabrido; "i am not worthy thus to trouble thy repose. permit, i entreat thee, zarata to call thee his, on the day when he shall have revenged thy wrongs on alvaro ponza." "don alvaro," said the widow of cifuentes, "is no more; on the same day that he forced me from my home, he was killed by the pirate who enslaved me." "madam," replied mendoza, "my wavering soul rejoices at the welcome news; my friend will be the sooner happy. follow without control your mutual inclinations. i see, with joy, the hour approach which removes from you, for ever, the obstacle which your generous compassion has raised against your happiness. may your days glide in peace, and in an union which the envy of fortune may never dare to trouble! adieu, madam;--adieu, don juan!--think sometimes, in your joy, of one who has never loved but you." donna theodora and the toledan were unable to reply to this affectionate address, except by tears, which redoubled as he spoke. mendoza, therefore, perceiving their grief, thus continued: "but i have done with earth! death already points me out my way; and i have not yet supplicated the divine mercy to pardon me for having, by my own folly, shortened a life of which it should have alone disposed." he spoke no more; but, raising his eyes to heaven, appeared to be engaged in mental prayer for its forgiveness; when a gurgling in his throat told that a last outbreaking of his wound had taken place, and he expired. don juan, as he heard the fatal rattling which indicated what was passing, was maddened with despair. his hands sought his own wound; and tearing it open, he would have soon joined his friend, but that the renegade and francisco threw themselves upon him, and withheld his fury: donna theodora, woman-like, forgetful of her own woes at sight of the transport of the toledan, hastened to soothe him by her tenderness; and--what will not love do?--soon brought him to himself: in short, the lover triumphed over the friend. but, if reason regained its sway, it was only to resist the insensate frenzy of his grief, and not to weaken its sentiment. the renegade, who, among the many things which he was bearing from algiers, happened to have balsam of arabia, and other precious requisites, undertook to embalm the body of mendoza, at the request of donna theodora and her now unrivalled lover; who were anxious to render to their friend's remains all proper honours of sepulture at valencia. love, with them, did nothing but sigh and moan, during the voyage; not so, however, with their companions: they were rejoiced by favourable winds, which soon brought them in sight of the coast of spain, to the inexpressible delight of those, which included the whole crew, who had never expected to behold it again. when the vessel had happily arrived at the port of denia, every one took his own course. for the widow of cifuentes and the toledan, they sent a courier to valencia, with letters for the governor and the friends of donna theodora. alas! while the intelligence of the return of this lady brought joy to her relations, that of the death of his nephew caused the deepest affliction to don francisco de mendoza. the poor old man, accompanied by the relatives of the released lady, lost no time in repairing to denia; and there, insisting on beholding the body of the unhappy don fabricio, he bathed it with his tears, uttering such deep complaints as melted the hearts of the beholders. then, turning to the toledan, he requested to be informed of the unfortunate events which had brought his nephew to so sad an end. [illustration: don francisco de mendoza mourning his nephew] "i will tell you," replied zarata: "far from seeking to efface them from my memory, i feel a mournful pleasure in recalling them to my mind, and in indulging my grief." he then related to don francisco all that had occurred; and this recital, while it brought fresh tears to his own eyes, added to those which flowed from those of his aged listener. meanwhile the friends of theodora were occupied in testifying the delight which was elidted by her unexpected return, and in felicitating her on the miraculous manner in which she had been delivered from the tyranny of mezzomorto. after all things had been satisfactorily explained, they placed the body of don fabricio in a hearse, and bore it to valencia. it was not, however, buried there, because, as the period of the vice-royalty of don francisco was nearly expired, that nobleman was preparing to return to madrid, where he had resolved that his nephew should be interred. while the preparations for the funeral were making, the widow of cifuentes was employed in loading francisco and the renegade with the fruits of her gratitude. the navarrese retired to his own province, and the surgeon returned with his mother to barcelona, where he sought once more the bosom of the church, in which he lives to this day snugly enough. and now, when all was completed, don francisco received an express from the court, conveying the pardon of don juan, which the king, notwithstanding his consideration for the house of naxera, had been unable to refuse to all the mendozas who had united to ask the grace. this pardon was the more welcome to the toledan, inasmuch as it gave him liberty to accompany the body of his friend to its last home, which he would not otherwise have dared to do. at last the sorrowful procession, attended by a numerous concourse of noble mourners, set out for madrid; where it was no sooner arrived, than all that remained of don fabricio was deposited in yonder church, where zarata and the donna theodora, with the permission of the mendozas, erected a splendid monument to his memory. nor did they bury their grief with their friend: they bore at least its outward sign for the unusual space of an entire year, that the world might know how deeply they deplored his loss. [illustration: zarata falls from his horse] after having exhibited such signal proofs of their affection for mendoza, they married; but by an inconceivable effort of the force of friendship, don juan for a length of time still preserved a melancholy that not even love could banish. don fabricio, his dear don fabricio, was ever present in his thoughts by day; and, by night, he saw him in his dreams, and mostly as he had beheld him when the last sigh escaped him. his mind, however, began to be relieved from these saddening visions,--the charms of his beloved theodora, which had ever possessed his soul, commenced their triumph over his baneful remembrances; in short, don juan once more touched upon happiness. but, a few days since, while hunting, he was thrown from his horse, fell upon his head, and fractured his skull. physicians could not save him; he is just dead: and it is theodora whom you see, in the arms of the two women, and who will probably soon follow him to the grave. chapter xvi. the dreamers. leandro perez, as soon as asmodeus had finished this narrative, said to him: "a very pretty picture of friendship have you presented! but, rare though it be to see two men so bound by love as the toledan and don fabricio, i imagine it were quite impossible to find two rivals of the softer sex, who could so generously sacrifice to each other, for friendship's sake, the man they love." "doubtless!" replied the devil: "that is a sight the world ne'er saw, and one that, as it grows older, it probably never will see. women have no affection for each other. i will suppose two who think themselves friends; i will even go the length to suppose that they never speak ill of one another when apart,--so extraordinary are the ties which bind them. well! see them together; and incline the least towards the one, and rage shall fill the bosom of the other; not that she cares an atom for yourself, but because she would be preferred by all. such is the character of woman: jealousy occupies too large a portion of her heart to leave room for friendship." "the history of these peerless friends," replied don cleophas, "possesses a slight touch of the romantic, and has led us somewhat from our object. the night is far advanced, and we shall soon behold the brilliant heralds of the coming day: i expect of you, therefore, a new pleasure. i perceive a great number of persons still sleeping, and wish you to satisfy my curiosity by informing me of their dreams." "willingly!" replied the demon. "you are, i see, an admirer of _les tableaux changeants;_ i will gratify your taste." "thanks!" said zambullo: "i expect that i am about to hear of rare absurdities in these same dreams." "and why?" asked the cripple: "you, so well versed in ovid, do you not know that it is towards break of day that dreams visit the mind with presages of truth, because at that time the soul is disengaged from the vapours of digestion?" "oh! as to that," replied the student, "despite of master ovid, i have no faith in dreams." "you are wrong, then," exclaimed asmodeus: "you should neither treat them as fantastic visions, nor yet believe them all; they are liars, who sometimes speak the truth. the emperor augustus, whose head had well adorned a student's shoulders, despised not dreams which turned upon his fate; and nearly took it in his head, at the battle of philippi, to strike his tent, on hearing of a dream which regarded himself. i could cite a thousand examples to you, which would convince you of your folly in this respect; but i forbear to do so, that i may at once satisfy the new desire which prompts you. "we will begin by this handsome mansion on our right. its proprietor, whom you see ensconced in that superb apartment, is a liberal and gallant noble. he is dreaming that he is at the opera, listening to a new prima donna; and that the voice of the syren is just enslaving his heart. "in the next apartment lies the countess, his wife, who loves play to madness. she dreams that she has no money, and that she is pawning her diamonds with a jeweller, who is lending her thereon three hundred pistoles, deducting only a very moderate discount. "in the next house, on the same side, lives a marquis of the same stamp as the count, and who, for the moment, is in love with a celebrated, but capricious, beauty. he dreams that he is borrowing largely of an usurer for the purpose of securing her to himself; while his steward, who is sleeping at the top of the house, is dreaming that he is growing rich as fast as his master is hastening to ruin. well! what think you of these dreams? is there anything in them so extravagant?" "no! on my life," replied don cleophas, "i begin to think ovid is right: but who is that man whom i see, lying with his mustachios in paper, and preserving in his sleep an air of gravity which would indicate that he is no ordinary cavalier." "he is a country gentleman," replied the demon,--"a viscount of aragon, imbued with all the pride of that province. his soul at this moment swims in delight; he dreams that he is with a grandee who is yielding to him precedence in a public ceremony. "but," continued asmodeus, "i observe in the same house two brothers, apothecaries, whose dreams are particularly unpleasant. one of them is reading, in his sleep, an ordinance which decrees that doctors shall not be paid, except when they have cured their patients; and his brother is occupied with a similar law, which ordains that medical attendants shall head the procession at the funeral of all who die in their hands." "i could wish," interrupted zambullo, "that these decrees were as true as they would be just; and that your doctor were thus compelled to be present at the burial of his innocent patient, as a _lieutenant criminel_, in france, is bound to witness the execution of the guilty wretch whom he has condemned." "i like your comparison," exclaimed the devil: "it might be said in such a case, however, that the one merely superintends the execution of his own sentence; but that the other, having already performed his especial function, pursues his victim after death." "hollo!" cried the student, "who is that personage rubbing his eyes, and rising in such tremendous haste?" "he," replied asmodeus, "is a noble signor who is soliciting an appointment, as governor, in the indies. a frightful dream has startled him from sleep: he fancied himself at court, and that the premier had passed him with averted eyes. and there, too, is a youthful damsel, waking to the world, not over contented with her dream. she is a lady of rank, and not more handsome than discreet. she has two lovers; for one of whom she nourishes a passion the most tender, and for the other an aversion, almost amounting to horror. well! in her sleep just now, she saw, upon his knees before her, the gallant she detests; and he was so impassioned, so assiduous, that had she not awakened, she would have treated him with even greater kindness than she ever bestowed on the lover whom she favours: nature, during sleep, signor student, throws off the yoke of reason, and of virtue. "cast your eyes upon that house at the corner of this street: it belongs to an attorney. behold him and his wife sleeping in twin bedsteads, in that room hung with ancient tapestry, embroidered with grotesque figures. the man of law dreams that he is about to visit one of your hospitals for the charitable purpose of relieving a sick client with his own money; while the lady imagines that her husband is driving out of his house a sturdy clerk, of whom he has become suddenly jealous." [illustration: the lady of rank's dream] "i hear ungentle snorings break on the stillness round us," said leandro perez; "and i fancy they proceed from yonder plump old man, whom i discern in the house adjoining that of the attorney." "precisely so," answered asmodeus. "it is a canon chanting in his sleep his _benedicite_. "his neighbour, there, is a silk-mercer, who vends his costly wares, at his own price, to titled customers, for their time. his lordly ledger is inscribed with debts amounting to above a hundred thousand ducats; and he is dreaming that his debtors are bringing him their gold; while his creditors are horrified with visions of his own bankruptcy." "these dreams," said the student, "certainly have not emerged from sleep's dark temple by the same gate." "i fancy not, indeed," replied the demon: "the first has passed by the ivory portal of the leaden god, and the other from that of horn. "the house adjoining that of the mercer is occupied by a celebrated bookseller. he has recently published a work which has been extremely successful. on bringing it out, he promised to give the author fifty pistoles, in addition to the price agreed for, should the book run to a second edition; and he is at this moment dreaming that he is reprinting it without informing the unfortunate scribe of the fact." "ah!" exclaimed zambullo, "there is no need to ask from which door that dream proceeded; and i have not the slightest doubt of its proving one of the least deceitful visions he ever had in his life. i am perfectly acquainted with those worthy gentlemen, the booksellers. heaven help the poor authors who fall into their hands! to cheat them, is the mystery of their craft." "nothing can be more true," replied the cripple; "but, it appears, you have yet to become acquainted with those as worthy gentry--the authors. they are six of one and half-a-dozen of the other: it is impossible to decide on their relative merits. by the bye, i will relate to you an adventure which occurred not a century ago, in this very town, and which will enlighten you on the subject. "three booksellers were supping together at a tavern; and the conversation naturally turned on the scarcity of good modern authors. thereupon, one of them said to his brethren: 'my friends, i must tell you, however, in confidence, that i have been in luck's way within these few days. i have purchased a manuscript, for which i paid rather dearly, it is true, but it is by an author--oh! it is uncoined gold.' one of those whom he addressed now interrupted him; and boasted of having been equally fortunate on the preceding day in a similar purchase. 'and i, gentlemen,' at last exclaimed the third, in his turn,--'i will not be behindhand in confidence with you; i will show you the gem of manuscripts, of which i only this morning became the happy owner.' as he finished, each drew from his capacious pocket the precious acquisition he had made; when these miracles of authorship turned out to be as many copies of a new theatrical piece, entitled the wandering jew, which the astonished bibliopoles found had been sold to each of them separately. "near the bookseller, in the next house," continued the devil, "you may perceive a timid and respectful lover just awaking. he loves one of the most sprightly of widows; and was dreaming, but this moment, that, beside her in the covert of a dusky wood, whose shade lent courage to his modest spirit, he was so tender,--so gallant in his speech, that his fair mistress could not help exclaiming: 'ah! you are becoming absolutely dangerous! if i were not steeled against the flattery of men, i should be lost. but you are all deceivers! i never trust to words;--actions alone can win me,'--'and what actions, madam, do you ask of me?' interrupted the gentle swain: 'must i, to prove the excess of my passion, undertake the twelve labours of hercules?' 'lord! no, nicaise,' replied the lady, 'much less would content me.' thereupon--he awoke." [illustration: the timid lover's dream] "prythee, tell me," said the student, "why yonder man, in that dark-coloured bed, tosses about so furiously." "he," replied the cripple, "is a talented licentiate; and his present agitation arises from a dream, in which he is disputing in favour of the immortality of the soul, with a little doctor of medicine, who is as good a catholic as he is a physician. in the same house, over the licentiate, lodges a gentleman of estramadura, named don balthazar fanfarronico, who has come post-haste to court, to demand a reward for having valiantly slain a portuguese, by a musket-shot, in ambush. and of what do you imagine he is dreaming? nothing less than that he is appointed to the government of antequera, at which he is very naturally dissatisfied: he thinks he deserves a viceroyalty at least. [illustration: man on horseback shot by another, in ambush] "in a furnished house close by, i discover two distinguished personages, whose dreams are far from pleasant. one of them is governor of a fortress, where he is now sustaining a fancied siege, and which, after a faint resistance, he is on the point of surrendering, with himself and garrison, at discretion. the other is the bishop of murcia, whom his majesty has charged with the task of eulogising a deceased princess, whose funeral takes place in a day or two. he has, in imagination, just ascended the pulpit; and there has his imagination left him, for he has stopped short in the exordium of his discourse." "it is not impossible," said don cleophas, "that this misfortune may really befall the worthy prelate." "no, truly," replied the devil; "for it is not very long since his grace found himself in a similar predicament on a like occasion. "and now, if you would like to behold a somnambulist, look into the stables of this same house: what see you?" "i perceive," answered leandro perez, "a man walking in his shirt, and holding, what seems to me, a horse-comb in his hand." "well!" replied the demon, "he is a sleeping groom. nightly does he rise in sleep to curry his pampered charge, and then betake himself to bed again. his fellow-servants look on the sleek coats of the horses as the frolic work of some wanton sprite; and the groom himself shares this opinion with them. "in the large house, opposite, lives an aged chevalier of the fleece, who was formerly viceroy of mexico. he has fallen sick; and, as he fears he is about to die, his viceroyalty begins to trouble him: true it is that he exercised his functions so as to justify his present inquietude; the chronicles of new spain, unless they be belied, make no too honourable mention of his name. he has just started from a dream, whose horrid visions float before him still, and which will probably bring about their own fulfilment in his death." "ah!" exclaimed zambullo, "that must be something extraordinary." "you shall hear," replied asmodeus: "there is really something in it rather singular. the sickly lordling dreamt he was in the valley of the dead, where all the victims of his injustice and inhumanity thronged fiercely round, and heaped upon him menaces and insult. they pressed upon, and would have torn him limb from limb; but, as their hot breath seemed to burn his very brain, he thought he took to flight, and saved himself from their fury. he had no sooner escaped, than he found himself in a large hall, hung all around with black cloth, where, sitting at a table upon which were three covers, he saw his father and his grandfather. his two dismal companions solemnly beckoned him to approach; and, with all the gravity which belongs to the dead, said to him: 'we have waited for you long: come, take your place beside us.'" "oh! the wretched dream," interrupted the student; "i could forgive the poor devil, for the fright he is in!" "to make up for it," resumed the cripple, "his niece, who reposes in the apartment over his, passes the night in bliss: sleep brings to her its brightest illusions. she is a maiden of from twenty-five to thirty, ugly as myself, and not much better made. she dreams that her uncle, to whom she is sole heiress, has ceased to live; and that she sees, in swarms around her, amiable signors, who dispute for the honour of her slightest glance." "if i do not deceive myself," said don cleophas, "i hear some one laughing behind us." "it is no deception," replied the devil; "it is a widow laughing in her sleep, a few paces from us. she is a woman who affects the prude, and who loves nothing so well as a little friendly scandal: she dreams that she is chatting with an ancient devotee, whose conversation could hardly fail to delight one of her taste. "i cannot help laughing in my turn, to see, in the room under that of the widow, an honest cit, who lives with difficulty on the little he possesses, but who dreams that he is picking up pieces of gold and silver, and that the more he gathers the more remain to glean: he has already filled a large coffer." "poor fellow!" said leandro; "he will not enjoy his treasure long." "no!" replied the cripple; "and when he awakes he will be like the really rich, when dying: he will see all his wealth disappear." "if you are curious to know the dreams of two actresses who live near each other, i will relate them to you. one is dreaming that she is catching birds with a call; that she strips them as she takes them, and then throws them to be devoured by a large tom-cat in which she delights, and which has all the profit of her skill. the other dreams that she is driving from her house greyhounds and coach-dogs, which for a long time have sunned themselves in her presence, having resolved to confine her affections to a pretty little lap-dog, which has recently gained her favour." "two dreams absurd enough!" cried the student; "i fancy that if at madrid, as formerly in rome, there were interpreters of dreams, they would be sadly puzzled to explain these." "not so much as you think," replied the devil: "a very small acquaintance with the domestic habits of your syrens of the stage, would enable them to render their sense perfectly intelligible." [illustration: the actress feeding birds to the tom-cat] "well! for myself," exclaimed don cleophas, "they are past my comprehension, and that troubles me little: i would rather be informed who is that lady sleeping in a bed with amber velvet hangings, bordered with silver fringe, and near which, upon a small table, i perceive a book and a wax-candle." "she is a lady of illustrious family," replied the demon, "whose establishment is mounted in gallant style, and who loves to see her livery adorned by young and handsome men. she is accustomed to read in bed, and cannot sleep without her favourite author. last night she was indulging in the metamorphoses of ovid: in consequence, she is at this moment dreaming, extravagantly enough, that jupiter has become amorous of her charms, and has entered her service in the form of a favourite page. [illustration: the actress, lap-dog under her arm, driving out the other dogs] "apropos of metamorphoses, there is another subject who will amuse you. you perceive that man, tasting in the calm of sleep the exquisite pleasure of imagined flattery. he is an actor, a veteran of such ancient service, that there is not a grey-beard in madrid who can say he witnessed his first appearance. he has been so long behind the scenes, that he may be said to have become theatrified. he is not without talent, but, like most of his profession, he is so vain that he thinks the part of man beneath him. of what think you is this hero of the slips now dreaming. he imagines that he is on the point of death; and that round his couch are assembled all the deities of olympus, to decide on what they are to do with a mortal of his importance. he listens while mercury insists before the council of the gods that a comedian so famed, after having so often had the honour of mimicking themselves, and jove's own person, on the stage, should not be subject to the common fate of man, but merits a reception as a brother god by those who now surround him. mercury finishes by moving accordingly, and momus seconds the motion; but the male and female members of the celestial parliament murmuring at the proposition of so extraordinary an apotheosis, jupiter, to put an end to the debate, is about to decree, of his sovereign authority, that the aged son of thespis shall be transformed into a theatrical statue, for the amusement of future generations." the devil was about to continue, but zambullo interrupted him, exclaiming: "hold! signor asmodeus, you forget that it is day. i am afraid they will perceive us from the street. if the gentle public should remark your lordship, we shall hear such an uproar as we may be glad to put an end to." [illustration: the actor transformed into a statue] "never fear!" replied the demon; "they will not see us. i have the power ascribed to the fabulous deities of whom i spoke but now; and like to the amorous son of saturn, who, upon mount ida, shrouded himself in a cloud, to hide from the world the blisses he shared with juno, i am about to envelope you and myself in a misty veil which the searching eye of man cannot pierce, but which shall not prevent you from beholding those things which i wish you to observe." as he spoke, they were suddenly surrounded by a vapour, which, although dense as the smoke of a battle-field, offered no obstacle to the sight of the student. "so now to return to our dreamers," continued the cripple,----"but i do not consider," he added, "that the mode in which you have consumed the night must have fatigued you. i advise, therefore, that you let me bear you to your home, and leave you to a few hours' sleep. in the meanwhile, i will just take a turn round the earth, and amuse myself after my fashion; taking care to rejoin you by the time you awake, when we will continue our laugh at the expense of the swarming world." "i have no desire to sleep, and am not in the least fatigued," replied don cleophas; "so, instead of leaving me, do me the pleasure to expound the various objects which occupy the yawning brains of the persons whom i see already risen, and who are preparing as it seems to me, to leave their houses: what can possibly call them out so early?" "what you ask me is well worth your knowledge," answered the demon; "you shall gaze on a picture of the cares, the emotions, the anguish that poor mortal man gives himself during life, to occupy, with the vain hope of happiness, the little space which is granted him between the cradle and the tomb." chapter xvii. in which originals are seen of whom copies are rife. "observe, in the first place, that troop of beggars which you see already in the street. they are libertines, mostly of good birth, who, like the monks, live on the principle of community of property; and who pass their nights in debauch at their haunts, where they are at all times well supplied with bread, meat, and wine. they are about to separate, each to perform his part in the churches of this godly city; and to-night, when reassembled, they will drink to the charitable fools who piously contribute to their orgies. you cannot but admire these scoundrels, who so well know the semblances which art adopts to inspire pity: why, coquettes are less adept to elicit love. "look at those three rogues who are walking off together. he who, leaning upon crutches, trembles as he moves, and seems to halt with pain,--who, as he hobbles on, you would momentarily think must fall upon his face,--despite his long white beard and wrinkled front, he is a youthful scamp, so strong and swift, would head the hunted deer. the one beside him, with that awful scald, is a graceful adolescent, whose head is covered with a bladder skin which hides as beauteous curls as ever adorned a courtly page. the third, who gyrates in a bowl, is a comic rascal, that can bring such lamentable noises from his stomach as to move the bowels of all ancient ladies, who even hasten from the topmost floors to his relief. "while these mummers, under the mask of poverty, prepare to cheat the public into charity, i observe hosts of worthy artisans, who, spaniards though they be, are on the road to earn their bread by the sweat of their careworn brows. on all sides you may behold men rising from their beds, or dressing hastily, that they may begin anew their various parts upon this busy stage. how many projects formed in the visionary night are about to be carried into execution, or to vanish with the sober light of morn! what schemes prompted by love, by interest, or ambition, are about to be attempted!" "what see i in the street?" interrupted don cleophas. "who is that woman loaded with saintly medals, who walks, preceded by a footman, in such anxious haste? she has some pressing business in hand, beyond a doubt." "indeed she has," replied the devil; "she is a venerable matron, hurrying to a neighbouring house where her ministry is suddenly required. she seeks a fair comedian who suffers for the fault of eve, and near whom are a brace of cavaliers in sore perplexity. one of these is her spouse, and the other a noble friend, who is greatly interested as to the result: for the labours of your actresses resemble those of alcmena; there being ever a jupiter and an amphitryon who share in their production. "would not one swear now, to look on that mounted cavalier, carrying a carbine in his hand, that he was a sportsman about to war with the hares and partridges who besiege the neighbourhood of madrid? nevertheless, it is no love of shooting which calls him forth so early: he is after other game; and is bent towards a village, where he will disguise himself as a peasant, that he may enter, without suspicion, the farm where his mistress resides, under the vigilant eye of an experienced mother. "that young graduate, passing along with such enormous strides, is going, according to his daily custom, to inquire after the health of an aged canon, his uncle, whose prebendary he has in his eye. do you see, in that house opposite to us, a man putting on his cloak, evidently preparing to go out? he is an honest and rich citizen, whom a matter of grave interest has kept awake all night. he has an only daughter, of marriageable years, and he is unable to make up his mind whether he shall give her hand to a young attorney who solicits it, or to a proud hidalgo who demands it; and he is therefore going to consult his friends on the subject: in truth, he may well feel embarrassed. he is justly alarmed lest, by resolving on the gentleman, he should have a son-in-law who would despise him; and on the other hand he fears, that if he decide for the attorney, he will introduce into his house a worm which will consume all that it contains. "look at the neighbour of this anxious parent. you may perceive, in that house so magnificently furnished, a man in a dressing-gown of scarlet brocade, embroidered with flowers of gold: there is a wit for you, who affects the lord in spite of his lowly origin. ten years ago, he had not twenty maravedis wherewith to bless himself; and now, he boasts an annual revenue of ten thousand ducats. his equipage is in the best taste; but he keeps it on the savings of his table; whose frugality is such that he generally picks his chicken by himself. sometimes, however, his ostentation compels him to regale his illustrious friends: to-day, for instance, he gives a dinner to some councillors of state; and, in anticipation, he has just sent for a pastry-cook, with whom he will haggle for a maravedi, before he agrees with him on the bill of fare, which it will be his next care to display to advantage." "you are describing a scaly villain, indeed!" cried zambullo. "oh! as to that," replied asmodeus, "all beggars whom fortune suddenly enriches become either misers or spendthrifts: it is the rule." "tell me," said the student, "who is that lovely woman at her toilet, talking with that handsome cavalier?" "ah! truly," exclaimed the cripple, "you have hit on a subject which well deserves your attention. the lady is a german widow, who lives at madrid on her dower, and who visits in the best society; and the young man who is with her is the signor don antonio de monsalva. "this cavalier, although a member of one of the noblest families in spain, has pledged himself to the widow to espouse her; he has even given her a conditional promise of forfeiture to the amount of three thousand pistoles. he is, however, crossed in his love by his relations, who threaten to confine him if he do not immediately break off all connexion with the fair german, whom they look upon as an adventurer. the gallant, mortified to find his friends all thus opposed to his design, went yesterday evening to his mistress, who, perceiving his uneasiness, asked him its cause. this, after some hesitation, he told her, assuring her at the same time that whatever obstacles his family might raise, nothing should shake his constancy. the widow appeared delighted at his firmness, and they parted at midnight highly satisfied with each other. [illustration: the cavalier visits the german widow] "monsalva has returned this morning, as you see, to pay his devoirs to the lady, whom finding at her toilet, he used every effort to beguile the time by new protestations of devotion. during the conversation, his saxon mistress was releasing her auburn curls from the papers which had confined them during the night; and our cavalier, happening to take up one of these, heedlessly unfolded it, and, to his great surprise, observed therein his own hand-writing. 'what! madam,' said he, smiling, 'is this the use you make of these pledges of my affection?' 'yes! monsalva,' replied the lady; 'you behold the value that i put upon the promises of lovers who would marry me in opposition to their friends; they make excellent _papillotes_.' when, indeed, the cavalier discovered that it was his pledge of forfeiture which his mistress had thus destroyed, he was filled with admiration at this unlooked-for proof of disinterestedness, and he is now very properly vowing to her for the thousandth time, eternal fidelity. "cast your eyes," continued the devil, "upon that tall man who is passing beneath us; he has a large common-place book under his arm, an ink-bottle hanging at his girdle, and a guitar slung at his back." "he is an odd-looking fellow indeed," cried the student: "i would lay my life he is an original." "it is beyond a doubt," replied the demon, "that he is a curious compound enough. there are such things as cynical philosophers in spain; and there goes one. he is walking towards the buen-retiro, to reach a meadow in which there is a fountain, whose refreshing waters form a brook that glides like a silver serpent through the flowers. there will he pass the day, contemplating the beauties of nature, tinkling his guitar, and noting the reflections that the scene inspires in his common-place book. he carries in his pockets his ordinary food, that is to say, a piece of bread and some onions. such is the sober life that he has led during ten years past; and were some aristippus to say to him, as was erst spoken to diogenes: 'if thou knewest how to pay thy court to the great, thou wouldst not eat onions;' this modern philosopher would reply: 'i could pay my court to the great as well as thou, if i would abase one man so low, as to make him cringe before another.' "in truth, however, this philosopher formerly mixed greatly with the nobility; he even owes his fortune to their patronage; but, compelled to feel, as all must who move among persons more exalted than themselves, that the friendship of these lordlings was to him but an honourable species of servitude, he broke off all connection with them. at the time i speak of he kept his carriage; this he subsequently put down, on reflecting that, as he rolled along, the mud from his wheels was splashed perhaps upon his betters. distributing his wealth among his indigent friends, he reserved for himself no more than would enable him to live as moderately as he does; and he kept so much, only because it appeared to him no less shameful for a philosopher to beg his bread from the people than from the aristocracy. "pity the cavalier who follows this philosopher, and whom you see accompanied by a dog. he can boast his descent from one of the most ancient and noble houses of castile. he has been rich; but he ruined himself, like the timon of lucian, by feasting his friends every day; and, particularly, by giving splendid fêtes on the births and marriages of all the princes and princesses of spain; in a word, on every occasion for rejoicing that he could make or find. no sooner did the discreet parasites who flocked round him see the ring slip over his purse than they abandoned his house and himself; one friend alone remains faithful to him now;--it is his dog." [illustration: the ruined cavalier and his dog] "tell me! signor asmodeus," cried leandro perez; "to whom belongs the carriage stopping before that house?" "it is the property of a rich contador, who comes here every morning to visit a frail beauty, whom this ancient sinner of moorish race protects, and whom he loves to distraction. he learned last night that his female friend had been unfaithful, and in the fury which this intelligence induced, he wrote her a letter full of reproaches and threats. you would never guess what part the lady took on this occasion: instead of having the impudence to deny the fact, she sent to the treasurer this morning, owning that he was justly angered at her conduct; that he ought henceforth to despise her, since she had been capable of deceiving so gallant a lover; that she acknowledged and detested her fault; and that, to punish herself, she had already sacrificed those locks which he had so often admired; in short, that she had resolved to consecrate, in a nunnery, the remainder of her days to repentance. "the old dotard was unable to withstand the well-feigned remorse of his mistress, and has risen thus early to console her. he found her in tears; and so well has she played her part that he has just assured her of a full pardon for the past: nay, more, to compensate for the sacrifice of her much-prized tresses, he is, at this moment, promising to enable her to cut a figure in the world, by purchasing for her a handsome country-house, which is just about to be sold, near the escurial." "all the shops are opened, i perceive," said the student; "and i observe already a cavalier now entering a tavern." "that cavalier," replied asmodeus, "is a youth of family, who is troubled with the prevailing mania for writing nonsense, that he may pass as an author. he is not absolutely without talent; he has even enough to enable him to detect its want in the dramas which are at present produced on your stage; but not so much as to qualify him to write a tolerable one himself. he has gone into that house to order a grand repast: he gives a dinner to-day to four comedians, whose good graces he would purchase in favour of a wretched comedy of his concoction, which he is on the point of presenting to their company. what will not money do? "apropos of authors," continued the devil, "there now are two just meeting in the street. do you notice the mocking style of their salutes? they despise each other thoroughly: and they are right. one of them writes as easily as the poet crispinus, whom horace compares to the bellows of a forge; and the other wastes a vast deal of time in composing works as cold and insipid as a water ice." "who is the little man descending from his carriage at the door of that church?" asked zambullo. "he is a person worthy your remark," replied the cripple. "it is not yet ten years since he abandoned the office of a notary, in which he was senior clerk, to shut himself up in the carthusian monastery of saragoza. at the end of a six-months noviciate, however, he left the convent, and re-appeared in madrid; where those who had formerly known him were amazed to see him all at once become one of the principal members of the council of the indies. his sudden fortune is still the wonder of the town. some say he has sold himself to the devil; others, that he is the beloved of some rich dowager; and some, again, insist that he must have found a treasure." "well! you know all about it, of course," interrupted don cleophas. "i should wonder if i did not," replied the demon; "but i will unveil this mystery for you. [illustration: the novice unearths the casket] "during his aforesaid noviciate, it happened one day that our intended monk, in digging a deep hole in his appointed garden, lighted on a brazen coffer, which he opened, of course, and within which he found a golden casket containing some thirty diamonds of the purest water. although the pious horticulturist knew little enough of precious stones, he shrewdly suspected that whoever had placed them there was wiser; so resolving on the course which, in one of the comedies of plautus, is adopted by gripus, who abandons fishing when he has found a treasure, he threw off his gown, returned to madrid, and by the assistance of a friendly jeweller, transmuted his diamonds into pieces of gold, and his pieces of gold into an office which has procured for him an exalted station in society." chapter xviii. relating to other matters which the devil exhibited to the student. "i must indulge you with a laugh," continued asmodeus, "at the cost of an amusing character whom you see walking into that coffee-house, over the way. he is a biscayan physician, and is going to sip his cup of chocolate; after which he will return to his home to pass the day at chess. "while he is thus engaged, do not be alarmed for his patients; he has none: and if he had, the moments he employs in play would not be the worst for them. he moves from his chess-board in the evening to repair to the house of a rich and handsome widow, with whom he would be happy to mate, and for whom he affects a knightly passion. when he is with her, a rascally valet, his only domestic, and who is aware of his practice with the widow, brings him a false list, studded with the names of noble lords and ladies who have sent to seek the doctor. the lady dreams not he is playing false, and the biscayan is therefore fast entrapping her into a false move, which will win him the game. [illustration: three girls getting up] "but," continued the devil, "let us stop a moment at that house close by; i would have you remark what is passing there before we look elsewhere. run your eyes over the rooms: what do you observe?" "why, i can discern some maidens, whose beauty dazzles me," replied the student. "some are just leaving their beds, and others have already risen. what charms do they present to my feasting eyes! i can fancy i behold the nymphs of diana, but more lovely than the poets have depicted them." "if those maidens, as you call them, and whom you admire so much," replied the cripple, "have the graces of diana's nymphs, they assuredly want their chastity to complete the picture. they are a parcel of good-natured females, who live upon a common fund. as dangerous as the fair damsels of chivalry who arrested, by their charms, the knights who passed before their castle walls, they seek to draw your less heroic youths within their bowers. and woe betide those whom they ensnare! to warn the passer-by of the peril which awaits him, beacons should be set before their doors, as such friendly monitors are placed on dangerous coasts to mark the places mariners should shun." "i need not ask you," said leandro perez, "whither go those signors whom i see lolling in their carriages: they are doubtless going to the levée of the king." "you have said it," replied the devil; "and if you also would attend it, i will carry you there before them: we shall have amusement enough, i promise you." "you could not have proposed a thing more suited to my taste," replied zambullo; "and i anticipate all the pleasure you have promised me." the demon, although eager to satisfy don cleophas in his desires, carried him leisurely towards the palace, so that, in their way, the student, perceiving some workmen employed upon a lofty doorway, asked if it were the portal of a church they were constructing. "no," replied asmodeus, "it is the entrance to a new market; and it is magnificent as you see. however, though they raised its arch until its point were lost in clouds, it would be still unworthy of two latin lines which are to adorn its front." "what say you?" cried leandro;--"what a notion would you give me of the verses that you speak of! i die with anxiety to hear them." "i will repeat them, then," replied the devil; "and do you prepare to admire them. 'quam bene mercurius nunc merces vendit opimas, momus ubi fatuos vendidit ante sales! "in these two lines is concealed one of the most delicate puns imaginable." "i cannot say i yet perceive its point," said the student; "i do not clearly understand what is referred to by your _fatuos sales_." "you are not then aware," replied the devil, "that on the spot where they are building this market for the sale of provisions, there formerly stood a monkish college in which youth was inducted to the humanities. the rectors of this college were in the habit of getting up plays, in which the students figured on the stage. these plays were, as you may suppose, flat enough as to effect and language; and were enlivened by ballets, so amusingly absurd, that everything danced, even to preterites and supines." "there! that is quite enough," interrupted zambullo; "i am quite alive to the stuff of which college pieces are composed--excuse my pun--but the inscription is admirable." asmodeus and don cleophas had scarcely reached the grand staircase of the palace, when the courtiers commenced the inflating labour of mounting its polished steps. as they passed our unseen watchers, the devil did the honour of announcing them to the student: "there," said he, pointing with his finger as he spoke, "there is the count de villalonso, of the house of puebla d'ellerena; this is the marquis de castro fueste; that is don lopez de los rios, president of the council of finance; and here is the count de villa hombrosa." he did not, however, content himself thus with naming them; each had his legend: and the demon's sardonic spirit found in the character of each some weakness to laugh at, or some vices to lay bare. none passed before him unnoted. "that signor," said he of one, "is affable and obliging; and listens to you with an air of kindness. do you ask his protection, he grants it freely; nay, proffers you his interest. it is pity that a man who loves so much to assist his fellow-creatures should have a memory so bad, that a quarter of an hour after you have spoken to him, he should forget all you have asked and he has promised. "that duke," said he, speaking of another, "is one of the best characters that haunts the court. he is not, like most of his equals, one man at this moment and another the next; there is no caprice, no inequality in his disposition. i may add to this, that he pays not with ingratitude the affection that is shown for him, or the services that are rendered in his behalf. unfortunately, again, he is too slothful to reward these kindnesses as they deserve: he leaves so long to be desired what is so rightfully expected, that when the favour is at last obtained, it is felt to have been dearly purchased." after the demon had thus exhibited to the student the good and evil qualities of a great number of signors, he conducted him into a room in which there were all sorts and conditions of men, but especially so many chevaliers, that don cleophas could not help exclaiming: "what numberless knights! by our lady! there must be enough and to spare of them in spain." "i can answer for that," replied the cripple; "and it is not at all surprising, since to be dubbed companion of st. jago, or of calatrava, your vigilants require no five-and-twenty thousand crowns in pocket or estate, as did formerly the knights of ancient rome: you perceive therefore that knighthood is an article most admirably assorted. "observe," continued the devil, "that common-looking fellow behind us." "hush!" interrupted zambullo; "speak softly, or the man will hear you." "no, no," replied asmodeus; "the same charm which renders us invisible, prevents our being heard. examine him well: he is a catalonian, returned from the philippines, where he ranged the seas as a pirate. could you conceive, to look on him, that you beheld a thunderbolt of war? nevertheless, he has performed, in his vocation, prodigies of valour. he is here this morning, to present a petition to the king, in which he asks, as a recompense for his services, a certain post, which is vacant. i doubt, however, if he will succeed, inasmuch as he has neglected duly to possess the prime minister with a proper notion of his merits." "i perceive on the right of the pirate," said leandro perez, "a tall and bulky man, who is sufficiently impressed with an idea of his own importance: to judge of his station by the pride of his bearing, he is some wealthy grandee, certainly." "nothing can be further from the truth," replied the demon: "he is one of the poorest of hidalgos, who lives on the profits of a gaming-table, under the protection of one of the ministers. "but i see a licentiate, who must not pass without your notice: it is he whom you can perceive near the first window, in conversation with a cavalier clad in velvet of a silver grey. they are discoursing of a matter yesterday decided by the king; but i will tell you its history. "two months ago, this licentiate, who is an academician of toledo, published a work on morals, which shocked the orthodox opinions of all your grey-headed authors of castile: they found it full of vigorous expressions and words newly introduced. it required no more to unite them against so singular a production; and they therefore instantly assembled, and agreed upon a petition to his majesty, praying him to condemn the book as one written in a style dangerous to the purity and simplicity of the spanish tongue. [illustration: the three commissioners reporting to the king] "the petition appearing worthy of attention to his majesty, he named three commissioners to examine the work; and they estimating its style to be really reprehensible, and the more so from its peculiar brilliancy, upon their report the king has decreed that, under pain of his displeasure, those academicians of toledo who write after the manner of the licentiate shall not dare to publish another book; and further that, in order to preserve the language of castile in all its purity, such academicians, after their decease, shall be replaced by persons of the first quality alone." "that is indeed a marvellous decision!" cried zambullo, laughing: "the lovers of our vulgar tongue have henceforth nought to fear." "excuse me," replied the devil; "but your writers who endanger that noble chastity of style which forms the delight of all discerning readers, are not confined to the toledan academy." don cleophas was now curious to learn who was the cavalier in silver-grey habiliments, whom he beheld conversing with the hardy moralist. "he," said the cripple, "is a catalonian, an officer of the spanish guard, and of course a younger son; but he is a youth whose tongue is pointed as the sword he wears. to give you an example of his wit, i will tell you of a repartee that he made yesterday to a lady whom he met in high society. but to enable you to enjoy its pungency, i must inform you that he has a brother, don andrea de prada, who was some years since, an officer, like himself, in the same corps. "it happened one day that a farmer of the king's revenues came to this don andrea, and said to him: 'signor de prada, i bear the same name as you, but our families are different. i am aware that you belong to one of the noblest houses in catalonia, but at the same time that you are not rich. now, i am of a poor family, and have lots of wealth. can we not find a means, therefore, to communicate to each other that which we mutually want? have you your titles of nobility?' 'certainly!' replied don andrea. 'that being the case,' continued the other, 'if you will confide the documents to my hands, i will place them in those of an ingenious genealogist, who will set to work upon them, and will make us relations in spite of our ancestors. on my part, as in duty bound, i will make my kinsman a present of thirty thousand pistoles: is it a bargain?' don andrea, dazzled by the proposition, accepted it at once, gave the parchments to the farmer, and with the money he received purchased an estate in his native province, where he now resides at his ease. "his younger brother, who gained nothing by the transaction, was dining yesterday at a house where the conversation turned by chance on the signor de prada, farmer of the king's revenues. on this, the lady of whom i spoke, turning to the young officer, asked if the wealthy signor were not related to him. 'no,' replied he, 'i have not that honour; but i believe he is a relation of my brother's.'" the student laughed, as well he might, at this family distinction, which appeared to him rather novel. but perceiving at the moment a little man following a courtier, he cried out: "bah! but yon homunculus will lose nothing for the want of reverence to the signor whom he shadows. he has some precious favour to intreat, beyond all doubt." "i shall not occupy your time in vain," replied the devil, "in telling you the object of the obsequiousness you observe. the little man is an honest citizen, who is proprietor of a country house in the suburbs of madrid, near which are some mineral springs of fashionable celebrity. he has lent this house, rent free, for three months to this signor, that the latter may drink the waters: he is at this moment very humbly beseeching his noble tenant to serve him on a pressing opportunity which offers; and the signor is very politely declining to do so. "i must not let yon cavalier of plebeian race escape me. see, where he wades through the expecting throng with all the air of one of note. he has become immensely rich by force of calculation, and in his proud mansion has as many servants as your first grandee; his table would put to shame for delicacy and abundance that of a minister of state. he has a carriage for himself, one for his wife, and another for his children; and in his stables may be seen the best of mules and the most splendid horses in the world. only yesterday, he bought, and paid for on the nail, a superb train of noble animals, that the prince of spain had partially agreed for, but had thought too dear." "what insolence!" exclaimed leandro. "a turk, now, who beheld that lump of arrogance, poised on so dangerous a height, would watch each instant for its sudden fall." "i know nothing of the time to come," replied asmodeus, "but think your turk would not be far from right. "ah! what is that i see?" continued the demon with surprise. "did i wonder at any thing, i should disbelieve my eyes. i absolutely discern within this room a poet--the last whom i should expect to see. how dares he come within these walls?--he who could write in terms offensive to their noblest visitants. he must count indeed on the contempt that he is held in! [illustration: the chief magistrate and his page] "but mark particularly that venerable man who enters now, supported by a page. observe with what respect the crowd divides to make way for him. that is the signor don josé de reynaste e ayala, chief magistrate of the police: he comes hither to inform the king of the events of last night in the capital. methinks, signor student, that we could assist him in his report! however, regard him with admiration, for he deserves it." "in truth," replied zambullo, "he looks like a man of worth." "it would be well for spain," replied the cripple, "if all its corregidors would take him for their model. he has none of that intemperate zeal which urges those who should administer the law to violate its spirit from impetuosity or caprice; and he respects too much the sacred freedom of the person to deprive the meanest of his fellow-subjects of that blessed right on the mere information of an alguazil, a clerk, or even a secretary of police. he knows those gentlemen too well; and that, for the most of them, their venal souls will scruple not to traffic on the fund of his authority. when a man stands before him, accused of crime, he may be sure that justice will be done towards him; the evidence is sifted until truth is discovered; and thus the prisons, instead of echoing the sighs of innocence, perform their proper office of holding the guilty. even these are not abandoned to the licence which ordinarily reigns in gaols. he visits, as a man, those whom, as a magistrate, he has condemned, and is careful that inhumanity, in its dispensers, shall not add rigour to the law." [illustration: the chief magistrate visiting a prisoner] "what an eulogium!" exclaimed leandro; "you paint a man whom angels might agree to worship! you rouse my curiosity to witness his reception by the king." "i am annoyed," replied the devil, "to be obliged to tell you of my inability to gratify a wish that i expected, without at least exposing myself to insult. it is not in my vocation, nor am i permitted, to intrude myself on kings; their cabinet is the domain of leviathan, belphegor, and ashtaroth; i informed you, from my bottle, that these three demons preside over the councils of princes. all others of our craft are denied the entrée at court; and i know not what i could have been thinking of, when i offered to bring you here: it was a dangerous flight to take, i can assure you. if my three loving brethren should perceive me, they would show me no favour, i promise you, and between ourselves, i would rather avoid the conflict." "that being so," replied the student, "let us be off as quickly as you please: i should die with grief to see you curried by those wretched grooms, without being able to help you; for if i lent you a hand, i expect you would shine none the brighter for my assistance." "most decidedly not," replied asmodeus; "they would never feel the blows that you could deal them, and you would have the satisfaction of dying under theirs. "but," he continued, "to console you for your exclusion from the cabinet of your potent sovereign, i will procure you a pleasure quite equal to the one you lose." and as he finished these words, he took the student's hand, and away they went, as fast as the devil could fly, toward the monastery of mercy. chapter xix. the captives. in a moment they were on a house adjoining the monastery, at the gate of which there was a vast concourse of persons, of all ages and of both sexes. "here's a crowd!" exclaimed leandro perez. "what ceremony can call so many good folks together?" "why," replied asmodeus, "it is one which you have never witnessed, though it may be seen from time to time within madrid. three hundred slaves, all subjects of the crown of spain, are expected to arrive each minute: they return from algiers, where they have been recently purchased by some fathers of the redemption. every street through which they are to pass will be lined with spectators to welcome them." "it is true, indeed," replied zambullo, "that i have never had the curiosity to behold a similar exhibition; and, if this be the treat which your worship has reserved to gratify my taste, i must tell you frankly that you need not have so boasted of its piquancy." "oh! i know you well enough," replied the devil, "not to be aware that it is no joyous spectacle for you to look upon the misery of your fellows; but when i tell you that, in bringing you here to view it under its present form, i am about to reveal certain singular circumstances attending the captivity of some, and the equally curious embarrassment in which others will find themselves on returning to their homes, i am persuaded that you will not be unthankful for the amusement i have provided." "certainly not," replied the student; "you put another face upon the matter; and you will afford me much pleasure by your promised revelations." during this discussion, loud shouts were suddenly heard from the populace as they beheld the approaching captives, who marched two by two, in their slaves' dresses, each bearing his chain upon his shoulders. they were preceded by a considerable number of monks of the order of mercy, who had been to meet them, and who rode on mules caparisoned in black serge, as if they headed a funeral: one of these good fathers carried the standard of redemption. the younger captives came first; the more aged followed; and the procession was closed by an aged monk of the same order as the first, who, mounted on a diminutive steed, had all the air of a prophet: this was the chief of the missionary expedition. to him every eye was attracted, as much by his excessive gravity, as by a long white beard which flowed down his bosom, and gave to the features of this moses of the spaniards a venerable aspect, lighted as they were by a heartfelt joy at having been the instrument of restoring so many of his christian brethren to their country. "the captives whom you see," commenced the cripple, "are not all equally rejoiced at their restoration to liberty. if there be some whose hearts beat with pleasure at the thought that they are about to see once more their dearest friends, there are others not a little fearful that, during the time they have been estranged from their families, events may have occurred which will bring tortures to their minds more cruel than the most refined of slavery itself. [illustration: the procession] "for instance, the two who first approach are in the latter category. the one, a native of the little town of velilla in aragon, after having passed ten years in bondage with the turk, without once hearing of his much-loved wife, comes home to find her bound again in wedlock, and the mother of five little ones who can claim no kin with him. the other, son of a wool-merchant of segovia, was carried off by a corsair nearly twenty years ago: he returns with a lively apprehension that matters have gravely changed during that time with his family, and he will find himself a prophet in his loss. his father and mother are dead; and his brothers, who shared their wealth, have dissipated it foolishly enough." "my attention is rivetted," exclaimed the student, "upon a slave whom, by his looks, i judge to be delighted that he is no longer exposed to the seducing influence of the bastinado." "the captive whom you speak of," replied the devil, "has good reason to rejoice at his deliverance: he has learnt, since his return, that an aunt to whom he is sole heir has just been released from her troubles, and that he is consequently about to enjoy the free use of her brilliant fortune. this it is which now occupies his thoughts so agreeably, and gives to his appearance that air of satisfaction which you remark. "how all unlike is he to the unhappy cavalier who walks beside him; the tortures of suspense fill his bosom incessantly: i will tell you on what they impend. when he was taken by a pirate of algiers, as he was passing into italy from spain, he loved a maiden and by her was loved: he dreads lest, while he was in chains, his fair one's constancy may have failed her." "has he been long a slave then?" asked zambullo. "eighteen months," replied asmodeus. "pooh!" exclaimed leandro perez, "i fancy our gallant is a prey to causeless fear; he has hardly put his mistress's fidelity to such a test as to have need for great alarm." "there you are mistaken," replied the cripple; "his princess no sooner heard that he was captive to the moor, than she hastened to provide herself with a more fortunate lover. "would you credit now," continued the demon, "that the man who follows immediately behind the two we have been speaking of, and whom that thick and sandy beard so horribly disfigures, was once a very handsome man? nothing, however, can be more certain; and you see, in that bent and hideous figure, the hero of a story remarkable enough to induce me to relate it to you. [illustration: fabricio] "his name is fabricio, and he was hardly fifteen years of age when his father, a wealthy cultivator of cinquello, a large village of the kingdom of leon, died. he lost his mother shortly afterwards; so that, being an only son, he became thus early the master of a considerable property, the management of which was confided to an uncle, who happened to be honest. fabricio completed his studies at salamanca, where he had been previously placed; he then particularly devoted himself to the noble accomplishments of riding and fencing; in a word, he neglected nothing which might concur to render him worthy the sweet regards of donna hippolita, sister of a vegetating signor, whose cottage was about a couple of gun-shots from cinquello. "this lady was beautiful in the extreme, and about the age of fabricio, who, having seen her from his infancy, had, to speak vulgarly, sucked in with his mother's milk the love which occupied his soul in manhood. hippolita, on her side, could not help perceiving that fabricio was not ill-made; but, knowing him to be the son of a husbandman, she had never deigned to look on him with attention. her pride was only equalled by her loveliness, and by the haughty bearing of her brother, don thomaso de xaral, who was probably unsurpassed, even in spain, for his lordly want of money, and his beggarly pride. "this inflated country gentleman lived in a small house which he dignified by the name of castle, but which to speak properly was a ruin, so little had the winds respected his nobility. however, although his means did not enable him to repair his mansion, and although he had hardly enough to sustain himself, he must needs keep a valet to attend upon his person; nay, he even kept a moorish female to wait upon his sister. "it was a refreshing sight to witness, in the village, on sundays and at every festival, don thomaso habited in crimson velvet, but sadly faded, and a little hat, overshadowed with an ancient plume of yellow feathers, which were carefully enshrined, like relics, on the common days of the year. disporting this frippery, which to him was proof apparent of his noble birth, he would affect the grandee, and seemed to think that he amply repaid the reverence that was offered to him when he condescended to notice it by an approving smile. his fair sister was not less vain than himself of the antiquity of her race; and she joined to this folly that of such self-congratulation on her charms, that she lived in the most perfect confidence that ere long some noble signor would come to beg the honour of her hand. "such were the characters of don thomaso and the beauteous hippolita. fabricio, aware of their foibles, and in order to insinuate himself into the estimation of persons so exalted, lost no opportunity of flattering their pride by the most respectful seeming; and so well did he manage, that the brother and sister at last were graciously pleased to allow him frequent occasions for paying his homage to them. as he was as well informed of their poverty as of their vanity, he was tempted every day to make offer of his purse; and was only withheld from doing so by the uncertainty as to which of their failings was the greater: nevertheless, his ingenious generosity found a way of relieving the one without causing the other to blush. 'signor,' said he one day to don thomaso in private, 'i have a thousand ducats which i would entrust in safe hands: have the kindness to take care of them for me;--permit me to owe this obligation to you.' "i need hardly tell you that xaral consented; but besides being short of money, he had the very soul for a trustee. he therefore made no scruple of taking charge of the sum proposed; and no sooner was it in his possession, than, without ceremony, he employed a good part of it in putting his house in order, and adding thereto sundry little conveniences. a new dress of splendid light blue velvet was bought, and made at salamanca; and a green plume, also purchased there, came to snatch from the olden plume of yellow the glory which had pertained to it from time immemorial, of adorning the noble front of don thomaso. the lovely hippolita had also her compliment, and was entirely new-rigged. and thus did xaral quickly melt the ducats which had been confided to him, not once reflecting that they did not belong to him, or that he would never be able to restore them. indeed, he would not have scrupled thus to use them, had such extraordinary thoughts occurred to him; he would have felt that it was perfectly proper a plebeian should pay for the patronage of so noble a person as himself. "fabricio had foreseen all this; but had at the same time flattered himself, that out of love for his money, if not for himself, don thomaso would live with him on terms of greater intimacy; that hippolita by degrees would become accustomed to his attentions, and finally pardon the audacity which had inspired him to elevate his thoughts to her. in effect, his intercourse with them certainly increased, and they displayed for him a consideration that he had never before appeared to deserve: a rich man is ever appreciated by the great, when he will consent to act for them the part of the wolf to romulus and remus. xaral and his sister, who until now had nothing known of riches but the name, had no sooner tasted the intoxicating draught, than they deemed fabricio, the source whence it flowed, an object not to be neglected; and they therefore exhibited towards him such marks of respect, and almost affection, as made him think his money well bestowed. he was soon convinced that he had really won upon them; and that wisely reflecting it is the lot of the proudest signors to be obliged, in order to sustain their pretensions, to graft their noble scions on the stocks of the fortunate vulgar, they now looked on him without disdain. with this notion, which flattered his own self-love, fabricio resolved to propose for hippolita to her brother. "on the first favourable opportunity which offered to speak with don thomaso on the subject, he informed him that he had dared aspire to the honour of becoming his brother-in-law; and that, as the price of such concession, not only would he abandon all claim to the money deposited in his hands, but that he would add to it a present of a thousand pistoles. the haughty xaral coloured at this proposition, which awakened his slumbering pride; and in the excitation of the moment, could scarcely refrain from displaying the utter contempt in which he held the son of an industrious father. but, however insulted he felt at the temerity of fabricio, he constrained himself; and, as respectfully as his nature would permit, replied that in a matter of such importance he could not at once determine; that he must consult hippolita, and that it would even be necessary to summon a conclave of his noble relatives thereupon. "with this answer he dismissed the gallant, and forthwith convoked a diet composed of certain hidalgos of his neighbourhood, with whom he claimed affinity, and who, like himself, were all infected with demophobia. with these he consulted, not as to whether they were of opinion that he should bestow his sister upon fabricio, but on the most proper steps to be adopted in order sufficiently to punish the insolent young man, who, forgetful of the meanness of his origin, had dared pretend to the hand of a lady of the rank of hippolita. "as soon as he had exposed to the assembly this presumptuous demand,--as he mentioned the name of fabricio, and uttered the words, 'son of a husbandman,'--you should have seen how the eyes of all the nobles lighted up with fury. each of them vomited fire and flame against the audacious groundling; and with one voice they all insisted, that his death beneath the cudgels of their domestics alone could expiate the vile affront he had offered to their family by the proposal of so scandalous an union. however, on mature consideration, the offended members of the diet agreed to spare the culprit's life; but, in order to teach him that first and far most useful knowledge--of himself, they resolved to play him such a trick as he should have reason to remember while he lived. "various were the schemes proposed: the one on which they at last decided was as follows. hippolita was to feign a sensibility for the passion of fabricio; and, under pretence of consoling her unhappy lover for the refusal which don thomaso would have given to his proposal for her hand, she was to make an assignation for some particular evening to receive him at the castle; where, at the moment of his introduction by the moorish female, the friends of the signor would surprise him with the waiting-maid, and compel him to espouse her. "the sister of xaral at first inclined to favour this piece of rascality; she even joined in thinking that her reputation demanded of her to consider as an insult the addresses of a person in a station so inferior to her own. but these haughty feelings soon yielded to others more gentle, prompted by pity; or rather, love suddenly vanquished all pride of heart in the bosom of hippolita. "from that moment, she looked on all things with a different eye. the obscure origin of fabricio now appeared to her more than compensated by a nobility of disposition; and she perceived in him but a cavalier worthy of her tenderest affection. remark again, signor student, and with all due admiration, how prodigious are the changes which this passion can effect: the very girl who yesterday imagined that a monarch's heir scarce merited the honour of possessing her, to-day is all enamoured of a ploughman's son, and is flattered by pretensions which before she had regarded as disgraceful. far therefore from assisting her brother in his purposed revenge, and yielding to the new-born passion which now reigned supreme within her soul, hippolita entered into secret correspondence with fabricio, by means of her moorish attendant, who frequently of an evening introduced the gallant into the cottage. thus baffled in his design, don thomaso soon became suspicious of the truth; and watching his sister, he was convinced by his own eyes that, instead of fulfilling the wishes of her relations, she had betrayed them. [illustration: hippolita's moorish servant admits fabricio] "he instantly informed two of his cousins of the discovery he had made: 'vengeance! don thomaso, vengeance!' they exclaimed, infuriate at such baseness in one of their illustrious race. xaral, who did not require urging to exact satisfaction for an indignity of this nature, replied, with true spanish modesty, 'that they should find he knew well how to use his sword when its employment was called for to avenge his honour;' and he entreated them to come to his house on a particular night. [illustration: don thomaso and his cousins surprise fabricio and hippolita] "they came at the appointed time, and were secretly received and concealed in a small room by don thomaso; who left them, saying that he would return the instant the lover entered his doors, should he think fit to come at all that evening. this did not fail to happen; the unlucky stars of our lovers had decreed that they should choose that very night for their meeting. "don fabricio was already with his dear hippolita, listening to and repeating for the hundredth time those sweet avowals which make up the dialogue of lovers, but which, though spoken from eternity, have still the charm of novelty, when they were disagreeably interrupted by the cavaliers who waited to surprise them. don thomaso and his cousins, with all the courage of three against one, rushed upon fabricio, who had scarcely time to draw in his defence; but perceiving at once that their object was to assassinate him, he fought with a courage which makes one equal to three; he wounded all his assailants, and exerting the skill he had acquired at salamanca, managed to keep them at his sword's point till he had gained the door, when he made off at full speed. "upon this, xaral, maddened with rage at beholding his enemy escape him, after having with impunity dishonoured his house, turned all his fury against the unfortunate hippolita, and plunged his sword into her heart. after which his two relatives returned to their homes, extremely mortified at the bad success of their plot, and with no other consolation than their wounds. there we will leave them," continued asmodeus. "when we have passed in review the other captives, i will finish the history of this one. i will relate to you how, after justice, or rather the law, had possessed itself of his effects on account of this mournful event, the pirates seized his person, with about as good reason, when he happened to be making a voyage." "while you were telling me this story of love and pride," said don cleophas, "i observed a young man whose countenance bespeaks such sorrow at his heart, that i wonder i did not interrupt you to inquire its cause." "you will lose nothing by your discretion," replied the demon; "i can tell you now all you desire to know. the captive whose dejection attracted your notice, is a youth of family from valladolid. two years was he in slavery, but with a patron who possessed a very pretty wife. the lady looked with favour on the slave, and the slave, as in duty bound, repaid the lady's favours with interest. the patron, becoming suspicious as to the nature of his slave's labours, hastened to sell the christian to the brothers of the redemption, lest he should be irreligiously employed in the propagation of mahometanism. the tender castilian, ever since, has done nothing but weep for the loss of his patroness; liberty itself cannot console him." "an old man of good appearance attracts my attention there," said leandro perez; "who, and what, is he?" the devil replied: "he is a barber, of guipuscoa, who is about to return to biscay after a captivity of forty years. when he fell into the hands of a corsair, in going from valencia to the island of sardinia, he had a wife, two sons, and a daughter. of all these, one son alone remains; and he, more lucky than his father, has been to peru, whence he has safely returned with immense wealth to his native province, in which he has recently purchased two handsome estates." "what pleasure!" exclaimed the student, "what delight awaits this happy son, to behold again his long-lost parent, and to be enabled to render his declining years peaceful and agreeable!" "you," replied the cripple, "speak like a child whom tenderness and duty prompt; the son of the biscayan barber is of a sterner mould: the unlooked-for coming of his sire to him will bring more grief than joy. instead of welcoming him to his mansion at guipuscoa, and sparing nothing to mark the bliss he feels at pressing him once more to his bosom, he will probably be filial enough to make him steward of one of his estates. "behind this captive, whose good looks you admire so much, is another as like an old baboon as are two drops of water to each other: he is a little aragonese physician. he has not been a fortnight in algiers; for as soon as the turks knew what was his profession, they resolved, rather than suffer him to remain among them, to place him without ransom in the hands of the fathers of mercy, who would certainly never have purchased him, and who bring him back with compunction to spain. "you who feel so sensibly the woes of others, ah! how would you grieve for that other slave, he who wears upon his head that little cap of brown cloth, did you but know the ills he has endured during twelve years, in the house of an english renegade, his patron." "and who is this unhappy captive?" asked zambullo. "he is a cordelier of navarre," replied the demon. "i must own, however, that for myself, i rejoice that he has suffered so severely; since, by his eternal preaching, he has prevented more than a hundred christian slaves from adopting the turban." "well! to imitate your frankness," replied don cleophas, "i must say that i am really afflicted to think that this good father should have been so long at the mercy of the barbarian." "as to that," replied asmodeus, "you are as unwise to regret it, as i to rejoice. the good monk has turned his dozen years' captivity to so good account, that he will find his advantage in having passed that time in suffering instead of in his cell, where he would have striven with temptations that he would not at all times have vanquished." "the first captive after the monks," said leandro perez, "has a most complacent air for a man who returns from slavery: he excites my curiosity to know his history." "you anticipate me," replied the cripple; "i was just about to tell you all about him. you see in him, a citizen of salamanca, an unfortunate father, a mortal rendered insensible to misfortune by the weight of those he has experienced. i am tempted to relate to you the painful details of his life, and to leave the rest of the captives to their fates; besides, there is scarcely another whose adventures are worth the trouble of telling." the student, who began to tire of this sombre procession, stated that he asked for nothing better; whereupon, the devil began the history contained in the following chapter. [illustration: tailpiece of the aragonese physician and the cordelier of navarre] chapter xx. of the last history related by asmodeus: how, while concluding it, he was suddenly interrupted; and of the disagreeable manner, for the witty demon, in which he and don cleophas were separated. "pablos de bahabon, son of an alcade of a village in old castile, after having divided with his sister and brother the small inheritance which their father, although one of the most avaricious of men, had left them, set out for salamanca with the intention of increasing the number of students in its university. he was well made, not without wit, and was just entering upon his twenty-third year. "with a thousand ducats in his possession, and a disposition fitted to get rid of them, it was not long before he was the talk of the town. the young men, without exception, were eager to cultivate his friendship; the strife, was who were to be included in the joyous parties which don pablos gave every day. i say don pablos, because he had assumed the don, that he might live on equal terms with the students whose nobility would otherwise have demanded a formality in his intercourse with them, anything but pleasant. so well did he love gaiety and the good things of this world, and so badly did he manage the only thing which can always command them,--his purse, that at the end of fifteen months he found it one morning empty. he contrived, however, to get on for some time longer, partly by credit and partly by borrowing; but he soon found that these are resources which speedily fail when a man has no other. "this having come to pass, his friends perceiving that their visits were anything but agreeable,--to themselves, they ceased to call; and his creditors commenced paying him their respects, with an assiduity which was anything but delightful to poor don pablos. for although he assured the latter that he was in daily expectation of receiving bills of exchange from his relations, there were some who were uncivil enough to decline waiting their arrival; and they were so sharp in their legal proceedings that our hero was on the point of finishing his studies in jail, when one day he met an acquaintance while walking on the banks of the tormes, who said to him: 'signor don pablos, beware! i warn you that an alguazil and his archers are on the look-out for you, and they intend to pay you the honour of a guard on your return to the city.' "bahabon, alarmed at this intended public attention to his person, which suited so ill to the state of his private affairs, resolved to shun this demonstration of respect, and instantly took to flight and the road to corita. in his anxiety for privacy, he had not walked far before he turned off to plunge into a neighbouring wood, in which he resolved to conceal himself until night should lend her friendly shades to enable him to travel more secure from observation. it was at that season of the year when the trees are decked in their proudest apparel, and he therefore chose the best dressed in the forest, that it might spare a covering for him: into this he mounted, and arranged himself upon a branch whose wavy ornaments shrouded him from sight. "feeling secure in his elevated seat, he by degrees soon lost all fear of the too attentive alguazil; and as men usually make the best reflections on their conduct when thought is too late to avail them, he recalled all the follies he had committed, and promised to himself, that if ever he again should be in fortune's way, he would make a better use of her favours. most especially he vowed to be no more the dupe of seeming friends, who lead young men into dissipation, and whose attachment finishes with the last bottle. "while thus occupied with the busy thoughts which come like creditors into the distressed mind, night recalled him to his situation. disengaging himself from the sheltering leaves, and shaking hands with the friendly branch, he was preparing to descend, when, by as much light as the moon could throw into the forest, he thought he could discern the figure of a man. as he looked, his former fears returned: and he imagined it must be the alguazil, who, having tracked his footsteps, was seeking him in the wood. his fears redoubled when he saw the man, after walking round it two or three times, sit himself down at the foot of the very tree in which he was." asmodeus interrupted the course of his narrative in this place: "signor don cleophas," said he, "permit me to enjoy for a while the perplexity i occasion in your mind at this moment. you are desperately anxious to know now, who can this mortal be that comes so inopportunely, and what can have brought him thither. well, that is what you shall learn: i will not abuse your patience. [illustration: bahabon watches the bag being buried] "after the man had seated himself at the foot of the tree, whose thick foliage almost hid him from the sight of don pablos, he reposed for a few seconds, and then rose and began digging the ground with a poniard. having made a deep hole, and placed therein a leathern bag, he refilled it, covered it over carefully with the moss-grown turf he had removed, and then retired. bahabon, who had strained his eyes to watch these operations, and whose fears were changed to anxious joy during their progress, scarcely waited until the man was out of sight ere he descended from his hiding-place to disinter the sack, in which he doubted not to find a good store of silver or of gold. his knife was sufficient for the purpose; but, had he wanted that, he felt such ardour for the work, that he would have penetrated with his nails into the bowels of the earth. "the instant that he had the bag in his possession, just handling it sufficiently to feel convinced that it contained good sounding coin, he hastened to quit the wood with his prey, less fearing to meet the alguazil in his altered state, than the man to whom the bag of right belonged. intoxicated with delight at having made so good a stroke, our student walked lightly all the night, without caring whither he went, or feeling in the least degree incommoded with his burden. but, as day broke, he stopped under some trees near the village of molorido, less, in truth, to repose, than to satisfy at last the curiosity which burned within him to know what it was indeed the sack enclosed. untying it with that agreeable trembling which you experience at the moment you are about to enjoy an anticipated but unknown pleasure, he found therein honest double-pistoles, and, to his unspeakable delight, counted no less of these than two hundred and fifty. "after having contemplated them for some time with a voluptuous eagerness, he began seriously to reflect on what he ought to do; and having made up his mind, he stowed away the doubloons in his pockets, threw the bag into a ditch, and repaired to molorido. he entered the first decent inn; and then, while they were preparing his breakfast, he hired a mule, upon which he returned the same day to salamanca. "he clearly perceived, by the surprise which his acquaintances displayed at seeing him again, that they were in the secret of his sudden evasion; but he had his story by heart. he stated that, being short of money, and not receiving it from home, although he had written twenty times to relate his pressing need, he had determined to go for it himself, and that, the evening previous, as he entered molorido, he had met his steward with the needful, so that he was now in a situation to undeceive all those who had decreed him a man of straw. he added, that he intended to convince his creditors that they were wrong in distressing an honest man who would have long since satisfied their claims, had his steward been more punctual in the remittance of his rents. "in reality, on the following day he called a meeting of his creditors, and paid them all to the last maravedi. no sooner did the very friends who had abandoned him in poverty hear of these extraordinary proceedings, than they quickly flocked around him, to flatter him by their homage, hoping to enjoy themselves again at his expense; but he was not to be caught a second time. faithful to the vow he had made in the forest, he treated them with disdain, and changing entirely his course of life, he devoted himself to the study of the law with zeal and assiduity. "however, you will say, he was all this while conscientiously expending double-pistoles not very honestly acquired. to this i have no reply to make than that he did what nine-tenths of the world are daily doing in similar circumstances. he of course intended to make proper restitution at some future time; that is, if he should chance to discover to whom the doubloons belonged. in the meantime, tranquillizing himself with the goodness of his intentions, he disposed of the money without scruple, patiently awaiting this discovery, which nevertheless he made before twelve months were over. "about this time, it was reported in salamanca that a citizen of that town, one ambrosio piquillo, having gone to the neighbouring wood to seek for a bag, filled with gold and silver coin, which he had there deposited nearly a year before, had turned up only the earth in which he had buried it, and that this misfortune had reduced the poor man to beggary. "i must say, in justice to bahabon, that the secret reproaches of his conscience were not made in vain. he ascertained the dwelling of ambrosio, whom he found in a wretched chamber whose entire furniture consisted of a truckle-bed and a single chair. 'my friend,' said he with admirable hypocrisy as he entered, 'i have heard the public report of the cruel accident which has befallen you, and, charity obliging us to aid one another according to our means, i have come to bring you a trifling assistance; but i should like to hear from yourself the story of your misfortune.' "'signor cavalier,' replied piquillo, 'i will relate it to you in a few words. i had the misfortune to have a son who robbed me. discovering his dishonesty, and fearing that he would help himself to a leathern sack in which there were two hundred and fifty doubloons, i thought i could not do better than bury them in the wood to which i had the imprudence to take them. since that unlucky day, my son has stripped me of all else that i possessed, and he at last disappeared with a woman whom he had carried off by force. finding myself thus reduced by the libertinage of my worthless child, or rather by my misplaced indulgence for his faults, i determined on recourse to the leathern bag; but alas! my only remaining means of subsistence had been cruelly carried away.' "as the poor man recounted his loss, his grief was renewed, and his tears fell fast as he spoke, don pablos, affected at beholding them, said to him: 'my dear ambrosio, we must console ourselves for all the crosses we encounter during life. your tears are useless; they cannot bring back your double-pistoles, which, if some scoundrel has laid hands on them, are indeed lost to you. but who knows? they may have fallen into the possession of some worthy man, who, when he learns that they belong to you, will hasten to restore them. you may yet see them again: live at least in that hope; and, in the meanwhile,' added he, giving him ten of his own doubloons, 'take these, and come to me in a week from this time.' he then gave his name and address, and went out overwhelmed with confusion at the benedictions heaped upon him by ambrosio, who could not find words to express his gratitude. such, for the most part, are your generous actions: you would find little cause for admiration, could you but penetrate their motives. "at the week's end, piquillo, mindful of what don pablos had said to him, went to his house. bahabon received him kindly, and said to him: 'my friend, from the excellent character i everywhere hear of you, i have resolved to contribute all in my power to set you on your feet again: my interest and my purse shall not be wanting to effect this. as a beginning in the business,' he continued, 'what think you i have already done? i am intimate with several persons as much distinguished by their charity as their station: these i have sought; and i have so effectually inspired them with compassion for your situation, that i have collected from them two hundred crowns, which i am about to give you.' as he finished, he went into his cabinet, whence he returned in a moment with a linen bag, in which he had placed this sum in silver, and not in doubloons, for fear that the citizen, on receiving so many double-pistoles, should begin to suspect the truth; whereas, by this piece of management, he effectually secured his object, which was to make restitution in such a manner as might conciliate his reputation with his conscience. "ambrosio, far from thinking that these crowns were a portion of his money restored, took them, in good faith, as the product of a collection made on his behalf; and, after repeatedly thanking don pablos for his kindness, he returned to his habitation, grateful to heaven for having created a cavalier who took so much interest in his misfortunes. "on the following day he met one of his friends, who was in no better plight than himself, and who said to him: 'i leave salamanca to-morrow, to set out for cadiz, where i intend to embark in a vessel bound for new spain. i have no great reason to be contented with my position here, and my heart tells me i shall be more fortunate in mexico. if you will take my advice, you will go with me; that is, if you have but a hundred crowns.' 'i should not have much trouble to find two hundred,' replied piquillo; 'and i would undertake this voyage willingly, were i sure to gain a living in the indies.' thereupon, his friend boasted of the fertility of new spain, and represented to him so many ways of there enriching himself, that ambrosio, yielding to his powers of persuasion, now thought of nothing but the necessary preparations for setting out with his friend to cadiz. but before he left salamanca, he took care to address a letter to bahabon, informing him that, finding a promising opportunity of going to the indies, he was anxious to profit by it, in order to see whether fortune could be induced to smile more kindly on him in another country than in his own; that he took the liberty of stating this to him, assuring him that he should gratefully preserve during life the remembrance of his goodness. "the departure of ambrosio somewhat annoyed don pablos, as it disconcerted the plan he had formed for discharging the debt he owed him. but, when he reflected that the poor citizen might in a few years return to salamanca, he became gradually reconciled to what had happened, and applied himself more diligently than ever to master the complications of civil and ecclesiastical legalities. so great was the progress he made, as much by the powers of his mind and its aptitude for his profession, as by the application i have spoken of, that he became a shining light in the university, of which he was ultimately chosen rector. in this position he was not contented to sustain its dignity by the extent and solidity of his scientific acquirements; he searched so deeply into his own heart, that he acquired all those habits of virtue which constitute a man of worth. "during his rectorship, he learned that in one of the prisons of salamanca there was a young man accused of rape. on hearing this, he remembered that piquillo's son had carried off a woman by force. he therefore made inquiries as to this prisoner, and, finding that it was indeed the son of ambrosio, he generously undertook his defence. what deserves most to be admired in the science of the law, signor student, is, that it furnishes arms for offence and defence equally; and as our rector was an adroit fencer with these deadly weapons, he used them to good effect on this occasion in favour of the accused. it is true, that he joined to his legal skill the interest of his friends, and the most pressing solicitation, which, probably, as in most cases, did more than all the rest. "the guilty youth, therefore, came out of this affair whiter than snow. on going to thank his liberator, the latter said to him: 'it is out of respect for your father that i have rendered you this service. i love him; and to give you a further proof of my affection for him, if you will live in this town, and here lead the life of an honest man, i will take care of your welfare; if, on the contrary, you desire, like ambrosio, to seek your fortune in the indies, you may reckon on fifty pistoles for your outfit: i present them to you.' the young piquillo replied: 'since i am honoured by the protection of your lordship, i should be wrong to quit a place where i enjoy so great an advantage. i will not leave salamanca, and i promise you solemnly that i will conduct myself to your satisfaction.' on this assurance, the rector placed in his hands twenty pistoles, saying: 'take this, my friend; embrace some honest profession; employ your time well, and rely on it that i will not abandon you.' "two months afterwards, it happened that the young piquillo, who from time to time paid his respects to don pablos, one day appeared before him in tears. 'what ails you?' asked bahabon. 'signor,' replied the son of ambrosio, 'i have just heard news which cuts me to the soul. my father has been taken by a corsair of algiers, and is at this moment in chains: an old salamancan, lately returned from barbary, where he was ten years in captivity, and whom the fathers of mercy have redeemed, told me not an hour since that he had left ambrosio in slavery. alas!' he added, striking his breast and tearing his hair, 'wretch that i am! it was my infamous behaviour which reduced my father to the necessity of burying his money, and afterwards to leave his country! it is i who have delivered him to the barbarian who loads him with fetters. ah! signor don pablos, why did you shield me from the vengeance of the law? since you love my father, you should have avenged him, and have suffered me to expiate, by an ignominious death, the crime of having caused all his misfortunes.' [illustration: piquillo's son before bahabon] "these exclamations, evidently betokening an erring mind's return to virtue, together with the natural expressions of the young piquillo's sincere grief, greatly affected the rector. 'my child,' he said to him, 'i see with pleasure that you repent of your past transgressions. dry up your tears: it is enough for me to know what has become of ambrosio to give you assurance of beholding him again. his deliverance depends but on an easy ransom, which i shall cheerfully provide; and how great soever may have been the sufferings he has endured, i feel persuaded that on his return, to find in you a son restored to virtue, and filled with tenderness for him, he will not complain of the rigour of his destiny.' "don pablos, by this assurance, dismissed the son of ambrosio with a lightened heart; and, a few days afterwards, he set out for madrid. on his arrival in this capital, he placed in the hands of the fathers of mercy a purse containing a hundred pistoles, to which was attached a label bearing these words: 'this sum is given to the fathers of the redemption, for the ransom of a poor citizen of salamanca, named ambrosio piquillo, now captive in algiers.' the good monks, in their recent voyage, acting in pursuance of the directions of the rector, did not fail to purchase ambrosio, and you beheld him in that slave whose tranquil air excited your attention." "in my opinion," said don cleophas, "bahabon has worthily repaid the debt he owed to this luckless citizen." "don pablos, however," replied asmodeus, "thinks differently. he will not be contented until he has restored to him both principal and interest; the delicacy of his conscience even extends so far as to scruple at his retention of the wealth he has gained since he has become rector of the university; and when he sees ambrosio, he intends saying to him: 'ambrosio, my friend, do not regard me as your benefactor; you behold in me the scoundrel who disinterred the money you had buried in the wood. it is not enough that i restore to you the doubloons i robbed you of, since by their means it is that i have raised myself to the station i now enjoy: all that i possess belongs to you; i will retain so much alone as you shall please to----'" asmodeus suddenly stopped in his relation; a trembling seized him as he spoke, and an unearthly paleness overspread his visage. [illustration: the magician discovers asmodeus's absence] "why, what's the matter now?" exclaimed the student; "what wonderful emotion agitates you thus, and chains your willing tongue?" "ah! signor leandro," answered the demon with tremulous voice, "what misery for me! the magician who kept me prisoned in my bottle, has discovered that i am absent without leave; and prepares e'en now such mighty spiritings, to call me back to his laboratory, as i must fain obey." "alas!" exclaimed zambullo, quite affected, "i am mortified beyond expression! what a loss am i about to suffer! must we, then, my dear asmodeus, separate for ever?" "i trust not," replied the devil. "the magician may require some office of my ministry; and if i have the fortune to assist him in his projects, perhaps, out of gratitude, he may restore me to liberty. should that arrive, as i hope it may, rely on my rejoining you at once; on condition, however, that you reveal not to mortal ears what has this night passed between us. should you be weak enough to confide this to any one, i warn you," continued asmodeus emphatically, "that you will never see me more. [illustration: asmodeus embraces zambullo] "i have one consolation in leaving you," he resumed, "which is, that at least i have made your fortune. you will marry the lovely seraphina, into whose bosom it has been my business to instil a doting passion for your lordship. the signor don pedro de escolano, too, has made up his mind to bestow her hand upon you: and do you take care not to let so splendid a gift escape your own. but, mercy on me!" he concluded, "i hear already the potent master who constrains me; all hell resounds with the echoes of the fearful words pronounced by this redoubtable magician: i dare not stay a moment longer. farewell, my dear zambullo! we may meet again." as he ceased, he embraced don cleophas, and, after having dropped the student in his own apartment on his way to the laboratory, disappeared. chapter xxi. of the doings of don cleophas after asmodeus had left him; and of the mode in which the author of this work has thought fit to end it. upon the retreat of asmodeus, the student, feeling fatigued at having passed all the night upon his legs, and by the extraordinary bustle in which he had been occupied, undressed himself and went to bed. agitated as his mind may be supposed to have been, it is no wonder that he lay for some time restless; but at last, paying with compound interest to morpheus the tribute which all mortals owe to his sombre majesty, he fell into a deathlike sleep, in which he passed the whole of that day and the following night. twenty-four hours had he been thus lost to the world, when don luis de lujana, a young cavalier whom he numbered among his friends, entered his chamber, singing out lustily, "hollo! signor don cleophas, get up with you!" at this salutation, zambullo awoke. "are you aware," said don luis to him, "that you have been in bed since yesterday morning?" "impossible!" exclaimed leandro. "not the less true for that," replied his friend; "twice have you slept the clock's dull round. all the inmates of the house assure me of this fact." [illustration: zambullo awakened by his friend] the student, astonished at the trance from which he emerged, feared at first that his adventures with asmodeus were but an illusion. he could not, however, persist in this belief; and when he recalled to himself certain circumstances of his intercourse with the demon, he soon ceased to doubt of its reality. but, to make assurance doubly sure, he rose, dressed himself quickly, and went out with don luis, whom he took, without saying why, in the direction of the gate of the sun. arrived there, and perceiving the mansion of don pedro almost reduced to ashes, don cleophas feigned surprise. "what do i behold?" he cried. "what dreadful ravages has fire made here! to whom did this unlucky house belong, and when was it thus consumed?" don luis de lujana, having replied to these two questions, thus continued: "this fire is less spoken of in the town on account of the great damage it has done, than for a circumstance which attended it, and of which i will tell you. the signor don pedro de escolano has an only daughter, who is lovely as the day: they say that she was in a room all filled with fire and smoke, in which it seemed certain she must perish; but that nevertheless her life was saved by a youthful cavalier, whose name i have not heard;--it forms the subject of conversation throughout madrid. the young man's daring is lauded to the skies; and it is believed that, as a reward for his success, however humble my gentleman may be, he may well hope to gain a life interest in the daughter of the don." leandro perez listened to don luis without appearing to take the slightest interest in what he heard; then getting rid of his friend, under some specious pretext, he gained the prado, where, seating himself beneath a tree, he was soon plunged in a profound reverie. the devil first came flitting through his mind. "ah! my dear asmodeus," he exclaimed, "i cannot too much regret you. you, in a moment, would have borne me round the world; and, with you, should i have journeyed without any of the usual devilries of travelling: gentle spirit, you are a loss indeed! but," he added a moment afterwards, "my loss, perhaps, is not quite irreparable: why should i despair of seeing the demon again? it may fall out, as he himself suggested, that the magician will shortly restore him to freedom and to me." as the devil left his mind the lady entered it; upon which he resolved at once to seek don pedro in his temporary abode, moved principally by curiosity to see the lovely seraphina. as soon as he appeared before don pedro, that signor rushed towards him with open arms, and embracing him, exclaimed: "welcome! generous cavalier, i began to feel angry at your absence. 'what!' said i, 'don cleophas, after the pressing invitation which i gave him to my house, still to shun my sight! he ill indeed repays the impatience of my soul to testify for him the friendship and esteem which fill it.'" zambullo bowed respectfully at this kindly objurgation; and, in order to excuse his seeming coldness, replied to the old man, that he had feared to incommode him in the confusion which the event of the preceding day must have occasioned. "i cannot listen to such an excuse," resumed don pedro; "you can never be unwelcome in a house which but for your noble conduct would have been a house of mourning indeed. but," he added, "follow me, if you please; you have other thanks than mine to receive." and taking the student's hand, he led him to the apartment of seraphina. "my child," said don pedro, as he entered the room, where this lady was reposing from the noon-day heat, "i present to you the gentleman who so courageously saved your life. show to him now, if you can, how deeply sensible you are of the obligation he conferred, since the danger from which he rescued you deprived you of the power to do so on the spot." on this, the signora seraphina, opening a mouth of roses to express the gratitude of her heart to leandro perez, paid him in compliments so warm and graceful, as would charm my readers as much as they did their blushing object, could i repeat each honeyed word; but as they have not been faithfully reported, i think it better to omit them altogether, than chance to spoil them by my own imperfect knowledge in such matters. [illustration: seraphina thanks zambullo] i will only say, that don cleophas thought he beheld and listened to some bright divinity, and that he was at once the victim of his eyes and ears. to say that he loved her, is a thing of course; but, far from regarding the beauteous form before him as a possession to which he might aspire, his heart foreboded, despite all that the demon had assured him, that they would never pay at such a price the service they imagined him to have rendered. as her charms increased in their effect upon his mind, doubts, teasing doubts, came threatening to destroy the infant hope, first-cherished child of love. what completed his mystification on the subject, was, that don pedro during the lengthened conversation which ensued, not once e'en touched upon the tender theme; but contented himself with loading him with civilities, without hinting in the slightest degree that he had any desire for the honour of his relationship. seraphina, too, as polite as her father, while she did not fail in expressions of the deepest gratitude, dropped no one word whose magic charm would serve zambullo to conjure visions of wedding joys; so that our student left the signor escolano and his daughter with love as his companion, but leaving hope behind him. "asmodeus, my friend," he muttered as he walked along, as though the devil still were by his side, "when you assured me that don pedro was disposed to adopt me as his son-in-law, and that seraphina burned with passion lighted in her heart by you for me, it must have pleased you to make merry at my cost, or else you know as little of the present time as of that which is to come." he now regretted that he had ever seen the dangerous beauty; and looking on the love which filled his breast as an unhappy passion which he ought to stifle in its infancy, he resolved to set about it in earnest. he even reproached himself for having desired to gain his point, supposing he had found the father all disposed to give his daughter to him; and represented to himself that it would have been disgraceful to have owed his happiness to a deception like that he had projected. he was yet occupied with these reflections, when don pedro, having sent to seek him on the following day, said to him: "signor leandro perez, it is time i proved to you by deeds, that in obliging me you have not to do with one of those who repay a benefit in courtly phrases. you saved my daughter: and i wish that she, herself, should recompense the peril you encountered for her sake. i have consulted seraphina thereupon, and find her ready to obey my will; nay, i can say with pride, i recognized her for my child indeed when i proposed that she should give her hand to him who saved her life. she showed her joy by transports which at once convinced my soul her generosity responds to mine. it is settled therefore that you shall marry with my daughter." after having spoken thus, the good signor de escolano, who reasonably expected that don cleophas would have gone down on his knees to thank him for so great a boon, was sufficiently surprised to find him speechless, and displaying an evident embarrassment. "speak, zambullo!" he at length exclaimed. "what am i to infer from the confusion which my proposition to you has occasioned? what possible objection can you have? what! a private gentleman--although respectable--to refuse an alliance which a noble would have courted! has then the honour of my house some blemish of which i am ignorant?" [illustration: the marriage of zambullo and seraphina] "signor," replied leandro, "i know too well the space that heaven has set between us." "why then," returned don pedro, "seem you to care so little for a marriage which does you so much honour? confess! don cleophas, you love some maiden, and have pledged your faith; and it is your honour now which bars your road to fortune." "had i," replied the student, "a mistress to whom my vows had bound my future fate, it is not fortune that should bid me break them; but it is no such tie that now compels me to reject your proffered bounty. honour, it is true, compels me to renounce the glorious destiny that you would tempt me with; but, far from seeking to abuse your kindness, i am about to undeceive you to my own undoing. i am not the deliverer of seraphina." "what do i hear!" exclaimed don pedro, in utter astonishment. "it was not you who rescued seraphina from the flames which threatened her with instant death! it was not don cleophas who had the courage to risk his life to save her!" "no, signor," replied zambullo; "mortal man would have vainly essayed to shield her from her fate; learn that it was a devil to whom you owe your daughter's life." these words only increased the astonishment of don pedro, who, not conceiving that he was to understand them literally, entreated the student to explain himself. upon which leandro, regardless of the loss of the demon's friendship, related all that had passed between asmodeus and himself. having finished, the old man resumed, and said to don cleophas: "the confidence you have reposed in me confirms me in my design of giving you my daughter. you were her chief deliverer. had you not thus intreated the devil whom you speak of to snatch her from the death which menaced her, it is clear that he would have suffered her to perish. it is you then who preserved the life of seraphina, which cannot be better devoted than to the happiness of your own. you deserve her; and i again offer you her hand with the half of my estate." leandro perez at these words, which removed all his conscientious scruples, threw himself at the feet of don pedro to thank him for his generosity. in a few weeks, the marriage was celebrated with a magnificence suitable to the espousal of the heir of the signor de escolano, and to the great satisfaction of the relations of our student, who was thus amply repaid for the few hours' freedom he had procured for the devil on two sticks. [illustration: tailpiece of asmodeus in his bottle] transcriber's notes: italic text is denoted by _underscores_. chapter headings were parts of illustrations. [illustration: this book belongs to] [illustration: the emerald city of oz] [illustration] to her royal highness cynthia ii of syracuse; and to each and every one of the children whose loyal appreciation has encouraged me to write the oz books this volume is affectionately dedicated. [illustration: he led them into his queer mansion-- (_see page _)] the emerald city of oz by l. frank baum author of the road to oz, dorothy and the wizard in oz, the land of oz, etc. [illustration] illustrated by john r. neill the reilly & lee co. chicago [illustration] copyright by l. frank baum all rights reserved [illustration] perhaps i should admit on the title page that this book is "by l. frank baum and his correspondents," for i have used many suggestions conveyed to me in letters from children. once on a time i really imagined myself "an author of fairy tales," but now i am merely an editor or private secretary for a host of youngsters whose ideas i am requested to weave into the thread of my stories. these ideas are often clever. they are also logical and interesting. so i have used them whenever i could find an opportunity, and it is but just that i acknowledge my indebtedness to my little friends. my, what imaginations these children have developed! sometimes i am fairly astounded by their daring and genius. there will be no lack of fairy-tale authors in the future, i am sure. my readers have told me what to do with dorothy, and aunt em and uncle henry, and i have obeyed their mandates. they have also given me a variety of subjects to write about in the future: enough, in fact, to keep me busy for some time. i am very proud of this alliance. children love these stories because children have helped to create them. my readers know what they want and realize that i try to please them. the result is very satisfactory to the publishers, to me, and (i am quite sure) to the children. i hope, my dears, it will be a long time before we are obliged to dissolve partnership. _coronado, _ l. frank baum. [illustration] [illustration: hum bug] list of chapters chapter page how the nome king became angry how uncle henry got into trouble how ozma granted dorothy's request how the nome king planned revenge how dorothy became a princess how guph visited the whimsies how aunt em conquered the lion how the grand gallipoot joined the nomes how the wogglebug taught athletics how the cuttenclips lived how the general met the first and foremost how they matched the fuddles how the general talked to the king how the wizard practiced sorcery how dorothy happened to get lost how dorothy visited utensia how they came to bunbury how ozma looked into the magic picture how bunnybury welcomed the strangers how dorothy lunched with a king how the king changed his mind how the wizard found dorothy how they encountered the flutterbudgets how the tin woodman told the sad news how the scarecrow displayed his wisdom how ozma refused to fight for her kingdom how the fierce warriors invaded oz how they drank at the forbidden fountain how glinda worked a magic spell how the story of oz came to an end [illustration] _how_ the nome king became angry chapter one [illustration] the nome king was in an angry mood, and at such times he was very disagreeable. every one kept away from him, even his chief steward kaliko. therefore the king stormed and raved all by himself, walking up and down in his jewel-studded cavern and getting angrier all the time. then he remembered that it was no fun being angry unless he had some one to frighten and make miserable, and he rushed to his big gong and made it clatter as loud as he could. in came the chief steward, trying not to show the nome king how frightened he was. "send the chief counselor here!" shouted the angry monarch. kaliko ran out as fast as his spindle legs could carry his fat round body, and soon the chief counselor entered the cavern. the king scowled and said to him: "i'm in great trouble over the loss of my magic belt. every little while i want to do something magical, and find i can't because the belt is gone. that makes me angry, and when i'm angry i can't have a good time. now, what do you advise?" "some people," said the chief counselor, "enjoy getting angry." "but not all the time," declared the king. "to be angry once in a while is really good fun, because it makes others so miserable. but to be angry morning, noon and night, as i am, grows monotonous and prevents my gaining any other pleasure in life. now, what do you advise?" "why, if you are angry because you want to do magical things and can't, and if you don't want to get angry at all, my advice is not to want to do magical things." hearing this, the king glared at his counselor with a furious expression and tugged at his own long white whiskers until he pulled them so hard that he yelled with pain. "you are a fool!" he exclaimed. "i share that honor with your majesty," said the chief counselor. the king roared with rage and stamped his foot. [illustration] "ho, there, my guards!" he cried. "ho" is a royal way of saying, "come here." so, when the guards had hoed, the king said to them: "take this chief counselor and throw him away." then the guards took the chief counselor, and bound him with chains to prevent his struggling, and threw him away. and the king paced up and down his cavern more angry than before. finally he rushed to his big gong and made it clatter like a fire-alarm. kaliko appeared again, trembling and white with fear. "fetch my pipe!" yelled the king. "your pipe is already here, your majesty," replied kaliko. "then get my tobacco!" roared the king. "the tobacco is in your pipe, your majesty," returned the steward. "then bring a live coal from the furnace!" commanded the king. "the tobacco is lighted, and your majesty is already smoking your pipe," answered the steward. "why, so i am!" said the king, who had forgotten this fact; "but you are very rude to remind me of it." "i am a lowborn, miserable villain," declared the chief steward, humbly. the nome king could think of nothing to say next, so he puffed away at his pipe and paced up and down the room. finally he remembered how angry he was, and cried out: "what do you mean, kaliko, by being so contented when your monarch is unhappy?" "what makes you unhappy?" asked the steward. "i've lost my magic belt. a little girl named dorothy, who was here with ozma of oz, stole my belt and carried it away with her," said the king, grinding his teeth with rage. "she captured it in a fair fight," kaliko ventured to say. "but i want it! i must have it! half my power is gone with that belt!" roared the king. "you will have to go to the land of oz to recover it, and your majesty can't get to the land of oz in any possible way," said the steward, yawning because he had been on duty ninety-six hours, and was sleepy. "why not?" asked the king. "because there is a deadly desert all around that fairy country, which no one is able to cross. you know that fact as well as i do, your majesty. never mind the lost belt. you have plenty of power left, for you rule this underground kingdom like a tyrant, and thousands of nomes obey your commands. i advise you to drink a glass of melted silver, to quiet your nerves, and then go to bed." the king grabbed a big ruby and threw it at kaliko's head. the steward ducked to escape the heavy jewel, which crashed against the door just over his left ear. "get out of my sight! vanish! go away--and send general blug here," screamed the nome king. kaliko hastily withdrew, and the nome king stamped up and down until the general of his armies appeared. this nome was known far and wide as a terrible fighter and a cruel, desperate commander. he had fifty thousand nome soldiers, all well drilled, who feared nothing but their stern master. yet general blug was a trifle uneasy when he arrived and saw how angry the nome king was. "ha! so you're here!" cried the king. "so i am," said the general. "march your army at once to the land of oz, capture and destroy the emerald city, and bring back to me my magic belt!" roared the king. "you're crazy," calmly remarked the general. "what's that? what's that? what's that?" and the nome king danced around on his pointed toes, he was so enraged. "you don't know what you're talking about," continued the general, seating himself upon a large cut diamond. "i advise you to stand in a corner and count sixty before you speak again. by that time you may be more sensible." the king looked around for something to throw at general blug, but as nothing was handy he began to consider that perhaps the man was right and he had been talking foolishly. so he merely threw himself into his glittering throne and tipped his crown over his ear and curled his feet up under him and glared wickedly at blug. "in the first place," said the general, "we cannot march across the deadly desert to the land of oz; and, if we could, the ruler of that country, princess ozma, has certain fairy powers that would render my army helpless. had you not lost your magic belt we might have some chance of defeating ozma; but the belt is gone." "i want it!" screamed the king. "i must have it." "well, then, let us try in a sensible way to get it," replied the general. "the belt was captured by a little girl named dorothy, who lives in kansas, in the united states of america." "but she left it in the emerald city, with ozma," declared the king. "how do you know that?" asked the general. "one of my spies, who is a blackbird, flew over the desert to the land of oz, and saw the magic belt in ozma's palace," replied the king with a groan. "now, that gives me an idea," said general blug, thoughtfully. "there are two ways to get to the land of oz without traveling across the sandy desert." "what are they?" demanded the king, eagerly. "one way is _over_ the desert, through the air; and the other way is _under_ the desert, through the earth." [illustration] hearing this the nome king uttered a yell of joy and leaped from his throne, to resume his wild walk up and down the cavern. "that's it, blug!" he shouted. "that's the idea, general! i'm king of the under world, and my subjects are all miners. i'll make a secret tunnel under the desert to the land of oz--yes! right up to the emerald city--and you will march your armies there and capture the whole country!" "softly, softly, your majesty. don't go too fast," warned the general. "my nomes are good fighters, but they are not strong enough to conquer the emerald city." "are you sure?" asked the king. "absolutely certain, your majesty." "then what am i to do?" "give up the idea and mind your own business," advised the general. "you have plenty to do trying to rule your underground kingdom." "but i want that magic belt--and i'm going to have it!" roared the nome king. "i'd like to see you get it," replied the general, laughing maliciously. the king was by this time so exasperated that he picked up his scepter, which had a heavy ball, made from a sapphire, at the end of it, and threw it with all his force at general blug. the sapphire hit the general upon his forehead and knocked him flat upon the ground, where he lay motionless. then the king rang his gong and told his guards to drag out the general and throw him away; which they did. this nome king was named roquat the red, and no one loved him. he was a bad man and a powerful monarch, and he had resolved to destroy the land of oz and its magnificent emerald city, to enslave princess ozma and little dorothy and all the oz people, and recover his magic belt. this same belt had once enabled roquat the red to carry out many wicked plans; but that was before ozma and her people marched to the underground cavern and captured it. the nome king could not forgive dorothy or princess ozma, and he had determined to be revenged upon them. but they, for their part, did not know they had so dangerous an enemy. indeed, ozma and dorothy had both almost forgotten that such a person as the nome king yet lived under the mountains of the land of ev--which lay just across the deadly desert to the south of the land of oz. an unsuspected enemy is doubly dangerous. [illustration] _how_ uncle henry got into trouble chapter two [illustration] dorothy gale lived on a farm in kansas, with her aunt em and her uncle henry. it was not a big farm, nor a very good one, because sometimes the rain did not come when the crops needed it, and then everything withered and dried up. once a cyclone had carried away uncle henry's house, so that he was obliged to build another; and as he was a poor man he had to mortgage his farm to get the money to pay for the new house. then his health became bad and he was too feeble to work. the doctor ordered him to take a sea voyage and he went to australia and took dorothy with him. that cost a lot of money, too. uncle henry grew poorer every year, and the crops raised on the farm only bought food for the family. therefore the mortgage could not be paid. at last the banker who had loaned him the money said that if he did not pay on a certain day, his farm would be taken away from him. this worried uncle henry a good deal, for without the farm he would have no way to earn a living. he was a good man, and worked in the fields as hard as he could; and aunt em did all the housework, with dorothy's help. yet they did not seem to get along. this little girl, dorothy, was like dozens of little girls you know. she was loving and usually sweet-tempered, and had a round rosy face and earnest eyes. life was a serious thing to dorothy, and a wonderful thing, too, for she had encountered more strange adventures in her short life than many other girls of her age. aunt em once said she thought the fairies must have marked dorothy at her birth, because she had wandered into strange places and had always been protected by some unseen power. as for uncle henry, he thought his little niece merely a dreamer, as her dead mother had been, for he could not quite believe all the curious stories dorothy told them of the land of oz, which she had several times visited. he did not think that she tried to deceive her uncle and aunt, but he imagined that she had dreamed all of those astonishing adventures, and that the dreams had been so real to her that she had come to believe them true. whatever the explanation might be, it was certain that dorothy had been absent from her kansas home for several long periods, always disappearing unexpectedly, yet always coming back safe and sound, with amazing tales of where she had been and the unusual people she had met. her uncle and aunt listened to her stories eagerly and in spite of their doubts began to feel that the little girl had gained a lot of experience and wisdom that were unaccountable in this age, when fairies are supposed no longer to exist. most of dorothy's stories were about the land of oz, with its beautiful emerald city and a lovely girl ruler named ozma, who was the most faithful friend of the little kansas girl. when dorothy told about the riches of this fairy country uncle henry would sigh, for he knew that a single one of the great emeralds that were so common there would pay all his debts and leave his farm free. but dorothy never brought any jewels home with her, so their poverty became greater every year. when the banker told uncle henry that he must pay the money in thirty days or leave the farm, the poor man was in despair, as he knew he could not possibly get the money. so he told his wife, aunt em, of his trouble, and she first cried a little and then said that they must be brave and do the best they could, and go away somewhere and try to earn an honest living. but they were getting old and feeble and she feared that they could not take care of dorothy as well as they had formerly done. probably the little girl would also be obliged to go to work. they did not tell their niece the sad news for several days, not wishing to make her unhappy; but one morning the little girl found aunt em softly crying while uncle henry tried to comfort her. then dorothy asked them to tell her what was the matter. "we must give up the farm, my dear," replied her uncle, sadly, "and wander away into the world to work for our living." the girl listened quite seriously, for she had not known before how desperately poor they were. "we don't mind for ourselves," said her aunt, stroking the little girl's head tenderly; "but we love you as if you were our own child, and we are heart-broken to think that you must also endure poverty, and work for a living before you have grown big and strong." "what could i do to earn money?" asked dorothy. "you might do housework for some one, dear, you are so handy; or perhaps you could be a nurse-maid to little children. i'm sure i don't know exactly what you _can_ do to earn money, but if your uncle and i are able to support you we will do it willingly, and send you to school. we fear, though, that we shall have much trouble in earning a living for ourselves. no one wants to employ old people who are broken down in health, as we are." [illustration] dorothy smiled. "wouldn't it be funny," she said, "for me to do housework in kansas, when i'm a princess in the land of oz?" "a princess!" they both exclaimed, astonished. "yes; ozma made me a princess some time ago, and she has often begged me to come and live always in the emerald city," said the child. her uncle and aunt looked at each other in amazement. then the man said: "do you suppose you could manage to return to your fairyland, my dear?" "oh, yes," replied dorothy; "i could do that easily." "how?" asked aunt em. "ozma sees me every day at four o'clock, in her magic picture. she can see me wherever i am, no matter what i am doing. and at that time, if i make a certain secret sign, she will send for me by means of the magic belt, which i once captured from the nome king. then, in the wink of an eye, i shall be with ozma in her palace." the elder people remained silent for some time after dorothy had spoken. finally aunt em said, with another sigh of regret: "if that is the case, dorothy, perhaps you'd better go and live in the emerald city. it will break our hearts to lose you from our lives, but you will be so much better off with your fairy friends that it seems wisest and best for you to go." "i'm not so sure about that," remarked uncle henry, shaking his gray head doubtfully. "these things all seem real to dorothy, i know; but i'm afraid our little girl won't find her fairyland just what she has dreamed it to be. it would make me very unhappy to think that she was wandering among strangers who might be unkind to her." dorothy laughed merrily at this speech, and then she became very sober again, for she could see how all this trouble was worrying her aunt and uncle, and knew that unless she found a way to help them their future lives would be quite miserable and unhappy. she knew that she _could_ help them. she had thought of a way already. yet she did not tell them at once what it was, because she must ask ozma's consent before she would be able to carry out her plans. so she only said: "if you will promise not to worry a bit about me, i'll go to the land of oz this very afternoon. and i'll make a promise, too; that you shall both see me again before the day comes when you must leave this farm." "the day isn't far away, now," her uncle sadly replied. "i did not tell you of our trouble until i was obliged to, dear dorothy, so the evil time is near at hand. but if you are quite sure your fairy friends will give you a home, it will be best for you to go to them, as your aunt says." that was why dorothy went to her little room in the attic that afternoon, taking with her a small dog named toto. the dog had curly black hair and big brown eyes and loved dorothy very dearly. the child had kissed her uncle and aunt affectionately before she went upstairs, and now she looked around her little room rather wistfully, gazing at the simple trinkets and worn calico and gingham dresses, as if they were old friends. she was tempted at first to make a bundle of them, yet she knew very well that they would be of no use to her in her future life. she sat down upon a broken-backed chair--the only one the room contained--and holding toto in her arms waited patiently until the clock struck four. then she made the secret signal that had been agreed upon between her and ozma. uncle henry and aunt em waited downstairs. they were uneasy and a good deal excited, for this is a practical humdrum world, and it seemed to them quite impossible that their little niece could vanish from her home and travel instantly to fairyland. so they watched the stairs, which seemed to be the only way that dorothy could get out of the farmhouse, and they watched them a long time. they heard the clock strike four, but there was no sound from above. half-past four came, and now they were too impatient to wait any longer. softly they crept up the stairs to the door of the little girl's room. "dorothy! dorothy!" they called. there was no answer. they opened the door and looked in. the room was empty. [illustration] _how_ ozma granted dorothy's request chapter three [illustration] i suppose you have read so much about the magnificent emerald city that there is little need for me to describe it here. it is the capital city of the land of oz, which is justly considered the most attractive and delightful fairyland in all the world. the emerald city is built all of beautiful marbles in which are set a profusion of emeralds, every one exquisitely cut and of very great size. there are other jewels used in the decorations inside the houses and palaces, such as rubies, diamonds, sapphires, amethysts and turquoises. but in the streets and upon the outside of the buildings only emeralds appear, from which circumstance the place is named the emerald city of oz. it has nine thousand, six hundred and fifty-four buildings, in which lived fifty-seven thousand three hundred and eighteen people, up to the time my story opens. all the surrounding country, extending to the borders of the desert which enclosed it upon every side, was full of pretty and comfortable farmhouses, in which resided those inhabitants of oz who preferred country to city life. altogether there were more than half a million people in the land of oz--although some of them, as you will soon learn, were not made of flesh and blood as we are--and every inhabitant of that favored country was happy and prosperous. no disease of any sort was ever known among the ozites, and so no one ever died unless he met with an accident that prevented him from living. this happened very seldom, indeed. there were no poor people in the land of oz, because there was no such thing as money, and all property of every sort belonged to the ruler. the people were her children, and she cared for them. each person was given freely by his neighbors whatever he required for his use, which is as much as any one may reasonably desire. some tilled the lands and raised great crops of grain, which was divided equally among the entire population, so that all had enough. there were many tailors and dressmakers and shoemakers and the like, who made things that any who desired them might wear. likewise there were jewelers who made ornaments for the person, which pleased and beautified the people, and these ornaments also were free to those who asked for them. each man and woman, no matter what he or she produced for the good of the community, was supplied by the neighbors with food and clothing and a house and furniture and ornaments and games. if by chance the supply ever ran short, more was taken from the great storehouses of the ruler, which were afterward filled up again when there was more of any article than the people needed. every one worked half the time and played half the time, and the people enjoyed the work as much as they did the play, because it is good to be occupied and to have something to do. there were no cruel overseers set to watch them, and no one to rebuke them or to find fault with them. so each one was proud to do all he could for his friends and neighbors, and was glad when they would accept the things he produced. you will know, by what i have here told you, that the land of oz was a remarkable country. i do not suppose such an arrangement would be practical with us, but dorothy assures me that it works finely with the oz people. oz being a fairy country, the people were, of course, fairy people; but that does not mean that all of them were very unlike the people of our own world. there were all sorts of queer characters among them, but not a single one who was evil, or who possessed a selfish or violent nature. they were peaceful, kind-hearted, loving and merry, and every inhabitant adored the beautiful girl who ruled them, and delighted to obey her every command. in spite of all i have said in a general way, there were some parts of the land of oz not quite so pleasant as the farming country and the emerald city which was its center. far away in the south country there lived in the mountains a band of strange people called hammer-heads, because they had no arms and used their flat heads to pound any one who came near them. their necks were like rubber, so that they could shoot out their heads to quite a distance, and afterward draw them back again to their shoulders. the hammer-heads were called the "wild people," but never harmed any but those who disturbed them in the mountains where they lived. in some of the dense forests there lived great beasts of every sort; yet these were for the most part harmless and even sociable, and conversed agreeably with those who visited their haunts. the kalidahs--beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers--had once been fierce and bloodthirsty, but even they were now nearly all tamed, although at times one or another of them would get cross and disagreeable. not so tame were the fighting trees, which had a forest of their own. if any one approached them these curious trees would bend down their branches, twine them around the intruders, and hurl them away. but these unpleasant things existed only in a few remote parts of the land of oz. i suppose every country has some drawbacks, so even this almost perfect fairyland could not be quite perfect. once there had been wicked witches in the land, too; but now these had all been destroyed; so, as i said, only peace and happiness reigned in oz. for some time ozma has ruled over this fair country, and never was ruler more popular or beloved. she is said to be the most beautiful girl the world has ever known, and her heart and mind are as lovely as her person. dorothy gale had several times visited the emerald city and experienced adventures in the land of oz, so that she and ozma had now become firm friends. the girl ruler had even made dorothy a princess of oz, and had often implored her to come to ozma's stately palace and live there always; but dorothy had been loyal to her aunt em and uncle henry, who had cared for her since she was a baby, and she had refused to leave them because she knew they would be lonely without her. however, dorothy now realized that things were going to be different with her uncle and aunt from this time forth, so after giving the matter deep thought she decided to ask ozma to grant her a very great favor. a few seconds after she had made the secret signal in her little bedchamber, the kansas girl was seated in a lovely room in ozma's palace in the emerald city of oz. when the first loving kisses and embraces had been exchanged, the fair ruler inquired: "what is the matter, dear? i know something unpleasant has happened to you, for your face was very sober when i saw it in my magic picture. and whenever you signal me to transport you to this safe place, where you are always welcome, i know you are in danger or in trouble." dorothy sighed. "this time, ozma, it isn't i," she replied. "but it's worse, i guess, for uncle henry and aunt em are in a heap of trouble, and there seems no way for them to get out of it--anyhow, not while they live in kansas." "tell me about it, dorothy," said ozma, with ready sympathy. "why, you see uncle henry is poor; for the farm in kansas doesn't 'mount to much, as farms go. so one day uncle henry borrowed some money, and wrote a letter saying that if he didn't pay the money back they could take his farm for pay. course he 'spected to pay by making money from the farm; but he just couldn't. an' so they're going to take the farm, and uncle henry and aunt em won't have any place to live. they're pretty old to do much hard work, ozma; so i'll have to work for them, unless--" ozma had been thoughtful during the story, but now she smiled and pressed her little friend's hand. "unless what, dear?" she asked. dorothy hesitated, because her request meant so much to them all. "well," said she, "i'd like to live here in the land of oz, where you've often 'vited me to live. but i can't, you know, unless uncle henry and aunt em could live here too." "of course not," exclaimed the ruler of oz, laughing gaily. "so, in order to get you, little friend, we must invite your uncle and aunt to live in oz, also." "oh, will you, ozma?" cried dorothy, clasping her chubby little hands eagerly. "will you bring them here with the magic belt, and give them a nice little farm in the munchkin country, or the winkie country--or some other place?" "to be sure," answered ozma, full of joy at the chance to please her little friend. "i have long been thinking of this very thing, dorothy dear, and often i have had it in my mind to propose it to you. i am sure your uncle and aunt must be good and worthy people, or you would not love them so much; and for _your_ friends, princess, there is always room in the land of oz." dorothy was delighted, yet not altogether surprised, for she had clung to the hope that ozma would be kind enough to grant her request. when, indeed, had her powerful and faithful friend refused her anything? "but you must not call me 'princess,'" she said; "for after this i shall live on the little farm with uncle henry and aunt em, and princesses ought not to live on farms." "princess dorothy will not," replied ozma, with her sweet smile. "you are going to live in your own rooms in this palace, and be my constant companion." "but uncle henry--" began dorothy. "oh, he is old, and has worked enough in his lifetime," interrupted the girl ruler; "so we must find a place for your uncle and aunt where they will be comfortable and happy and need not work more than they care to. when shall we transport them here, dorothy?" "i promised to go and see them again before they were turned out of the farmhouse," answered dorothy; "so--perhaps next saturday--" "but why wait so long?" asked ozma. "and why make the journey back to kansas again? let us surprise them, and bring them here without any warning." "i'm not sure that they believe in the land of oz," said dorothy, "though i've told 'em 'bout it lots of times." "they'll believe when they see it," declared ozma; "and if they are told they are to make a magical journey to our fairyland, it may make them nervous. i think the best way will be to use the magic belt without warning them, and when they have arrived you can explain to them whatever they do not understand." "perhaps that's best," decided dorothy. "there isn't much use in their staying at the farm until they are put out, 'cause it's much nicer here." [illustration] "then to-morrow morning they shall come here," said princess ozma. "i will order jellia jamb, who is the palace housekeeper, to have rooms all prepared for them, and after breakfast we will get the magic belt and by its aid transport your uncle and aunt to the emerald city." "thank you, ozma!" cried dorothy, kissing her friend gratefully. "and now," ozma proposed, "let us take a walk in the gardens before we dress for dinner. come, dorothy dear!" [illustration] _how_ the nome king planned revenge chapter four [illustration] the reason most people are bad is because they do not try to be good. now, the nome king had never tried to be good, so he was very bad indeed. having decided to conquer the land of oz and to destroy the emerald city and enslave all its people, king roquat the red kept planning ways to do this dreadful thing, and the more he planned the more he believed he would be able to accomplish it. about the time dorothy went to ozma the nome king called his chief steward to him and said: "kaliko, i think i shall make you the general of my armies." "i think you won't," replied kaliko, positively. "why not?" inquired the king, reaching for his scepter with the big sapphire. "because i'm your chief steward, and know nothing of warfare," said kaliko, preparing to dodge if anything were thrown at him. "i manage all the affairs of your kingdom better than you could yourself, and you'll never find another steward as good as i am. but there are a hundred nomes better fitted to command your army, and your generals get thrown away so often that i have no desire to be one of them." "ah, there is some truth in your remarks, kaliko," remarked the king, deciding not to throw the scepter. "summon my army to assemble in the great cavern." kaliko bowed and retired, and in a few minutes returned to say that the army was assembled. so the king went out upon a balcony that overlooked the great cavern, where fifty thousand nomes, all armed with swords and pikes, stood marshaled in military array. when they were not required as soldiers all these nomes were metal workers and miners, and they had hammered so much at the forges and dug so hard with pick and shovel that they had acquired great muscular strength. they were strangely formed creatures, rather round and not very tall. their toes were curly and their ears broad and flat. in time of war every nome left his forge or mine and became part of the great army of king roquat. the soldiers wore rock-colored uniforms and were excellently drilled. the king looked upon this tremendous army, which stood silently arrayed before him, and a cruel smile curled the corners of his mouth, for he saw that his legions were very powerful. then he addressed them from the balcony, saying: "i have thrown away general blug, because he did not please me. so i want another general to command this army. who is next in command?" "i am," replied colonel crinkle, a dapper-looking nome, as he stepped forward to salute his monarch. the king looked at him carefully and said: "i want you to march this army through an underground tunnel, which i am going to bore, to the emerald city of oz. when you get there i want you to conquer the oz people, destroy them and their city, and bring all their gold and silver and precious stones back to my cavern. also you are to recapture my magic belt and return it to me. will you do this, general crinkle?" "no, your majesty," replied the nome; "for it can't be done." "oh, indeed!" exclaimed the king. then he turned to his servants and said: "please take general crinkle to the torture chamber. there you will kindly slice him into thin slices. afterward you may feed him to the seven-headed dogs." "anything to oblige your majesty," replied the servants, politely, and led the condemned man away. when they had gone the king addressed the army again. "listen!" said he. "the general who is to command my armies must promise to carry out my orders. if he fails he will share the fate of poor crinkle. now, then, who will volunteer to lead my hosts to the emerald city?" for a time no one moved and all were silent. then an old nome with white whiskers so long that they were tied around his waist to prevent their tripping him up, stepped out of the ranks and saluted the king. "i'd like to ask a few questions, your majesty," he said. "go ahead," replied the king. "these oz people are quite good, are they not?" "as good as apple pie," said the king. "and they are happy, i suppose?" continued the old nome. "happy as the day is long," said the king. "and contented and prosperous?" inquired the nome. "very much so," said the king. "well, your majesty," remarked he of the white whiskers, "i think i should like to undertake the job, so i'll be your general. i hate good people; i detest happy people; i'm opposed to any one who is contented and prosperous. that is why i am so fond of your majesty. make me your general and i'll promise to conquer and destroy the oz people. if i fail i'm ready to be sliced thin and fed to the seven-headed dogs." "very good! very good, indeed! that's the way to talk!" cried roquat the red, who was greatly pleased. "what is your name, general?" [illustration] "i'm called guph, your majesty." "well, guph, come with me to my private cave and we'll talk it over." then he turned to the army. "nomes and soldiers," said he, "you are to obey the commands of general guph until he becomes dog-feed. any man who fails to obey his new general will be promptly thrown away. you are now dismissed." guph went to the king's private cave and sat down upon an amethyst chair and put his feet on the arm of the king's ruby throne. then he lighted his pipe and threw the live coal he had taken from his pocket upon the king's left foot and puffed the smoke into the king's eyes and made himself comfortable. for he was a wise old nome, and he knew that the best way to get along with roquat the red was to show that he was not afraid of him. "i'm ready for the talk, your majesty," he said. the king coughed and looked at his new general fiercely. "do you not tremble to take such liberties with your monarch?" he asked. "oh, no," said guph, calmly, and he blew a wreath of smoke that curled around the king's nose and made him sneeze. "you want to conquer the emerald city, and i'm the only nome in all your dominions who can conquer it. so you will be very careful not to hurt me until i have carried out your wishes. after that--" "well, what then?" inquired the king. "then you will be so grateful to me that you won't care to hurt me," replied the general. "that is a very good argument," said roquat. "but suppose you fail?" "then it's the slicing machine. i agree to that," announced guph. "but if you do as i tell you there will be no failure. the trouble with you, roquat, is that you don't think carefully enough. i do. you would go ahead and march through your tunnel into oz, and get defeated and driven back. i won't. and the reason i won't is because when i march i'll have all my plans made, and a host of allies to assist my nomes." [illustration] "what do you mean by that?" asked the king. "i'll explain, king roquat. you're going to attack a fairy country, and a mighty fairy country, too. they haven't much of an army in oz, but the princess who rules them has a fairy wand; and the little girl dorothy has your magic belt; and at the north of the emerald city lives a clever sorceress called glinda the good, who commands the spirits of the air. also i have heard that there is a wonderful wizard in ozma's palace, who is so skillful that people used to pay him money in america to see him perform. so you see it will be no easy thing to overcome all this magic." "we have fifty thousand soldiers!" cried the king, proudly. "yes; but they are nomes," remarked guph, taking a silk handkerchief from the king's pocket and wiping his own pointed shoes with it. "nomes are immortals, but they are not strong on magic. when you lost your famous belt the greater part of your own power was gone from you. against ozma you and your nomes would have no show at all." roquat's eyes flashed angrily. "then away you go to the slicing machine!" he cried. "not yet," said the general, filling his pipe from the king's private tobacco pouch. "what do you propose to do?" asked the monarch. "i propose to obtain the power we need," answered guph. "there are a good many evil creatures who have magic powers sufficient to destroy and conquer the land of oz. we will get them on our side, band them all together, and then take ozma and her people by surprise. it's all very simple and easy when you know how. alone we should be helpless to injure the ruler of oz, but with the aid of the evil powers we can summon we shall easily succeed." king roquat was delighted with this idea, for he realized how clever it was. "surely, guph, you are the greatest general i have ever had!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy. "you must go at once and make arrangements with the evil powers to assist us, and meantime i'll begin to dig the tunnel." "i thought you'd agree with me, roquat," replied the new general. "i'll start this very afternoon to visit the chief of the whimsies." [illustration] _how_ dorothy became a princess chapter five [illustration] when the people of the emerald city heard that dorothy had returned to them every one was eager to see her, for the little girl was a general favorite in the land of oz. from time to time some of the folk from the great outside world had found their way into this fairyland, but all except one had been companions of dorothy and had turned out to be very agreeable people. the exception i speak of was the wonderful wizard of oz, a sleight-of-hand performer from omaha who went up in a balloon and was carried by a current of air to the emerald city. his queer and puzzling tricks made the people of oz believe him a great wizard for a time, and he ruled over them until dorothy arrived on her first visit and showed the wizard to be a mere humbug. he was a gentle, kindly-hearted little man, and dorothy grew to like him afterward. when, after an absence, the wizard returned to the land of oz, ozma received him graciously and gave him a home in a part of the palace. in addition to the wizard two other personages from the outside world had been allowed to make their home in the emerald city. the first was a quaint shaggy man, whom ozma had made the governor of the royal storehouses, and the second a yellow hen named billina, who had a fine house in the gardens back of the palace, where she looked after a large family. both these had been old comrades of dorothy, so you see the little girl was quite an important personage in oz, and the people thought she had brought them good luck, and loved her next best to ozma. during her several visits this little girl had been the means of destroying two wicked witches who oppressed the people, and she had discovered a live scarecrow who was now one of the most popular personages in all the fairy country. with the scarecrow's help she had rescued nick chopper, a tin woodman, who had rusted in a lonely forest, and the tin man was now the emperor of the country of the winkies and much beloved because of his kind heart. no wonder the people thought dorothy had brought them good luck! yet, strange as it may seem, she had accomplished all these wonders not because she was a fairy or had any magical powers whatever, but because she was a simple, sweet and true little girl who was honest to herself and to all whom she met. in this world in which we live simplicity and kindness are the only magic wands that work wonders, and in the land of oz dorothy found these same qualities had won for her the love and admiration of the people. indeed, the little girl had made many warm friends in the fairy country, and the only real grief the ozites had ever experienced was when dorothy left them and returned to her kansas home. now she received a joyful welcome, although no one except ozma knew at first that she had finally come to stay for good and all. that evening dorothy had many callers, and among them were such important people as tiktok, a machine man who thought and spoke and moved by clockwork; her old companion the genial shaggy man; jack pumpkinhead, whose body was brush-wood and whose head was a ripe pumpkin with a face carved upon it; the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, two great beasts from the forest, who served princess ozma, and professor h. m. wogglebug, t. e. this wogglebug was a remarkable creature. he had once been a tiny little bug, crawling around in a school-room, but he was discovered and highly magnified so that he could be seen more plainly, and while in this magnified condition he had escaped. he had always remained big, and he dressed like a dandy and was so full of knowledge and information (which are distinct acquirements), that he had been made a professor and the head of the royal college. dorothy had a nice visit with these old friends, and also talked a long time with the wizard, who was little and old and withered and dried up, but as merry and active as a child. afterward she went to see billina's fast growing family of chicks. toto, dorothy's little black dog, also met with a cordial reception. toto was an especial friend of the shaggy man, and he knew every one else. being the only dog in the land of oz, he was highly respected by the people, who believed animals entitled to every consideration if they behaved themselves properly. dorothy had four lovely rooms in the palace, which were always reserved for her use and were called "dorothy's rooms." these consisted of a beautiful sitting room, a dressing room, a dainty bedchamber and a big marble bathroom. and in these rooms were everything that heart could desire, placed there with loving thoughtfulness by ozma for her little friend's use. the royal dressmakers had the little girl's measure, so they kept the closets in her dressing room filled with lovely dresses of every description and suitable for every occasion. no wonder dorothy had refrained from bringing with her her old calico and gingham dresses! here everything that was dear to a little girl's heart was supplied in profusion, and nothing so rich and beautiful could ever have been found in the biggest department stores in america. of course dorothy enjoyed all these luxuries, and the only reason she had heretofore preferred to live in kansas was because her uncle and aunt loved her and needed her with them. now, however, all was to be changed, and dorothy was really more delighted to know that her dear relatives were to share in her good fortune and enjoy the delights of the land of oz, than she was to possess such luxury for herself. next morning, at ozma's request, dorothy dressed herself in a pretty sky-blue gown of rich silk, trimmed with real pearls. the buckles of her shoes were set with pearls, too, and more of these priceless gems were on a lovely coronet which she wore upon her forehead. "for," said her friend ozma, "from this time forth, my dear, you must assume your rightful rank as a princess of oz, and being my chosen companion you must dress in a way befitting the dignity of your position." dorothy agreed to this, although she knew that neither gowns nor jewels could make her anything else than the simple, unaffected little girl she had always been. as soon as they had breakfasted--the girls eating together in ozma's pretty boudoir--the ruler of oz said: "now, dear friend, we will use the magic belt to transport your uncle and aunt from kansas to the emerald city. but i think it would be fitting, in receiving such distinguished guests, for us to sit in my throne room." "oh, they're not very 'stinguished, ozma," said dorothy. "they're just plain people, like me." "being your friends and relatives, princess dorothy, they are certainly distinguished," replied the ruler, with a smile. "they--they won't hardly know what to make of all your splendid furniture and things," protested dorothy, gravely. "it may scare 'em to see your grand throne room, an' p'raps we'd better go into the back yard, ozma, where the cabbages grow an' the chickens are playing. then it would seem more natural to uncle henry and aunt em." "no; they shall first see me in my throne room," replied ozma, decidedly; and when she spoke in that tone dorothy knew it was not wise to oppose her, for ozma was accustomed to having her own way. so together they went to the throne room, an immense domed chamber in the center of the palace. here stood the royal throne, made of solid gold and encrusted with enough precious stones to stock a dozen jewelry stores in our country. ozma, who was wearing the magic belt, seated herself in the throne, and dorothy sat at her feet. in the room were assembled many ladies and gentlemen of the court, clothed in rich apparel and wearing fine jewelry. two immense animals squatted, one on each side of the throne--the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger. in a balcony high up in the dome an orchestra played sweet music, and beneath the dome two electric fountains sent sprays of colored perfumed water shooting up nearly as high as the arched ceiling. "are you ready, dorothy?" asked the ruler. "i am," replied dorothy; "but i don't know whether aunt em and uncle henry are ready." "that won't matter," declared ozma. "the old life can have very little to interest them, and the sooner they begin the new life here the happier they will be. here they come, my dear!" as she spoke, there before the throne appeared uncle henry and aunt em, who for a moment stood motionless, glaring with white and startled faces at the scene that confronted them. if the ladies and gentlemen present had not been so polite i am sure they would have laughed at the two strangers. aunt em had her calico dress skirt "tucked up," and she wore a faded blue-checked apron. her hair was rather straggly and she had on a pair of uncle henry's old slippers. in one hand she held a dish-towel and in the other a cracked earthenware plate, which she had been engaged in wiping when so suddenly transported to the land of oz. [illustration] uncle henry, when the summons came, had been out in the barn "doin' chores." he wore a ragged and much soiled straw hat, a checked shirt without any collar and blue overalls tucked into the tops of his old cowhide boots. "by gum!" gasped uncle henry, looking around as if bewildered. "well, i swan!" gurgled aunt em, in a hoarse, frightened voice. then her eyes fell upon dorothy, and she said: "d-d-d-don't that look like our little girl--our dorothy, henry?" "hi, there--look out, em!" exclaimed the old man, as aunt em advanced a step; "take care o' the wild beastses, or you're a goner!" but now dorothy sprang forward and embraced and kissed her aunt and uncle affectionately, afterward taking their hands in her own. "don't be afraid," she said to them. "you are now in the land of oz, where you are to live always, and be comfer'ble an' happy. you'll never have to worry over anything again, 'cause there won't be anything to worry about. and you owe it all to the kindness of my friend princess ozma." here she led them before the throne and continued: "your highness, this is uncle henry. and this is aunt em. they want to thank you for bringing them here from kansas." aunt em tried to "slick" her hair, and she hid the dish-towel and dish under her apron while she bowed to the lovely ozma. uncle henry took off his straw hat and held it awkwardly in his hands. but the ruler of oz rose and came from her throne to greet her newly arrived guests, and she smiled as sweetly upon them as if they had been a king and a queen. "you are very welcome here, where i have brought you for princess dorothy's sake," she said, graciously, "and i hope you will be quite happy in your new home." then she turned to her courtiers, who were silently and gravely regarding the scene, and added: "i present to my people our princess dorothy's beloved uncle henry and aunt em, who will hereafter be subjects of our kingdom. it will please me to have you show them every kindness and honor in your power, and to join me in making them happy and contented." hearing this, all those assembled bowed low and respectfully to the old farmer and his wife, who bobbed their own heads in return. "and now," said ozma to them, "dorothy will show you the rooms prepared for you. i hope you will like them, and shall expect you to join me at luncheon." so dorothy led her relatives away, and as soon as they were out of the throne room and alone in the corridor aunt em squeezed dorothy's hand and said: "child, child! how in the world did we ever get here so quick? and is it all real? and are we to stay here, as she says? and what does it all mean, anyhow?" dorothy laughed. "why didn't you tell us what you were goin' to do?" inquired uncle henry, reproachfully. "if i'd known about it i'd 'a put on my sunday clothes." [illustration] "i'll 'splain ever'thing as soon as we get to your rooms," promised dorothy. "you're in great luck, uncle henry and aunt em; an' so am i! and oh! i'm so happy to have got you here, at last!" as he walked by the little girl's side uncle henry stroked his whiskers thoughtfully. "'pears to me, dorothy, we won't make bang-up fairies," he remarked. "an' my back hair looks like a fright!" wailed aunt em. "never mind," returned the little girl, reassuringly. "you won't have anything to do now but to look pretty, aunt em; an' uncle henry won't have to work till his back aches, that's certain." "sure?" they asked, wonderingly, and in the same breath. "course i'm sure," said dorothy. "you're in the fairyland of oz, now; an' what's more, you belong to it!" [illustration] _how_ guph visited the whimsies chapter six [illustration] the new general of the nome king's army knew perfectly well that to fail in his plans meant death for him. yet he was not at all anxious or worried. he hated every one who was good and longed to make all who were happy unhappy. therefore he had accepted this dangerous position as general quite willingly, feeling sure in his evil mind that he would be able to do a lot of mischief and finally conquer the land of oz. yet guph determined to be careful, and to lay his plans well, so as not to fail. he argued that only careless people fail in what they attempt to do. the mountains underneath which the nome king's extensive caverns were located lay grouped just north of the land of ev, which lay directly across the deadly desert to the east of the land of oz. as the mountains were also on the edge of the desert the nome king found that he had only to tunnel underneath the desert to reach ozma's dominions. he did not wish his armies to appear above ground in the country of the winkies, which was the part of the land of oz nearest to king roquat's own country, as then the people would give the alarm and enable ozma to fortify the emerald city and assemble an army. he wanted to take all the oz people by surprise; so he decided to run the tunnel clear through to the emerald city, where he and his hosts could break through the ground without warning and conquer the people before they had time to defend themselves. roquat the red began work at once upon his tunnel, setting a thousand miners at the task and building it high and broad enough for his armies to march through it with ease. the nomes were used to making tunnels, as all the kingdom in which they lived was under ground; so they made rapid progress. while this work was going on general guph started out alone to visit the chief of the whimsies. these whimsies were curious people who lived in a retired country of their own. they had large, strong bodies, but heads so small that they were no bigger than door-knobs. of course, such tiny heads could not contain any great amount of brains, and the whimsies were so ashamed of their personal appearance and lack of commonsense that they wore big heads, made of pasteboard, which they fastened over their own little heads. on these pasteboard heads they sewed sheep's wool for hair, and the wool was colored many tints--pink, green and lavender being the favorite colors. the faces of these false heads were painted in many ridiculous ways, according to the whims of the owners, and these big, burly creatures looked so whimsical and absurd in their queer masks that they were called "whimsies." they foolishly imagined that no one would suspect the little heads that were inside the imitation ones, not knowing that it is folly to try to appear otherwise than as nature has made us. the chief of the whimsies had as little wisdom as the others, and had been chosen chief merely because none among them was any wiser or more capable of ruling. the whimsies were evil spirits and could not be killed. they were hated and feared by every one and were known as terrible fighters because they were so strong and muscular and had not sense enough to know when they were defeated. general guph thought the whimsies would be a great help to the nomes in the conquest of oz, for under his leadership they could be induced to fight as long so they could stand up. so he traveled to their country and asked to see the chief, who lived in a house that had a picture of his grotesque false head painted over the doorway. the chief's false head had blue hair, a turned-up nose, and a mouth that stretched half across the face. big green eyes had been painted upon it, but in the center of the chin were two small holes made in the pasteboard, so that the chief could see through them with his own tiny eyes; for when the big head was fastened upon his shoulders the eyes in his own natural head were on a level with the false chin. said general guph to the chief of the whimsies: "we nomes are going to conquer the land of oz and capture our king's magic belt, which the oz people stole from him. then we are going to plunder and destroy the whole country. and we want the whimsies to help us." "will there be any fighting?" asked the chief. "plenty," replied guph. that must have pleased the chief, for he got up and danced around the room three times. then he seated himself again, adjusted his false head, and said: "we have no quarrel with ozma of oz." "but you whimsies love to fight, and here is a splendid chance to do so," urged guph. "wait till i sing a song," said the chief. then he lay back in his chair and sang a foolish song that did not seem to the general to mean anything, although he listened carefully. when he had finished, the chief whimsie looked at him through the holes in his chin and asked: "what reward will you give us if we help you?" the general was prepared for this question, for he had been thinking the matter over on his journey. people often do a good deed without hope of reward, but for an evil deed they always demand payment. [illustration] "when we get our magic belt," he made reply, "our king, roquat the red, will use its power to give every whimsie a natural head as big and fine as the false head he now wears. then you will no longer be ashamed because your big strong bodies have such teenty-weenty heads." "oh! will you do that?" asked the chief, eagerly. "we surely will," promised the general. "i'll talk to my people," said the chief. so he called a meeting of all the whimsies and told them of the offer made by the nomes. the creatures were delighted with the bargain, and at once agreed to fight for the nome king and help him to conquer oz. [illustration] one whimsie alone seemed to have a glimmer of sense, for he asked: "suppose we fail to capture the magic belt? what will happen then, and what good will all our fighting do?" but they threw him into the river for asking foolish questions, and laughed when the water ruined his pasteboard head before he could swim out again. so the compact was made and general guph was delighted with his success in gaining such powerful allies. but there were other people, too, just as important as the whimsies, whom the clever old nome had determined to win to his side. [illustration] _how_ aunt em conquered the lion chapter seven [illustration] "these are your rooms," said dorothy, opening a door. aunt em drew back at sight of the splendid furniture and draperies. "ain't there any place to wipe my feet?" she asked. "you will soon change your slippers for new shoes," replied dorothy. "don't be afraid, aunt em. here is where you are to live, so walk right in and make yourself at home." aunt em advanced hesitatingly. "it beats the topeka hotel!" she cried, admiringly. "but this place is too grand for us, child. can't we have some back room in the attic, that's more in our class?" "no," said dorothy. "you've got to live here, 'cause ozma says so. and all the rooms in this palace are just as fine as these, and some are better. it won't do any good to fuss, aunt em. you've got to be swell and high-toned in the land of oz, whether you want to or not; so you may as well make up your mind to it." "it's hard luck," replied her aunt, looking around with an awed expression; "but folks can get used to anything, if they try. eh, henry?" "why, as to that," said uncle henry, slowly, "i b'lieve in takin' what's pervided us, an' askin' no questions. i've traveled some, em, in my time, and you hain't; an' that makes a difference atween us." then dorothy showed them through the rooms. the first was a handsome sitting-room, with windows opening upon the rose gardens. then came separate bedrooms for aunt em and uncle henry, with a fine bathroom between them. aunt em had a pretty dressing room, besides, and dorothy opened the closets and showed several exquisite costumes that had been provided for her aunt by the royal dressmakers, who had worked all night to get them ready. everything that aunt em could possibly need was in the drawers and closets, and her dressing-table was covered with engraved gold toilet articles. uncle henry had nine suits of clothes, cut in the popular munchkin fashion, with knee-breeches, silk stockings and low shoes with jeweled buckles. the hats to match these costumes had pointed tops and wide brims with small gold bells around the edges. his shirts were of fine linen with frilled bosoms, and his vests were richly embroidered with colored silks. uncle henry decided that he would first take a bath and then dress himself in a blue satin suit that had caught his fancy. he accepted his good fortune with calm composure and refused to have a servant to assist him. but aunt em was "all of a flutter," as she said, and it took dorothy and jellia jamb, the housekeeper, and two maids a long time to dress her and do up her hair and get her "rigged like a popinjay," as she quaintly expressed it. she wanted to stop and admire everything that caught her eye, and she sighed continually and declared that such finery was too good for an old country woman, and that she never thought she would have to "put on airs" at her time of life. finally she was dressed, and when they went into the sitting-room there was uncle henry in his blue satin, walking gravely up and down the room. he had trimmed his beard and mustache and looked very dignified and respectable. "tell me, dorothy," he said; "do all the men here wear duds like these?" "yes," she replied; "all 'cept the scarecrow and the shaggy man--and of course the tin woodman and tiktok, who are made of metal. you'll find all the men at ozma's court dressed just as you are--only perhaps a little finer." "henry, you look like a play-actor," announced aunt em, looking at her husband critically. "an' you, em, look more highfalutin' than a peacock," he replied. "i guess you're right," she said, regretfully; "but we're helpless victims of high-toned royalty." dorothy was much amused. [illustration] "come with me," she said, "and i'll show you 'round the palace." she took them through the beautiful rooms and introduced them to all the people they chanced to meet. also she showed them her own pretty rooms, which were not far from their own. "so it's all true," said aunt em, wide-eyed with amazement, "and what dorothy told us of this fairy country was plain facts instead of dreams! but where are all the strange creatures you used to know here?" "yes; where's the scarecrow?" inquired uncle henry. "why, he's just now away on a visit to the tin woodman, who is emp'ror of the winkie country," answered the little girl. "you'll see him when he comes back, and you're sure to like him." "and where's the wonderful wizard?" asked aunt em. "you'll see him at ozma's luncheon, for he lives in this palace," was the reply. "and jack pumpkinhead?" "oh, he lives a little way out of town, in his own pumpkin field. we'll go there some time and see him, and we'll call on professor wogglebug, too. the shaggy man will be at the luncheon, i guess, and tiktok. and now i'll take you out to see billina, who has a house of her own." so they went into the back yard, and after walking along winding paths some distance through the beautiful gardens they came to an attractive little house where the yellow hen sat on the front porch sunning herself. "good morning, my dear mistress," called billina, fluttering down to meet them. "i was expecting you to call, for i heard you had come back and brought your uncle and aunt with you." "we're here for good and all, this time, billina," cried dorothy, joyfully. "uncle henry and aunt em belong in oz now as much as i do!" "then they are very lucky people," declared billina; "for there couldn't be a nicer place to live. but come, my dear; i must show you all my dorothys. nine are living and have grown up to be very respectable hens; but one took cold at ozma's birthday party and died of the pip, and the other two turned out to be horrid roosters, so i had to change their names from dorothy to daniel. they all had the letter 'd' engraved upon their gold lockets, you remember, with your picture inside, and 'd' stands for daniel as well as for dorothy." "did you call both the roosters daniel?" asked uncle henry. "yes, indeed. i've nine dorothys and two daniels; and the nine dorothys have eighty-six sons and daughters and over three hundred grandchildren," said billina, proudly. "what names do you give 'em all, dear?" inquired the little girl. "oh, they are all dorothys and daniels, some being juniors and some double-juniors. dorothy and daniel are two good names, and i see no object in hunting for others," declared the yellow hen. "but just think, dorothy, what a big chicken family we've grown to be, and our numbers increase nearly every day! ozma doesn't know what to do with all the eggs we lay, and we are never eaten or harmed in any way, as chickens are in your country. they give us everything to make us contented and happy, and i, my dear, am the acknowledged queen and governor of every chicken in oz, because i'm the eldest and started the whole colony." "you ought to be very proud, ma'am," said uncle henry, who was astonished to hear a hen talk so sensibly. "oh, i am," she replied. "i've the loveliest pearl necklace you ever saw. come in the house and i'll show it to you. and i've nine leg bracelets and a diamond pin for each wing. but i only wear them on state occasions." they followed the yellow hen into the house, which aunt em declared was neat as a pin. they could not sit down, because all billina's chairs were roosting-poles made of silver; so they had to stand while the hen fussily showed them her treasures. then they had to go into the back rooms occupied by billina's nine dorothys and two daniels, who were all plump yellow chickens and greeted the visitors very politely. it was easy to see that they were well bred and that billina had looked after their education. in the yards were all the children and grandchildren of these eleven elders and they were of all sizes, from well-grown hens to tiny chickens just out of the shell. about fifty fluffy yellow youngsters were at school, being taught good manners and good grammar by a young hen who wore spectacles. they sang in chorus a patriotic song of the land of oz, in honor of their visitors, and aunt em was much impressed by these talking chickens. dorothy wanted to stay and play with the young chickens for awhile, but uncle henry and aunt em had not seen the palace grounds and gardens yet and were eager to get better acquainted with the marvelous and delightful land in which they were to live. "i'll stay here, and you can go for a walk," said dorothy. "you'll be perfec'ly safe anywhere, and may do whatever you want to. when you get tired, go back to the palace and find your rooms, and i'll come to you before luncheon is ready." so uncle henry and aunt em started out alone to explore the grounds, and dorothy knew that they couldn't get lost, because all the palace grounds were enclosed by a high wall of green marble set with emeralds. it was a rare treat to these simple folk, who had lived in the country all their lives and known little enjoyment of any sort, to wear beautiful clothes and live in a palace and be treated with respect and consideration by all around them. they were very happy indeed as they strolled up the shady walks and looked upon the gorgeous flowers and shrubs, feeling that their new home was more beautiful than any tongue could describe. suddenly, as they turned a corner and walked through a gap in a high hedge, they came face to face with an enormous lion, which crouched upon the green lawn and seemed surprised by their appearance. they stopped short, uncle henry trembling with horror and aunt em too terrified to scream. next moment the poor woman clasped her husband around the neck and cried: "save me, henry, save me!" "can't even save myself, em," he returned, in a husky voice, "for the animile looks as if it could eat both of us, an' lick its chops for more! if i only had a gun--" "haven't you, henry? haven't you?" she asked anxiously. "nary gun, em. so let's die as brave an' graceful as we can. i knew our luck couldn't last!" "i won't die. i won't be eaten by a lion!" wailed aunt em, glaring upon the huge beast. then a thought struck her, and she whispered: "henry, i've heard as savage beastses can be conquered by the human eye. i'll eye that lion out o' countenance an' save our lives." "try it, em," he returned, also in a whisper. "look at him as you do at me when i'm late to dinner." aunt em turned upon the lion a determined countenance and a wild dilated eye. she glared at the immense beast steadily, and the lion, who had been quietly blinking at them, began to appear uneasy and disturbed. [illustration] "is anything the matter, ma'am?" he asked, in a mild voice. at this speech from the terrible beast aunt em and uncle henry both were startled, and then uncle henry remembered that this must be the lion they had seen in ozma's throne room. "hold on, em!" he exclaimed. "quit the eagle eye conquest an' take courage. i guess this is the same cowardly lion dorothy has told us about." "oh, is it?" she asked, much relieved. "when he spoke, i got the idea; and when he looked so 'shamed like, i was sure of it," uncle henry continued. aunt em regarded the animal with new interest. "are you the cowardly lion?" she inquired. "are you dorothy's friend?" "yes'm," answered the lion, meekly. "dorothy and i are old chums and are very fond of each other. i'm the king of beasts, you know, and the hungry tiger and i serve princess ozma as her body guards." "to be sure," said aunt em, nodding. "but the king of beasts shouldn't be cowardly." "i've heard that said before," remarked the lion, yawning till he showed his two great rows of sharp white teeth; "but that does not keep me from being frightened whenever i go into battle." "what do you do, run?" asked uncle henry. "no; that would be foolish, for the enemy would run after me," declared the lion. "so i tremble with fear and pitch in as hard as i can; and so far i have always won my fight." "ah, i begin to understand," said uncle henry. "were you scared when i looked at you just now?" inquired aunt em. "terribly scared, madam," answered the lion, "for at first i thought you were going to have a fit. then i noticed you were trying to overcome me by the power of your eye, and your glance was so fierce and penetrating that i shook with fear." this greatly pleased the lady, and she said quite cheerfully: "well, i won't hurt you, so don't be scared any more. i just wanted to see what the human eye was good for." "the human eye is a fearful weapon," remarked the lion, scratching his nose softly with his paw to hide a smile. "had i not known you were dorothy's friends i might have torn you both into shreds in order to escape your terrible gaze." aunt em shuddered at hearing this, and uncle henry said hastily: "i'm glad you knew us. good morning, mr. lion; we'll hope to see you again--by and by--some time in the future." "good morning," replied the lion, squatting down upon the lawn again. "you are likely to see a good deal of me, if you live in the land of oz." [illustration] _how_ the grand gallipoot joined the nomes chapter eight [illustration] after leaving the whimsies, guph continued on his journey and penetrated far into the northwest. he wanted to get to the country of the growleywogs, and in order to do that he must cross the ripple land, which was a hard thing to do. for the ripple land was a succession of hills and valleys, all very steep and rocky, and they changed places constantly by rippling. while guph was climbing a hill it sank down under him and became a valley, and while he was descending into a valley it rose up and carried him to the top of a hill. this was very perplexing to the traveler, and a stranger might have thought he could never cross the ripple land at all. but guph knew that if he kept steadily on he would get to the end at last; so he paid no attention to the changing hills and valleys and plodded along as calmly as if walking upon the level ground. the result of this wise persistence was that the general finally reached firmer soil and, after penetrating a dense forest, came to the dominion of the growleywogs. no sooner had he crossed the border of this domain when two guards seized him and carried him before the grand gallipoot of the growleywogs, who scowled upon him ferociously and asked him why he dared intrude upon his territory. "i'm the lord high general of the invincible army of the nomes, and my name is guph," was the reply. "all the world trembles when that name is mentioned." the growleywogs gave a shout of jeering laughter at this, and one of them caught the nome in his strong arms and tossed him high into the air. guph was considerably shaken when he fell upon the hard ground, but he appeared to take no notice of the impertinence and composed himself to speak again to the grand gallipoot. "my master, king roquat the red, has sent me here to confer with you. he wishes your assistance to conquer the land of oz." here the general paused, and the grand gallipoot scowled upon him more terribly than ever and said: "go on!" the voice of the grand gallipoot was partly a roar and partly a growl. he mumbled his words badly and guph had to listen carefully in order to understand him. these growleywogs were certainly remarkable creatures. they were of gigantic size, yet were all bone and skin and muscle, there being no meat or fat upon their bodies at all. their powerful muscles lay just underneath their skins, like bunches of tough rope, and the weakest growleywog was so strong that he could pick up an elephant and toss it seven miles away. it seems unfortunate that strong people are usually so disagreeable and overbearing that no one cares for them. in fact, to be different from your fellow creatures is always a misfortune. the growleywogs knew that they were disliked and avoided by every one, so they had become surly and unsociable even among themselves. guph knew that they hated all people, including the nomes; but he hoped to win them over, nevertheless, and knew that if he succeeded they would afford him very powerful assistance. "the land of oz is ruled by a namby-pamby girl who is disgustingly kind and good," he continued. "her people are all happy and contented and have no care or worries whatever." "go on!" growled the grand gallipoot. [illustration] "once the nome king enslaved the royal family of ev--another goody-goody lot that we detest," said the general. "but ozma interfered, although it was none of her business, and marched her army against us. with her was a kansas girl named dorothy, and a yellow hen, and they marched directly into the nome king's cavern. there they liberated our slaves from ev and stole king roquat's magic belt, which they carried away with them. so now our king is making a tunnel under the deadly desert, so we can march through it to the emerald city. when we get there we mean to conquer and destroy all the land and recapture the magic belt." again he paused, and again the grand gallipoot growled: "go on!" guph tried to think what to say next, and a happy thought soon occurred to him. "we want you to help us in this conquest," he announced, "for we need the mighty aid of the growleywogs in order to make sure that we shall not be defeated. you are the strongest people in all the world, and you hate good and happy creatures as much as we nomes do. i am sure it will be a real pleasure to you to tear down the beautiful emerald city, and in return for your valuable assistance we will allow you to bring back to your country ten thousand people of oz, to be your slaves." "twenty thousand!" growled the grand gallipoot. "all right, we promise you twenty thousand," agreed the general. the gallipoot made a signal and at once his attendants picked up general guph and carried him away to a prison, where the jailor amused himself by sticking pins in the round fat body of the old nome, to see him jump and hear him yell. but while this was going on the grand gallipoot was talking with his counselors, who were the most important officials of the growleywogs. when he had stated to them the proposition of the nome king he said: "my advice is to offer to help them. then, when we have conquered the land of oz, we will take not only our twenty thousand prisoners but all the gold and jewels we want." "let us take the magic belt, too," suggested one counselor. "and rob the nome king and make him our slave," said another. "that is a good idea," declared the grand gallipoot. "i'd like king roquat for my own slave. he could black my boots and bring me my porridge every morning while i am in bed." "there is a famous scarecrow in oz. i'll take him for my slave," said a counselor. "i'll take tiktok, the machine man," said another. "give me the tin woodman," said a third. they went on for some time, dividing up the people and the treasure of oz in advance of the conquest. for they had no doubt at all that they would be able to destroy ozma's domain. were they not the strongest people in all the world? "the deadly desert has kept us out of oz before," remarked the grand gallipoot, "but now that the nome king is building a tunnel we shall get into the emerald city very easily. so let us send the little fat general back to his king with our promise to assist him. we will not say that we intend to conquer the nomes after we have conquered oz, but we will do so, just the same." this plan being agreed upon, they all went home to dinner, leaving general guph still in prison. the nome had no idea that he had succeeded in his mission, for finding himself in prison he feared the growleywogs intended to put him to death. by this time the jailor had tired of sticking pins in the general, and was amusing himself by carefully pulling the nome's whiskers out by the roots, one at a time. this enjoyment was interrupted by the grand gallipoot sending for the prisoner. "wait a few hours," begged the jailor. "i haven't pulled out a quarter of his whiskers yet." "if you keep the grand gallipoot waiting he'll break your back," declared the messenger. "perhaps you're right," sighed the jailor. "take the prisoner away, if you will, but i advise you to kick him at every step he takes. it will be good fun, for he is as soft as a ripe peach." [illustration] so guph was led away to the royal castle, where the grand gallipoot told him that the growleywogs had decided to assist the nomes in conquering the land of oz. "whenever you are ready," he added, "send me word and i will march with eighteen thousand of my most powerful warriors to your aid." guph was so delighted that he forgot all the smarting caused by the pins and the pulling of whiskers. he did not even complain of the treatment he had received, but thanked the grand gallipoot and hurried away upon his journey. he had now secured the assistance of the whimsies and the growleywogs; but his success made him long for still more allies. his own life depended upon his conquering oz, and he said to himself: "i'll take no chances. i'll be certain of success. then, when oz is destroyed, perhaps i shall be a greater man than old roquat, and i can throw him away and be king of the nomes myself. why not? the whimsies are stronger than the nomes, and they are my friends. the growleywogs are stronger than the whimsies, and they also are my friends. there are some people still stronger than the growleywogs, and if i can but induce them to aid me i shall have nothing more to fear." _how_ the wogglebug taught athletics chapter nine [illustration] it did not take dorothy long to establish herself in her new home, for she knew the people and the manners and customs of the emerald city just as well as she knew the old kansas farm. but uncle henry and aunt em had some trouble in getting used to the finery and pomp and ceremony of ozma's palace, and felt uneasy because they were obliged to be "dressed up" all the time. yet every one was very courteous and kind to them and endeavored to make them happy. ozma, especially, made much of dorothy's relatives, for her little friend's sake, and she well knew that the awkwardness and strangeness of their new mode of life would all wear off in time. the old people were chiefly troubled by the fact that there was no work for them to do. "ev'ry day is like sunday, now," declared aunt em, solemnly, "and i can't say i like it. if they'd only let me do up the dishes after meals, or even sweep an' dust my own rooms, i'd be a deal happier. henry don't know what to do with himself either, and once when he stole out an' fed the chickens billina scolded him for letting 'em eat between meals. i never knew before what a hardship it is to be rich and have everything you want." these complaints began to worry dorothy; so she had a long talk with ozma upon the subject. "i see i must find them something to do," said the girlish ruler of oz, seriously. "i have been watching your uncle and aunt, and i believe they will be more contented if occupied with some light tasks. while i am considering this matter, dorothy, you might make a trip with them through the land of oz, visiting some of the odd corners and introducing your relatives to some of our curious people." "oh, that would be fine!" exclaimed dorothy, eagerly. "i will give you an escort befitting your rank as a princess," continued ozma; "and you may go to some of the places you have not yet visited yourself, as well as some others that you know. i will mark out a plan of the trip for you and have everything in readiness for you to start to-morrow morning. take your time, dear, and be gone as long as you wish. by the time you return i shall have found some occupation for uncle henry and aunt em that will keep them from being restless and dissatisfied." dorothy thanked her good friend and kissed the lovely ruler gratefully. then she ran to tell the joyful news to her uncle and aunt. next morning, after breakfast, everything was found ready for their departure. the escort included omby amby, the captain general of ozma's army, which consisted merely of twenty-seven officers besides the captain general. once omby amby had been a private soldier--the only private in the army--but as there was never any fighting to do ozma saw no need of a private, so she made omby amby the highest officer of them all. he was very tall and slim and wore a gay uniform and a fierce mustache. yet the mustache was the only fierce thing about omby amby, whose nature was as gentle as that of a child. the wonderful wizard had asked to join the party, and with him came his friend the shaggy man, who was shaggy but not ragged, being dressed in fine silks with satin shags and bobtails. the shaggy man had shaggy whiskers and hair, but a sweet disposition and a soft, pleasant voice. there was an open wagon, with three seats for the passengers, and the wagon was drawn by the famous wooden sawhorse which had once been brought to life by ozma by means of a magic powder. the sawhorse wore golden shoes to keep his wooden legs from wearing away, and he was strong and swift. as this curious creature was ozma's own favorite steed, and very popular with all the people of the emerald city, dorothy knew that she had been highly favored by being permitted to use the sawhorse on her journey. in the front seat of the wagon sat dorothy and the wizard. uncle henry and aunt em sat in the next seat and the shaggy man and omby amby in the third seat. of course toto was with the party, curled up at dorothy's feet, and just as they were about to start billina came fluttering along the path and begged to be taken with them. dorothy readily agreed, so the yellow hen flew up and perched herself upon the dashboard. she wore her pearl necklace and three bracelets upon each leg, in honor of the occasion. dorothy kissed ozma good-bye, and all the people standing around waved their handkerchiefs, and the band in an upper balcony struck up a military march. then the wizard clucked to the sawhorse and said: "gid-dap!" and the wooden animal pranced away and drew behind him the big red wagon and all the passengers, without any effort at all. a servant threw open a gate of the palace enclosure, that they might pass out; and so, with music and shouts following them, the journey was begun. "it's almost like a circus," said aunt em, proudly. "i can't help feelin' high an' mighty in this kind of a turn-out." indeed, as they passed down the street, all the people cheered them lustily, and the shaggy man and the wizard and the captain general all took off their hats and bowed politely in acknowledgment. when they came to the great wall of the emerald city the gates were opened by the guardian who always tended them. over the gateway hung a dull-colored metal magnet shaped like a horse-shoe, placed against a shield of polished gold. "that," said the shaggy man, impressively, "is the wonderful love magnet. i brought it to the emerald city myself, and all who pass beneath this gateway are both loving and beloved." "it's a fine thing," declared aunt em, admiringly. "if we'd had it in kansas i guess the man who held a mortgage on the farm wouldn't have turned us out." "then i'm glad we didn't have it," returned uncle henry. "i like oz better than kansas, even; an' this little wood sawhorse beats all the critters i ever saw. he don't have to be curried, or fed, or watered, an' he's strong as an ox. can he talk, dorothy?" "yes, uncle," replied the child. "but the sawhorse never says much. he told me once that he can't talk and think at the same time, so he prefers to think." "which is very sensible," declared the wizard, nodding approvingly. "which way do we go, dorothy?" "straight ahead into the quadling country," she answered. "i've got a letter of interduction to miss cuttenclip." "oh!" exclaimed the wizard, much interested. "are we going there? then i'm glad i came, for i've always wanted to meet the cuttenclips." "who are they?" inquired aunt em. "wait till we get there," replied dorothy, with a laugh; "then you'll see for yourself. i've never seen the cuttenclips, you know, so i can't 'zactly 'splain 'em to you." once free of the emerald city the sawhorse dashed away at tremendous speed. indeed, he went so fast that aunt em had hard work to catch her breath, and uncle henry held fast to the seat of the red wagon. "gently--gently, my boy!" called the wizard, and at this the sawhorse slackened his speed. "what's wrong?" asked the animal, slightly turning his wooden head to look at the party with one eye, which was a knot of wood. "why, we wish to admire the scenery, that's all," answered the wizard. "some of your passengers," added the shaggy man, "have never been out of the emerald city before, and the country is all new to them." "if you go too fast you'll spoil all the fun," said dorothy. "there's no hurry." "very well; it is all the same to me," observed the sawhorse; and after that he went at a more moderate pace. uncle henry was astonished. "how can a wooden thing be so intelligent?" he asked. "why, i gave him some sawdust brains the last time i fitted his head with new ears," explained the wizard. "the sawdust was made from hard knots, and now the sawhorse is able to think out any knotty problem he meets with." "i see," said uncle henry. "i don't," remarked aunt em; but no one paid any attention to this statement. before long they came to a stately building that stood upon a green plain with handsome shade trees grouped here and there. "what is that?" asked uncle henry. "that," replied the wizard, "is the royal athletic college of oz, which is directed by professor h. m. wogglebug, t. e. "let's stop and make a call," suggested dorothy. [illustration] so the sawhorse drew up in front of the great building and they were met at the door by the learned wogglebug himself. he seemed fully as tall as the wizard, and was dressed in a red and white checked vest and a blue swallow-tailed coat, and had yellow knee breeches and purple silk stockings upon his slender legs. a tall hat was jauntily set upon his head and he wore spectacles over his big bright eyes. "welcome, dorothy," said the wogglebug; "and welcome to all your friends. we are indeed pleased to receive you at this great temple of learning." "i thought it was an athletic college," said the shaggy man. "it is, my dear sir," answered the wogglebug, proudly. "here it is that we teach the youth of our great land scientific college athletics--in all their purity." "don't you teach them anything else?" asked dorothy. "don't they get any reading, writing and 'rithmetic?" "oh, yes; of course. they get all those, and more," returned the professor. "but such things occupy little of their time. please follow me and i will show you how my scholars are usually occupied. this is a class hour and they are all busy." they followed him to a big field back of the college building, where several hundred young ozites were at their classes. in one place they played football, in another baseball. some played tennis, some golf; some were swimming in a big pool. upon a river which wound through the grounds several crews in racing boats were rowing with great enthusiasm. other groups of students played basketball and cricket, while in one place a ring was roped in to permit boxing and wrestling by the energetic youths. all the collegians seemed busy and there was much laughter and shouting. "this college," said professor wogglebug, complacently, "is a great success. it's educational value is undisputed, and we are turning out many great and valuable citizens every year." "but when do they study?" asked dorothy. "study?" said the wogglebug, looking perplexed at the question. "yes; when do they get their 'rithmetic, and jogerfy, and such things?" "oh, they take doses of those every night and morning," was the reply. "what do you mean by doses?" dorothy inquired, wonderingly. "why, we use the newly invented school pills, made by your friend the wizard. these pills we have found to be very effective, and they save a lot of time. please step this way and i will show you our laboratory of learning." he led them to a room in the building where many large bottles were standing in rows upon shelves. "these are the algebra pills," said the professor, taking down one of the bottles. "one at night, on retiring, is equal to four hours of study. here are the geography pills--one at night and one in the morning. in this next bottle are the latin pills--one three times a day. then we have the grammar pills--one before each meal--and the spelling pills, which are taken whenever needed." [illustration] "your scholars must have to take a lot of pills," remarked dorothy, thoughtfully. "how do they take 'em, in applesauce?" "no, my dear. they are sugar-coated and are quickly and easily swallowed. i believe the students would rather take the pills than study, and certainly the pills are a more effective method. you see, until these school pills were invented we wasted a lot of time in study that may now be better employed in practising athletics." "seems to me the pills are a good thing," said omby amby, who remembered how it used to make his head ache as a boy to study arithmetic. "they are, sir," declared the wogglebug, earnestly. "they give us an advantage over all other colleges, because at no loss of time our boys become thoroughly conversant with greek and latin, mathematics and geography, grammar and literature. you see they are never obliged to interrupt their games to acquire the lesser branches of learning." "it's a great invention, i'm sure," said dorothy, looking admiringly at the wizard, who blushed modestly at this praise. "we live in an age of progress," announced professor wogglebug, pompously. "it is easier to swallow knowledge than to acquire it laboriously from books. is it not so, my friends?" "some folks can swallow anything," said aunt em, "but to me this seems too much like taking medicine." "young men in college always have to take their medicine, one way or another," observed the wizard, with a smile; "and, as our professor says, these school pills have proved to be a great success. one day while i was making them i happened to drop one of them, and one of billina's chickens gobbled it up. a few minutes afterward this chick got upon a roost and recited 'the boy stood on the burning deck' without making a single mistake. then it recited 'the charge of the light brigade' and afterwards 'excelsior.' you see, the chicken had eaten an elocution pill." they now bade good bye to the professor, and thanking him for his kind reception mounted again into the red wagon and continued their journey. _how_ the cuttenclips lived chapter ten [illustration] the travelers had taken no provisions with them because they knew that they would be welcomed wherever they might go in the land of oz, and that the people would feed and lodge them with genuine hospitality. so about noon they stopped at a farm-house and were given a delicious luncheon of bread and milk, fruits and wheat cakes with maple syrup. after resting a while and strolling through the orchards with their host--a round, jolly farmer--they got into the wagon and again started the sawhorse along the pretty, winding road. there were sign-posts at all the corners, and finally they came to one which read: [illustration: (hand pointing right)] take this road to the cuttenclips there was also a hand pointing in the right direction, so they turned the sawhorse that way and found it a very good road, but seemingly little traveled. "i've never been to see the cuttenclips before," remarked dorothy. "nor i," said the captain general. "nor i," said the wizard. "nor i," said billina. "i've hardly been out of the emerald city since i arrived in this country," added the shaggy man. "why, none of us has been there, then," exclaimed the little girl. "i wonder what the cuttenclips are like." "we shall soon find out," said the wizard, with a sly laugh. "i've heard they are rather flimsy things." the farm-houses became fewer as they proceeded, and the path was at times so faint that the sawhorse had hard work to keep in the road. the wagon began to jounce, too; so they were obliged to go slowly. after a somewhat wearisome journey they came in sight of a high wall, painted blue with pink ornaments. this wall was circular, and seemed to enclose a large space. it was so high that only the tops of the trees could be seen above it. the path led up to a small door in the wall, which was closed and latched. upon the door was a sign in gold letters reading as follows: _visitors are requested to move slowly and carefully, and to avoid coughing or making any breeze or draught_ "that's strange," said the shaggy man, reading the sign aloud. "who _are_ the cuttenclips, anyhow?" "why, they're paper dolls," answered dorothy. "didn't you know that?" "paper dolls! then let's go somewhere else," said uncle henry. "we're all too old to play with dolls, dorothy." "but these are different," declared the girl. "they're alive." "alive!" gasped aunt em, in amazement. "yes. let's go in," said dorothy. so they all got out of the wagon, since the door in the wall was not big enough for them to drive the sawhorse and wagon through it. "you stay here, toto!" commanded dorothy, shaking her finger at the little dog. "you 're so careless that you might make a breeze if i let you inside." toto wagged his tail as if disappointed at being left behind; but he made no effort to follow them. the wizard unlatched the door, which opened outward, and they all looked eagerly inside. just before the entrance was drawn up a line of tiny soldiers, with uniforms brightly painted and paper guns upon their shoulders. they were exactly alike, from one end of the line to the other, and all were cut out of paper and joined together in the centers of their bodies. as the visitors entered the enclosure the wizard let the door swing back into place, and at once the line of soldiers tumbled over, fell flat upon their backs, and lay fluttering upon the ground. "hi, there!" called one of them; "what do you mean by slamming the door and blowing us over?" "i beg your pardon, i'm sure," said the wizard, regretfully. "i didn't know you were so delicate." "we're not delicate!" retorted another soldier, raising his head from the ground. "we are strong and healthy; but we can't stand draughts." "may i help you up?" asked dorothy. "if you please," replied the end soldier. "but do it gently, little girl." dorothy carefully stood up the line of soldiers, who first dusted their painted clothes and then saluted the visitors with their paper muskets. from the end it was easy to see that the entire line had been cut out of paper, although from the front the soldiers looked rather solid and imposing. "i've a letter of introduction from princess ozma to miss cuttenclip," announced dorothy. "very well," said the end soldier, and blew upon a paper whistle that hung around his neck. at once a paper soldier in a captain's uniform came out of a paper house near by and approached the group at the entrance. he was not very big, and he walked rather stiffly and uncertainly on his paper legs; but he had a pleasant face, with very red cheeks and very blue eyes, and he bowed so low to the strangers that dorothy laughed, and the breeze from her mouth nearly blew the captain over. he wavered and struggled and finally managed to remain upon his feet. "take care, miss!" he said, warningly. "you're breaking the rules, you know, by laughing." "oh, i didn't know that," she replied. "to laugh in this place is nearly as dangerous as to cough," said the captain. "you'll have to breathe very quietly, i assure you." "we'll try to," promised the girl. "may we see miss cuttenclip, please?" "you may," promptly returned the captain. "this is one of her reception days. be good enough to follow me." he turned and led the way up a path, and as they followed slowly, because the paper captain did not move very swiftly, they took the opportunity to gaze around them at this strange paper country. beside the path were paper trees, all cut out very neatly and painted a brilliant green color. and back of the trees were rows of cardboard houses, painted in various colors but most of them having green blinds. some were large and some small, and in the front yards were beds of paper flowers quite natural in appearance. over some of the porches paper vines were twined, giving them a cosy and shady look. as the visitors passed along the street a good many paper dolls came to the doors and windows of their houses to look at them curiously. these dolls were nearly all the same height, but were cut into various shapes, some being fat and some lean. the girl dolls wore many beautiful costumes of tissue paper, making them quite fluffy; but their heads and hands were no thicker than the paper of which they were made. some of the paper people were on the street, walking along or congregated in groups and talking together; but as soon as they saw the strangers they all fluttered into the houses as fast as they could go, so as to be out of danger. "excuse me if i go edgewise," remarked the captain, as they came to a slight hill. "i can get along faster that way and not flutter so much." "that's all right," said dorothy. "we don't mind how you go, i'm sure." at one side of the street was a paper pump, and a paper boy was pumping paper water into a paper pail. the yellow hen happened to brush against this boy with her wing, and he flew into the air and fell into a paper tree, where he stuck until the wizard gently pulled him out. at the same time the pail went soaring into the air, spilling the paper water, while the paper pump bent nearly double. "goodness me!" said the hen. "if i should flop my wings i believe i'd knock over the whole village!" "then don't flop them--please don't!" entreated the captain. "miss cuttenclip would be very much distressed if her village was spoiled." "oh, i'll be careful," promised billina. "are not all these paper girls and women named miss cuttenclips?" inquired omby amby. "no, indeed," answered the captain, who was walking better since he began to move edgewise. "there is but one miss cuttenclip, who is our queen, because she made us all. these girls are cuttenclips, to be sure, but their names are emily and polly and sue and betty and such things. only the queen is called miss cuttenclip." "i must say that this place beats anything i ever heard of," observed aunt em. "i used to play with paper dolls myself, an' cut 'em out; but i never thought i'd ever see such things alive." "i don't see as it's any more curious than hearing hens talk," returned uncle henry. "you're likely to see many queer things in the land of oz, sir," said the wizard. "but a fairy country is extremely interesting when you get used to being surprised." "here we are!" called the captain, stopping before a cottage. this house was made of wood, and was remarkably pretty in design. in the emerald city it would have been considered a tiny dwelling, indeed; but in the midst of this paper village it seemed immense. real flowers were in the garden and real trees grew beside it. upon the front door was a sign reading: miss cuttenclip. just as they reached the porch the front door opened and a little girl stood before them. she appeared to be about the same age as dorothy, and smiling upon her visitors she said, sweetly: "you are welcome." all the party seemed relieved to find that here was a real girl, of flesh and blood. she was very dainty and pretty as she stood there welcoming them. her hair was a golden blonde and her eyes turquoise blue. she had rosy cheeks and lovely white teeth. over her simple white lawn dress she wore an apron with pink and white checks, and in one hand she held a pair of scissors. "may we see miss cuttenclip, please?" asked dorothy. "i am miss cuttenclip," was the reply. "won't you come in?" she held the door open while they all entered a pretty sitting-room that was littered with all sorts of paper--some stiff, some thin, and some tissue. the sheets and scraps were of all colors. upon a table were paints and brushes, while several pair of scissors, of different sizes, were lying about. [illustration] "sit down, please," said miss cuttenclip, clearing the paper scraps off some of the chairs. "it is so long since i have had any visitors that i am not properly prepared to receive them. but i'm sure you will pardon my untidy room, for this is my workshop." "do you make all the paper dolls?" inquired dorothy. "yes; i cut them out with my scissors, and paint the faces and some of the costumes. it is very pleasant work, and i am happy making my paper village grow." "but how do the paper dolls happen to be alive?" asked aunt em. "the first dolls i made were not alive," said miss cuttenclip. "i used to live near the castle of a great sorceress named glinda the good, and she saw my dolls and said they were very pretty. i told her i thought i would like them better if they were alive, and the next day the sorceress brought me a lot of magic paper. 'this is live paper,' she said, 'and all the dolls you cut out of it will be alive, and able to think and to talk. when you have used it all up, come to me and i will give you more.' "of course i was delighted with this present," continued miss cuttenclip, "and at once set to work and made several paper dolls, which, as soon as they were cut out, began to walk around and talk to me. but they were so thin that i found that any breeze would blow them over and scatter them dreadfully; so glinda found this lonely place for me, where few people ever come. she built the wall to keep any wind from blowing away my people, and told me i could build a paper village here and be its queen. that is why i came here and settled down to work and started the village you now see. it was many years ago that i built the first houses, and i've kept pretty busy and made my village grow finely; and i need not tell you that i am very happy in my work." "many years ago!" exclaimed aunt em. "why, how old are you, child?" "i never keep track of the years," said miss cuttenclip, laughing. "you see, i don't grow up at all, but stay just the same as i was when first i came here. perhaps i'm older even than you are, madam; but i couldn't say for sure." they looked at the lovely little girl wonderingly, and the wizard asked: "what happens to your paper village when it rains?" "it does not rain here," replied miss cuttenclip. "glinda keeps all the rain storms away; so i never worry about my dolls getting wet. but now, if you will come with me, it will give me pleasure to show you over my paper kingdom. of course you must go slowly and carefully, and avoid making any breeze." they left the cottage and followed their guide through the various streets of the village. it was indeed an amazing place, when one considered that it was all made with scissors, and the visitors were not only greatly interested but full of admiration for the skill of little miss cuttenclip. in one place a large group of especially nice paper dolls assembled to greet their queen, whom it was easy to see they loved dearly. these dolls marched and danced before the visitors, and then they all waved their paper handkerchiefs and sang in a sweet chorus a song called "the flag of our native land." at the conclusion of the song they ran up a handsome paper flag on a tall flagpole, and all of the people of the village gathered around to cheer as loudly as they could--although, of course, their voices were not especially strong. miss cuttenclip was about to make her subjects a speech in reply to this patriotic song, when the shaggy man happened to sneeze. [illustration] he was a very loud and powerful sneezer at any time, and he had tried so hard to hold in this sneeze that when it suddenly exploded the result was terrible. the paper dolls were mowed down by dozens, and flew and fluttered in wild confusion in every direction, tumbling this way and that and getting more or less wrinkled and bent. a wail of terror and grief came from the scattered throng, and miss cuttenclip exclaimed: "dear me! dear me!" and hurried at once to the rescue of her overturned people. "oh, shaggy man! how could you?" asked dorothy, reproachfully. "i couldn't help it--really i couldn't," protested the shaggy man, looking quite ashamed. "and i had no idea it took so little to upset these paper dolls." "so little!" said dorothy. "why, it was 'most as bad as a kansas cyclone." and then she helped miss cuttenclip rescue the paper folk and stand them on their feet again. two of the cardboard houses had also tumbled over, and the little queen said she would have to repair them and paste them together before they could be lived in again. and now, fearing they might do more damage to the flimsy paper people, they decided to go away. but first they thanked miss cuttenclip very warmly for her courtesy and kindness to them. "any friend of princess ozma is always welcome here--unless he sneezes," said the queen, with a rather severe look at the shaggy man, who hung his head. "i like to have visitors admire my wonderful village, and i hope you will call again." miss cuttenclip herself led them to the door in the wall, and as they passed along the street the paper dolls peeped at them half fearfully from the doors and windows. perhaps they will never forget the shaggy man's awful sneeze, and i am sure they were all glad to see the meat people go away. [illustration] _how_ the general met the first and foremost chapter eleven [illustration] on leaving the growleywogs general guph had to recross the ripple lands, and he did not find it a pleasant thing to do. perhaps having his whiskers pulled out one by one and being used as a pin-cushion for the innocent amusement of a good natured jailor had not improved the quality of guph's temper, for the old nome raved and raged at the recollection of the wrongs he had suffered, and vowed to take vengeance upon the growleywogs after he had used them for his purposes and oz had been conquered. he went on in this furious way until he was half across the ripple land. then he became seasick, and the rest of the way this naughty nome was almost as miserable as he deserved to be. but when he reached the plains again and the ground was firm under his feet he began to feel better, and instead of going back home he turned directly west. a squirrel, perched in a tree, saw him take this road and called to him warningly: "look out!" but he paid no attention. an eagle paused in its flight through the air to look at him wonderingly and say: "look out!" but on he went. no one can say that guph was not brave, for he had determined to visit those dangerous creatures the phanfasms, who resided upon the very top of the dread mountain of phantastico. the phanfasms were erbs, and so dreaded by mortals and immortals alike that no one had been near their mountain home for several thousand years. yet general guph hoped to induce them to join in his proposed warfare against the good and happy oz people. guph knew very well that the phanfasms would be almost as dangerous to the nomes as they would to the ozites, but he thought himself so clever that he believed that he could manage these strange creatures and make them obey him. and there was no doubt at all that if he could enlist the services of the phanfasms their tremendous power, united to the strength of the growleywogs and the cunning of the whimsies would doom the land of oz to absolute destruction. so the old nome climbed the foothills and trudged along the wild mountain paths until he came to a big gully that encircled the mountain of phantastico and marked the boundary line of the dominion of the phanfasms. this gully was about a third of the way up the mountain, and it was filled to the brim with red-hot molten lava, in which swam fire-serpents and poisonous salamanders. the heat from this mass and its poisonous smell were both so unbearable that even birds hesitated to fly over the gully, but circled around it. all living things kept away from the mountain. now guph had heard, during his long lifetime, many tales of these dreaded phanfasms; so he had heard of this barrier of melted lava, and also he had been told that there was a narrow bridge that spanned it in one place. so he walked along the edge until he found the bridge. it was a single arch of gray stone, and lying flat upon this bridge was a scarlet alligator, seemingly fast asleep. when guph stumbled over the rocks in approaching the bridge the creature opened its eyes, from which tiny flames shot in all directions, and after looking at the intruder very wickedly the scarlet alligator closed its eyelids again and lay still. guph saw there was no room for him to pass the alligator on the narrow bridge, so he called out to it: "good morning, friend. i don't wish to hurry you, but please tell me if you are coming down, or going up?" "neither," snapped the alligator, clicking its cruel jaws together. the general hesitated. [illustration] "are you likely to stay there long?" he asked. "a few hundred years or so," said the alligator. guph softly rubbed the end of his nose and tried to think what to do. "do you know whether the first and foremost phanfasm of phantastico is at home or not?" he presently inquired. "i expect he is, seeing he is always at home," replied the alligator. "ah; who is that coming down the mountain?" asked the nome, gazing upward. the alligator turned to look over its shoulder, and at once guph ran to the bridge and leaped over the sentinel's back before it could turn back again. the scarlet monster made a snap at the nome's left foot, but missed it by fully an inch. "ah ha!" laughed the general, who was now on the mountain path. "i fooled you that time." "so you did; and perhaps you fooled yourself," retorted the alligator. "go up the mountain, if you dare, and find out what the first and foremost will do to you!" "i will," declared guph, boldly; and on he went up the path. at first the scene was wild enough, but gradually it grew more and more awful in appearance. all the rocks had the shapes of frightful beings and even the tree trunks were gnarled and twisted like serpents. suddenly there appeared before the nome a man with the head of an owl. his body was hairy, like that of an ape, and his only clothing was a scarlet scarf twisted around his waist. he bore a huge club in his hand and his round owl eyes blinked fiercely upon the intruder. "what are you doing here?" he demanded, threatening guph with his club. "i've come to see the first and foremost phanfasm of phantastico," replied the general, who did not like the way this creature looked at him, but still was not afraid. "ah; you shall see him!" the man said, with a sneering laugh. "the first and foremost shall decide upon the best way to punish you." "he will not punish me," returned guph, calmly, "for i have come here to do him and his people a rare favor. lead on, fellow, and take me directly to your master." the owl-man raised his club with a threatening gesture. "if you try to escape," he said, "beware--" but here the general interrupted him. "spare your threats," said he, "and do not be impertinent, or i will have you severely punished. lead on, and keep silent!" this guph was really a clever rascal, and it seems a pity he was so bad, for in a good cause he might have accomplished much. he realized that he had put himself into a dangerous position by coming to this dreadful mountain, but he also knew that if he showed fear he was lost. so he adopted a bold manner as his best defense. the wisdom of this plan was soon evident, for the phanfasm with the owl's head turned and led the way up the mountain. at the very top was a level plain, upon which were heaps of rock that at first glance seemed solid. but on looking closer guph discovered that these rock heaps were dwellings, for each had an opening. not a person was to be seen outside the rock huts. all was silent. the owl-man led the way among the groups of dwellings to one standing in the center. it seemed no better and no worse than any of the others. outside the entrance to this rock heap the guide gave a low wail that sounded like "lee-ow-ah!" suddenly there bounded from the opening another hairy man. this one wore the head of a bear. in his hand he bore a brass hoop. he glared at the stranger in evident surprise. "why have you captured this foolish wanderer and brought him here?" he demanded, addressing the owl-man. "i did not capture him," was the answer. "he passed the scarlet alligator and came here of his own free will and accord." the first and foremost looked at the general. "have you tired of life, then?" he asked. "no, indeed," answered guph. "i am a nome, and the chief general of king roquat the red's great army of nomes. i come of a long-lived race, and i may say that i expect to live a long time yet. sit down, you phanfasms--if you can find a seat in this wild haunt--and listen to what i have to say." with all his knowledge and bravery general guph did not know that the steady glare from the bear eyes was reading his inmost thoughts as surely as if they had been put into words. he did not know that these despised rock heaps of the phanfasms were merely deceptions to his own eyes, nor could he guess that he was standing in the midst of one of the most splendid and luxurious cities ever built by magic power. all that he saw was a barren waste of rock heaps, a hairy man with an owl's head and another with a bear's head. the sorcery of the phanfasms permitted him to see no more. suddenly the first and foremost swung his brass hoop and caught guph around the neck with it. the next instant, before the general could think what had happened to him, he was dragged inside the rock hut. here, his eyes still blinded to realities, he perceived only a dim light, by which the hut seemed as rough and rude inside as it was outside. yet he had a strange feeling that many bright eyes were fastened upon him and that he stood in a vast and extensive hall. [illustration] the first and foremost now laughed grimly and released his prisoner. "if you have anything to say that is interesting," he remarked, "speak out, before i strangle you." so guph spoke out. he tried not to pay any attention to a strange rustling sound that he heard, as of an unseen multitude drawing near to listen to his words. his eyes could see only the fierce bear-man, and to him he addressed his speech. first he told of his plan to conquer the land of oz and plunder the country of its riches and enslave its people, who, being fairies, could not be killed. after relating all this, and telling of the tunnel the nome king was building, he said he had come to ask the first and foremost to join the nomes, with his band of terrible warriors, and help them to defeat the oz people. the general spoke very earnestly and impressively, but when he had finished the bear-man began to laugh as if much amused, and his laughter seemed to be echoed by a chorus of merriment from an unseen multitude. then, for the first time, guph began to feel a trifle worried. "who else has promised to help you?" finally asked the first and foremost. "the whimsies," replied the general. again the bear-headed phanfasm laughed. "any others?" he inquired. "only the growleywogs," said guph. this answer set the first and foremost laughing anew. "what share of the spoils am i to have?" was the next question. "anything you like, except king roquat's magic belt," replied guph. at this the phanfasm set up a roar of laughter, which had its echo in the unseen chorus, and the bear-man seemed so amused that he actually rolled upon the ground and shouted with merriment. "oh, these blind and foolish nomes!" he said. "how big they seem to themselves and how small they really are!" suddenly he arose and seized guph's neck with one hairy paw, dragging him out of the hut into the open. here he gave a curious wailing cry, and, as if in answer, from all the rocky huts on the mountain-top came flocking a horde of phanfasms, all with hairy bodies, but wearing heads of various animals, birds and reptiles. all were ferocious and repulsive-looking to the deceived eyes of the nome, and guph could not repress a shudder of disgust as he looked upon them. the first and foremost slowly raised his arms, and in a twinkling his hairy skin fell from him and he appeared before the astonished nome as a beautiful woman, clothed in a flowing gown of pink gauze. in her dark hair flowers were entwined, and her face was noble and calm. at the same instant the entire band of phanfasms was transformed into a pack of howling wolves, running here and there as they snarled and showed their ugly yellow fangs. the woman now raised her arms, even as the man-bear had done, and in a twinkling the wolves became crawling lizards, while she herself changed into a huge butterfly. guph had only time to cry out in fear and take a step backward to avoid the lizards when another transformation occurred, and all returned instantly to the forms they had originally worn. then the first and foremost, who had resumed his hairy body and bear head, turned to the nome and asked: "do you still demand our assistance?" "more than ever," answered the general, firmly. "then tell me: what can you offer the phanfasms that they have not already?" inquired the first and foremost. guph hesitated. he really did not know what to say. the nome king's vaunted magic belt seemed a poor thing compared to the astonishing magical powers of these people. gold, jewels and slaves they might secure in any quantity without especial effort. he felt that he was dealing with powers greatly beyond him. there was but one argument that might influence the phanfasms, who were creatures of evil. "permit me to call your attention to the exquisite joy of making the happy unhappy," said he at last. "consider the pleasure of destroying innocent and harmless people." [illustration] "ah! you have answered me," cried the first and foremost. "for that reason alone we will aid you. go home, and tell your bandy-legged king that as soon as his tunnel is finished the phanfasms will be with him and lead his legions to the conquest of oz. the deadly desert alone has kept us from destroying oz long ago, and your underground tunnel is a clever thought. go home, and prepare for our coming!" guph was very glad to be permitted to go with this promise. the owl-man led him back down the mountain path and ordered the scarlet alligator to crawl away and allow the nome to cross the bridge in safety. after the visitor had gone a brilliant and gorgeous city appeared upon the mountain top, clearly visible to the eyes of the gaily dressed multitude of phanfasms that lived there. and the first and foremost, beautifully arrayed, addressed the others in these words: "it is time we went into the world and brought sorrow and dismay to its people. too long have we remained by ourselves upon this mountain top, for while we are thus secluded many nations have grown happy and prosperous, and the chief joy of the race of phanfasms is to destroy happiness. so i think it is lucky that this messenger from the nomes arrived among us just now, to remind us that the opportunity has come for us to make trouble. we will use king roquat's tunnel to conquer the land of oz. then we will destroy the whimsies, the growleywogs and the nomes, and afterward go out to ravage and annoy and grieve the whole world." the multitude of evil phanfasms eagerly applauded this plan, which they fully approved. i am told that the erbs are the most powerful and merciless of all the evil spirits, and the phanfasms of phantastico belong to the race of erbs. _how_ they matched the fuddles chapter twelve [illustration] dorothy and her fellow travelers rode away from the cuttenclip village and followed the indistinct path as far as the sign-post. here they took the main road again and proceeded pleasantly through the pretty farming country. when evening came they stopped at a dwelling and were joyfully welcomed and given plenty to eat and good beds for the night. early next morning, however, they were up and eager to start, and after a good breakfast they bade their host good-bye and climbed into the red wagon, to which the sawhorse had been hitched all night. being made of wood, this horse never got tired nor cared to lie down. dorothy was not quite sure whether he ever slept or not, but it was certain that he never did when anybody was around. the weather is always beautiful in oz, and this morning the air was cool and refreshing and the sunshine brilliant and delightful. in about an hour they came to a place where another road branched off. there was a sign-post here which read: [illustration: (hand pointing right)] this way to fuddlecumjig "oh, here is where we turn," said dorothy, observing the sign. "what! are we going to fuddlecumjig?" asked the captain general. "yes; ozma thought we would enjoy the fuddles. they are said to be very interesting," she replied. "no one would suspect it from their name," said aunt em. "who are they, anyhow? more paper things?" "i think not," answered dorothy, laughing; "but i can't say 'zactly, aunt em, what they are. we'll find out when we get there." "perhaps the wizard knows," suggested uncle henry. "no; i've never been there before," said the wizard. "but i've often heard of fuddlecumjig and the fuddles, who are said to be the most peculiar people in all the land of oz." "in what way?" asked the shaggy man. "i don't know, i'm sure," said the wizard. just then, as they rode along the pretty green lane toward fuddlecumjig, they espied a kangaroo sitting by the roadside. the poor animal had its face covered with both its front paws and was crying so bitterly that the tears coursed down its cheeks in two tiny streams and trickled across the road, where they formed a pool in a small hollow. [illustration] the sawhorse stopped short at this pitiful sight, and dorothy cried out, with ready sympathy: "what's the matter, kangaroo?" "boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" wailed the kangaroo; "i've lost my mi--mi--mi--oh, boo-hoo! boo-hoo!"-- "poor thing," said the wizard, "she's lost her mister. it's probably her husband, and he's dead." "no, no, no!" sobbed the kangaroo. "it--it isn't that. i've lost my mi--mi--oh, boo, boo-hoo!" "i know," said the shaggy man; "she's lost her mirror." "no; it's my mi--mi--mi--boo-hoo! my mi--oh, boo-hoo!" and the kangaroo cried harder than ever. "it must be her mince-pie," suggested aunt em. "or her milk-toast," proposed uncle henry. "i've lost my mi--mi--mittens!" said the kangaroo, getting it out at last. "oh!" cried the yellow hen, with a cackle of relief. "why didn't you say so before?" "boo-hoo! i--i--couldn't," answered the kangaroo. "but, see here," said dorothy, "you don't need mittens in this warm weather." "yes, indeed i do," replied the animal, stopping her sobs and removing her paws from her face to look at the little girl reproachfully. "my hands will get all sunburned and tanned without my mittens, and i've worn them so long that i'll probably catch cold without them." "nonsense!" said dorothy. "i never heard before of any kangaroo wearing mittens." "didn't you?" asked the animal, as if surprised. "never!" repeated the girl. "and you'll probably make yourself sick if you don't stop crying. where do you live?" "about two miles beyond fuddlecumjig," was the answer. "grandmother gnit made me the mittens, and she's one of the fuddles." "well, you'd better go home now, and perhaps the old lady will make you another pair," suggested dorothy. "we're on our way to fuddlecumjig, and you may hop along beside us." so they rode on, and the kangaroo hopped beside the red wagon and seemed quickly to have forgotten her loss. by and by the wizard said to the animal: "are the fuddles nice people?" "oh, very nice," answered the kangaroo; "that is, when they're properly put together. but they get dreadfully scattered and mixed up, at times, and then you can't do anything with them." "what do you mean by their getting scattered?" inquired dorothy. "why, they're made in a good many small pieces," explained the kangaroo; "and whenever any stranger comes near them they have a habit of falling apart and scattering themselves around. that's when they get so dreadfully mixed, and its a hard puzzle to put them together again." "who usually puts them together?" asked omby amby. "any one who is able to match the pieces. i sometimes put grandmother gnit together myself, because i know her so well i can tell every piece that belongs to her. then, when she's all matched, she knits for me, and that's how she made my mittens. but it took a good many days hard knitting, and i had to put grandmother together a good many times, because every time i came near she'd scatter herself." "i should think she would get used to your coming, and not be afraid," said dorothy. "it isn't that," replied the kangaroo. "they're not a bit afraid, when they're put together, and usually they're very jolly and pleasant. it's just a habit they have, to scatter themselves, and if they didn't do it they wouldn't be fuddles." the travelers thought upon this quite seriously for a time, while the sawhorse continued to carry them rapidly forward. then aunt em remarked: "i don't see much use our visitin' these fuddles. if we find them scattered, all we can do is to sweep 'em up, and then go about our business." "oh, i b'lieve we'd better go on," replied dorothy. "i'm getting hungry, and we must try to get some luncheon at fuddlecumjig. perhaps the food won't be scattered as badly as the people." "you'll find plenty to eat there," declared the kangaroo, hopping along in big bounds because the sawhorse was going so fast; "and they have a fine cook, too, if you can manage to put him together. there's the town now--just ahead of us!" they looked ahead and saw a group of very pretty houses standing in a green field a little apart from the main road. "some munchkins came here a few days ago and matched a lot of people together," said the kangaroo. "i think they are together yet, and if you go softly, without making any noise, perhaps they won't scatter." "let's try it," suggested the wizard. so they stopped the sawhorse and got out of the wagon, and, after bidding good bye to the kangaroo, who hopped away home, they entered the field and very cautiously approached the group of houses. so silently did they move that soon they saw through the windows of the houses, people moving around, while others were passing to and fro in the yards between the buildings. they seemed much like other people, from a distance, and apparently they did not notice the little party so quietly approaching. they had almost reached the nearest house when toto saw a large beetle crossing the path and barked loudly at it. instantly a wild clatter was heard from the houses and yards. dorothy thought it sounded like a sudden hailstorm, and the visitors, knowing that caution was no longer necessary, hurried forward to see what had happened. after the clatter an intense stillness reigned in the town. the strangers entered the first house they came to, which was also the largest, and found the floor strewn with pieces of the people who lived there. they looked much like fragments of wood neatly painted, and were of all sorts of curious and fantastic shapes, no two pieces being in any way alike. they picked up some of these pieces and looked at them carefully. on one which dorothy held was an eye, which looked at her pleasantly but with an interested expression, as if it wondered what she was going to do with it. quite near by she discovered and picked up a nose, and by matching the two pieces together found that they were part of a face. "if i could find the mouth," she said, "this fuddle might be able to talk, and tell us what to do next." "then let us find it," replied the wizard, and so all got down on their hands and knees and began examining the scattered pieces. "i've found it!" cried the shaggy man, and ran to dorothy with a queer-shaped piece that had a mouth on it. but when they tried to fit it to the eye and nose they found the parts wouldn't match together. "that mouth belongs to some other person," said dorothy. "you see we need a curve here and a point there, to make it fit the face." "well, it must be here some place," declared the wizard; "so if we search long enough we shall find it." dorothy fitted an ear on next, and the ear had a little patch of red hair above it. so while the others were searching for the mouth she hunted for pieces with red hair, and found several of them which, when matched to the other pieces, formed the top of a man's head. she had also found the other eye and the ear by the time omby amby in a far corner discovered the mouth. when the face was thus completed all the parts joined together with a nicety that was astonishing. "why, it's like a picture puzzle!" exclaimed the little girl. "let's find the rest of him, and get him all together." "what's the rest of him like?" asked the wizard. "here are some pieces of blue legs and green arms, but i don't know whether they are his or not." "look for a white shirt and a white apron," said the head which had been put together, speaking in a rather faint voice. "i'm the cook." [illustration: "i'm the cook".] "oh, thank you," said dorothy. "it's lucky we started you first, for i'm hungry, and you can be cooking something for us to eat while we match the other folks together." it was not so very difficult, now that they had a hint as to how the man was dressed, to find the other pieces belonging to him, and as all of them now worked on the cook, trying piece after piece to see if it would fit, they finally had the cook set up complete. when he was finished he made them a low bow and said: "i will go at once to the kitchen and prepare your dinner. you will find it something of a job to get all the fuddles together, so i advise you to begin on the lord high chigglewitz, whose first name is larry. he's a bald-headed fat man and is dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons, a pink vest and drab breeches. a piece of his left knee is missing, having been lost years ago when he scattered himself too carelessly. that makes him limp a little, but he gets along very well with half a knee. as he is the chief personage in this town of fuddlecumjig, he will be able to welcome you and assist you with the others. so it will be best to work on him while i'm getting your dinner." "we will," said the wizard; "and thank you very much, cook, for the suggestion." aunt em was the first to discover a piece of the lord high chigglewitz. "it seems to me like a fool business, this matching folks together," she remarked; "but as we haven't anything to do till dinner's ready we may as well get rid of some of this rubbish. here, henry, get busy and look for larry's bald head. i've got his pink vest, all right." they worked with eager interest, and billina proved a great help to them. the yellow hen had sharp eyes and could put her head close to the various pieces that lay scattered around. she would examine the lord high chigglewitz and see which piece of him was next needed, and then hunt around until she found it. so before an hour had passed old larry was standing complete before them. "i congratulate you, my friends," he said, speaking in a cheerful voice. "you are certainly the cleverest people who ever visited us. i was never matched together so quickly in my life. i'm considered a great puzzle, usually." "well," said dorothy, "there used to be a picture puzzle craze in kansas, and so i've had some 'sperience matching puzzles. but the pictures were flat, while you are round, and that makes you harder to figure out." "thank you, my dear," replied old larry, greatly pleased. "i feel highly complimented. were i not a really good puzzle there would be no object in my scattering myself." "why do you do it?" asked aunt em, severely. "why don't you behave yourself, and stay put together?" the lord high chigglewitz seemed annoyed by this speech; but he replied, politely: "madam, you have perhaps noticed that every person has some peculiarity. mine is to scatter myself. what your own peculiarity is i will not venture to say; but i shall never find fault with you, whatever you do." "now, you've got your diploma, em," said uncle henry, with a laugh, "and i'm glad of it. this is a queer country, and we may as well take people as we find them." "if we did, we'd leave these folks scattered," she returned, and this retort made everybody laugh good-naturedly. just then omby amby found a hand with a knitting needle in it, and they decided to put grandmother gnit together. she proved an easier puzzle than old larry, and when she was completed they found her a pleasant old lady who welcomed them cordially. dorothy told her how the kangaroo had lost her mittens, and grandmother gnit promised to set to work at once and make the poor animal another pair. then the cook came to call them to dinner, and they found an inviting meal prepared for them. the lord high chigglewitz sat at the head of the table and grandmother gnit at the foot, and the guests had a merry time and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. after dinner they went out into the yard and matched several other people together, and this work was so interesting that they might have spent the entire day at fuddlecumjig had not the wizard suggested that they resume their journey. "but i don't like to leave all these poor people scattered," said dorothy, undecided what to do. [illustration] "oh, don't mind us, my dear," returned old larry. "every day or so some of the gillikins, or munchkins, or winkies come here to amuse themselves by matching us together, so there will be no harm in leaving these pieces where they are for a time. but i hope you will visit us again, and if you do you will always be welcome, i assure you." "don't you ever match each other?" she inquired. "never; for we are no puzzles to ourselves, and so there wouldn't be any fun in it." they now said goodbye to the queer fuddles and got into their wagon to continue their journey. "those are certainly strange people," remarked aunt em, thoughtfully, as they drove away from fuddlecumjig, "but i really can't see what use they are, at all." "why, they amused us all for several hours," replied the wizard. "that is being of use to us, i'm sure." "i think they're more fun than playing solitaire or mumbletypeg," declared uncle henry, soberly. "for my part, i'm glad we visited the fuddles." _how_ the general talked to the king chapter thirteen [illustration] when general guph returned to the cavern of the nome king his majesty asked: "well, what luck? will the whimsies join us?" "they will," answered the general. "they will fight for us with all their strength and cunning." "good!" exclaimed the king. "what reward did you promise them?" "your majesty is to use the magic belt to give each whimsie a large, fine head, in place of the small one he is now obliged to wear." "i agree to that," said the king. "this is good news, guph, and it makes me feel more certain of the conquest of oz." "but i have other news for you," announced the general. "good or bad?" "good, your majesty." "then i will hear it," said the king, with interest. "the growleywogs will join us." "no!" cried the astonished king. "yes, indeed," said the general. "i have their promise." "but what reward do they demand?" inquired the king, suspiciously, for he knew how greedy the growleywogs were. "they are to take a few of the oz people for their slaves," replied guph. he did not think it necessary to tell roquat that the growleywogs demanded twenty thousand slaves. it would be time enough for that when oz was conquered. "a very reasonable request, i'm sure," remarked the king. "i must congratulate you, guph, upon the wonderful success of your journey." "but that is not all," said the general, proudly. the king seemed astonished. "speak out, sir!" he commanded. "i have seen the first and foremost phanfasm of the mountain of phantastico, and he will bring his people to assist us." "what!" cried the king. "the phanfasms! you don't mean it, guph!" "it is true," declared the general, proudly. the king became thoughtful, and his brows wrinkled. "i'm afraid, guph," he said rather anxiously, "that the first and foremost may prove as dangerous to us as to the oz people. if he and his terrible band come down from the mountain they may take the notion to conquer the nomes!" "pah! that is a foolish idea," retorted guph, irritably, but he knew in his heart that the king was right. "the first and foremost is a particular friend of mine, and will do us no harm. why, when i was there, he even invited me into his house." the general neglected to tell the king how he had been jerked into the hut of the first and foremost by means of the brass hoop. so roquat the red looked at his general admiringly and said: "you are a wonderful nome, guph. i'm sorry i did not make you my general before. but what reward did the first and foremost demand?" "nothing at all," answered guph. "even the magic belt itself could not add to his powers of sorcery. all the phanfasms wish is to destroy the oz people, who are good and happy. this pleasure will amply repay them for assisting us." "when will they come?" asked roquat, half fearfully. "when the tunnel is completed," said the general. "we are nearly half way under the desert now," announced the king; "and that is fast work, because the tunnel has to be drilled through solid rock. but after we have passed the desert it will not take us long to extend the tunnel to the walls of the emerald city." "well, whenever you are ready, we shall be joined by the whimsies, the growleywogs and the phanfasms," said guph; "so the conquest of oz is assured without a doubt." again the king seemed thoughtful. "i'm almost sorry we did not undertake the conquest alone," said he. "all of these allies are dangerous people, and they may demand more than you have promised them. it might have been better to have conquered oz without any outside assistance." "we could not do it," said the general, positively. "why not, guph?" "you know very well. you have had one experience with the oz people, and they defeated you." "that was because they rolled eggs at us," replied the king, with a shudder. "my nomes cannot stand eggs, any more than i can myself. they are poison to all who live underground." "that is true enough," agreed guph. "but we might have taken the oz people by surprise, and conquered them before they had a chance to get any eggs. our former defeat was due to the fact that the girl dorothy had a yellow hen with her. i do not know what ever became of that hen, but i believe there are no hens at all in the land of oz, and so there could be no eggs there." "on the contrary," said guph, "there are now hundreds of chickens in oz, and they lay heaps of those dangerous eggs. i met a goshawk on my way home, and the bird informed me that he had lately been to oz to capture and devour some of the young chickens. but they are protected by magic, so the hawk did not get a single one of them." [illustration] "that is a very bad report," said the king, nervously. "very bad, indeed. my nomes are willing to fight, but they simply can't face hen's eggs--and i don't blame them." "they won't need to face them," replied guph. "i'm afraid of eggs myself, and don't propose to take any chances of being poisoned by them. my plan is to send the whimsies through the tunnel first, and then the growleywogs and the phanfasms. by the time we nomes get there the eggs will all be used up, and we may then pursue and capture the inhabitants at our leisure." "perhaps you are right," returned the king, with a dismal sigh. "but i want it distinctly understood that i claim ozma and dorothy as my own prisoners. they are rather nice girls, and i do not intend to let any of those dreadful creatures hurt them, or make them their slaves. when i have captured them i will bring them here and transform them into china ornaments to stand on my mantle. they will look very pretty--dorothy on one end of the mantle and ozma on the other--and i shall take great care to see they are not broken when the maids dust them." "very well, your majesty. do what you will with the girls, for all i care. now that our plans are arranged, and we have the three most powerful bands of evil spirits in the world to assist us, let us make haste to get the tunnel finished as soon as possible." "it will be ready in three days," promised the king, and hurried away to inspect the work and see that the nomes kept busy. _how_ the wizard practiced sorcery chapter fourteen [illustration] "where next?" asked the wizard, when they had left the town of fuddlecumjig and the sawhorse had started back along the road. "why, ozma laid out this trip," replied dorothy, "and she 'vised us to see the rigmaroles next, and then visit the tin woodman." "that sounds good," said the wizard. "but what road do we take to get to the rigmaroles?" "i don't know, 'zactly," returned the little girl; "but it must be somewhere just southwest from here." "then why need we go way back to the crossroads?" asked the shaggy man. "we might save a lot of time by branching off here." "there isn't any path," asserted uncle henry. "then we'd better go back to the signposts, and make sure of our way," decided dorothy. but after they had gone a short distance farther the sawhorse, who had overheard their conversation, stopped and said: "here is a path." sure enough, a dim path seemed to branch off from the road they were on, and it led across pretty green meadows and past leafy groves, straight toward the southwest. "that looks like a good path," said omby amby. "why not try it?" "all right," answered dorothy. "i'm anxious to see what the rigmaroles are like, and this path ought to take us there the quickest way." no one made any objection to the plan, so the sawhorse turned into the path, which proved to be nearly as good as the one they had taken to get to the fuddles. at first they passed a few retired farm houses, but soon these scattered dwellings were left behind and only the meadows and the trees were before them. but they rode along in cheerful contentment, and aunt em got into an argument with billina about the proper way to raise chickens. "i do not care to contradict you," said the yellow hen, with dignity, "but i have an idea i know more about chickens than human beings do." "pshaw!" replied aunt em, "i've raised chickens for nearly forty years, billina, and i know you've got to starve 'em to make 'em lay lots of eggs, and stuff 'em if you want good broilers." "broilers!" exclaimed billina, in horror. "broil my chickens!" "why, that's what they're for, ain't it?" asked aunt em, astonished. "no, aunt, not in oz," said dorothy. "people do not eat chickens here. you see, billina was the first hen that was ever seen in this country, and i brought her here myself. everybody liked her an' respected her, so the oz people wouldn't any more eat her chickens than they would eat billina." "well, i declare," gasped aunt em. "how about the eggs?" "oh, if we have more eggs than we want to hatch, we allow people to eat them," said billina. "indeed, i am very glad the oz folks like our eggs, for otherwise they would spoil." "this certainly is a queer country," sighed aunt em. "excuse me," called the sawhorse, "the path has ended and i'd like to know which way to go." they looked around and, sure enough, there was no path to be seen. "well," said dorothy, "we're going southwest, and it seems just as easy to follow that direction without a path as with one." "certainly," answered the sawhorse. "it is not hard to draw the wagon over the meadow. i only want to know where to go." "there's a forest over there across the prairie," said the wizard, "and it lies in the direction we are going. make straight for the forest, sawhorse, and you're bound to go right." so the wooden animal trotted on again and the meadow grass was so soft under the wheels that it made easy riding. but dorothy was a little uneasy at losing the path, because now there was nothing to guide them. no houses were to be seen at all, so they could not ask their way of any farmer; and although the land of oz was always beautiful, wherever one might go, this part of the country was strange to all the party. "perhaps we're lost," suggested aunt em, after they had proceeded quite a way in silence. "never mind," said the shaggy man; "i've been lost many a time--and so has dorothy--and we've always been found again." "but we may get hungry," remarked omby amby. "that is the worst of getting lost in a place where there are no houses near." "we had a good dinner at the fuddle town," said uncle henry, "and that will keep us from starving to death for a long time." "no one ever starved to death in oz," declared dorothy, positively; "but people may get pretty hungry sometimes." the wizard said nothing, and he did not seem especially anxious. the sawhorse was trotting along briskly, yet the forest seemed farther away than they had thought when they first saw it. so it was nearly sundown when they finally came to the trees; but now they found themselves in a most beautiful spot, the wide-spreading trees being covered with flowering vines and having soft mosses underneath them. "this will be a good place to camp," said the wizard, as the sawhorse stopped for further instructions. "camp!" they all echoed. "certainly," asserted the wizard. "it will be dark before very long and we cannot travel through this forest at night. so let us make a camp here, and have some supper, and sleep until daylight comes again." they all looked at the little man in astonishment, and aunt em said, with a sniff: "a pretty camp we'll have, i must say! i suppose you intend us to sleep under the wagon." "and chew grass for our supper," added the shaggy man, laughing. but dorothy seemed to have no doubts and was quite cheerful. "it's lucky we have the wonderful wizard with us," she said; "because he can do 'most anything he wants to." "oh, yes; i forgot we had a wizard," said uncle henry, looking at the little man curiously. "i didn't," chirped billina, contentedly. the wizard smiled and climbed out of the wagon, and all the others followed him. "in order to camp," said he, "the first thing we need is tents. will some one please lend me a handkerchief?" the shaggy man offered him one, and aunt em another. he took them both and laid them carefully upon the grass near to the edge of the forest. then he laid his own handkerchief down, too, and standing a little back from them he waved his left hand toward the handkerchiefs and said: "tents of canvas, white as snow, let me see how fast you grow!" then, lo and behold! the handkerchiefs became tiny tents, and as the travelers looked at them the tents grew bigger and bigger until in a few minutes each one was large enough to contain the entire party. "this," said the wizard, pointing to the first tent, "is for the accommodation of the ladies. dorothy, you and your aunt may step inside and take off your things." every one ran to look inside the tent, and they saw two pretty white beds, all ready for dorothy and aunt em, and a silver roost for billina. rugs were spread upon the grassy floor and some camp chairs and a table completed the furniture. "well, well, well! this beats anything i ever saw or heard of!" exclaimed aunt em, and she glanced at the wizard almost fearfully, as if he might be dangerous because of his great powers. "oh, mr. wizard! how did you manage to do it?" asked dorothy. "it's a trick glinda the sorceress taught me, and it is much better magic than i used to practise in omaha, or when i first came to oz," he answered. "when the good glinda found i was to live in the emerald city always, she promised to help me, because she said the wizard of oz ought really to be a clever wizard, and not a humbug. so we have been much together and i am learning so fast that i expect to be able to accomplish some really wonderful things in time." "you've done it now!" declared dorothy. "these tents are just wonderful!" "but come and see the men's tent," said the wizard. so they went to the second tent, which had shaggy edges because it had been made from the shaggy man's handkerchief, and found that completely furnished also. it contained four neat beds for uncle henry, omby amby, the shaggy man and the wizard. also there was a soft rug for toto to lie upon. "the third tent," explained the wizard, "is our dining room and kitchen." they visited that next, and found a table and dishes in the dining tent, with plenty of those things necessary to use in cooking. the wizard carried out a big kettle and set it swinging on a crossbar before the tent. while he was doing this omby amby and the shaggy man brought a supply of twigs from the forest and then they built a fire underneath the kettle. "now, dorothy," said the wizard, smiling, "i expect you to cook our supper." "but there is nothing in the kettle," she cried. "are you sure?" inquired the wizard. "i didn't see anything put in, and i'm almost sure it was empty when you brought it out," she replied. "nevertheless," said the little man, winking slyly at uncle henry, "you will do well to watch our supper, my dear, and see that it doesn't boil over." then the men took some pails and went into the forest to search for a spring of water, and while they were gone aunt em said to dorothy: "i believe the wizard is fooling us. i saw the kettle myself, and when he hung it over the fire there wasn't a thing in it but air." [illustration] "don't worry," remarked billina, confidently, as she nestled in the grass before the fire. "you'll find something in the kettle when it's taken off--and it won't be poor, innocent chickens, either." "your hen has very bad manners, dorothy," said aunt em, looking somewhat disdainfully at billina. "it seems too bad she ever learned how to talk." there might have been another unpleasant quarrel between aunt em and billina had not the men returned just then with their pails filled with clear, sparkling water. the wizard told dorothy that she was a good cook and he believed their supper was ready. so uncle henry lifted the kettle from the fire and poured its contents into a big platter which the wizard held for him. the platter was fairly heaped with a fine stew, smoking hot, with many kinds of vegetables and dumplings and a rich, delicious gravy. the wizard triumphantly placed the platter upon the table in the dining tent and then they all sat down in camp chairs to the feast. there were several other dishes on the table, all carefully covered, and when the time came to remove these covers they found bread and butter, cakes, cheese, pickles and fruits--including some of the luscious strawberries of oz. no one ventured to ask a question as to how these things came there. they contented themselves by eating heartily the good things provided, and toto and billina had their full share, you may be sure. after the meal was over aunt em whispered to dorothy: "that may have been magic food, my dear, and for that reason perhaps it won't be very nourishing; but i'm willing to say it tasted as good as anything i ever et." then she added, in a louder tone: "who's going to do the dishes?" "no one, madam," answered the wizard. "the dishes have 'done' themselves." "la sakes!" ejaculated the good lady, holding up her hands in amazement. for, sure enough, when she looked at the dishes they had a moment before left upon the table, she found them all washed and dried and piled up into neat stacks. [illustration] _how_ dorothy happened to get lost chapter fifteen [illustration] it was a beautiful evening, so they drew their camp chairs in a circle before one of the tents and began to tell stories to amuse themselves and pass away the time before they went to bed. pretty soon a zebra was seen coming out of the forest, and he trotted straight up to them and said politely: "good evening, people." the zebra was a sleek little animal and had a slender head, a stubby mane and a paint-brush tail--very like a donkey's. his neatly shaped white body was covered with regular bars of dark brown, and his hoofs were delicate as those of a deer. "good evening, friend zebra," said omby amby, in reply to the creature's greeting. "can we do anything for you?" "yes," answered the zebra. "i should like you to settle a dispute that has long been a bother to me, as to whether there is more water or land in the world." "who are you disputing with?" asked the wizard. "with a soft-shell crab," said the zebra. "he lives in a pool where i go to drink every day, and he is a very impertinent crab, i assure you. i have told him many times that the land is much greater in extent than the water, but he will not be convinced. even this very evening, when i told him he was an insignificant creature who lived in a small pool, he asserted that the water was greater and more important than the land. so, seeing your camp, i decided to ask you to settle the dispute for once and all, that i may not be further annoyed by this ignorant crab." when they had listened to this explanation dorothy inquired: "where is the soft-shell crab?" "not far away," replied the zebra. "if you will agree to judge between us i will run and get him." "run along, then," said the little girl. so the animal pranced into the forest and soon came trotting back to them. when he drew near they found a soft-shell crab clinging fast to the stiff hair of the zebra's head, where it held on by one claw. "now then, mr. crab," said the zebra, "here are the people i told you about; and they know more than you do, who live in a pool, and more than i do, who live in a forest. for they have been travelers all over the world, and know every part of it." "there's more of the world than oz," declared the crab, in a stubborn voice. "that is true," said dorothy; "but i used to live in kansas, in the united states, and i've been to california and to australia--and so has uncle henry." "for my part," added the shaggy man, "i've been to mexico and boston and many other foreign countries." "and i," said the wizard, "have been to europe and ireland." "so you see," continued the zebra, addressing the crab, "here are people of real consequence, who know what they are talking about." "then they know there's more water in the world than there is land," asserted the crab, in a shrill, petulant voice. "they know you are wrong to make such an absurd statement, and they will probably think you are a lobster instead of a crab," retorted the animal. at this taunt the crab reached out its other claw and seized the zebra's ear, and the creature gave a cry of pain and began prancing up and down, trying to shake off the crab, which clung fast. "stop pinching!" cried the zebra. "you promised not to pinch if i would carry you here!" "and you promised to treat me respectfully," said the crab, letting go the ear. "well, haven't i?" demanded the zebra. "no; you called me a lobster," said the crab. "ladies and gentlemen," continued the zebra, "please pardon my poor friend, because he is ignorant and stupid, and does not understand. also the pinch of his claw is very annoying. so pray tell him that the world contains more land than water, and when he has heard your judgment i will carry him back and dump him into his pool, where i hope he will be more modest in the future." "but we cannot tell him that," said dorothy, gravely, "because it would not be true." "what!" exclaimed the zebra, in astonishment; "do i hear you aright?" "the soft-shell crab is correct," declared the wizard. "there is considerably more water than there is land in the world." "impossible!" protested the zebra. "why, i can run for days upon the land, and find but little water." "did you ever see an ocean?" asked dorothy. "never," admitted the zebra. "there is no such thing as an ocean in the land of oz." "well, there are several oceans in the world," said dorothy, "and people sail in ships upon these oceans for weeks and weeks, and never see a bit of land at all. and the joggerfys will tell you that all the oceans put together are bigger than all the land put together." at this the crab began laughing in queer chuckles that reminded dorothy of the way billina sometimes cackled. "_now_ will you give up, mr. zebra?" it cried, jeeringly; "now will you give up?" the zebra seemed much humbled. "of course i cannot read geographys," he said. "you could take one of the wizard's school pills," suggested billina, "and that would make you learned and wise without studying." the crab began laughing again, which so provoked the zebra that he tried to shake the little creature off. this resulted in more ear-pinching, and finally dorothy told them that if they could not behave they must go back to the forest. "i'm sorry i asked you to decide this question," said the zebra, crossly. "so long as neither of us could prove we were right we quite enjoyed the dispute; but now i can never drink at that pool again without the soft-shell crab laughing at me. so i must find another drinking place." "do! do, you ignoramus!" shouted the crab, as loudly as his little voice would carry. "rile some other pool with your clumsy hoofs, and let your betters alone after this!" then the zebra trotted back to the forest, bearing the crab with him, and disappeared amid the gloom of the trees. and as it was now getting dark the travelers said good night to one another and went to bed. [illustration] dorothy awoke just as the light was beginning to get strong next morning, and not caring to sleep any later she quietly got out of bed, dressed herself, and left the tent where aunt em was yet peacefully slumbering. outside she noticed billina busily pecking around to secure bugs or other food for breakfast, but none of the men in the other tent seemed awake. so the little girl decided to take a walk in the woods and try to discover some path or road that they might follow when they again started upon their journey. she had reached the edge of the forest when the yellow hen came fluttering along and asked where she was going. "just to take a walk, billina; and maybe i'll find some path," said dorothy. "then i'll go along," decided billina, and scarcely had she spoken when toto ran up and joined them. toto and the yellow hen had become quite friendly by this time, although at first they did not get along well together. billina had been rather suspicious of dogs, and toto had had an idea that it was every dog's duty to chase a hen on sight. but dorothy had talked to them and scolded them for not being agreeable to one another until they grew better acquainted and became friends. i won't say they loved each other dearly, but at least they had stopped quarreling and now managed to get on together very well. the day was growing lighter every minute and driving the black shadows out of the forest; so dorothy found it very pleasant walking under the trees. she went some distance in one direction, but not finding a path, presently turned in a different direction. there was no path here, either, although she advanced quite a way into the forest, winding here and there among the trees and peering through the bushes in an endeavor to find some beaten track. "i think we'd better go back," suggested the yellow hen, after a time. "the people will all be up by this time and breakfast will be ready." "very well," agreed dorothy. "let's see--the camp must be over this way." she had probably made a mistake about that, for after they had gone far enough to have reached the camp they still found themselves in the thick of the woods. so the little girl stopped short and looked around her, and toto glanced up into her face with his bright little eyes and wagged his tail as if he knew something was wrong. he couldn't tell much about direction himself, because he had spent his time prowling among the bushes and running here and there; nor had billina paid much attention to where they were going, being interested in picking bugs from the moss as they passed along. the yellow hen now turned one eye up toward the little girl and asked: "have you forgotten where the camp is, dorothy?" "yes," she admitted; "have you, billina?" "i didn't try to remember," returned billina. "i'd no idea you would get lost, dorothy." "it's the thing we don't expect, billina, that usually happens," observed the girl, thoughtfully. "but it's no use standing here. let's go in that direction," pointing a finger at random. "it may be we'll get out of the forest over there." so on they went again, but this way the trees were closer together, and the vines were so tangled that often they tripped dorothy up. suddenly a voice cried sharply: "halt!" [illustration: "halt!"] at first dorothy could see nothing, although she looked around very carefully. but billina exclaimed: "well, i declare!" "what is it?" asked the little girl: for toto began barking at something, and following his gaze she discovered what it was. a row of spoons had surrounded the three, and these spoons stood straight up on their handles and carried swords and muskets. their faces were outlined in the polished bowls and they looked very stern and severe. dorothy laughed at the queer things. "who are you?" she asked. "we're the spoon brigade," said one. "in the service of his majesty king kleaver," said another. "and you are our prisoners," said a third. dorothy sat down on an old stump and looked at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "what would happen," she inquired, "if i should set my dog on your brigade?" "he would die," replied one of the spoons, sharply. "one shot from our deadly muskets would kill him, big as he is." "don't risk it, dorothy," advised the yellow hen. "remember this is a fairy country, yet none of us three happens to be a fairy." dorothy grew sober at this. "p'raps you're right, billina," she answered. "but how funny it is, to be captured by a lot of spoons!" "i do not see anything very funny about it," declared a spoon. "we're the regular military brigade of the kingdom." "what kingdom?" she asked. "utensia," said he. "i never heard of it before," asserted dorothy. then she added, thoughtfully, "i don't believe ozma ever heard of utensia, either. tell me, are you not subjects of ozma of oz?" "we never have heard of her," retorted a spoon. "we are subjects of king kleaver, and obey only his orders, which are to bring all prisoners to him as soon as they are captured. so step lively, my girl, and march with us, or we may be tempted to cut off a few of your toes with our swords." this threat made dorothy laugh again. she did not believe she was in any danger; but here was a new and interesting adventure, so she was willing to be taken to utensia that she might see what king kleaver's kingdom was like. [illustration] _how_ dorothy visited utensia chapter sixteen [illustration] there must have been from six to eight dozen spoons in the brigade, and they marched away in the shape of a hollow square, with dorothy, billina and toto in the center of the square. before they had gone very far toto knocked over one of the spoons by wagging his tail, and then the captain of the spoons told the little dog to be more careful, or he would be punished. so toto was careful, and the spoon brigade moved along with astonishing swiftness, while dorothy really had to walk fast to keep up with it. by and by they left the woods and entered a big clearing, in which was the kingdom of utensia. standing all around the clearing were a good many cookstoves, ranges and grills, of all sizes and shapes, and besides these there were several kitchen cabinets and cupboards and a few kitchen tables. these things were crowded with utensils of all sorts: frying pans, sauce pans, kettles, forks, knives, basting and soup spoons, nutmeg graters, sifters, colenders, meat saws, flat irons, rolling pins and many other things of a like nature. when the spoon brigade appeared with the prisoners a wild shout arose and many of the utensils hopped off their stoves or their benches and ran crowding around dorothy and the hen and the dog. "stand back!" cried the captain, sternly, and he led his captives through the curious throng until they came before a big range that stood in the center of the clearing. beside this range was a butcher's block upon which lay a great cleaver with a keen edge. it rested upon the flat of its back, its legs were crossed and it was smoking a long pipe. [illustration] "wake up, your majesty," said the captain. "here are prisoners." hearing this, king kleaver sat up and looked at dorothy sharply. "gristle and fat!" he cried. "where did this girl come from?" "i found her in the forest and brought her here a prisoner," replied the captain. "why did you do that?" inquired the king, puffing his pipe lazily. "to create some excitement," the captain answered. "it is so quiet here that we are all getting rusty for want of amusement. for my part, i prefer to see stirring times." "naturally," returned the cleaver, with a nod. "i have always said, captain, without a bit of irony, that you are a sterling officer and a solid citizen, bowled and polished to a degree. but what do you expect me to do with these prisoners?" "that is for you to decide," declared the captain. "you are the king." "to be sure; to be sure," muttered the cleaver, musingly. "as you say, we have had dull times since the steel and grindstone eloped and left us. command my counselors and the royal courtiers to attend me, as well as the high priest and the judge. we'll then decide what can be done." the captain saluted and retired and dorothy sat down on an overturned kettle and asked: "have you anything to eat in your kingdom?" "here! get up! get off from me!" cried a faint voice, at which his majesty the cleaver said: "excuse me, but you're sitting on my friend the ten-quart kettle." dorothy at once arose, and the kettle turned right side up and looked at her reproachfully. "i'm a friend of the king, so no one dares sit on me," said he. "i'd prefer a chair, anyway," she replied. "sit on that hearth," commanded the king. so dorothy sat on the hearth-shelf of the big range, and the subjects of utensia began to gather around in a large and inquisitive throng. toto lay at dorothy's feet and billina flew upon the range, which had no fire in it, and perched there as comfortably as she could. when all the counselors and courtiers had assembled--and these seemed to include most of the inhabitants of the kingdom--the king rapped on the block for order and said: "friends and fellow utensils! our worthy commander of the spoon brigade, captain dipp, has captured the three prisoners you see before you and brought them here for--for--i don't know what for. so i ask your advice how to act in this matter, and what fate i should mete out to these captives. judge sifter, stand on my right. it is your business to sift this affair to the bottom. high priest colender, stand on my left and see that no one testifies falsely in this matter." as these two officials took their places dorothy asked: "why is the colender the high priest?" "he's the holiest thing we have in the kingdom," replied king kleaver. "except me," said a sieve. "i'm the whole thing when it comes to holes." "what we need," remarked the king, rebukingly, "is a wireless sieve. i must speak to marconi about it. these old fashioned sieves talk too much. now, it is the duty of the king's counselors to counsel the king at all times of emergency, so i beg you to speak out and advise me what to do with these prisoners." "i demand that they be killed several times, until they are dead!" shouted a pepperbox, hopping around very excitedly. "compose yourself, mr. paprica," advised the king. "your remarks are piquant and highly-seasoned, but you need a scattering of commonsense. it is only necessary to kill a person once to make him dead; but i do not see that it is necessary to kill this little girl at all." "i don't, either," said dorothy. "pardon me, but you are not expected to advise me in this matter," replied king kleaver. "why not?" asked dorothy. "you might be prejudiced in your own favor, and so mislead us," he said. "now then, good subjects, who speaks next?" "i'd like to smooth this thing over, in some way," said a flatiron, earnestly. "we are supposed to be useful to mankind, you know." "but the girl isn't mankind! she's womankind!" yelled a corkscrew. "what do you know about it?" inquired the king. "i'm a lawyer," said the corkscrew, proudly. "i am accustomed to appear at the bar." "but you're crooked," retorted the king, "and that debars you. you may be a corking good lawyer, mr. popp, but i must ask you to withdraw your remarks." "very well," said the corkscrew, sadly; "i see i haven't any pull at this court." "permit me," continued the flatiron, "to press my suit, your majesty. i do not wish to gloss over any fault the prisoner may have committed, if such a fault exists; but we owe her some consideration, and that's flat!" "i'd like to hear from prince karver," said the king. at this a stately carvingknife stepped forward and bowed. "the captain was wrong to bring this girl here, and she was wrong to come," he said. "but now that the foolish deed is done let us all prove our mettle and have a slashing good time." "that's it! that's it!" screamed a fat choppingknife. "we'll make mincemeat of the girl and hash of the chicken and sausage of the dog!" there was a shout of approval at this and the king had to rap again for order. "gentlemen, gentlemen!" he said, "your remarks are somewhat cutting and rather disjointed, as might be expected from such acute intellects. but you give no reasons for your demands." "see here, kleaver; you make me tired," exclaimed a saucepan, strutting before the king very impudently. "you're about the worst king that ever reigned in utensia, and that's saying a good deal. why don't you run things yourself, instead of asking everybody's advice, like the big, clumsy idiot you are?" the king sighed. "i wish there wasn't a saucepan in my kingdom," he said. "you fellows are always stewing, over something, and every once in a while you slop over and make a mess of it. go hang yourself, sir--by the handle--and don't let me hear from you again." dorothy was much shocked by the dreadful language the utensils employed, and she thought that they must have had very little proper training. so she said, addressing the king, who seemed very unfit to rule his turbulent subjects: "i wish you'd decide my fate right away. i can't stay here all day, trying to find out what you're going to do with me." "this thing is becoming a regular broil, and it's time i took part in it," observed a big gridiron, coming forward. "what i'd like to know," said a can-opener, in a shrill voice, "is why the girl came to our forest, anyhow, and why she intruded upon captain dipp--who ought to be called dippy--and who she is, and where she came from, and where she is going, and why and wherefore and therefore and when." "i'm sorry to see, sir jabber," remarked the king to the can-opener, "that you have such a prying disposition. as a matter of fact, all the things you mention are none of our business." having said this the king relighted his pipe, which had gone out. "tell me, please, what _is_ our business?" inquired a potato-masher, winking at dorothy somewhat impertinently. "i'm fond of little girls, myself, and it seems to me she has as much right to wander in the forest as we have." "who accuses the little girl, anyway?" inquired a rolling-pin. "what has she done?" "i don't know," said the king. "what has she done, captain dipp?" "that's the trouble, your majesty. she hasn't done anything," replied the captain. "what do you want me to do?" asked dorothy. this question seemed to puzzle them all. finally a chafingdish, exclaimed, irritably: "if no one can throw any light on this subject you must excuse me if i go out." at this a big kitchen fork pricked up its ears and said in a tiny voice: "let's hear from judge sifter." "that's proper," returned the king. so judge sifter turned around slowly several times and then said: "we have nothing against the girl except the stove-hearth upon which she sits. therefore i order her instantly discharged." "discharged!" cried dorothy. "why, i never was discharged in my life, and i don't intend to be. if its all the same to you, i'll resign." "it's all the same," declared the king. "you are free--you and your companions--and may go wherever you like." "thank you," said the little girl. "but haven't you anything to eat in your kingdom? i'm hungry." "go into the woods and pick blackberries," advised the king, lying down upon his back again and preparing to go to sleep. "there isn't a morsel to eat in all utensia, that i know of." so dorothy jumped up and said: "come on, toto and billina. if we can't find the camp we may find some blackberries." the utensils drew back and allowed them to pass without protest, although captain dipp marched the spoon brigade in close order after them until they had reached the edge of the clearing. there the spoons halted; but dorothy and her companions entered the forest again and began searching diligently for a way back to the camp, that they might rejoin their party. [illustration] _how_ they came to bunbury chapter seventeen [illustration] wandering through the woods, without knowing where you are going or what adventure you are about to meet next, is not as pleasant as one might think. the woods are always beautiful and impressive, and if you are not worried or hungry you may enjoy them immensely; but dorothy was worried and hungry that morning, so she paid little attention to the beauties of the forest, and hurried along as fast as she could go. she tried to keep in one direction and not circle around, but she was not at all sure that the direction she had chosen would lead her to the camp. by and by, to her great joy, she came upon a path. it ran to the right and to the left, being lost in the trees in both directions, and just before her, upon a big oak, were fastened two signs, with arms pointing both ways. one sign read: [illustration: (hand pointing right)] take the other road to bunbury and the second sign read: [illustration: (hand pointing right)] take the other road to bunnybury "well!" exclaimed billina, eyeing the signs, "this looks as if we were getting back to civilization again." "i'm not sure about the civil'zation, dear," replied the little girl; "but it looks as if we might get _somewhere_, and that's a big relief, anyhow." "which path shall we take?" inquired the yellow hen. dorothy stared at the signs thoughtfully. "bunbury sounds like something to eat," she said. "let's go there." "it's all the same to me," replied billina. she had picked up enough bugs and insects from the moss as she went along to satisfy her own hunger, but the hen knew dorothy could not eat bugs; nor could toto. the path to bunbury seemed little traveled, but it was distinct enough and ran through the trees in a zigzag course until it finally led them to an open space filled with the queerest houses dorothy had ever seen. they were all made of crackers, laid out in tiny squares, and were of many pretty and ornamental shapes, having balconies and porches with posts of bread-sticks and roofs shingled with wafer-crackers. there were walks of bread-crusts leading from house to house and forming streets, and the place seemed to have many inhabitants. when dorothy, followed by billina and toto, entered the place, they found people walking the streets or assembled in groups talking together, or sitting upon the porches and balconies. and what funny people they were! men, women, and children were all made of buns and bread. some were thin and others fat; some were white, some light brown and some very dark of complexion. a few of the buns, which seemed to form the more important class of the people, were neatly frosted. some had raisins for eyes and currant buttons on their clothes; others had eyes of cloves and legs of stick cinnamon, and many wore hats and bonnets frosted pink and green. there was something of a commotion in bunbury when the strangers suddenly appeared among them. women caught up their children and hurried into their houses, shutting the cracker doors carefully behind them. some men ran so hastily that they tumbled over one another, while others, more brave, assembled in a group and faced the intruders defiantly. dorothy at once realized that she must act with caution in order not to frighten these shy people, who were evidently unused to the presence of strangers. there was a delightful fragrant odor of fresh bread in the town, and this made the little girl more hungry than ever. she told toto and billina to stay back while she slowly advanced toward the group that stood silently awaiting her. "you must 'scuse me for coming unexpected," she said, softly, "but i really didn't know i was coming here until i arrived. i was lost in the woods, you know, and i'm as hungry as anything." "hungry!" they murmured, in a horrified chorus. "yes; i haven't had anything to eat since last night's supper," she explained. "are there any eatables in bunbury?" they looked at one another undecidedly, and then one portly bun man, who seemed a person of consequence, stepped forward and said: "little girl, to be frank with you, we are all eatables. everything in bunbury is eatable to ravenous human creatures like you. but it is to escape being eaten and destroyed that we have secluded ourselves in this out-of-the-way place, and there is neither right nor justice in your coming here to feed upon us." dorothy looked at him longingly. "you're bread, aren't you?" she asked. "yes; bread and butter. the butter is inside me, so it won't melt and run. i do the running myself." at this joke all the others burst into a chorus of laughter, and dorothy thought they couldn't be much afraid if they could laugh like that. "couldn't i eat something besides people?" she asked. "couldn't i eat just one house, or a side-walk, or something? i wouldn't mind much what it was, you know." "this is not a public bakery, child," replied the man, sternly. "it's private property." "i know mr.--mr.--" "my name is c. bunn, esquire," said the man. "c stands for cinnamon, and this place is called after my family, which is the most aristocratic in the town." "oh, i don't know about that," objected another of the queer people. "the grahams and the browns and whites are all excellent families, and there are none better of their kind. i'm a boston brown, myself." "i admit you are all desirable citizens," said mr. bunn, rather stiffly; "but the fact remains that our town is called bunbury." "'scuse me," interrupted dorothy; "but i'm getting hungrier every minute. now, if you're polite and kind, as i'm sure you ought to be, you'll let me eat _something_. there's so much to eat here that you never will miss it." then a big, puffed-up man, of a delicate brown color, stepped forward and said: "i think it would be a shame to send this child away hungry, especially as she agrees to eat whatever we can spare and not touch our people." "so do i, pop," replied a roll who stood near. "what, then, do you suggest, mr. over?" inquired mr. bunn. "why, i'll let her eat my back fence, if she wants to. it's made of waffles, and they're very crisp and nice." "she may also eat my wheelbarrow," added a pleasant looking muffin. "it's made of nabiscos with a zuzu wheel." "very good; very good," remarked mr. bunn. "that is certainly very kind of you. go with pop over and mr. muffin, little girl, and they will feed you." "thank you very much," said dorothy, gratefully. "may i bring my dog toto, and the yellow hen? they're hungry, too." "will you make them behave?" asked the muffin. "of course," promised dorothy. "then come along," said pop over. so dorothy and billina and toto walked up the street and the people seemed no longer to be at all afraid of them. mr. muffin's house came first, and as his wheelbarrow stood in the front yard the little girl ate that first. it didn't seem very fresh, but she was so hungry that she was not particular. toto ate some, too, while billina picked up the crumbs. while the strangers were engaged in eating, many of the people came and stood in the street curiously watching them. dorothy noticed six roguish looking brown children standing all in a row, and she asked: "who are you, little ones?" "we're the graham gems," replied one; "and we're all twins." "i wonder if your mother could spare one or two of you?" asked billina, who decided that they were fresh baked; but at this dangerous question the six little gems ran away as fast as they could go. "you mustn't say such things, billina," said dorothy, reprovingly. "now let's go into pop over's back yard and get the waffles." "i sort of hate to let that fence go," remarked mr. over, nervously, as they walked toward his house. "the neighbors back of us are soda biscuits, and i don't care to mix with them." "but i'm hungry yet," declared the girl. "that wheelbarrow wasn't very big." "i've got a shortcake piano, but none of my family can play on it," he said, reflectively. "suppose you eat that." "all right," said dorothy; "i don't mind. anything to be accomodating." [illustration] so mr. over led her into the house, where she ate the piano, which was of an excellent flavor. "is there anything to drink here?" she asked. "yes; i've a milk pump and a water pump; which will you have?" he asked. "i guess i'll try 'em both," said dorothy. so mr. over called to his wife, who brought into the yard a pail made of some kind of baked dough, and dorothy pumped the pail full of cool, sweet milk and drank it eagerly. the wife of pop over was several shades darker than her husband. "aren't you overdone?" the little girl asked her. "no indeed," answered the woman. "i'm neither overdone nor done over; i'm just mrs. over, and i'm the president of the bunbury breakfast band." dorothy thanked them for their hospitality and went away. at the gate mr. cinnamon bunn met her and said he would show her around the town. "we have some very interesting inhabitants," he remarked, walking stiffly beside her on his stick-cinnamon legs; "and all of us who are in good health are well bred. if you are no longer hungry we will call upon a few of the most important citizens." toto and billina followed behind them, behaving very well, and a little way down the street they came to a handsome residence where aunt sally lunn lived. the old lady was glad to meet the little girl and gave her a slice of white bread and butter which had been used as a door-mat. it was almost fresh and tasted better than anything dorothy had eaten in the town. "where do you get the butter?" she inquired. "we dig it out of the ground, which, as you may have observed, is all flour and meal," replied mr. bunn. "there is a butter mine just at the opposite side of the village. the trees which you see here are all doughleanders and doughderas, and in the season we get quite a crop of dough-nuts off them." "i should think the flour would blow around and get into your eyes," said dorothy. "no," said he; "we are bothered with cracker dust sometimes, but never with flour." then he took her to see johnny cake, a cheerful old gentleman who lived near by. "i suppose you've heard of me," said old johnny, with an air of pride. "i'm a great favorite all over the world." "aren't you rather yellow?" asked dorothy, looking at him critically. "maybe, child. but don't think i'm bilious, for i was never in better health in my life," replied the old gentleman. "if anything ailed me, i'd willingly acknowledge the corn." "johnny's a trifle stale," said mr. bunn, as they went away; "but he's a good mixer and never gets cross-grained. i will now take you to call upon some of my own relatives." they visited the sugar bunns, the currant bunns and the spanish bunns, the latter having a decidedly foreign appearance. then they saw the french rolls, who were very polite to them, and made a brief call upon the parker h. rolls, who seemed a bit proud and overbearing. "but they're not as stuck up as the frosted jumbles," declared mr. bunn, "who are people i really can't abide. i don't like to be suspicious or talk scandal, but sometimes i think the jumbles have too much baking powder in them." just then a dreadful scream was heard, and dorothy turned hastily around to find a scene of great excitement a little way down the street. the people were crowding around toto and throwing at him everything they could find at hand. they pelted the little dog with hard-tack, crackers, and even articles of furniture which were hard baked and heavy enough for missiles. toto howled a little as the assortment of bake stuff struck him; but he stood still, with head bowed and tail between his legs, until dorothy ran up and inquired what the matter was. "matter!" cried a rye loafer, indignantly, "why the horrid beast has eaten three of our dear crumpets, and is now devouring a salt-rising biscuit!" "oh, toto! how could you?" exclaimed dorothy, much distressed. toto's mouth was full of his salt-rising victim; so he only whined and wagged his tail. but billina, who had flown to the top of a cracker house to be in a safe place, called out: "don't blame him, dorothy; the crumpets dared him to do it." "yes, and you pecked out the eyes of a raisin bunn--one of our best citizens!" shouted a bread pudding, shaking its fist at the yellow hen. "what's that! what's that?" wailed mr. cinnamon bunn, who had now joined them. "oh, what a misfortune--what a terrible misfortune!" "see here," said dorothy, determined to defend her pets, "i think we've treated you all pretty well, seeing you're eatables, an' reg'lar food for us. i've been kind to you, and eaten your old wheelbarrows and pianos and rubbish, an' not said a word. but toto and billina can't be 'spected to go hungry when the town's full of good things they like to eat, 'cause they can't understand your stingy ways as i do." "you must leave here at once!" said mr. bunn, sternly. "suppose we won't go?" asked dorothy, who was now much provoked. "then," said he, "we will put you into the great ovens where we are made, and bake you." dorothy gazed around and saw threatening looks upon the faces of all. she had not noticed any ovens in the town, but they might be there, nevertheless, for some of the inhabitants seemed very fresh. so she decided to go, and calling to toto and billina to follow her she marched up the street with as much dignity as possible, considering that she was followed by the hoots and cries of the buns and biscuits and other bake stuff. [illustration] _how_ ozma looked into the magic picture chapter eighteen [illustration] princess ozma was a very busy little ruler, for she looked carefully after the comfort and welfare of her people and tried to make them happy. if any quarrels arose she decided them justly; if any one needed counsel or advice she was ready and willing to listen to them. for a day or two after dorothy and her companions had started on their trip, ozma was occupied with the affairs of her kingdom. then she began to think of some manner of occupation for uncle henry and aunt em that would be light and easy and yet give the old people something to do. she soon decided to make uncle henry the keeper of the jewels, for some one really was needed to count and look after the bins and barrels of emeralds, diamonds, rubies and other precious stones that were in the royal storehouses. that would keep uncle henry busy enough, but it was harder to find something for aunt em to do. the palace was full of servants, so there was no detail of housework that aunt em could look after. while ozma sat in her pretty room engaged in thought she happened to glance at her magic picture. this was one of the most important treasures in all the land of oz. it was a large picture, set in a beautiful gold frame, and it hung in a prominent place upon a wall of ozma's private room. usually this picture seemed merely a country scene, but whenever ozma looked at it and wished to know what any of her friends or acquaintances were doing, the magic of this wonderful picture was straightway disclosed. for the country scene would gradually fade away and in its place would appear the likeness of the person or persons ozma might wish to see, surrounded by the actual scenes in which they were then placed. in this way the princess could view any part of the world she wished, and watch the actions of any one in whom she was interested. ozma had often seen dorothy in her kansas home by this means, and now, having a little leisure, she expressed a desire to see her little friend again. it was while the travelers were at fuddlecumjig, and ozma laughed merrily as she watched in the picture her friends trying to match the pieces of grandmother gnit. "they seem happy and are doubtless having a good time," the girl ruler said to herself; and then she began to think of the many adventures she herself had encountered with dorothy. the images of her friends now faded from the magic picture and the old landscape slowly reappeared. ozma was thinking of the time when with dorothy and her army she marched to the nome king's underground cavern, beyond the land of ev, and forced the old monarch to liberate his captives, who belonged to the royal family of ev. that was the time when the scarecrow nearly frightened the nome king into fits by throwing one of billina's eggs at him, and dorothy had captured king roquat's magic belt and brought it away with her to the land of oz. the pretty princess smiled at the recollection of this adventure, and then she wondered what had become of the nome king since then. merely because she was curious and had nothing better to do, ozma glanced at the magic picture and wished to see in it the king of the nomes. roquat the red went every day into his tunnel to see how the work was getting along and to hurry his workmen as much as possible. he was there now, and ozma saw him plainly in the magic picture. she saw the underground tunnel, reaching far underneath the deadly desert which separated the land of oz from the mountains beneath which the nome king had his extensive caverns. she saw that the tunnel was being made in the direction of the emerald city, and knew at once it was being dug so that the army of nomes could march through it and attack her own beautiful and peaceful country. "i suppose king roquat is planning revenge against us," she said, musingly, "and thinks he can surprise us and make us his captives and slaves. how sad it is that any one can have such wicked thoughts! but i must not blame king roquat too severely, for he is a nome, and his nature is not so gentle as my own." then she dismissed from her mind further thought of the tunnel, for that time, and began to wonder if aunt em would not be happy as royal mender of the stockings of the ruler of oz. ozma wore few holes in her stockings; still, they sometimes needed mending. aunt em ought to be able to do that very nicely. next day the princess watched the tunnel again in her magic picture, and every day afterward she devoted a few minutes to inspecting the work. it was not especially interesting, but she felt that it was her duty. slowly but surely the big arched hole crept through the rocks underneath the deadly desert, and day by day it drew nearer and nearer to the emerald city. _how_ bunnybury welcomed the strangers chapter nineteen [illustration] dorothy left bunbury the same way she had entered it and when they were in the forest again she said to billina: "i never thought that things good to eat could be so dis'gree'ble." "often i've eaten things that tasted good but were disagreeable afterward," returned the yellow hen. "i think, dorothy, if eatables are going to act badly, it's better before than after you eat them." "p'raps you're right," said the little girl, with a sigh. "but what shall we do now?" "let us follow the path back to the signpost," suggested billina. "that will be better than getting lost again." "why, we're lost anyhow," declared dorothy; "but i guess you're right about going back to that signpost, billina." they returned along the path to the place where they had first found it, and at once took "the other road" to bunnybury. this road was a mere narrow strip, worn hard and smooth but not wide enough for dorothy's feet to tread. still it was a guide, and the walking through the forest was not at all difficult. before long they reached a high wall of solid white marble, and the path came to an end at this wall. at first dorothy thought there was no opening at all in the marble, but on looking closely she discovered a small square door about on a level with her head, and underneath this closed door was a bell-push. near the bell-push a sign was painted in neat letters upon the marble, and the sign read: _no admittance except on business_ this did not discourage dorothy, however, and she rang the bell. pretty soon a bolt was cautiously withdrawn and the marble door swung slowly open. then she saw it was not really a door, but a window, for several brass bars were placed across it, being set fast in the marble and so close together that the little girl's fingers might barely go between them. back of the bars appeared the face of a white rabbit--a very sober and sedate face--with an eye-glass held in his left eye and attached to a cord in his button-hole. "well! what is it?" asked the rabbit, sharply. "i'm dorothy," said the girl, "and i'm lost, and--" "state your business, please," interrupted the rabbit. "my business," she replied, "is to find out where i am, and to--" "no one is allowed in bunnybury without an order or a letter of introduction from either ozma of oz or glinda the good," announced the rabbit; "so that that settles the matter," and he started to close the window. "wait a minute!" cried dorothy. "i've got a letter from ozma." "from the ruler of oz?" asked the rabbit, doubtingly. "of course. ozma's my best friend, you know; and i'm a princess myself," she announced, earnestly. "hum--ha! let me see your letter," returned the rabbit, as if he still doubted her. so she hunted in her pocket and found the letter ozma had given her. then she handed it through the bars to the rabbit, who took it in his paws and opened it. he read it aloud in a pompous voice, as if to let dorothy and billina see that he was educated and could read writing. the letter was as follows: "it will please me to have my subjects greet princess dorothy, the bearer of this royal missive, with the same courtesy and consideration they would extend to me." "ha--hum! it is signed 'ozma of oz,'" continued the rabbit, "and is sealed with the great seal of the emerald city. well, well, well! how strange! how remarkable!" "what are you going to do about it?" inquired dorothy, impatiently. "we must obey the royal mandate," replied the rabbit. "we are subjects of ozma of oz, and we live in her country. also we are under the protection of the great sorceress glinda the good, who made us promise to respect ozma's commands." "then may i come in?" she asked. "i'll open the door," said the rabbit. he shut the window and disappeared, but a moment afterward a big door in the wall opened and admitted dorothy to a small room, which seemed to be a part of the wall and built into it. here stood the rabbit she had been talking with, and now that she could see all of him she gazed at the creature in surprise. he was a good sized white rabbit with pink eyes, much like all other white rabbits. but the astonishing thing about him was the manner in which he was dressed. he wore a white satin jacket embroidered with gold, and having diamond buttons. his vest was rose-colored satin, with tourmaline buttons. his trousers were white, to correspond with the jacket, and they were baggy at the knees--like those of a zouave--being tied with knots of rose ribbons. his shoes were of white plush with diamond buckles, and his stockings were rose silk. the richness and even magnificence of the rabbit's clothing made dorothy stare at the little creature wonderingly. toto and billina had followed her into the room and when he saw them the rabbit ran to a table and sprang upon it nimbly. then he looked at the three through his monocle and said: "these companions, princess, cannot enter bunnybury with you." "why not?" asked dorothy. "in the first place they would frighten our people, who dislike dogs above all things on earth; and, secondly, the letter of the royal ozma does not mention them." "but they're my friends," persisted dorothy, "and go wherever i go." "not this time," said the rabbit, decidedly. "you, yourself, princess, are a welcome visitor, since you come so highly recommended; but unless you consent to leave the dog and the hen in this room i cannot permit you to enter the town." "never mind us, dorothy," said billina. "go inside and see what the place is like. you can tell us about it afterward, and toto and i will rest comfortably here until you return." this seemed the best thing to do, for dorothy was curious to see how the rabbit people lived and she was aware of the fact that her friends might frighten the timid little creatures. she had not forgotten how toto and billina had misbehaved in bunbury, and perhaps the rabbit was wise to insist on their staying outside the town. "very well," she said, "i'll go in alone. i s'pose you're the king of this town, aren't you?" "no," answered the rabbit, "i'm merely the keeper of the wicket, and a person of little importance, although i try to do my duty. i must now inform you, princess, that before you enter our town you must consent to reduce." "reduce what?" asked dorothy. "your size. you must become the size of the rabbits, although you may retain your own form." "wouldn't my clothes be too big for me?" she inquired. "no; they will reduce when your body does." "can _you_ make me smaller?" asked the girl. "easily," returned the rabbit. "and will you make me big again, when i'm ready to go away?" "i will," said he. "all right, then; i'm willing," she announced. the rabbit jumped from the table and ran--or rather hopped--to the further wall, where he opened a door so tiny that even toto could scarcely have crawled through it. "follow me," he said. now, almost any other little girl would have declared that she could not get through so small a door; but dorothy had already encountered so many fairy adventures that she believed nothing was impossible in the land of oz. so she quietly walked toward the door, and at every step she grew smaller and smaller until, by the time the opening was reached, she could pass through it with ease. indeed, as she stood beside the rabbit, who sat upon his hind legs and used his paws as hands, her head was just about as high as his own. then the keeper of the wicket passed through and she followed, after which the door swung shut and locked itself with a sharp click. dorothy now found herself in a city so strange and beautiful that she gave a gasp of surprise. the high marble wall extended all around the place and shut out all the rest of the world. and here were marble houses of curious forms, most of them resembling overturned kettles but with delicate slender spires and minarets running far up into the sky. the streets were paved with white marble and in front of each house was a lawn of rich green clover. everything was as neat as wax, the green and white contrasting prettily together. but the rabbit people were, after all, the most amazing things dorothy saw. the streets were full of them, and their costumes were so splendid that the rich dress of the keeper of the wicket was commonplace when compared with the others. silks and satins of delicate hues seemed always used for material, and nearly every costume sparkled with exquisite gems. [illustration] but the lady rabbits outshone the gentlemen rabbits in splendor, and the cut of their gowns was really wonderful. they wore bonnets, too, with feathers and jewels in them, and some wheeled baby carriages in which the girl could see wee bunnies. some were lying asleep while others lay sucking their paws and looking around them with big pink eyes. as dorothy was no bigger in size than the grown-up rabbits she had a chance to observe them closely before they noticed her presence. then they did not seem at all alarmed, although the little girl naturally became the center of attraction and all regarded her with great curiosity. "make way!" cried the keeper of the wicket, in a pompous voice; "make way for princess dorothy, who comes from ozma of oz." hearing this announcement, the throng of rabbits gave place to them on the walks, and as dorothy passed along they all bowed their heads respectfully. walking thus through several handsome streets they came to a square in the center of the city. in this square were some pretty trees and a statue in bronze of glinda the good, while beyond it were the portals of the royal palace--an extensive and imposing building of white marble covered with a filigree of frosted gold. _how_ dorothy lunched with a king chapter twenty [illustration] a line of rabbit soldiers was drawn up before the palace entrance, and they wore green and gold uniforms with high shakos upon their heads and held tiny spears in their hands. the captain had a sword and a white plume in his shako. "salute!" cried the keeper of the wicket. "salute princess dorothy, who comes from ozma of oz!" "salute!" yelled the captain, and all the soldiers promptly saluted. they now entered the great hall of the palace, where they met a gaily dressed attendant, from whom the keeper of the wicket inquired if the king were at leisure. "i think so," was the reply. "i heard his majesty blubbering and wailing as usual only a few minutes ago. if he doesn't stop acting like a cry-baby i'm going to resign my position here and go to work." "what's the matter with your king?" asked dorothy, surprised to hear the rabbit attendant speak so disrespectfully of his monarch. "oh, he doesn't want to be king, that's all; and he simply _has_ to," was the reply. "come!" said the keeper of the wicket, sternly; "lead us to his majesty; and do not air our troubles before strangers, i beg of you." "why, if this girl is going to see the king, he'll air his own troubles," returned the attendant. "that is his royal privilege," declared the keeper. so the attendant led them into a room all draped with cloth-of-gold and furnished with satin-covered gold furniture. there was a throne in this room, set on a dais and having a big cushioned seat, and on this seat reclined the rabbit king. he was lying on his back, with his paws in the air, and whining very like a puppy-dog. "your majesty! your majesty! get up. here's a visitor," called out the attendant. the king rolled over and looked at dorothy with one watery pink eye. then he sat up and wiped his eyes carefully with a silk handkerchief and put on his jeweled crown, which had fallen off. "excuse my grief, fair stranger," he said, in a sad voice. "you behold in me the most miserable monarch in all the world. what time is it, blinkem?" "one o'clock, your majesty," replied the attendant to whom the question was addressed. "serve luncheon at once!" commanded the king. "luncheon for two--that's for my visitor and me--and see that the human has some sort of food she's accustomed to." "yes, your majesty," answered the attendant, and went away. "tie my shoe, bristle," said the king to the keeper of the wicket. "ah, me! how unhappy i am!" "what seems to be worrying your majesty?" asked dorothy. "why, it's this king business, of course," he returned, while the keeper tied his shoe. "i didn't want to be king of bunnybury at all, and the rabbits all knew it. so they elected me--to save themselves from such a dreadful fate, i suppose--and here i am, shut up in a palace, when i might be free and happy." "seems to me," said dorothy, "it's a great thing to be a king." "were you ever a king?" inquired the monarch. "no," she answered, laughing. "then you know nothing about it," he said. "i haven't inquired who you are, but it doesn't matter. while we're at luncheon, i'll tell you all my troubles. they're a great deal more interesting than anything you can say about yourself." "perhaps they are, to you," replied dorothy. "luncheon is served!" cried blinkem, throwing open the door, and in came a dozen rabbits in livery, all bearing trays which they placed upon the table, where they arranged the dishes in an orderly manner. "now clear out--all of you!" exclaimed the king. "bristle, you may wait outside, in case i want you." when they had gone and the king was alone with dorothy he came down from his throne, tossed his crown into a corner and kicked his ermine robe under the table. "sit down," he said, "and try to be happy. it's useless for me to try, because i'm always wretched and miserable. but i'm hungry, and i hope you are." "i am," said dorothy. "i've only eaten a wheelbarrow and a piano to-day--oh, yes! and a slice of bread and butter that used to be a door-mat." "that sounds like a square meal," remarked the king, seating himself opposite her; "but perhaps it wasn't a square piano. eh?" dorothy laughed. "you don't seem so very unhappy now," she said. [illustration] "but i am," protested the king, fresh tears gathering in his eyes. "even my jokes are miserable. i'm wretched, woeful, afflicted, distressed and dismal as an individual can be. are you not sorry for me?" "no," answered dorothy, honestly, "i can't say i am. seems to me that for a rabbit you 're right in clover. this is the prettiest little city i ever saw." "oh, the city is good enough," he admitted. "glinda, the good sorceress, made it for us because she was fond of rabbits. i don't mind the city so much, although i wouldn't live here if i had my choice. it is being king that has absolutely ruined my happiness." "why wouldn't you live here by choice?" she asked. "because it is all unnatural, my dear. rabbits are out of place in such luxury. when i was young i lived in a burrow in the forest. i was surrounded by enemies and often had to run for my life. it was hard getting enough to eat, at times, and when i found a bunch of clover i had to listen and look for danger while i ate it. wolves prowled around the hole in which i lived and sometimes i didn't dare stir out for days at a time. oh, how happy and contented i was then! i was a real rabbit, as nature made me--wild and free!--and i even enjoyed listening to the startled throbbing of my own heart!" "i've often thought," said dorothy, who was busily eating, "that it would be fun to be a rabbit." "it _is_ fun--when you're the genuine article," agreed his majesty. "but look at me now! i live in a marble palace instead of a hole in the ground. i have all i want to eat, without the joy of hunting for it. every day i must dress in fine clothes and wear that horrible crown till it makes my head ache. rabbits come to me with all sorts of troubles, when my own troubles are the only ones i care about. when i walk out i can't hop and run; i must strut on my rear legs and wear an ermine robe! and the soldiers salute me and the band plays and the other rabbits laugh and clap their paws and cry out: 'hail to the king!' now let me ask you, as a friend and a young lady of good judgment: isn't all this pomp and foolishness enough to make a decent rabbit miserable?" "once," said dorothy, reflectively, "men were wild and unclothed and lived in caves and hunted for food as wild beasts do. but they got civ'lized, in time, and now they'd hate to go back to the old days." "that is an entirely different case," replied the king. "none of you humans were civilized in one lifetime. it came to you by degrees. but i have known the forest and the free life, and that is why i resent being civilized all at once, against my will, and being made a king with a crown and an ermine robe. pah!" "if you don't like it, why don't you resign?" she asked. "impossible!" wailed the rabbit, wiping his eyes again with his handkerchief. "there's a beastly law in this town that forbids it. when one is elected a king there's no getting out of it." "who made the laws?" inquired dorothy. "the same sorceress who made the town--glinda the good. she built the wall, and fixed up the city, and gave us several valuable enchantments, and made the laws. then she invited all the pink-eyed white rabbits of the forest to come here, after which she left us to our fate." "what made you 'cept the invitation, and come here?" asked the child. "i didn't know how dreadful city life was, and i'd no idea i would be elected king," said he, sobbing bitterly. "and--and--now i'm it--with a capital i--and can't escape!" "i know glinda," remarked dorothy, eating for dessert a dish of charlotte russe, "and when i see her again i'll ask her to put another king in your place." "will you? will you, indeed?" asked the king, joyfully. "i will if you want me to," she replied. "hurroo--hurray!" shouted the king; and then he jumped up from the table and danced wildly about the room, waving his napkin like a flag and laughing with glee. after a time he managed to control his delight and returned to the table. "when are you likely to see glinda?" he inquired. "oh, p'raps in a few days," said dorothy. "and you won't forget to ask her?" "of course not." "princess," said the rabbit king, earnestly, "you have relieved me of a great unhappiness, and i am very grateful. therefore i propose to entertain you, since you are my guest and i am the king, as a slight mark of my appreciation. come with me to my reception hall." he then summoned bristle and said to him: "assemble all the nobility in the great reception hall, and also tell blinkem that i want him immediately." the keeper of the wicket bowed and hurried away, and his majesty turned to dorothy and continued: "we'll have time for a walk in the gardens before the people get here." the gardens were back of the palace and were filled with beautiful flowers and fragrant shrubs, with many shade and fruit trees and marble paved walks running in every direction. as they entered this place blinkem came running to the king, who gave him several orders in a low voice. then his majesty rejoined dorothy and led her through the gardens, which she admired very much. "what lovely clothes your majesty wears!" she said, glancing at the rich blue satin costume, embroidered with pearls, in which the king was dressed. "yes," he returned, with an air of pride, "this is one of my favorite suits; but i have a good many that are even more elaborate. we have excellent tailors in bunnybury, and glinda supplies all the material. by the way, you might ask the sorceress, when you see her, to permit me to keep my wardrobe." "but if you go back to the forest you will not need clothes," she said. "n--o!" he faltered; "that may be so. but i've dressed up so long that i'm used to it, and i don't imagine i'd care to run around naked again. so perhaps the good glinda will let me keep the costumes." "i'll ask her," agreed dorothy. then they left the gardens and went into a fine big reception hall, where rich rugs were spread upon the tiled floors and the furniture was exquisitely carved and studded with jewels. the king's chair was an especially pretty piece of furniture, being in the shape of a silver lily with one leaf bent over to form the seat. the silver was everywhere thickly encrusted with diamonds and the seat was upholstered in white satin. "oh, what a splendid chair!" cried dorothy, clasping her hands admiringly. "isn't it?" answered the king, proudly. "it is my favorite seat, and i think it especially becoming to my complexion. while i think of it, i wish you'd ask glinda to let me keep this lily chair when i go away." "it wouldn't look very well in a hole in the ground, would it?" she suggested. "maybe not; but i'm used to sitting in it and i'd like to take it with me," he answered. "but here come the ladies and gentlemen of the court; so please sit beside me and be presented." [illustration] _how_ the king changed his mind chapter twenty-one [illustration] just then a rabbit band of nearly fifty pieces marched in, playing upon golden instruments and dressed in neat uniforms. following the band came the nobility of bunnybury, all richly dressed and hopping along on their rear legs. both the ladies and the gentlemen wore white gloves upon their paws, with their rings on the outside of the gloves, as this seemed to be the fashion here. some of the lady rabbits carried lorgnettes, while many of the gentlemen rabbits wore monocles in their left eyes. the courtiers and their ladies paraded past the king, who introduced princess dorothy to each couple in a very graceful manner. then the company seated themselves in chairs and on sofas and looked expectantly at their monarch. "it is our royal duty, as well as our royal pleasure," he said, "to provide fitting entertainment for our distinguished guest. we will now present the royal band of whiskered friskers." as he spoke the musicians, who had arranged themselves in a corner, struck up a dance melody while into the room pranced the whiskered friskers. they were eight pretty rabbits dressed only in gauzy purple skirts fastened around their waists with diamond bands. their whiskers were colored a rich purple, but otherwise they were pure white. after bowing before the king and dorothy the friskers began their pranks, and these were so comical that dorothy laughed with real enjoyment. they not only danced together, whirling and gyrating around the room, but they leaped over one another, stood upon their heads and hopped and skipped here and there so nimbly that it was hard work to keep track of them. finally they all made double somersaults and turned handsprings out of the room. the nobility enthusiastically applauded, and dorothy applauded with them. "they're fine!" she said to the king. "yes, the whiskered friskers are really very clever," he replied. "i shall hate to part with them when i go away, for they have often amused me when i was very miserable. i wonder if you would ask glinda--" "no, it wouldn't do at all," declared dorothy, positively. "there wouldn't be room in your hole in the ground for so many rabbits, 'spec'ly when you get the lily chair and your clothes there. don't think of such a thing, your majesty." the king sighed. then he stood up and announced to the company: "we will now behold a military drill by my picked bodyguard of royal pikemen." now the band played a march and a company of rabbit soldiers came in. they wore green and gold uniforms and marched very stiffly but in perfect time. their spears, or pikes, had slender shafts of polished silver with golden heads, and during the drill they handled these weapons with wonderful dexterity. "i should think you'd feel pretty safe with such a fine bodyguard," remarked dorothy. "i do," said the king. "they protect me from every harm. i suppose glinda wouldn't--" "no," interrupted the girl; "i'm sure she wouldn't. it's the king's own bodyguard, and when you are no longer king you can't have 'em." the king did not reply, but he looked rather sorrowful for a time. when the soldiers had marched out he said to the company: "the royal jugglers will now appear." dorothy had seen many jugglers in her lifetime, but never any so interesting as these. there were six of them, dressed in black satin embroidered with queer symbols in silver--a costume which contrasted strongly with their snow-white fur. first they pushed in a big red ball and three of the rabbit jugglers stood upon its top and made it roll. then two of them caught up a third and tossed him into the air, all vanishing, until only the two were left. then one of these tossed the other upward and remained alone of all his fellows. this last juggler now touched the red ball, which fell apart, being hollow, and the five rabbits who had disappeared in the air scrambled out of the hollow ball. next they all clung together and rolled swiftly upon the floor. when they came to a stop only one fat rabbit juggler was seen, the others seeming to be inside him. this one leaped lightly into the air and when he came down he exploded and separated into the original six. then four of them rolled themselves into round balls and the other two tossed them around and played ball with them. these were but a few of the tricks the rabbit jugglers performed, and they were so skillful that all the nobility and even the king applauded as loudly as did dorothy. "i suppose there are no rabbit jugglers in all the world to compare with these," remarked the king. "and since i may not have the whiskered friskers or my bodyguard, you might ask glinda to let me take away just two or three of these jugglers. will you?" "i'll ask her," replied dorothy, doubtfully. "thank you," said the king; "thank you very much. and now you shall listen to the winsome waggish warblers, who have often cheered me in my moments of anguish." the winsome waggish warblers proved to be a quartette of rabbit singers, two gentlemen and two lady rabbits. the gentlemen warblers wore full-dress swallow-tailed suits of white satin, with pearls for buttons, while the lady warblers were gowned in white satin dresses with long trails. the first song they sang began in this way: "when a rabbit gets a habit of living in a city and wearing clothes and furbelows and jewels rare and pretty, he scorns the bun who has to run and burrow in the ground and pities those whose watchful foes are man and gun and hound." dorothy looked at the king when she heard this song and noticed that he seemed disturbed and ill at ease. "i don't like that song," he said to the warblers. "give us something jolly and rollicking." so they sang to a joyous, tinkling melody as follows: "bunnies gay delight to play in their fairy town secure; ev'ry frisker flirts his whisker at a pink-eyed girl demure. ev'ry maid in silk arrayed at her partner shyly glances, paws are grasped, waists are clasped as they whirl in giddy dances. then together through the heather 'neath the moonlight soft they stroll; each is very blithe and merry, gamboling with laughter droll. life is fun to ev'ry one guarded by our magic charm for to dangers we are strangers, safe from any thought of harm." "you see," said dorothy to the king, when the song ended, "the rabbits all seem to like bunnybury except you. and i guess you're the only one that ever has cried or was unhappy and wanted to get back to your muddy hole in the ground." his majesty seemed thoughtful, and while the servants passed around glasses of nectar and plates of frosted cakes their king was silent and a bit nervous. [illustration: his majesty was thoughtful] when the refreshments had been enjoyed by all and the servants had retired dorothy said: "i must go now, for it's getting late and i'm lost. i've got to find the wizard and aunt em and uncle henry and all the rest sometime before night comes, if i poss'bly can." "won't you stay with us?" asked the king. "you will be very welcome." "no, thank you," she replied. "i must get back to my friends. and i want to see glinda just as soon as i can, you know." so the king dismissed his court and said he would himself walk with dorothy to the gate. he did not weep nor groan any more, but his long face was quite solemn and his big ears hung dejectedly on each side of it. he still wore his crown and his ermine and walked with a handsome gold-headed cane. when they arrived at the room in the wall the little girl found toto and billina waiting for her very patiently. they had been liberally fed by some of the attendants and were in no hurry to leave such comfortable quarters. the keeper of the wicket was by this time back in his old place, but he kept a safe distance from toto. dorothy bade good bye to the king as they stood just inside the wall. "you've been good to me," she said, "and i thank you ever so much. as soon as poss'ble i'll see glinda and ask her to put another king in your place and send you back into the wild forest. and i'll ask her to let you keep some of your clothes and the lily chair and one or two jugglers to amuse you. i'm sure she will do it, 'cause she's so kind she doesn't like any one to be unhappy." "ahem!" said the king, looking rather downcast. "i don't like to trouble you with my misery; so you needn't see glinda." "oh, yes i will," she replied. "it won't be any trouble at all." "but, my dear," continued the king, in an embarrassed way, "i've been thinking the subject over carefully, and i find there are a lot of pleasant things here in bunnybury that i would miss if i went away. so perhaps i'd better stay." dorothy laughed. then she looked grave. "it won't do for you to be a king and a cry-baby at the same time," she said. "you've been making all the other rabbits unhappy and discontented with your howls about being so miserable. so i guess it's better to have another king." "oh, no indeed!" exclaimed the king, earnestly. "if you won't say anything to glinda i'll promise to be merry and gay all the time, and never cry or wail again." "honor bright?" she asked. "on the royal word of a king i promise it!" he answered. "all right," said dorothy. "you'd be a reg'lar lunatic to want to leave bunnybury for a wild life in the forest, and i'm sure any rabbit outside the city would be glad to take your place." "forget it, my dear; forget all my foolishness," pleaded the king, earnestly. "hereafter i'll try to enjoy myself and do my duty by my subjects." so then she left him and entered through the little door into the room in the wall, where she grew gradually bigger and bigger until she had resumed her natural size. the keeper of the wicket let them out into the forest and told dorothy that she had been of great service to bunnybury because she had brought their dismal king to a realization of the pleasure of ruling so beautiful a city. "i shall start a petition to have your statue erected beside glinda's in the public square," said the keeper. "i hope you will come again, some day, and see it." "perhaps i shall," she replied. then, followed by toto and billina, she walked away from the high marble wall and started back along the narrow path toward the sign-post. [illustration] _how_ the wizard found dorothy chapter twenty-two [illustration] when they came to the signpost, there, to their joy, were the tents of the wizard pitched beside the path and the kettle bubbling merrily over a fire. the shaggy man and omby amby were gathering firewood while uncle henry and aunt em sat in their camp chairs talking with the wizard. they all ran forward to greet dorothy, as she approached, and aunt em exclaimed: "goodness gracious, child! where have you been?" "you've played hookey the whole day," added the shaggy man, reproachfully. "well, you see, i've been lost," explained the little girl, "and i've tried awful hard to find the way back to you, but just couldn't do it." "did you wander in the forest all day?" asked uncle henry. "you must be a'most starved!" said aunt em. "no," said dorothy, "i'm not hungry. i had a wheelbarrow and a piano for breakfast, and lunched with a king." "ah!" exclaimed the wizard, nodding with a bright smile. "so you've been having adventures again." "she's stark crazy!" cried aunt em. "whoever heard of eating a wheelbarrow?" "it wasn't very big," said dorothy; "and it had a zuzu wheel." "and i ate the crumbs," added billina, soberly. "sit down and tell us about it," begged the wizard. "we've hunted for you all day, and at last i noticed your footsteps in this path--and the tracks of billina. we found the path by accident, and seeing it only led to two places i decided you were at either one or the other of those places. so we made camp and waited for you to return. and now, dorothy, tell us where you have been--to bunbury or to bunnybury?" "why, i've been to both," she replied; "but first i went to utensia, which isn't on any path at all." she then sat down and related the day's adventures, and you may be sure aunt em and uncle henry were much astonished at the story. "but after seeing the cuttenclips and the fuddles," remarked her uncle, "we ought not to wonder at anything in this strange country." "seems like the only common and ordinary folks here are ourselves," rejoined aunt em, diffidently. "now that we're together again, and one reunited party," observed the shaggy man, "what are we to do next?" "have some supper and a night's rest," answered the wizard promptly, "and then proceed upon our journey." "where to?" asked the captain general. "we haven't visited the rigmaroles or the flutterbudgets yet," said dorothy. "i'd like to see them--wouldn't you?" "they don't sound very interesting," objected aunt em. "but perhaps they are." "and then," continued the little wizard, "we will call upon the tin woodman and jack pumpkinhead and our old friend the scarecrow, on our way home." "that will be nice!" cried dorothy, eagerly. "can't say _they_ sound very interesting, either," remarked aunt em. "why, they're the best friends i have!" asserted the little girl, "and you're sure to like them, aunt em, 'cause _ever_'body likes them." by this time twilight was approaching, so they ate the fine supper which the wizard magically produced from the kettle and then went to bed in the cosy tents. they were all up bright and early next morning, but dorothy didn't venture to wander from the camp again for fear of more accidents. "do you know where there's a road?" she asked the little man. "no, my dear," replied the wizard; "but i'll find one." after breakfast he waved his hand toward the tents and they became handkerchiefs again, which were at once returned to the pockets of their owners. then they all climbed into the red wagon and the sawhorse inquired: "which way?" "never mind which way," replied the wizard. "just go as you please and you're sure to be right. i've enchanted the wheels of the wagon, and they will roll in the right direction, never fear." as the sawhorse started away through the trees dorothy said: "if we had one of those new-fashioned airships we could float away over the top of the forest, and look down and find just the places we want. "airship? pah!" retorted the little man, scornfully. "i hate those things, dorothy, although they are nothing new to either you or me. i was a balloonist for many years, and once my balloon carried me to the land of oz, and once to the vegetable kingdom. and once ozma had a gump that flew all over this kingdom and had sense enough to go where it was told to--which airships won't do. the house which the cyclone brought to oz all the way from kansas, with you and toto in it--was a real airship at the time; so you see we've had plenty of experience flying with the birds." "airships are not so bad, after all," declared dorothy. "some day they'll fly all over the world, and perhaps bring people even to the land of oz." "i must speak to ozma about that," said the wizard, with a slight frown. "it wouldn't do at all, you know, for the emerald city to become a way-station on an airship line." "no," said dorothy, "i don't s'pose it would. but what can we do to prevent it?" "i'm working out a magic recipe to fuddle men's brains, so they'll never make an airship that will go where they want it to go," the wizard confided to her. "that won't keep the things from flying, now and then, but it'll keep them from flying to the land of oz." just then the sawhorse drew the wagon out of the forest and a beautiful landscape lay spread before the travelers' eyes. moreover, right before them was a good road that wound away through the hills and valleys. "now," said the wizard, with evident delight, "we are on the right track again, and there is nothing more to worry about." [illustration] "it's a foolish thing to take chances in a strange country," observed the shaggy man. "had we kept to the roads we never would have been lost. roads always leads to some place, else they wouldn't be roads." "this road," added the wizard, "leads to rigmarole town. i'm sure of that because i enchanted the wagon wheels." sure enough, after riding along the road for an hour or two they entered a pretty valley where a village was nestled among the hills. the houses were munchkin shaped, for they were all domes, with windows wider than they were high, and pretty balconies over the front doors. aunt em was greatly relieved to find this town "neither paper nor patch-work," and the only surprising thing about it was that it was so far distant from all other towns. as the sawhorse drew the wagon into the main street the travelers noticed that the place was filled with people, standing in groups and seeming to be engaged in earnest conversation. so occupied with themselves were the inhabitants that they scarcely noticed the strangers at all. so the wizard stopped a boy and asked: "is this rigmarole town?" "sir," replied the boy, "if you have traveled very much you will have noticed that every town differs from every other town in one way or another and so by observing the methods of the people and the way they live as well as the style of their dwelling places it ought not to be a difficult thing to make up your mind without the trouble of asking questions whether the town bears the appearance of the one you intended to visit or whether perhaps having taken a different road from the one you should have taken you have made an error in your way and arrived at some point where--" [illustration: so and so, and so and so, oh yes, i don't know it might be so i calculate but i don't know, intre mintry cuteycorn apple seeds and fly away jack. six sixes are not sixty-six? and we still hold to folderol de doodle all day, if i had a donkey that wouldn't go i'd buy a fiddle for fifty cents and rattle his bones over the stones it's only a beggar whom nobody owns, listen??] "land sakes!" cried aunt em, impatiently; "what's all this rigmarole about?" "that's it!" said the wizard, laughing merrily. "it's a rigmarole because the boy is a rigmarole and we've come to rigmarole town." "do they all talk like that?" asked dorothy, wonderingly. "he might have said 'yes' or 'no' and settled the question," observed uncle henry. "not here," said omby amby. "i don't believe the rigmaroles know what 'yes' or 'no' means." while the boy had been talking several other people had approached the wagon and listened intently to his speech. then they began talking to one another in long, deliberate speeches, where many words were used but little was said. but when the strangers criticised them so frankly one of the women, who had no one else to talk to, began an address to them, saying: "it is the easiest thing in the world for a person to say 'yes' or 'no' when a question that is asked for the purpose of gaining information or satisfying the curiosity of the one who has given expression to the inquiry has attracted the attention of an individual who may be competent either from personal experience or the experience of others to answer it with more or less correctness or at least an attempt to satisfy the desire for information on the part of the one who has made the inquiry by--" "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy, interrupting the speech. "i've lost all track of what you are saying." "don't let her begin over again, for goodness sake!" cried aunt em. but the woman did not begin again. she did not even stop talking, but went right on as she had begun, the words flowing from her mouth in a stream. "i'm quite sure that if we waited long enough and listened carefully, some of these people might be able to tell us something, in time," said the wizard. "don't let's wait," returned dorothy. "i've heard of the rigmaroles, and wondered what they were like; but now i know, and i'm ready to move on." "so am i," declared uncle henry; "we're wasting time here." "why, we're all ready to go," added the shaggy man, putting his fingers to his ears to shut out the monotonous babble of those around the wagon. so the wizard spoke to the sawhorse, who trotted nimbly through the village and soon gained the open country on the other side of it. dorothy looked back, as they rode away, and noticed that the woman had not yet finished her speech but was talking as glibly as ever, although no one was near to hear her. "if those people wrote books," omby amby remarked with a smile, "it would take a whole library to say the cow jumped over the moon." [illustration] "perhaps some of 'em do write books," asserted the little wizard. "i've read a few rigmaroles that might have come from this very town." "some of the college lecturers and ministers are certainly related to these people," observed the shaggy man; "and it seems to me the land of oz is a little ahead of the united states in some of its laws. for here, if one can't talk clearly, and straight to the point, they send him to rigmarole town; while uncle sam lets him roam around wild and free, to torture innocent people." dorothy was thoughtful. the rigmaroles had made a strong impression upon her. she decided that whenever she spoke, after this, she would use only enough words to express what she wanted to say. [illustration] _how_ they encountered the flutterbudgets chapter twenty-three [illustration] they were soon among the pretty hills and valleys again, and the sawhorse sped up hill and down at a fast and easy pace, the roads being hard and smooth. mile after mile was speedily covered, and before the ride had grown at all tiresome they sighted another village. the place seemed even larger than rigmarole town, but was not so attractive in appearance. "this must be flutterbudget center," declared the wizard. "you see, it's no trouble at all to find places if you keep to the right road." "what are the flutterbudgets like?" inquired dorothy. "i do not know, my dear. but ozma has given them a town all their own, and i've heard that whenever one of the people becomes a flutterbudget he is sent to this place to live." "that is true," omby amby added; "flutterbudget center and rigmarole town are called 'the defensive settlements of oz.'" the village they now approached was not built in a valley, but on top of a hill, and the road they followed wound around the hill like a corkscrew, ascending the hill easily until it came to the town. "look out!" screamed a voice. "look out, or you'll run over my child!" they gazed around and saw a woman standing upon the sidewalk nervously wringing her hands as she gazed at them appealingly. "where is your child?" asked the sawhorse. "in the house," said the woman, bursting into tears; "but if it should happen to be in the road, and you ran over it, those great wheels would crush my darling to jelly. oh, dear! oh dear! think of my darling child being crushed to jelly by those great wheels!" "gid-dap!" said the wizard, sharply, and the sawhorse started on. they had not gone far before a man ran out of a house shouting wildly: "help! help!" the sawhorse stopped short and the wizard and uncle henry and the shaggy man and omby amby jumped out of the wagon and ran to the poor man's assistance. dorothy followed them as quickly as she could. "what's the matter?" asked the wizard. "help! help!" screamed the man; "my wife has cut her finger off and she's bleeding to death!" then he turned and rushed back to the house, and all the party went with him. they found a woman in the front dooryard moaning and groaning as if in great pain. "be brave, madam!" said the wizard, consolingly. "you won't die just because you have cut off a finger, you may be sure." "but i haven't cut off a finger!" she sobbed. [illustration: "but i haven't cut off a finger," she sobbed.] "then what _has_ happened?" asked dorothy. "i--i pricked my finger with a needle while i was sewing, and--and the blood came!" she replied. "and now i'll have blood-poisoning, and the doctors will cut off my finger, and that will give me a fever and i shall die!" "pshaw!" said dorothy; "i've pricked my finger many a time, and nothing happened." "really?" asked the woman, brightening and wiping her eyes upon her apron. "why, it's nothing at all," declared the girl. "you're more scared than hurt." "ah, that's because she's a flutterbudget," said the wizard, nodding wisely. "i think i know now what these people are like." "so do i," announced dorothy. "oh, boo-hoo-hoo!" sobbed the woman, giving way to a fresh burst of grief. "what's wrong now?" asked the shaggy man. "oh, suppose i had pricked my foot!" she wailed. "then the doctors would have cut my foot off, and i'd be lamed for life!" "surely, ma'am," replied the wizard, "and if you'd pricked your nose they might cut your head off. but you see you didn't." "but i might have!" she exclaimed, and began to cry again. so they left her and drove away in their wagon. and her husband came out and began calling "help!" as he had before; but no one seemed to pay any attention to him. as the travelers turned into another street they found a man walking excitedly up and down the pavement. he appeared to be in a very nervous condition and the wizard stopped him to ask: "is anything wrong, sir?" "everything is wrong," answered the man, dismally. "i can't sleep." "why not?" inquired omby amby. "if i go to sleep i'll have to shut my eyes," he explained; "and if i shut my eyes they may grow together, and then i'd be blind for life!" "did you ever hear of any one's eyes growing together?" asked dorothy. "no," said the man, "i never did. but it would be a dreadful thing, wouldn't it? and the thought of it makes me so nervous i'm afraid to go to sleep." "there's no help for this case," declared the wizard; and they went on. at the next street corner a woman rushed up to them crying: "save my baby! oh, good, kind people, save my baby!" "is it in danger?" asked dorothy, noticing that the child was clasped in her arms and seemed sleeping peacefully. "yes, indeed," said the woman, nervously. "if i should go into the house and throw my child out of the window, it would roll way down to the bottom of the hill; and then if there were a lot of tigers and bears down there, they would tear my darling babe to pieces and eat it up!" "are there any tigers and bears in this neighborhood?" the wizard asked. "i've never heard of any," admitted the woman; "but if there were--" "have you any idea of throwing your baby out of the window?" questioned the little man. "none at all," she said; "but if--" "all your troubles are due to those 'ifs'," declared the wizard. "if you were not a flutterbudget you wouldn't worry." "there's another 'if'," replied the woman. "are you a flutterbudget, too?" "i will be, if i stay here long," exclaimed the wizard, nervously. "another 'if'!" cried the woman. but the wizard did not stop to argue with her. he made the sawhorse canter all the way down the hill, and only breathed easily when they were miles away from the village. after they had ridden in silence for a while dorothy turned to the little man and asked: "do 'ifs' really make flutterbudgets?" "i think the 'ifs' help," he answered seriously. "foolish fears, and worries over nothing, with a mixture of nerves and ifs, will soon make a flutterbudget of any one." then there was another long silence, for all the travelers were thinking over this statement, and nearly all decided it must be true. the country they were now passing through was everywhere tinted purple, the prevailing color of the gillikin country; but as the sawhorse ascended a hill they found that upon the other side everything was of a rich yellow hue. "aha!" cried the captain general; "here is the country of the winkies. we are just crossing the boundary line." "then we may be able to lunch with the tin woodman," announced the wizard, joyfully. "must we lunch on tin?" asked aunt em. "oh, no;" replied dorothy. "nick chopper knows how to feed meat people, and he will give us plenty of good things to eat, never fear. i've been to his castle before." "is nick chopper the tin woodman's name?" asked uncle henry. "yes; that's one of his names," answered the little girl; "and another of his names is 'emp'ror of the winkies.' he's the king of this country, you know, but ozma rules over all the countries of oz." "does the tin woodman keep any flutterbudgets or rigmaroles at his castle?" inquired aunt em, uneasily. "no, indeed," said dorothy, positively. "he lives in a new tin castle, all full of lovely things." "i should think it would rust," said uncle henry. "he has thousands of winkies to keep it polished for him," explained the wizard. "his people love to do anything in their power for their beloved emperor, so there isn't a particle of rust on all the big castle." "i suppose they polish their emperor, too," said aunt em. "why, some time ago he had himself nickel-plated," the wizard answered; "so he only needs rubbing up once in a while. he's the brightest man in all the world, is dear nick chopper; and the kindest-hearted." "i helped find him," said dorothy, reflectively. "once the scarecrow and i found the tin woodman in the woods, and he was just rusted still, that time, an' no mistake. but we oiled his joints, an' got 'em good and slippery, and after that he went with us to visit the wizard at the em'rald city." "was that the time the wizard scared you?" asked aunt em. "he didn't treat us well, at first," acknowledged dorothy; "for he made us go away and destroy the wicked witch. but after we found out he was only a humbug wizard we were not afraid of him." the wizard sighed and looked a little ashamed. "when we try to deceive people we always make mistakes," he said. "but i'm getting to be a real wizard now, and glinda the good's magic, that i am trying to practice, can never harm any one." "you were always a good man," declared dorothy, "even when you were a bad wizard." "he's a good wizard now," asserted aunt em, looking at the little man admiringly. "the way he made those tents grow out of handkerchiefs was just wonderful! and didn't he enchant the wagon wheels so they'd find the road?" "all the people of oz," said the captain general, "are very proud of their wizard. he once made some soap-bubbles that astonished the world." [illustration] the wizard blushed at this praise, yet it pleased him. he no longer looked sad, but seemed to have recovered his usual good humor. the country through which they now rode was thickly dotted with farmhouses, and yellow grain waved in all the fields. many of the winkies could be seen working on their farms and the wild and unsettled parts of oz were by this time left far behind. these winkies appeared to be happy, light-hearted folk, and all removed their caps and bowed low when the red wagon with its load of travelers passed by. it was not long before they saw something glittering in the sunshine far ahead. "see!" cried dorothy; "that's the tin castle, aunt em!" and the sawhorse, knowing his passengers were eager to arrive, broke into a swift trot that soon brought them to their destination. _how_ the tin woodman told the sad news chapter twenty-four [illustration] the tin woodman received princess dorothy's party with much grace and cordiality, yet the little girl decided that something must be worrying her old friend, because he was not so merry as usual. but at first she said nothing about this, for uncle henry and aunt em were fairly bubbling over with admiration for the beautiful tin castle and its polished tin owner. so her suspicion that something unpleasant had happened was for a time forgotten. "where is the scarecrow?" she asked, when they had all been ushered into the big tin drawing-room of the castle, the sawhorse being led around to the tin stable in the rear. "why, our old friend has just moved into his new mansion," explained the tin woodman. "it has been a long time in building, although my winkies and many other people from all parts of the country have been busily working upon it. at last, however, it is completed, and the scarecrow took possession of his new home just two days ago." "i hadn't heard that he wanted a home of his own," said dorothy. "why doesn't he live with ozma in the emerald city? he used to, you know; and i thought he was happy there." "it seems," said the tin woodman, "that our dear scarecrow cannot be contented with city life, however beautiful his surroundings might be. originally he was a farmer, for he passed his early life in a cornfield, where he was supposed to frighten away the crows." "i know," said dorothy, nodding. "i found him, and lifted him down from his pole." "so now, after a long residence in the emerald city, his tastes have turned to farm life again," continued the tin man. "he feels that he cannot be happy without a farm of his own, so ozma gave him some land and every one helped him build his mansion, and now he is settled there for good." "who designed his house?" asked the shaggy man. "i believe it was jack pumpkinhead, who is also a farmer," was the reply. they were now invited to enter the tin dining room, where luncheon was served. aunt em found, to her satisfaction, that dorothy's promise was more than fulfilled; for, although the tin woodman had no appetite of his own, he respected the appetites of his guests and saw that they were bountifully fed. they passed the afternoon in wandering through the beautiful gardens and grounds of the palace. the walks were all paved with sheets of tin, brightly polished, and there were tin fountains and tin statues here and there among the trees. the flowers were mostly natural flowers and grew in the regular way; but their host showed them one flower bed which was his especial pride. "you see, all common flowers fade and die in time," he explained, "and so there are seasons when the pretty blooms are scarce. therefore i decided to make one tin flower bed all of tin flowers, and my workmen have created them with rare skill. here you see tin camelias, tin marigolds, tin carnations, tin poppies and tin hollyhocks growing as naturally as if they were real." indeed, they were a pretty sight, and glistened under the sunlight like spun silver. "isn't this tin hollyhock going to seed?" asked the wizard, bending over the flowers. "why, i believe it is!" exclaimed the tin woodman, as if surprised. "i hadn't noticed that before. but i shall plant the tin seeds and raise another bed of tin hollyhocks." in one corner of the gardens nick chopper had established a fish-pond, in which they saw swimming and disporting themselves many pretty tin fishes. "would they bite on hooks?" asked aunt em, curiously. the tin woodman seemed hurt at this question. "madam," said he, "do you suppose i would allow anyone to catch my beautiful fishes, even if they were foolish enough to bite on hooks? no, indeed! every created thing is safe from harm in my domain, and i would as soon think of killing my little friend dorothy as killing one of my tin fishes." "the emperor is very kind-hearted, ma'am," explained the wizard. "if a fly happens to light upon his tin body he doesn't rudely brush it off, as some people might do; he asks it politely to find some other resting place." "what does the fly do then?" enquired aunt em. "usually it begs his pardon and goes away," said the wizard, gravely. "flies like to be treated politely as well as other creatures, and here in oz they understand what we say to them, and behave very nicely." "well," said aunt em, "the flies in kansas, where i came from, don't understand anything but a swat. you have to smash 'em to make 'em behave; and it's the same way with 'skeeters. do you have 'skeeters in oz?" "we have some very large mosquitoes here, which sing as beautifully as song birds," replied the tin woodman. "but they never bite or annoy our people, because they are well fed and taken care of. the reason they bite people in your country is because they are hungry--poor things!" "yes," agreed aunt em; "they're hungry, all right. an' they ain't very particular who they feed on. i'm glad you've got the 'skeeters educated in oz." that evening after dinner they were entertained by the emperor's tin cornet band, which played for them several sweet melodies. also the wizard did a few sleight-of-hand tricks to amuse the company; after which they all retired to their cosy tin bedrooms and slept soundly until morning. after breakfast dorothy said to the tin woodman: "if you'll tell us which way to go we'll visit the scarecrow on our way home." "i will go with you, and show you the way," replied the emperor; "for i must journey to-day to the emerald city." he looked so anxious, as he said this, that the little girl asked: "there isn't anything wrong with ozma, is there?" he shook his tin head. "not yet," said he; "but i'm afraid the time has come when i must tell you some very bad news, little friend." "oh, what is it?" cried dorothy. "do you remember the nome king?" asked the tin woodman. "i remember him very well," she replied. "the nome king has not a kind heart," said the emperor, sadly, "and he has been harboring wicked thoughts of revenge, because we once defeated him and liberated his slaves and you took away his magic belt. so he has ordered his nomes to dig a long tunnel underneath the deadly desert, so that he may march his hosts right into the emerald city. when he gets there he intends to destroy our beautiful country." dorothy was much surprised to hear this. "how did ozma find out about the tunnel?" she asked. "she saw it in her magic picture." "of course," said dorothy; "i might have known that. and what is she going to do?" "i cannot tell," was the reply. "pooh!" cried the yellow hen. "we're not afraid of the nomes. if we roll a few of our eggs down the tunnel they'll run away back home as fast as they can go." "why, that's true enough!" exclaimed dorothy. "the scarecrow once conquered all the nome king's army with some of billina's eggs." "but you do not understand all of the dreadful plot," continued the tin woodman. "the nome king is clever, and he knows his nomes would run from eggs; so he has bargained with many terrible creatures to help him. these evil spirits are not afraid of eggs or anything else, and they are very powerful. so the nome king will send them through the tunnel first, to conquer and destroy, and then the nomes will follow after to get their share of the plunder and slaves." they were all startled to hear this, and every face wore a troubled look. "is the tunnel all ready?" asked dorothy. "ozma sent me word yesterday that the tunnel was all completed except for a thin crust of earth at the end. when our enemies break through this crust they will be in the gardens of the royal palace, in the heart of the emerald city. i offered to arm all my winkies and march to ozma's assistance; but she said no." "i wonder why?" asked dorothy. "she answered that all the inhabitants of oz, gathered together, were not powerful enough to fight and overcome the evil forces of the nome king. therefore she refuses to fight at all." "but they will capture and enslave us, and plunder and ruin all our lovely land!" exclaimed the wizard, greatly disturbed by this statement. "i fear they will," said the tin woodman, sorrowfully. "and i also fear that those who are not fairies, such as the wizard, and dorothy, and her uncle and aunt, as well as toto and billina, will be speedily put to death by the conquerors." "what can be done?" asked dorothy, shuddering a little at the prospect of this awful fate. "nothing can be done!" gloomily replied the emperor of the winkies. "but since ozma refuses my army i will go myself to the emerald city. the least i may do is to perish beside my beloved ruler." [illustration] _how_ the scarecrow displayed his wisdom chapter twenty-five [illustration: probably the wisest man in all oz.] this amazing news had saddened every heart and all were now anxious to return to the emerald city and share ozma's fate. so they started without loss of time, and as the road led past the scarecrow's new mansion they determined to make a brief halt there and confer with him. "the scarecrow is probably the wisest man in all oz," remarked the tin woodman, when they had started upon their journey. "his brains are plentiful and of excellent quality, and often he has told me things i might never have thought of myself. i must say i rely a good deal upon the scarecrow's brains in this emergency." the tin woodman rode on the front seat of the wagon, where dorothy sat between him and the wizard. "has the scarecrow heard of ozma's trouble?" asked the captain general. "i do not know, sir," was the reply. "when i was a private," said omby amby, "i was an excellent army, as i fully proved in our war against the nomes. but now there is not a single private left in our army, since ozma made me the captain general, so there is no one to fight and defend our lovely ruler." "true," said the wizard. "the present army is composed only of officers, and the business of an officer is to order his men to fight. since there are no men there can be no fighting." "poor ozma!" whispered dorothy, with tears in her sweet eyes. "it's dreadful to think of all her lovely fairy country being destroyed. i wonder if we couldn't manage to escape and get back to kansas by means of the magic belt? and we might take ozma with us and all work hard to get money for her, so she wouldn't be so _very_ lonely and unhappy about the loss of her fairyland." "do you think there would be any work for _me_ in kansas?" asked the tin woodman. "if you are hollow, they might use you in a canning factory," suggested uncle henry. "but i can't see the use of your working for a living. you never eat or sleep or need a new suit of clothes." "i was not thinking of myself," replied the emperor, with dignity. "i merely wondered if i could not help to support dorothy and ozma." as they indulged in these sad plans for the future they journeyed in sight of the scarecrow's new mansion, and even though filled with care and worry over the impending fate of oz, dorothy could not help a feeling of wonder at the sight she saw. [illustration] the scarecrow's new house was shaped like an immense ear of corn. the rows of kernels were made of solid gold, and the green upon which the ear stood upright was a mass of sparkling emeralds. upon the very top of the structure was perched a figure representing the scarecrow himself, and upon his extended arms, as well as upon his head, were several crows carved out of ebony and having ruby eyes. you may imagine how big this ear of corn was when i tell you that a single gold kernel formed a window, swinging outward upon hinges, while a row of four kernels opened to make the front entrance. inside there were five stories, each story being a single room. the gardens around the mansion consisted of cornfields, and dorothy acknowledged that the place was in all respects a very appropriate home for her good friend the scarecrow. "he would have been very happy here, i'm sure," she said, "if only the nome king had left us alone. but if oz is destroyed of course this place will be destroyed too." "yes," replied the tin woodman, "and also my beautiful tin castle, that has been my joy and pride." "jack pumpkinhead's house will go too," remarked the wizard, "as well as professor wogglebug's athletic college, and ozma's royal palace, and all our other handsome buildings." "yes, oz will indeed become a desert when the nome king gets through with it," sighed omby amby. the scarecrow came out to meet them and gave them all a hearty welcome. "i hear you have decided always to live in the land of oz, after this," he said to dorothy; "and that will delight my heart, for i have greatly disliked our frequent partings. but why are you all so downcast?" "have you heard the news?" asked the tin woodman. "no news to make me sad," replied the scarecrow. then nick chopper told his friend of the nome king's tunnel, and how the evil creatures of the north had allied themselves with the underground monarch for the purpose of conquering and destroying oz. "well," said the scarecrow, "it certainly looks bad for ozma, and all of us. but i believe it is wrong to worry over anything before it happens. it is surely time enough to be sad when our country is despoiled and our people made slaves. so let us not deprive ourselves of the few happy hours remaining to us." "ah! that is real wisdom," declared the shaggy man, approvingly. "after we become really unhappy we shall regret these few hours that are left to us, unless we enjoy them to the utmost." "nevertheless," said the scarecrow, "i shall go with you to the emerald city and offer ozma my services." "she says we can do nothing to oppose our enemies," announced the tin woodman. "and doubtless she is right, sir," answered the scarecrow. "still, she will appreciate our sympathy, and it is the duty of ozma's friends to stand by her side when the final disaster occurs." he then led them into his queer mansion and showed them the beautiful rooms in all the five stories. the lower room was a grand reception hall, with a hand-organ in one corner. this instrument the scarecrow, when alone, could turn to amuse himself, as he was very fond of music. the walls were hung with white silk, upon which flocks of black crows were embroidered in black diamonds. some of the chairs were made in the shape of big crows and upholstered with cushions of corn-colored silk. the second story contained a fine banquet room, where the scarecrow might entertain his guests, and the three stories above that were bed-chambers exquisitely furnished and decorated. "from these rooms," said the scarecrow, proudly, "one may obtain fine views of the surrounding cornfields. the corn i grow is always husky, and i call the ears my regiments, because they have so many kernels. of course i cannot ride my cobs, but i really don't care shucks about that. taken altogether, my farm will stack up with any in the neighborhood." the visitors partook of some light refreshment and then hurried away to resume the road to the emerald city. the scarecrow found a seat in the wagon between omby amby and the shaggy man, and his weight did not add much to the load because he was stuffed with straw. "you will notice i have one oat-field on my property," he remarked, as they drove away. "oat-straw is, i have found, the best of all straws to re-stuff myself with when my interior gets musty or out of shape." "are you able to re-stuff yourself without help?" asked aunt em. "i should think that after the straw was taken out of you there wouldn't be anything left but your clothes." "you are almost correct, madam," he answered. "my servants do the stuffing, under my direction. for my head, in which are my excellent brains, is a bag tied at the bottom. my face is neatly painted upon one side of the bag, as you may see. my head does not need re-stuffing, as my body does, for all that it requires is to have the face touched up with fresh paint occasionally." [illustration] it was not far from the scarecrow's mansion to the farm of jack pumpkinhead, and when they arrived there both uncle henry and aunt em were much impressed. the farm was one vast pumpkin field, and some of the pumpkins were of enormous size. in one of them, which had been neatly hollowed out, jack himself lived, and he declared that it was a very comfortable residence. the reason he grew so many pumpkins was in order that he might change his head as often as it became wrinkled or threatened to spoil. the pumpkin-headed man welcomed his visitors joyfully and offered them several delicious pumpkin pies to eat. "i don't indulge in pumpkin pies myself, for two reasons," he said. "one reason is that were i to eat pumpkins i would become a cannibal, and the other reason is that i never eat, not being hollow inside." "very good reasons," agreed the scarecrow. they told jack pumpkinhead the dreadful news about the nome king, and he decided to go with them to the emerald city and help comfort ozma. "i had expected to live here in ease and comfort for many centuries," said jack, dolefully; "but of course if the nome king destroys everything in oz i shall be destroyed too. really, it seems too bad, doesn't it?" they were soon on their journey again, and so swiftly did the sawhorse draw the wagon over the smooth roads that before twilight fell that had reached the royal palace in the emerald city, and were at their journey's end. _how_ ozma refused to fight for her kingdom chapter twenty-six [illustration] ozma was in her rose garden picking a bouquet when the party arrived, and she greeted all her old and new friends as smilingly and sweetly as ever. dorothy's eyes were full of tears as she kissed the lovely ruler of oz, and she whispered to her: "oh, ozma, ozma! i'm _so_ sorry!" ozma seemed surprised. "sorry for what, dorothy?" she asked. "for all your trouble about the nome king," was the reply. ozma laughed with genuine amusement. "why, that has not troubled me a bit, dear princess," she replied. then, looking around at the sad faces of her friends, she added: "have you all been worrying about this tunnel?" "we have!" they exclaimed in a chorus. "well, perhaps it is more serious than i imagined," admitted the fair ruler; "but i haven't given the matter much thought. after dinner we will all meet together and talk it over." so they went to their rooms and prepared for dinner, and dorothy dressed herself in her prettiest gown and put on her coronet, for she thought that this might be the last time she would ever appear as a princess of oz. the scarecrow, the tin woodman and jack pumpkinhead all sat at the dinner table, although none of them was made so he could eat. usually they served to enliven the meal with their merry talk, but to-night all seemed strangely silent and uneasy. as soon as the dinner was finished ozma led the company to her own private room in which hung the magic picture. when they had seated themselves the scarecrow was the first to speak. "is the nome king's tunnel finished, ozma?" he asked. "it was completed to-day," she replied. "they have built it right under my palace grounds, and it ends in front of the forbidden fountain. nothing but a crust of earth remains to separate our enemies from us, and when they march here they will easily break through this crust and rush upon us." "who will assist the nome king?" inquired the scarecrow. [illustration] "the whimsies, the growleywogs and the phanfasms," she replied. "i watched to-day in my magic picture the messengers whom the nome king sent to all these people to summon them to assemble in his great caverns." "let us see what they are doing now," suggested the tin woodman. so ozma wished to see the nome king's cavern, and at once the landscape faded from the magic picture and was replaced by the scene then being enacted in the jeweled cavern of king roquat. a wild and startling scene it was which the oz people beheld. before the nome king stood the chief of the whimsies and the grand gallipoot of the groweywogs, surrounded by their most skillful generals. very fierce and powerful they looked, so that even the nome king and general guph, who stood beside his master, seemed a bit fearful in the presence of their allies. now a still more formidable creature entered the cavern. it was the first and foremost of the phanfasms and he proudly sat down in king roquat's own throne and demanded the right to lead his forces through the tunnel in advance of all the others. the first and foremost now appeared to all eyes in his hairy skin and the bear's head. what his real form was even roquat did not know. through the arches leading into the vast series of caverns that lay beyond the throne room of king roquat, could be seen ranks upon ranks of the invaders--thousands of phanfasms, growleywogs and whimsies standing in serried lines, while behind them were massed the thousands upon thousands of general guph's own army of nomes. "listen!" whispered ozma. "i think we can hear what they are saying." so they kept still and listened. "is all ready?" demanded the first and foremost, haughtily. "the tunnel is finally completed," replied general guph. "how long will it take us to march to the emerald city?" asked the grand gallipoot of the growleywogs. "if we start at midnight," replied the nome king, "we shall arrive at the emerald city by daybreak. then, while all the oz people are sleeping, we will capture them and make them our slaves. after that we will destroy the city itself and march through the land of oz, burning and devastating as we go." "good!" cried the first and foremost. "when we get through with oz it will be a desert wilderness. ozma shall be my slave." "she shall be _my_ slave!" shouted the grand gallipoot, angrily. "we'll decide that by and by," said king roquat, hastily. "don't let us quarrel now, friends. first let us conquer oz, and then we will divide the spoils of war in a satisfactory manner." the first and foremost smiled wickedly; but he only said: "i and my phanfasms go first, for nothing on earth can oppose our power." they all agreed to that, knowing the phanfasms to be the mightiest of the combined forces. king roquat now invited them to attend a banquet he had prepared, where they might occupy themselves in eating and drinking until midnight arrived. as they had now seen and heard all of the plot against them that they cared to, ozma allowed her magic picture to fade away. then she turned to her friends and said: "our enemies will be here sooner than i expected. what do you advise me to do?" "it is now too late to assemble our people," said the tin woodman, despondently. "if you had allowed me to arm and drill my winkies we might have put up a good fight and destroyed many of our enemies before we were conquered." "the munchkins are good fighters, too," said omby amby; "and so are the gillikins." "but i do not wish to fight," declared ozma, firmly. "no one has the right to destroy any living creatures, however evil they may be, or to hurt them or make them unhappy. i will not fight--even to save my kingdom." "the nome king is not so particular," remarked the scarecrow. "he intends to destroy us all and ruin our beautiful country." "because the nome king intends to do evil is no excuse for my doing the same," replied ozma. "self-preservation is the first law of nature," quoted the shaggy man. "true," she said, readily. "i would like to discover a plan to save ourselves without fighting." that seemed a hopeless task to them, but realizing that ozma was determined not to fight, they tried to think of some means that might promise escape. "couldn't we bribe our enemies, by giving them a lot of emeralds and gold?" asked jack pumpkinhead. "no, because they believe they are able to take everything we have," replied the ruler. "i have thought of something," said dorothy. "what is it, dear?" asked ozma. "let us use the magic belt to wish all of us in kansas. we will put some emeralds in our pockets, and can sell them in topeka for enough to pay off the mortgage on uncle henry's farm. then we can all live together and be happy." "a clever idea!" exclaimed the scarecrow. "kansas is a very good country. i've been there," said the shaggy man. "that seems to me an excellent plan," approved the tin woodman. "no!" said ozma, decidedly. "never will i desert my people and leave them to so cruel a fate. i will use the magic belt to send the rest of you to kansas, if you wish, but if my beloved country must be destroyed and my people enslaved i will remain and share their fate." "quite right," asserted the scarecrow, sighing. "i will remain with you." "and so will i," declared the tin woodman and the shaggy man and jack pumpkinhead, in turn. tiktok, the machine man, also said he intended to stand by ozma. "for," said he, "i should be of no use at all in kansas." "for my part," announced dorothy, gravely, "if the ruler of oz must not desert her people, a princess of oz has no right to run away, either. i'm willing to become a slave with the rest of you; so all we can do with the magic belt is to use it to send uncle henry and aunt em back to kansas." "i've been a slave all my life," aunt em replied, with considerable cheerfulness, "and so has henry. i guess we won't go back to kansas, anyway. i'd rather take my chances with the rest of you." ozma smiled upon them all gratefully. "there is no need to despair just yet," she said. "i'll get up early to-morrow morning and be at the forbidden fountain when the fierce warriors break through the crust of earth. i will speak to them pleasantly and perhaps they won't be so very bad, after all." "why do they call it the forbidden fountain?" asked dorothy, thoughtfully. "don't you know, dear?" returned ozma, surprised. "no," said dorothy. "of course i've seen the fountain in the palace grounds, ever since i first came to oz; and i've read the sign which says: 'all persons are forbidden to drink at this fountain.' but i never knew _why_ they were forbidden. the water seems clear and sparkling and it bubbles up in a golden basin all the time." "that water," declared ozma, gravely, "is the most dangerous thing in all the land of oz. it is the water of oblivion." "what does that mean?" asked dorothy. "whoever drinks at the forbidden fountain at once forgets everything he has ever known," ozma asserted. "it wouldn't be a bad way to forget our troubles," suggested uncle henry. "that is true; but you would forget everything else, and become as ignorant as a baby," returned ozma. "does it make one crazy?" asked dorothy. [illustration] "no; it only makes one forget," replied the girl ruler. "it is said that once--long, long ago--a wicked king ruled oz, and made himself and all his people very miserable and unhappy. so glinda, the good sorceress, placed this fountain here, and the king drank of its water and forgot all his wickedness. his mind became innocent and vacant, and when he learned the things of life again they were all good things. but the people remembered how wicked their king had been, and were still afraid of him. therefore he made them all drink of the water of oblivion and forget everything they had known, so that they became as simple and innocent as their king. after that they all grew wise together, and their wisdom was good, so that peace and happiness reigned in the land. but for fear some one might drink of the water again, and in an instant forget all he had learned, the king put that sign upon the fountain, where it has remained for many centuries up to this very day." they had all listened intently to ozma's story, and when she finished speaking there was a long period of silence while all thought upon the curious magical power of the water of oblivion. finally the scarecrow's painted face took on a broad smile that stretched the cloth as far as it would go. "how thankful i am," he said, "that i have such an excellent assortment of brains!" "i gave you the best brains i ever mixed," declared the wizard, with an air of pride. "you did, indeed!" agreed the scarecrow, "and they work so splendidly that they have found a way to save oz--to save us all!" "i'm glad to hear that," said the wizard. "we never needed saving more than we do just now." "do you mean to say you can save us from those awful phanfasms, and growleywogs and whimsies?" asked dorothy eagerly. "i'm sure of it, my dear," asserted the scarecrow, still smiling genially. "tell us how!" cried the tin woodman. [illustration] "not now," said the scarecrow. "you may all go to bed, and i advise you to forget your worries just as completely as if you had drunk of the water of oblivion in the forbidden fountain. i'm going to stay here and tell my plan to ozma alone, but if you will all be at the forbidden fountain at daybreak, you'll see how easily we will save the kingdom when our enemies break through the crust of earth and come from the tunnel." so they went away and left the scarecrow and ozma alone; but dorothy could not sleep a wink all night. "he is only a scarecrow," she said to herself, "and i'm not sure that his mixed brains are as clever as he thinks they are." but she knew that if the scarecrow's plan failed they were all lost; so she tried to have faith in him. [illustration] _how_ the fierce warriors invaded oz chapter twenty-seven [illustration] the nome king and his terrible allies sat at the banquet table until midnight. there was much quarreling between the growleywogs and phanfasms, and one of the wee-headed whimsies got angry at general guph and choked him until he nearly stopped breathing. yet no one was seriously hurt, and the nome king felt much relieved when the clock struck twelve and they all sprang up and seized their weapons. "aha!" shouted the first and foremost. "now to conquer the land of oz!" he marshaled his phanfasms in battle array and at his word of command they marched into the tunnel and began the long journey through it to the emerald city. the first and foremost intended to take all the treasures in oz for himself; to kill all who could be killed and enslave the rest; to destroy and lay waste the whole country, and afterward to conquer and enslave the nomes, the growleywogs and the whimsies. and he knew his power was sufficient to enable him to do all these things easily. next marched into the tunnel the army of gigantic growleywogs, with their grand gallipoot at their head. they were dreadful beings, indeed, and longed to get to oz that they might begin to pilfer and destroy. the grand gallipoot was a little afraid of the first and foremost, but had a cunning plan to murder or destroy that powerful being and secure the wealth of oz for himself. mighty little of the plunder would the nome king get, thought the grand gallipoot. the chief of the whimsies now marched his false-headed forces into the tunnel. in his wicked little head was a plot to destroy both the first and foremost and the grand gallipoot. he intended to let them conquer oz, since they insisted on going first; but he would afterward treacherously destroy them, as well as king roquat, and keep all the slaves and treasure of ozma's kingdom for himself. after all his dangerous allies had marched into the tunnel the nome king and general guph started to follow them, at the head of fifty thousand nomes, all fully armed. "guph," said the king, "those creatures ahead of us mean mischief. they intend to get everything for themselves and leave us nothing." "i know," replied the general; "but they are not as clever as they think they are. when you get the magic belt you must at once wish the whimsies and growleywogs and phanfasms all back into their own countries--and the belt will surely take them there." [illustration] "good!" cried the king. "an excellent plan, guph. i'll do it. while they are conquering oz i'll get the magic belt, and then only the nomes will remain to ravage the country." so you see there was only one thing that all were agreed upon--that oz should be destroyed. on, on, on the vast ranks of invaders marched, filling the tunnel from side to side. with a steady tramp, tramp, they advanced, every step taking them nearer to the beautiful emerald city. "nothing can save the land of oz!" thought the first and foremost, scowling until his bear face was as black as the tunnel. "the emerald city is as good as destroyed already!" muttered the grand gallipoot, shaking his war club fiercely. "in a few hours oz will be a desert!" said the chief of the whimsies, with an evil laugh. "my dear guph," remarked the nome king to his general, "at last my vengeance upon ozma of oz and her people is about to be accomplished." "you are right!" declared the general. "ozma is surely lost." and now the first and foremost, who was in advance and nearing the emerald city, began to cough and to sneeze. "this tunnel is terribly dusty," he growled, angrily. "i'll punish that nome king for not having it swept clean. my throat and eyes are getting full of dust and i'm as thirsty as a fish!" the grand gallipoot was coughing too, and his throat was parched and dry. "what a dusty place!" he cried. "i'll be glad when we reach oz, where we can get a drink." "who has any water?" asked the whimsie chief, gasping and choking. but none of his followers carried a drop of water, so he hastened on to get through the dusty tunnel to the land of oz. "where did all this dust come from?" demanded general guph, trying hard to swallow but finding his throat so dry he couldn't. "i don't know," answered the nome king. "i've been in the tunnel every day while it was being built, but i never noticed any dust before." "let's hurry!" cried the general. "i'd give half the gold in oz for a drink of water." the dust grew thicker and thicker, and the throats and eyes and noses of the invaders were filled with it. but not one halted or turned back. they hurried forward more fierce and vengeful than ever. _how_ they drank at the forbidden fountain chapter twenty-eight [illustration] the scarecrow had no need to sleep; neither had the tin woodman or tiktok or jack pumpkinhead. so they all wandered out into the palace grounds and stood beside the sparkling water of the forbidden fountain until daybreak. during this time they indulged in occasional conversation. "nothing could make me forget what i know," remarked the scarecrow, gazing into the fountain, "for i cannot drink the water of oblivion or water of any kind. and i am glad that this is so, for i consider my wisdom unexcelled." "you are cer-tain-ly- ve-ry wise," agreed tiktok. "for my part, i can on-ly think by ma-chin-er-y, so i do not pre-tend to know as much as you do." "my tin brains are very bright, but that is all i claim for them," said nick chopper, modestly. "yet i do not aspire to being very wise, for i have noticed that the happiest people are those who do not let their brains oppress them." "mine never worry me," jack pumpkinhead acknowledged. "there are many seeds of thought in my head, but they do not sprout easily. i am glad that it is so, for if i occupied my days in thinking i should have no time for anything else." in this cheery mood they passed the hours until the first golden streaks of dawn appeared in the sky. then ozma joined them, as fresh and lovely as ever and robed in one of her prettiest gowns. "our enemies have not yet arrived," said the scarecrow, after greeting affectionately the sweet and girlish ruler. "they will soon be here," she said, "for i have just glanced at my magic picture, and have seen them coughing and choking with the dust in the tunnel." "oh, is there dust in the tunnel?" asked the tin woodman. "yes; ozma placed it there by means of the magic belt," explained the scarecrow, with one of his broad smiles. then dorothy came to them, uncle henry and aunt em following close after her. the little girl's eyes were heavy because she had had a sleepless and anxious night. toto walked by her side, but the little dog's spirits were very much subdued. billina, who was always up by daybreak, was not long in joining the group by the fountain. the wizard and the shaggy man next arrived, and soon after appeared omby amby, dressed in his best uniform. "there lies the tunnel," said ozma, pointing to a part of the ground just before the forbidden fountain, "and in a few moments the dreadful invaders will break through the earth and swarm over the land. let us all stand on the other side of the fountain and watch to see what happens." [illustration] at once they followed her suggestion and moved around the fountain of the water of oblivion. there they stood silent and expectant until the earth beyond gave way with a sudden crash and up leaped the powerful form of the first and foremost, followed by all his grim warriors. as the leader sprang forward his gleaming eyes caught the play of the fountain and he rushed toward it and drank eagerly of the sparkling water. many of the other phanfasms drank, too, in order to clear their dry and dusty throats. then they stood around and looked at one another with simple, wondering smiles. the first and foremost saw ozma and her companions beyond the fountain, but instead of making an effort to capture her he merely stared at her in pleased admiration of her beauty--for he had forgotten where he was and why he had come there. but now the grand gallipoot arrived, rushing from the tunnel with a hoarse cry of mingled rage and thirst. he too saw the fountain and hastened to drink of its forbidden waters. the other growleywogs were not slow to follow suit, and even before they had finished drinking the chief of the whimsies and his people came to push them away, while they one and all cast off their false heads that they might slake their thirst at the fountain. when the nome king and general guph arrived they both made a dash to drink, but the general was so mad with thirst that he knocked his king over, and while roquat lay sprawling upon the ground the general drank heartily of the water of oblivion. this rude act of his general made the nome king so angry that for a moment he forgot he was thirsty and rose to his feet to glare upon the group of terrible warriors he had brought here to assist him. he saw ozma and her people, too, and yelled out: "why don't you capture them? why don't you conquer oz, you idiots? why do you stand there like a lot of dummies?" but the great warriors had become like little children. they had forgotten all their enmity against ozma and against oz. they had even forgotten who they themselves were, or why they were in this strange and beautiful country. as for the nome king, they did not recognize him, and wondered who he was. the sun came up and sent its flood of silver rays to light the faces of the invaders. the frowns and scowls and evil looks were all gone. even the most monstrous of the creatures there assembled smiled innocently and seemed light-hearted and content merely to be alive. not so with roquat, the nome king. he had not drunk from the forbidden fountain and all his former rage against ozma and dorothy now inflamed him as fiercely as ever. the sight of general guph babbling like a happy child and playing with his hands in the cool waters of the fountain astonished and maddened red roquat. seeing that his terrible allies and his own general refused to act, the nome king turned to order his great army of nomes to advance from the tunnel and seize the helpless oz people. but the scarecrow suspected what was in the king's mind and spoke a word to the tin woodman. together they ran at roquat and grabbing him up tossed him into the great basin of the fountain. the nome king's body was round as a ball, and it bobbed up and down in the water of oblivion while he spluttered and screamed with fear lest he should drown. and when he cried out his mouth filled with water, which ran down his throat, so that straightway he forgot all he had formerly known just as completely as had all the other invaders. ozma and dorothy could not refrain from laughing to see their dreaded enemies become as harmless as babes. there was no danger now that oz would be destroyed. the only question remaining to solve was how to get rid of this horde of intruders. [illustration] the shaggy man kindly pulled the nome king out of the fountain and set him upon his thin legs. roquat was dripping wet, but he chattered and laughed and wanted to drink more of the water. no thought of injuring any person was now in his mind. before he left the tunnel he had commanded his fifty thousand nomes to remain there until he ordered them to advance, as he wished to give his allies time to conquer oz before he appeared with his own army. ozma did not wish all these nomes to overrun her land, so she advanced to king roquat and taking his hand in her own said gently: "who are you? what is your name?" "i don't know," he replied, smiling at her. "who are you, my dear?" "my name is ozma," she said; "and your name is roquat." "oh, is it?" he replied, seeming pleased. "yes; you are king of the nomes," she said. "ah; i wonder what the nomes are!" returned the king, as if puzzled. "they are underground elves, and that tunnel over there is full of them," she answered. "you have a beautiful cavern at the other end of the tunnel, so you must go to your nomes and say: 'march home!' then follow after them and in time you will reach the pretty cavern where you live." the nome king was much pleased to learn this, for he had forgotten he had a cavern. so he went to the tunnel and said to his army: "march home!" at once the nomes turned and marched back through the tunnel, and the king followed after them, laughing with delight to find his orders so readily obeyed. the wizard went to general guph, who was trying to count his fingers, and told him to follow the nome king, who was his master. guph meekly obeyed, and so all the nomes quitted the land of oz forever. [illustration] but there were still the phanfasms and whimsies and growleywogs standing around in groups, and they were so many that they filled the gardens and trampled upon the flowers and grass because they did not know that the tender plants would be injured by their clumsy feet. but in all other respects they were perfectly harmless and played together like children or gazed with pleasure upon the pretty sights of the royal gardens. after counseling with the scarecrow ozma sent omby amby to the palace for the magic belt, and when the captain general returned with it the ruler of oz at once clasped the precious belt around her waist. "i wish all these strange people--the whimsies and the growleywogs and the phanfasms--safe back in their own homes!" she said. it all happened in a twinkling, for of course the wish was no sooner spoken than it was granted. all the hosts of the invaders were gone, and only the trampled grass showed that they had ever been in the land of oz. _how_ glinda worked a magic spell chapter twenty-nine [illustration] "that was better than fighting," said ozma, when all our friends were assembled in the palace after the exciting events of the morning; and each and every one agreed with her. "no one was hurt," said the wizard, delightedly. "and no one hurt us," added aunt em. "but, best of all," said dorothy, "the wicked people have all forgotten their wickedness, and will not wish to hurt any one after this." "true, princess," declared the shaggy man. "it seems to me that to have reformed all those evil characters is more important than to have saved oz." "nevertheless," remarked the scarecrow, "i am glad oz is saved. i can now go back to my new mansion and live happily." "and i am glad and grateful that my pumpkin farm is saved," said jack. "for my part," added the tin woodman, "i cannot express my joy that my lovely tin castle is not to be demolished by wicked enemies." "still," said tiktok, "o-ther en-e-mies may come to oz some day." "why do you allow your clock-work brains to interrupt our joy?" asked omby amby, frowning at the machine man. "i say what i am wound up to say," answered tiktok. "and you are right," declared ozma. "i myself have been thinking of this very idea, and it seems to me there are entirely too many ways for people to get to the land of oz. we used to think the deadly desert that surrounds us was enough protection; but that is no longer the case. the wizard and dorothy have both come here through the air, and i am told the earth people have invented airships that can fly anywhere they wish them to go." "why, sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't," asserted dorothy. "but in time the airships may cause us trouble," continued ozma, "for if the earth folk learn how to manage them we would be overrun with visitors who would ruin our lovely, secluded fairyland." "that is true enough," agreed the wizard. "also the desert fails to protect us in other ways," ozma went on, thoughtfully. "johnny dooit once made a sandboat that sailed across it, and the nome king made a tunnel under it. so i believe something ought to be done to cut us off from the rest of the world entirely, so that no one in the future will ever be able to intrude upon us." "how will you do that?" asked the scarecrow. "i do not know; but in some way i am sure it can be accomplished. to-morrow i will make a journey to the castle of glinda the good, and ask her advice." "may i go with you?" asked dorothy, eagerly. "of course, my dear princess; and also i invite any of our friends here who would like to undertake the journey." they all declared they wished to accompany their girl ruler, for this was indeed an important mission, since the future of the land of oz to a great extent depended upon it. so ozma gave orders to her servants to prepare for the journey on the morrow. that day she watched her magic picture, and when it showed her that all the nomes had returned through the tunnel to their underground caverns, ozma used the magic belt to close up the tunnel, so that the earth underneath the desert sands became as solid as it was before the nomes began to dig. early the following morning a gay cavalcade set out to visit the famous sorceress, glinda the good. ozma and dorothy rode in a chariot drawn by the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, while the sawhorse drew the red wagon in which rode the rest of the party. with hearts light and free from care they traveled merrily along through the lovely and fascinating land of oz, and in good season reached the stately castle in which resided the sorceress. glinda knew that they were coming. [illustration] "i have been reading about you in my magic book," she said, as she greeted them in her gracious way. "what is your magic book like?" inquired aunt em, curiously. "it is a record of everything that happens," replied the sorceress. "as soon as an event takes place, anywhere in the world, it is immediately found printed in my magic book. so when i read its pages i am well informed." "did it tell how our enemies drank the water of 'blivion?" asked dorothy. "yes, my dear; it told all about it. and also it told me you were all coming to my castle, and why." "then," said ozma, "i suppose you know what is in my mind, and that i am seeking a way to prevent any one in the future from discovering the land of oz." "yes; i know that. and while you were on your journey i have thought of a way to accomplish your desire. for it seems to me unwise to allow too many outside people to come here. dorothy, with her uncle and aunt, has now returned to oz to live always, and there is no reason why we should leave any way open for others to travel uninvited to our fairyland. let us make it impossible for any one ever to communicate with us in any way, after this. then we may live peacefully and contentedly." "your advice is wise," returned ozma. "i thank you, glinda, for your promise to assist me." "but how can you do it?" asked dorothy. "how can you keep every one from ever finding oz?" "by making our country invisible to all eyes but our own," replied the sorceress, smiling. "i have a magic charm powerful enough to accomplish that wonderful feat, and now that we have been warned of our danger by the nome king's invasion, i believe we must not hesitate to separate ourselves forever from all the rest of the world." "i agree with you," said the ruler of oz. "won't it make any difference to us?" asked dorothy, doubtfully. "no, my dear," glinda answered, assuringly. "we shall still be able to see each other and everything in the land of oz. it won't affect us at all; but those who fly through the air over our country will look down and see nothing at all. those who come to the edge of the desert, or try to cross it, will catch no glimpse of oz, or know in what direction it lies. no one will try to tunnel to us again because we cannot be seen and therefore cannot be found. in other words, the land of oz will entirely disappear from the knowledge of the rest of the world." "that's all right," said dorothy, cheerfully. "you may make oz invis'ble as soon as you please, for all i care." "it is already invisible," glinda stated. "i knew ozma's wishes, and performed the magic spell before you arrived." ozma seized the hand of the sorceress and pressed it gratefully. "thank you!" she said. [illustration] _how_ the story of oz came to an end chapter thirty [illustration] the writer of these oz stories has received a little note from princess dorothy of oz which, for a time, has made him feel rather discontented. the note was written on a broad white feather from a stork's wing, and it said: _"you will never hear anything more about oz, because we are now cut off forever from all the rest of the world. but toto and i will always love you and all the other children who love us._ "dorothy gale." this seemed to me too bad, at first, for oz is a very interesting fairyland. still, we have no right to feel grieved, for we have had enough of the history of the land of oz to fill six story books, and from its quaint people and their strange adventures we have been able to learn many useful and amusing things. so good luck to little dorothy and her companions. may they live long in their invisible country and be very happy! the end [illustration] * * * * * transcriber's notes: punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. simple typographical errors were corrected. chapter names are parts of their illustrations. in this ebook, they precede the indications of where those illustrations occur. the enchanted island of yew whereon prince marvel encountered the high ki of twi and other surprising people by l. frank baum author of "the wizard of oz," "the life and adventures of santa claus," "the magical monarch of mo," etc. contents . once on a time . the enchanted isle . the fairy bower . prince marvel . the king of thieves . the troubles of nerle . the gray men . the fool-killer . the royal dragon of spor . prince marvel wins his fight . the cunning of king terribus . the gift of beauty . the hidden kingdom of twi . the ki and the ki-ki . the high ki of twi . the rebellion of the high ki . the separation of the high ki . the rescue of the high ki . the reunion of the high ki . kwytoffle, the tyrant . the wonderful book of magic . the queen of plenta . the red rogue of dawna . the enchanted mirrors . the adventurers separate . the end of the year . a hundred years afterward . "once on a time" i am going to tell a story, one of those tales of astonishing adventures that happened years and years and years ago. perhaps you wonder why it is that so many stories are told of "once on a time", and so few of these days in which we live; but that is easily explained. in the old days, when the world was young, there were no automobiles nor flying-machines to make one wonder; nor were there railway trains, nor telephones, nor mechanical inventions of any sort to keep people keyed up to a high pitch of excitement. men and women lived simply and quietly. they were nature's children, and breathed fresh air into their lungs instead of smoke and coal gas; and tramped through green meadows and deep forests instead of riding in street cars; and went to bed when it grew dark and rose with the sun--which is vastly different from the present custom. having no books to read they told their adventures to one another and to their little ones; and the stories were handed down from generation to generation and reverently believed. those who peopled the world in the old days, having nothing but their hands to depend on, were to a certain extent helpless, and so the fairies were sorry for them and ministered to their wants patiently and frankly, often showing themselves to those they befriended. so people knew fairies in those days, my dear, and loved them, together with all the ryls and knooks and pixies and nymphs and other beings that belong to the hordes of immortals. and a fairy tale was a thing to be wondered at and spoken of in awed whispers; for no one thought of doubting its truth. to-day the fairies are shy; for so many curious inventions of men have come into use that the wonders of fairyland are somewhat tame beside them, and even the boys and girls can not be so easily interested or surprised as in the old days. so the sweet and gentle little immortals perform their tasks unseen and unknown, and live mostly in their own beautiful realms, where they are almost unthought of by our busy, bustling world. yet when we come to story-telling the marvels of our own age shrink into insignificance beside the brave deeds and absorbing experiences of the days when fairies were better known; and so we go back to "once on a time" for the tales that we most love--and that children have ever loved since mankind knew that fairies exist. . the enchanted isle once there was an enchanted island in the middle of the sea. it was called the isle of yew. and in it were five important kingdoms ruled by men, and many woodland dells and forest glades and pleasant meadows and grim mountains inhabited by fairies. from the fairies some of the men had learned wonderful secrets, and had become magicians and sorcerers, with powers so great that the entire island was reputed to be one of enchantments. who these men were the common people did not always know; for while some were kings and rulers, others lived quietly hidden away in forests or mountains, and seldom or never showed themselves. indeed, there were not so many of these magicians as people thought, only it was so hard to tell them from common folk that every stranger was regarded with a certain amount of curiosity and fear. the island was round--like a mince pie. and it was divided into four quarters--also like a pie--except that there was a big place in the center where the fifth kingdom, called spor, lay in the midst of the mountains. spor was ruled by king terribus, whom no one but his own subjects had ever seen--and not many of them. for no one was allowed to enter the kingdom of spor, and its king never left his palace. but the people of spor had a bad habit of rushing down from their mountains and stealing the goods of the inhabitants of the other four kingdoms, and carrying them home with them, without offering any apologies whatever for such horrid conduct. sometimes those they robbed tried to fight them; but they were a terrible people, consisting of giants with huge clubs, and dwarfs who threw flaming darts, and the stern gray men of spor, who were most frightful of all. so, as a rule, every one fled before them, and the people were thankful that the fierce warriors of spor seldom came to rob them oftener than once a year. it was on this account that all who could afford the expense built castles to live in, with stone walls so thick that even the giants of spor could not batter them down. and the children were not allowed to stray far from home for fear some roving band of robbers might steal them and make their parents pay large sums for their safe return. yet for all this the people of the enchanted isle of yew were happy and prosperous. no grass was greener, no forests more cool and delightful, no skies more sunny, no sea more blue and rippling than theirs. and the nations of the world envied them, but dared not attempt to conquer an island abounding in enchantments. . the fairy bower that part of the enchanted isle which was kissed by the rising sun was called dawna; the kingdom that was tinted rose and purple by the setting sun was known as auriel, and the southland, where fruits and flowers abounded, was the kingdom of plenta. up at the north lay heg, the home of the great barons who feared not even the men of spor; and in the kingdom of heg our story opens. upon a beautiful plain stood the castle of the great baron merd--renowned alike in war and peace, and second in importance only to the king of heg. it was a castle of vast extent, built with thick walls and protected by strong gates. in front of it sloped a pretty stretch of land with the sea glistening far beyond; and back of it, but a short distance away, was the edge of the forest of lurla. one fair summer day the custodian of the castle gates opened a wicket and let down a draw-bridge, when out trooped three pretty girls with baskets dangling on their arms. one of the maids walked in front of her companions, as became the only daughter of the mighty baron merd. she was named seseley, and had yellow hair and red cheeks and big, blue eyes. behind her, merry and laughing, yet with a distinct deference to the high station of their young lady, walked berna and helda--dark brunettes with mischievous eyes and slender, lithe limbs. berna was the daughter of the chief archer, and helda the niece of the captain of the guard, and they were appointed play-fellows and comrades of the fair seseley. up the hill to the forest's edge ran the three, and then without hesitation plunged into the shade of the ancient trees. there was no sunlight now, but the air was cool and fragrant of nuts and mosses, and the children skipped along the paths joyously and without fear. to be sure, the forest of lurla was well known as the home of fairies, but seseley and her comrades feared nothing from such gentle creatures and only longed for an interview with the powerful immortals whom they had been taught to love as the tender guardians of mankind. nymphs there were in lurla, as well, and crooked knooks, it was said; yet for many years past no person could boast the favor of meeting any one of the fairy creatures face to face. so, gathering a few nuts here and a sweet forest flower there, the three maidens walked farther and farther into the forest until they came upon a clearing--formed like a circle--with mosses and ferns for its carpet and great overhanging branches for its roof. "how pretty!" cried seseley, gaily. "let us eat our luncheon in this lovely banquet-hall!" so berna and helda spread a cloth and brought from their baskets some golden platters and a store of food. yet there was little ceremony over the meal, you may be sure, and within a short space all the children had satisfied their appetites and were laughing and chatting as merrily as if they were at home in the great castle. indeed, it is certain they were happier in their forest glade than when facing grim walls of stone, and the three were in such gay spirits that whatever one chanced to say the others promptly joined in laughing over. soon, however, they were startled to hear a silvery peal of laughter answering their own, and turning to see whence the sound proceeded, they found seated near them a creature so beautiful that at once the three pairs of eyes opened to their widest extent, and three hearts beat much faster than before. "well, i must say you do stare!" exclaimed the newcomer, who was clothed in soft floating robes of rose and pearl color, and whose eyes shone upon them like two stars. "forgive our impertinence," answered the little lady seseley, trying to appear dignified and unmoved; "but you must acknowledge that you came among us uninvited, and--and you are certainly rather odd in appearance." again the silvery laughter rang through the glade. "uninvited!" echoed the creature, clapping her hands together delightedly; "uninvited to my own forest home! why, my dear girls, you are the uninvited ones--indeed you are--to thus come romping into our fairy bower." the children did not open their eyes any wider on hearing this speech, for they could not; but their faces expressed their amazement fully, while helda gasped the words: "a fairy bower! we are in a fairy bower!" "most certainly," was the reply. "and as for being odd in appearance, let me ask how you could reasonably expect a fairy to appear as mortal maidens do?" "a fairy!" exclaimed seseley. "are you, then, a real fairy?" "i regret to say i am," returned the other, more soberly, as she patted a moss-bank with a silver-tipped wand. then for a moment there was silence, while the three girls sat very still and stared at their immortal companion with evident curiosity. finally seseley asked: "why do you regret being a fairy? i have always thought them the happiest creatures in the world." "perhaps we ought to be happy," answered the fairy, gravely, "for we have wonderful powers and do much to assist you helpless mortals. and i suppose some of us really are happy. but, for my part, i am so utterly tired of a fairy life that i would do anything to change it." "that is strange," declared berna. "you seem very young to be already discontented with your lot." now at this the fairy burst into laughter again, and presently asked: "how old do you think me?" "about our own age," said berna, after a glance at her and a moment's reflection. "nonsense!" retorted the fairy, sharply. "these trees are hundreds of years old, yet i remember when they were mere twigs. and i remember when mortals first came to live upon this island, yes--and when this island was first created and rose from the sea after a great earthquake. i remember for many, many centuries, my dears. i have grown tired of remembering--and of being a fairy continually, without any change to brighten my life." "to be sure!" said seseley, with sympathy. "i never thought of fairy life in that way before. it must get to be quite tiresome." "and think of the centuries i must yet live!" exclaimed the fairy in a dismal voice. "isn't it an awful thing to look forward to?" "it is, indeed," agreed seseley. "i'd be glad to exchange lives with you," said helda, looking at the fairy with intense admiration. "but you can't do that," answered the little creature quickly. "mortals can't become fairies, you know--although i believe there was once a mortal who was made immortal." "but fairies can become anything they desire!" cried berna. "oh, no, they can't. you are mistaken if you believe that," was the reply. "i could change you into a fly, or a crocodile, or a bobolink, if i wanted to; but fairies can't change themselves into anything else." "how strange!" murmured seseley, much impressed. "but you can," cried the fairy, jumping up and coming toward them. "you are mortals, and, by the laws that govern us, a mortal can change a fairy into anything she pleases." "oh!" said seseley, filled with amazement at the idea. the fairy fell on her knees before the baron's daughter. "please--please, dear seseley," she pleaded, "change me into a mortal!" . prince marvel it is easy to imagine the astonishment of the three girls at hearing this strange request. they gazed in a bewildered fashion upon the kneeling fairy, and were at first unable to answer one word. then seseley said--sadly, for she grieved to disappoint the pretty creature: "we are but mortal children, and have no powers of enchantment at all." "ah, that is true, so far as concerns yourselves," replied the fairy, eagerly; "yet mortals may easily transform fairies into anything they wish." "if that is so, why have we never heard of this power before?" asked seseley. "because fairies, as a rule, are content with their lot, and do not wish to appear in any form but their own. and, knowing that evil or mischievous mortals can transform them at will, the fairies take great care to remain invisible, so they can not be interfered with. have you ever," she asked, suddenly, "seen a fairy before?" "never," replied seseley. "nor would you have seen me to-day, had i not known you were kind and pure-hearted, or had i not resolved to ask you to exercise your powers upon me." "i must say," remarked helda, boldly, "that you are foolish to wish to become anything different from what you are." "for you are very beautiful now," added berna, admiringly. "beautiful!" retorted the fairy, with a little frown; "what does beauty amount to, if one is to remain invisible?" "not much, that is true," agreed berna, smoothing her own dark locks. "and as for being foolish," continued the fairy, "i ought to be allowed to act foolishly if i want to. for centuries past i have not had a chance to do a single foolish thing." "poor dear!" said helda, softly. seseley had listened silently to this conversation. now she inquired: "what do you wish to become?" "a mortal!" answered the fairy, promptly. "a girl, like ourselves?" questioned the baron's daughter. "perhaps," said the fairy, as if undecided. "then you would be likely to endure many privations," said seseley, gently. "for you would have neither father nor mother to befriend you, nor any house to live in." "and if you hired your services to some baron, you would be obliged to wash dishes all day, or mend clothing, or herd cattle," said berna. "but i should travel all over the island," said the fairy, brightly, "and that is what i long to do. i do not care to work." "i fear a girl would not be allowed to travel alone," seseley remarked, after some further thought. "at least," she added, "i have never heard of such a thing." "no," said the fairy, rather bitterly, "your men are the ones that roam abroad and have adventures of all kinds. your women are poor, weak creatures, i remember." there was no denying this, so the three girls sat silent until seseley asked: "why do you wish to become a mortal?" "to gain exciting experiences," answered the fairy. "i'm tired of being a humdrum fairy year in and year out. of course, i do not wish to become a mortal for all time, for that would get monotonous, too; but to live a short while as the earth people do would amuse me very much." "if you want variety, you should become a boy," said helda, with a laugh, "the life of a boy is one round of excitement." "then make me a boy!" exclaimed the fairy eagerly. "a boy!" they all cried in consternation. and seseley added: "why--you're a girl fairy, aren't you?" "well--yes; i suppose i am," answered the beautiful creature, smiling; "but as you are going to change me anyway, i may as well become a boy as a girl." "better!" declared helda, clapping her hands; "for then you can do as you please." "but would it be right?" asked seseley, with hesitation. "why not?" retorted the fairy. "i can see nothing wrong in being a boy. make me a tall, slender youth, with waving brown hair and dark eyes. then i shall be as unlike my own self as possible, and the adventure will be all the more interesting. yes; i like the idea of being a boy very much indeed." "but i don't know how to transform you; some one will have to show me the way to do it," protested seseley, who was getting worried over the task set her. "oh, that will be easy enough," returned the little immortal. "have you a wand?" "no." "then i'll loan you mine, for i shall not need it. and you must wave it over my head three times and say: 'by my mortal powers i transform you into a boy for the space of one year'." "one year! isn't that too long?" "it's a very short time to one who has lived thousands of years as a fairy." "that is true," answered the baron's daughter. "now, i'll begin by doing a little transforming myself," said the fairy, getting upon her feet again, "and you can watch and see how i do it." she brushed a bit of moss from her gauzy skirts and continued: "if i'm to become a boy i shall need a horse, you know. a handsome, prancing steed, very fleet of foot." a moment she stood motionless, as if listening. then she uttered a low but shrill whistle. the three girls, filled with eager interest, watched her intently. presently a trampling of footsteps was heard through the brushwood, and a beautiful deer burst from the forest and fearlessly ran to the fairy. without hesitation she waved her wand above the deer's head and exclaimed: "by all my fairy powers i command you to become a war-horse for the period of one year." instantly the deer disappeared, and in its place was a handsome charger, milk-white in color, with flowing mane and tail. upon its back was a saddle sparkling with brilliant gems sewn upon fine dressed leather. the girls uttered cries of astonishment and delight, and the fairy said: "you see, these transformations are not at all difficult. i must now have a sword." she plucked a twig from a near-by tree and cast it upon the ground at her feet. again she waved her wand--and the twig turned to a gleaming sword, richly engraved, that seemed to the silent watchers to tremble slightly in its sheath, as if its heart of steel throbbed with hopes of battles to come. "and now i must have shield and armor," said the fairy, gaily. "this will make a shield,"--and she stripped a sheet of loose bark from a tree-trunk,--"but for armor i must have something better. will you give me your cloak?" this appeal was made to seseley, and the baron's daughter drew her white velvet cloak from her shoulders and handed it to the fairy. a moment later it was transformed into a suit of glittering armor that seemed fashioned of pure silver inlaid with gold, while the sheet of bark at the same time became a handsome shield, with the figures of three girls graven upon it. seseley recognized the features as those of herself and her comrades, and noted also that they appeared sitting at the edge of a forest, the great trees showing plainly in the background. "i shall be your champion, you see," laughed the fairy, gleefully, "and maybe i shall be able to repay you for the loss of your cloak." "i do not mind the cloak," returned the child, who had been greatly interested in these strange transformations. "but it seems impossible that a dainty little girl like you can ride this horse and carry these heavy arms." "i'll not be a girl much longer," said the little creature. "here, take my wand, and transform me into a noble youth!" again the pretty fairy kneeled before seseley, her dainty, rounded limbs of white and rose showing plainly through her gauzy attire. and the baron's daughter was suddenly inspired to be brave, not wishing to disappoint the venturous immortal. so she rose and took the magic wand in her hand, waving it three times above the head of the fairy. "by my powers as a mortal," she said, marveling even then at the strange speech, "i command you to become a brave and gallant youth--handsome, strong, fearless! and such shall you remain for the space of one year." as she ceased speaking the fairy was gone, and a slender youth, dark-eyed and laughing, was holding her hand in his and kissing it gratefully. "i thank you, most lovely maiden," he said, in a pleasant voice, "for giving me a place in the world of mortals. i shall ride at once in search of adventure, but my good sword is ever at your service." with this he gracefully arose and began to buckle on his magnificent armor and to fasten the sword to his belt. seseley drew a long, sighing breath of amazement at her own powers, and turning to berna and helda she asked: "do i see aright? is the little fairy really transformed to this youth?" "it certainly seems so," returned helda, who, being unabashed by the marvels she had beheld, turned to gaze boldly upon the young knight. "do you still remember that a moment ago you were a fairy?" she inquired. "yes, indeed," said he, smiling; "and i am really a fairy now, being but changed in outward form. but no one must know this save yourselves, until the year has expired and i resume my true station. will you promise to guard my secret?" "oh, yes!" they exclaimed, in chorus. for they were delighted, as any children might well be, at having so remarkable a secret to keep and talk over among themselves. "i must ask one more favor," continued the youth: "that you give me a name; for in this island i believe all men bear names of some sort, to distinguish them one from another." "true," said seseley, thoughtfully. "what were you called as a fairy?" "that does not matter in the least," he answered, hastily. "i must have an entirely new name." "suppose we call him the silver knight," suggested berna, as she eyed his glistening armor. "oh, no!--that is no name at all!" declared helda. "we might better call him baron strongarm." "i do not like that, either," said the lady seseley, "for we do not know whether his arm is strong or not. but he has been transformed in a most astonishing and bewildering manner before our very eyes, and i think the name of prince marvel would suit him very well." "excellent!" cried the youth, picking up his richly graven shield. "the name seems fitting in every way. and for a year i shall be known to all this island as prince marvel!" . the king of thieves old marshelm, the captain of the guard, was much surprised when he saw the baron's daughter and her playmates approach her father's castle escorted by a knight in glittering armor. to be sure it was a rather small knight, but the horse he led by the bridle was so stately and magnificent in appearance that old marshelm, who was an excellent judge of horses, at once decided the stranger must be a personage of unusual importance. as they came nearer the captain of the guard also observed the beauty of the little knight's armor, and caught the glint of jewels set in the handle of his sword; so he called his men about him and prepared to receive the knight with the honors doubtless due his high rank. but to the captain's disappointment the stranger showed no intention of entering the castle. on the contrary, he kissed the little lady seseley's hand respectfully, waved an adieu to the others, and then mounted his charger and galloped away over the plains. the drawbridge was let down to permit the three children to enter, and the great baron merd came himself to question his daughter. "who was the little knight?" he asked. "his name is prince marvel," answered seseley, demurely. "prince marvel?" exclaimed the baron. "i have never heard of him. does he come from the kingdom of dawna, or that of auriel, or plenta?" "that i do not know," said seseley, with truth. "where did you meet him?" continued the baron. "in the forest, my father, and he kindly escorted us home." "hm!" muttered the baron, thoughtfully. "did he say what adventure brought him to our kingdom of heg?" "no, father. but he mentioned being in search of adventure." "oh, he'll find enough to busy him in this wild island, where every man he meets would rather draw his sword than eat," returned the old warrior, smiling. "how old may this prince marvel be?" "he looks not over fifteen years of age," said seseley, uneasy at so much questioning, for she did not wish to be forced to tell an untruth. "but it is possible he is much older," she added, beginning to get confused. "well, well; i am sorry he did not pay my castle a visit," declared the baron. "he is very small and slight to be traveling this dangerous country alone, and i might have advised him as to his welfare." seseley thought that prince marvel would need no advice from any one as to his conduct; but she wisely refrained from speaking this thought, and the old baron walked away to glance through a slit in the stone wall at the figure of the now distant knight. prince marvel was riding swiftly toward the brow of the hill, and shortly his great war-horse mounted the ascent and disappeared on its farther slope. the youth's heart was merry and light, and he reflected joyously, as he rode along, that a whole year of freedom and fascinating adventure lay before him. the valley in which he now found himself was very beautiful, the soft grass beneath his horse's feet being sprinkled with bright flowers, while clumps of trees stood here and there to break the monotony of the landscape. for an hour the prince rode along, rejoicing in the free motion of his horse and breathing in the perfume-laden air. then he found he had crossed the valley and was approaching a series of hills. these were broken by huge rocks, the ground being cluttered with boulders of rough stone. his horse speedily found a pathway leading through these rocks, but was obliged to proceed at a walk, turning first one way and then another as the path zigzagged up the hill. presently, being engaged in deep thought and little noting the way, prince marvel rode between two high walls of rock standing so close together that horse and rider could scarcely pass between the sides. having traversed this narrow space some distance the wall opened suddenly upon a level plat of ground, where grass and trees grew. it was not a very big place, but was surely the end of the path, as all around it stood bare walls so high and steep that neither horse nor man could climb them. in the side of the rocky wall facing the entrance the traveler noticed a hollow, like the mouth of a cave, across which was placed an iron gate. and above the gateway was painted in red letters on the gray stone the following words: wul-takim king of thieves ------ his treasure house keep out prince marvel laughed on reading this, and after getting down from his saddle he advanced to the iron gate and peered through its heavy bars. "i have no idea who this wul-takim is," he said, "for i know nothing at all of the ways of men outside the forest in which i have always dwelt. but thieves are bad people, i am quite sure, and since wul-takim is the king of thieves he must be by far the worst man on this island." then he saw, through the bars of the gate, that a great cavern lay beyond, in which were stacked treasures of all sorts: rich cloths, golden dishes and ornaments, gemmed coronets and bracelets, cleverly forged armor, shields and battle-axes. also there were casks and bales of merchandise of every sort. the gate appeared to have no lock, so prince marvel opened it and walked in. then he perceived, perched on the very top of a pyramid of casks, the form of a boy, who sat very still and watched him with a look of astonishment upon his face. "what are you doing up there?" asked the prince. "nothing," said the boy. "if i moved the least little bit this pile of casks would topple over, and i should be thrown to the ground." "well," returned the prince, "what of it?" but just then he glanced at the ground and saw why the boy did not care to tumble down. for in the earth were planted many swords, with their sharp blades pointing upward, and to fall upon these meant serious wounds and perhaps death. "oh, ho!" cried marvel; "i begin to understand. you are a prisoner." "yes; as you will also be shortly," answered the boy. "and then you will understand another thing--that you were very reckless ever to enter this cave." "why?" inquired the prince, who really knew little of the world, and was interested in everything he saw and heard. "because it is the stronghold of the robber king, and when you opened that gate you caused a bell to ring far down on the hillside. so the robbers are now warned that an enemy is in their cave, and they will soon arrive to make you a prisoner, even as i am." "ah, i see!" said the prince, with a laugh, "it is a rather clever contrivance; but having been warned in time i should indeed be foolish to be caught in such a trap." with this he half drew his sword, but thinking that robbers were not worthy to be slain with its untarnished steel, he pushed it back into the jeweled scabbard and looked around for another weapon. a stout oaken staff lay upon the ground, and this he caught up and ran with it from the cave, placing himself just beside the narrow opening that led into this rock-encompassed plain. for he quickly saw that this was the only way any one could enter or leave the place, and therefore knew the robbers were coming up the narrow gorge even as he had himself done. soon they were heard stumbling along at a rapid pace, crying to one another to make haste and catch the intruder. the first that came through the opening received so sharp a blow upon the head from prince marvel's oak staff that he fell to the ground and lay still, while the next was treated in a like manner and fell beside his comrade. perhaps the thieves had not expected so sturdy an enemy, for they continued to rush through the opening in the rocks and to fall beneath the steady blows of the prince's staff until every one of them lay senseless before the victor. at first they had piled themselves upon one another very neatly; but the pile got so high at last that the prince was obliged to assist the last thieves to leap to the top of the heap before they completely lost their senses. i have no doubt our prince, feeling himself yet strange in the new form he had acquired, and freshly transported from the forest glades in which he had always lived, was fully as much astonished at his deed of valor as were the robbers themselves; and if he shuddered a little when looking upon the heap of senseless thieves you must forgive him this weakness. for he straightway resolved to steel his heart to such sights and to be every bit as stern and severe as a mortal knight would have been. throwing down his staff he ran to the cave again, and stepping between the sword points he approached the pile of casks and held out his arms to the boy who was perched upon the top. "the thieves are conquered," he cried. "jump down!" "i won't," said the boy. "why not?" inquired the prince. "can't you see i'm very miserable?" asked the boy, in return; "don't you understand that every minute i expect to fall upon those sword points?" "but i will catch you," cried the prince. "i don't want you to catch me," said the boy. "i want to be miserable. it's the first chance i've ever had, and i'm enjoying my misery very much." this speech so astonished prince marvel that for a moment he stood motionless. then he retorted, angrily: "you're a fool!" "if i wasn't so miserable up here, i'd come down and thrash you for that," said the boy, with a sigh. this answer so greatly annoyed prince marvel that he gave the central cask of the pyramid a sudden push, and the next moment the casks were tumbling in every direction, while the boy fell headlong in their midst. but marvel caught him deftly in his arms, and so saved him from the sword points. "there!" he said, standing the boy upon his feet; "now you are released from your misery." "and i should be glad to punish you for your interference," declared the boy, gloomily eying his preserver, "had you not saved my life by catching me. according to the code of honor of knighthood i can not harm one who has saved my life until i have returned the obligation. therefore, for the present i shall pardon your insulting speeches and actions." "but you have also saved my life," answered prince marvel; "for had you not warned me of the robbers' return they would surely have caught me." "true," said the boy, brightening up; "therefore our score is now even. but take care not to affront me again, for hereafter i will show you no mercy!" prince marvel looked at the boy with wonder. he was about his own size, yet strong and well formed, and he would have been handsome except for the expression of discontent upon his face. yet his manner and words were so absurd and unnatural that the prince was more amused than angered by his new acquaintance, and presently laughed in his face. "if all the people in this island are like you," he said, "i shall have lots of fun with them. and you are only a boy, after all." "i'm bigger than you!" declared the other, glaring fiercely at the prince. "how much bigger?" asked marvel, his eyes twinkling. "oh, ever so much!" "then fetch along that coil of rope, and follow me," said prince marvel. "fetch the rope yourself!" retorted the boy, bluntly. "i'm not your servant." then he put his hands in his pockets and coolly walked out of the cave to look at the pile of senseless robbers. prince marvel made no reply, but taking the coil of rope on his shoulder he carried it to where the thieves lay and threw it down beside them. then he cut lengths from the coil with his sword and bound the limbs of each robber securely. within a half-hour he had laid out a row of thieves extending half way across the grassy plain, and on counting their number he found he had captured fifty-nine of them. this task being accomplished and the robbers rendered helpless, prince marvel turned to the boy who stood watching him. "get a suit of armor from the cave, and a strong sword, and then return here," he said, in a stern voice. "why should i do that?" asked the boy, rather impudently. "because i am going to fight you for disobeying my orders; and if you do not protect yourself i shall probably kill you." "that sounds pleasant," said the boy. "but if you should prove my superior in skill i beg you will not kill me at once, but let me die a lingering death." "why?" asked the prince. "because i shall suffer more, and that will be delightful." "i am not anxious to kill you, nor to make you suffer," said marvel, "all that i ask is that you acknowledge me your master." "i won't!" answered the boy. "i acknowledge no master in all the world!" "then you must fight," declared the prince, gravely. "if you win, i will promise to serve you faithfully; and if i conquer you, then you must acknowledge me your master, and obey my commands." "agreed!" cried the boy, with sudden energy, and he rushed into the cave and soon returned clad in armor and bearing a sword and shield. on the shield was pictured a bolt of lightning. "lightning will soon strike those three girls whose champion you seem to be," he said tauntingly. "the three girls defy your lightning!" returned the prince with a smile. "i see you are brave enough." "brave! why should i not be?" answered the boy proudly. "i am the lord nerle, the son of neggar, the chief baron of heg!" the other bowed low. "i am pleased to know your station," he said. "i am called prince marvel, and this is my first adventure." "and likely to be your last," exclaimed the boy, sneeringly. "for i am stronger than you, and i have fought many times with full grown men." "are you ready?" asked prince marvel, for answer. "yes." then the swords clashed and sparks flew from the blades. but it was not for long. suddenly nerle's sword went flying through the air and shattered its blade against a wall of rock. he scowled at prince marvel a moment, who smiled back at him. then the boy rushed into the cave and returned with another sword. scarcely had the weapons crossed again when with a sudden blow prince marvel snapped nerle's blade in two, and followed this up with a sharp slap upon his ear with the flat of his own sword that fairly bewildered the boy, and made him sit down on the grass to think what had happened to him. then prince marvel's merry laugh rang far across the hills, and so delighted was he at the astonished expression upon nerle's face that it was many minutes before he could control his merriment and ask his foeman if he had had enough fight. "i suppose i have," replied the boy, rubbing his ear tenderly. "that blow stings most deliciously. but it is a hard thought that the son of baron neggar should serve prince marvel!" "do not worry about that," said the prince; "for i assure you my rank is so far above your own that it is no degradation for the son of neggar to serve me. but come, we must dispose of these thieves. what is the proper fate for such men?" "they are always hanged," answered nerle, getting upon his feet. "well, there are trees handy," remarked the prince, although his girlish heart insisted on making him shiver in spite of his resolve to be manly and stern. "let us get to work and hang them as soon as possible. and then we can proceed upon our journey." nerle now willingly lent his assistance to his new master, and soon they had placed a rope around the neck of each thief and were ready to dangle them all from the limbs of the trees. but at this juncture the thieves began to regain consciousness, and now wul-takim, the big, red-bearded king of the thieves, sat up and asked: "who is our conqueror?" "prince marvel," answered nerle. "and what army assisted him?" inquired wul-takim, curiously gazing upon the prince. "he conquered you alone and single-handed," said nerle. hearing this, the big king began to weep bitterly, and the tear-drops ran down his face in such a stream that prince marvel ordered nerle to wipe them away with his handkerchief, as the thief's hands were tied behind his back. "to think!" sobbed wul-takim, miserably; "only to think, that after all my terrible deeds and untold wickedness, i have been captured by a mere boy! oh, boo-hoo! boo-hoo! boo-hoo! it is a terrible disgrace!" "you will not have to bear it long," said the prince, soothingly. "i am going to hang you in a few minutes." "thanks! thank you very much!" answered the king, ceasing to weep. "i have always expected to be hanged some day, and i am glad no one but you two boys will witness me when my feet begin kicking about." "i shall not kick," declared another of the thieves, who had also regained his senses. "i shall sing while i am being hanged." "but you can not, my good gunder," protested the king; "for the rope will cut off your breath, and no man can sing without breath." "then i shall whistle," said gunder, composedly. the king cast at him a look of reproach, and turning to prince marvel he said: "it will be a great task to string up so many thieves. you look tired. permit me to assist you to hang the others, and then i will climb into a tree and hang myself from a strong branch, with as little bother as possible." "oh, i won't think of troubling you," exclaimed marvel, with a laugh. "having conquered you alone, i feel it my duty to hang you without assistance--save that of my esquire." "it's no trouble, i assure you; but suit your own convenience," said the thief, carelessly. then he cast his eye toward the cave and asked: "what will you do with all our treasure?" "give it to the poor," said prince marvel, promptly. "what poor?" "oh, the poorest people i can find." "will you permit me to advise you in this matter?" asked the king of thieves, politely. "yes, indeed; for i am a stranger in this land," returned the prince. "well, i know a lot of people who are so poor that they have no possessions whatever, neither food to eat, houses to live in, nor any clothing but that which covers their bodies. they can call no man friend, nor will any lift a hand to help them. indeed, good sir, i verily believe they will soon perish miserably unless you come to their assistance!" "poor creatures!" exclaimed prince marvel, with ready sympathy; "tell me who they are, and i will divide amongst them all your ill-gotten gains." "they are ourselves," replied the king of thieves, with a sigh. marvel looked at him in amazement, and then burst into joyous laughter. "yourselves!" he cried, greatly amused. "indeed, yes!" said wul-takim, sadly. "there are no poorer people in all the world, for we have ropes about our necks and are soon to be hanged. to-morrow we shall not have even our flesh left, for the crows will pick our bones." "that is true," remarked marvel, thoughtfully. "but, if i restore to you the treasure, how will it benefit you, since you are about to die?" "must you really hang us?" asked the thief. "yes; i have decreed it, and you deserve your fate." "why?" "because you have wickedly taken from helpless people their property, and committed many other crimes besides." "but i have reformed! we have all reformed--have we not, brothers?" "we have!" answered the other thieves, who, having regained their senses, were listening to this conversation with much interest. "and, if you will return to us our treasure, we will promise never to steal again, but to remain honest men and enjoy our wealth in peace," promised the king. "honest men could not enjoy treasures they have stolen," said prince marvel. "true; but this treasure is now yours, having been won by you in fair battle. and if you present it to us it will no longer be stolen treasure, but a generous gift from a mighty prince, which we may enjoy with clear consciences." "yet there remains the fact that i have promised to hang you," suggested prince marvel, with a smile, for the king amused him greatly. "not at all! not at all!" cried wul-takim. "you promised to hang fifty-nine thieves, and there is no doubt the fifty-nine thieves deserved to be hung. but, consider! we have all reformed our ways and become honest men; so it would be a sad and unkindly act to hang fifty-nine honest men!" "what think you, nerle?" asked the prince, turning to his esquire. "why, the rogue seems to speak truth," said nerle, scratching his head with a puzzled air, "yet, if he speaks truth, there is little difference between a rogue and an honest man. ask him, my master, what caused them all to reform so suddenly." "because we were about to die, and we thought it a good way to save our lives," replied the robber king. "that's an honest answer, anyway," said nerle. "perhaps, sir, they have really reformed." "and if so, i will not have the death of fifty-nine honest men on my conscience," declared the prince. then he turned to wul-takim and added: "i will release you and give you the treasure, as you request. but you owe me allegiance from this time forth, and if i ever hear of your becoming thieves again, i promise to return and hang every one of you." "never fear!" answered wul-takim, joyfully. "it is hard work to steal, and while we have so much treasure it is wholly unnecessary. moreover, having accepted from you our lives and our fortunes, we shall hereafter be your devoted servants, and whenever you need our services you have but to call upon us, and we will support you loyally and gladly." "i accept your service," answered the prince, graciously. and then he unbound the fifty-nine honest men and took the ropes from their necks. as nightfall was fast approaching the new servants set to work to prepare a great feast in honor of their master. it was laid in the middle of the grassy clearing, that all might sit around and celebrate the joyous occasion. "do you think you can trust these men?" asked nerle, suspiciously. "why not?" replied the prince. "they have been exceedingly wicked, it is true; but they are now intent upon being exceedingly good. let us encourage them in this. if we mistrusted all who have ever done an evil act there would be fewer honest people in the world. and if it were as interesting to do a good act as an evil one there is no doubt every one would choose the good." . the troubles of nerle that night prince marvel slept within the cave, surrounded by the fifty-nine reformed thieves, and suffered no harm at their hands. in the morning, accompanied by his esquire, nerle, who was mounted upon a spirited horse brought him by wul-takim, he charged the honest men to remember their promises, bade them good by, and set out in search of further adventure. as they left the clearing by the narrow passage that led between the overhanging rocks, the prince looked back and saw that the sign above the gate of the cave, which had told of the thieves' treasure house, had been changed. it now read as follows: wul-takim king of honest men ------ his pleasure house walk in "that is much better," laughed the prince. "i accomplished some good by my adventure, anyway!" nerle did not reply. he seemed especially quiet and thoughtful as he rode by his master's side, and after they had traveled some distance in silence prince marvel said: "tell me how you came to be in the cave of thieves, and perched upon the casks where i found you." "it is a sad story," returned nerle, with a sigh; "but since you request me to tell it, the tale may serve to relieve the tedium of your journey. "my father is a mighty baron, very wealthy and with a heart so kind that he has ever taken pleasure in thrusting on me whatever gift he could think of. i had not a single desire unsatisfied, for before i could wish for anything it was given me. "my mother was much like my father. she and her women were always making jams, jellies, candies, cakes and the like for me to eat; so i never knew the pleasure of hunger. my clothes were the gayest satins and velvets, richly made and sewn with gold and silver braid; so it was impossible to wish for more in the way of apparel. they let me study my lessons whenever i felt like it and go fishing or hunting as i pleased; so i could not complain that i was unable to do just as i wanted to. all the servants obeyed my slightest wish: if i wanted to sit up late at night no one objected; if i wished to lie in bed till noon they kept the house quiet so as not to disturb me. "this condition of affairs, as you may imagine, grew more and more tedious and exasperating the older i became. try as i might, i could find nothing to complain of. i once saw the son of one of our servants receive a flogging; and my heart grew light. i immediately begged my father to flog me, by way of variety; and he, who could refuse me nothing, at once consented. for this reason there was less satisfaction in the operation than i had expected, although for the time being it was a distinct novelty. "now, no one could expect a high-spirited boy to put up with such a life as mine. with nothing to desire and no chance of doing anything that would annoy my parents, my days were dreary indeed." he paused to wipe the tears from his eyes, and the prince murmured, sympathetically: "poor boy! poor boy!" "ah, you may well say that!" continued nerle. "but one day a stranger came to my father's castle with tales of many troubles he had met with. he had been lost in a forest and nearly starved to death. he had been robbed and beaten and left wounded and sore by the wayside. he had begged from door to door and been refused food or assistance. in short, his story was so delightful that it made me envy him, and i yearned to suffer as he had done. when i could speak with him alone i said: 'pray tell me how i can manage to acquire the misfortunes you have undergone. here i have everything that i desire, and it makes me very unhappy.' "the stranger laughed at me, at first; and i found some pleasure in the humiliation i then felt. but it did not last long, for presently he grew sober and advised me to run away from home and seek adventure. "'once away from your father's castle,' said he, 'troubles will fall upon you thick enough to satisfy even your longings.' "'that is what i am afraid of!' i answered. 'i don't want to be satisfied, even with troubles. what i seek is unsatisfied longings.' "'nevertheless,' said he, 'i advise you to travel. everything will probably go wrong with you, and then you will be happy.' "i acted upon the stranger's advice and ran away from home the next day. after journeying a long time i commenced to feel the pangs of hunger, and was just beginning to enjoy myself when a knight rode by and gave me a supply of food. at this rebuff i could not restrain my tears, but while i wept my horse stumbled and threw me over his head. i hoped at first i had broken my neck, and was just congratulating myself upon the misfortune, when a witch-woman came along and rubbed some ointment upon my bruises, in spite of my protests. to my great grief the pain left me, and i was soon well again. but, as a slight compensation for my disappointment, my horse had run away; so i began my journey anew and on foot. "that afternoon i stepped into a nest of wasps, but the thoughtless creatures flew away without stinging me. then i met a fierce tiger, and my heart grew light and gay. 'surely this will cause me suffering!' i cried, and advanced swiftly upon the brute. but the cowardly tiger turned tail and ran to hide in the bushes, leaving me unhurt! "of course, my many disappointments were some consolation; but not much. that night i slept on the bare ground, and hoped i should catch a severe cold; but no such joy was to be mine. "yet the next afternoon i experienced my first pleasure. the thieves caught me, stripped off all my fine clothes and jewels and beat me well. then they carried me to their cave, dressed me in rags, and perched me on the top of the casks, where the slightest movement on my part would send me tumbling among the sword points. this was really delightful, and i was quite happy until you came and released me. "i thought then that i might gain some pleasure by provoking you to anger; and our fight was the result. that blow on the ear was exquisite, and by forcing me to become your servant you have made me, for the first time in my life, almost contented. for i hope in your company to experience a great many griefs and disappointments." as nerle concluded his story prince marvel turned to him and grasped his hand. "accept my sympathy!" said he. "i know exactly how you feel, for my own life during the past few centuries has not been much different." "the past few centuries!" gasped nerle. "what do you mean?" at this the prince blushed, seeing he had nearly disclosed his secret. but he said, quickly: "does it not seem centuries when one is unhappy?" "it does, indeed!" responded nerle, earnestly. "but please tell me your story." "not now," said prince marvel, with a smile. "it will please you to desire in vain to hear a tale i will not tell. yet i promise that on the day we part company i shall inform you who i am." . the gray men the adventurers gave no heed to the path they followed after leaving the cave of the reformed thieves, but their horses accidentally took the direction of the foot-hills that led into the wild interior kingdom of spor. therefore the travelers, when they had finished their conversation and begun to look about them, found themselves in a rugged, mountainous country that was wholly unlike the green plains of heg they had left behind. now, as i have before said, the most curious and fearful of the island people dwelt in this kingdom of spor. they held no friendly communication with their neighbors, and only left their own mountains to plunder and rob; and so sullen and fierce were they on these occasions that every one took good care to keep out of their way until they had gone back home again. there was much gossip about the unknown king of spor, who had never yet been seen by any one except his subjects; and some thought he must be one of the huge giants of spor; and others claimed he was a dwarf, like his tiny but ferocious dart-slingers; and still others imagined him one of the barbarian tribe, or a fellow to the terrible gray men. but, of course, no one knew positively, and all these guesses were very wide of the mark. the only certainty about this king was that his giants, dwarfs, barbarians and gray men meekly acknowledged his rule and obeyed his slightest wish; for though they might be terrible to others, their king was still more terrible to them. into this kingdom of spor prince marvel and nerle had now penetrated and, neither knowing nor caring where they were, continued along the faintly defined paths the horses had found. presently, however, they were startled by a peal of shrill, elfish laughter, and raising their eyes they beheld a horrid-looking old man seated upon a high rock near by. "why do you laugh?" asked prince marvel, stopping his horse. "have you been invited? tell me--have you been invited?" demanded the old man, chuckling to himself as if much amused. "invited where?" inquired the prince. "to spor, stupid! to the kingdom of spor! to the land of king terribus!" shrieked the old man, going into violent peals of laughter. "we go and come as we please," answered prince marvel, calmly. "go--yes! go if you will. but you'll never come back--never! never! never!" the little old man seemed to consider this such a good joke that he bent nearly double with laughing, and so lost his balance and toppled off the rock, disappearing from their view; but they could hear him laugh long after they had passed on and left him far behind them. "a strange creature!" exclaimed the prince thoughtfully. "but perhaps he speaks truth," answered nerle, "if, in fact, we have been rash enough to enter the kingdom of spor. even my father, the bravest baron in heg, has never dared venture within the borders of spor. for all men fear its mysterious king." "in that case," replied prince marvel, "it is time some one investigated this strange kingdom. people have left king terribus and his wild subjects too much to themselves; instead of stirring them up and making them behave themselves." nerle smiled at this speech. "they are the fiercest people on the enchanted island," said he, "and there are thousands upon thousands who obey this unknown king. but if you think we dare defy them i am willing to go on. perhaps our boldness will lead them into torturing me, or starving me to death; and at the very least i ought to find much trouble and privation in the kingdom of spor." "time will determine that," said the prince, cheerfully. they had now ridden into a narrow defile of the mountains, the pathway being lined with great fragments of rock. happening to look over his shoulder prince marvel saw that as they passed these rocks a man stepped from behind each fragment and followed after them, their numbers thus constantly increasing until hundreds were silently treading in the wake of the travelers. these men were very peculiar in appearance, their skins being as gray as the rocks themselves, while their only clothing consisted of gray cloth tunics belted around the waists with bands of gray fox-hide. they bore no weapons except that each was armed with a fork, having three sharp tines six inches in length, which the gray men carried stuck through their fox-hide belts. nerle also looked back and saw the silent throng following them, and the sight sent such a cold shiver creeping up his spine that he smiled with pleasure. there was no way to avoid the gray men, for the path was so narrow that the horsemen could not turn aside; but prince marvel was not disturbed, and seemed not to mind being followed, so long as no one hindered his advance. he rode steadily on, nerle following, and after climbing upward for a long way the path began to descend, presently leading them into a valley of wide extent, in the center of which stood an immense castle with tall domes that glittered as if covered with pure gold. a broad roadway paved with white marble reached from the mountain pass to the entrance of this castle, and on each side of this roadway stood lines of monstrous giants, armed with huge axes thrust into their belts and thick oak clubs, studded with silver spikes, which were carried over their left shoulders. the assembled giants were as silent as the gray men, and stood motionless while prince marvel and nerle rode slowly up the marble roadway. but all their brows were scowling terribly and their eyes were red and glaring--as if they were balls of fire. "i begin to feel very pleasant," said nerle, "for surely we shall not get away from these folks without a vast deal of trouble. they do not seem to oppose our advance, but it is plain they will not allow us any chance of retreat." "we do not wish to retreat," declared the prince. nerle cast another glance behind, and saw that the gray men had halted at the edge of the valley, while the giants were closing up as soon as the horses passed them and now marched in close file in their rear. "it strikes me," he muttered, softly, "that this is like to prove our last adventure." but although prince marvel might have heard the words he made no reply, being evidently engaged in deep thought. as they drew nearer the castle it towered above them like a veritable mountain, so big and high was it; and the walls cast deep shadows far around, as if twilight had fallen. they heard the loud blare of a trumpet sounding far up on the battlements; the portals of the castle suddenly opened wide, and they entered a vast courtyard paved with plates of gold. tiny dwarfs, so crooked that they resembled crabs, rushed forward and seized the bridles of the horses, while the strangers slowly dismounted and looked around them. while the steeds were being led to the stables an old man, clothed in a flowing robe as white in color as his beard, bowed before prince marvel and said in a soft voice: "follow me!" the prince stretched his arms, yawned as if tired with his ride, and then glared upon the old man with an expression of haughty surprise. "i follow no one!" said he, proudly. "i am prince marvel, sirrah, and if the owner of this castle wishes to see me i shall receive him here, as befits my rank and station." the man looked surprised, but only bowed lower than before. "it is the king's command," he answered. "the king?" "yes; you are in the castle of king terribus, the lord and ruler of spor." "that is different," remarked the prince, lightly. "still, i will follow no man. point out the way and i will go to meet his majesty." the old man extended a lean and trembling finger toward an archway. prince marvel strode forward, followed by nerle, and passing under the arch he threw open a door at the far end and boldly entered the throne-room of king terribus. . the fool-killer the room was round, with a dome at the top. the bare walls were of gray stone, with square, open windows set full twenty feet from the floor. rough gray stone also composed the floor, and in the center of the room stood one great rock with a seat hollowed in its middle. this was the throne, and round about it stood a swarm of men and women dressed in rich satins, velvets and brocades, brilliantly ornamented with gold and precious stones. the men were of many shapes and sizes--giants and dwarfs being among them. the women all seemed young and beautiful. prince marvel cast but a passing glance at this assemblage, for his eye quickly sought the rude throne on which was seated king terribus. the personal appearance of this monster was doubtless the most hideous known in that age of the world. his head was large and shaped like an egg; it was bright scarlet in color and no hair whatever grew upon it. it had three eyes--one in the center of his face, one on the top of his head and one in the back. thus he was always able to see in every direction at the same time. his nose was shaped like an elephant's trunk, and swayed constantly from side to side. his mouth was very wide and had no lips at all, two rows of sharp and white teeth being always plainly visible beneath the swaying nose. king terribus, although surrounded by so splendid a court, wore a simple robe of gray cloth, with no ornament or other finery, and his strange and fearful appearance was strongly contrasted with the glittering raiment of his courtiers and the beauty of his ladies in waiting. when prince marvel, with nerle marching close behind, entered the great room, terribus looked at him sharply a moment, and then bowed. and when he bowed the eye upon the top of his head also looked sharply at the intruders. then the king spoke, his voice sounding so sweet and agreeable that it almost shocked nerle, who had expected to hear a roar like that from a wild beast. "why are you here?" asked terribus. "partly by chance and partly from curiosity," answered prince marvel. "no one in this island, except your own people, had ever seen the king of spor; so, finding myself in your country, i decided to come here and have a look at you." the faces of the people who stood about the throne wore frightened looks at the unheard of boldness of this speech to their terrible monarch. but the king merely nodded and inquired: "since you have seen me, what do you think of me?" "i am sorry you asked that question," returned the prince; "for i must confess you are a very frightful-looking creature, and not at all agreeable to gaze upon." "ha! you are honest, as well as frank," exclaimed the king. "but that is the reason i do not leave my kingdom, as you will readily understand. and that is the reason i never permit strangers to come here, under penalty of death. so long as no one knows the king of spor is a monster people will not gossip about my looks, and i am very sensitive regarding my personal appearance. you will perhaps understand that if i could have chosen i should have been born beautiful instead of ugly." "i certainly understand that. and permit me to say i wish you were beautiful. i shall probably dream of you for many nights," added the prince. "not for many," said king terribus, quietly. "by coming here you have chosen death, and the dead do not dream." "why should i die?" inquired prince marvel, curiously. "because you have seen me. should i allow you to go away you would tell the world about my ugly face. i do not like to kill you, believe me; but you must pay the penalty of your rashness--you and the man behind you." nerle smiled at this; but whether from pride at being called a man or in pleasurable anticipation of the sufferings to come i leave you to guess. "will you allow me to object to being killed?" asked the prince. "certainly," answered the king, courteously. "i expect you to object. it is natural. but it will do you no good." then terribus turned to an attendant and commanded: "send hither the fool-killer." at this prince marvel laughed outright. "the fool-killer!" he cried; "surely your majesty does me little credit. am i, then, a fool?" "you entered my kingdom uninvited," retorted the king, "and you tell me to my face i am ugly. moreover, you laugh when i condemn you to death. from this i conclude the fool-killer is the proper one to execute you. behold!" marvel turned quickly, to find a tall, stalwart man standing behind him. his features were strong but very grave, and the prince caught a look of compassion in his eye as their gaze met. his skin was fair and without blemish, a robe of silver cloth fell from his shoulders, and in his right hand he bore a gleaming sword. "well met!" cried marvel, heartily, as he bowed to the fool-killer. "i have often heard your name mentioned, but 'tis said in the world that you are a laggard in your duty." "had i my way," answered the fool-killer, "my blade would always drip. it is my master, yonder, who thwarts my duty." and he nodded toward king terribus. "then you should exercise your right on him, and cleave the ugly head from his shoulders," declared the prince. "nay, unless i interfered with the fool-killer," said the king, "i should soon have no subjects left to rule; for at one time or another they all deserve the blade." "why, that may be true enough," replied prince marvel. "but i think, under such circumstances, your fool-killer is a needless servant. so i will rid you of him in a few moments." with that he whipped out his sword and stood calmly confronting the fool-killer, whose grave face never changed in expression as he advanced menacingly upon his intended victim. the blades clashed together, and that of the fool-killer broke short off at the hilt. he took a step backward, stumbled and fell prone upon the rocky floor, while prince marvel sprang forward and pressed the point of his sword against his opponent's breast. "hold!" cried the king, starting to his feet. "would you slay my fool-killer? think of the harm you would do the world!" "but he is laggard and unfaithful to his calling!" answered the prince, sternly. "nevertheless, if he remove but one fool a year he is a benefit to mankind," declared the king. "release him, i pray you!" then the victor withdrew his sword and stood aside, while the fool-killer slowly got upon his feet and bowed humbly before the king. "go!" shouted terribus, his eye flashing angrily. "you have humiliated me before my enemy. as an atonement see that you kill me a fool a day for sixty days." hearing this command, many of the people about the throne began to tremble; but the king paid no attention to their fears, and the fool-killer bowed again before his master and withdrew from the chamber. . the royal dragon of spor "now," said terribus, regarding the prince gloomily, "i must dispose of you in another way." for a moment he dropped his scarlet head in thought. then he turned fiercely upon his attendants. "let the wrestler come forward!" he shouted, as loudly as his mild voice would carry. instantly a tall blackamoor advanced from the throng and cast off his flowing robe, showing a strong figure clad only in a silver loincloth. "crack me this fellow's bones!" commanded terribus. "i beg your majesty will not compel me to touch him," said prince marvel, with a slight shudder; "for his skin is greasy, and will soil my hands. here, nerle!" he continued, turning to his esquire, "dispose of this black man, and save me the trouble." nerle laughed pleasantly. the black was a powerfully built man, and compared with nerle and the prince, who had but the stature of boys, he towered like a very giant in size. nevertheless, nerle did not hesitate to spring upon the wrestler, who with a quick movement sent the boy crashing against the stone pavement. nerle was much bruised by the fall, and as he painfully raised himself to his feet a great lump was swelling behind his left ear, where his head had struck the floor, and he was so dizzy that the room seemed swimming around him in a circle. but he gave a happy little laugh, and said to the prince, gratefully: "thank you very much, my master! the fall is hurting me delightfully. i almost feel as if i could cry, and that would be joy indeed!" "well," answered the prince, with a sigh, "i see i must get my hands greased after all"--for the black's body had really been greased to enable him to elude the grasp of his opponents. but marvel made a quick leap and seized the wrestler firmly around the waist. the next moment, to the astonishment of all, the black man flew swiftly into the air, plunged through one of the open windows high up in the wall, and disappeared from view. when the king and his people again turned their wondering eyes upon the prince he was wiping his hands carefully upon a silk handkerchief. at this sight a pretty young girl, who stood near the throne, laughed aloud, and the sound of her laughter made king terribus very angry. "come here!" he commanded, sternly. the girl stepped forward, her face now pale and frightened, while tear-drops trembled upon the lashes that fringed her downcast eyes. "you have dared to laugh at the humiliation of your king," said terribus, his horrid face more crimson than ever, "and as atonement i command that you drink of the poisoned cup." instantly a dwarf came near, bearing a beautiful golden goblet in his crooked hands. "drink!" he said, an evil leer upon his face. the girl well knew this goblet contained a vile poison, one drop of which on her tongue would cause death; so she hesitated, trembling and shrinking from the ordeal. prince marvel looked into her sweet face with pitying eyes, and stepping quickly to her side, took her hand in his. "now drink!" he said, smiling upon her; "the poison will not hurt you." she drank obediently, while the dwarf chuckled with awful glee and the king looked on eagerly, expecting her to fall dead at his feet. but instead the girl stood upright and pressed marvel's hand, looking gratefully into his face. "you are a fairy!" she whispered, so low that no one else heard her voice. "i knew that you would save me." "keep my secret," whispered the prince in return, and still holding her hand he led her back to her former place. king terribus was almost wild with rage and disappointment, and his elephant nose twisted and squirmed horribly. "so you dare to thwart my commands, do you!" he cried, excitedly. "well, we shall soon see which of us is the more powerful. i have decreed your death--and die you shall!" for a moment his eye roved around the chamber uncertainly. then he shouted, suddenly: "ho, there! keepers of the royal menagerie--appear!" three men entered the room and bowed before the king. they were of the gray men of the mountains, who had followed prince marvel and nerle through the rocky passes. "bring hither the royal dragon," cried the king, "and let him consume these strangers before my very eyes!" the men withdrew, and presently was heard a distant shouting, followed by a low rumbling sound, with groans, snorts, roars and a hissing like steam from the spout of a teakettle. the noise and shouting drew nearer, while the people huddled together like frightened sheep; and then suddenly the doors flew open and the royal dragon advanced to the center of the room. this creature was at once the pride and terror of the kingdom of spor. it was more than thirty feet in length and covered everywhere with large green scales set with diamonds, making the dragon, when it moved, a very glittering spectacle. its eyes were as big as pie-plates, and its mouth--when wide opened--fully as large as a bath-tub. its tail was very long and ended in a golden ball, such as you see on the top of flagstaffs. its legs, which were as thick as those of an elephant, had scales which were set with rubies and emeralds. it had two monstrous, big ears and two horns of carved ivory, and its teeth were also carved into various fantastic shapes--such as castles, horses' heads, chinamen and griffins--so that if any of them broke it would make an excellent umbrella handle. the royal dragon of spor came crawling into the throne-room rather clumsily, groaning and moaning with every step and waving its ears like two blankets flying from a clothesline. the king looked on it and frowned. "why are you not breathing fire and brimstone?" he demanded, angrily. "why, i was caught out in a gale the other night," returned the dragon, rubbing the back of its ear with its left front paw, as it paused and looked at the king, "and the wind put out my fire." "then why didn't you light it again?" asked terribus, turning on the keepers. "we--we were out of matches, your majesty!" stammered the trembling gray men. "so--ho!" yelled the king, and was about to order the keepers beheaded; but just then nerle pulled out his match-box, lit one of the matches, and held it in front of the dragon's mouth. instantly the creature's breath caught fire; and it began to breathe flames a yard in length. "that's better," sighed the dragon, contentedly. "i hope your majesty is now satisfied." "no,--i am not satisfied!" declared king terribus. "why do you not lash your tail?" "ah, i can't do that!" replied the dragon. "it's all stiffened up with rheumatism from the dampness of my cave. it hurts too much to lash it." "well, then, gnash your teeth!" commanded the king. "tut--tut!" answered the dragon, mildly; "i can't do that, either; for since you had them so beautifully carved it makes my teeth ache to gnash them." "well, then, what are you good for?" cried the king, in a fury. "don't i look awful? am i not terrible to gaze on?" inquired the dragon, proudly, as it breathed out red and yellow flames and made them curl in circles around its horns. "i guess there's no need for me to suggest terror to any one that happens to see me," it added, winking one of the pie-plate eyes at king terribus. the king looked at the monster critically, and it really seemed to him that it was a frightful thing to behold. so he curbed his anger and said, in his ordinary sweet voice: "i have called you here to destroy these two strangers." "how?" asked the dragon, looking upon prince marvel and nerle with interest. "i am not particular," answered the king. "you may consume them with your fiery breath, or smash them with your tail, or grind them to atoms between your teeth, or tear them to pieces with your claws. only, do hurry up and get it over with!" "hm-m-m!" said the dragon, thoughtfully, as if it didn't relish the job; "this one isn't saint george, is it?" "no, no!" exclaimed the king, irritably; "it's prince marvel. do get to work as soon as possible." "prince marvel--prince marvel," repeated the dragon. "why, there isn't a prince in the whole world named marvel! i'm pretty well posted on the history of royal families, you know. i'm afraid he's saint george in disguise." "isn't your name prince marvel?" inquired the king, turning to the boyish-looking stranger. "it is," answered marvel. "well, it's mighty strange i've never heard of you," persisted the dragon. "but tell me, please, how would you prefer to be killed?" "oh, i'm not going to be killed at all," replied the prince, laughing. "do you hear that, terribus?" asked the dragon, turning to the king; "he says he isn't going to be killed." "but i say he is!" cried terribus. "i have decreed his death." "but do you suppose i'm going to kill a man against his will?" inquired the dragon, in a reproachful voice; "and such a small man, too! do you take me for a common assassin--or a murderer?" "do you intend to obey my orders?" roared the king. "no, i don't; and that's flat!" returned the dragon, sharply. "it's time for me to take my cough medicine; so if you've nothing more to say i'll go back to my cave." "go, go, go!" shrieked the king, stamping his foot in passion. "you've outlived your usefulness! you're a coward! you're a traitor! you're a--a--a--" "i'm a dragon and a gentleman!" answered the monster, proudly, as the king paused for lack of a word; "and i believe i know what's proper for dragons to do and what isn't. i've learned wisdom from my father, who got into trouble with saint george, and if i fought with this person who calls himself prince marvel, i'd deserve to be a victim of your fool-killer. oh, i know my business, king terribus; and if you knew yours, you'd get rid of this pretended prince as soon as possible!" with this speech he winked at prince marvel, turned soberly around and crawled from the room. one of the keepers got too near and the dragon's breath set fire to his robe, the flames being with difficulty extinguished; and the gold ball on the end of the dragon's tail struck a giant upon his shins and made him dance and howl in pain. but, aside from these slight accidents, the monster managed to leave the throne-room without undue confusion, and every one, including the king, seemed glad to be rid of him. . prince marvel wins his fight when the door had closed on the royal dragon, king terribus turned again to prince marvel, while his crimson face glowed with embarrassment, and his front eye rolled with baffled rage as he thought how vain had been all his efforts to kill this impudent invader of his domains. but his powers were by no means exhausted. he was a mighty king--the mightiest of all in the enchanted island, he believed--and ways to destroy his enemies were numerous. "send for a hundred of my gray men!" he suddenly cried; and a courtier ran at once to summon them. the gray men would obey his orders without question, he well knew. they were silent, stubborn, quick, and faithful to their king. terribus had but to command and his will would be obeyed. they entered the room so quietly that nerle never knew they were there until he turned and found the hundred gray ones standing close together in the center of the hall. then prince marvel came to nerle's side and whispered something in his ear. "will you obey my orders?" they heard the king ask. and the gray men, with their eyes fixed upon their master, nodded all their hundred heads and put their hands upon the dangerous three-tined forks that were stuck in every one of the hundred belts. prince marvel handed one end of a coiled rope to nerle, and then they both sprang forward and ran around the spot where the hundred gray men stood huddled together. then they were pulled closer together than before--closer, and still closer--for the prince and nerle had surrounded them with the rope and were tying the two ends together in a tight knot. the rope cut into the waists of those on the outside, and they pressed inward against their fellows until there was scarcely space to stick a knife-blade between any two of them. when the prince had tied the rope firmly king terribus, who had been looking on amazed, saw that his hundred gray men were fastened together like a bundle of kindling-wood, and were unable to stir hand or foot. and, while he still gazed open-mouthed at the strange sight, prince marvel tilted the bundle of men up on its edge and rolled it out of the door. it went rolling swiftly through the courtyard and bounded down the castle steps, where the rope broke and the men fell sprawling in all directions on the marble walk. king terribus sighed, for such treatment of his gray men, whom he dearly loved, made him very unhappy. but more than ever was he resolved to kill these impudent strangers, who, in the very heart of his kingdom where thousands bowed to his will, dared openly defy his power. so, after a moment's thought, terribus beckoned to a dwarf who, robed in gay and glittering apparel, stood near his throne. "summon the royal dart slingers!" he said, with a scowl. the little man bowed and hastened away, to return presently with twenty curiously crooked dwarfs, each armed with a sling and a quiver full of slender, sharp-pointed darts. "slay me these strangers!" exclaimed the king, in his gruffest voice. now nerle, when he beheld these terrible dart slingers, of whom he had heard many tales in his boyhood, began to shiver and shake with fright, so that his teeth rattled one upon another. and he reflected: "soon shall i be content, for these darts will doubtless pierce every part of my body." the dwarfs formed a line at one side of the gloomy throne-room, and prince marvel, who had been earnestly regarding them, caught nerle by the arm and led him to the opposite wall. "stand close behind me and you will be safe," he whispered to his esquire. then each dwarf fixed a dart in his sling, and at a word from their chief they all drew back their arms and launched a shower of the sharp missiles at the strangers. swift and true they sped, each dart intended to pierce the body of the youthful knight who stood so calm before them. prince marvel had raised his right arm, and in his hand was a small leather sack, with a wide mouth. as the darts flew near him a strange thing happened: they each and all swerved from their true course and fell rattling into the leathern sack, to the wonder of the royal slingers and the dismay of king terribus himself. "again!" screamed the king, his usually mild voice hoarse with anger. so again the dwarfs cast their darts, and again the leathern sack caught them every one. another flight followed, and yet another, till the magic sack was packed full of the darts and not a dwarf had one remaining in his quiver. amid the awed silence of the beholders of this feat the merry laughter of prince marvel rang loud and clear; for the sight of the puzzled and terrified faces about him was very comical. plucking a dart from the sack he raised his arm and cried: "now it is my turn. you shall have back your darts!" "hold!" shouted the king, in great fear. "do not, i beg you, slay my faithful servants." and with a wave of his hand he dismissed the dwarfs, who were glad to rush from the room and escape. nerle wiped the tears from his eyes, for he was sorely disappointed at having again escaped all pain and discomfort; but prince marvel seated himself quietly upon a stool and looked at the scowling face of king terribus with real amusement. the monarch of spor had never before been so foiled and scorned by any living creature. defeated and humbled before his own people, he bowed his crimson head on his hands and sullenly regarded his foe with his top eye. then it was that the idea came to him that no ordinary mortal could have thwarted him so easily, and he began to fear he was dealing--perhaps unawares--with some great magician or sorcerer. that a fairy should have assumed a mortal form he never once considered, for such a thing was until then unheard of in the enchanted island of yew. but with the knowledge that he had met his master, whoever he might prove to be, and that further attempts upon the stranger's life might lead to his own undoing, king terribus decided to adopt a new line of conduct, hoping to accomplish by stratagem what he could not do by force. to be sure, there remained his regiment of giants, the pride of his kingdom; but terribus dreaded to meet with another defeat; and he was not at all sure, after what had happened, that the giants would succeed in conquering or destroying the strangers. "after all," he thought, "my only object in killing them was to prevent their carrying news of my monstrous appearance to the outside world; so if i can but manage to keep them forever in my kingdom it will answer my purpose equally well." as the result of this thought he presently raised his head and spoke to prince marvel in a quiet and even cheerful voice. "enough of these rude and boisterous games," said he, with a smile that showed his white teeth in a repulsive manner. "they may have seemed to my people an ill welcome to my good friend, prince marvel; yet they were only designed to show the powers of the mighty magician who has become my guest. nay, do not deny it, prince; from the first i guessed your secret, and to prove myself right i called my servants to oppose you, being sure they could not do you an injury. but no more of such fooling,--and pray forgive my merry game at your expense. henceforth we shall be friends, and you are heartily welcome to the best my kingdom affords." with this speech terribus stepped down from his throne and approached prince marvel with outstretched hand. the prince was not at all deceived, but he was pleased to see how cunningly the king excused his attempts to kill him. so he laughed and touched the hand terribus extended, for this fairy prince seemed to have no anger against any mortal who ventured to oppose him. the strangers were now conducted, with every mark of respect, to a beautiful suite of apartments in the castle, wherein were soft beds with velvet spreads, marble baths with perfumed waters, and a variety of silken and brocaded costumes from which they might select a change of raiment. no sooner had they bathed and adorned themselves fittingly than they were summoned to the king's banquet hall, being escorted thither by twelve young maidens bearing torches with lavender-colored flames. the night had fallen upon the mountains outside, but the great banquet hall was brilliant with the glow of a thousand candles, and seated at the head of the long table was king terribus. yet here, as in the throne-room, the ruler of spor was dressed in simplest garments, and his seat was a rough block of stone. all about him were lords and ladies in gorgeous array; the walls were hung with rare embroideries; the table was weighted with gold platters and richly carved goblets filled with sweet nectars. but the king himself, with his horrid, ugly head, was like a great blot on a fair parchment, and even prince marvel could not repress a shudder as he gazed upon him. terribus placed his guest upon his right hand and loaded him with honors. nerle stood behind the prince's chair and served him faithfully, as an esquire should. but the other servants treated nerle with much deference, noting in him an air of breeding that marked him the unusual servant of an unusual master. indeed, most curious were the looks cast on these marvelous men who had calmly walked into the castle of mighty terribus and successfully defied his anger; for in spite of his youthful appearance and smiling face every attendant at the banquet feared prince marvel even more than they feared their own fierce king. . the cunning of king terribus the days that followed were pleasant ones for prince marvel and nerle, who were treated as honored guests by both the king and his courtiers. but the prince seemed to be the favorite, for at all games of skill and trials at arms he was invariably the victor, while in the evenings, when the grand ball-room was lighted up and the musicians played sweet music, none was so graceful in the dance as the fairy prince. nerle soon tired of the games and dancing, for he had been accustomed to them at his father's castle; and moreover he was shy in the society of ladies; so before many weeks had passed he began to mope and show a discontented face. one day the prince noticed his esquire's dismal expression of countenance, and asked the cause of it. "why," said nerle, "here i have left my home to seek worries and troubles, and have found but the same humdrum life that existed at my father's castle. here our days are made smooth and pleasant, and there is no excitement or grief, whatever. you have become a carpet-knight, prince marvel, and think more of bright eyes than of daring deeds. so, if you will release me from your service i will seek further adventures." "nay," returned the prince, "we will go together; for i, too, am tired of this life of pleasure." so next morning marvel sought the presence of king terribus and said: "i have come to bid your majesty adieu, for my esquire and i are about to leave your dominions." at first the king laughed, and his long nose began to sway from side to side. then, seeing the prince was in earnest, his majesty frowned and grew disturbed. finally he said: "i must implore you to remain my guests a short time longer. no one has ever before visited me in my mountain home, and i do not wish to lose the pleasure of your society so soon." "nevertheless, we must go," answered the prince, briefly. "are you not contented?" asked terribus. "ask whatever you may desire, and it shall be granted you." "we desire adventures amid new scenes," said marvel, "and these you can not give us except by permission to depart." seeing his guest was obstinate the king ceased further argument and said: "very well; go if you wish. but i shall hope to see you return to us this evening." the prince paid no heed to this peculiar speech, but left the hall and hurried to the courtyard of the castle, where nerle was holding the horses in readiness for their journey. standing around were many rows and files of the gray men, and when they reached the marble roadway they found it lined with motionless forms of the huge giants. but no one interfered with them in any way, although both prince marvel and nerle knew that every eye followed them as they rode forward. curiously enough, they had both forgotten from what direction they had approached the castle; for, whereas they had at that time noticed but one marble roadway leading to the entrance, they now saw that there were several of these, each one connecting with a path through the mountains. "it really doesn't matter which way we go, so long as we get away from the kingdom of spor," said prince marvel; so he selected a path by chance, and soon they were riding through a mountain pass. the pleased, expectant look on nerle's face had gradually turned to one of gloom. "i hoped we should have a fight to get away," he said, sadly; "and in that case i might have suffered considerable injury and pain. but no one has injured us in any way, and perhaps king terribus is really glad to be rid of us." "with good reason, too, if such is the case," laughed marvel; "for, mark you, nerle, the king has discovered we are more powerful than he is, and had he continued to oppose us, we might have destroyed his entire army." on they rode through the rough hill paths, winding this way and that, until they lost all sense of the direction in which they were going. "never mind," said the prince; "so long as we get farther and farther away from the ugly terribus i shall be satisfied." "perhaps we are getting into more serious danger than ever," answered nerle, brightening; "one of the giants told me the other day that near the foot of these mountains is the kingdom of the high ki of twi." "who is the high ki of twi?" asked prince marvel. "no one knows," answered nerle. "and what is the kingdom of twi like?" "no one knows that," answered nerle. "then," returned the prince, with a smile, "if by chance we visit the place we shall know more than any one else." at noon they ate luncheon by the wayside, nerle having filled his pouch by stealth at the breakfast table. there were great fragments of rock lying all about them, and the sun beat down so fiercely that the heat reflected from the rocks was hard to bear. so the travelers did not linger over their meal, but remounted and rode away as soon as possible. when the sun began to get lower in the sky the rocks beside the path threw the riders into shadow, so that their journey became more pleasant. they rode along, paying little attention to the way, but talking and laughing merrily together, until it began to grow dark. "does this path never end?" asked prince marvel, suddenly. "we ought to reach some place where men dwell before long, else we shall be obliged to spend the night among these rocks." "and then perhaps the wolves will attack us," said nerle, cheerfully, "and tear us into pieces with their sharp teeth and claws." but even as he spoke they rode around a turn in the path and saw a sight that made them pause in astonishment. for just before them rose the castle of king terribus, and along both sides of the marble walk leading up to it were ranged the lines of giants, exactly as they had stood in the morning. nerle turned around in his saddle. sure enough, there were the gray men in the rear--stepping from behind every boulder and completely filling the rocky pathway. "well, what shall we do?" asked the esquire; "fight?" "no, indeed!" returned prince marvel, laughing at his friend's eager face. "it appears the path we chose winds around in a circle, and so has brought us back to our starting-point. so we must make the best of a bad blunder and spend another night with our ugly friend king terribus." they rode forward through the rows of giants to the castle, where the ever-courteous servants took their horses and escorted them to their former handsome apartments with every mark of respect. no one seemed in the least surprised at their speedy return, and this fact at first puzzled nerle, and then made him suspicious. after bathing and dusting their clothing they descended to the banquet hall, where king terribus sat upon his gray stone throne and welcomed them with quiet courtesy. the sight of the king's crimson skin and deformed face sent a thrill of repugnance through prince marvel, and under the impulse of a sudden thought he extended his hand toward terribus and whispered a magic word which was unheard by any around him. nerle did not notice the prince's swift gesture nor the whispered word; but he was staring straight at terribus at the time, and he saw with surprise the eye on the top of the king's head move down toward his forehead, and the eye in the center of his forehead slide slightly toward the left, and the elephant-like nose shrink and shorten at the same time. also it seemed to him that the king's skin was not so crimson in color as before, and that a thin growth of hair had covered his head. however, no one else appeared to notice any change--least of all terribus--so nerle seated himself at the table and began to eat. "it was very kind of you to return so soon to my poor castle," said the king to prince marvel, in his sweet voice. "we could not help it," laughed the prince, in reply; "for the road wound right and left until we knew not which way we traveled; and then it finally circled around again to your castle. but to-morrow we shall seek a new path and bid you farewell forever." "still," remarked the king, gravely, "should you again miss your way, i shall be glad to welcome your return." the prince bowed politely by way of reply, and turned to address the little maiden he had once saved from death by poison. and so in feasting, dancing and laughter the evening passed pleasantly enough to the prince, and it was late when he called nerle to attend him to their apartment. . the gift of beauty the following morning marvel and nerle once more set out to leave the kingdom of spor and its ugly king. they selected another pathway leading from the castle and traveled all day, coming at nightfall into view of the place whence they had started, with its solemn rows of giants and gray men standing ready to receive them. this repetition of their former experience somewhat annoyed the prince, while nerle's usually despondent face wore a smile. "i see trouble ahead," murmured the esquire, almost cheerfully. "since the king can not conquer us by force he intends to do it by sorcery." marvel did not reply, but greeted the king quietly, while terribus welcomed their return as calmly as if he well knew they could not escape him. that evening the prince made another pass toward the king with his hand and muttered again the magic word. nerle was watching, and saw the upper eye of terribus glide still farther down his forehead and the other eye move again toward the left. the swaying nose shrank to a few inches in length, and the skin that had once been so brilliantly crimson turned to a dull red color. this time the courtiers and ladies in waiting also noticed the change in the king's features, but were afraid to speak of it, as any reference to their monarch's personal appearance was by law punishable by death. terribus saw the startled looks directed upon him, and raised his hand to feel of his nose and eyes; but thinking that if any change in his appearance had taken place, he must be uglier than before, he only frowned and turned away his head. the next day the king's guests made a third attempt to leave his dominions, but met with no better success than before, for a long and tedious ride only brought them back to their starting-place in the evening. this time prince marvel was really angry, and striding into the king's presence he reproached him bitterly, saying: "why do you prevent us from leaving your kingdom? we have not injured you in any way." "you have seen me," returned terribus, calmly, "and i do not intend you shall go back to the world and tell people how ugly i am." the prince looked at him, and could not repress a smile. the two eyes of the king, having been twice removed from their first position, were now both in his forehead, instead of below it, and one was much higher than the other. and the nose, although small when compared to what it had been, still resembled an elephant's trunk. other changes had been made for the better, but terribus was still exceedingly repulsive to look upon. seeing the prince look at him and smile, the king flew into a fury of anger and declared that the strangers should never, while they lived, be permitted to leave his castle again. prince marvel became thoughtful at this, reflecting that the king's enmity all arose from his sensitiveness about his ugly appearance, and this filled the youthful knight with pity rather than resentment. when they had all assembled at the evening banquet the prince, for a third time, made a mystic pass at the king and whispered a magic word. and behold! this time the charm was complete. for the two front eyes of terribus fell into their proper places, his nose became straight and well formed, and his skin took on a natural, healthy color. moreover, he now had a fine head of soft brown hair, with eyebrows and eyelashes to match, and his head was shapely and in proportion to his body. as for the eye that had formerly been in the back of his head, it had disappeared completely. so amazed were the subjects of the transformed king--who was now quite handsome to look upon--that they began to murmur together excitedly, and something in the new sensations he experienced gave to the king's face likewise an expression of surprise. knowing from their pleased looks that he must have improved in appearance, he found courage to raise his hand to his nose, and found it well formed. then he touched his eyes, and realized they were looking straight out from his face, like those of other people. for some moments after making these discoveries the king remained motionless, a smile of joy gradually spreading over his features. then he said, aloud: "what has happened? why do you all look so startled?" "your majesty is no longer ugly," replied marvel, laughingly; "so that when nerle and i leave your kingdom we can proclaim nothing less than praise of your dignified and handsome appearance." "is my face indeed pleasing?" demanded the king, eagerly. "it is!" cried the assembled courtiers and ladies, as with one voice. "bring me a mirror!" said the king. "i shall look at my reflection for the first time in many years." the mirror being brought king terribus regarded himself for a long time with pleased astonishment; and then, his sensitive nature being overcome by the shock of his good fortune, he burst into a flood of tears and rushed from the room. the courtiers and ladies now bestowed many grateful thanks upon prince marvel for his kind deed; for they realized that thereafter their lives would be safer from the king's anger and much pleasanter in every way. "terribus is not bad by nature," said one; "but he brooded upon his ugliness so much that the least thing served to throw him into a violent passion, and our lives were never safe from one day to another." by and by two giants entered the hall and carried away the throne of gray stone where terribus had been accustomed to sit; and other slaves brought a gorgeous throne of gold, studded with precious jewels, which they put in its place. and after a time the king himself returned to the room, his simple gray gown replaced by flowing robes of purple, with rich embroideries, such as he had not worn for many years. "my people," said he, addressing those present with kindness and dignity, "it seems to me fitting that a handsome king should be handsomely attired, and an ugly one clothed simply. for years i have been so terrible in feature that i dared not even look at my own image in a mirror. but now, thanks to the gracious magic of my guest, i have become like other men, and hereafter you will find my rule as kind as it was formerly cruel. to-night, in honor of this joyous occasion, we shall feast and make merry, and it is my royal command that you all do honor and reverence to the illustrious prince marvel!" a loud shout of approval greeted this speech, and the evening was merry indeed. terribus joined freely in the revelry, laughing as gaily as the lightest-hearted damsel present. it was nearly morning before they all retired, and as they sought their beds nerle asked the prince in a voice that sounded like an ill-natured growl: "why did you give the king beauty, after his treatment of us?" marvel looked at the reproachful face of his esquire and smiled. "when you are older," said he, "you will find that often there are many ways to accomplish a single purpose. the king's ugliness was the bar to our leaving his country, for he feared our gossip. so the easiest way for us to compass our escape was to take away his reason for detaining us. thus i conquered the king in my own way, and at the same time gained his gratitude and friendship." "will he allow us to depart in the morning?" inquired nerle. "i think so," said marvel. it was late when they rose from their slumbers; but, having breakfasted, the prince's first act was to seek the king. "we wish to leave your kingdom," said he. "will you let us go?" terribus grasped the hand of his guest and pressed it with fervor, while tears of gratitude stood in his eyes. "i should prefer that you remain with me always, and be my friend," he answered. "but if you choose to leave me i shall not interfere in any way with your wishes." prince marvel looked at him thoughtfully, and then said: "my time on this island is short. in a few months prince marvel will have passed out of the knowledge of men, and his name will be forgotten. before then i hope to visit the kingdoms of dawna and auriel and plenta; so i must not delay, but beg you will permit me to depart at once." "very well," answered terribus. "come with me, and i shall show you the way." he led the prince and nerle to a high wall of rock, and placing his hand upon its rough surface, touched a hidden spring. instantly an immense block of stone began to swing backward, disclosing a passage large enough for a man on horseback to ride through. "this is the one road that leads out of my kingdom," said terribus. "the others all begin and end at the castle. so that unless you know the secret of this passage you could never escape from spor." "but where does this road lead?" asked marvel. "to the kingdom of auriel, which you desire to visit. it is not a straight road, for it winds around the land of twi, so it will carry you a little out of your way." "what is the land of twi?" inquired the prince. "a small country hidden from the view of all travelers," said terribus. "no one has ever yet found a way to enter the land of twi; yet there is a rumor that it is ruled by a mighty personage called the high ki." "and does the rumor state what the high ki of twi is like?" "no, indeed," returned the king, smiling, "so it will do you no good to be curious. and now farewell, and may good luck attend you. yet bear in mind the fact that king terribus of spor owes you a mighty debt of gratitude; and if you ever need my services, you have but to call on me, and i shall gladly come to your assistance." "i thank you," said marvel, "but there is small chance of my needing help. farewell, and may your future life be pleasant and happy!" with this he sprang to the saddle of his prancing charger and, followed by nerle, rode slowly through the stone arch. the courtiers and ladies had flocked from the palace to witness their departure, and the giants and dwarfs and gray men were drawn up in long lines to speed the king's guests. so it was a brilliant sight that marvel and nerle looked back on; but once they were clear of the arch, the great stone rolled back into its place, shutting them out completely from the kingdom of spor, with its turreted castle and transformed king. . the hidden kingdom of twi knowing that at last they were free to roam according to their desire, the travelers rode gaily along the paths, taking but scant heed of their way. "our faces are set toward new adventures," remarked the prince. "let us hope they will prove more pleasant than the last." "to be sure!" responded nerle. "let us hope, at any rate, that we shall suffer more privations and encounter more trouble than we did in that mountainous kingdom of spor." then he added: "for one reason, i regret you are my master." "what is that reason?" asked the prince, turning to smile upon his esquire. "you have a way of overcoming all difficulties without any trouble whatsoever, and that deprives me of any chance of coming to harm while in your company." "cheer up, my boy!" cried marvel. "did i not say there are new adventures before us? we may not come through them so easily as we came through the others." "that is true," replied nerle; "it is always best to hope." and then he inquired: "why do you stop here, in the middle of the path?" "because the path has ended rather suddenly," answered marvel. "here is a thick hedge of prickly briers barring our way." nerle looked over his master's shoulder and saw that a great hedge, high and exceedingly thick, cut off all prospect of their advancing. "this is pleasant," said he; "but i might try to force our way through the hedge. the briers would probably prick me severely, and that would be delightful." "try it!" the prince returned, with twinkling eyes. nerle sprang from his horse to obey, but at the first contact with the briers he uttered a howl of pain and held up his hands, which were bleeding in a dozen places from the wounds of the thorns. "ah, that will content you for a time, i trust," said marvel. "now follow me, and we will ride along beside the hedge until we find an opening. for either it will come to an end or there will prove to be a way through it to the other side." so they rode alongside the hedge for hour after hour; yet it did not end, nor could they espy any way to get through the thickly matted briers. by and by night fell, and they tethered their horses to some shrubs, where there were a few scanty blades of grass for them to crop, and then laid themselves down upon the ground, with bare rocks for pillows, where they managed to sleep soundly until morning. they had brought a supply of food in their pouches, and on this they breakfasted, afterward continuing their journey beside the hedge. at noon prince marvel uttered an exclamation of surprise and stopped his horse. "what is it?" asked nerle. "i have found the handkerchief with which you wiped the blood from your hands yesterday morning, and then carelessly dropped," replied the prince. "this proves that we have made a complete circle around this hedge without finding a way to pass through it." "in that case," said nerle, "we had better leave the hedge and go in another direction." "not so," declared marvel. "the hedge incloses some unknown country, and i am curious to find out what it is." "but there is no opening," remonstrated nerle. "then we must make one. wouldn't you like to enjoy a little more pain?" "thank you," answered nerle, "my hands are still smarting very comfortably from the pricks of yesterday." "therefore i must make the attempt myself," said the prince, and drawing his sword he whispered a queer word to it, and straightway began slashing at the hedge. the brambles fell fast before his blade, and when he had cut a big heap of branches from the hedge nerle dragged them to one side, and the prince began again. it was marvelous how thick the hedge proved. only a magic sword could have done this work and remained sharp, and only a fairy arm could have proved strong enough to hew through the tough wood. but the magic sword and fairy arm were at work, and naught could resist them. after a time the last branches were severed and dragged from the path, and then the travelers rode their horses through the gap into the unknown country beyond. they saw at first glance that it was a land of great beauty; but after that one look both prince marvel and nerle paused and rubbed their eyes, to assure themselves that their vision was not blurred. before them were two trees, exactly alike. and underneath the trees two cows were grazing--each a perfect likeness of the other. at their left were two cottages, with every door and window and chimney the exact counterpart of another. before these houses two little boys were playing, evidently twins, for they not only looked alike and dressed alike, but every motion one made was also made by the other at the same time and in precisely the same way. when one laughed the other laughed, and when one stubbed his toe and fell down, the other did likewise, and then they both sat up and cried lustily at the same time. at this two women--it was impossible to tell one from the other--rushed out of the two houses, caught up the two boys, shook and dusted them in precisely the same way, and led them by their ears back into the houses. again the astonished travelers rubbed their eyes, and then prince marvel looked at nerle and said: "i thought at first that i saw everything double, but there seems to be only one of you." "and of you," answered the boy. "but see! there are two hills ahead of us, and two paths lead from the houses over the hills! how strange it all is!" just then two birds flew by, close together and perfect mates; and the cows raised their heads and "mooed" at the same time; and two men--also twins--came over the two hills along the two paths with two dinner-pails in their hands and entered the two houses. they were met at the doors by the two women, who kissed them exactly at the same time and helped them off with their coats with the same motions, and closed the two doors with two slams at the same instant. nerle laughed. "what sort of country have we got into?" he asked. "let us find out," replied the prince, and riding up to one of the houses he knocked on the door with the hilt of his sword. instantly the doors of both houses flew open, and both men appeared in the doorways. both started back in amazement at sight of the strangers, and both women shrieked and both little boys began to cry. both mothers boxed the children's ears, and both men gasped out: "who--who are you?" their voices were exactly alike, and their words were spoken in unison. prince marvel replied, courteously: "we are two strangers who have strayed into your country. but i do not understand why our appearance should so terrify you." "why--you are singular! there is only half of each of you!" exclaimed the two men, together. "not so," said the prince, trying hard not to laugh in their faces. "we may be single, while you appear to be double; but each of us is perfect, nevertheless." "perfect! and only half of you!" cried the men. and again the two women, who were looking over their husbands' shoulders, screamed at sight of the strangers; and again the two boys, who were clinging to their mothers' dresses in the same positions, began to cry. "we did not know such strange people existed!" said the two men, both staring at the strangers and then wiping the beads of perspiration from their two brows with two faded yellow handkerchiefs. "nor did we!" retorted the prince. "i assure you we are as much surprised as you are." nerle laughed again at this, and to hear only one of the strangers speak and the other only laugh seemed to terrify the double people anew. so prince marvel quickly asked: "please tell us what country this is?" "the land of twi," answered both men, together. "oh! the land of twi. and why is the light here so dim?" continued the prince. "dim?" repeated the men, as if surprised; "why, this is twilight, of course." "of course," said nerle. "i hadn't thought of that. we are in the long hidden land of twi, which all men have heard of, but no man has found before." "and who may you be?" questioned the prince, looking from one man to the other, curiously. "we are twis," they answered. "twice?" "twis--inhabitants of twi." "it's the same thing," laughed nerle. "you see everything twice in this land." "are none of your people single?" asked prince marvel. "single," returned the men, as if perplexed. "we don't understand." "are you all double?--or are some of you just one?" said the prince, who found it difficult to put his question plainly. "what does 'one' mean?" asked the men. "there is no such word as 'one' in our language." "they have no need of such a word," declared nerle. "we are only poor laborers," explained the men. "but over the hills lie the cities of twi, where the ki and the ki-ki dwell, and also the high ki." "ah!" said marvel, "i've heard of your high ki. who is he?" the men shook their heads, together and with the same motion. "we have never seen the glorious high ki," they answered. "the sight of their faces is forbidden. none but the ki and the ki-ki has seen the supreme rulers and high ki." "i'm getting mixed," said nerle. "all this about the ki and the ki-ki and the high ki makes me dizzy. let's go on to the city and explore it." "that is a good suggestion," replied the prince. "good by, my friends," he added, addressing the men. they both bowed, and although they still seemed somewhat frightened they answered him civilly and in the same words, and closed their doors at the same time. so prince marvel and nerle rode up the double path to the hills, and the two cows became frightened and ran away with the same swinging step, keeping an exact space apart. and when they were a safe distance they both stopped, looked over their right shoulders, and "mooed" at the same instant. . the ki and the ki-ki from the tops of the hills the travelers caught their first glimpse of the wonderful cities of twi. two walls surrounded the cities, and in the walls were two gates just alike. within the inclosures stood many houses, but all were built in pairs, from the poorest huts to the most splendid palaces. every street was double, the pavements running side by side. there were two lamp-posts on every corner, and in the dim twilight that existed these lamp-posts were quite necessary. if there were trees or bushes anywhere, they invariably grew in pairs, and if a branch was broken on one it was sure to be broken on the other, and dead leaves fell from both trees at identically the same moment. much of this marvel and nerle learned after they had entered the cities, but the view from the hills showed plainly enough that the "double" plan existed everywhere and in every way in this strange land. they followed the paths down to the gates of the walls, where two pairs of soldiers rushed out and seized their horses by the bridles. these soldiers all seemed to be twins, or at least mates, and each one of each pair was as like the other as are two peas growing in the same pod. if one had a red nose the other's was red in the same degree, and the soldiers that held the bridles of nerle's horse both had their left eyes bruised and blackened, as from a blow of the same force. these soldiers, as they looked upon nerle and the prince, seemed fully as much astonished and certainly more frightened than their prisoners. they were dressed in bright yellow uniforms with green buttons, and the soldiers who had arrested the prince had both torn their left coat-sleeves and had patches of the same shape upon the seats of their trousers. "how dare you stop us, fellows?" asked the prince, sternly. the soldiers holding his horse both turned and looked inquiringly at the soldiers holding nerle's horse; and these turned to look at a double captain who came out of two doors in the wall and walked up to them. "such things were never before heard of!" said the two captains, their startled eyes fixed upon the prisoners. "we must take them to the ki and the ki-ki." "why so?" asked prince marvel. "because," replied the officers, "they are our rulers, under grace of the high ki, and all unusual happenings must be brought to their notice. it is our law, you know--the law of the kingdom of twi." "very well," said marvel, quietly; "take us where you will; but if any harm is intended us you will be made to regret it." "the ki and the ki-ki will decide," returned the captains gravely, their words sounding at the same instant. and then the two pairs of soldiers led the horses through the double streets, the captains marching ahead with drawn swords, and crowds of twin men and twin women coming from the double doors of the double houses to gaze upon the strange sight of men and horses who were not double. presently they came upon a twin palace with twin turrets rising high into the air; and before the twin doors the prisoners dismounted. marvel was escorted through one door and nerle through another, and then they saw each other going down a double hallway to a room with a double entrance. passing through this they found themselves in a large hall with two domes set side by side in the roof. the domes were formed of stained glass, and the walls of the hall were ornamented by pictures in pairs, each pair showing identically the same scenes. this, was, of course, reasonable enough in such a land, where two people would always look at two pictures at the same time and admire them in the same way with the same thoughts. beneath one of the domes stood a double throne, on which sat the ki of twi--a pair of gray-bearded and bald-headed men who were lean and lank and stoop-shouldered. they had small eyes, black and flashing, long hooked noses, great pointed ears, and they were smoking two pipes from which the smoke curled in exactly the same circles and clouds. beneath the other dome sat the ki-ki of twi, also on double thrones, similar to those of the ki. the ki-ki were two young men, and had golden hair combed over their brows and "banged" straight across; and their eyes were blue and mild in expression, and their cheeks pink and soft. the ki-ki were playing softly upon a pair of musical instruments that resembled mandolins, and they were evidently trying to learn a new piece of music, for when one ki-ki struck a false note the other ki-ki struck the same false note at the same time, and the same expression of annoyance came over the two faces at the same moment. when the prisoners entered, the pairs of captains and soldiers bowed low to the two pairs of rulers, and the ki exclaimed--both in the same voice of surprise: "great kika-koo! what have we here?" "most wonderful prisoners, your highnesses," answered the captains. "we found them at your cities' gates and brought them to you at once. they are, as your highnesses will see, each singular, and but half of what he should be." "'tis so!" cried the double ki, in loud voices, and slapping their right thighs with their right palms at the same time. "most remarkable! most remarkable!" "i don't see anything remarkable about it," returned prince marvel, calmly. "it is you, who are not singular, but double, that seem strange and outlandish." "perhaps--perhaps!" said the two old men, thoughtfully. "it is what we are not accustomed to that seems to us remarkable. eh, ki-ki?" they added, turning to the other rulers. the ki-ki, who had not spoken a word but continued to play softly, simply nodded their blond heads carelessly; so the ki looked again at the prisoners and asked: "how did you get here?" "we cut a hole through the prickly hedge," replied prince marvel. "a hole through the hedge! great kika-koo!" cried the gray-bearded ki; "is there, then, anything or any place on the other side of the hedge?" "why, of course! the world is there," returned the prince, laughing. the old men looked puzzled, and glanced sharply from their little black eyes at their prisoners. "we thought nothing existed outside the hedge of twi," they answered, simply. "but your presence here proves we were wrong. eh! ki-ki?" this last was again directed toward the pair of musicians, who continued to play and only nodded quietly, as before. "now that you are here," said the twin ki, stroking their two gray beards with their two left hands in a nervous way, "it must be evident to you that you do not belong here. therefore you must go back through the hedge again and stay on the other side. eh, ki-ki?" the ki-ki still continued playing, but now spoke the first words the prisoners had heard from them. "they must die," said the ki-ki, in soft and agreeable voices. "die!" echoed the twin ki, "die? great kika-koo! and why so?" "because, if there is a world on the other side of the hedge, they would tell on their return all about the land of twi, and others of their kind would come through the hedge from curiosity and annoy us. we can not be annoyed. we are busy." having delivered this speech both the ki-ki went on playing the new tune, as if the matter was settled. "nonsense!" retorted the old ki, angrily. "you are getting more and more bloodthirsty every day, our sweet and gentle ki-ki! but we are the ki--and we say the prisoners shall not die!" "we say they shall!" answered the youthful ki-ki, nodding their two heads at the same time, with a positive motion. "you may be the ki, but we are the ki-ki, and your superior." "not in this case," declared the old men. "where life and death are concerned we have equal powers with you." "and if we disagree?" asked the players, gently. "great kika-koo! if we disagree the high ki must judge between us!" roared the twin ki, excitedly. "quite so," answered the ki-ki. "the strangers shall die." "they shall not die!" stormed the old men, with fierce gestures toward the others, while both pairs of black eyes flashed angrily. "then we disagree, and they must be taken to the high ki," returned the blond musicians, beginning to play another tune. the two ki rose from their thrones, paced two steps to the right and three steps to the left, and then sat down again. "very well!" they said to the captains, who had listened unmoved to the quarrel of the rulers; "keep these half-men safe prisoners until to-morrow morning, and then the ki-ki and we ourselves will conduct them to the mighty high ki." at this command the twin captains bowed again to both pairs of rulers and led prince marvel and nerle from the room. then they were escorted along the streets to the twin houses of the captains, and here the officers paused and scratched their left ears with uncertain gestures. "there being only half of each of you," they said, "we do not know how to lock each of you in double rooms." "oh, let us both occupy the same room," said prince marvel. "we prefer it." "very well," answered the captains; "we must transgress our usual customs in any event, so you may as well be lodged as you wish." so nerle and the prince were thrust into a large and pleasant room of one of the twin houses, the double doors were locked upon them by twin soldiers, and they were left to their own thoughts. . the high ki of twi "tell me, prince, are we awake or asleep?" asked nerle, as soon as they were alone. "there is no question of our being awake," replied the prince, with a laugh. "but what a curious country it is--and what a funny people!" "we can't call them odd or singular," said the esquire, "for everything is even in numbers and double in appearance. it makes me giddy to look at them, and i keep feeling of myself to make sure there is still only one of me." "you are but half a boy!" laughed the prince--"at least so long as you remain in the land of twi." "i'd like to get out of it in double-quick time," answered nerle; "and we should even now be on the other side of the hedge were it not for that wicked pair of ki-ki, who are determined to kill us." "it is strange," said the prince, thoughtfully, "that the fierce-looking old ki should be our friends and the gentle ki-ki our enemies. how little one can tell from appearances what sort of heart beats in a person's body!" before nerle could answer the two doors opened and two pairs of soldiers entered. they drew two small tables before the prince and two before nerle, and then other pairs of twin soldiers came and spread cloths on the tables and set twin platters of meat and bread and fruit on each of the tables. when the meal had been arranged the prisoners saw that there was enough for four people instead of two; and the soldiers realized this also, for they turned puzzled looks first on the tables and then on the prisoners. then they shook all their twin heads gravely and went away, locking the twin doors behind them. "we have one advantage in being singular," said nerle, cheerfully; "and that is we are not likely to starve to death. for we can eat the portions of our missing twins as well as our own." "i should think you would enjoy starving," remarked the prince. "no; i believe i have more exquisite suffering in store for me, since i have met that gentle pair of ki-ki," said nerle. while they were eating the two captains came in and sat down in two chairs. these captains seemed friendly fellows, and after watching the strangers for a while they remarked: "we are glad to see you able to eat so heartily; for to-morrow you will probably die." "that is by no means certain," replied marvel, cutting a piece from one of the twin birds on a platter before him--to the extreme surprise of the captains, who had always before seen both birds carved alike at the same time. "your gray-bearded old ki say we shall not die." "true," answered the captains. "but the ki-ki have declared you shall." "their powers seem to be equal," said nerle, "and we are to be taken before the high ki for judgment." "therein lies your danger," returned the captains, speaking in the same tones and with the same accents on their words. "for it is well known the ki-ki has more influence with the high ki than the ki has." "hold on!" cried nerle; "you are making me dizzy again. i can't keep track of all these kis." "what is the high ki like?" asked prince marvel, who was much interested in the conversation of the captains. but this question the officers seemed unable to answer. they shook their heads slowly and said: "the high ki are not visible to the people of twi. only in cases of the greatest importance are the high ki ever bothered or even approached by the ki and the ki-ki, who are supposed to rule the land according to their own judgment. but if they chance to disagree, then the matter is carried before the high ki, who live in a palace surrounded by high walls, in which there are no gates. only these rulers have ever seen the other side of the walls, or know what the high ki are like." "that is strange," said the prince. "but we, ourselves, it seems, are to see the high ki to-morrow, and whoever they may chance to be, we hope to remain alive after the interview." "that is a vain hope," answered the captains, "for it is well known that the high ki usually decide in favor of the ki-ki, and against the wishes of the old ki." "that is certainly encouraging," said nerle. when the captains had gone and left them to themselves, the esquire confided to his master his expectations in the following speech: "this high ki sounds something terrible and fierce in my ears, and as they are doubtless a pair, they will be twice terrible and fierce. perhaps his royal doublets will torture me most exquisitely before putting me to death, and then i shall feel that i have not lived in vain." they slept in comfortable beds that night, although an empty twin bed stood beside each one they occupied. and in the morning they were served another excellent meal, after which the captains escorted them again to the twin palaces of the ki and the ki-ki. there the two pairs of rulers met them and headed the long procession of soldiers toward the palace of the high ki. first came a band of music, in which many queer sorts of instruments were played in pairs by twin musicians; and it was amusing to nerle to see the twin drummers roll their twin drums exactly at the same time and the twin trumpets peal out twin notes. after the band marched the double ki-ki and the double ki, their four bodies side by side in a straight line. the ki-ki had left their musical instruments in the palace, and now wore yellow gloves with green stitching down the backs and swung gold-headed canes jauntily as they walked. the ki stooped their aged shoulders and shuffled along with their hands in their pockets, and only once did they speak, and that was to roar "great kika-koo!" when the ki-ki jabbed their canes down on the ki's toes. following the ki-ki and the ki came the prince and nerle, escorted by the twin captains, and then there were files of twin soldiers bringing up the rear. crowds of twin people, with many twin children amongst them, turned out to watch the unusual display, and many pairs of twin dogs barked together in unison and snapped at the heels of the marching twin soldiers. by and by they reached the great wall surrounding the high ki's palace, and, sure enough, there was never a gate in the wall by which any might enter. but when the ki and the ki-ki had blown a shrill signal upon two pairs of whistles, they all beheld two flights of silver steps begin to descend from the top of the wall, and these came nearer and nearer the ground until at last they rested at the feet of the ki. then the old men began ascending the steps carefully and slowly, and the captains motioned to the prisoners to follow. so prince marvel followed one of the ki up the steps and nerle the other ki, while the two ki-ki came behind them so they could not escape. so to the top of the wall they climbed, where a pair of twin servants in yellow and green--which seemed to be the royal colors--welcomed them and drew up the pair of silver steps, afterward letting them down on the other side of the wall, side by side. they descended in the same order as they had mounted to the top of the wall, and now prince marvel and nerle found themselves in a most beautiful garden, filled with twin beds of twin flowers, with many pairs of rare shrubs. also, there were several double statuettes on pedestals, and double fountains sending exactly the same sprays of water the same distance into the air. double walks ran in every direction through the garden, and in the center of the inclosure stood a magnificent twin palace, built of blocks of white marble exquisitely carved. the ki and the ki-ki at once led their prisoners toward the palace and entered at its large arched double doors, where several pairs of servants met them. these servants, they found, were all dumb, so that should they escape from the palace walls they could tell no tales of the high ki. the prisoners now proceeded through several pairs of halls, winding this way and that, and at last came to a pair of golden double doors leading into the throne-room of the mighty high ki. here they all paused, and the ki-ki both turned to the prince and nerle and said: "you are the only persons, excepting ourselves and the palace servants, who have ever been permitted to see the high ki of twi. as you are about to die, that does not matter; but should you by any chance be permitted to live, you must never breathe a word of what you are about to see, under penalty of a sure and horrible death." the prisoners made no reply to this speech, and, after the two ki-ki had given them another mild look from their gentle blue eyes, these officials clapped their twin hands together and the doors of gold flew open. a perfect silence greeted them, during which the double ki and the double ki-ki bent their four bodies low and advanced into the throne-room, followed by prince marvel and nerle. in the center of the room stood two thrones of dainty filigree work in solid gold, and over them were canopies of yellow velvet, the folds of which were caught up and draped with bands of green ribbon. and on the thrones were seated two of the sweetest and fairest little maidens that mortal man had ever beheld. their lovely hair was fine as a spider's web; their eyes were kind and smiling, their cheeks soft and dimpled, their mouths shapely as a cupid's bow and tinted like the petals of a rose. upon their heads were set two crowns of fine spun gold, worked into fantastic shapes and set with glittering gems. their robes were soft silks of pale yellow, with strings of sparkling emeralds for ornament. anything so lovely and fascinating as these little maids, who were precisely alike in every particular, neither prince marvel nor nerle had ever dreamed could exist. they stood for a time spellbound and filled with admiration, while the two pairs of rulers bowed again and again before the dainty and lovable persons of their high ki. but it was hard for nerle to keep quiet for long, and presently he exclaimed, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all present: "by the great kika-koo of our friends the ki, these darling high ki of twi are sweet enough to be kissed!" . the rebellion of the high ki the bold speech of nerle's made the two damsels laugh at the same time, and their sweet laughter sounded like rippling strains of harmonious music. but the two ki-ki frowned angrily, and the two ki looked at the boy in surprise, as if wondering at his temerity. "who are these strangers?" asked the pretty high ki, speaking together as all the twins of twi did; "and why are they not mates, but only half of each other?" "these questions, your supreme highnesses," said the blond-haired pair of ki-ki, "we are unable to answer." "perhaps, then, the strangers can answer themselves," said the little maids, smiling first upon the ki-ki and then upon the prisoners. prince marvel bowed. "i am from the great outside world," said he, "and my name is prince marvel. until now i have never seen people that live in pairs, and speak in unison, and act in the same way and think the same thoughts. my world is much bigger than your world, and in it every person is proud to think and act for himself. you say i am only a 'half,' but that is not so. i am perfect, without a counterpart; my friend nerle is perfect without a counterpart, and it is yourselves who are halved. for in the land of twi no person is complete or perfect without its other half, and it seems to take two of you to make one man--or one maid." the sweet faces of the twin high ki grew thoughtful at this speech, and they said: "indeed, it may be you are right. but it is our custom in twi to do everything double and to live double." then, turning to the ki, they asked: "why have you brought these strangers here?" "to ask your supreme highnesses to permit them to return again to the world from whence they came," answered the ki, both of them regarding their supreme rulers earnestly. but here the ki-ki spoke up quickly in their mild voices, saying: "that is not our idea, your highnesses. we, the ki-ki of twi, think it best the strangers should be put to death. and we pray your supreme highnesses to favor our wish." the two little maids looked from the ki to the ki-ki, and frowned and pouted their rosy lips in evident perplexity. but nerle whispered to prince marvel: "it's all up with us! i know very well why her royal doublets always favors the ki-ki. it's because they are young and handsome, while the ki are old and ugly. both of her will condemn us to death--you see if she don't!" this seemed somewhat mixed, but nerle was in earnest, and prince marvel, who had not forgotten his fairy lore, began to weave a silent spell over the head of the nearest twin high ki. but just as it was completed, and before he had time to work the spell on the other twin, the ki-ki grew impatient, and exclaimed: "we beg your highnesses not to keep us waiting. let us have your decision at once!" and the twin maidens raised their fair heads and replied. but the reply was of such a nature that both the old ki and both the young ki-ki staggered backward in amazement. for one of the twin high ki said: "they shall die!" and the other twin high ki said at the same instant: "they shall not die!" had twin thunderbolts fallen through the twin roofs of the twin palaces and struck the twin ki and the twin ki-ki upon their twin heads it would have created no more stupendous a sensation than did this remark. never before had any two halves of a twin of the land of twi thought differently or spoken differently. indeed, it startled the two maidens themselves as much as it did their hearers, for each one turned her head toward the other and, for the first time in her life, looked into the other's face! this act was fully as strange as their speech, and a sudden horrible thought came into the startled heads of the twin ki and the twin ki-ki: the high ki of twi was no longer one, but two. and these two were thinking and acting each independent of the other! it is no wonder the shock rendered them speechless for a time, and they stood swaying their four bodies, with their eight eyes bulging out like those of fishes and their four mouths wide open, as if the two pairs had become one quartet. the faces of the two maids flushed as they gazed upon each other. "how dare you contradict me?" asked one. "how dare you contradict me?" demanded the other, and not only were these questions asked separately, but the accent on the words was different. and their twin minds seemed to get farther apart every moment. "i'm the high ki of twi!" said one. "you're not! i'm the high ki!" retorted the other. "the strangers shall die!" snapped one. "they shall live!" cried the other. "my will is supreme." "it's not! my will is supreme," returned the other twin. the bald heads of the ancient ki were bobbing in amazement, first to one maid and then toward the other. the blond hairs of the two ki-ki were standing almost on end, and their eyes stared straight before them as if stupefied with astonishment. nerle was bellowing with rude laughter and holding his sides to keep from getting a stitch in them, while prince marvel stood quietly attentive and smiling with genuine amusement. for he alone understood what had happened to separate the twin high ki. the girls did not seem to know how to act under their altered conditions. after a time one of them said: "we will leave our dispute to be settled by the ki and the ki-ki." "very well," agreed the other. "then i say your half is right," declared the ki-ki, both their right forefingers pointing to the maiden who had condemned the strangers to death. "and i decide that your half is right," exclaimed the ki, both their trembling forefingers pointing to the maiden who had said the strangers should live. "well?" said one girl. "well?" said the other. "the powers of the ki and the ki-ki are equal," said the first. "we are no nearer a settlement of our dispute than we were before." "my dear young ladies," said prince marvel, politely, "i beg you will take time to think the matter over, and see if you can not come to an agreement. we are in no hurry." "very well," decided the twins, speaking both together this time. "we command you all to remain in the palace until we have settled our own strange dispute. the servants will care for you, and when we are ready to announce our decision we shall again send for you." every one bowed at this command and retired from the room; but nerle looked over his shoulder as he went through the doorway, and saw that the two high ki had turned in their seats and were facing each other, and that both their faces wore angry and determined expressions. . the separation of the high ki for nearly a week prince marvel and nerle remained confined to the palace and gardens of the high ki. together with the twin ki, who seemed to be friendly to them, they occupied one of the twin palaces, while the ki-ki secluded themselves in the other. the pretty high ki maidens they did not see at all, nor did they know what part of the palaces they occupied, not being permitted to wander away from the rooms allotted to them, except to walk in the garden. there was no way for them to escape, had they felt inclined to, for the silver steps had disappeared. from the garden walks they sometimes caught sight of the solemn heads of the handsome ki-ki looking at them through the twin windows of the other palace, and although the expression of their faces was always mild and gentle, nerle and marvel well knew the ki-ki were only waiting in the hope of having them killed. "are you nervous about the decision of the pretty high ki?" asked nerle one day. "no, indeed," said the prince, laughing; "for i do not expect them to kill me, in any event." "if i felt as sure of my safety," returned the boy, "it would destroy all my pleasure. these are really happy days for me. every moment i expect to see the executioner arrive with his ax." "the executioner is double," said the two old ki, breaking into the conversation. "you should say you expect to see the executioners arrive with their axes." "then how will they cut off my head with two axes? for i suppose they will both chop at the same time, and i have but one neck." "wait and see," answered the two ki, sighing deeply and rubbing their red noses thoughtfully. "oh, i'll wait," answered the boy; "but as for seeing them cut off my head, i refuse; for i intend to shut my eyes." so they sat in their rooms or walked in the gardens, yawning and waiting, until one day, just as the two clocks on the wall were striking twenty-four o'clock, the door opened and to their surprise one of the high ki twins walked in upon them. she was as sweet and fair to look upon as when she occupied one of the beautiful thrones, but at first no one could tell which of the high ki she was--their friend or their enemy. even the ki were puzzled and anxious, until the girl said: "my other half and i have completely separated, for we have agreed to disagree for all time. and she has gone to ask the ki-ki to assist her, for war is declared between us. and hereafter her color is to be the green and mine the yellow, and we intend to fight until one of us conquers and overthrows the other." this announcement was interesting to marvel and nerle, but greatly shocked the aged ki, who asked: "what is to become of our kingdom? half of a high ki can not rule it. it is against the law." "i will make my own laws when i have won the fight," returned the girl, with a lovely smile; "so do not let that bother you. and now tell me, will you help me to fight my battles?" "willingly!" exclaimed nerle and prince marvel, almost as if they had been twins of twi. and the ki rubbed their bald heads a moment, and then sneezed together and wiped their eyes on faded yellow handkerchiefs, and finally declared they would "stick to her supreme highness through thick and thin!" "then go over the wall to the cities, at once, and get together all the soldiers to fight for me and my cause," commanded the girl. the twin ki at once left the room, and the high ki sat down and began to ask questions of prince marvel and nerle about the big outside world from whence they came. nerle was rather shy and bashful before the dainty little maiden, whose yellow robe contrasted delightfully with her pink cheeks and blue eyes and brown flowing locks; but prince marvel did not mind girls at all, so he talked with her freely, and she in return allowed him to examine the pretty gold crown she wore upon her brow. by and by the ki came back with both faces sad and gloomy. "your highness," they announced, "we have bad news for you. the other high ki, who is wearing a green gown, has been more prompt in action than yourself. she and the ki-ki have secured the silver steps and will allow no others to use them; and already they have sent for the soldiers of the royal armies to come and aid them. so we are unable to leave the garden, and presently the army will be here to destroy us." then the girl showed her good courage; for she laughed and said: "then we must remain here and fight to the last; and if i am unable to save you, who are my friends, it will be because i can not save myself." this speech pleased prince marvel greatly. he kissed the little maid's hand respectfully and said: "fear nothing, your highness. my friend and i are not so helpless as you think. we consider it our privilege to protect and save you, instead of your saving us; and we are really able to do this in spite of the other high ki and her entire army." so they remained quietly in the palace the rest of that day, and no one molested them in the least. in the evening the girl played and sang for them, and the ancient pair of ki danced a double-shuffle for their amusement that nearly convulsed them with laughter. for one danced exactly like the other, and the old men's legs were still very nimble, although their wrinkled faces remained anxiously grave throughout their antics. nerle also sang a song about the king of thieves whom prince marvel had conquered, and another about the red rogue of dawna, so that altogether the evening passed pleasantly enough, and they managed to forget all their uneasy doubts of the morrow. when at last they separated for the night, prince marvel alone did not seek his bed; there was still some business he wished to transact. so he shut himself up in his room and summoned before him, by means of his fairy knowledge, the prince of the knooks, the king of the ryls and the governor of the goblins. these were all three his especial friends, and he soon told them the story of the quarrel and separation of the twin high ki, and claimed their assistance. then he told them how they might aid him, and afterward dismissed them. having thus accomplished his task, the fairy prince went to bed and slept peacefully the remainder of the night. the next morning the blond ki-ki and all the army of twi, which had been won to their cause, came climbing up the silver steps and over the wall to the palace of the green high ki; but what was their amazement to find the twin palaces separated by a wall so high that no ladders nor steps they possessed could reach to the top! it had been built in a single night, and only prince marvel and his fairy friends knew how the work had been done so quickly. the yellow high ki, coming downstairs to breakfast with her friends, found herself securely shut in from her enemies, and the bald-headed old ki were so pleased to escape that they danced another jig from pure joy. over the wall could be heard the shouts and threats of the army of twi, who were seeking a way to get at the fugitives; but for the present our friends knew themselves to be perfectly safe, and they could afford to laugh at the fury of the entire population of twi. . the rescue of the high ki after several days of siege prince marvel began to feel less confident of the safety of his little party. the frantic ki-ki had built double battering-rams and were trying to batter down the high wall; and they had built several pairs of long ladders with which to climb over the wall; and their soldiers were digging two tunnels in the ground in order to crawl under the wall. not at once could they succeed, for the wall was strong and it would take long to batter it down; and nerle stood on top of the wall and kicked over the ladders as fast as the soldiers of twi set them up; and the gray-bearded ki stood in the garden holding two big flat boards with which to whack the heads of any who might come through the tunnels. but prince marvel realized that the perseverance of his foes might win in the end, unless he took measures to defeat them effectually. so he summoned swift messengers from among the sound elves, who are accustomed to travel quickly, and they carried messages from him to wul-takim, the king of the reformed thieves, and to king terribus of spor, who had both promised him their assistance in case he needed it. the prince did not tell his friends of this action, but after the messengers had been dispatched he felt easier in his mind. the little high ki remained as sweet and brave and lovable as ever, striving constantly to cheer and encourage her little band of defenders. but none of them was very much worried, and nerle confided to the maiden in yellow the fact that he expected to suffer quite agreeably when the ki-ki at last got him in their clutches. finally a day came when two big holes were battered through the wall, and then the twin soldiers of twi poured through the holes and began to pound on the doors of the palace itself, in which prince marvel and nerle, the ki and the yellow high ki had locked themselves as securely as possible. the prince now decided it was high time for his friends to come to their rescue; but they did not appear, and before long the doors of the palace gave way and the soldiers rushed upon them in a vast throng. nerle wanted to fight, and to slay as many of the twi people as possible; but the prince would not let him. "these poor soldiers are but doing what they consider their duty," he said, "and it would be cruel to cut them down with our swords. have patience, i pray you. our triumph will come in good time." the ki-ki, who came into the palace accompanied by the green high ki, ordered the twin soldiers to bind all the prisoners with cords. so one pair of soldiers bound the ki and another pair nerle and the prince, using exactly the same motions in the operation. but when it came to binding the yellow high ki the scene was very funny. for twin soldiers tried to do the binding, and there was only one to bind; so that one soldier went through the same motions as his twin on empty air, and when his other half had firmly bound the girl, his own rope fell harmless to the ground. but it seemed impossible for one of the twins to do anything different from the other, so that was the only way the act could be accomplished. then the green-robed high ki walked up to the one in yellow and laughed in her face, saying: "you now see which of us is the most powerful, and therefore the most worthy to rule. had you remained faithful to our handsome ki-ki, as i did, you would not now be defeated and disgraced." "there is no disgrace in losing one battle," returned the other girl, proudly. "you are mistaken if you think you have conquered me, and you are wrong to insult one who is, for the time being, your captive." the maiden in green looked for an instant confused and ashamed; then she tossed her pretty head and walked away. they led all the prisoners out into the garden and then through the broken wall, and up and down the silver steps, into the great square of the cities of twi. and here all the population crowded around them, for this was the first time any of them had seen their high ki, or even known that they were girls; and the news of their quarrel and separation had aroused a great deal of excitement. "let the executioners come forward!" cried the ki-ki, gleefully, and in answer to the command the twin executioners stepped up to the prisoners. they were big men, these executioners, each having a squint in one eye and a scar on the left cheek. they polished their axes a moment on their coat-sleeves, and then said to prince marvel and nerle, who were to be the first victims: "don't dodge, please, or our axes may not strike the right place. and do not be afraid, for the blows will only hurt you an instant. in the land of twi it is usually considered a pleasure to be executed by us, we are so exceedingly skillful." "i can well believe that," replied nerle, although his teeth were chattering. but at this instant a loud shout was heard, and the twin people of twi all turned their heads to find themselves surrounded by throngs of fierce enemies. prince marvel smiled, for he saw among the new-comers the giants and dwarfs and the stern gray men of king terribus, with their monarch calmly directing their movements; and on the other side of the circle were the jolly faces and bushy whiskers of the fifty-nine reformed thieves, with burly wul-takim at their head. . the reunion of the high ki the twins of twi were too startled and amazed to offer to fight with the odd people surrounding them. even the executioners allowed their axes to fall harmlessly to the ground, and the double people, soldiers and citizens alike, turned to stare at the strangers in wonder. "we're here, prince!" yelled wul-takim, his bristly beard showing over the heads of those who stood between. "thank you," answered prince marvel. "and the men of spor are here!" added king terribus, who was mounted on a fine milk-white charger, richly caparisoned. "i thank the men of spor," returned prince marvel, graciously. "shall we cut your foes into small pieces, or would you prefer to hang them?" questioned the king of the reformed thieves, loudly enough to set most of his hearers shivering. but now the little maid in yellow stepped up to prince marvel and, regarding the youthful knight with considerable awe, said sweetly: "i beg you will pardon my people and spare them. they are usually good and loyal subjects, and if they fought against me--their lawful high ki--it was only because they were misled by my separation from my other half." "that is true," replied the prince; "and as you are still the lawful high ki of twi, i will leave you to deal with your own people as you see fit. for those who have conquered your people are but your own allies, and are still under your orders, as i am myself." hearing this, the green high ki walked up to her twin high ki and said, boldly: "i am your prisoner. it is now your turn. do with me as you will." "i forgive you," replied her sister, in kindly tones. then the little maid who had met with defeat gave a sob and turned away weeping, for she had expected anything but forgiveness. and now the ki-ki came forward and, bowing their handsome blond heads before the high ki, demanded: "are we forgiven also?" "yes," said the girl, "but you are no longer fit to be rulers of my people. therefore, you are henceforth deprived of your honorable offices of ki-ki, which i shall now bestow upon these good captains here," and she indicated the good-natured officers who had first captured the prince and nerle. the people of twi eagerly applauded this act, for the captains were more popular with them than the former ki-ki; but the blond ones both flushed with humiliation and anger, and said: "the captains fought against you, even as we did." "yet the captains only obeyed your orders," returned the high ki. "so i hold them blameless." "and what is to become of us now?" asked the former ki-ki. "you will belong to the common people, and earn your living playing tunes for them to dance by," answered the high ki. and at this retort every one laughed, so that the handsome youths turned away with twin scowls upon their faces and departed amidst the jeers of the crowd. "better hang 'em to a tree, little one," shouted wul-takim, in his big voice; "they won't enjoy life much, anyhow." but the maid shook her pretty head and turned to the prince. "will you stay here and help me to rule my kingdom?" she asked. "i can not do that," replied prince marvel, "for i am but a wandering adventurer and must soon continue my travels. but i believe you will be able to rule your people without my help." "it is not so easy a task," she answered, sighing. "for i am singular and my people are all double." "well, let us hold a meeting in your palace," said the prince, "and then we can decide what is best to be done." so they dismissed the people, who cheered their high ki enthusiastically, returning quietly to their daily tasks and the gossip that was sure to follow such important events as they had witnessed. the army of king terribus and the fifty-nine reformed thieves went to the twin palaces of the ki and the ki-ki and made merry with feasting and songs to celebrate their conquest. and the high ki, followed by the prince, nerle, king terribus and wul-takim, as well as by the ki and the newly-appointed ki-ki, mounted the silver steps and passed over the wall to the royal palaces. the green high ki followed them, still weeping disconsolately. when they had all reached the throne-room, the high ki seated herself on one of the beautiful thrones and said: "by some strange chance, which i am unable to explain, my twin and i have become separated; so that instead of thinking and acting alike, we are now individuals--as are all the strange men who have passed through the hole in the hedge. and, being individuals, we can no longer agree, nor can one of us lawfully rule over the kingdom of twi, where all the subjects are twins, thinking and acting in unison." said prince marvel: "your highness, i alone can explain why you became separated from your twin. by means of a fairy enchantment, which i learned years ago, i worked upon you a spell, which compelled your brain to work independent of your sister's brain. it seems to me that it is better each person should think her own thoughts and live her own life, rather than be yoked to another person and obliged to think and act as a twin, or one-half of a complete whole. and since you are now the one high ki, and the acknowledged ruler of this country, i will agree to work the same fairy spell on all your people, so that no longer will there be twin minds in all this land of twi." "but all the cows and dogs and horses and other animals are double, as well as the people," suggested the old ki, blinking their little eyes in amazement at the thought of being forever separated from each other. "i can also work the spell upon all the twin animals," said the prince, after a moment's hesitation. "and all our houses are built double, with twin doors and windows and chimneys, to accommodate our twin people," continued the high ki. "and the trees and flowers--and even the blades of grass--are all double. and our roads are double, and--and everything else is double. i alone, the ruler of this land, am singular!" prince marvel became thoughtful now, for he did not know how to separate trees and flowers, and it would be a tedious task to separate the twin houses. "why not leave the country as it is?" asked king terribus of spor. "the high ki is welcome to come to my castle to live, and then she need no longer bother about the land of twi, which seems to me a poor place, after all." "and your sister may come with me to my cave, and be the queen of the reformed thieves, which is a much more important office than being high ki of twi," added big wul-takim, who had placed the maiden in green upon a cushion at his feet, and was striving to comfort her by gently stroking her silken hair with his rough hand. "but i love my country, and do not wish to leave it," answered the yellow high ki. "and i love my twin sister, and regret that our minds have become separated," she continued, sadly. "i have it!" exclaimed nerle. "let the prince reunite you, making you regular twins of twi again, and then you can continue to rule the country as the double high ki, and everything will be as it was before." the yellow high ki clapped her pink hands with delight and looked eagerly at the prince. "will you?" she asked. "will you please reunite us? and then all our troubles will be ended!" this really seemed to marvel the best thing to be done. so he led the maid in green to the other throne, where she had once sat, and after replacing the golden crown upon her brow he whispered a fairy spell of much mystical power. then the prince stepped back and regarded the maidens earnestly, and after a moment both the high ki smiled upon him in unison and said--speaking the same words in the same voices and with the same accents: "thank you very much!" . kwytoffle, the tyrant having restored the high ki to their former condition, to the great joy of the ancient ki, prince marvel led his friends back to the palaces where his men were waiting. they were just in time to prevent serious trouble, for the fifty-eight reformed thieves had been boasting of their prowess to the huge giants and tiny dwarfs of king terribus, and this had resulted in a quarrel as to which were the best fighters. had not their masters arrived at the right moment there would certainly have been a fierce battle and much bloodshed,--and all over something of no importance. terribus and wul-takim soon restored order, and then they accompanied the ki and the ki-ki to the public square, where the people were informed that their supreme highnesses, the high ki, had been reunited and would thereafter rule them with twin minds as well as twin bodies. there was great rejoicing at this news, for every twin in twi was glad to have his troubles ended so easily and satisfactorily. that night the ryls and knooks and other invisible friends of prince marvel came and removed the dividing wall between the twin palaces of the high ki, repairing speedily all the damage that had been done. and when our friends called upon the high ki the next morning they found the two maids again dressed exactly alike in yellow robes, with strings of sparkling emeralds for ornament. and not even prince marvel could now tell one of the high ki from the other. as for the maids themselves, it seemed difficult to imagine they had ever existed apart for a single moment. they were very pleasant and agreeable to their new friends, and when they heard that prince marvel was about to leave them to seek new adventures they said: "please take us with you! it seems to us that we ought to know something of the big outside world from whence you came. if we see other kingdoms and people we shall be better able to rule our own wisely." "that seems reasonable," answered marvel, "and i shall be very glad to have you accompany me. but who will rule the land of twi in your absence?" "the ki-ki shall be the rulers," answered the high ki, "and we will take the ki with us." "then i will delay my departure until to-morrow morning," said the prince, "in order that your highnesses may have time to prepare for the journey." and then he went back to the palaces of the other rulers, where the ki expressed themselves greatly pleased at the idea of traveling, and the new ki-ki were proud to learn they should rule for some time the land of twi. wul-takim also begged to join the party, and so also did king terribus, who had never before been outside of his own kingdom of spor; so prince marvel willingly consented. the fifty-eight reformed thieves, led by gunder, returned to their cave, where they were living comfortably on the treasure prince marvel had given them; and the gray men and giants and dwarfs of spor departed for their own country. in the morning prince marvel led his own gay cavalcade through the hole in the hedge, and they rode merrily away in search of adventure. by his side were the high ki, mounted upon twin chestnut ponies that had remarkably slender limbs and graceful, arched necks. the ponies moved with exactly the same steps, and shook their manes and swished their tails at exactly the same time. behind the prince and the high ki were king terribus, riding his great white charger, and wul-takim on a stout horse of jet-black color. the two ancient ki and nerle, being of lesser rank than the others, brought up the rear. "when we return to our land of twi," said the high ki, "we shall close up for all time the hole you made in the hedge; for, if we are different from the rest of the world, it is better that we remain in seclusion." "i think it is right you should do that," replied prince marvel. "yet i do not regret that i cut a hole in your hedge." "it was the hedge that delayed us in coming more promptly to your assistance," said terribus; "for we had hard work to find the hole you had made, and so lost much valuable time." "all is well that ends well!" laughed the prince. "you certainly came in good time to rescue us from our difficulties." they turned into a path that led to auriel, which nerle had heard spoken of as "the kingdom of the setting sun." soon the landscape grew very pleasant to look upon, the meadows being broad and green, with groups of handsome trees standing about. the twilight of the land of twi was now replaced by bright sunshine, and in the air was the freshness of the near-by sea. at evening they came to a large farmhouse, where the owner welcomed them hospitably and gave them the best his house afforded. in answer to their questions about the kingdom of auriel, he shook his head sadly and replied: "it is a rich and beautiful country, but has fallen under great misfortunes. for when the good king died, about two years ago, the kingdom was seized by a fierce and cruel sorcerer, named kwytoffle, who rules the people with great severity, and makes them bring him all their money and valuable possessions. so every one is now very poor and unhappy, and that is a great pity in a country so fair and fertile." "but why do not the people rebel?" asked nerle. "they dare not rebel," answered the farmer, "because they fear the sorcery of kwytoffle. if they do not obey him he threatens to change them into grasshoppers and june-bugs." "has he ever changed any one into a grasshopper or a june-bug?" asked prince marvel. "no; but the people are too frightened to oppose him, and so he does not get the opportunity. and he has an army of fierce soldiers, who are accustomed to beat the people terribly if they do not carry every bit of their wealth to the sorcerer. so there is no choice but to obey him." "we certainly ought to hang this wicked creature!" exclaimed wul-takim. "i wish i had brought my fool-killer with me," sighed king terribus; "for i could have kept him quite busy in this kingdom." "can not something be done to rescue these poor people from their sad fate?" asked the lovely high ki, anxiously. "we will make a call upon this kwytoffle to-morrow," answered prince marvel, "and see what the fellow is like." "alas! alas!" wailed the good farmer, "you will all become grasshoppers and june-bugs--every one of you!" but none of the party seemed to fear that, and having passed the night comfortably with the farmer they left his house and journeyed on into the kingdom of auriel. before noon they came upon the edge of a forest, where a poor man was chopping logs into firewood. seeing prince marvel's party approach, this man ran toward them waving his hands and shouting excitedly: "take the other path! take the other path!" "and why should we take the other path?" inquired the prince, reining in his steed. "because this one leads to the castle of the great sorcerer, kwytoffle," answered the man. "but there is where we wish to go," said marvel. "what! you wish to go there?" cried the man. "then you will be robbed and enslaved!" "not as long as we are able to fight," laughed the big wul-takim. "if you resist the sorcerer, you will be turned into grasshoppers and june-bugs," declared the man, staring at them in wonder. "how do you know that?" asked marvel. "kwytoffle says so. he promises to enchant every one who dares defy his power." "has any one ever yet dared defy him?" asked nerle. "certainly not!" said the man. "no one wishes to become a june-bug or a grasshopper. no one dares defy him.". "i am anxious to see this sorcerer," exclaimed king terribus. "he ought to prove an interesting person, for he is able to accomplish his purposes by threats alone." "then let us ride on," said marvel. "dear us! dear us!" remonstrated the bald-headed ki; "are we to become grasshoppers, then?" "we shall see," returned the prince, briefly. "with your long legs," added the pretty pair of high ki, laughingly, "you ought to be able to jump farther than any other grasshopper in the kingdom." "great kika-koo!" cried the ki, nervously, "what a fate! what a terrible fate! and your highnesses, i suppose, will become june-bugs, and flutter your wings with noises like buzz-saws!" . the wonderful book of magic whatever their fears might be, none of prince marvel's party hesitated to follow him along the path through the forest in search of the sorcerer, and by and by they came upon a large clearing. in the middle of this open space was a big building in such bad repair that its walls were tumbling down in several places, and all around it the ground was uncared for and littered with rubbish. a man was walking up and down in front of this building, with his head bowed low; but when he heard the sound of approaching horses' hoofs he looked up and stared for a moment in amazement. then, with a shout of rage, he rushed toward them and caught prince marvel's horse by the bridle. "how dare you!" he cried; "how dare you enter my forest?" marvel jerked his bridle from the man's grasp and said in return: "who are you?" "me! who am i? why, i am the great and powerful kwytoffle! so beware! beware my sorcery!" they all looked at the man curiously. he was short and very fat, and had a face like a puff-ball, with little red eyes and scarcely any nose at all. he wore a black gown with scarlet grasshoppers and june-bugs embroidered upon the cloth; and his hat was high and peaked, with an imitation grasshopper of extraordinary size perched upon its point. in his right hand he carried a small black wand, and around his neck hung a silver whistle on a silver cord. seeing that the strangers were gazing on him so earnestly, kwytoffle thought they were frightened; so he said again, in a big voice: "beware my vengeance!" "beware yourself!" retorted the prince. "for if you do not treat us more respectfully, i shall have you flogged." "what! flog me!" shouted kwytoffle, furiously. "for this i will turn every one of you into grasshoppers--unless you at once give me all the wealth you possess!" "poor man!" exclaimed nerle; "i can see you are longing for that flogging. will you have it now?" and he raised his riding-whip above his head. kwytoffle stumbled backward a few paces and blew shrilly upon his silver whistle. instantly a number of soldiers came running from the building, others following quickly after them until fully a hundred rough-looking warriors, armed with swords and axes, had formed in battle array, facing the little party of prince marvel. "arrest these strangers!" commanded kwytoffle, in a voice like a roar. "capture them and bind them securely, and then i will change them all into grasshoppers!" "all right," answered the captain of the soldiers; and then he turned to his men and shouted: "forward--double-quick--march!" they came on with drawn swords; at first running, and then gradually dropping into a walk, as they beheld nerle, wul-takim, king terribus and marvel standing quietly waiting to receive them, weapons in hand and ready for battle. a few paces off the soldiers hesitated and stopped altogether, and kwytoffle yelled at the captain: "why don't you go on? why don't you capture them? why don't you fight them?" "why, they have drawn their swords!" responded the captain, reproachfully. "who cares?" roared the sorcerer. "we care," said the captain, giving a shudder, as he looked upon the strangers. "their swords are sharp, and some of us would get hurt." "you're cowards!" shrieked the enraged kwytoffle. "i'll turn you all into june-bugs!" at this threat the soldiers dropped their swords and axes, and all fell upon their knees, trembling visibly and imploring their cruel master not to change them into june-bugs. "bah!" cried nerle, scornfully; "why don't you fight? if we kill you, then you will escape being june-bugs." "the fact is," said the captain, woefully, "we simply can't fight. for our swords are only tin, and our axes are made of wood, with silver-paper pasted over them." "but why is that?" asked wul-takim, while all the party showed their surprise. "why, until now we have never had any need to fight," said the captain, "for every one has quickly surrendered to us or run away the moment we came near. but you people do not appear to be properly frightened, and now, alas! since you have drawn upon us the great sorcerer's anger, we shall all be transformed into june-bugs." "yes!" roared kwytoffle, hopping up and down with anger, "you shall all be june-bugs, and these strangers i will transform into grasshoppers!" "very well," said prince marvel, quietly; "you can do it now." "i will! i will!" cried the sorcerer. "then why don't you begin?" inquired the prince. "why don't i begin? why, i haven't got the enchantments with me, that's why. do you suppose we great magicians carry around enchantments in our pockets?" returned the other, in a milder tone. "where do you keep your enchantments?" asked the prince. "they're in my dwelling," snapped kwytoffle, taking off his hat and fanning his fat face with the brim. "then go and get them," said marvel. "nonsense! if i went to get the enchantments you would all run away!" retorted the sorcerer. "not so!" protested nerle, who was beginning to be amused. "my greatest longing in life is to become a grasshopper." "oh, yes! please let us be grasshoppers!" exclaimed the high ki maids in the same breath. "we want to hop! we want to hop! please--please let us hop!" implored the bald-headed ki, winking their left eyes at wul-takim. "by all means let us become grasshoppers," said king terribus, smiling; and wul-takim added: "i'm sure your soldiers would enjoy being june-bugs, for then they wouldn't have to work. isn't that so, boys?" the bewildered soldiers looked at one another in perplexity, and the still more bewildered sorcerer gazed on the speakers with staring eyes and wide-open mouth. "i insist," said prince marvel, "upon your turning us into grasshoppers and your soldiers into june-bugs, as you promised. if you do not, then i will flog you--as i promised." "very well," returned the sorcerer, with a desperate look upon his face; "i'll go and find the enchantment." "and we'll go with you," remarked the prince, pleasantly. so the entire party accompanied kwytoffle into the house, where they entered a large room that was in a state of much disorder. "let me see," said the sorcerer, rubbing his ears, as if trying to think; "i wonder if i put them in this cupboard. you see," he explained, "no one has ever before dared me to transform him into a june-bug or grasshopper, so i have almost forgotten where i keep my book of enchantments. no, it's not in the cupboard," he continued, looking there; "but it surely must be in this chest." it was not in the chest, either, and so the sorcerer continued to look in all sorts of queer places for his book of enchantments, without finding it. whenever he paused in his search prince marvel would say, sternly: "go on! find the book! hunt it up. we are all anxious to become grasshoppers." and then kwytoffle would set to work again, although big drops of perspiration were now streaming down his face. finally he pulled an old book from underneath the pillow of his bed, and crying, "here it is!" carried it to the window. he turned a few leaves of the book and then said: "how unfortunate! the compound i require to change you into grasshoppers must be mixed on the first day of september; and as this is now the eighth day of september i must wait nearly a year before i can work the enchantment." "how about the june-bugs?" asked nerle. "oh! ah! the june-bug mixture can only be made at the dark o' the moon," said the sorcerer, pretending to read, "and that is three weeks from now." "let me read it," said prince marvel, suddenly snatching the book from kwytoffle's hands. then he turned to the title-page and read: "'lives of famous thieves and impostors.' why, this is not a book of enchantments." "that is what i suspected," said terribus. "no one but a sorcerer can read the enchantments in this book," declared kwytoffle; but he hung his head with a sheepish look, for he knew his deception had been well understood. "is your own history written in this volume?" inquired marvel. "no," answered the sorcerer. "then it ought to be," said the prince, "for you are no sorcerer at all, but merely a thief and an impostor!" . the queen of plenta the soldiers of kwytoffle wanted to hang their old master at once, for he had won their enmity by abusing them in many ways; but prince marvel would not let them do this. however, they tied the false sorcerer to a post, and the captain gave him a good whipping--one lash for each letter in the words "grasshopper" and "june-bug." kwytoffle howled loudly for mercy, but no one was at all sorry for him. wul-takim tied a rope around the impostor's neck, and when the party left the castle they journeyed all through the kingdom of auriel, and at every town or city they came to the reformed thief would cry out to the populace: "here is the terrible sorcerer kwytoffle, who threatened to change you into grasshoppers and june-bugs. but you may see that he is a very common man, with no powers of sorcery whatever!" and then the people would laugh and pelt mud at their former tyrant, and thank prince marvel for haying exposed the false and wicked creature. and they called the son of their old king back to his lawful throne, where he ruled wisely and well; and the hoarded wealth of kwytoffle was divided among the people again, and soon the country became prosperous once more. this adventure was very amusing to the pretty high ki of twi. it afforded them laughter for many days, and none of the party ever saw a grasshopper or a june-bug afterward without thinking of the terrible sorcerer kwytoffle. they left that disgraced person grooming horses for his board in the stables of the new king, and proceeded upon their journey. without further event they reached the splendid southern kingdom of plenta, which was the most delightfully situated of any dominion in the enchanted island of yew. it was ruled by a good and generous queen, who welcomed the strangers to her palace and gave a series of gay entertainments in their honor. king terribus was especially an object of interest, for every one had heard his name and feared him and his fierce people. but when they beheld his pleasant countenance and listened to his gentle voice they began to regard him with much love and respect; and really terribus was worthy of their friendship since he had changed from a deformed monster into an ordinary man, and had forbidden his people ever again to rob and plunder their weaker neighbors. but the most popular personages visiting at the court of the queen of plenta were the lovely high ki of twi. although beautiful girls abounded in this kingdom, none could compare with the royal twins, and their peculiar condition only served to render them the more interesting. two youths would approach the high ki at the same time and invite them to dance, and in united voices they would accept the invitation and go whirling around the room with exactly the same steps, laughing at the same instant and enjoying the dance equally. but if one youth asked his partner a question, both the twins would make answer, and that was sure to confuse and embarrass the youth. still, the maids managed very well to adapt themselves to the ways of people who were singular, although they sometimes became a little homesick for twi, where they were like all the other people. the bald-headed ki kept watchful eyes on their youthful rulers, and served them very cheerfully. but with all their travels and experiences, the old men could never be convinced it was better to be singular than double. prince marvel was the real hero of the party, and nerle received much attention on account of his master's popularity. he did not seem as unhappy as usual, and when the prince inquired the reason, his esquire answered that he believed the excitement of their adventures was fast curing him of his longing for something he could not have. as for the pleasure of suffering, he had had some experience of that, too, and it was not nearly so delightful as he had expected. wul-takim was not a society man, so he stayed around the royal stables and made friends with the grooms, and traded his big black horse for two bay ones and a gold neck-chain, and was fairly content with his lot. and so the party enjoyed several happy weeks at the court of the good queen of plenta, until one day the terrible news arrived that carried them once more into exciting adventures. . the red rogue of dawna one morning, while they were all standing in the courtyard waiting for their horses, as they were about to go for a ride, a courier came galloping swiftly up to the palace and cried: "does any one know where prince marvel can be found?" "i am prince marvel," replied the young knight, stepping out from among the others. "then have i reached my journey's end!" said the courier, whose horse was nearly exhausted from long and hard riding. "the lady seseley is in great danger, and sends for you to come and rescue her. the great baron merd, her father, has been killed and his castle destroyed, and all his people are either captives or have been slain outright." "and who has done this evil thing?" asked prince marvel, looking very stern and grave. "the red rogue of dawna," answered the messenger. "he quarreled with the baron merd and sent his savage hordes to tear down his castle and slay him. i myself barely escaped with my life, and the lady seseley had but time to say, before she was carried off, that if i could find prince marvel he would surely rescue her." "and so i will!" declared the prince, "if she be still alive." "who is this lady seseley?" asked nerle, who had come to his master's side. "she is my first friend, to whom i owe my very existence. it is her image, together with those of her two friends, which is graven on my shield," answered prince marvel, thoughtfully. "and what will you do?" inquired the esquire. "i must go to her at once." when they heard of his mission all the party insisted on accompanying him. even the dainty high ki could not be deterred by any thoughts of dangers they might encounter; and after some discussion prince marvel allowed them to join him. so wul-takim sharpened his big broadsword, and nerle carefully prepared his master's horse, so that before an hour had passed they were galloping toward the province of the red rogue of dawna. prince marvel knew little concerning this personage, but nerle had much to tell of him. the red rogue had once been page to a wise scholar and magician, who lived in a fine old castle in dawna and ruled over a large territory. the boy was very small and weak--smaller even than the average dwarf--and his master did not think it worth while to watch him. but one evening, while the magician was standing upon the top of the highest tower of his castle, the boy gave him a push from behind, and he met death on the sharp rocks below. then the boy took his master's book of magic and found a recipe to make one grow. he made the mixture and swallowed it, and straightway began to grow big and tall. this greatly delighted him, until he found he was getting much bigger than the average man and rapidly becoming a giant. so he sought for a way to arrest the action of the magical draft; but before he could find it he had grown to enormous proportions, and was bigger than the biggest giant. there was nothing in the book of magic to make one grow smaller, so he was obliged to remain as he was--the largest man in the enchanted island. all this had happened in a single night. the morning after his master's murder the page announced himself lord of the castle; and, seeing his enormous size, none dared deny his right to rule. on account of his bushy hair, which was fiery red in color, and the bushy red beard that covered his face when he became older, people came to call him the red one. and after his evil deeds and quarrelsome temper had made him infamous throughout the island, people began to call him the red rogue of dawna. he had gathered around him a number of savage barbarians, as wicked and quarrelsome as himself, and so none dared to interfere with him, or even to meet him, if it were possible to avoid it. this same red rogue it was who had drawn the good baron merd into a quarrel and afterward slain the old knight and his followers, destroyed his castle, and carried his little daughter seseley and her girl friends, berna and helda, into captivity, shutting them up in his own gloomy castle. the red rogue thought he had done a very clever thing, and had no fear of the consequences until one of his men came running up to the castle to announce that prince marvel and his companions were approaching to rescue the lady seseley. "how many of them are there?" demanded the red rogue. "there are eight, altogether," answered the man, "but two of them are girls." "and they expect to force me to give up my captives?" asked the red one, laughing with a noise like the roar of a waterfall. "why, i shall make prisoners of every one of them!" the man looked at his master fearfully, and replied: "this prince marvel is very famous, and all people speak of his bravery and power. it was he who conquered king terribus of spor, and that mighty ruler is now his friend, and is one of the eight who approach." the red rogue stopped laughing, for the fame of spor's terrible king had long ago reached him. and he reflected that any one who could conquer the army of giants and dwarfs and gray men that served terribus must surely be one to be regarded seriously. moreover--and this was a secret--the red rogue had never been able to gain the strength to correspond with his gigantic size, but had ever remained as weak as when he was a puny boy. so he was accustomed to rely on his cunning and on the terror his very presence usually excited to triumph over his enemies. and he began to be afraid of this prince. "you say two of the party are girls?" he asked. "yes," said the man, "but also among them are king terribus himself, and the renowned wul-takim, formerly king of thieves, who was conquered by the prince, although accounted a hard fighter, and is now his devoted servant. and there are two old men who are just alike and have a very fierce look about them. they are said to come from the hidden kingdom of twi." by this time the red rogue was thoroughly frightened, but he did not yet despair of defeating his enemies. he knew better than to attempt to oppose prince marvel by force, but he still hoped to conquer him by trickery and deceit. among the wonderful things that the red rogue's former master, the wise scholar and magician, had made were two large enchanted mirrors, which were set on each side of the great hallway of the castle. heavy curtains were drawn over the surfaces of these mirrors, because they both possessed a dreadful magical power. for whenever any one looked into one of them his reflection was instantly caught and imprisoned in the mirror, and his body at the same time became invisible to all earthly eyes, only the mirror retaining his form. while considering a way to prevent the prince from freeing the lady seseley, the red rogue happened to think of these mirrors, which had never yet been used. so he went stealthily into the great hall and drew aside the covering from one of the mirrors. he did not dare look into the mirror himself, but hurried away to another room, and then sent a page up a back stairway to summon the lady seseley and her two maids into his presence. the girls at once obeyed, for they greatly feared the red rogue; and of course they descended the front stairway and walked through the great hall. at once the large mirror that had been exposed to view caught the eye of seseley, and she paused to regard her reflection in the glass. her two companions did likewise, and instantly all three girls became invisible, while the mirror held their reflections fast in its magic surface. the red rogue was watching them through a crack in the door, and seeing the girls disappear he gave a joyful laugh and exclaimed: "now let prince marvel find them if he can!" the three girls began to wander aimlessly through the castle; for not only were they invisible to others, but also to themselves and to one another, and they knew not what to do nor which way to turn. . the enchanted mirrors presently prince marvel and his party arrived and paused before the doors of the castle, where the red rogue stood bowing to them with mock politeness and with an evil grin showing on his red face. "i come to demand the release of the lady seseley and her companions!" prince marvel announced, in a bold voice. "and i also intend to call you to account for the murder of baron merd." "you must be at the wrong castle," answered the red one, "for i have murdered no baron, nor have i any lady seseley as prisoner." "are you not the red rogue of dawna?" demanded the prince. "men call me by that name," acknowledged the other. "then you are deceiving me," said the prince. "no, indeed!" answered the red rogue, mockingly. "i wouldn't deceive any one for the world. but, if you don't believe me, you are welcome to search my castle." "that i shall do," returned the prince, sternly, "whether i have your permission or not," and he began to dismount. but nerle restrained him, saying: "master, i beg you will allow me to search the castle. for this red rogue is playing some trick upon us, i am sure, and if anything happened to you there would be no one to protect the little high ki and our other friends." "but suppose something should happen to you?" inquired the prince, anxiously. "in that case," said nerle, "you can avenge me." the advice was so reasonable, under the circumstances, that the prince decided to act upon it. "very well," said he, "go and search the castle, and i will remain with our friends. but if anything happens to you, i shall call the red rogue to account." so nerle entered the castle, passing by the huge form of its owner, who only nodded to the boy and grinned with delight. the esquire found himself in the great hall and began to look around him, but without seeing any one. then he advanced a few steps and, to his surprise, discovered a large mirror, in which were reflected the faces and forms of three girls, as well as his own. "why, here they are!" he attempted to say; but he could not hear his own voice. he glanced down at himself but could see nothing at all--for his body had become invisible. his reflection was still in the glass, and he knew that his body existed the same as before; but although he yet saw plainly the hall and all that it contained, he could see neither himself nor any other person of flesh. after waiting a considerable time for his esquire to reappear prince marvel became impatient. "what have you done with nerle?" he asked of the red rogue. "nothing," was the reply. "i have been here, plainly within your sight, every moment." "let me go and find him!" exclaimed king terribus, and rushed into the castle before the prince could reply. but terribus also encountered the enchanted mirror, and the prince waited in vain for his return. then wul-takim volunteered to go in search of the others, and drew his big, sharp sword before entering the hall. but an hour passed by and he did not return. the red rogue was overjoyed at the success of his stratagem, and could scarce refrain from laughing outright at the prince's anxiety. marvel was really perplexed. he knew some treachery was afoot, but could not imagine what it was. and when the pretty high ki declared their intention of entering the castle, he used every endeavor to dissuade them. but the twin girls would not be denied, so great was their curiosity. so the prince said: "well, we will all go together, so that the ki and i may be able to protect you." the red rogue gladly granted them admittance, and they passed him and entered the great hall. the place appeared to them to be completely empty, so they walked along and came opposite the mirror. here all stopped at once, and the twin high ki uttered exclamations of surprise, and the twin ki shouted, "great kika-koo!" for there in the glass were the reflections of the three girls and nerle and king terribus and wul-takim. and there were also the reflections of the twin high ki and the twin ki. only prince marvel's reflection was missing, and this was because of his fairy origin. for the glass could reflect and hold only the forms of mortals. but the prince saw the reflections of all the others, and then made the discovery that the forms of the ki and the high ki had become invisible. no one except himself appeared to be standing in the great hall of the red rogue's castle! yet grouped within the glass were the likenesses of all his friends, as well as those of lady seseley and her companions; and all were staring back at him earnestly, as if imploring him to save them. the mystery was now explained, and prince marvel rushed from the hall to find the treacherous red rogue. but that clever trickster had hidden himself in an upper room, and for the present was safely concealed. for a time prince marvel could not think what to do. such magic was all unknown to him, and how to free the imprisoned forms of his friends was a real problem. he walked around the castle, but no one was in sight, the rogue having given orders to all his people to keep away. only the tethered horses did he see, and these raised their heads and whinnied as if in sympathy with his perplexity. then he went back into the hall and searched all the rooms of the castle without finding a single person. on his return he stopped in front of the mirror and sorrowfully regarded the faces of his friends, who again seemed to plead for relief. and while he looked a sudden fit of anger came over him at being outwitted by this red rogue of dawna. scarcely knowing what he did, he seized his sword by the blade and struck the mirror a powerful blow with the heavy hilt. it shattered into a thousand fragments, which fell clattering upon the stone floor in every direction. and at once the charm was broken; each of his friends now became visible. they appeared running toward him from all parts of the castle, where they had been wandering in their invisible forms. they called out joyful greetings to one another, and then all of them surrounded the prince and thanked him earnestly for releasing them. the little lady seseley and her friends, berna and helda, were a bit shy in the presence of so many strangers; but they alone knew the prince's secret, and that he was a fairy transformed for a year; so they regarded him as an old and intimate acquaintance, and after being introduced by him to the others of his party they became more at ease. the sweet little high ki maids at once attracted seseley, and she loved them almost at first sight. but it was nerle who became the little lady's staunchest friend; for there was something rather mystical and unnatural to him about the high ki, who seemed almost like fairies, while in seseley he recognized a hearty, substantial girl of his own rank in life. while they stood talking and congratulating one another outside of the castle, the red rogue of dawna appeared among them. he had heard the noise of the smashing of his great mirror, and had come running downstairs from his hiding-place to find his cunning had all been for naught and his captives were free. a furious anger then took possession of the rogue, and forgetting his personal weakness he caught up a huge battle-ax and rushed out to hurl himself upon prince marvel, intending to do him serious injury. but the prince was not taken unawares. he saw the red rogue coming and met him with drawn sword, striking quickly at the arm that wielded the big ax. the stroke was as sure as it was quick, and piercing the arm of the giant caused him to drop the ax with a howl of pain. then prince marvel seized the red rogue by the ear--which he was just tall enough to reach--and dragged him up the steps and into the castle, the big fellow crying for mercy at every step and trembling like a leaf through cowardice. but down the hall marvel marched him, seeking some room where the rogue might be safely locked in. the great curtain that covered the second enchanted mirror now caught prince marvel's eye, and, still holding his prisoner by the ear, he reached out his left hand and pulled aside the drapery. the red rogue looked to see what his captor was doing, and beheld his own reflection in the magic mirror. instantly he gave a wild cry and disappeared, his body becoming absolutely invisible, while his coarse red countenance stared back from the mirror. and then prince marvel gave a sigh of relief and dropped the curtain over the surface of the mirror. for he realized that the red rogue of dawna had at last met with just punishment and was safely imprisoned for all time. . the adventurers separate when prince marvel and his friends had ridden away from the castle the savage followers of the red one came creeping up to listen for their master's voice. but silence reigned in every part of the castle, and after stealing fearfully through the rooms without seeing any one the fellows became filled with terror and fled from the place, never to return. and afterward the neighbors whispered that the castle was haunted by the spirit of the terrible red rogue, and travelers dared not stop in the neighborhood, but passed by quickly and with averted faces. the prince and his party rode gaily along toward the kingdom of heg, for nerle had invited them all to visit his father's castle. they were very happy over their escape, and only the little lady seseley became sad at times, when she thought of her father's sad fate. the baron neggar, who was nerle's father, was not only a wealthy nobleman, but exceedingly kind and courteous; so that every member of prince marvel's party was welcomed to the big castle in a very hospitable manner. nerle was eagerly embraced by both his father and mother, who were overjoyed to see him return safe and sound after his wanderings and adventures. "and have you been cured of your longing for something that you can not have?" asked the baron, anxiously. "not quite," said nerle, laughing; "but i am more reconciled to my lot. for i find wherever i go people are longing for just the things they can not get, and probably would not want if they had them. so, as it seems to be the fate of most mortals to live unsatisfied, i shall try hereafter to be more contented." these words delighted the good baron, and he gave a rich and magnificent feast in honor of his son's return. the high ki of twi, after passing several pleasant days at nerle's home, now decided that they had seen enough of the world and would be glad to return to their own kingdom, where all was peaceful and uneventful, and rule it to the end of their days. so the baron furnished them an escort of twenty men-at-arms, and these conducted the high ki and the aged ki safely back to the hole in the hedge. and after they had entered the land of twi, the first act of the high ki was to order the hedge repaired and the hole blocked up; and i have never heard that any one, from that time forth, ever succeeded in gaining admittance to the hidden kingdom. so its subsequent history is unknown. king terribus also bade the prince an affectionate farewell and rode back to his own kingdom; and burly wul-takim accompanied him as far as the cave, where the fifty-eight reformed thieves awaited him. nerle's mother gladly adopted the lady seseley and her two companions, and thereafter they made their home at the baron's castle. and years afterward, when they had grown to be women, seseley was married to nerle and became the lady of the castle herself. prince marvel enjoyed the feasting and dancing at the castle very much, but after the party began to break up, and the high ki and the ki had left him, as well as king terribus and honest wul-takim, the young knight grew thoughtful and sometimes uneasy, and his happy laugh was less frequently heard. nerle often regarded his young master with a feeling of awe, for there occasionally came a look into marvel's eyes that reminded him more of the immortals than of any human being. but the prince treated him with rare kindness and always pressed nerle's hand affectionately when he bade him good night, for he had grown fond of his esquire. also they had long conversations together, during which nerle gleaned a great deal of knowledge and received some advice that was of much use to him in his later life. one day prince marvel sought out lady seseley and said: "will you ride with me to the forest of lurla?" "willingly," she answered; and calling berna and helda to attend them, they mounted their horses and rode swiftly away, for it was a long distance to lurla. by noon the party entered the forest, and although the path they traversed was unknown to the girls, who had usually entered the forest from its other side, near to where the baron merd's castle had stood, the prince seemed to have no difficulty in finding his way. he guided them carefully along the paths, his handsome war-charger stepping with much grace and dignity, until at length they came to a clearing. here the prince paused abruptly, and seseley looked around her and at once recognized the place. "why," she exclaimed, in surprise, "it is the fairy bower!" and then she turned to prince marvel and asked in a soft voice: "is the year ended, prince?" his smile was a bit sad as he answered, slowly: "the year will be ended in five minutes!" . the end of the year the girls sat upon the green moss and waited. prince marvel stood silent beside his horse. the silver armor was as bright as the day he donned it, nor was there a dent in his untarnished shield. the sword that had done such good service he held lightly in his hand, and the horse now and then neighed softly and turned to look at him with affectionate eyes. seseley began to tremble with excitement, and berna and helda stared at the prince with big round eyes. but, after all, they saw nothing so remarkable as they expected. for presently--and it all happened in a flash--prince marvel was gone from their midst, and a handsome, slender-limbed deer darted from the bower and was quickly lost in the thick forest. on the ground lay a sheet of bark and a twig from a tree, and beside them was lady seseley's white velvet cloak. then the three girls each drew a long breath and looked into one another's eyes, and, while thus engaged, a peal of silvery laughter sounded in their ears and made them spring quickly to their feet. before them stood a tiny and very beautiful fairy, clothed in floating gossamer robes of rose and pearl color, and with eyes sparkling like twin stars. "prince marvel!" exclaimed the three, together. "no, indeed!" cried the fairy, with a pretty little pout. "i am no one but myself; and, really, i believe i shall now be content to exist for a few hundred years in my natural form. i have quite enjoyed my year as a mortal; but after all there are, i find, some advantages in being a fairy. good by, my dears!" and with another ripple of laughter the pretty creature vanished, and the girls were left alone. . a hundred years afterward about a hundred years after prince marvel enjoyed his strange adventures in the enchanted island of yew an odd thing happened. a hidden mirror in a crumbling old castle of dawna broke loose from its fastenings and fell crashing on the stone pavement of the deserted hall. and from amid the ruins rose the gigantic form of a man. his hair and beard were a fiery red, and he gazed at the desolation around him in absolute amazement. it was the red rogue of dawna, set free from his imprisonment. he wandered out and found strange scenes confronting him, for during the hundred years a great change had taken place in the enchanted island. great cities had been built and great kingdoms established. civilization had won the people, and they no longer robbed or fought or indulged in magical arts, but were busily employed and leading respectable lives. when the red rogue tried to tell folks who he was, they but laughed at him, thinking the fellow crazy. he tried to get together a band of thieves, as wul-takim had done in the old days, but none would join him. and so, forced to be honest against his will, the rogue was driven to earn a living by digging in the garden of a wealthy noble, of whom he had never before heard. but often he would pause in his labors and lean on his spade, while thoughts of the old days of wild adventure passed through his mind in rapid succession; and then the big man would shake his red head with a puzzled air and mutter: "i wonder who that prince marvel could have been! and i wonder what ever became of him!" _satan's diary_ _satan's diary_ by leonid andreyev _authorized translation_ with a preface by herman bernstein boni and liveright publishers new york copyright, , by boni & liveright, inc. _printed in the united states of america_ preface "satan's diary," leonid andreyev's last work, was completed by the great russian a few days before he died in finland, in september, . but a few years ago the most popular and successful of russian writers, andreyev died almost penniless, a sad, tragic figure, disillusioned, broken-hearted over the tragedy of russia. a year ago leonid andreyev wrote me that he was eager to come to america, to study this country and familiarize americans with the fate of his unfortunate countrymen. i arranged for his visit to this country and informed him of this by cable. but on the very day i sent my cable the sad news came from finland announcing that leonid andreyev died of heart failure. in "satan's diary" andreyev summed up his boundless disillusionment in an absorbing satire on human life. fearlessly and mercilessly he hurled the falsehoods and hypocrisies into the face of life. he portrayed satan coming to this earth to amuse himself and play. having assumed the form of an american multi-millionaire, satan set out on a tour through europe in quest of amusement and adventure. before him passed various forms of spurious virtues, hypocrisies, the ruthless cruelty of man and the often deceptive innocence of woman. within a short time satan finds himself outwitted, deceived, relieved of his millions, mocked, humiliated, beaten by man in his own devilish devices. the story of andreyev's beginning as a writer is best told in his autobiography which he gave me in . * * * * * "i was born," he said, "in oryol, in , and studied there at the gymnasium. i studied poorly; while in the seventh class i was for a whole year known as the worst student, and my mark for conduct was never higher than , sometimes . the most pleasant time i spent at school, which i recall to this day with pleasure, was recess time between lessons, and also the rare occasions when i was sent out from the classroom.... the sunbeams, the free sunbeams, which penetrated some cleft and which played with the dust in the hallway--all this was so mysterious, so interesting, so full of a peculiar, hidden meaning. "when i studied at the gymnasium my father, an engineer, died. as a university student i was in dire need. during my first course in st. petersburg i even starved--not so much out of real necessity as because of my youth, inexperience, and my inability to utilize the unnecessary parts of my costume. i am to this day ashamed to think that i went two days without food at a time when i had two or three pairs of trousers and two overcoats which i could have sold. "it was then that i wrote my first story--about a starving student. i cried when i wrote it, and the editor, who returned my manuscript, laughed. that story of mine remained unpublished.... in , in january, i made an unsuccessful attempt to kill myself by shooting. as a result of this unsuccessful attempt i was forced by the authorities into religious penitence, and i contracted heart trouble, though not of a serious nature, yet very annoying. during this time i made one or two unsuccessful attempts at writing; i devoted myself with greater pleasure and success to painting, which i loved from childhood on. i made portraits to order at and rubles a piece. "in i received my diploma and became an assistant attorney, but i was at the very outset sidetracked. i was offered a position on _the courier_, for which i was to report court proceedings. i did not succeed in getting any practice as a lawyer. i had only one case and lost it at every point. "in i wrote my first story--for the easter number--and since that time i have devoted myself exclusively to literature. maxim gorky helped me considerably in my literary work by his always practical advice and suggestions." * * * * * andreyev's first steps in literature, his first short stories, attracted but little attention at the time of their appearance. it was only when countess tolstoy, the wife of leo tolstoy, in a letter to the _novoye vremya_, came out in "defense of artistic purity and moral power in contemporary literature," declaring that russian society, instead of buying, reading and making famous the works of the andreyevs, should "rise against such filth with indignation," that almost everybody who knew how to read in russia turned to the little volume of the young writer. in her attack upon andreyev, countess tolstoy said as follows: * * * * * "the poor new writers, like andreyev, succeeded only in concentrating their attention on the filthy point of human degradation and uttered a cry to the undeveloped, half-intelligent reading public, inviting them to see and to examine the decomposed corpse of human degradation and to close their eyes to god's wonderful, vast world, with the beauties of nature, with the majesty of art, with the lofty yearnings of the human soul, with the religious and moral struggles and the great ideals of goodness--even with the downfall, misfortunes and weaknesses of such people as dostoyevsky depicted.... in describing all these every true artist should illumine clearly before humanity not the side of filth and vice, but should struggle against them by illumining the highest ideals of good, truth, and the triumph over evil, weakness, and the vices of mankind.... i should like to cry out loudly to the whole world in order to help those unfortunate people whose wings, given to each of them for high flights toward the understanding of the spiritual light, beauty, kindness, and god, are clipped by these andreyevs." this letter of countess tolstoy called forth a storm of protest in the russian press, and, strange to say, the representatives of the fair sex were among the warmest defenders of the young author. answering the attack, many women, in their letters to the press, pointed out that the author of "anna karenina" had been abused in almost the same manner for his "kreutzer sonata," and that tolstoy himself had been accused of exerting just such an influence as the countess attributed to andreyev over the youth of russia. since the publication of countess tolstoy's condemnation, andreyev has produced a series of masterpieces, such as "the life of father vassily," a powerful psychological study; "red laughter," a war story, "written with the blood of russia;" "the life of man," a striking morality presentation in five acts; "anathema," his greatest drama; and "the seven who were hanged," in which the horrors of russian life under the tsar were delineated with such beautiful simplicity and power that turgenev, or tolstoy himself, would have signed his name to this masterpiece. thus the first accusations against andreyev were disarmed by his artistic productions, permeated with sincere, profound love for all that is pure in life. dostoyevsky and maupassant depicted more subjects, such as that treated in "the abyss," than andreyev. but with them these stories are lost in the great mass of their other works, while in andreyev, who at that time had as yet produced but a few short stories, works like "the abyss" stood out in bold relief. i recall my first meeting with leonid andreyev in , two weeks after my visit to count leo tolstoy at yasnaya polyana. at that time he had already become the most popular russian writer, his popularity having overshadowed even that of maxim gorky. as i drove from terioki to andreyev's house, along the dust-covered road, the stern and taciturn little finnish driver suddenly broke the silence by saying to me in broken russian: "andreyev is a good writer.... although he is a russian, he is a very good man. he is building a beautiful house here in finland, and he gives employment to many of our people." we were soon at the gate of andreyev's beautiful villa--a fantastic structure, weird-looking, original in design, something like the conception of the architect in the "life of man." "my son is out rowing with his wife in the gulf of finland," andreyev's mother told me. "they will be back in half an hour." as i waited i watched the seething activity everywhere on andreyev's estate. in yasnaya polyana, the home of count tolstoy, everything seemed long established, fixed, well-regulated, serenely beautiful. andreyev's estate was astir with vigorous life. young, strong men were building the house of man. more than thirty of them were working on the roof and in the yard, and a little distance away, in the meadows, young women and girls, bright-eyed and red faced, were haying. youth, strength, vigor everywhere, and above all the ringing laughter of little children at play. i could see from the window the "black little river," which sparkled in the sun hundreds of feet below. the constant noise of the workmen's axes and hammers was so loud that i did not notice when leonid andreyev entered the room where i was waiting for him. "pardon my manner of dressing," he said, as we shook hands. "in the summer i lead a lazy life, and do not write a line. i am afraid i am forgetting even to sign my name." i had seen numerous photographs of leonid andreyev, but he did not look like any of them. instead of a pale-faced, sickly-looking young man, there stood before me a strong, handsome, well-built man, with wonderful eyes. he wore a grayish blouse, black, wide pantaloons up to his knees, and no shoes or stockings. we soon spoke of russian literature at the time, particularly of the drama. "we have no real drama in russia," said andreyev. "russia has not yet produced anything that could justly be called a great drama. perhaps 'the storm,' by ostrovsky, is the only russian play that may be classed as a drama. tolstoy's plays cannot be placed in this category. of the later writers, anton chekhov came nearest to giving real dramas to russia, but, unfortunately, he was taken from us in the prime of his life." "what do you consider your own 'life of man' and 'to the stars'?" i asked. "they are not dramas; they are merely presentations in so many acts," answered andreyev, and, after some hesitation, added: "i have not written any dramas, but it is possible that i will write one." at this point andreyev's wife came in, dressed in a russian blouse. the conversation turned to america, and to the treatment accorded to maxim gorky in new york. "when i was a child i loved america," remarked andreyev. "perhaps cooper and mayne reid, my favorite authors in my childhood days, were responsible for this. i was always planning to run away to america. i am anxious even now to visit america, but i am afraid--i may get as bad a reception as my friend gorky got." he laughed as he glanced at his wife. after a brief pause, he said: "the most remarkable thing about the gorky incident is that while in his stories and articles about america gorky wrote nothing but the very worst that could be said about that country he never told me anything but the very best about america. some day he will probably describe his impressions of america as he related them to me." it was a very warm day. the sun was burning mercilessly in the large room. mme. andreyev suggested that it would be more pleasant to go down to a shady place near the black little river. on the way down the hill andreyev inquired about tolstoy's health and was eager to know his views on contemporary matters. "if tolstoy were young now he would have been with us," he said. we stepped into a boat, mme. andreyev took up the oars and began to row. we resumed our conversation. "the decadent movement in russian literature," said andreyev, "started to make itself felt about ten or fifteen years ago. at first it was looked upon as mere child's play, as a curiosity. now it is regarded more seriously. although i do not belong to that school, i do not consider it worthless. the fault with it is that it has but few talented people in its ranks, and these few direct the criticism of the decadent school. they are the writers and also the critics. and they praise whatever they write. of the younger men, alexander blok is perhaps the most gifted. but in russia our clothes change quickly nowadays, and it is hard to tell what the future will tell us--in our literature and our life. "how do i picture to myself this future?" continued andreyev, in answer to a question of mine. "i cannot know even the fate and future of my own child; how can i foretell the future of such a great country as russia? but i believe that the russian people have a great future before them--in life and in literature--for they are a great people, rich in talents, kind and freedom-loving. savage as yet, it is true, very ignorant, but on the whole they do not differ so much from other european nations." suddenly the author of "red laughter" looked upon me intently, and asked: "how is it that the european and the american press has ceased to interest itself in our struggle for emancipation? is it possible that the reaction in russia appeals to them more than our people's yearnings for freedom, simply because the reaction happens to be stronger at the present time? in that event, they are probably sympathizing with the shah of persia! russia to-day is a lunatic asylum. the people who are hanged are not the people who should be hanged. everywhere else honest people are at large and only criminals are in prison. in russia the honest people are in prison and the criminals are at large. the russian government is composed of a band of criminals, and nicholas ii is not the greatest of them. there are still greater ones. i do not hold that the russian government alone is guilty of these horrors. the european nations and the americans are just as much to blame, for they look on in silence while the most despicable crimes are committed. the murderer usually has at least courage, while he who looks on silently when murder is committed is a contemptible weakling. england and france, who have become so friendly to our government, are surely watching with compassion the poor shah, who hangs the constitutional leaders. perhaps i do not know international law. perhaps i am not speaking as a practical man. one nation must not interfere with the internal affairs of another nation. but why do they interfere with our movement for freedom? france helped the russian government in its war against the people by giving money to russia. germany also helped--secretly. in well-regulated countries each individual must behave decently. when a man murders, robs, dishonors women he is thrown into prison. but when the russian government is murdering helpless men and women and children the other governments look on indifferently. and yet they speak of god. if this had happened in the middle ages a crusade would have been started by civilized peoples who would have marched to russia to free the women and the children from the claws of the government." andreyev became silent. his wife kept rowing for some time slowly, without saying a word. we soon reached the shore and returned silently to the house. that was twelve years ago. i met him several times after that. the last time i visited him in petrograd during the july riots in . * * * * * a literary friend thus describes the funeral of leonid andreyev, which gives a picture of the tragedy of russia: "in the morning a decision had to be reached as to the day of the funeral. it was necessary to see to the purchase and the delivery of the coffin from viborg, and to undertake all those unavoidable, hard duties which are so painful to the family. "it appeared that the russian exiles living in our village had no permits from the finnish government to go to viborg, nor the money for that expense. it further appeared that the family of leonid andreyev had left at their disposal only one hundred marks (about dollars), which the doctor who had come from the station after andreyev's death declined to take from the widow for his visit. "this was all the family possessed. it was necessary to charge a russian exile living in a neighboring village, who had a pass for viborg, with the sad commission of finding among some wealthy people in viborg who had known andreyev the means required for the funeral. "on the following day mass was read. floral tributes and wreaths from viborg, with black inscriptions made hastily in ink on white ribbons, began to arrive. they were all from private individuals. the local refugees brought garlands of autumn foliage, bouquets of late flowers. their children laid their carefully woven, simple and touching little childish wreaths at the foot of the coffin. leonid andreyev's widow did not wish to inter the body in foreign soil and it was decided, temporarily, until burial in native ground, to leave his body in the little mortuary in the park on the estate of a local woman landowner. "the day of the funeral was not widely known. the need for special permits to travel deprived many of the opportunity to attend. in this way it happened that only a very small group of people followed the body from the house to the mortuary. none of his close friends was there. they, like his brothers, sister, one of his sons, were in russia. neighbors, refugees, acquaintances of the last two years with whom his exile had accidentally thrown him into contact, people who had no connection with russian literature,--almost all alien in spirit--such was the little group of russians that followed the coffin of leonid andreyev to its temporary resting place. "it was a tragic funeral, this funeral in exile, of a writer who is so dearly loved by the whole intellectual class of russia; whom the younger generation of russia acclaimed with such enthusiasm. "meanwhile he rests in a foreign land, waiting--waiting for free russia to demand back his ashes, and pay tribute to his genius." among his last notes, breathing deep anguish and despair, found on his desk, were the following lines: "revolution is just as unsatisfactory a means of settling disputes as is war. if it be impossible to vanquish a hostile idea except by smashing the skull in which it is contained; if it be impossible to appease a hostile heart except by piercing it with a bayonet, then, of course, fight...." leonid andreyev died of a broken heart. but the spirit of his genius is deathless. herman bernstein. _new york, september._ _satan's diary_ satan's diary january . on board the _atlantic_. this is exactly the tenth day since i have become human and am leading this earthly life. my loneliness is very great. i am not in need of friends, but i must speak of myself and i have no one to speak to. thoughts alone are not sufficient, and they will not become quite clear, precise and exact until i express them in words. it is necessary to arrange them in a row, like soldiers or telephone poles, to lay them out like a railway track, to throw across bridges and viaducts, to construct barrows and enclosures, to indicate stations in certain places--and only then will everything become clear. this laborious engineering work, i think, they call logic and consistency, and is essential to those who desire to be wise. it is not essential to all others. they may wander about as they please. the work is slow, difficult and repulsive for one who is accustomed to--i do not know what to call it--to embracing all in one breath and expressing all in a single breath. it is not in vain that men respect their thinkers so much, and it is not in vain that these unfortunate thinkers, if they are honest and conscientious in this process of construction, as ordinary engineers, end in insane asylums. i am but a few days on this earth and more than once have the yellow walls of the insane asylum and its luring open door flashed before my eyes. yes, it is extremely difficult and irritates one's "nerves." i have just now wasted so much of the ship's fine stationery to express a little ordinary thought on the inadequacy of man's words and logic. what will it be necessary to waste to give expression to the great and the unusual? i want to warn you, my earthly reader, at the very outset, not to gape in astonishment. the _extraordinary cannot be expressed_ in the language of your grumbling. if you do not believe me, go to the nearest insane asylum and listen to the inmates: they have all realized _something_ and wanted to give expression to it. and now you can hear the roar and rumble of these wrecked engines, their wheels revolving and hissing in the air, and you can see with what difficulty they manage to hold intact the rapidly dissolving features of their astonished faces! i see you are all ready to ply me with questions, now that you learned that i am satan in human form: it is so fascinating! whence did i come? what are the ways of hell? is there immortality there, and, also, what is the price of coal at the stock exchange of hell? unfortunately, my dear reader, despite my desire to the contrary, if i had such a desire, i am powerless to satisfy your very proper curiosity. i could have composed for your benefit one of those funny little stories about horny and hairy devils, which appeal so much to your meagre imagination, but you have had enough of them already and i do not want to lie so rudely and ungracefully. i will lie to you elsewhere, when you least expect it, and that will be far more interesting for both of us. and the truth--how am i to tell it when even my name cannot be expressed in your tongue? you have called me satan and i accept the name, just as i would have accepted any other: be it so--i am satan. but my real name sounds quite different, quite different! it has an extraordinary sound and try as i may i cannot force it into your narrow ear without tearing it open together with your brain: be it so--i am satan. and nothing more. and you yourself are to blame for this, my friend: why is there so little understanding in your reason? your reason is like a beggar's sack, containing only crusts of stale bread, while it is necessary to have something more than bread. you have but two conceptions of existence: life and death. how, then, can i reveal to you the _third_? all your existence is an absurdity only because you do not have this _third conception_. and where can i get it for you? to-day i am human, even as you. in my skull is your brain. in my mouth are your cubic words, jostling one another about with their sharp corners, and i cannot tell you of the extraordinary. if i were to tell you that there are no devils i would lie. but if i say that such creatures do exist i also deceive you. you see how difficult it is, how absurd, my friend! i can also tell you but little that you would understand of how i assumed the human form, with which i began my earthly life ten days ago. first of all, forget about your favorite, hairy, horny, winged devils, who breathe fire, transform fragments of earthenware into gold and change old men into fascinating youths, and having done all this and prattled much nonsense, they disappear suddenly through a wall. remember: when _we_, want to visit your earth _we_ must always become human. why this is so you will learn after your death. meanwhile remember: i am a human being now like yourself. there is not the foul smell of a goat about me but the fragrance of perfume, and you need not fear to shake my hand lest i may scratch you with my nails: i manicure them just as you do. but how did it all happen? very simply. when i first conceived the desire to visit this earth i selected as the most satisfactory lodging a -year-old american billionaire, mr. henry wondergood. i killed him at night,--of course, not in the presence of witnesses. but you cannot bring me to court despite this confession, because the american is alive, and we both greet you with one respectful bow: i and wondergood. he simply rented his empty place to me. you understand? and not all of it either, the devil take him! and, to my great regret i can _return_ only through the same door which leads you too to liberty: through death. this is the most important thing. you may understand something of what i may have to say later on, although to speak to you of such matters in your language is like trying to conceal a mountain in a vest pocket or to empty niagara with a thimble. imagine, for example, that you, my dear king of nature, should want to come closer to the ants, and that by some miracle you became a real little ant,--then you may have some conception of that gulf which separates me now from what i was. no, still more! imagine that you were a sound and have become a mere symbol--a musical mark on paper.... no, still worse!--no comparisons can make clear to you that terrible gulf whose bottom even i do not see as yet. or, perhaps, there is no bottom there at all. think of it: for two days, after leaving new york, i suffered from seasickness! this sounds queer to you, who are accustomed to wallow in your own dirt? well, i--i have also wallowed in it but it was not queer at all. i only smiled once in thinking that _it_ was not i, but wondergood, and said: "roll on, wondergood, roll on!" there is another question to which you probably want an answer: why did i come to this earth and accept such an unprofitable exchange: to be transformed from satan, "the mighty, immortal chieftain and ruler" into you? i am tired of seeking words that cannot be found. i will answer you in english, french, italian or german--languages we both understand well. i have grown lonesome in hell and i have come upon the earth to lie and play. you know what ennui is. and as for falsehood, you know it well too. and as for _play_--you can judge it to a certain extent by your own theaters and celebrated actors. perhaps you yourself are playing a little rôle in parliament, at home, or in your church. if you are, you may understand something of the _satisfaction_ of play. and, if in addition, you are familiar with the multiplication table, then multiply the delight and joy of play into any considerable figure and you will get an idea of my enjoyment, of my play. no, imagine that you are an ocean wave, which plays eternally and lives only in play--take this wave, for example, which i see outside the porthole now and which wants to lift our "atlantic"...but, here i am again seeking words and comparisons! i simply want to play. at present i am still an unknown actor, a modest débutante, but i hope to become no less a celebrity than your own garrick or aldrich, after i have played what i please. i am proud, selfish and even, if you please, vain and boastful. you know what vanity is, when you crave the praise and plaudits even of a fool? then i entertain the brazen idea that i am a genius. satan is known for his brazenness. and so, imagine, that i have grown weary of hell where all these hairy and horny rogues play and lie no worse than i do, and that i am no longer satisfied with the laurels of hell, in which i but perceive no small measure of base flattery and downright stupidity. but i have heard of you, my earthly friend; i have heard that you are wise, tolerably honest, properly incredulous, responsive to the problems of eternal art and that you yourself play and lie so badly that you might appreciate the playing of others: not in vain have you so many _great actors_. and so i have come. you understand? my stage is the earth and the nearest scene for which i am now bound is rome, the eternal city, as it is called here, in your profound conception of eternity and other simple matters. i have not yet selected my company (would you not like to join it?). but i believe that _fate_ and _chance_, to whom i am now subservient, like all your earthly things, will realize my unselfish motives and will send me worthy partners. old europe is so rich in talents! i believe that i shall find a keen and appreciative audience in europe, too. i confess that i first thought of going to the east, which some of my compatriots made their scene of activity some time ago with no small measure of success, but the east is too credulous and is inclined too much to poison and the ballet. its gods are ludicrous. the east still reeks too much of hairy animals. its lights and shadows are barbarously crude and too bright to make it worth while for a refined artist as i am to go into that crowded, foul circus tent. ah, my friend, i am so vain that i even begin this diary not without the secret intention of impressing you with my modesty in the rôle of _seeker_ of words and comparisons. i hope you will not take advantage of my frankness and cease believing me. are there any other questions? of the play itself i have no clear idea yet. it will be composed by the same impresario who will assemble the actors--_fate_. my modest rôle, as a beginning, will be that of a man who so loves his fellow beings that he is willing to give them everything, his soul and his money. of course, you have not forgotten that i am a billionaire? i have three billion dollars. sufficient--is it not?--for one spectacular performance. one more detail before i conclude this page. i have with me, sharing my fate, a certain irwin toppi, my secretary,--a most worthy person in his black frock coat and silk top hat, his long nose resembling an unripened pear and his smoothly shaven, pastor-like face. i would not be surprised to find a prayer book in his pocket. my toppi came upon this earth from _there_, i.e. from hell and by the same means as mine: he, too, assumed the human form and, it seems, quite successfully--the rogue is entirely immune from seasickness. however to be seasick one must have some brains and my toppi is unusually stupid--even for this earth. besides, he is impolite and ventures to offer advice. i am rather sorry that out of our entire wealth of material i did not select some one better, but i was impressed by his honesty and partial familiarity with the earth: it seemed more pleasant to enter upon this little jaunt with an experienced comrade. quite a long time ago he once before assumed the human form and was so taken by religious sentiments that--think of it!--he entered a franciscan monastery, lived there to a ripe old age and died peacefully under the name of brother vincent. his ashes became the object of veneration for believers--not a bad career for a fool of a devil. no sooner did he enter upon this trip with me than he began to sniff about for incense--an incurable habit! you will probably like him. and now enough. get thee hence, my friend. i wish to be alone. your shallow reflection upon this wall wears upon me. i wish to be alone or only with this wondergood who has leased his abode to me and seems to have gotten the best of me somehow or other. the sea is calm. i am no longer nauseated but i am afraid of something. i am afraid! i fear this darkness which they call night and descends upon the ocean: here, in the cabin there is still some light, but there, on deck, there is terrible darkness, and my eyes are quite helpless. these silly reflectors--they are worthless. they are able to reflect things by day but in the darkness they lose even this miserable power. of course i shall get used to the darkness. i have already grown used to many things. but just now i am ill at ease and it is horrible to think that the mere turn of a key obsesses me with this blind ever present darkness. whence does it come? and how brave men are with their dim reflectors: they see nothing and simply say: it is dark here, we must make a light! then they themselves put it out and go to sleep. i regard these braves with a kind of cold wonder and i am seized with admiration. or must one possess a great mind to appreciate horror, like mine? you are not such a coward, wondergood. you always bore the reputation of being a hardened man and a man of experience! there is one moment in the process of my assumption of the human form that i cannot recollect without horror. that was when for the first time i heard the beating of my heart. this regular, loud, metronome-like sound, which speaks as much of death as of life, filled me with the hitherto inexperienced sensation of horror. men are always quarrelling about accounts, but how can they carry in their breasts _this_ counting machine, registering with the speed of a magician the fleeting seconds of life? at first i wanted to shout and to run back _below_, before i could grow accustomed to life, but here i looked at toppi: this new-born fool was calmly brushing his top hat with the sleeve of his frock coat. i broke out into laughter and cried: "toppi, the brush!" we both brushed ourselves while the counting machine in my breast was computing the seconds and, it seemed to me, adding on a few for good measure. finally, hearing its brazen beating, i thought i might not have time enough to finish my toillette. i have been in a great hurry for some time. just what it was i would not be able to complete i did not know, but for two days i was in a mad rush to eat and drink and even sleep: the counting machine was beating away while i lay in slumber! but i never rush now. i know that i will manage to get through and my moments seem inexhaustible. but the little machine keeps on beating just the same, like a drunken soldier at a drum. and how about the very moments it is using up now. are they to be counted as equal to the great ones? then i say it is all a fraud and i protest as a honest citizen of the united states and as a merchant. i do not feel well. yet i would not repulse even a friend at this moment. ah! in all the universe i am alone! february , . rome, hotel "internationale." i am driven mad whenever i am compelled to seize the club of a policeman to bring order in my brain: facts, to the right! thoughts, to the left! moods, to the rear--clear the road for his highness, conscience, which barely moves about upon its stilts. i am compelled to do this: otherwise there would be a riot, an abrecadebra, chaos. and so i call you to order, gentleman--facts and lady-thoughts. i begin. night. darkness. the air is balmy. there is a pleasant fragrance. toppi is enchanted. we are in italy. our speeding train is approaching rome. we are enjoying our soft couches when, suddenly, crash! everything flies to the devil: the train has gone out of its mind. it is wrecked. i confess without shame that i am not very brave, that i was seized with terror and seemed to have lost consciousness. the lights were extinguished and with much labor i crawled out of the corner into which i had been hurled. i seemed to have forgotten the exit. there were only walls and corners. i felt something stinging and beating at me, and all about nothing but darkness. suddenly i felt a body beneath my feet. i stepped right upon the face. only afterwards did i discover that the body was that of george, my lackey, killed outright. i shouted and my obliging toppi came to my aid: he seized me by the arm and led me to an open window, as both exits had been barricaded by fragments of the car and baggage. i leaped out, but toppi lingered behind. my knees were trembling. i was groaning but still he failed to appear. i shouted. suddenly he reappeared at the window and shouted back: "what are you crying about? i am looking for our hats and your portfolio." a few moments later he returned and handed me my hat. he himself had his silk top hat on and carried the portfolio. i shook with laughter and said: "young man, you have forgotten the umbrella!" but the old buffoon has no sense of humor. he replied seriously: "i do not carry an umbrella. and do you know, our george is dead and so is the chef." so, this fallen carcass which has no feelings and upon whose face one steps with impunity is our george! i was again seized with terror and suddenly my ears were pierced with groans, wild shrieks, whistlings and cries! all the sounds wherewith these braves wail when they are crushed. at first i was deafened. i heard nothing. the cars caught fire. the flames and smoke shot up into the air. the wounded began to groan and, without waiting for the flesh to roast, i darted like a flash into the field. what a leap! fortunately the low hills of the roman campagna are very convenient for this kind of sport and i was no means behind in the line of runners. when, out of breath, i hurled myself upon the ground, it was no longer possible to hear or see anything. only toppi was approaching. but what a terrible thing this heart is! my face touched the earth. the earth was cool, firm, calm and here i liked it. it seemed as if it had restored my breath and put my heart back into its place. i felt easier. the stars above were calm. there was nothing for them to get excited about. they were not concerned with things below. they merely shine in triumph. that is their eternal ball. and at this brilliant ball the earth, clothed in darkness, appeared as an enchanting stranger in a black mask. (not at all badly expressed? i trust that you, my reader, will be pleased: my style and my manners are improving!) i kissed toppi in the darkness. i always kiss those i like in the darkness. and i said: "you are carrying your human form, toppi, very well. i respect you. but what are we to do now? those lights yonder in the sky--they are the lights of rome. but they are too far away!" "yes, it is rome," affirmed toppi, and raised his hand: "do you hear whistling?" from somewhere in the distance came the long-drawn, piercing, shrieking of locomotives. they were sounding the alarm. "yes, they are whistling," i said and laughed. "they are whistling!" repeated toppi smiling. he never laughs. but here again i began to feel uncomfortable. i was cold, lonely, quivering. in my feet there was still the sensation of treading upon corpses. i wanted to shake myself like a dog after a bath. you must understand me: it was the first time that i had seen and felt your corpse, my dear reader, and if you pardon me, it did not appeal to me at all. why did it not protest when i walked over its face? george had such a beautiful young face and he carried himself with much dignity. remember your face, too, may be trod upon. and will you, too, remain submissive? we did not proceed to rome but went instead in search of the nearest night lodging. we walked long. we grew tired. we longed to drink, oh, how we longed to drink! and now, permit me to present to you my new friend, signor thomas magnus and his beautiful daughter, maria. at first we observed the faint flicker of a light. as we approached nearer we found a little house, its white walls gleaming through a thicket of dark cypress trees and shrubbery. there was a light in one of the windows, the rest were barricaded with shutters. the house had a stone fence, an iron gate, strong doors. and--silence. at first glance it all looked suspicious. toppi knocked. again silence. i knocked. still silence. finally there came a gruff voice, asking from behind the iron door: "who are you? what do you want?" hardly mumbling with his parched tongue, my brave toppi narrated the story of the catastrophe and our escape. he spoke at length and then came the click of a lock and the door was opened. following behind our austere and silent stranger we entered the house, passed through several dark and silent rooms, walked up a flight of creaking stairs into a brightly lighted room, apparently the stranger's workroom. there was much light, many books, with one open beneath a low lamp shaded by a simple, green globe. we had not noticed this light in the field. but what astonished me was the silence of the house. despite the rather early hour not a move, not a sound, not a voice was to be heard. "have a seat." we sat down and toppi, now almost in pain, began again to narrate his story. but the strange host interrupted him: "yes, a catastrophe. they often occur on our roads. were there many victims?" toppi continued his prattle and the host, while listening to him, took a revolver out of his pocket and hid it in a table drawer, adding carelessly: "this is not--a particularly quiet neighborhood. well, please, remain here." for the first time he raised his dark eyebrows and his large dim eyes and studied us intently as if he were gazing upon something savage in a museum. it was an impolite and brazen stare. i arose and said: "i fear that we are not welcome here, signor, and----" he stopped me with an impatient and slightly sarcastic gesture. "nonsense, you remain here. i will get you some wine and food. my servant is here in the daytime only, so allow me to wait on you. you will find the bathroom behind this door. go wash and freshen up while i get the wine. make yourself at home." while we ate and drank--with savage relish, i confess--this unsympathetic gentleman kept on reading a book as if there were no one else in the room, undisturbed by toppi's munching and the dog's struggle with a bone. i studied my host carefully. almost my height, his pale face bore an expression of weariness. he had a black, oily, bandit-like beard. but his brow was high and his nose betrayed good sense. how would you describe it? well, here again i seek comparisons. imagine the nose betraying the story of a great, passionate, extraordinary, secret life. it is beautiful and seems to have been made not out of muscle and cartilage, but out of--what do you call it?--out of thoughts and brazen desires. he seems quite brave too. but i was particularly attracted by his hands: very big, very white and giving the impression of self-control. i do not know why his hands attracted me so much. but suddenly i thought: how beautifully exact the number of fingers, exactly ten of them, ten thin, evil, wise, crooked fingers! i said politely: "thank you, signor----" he replied: "my name is magnus. thomas magnus. have some wine? americans?" i waited for toppi to introduce me, according to the english custom, and i looked toward magnus. one had to be an ignorant, illiterate animal not to know me. toppi broke in: "mr. henry wondergood of illinois. his secretary, irwin toppi, your obedient servant. yes, citizens of the united states." the old buffoon blurted out his tirade, evincing a thorough lack of pride, and magnus--yes, he was a little startled. billions, my friend, billions. he gazed at me long and intently: "mr. wondergood? henry wondergood? are you not, sir, that american billionaire who seeks to bestow upon humanity the benefits of his billions?" i modestly shook my head in the affirmative. "yes, i am the gentleman." toppi shook his head in affirmation--the ass: "yes, we are the gentlemen." magnus bowed and said with a tinge of irony in his voice: "humanity is awaiting you, mr. wondergood. judging by the roman newspapers it is extremely impatient. but i must crave your pardon for this very modest meal: i did not know...." i seized his large, strangely warm hand and shaking it violently, in american fashion, i said: "nonsense, signor magnus. i was a swine-herd before i became a billionaire, while you are a straightforward, honest and noble gentleman, whose hand i press with the utmost respect. the devil take it, not a single human face has yet aroused in me as much sympathy as yours!" magnus said.... magnus said nothing! i cannot continue this: "i said," "he said,"--this cursed consistency is deadly to my inspiration. it transforms me into a silly romanticist of a boulevard sheet and makes me lie like a mediocrity. i have five senses. i am a complete human being and yet i speak only of the hearing. and how about the sight? i assure you it did not remain idle. and this sensation of the earth, of italy, of my existence which i now perceive with a new and sweet strength! you imagine that all i did was to listen to wise thomas magnus. he speaks and i gaze, understand, answer, while i think: what a beautiful earth, what a beautiful campagna di roma! i persisted in penetrating the recesses of the house, into its locked silent rooms. with every moment my joy mounted at the thought that i am alive, that i can speak and play and, suddenly, i rather liked the idea of being human. i remember that i held out my card to magnus. "henry wondergood." he was surprised, but laid the card politely on the table. i felt like implanting a kiss on his brow for this politeness, for the fact that he too was human. i, too, am human. i was particularly proud of my foot encased in a fine, tan leather shoe and i persisted in swinging it: swing on beautiful, human, american foot! i was extremely emotional that evening! i even wanted to weep: to look my host straight in the eyes and to squeeze out of my own eyes, so full of love and goodness, two little tears. i actually did it, for at that moment i felt a little pleasant sting in my nose, as if it had been hit by a spurt of lemonade. i observed that my two little tears made an impression upon magnus. but toppi!--while i experienced this wondrous poem of feeling human and even of weeping,--he slept like a dead one at the very same table. i was rather angered. this was really going too far. i wanted to shout at him, but magnus restrained me: "he has had a good deal of excitement and is weary, mr. wondergood." the hour had really grown late. we had been talking and arguing with magnus for two hours when toppi fell asleep. i sent him off to bed while we continued to talk and drink for quite a while. i drank more wine, but magnus restrained himself. there was a dimness about his face. i was beginning to develop an admiration for his grim and, at times, evil, secretive countenance. he said: "i believe in your altruistic passion, mr. wondergood. but i do not believe that you, a man of wisdom and of action, and, it seems to me, somewhat cold, could place any serious hopes upon your money----" "three billion dollars--that is a mighty power, magnus!" "yes, three billion dollars, a mighty power, indeed," he agreed, rather unwillingly--"but what will you do with it?" i laughed. "you probably want to say what can this ignoramus of an american, this erstwhile swine-herd, who knows swine better than he knows men, do with the money?" "the first business helps the other," said magnus. "i dare say you have but a slight opinion of this foolish philanthropist whose head has been turned by his gold," said i. "yes, to be sure, what can i do? i can open another university in chicago, or another maternity hospital in san francisco, or another humanitarian reformatory in new york." "the latter would be a distinct work of mercy," quoth magnus. "do not gaze at me with such reproach, mr. wondergood: i am not jesting. you will find in me the same pure love for humanity which burns so fiercely in you." he was laughing at me and i felt pity for him: not to love people! miserable, unfortunate magnus. i could kiss his brow with great pleasure! not to love people! "yes, i do not love them," affirmed magnus, "but i am glad that you do not intend to travel the conventional road of all american philanthropists. your billions----" "three billions, magnus! one could build a nation on this money----" "yes?----" "or destroy a nation," said i. "with this gold, magnus, one can start a war or a revolution----" "yes?----" i actually succeeded in arousing his interest: his large white hands trembled slightly and in his eyes there gleamed for a moment a look of respect: "you, wondergood, are not as foolish as i thought!" he arose, paced up and down the room, and halting before me asked sneeringly: "and you know exactly what your humanity needs most: the creation of a new or the destruction of the old state? war or peace? rest or revolution? who are you, mr. wondergood of illinois, that you essay to solve _these_ problems? you had better keep on building your maternity hospitals and universities. that is far less dangerous work." i liked the man's hauteur. i bowed my head modestly and said: "you are right, signor magnus. who am i, henry wondergood, to undertake the solution of these problems? but i do not intend to solve them. i merely indicate them. i indicate them and i seek the solution. i seek the solution and the man who can give it to me. i have never read a serious book carefully. i see you have quite a supply of books here. you are a misanthrope, magnus. you are too much of a european not to be easily disillusioned in things, while we, young america, believe in humanity. a man must be created. you in europe are bad craftsmen and have created a bad man. we shall create a better one. i beg your pardon for my frankness. as long as i was merely henry wondergood i devoted myself only to the creation of pigs--and my pigs, let me say to you, have been awarded no fewer medals and decorations than field marshal moltke. but now i desire to create people." magnus smiled: "you are an alchemist, wondergood: you would transform lead into gold!" "yes, i want to create gold and i seek the philosopher's stone. but has it not already been found? it has been found, only you do not know how to use it: it is love. ah, magnus, i do not know yet what i will do, but my plans are heroic and magnificent. if not for that misanthropic smile of yours i might go further. believe in man, magnus, and give me your aid. you know what man needs most." he said coldly and with sadness: "he needs prisons and gallows." i exclaimed in anger (i am particularly adept in feigning anger): "you are slandering me, magnus! i see that you must have experienced some very great misfortune, perhaps treachery and----" "hold on, wondergood! i never speak of myself and do not like to hear others speak of me. let it be sufficient for you to know that you are the first man in four years to break in upon my solitude and this only due to chance. i do not like people." "oh, pardon. but i do not believe it." magnus went over to the bookcase and with an expression of supreme contempt he seized the first volume he laid his hands upon. "and you who have read no books," he said, "do you know what these books are about? only about evil, about the mistakes and sufferings of humanity. they are filled with tears and blood, wondergood. look: in this thin little book which i clasp between two fingers is contained a whole ocean of human blood, and if you should take all of them together----. and who has spilled this blood? the devil?" i felt flattered and wanted to bow in acknowledgment, but he threw the book aside and shouted: "no, sir: man! man has spilled this blood! yes, i do read books but only for one purpose; to learn how to hate man and to hold him in contempt. you, wondergood, have transformed your pigs into gold, yes? and i can see how your gold is being transformed back again into pigs. they will devour you, wondergood. but i do not wish either to prattle or to lie: throw your money into the sea or--build some new prisons and gallows. you are vain like all men. then go on building gallows. you will be respected by serious people, while the flock in general will call you great. or, don't you, american from illinois, want to get into the pantheon?" "no, magnus!----" "blood!" cried magnus. "can't you see that it is everywhere? here it is on your boot now----" i confess that at the moment magnus appeared to be insane. i jerked my foot in sudden fear and only then did i perceive a dark, reddish spot on my shoe--how dastardly! magnus smiled and immediately regaining his composure continued calmly and without emotion: "i have unwittingly startled you, mr. wondergood? nonsense! you probably stepped on something inadvertently. a mere trifle. but this conversation, a conversation i have not conducted for a number of years, makes me uneasy and--good night, mr. wondergood. to-morrow i shall have the honor of presenting you to my daughter, and now you will permit me----" and so on. in short, this gentleman conducted me to my room in a most impolite manner and well nigh put me to bed. i offered no resistance: why should i? i must say that i did not like him at this moment. i was even pleased when he turned to go but, suddenly, he turned at the very threshold and stepping forward, stretched out his large white hands. and murmured: "do you see these hands? there is blood on them! let it be the blood of a scoundrel, a torturer, a tyrant, but it is the same, red human blood. good night!" --he spoiled my night for me. i swear by eternal salvation that on that night i felt great pleasure in being a man, and i made myself thoroughly at home in his narrow human skin. it made me feel uncomfortable in the armpits. you see, i bought it ready made and thought that it would be as comfortable as if it had been made to measure! i was highly emotional. i was extremely good and affable. i was very eager to play, but i was not inclined to tragedy! blood! how can any person of good breeding thrust his white hands under the nose of a stranger--hangmen have very white hands! do not think i am jesting. i did not feel well. in the daytime i still manage to subdue wondergood but at night he lays his hands upon me. it is he who fills me with his silly dreams and shakes within me his entire dusty archive--and how godlessly silly and meaningless are his dreams! he fusses about within me all night long like a returned master, seems to be looking about for something, grumbles about losses and wear and tear and sneezes and cavorts about like a dog lying uncomfortable on its bed. it is he who draws me in at night like a mass of wet lime into the depths of miserable humanity, where i nearly choke to death. when i awake in the morning i feel that wondergood has infused ten more degrees of human into me--think of it: he may soon eject me all together and leave me standing outside--he, the miserable owner of an empty barn into which i brought breath and soul! like a hurried thief i crawled into a stranger's clothes, the pockets of which are bulging with forged promissory notes--no, still worse! it is not only uncomfortable attire. it is a low, dark and stifling jail, wherein i occupy less space than a ring might in the stomach of wondergood. you, my dear reader, have been hidden in your prison from childhood and you even seem to like it, but i--i come from the kingdom of liberty. and i refuse to be wondergood's tape worm: one swallow of poison and i am free again. what will you say then, scoundrel wondergood? without me you will be devoured by the worms. you will crack open at the seams--miserable carcass! touch me not! on this night however i was in the absolute power of wondergood. what is human blood to me? what do i care about the troubles of _their_ life! but wondergood was quite aroused by the crazy magnus. suddenly i felt--just think of it--! that i am filled with blood, like the bladder of an ox, and the bladder is very thin and weak, so that it would be dangerous to prick it. prick it and out spurts the blood! i was terrified at the idea that i might be killed in this house: that some one might cut my throat and turning me upside down, hanging by the legs, would let the blood run out upon the floor. i lay in the darkness and strained my ears to hear whether or not magnus was approaching with his white hands. and the greater the silence in this cursed house the more terrified i grew. even toppi failed to snore as usual. this made me angry. then my body began to ache. perhaps i was injured in the wreck, or was it weariness brought on by the flight? then my body began to itch in the most ordinary way and i even began to move the feet: it was the appearance of the jovial clown in the tragedy! suddenly a dream seized me by the feet and dragged me rapidly below. i hardly had time enough to shout. and what nonsense arose before me! do you ever have such dreams? i felt that i was a bottle of champagne, with a thin neck and sealed, but filled not with wine but with blood! and it seemed that not only i but all people had become bottles with sealed tops and all of us were arranged in a row on a seashore. and, someone horrible was approaching from somewhere and wanted to smash us all. and i saw how foolish it would be to do so and wanted to shout: "don't smash them. get a corkscrew!" but i had no voice. i was a bottle. suddenly the dead lackey george approached. in his hands was a huge sharp corkscrew. he said something and seized me by the throat--ah, ah, by the throat!---- i awoke in pain. apparently he did try to open me up. my wrath was so great that i neither sighed nor smiled nor moved. i simply killed wondergood again. i gnashed my teeth, straightened out my eyes, closed them calmly, stretched out at full length and lay peacefully in the full consciousness of the greatness of my ego. had the ocean itself moved up on me i would not have batted an eye! get thee hence, my friend, i wish to be alone. and the body grew silent, colorless, airy and empty again. with light step i left it and before my eyes there arose a vision of the _extraordinary_, that which cannot be expressed in your language, my poor friend! satisfy your curiosity with the dream i have just confided to you and ask no more! or does not the "huge, sharp corkscrew" suit you? but it is so--artistic! * * * * * in the morning i was well again, refreshed and beautiful. i yearned for the play, like an actor who has just left his dressing room. of course i did not forget to shave. this canaille wondergood gets overgrown with hair as quickly as his golden skinned pigs. i complained about this to toppi with whom, while waiting for magnus, i was walking in the garden. and toppi, thinking a while, replied philosophically: "yes, man sleeps and his beard grows. this is as it should be--for the barbers!" magnus appeared. he was no more hospitable than yesterday and his pale face carried unmistakable indications of weariness. but he was calm and polite. how black his beard is in the daytime! he pressed my hand in cold politeness and said: (we were perched on a wall.) "you are enjoying the roman campagna, mr. wondergood? a magnificent sight! it is said that the campagna is noted for its fevers, but there is but one fever it produces in me--the fever of thought!" apparently wondergood did not have much of a liking for nature, and i have not yet managed to develop a taste for earthly landscape: an empty field for me. i cast my eyes politely over the countryside before us and said: "people interest me more, signor magnus." he gazed at me intently with his dark eyes and lowering his voice said dryly and with apparent reluctance: "just two words about people, mr. wondergood. you will soon see my daughter, maria. she is my three billions. you understand?" i nodded my head in approval. "but your california does not produce such gold. neither does any other country on this dirty earth. it is the gold of the heavens. i am not a believer, mr. wondergood, but even i experience some doubts when i meet the gaze of my maria. hers are the only hands into which you might without the slightest misgiving place your billions----" i am an old bachelor and i was overcome with fear, but magnus continued sternly with a ring of triumph in his voice: "but she will not accept them, sir! her gentle hands must never touch this golden dirt. her clean eyes will never behold any sight but that of this endless, godless campagna. here is her monastery, mr. wondergood, and there is but one exit for her from here: into the kingdom of heaven, if it does exist!" "i beg your pardon but i cannot understand this, my dear magnus!" i protested in great joy. "life and people----" the face of thomas magnus grew angry, as it did yesterday, and in stern ridicule, he interrupted me: "and i beg you to grasp, _dear_ wondergood, that life and people are not for maria. it is enough that i know them. my duty was to _warn_ you. and now"--he again assumed the attitude of cold politeness--"i ask you to come to my table. you too, mr. toppi!" we had begun to eat, and were chattering of small matters, when _maria_ entered. the door through which she entered was behind my back. i mistook her soft step for those of the maid carrying the dishes, but i was astonished by the long-nosed toppi, sitting opposite me. his eyes grew round like circles, his face red, as if he were choking. his adam's apple seemed to be lifted above his neck as if driven by a wave, and to disappear again somewhere behind his narrow, ministerial collar. of course, i thought he was choking to death with a fishbone and shouted: "toppi! what is the matter with you? take some water." but magnus was already on his feet, announcing coldly: "my daughter, maria. mr. henry wondergood!" i turned about quickly and--how can i express the extraordinary when it is inexpressible? it was something more than beautiful. it was terrible in its beauty. i do not want to seek comparisons. i shall leave that to you. take all that you have ever seen or ever known of the beautiful on earth: the lily, the stars, the sun, but add, add still more. but not this was the awful aspect of it: there was something else: the elusive yet astonishing similarity--to whom? whom have i met upon this earth who was so beautiful--so beautiful and awe-inspiring--awe-inspiring and unapproachable. i have learned by this time your entire archive, wondergood, and i do not believe that it comes from your modest gallery! "madonna!" mumbled toppi in a hoarse voice, scared out of his wits. so that is it! yes, madonna. the fool was right, and i, satan, could understand his terror. madonna, whom people see only in churches, in paintings, in the imagination of artists. maria, the name which rings only in hymns and prayer books, heavenly beauty, mercy, forgiveness and love! star of the seas! do you like that name: star of the seas? it was really devilishly funny. i made a deep bow and almost blurted out: "madam, i beg pardon for my unbidden intrusion, but i really did not expect to meet you _here_. i most humbly beg your pardon, but i could not imagine that this black bearded fellow has the honor of having you for his daughter. a thousand times i crave your pardon for----" but enough. i said something else. "how do you do, signorina. it is indeed a pleasure." and she really did not indicate in any way that she was _already_ acquainted with me. one must respect an incognito if one would remain a gentleman and only a scoundrel would dare to tear a mask from a lady's face! this would have been all the more impossible, because her father, thomas magnus, continued to urge us with a chuckle: "do eat, please, mr. toppi. why do you not drink, mr. wondergood? the wine is splendid." in the course of what followed: . she breathed-- . she blinked-- . she ate-- and she was a beautiful girl, about eighteen years of age, and her dress was white and her throat bare. it was really laughable. i gazed at her bare neck and--believe me, my earthly friend: i am not easily seduced, i am not a romantic youth, but i am not old by any means, i am not at all bad looking, i enjoy an independent position in the world and--don't you like the combination: satan and _maria_? _maria_ and satan! in evidence of the seriousness of my intentions i can submit at that moment i thought more of _our_ descendants and sought a name for _our_ first-born than indulged in frivolity. suddenly toppi's adam's apple gave a jerk and he inquired hoarsely: "has any one ever painted your portrait, signorina?" "maria never poses for painters!" broke in magnus sternly. i felt like laughing at the fool toppi. i had already opened wide my mouth, filled with a set of first-class american teeth, when maria's pure gaze pierced my eyes and everything flew to the devil,--as in that moment of the railway catastrophe! you understand: she turned me inside out, like a stocking--or how shall i put it? my fine parisian costume was driven inside of me and my still finer thoughts which, however, i would not have wanted to convey to the lady, suddenly appeared upon the surface. with all my secrecy i was left no more sealed than a room in a fifteen cent lodging house. but she _forgave_ me, said nothing and threw her gaze like a projector in the direction of toppi, illumining his entire body. you, too, would have laughed had you seen how this poor old devil was set aglow and aflame by this gaze--clear from the prayer book to the fishbone with which he nearly choked to death. fortunately for both of us magnus arose and invited us to follow him into the garden. "come, let us go into the garden," said he. "maria will show you her favorite flowers." yes, maria! but seek no songs of praise from me, oh poet! i was mad! i was as provoked as a man whose closet has just been ransacked by a burglar. i wanted to gaze at maria but was compelled to look upon the foolish flowers--because i dared not lift my eyes. i am a gentleman and cannot appear before a lady without a necktie. i was seized by a curious humility. do you like to feel humble? i do not. i do not know what maria said. but i swear by eternal salvation--her gaze, and her entire uncanny countenance was the embodiment of an all-embracing meaning so that any wise word i might have uttered would have sounded meaningless. the wisdom of words is necessary only for those poor in spirit. the right are silent. take note of that, little poet, sage and eternal chatterbox, wherever you may be. let it be sufficient for you that i have humbled myself to speak. ah, but i have forgotten my humility! she walked and i and toppi crawled after her. i detested myself and this broad-backed toppi because of his hanging nose and large, pale ears. what was needed here was an apollo and not a pair of ordinary americans. we felt quite relieved when she had gone and we were left alone with magnus. it was all so sweet and simple! toppi abandoned his religious airs and i crossed my legs comfortably, lit a cigar, and fixed my steel-sharp gaze upon the whites of magnus's eyes. "you must be off to rome, mr. wondergood. they are probably worrying about you," said our host in a tone of loving concern. "i can send toppi," i replied. he smiled and added ironically: "i hardly think that would be sufficient, mr. wondergood!" i sought to clasp his great white hand but it did not seem to move closer. but i caught it just the same, pressed it warmly and he was compelled to return the pressure! "very well, signor magnus! i am off at once!" i said. "i have already sent for the carriage," he replied. "is not the campagna beautiful in the morning?" i again took a polite look at the country-side and said with emotion: "yes, it is beautiful! irwin, my friend, leave us for a moment. i have a few words to say to signor magnus----" toppi left and signor magnus opened wide his big sad eyes. i again tried my steel on him, and bending forward closer to his dark face, i asked: "have you ever observed _dear_ magnus, the very striking resemblance between your daughter, the signorina maria, and a certain--celebrated personage? don't you think she resembles the madonna?" "madonna?" drawled out magnus. "no, _dear_ wondergood, i haven't noticed that. i never go to church. but i fear you will be late. the roman fever----" i again seized his white hand and shook it vigorously. no, i did not tear it off. and from my eyes there burst forth again _those_ two tears: "let us speak plainly, signor magnus," said i. "i am a straightforward man and have grown to love you. do you want to come along with me and be the lord of my billions?" magnus was silent. his hand lay motionless in mine. his eyes were lowered and something dark seemed to pass over his face, then immediately to disappear. finally he said, seriously and simply: "i understand you, mr. wondergood--but i must refuse. no, i will not go with you. i have failed to tell you one thing, but your frankness and confidence in me compels me to say that i must, to a certain extent, steer clear of the police." "the roman police," i asked, betraying a slight excitement. "nonsense, we shall buy it." "no, the international," he replied. "i hope you do not think that i have committed some base crime. the trouble is not with police which can be bought. you are right, mr. wondergood, when you say that one can buy almost any one. the truth is that i can be of no use to you. what do you want me for? you love humanity and i detest it. at best i am indifferent to it. let it live and not interfere with me. leave me my maria, leave me the right and strength to detest people as i read the history of their life. leave me my campagna and that is all i want and all of which i am capable. all the oil within me has burned out, wondergood. you see before you an extinguished lamp hanging on a wall, a lamp which once--goodbye." "i do not ask your confidence, magnus," i interjected. "pardon me, you will never receive it, mr. wondergood. my name is an invention but it is the only one i can offer to my friends." to tell the truth: i liked "thomas magnus" at that moment. he spoke bravely and simply. in his face one could read stubbornness and will. this man knew the value of human life and had the mien of one condemned to death. but it was the mien of a proud, uncompromising criminal, who will never accept the ministrations of a priest! for a moment i thought: my father had many bastard children, deprived of legacy and wandering about the world. perhaps thomas magnus is one of these wanderers? and is it possible that i have met a _brother_ on this earth? very interesting. but from a purely human, business point of view, one cannot help but respect a man whose hands are steeped in blood! i saluted, changed my position, and in the humblest possible manner, asked magnus's permission to visit him occasionally and seek his advice. he hesitated but finally looked me straight in the face and agreed. "very well, mr. wondergood. you may come. i hope to hear from you things that may supplement the knowledge i glean from my books. and, by the way, mr. toppi has made an excellent impression upon my maria"---- "toppi?" "yes. she has found a striking resemblance between him and one of her favorite saints. she goes to church frequently." toppi a saint! or has his prayer book overbalanced his huge back and the fishbone in his throat. magnus gazed at me almost gently and only his thin nose seemed to tremble slightly with restrained laughter.--it is very pleasant to know that behind this austere exterior there is so much quiet and restrained merriment! it was twilight when we left. magnus followed us to the threshold, but maria remained in seclusion. the little white house surrounded by the cypress trees was as quiet and silent as we found it yesterday, but the silence was of a different character: the silence was the soul of maria. i confess that i felt rather sad at this departure but very soon came a new series of impressions, which dispelled this feeling. we were approaching rome. we entered the brightly illuminated, densely populated streets through some opening in the city wall and the first thing we saw in the eternal city was a creaking trolley car, trying to make its way through the same hole in the wall. toppi, who was acquainted with rome, revelled in the familiar atmosphere of the churches we were passing and indicated with his long finger the _remnants_ of ancient rome which seemed to be clinging to the huge wall of the new structures: just as if the latter had been bombarded with the shells of old and fragments of the missiles had clung to the bricks. here and there we came upon additional heaps of this old rubbish. above a low parapet of stone, we observed a dark shallow ditch and a large triumphal gate, half sunk in the earth. "the forum!" exclaimed toppi, majestically. our coachman nodded his head in affirmation. with every new pile of old stone and brick the fellow swelled with pride, while i longed for my new york and its skyscrapers, and tried to calculate the number of trucks that would be necessary to clear these heaps of rubbish called ancient rome away before morning. when i mentioned this to toppi he was insulted and replied: "you don't understand anything: better close your eyes and just reflect that you are in rome." i did so and was again convinced that sight is as much of an impediment to the mind as sound: not without reason are all wise folk on the earth blind and all good musicians deaf. like toppi i began to sniff the air and through my sense of smell i gathered more of rome and its horribly long and highly entertaining history than hitherto: thus a decaying leaf in the woods smells stronger than the young and green foliage. will you believe me when i say that i sensed the odor of blood and nero? but when i opened my eyes expectantly i observed a plain, everyday kiosk and a lemonade stand. "well, how do you like it?" growled toppi, still dissatisfied. "it smells----" "well, certainly it smells! it will smell stronger with every hour: these are old, strong aromas, mr. wondergood." and so it really was: the odor grew in strength. i cannot find comparisons to make it clear to you. all the sections of my brain began to move and buzz like bees aroused by smoke. it is strange, but it seems that rome is included in the archive of the silly wondergood. perhaps this is his native town? when we approached a certain populous square i sensed the clear odor of some blood relatives, which was soon followed by the conviction that i, too, have walked these streets before. have i, like toppi, previously donned the human form? ever louder buzzed the bees. my entire beehive buzzed and suddenly thousands of faces, dim and white, beautiful and horrible, began to dance before me; thousands upon thousands of voices, noises, cries, laughters and sighs nearly set me deaf. no, this was no longer a beehive: it was a huge, fiery smithy, where firearms were being forged with the red sparks flying all about. iron! of course, if i had lived in rome before, i must have been one of its emperors: i _remember_ the expression of my face. i remember the movement of my bare neck as i turn my head. i remember the touch of golden laurels upon my bald head--iron! ah, i hear the steps of the iron legions of rome. i hear the iron voices: "vivat cæsar!" i am hot. i am burning. or was i not an emperor but simply one of the "victims" when rome burned down in accordance with the magnificent plan of nero? no, this is not a fire. this is a funeral pyre on which i am forcibly esconsced. i hear the snake-like hissing of the tongues of flame beneath my feet. i strain my neck, all lined with blue veins, and in my throat there rises the final curse--or blessing? think of it: i even remember that roman face in the front row of spectators, which even then gave me no rest because of its idiotic expression and sleepy eyes: i am being burned and it sleeps! "hotel 'internationale'"--cried toppi, and i opened my eyes. we were going up a hill along a quiet street, at the end of which there glowed a large structure, worthy even of new york: it was the hotel where we had previously wired for reservations. they probably thought we had perished in the wreck. my funeral pyre was extinguished. i grew as merry as a darkey who has just escaped from hard labor and i whispered to toppi: "well, toppi, and how about the madonna?" "y-yes, interesting. i was frightened at first and nearly choked to death----" "with a bone? you are silly, toppi: she is polite and did not recognize you. she simply took you for one of her saints. it is a pity, old boy, that we have chosen for ourselves these solemn, american faces: had we looked around more carefully we might have found some more beautiful." "i am quite satisfied with mine," said toppi sadly, and turned away. a glow of secret self-satisfaction appeared upon his long, shiny nose. ah, toppi, ah, the saint! but we were already being accorded a triumphal reception. february . rome, hotel "internationale." i do not want to go to magnus. i am thinking too much of his madonna of flesh and bone. i have come here to lie and to play merrily and i am not at all taken by the prospect of being a mediocre actor, who weeps behind the scenes and appears on the stage with his eyes perfectly dry. moreover, i have no time to gad about the fields catching butterflies with a net like a boy. the whole of rome is buzzing about me. i am an extraordinary man, who loves his fellow beings and i am celebrated. the mobs who flock to worship me are no less numerous than those who worship the vicar of christ himself, two popes all at once.--yes, happy rome cannot consider itself an orphan! i am now living at the hotel, where all is aquiver with ecstacy when i put my shoes outside my door for the night, but they are renovating a palace for me: the historic villa orsini. painters, sculptors and poets are kept busy. one brush-pusher is already painting my portrait, assuring me that i remind him of one of the medicis. the other brush-pushers are sharpening their knives for him. i ask him: "and can you paint a madonna?" certainly he can. it was he, if the signor recollects, who painted the famous turk on the cigarette boxes, the turk whose fame is known even in america. and now three brush-pushers are painting madonnas for me. the rest are running about rome seeking models. i said to one, in my barbarous, american ignorance of the higher arts: "but if you find such a model, signor, just bring her to me. why waste paint and canvas?" he was evidently pained and mumbled: "ah, signor--a model?" i think he took me for a merchant in "live stock." but, fool, why do i need your aid for which i must pay a commission, when my ante-chamber is filled with a flock of beauties? they all worship me. i remind them of savanarola, and they seek to transform every dark corner in my drawing room, and every soft couch into a confessional. i am so glad that these society ladies, like the painters, know so well the history of their country and realize who i am. the joy of the roman papers on finding that i did not perish in the wreck and lost neither my legs nor my billions, was equal to the joy of the papers of jerusalem on the day of the resurrection of christ--in reality there was little cause for satisfaction on the part of the latter, as far as i am able to read history. i feared that i might remind the journalists of j. cæsar, but fortunately they think little of the past and confined themselves to pointing out my resemblance to president wilson. scoundrels! they were simply flattering my american patriotism. to the majority, however, i recall a prophet, but they do not know which one. on this point they are modestly silent. at any rate it is not mahomet: my opposition to marriage is well known at all telegraph stations. it is difficult to imagine the filth on which i fed my hungry interviewers. like an experienced swine-herd, i gaze with horror on the mess they feed upon. they eat and yet they live. although, i must admit, i do not see them growing fat! yesterday morning i flew in an aeroplane over rome and the campagna. you will probably ask whether i saw maria's home? no. i did not find it: how can one find a grain of sand among a myriad of other grains--but i really did not look for it: i felt horror-stricken at the great altitude. but my good interviewers, restless and impatient, were astounded by my coolness and courage. one fellow, strong, surly and bearded, who reminded me of hannibal, was the first to reach me after the flight, and asked: "did not the sensation of flying in the air, mr. wondergood, the feeling of having conquered the elements, thrill you with a sense of pride in man, who has subdued----" he repeated the question: they don't seem to trust me, somehow, and are always suggesting the proper answers. but i shrugged my shoulders and exclaimed sadly: "can you imagine signor--no! only once did i have a sense of pride in men and that was--in the lavatory on board the 'atlantic.'" "oh! in the lavatory! but what happened? a storm, and you were astounded by the genius of man, who has subdued----" "nothing extraordinary happened. but i was astounded by the genius of man who managed to create a palace out of such a disgusting necessity as a lavatory." "oh!" "a real temple, in which one is the arch priest!" "permit me to make a note of that. it is such an original--illumination of the problem----" and to-day the whole eternal city was feeding on this sally. not only did they not request me to leave the place, but on the contrary, this was the day of the first official visits to my apartments: something on the order of a minister of state, an ambassador or some other palace chef came and poured sugar and cinnamon all over me as if i were a pudding. later in the day i returned the visits: it is not very pleasant to keep such things. need i say that i have a nephew? every american millionaire has a nephew in europe. my nephew's name is also wondergood. he is connected with some legation, is very correct in manners and his bald spot is so oiled that my kiss could serve me as a breakfast were i fond of scented oil. but one must be willing to sacrifice something, especially the gratification of a sense of smell. the kiss cost me not a cent, while it meant a great deal to the young man. it opened for him a wide credit on soap and perfumery. but enough! when i look at these ladies and gentlemen and reflect that they are just as they were at the court of aschurbanipal and that for the past years the pieces of silver received by judas continue to bear interest, like his kiss--i grow bored with this old and threadbare play. ah, i want a great play. i seek originality and talent. i want beautiful lines and bold strokes. this company here casts me in the rôle of an old brass band conductor. at times i come to the conclusion that it wasn't really worth my while to have undertaken such a long journey for the sake of this old drivel--to exchange ancient, magnificent and multi-colored hell for its miserable replica. in truth, i am sorry that magnus and his madonna refused to join me--we would have played a little--just a little! i have had but one interesting morning. in fact i was quite excited. the congregation of a so-called "free" church, composed of very serious men and women, who insist upon worshipping in accordance with the dictates of their conscience, invited me to deliver a sunday sermon. i donned a black frock coat, which gave me a close resemblance to--toppi, went through a number of particularly expressive gestures before my mirror and was driven in an automobile, like a prophet--moderne, to the service. i took as my subject or "text" jesus' advice to the rich youth to distribute his wealth among the poor--and in not more than half an hour, i demonstrated as conclusively as and make , that love of one's neighbor is the all important thing. like a practical and careful american, however, i pointed out that it was not necessary to try and go after the whole of the kingdom of heaven at one shot and to distribute one's wealth carelessly; that one can buy it up in lots on the instalment plan and by easy payments. the faces of the faithful bore a look of extreme concentration. they were apparently figuring out something and came to the conclusion that on the basis i suggested, the kingdom of heaven was attainable for the pockets of all of them. unfortunately, a number of my quick-witted compatriots were present in the congregation. one of them was about to rise to his feet to propose the formation of a stock company, when i realized the danger and frustrated this plan by letting loose a fountain of emotion, and thus extinguished his religiously practical zeal! what did i not talk about? i wept for my sad childhood, spent in labor and privation; i whined about my poor father who perished in a match factory. i prayed solemnly for all my brothers and sisters in christ. the swamp i created was so huge that the journalists caught enough wild ducks to last them for six months. how we wept! i shivered with the dampness and began to beat energetically the drum of my billions: dum-dum! everything for others, not a cent for me: dum-dum! with a brazenness worthy of the whip i concluded "with the words of the great teacher:" "come ye unto me all who are heavy-laden and weary and i will comfort ye!" ah, what a pity i cannot perform miracles! a little practical miracle, something on the order of transforming a bottle of water into one of sour chianti or some of the worshippers into pastry, would have gone a long way at that moment.--you laugh and are angry, my earthy reader? there is no reason for you to act thus. remember only that the _extraordinary_ cannot be expressed in your ventriloquist language and that my words are merely a cursed mask for my thoughts. maria! you will read of my success in the newspapers. there was one fool, however, who almost spoiled my day for me: he was a member of the salvation army. he came to see me and suggested that i immediately take up a trumpet and lead the army into battle--they were too cheap laurels he offered and i drove him out. but toppi--he was triumphantly silent all the way home and finally he said very respectfully: "you were in fine mettle to-day, mr. wondergood. i even wept. it is a pity that neither magnus nor his daughter heard you preach, she--she would have changed her opinion of us." you understand, of course, that i felt like kicking this admirer out of the carriage! i again felt in the pupils of my eyes the piercing sting of hers. the speed with which i was again turned inside out and spread out on a plate for the public's view is equal only to that with which an experienced waiter opens a can of conserves. i drew my top hat over my eyes, raised the collar of my coat and looking very much like a tragedian just hissed off the stage, i rode silently, and without acknowledging the greetings showered upon me, i proceeded to my apartments. ah, that gaze of maria! and how could i have acknowledged the greetings when i had no cane with me? i have declined all of to-day's invitations and am at home: i am engaged in "religious meditation"--this was how toppi announced it to the journalists. he has really begun to respect me. before me are whiskey and champagne. i am slowly filling up on the liquor while from the dining hall below come the distant strains of music. my wondergood was apparently considerable of a drunkard and every night he drags me to the wineshop, to which i interpose no objection. what's the difference? fortunately his intoxication is of a merry kind and we make quite a pleasant time of it. at first we cast our dull eyes over the furniture and involuntarily begin to calculate the value of all this bronze, these carpets, venetian mirrors, etc. "a trifle!" we agree, and with peculiar self-satisfaction we lose ourselves in the contemplation of our own billions, of our power and our remarkable wisdom and character. our bliss increases with each additional glass. with peculiar pleasure we wallow in the cheap luxury of the hotel, and--think of it!--i am actually beginning to have a liking for bronze, carpets, glass and stones. my puritan toppi condemns luxury. it reminds him of sodom and gommorah. but it is difficult for me to part with these little emotional pleasures. how silly of me! we continue to listen dully and half-heartedly to the music and venture to whistle some accompaniments. we add a little contemplation on the decollete of the ladies and then, with our step still firm, we proceed to our resting room. but we were just ready for bed when suddenly i felt as if some one had struck me a blow and i was immediately seized with a tempest of tears, of love and sadness. the extraordinary suddenly found expression. i grew as broad as space, as deep as eternity and i embraced all in a single breath! but, oh, what sadness! oh, what love, maria! but i am nothing more than a subterranean lake in the belly of wondergood and my storms in no way disturb his firm tread. i am only a solitaire in his stomach, of which he seeks to rid himself! we ring for the servants. "soda!" i am simply drunk. arrivederci, signor, buona notte! february , . rome, hotel "internationale." yesterday i visited magnus. i was compelled to wait long for him, in the garden, and when he did appear he was so cold and indifferent that i felt like leaving. i observed a few gray hairs in his black beard. i had not noticed them before. was maria unwell? i appeared concerned. everything here is so uncertain that on leaving a person for one hour one may have to seek him in eternity." "maria is well, thank you," replied magnus, frigidly. he seemed surprised as if my question were presumptuous and improper. "and how are your affairs, mr. wondergood? the roman papers are filled with news of you. you are scoring a big success." with pain aggravated by the absence of maria, i revealed to magnus my disappointment and my ennui. i spoke well, not without wit and sarcasm. i grew more and more provoked by his lack of attention and interest, plainly written on his pale and weary face. not once did he smile or venture to put any questions, but when i reached the story of my "nephew" he frowned in displeasure and said: "fie! this is a cheap variety farce! how can you occupy yourself with such trifles, mr. wondergood?" i replied angrily: "but it is not i who am occupying myself with them, signor magnus!" "and how about the interviews? what about that flight of yours? you should drive them away. this humbles your...three billions. and is it true that you delivered some sort of a sermon?" the joy of play forsook me. unwilling as magnus was to listen to me, i told him all about my sermon and those credulous fools who swallowed sacrilege as they do marmalade. "and did you expect anything different, mr. wondergood?" "i expected that they would fall upon me with clubs for my audacity: when i sacrilegiously bandied about the words of the testament...." "yes, they are beautiful words," agreed magnus. "but didn't you know that all their worship of god and all their faith are nothing but sacrilege? when they term a wafer the body of christ, while some sixtus or pius reigns undisturbed, and with the approval of all catholics as the vicar of christ, why should not you, an american from illinois, call yourself at least...his governor? this is not meant as sacrilege, mr. wondergood. these are simply allegories, highly convenient for blockheads, and you are only wasting your wrath. but when will you get down to _business_?" i threw up my hands in skillfully simulated sorrow: "i _want_ to do something, but i _know_ not what to do. i shall probably never get down to business until you, magnus, agree to come to my aid." he frowned, at his own large, motionless, white hands and then at me: "you are too credulous, mr. wondergood. this is a great fault when one has three billions. no, i am of no use to you. our roads are far apart." "but, dear magnus!..." i expected him to strike me for this gentle _dear_, which i uttered in my best possible falsetto. but i ventured to continue. with all the sweetness i managed to accumulate in rome, i looked upon the dim physiognomy of my friend and in a still gentler falsetto, i asked: "and of what nationality are you, my _dear_...signor magnus? i suspect for some reason that you are not italian?" he replied calmly: "no, i am not italian." "but where is your country?----" "my country?... omne solum liberam libero patria. i suppose you do not know latin? it means: where freedom is there is the fatherland of every free man. will you take breakfast with me?" the invitation was couched in such icy tones and maria's absence was so strongly implied therein that i was compelled to decline it politely. the devil take this man! i was not at all in a merry mood that morning. i fervently wished to weep upon his breast while he mercilessly threw cold showers upon my noblest transports. i sighed and changed my pose. i assumed a pose prepared especially for maria. speaking in a low voice, i said: "i want to be frank with you, signor magnus. my past...contains many dark pages, which i should like to redeem. i...." he quickly interrupted me: "there are dark pages in everybody's past, mr. wondergood. i myself am not so clear of reproach as to accept the confession of such a worthy gentleman." "i am a poor spiritual father," he added with a most unpleasant laugh: "_i never pardon sinners_ and, in view of that, what pleasure could there be for you in your confession. better tell me something more about your nephew. is he young?" we spoke about my nephew--and magnus smiled. a pause ensued. then magnus asked whether i had visited the vatican gallery and i bade him good-by, requesting him to transmit my compliments to maria. i confess i was a sorry sight and felt deeply indebted to magnus when he said in bidding me farewell: "do not be angry with me, mr. wondergood. i am not altogether well to-day and...am rather worried about my affairs. that's all. i hope to be more pleasant when we meet again, but be so kind as to excuse me this morning. i shall see that maria gets your compliments." if this blackbearded fellow were only _playing_, i confess i would have found a worthy partner. a dozen pickaninnies could not have licked off the honeyed expression my face assumed at magnus' promise to transmit my greetings to maria. all the way back to my hotel i smiled idiotically at the coachman's back and afterwards bestowed a kiss on toppi's brow--the canaile still maintains an odor of fur, like a young devil. "i see there was profit in your visit," said toppi significantly. "how is magnus'...daughter? you understand?" "splendid, toppi, splendid! she said that my beauty and wisdom reminded her of solomon's!" toppi smiled condescendingly at my unsuccessful jest. the honeyed expression left my face and rust and vinegar took the place of the sugar. i locked myself in my room and for a long time continued to curse satan for falling in love with a woman. you consider yourself original, my earthly friend, when you fall in love with a woman and begin to quiver all over with the fever of love. and i do not. i can see the legions of couples, from adam and eve on; i can see their kisses and caresses; i can hear the words so cursedly monotonous, and i begin to detest my own lips daring to mumble the mumbling of others, my eyes, simulating the gaze of others, my heart, surrendering obediently to the click of the lock of a house of shame. i can see all these excited animals in their groaning and their caresses and i cry with revulsion at my own mass of bones and flesh and nerves! take care, satan in human form, deceit is coming over you! won't you take maria for yourself, my earthly friend? take her. she is yours, not mine. ah, if maria were my slave, i would put a rope around her neck and would take her, naked, to the market place: who will buy? who will pay the most for this unearthly beauty? ah, do not hurt the poor blind merchant: open wide your purses, jingle louder your gold, generous gentlemen!... what, she will not go? fear not, signor, she will come and she will love you.... this is simply her maidenly modesty, sir! shall i tie the other end of the rope about her and lead her to your bed, kind sir? take the rope along with you. i charge nothing for that. only rid me of this heavenly beauty! she has the face of the radiant madonna. she is the daughter of the honorable thomas magnus and both of them are thieves: he stole his white hands and she--her pristine face! ah.... but i am beginning to play with you, dear reader? that is a mistake: i have simply taken the wrong note book. no, it is not a mistake. it is worse. i play because my loneliness is very great, very deep--i fear it has no bottom at all! i stand on the edge of an abyss and hurl words, many heavy words, into it, but they fall without a sound. i hurl into it laughter, threats and moans. i spit into it. i fling into it heaps of stones and rocks. i throw mountains into it--and still it remains silent and empty. no, really, there is no bottom to this abyss and we toil in vain, you and i, my friend! ...but i see your smile and your cunning laugh: you _understand_ why i spoke so sourly of loneliness.... ah, 'tis love! and you want to ask whether i have a mistress? yes: there are two. one is a russian countess. the other, an italian countess. they differ only in the kind of perfume they use. but this is such an immaterial matter that i love them both equally. you probably wish to ask also whether i shall ever visit magnus again? yes, i shall go to magnus. i love him very much. it matters little that his name is false and that his daughter has the audacity to resemble the madonna. i haven't enough of wondergood in me to be particular about a name--and i am too _human_ not to forgive the efforts of others to appear _divine_. i swear by eternal salvation that the one is worthy of the other! february , . rome, villa orsini. cardinal x., the closest friend and confidante of the pope, has paid me a visit. he was accompanied by two abbés. in general, he is a personage whose attentions to me have brought me no small measure of prestige. i met his eminence in the reception hall of my new palace. toppi was dancing all about the priests, snatching their blessings quicker than a lover does the kisses of his mistress. six devout hands hardly managed to handle one devil, grown pious, and before we had reached the threshold of my study, he actually contrived to touch the belly of the cardinal. what ecstasy! cardinal x. speaks all the european languages and, out of respect for the stars and stripes and my billions, he spoke english. he began the conversation by congratulating me upon the acquisition of the villa orsini and told me its history in detail for the past years. this was quite unexpected, very long, at times confusing and unintelligible, so that i was compelled, like a real american ass, to blink constantly...but this gave me an opportunity to study my distinguished and eminent visitor. he is not at all old. he is broad shouldered, well built and in good health. he has a large, almost square face, an olive skin, with a bluish tinge upon his shaven cheeks, and his thin, but beautiful hands reveal his spanish blood. before he dedicated himself to god, cardinal x. was a spanish grandee and duke. but his dark eyes are too small and too deeply set beneath his thick eyebrows and the distance between the short nose and the thin lips is too long.... all this reminds me of some one. but of whom? and what is this curious habit i have of being reminded of some one? probably a saint? for a moment the cardinal was lost in thought and suddenly i recalled: yes, this is simply a shaven _monkey_! this must be its sad, boundless pensiveness, _its_ evil gleam within the narrow pupil! but in a moment the cardinal laughed, jested and gesticulated like a neapolitan lazzarone--he was no longer telling me the history of the palace. he was playing, he was interpreting it in facial expression and dramatic monologue! he has short fingers, not at all like those of a monkey, and when he gesticulates he rather resembles a penguin while his voice reminds me of a talking parrot--who are you, anyhow? no, a monkey! he is laughing again and i observe that he really does not know how to laugh. it is as if he had learned the human art of laughter but yesterday. he likes it but experiences considerable difficulty in extracting it from his throat. the sounds seem to choke him. it is impossible not to echo this strange contagious laughter. but it seems to break one's jaws and teeth and to petrify the muscles. it was really remarkable. i was fascinated when cardinal x. suddenly cut short his lecture on the villa orsini by a fit of groaning laughter which left him calm and silent. his thin fingers played with his rosary, he remained quiet and gazed at me with a mien of deepest reverence and gentle love: something akin to tears glistened in his dark eyes. i had made an impression upon him. he loved me! what was i to do? i gazed into his square, ape-like face. kindliness turned to love, love into passion, and still we maintained the silence...another moment and i would have stifled him in my embrace! "well, here you are in rome, mr. wondergood," sweetly sang the old monkey, without altering his loving gaze. "here i am in rome," i agreed obediently, continuing to gaze upon him with the same sinful passion. "and do you know, mr. wondergood, why i came here, i.e., in addition, of course, to the pleasure i anticipated in making your acquaintance?" i thought and with my gaze unchanged, replied: "for money, your eminence?" the cardinal shook, as though flapping his wings, laughed, and slapped his knee--and again lost himself in loving contemplation of my nose. this dumb reverence, to which i replied with redoubled zest, began to wield a peculiar influence upon me. i purposely tell you all this in detail in order that you may understand my wish at that moment: to begin cavorting about, to sing like a cock, to tell my best arkansas anecdote, or simply to invite his eminence to remove his regalia and play a game of poker! "your eminence...." "i love americans, mr. wondergood." "your eminence! in arkansas they tell a story...." "ah, i see, you want to get down to business? i understand your impatience. money matters should never be postponed. is that not so?" "it depends entirely upon one's concern in these matters, your eminence." the square face of the cardinal grew serious, and in his eyes there gleamed for a moment a ray of loving reproach: "i hope you are not vexed at my long dissertation, mr. wondergood. i love so much the history of our great city that i could not forego the pleasure...the things you see before you are not rome. there is no rome, mr. wondergood. once upon a time it was the eternal city, but to-day it is simply a large city and the greater it grows the further it is from eternity. where is that great spirit which once illumined it?" i shall not narrate to you all the prattle of this purple parrot, his gently-cannibal look, his grimaces and his laughter. all that the old shaven monkey told me when it finally grew weary was: "your misfortune is that you love your fellow beings too much...." "love your neighbor...." "well, let neighbors love each other. go on teaching that but why do _you_ want to do it? when one loves too well one is blind to the shortcomings of the beloved and still worse: one elevates these faults to virtues. how can you reform people and make them happy without realizing their shortcomings or by ignoring their vices? when one loves, one pities and pity is the death of power. you see, i am quite frank with you, mr. wondergood, and i repeat: love is weakness. love will get the money out of your pocket and will squander it...on rouge! leave love to the lower classes. let them love each other. demand it of them, but you, you have risen to greater heights, gifted with such power!..." "but what can i do, your eminence? i am at a loss to understand it all. from my childhood on, especially in church, i have had it drummed into me that one must love his neighbor, and i believed it. and so...." the cardinal grew pensive. like laughter, pensiveness was becoming to him and rendered his square face immovable, filling it with dignity and lonely grief. leaning forward with his lips compressed and supporting his chin upon his hand, he fixed his sharp, sleepy eyes upon me. there was much sorrow in them. he seemed to be waiting for the conclusion of my remark, and not having patience to do so, sighed and blinked. "childhood, yes"...he mumbled, still blinking sorrowfully. "children, yes. but you are no longer a child. forget this lesson. you must acquire the heavenly gift of forgetfulness, you know." he gnashed his white teeth and significantly scratched his nose with his thin finger, continuing seriously: "but it's all the same, mr. wondergood. you, yourself cannot accomplish much.... yes, yes! one must _know_ people to make them happy. isn't that your noble aim? but the church alone _knows_ people. she has been a mother and teacher for thousands of years. her _experience_ is the only one worth while, and, i may say, the only reliable one. as far as i know your career, mr. wondergood, you are an experienced cattle man. and you know, of course, what _experience_ means even in the matter of handling such simple creatures as...." "as swine...." he was startled--and suddenly began to bark, to cough, to whine: he was laughing again. "swine? that's fine, that's splendid, mr. wondergood, but do not forget that one finds the devil, too, in swine!" ceasing his laughter he proceeded: "in teaching others, we learn ourselves. i do not contend that all the methods of education and training employed by the church were equally successful. no, we often made mistakes, but every one of our mistakes served to improve our methods...we are approaching perfection, mr. wondergood, we are approaching perfection!" i hinted at the rapid growth of rationalism which, it seemed to me, threatened to destroy the "perfection" of the church, but cardinal x. again flapped his wings and almost screeched with laughter. "rationalism! you are a most talented humorist, mr. wondergood! tell me, was not the celebrated mark twain a countryman of yours? yes, yes! rationalism! just think a moment. from what root is this word derived and what does it mean--_ratio_? _an nescis, mi filis quantilla sapientia rigitur orbis?_ ah, my dear wondergood! to speak of ratio on this earth is more out of place than it would be to speak of a rope in the home of a man who has just been hanged!" i watched the old monkey enjoying himself and i enjoyed myself too. i studied this mixture of a monkey, parrot, penguin, fox, wolf--and what not? and it was really funny: i love merry suicides. for a long time we continued our fun at the expense of _ratio_ until his eminence calmed himself and assumed the tone of a teacher: "as anti-semitism is the socialism of fools...." "and are you familiar...?" "i told you we are approaching perfection!... so is rationalism the wisdom of fools. the wise man goes further. the ratio constitutes the holiday dress of a fool. it is the coat he dons in the presence of others, but he really lives, sleeps, works, loves and dies without any ratio at all. do you fear death, mr. wondergood?" i did not feel like replying and remained silent. "you need not feel ashamed, mr. wondergood: one should fear death. as long as there is _death_...." the features of the monkey's face suddenly contracted and in his eyes there appeared horror and wrath: as if some one had seized him by the back of his neck and thrust him into the darkness and terror of a primeval forest. he _feared_ death and his terror was dark, evil and boundless. i needed no words of explanation and no other evidence: one look upon this distorted, befogged and confused _human_ face was sufficient to compel reverence for the great irrational! and how weak is _their_ steadiness: my wondergood also grew pale and cringed...ah, the rogue! he was _now_ seeking protection and help from me! "will you have some wine, your eminence?" but his eminence was himself again. he curved his thin lips into a smile and shook his head in the negative. and suddenly he broke out again with surprising fury: "and as long as there is death, the church is unshakable! let all of you who seek to undermine her, tear her, and blow her up--you cannot conquer her. and even if you should succeed in destroying her, the first to perish beneath her ruins would be yourselves. who will then defend you against death? who will give you sweet faith in immortality, in eternal life, in everlasting bliss?... believe me, mr. wondergood, the world is not seeking your ratio. it is all a misunderstanding!" "but what does it seek, your eminence?" "what does it want? _mundus vult decipi_...you know our latin? the world wants to be fooled!" and the old monkey again grew merry, begun to wink, to beam with satisfaction, slapped his knee and burst into laughter. i also laughed. the rascal was so funny! "and is it you," said i, "who wants to fool it?" the cardinal again grew serious and replied sadly: "the holy see needs funds, mr. wondergood. the world, while it has not grown rational, has become weaker in its faith and it is somewhat difficult to manage it." he signed and continued: "you are not a socialist, mr. wondergood? ah, do not be ashamed. we are all socialists now. we are all on the side of the hungry: the more satisfied they will be, the more they will fear _death_. you understand?" he flung out his arms and drew them in again, like a net filled with fish and said: "we are fishermen, mr. wondergood, humble fishermen!... and tell me: do you regard the desire for _liberty_ as a virtue or a vice?" "the entire civilized world regards the desire for liberty as a virtue," i replied angrily. "i expected no other reply from a citizen of the united states. but don't you personally believe that he who will give man limitless _freedom_ will also bring him _death_? _death_ alone releases all earthly ties. and don't you regard the words 'freedom' and 'death' as synonymous?" "i speak of political liberty." "of political liberty? oh, we have no objection to that. you can have as much as you please of that! of course, provided men themselves ask for it. are you sure they really want it? if they do, please help yourself! it is all nonsense and calumny to say that the holy see is in favor of reaction.... i had the honor to be present on the balcony of the vatican when his holiness blessed the first french aëroplane that appeared over rome, and the next pope, i am sure, will gladly bless the barricades. the time of galileo has passed, mr. wondergood, and we all know now that the earth does move!" he drew a circle in the air with his finger, indicating the revolution of the earth. i said: "you must permit me to think over your proposal, your eminence." cardinal x. jumped up from his chair and gently touched my shoulder with two of his aristocratic fingers: "oh, i am not hurrying you, my good mr. wondergood. it was you who were hurrying me. i am even convinced that you will at first refuse me, but when, after some little experience, you will have realized the real _needs_ of man.... i, too, love man, mr. wondergood, to be sure, not so passionately and...." he departed with the same grimaces, bearing himself with dignity and dispensing blessings all about him. i saw him again through the window at the entrance of the palace, while the coachman was bringing up the carriage: he was speaking into the ear of one of his abbés, whose face resembled a black plate. the cardinal's countenance no longer reminded me of a monkey: it was rather the face of a shaven, hungry, tired lion. this able actor needed no dressing room for his make-up! behind him stood a tall lackey, all dressed in black, reminding one of an english baronet. whenever his eminence turned about in his direction, he would respectfully lift his faded silk hat. * * * * * following the departure of his eminence i was surrounded by a merry group of friends, with whom i had filled the spare rooms of my palace for the purpose of alleviating my loneliness and ennui. toppi looked proud and happy: he was so satiated with blessings that he fairly bulged. the artists, decorators and others--whatever you call them--were greatly impressed by the cardinal's visit, and spoke with much glee of the remarkable expression of his face and the grandeur of his manner! the pope himself.... but when i remarked with the naïveté of a redskin that he reminded me of a monkey, the shrewd canailes burst into loud laughter and one of them immediately sketched a portrait of cardinal x.--in a cage. i am not a moralist to judge other people for their petty sins: they will get what is due them on their judgment day--and i was much pleased by the cleverness of the laughing beasts. they do not appear to have much faith in _love_ for one's _fellow beings_ and if i should rummage about among their drawings, i would probably find a pretty good sketch of the ass wondergood. i like that. i find relief in communion with my little, pleasant sinners, from the babbling of the great and disagreeable saints...whose hands are covered with blood. then toppi asked me: "and how much does he want?" "he wants all!" toppi said with determination: "don't you give him all. he promised to make me a prelate, but, all the same, don't you give him all. one should save his money." every day i have unpleasant experiences with toppi: people are constantly foisting counterfeit coin on him. when they first gave him some, he was greatly perturbed and was impressed with what i said to him. "you really astonish me, toppi," i said, "it is ridiculous for an old devil like you to accept counterfeit money from human beings, and allow yourself to be fooled. you ought to be ashamed of yourself, toppi. i fear you will make a beggar of me." now, however, toppi, entangled in the mesh of the counterfeit and the genuine, seeks to preserve both the one and the other: he is quite clever in money matters and the cardinal tried in vain to bribe him. toppi--a prelate!... but the shaven monkey does really want my three billions. apparently the belly of the holy see is rumbling with hunger. i gazed long at the well executed caricature of the cardinal and the longer i gazed, the less i liked it: no, there was something missing. the artist had sensed the ridiculous pretty well, but i do not see that fire of spite and malice which is in constant play beneath the gray ashes of terror. the bestial and the human is here, but it is not molded into that _extraordinary_ mask which, now that a long distance separates me from the cardinal and i no longer hear his heavy laughter, is beginning to exercise a most disagreeable influence over me. or is it because the extraordinary is inexpressible through pencil? in reality he is a cheap rascal, no better than a plain pickpocket, and told me nothing new: he is human enough and wise enough to cultivate that contemptuous laughter of his at the expense of the rational. but he revealed _himself_ to me and do not take offense at my american rudeness, dear reader: somewhere behind his broad shoulders, cringing with terror, there gleamed also your dear countenance. it was like a dream, you understand: it was as if some one were strangling you, and you, in stifled voice, cried to heaven: murder! police! ah, you do not know that _third_, which is neither life nor death, and i know _who_ it was that was strangling you with his bony fingers! but do i know? oh, laugh at him who is laughing at you, comrade. i fear your turn is coming to have some fun at my expense. do i know? i came to you from the innermost depths, merry and serene, blessed in the consciousness of my immortality.... and i am already hesitating. i am already trembling before this shaven monkey's face which dares to express its own low horror in such audaciously grand style: ah, i have not even sold my immortality: i have simply crushed it in my sleep, as does a foolish mother her newborn babe. it has simply faded beneath your sun and rains. it has become a transparent cloth without design, unfit to cover the nakedness of a respectable gentleman! this reeking wondergood swamp in which i am submerged to my eyes, envelops me with mire, befogs my consciousness and stifles me with the unbearable odors of decay. when do you usually begin to decay, my friend: on the second, the third day or does it depend upon the climate? i am already in the process of decay, and i am nauseated by the odor of my entrails. or are you so used to the work of the _worms_ that you take it for the elevation of thought and inspiration? my god, i forgot that i may have some fair readers, too! i most humbly beg your pardon, worthy folk, for this uncalled for discussion of odors. i am a most unpleasant conversationalist, milady, and as a perfumer i am worse...no, still worse: i am a disgusting mixture of satan and an american bear, and i know not how to appreciate your good taste.... no, i am still satan! i still know that i am immortal and when my will shall command me i will strangle myself with my own bony fingers. but if i _should forget_? then i shall distribute my wealth among the poor and with you, my friend, shall crawl up to the old shaven monkey. i shall cling with my american face to his soft slipper, emitting blessings. i shall weep. i shall rave with horror: "save me from death!" and the old monkey, brushing the hair from his face, reclining comfortably, gleaming with a holy light, illuminating all about it--and itself trembling with fear and horror--will hastily continue to fool the world, the world which so loves to be fooled! but i am jesting. i wish to be serious now. i like cardinal x. and i shall permit him to begild himself with my gold. i am weary. i must sleep. my bed and wondergood await me. i shall extinguish the light and in the darkness i shall listen for a moment to the clicking of the counting machine within my breast. and then will come the great pianist, a drunken genius, and begin drumming upon the black keys of my brain. he knows everything and has forgotten everything, this ingenious drunkard, and confuses the most inspiring landscapes with a swamp. that is--a dream. ii february . rome, villa orsini. magnus was not at home. i was received by maria. a glorious peace has suddenly descended upon me. in wondrous calm i breathe at this moment. like a schooner, its sails lowered, i doze in the midday heat of the slumbering ocean. not a stir. not a ripple. i fear to move or to open wide my eyes, dazzled by the rays of the sun. i breathe silently, and i would not rouse the slightest wave upon the boundless smoothness of the sea. and quietly i lay down my pen. february . villa orsini. thomas magnus was not at home and, to my great surprise, i was received by maria. i do not suppose you would be interested in how i greeted her and what i mumbled in the first few moments of our meeting. i can only say that i mumbled and that i felt a strong impulse to laugh. i could not lift my eyes to gaze upon maria until my thoughts cast off their soiled garb and donned clean attire. as you see, i did not lose consciousness altogether! but in vain did i take these precautions: _that_ torture did not follow. maria's gaze was clear and simple and it contained neither searching, penetrating fire nor fatal forgiveness. it was calm and clear, like the sky of the campagna and--i do not know how it happened--it penetrated my entire being. she met me in the garden. we sat down by the gate, from which vantage point we had a good view of the campagna. when you gaze at the campagna you cannot prattle nonsense. no, it was she who gazed at the campagna and i gazed into her eyes--clear to the seventh sky, where you end the count of your heavens. we were silent or--if you regard the following as conversation--we spoke: "are those mountains?" "yes, those are the mountains of albania. and there--is tivoli." she picked out little white houses in the distance and pointed them out to me and i felt a peculiar calm and joy in maria's gaze. the suspicious resemblance of maria to the madonna no longer troubled me: how can i possibly be troubled by the fact that you resemble _yourself_? and came a moment when a great peace of mind descended upon _me_. i have no words of comparison whereby to reveal to you that great and bright calm.... i am forever conjuring up before me that accursed schooner with its lowered sails, on which i never really sailed, for i am afraid of seasickness! or is it because on this night of my loneliness, my road is being illuminated by the _star of the seas_? well, yes, i was a schooner, if you so desire it, and if this is not agreeable to you i was _all_. besides i was _nothing_. you see what nonsense emerges out of all this talk when wondergood begins to seek words and comparisons. i was so calm that i even soon began to gaze into maria's eyes: i simply _believed_ them. this is deeper than mere gazing. when necessary i shall find those eyes again. in the meantime i shall remain a schooner with sails lowered. i shall be _all_ and i shall be _nothing_. only once did a slight breeze stir my sails, but only for a moment: that was when maria pointed out the tiberian road to me, cutting the green hills like a white thread, and asked whether i had ever traversed it before. "yes, occasionally, signorina." "i often gaze upon this road and think that it must be extremely pleasant to traverse it by automobile." "have you a swift car, signor?" "oh, yes, signorina, very swift! but those," i continued in gentle reproach, "who are themselves limitless distances and endlessness are in no need of any movement." maria and an automobile! a winged angel entering a trolley car for the sake of speed! a swallow riding on a turtle! an arrow on the humpy back of a hod carrier! ah, all comparisons lie: why speak of swallows and arrows, why speak of any movement for maria, who embraces all distances! but it is only now that i thought of the trolley and the turtle. at that time i felt so calm and peaceful, i was deep in such bliss that i could think of nothing except that countenance of eternity and undying light! a great calm came upon me on that day and nothing could disturb my endless bliss. it was not long before thomas magnus returned, and a flying fish, gleaming for a moment above the ocean, could no more disturb its blue smoothness than did magnus disturb me. i _received_ him into my heart. i swallowed him calmly and felt no heavier burden in my stomach than a whale does after swallowing a herring. it was gratifying to find magnus hospitable and merry. he pressed my hand and his eyes were bright and kind. even his face seemed less pale and not as weary as usual. i was invited to breakfast...lest it worry you, let me say right now that i remained until late in the evening. when maria had retired i told magnus of the visit of cardinal x. his merry face darkened slightly and in his eyes appeared his former hostile flame. "cardinal x.? he _came_ to see you?" i narrated to him in detail my conversation with "the shaven monkey," and remarked that he had impressed me as a scoundrel of no small caliber. magnus frowned and said sternly: "you laugh in vain, mr. wondergood. i have long known cardinal x. and...i have been keeping a close eye on him. he is evil, cruel and dangerous. despite his ridiculous exterior, he is as cunning, merciless and revengeful as satan!" and you, too, magnus! like satan! this blue-faced, shaven orang-outang, this caressing gorilla, this monkey cavorting before a looking-glass! but i have exhausted my capacity for insult. magnus' remark fell like a stone to the bottom of my bliss. i listened further: "his flirting with the socialists, his jokes at the expense of galileo are all lies. just as the enemies of cromwell hanged him after his death, so would cardinal x. burn the bones of galileo with immense satisfaction: to this day he regards the movement of the earth as a personal affront. it is an old school, mr. wondergood; he will stop at nothing to overcome obstacles, be it poison or murder, which he will take care to attribute to the misfortune of accident. you smile but i cannot discuss the vatican smilingly, not so long as it contains such...and it will always produce some one like cardinal x. look out, mr. wondergood: you have landed within the sphere of his vision and interests, and, let me assure you, that scores of eyes are now watching you...perhaps me, too. be on your guard, my friend!" magnus was quite excited. fervently i shook his hand: "ah, magnus!... but when will you agree to help me?" "but you know that i do not like human beings. it is _you_ who loves them mr. wondergood, not i." a gleam of irony appeared in his eyes. "the cardinal says that it is not at all necessary to love people in order to be happy.... the contrary, he says!" "and who told you that i want to make people happy? again, it is _you_ who wants to do that, not i. hand over your billions to cardinal x. his recipe for happiness is not worse than other patent medicines. to be sure, his recipe has one disadvantage: while dispensing _happiness_ it destroys _people_...but is that important? you are too much of a business man, mr. wondergood, and i see that you are not sufficiently familiar with the world of our inventors of the best means for the happiness of mankind: these means are more numerous than the so-called best tonics for the growth of hair. i myself was a dreamer at one time and invented one or two in my youth...but i was short on chemistry and badly singed my hair in an explosion. i am very glad i did not come across your billions in _those_ days. i am joking, mr. wondergood, but if you wish to be serious, here is my answer: keep on growing and multiplying your hogs, make four of your three billions, continue selling your conserves, provided they are not too rotten, and cease worrying about the happiness of mankind. as long as the world likes good ham it will not deny you its love and admiration!" "and how about those who have no means to buy ham?" "what do you care about them? it is their belly--pardon me for the expression--that is rumbling with hunger, not yours. i congratulate you upon your new home: i know the villa orsini very well. it is a magnificent relic of old rome." i balked at the prospect of another lecture on my palace! yes, magnus had again shoved me aside. he did it brusquely and roughly. but his voice lacked sternness and he gazed at me softly and kindly. well, what of it? to the devil with humanity, its happiness and its ham! i shall try later to bore an entrance into magnus' brain. in the meantime leave me alone with my great peace and...maria. boundless peace and...satan!--isn't that a splendid touch in my play? and what kind of a liar is he who can fool only others? to lie to oneself and believe it--that is an art! after breakfast all _three_ of us walked over the downy hills and slopes of the campagna. it was still early spring and only little white flowers gently brightened the young, green earth. a soft breeze diffused the scents of the season, while little houses gleamed in distant albano. maria walked in front of us, stopping now and then and casting her heavenly eyes upon everything they could envisage. when i return to rome i shall order my brush-pusher to paint madonna thus: on a carpet of soft green and little white flowers. magnus was so frank and merry that i again drew his attention to maria's resemblance to the madonna and told him of the miserable brush-pushers in search of a model. he laughed, agreed with me in my opinion of the aforementioned resemblance, and grew wistful. "it is a _fatal_ resemblance, mr. wondergood. you remember that heavy moment when i spoke to you of _blood_? already there is blood at the feet of maria...the blood of one noble youth whose memory maria and i cherish. there are fatal faces, there are fatal _resemblances_ which confuse our souls and lead to the abyss of self destruction. i am the father of maria, and yet i myself hardly dare to touch her brow with my lips. what insurmountable barriers does love raise for itself when it dares to lift its eyes upon maria?" this was the only moment of that happy day when my ocean became overcast with heavy clouds, as tangled as the beard of "mad king lear," while a wild wind shook the sails of my schooner. but i lifted my eyes to maria, i met her gaze. it was bright and calm, like the sky above us--and the wild wind disappeared without trace, bearing away with it fragments of the darkness. i do not know whether you understand these sea comparisons, which i consider quite inadequate. let me explain: i again grew quite calm. what is that noble roman youth to me, who himself unable to find _comparisons_ was hurled over the head of his pegasus? i am a white-winged schooner and beneath me is an entire ocean, and was it not written of her: the _incomparable_? the day was long and quiet and i was charmed with the precision with which the sun rolled down from its height to the rim of the earth, with the measured pace with which the stars covered the heavens, the large stars first, then the little ones, until the whole sky sparkled and gleamed. slowly grew the darkness. then came the rosy moon, at first somewhat rusty, then brilliant, and swam majestically over the road made free and warm by the sun. but more than anything else did i and magnus feel charmed when we sat in the half-darkened room and heard maria: she played the harp and sang. and listening to the strains of the harp i realized why man likes music produced by taut strings: i was myself a taut string and even when the finger no longer touched me, the sound continued to vibrate and died so slowly that i can still hear it in the depths of my soul. and suddenly i saw that the entire air was filled with taut and trembling strings: they extend from star to star, scatter themselves over the earth and penetrate my heart...like a network of telephone wires through a central station,--if you want more simple comparisons. and there was _something else_ i understood when i heard _maria's_ voice.... no, you are simply an animal, wondergood! when i recall your loud complaints against love and its songs, cursed with the curse of monotony--is that not your own expression?--i feel like sending you off to a barn. you are a dull and dirty animal and i am ashamed that for a whole hour i listened to your silly bellowing. you may hold words in contempt, you may curse your embraces, but do not touch love, my friend: only through love has it been given to you to obtain a glimpse into eternity! away, my friend! leave satan to himself, he who in the very blackest depths of man has suddenly come upon new and unexpected flames. away! you must not see the _joy_ and _astonishment_ of satan! the hour was late. the moon indicated midnight when i left magnus and ordered the chauffeur to drive by way of the numentinian road: i feared lest this great calm might slip away from me, and i wanted to overtake it in the depths of the campagna. but the speed of the car broke the silence and i left my machine. it went to sleep at once beneath the light of the moon over its own shadow and looked like a huge, gray stone barring the road. for the last time its lights gleamed upon me and it became transformed into something invisible. i was left alone with my shadow. we walked along the white road, i and my shadow, stopping occasionally and then again resuming our march. i sat down on a stone along the road and the black shadow hid behind my back. and here a great quiet descended upon the earth, upon the world. upon my chilled brow i felt the cool touch of the moon's kiss. march . rome, villa orsini. i pass my days in deep solitude. my earthly existence is beginning to trouble me. with every hour i seem to _forget_ what i have left behind the wall of _human_ things. my _eyesight_ is weakening. i can hardly see behind that wall. the shadows behind it scarcely move and i can no longer distinguish their outline. with every second my sense of _hearing_ grows duller. i hear the quiet squeak of a mouse, fussing beneath the floor but i am deaf to the thunders rolling above my head. the silence of delusion envelops me and i desperately strain my ears to catch the voices of frankness. i left them behind that impenetrable wall. with each moment _truth_ flees from me. in vain my words try to overtake it: they merely shoot by. in vain i seek to surround it in the tight embraces of my thoughts and rivet it with chains: the prison disappears like air and my embraces envelop nothing but emptiness. only yesterday it seemed to me that i had caught my prey. i imprisoned it and fastened it to the wall with a heavy chain, but when i came to view it in the morning--i found nothing but a shackled skeleton. the rusty chains dangled loosely from its neck while the skull was nodding to me in brazen laughter. you see, i am again seeking comparisons, only to have the _truth_ escape me! but what can i do when i have left all my weapons at _home_ and must resort to your poor arsenal? let god himself don this human form and he will immediately begin to speak to you in exquisite french or yiddish and he will be unable to say _more_ than it is possible to say in exquisite french or yiddish. god! and i am only satan, a modest, careless, human devil! of course, it was careless of me. but when i looked upon _your human_ life from _beyond_...no, wait: you and i have just been caught in a lie, old man! when i said from _beyond_ you understood at once it must have been very far away. yes? you may have already determined, perhaps, the approximate number of miles. have you not at your disposal a limitless number of zeros? ah, it is not true. my "_beyond_" is as close as your "_here_," and is no further away than _this_ very spot. you see what nonsense, what a lie you and i are pirouetting about! cast away your meter and your scales and only listen as if behind your back there were no ticking of a clock and in your breast there were no counting machine. and so: when i looked upon your life from _beyond_ it appeared to me a great and merry game of immortal fragments. do you know what a puppets' show is? when one doll breaks, its place is taken by another, but the play goes on. the music is not silenced, the auditors continue to applaud and it is all very interesting. does the spectator concern himself about the fate of the fragments, thrust upon the scrap heap? he simply looks on in enjoyment. so it was with me, too. i heard the beat of the drums, and watched the antics of the clowns. and i so love immortal play that i felt like becoming an actor myself. ah, i did not know then that it is not a _play_ at all. and that the scrap heap was terrible when one becomes a puppet himself and that the broken fragments reeked with blood. you deceived me, my friend! but you are astonished. you knit your brow in contempt and ask: who is this satan who does not _know_ such _simple_ things? you are accustomed to respect the devil. you listen to the commonest dog as if he were speaking ex cathedra. you have surrendered to me your last dollar as if i were a professor of white and black magic and suddenly i reveal myself an ignoramus in the most elementary matters! i understand your disappointment. i myself have grown to respect mediums and cards. i am ashamed to confess that i cannot perform a single trick or kill a bedbug by simply casting my eye upon it, but even with my finger. but what matters most to me is truth: yes, i did not know your _simplest_ things! apparently the blame for this is for that _divide_ which separates us. just as you do not know _my_ real name and cannot pronounce a simple thing like that, so i did not know _yours_, my earthly shadow, and only now, in great ecstasy do i begin to grasp the wealth that is in you. think of it: such a simple matter as counting i had to learn from wondergood. i would not even be able to button my attire if it were not for the experienced and dexterous fingers of that fine chap wondergood! now i am human, like you. the limited sensation of my being i regard as my _knowledge_ and with respect i now touch my own nose, when necessity arises: it is not merely a nose--it is an axiom! i am now myself a struggling doll in a theater of marionettes. my porcelain head moves to the right and to the left. my hands move up and down. i am merry, i am gay. i am at play. i know everything...except: whose hand it is that pulls the string behind me. and in the distance i can see the scrap heap from which protrude two little feet clad in ball slippers.... no, this is not the _play_ of the _immortal_ that i sought. it no more resembles merriment than do the convulsions of an epileptic a good negro dance! here any one is what he is and here every one seeks not to be what he is. and it is this endless process of fraud that i mistook for a merry theater: what a mistake, how silly it was of "almighty, immortal"...satan! here every one is dragging every one else to court: the living are dragging the dead, the dead--the living. the history of the former is the history of the latter. and god, too, is history! and this endless nonsense, this dirty stream of false witnesses, of perjurers, of false judges and false scoundrels i mistook for the _play_ of immortals! or have i landed in the _wrong_ place? tell me, stranger: whither does _this_ road lead? you are pale. your trembling finger points in the direction of...ah, the scrap heap! yesterday, i questioned toppi about his former life, the first time he donned the human form: i wanted to know how a doll feels when its head is cracking and the thread which moves it is severed. we lit our pipes and with steins of beer before us, like two good germans, we ventured into the realm of philosophy. it developed, however, that this numbskull has _forgotten_ everything and my questions only confused him. "is it possible that you have really forgotten everything, toppi!" "wait till you die and you will learn all about it yourself. i do not like to think of it. what good is it?" "then it is not good?" "and have you ever heard of any one praising it?" "quite true. no one has yet showered praises upon it." "and no one will, i know!" we sat silent. "and do you remember, toppi, whence you have come?" "from illinois,--the same place you come from." "no, i am speaking of _something else_. do you remember whence you came? do you recollect your real name?" toppi looked at me strangely, paled slightly and proceeded to clean his pipe. then he arose and without lifting his eyes, said: "i beg you not to speak to me _thus_, mr. wondergood. i am an honest citizen of the united states and i do not understand your insinuations." but he remembers. not in vain did he grow pale. he is seeking to forget and will forget soon enough! this double play of earth and heaven is too much for him and he has surrendered entirely to the earth! there will come a time when he will take me off to an insane asylum or betray me to cardinal x. if i dare to speak to him of satan. "i respect you, toppi. you are quite a man," i said and kissed his brow: i always kiss the brow of people i love. again i departed for the green campagna desert: i follow the best models: when i am ill at ease i go into the desert. there i called for satan and cursed his name but he would not answer me. i lay there long in the dust, pleading, when from somewhere in the depths of the desert i heard the muffled tread of feet, and a bright light helped me to arise. and again i saw the eden i had left behind, its green tents and unfading sunrise, its quiet lights upon the placid waters. and again i _heard_ the silent murmurs of lips born of immaculate conception while toward my eyes i saw approaching truth. and i stretched out my hands to her and pleaded: give me back my liberty!-- "_maria!_" who called: maria? satan again departed, the lights upon the placid waters were extinguished and truth, frightened, disappeared--and again i sit upon the earth wearing my human form and gazing dully upon the painted world. and on my knees rested my shackled hands. "maria!" ...it is painful for me to admit that all this is really an invention: the coming of satan with his "light and ringing step," the gardens of eden and my shackled hands. but i needed your attention and i could not get it without these gardens of eden and these chains, the two extremes of your life. the gardens of eden--how beautiful! chains--how terrible! moreover, all this talk is much more entertaining than merely squatting on a hill, cigar in one's _free_ hand, thinking lazily and yawning while awaiting the arrival of the chauffeur. and as far as _maria_ is concerned, i brought her into the situation because from afar i could see the black cypress trees above the magnus home. an involuntary association of ideas...you understand. can a man with such sight really see satan? can a person of such dull _ear_ hear the so-called "murmurs" born of immaculate conception? nonsense! and, please, i beg of you, call me just wondergood. call me just wondergood until the day when i crack my skull open with that plaything which opens the _most narrow_ door into _limitless_ space. call me just henry wondergood, of illinois: you will find that i will respond promptly and obligingly. but if, some day, you should find my head crushed, examine carefully its _fragments_: there, in red ink will be engraved the proud name of satan! bend thy head, in reverence and bow to him--but do not do me the honor of accompanying my fragments to the scrap heap: one should never bow so respectfully to chains cast off! march , . rome, villa orsini. last night i had an important conversation with thomas magnus. when maria had retired i began as usual to prepare to return home but magnus detained me. "why go, mr. wondergood? stay here for the night. stay here and listen to the barking of mars!" for several days dense clouds had been gathering over rome and a heavy rain had been beating down upon its walls and ruins. this morning i read in a newspaper a very portentous weather bulletin: _cielo nuvolo il vento forte e mare molto agitato._ toward evening the threat turned into a storm and the enraged sea hurled across a range of ninety miles its moist odors upon the walls of rome. and the real roman sea, the billowy campagna, sang forth with all the voices of the tempest, like the ocean, and at moments it seemed that its immovable hills, its ancient waves, long evaporated by the sun, had once more come to life and moved forward upon the city walls. mad mars, this creator of terror and tempest, flew like an arrow across its wide spaces, crushed the head of every blade of grass to the ground, sighed and panted and hurled heavy gusts of wind into the whining cypress trees. occasionally he would seize and hurl the nearest objects he could lay his hands upon: the brick roofs of the houses shook beneath his blows and their stone walls roared as if inside the very stones the imprisoned wind was gasping and seeking an escape. we listened to the storm all evening. maria was calm but magnus was visibly nervous, constantly rubbed his white hands and listened intently to the antics of the wind: to its murderous whistle, its roar and its signs, its laughter and its groans...the wild-haired artist was cunning enough to be slayer and victim, to strangle and to plead for mercy at one and the same time! if magnus had the moving ears of an animal, they would have remained immovable. his thin nose trembled, his dim eyes grew dark, as if they reflected the shadows of the clouds, his thin lips were twisted into a quick and strange smile. i, too, was quite excited: it was the first time since i became human i had heard such a storm and it raised in me a white terror: almost with the horror of a child i avoided the windows, beyond which lay the night. why does it not come here, i thought: can the window pane possibly keep it out if it should wish to break through?... some one knocked at the iron gates several times, the gates at which i and toppi once knocked for admission. "that is my chauffeur, who has come to fetch me," said i: "we must admit him." magnus glanced at me from the corner of his eye and remarked sadly: "there is no road on that side of the house. there is nothing but field there. that is mad mars who is begging for admittance." and as if he had actually heard his words, mars broke out into laughter and disappeared whistling. but the knocking was soon resumed. it seemed as if some one were tearing off the iron gates and several voices, shouting and interrupting each other, were anxiously speaking; an infant was heard weeping. "those must be people who have lost their way...you hear--an infant! we must open the gates." "well, we'll see," said magnus angrily. "i will go with you, magnus." "sit still, wondergood. this friend of mine, here, is quite enough...." he quickly drew _that_ revolver from the table drawer and with a peculiar expression of love and even gentleness he grasped it in his broad hand and carefully hid it in his pocket. he walked out and we could hear the cry that met him at the gate. on that evening i somehow avoided maria's eyes and i felt quite ill at ease when we were left alone. and suddenly i felt like sinking to the floor, and kneeling before her so that her dress might touch my face: i felt as if i had hair on my back, that sparks would at any moment begin to fly if some one were to touch it and that this would relieve me. thus, in my mind, i moved closer and closer to her, when magnus returned and silently put the revolver back into the drawer. the voices at the door had ceased and the knocking, too. "who was that?"...asked maria. magnus angrily shook off the drops of rain upon his coat. "crazy mars. who else did you expect?" "but i thought i heard you speak to him?" i jested, trying to conceal the shiver produced by the cold brought in by magnus. "yes, i told him it was not polite--to drag about with him such suspicious company. he excused himself and said he would come no more," magnus laughed and added: "i am convinced that all the murderers of rome and the campagna are to-night threatening to ambush people and hugging their stilettos as if they were their sweethearts...." again came a muffled and timid knock. "again!" cried magnus, angrily, as if mad mars had really promised to knock no more. but the knock was followed by the ring of a bell: it was my chauffeur. maria retired, while i, as i have already said, had been invited by magnus to remain overnight, to which i agreed, after some hesitation: i was not at all taken by magnus and his revolver, and still less was i attracted by the silly darkness. the kind host himself went out to dismiss the chauffeur. through the window i could see the bright lights of the lanterns of the machine and for a moment i yearned to return home to my pleasant sinners, who were probably imbibing their wine at that moment in expectation of my return.... ah, i have long since abandoned philanthropy and am now leading the life of a drunkard and a gambler. and again, as on that first night, the quiet little white house, this _soul_ of maria, looked terrible and suspicious: this revolver, these stains of _blood_ upon the white hands...and, maybe there are more stains like these here. but it was too late to change my mind. the machine had gone and magnus, by the light, had not a _blue_, but a very black and beautiful beard and his eyes were smiling pleasantly. in his broad hand he carried not a weapon, but two bottles of wine, and from afar he shouted merrily: "on a night like this there is but one thing to do, to drink wine. even mars, when i spoke to him, looked drunk to me...the rogue! your glass, mr. wondergood!" but when the glasses had been filled, this merry drunkard hardly touched the wine and sitting deep in his chair asked me to drink and to talk. without particular enthusiasm, listening to the noise of the wind and thinking about the length of the night before us, i told magnus of the new and insistent visits of cardinal x. it seemed to me that the cardinal had actually put spies on my trail and what is more strange: he has managed to gain quite an influence over the unbribable toppi. toppi is still the same devoted friend of mine but he seems to have grown sad, goes to confessional every day and is trying to persuade me to accept catholicism. magnus listened calmly to my story and with still greater reluctance i told him of the many unsuccessful efforts to open my purse: of the endless petitions, badly written, in which the truth appears to be falsehood because of the boresome monotony of tears, bows and naïve flattery; of crazy inventors, of all sorts of people with hasty projects, gentlemen who seek to utilize as quickly as possible their temporary absence from jail--of all this hungry mass of humanity aroused by the smell of _weakly_ protected billions. my secretaries--there are six of them now--hardly manage to handle all this mess of tears on paper, and the madly babbling fools who fill the doors of my palace. "i fear that i will have to build me an underground exit: they are watching me even at nights. they are aiming at me with picks and shovels, as if they were in the klondike. the nonsense published by these accursed newspapers about the billions i am ready to give away to every fool displaying a wound in his leg, or an empty pocket, has driven them out of their senses. i believe that some night they will divide me into portions and eat me. they are organizing regular pilgrimages to my palace and come with huge bags. my ladies, who regard me as their property, have found for me a little dante inferno, where we take daily walks in company with the society that storms my place. yesterday we examined an old witch whose entire worth consists in the fact that she has outlived her husband, her children and her grandchildren, and is now in need of snuff. and some angry old man refused to be consoled and even would not take any money until all of us had smelled the old putrid wound in his foot. it was indeed a horrible odor. this cross old fellow is the pride of my ladies, and like all favorites, he is capricious, and temperamental. and...are you tired of listening to me, magnus. i could tell you of a whole flock of ragged fathers, hungry children, green and rotten like certain kinds of cheese, of noble geniuses who despise me like a negro, of clever drunkards with merry, red noses.... my ladies are not very keen on drunkards, but i love them better than any other kind of goods. and how do you feel about it, signor magnus?" magnus was silent. i too was tired of talking. mad mars alone continued his antics: he was now ensconced upon the roof, trying to bite a hole in the center, and crushing the tiles as he would a lump of sugar. magnus broke the silence: "the newspapers seem to have little to say about you recently. what is the matter?" "i pay the interviewers not to write anything. at first i drove them away but they began interviewing my horses and now i pay them for their silence by the line. have you a customer for my villa, magnus? i shall sell it together with the artists and the rest of its paraphernalia." we again grew silent and paced up and down the room: magnus rose first and then sat down. i followed and sat down too. in addition, i drank two more glasses of wine while magnus drank none.... his nose is never red. suddenly he said with determination: "do not drink any more wine, wondergood." "oh, very well. i want no more wine. is that all?" magnus continued to question me at long intervals. his voice was sharp and stern, while mine was...melodious, i would say. "there has been a great change in you, wondergood." "quite possible, thank you, magnus." "there used to be more life in you. now you rarely jest. you have become very morose, wondergood." "oh!" "you have even grown thin and your brow is sallow. is it true that you get drunk every night in the company of your...friends?" "it seems so." "...that you play cards, squander your gold, and that recently some one had been nearly murdered at your table?" "i fear that is true. i recollect that one gentleman actually tried to pierce another gentleman with his fork. and how do you know all about that?" he replied sternly and significantly: "toppi was here yesterday. he wanted to see...maria but i myself received him. with all due respect to you, wondergood, i must say that your secretary is unusually stupid." i acquiesced coldly. "you are quite right. you should have driven him out." i must say for my part, that my last two glasses of wine evaporated from me at the mention of _maria's_ name, and our attempted conversation was marked by continued evaporation of the wine i drank, like perfume out of a bottle. i have always regarded wine as unreliable matter. we found ourselves again listening to the storm and i remarked: "the wind seems to be growing more violent, signor magnus." "yes, the wind seems to be growing more violent, mr. wondergood. but you must admit that i warned you beforehand, mr. wondergood." "of what did you warn me beforehand, signor magnus?" he seized his knees with his white hands and directed upon me the gaze of a snake charmer.... ah, he did not know that i myself had extracted my poisoned teeth and was quite harmless, like a mummy in a museum! finally, he realized that there was no use beating about the bush, and came straight to the point: "i warned you in regard to _maria_," he said slowly, with peculiar insinuation. "you remember that i did not desire your acquaintance and expressed it plainly enough? you have not forgotten _what_ i told you about maria, of her fatal influence upon the soul? but you were bold and insistent and i yielded. and now you ask us--me and my daughter--to view the highly exhilarating spectacle of a gentleman in the process of disintegration, one who asks nothing, who reproaches no one, but can find no solace until every one has smelled his wound.... i do not want to repeat your expression, mr. wondergood. it has a bad odor. yes, sir, you have spoken quite frankly of your...neighbors and i am sincerely glad you have finally abandoned this cheap play at love and humanity.... you have so many other pastimes! i confess, however, that i am not at all overjoyed at your intention of presenting to _us_ the _sediment_ of a gentleman. it seems to me, sir, that you made a mistake in leaving america and your...canning business: dealing with people requires quite a different sort of ability." he laughed! he was almost driving me out, this little man, and i, who write my "i" in a super-capital, i listened to him humbly and meekly. it was divinely ridiculous! here is another detail for those who love the ridiculous: before his tirade began my eyes and the cigar between my teeth were quite bravely and nonchalantly directed toward the ceiling, but they changed their attitude before he had finished.... to this very moment i feel the taste of that miserable dangling, extinguished cigar. i was choking with laughter...that is i did not yet know whether to choke with laughter or with wrath. or, without choking at all, to ask him for an umbrella and leave. ah, he was at _home_, he was on his _own_ ground, this angry, black bearded man. he knew how to manage himself in this situation and he sang a _solo_, not a _duet_, like the inseparable satan of eternity and wondergood of illinois! "sir!" i said with dignity: "there seems to be a sad misunderstanding here. you see before you satan in _human form_...you understand? he went out for an evening stroll and was lost in the forest...in the forest, sir, in the forest! won't you be good enough, sir, to direct him to the nearest road to eternity? ah, ah! thank you. _so_ i thought myself. farewell!" of course, i really did not say that. i was _silent_ and gave the floor to wondergood. and this is what that respectable gentleman said, dropping his wet, dead cigar: "the devil take it! you are quite right, magnus. thank you, old man. yes, you warned me quite honestly, but i preferred to play a lone hand. now i am a bankrupt and at your mercy. i shall have no objection if you should order the removal of the _sediment_ of the gentleman." i thought that without waiting for a stretcher, magnus would simply throw the sediment out of the window, but his generosity proved quite surprising: he looked at me with pity and even stretched out his hand. "you are suffering very much, mr. wondergood?"--a question quite difficult to answer for the celebrated _duet_! i blinked and shrugged my shoulders. this appeared to satisfy magnus and for a few moments we were both silent. i do not know of what magnus was thinking. i thought of nothing: i simply examined with great interest, the walls, the ceiling, books, pictures--all the furnishings of this human habitation. i was particularly absorbed in the electric light upon which i fixed my attention: why does _it_ burn and give light? "i am waiting for your answer, mr. wondergood." so he was really expecting me to reply? very well. "it's very simple, magnus...you warned me, i admit. to-morrow toppi will pack my trunks and i shall go back to america to resume my...business." "and the cardinal?" "what cardinal? ah, yes!... cardinal x. and my billions. i remember. but--don't gaze at me in such astonishment, magnus. i am sick of it." "what are you sick of, mr. wondergood?" "_it._ six secretaries. brainless old women, snuff, and my dante inferno, where they take me for my walks. don't look at me so sternly, magnus. probably one could have made better wine out of my billions, but i managed to produce only sour beer. why did you refuse to help me? of course, you hate human beings, i forgot." "but you _love_ them?" "what shall i say, magnus? no, i am rather indifferent to them. don't look at me so...pityingly. by god, it isn't worth it! yes, i am indifferent to them. there are, there were and there will be so many of them that it isn't really worth while...." "so i am to conclude that you _lied_?" "look not at me but at my packed trunks. no, i did not lie, not entirely. you know, i wanted to do something interesting for the sake of amusement and so i let loose this...this emotion...." "so it was only _play_?..." i blinked again and shrugged my shoulders. i like this method of reply to complex questions. and _this_ face of signor thomas magnus appealed to me, too; his long, oval face recompensed me slightly for my theatrical failures and...maria. i must add that by this time there was a fresh cigar in my mouth. "you said that in your past there are some dark pages.... what's the trouble, mr. wondergood?" "oh! it was a slight exaggeration. nothing in particular, magnus. i beg your pardon for disturbing you needlessly, but at that time i thought i should have spoken thus for the sake of style...." "style?" "yes, and the laws of contrast. the present is always brighter with a dark past as a background...you understand? but i have already told you, magnus, that my prank had little result. in the place i come from they have quite a mistaken conception of the pleasures of the game here. i shall have to disabuse them when i get back. for a moment i was taken in by the old monkey, but its method of fleecing people is rather ancient and too certain...like a counting house. i prefer an element of risk." "fleecing people?" "don't we despise them, magnus? and if the game has failed, let us not at least deny ourselves the pleasure of speaking frankly. i am very glad. but i am tired of this prattle and, with your permission, i will take another glass of wine." there was not even the resemblance of a smile on thomas magnus' face. i mention the smile for the sake of...style. we passed the next half hour in silence, broken only by the shrieks and yells of mad mars and the even pacing of magnus. with his hands behind him and disregarding me entirely he paced the room with even step: eight steps forward, eight steps backward. apparently he must have been in jail at one time and for quite a while: for he had the knack of the experienced prisoner of creating distances out of a few meters. i permitted myself to yawn slightly and thus drew the attention of my host back to myself. but magnus kept quiet for another moment, until the _following words_ rang out through the air and well nigh hurled me out of my seat: "but _maria_ loves you. of course, you do not know that?" i arose. "yes, that is the truth: maria loves you. i did not expect this misfortune. i failed to kill you, mr. wondergood. i should have done that at the very beginning and now i do not know what to do with you. what do you think about it?" i stretched and... * * * * * ...maria loves _me_! i once witnessed in philadelphia an unsuccessful electrocution of a prisoner. i saw at "la scala" in milan my colleague mephisto _cringing_ and hopping all over the stage when the supers moved upon him with their crosses--and my silent reply to magnus was an artistic improvisation of both the first and the second trick: ah, at that moment i could think of nothing better to imitate! i swear by eternal salvation that never before had i been permeated by so many deadly currents, never did i drink such bitter wine, never was my soul seized with such uncontrollable _laughter_! now i no longer laugh or cringe, like a cheap actor. i am alone and only my own seriousness can hear and see me. but in that moment of triumph i needed all my strength to control my laughter so that i might not deal ringing blows to the face of this stern and honest man hurling the madonna into the embraces of...the devil. do you really think so? no? or are you merely thinking of wondergood, the american, with his goatee and wet cigar between his gold teeth! hatred and contempt, love and anguish, wrath and laughter,--these filled to the brim the cup presented to me...no, still worse, still more bitter, still more deadly! what do i care about the deceived magnus or the stupidity of his eyes and brain? but how could the pure eyes of _maria_ have been deceived? or am i really such a clever don juan that i can turn the head of an innocent and trusting girl by a few simple, silent meetings? madonna, where art thou? or, has she discovered a resemblance between myself and one of her saints, like toppi's. but i do not carry with me a traveling prayer book! madonna, where art thou? are thy lips stretching out to mine? madonna, where art thou? or?... and yet i cringed like an actor. i sought to stifle in respectful mumbling my hatred and my contempt when this new "_or_" suddenly filled me with new confusion and such love...ah, such love! "_or_," thought i, "has _thy_ immortality, madonna, echoed the immortality of satan and is it now stretching forth this gentle hand to it from the realms of eternity? thou, who art _divine_, hast thou recognized a friend in him who has become _human_? thou, who art _above_, dost thou pity him who is _below_? oh, madonna, lay thy hand upon my dark head that i may recognize thee by thy touch!..." but hear what further transpired that night. * * * * * "i know not why maria has fallen in love with you. that is a secret of her soul, too much for my understanding. no, i do not know, but i bow to her will as to her frankness. what are my human eyes before her all-penetrating gaze, mr. wondergood!..." (the latter, too, was saying the same thing.) "a moment ago, in a fit of excitement," continued magnus, "i said something about murder and death.... no, mr. wondergood, you may rest secure forever: the chosen one of maria enjoys complete immunity as far as i am concerned. he is protected by more than the law--her pure love is his armor. of course, i shall have to ask you to leave us at once. and i believe in your honest intention, wondergood, to place the ocean between us...." "but...." magnus moved forward towards me and shouted angrily: "not another word!... i cannot kill you but if you dare to mention the word 'marriage,' i!..." he slowly dropped his uplifted hand, and continued calmly: "i see that i will have to beg your pardon again for my fit of passion, but it is better than _falsehood_, examples of which we have had from you. do not defend yourself, wondergood. it is quite unnecessary. and of marriage let _me_ speak: it will ring less insulting to maria than it would from your lips. it is quite unthinkable. remember that. i am a sober realist: i see nothing but mere coincidence in _that fatal_ resemblance of maria and i am not at all taken aback by the thought that my daughter, with all her unusual qualities, may some day become a wife and mother.... my categorical opposition to this marriage was simply another means of warning you. yes, i am accustomed to look soberly upon things, mr. wondergood. it is not you who is destined to be maria's life partner! you do not know me at all and now i am compelled to raise slightly the curtain behind which i am hiding these many years: my idleness is merely rest. i am not at all a peaceful villager or a book philosopher. i am a man of struggle. i am a warrior on the battlefield of life! and my maria will be the gift only of a hero, if--if i should ever find a hero." i said: "you may rest assured, signor magnus, that i will not permit myself to utter a single word in regard to signorina maria. you know that i am not a hero. but i should think it permissible to ask of you: how am i to reconcile your present remarks with your former _contempt_ for man? i recollect that you spoke seriously of gallows and prisons." magnus laughed loudly: "and do you remember what you said about your _love_ for man? ah, my dear wondergood: i would be a bad warrior and politician if my education did not embrace the art of lying a little. we were both playing, that's all!" "you played better," i admitted quite gloomily. "and you played very badly, my friend,--do not be offended. but what am i to do when there suddenly appears before me a gentleman all loaded with gold like...." "like an ass. continue." "and begins to reveal to me his love for humanity, while his confidence in his success is equal only to the quantity of the dollars in his pocket? the main fault of your play, mr. wondergood, is that you are too eager for success and seek immediate results. this makes the spectator cold and less credulous. to be sure, i really did not think you were merely acting--the worst play is better than sincere assininity--and i must again crave your pardon: you seemed to me just one of those foolish yankees who really take their own bombastic and contemptible tirades seriously and...you understand?" "quite fully. i beg you to continue." "only one phrase of yours,--something about war and revolution purchasable with your billions--seemed to me to possess a modicum of interest, but the rest of the drivel proved that that, too, was a mere slip of the tongue, an accidental excerpt of some one else's text. your newspaper triumphs, your flippancy in serious matters--remember cardinal x!--your cheap philanthropy are of a quite different tone.... no, mr. wondergood, you are not fit for serious drama! and your prattling to-day, despite its cynicism, made a better impression than your flamboyant circus pathos. i say frankly: were it not for _maria_ i would gladly have had a good laugh at your expense, and, without the slightest compunction would have raised the farewell cup!" "just one correction, magnus: i earnestly desired that you should take part...." "in what? in your play? yes, your play lacked the _creative factor_ and you earnestly desired to saddle me with your poverty of spirit. just as you hire your artists to paint and decorate your palaces so you wanted to hire my will and my imagination, my power and my love!" "but your hatred for man...." up to this point magnus had maintained his tone of irony and subtle ridicule: my remark, however, seemed to change him entirely. he grew pale, his white hands moved convulsively over his body as if they were searching for a weapon, and his face became threatening and even horrible. as if fearing the power of his own voice, he lowered it almost to a whisper; as if fearing that his words would break their leash and run off at a wild pace, he tried desperately to hold them in check and in order. "hatred? be silent, sir. or have you no conscience at all or any common sense? my contempt! my hatred! they were my reply, not to your theatrical _love_, but to your sincere and dead indifference. you were insulting _me_ as a human being by your indifference: you were insulting life by your indifference. it was in your voice, it gleamed savagely out of your eyes, and more than once was i seized by terror...terror, sir!--when i pierced deeper the mysterious emptiness of your pupils. if your past has no dark pages, which, as you say, you merely added for the sake of style, then there is something worse than that in it: there are _white_ pages in it. and i cannot read them!..." "oh, oh!" "when i look at your eternal cigar, and see your self-satisfied but handsome and energetic face; when i view your unassuming manner, in which the simplicity of the grog shop is elevated to the heights of puritanism, i fully understand your naïve game. but i need only meet the pupil of your eye...or its _white_ rim and i am immediately hurled into a void, i am seized with alarm and i no longer see either your cigar or your gold teeth and i am ready to exclaim: who are you that you dare to bear yourself with such indifference?" the situation was becoming interesting. _madonna_ loves me and this creature is about ready to utter my name at any moment! is he the son of my father? how could he unravel the great mystery of my boundless indifference: i tried so carefully to conceal it, even from you! "here! here!" shouted magnus, in great excitement, "again there are two little tears in your eyes, as i have noticed before. they are a _lie_, wondergood! there is no source of tears behind them. they have fallen from somewhere above, from the clouds, like dew. rather laugh: behind your laughter i see merely a bad man, but behind your tears there are _white_ pages, white pages!... or has maria read them?" without taking his eyes off me, as if fearing that i might run away, magnus paced the room, finally seating himself opposite me. his face grew dim and his voice seemed tired, when he said: "but it seems to me that i am exciting myself in vain...." "do not forget, magnus, that to-day i myself spoke to you of indifference." he waved his hand wearily and carelessly. "yes, you did speak. but there is something else involved here, wondergood. there is nothing insulting in the indifference, but in the other...i sensed it immediately upon your appearance with your billions. i do not know whether you will understand what i mean, but i immediately felt like shouting of hatred and to demand gallows and blood. the gallows is a gloomy thing but the curious jostling about the gallows, mr. wondergood, are quite unbearable! i do not know what they think of our game here in the 'place' you come from, but we pay for it with our lives, and when there suddenly appears before us some curious gentleman in a top hat, cigar in mouth, one feels, you understand, like seizing him by the back of his neck and...he never stays to the end of the performance, anyway. have you, too, mr. wondergood, dropped in on us for a brief visit?" with what a long sigh i uttered the name of _maria_!... and i no longer played, i no longer lied, when i replied to this gloomy man: "yes, i have dropped in on you for a brief visit, signor magnus. you have guessed right. for certain very valid reasons i can reveal nothing to you of the _white_ pages of my life, the existence of which behind my leather binding you have likewise guessed. but on one of them was written: _death-departure_. that was not a top hat in the hands of the curious visitor, but a revolver...you understand: i look on as long as it is interesting and after that i make my bow and depart. let me put it clearer and simpler, out of deference to your realism: in a few days, perhaps to-morrow, i depart for the other world.... no, that is not clear enough: in a few days or to-morrow i shall shoot myself, kill myself with a revolver. i at first planned to aim at my heart but have decided that the brain would be more reliable. i have planned all this long ago, at the very beginning...of my appearance before you, and was it not in this _readiness_ of mine to depart that you have detected 'inhuman' indifference? isn't it true that when one eye is directed upon the _other_ world, it is hardly possible to maintain any particularly bright flame in the eye directed upon _this_ world?... i refer to the kind of flame i see in your eyes. o! you have wonderful eyes, signor magnus." magnus remained silent for a few moments and then said: "and maria?" "permit me to reply. i prize signorina maria too highly not to regard her _love_ for me as a fatal mistake." "but you wanted that love?" "it is very difficult for me to answer that question. at first, perhaps--when i indulged in dreams for a while--but the more i perceived this fatal resemblance...." "that is mere resemblance," magnus hastened to assure me: "but you mustn't be a child, wondergood! maria's soul is lofty and beautiful, but she is human, made of flesh and bone. she probably has her own little sins, too...." "and how about my top hat, magnus? how about my _free_ departure? i need only buy a seat to gaze upon maria and her fatal resemblance--admitting that it is only resemblance!--but how must i pay for _love_?" magnus said sternly: "only with your life." "you see: only with my life! how, then, did you expect me to desire such love?" "but you have miscalculated: she already loves you." "oh, if the signorina maria really loves me then my _death_ can be no obstacle: however, i do not make myself clear. i wanted to say that my departure...no, i had better say nothing. in short, signor magnus: would you agree to have me place my billions at your disposal _now_?" he looked at me quickly: "now?" "yes, now, when we are no longer playing: i at love and you at hatred. now, when i am about to disappear entirely, taking with me the 'sediment' of a gentlemen? let me make it quite clear: would you like to be my heir?" magnus frowned and looked at me in anger: apparently he took my words for ridicule. but i was calm and serious. it seemed to me that his large, white hands were trembling slightly. he turned away for a moment and then, whirling about quickly, he shouted loudly: "no! again you want.... no!" he stamped his foot and cried once more: "no!" his hands were trembling. his breathing was heavy and irregular. there followed a long silence, the wailing of the tempest, the whistling and murmur of the wind. and again, great calm, great, dead, all embracing peace descended upon me. everything was turned _within_ me. i still could hear the earthly demons of the storm, but _their_ voices sounded far away and dull. i saw before me a _man_ and he was strange and cold to me, like a stone statue. one after another there floated by me all the days of my human existence. there was the gleam of faces, the weak sound of voices and curious laughter. and then, again all was silent. i turned my gaze to the other side--and there i was met by dumbness. it was as if i were immured between two dumb, stone walls: behind one was _their_ human life, which i had abandoned, and behind the other, in silence and in darkness, stretched forth the world of eternal and real being. its silence was resounding, its darkness was gleaming, eternal, joyous life beat constantly like breakers, upon the hard rocks of the impenetrable wall. but deaf was my consciousness and silent my thought. from beneath the weak legs of thought there came _memory_--and it hung suspended in the void, immovable, paralyzed for the moment. _what_ did i leave behind the wall of my unconsciousness? thought made no reply. it was motionless, empty and silent. two silences surrounded me, two darknesses enveloped me. two walls were burying me, and behind one, in the pale movement of shadows, passed their human life, while behind the other,--in silence and in darkness stretched forth the world of my real, eternal being. whence shall i hear the call? whither can i take a step? and at that moment i suddenly heard the voice of a man, strange and distant. it grew closer and closer, there was a gentle ring in it. it was magnus speaking. with great effort and concentration, i tried to catch the words and this was what i heard: "and wouldn't you rather continue living, wondergood?" march . rome, palazzo orsini. it is three days now that magnus and maria are living in my palazzo in rome. it is empty and silent and really seems huge. last night, worn by insomnia, i wandered about its halls and stairways, over rooms i had never seen before and their number astonished me. maria's _soul_ has expelled from it all that was frivolous and impure and only the saintly toppi moves through its emptiness, like the pendulum of a church clock. ah, how saintly he looks. if not for his broad back, the broad folds of his coat, and the odor of fur in his head, i myself would take him for one of the saints who have honored me with their acquaintance. i rarely see my guests. i am turning my entire estate into cash and magnus and toppi and all the secretaries are busy with this work from morning to night; our telegraph is constantly buzzing. magnus has little to say to me. he only talks business. maria...it seems as if i were avoiding her. i can see her through my window walking in the garden, and this is quite enough for me, for her _soul_ is here and every atom of the air is filled with her breath. and, as i have already remarked, i suffer with insomnia. as you see, my friend, i have remained among the _living_, a dead hand could not possibly write even the dead words i am not setting down. let us forget the past, as sweethearts would who have just settled their differences. let us be friends, you and i. give me your hand, my friend! i vow by eternal salvation that never again will i chase you hence or laugh at you: if i have lost the wisdom of the snake i have acquired the gentleness of the dove. i am rather sorry that i have driven away my painters and my interviewers: i have no one to inquire whom i _resemble_ with my radiant countenance? i personally feel that i remind one of a powdered darkey, who is afraid to rub the powder off with his sleeve and thus reveal his black skin...ah, i still have a black skin! yes, i have remained _alive_ but i know not yet how far i shall succeed in keeping up this state: have you any idea how hard are the transitions from a nomad to a settled life? i was a redskin, a carefree nomad, who folds up and casts off all that is human, as he would a tent. now i am laying a granite foundation for an earthly home and i, having little faith, am cold and trembling. will it be warm when the white snow covers my new home? what do you think, my friend, is the best heating system? i promised thomas magnus that night that i would not kill myself. we sealed this agreement with a warm handshake. we did not open our veins nor seal the pact with our blood. we simply said "yes" and that was quite sufficient: as you know only human beings break agreements. devils always keep them.... you need only recall your horny, hairy heroes and their spartan honesty. fortunately (let us call it 'fortunate') we had set no...date. i swear by eternal salvation, i would be a poor king and ruler if, when building a palace, i did not leave for myself a secret exit, a little door, a modest loophole through which wise kings disappear when their foolish subjects rise and break into versailles. i will not kill myself to-morrow. perhaps i shall wait quite a while. i will not kill myself: of the two walls i have chosen the lower one and i am quite human now, even as you my friend. my earthly experiment is not very thrilling as yet, but who knows?--this human life may unexpectedly grow quite attractive! has not toppi lived to grow gray and to a peaceful end? why should not i, traversing all the ages of man, like the seasons of the year, grow to be a gray old sage, a wise guide and teacher, the bearer of the covenant and arterio sclerosis? ah, this ridiculous sclerosis, these ills of old age--it is only now that they begin to seem terrible to me, but, can i not get used to them and even grow to love them? every one says it is easy to get used to life. well, i, too, will try to get used to it. everything here is so well ordered that after rain comes sunshine and dries him who is wet, if he has not been in too great a hurry to die. everything here is so well ordered that there is not a single disease for which there is no cure. this is so good! one may be ill all the time, provided there is a drug store nearby! at any rate, i have my little door, my secret exit, my narrow, wet, dark corridor, beyond which are the stars and all the breadth of my illimitable space! my friend, i want to be frank with you: there is a certain characteristic of insubordination in me, and it is that i fear. what is a cough or a catarrh of the stomach? but it is possible that i may suddenly refuse to cough, for no reason at all, or for some trivial cause, and run off! i like you at this moment. i am quite ready to conclude a long and fast alliance with you, but _something_ may suddenly gleam across your dear face which...no, it is quite impossible to do without a little secret door for him who is so capricious and insubordinate! unfortunately, i am proud, too,--an old and well known vice of satan! like a fish struck in the head, i am dazed by my human existence. a fatal unconsciousness is driving me into your life, but of one thing i am quite certain: i am of the race of the _free_. i am of the tribe of the _rulers_. i come from those who transform their will into laws. conquered kings are taken into captivity but conquered kings never become slaves. and when i shall perceive, above my head, the whip of a dirty guard and my fettered hands are helpless to avert the blow...well: shall i remain living with welts upon my back? shall i bargain with my judges about another blow of the whip? shall i kiss the hand of the executioner? or shall i send to the druggist for an eye lotion? no, let not magnus misjudge me for a little slip in our agreement: i will live only as long as i want to live. all the blessings of the human existence, which he offered me on that night, when satan was tempted by man, will not strike the weapon from my hand: in it alone is the assurance of my liberty! oh, man, what are all your kingdoms and dukedoms, your knowledge and your nobility, your gold and your freedom beside this little, free movement of the finger which, in a moment carries you up to the throne of thrones!... _maria!_ yes, i am afraid of her. the look in her eye is so clear and commanding, the light of her love is so mighty, enchanting and beautiful that i am all atremble and everything in me is quivering and urging me to immediate flight. with hitherto unknown happiness, with veiled promises, with singing dreams she tempts me! shall i cry: away!--or shall i bend mine to her will and follow her? where? i do not know. or are there other worlds beside those i know or have forgotten? whence comes this motionless light behind my back? it is growing ever broader and brighter. its warm touch heats my soul, so that its polar ice crumbles and melts. but i am afraid to look back. i may see sodom on fire and if i look i may turn into stone. or is it a new sun, which i have not yet seen upon this earth that is rising behind my back, and i, like a fool, am fleeing from it and baring my back instead of my breast to it, the low, dumb neck of a frightened animal, instead of my lofty brow? maria! will you give me my revolver? i paid ten dollars for it, together with the holster. to you i will not give it for a kingdom! only do not look at me, oh, queen...otherwise, otherwise i will give you everything: the revolver and the holster and satan himself! march . rome, palazzo orsini. it is the fifth night that i do not sleep. when the last light is turned out in my silent palazzo, i quietly descend the stairs, quietly order a machine--somehow or other even the noise of my own steps and voice disturb me, and i go for the night into the campagna. there, leaving the automobile on the road, i wander about until day-break or sit immovable upon some dark ruins. i cannot be seen at all and the rare passersby, perhaps some peasants from albano, converse quite loudly and without restraint. i like to remain unseen. it reminds me of something i have forgotten. once, as i sat down on a stone, i disturbed a lizzard. it may have been that it lightly moved the grass beneath my feet and disappeared. perhaps it was a snake? i do not know. but i wanted desperately to become a lizzard or a snake, concealed beneath a stone: i am troubled by my large stature, by the size of my feet and arms: they make it very difficult to become invisible. i likewise refrain from looking at my face in the mirror: it is painful to think i have a face, which all can see. why did i fear darkness so much at the beginning? it is so easy to conceal oneself in it. apparently all animals experience such subtle shame, fear and worriment and seek seclusion when they are changing their skin or hide. so, i am changing my skin? ah, it is the same, worthless prattle! the whole trouble is that i have failed to escape _maria's_ gaze and am, apparently preparing to close the last door, the door i guarded so well. but i am ashamed! i swear by eternal salvation, i feel ashamed, like a girl before the altar. i am almost blushing. blushing satan...no, quiet, quiet: _he_ is not here! quiet!... magnus told her everything. she did not reiterate that she loves me but looked at me and said: "promise _me_, you will not kill yourself." the _rest_ was in her gaze. you remember how bright it is? but do not think that i hastily agreed. like a salamander in the fire, i quickly changed colors. i shall not repeat to you all the flaming phrases i uttered: i have forgotten them. but you remember how bright and serene maria's gaze is? i kissed her hand and said humbly: "madam! i do not ask you for forty days and a desert for contemplation: the desert i will find myself and a week is quite enough for me to think the matter over. but do give me a week and...please, don't look at me any more...otherwise...." no, that wasn't what i said. i said it in other words, but it's all the same. i am now changing my skin. it hurts me. i am frightened and ashamed because any crow might see me and come to pick my flesh. what use is there in the fact that there is a revolver in my pocket? it is only when you learn to hit yourself that you can hit a crow: crows know that and consequently do not fear tragically bulging pockets. having become human and descended from above i have become but half a man. i entered upon this human existence as if into a strange element, but i have not lost myself in it entirely: i still cling with one hand to my heaven and my eyes are still above the surface. but she commands me to accept man in his entirety: only he is a _man_ who has said: never shall i kill myself, never shall i leave life of my own free will. and what about the whip? these cursed cuts upon my back? pride? oh, maria, maria, how terribly you tempt me! i look into the past of this earth and serious myriads of tragic shadows floating slowly over climes and ages! their hands stretch hopelessly into space, their bony ribs tear through the lean, thin skin, their eyes are filled with tears, and their sighs have dried up their throats. i see blood and madness, violence and falsehood, i hear their oaths, which they constantly betray, their prayers to god, in which, with every word of mercy and forgiveness, they curse their own earth. wherever i look, i see the earth smoking in convulsion; no matter in which direction i strain my ear, i hear everywhere unceasing moans: or is the womb of the earth itself filled with moaning? i see a myriad cups about me, but no matter which of them my lips may touch, i find it filled with rust and vinegar: or has man no other drink? and this is _man_? i knew _them_ before. i have seen _them_ before. but i looked upon them as augustus did from his box upon the galaxy of his victims: ave, cæsar! these who are about to die salute you. and i looked upon them with the eyes of an eagle and my wise, belaureled head did not disdain to take notice of their groaning cries even with so much as a nod: they came and disappeared, they marched on in endless procession--and endless was the indifference of my cæsar-like gaze. and now...is it really i who walks on so hastily, playing with the sand of the arena? and am i this dirty, emaciated, hungry slave who lifts his convict face into the air, yelling hoarsely into the indifferent eyes of fate: "ave, cæsar! ave, cæsar!" i feel a sharp whip upon my back and with a cry of pain i fall to the ground. is it some _master_ who is beating me? no, it is another _slave_, who has been ordered to whip a _slave_: very soon his knout will be in my hand and his back will be covered with blood and he will be chewing the sand, the sand which now grates between my teeth. oh, maria, maria, how terribly you tempt me! iii march rome. buy the blackest paint available, take the largest brush you can find and, with a broad line, divide my life into yesterday and to-day. take the staff of moses and divide the stream of time and dry it up clear down to its bed--then only will you sense my _to-day_. _ave, cæsar, moriturus te salutat!_ april , rome. pallazzo orsini. i do not want to lie. there is not yet in me, oh man, any love for you, and if you have hastened to open your arms to me, please close them: the time has not yet come for passionate embraces. later, at some other date, we shall embrace, but meanwhile, let us be cold and restrained, like two gentlemen in misfortune. i cannot say that my respect for you has grown to any extent, although your life and your fate have become my life and my fate: let the facts suffice that i have voluntarily placed my neck beneath the yoke and that one and the same whip are furrowing our backs. yes, that is quite sufficient for the present. you have observed that i no longer use a super-capital in writing the word "i"?--i have thrown it out together with the revolver. this is a sign of submission and equality. you understand? like a king, i have taken the oath of allegiance to your constitution. but i shall not, like a king, betray this vow: i have preserved from my former life a respect for contracts. i swear i will be true to your comrades-at-hard-labor and will not make any attempt to escape alone! for the last few nights, before i took this decision, i thought much upon _our_ life. it is wretched. don't you think so? it is difficult and humiliating to be this little thing called man, the cunning and avaricious little worm that crawls, hastily multiplies itself and lies, turning away its head from the final blow--the worm that no matter how much it lies, will perish just the same at the appointed hour. but i will be a worm. let me, too, beget children, let the unthinking foot also crush my unthinking head at the appointed hour--i meekly accept all consequences. we are both of us humiliated, comrade, and in this alone there is some consolation: you will listen to my complaints and i--to yours. and if the matter should ultimately reach the state of litigation, why the witnesses will all be ready! that is well: when one kills in the public square there are always eyewitnesses. i will lie, if necessary. i will not lie in that free play of lying with which even prophets lie, but in that enforced manner of lying employed by the rabbit, which compels him to hide his ears, to be gray in summer and white in winter. what can one do when behind every tree a hunter with a rifle is concealed! this lying may appear to be ignoble from one point of view and may well call forth condemnation upon us, but you and i must live, my friend. let _bystanders_ accuse us to their heart's content, but, when necessary, we will lie like wolves, too! we will spring forward, suddenly, and seize the enemy by the throat: one must live, brother, one must live, and are we to be held responsible for the fact that there is such great lure and such fine taste in blood! in reality neither you nor i are proud of our lying, of our cowardice or of our cruelty, and our bloodthirstiness is certainly not a matter of conviction. but however hideous our life may be, it is still more miserable. do you agree with that? i do not love you yet, oh man, but on these nights i have been more than once on the verge of tears when i thought of your suffering, of your tortured body, and of your soul, relinquished to eternal crucifixion. it is well for a wolf to be a wolf. it is well for a rabbit to be a rabbit. but you, man, contain both god and satan--and, oh, how terrible is the imprisonment of both in that narrow and dark cell of yours! can god be a wolf, tearing throats and drinking blood! can satan be a rabbit, hiding his ears behind his humped back! no, that is intolerable. i agree with you. that fills life with eternal confusion and pain and the sorrow of the soul becomes boundless. think of it: of three children that you beget, one becomes a murderer, the other the victim and the third, the judge and executioner. and each day the murderers are murdered and still they continue to be born; and each day the murderers kill conscience and conscience kills the murderers. and all are alive: the murderers and conscience. oh, what a fog we live in! give heed to all the _words_ spoken by man from the day of his birth and you will think: this is god! look at all the _deeds_ of man from his very first day and you will exclaim in disgust: this is a beast! thus does man struggle with himself for thousands of years and the sorrow of his soul is boundless and the suffering of his mind is terrible and horrible, while the _final_ judge is slow about his coming.... but he will never come. i say this to you: we are forever alone with our life. but i accept this, too. not yet has the earth endowed me with my name and i know not who i am: cain or abel? but i accept the sacrifice as i do murder. i am everywhere with you and everywhere i follow you, man. let us weep together in the desert, knowing that no one will give heed to us...or perhaps some one will? you see: you and i are beginning to have faith in some one's ear and soon i will begin to believe in a triangular eye...it is really impossible that such a concert should have no hearer, that such a spectacle should be wasted on the desert air! i think of the fact that no one has yet beaten me, and i am afraid. what will become of my soul when some one's grubby hand strikes me on the face.... what will become of me! for i know that no earthly revenge could return my face to me. and what will then become of my soul? i swear i will become reconciled even to this. everywhere with you and after you, man. what is my face when you struck the face of your own christ and spat into his eyes? everywhere with you! and if necessary, i myself will strike at christ with the hand with which i now write: i go with you to all ends, man. they beat us and they will continue to beat us. we beat christ and will still beat him.... ah, bitter is our life, almost unbearable! only a while ago, i rejected your embraces. i said they were premature. but now i say: let us embrace more firmly, brother, let us cling closely to each other--it is so painful, so terrible to be alone in this life when all exits from it are closed. and i know not yet wherein there is more pride and liberty: in going away voluntarily, whenever one wishes, or in accepting, without resistance, the hand of the executioner? in calmly placing one's hands upon his breast, putting one foot forward and, with head proudly bent backward, to wait calmly: "do thy duty, executioner!" or: "soldiers, here's my breast: fire!" there is something plastic in this pose and it pleases me. but still more am i pleased with the fact that once again my greater ego is rising within me at the striking of this pose. of course, the executioner will not fail to do his duty and the soldiers will not lower their rifles, but the important thing is the line, the _moment_, when before my very death itself i shall suddenly find myself immortal and broader than life itself. it is strange, but with one turn of the head, with one phrase, expressed or conceived at the proper moment, i could, so to speak, halt the function of my very spirit and the entire operation would be performed outside of me. and when death shall have finally performed its rôle of redeemer, its darkness would not eclipse the light, for the latter will have first separated itself from me and scattered into space, in order to reassemble somewhere and blaze forth again...but where? strange, strange.... i sought to escape from men--and found myself at that wall of unconsciousness known only to satan! how important, indeed, is the pose! i must make note of that. but will the pose be as convincing and will it not lose in plasticity if instead of death, the executioner and the firing squad i should be compelled to say something else...well, something like: "here's my face: strike!" i do not know why i am so concerned about my face, but it does concern me greatly. i confess, man, that it worries me very much indeed. no, a mere trifle. i will simply subdue my spirit. let them beat me! when the spirit is crushed the operation is no more painful or humiliating than it would be if i were to beat my overcoat on its hanger.... ...but i have forgotten that i am not alone and being in your company have fallen into impolite meditation. for a half hour i have been silent over this sheet of paper and it seemed all the time as if i had been talking and quite excitedly! i forgot that it is not enough to think, that one must also speak! what a shame it is, man, that for the exchange of thoughts we must resort to the service of such a poor and stealthy broker as the word--he steals all that is precious and defiles the best thoughts with the chatter of the market place. in truth, this pains me much more than death or the beating. i am terrified by the necessity of _silence_ when i come upon the _extraordinary_, which is inexpressible. like a rivulet i run and advance only as far as the ocean: in the depths of the latter is the end of my murmuring. within me, however, motionless and omnipresent, rocking to and fro, is the ocean. it only hurls noise and surf upon the earth, but its depths are dumb and motionless and quite without any purpose are the ships sailing on its surface. how shall i describe it? before i resolved to enroll myself as an earthly slave i did not speak to maria or to magnus.... why should i speak to maria when her beckoning is _clear_, like her gaze? but having become a slave i went to magnus to complain and to seek advice--apparently the human begins thus. magnus heard me in silence and, as it seemed to me, with some inner excitement. he works day and night, virtually knowing no rest, and the complicated business of the liquidation of my property is moving forward as rapidly in his hands as if he had been engaged in such work all his life. i like his heroic gestures and his contempt for details: when he cannot unravel a situation he hurls millions out of the window with the grace of a grandee. but he is weary and his eyes seem larger and darker on the background of his dim face. only now have i learned from maria that he is tortured by frequent headaches. my complaints against life, i fear, have failed to arouse any particular sympathy on his part: no matter what the accusations i brought against man and the life he leads, magnus would reply impatiently: "yes, yes, wondergood. that is what being a man means. your misfortune is that you discovered this rather late and are now quite unnecessarily aroused. when you shall have _experienced_ at least a part of that which now terrifies you, you will speak in quite a different tone. however, i am glad that you have dropped your _indifference_: you have become, much more nervous and energetic. but whence comes this immeasurable terror in your eyes? collect yourself, wondergood!" i laughed. "thank you. i am quite collected. apparently it is the _slave_, in expectation of the whip, who peers at you from within my eye. have patience, magnus. i am not quite acclimated to the situation. tell me, shall i or shall i not be compelled to commit...murder?" "quite possibly." "and can you tell me _how_ this happens?" both of us looked simultaneously at his white hands and magnus replied somewhat ironically: "no, i will not tell you that. but if you wish i will tell you something else: i will tell you what it means to accept man to the _very end_--it is this that is really worrying you, is it not?" and with much coolness and a sort of secret impatience, as if another thought were devouring his attention, he told me briefly of a certain unwilling and terrible murderer. i do not know whether he was telling me a fact or a dark tale created for my personal benefit, but this was the story: it happened long ago. a certain russian, a political exile, a man of wide education yet deeply religious, as often happens in russia, escaped from _katorga_, and after long and painful wandering over the siberian forests, he found refuge with some non-conformist sectarians. huge, wooden, fresh huts in a thick forest, surrounded by tall fences; great bearded people, large ugly dogs--something on that order. and in his very presence, soon after his arrival, there was to be performed a monstrous crime: these insane mystics, under the influence of some wild religious fanaticism, were to sacrifice an innocent _lamb_, i.e., upon a home-made altar, to the accompaniment of hymns, they were to kill a child. magnus did not relate all the painful details, limiting himself solely to the fact that it was a seven year old boy, in a new shirt, and that his young mother witnessed the ceremony. all the reasonable arguments, all the objections of the exile that they were about to perform a great sacrilege, that not the mercy of the lord awaited them but the terrible tortures of hell, proved powerless to overcome the fierce and dull stubbornness of the fanatics. he fell upon his knees, begged, wept and tried to seize the knife--at that moment the victim, stripped, was already on the table while the _mother_ was trying desperately to control her tears and cries--but he only succeeded in rousing the mad anger of the fanatics: they threatened to kill him, too.... magnus looked at me and said slowly with a peculiar calm: "and how would you have acted in that case, mr. wondergood?" "well, i would have fought until i was killed?" "yes! he did better. he offered his services and with his _own_ hand, with appropriate song, he cut the boy's throat. you are astonished? but he said: 'better for me to take this terrible sin and punishment upon myself than to surrender into the arms of hell these innocent fools.' of course, such things happen only with russians and, it seems to me, he himself was somewhat deranged. he died eventually in an insane asylum." following a period of silence, i asked: "and how would you have acted, magnus?" and with still greater coolness, he replied: "really, i do not know. it would have depended on the moment. it is quite possible i would have left those beasts, but it is also possible that i too...human madness is extremely contagious, mr. wondergood!" "do you call it only madness?" "i said: human madness. but it is you who are concerned in this, wondergood: _how_ do you like it? i am off to work. in the meantime, devote yourself to discerning the _boundary_ of the human, which you are now willing to accept in its entirety, and then tell me about it. you have not changed your intention, i hope, of remaining with _us_?" he laughed and went away, patronizingly polite. and i remained to think. and so i think: where is the boundary? i confess that i have begun to fear magnus somewhat...or is this fear one of the gifts of my complete human existence? but when he speaks to me in this fashion i become animated with a strange confusion, my eyes move timidly, my will is bent, as if too great and strange a load had been put upon it. think, man: i shake his big hand with _reverence_ and find _joy_ in his caress! this is not true of me before, but now, in every conversation, i perceive that this man can go _further_ than i in everything. i fear i _hate_ him. if i have not yet experienced love, i know not hatred either, and it will be strange indeed if i should be compelled to begin by hating the _father_ of maria!... in what a fog we do live, man! i have just merely mentioned the name of maria, her clear gaze has only touched my soul and already my hatred of magnus is extinguished (or did i only conjure it up?) and extinguished also is my fear of man and life (or did i merely invent it?) and great joy, great peace has descended upon me. it is as if i were again a white schooner on the glassy ocean; as if i held all answers in my hand and were merely too lazy to open it and read therein, as if _immortality_ had returned to me...ah, i can speak no more, oh, man! let me press your hand? april , . the good toppi approves _all_ my actions. he amuses me greatly, this good toppi. as i expected, he has _completely_ forgotten his true origin: he regards all my reminders of our past as jests. sometimes he laughs but more often he frowns as if he were hurt, for he is religious and considers it an insult to be compared with a "horny" devil, even in jest: he himself is now convinced that devils have horns. his americanism, at first pale and weak, like a pencil sketch, has now become filled with color, and i, myself, am ready to believe all the nonsense given out by toppi as his life--it is so sincere and convincing. according to _him_, he has been in my service about fifteen years and particularly amusing it is to hear his stories of his youth. apparently he, too, has been touched by the charms of _maria_: my decision to surrender all my money to her father astonished him much less than i expected. he merely chewed his cigar for a moment and asked: "and what will he do with your money?" "i do not know, toppi." he raised his brow and frowned: "you are joking, mr. wondergood?" "you see, toppi: just now we, i.e., magnus is occupied in converting my estate into gold and jamming it into banks, in his name, of course. you understand?" "how can i fail to understand, mr. wondergood?" "these are all preliminary, essential steps. what may happen further...i do not know yet." "oh, you are jesting again?" "you must remember, old man, that i myself did not know what to do with my money. it is not money that i need but new activity. you understand? but magnus _knows_. i do not know yet what his plans are but it is what magnus said that is important to me: 'i will compel you to work, wondergood!' oh, magnus is a great man. you will see that for yourself, toppi!" toppi frowned again and replied: "you are master of your money, mr. wondergood." "ah, you have forgotten everything, toppi! don't you remember about that _play_? that i wanted to play?" "yes, you did say something about it. but i thought you were joking." "no, i was not joking. i was only mistaken. they do play here but this is not a theater. it is a gambling house and so i gave all my money to magnus: let him break the bank. you understand? he is the banker, he will manage the game and i shall simply do the betting.... quite a life, eh?" apparently the old fool understood nothing. he kept raising and lowering his eyebrows and again inquired: "and how soon may we expect your betrothal to signorina maria?" "i do not know yet, toppi. but that is not the thing. i see you are dissatisfied. you do not trust magnus?" "oh, signor magnus is a worthy man. but one thing i do fear, mr. wondergood, if you will permit me to be frank: he is a man who does not believe. this seems strange to me: how can the father of signorina maria be a non-believer? is that not so? permit me to ask: do you intend to give anything to his eminence?" "that depends now on magnus." "oh! on signor magnus? so, so. and do you know that his eminence has already been to see signor magnus? he was here a few days ago and spent several hours in this study. you were not at home at that time." "no, i do not know. we have not spoken about that, but have no fear: we will find _something_ for the cardinal. confess, old man: you are quite enchanted with that old monkey?" toppi glanced at me sharply and sighed. then he lapsed into thought...and strange as it may seem--something akin to a monkey appeared in his countenance, as in the cardinal's. later, from somewhere deep within him, there appeared a smile. it illumined his hanging nose, rose to his eyes and blazed forth within them in two bright, little flames, not devoid of wanton malice. i looked at him in astonishment and even with joy: yes that was my old toppi, risen from his human grave.... i am convinced that his hair again has the smell of fur instead of oil! gently i kissed his brow--old habits cannot be rooted out--and exclaimed: "you are enchanting, toppi! but _what_ was it that gave you such joy?" "i waited to see whether he would show maria to the cardinal?" "well?" "he did not!" "well?" but toppi remained silent. and as it had come so did the smile disappear, slowly: at first the hanging nose grew pale and became quite indistinct, then all at once the flames within his eyes went out--and again the old dejection, sourness and odor of church hypocrisy buried him who had been resurrected for a moment. it would have been useless to trouble the ashes with further questions. this happened yesterday. a warm rain fell during the day but it cleared up towards evening and magnus, weary and apparently suffering with headache, suggested that we take a ride into the campagna. we left our chauffeur behind, a practice peculiar to all our intimate trips. his duties were performed by magnus, with extraordinary skill and daring. on this occasion, his usual daring reached the point of audacity: despite the ever-thickening twilight and the muddy road, magnus drove the automobile at such mad speed that more than once did i look up at his broad, motionless back. but that was only at first: the presence of maria, whom i supported with my arm (i do not dare say embraced!) soon brought me to the loss of all my senses. i cannot describe it all to you--so that you would really feel it--the aromatic air of the campagna, which caressed my face, the magnificence and charm of our arrow-like speed, my virtual loss of all sensation of material weight, of the complete disappearance of _body_, when i felt myself a speeding thought, a flying gaze.... but still less can i tell you of _maria_. her madonna gaze whitened in the twilight, like marble; like the mysterious silence and perfect beauty of marble was her gentle, sweet and wise silence. i barely touched her slender, supple figure, but if i had been embracing within the hollow of my hand the entire firmness of earth and sky i could not have felt a more complete mastery of the _whole world_! do you know what a line is in measurement? not much,--is that not so? and it was only by the measure of a line that maria bent her divine form to me--no, no more than that! but what would you say, man, if the _sun_, coming down from its course just one line were to come closer to you by that distance? would you not consider it a _miracle_? my existence seemed unbounded, like the universe, which knows neither your time nor distance. for a moment there gleamed before me the wall of my unconsciousness, that unconquerable barrier against which the spirit of him who has donned the human form beats in vain,--and as quickly did it disappear: it was swallowed, without sound or conflict, by the waves of my new sea. even higher they rose, enshrouding the world. there was no longer anything to remember for me or to know: my new human soul remembered all and commanded all. i am a man! what gave me the idea that i hate magnus? i looked at this motionless, erect and firm human back and thought that behind it a heart was beating. i thought of how painful and terrible it was for it to remain firm and erect and of how much pain and suffering had already fallen to the lot of this human creature, no matter how proud it might appear or dejected. and suddenly i realized to the extent of pain and tears, how much i loved magnus, this very same magnus! he speeds so wildly and has no fear! and the very moment i sensed this, maria's eyes turned upon me.... ah, they are as bright at night as they are by day! but at that moment there was a troubled look within them. they were asking: why these tears? what could i say in reply with the aid of weak words! i silently took maria's hand and pressed it to my lips. and without taking her gaze off me, shining in cold, marble luster, she quietly withdrew her hand--and i became confused--and again gave it to me, taking off her glove. will you permit me to discontinue, man? i do not know who you are, you who are reading these lines, and i rather fear you...your swift and daring imagination. moreover, a gentleman feels ill at ease in speaking of his success with the ladies. besides, it was time to return: on the hills the lights of tivoli were already gleaming and magnus reduced his speed. we were moving quite slowly on the return trip and magnus, grown merry, wiping his brow with his handkerchief, now and then addressed brief remarks to us. there is one thing i will not conceal: her unquestionable womanliness emphasizes the completeness of my transformation. as we walked up the broad stairs of my palazzo, amid its princely wealth and beauty, i suddenly thought: "why not send all this adventure to the devil? why not simply wed and live like a prince in this palace? there will be freedom, children, laughter, just earthly happiness and love." and again i looked at magnus. he seemed strange to me: "i will take your money!" then i saw the stern gaze of my maria--and the contradiction between her love and this plan of simple, modest happiness was so great and emphatic that my thought did not even require an answer. i now recollect this thought accidentally as a curiosity of "toppism." let me call it "toppism" in honor of my perfect toppi. the evening was charming. at magnus' request, maria sang. you cannot imagine the reverence with which toppi listened to her singing! he dared not utter a word to maria, but on leaving he shook my hand long and with particular warmth. then, similarly, he shook the hand of magnus. i also rose to retire. "do you intend to do some work yet, magnus?" "no. don't you want to go to sleep, wondergood? come to my room. we'll chat a bit. incidentally, there is a paper for you to sign. do you want any wine?" "oh, with pleasure, magnus. i love conversation at night." we drank the wine. magnus, whistling something out of tune, silently walked the carpet, while i, as usual, reclined in a chair. the palazzo was all silence, like a sarcophagus, and this reminded me of that stirring night when mad mars raved behind the wall. suddenly, magnus exclaimed loudly, without hesitation: "the affair is progressing splendidly." "so?" "in two weeks everything will be completed. your swollen, scattered wealth, in which one can be lost as in a wood, will be transformed into a clear, concise and exact sack of gold...to be more correct--into a mountain. do you know the exact estimate of your money, wondergood?" "oh, don't, magnus. i don't want to know it. moreover, it's your money." magnus looked at me quickly and said sharply: "no, it's yours." i shrugged my shoulders. i did not want to argue. it was so quiet and i so enjoyed watching this strong man silently pacing to and fro. i still remembered his motionless, stern back, behind which i could clearly see his heart. he continued, after a pause: "do you know, wondergood, that the cardinal has been here?" "the old monkey? yes, i know. what did he want?" "the same thing. he wanted to see you but i did not feel like taking you away from your thoughts." "thanks. did you drive him out?" magnus replied angrily: "i am sorry to say,--no. don't put on airs, wondergood: i have already told you that we must be careful of him as long as we remain here. but you are quite right. he is an old, shaven, useless, evil, gluttonous, cowardly monkey!" "ah, ah! then why not show him the door?" "impossible." "i believe you, magnus. and what does this king i hear about want, he who is to visit us some of these days?" "ex-king. probably the same thing. you should receive him yourself, of course." "but only in your presence. otherwise i refuse. you must understand, my friend, that from that memorable night on i have been merely your disciple. you find it impossible to drive out the old monkey? very well, let him remain. you say we must receive some ex-king? very well, receive him. but i would rather be hanged on the first lamppost than to do so without knowing your reason." "you are jesting again, wondergood." "no, i am _quite_ serious, magnus. but i swear by eternal salvation that i know not what we are doing or intend to do. i am not reproaching you. i am not even questioning you: as i have already told you, i trust you and am ready to follow your directions. that you may not again reproach me with levity and impracticability, i may add a little business detail: maria and her love are my hostages. moreover, i do not yet know to what you intend to devote your energy, of whose boundlessness i am becoming more convinced each day; what plans and ends your experience and mind have set before you. but of one thing i have no doubt: they will be huge plans, great objects. and i, too, shall always find something to do beside you...at any rate this will be much better than my brainless old women and six secretaries. why do you refuse to believe in my modesty, as i believe in your...genius. imagine that i am come from some other planet, from mars, for instance, and wish in the most serious manner possible, to pass through the experience of a _man_.... it is all very simple, magnus!" magnus frowned at me for a few moments and suddenly broke into laughter: "you certainly are a pilgrim from some other planet, wondergood!... and what if i should devote your gold to doing evil?" "why? is that so very interesting?" "hm!... you think _that is_ not interesting?" "yes, and so do you. you are too big a man to do little evil, just as billions constitute too much money, while honestly as far as great evil is concerned, i know not yet what _great evil_ is? perhaps it is really _great good_? in my recent contemplations, there...came to me a strange thought: who is of greater _use_ to man--he who hates or he who loves him? you see, magnus, how ignorant i still am of human affairs and...how ready i am for almost anything." without laughter and, with what seemed to me, extreme curiosity, magnus measured me with his eyes, as if he were deciding the question: is this a fool i see before me, or the foremost sage of america? judging by his subsequent question he was nearer the second opinion: "so, if i have correctly understood your words, you are afraid of _nothing_, mr. wondergood?" "i think _not_." "and murder...many murders?" "you remember the point you made in your story about the boy of the _boundary_ of the human? in order that there may be no mistake, i have moved it forward several kilometers. will that be enough?" something like respect arose in magnus' eyes...the devil take him, though, he really considers me a clod! continuing to pace the room, he looked at me curiously several times, as if he were trying to recall and verify my remark. then, with a quick movement, he touched my shoulders: "you have an active mind, wondergood. it is a pity i did not come to know you before." "why?" "just so. i am interested to know how you will speak to the king: he will probably suggest something very evil to you. and great evil is great good. is that not so?" he again broke into laughter and shook his head in a friendly fashion. "i don't think so. the chances are he will propose something very silly." "hm!... and is that not great wisdom?" he laughed again but frowned suddenly and added seriously: "do not feel hurt, wondergood. i liked what you said very much and it is well you do not put any questions to me at this time: i could not answer them just now. but there is something i can say even now...in general terms, of course. are you listening?" "i am all attention." magnus seated himself opposite me and, taking a sip of wine, asked with strange seriousness: "how do you regard explosives?" "with great respect." "yes? that is cold praise, but, i dare say, they don't deserve much more. yet, there was a time when i worshiped dynamite as i do frankness...this scar on my brow is the result of my youthful enthusiasm. since then i have made great strides in chemistry--and other things--and this has cooled my zeal. the drawback of every explosive, beginning with powder, is that the explosion is confined to a limited space and strikes only the things near at hand: it might do for war, of course, but it is quite inadequate where bigger things are concerned. besides, being a thing of material limitations, dynamite or powder demands a constantly guiding hand: in itself, it is dumb, blind and deaf, like a mole. to be sure, in whitehead's mine we find an attempt to create consciousness, giving the shell the power to correct, so to speak, certain mistakes and to maintain a certain aim, but that is only a pitiful parody on eyesight...." "and you want your 'dynamite' to have consciousness, will and eyes?" "you are right. that is what i want. and my new _dynamite_ does have these attributes: will, consciousness, eyes." "and what is your aim? but this sounds...terrible." magnus smiled faintly. "terrible? i fear your terror will turn to laughter when i give you the name of my dynamite. it is _man_. have you never looked at man from this point of view, wondergood?" "i confess,--no. does dynamite, too, belong to the domain of psychology? this is all very ridiculous." "chemistry, psychology!" cried magnus, angrily: "that is all because knowledge has been subdivided into so many different subjects, just as a hand with ten fingers is now a rarity. you and your toppi--all of us are explosive shells, some loaded and ready, others still to be loaded. and the crux of the matter lies, you understand, in how to load the shell and, what is still more important: how to explode it. you know, of course, that the method of exploding various preparations depends upon their respective compositions?" i am not going to repeat here the lecture on explosives given me by magnus with great zeal and enthusiasm: it was the first time i had seen him in such a state of excitement. despite the absorbing interest of the subject, as my friends the journalists would say, i heard only half the things he was saying and concentrated most of my attention on his skull, the skull which contained such wide and dangerous knowledge. whether it was due to the conviction carried in magnus' words, or to pure weariness--i know not which--this round skull, blazing with the flames of his eyes, gradually assumed the character of a real, explosive shell, of a bomb, with the fuse lit for action.... i trembled when magnus carelessly threw upon the table a heavy object resembling a cake of grayish-yellow soap, and exclaimed involuntarily: "what's that?" "it looks like soap or wax. but it has the force of a devil. one half of this would be enough to blow st. peter's into bits. it is a capricious devil. you may kick it about or chop it into pieces, you may burn it in your stove, it will remain ever silent: a dynamite shell may tear it apart yet it will not rouse its wrath. i may throw it into the street, beneath the hoofs of horses; the dogs may bite at it and children may play with it--and still it remains indifferent. but i need only apply a current of high pressure to it--and the force of the explosion will be monstrous, limitless. a strong but silly devil!" with equal carelessness, bordering almost upon contempt, magnus threw his devil back into the table drawer and looked at me sternly. my eyebrows twitched slightly: "i see you know your subject to perfection, and i rather like this capricious devil of yours. but i would like to hear you discuss _man_." magnus laughed: "and was it not of him i have just spoken? is not the history of this piece of soap the history of your _man_, who can be beaten, burned, hacked to bits, hurled beneath the hoofs of horses, thrown to the dogs, torn into shreds--without rousing his consuming wrath or even his anger? but prick him with _something_--and the explosion will be terrible...as you will learn, mr. wondergood." he laughed again and rubbed his white hands with pleasure: he scarcely remembered at that moment that human blood was already upon them. and is it really necessary for _man_ to remember that? after a pause commensurate with the respect due to the subject, i asked: "and do you know how to make a _man_ explode?" "certainly." "and would you consider it permissible to give me this information?" "unfortunately it is not so easy or convenient because the current of high pressure would require too much elucidation, dear wondergood." "can't you put it briefly?" "oh, briefly. well, it is necessary to promise man some _miracle_." "is that all?" "that is all." "lies once more? the old monkey?" "yes, lies again. but not the old monkey. it is not that i have in mind. neither crusades nor immortality in heaven. this is the period of other miracles and other wonders. he promised resurrection to the dead. i promise resurrection to the living. his followers were the dead. mine...ours--are the living." "but the dead _did not arise_. how about the living?" "who _knows_? _we must make an experiment._ i cannot yet confide in you the business end of the enterprise but i warn you: the experiment must be conducted on a very large scale. you are not afraid, mr. wondergood?" i shrugged my shoulders indicating nothing definite. what could i answer? this gentleman carrying upon his shoulders a bomb instead of a head again split me into two halves, of which _man_, alas, was the lesser one. as wondergood, i confess without shame, i felt cruel fear and even pain: just as if the monstrous explosion had already touched my bones and were now breaking them...ah, but where is my endless happiness with maria, where the boundless peace of mind, where the devil is that white schooner? no, as great immortal curiosity, as the genius of _play_ and eternal movement, as the rapacious gaze of unclosing eyes i felt--i confess this, too, without shame--great joy, bordering upon ecstasy! and with a shiver of delight i mumbled: "what a pity i did not know that before." "why a pity?" "oh, just so. do not forget that i am come from another planet and am only now getting acquainted with man. so what shall we do with this--planet--magnus?" he laughed again: "you are a strange fellow, wondergood! with this planet? we will give it a little holiday. but enough jesting. i do not like it!" he frowned angrily and looked at me sternly, like an old professor...the manner of this gentleman was not distinguished by flippancy. when it seemed to him that i had grown sufficiently serious he shook his head in approval and asked: "do you know, wondergood, that the whole of europe is now in a very uneasy state?" "war?" "possibly war. everybody is secretly expecting it. _but_ war precedes the belief in the kingdom of _miracles_. you understand: we have lived too long in simple faith in the multiplication table, _we_ are tired of the multiplication table, _we_ are filled with ennui and anxiety on this straight road whose mire is lost in infinity. just now all of us are demanding some miracle and soon the day will come when we will demand the miracle immediately! it is not i alone who wants _an experiment on a large scale_--the whole world is preparing it...ah, wondergood, in truth, life would not be worth the candle if it were not for these highly interesting moments! highly interesting!" he greedily rubbed his hands. "you are pleased?" "as a chemist, i am in ecstasy. my shells are already loaded, without being themselves conscious of the fact, but they will know it well enough when i apply the torch. can you imagine the sight when _my_ dynamite will begin to explode, its consciousness, its will, its eyes directed straight upon its goal?" "and blood? perhaps my reminder is out of place but i remember an occasion when you spoke of _blood_ with much excitement." magnus fixed his long gaze upon me: something akin to suffering appeared in his eyes: but this was not the prick of conscience or pity--it was the emotion of a mature and wise man whose thoughts had been interrupted by the foolish question of a child: "blood," he said, "what blood?" i recalled to him his words on that occasion and told him of my strange and extremely unpleasant dream about the bottles, filled with blood instead of wine, and so easily broken. weary, with his eyes closed, he listened to my tale and sighed heavily. "blood!"--he murmured: "blood! that's nonsense. i told you many trite things on that occasion, wondergood, and it is not worth while to recall them. however, if _this_ gives you fear, it is not too late." i replied resolutely: "i fear _nothing_. as i have already said, i shall follow you everywhere. it is _my_ blood that is protesting--you understand?--not my consciousness or will. apparently i shall be the first to be fooled by you: i, too, seek a miracle. is not your _maria_ a miracle? i have been repeating the multiplication table night and day and i have grown to hate it like the bars of a prison. from the point of view of your chemistry, i am quite loaded and i ask but one thing: blow me up as quickly as possible!" magnus agreed sternly: "very well. in about two weeks. are you satisfied?" "thank you. i hope that signorina maria will then become my wife?" magnus laughed. "madonna?" "oh, i don't understand your smile...and, i must say, my hope is altogether in conformity with the regard i bear for your daughter, signor magnus." "don't excite yourself, wondergood. my smile was not about maria but about your faith in miracles. you are a splendid fellow, wondergood. i am beginning to love you like a son. in two weeks you will receive everything and then we shall conclude a new and strong pact. your hand, comrade!" for the first time he shook my hand in a strong, comradely fashion. i would have kissed him if there had been a simple human head instead of a bomb upon his shoulders. but to touch a bomb! not even in the face of my utmost respect for him! that was the first night that i slept like one slain and the stone walls of the palace did not press upon me. the walls were brushed by the explosive power of magnus' speech, while the roof melted away beneath the starry coverlet of maria: my soul departed into the realms of her calm love and refuge. the mountain tivoli and its fires--that was what i saw as i fell into slumber. april , rome. before knocking at my door, his majesty, the ex-king e. had knocked at no small number of entrances in europe. true to the example of his apostolic ancestors, who believed in the gold of israel, he particularly liked to approach jewish bankers; i believe that the honor done me by his visit was based upon his firm conviction that i was a jew. although his majesty was visiting rome incognito, i, warned of his visit, met him at the foot of the stairs and bowed low to him--i think that is the requirement of etiquette. then, also in accordance with etiquette, we introduced ourselves, he--his adjutant, i--thomas magnus. i confess i had not a very flattering opinion of the former king and that is why he astonished me all the more with his high opinion of himself. he gave me his hand politely but with such haughty indifference, he looked at me with such complete self-confidence, as if he were gazing at a being of a lower order, he walked ahead of me so naturally, sat down without invitation, gazed upon the walls and furniture in such frankly royal manner, that my entire uneasiness due to my unfamiliarity with etiquette disappeared immediately. it was only necessary to follow this fellow, who appeared to know everything so well. in appearance he was quite a young man, with fresh complexion and magnificent coiffure, somewhat worn out but sufficiently well-preserved, with colorless eyes and a calm, brazenly protruding lower lip. his hands were beautiful. he did not try to conceal that he was bored by my american face, which appeared jewish to him, and by the necessity of asking me for money: he yawned slightly after seating himself and said: "sit down, gentlemen." and with a slight command of the hand he ordered the adjutant to state the nature of his proposal. he paid no attention to magnus at all, and while the fat, red and obliging adjutant was stealthily narrating the story of the "misunderstanding" which caused the departure of his majesty from his country--his majesty was nonchalantly examining his feet. finally, he interrupted his representative's speech with the impatient remark: "briefer, marquis. mr.... wondergood is as well familiar with this history as we are. in a word, these fools kicked me out. how do you regard it, dear wondergood?" "how do i regard it?" i bowed low: "i am glad to be of service to your majesty." "well, yes, that's what they all say. but will you give me any money? continue, marquis." the marquis, smiling gently at me and magnus (despite his obesity he looked quite hungry) continued to weave his thin flimsy web about the misunderstanding, until the bored king again interrupted him: "you understand: these fools thought that i was responsible for all their misfortunes. wasn't that silly, mr. wondergood? and now they are worse off than ever and they write: 'come back, for god's sake. we are perishing!' read the letters, marquis." at first the king spoke with a trace of excitement but apparently any effort soon wearied him. the marquis obediently took a packet of papers from the portfolio and tortured us with the complaints of the orphaned subjects, begging their lord to return. i looked at the king: he was no less bored than we were. it was so clear to him that the people could not exist without him that all confirmations of this seemed superfluous.... and i felt so strange: whence does this miserable man get so much happy confidence? there was no doubt that this bird, unable to find a crumb for himself, sincerely believed in the peculiar qualities of his personage, capable of bestowing upon a whole people marvelous benefactions. stupidity? training? habit? at that moment the marquis was reading the plea of some correspondent, in which, through the web of official mediocrity and the lies of swollen phrases, gleamed the very same confidence and sincere call. was that, too, stupidity and habit? "and so forth, and so forth," interrupted the king listlessly: "that will do, marquis, you may close your portfolio. well, what you think of it, dear mr. wondergood?" "i will be bold enough to say to your majesty that i am a representative of an old, democratic republic and...." "stop, wondergood! republic, democracy! that's nonsense. you know well enough yourself that a king is a necessity. you, in america, will have a king, too, some day. how can you get along without a king: who will be responsible for them before god? no, that's foolish." this creature was actually getting ready to answer for the people before god! and he continued with the same calm audacity: "the king can do everything. and what can a president do? nothing. do you understand, wondergood--_nothing!_ why, then, do you want a president who can do nothing?"--he deigned to twist his lower lip into a sarcastic smile.--"it is all nonsense, invented by the newspapers. would you, for example, take your president seriously, mr. wondergood?" "but representative government...." "fi! excuse me, mr. wondergood (he recalled my name with great difficulty) but what fool will pay any attention to the representatives of the people? citizen a will pay heed to citizen b and citizen b will pay heed to citizen a--is that not so? but who will compel their obedience if both of them are wise? no, i, too, have studied logic, mr. wondergood and you will permit me to indulge in a laugh!" he laughed slightly and said with his usual gesture: "continue, marquis.... no, let me do it. the king can do _everything_, wondergood, you understand?" "but the law...." "ah, this fellow, too, speaks of law. do you hear, marquis? no, i really can't understand what you want this law for! that all may suffer equitably! however, if you are so keen on having law, law you shall have. but who will give it to you, if not i?" "but the representatives of the people...." the king directed his colorless eyes upon me, almost in despair: "ah, again citizen a and b! but can't you understand, dear wondergood? what kind of a law is it if they themselves make it? what wise man will agree to obey it? no, that's nonsense. is it possible that you yourself obey this law, wondergood?" "not only i, your majesty, but the whole of america...." his eyes measured me with sympathy. "pardon me, but i don't believe it. the whole of america! well, in that case they simply don't understand what law is--do you hear, marquis, the whole of america! but that's not the thing. i must return, wondergood. you've heard what the poor devils write?" "i am happy to see that the road is open for you, my lord." "open? you think so? hm! no, i need money. some write and others don't, you understand?" "perhaps they don't know how to write, my lord?" "they? oh! you should have seen what they wrote against me. i was quite flustered. what they need is the firing squad." "all of them?" "why all of them? some of them will be enough. the rest of them will simply be scared to death. you understand, wondergood, they have simply stolen my power from me and now, of course, will simply refuse to return it. you can't expect me to see to it that no one robs me. and these gentlemen,"--he indicated the blushing marquis--"to my sorrow did not manage to guard my interests." the marquis mumbled confusedly: "sire!" "now, now, i know your devotion, but you were asleep at the switch just the same? and now there is so much trouble, so much trouble!"--he sighed lightly. "did not cardinal x. tell you i needed money, mr. wondergood? he promised to. of course i will return it all and...however, you should take this matter up with the marquis. i have heard that you love people very much, mr. wondergood?" a faint smile flitted over the dim face of magnus. i bowed slightly. "the cardinal told me so. that is very praiseworthy, mr. wondergood. but if you do love people you will certainly give me money. i don't doubt that in the least. they must have a king. the newspapers are merely prattling nonsense. why do they have a king in germany, a king in england, a king in italy, and a hundred other kings? and don't we need a king too?" the adjutant mumbled: "a misunderstanding...." "of course a misunderstanding. the marquis is quite right. the newspapers call it a revolution, but believe me, i know my people; it is simply a misunderstanding. they are now weeping themselves. how can they get along without a king? there would be no kings at all then. you understand? what nonsense! they now talk of no god, too. no, we must do a little shooting, a little shooting!" he rose quickly and this time shook my hand with a patronizing smile and bowed to magnus. "good-by, good-by, my dear wondergood. you have a magnificent figure.... oh, what a splendid fellow! the marquis will drop in to see you one of these days. there was something more i wanted to say. oh, yes: i hope that you in america will have a king, too, in the near future...that is very essential, my friend. moreover, that's bound to be the end! au revoir!" we escorted his majesty with the same ceremony. the marquis followed and his bowed head, divided into two halves by the part in his reddish hair, and his red face bore the expression of hunger and constant failure.... ah, he has so frequently and so fruitlessly orated about that 'misunderstanding'! the king, apparently, also recalled at that moment his vain knocking about at other thresholds: his bloodless face again filled with grayish ennui and in reply to my parting bow, he opened wide his eyes, as if in astonishment, with the expression: what more does this fool want? ah, yes, he has money. and lazily he asked: "and so, you'll not forget, mr....friend!" and his automobile was magnificent and just as magnificent was the huge chauffeur, resembling a gendarme, attired for the new rôle. when we had reascended the stairs (our respectful lackeys meanwhile gazing upon me as on a royal personage) and entered our apartments, magnus fell into a long, ironic silence. i asked: "how old is this creature?" "didn't you know, wondergood? that's bad. he is years old. perhaps less." "did the cardinal really speak of him and ask you to give him money?" "yes,--from what you may have left after the cardinal's wants are attended to." "that is probably due to the fact that the monarchist form of government is also in vogue in heaven. can you conceive of a republic of saints and the administration of the world on the basis of popular representation? think of it: even devils will then receive the vote. a king is most necessary, wondergood. believe me." "nonsense! this is not worthy even of a jest." "i am not jesting. you are mistaken. and pardon me for being so direct, my friend: in his discussion about kings _he_ was above you, this time. you saw only a creature, a countenance of purely material limitations and ridiculous. _he_ conceived himself to be a symbol. that is why he is so calm and there is no doubt that he will return to his beloved people." "and will do a little shooting." "and will do a little shooting. and will throw a little scare into them. ah, wondergood, how stubborn you are in your refusal to part with the multiplication table! your republic is a simple table, while a king--do you realize it?--is a _miracle_! what can there be simpler, sillier and more hopeless than a million bearded men, governing themselves,--and how wonderful, how miraculous when this million of bearded fellows are governed by a creature! that is a miracle! and what possibilities it gives rise to! it seemed very funny to me when you spoke with so much warmth about the law, this dream of the devil. a king is necessary for the precise purpose of _breaking_ the law, in order that the _will_ may be _above_ the law!" "but laws change, magnus." "to change is only to submit to necessity and to new law, which was unknown to you before. only by breaking the law do you elevate the _will_. prove to me that god himself is subject to his own laws, i.e., to put it simply, that he cannot perform miracles, and to-morrow your shaven monkey will share the fate of loneliness and all the churches will be turned into horse stables. the miracle, wondergood, the miracle--that is what holds human beings on this cursed earth!" magnus emphasized these words by banging the table with his fist. his face was gloomy. in his dark eyes there flickered unusual excitement. speaking as if he were threatening some one, he continued: "_he_ believes in miracles and i envy him. he is insignificant, he is really what you might call a creature, but he believes in miracles. and he has already been a king and will be a king again! and we!..." he waved his hand contemptuously and began to pace the carpet like an angry captain on the deck of _his_ vessel. with much respect i gazed upon his heavy, explosive head and blazing eyes: for the first time i realized what _satanic_ ambitions there were concealed in this strange gentlemen. "and we!" magnus noticed my gaze and shouted angrily: "why do you look at me like that, wondergood? it's silly! you are thinking of my ambition? that's foolish, wondergood! would not _you_, a gentleman of illinois, also like to be...well, at least, emperor of _russia_, where the _will_ is still above the law?" "and on what particular throne have you your eye, magnus?" i replied, no longer concealing my irony. "if you are pleased to think of me so flatteringly, wondergood, i will tell you that i _aim_ much higher. nonsense, my friend! only bloodless moralists have never dreamt of a crown, just as only eunuchs have never tempted themselves with the thought of woman. nonsense! but i do not seek a throne--not even the russian throne: it is too cramping." "but there is another throne, signor magnus: the throne of god." "but why only the throne of god? and have you forgotten satan's, mr. wondergood?" and this he said to me...or did the whole street know that my throne was vacant? i bowed my head respectfully and said: "permit me to be the first to greet you...your majesty." magnus turned on me in wild wrath, gnashing his teeth, like a dog over a contested bone. and this angry atom wants to be satan! this handful of earth, hardly enough for one whiff for the devil, is dreaming to be crowned with my crown! i bowed my head still lower and dropped my eyes: i felt the gleaming flame of contempt and divine laughter blazing forth within them. i realized that it must not be given to my honored ward to know this _laughter_. i do not know how long we remained silent, but when our eyes met again they were clear, pure and innocent, like two bright rays in the shade. magnus was the first to speak: "and so?" he said. "and so?" i replied. "will you order money for the king?" "the money is at your disposal, my dear friend." magnus looked at me thoughtfully. "it's not worth while," he decided. "this miracle is old stuff. it requires too many police to compel belief. we shall perform a better miracle." "oh, undoubtedly. we shall contrive a better device. in two weeks?" "yes, about that!" replied magnus cordially. we shook hands warmly in parting and in about two hours the gracious king sent each of us a decoration: some sort of a star for me and something else for magnus. i rather pitied the poor idiot who continued to play his lone hand. april , rome. maria is somewhat indisposed and i hardly see her. magnus informed me of her illness--and lied about it: for some reason he does not want me to see her. does he fear anything? again cardinal x. called on him in my absence. nothing is being said to me about the "miracle." but i am patient,--and i wait. at first this was rather boresome but recently i have found a new pastime and now i am quite content. it is the roman museums, where i spend my mornings, like a conscientious american who has just learned to distinguish between a painting and a piece of sculpture. but i have no baedecker with me and i am strangely happy that i don't understand a thing about it all: marble and painting. i merely like it. i like the odor of the sea in the museums. why the sea?--i do not know: the sea is far away and i rather expected the odor of decay. and it is so spacious here--much more spacious than the campagna. in the campagna i see only space, over which run trains and automobiles. here i swim in time. there is so much time here! then, too, i rather like the fact that here they preserve with great care a chip of a marble foot or a stony sole with a bit of the heel. like an ass from illinois, i simply cannot understand what value there is in this, but i already believe that it is valuable and i am touched by your careful thrift, little man! preserve it! go on breaking the feet of live men. that is nothing. but these you must preserve. it is good, indeed, when living, dying, ever changing men, for the space of years, take such good care of a chip of marble foot. when i enter the narrow museum from the roman street, where every stone is drowned in the light of the april sun, its transparent and even shadow seems to me a peculiar light, more durable than the expensive rays of the sun. as far as i _recollect_ it is thus that eternity doth shine. and these marbles! they have swallowed as much sunlight as an englishman whiskey before they were driven into this place that they do not fear night at all.... and i, too, do not fear the night when i am near them. take care of them, man! if _this_ is what you call art, what an ass you are, wondergood. of course, you are cultured, you look upon art with reverence as upon religion and you have understood as much of it as that ass did on which the messiah entered jerusalem. and what if there should be a fire? yesterday this thought troubled me all day and i went with it to magnus. but he seems extremely occupied with something and could not, at first, understand what i was driving at. "what's the trouble, wondergood? you want to insure the vatican--or something else? make it clearer?" "oh! to insure!" i exclaimed in anger: "you are a barbarian, thomas magnus!" at last he understood. smiling cordially, he stretched, yawned and laid some paper before me. "you really are a gentleman from mars, dear wondergood. don't contradict, and sign this paper. it is the last one." "i will sign, but under one condition. your explosion must not touch the vatican." he laughed again: "would you be sorry? then you had better not sign. in general, if you are sorry about anything--about anything at all--it would be better for us to part before it is too late. there is no room for pity in my game and my play is not for sentimental american girls." "if you please...." i signed the paper and threw it aside. "but it seems as if you have earnestly entered upon the duties of satan, dear magnus!" "and does satan have duties? poor satan! then i don't want to be satan!" "neither duties nor obligations?" "neither duties nor obligations." "and what then?" he glanced at me quickly with his gleaming eyes and replied with one short word, which cut the air before my face: "_will._" "and...the current of high pressure?" magnus smiled patronizingly: "i am very glad that you remember my words so well, wondergood. they may be of use to you some day." cursed dog. i felt so much like striking him that i--bowed particularly low and politely. but he restrained me with a gracious gesture, pointing to a chair: "where are you going, wondergood? sit down. we have seen so little of each other of late. how is your health?" "fine, thank you. and how is the health of signorina maria?" "not particularly good. but it's a trifle. a few more days of waiting and you.... so you like the museums, wondergood? there was a time when i, too, gave them much time and feeling. yes, i remember, i remember.... don't you find, wondergood, that man, in mass, is a repulsive being?" i raised my eyes in astonishment: "i do not quite understand this change of subject, magnus. on the contrary, the museums have revealed to me a new and more attractive side of man...." he laughed. "love for mankind?... well, well, do not take offense at the jest, wondergood. you see: everything that man does in crayon is wonderful--but repulsive in painting. take the sketch of christianity, with its sermon on the mount, its lilies and its ears of corn, how marvelous it is! and how ugly is its picture with its sextons, its funeral pyres and its cardinal x.! a genius begins the work and an idiot, an animal, completes it. the pure and fresh wave of the ocean tide strikes the dirty shore--and returns dirty, bearing back with it corks and shells. the beginning of love, the beginning of the roman empire and the great revolution--how good are all beginnings! and their end? and even if a man here and there has managed to die as beautifully as he was born, the masses, the masses, wondergood, invariably end the liturgy in shamelessness!" "oh, but what about the causes, magnus?" "the causes? apparently we find concealed here the very _substance_ of man, of animal, evil and limited in the mass, inclined to madness, easily inoculated with all sorts of disease and crowning the widest possible road with a standstill. and that is why art is so much above man!" "i do not understand." "_what_ is there incomprehensible about it? in art it is the genius who begins and the genius completes. you understand: the genius! the fool, the imitator or the critic is quite powerless to change or mar the paintings of velasquez, the sculpture of angelo or the verse of homer. he can destroy, smash, break, burn or deface, but he is quite powerless to bring them down to his own level--and that is why he so detests real art. you understand, wondergood? his paw is helpless!" magnus waved his white hand and laughed. "but why does he guard and protect it so assiduously?" "it is not _he_ who guards and protects. this is done by a special species of _faithful watchmen_"--magnus laughed again: "and did you observe how uncomfortable they feel in the museum?" "who--they?" "well, those who came to view the things! but the most ridiculous phase of the whole business is not that the fool is a fool but that the genius unswervedly worships the fool as a neighbor and fellow being and anxiously seeks his devastating love. as if he were a savage himself, the genius does not understand that _his_ true neighbor is a genius similar to himself and he is eternally opening his embraces to the near--human...who eagerly crawls into them in order to abstract the watch from his vest pocket! yes, my dear wondergood, it is a most laughable point and i fear...." he lapsed into thought, fixing his eyes upon the floor: thus apparently do human beings gaze into the depths of their own graves. and i understood just what this genius feared, and once again i bowed before the satanic mind which in all the world recognized only itself and its own will. here was a god who would not share his power with olympus! and what a contempt for mankind! and what open contempt for me! here was a grain of earth that could make the devil himself sneeze! and do you know how i concluded that evening? i took my pious toppi by the neck and threatened to shoot him if he did not get drunk with me. and drunk we did get! we began in some dirty little café and continued in some night taverns where i generously filled some black-eyed bandits with liquor, mandolin players and singers, who sang to me of maria: i drank like a farm hand who had just arrived in the city after a year of sober labor. away with the museums! i remember that i shouted much and waved my hands--but never did i love my _maria_ so tenderly, so sweetly and so painfully as in that smoke of drink, permeated with the odor of wine, oranges and some burning fat, in this wide circle of black bearded stealthy faces and rapaciously gleaming eyes, amid the melodious strains of mandolins which opened for me the very vestibules of heaven and hell! i vaguely remember some very accommodating but pompous murderers, whom i kissed and forgave in the name of maria. i remember that i proposed that all of us go to drink in the coliseum, in the very place where martyrs used to die but i do not know why we did not do it--i believe there were technical difficulties. and how splendid toppi was! at first he drank long and silently, like an archbishop. then he suddenly began to perform interesting feats. he put a bottle of chianti on his nose, the wine running all over him. he tried to perform some tricks with cards but was immediately caught by the affable bandits who brilliantly repeated the same trick. he walked on all fours and sang some religious verses through his nose. he cried and suddenly announced frankly that he was a devil. we walked home staggering along the street, bumping into walls and lampposts and hilariously enjoying ourselves like two students. toppi tried to pick a quarrel with some policemen, but, touched by their politeness, he ended by conferring his stern blessing upon them, saying gloomily: "go and sin no more." then he confessed with tears that he was in love with a certain signorina, that his love was requited and that he must therefore resign his spiritual calling. saying this, he lay down upon a stony threshold and fell into a stubborn sleep. and thus i left him. maria, maria, how you tempt me! not once have i touched your lips. yesterday i kissed only red wine...but whence come these burning traces on my lips? but yesterday i stood upon my knees, madonna, and covered you with flowers: but yesterday i timidly laid hands upon the hem of your garment, and to-day you are only a woman and i want you. my hands are trembling. the obstacles, the halls, the paces and the thresholds separating us drive me mad. i want you! i did not recognize my own eyes in the mirror: there is a thick shadow upon them. i breathe heavily and irregularly, and all day long my thoughts are wandering lustfully about your naked breast. i have forgotten everything. in whose power am i? it bends me like soft, heated iron. i am deafened, i am blinded by my own heat and sparks. what do you do, man, when _that_ happens to you? do you simply go and take the woman? do you violate her? think: it is night now and maria is so close by. i can approach her room without a sound...and i want to hear her cries! but suppose magnus bars the road for me? i will kill magnus. nonsense. no, tell me, in whose power am i? you ought to know that man? to-day, just before evening, as i was seeking to escape from myself and maria, i wandered about the streets, but it was worse there: everywhere i saw men and women, men and women. as if i had never seen them before! they all appeared naked to me. i stood long at monte-picio and tried to grasp what a sunset was but could not: before me there passed by in endless procession those men and women, gazing into each other's eyes. tell me--what is woman? i saw one--very beautiful--in an automobile. the sunset threw a rosy glow upon her pale face and in her ears there glistened two diamond sparks. she gazed upon the sunset and the sunset gazed on her, but i could not endure it: sorrow and love gripped my heart, as if i were dying. there behind her were trees, green, almost black. maria! maria! april , isle of capri. perfect calm reigned upon the sea. from a high precipice i gazed long upon a little schooner, motionless in the blue expanse. its white sails were rigidly still and it seemed as happy as on that memorable day. and, again, great calm descended upon me, while the holy name of _maria_ resounded purely and peacefully, like the sabbath bells on the distant shore. there i lay upon the grass, my face toward the sky. the good earth warmed my back, while my eyes were pierced with warm light, as if i had thrust my face into the sun. not more than three paces away there lay an abyss, a steep precipice, a dizzying wall, and it was delightful to imbibe the odor of grass and the spring flowers of capri. there was also the odor of toppi, who was lying beside me: when he is heated by the sun he emits the smell of fur. he was all sunburned, just as if he had been smeared with coal. in general, he is a very amiable old devil. the place where we lay is called anacapri and constitutes the elevated part of the island. the sun had already set when we began our trip downward and a half moon had risen in the sky. but there was the same quiet and warmth and from somewhere came the strains of mandolins in love, calling to maria. maria everywhere! but my love breathed with great calm, bathed in the pure moonlight rays, like the little white houses below. in such a house, at one time, did maria live, and into just such a house i will take her in about four days. a high wall along which the road ran, concealed the moon from us and here we beheld the statue of an old madonna, standing in a niche, high above the road and the surrounding bushes. before her burned with a weak flame the light of an image-lamp, and she seemed so alive in her watchful silence that my heart grew cold with sweet terror. toppi bowed his head and mumbled a prayer, while i removed my hat and thought: how high above this earthly vessel, filled with moonlit twilight and mysterious charms, you stand. thus does _maria_ stand above my soul.... enough! here again the extraordinary begins and i must pause. we shall soon drink some champagne and then we shall go to the café. i understand they expect some mandolin players from naples there to-day. toppi would rather be shot than follow me: his conscience troubles him to this day. but it is good that i will be alone. april --rome, palazzo orsini. ...night. my palace is dead and silent, as if it were one of the ruins of ancient rome. beyond the large window lies the garden: it is transparent and white with the rays of the moon and the vaporous pole of the fountain resembles a headless vision in a silver veil. its splash is scarcely heard through the thick window-pane--as if it were the sleepy mumbling of the night guard. yes, this is all beautiful and...how do you put it?--it breathes with love. of course, it would be good to walk beside maria over the blue sand of the garden path and to trample upon her shadow. but i am disturbed and my disquiet is wider than love. in my attempts to walk lightly i wander about the room, lean against the wall, recline in silence in the corners, and all the time i seem to hear something. something far away, a thousand kilometers from here. or is this all lodged in my memory--that which i strain my ear to catch? and the thousand kilometers--are they the thousand years of my life? you would be astonished if you saw how i was dressed. my fine american costume had suddenly become unbearably heavy, so i put on my bathing suit. this made me appear thin, tall and wiry. i tried to test my nimbleness by crawling about the floor, suddenly changing the direction, like a noiseless bat. but it is not i who am restless. it is my muscles that are filled with this unrest, and i know not what they want. then i began to feel cold. i dressed and sat down to write. i drank some wine and drew down the curtains to shut the white garden from my eyes. then i examined and fixed my browning. i intend to take it with me to-morrow for a friendly chat with magnus. you see, thomas magnus has some _collaborators_. that is what he calls those gentlemen unknown to me who respectfully get out of my way when we meet, but never greet me, as if we were meeting in the street and not in my house. there were two of them when i went to capri. now they are six, according to what toppi tells me, and they live here. toppi does not like them. neither do i. they seem to have no _faces_. i could not see them. i happened to think of that just now when i tried to recall them. "these are my assistants," magnus told me to-day without trying in the least to conceal his ridicule. "well, i must say, magnus, they have had bad training. they never greet me when we meet." "on the contrary, dear wondergood! they are very well-mannered. they simply cannot bring themselves to greet you without a proper introduction. they are...extremely correct people. however, you will learn all to-morrow. don't frown. be patient, wondergood! just one more night!" "how is signorina maria's health?" "_to-morrow_ she will be well." he placed his hand upon my shoulder and brought his dark, evil, brazen eyes closer to my face: "the passion of love, eh?" i shook off his hand and shouted: "signor magnus! i...." "you?"--he frowned at me and calmly turned his back upon me: "till to-morrow, mr. wondergood!" that is why i loaded my revolver. in the evening i was handed a letter from magnus: he begged my pardon, said his conduct was due to unusual excitement and he sincerely sought my friendship and confidence. he also agreed that his _collaborators_ are really ill-mannered folk. i gazed long upon these hasty illegible lines and felt like taking with me, not my revolver, but a cannon. one more night, but how long it is! _there is danger facing me._ i feel it and my muscles _know_ it, too. do you think that i am merely afraid? i swear by eternal salvation--no! i know not where my fear has disappeared, but only a short while ago i was afraid of everything: of darkness, death and the most inconsequential pain. and now i fear nothing. i only feel strange...is that how you put it: strange? here i am on your earth, man, and i am thinking of another person who is dangerous to me and i myself am--man. and there is the moon and the fountain. and there is maria, whom i love. and here is a glass and wine. and this is--my and your life. or did i simply imagine that i was satan once? i see _it_ is all an invention, the fountain and maria and my very thoughts on the man--magnus, but the _real_ my mind can neither unravel nor understand. i assiduously examine my memory and it is silent, like a closed book, and i have no power to open this enchanted volume, concealing the whole past of my being. straining my eyesight, i gaze into the bright and distant depth from which i came upon this pasteboard earth--but i see nothing in the painful ebb and flow of the boundless fog. there, behind the fog, is my country, but it seems--it seems i have quite forgotten the road. i have again returned to wondergood's bad habit of getting drunk alone and i am slightly drunk now. no matter. it is the last time. i have just seen something after which i wish to see nothing else. i felt like taking a look at the white garden and to imagine how it would feel to walk beside maria over the path of blue sand. i turned off the light in the room and opened wide the draperies. and the white garden arose before me, like a dream, and--think of it!--over the path of blue sand there walked a man and a woman--and the woman was maria! they walked quietly, trampling upon their own shadows, and the man embraced her. the little counting machine in my breast beat madly, fell to the floor and broke, when, finally, i recognized the man--it was magnus, only magnus, dear magnus, the father. may he be cursed with his fatherly embraces! ah, how my love for _maria_ surged up again within me! i fell on my knees before the window and stretched out my hands to her.... to be sure, i had already seen something of that kind in the theater, but it's all the same to me: i stretched out my hands--was i not alone and drunk! why should i not do what i want to do? madonna! then i suddenly drew down the curtain! quietly, like a web, like a handful of moonlight, i will take this vision and weave it into night dreams. quietly!... quietly!... iv may , .--italy. had i at my disposal, not the pitiful word but a strong orchestra, i would compel all the brass trumpets to roar. i would raise their blazing mouths to the sky and would compel them to rave incessantly in a blazen, screeching voice which would make one's hair stand on end and scatter the clouds in terror. i do not want the lying violins. hateful to me is the gentle murmur of false strings beneath the fingers of liars and scoundrels. breath! breath! my gullet is like a brass horn. my breath--a hurricane, driving forward into every narrow cleft. and all of me rings, kicks and grates like a heap of iron in the face of the wind. oh, it is not always the mighty, wrathful roar of brass trumpets. frequently, very frequently it is the pitiful wail of burned, rusty iron, crawling along lonely, like the winter, the whistle of bent twigs, which drives thought cold and fills the heart with the rust of gloom and homelessness. everything that fire can touch has burned up within me. was it i who wanted to play? was it i who yearned for the game? then--look upon this monstrous ruin of the theater wrecked by the flames: all the actors, too, have lost their lives therein.. ah, all the actors, too, have perished, and brazen truth peers now through the beggarly holes of its empty windows. by my throne,--what was that love i prattled of when i donned this human form? to whom was it that i opened my embraces? was it you...comrade? by my throne!--if i was love but _for a single moment_, henceforth i am hate and _eternally_ thus i remain. let us halt at this point to-day, dear comrade. it has been quite some time since i moved my pen upon this paper and i must now grow accustomed anew to your dull and shallow face, smeared o'er with the red of your cheeks. i seem to have forgotten how to speak the language of respectable people who have just received a trouncing. get thee hence, my friend. to-day i am a brass trumpet. tickle not my throat, little worm. leave me. may , italy. it was a month ago that thomas magnus _blew_ me up. yes, it is true. he really blew me up and it was a month ago, in the holy city of rome, in the palazzo orsini, when i still belonged to the billionaire henry wondergood--do you remember that genial american, with his cigar and patent gold teeth? alas! he is no longer with us. he died suddenly and you will do well if you order a requiem mass for him: his illinois soul is in need of your prayers. let us return, however, to his last hours. i shall try to be exact in my recollections and give you not only the emotions but also the words of that evening--it was evening, when the moon was shining brightly. perhaps i shall not give you quite the words spoken but, at any rate, they will be the words i heard and stored away in my memory.... if you were ever whipped, worthy comrade, then you know how difficult it was for you to count all the blows of the whip. a change of gravity! you understand? oh, you understand everything. and so let us receive the last breath of henry wondergood, blown up by the culprit thomas magnus and buried by..._maria_. i remember: i awoke on the morning after that _stormy_ evening, calm and even gay. apparently it was the effect of the sun, shining into that same, broad window through which, at night, there streamed that unwelcome and too highly significant moonlight. you understand: now the moon and now the sun? oh, you understand everything. it is probably for the very same reason i acquired my touching faith in the integrity of magnus and awaited toward evening that cloudless bliss. this expectation was all the greater because his collaborators...you remember his collaborators?--had begun to _greet_ and _bow_ to me. what is a greeting?--ah, how much it means to the faith of man! you know my good manners and, therefore, will believe me when i say that i was cold and restrained like a gentleman who has just received a legacy. but if you had put your ear to my belly you would have heard violins playing within. something about love, you understand. oh, you understand everything. and thus, with these violins did i come to magnus in the evening when the moon was shining brightly. magnus was alone. we were long silent and this indicated that an interesting conversation awaited me. finally i said: "how is the signorina's health?"... but he interrupted me: "we are facing a very difficult talk, wondergood? does that disturb you?" "oh, no, not at all." "do you want wine? well, never mind. i shall drink a little but you need not. yes, wondergood?" he laughed as he poured out the wine and here i noticed with astonishment that he himself was _very_ excited: his large, white, hangman's hands were quite noticeably trembling. i do not know exactly just when my violins ceased--i think it was at that very moment. magnus gulped down two glasses of wine--he had intended to take only a little--and, sitting down, continued: "no, you ought not to drink, wondergood. i need all your _senses_, undimmed by anything...you didn't drink anything to-day? no? that's good. your _senses_ must be clear and sober. one must not take anesthetics in such cases as...as...." "as vivisection?" he shook his head seriously in affirmation. "yes, vivisection. you have caught my idea marvelously. yes, in cases of vivisection of the soul. for instance, when a loving mother is informed of the death of her son or...a rich man that he has become penniless. but the senses, what can we do with the senses, we cannot hold them in leash all our life! you understand, wondergood? in the long run, i am not in the least so cruel a man as i occasionally seem even to myself and the _pain_ of others frequently arouses in me an unpleasant, responsive trembling. that is not good. a surgeon's hand must be firm." he looked at his fingers: they no longer trembled. he continued with a smile: "however, wine helps some. dear wondergood, i swear by eternal salvation, by which you love so to swear, that it is extremely unpleasant for me to cause you this little...pain. keep your senses, wondergood! your senses, your senses! your hand, my friend?" i gave him my hand and magnus enveloped my palm and fingers and held them long in his own paw, strained, permeated with some kind of electric currents. then he let them go, sighing with relief. "that's it. just so. courage, wondergood!" i shrugged my shoulders, lit a cigar and asked: "your illustration of the _very_ wealthy man who has suddenly become a beggar,--does that concern me? am i penniless?" magnus answered slowly as he gazed straight into my eyes: "if you wish to put it that way--yes. you have nothing left. absolutely nothing. and this palace, too, is already sold. to-morrow the new owners take possession." "oh, that is interesting. and where are my billions?" "i have them. they are mine. i am a very wealthy man, wondergood." i moved my cigar to the other corner of my mouth and asked: "and you are ready, of course, to give me a helping hand? you are a contemptible scoundrel, thomas magnus." "if that's what you call me--yes. something on that order." "and a liar!" "perhaps. in general, dear wondergood, it is very necessary for you to change your outlook on life and man. you are too much of an idealist." "and you"--i rose from my chair--"for you it is necessary to change your fellow conversationalist. permit me to bid you good-by and to send a police commissary in my place." magnus laughed. "nonsense, wondergood! everything has been done within the law. you, yourself, have handed over everything to me. this will surprise no one...with your love for humanity. of course, you can proclaim yourself insane. you understand?--and then, perhaps, i may get to the penitentiary. but you--you will land in an insane asylum. you would hardly like that, dear friend. police! well, go on talking. it will relieve the first effects of the blow." i think it was really difficult for me to conceal my excitement. i hurled my cigar angrily into the fireplace, while my eye carefully measured both the window and magnus...no, this carcass was too big to play ball with. at that moment the loss of my wealth had not yet fully impressed itself upon my mind and it was that which maddened me as much as the brazen tone of magnus and the patronizing manner of the old scoundrel. in addition, i dimly sensed something portentous of evil and sorrow, like a threat: as if some real danger were lurking not in front of me but behind my back. "what is this all about?" i shouted, stamping my foot. "what is this all about?" replied magnus, like an echo. "yes, i really cannot understand why you are so excited, wondergood. you have so frequently offered me this money and even forced it upon me and now, when the money is in my hands, you want to call the police! of course," magnus smiled--"there is a slight distinction here: in placing your money so magnanimously at my _disposal_, you still remained its master and the master of the situation, while now...you understand, old friend: now i can simply drive you out of this house!" i looked at magnus significantly. he replied with no less a significant shrug of the shoulders and cried angrily: "stop your nonsense. i am stronger than you are. do not try to be more of a fool than is absolutely necessitated by the situation." "you are an unusually brazen scoundrel, signor magnus!" "again! how these sentimental souls do seek consolation in words! take a cigar and listen to me. i have long needed money, a great deal of money. in my past, which i need not disclose to you, i have suffered certain...failures. they irritated me considerably. fools and sentimental souls, you understand? my energy was imprisoned under lock and key, like a bird in a cage. for three years i sat in this cursed cage, awaiting my chance...." "and all that--in the beautiful campagna?" "yes, in the beautiful campagna...and i had already begun to lose hope, when you appeared. i find it difficult to express myself at this point...." "be as direct as you can. have no compunctions." "you seemed very strange with all this love of yours for men and your _play_, as you finally termed it, and, my friend, for a long time i had grave doubts as to what you really were: an extraordinary fool or just a scoundrel, like myself. you see, such extraordinary asses appear so seldom that even i had my doubts. you are not angry?" "oh, not at all." "you forced money upon me and i thought: a trap! however you made your moves quickly and certain precautions on my part...." "pardon me for interrupting. so, those books of yours, your solitary contemplation of life, that little white house and everything was all a lie? and murder--do you remember all that drivel about hands steeped in blood?" "yes, i did kill. that is true. and i have pondered much upon life, while awaiting you, but the rest, of course, was falsehood. very base falsehood, but you were so credulous...." "and.. maria?" i confess that i had hardly uttered this name when i felt something clutching at my throat. magnus looked at me sharply and said gloomily: "we will discuss maria, too. but how excited you are! even your nails have turned blue. perhaps you'll have some wine? well, never mind. have patience. i shall continue. when you began your affair with maria...of course with my slight assistance...i finally concluded that you were...." "an extraordinary ass?" magnus raised his hand in a consoling gesture: "oh, no! you seemed to me to be that at the beginning. i will tell you quite truthfully, as i do everything i am telling you now: you are not a fool at all, wondergood. i have grown to know you more intimately. it doesn't matter that you have so naïvely surrendered your billions to me...many wise men have been fooled before by clever...scoundrels! your misfortune is quite another thing." i had the strength to smile: "my love for human beings?" "no, my friend: your contempt for human beings! your _contempt_ and at the same time your naïve faith in them arising from it. you regard human beings so far below you, you are so convinced of their fatal powerlessness that you do not fear them at all and are quite ready to pat the rattlesnake's head: such a nice little rattlesnake! one should fear people, comrade! i know your _game_, but at times you were quite sincere in your prattle about man, you even pitied him, but from an elevation or from a sidetrack--i know not which. oh, if you could only hate people i would take you along with me with pleasure. but you are an egotist, a terrible egotist, wondergood, and i am even beginning to shed my regrets for having robbed you, when i think of that! whence comes this base contempt of yours?" "i am still only learning to be a man." "well, go on learning. but why do you call your professor a scoundrel: for i am your professor, wondergood!" "to the devil with this prattle. so...you do not intend to take me along with you?" "no, my friend, i do not." "so. only my billions. very well, but what about your plan: to blow up the earth or something of that kind? or did you lie on this point, too? i cannot believe that you simply intend to open...a money changer's bureau or become some ragged king!" magnus looked at me gloomily. there was even a gleam of sympathy in his eyes as he replied slowly: "no, on that point i did not lie. but you won't do for me. you would always be hanging on to my coat tails. just now you shouted: liar, scoundrel, thief.... it's strange, but you are yet only learning to be a man and you have already imbibed so much pettiness. when i shall raise my hand to strike some one, your contempt will begin to whine: don't strike, leave him alone, have pity. oh, if you could only hate! no, you are a terrible egotist, old man." i shouted: "the devil take you with your harping on this egotism! i am not in the least more stupid than you, you beast, and i cannot understand what you find so saintly in hatred!" magnus frowned: "first of all: don't shout or i'll throw you out. do you hear? yes, perhaps you are no more stupid than i am, but man's business is not your business. do you realize that, you beast? in blowing up things, i only intend to do business and you want to be the ruler of another's plant. let them steal and break down the machinery and you--you will be concerned only about your salary and the respect due you? and i--i won't stand that! all this,"--he swept the room with a broad gesture--"is my plant, _mine_, do you hear, and it is i who will be robbed. i will be robbed and injured. and i hate those who rob me. what would you have done, in the long run, with your billions, if i had not taken them from you? built conservatories and raised heirs--for the perpetuation of your kind? private yachts and diamonds for your wife? and i...give me all the gold on earth and i will throw it all into the flames of my hatred. and all because i have been insulted! when you see a hunchback you throw him a lire. so that he may continue to bear his hump, yes? and i want to destroy him, to kill him, to burn him like a crooked log. to whom do you appeal when you are fooled or when a dog bites your finger? to your wife, the police, public opinion? but suppose the wife, with the aid of your butler, plants horns on your head or public opinion fails to understand you and instead of pitying you prefers to give you a thrashing--then do you make your appeal to god? but i, i go to no one. i plead before no one, but neither do i forgive. you understand? i do not forgive! only egotists forgive! i consider myself personally insulted!" i heard him in silence. perhaps it was because i was so close to the fireplace, gazing into the fire and listening to magnus's words, each new word intermingled with a fresh blaze of a burning log; no sooner would the glowing red mass fall apart than the words, too, would break up into particles, like hot coals. my head was not at all clear and, under the influence of these burning, flaming, flying words i fell into a strange, dark drowsiness. but this was what my memory retained: "oh, if you could only hate! if you were not so cowardly and weak of soul! i would take you with me and would let you behold a fire which would forever dry your miserable tears and burn your sentimental dreams to ashes! do you hear the song of the fools of the world? they are merely loading the cannons. the wise man need only apply the fire to the fuse, you understand? could you behold calmly the sight of a blissful sheep and hungry snake lying together, separated only by a thin partition? i could not! i would drill just a little opening, a little opening...the rest they would do themselves. do you know that from the union of truth and falsehood comes an explosion? i want to unite. i shall do nothing myself: i shall only _complete_ what they have begun. do you hear how merrily they sing? i will make them dance, too! come with me, comrade! you sought some sort of a play--let me give you an extraordinary spectacle! we shall bring the whole earth into action and millions of marionettes will begin to caper obediently at our command: you know not yet how talented and obliging they are. it will be a splendid play and will give you much pleasure and amusement...." a large log fell apart and split into many sparks and hot cinders. the flame subsided, growing morose and red. a silent heat emanated from the dimmed, smoke-smeared hearth. it burned my face and suddenly there arose before me my puppets' show. the heat and fire had conjured up a mirage. i seemed to hear the crash of drums and the gay ring of cymbals, while the merry clown turned on his head at the sight of the broken skulls of the dolls. the broken heads continued to pile up. then i saw the scrap heap, with two motionless little legs protruding from the heap of rubbish. they wore rose slippers. and the drums continued beating: tump-tump-tump. and i said pensively: "i think it will hurt them." and behind my back rang out the contemptuous and indifferent reply: "quite possibly." "tump-tump-tump...." "it is all the same to you, wondergood, but i cannot! can't you see: i cannot permit every miserable biped to call himself a man. there are too many of them, already. they multiply like rabbits, under the stimulus of physicians and laws. death, deceived, cannot handle them all. it is confused and seems to have lost its dignity and moral authority. it is wasting its time in dancing halls. i hate them. it has become repulsive to me to walk upon this earth, fallen into the power of a strange, strange species. we must suspend the law, at least temporarily, and let death have its fling. however, they themselves will see to this. no, not i, but they, will do it. think not that i am particularly cruel, no--i am only logical. i am only the conclusion, the symbol of equality, the sum total, the line beneath the column of figures. you may call it ergo, magnus, ergo! they say: 'two and two' and i reply: 'four.' exactly four. imagine that the world has suddenly grown cold and immovable for a moment and you behold some such picture: here is a free and careless head and above it--a suspended axe. here is a mass of powder and here a spark about to fall upon it. but it has stopped and does not fall. here is a heavy structure, set upon a single, undermined foundation. but everything has grown rigid and the foundation holds. here is a breast and here a hand aiming a bullet at it. have i prepared all this? i merely touch the lever and press it down. the axe falls upon the laughing head and crushes it. the spark falls into the powder--all is off! the building crashes to the ground. the bullet pierces the ready breast. and i--i have merely touched the lever, i, magnus ergo! think: would i be able to kill had i at my disposal only violins or other musical instruments?" i laughed: "only violins!" magnus replied with laughter: his voice was hoarse and heavy: "but they have other instruments, too! and i will use these instruments. see how simple and interesting all this is?" "and what further, magnus ergo?" "how do i know what's to follow? i see only _this_ page and solve only _this_ problem. i know not what the next page contains." "perhaps it contains the same thing?" "perhaps it does. and perhaps this is the final page...well, what of that: the sum total remains as is necessary." "you spoke on one occasion about _miracles_?" "yes, that is my lever. you remember what i told you _about my_ explosive? i promise rabbits to make lions of them.... you see, a rabbit cannot stand brains. give a rabbit brains and he will hang himself. melancholy will drive him to suicide. brains implies logic and what can _logic_ promise to a rabbit? nothing but a sorry fate on a restaurant menu. what one must promise a rabbit is either immortality for a cheap price, as does cardinal x. or--heaven on earth. you will see what energy, what daring, etc., my rabbit will develop when i paint before him on the wall heavenly powers and gardens of eden!" "on the wall?" "yes,--on a stone wall. he will storm it with all the power of his species! and who knows...who knows...perhaps this mass may really break through this stone wall?" magnus lapsed into thought. i drew away from the now extinguished fire and looked upon the explosive head of my repulsive friend.... something naïve, like two little wrinkles, almost like those of a child, lay upon his stony brow. i burst into laughter and shouted: "thomas magnus! thomas ergo! do you believe?" without raising his head, as if he had not heard my laughter, he lifted his eyes and replied pensively: "we must try." _but_ i continued to laugh: deep, wild--apparently human--laughing malice began to rise within me: "thomas magnus! magnus rabbit! do you believe?" he thumped the table with his fist and roared in a wild transport: "be quiet! i tell you: we must try. how do i know? i have never yet been on mars nor seen this earth inside-out. be silent, accursed egotist! you know nothing of our affairs. ah, if only you could hate!..." "i hate already." magnus suddenly laughed and grew strangely calm. he sat down and scrutinizing me from all possible angles, as if he did not believe me, he burst out: "you? hate? whom?" "you." he looked me over as carefully again and shook his head in doubt: "is that true, wondergood?" "if they are rabbits, you are the most repulsive of them all, because you are a mixture of rabbit and...satan. you are a coward! the fact that you are a crook, a thief, a liar, a murderer is not important. but you are a coward! that is important. i expected something more of you. i hoped your mind would lift you above the greatest crime, but you lift crime itself into some base philanthropy. you are as much of a lackey as the others. the only difference between you and them is that you have a perverted idea of service!" magnus sighed. "no, that's not it. you understand nothing, wondergood." "and what you lack is daring, my friend. if you are magnus ergo...what audacity: magnus ergo!--then why don't you go the limit? then, i, too, would follow you...perhaps!" "will you really come?" "and why should i not come? let me be contempt, and you--hatred. we can go together. do not fear lest i hang on to your coat tails. you have revealed much to me, my dear putridity, and i shall not seize your hand even though you raise it against yourself." "will you betray me?" "and you will kill me. is that not enough?" but magnus shook his head doubtfully and said: "you will betray me. i am a living human being, while you smell like a corpse. i do not want to have contempt for _myself_. if i do, i perish. don't you dare to look at me! look upon the others!" i laughed. "very well. i shall not look at _you_. i will look at the rest. i will make it easier for you with my contempt." magnus fell into prolonged thought. then he looked again at me piercingly and quietly asked: "and maria?..." oh, cursed wretch! again he hurled my heart upon the floor! i looked at him wildly, like one aroused at night by fire. and three big waves swept my breast. with the first wave rose the silent violins...ah, how they wailed, just as if the musician played not upon strings but upon my veins! then in a huge wave with foamy surf there rolled by all the images, thoughts and emotions of my recent, beloved human state: think of it: everything was there! even the lizzard that hissed at my feet that evening beneath the moonlight. i recalled even the little lizzard! and with the third wave there was rolled out quietly upon the shore the holy name: _maria_. and just as quietly it receded, leaving behind a delicate lace of foam, and from beyond the sea burst forth the rays of the sun, and for a moment, for one, little moment, i again became a white schooner, with sails lowered. where were the stars while awaiting the word of the lord of the universe to break forth in all their brilliance? madonna! magnus recalled me quietly. "where are you going? she is not there. what do you want?" "pardon me, dear magnus, but i would like to see the signorina maria. only for a moment. i don't feel quite well. there is something revolving in my eyes and head. are you smiling, dear magnus, or does it only seem so to me? i have been gazing into the fire too long and i can hardly discern the objects before me. did you say: maria? yes, i would like to see her. then we shall continue our interesting conversation. you will remind me just where we stopped, but meanwhile i would be extremely obliged to you, if we were...to take a little drive into the campagna. it is so sweet there. and signorina maria...." "sit down. you will see her presently." but i continued to weave my nonsense--what in the devil had happened to my head! i prattled on for a considerable period and now the whole thing seems so ridiculous: once or twice i pressed the heavy, motionless hand of thomas magnus: apparently he must have looked like my father at that moment. finally, i subsided, partially regained my senses but, in obedience to magnus' command, remained in my chair and prepared to listen. "can you listen now? you are quite excited, old man. remember: the senses, the senses!" "yes, now i can go on. i...remember everything. continue, old friend. i am all attention." yes, i recollected everything but it was quite immaterial to me just what magnus said or what he might say: i was awaiting maria. that is how strong my love was! turning aside for some reason and beating time with his fingers on the table, magnus said slowly and rather reluctantly: "listen, wondergood. in reality, it would be much more convenient for me to throw you out into the street, you and your idiotic toppi. you wanted to experience _all_ human life and i would have viewed with pleasure any efforts on your part to earn your own bread. you are apparently no longer used to this? it would also have been very interesting to know what would become of your grandiose contempt when.... but i am not angry. strange to say, i even nurse a feeling of thankfulness for your...billions. and i am rather hopeful. yes, i still have a little hope that some day you may really grow to be a man. and while this may prove an impediment to me, i am ready to take you with me, but only--after a certain test. are you still anxious to have...maria?" "yes." "very well." magnus rose with effort and moved toward the door. but he halted for a moment and turned toward me and--surprising as it was on the part of this scoundrel--he kissed my brow. "sit down, old man. i will call her immediately. the servants are all out to-day." he uttered the last sentence as he knocked feebly at the door. the head of one of his _aides_ appeared for a moment and immediately withdrew. with apparently the same effort magnus returned to his place and said with a sigh: "she will be here at once." we were silent. i fixed my eyes upon the tall door and it opened wide. _maria_ entered. with a quick step i moved to greet her and bowed low. magnus shouted: "don't kiss that hand!" may . i could not continue these notes yesterday. do not laugh! this mere combination of words: do not kiss that hand!--seemed to me the most terrible utterance the human tongue was capable of. it acted upon me like a magic curse. when i recall those words now they _interrupt_ everything i do and befog my whole being, transporting me into a new state. if i happen to be speaking i grow silent, as if suddenly stricken dumb. if i happen to be walking, i halt. if standing, i run. if i happen to be asleep, no matter how deep my slumber, i awake and cannot fall asleep again. very simple, extremely simple words: do not kiss that hand! and now listen to what happened further: and so: i bowed over _maria's_ hand. but so strange and sudden was magnus' cry, so great was the command in his hoarse voice, that it was impossible to disobey. it was as if he had stopped a blind man on the edge of a precipice! _but_ i failed to grasp his meaning and raised my head in perplexity, still holding maria's hand in mine, and looked at magnus. he was breathing heavily, as if he had actually witnessed my fall into the abyss--and in reply to my questioning look, he said in a stifled tone: "let her hand alone. maria get away from him." maria released her hand and stepped aside, at a distance from me. still perplexed i watched her, standing alone! i tried to grasp the situation. for a brief moment it seemed even extremely ludicrous and reminded me of a scene in a comedy, in which the angry father comes unexpectedly upon the sweethearts, but my silly laughter died away immediately and in obedient expectation i raised my eyes to magnus. magnus hesitated. rising with an effort, he twice paced the length of the room and halting before me, with his hands clasped behind him, said: "with all your eccentricities, you're a decent man, wondergood. i have _robbed_ you (that was how he put it) but i can no longer permit you to kiss the hand of this woman. listen! listen! i have already told you you must change your outlook upon men. i know it is very difficult and i sympathize with you, but it is essential that you do it, old friend. listen! listen! i misled you: maria is not my daughter...i have no children. neither is she a...madonna. she is my mistress and she was that as recently as last night...." now i understand that magnus was merciful in his own way and was intentionally submerging me slowly into darkness. but at that time i did not realize this and _slowly_ stifling, my breath gradually dying, i lost consciousness. and when with magnus' last words the light fled from me and impenetrable night enveloped my being, i whipped out my revolver and fired at magnus several times in succession. i do not know how many shots i fired. i remember only a series of laughing, flickering flames and the movements of my hand, pushing the weapon forward. i cannot remember at all how and when his _aides_ rushed in and disarmed me. when i regained my senses this was the picture i saw: the _aides_ were gone. i was sitting deep in my chair before the dark fireplace, my hair was wet, while above my left eyebrow there was a bandage soaked in blood. my collar was gone and my shirt was torn, my left sleeve was almost entirely torn off, so that i had to keep jerking it up constantly. maria stood on the same spot, in the same pose, as if she had not moved at all during the struggle. i was surprised to see toppi, who sat in a corner and gazed at me strangely. at the table, with his back to me, stood magnus. he was pouring out some wine for himself. when i heaved a particularly deep sigh, magnus turned quickly and said in a strangely familiar tone: "do you want some wine, wondergood? you may have a glass now. here, drink.... you see you failed to hit me. i do not know whether to be glad or not, but i am alive. to your health, old man!" i touched my brow with my finger and mumbled: "blood...." "a mere trifle, just a little scratch. it won't matter. don't touch it." "it smells." "with powder? yes, that'll soon pass, too. toppi is here. do you see him? he asked permission to stay here. you won't object if your secretary remains while we continue our conversation? he is extremely devoted to you." i looked at toppi and smiled. toppi made a grimace and sighed gently: "mr. wondergood! it is i, your toppi." and he burst into tears. this old devil, still emitting the odor of fur, this old clown in black, this sexton with hanging nose, this seducer of little girls--burst into tears! but still worse was it when, blinking my eyes, i, too, began to weep, i, "the wise, immortal, almighty!" thus we both wept, two deceived devils who happened to drop in upon this earth, and human beings--i am happy to give them their due!--looked on with deep sympathy for our tears. weeping and laughing at the same time, i asked: "it's difficult to be a man, toppi?" and toppi, sobbing, replied obediently: "very difficult, mr. wondergood." but here i happened to look at maria and my sentimental tears immediately dried. in general, that evening is memorable for the sudden and ludicrous transformations of my moods. you probably know them, old man? now i wept and beat the lyre, like a weeping post, now i became permeated with a stony calm and a sense of unconquerable power, or i began to chatter nonsense, like a parrot scared to death by a dog, and kept up my chatter, louder, sillier and more and more unbearable, until a new mood bore me off into a deep and inexpressible sadness. magnus caught my look at maria and smiled involuntarily. i adjusted the collar of my torn shirt and said _dryly_: "i do not know whether to be glad or sorry that i failed to kill you, old friend. i am quite calm now, however, and would like you to tell me everything about...that woman. but as you are a liar, let me question her first. signorina maria, you were my bride? and in a few days i hoped to call you my wife. but tell me the truth: are you really...this man's mistress?" "yes, signor." "and...how long?" "five years, signor." "and how old are you now." "nineteen, signor." "that means you were fourteen.... now you may continue, magnus." "oh, my god!" (it was toppi who exclaimed.) "sit down, maria.--as you see, wondergood,"--began magnus in a dry and calm tone, as if he were demonstrating not himself but some sort of a chemical compound--"this mistress of mine is quite an extraordinary phenomenon. with all her unusual resemblance to the madonna, capable of deceiving men better versed than you or i in religion, with all her really unearthly beauty, chastity and charm--she is a licentious and quite shameless creature, ready to sell herself from head to foot...." "magnus!" "calm yourself. you see how she listens to me? even your old toppi is cringing and blushing while she--her gaze is clear and all her features are filled with placid harmony...did you notice how clear maria's gaze is? do you hear me?" "yes, certainly." "would you like wine or an orange? take it. there it is on the table. incidentally, observe her graceful walk: she seems to be always stepping lightly as if on flowers or clouds. what extraordinary beauty and litheness! as an old lover of hers, i may also add the following detail which you have not learned yet: she herself, her body, has the fragrance of some flowers. now as to her spiritual qualities, as the psychologists put it. if i were to speak of them in ordinary language, i would say she was as stupid as a goose,--quite a hopeless fool. but she is cunning. and a liar. very avaricious as regards money but she likes it only in gold. everything she told you she learned from me, memorizing the more difficult lines...and i had quite a task in teaching her. but i feared all the time that, despite your love, you would be struck by her apparent lack of brains and that is why i kept her from you the last few days." toppi sobbed: "oh, god! madonna!" "does this astonish you, mr. toppi?"--magnus asked, turning his head. "i dare say you are not alone. do you remember, wondergood, what i told you about maria's _fatal_ resemblance, which drove one young man to suicide. i did not lie to you altogether: the youth actually did kill himself when he realized who maria really was. he was pure of soul. he loved as you do and as you he could not bear--how do you put it?--the wreck of his ideal." magnus laughed: "do you remember giovanni, maria?" "slightly." "do you hear, wondergood?" asked magnus, laughing. "that is exactly the tone in which she would have spoken of me a week hence if you had killed me to-day. have another orange, maria.... but if i were to speak of maria in extraordinary language--she is not at all stupid. she simply doesn't happen to have what is called a soul. i have frequently tried to look deep into her heart and thoughts and i have always ended in vertigo, as if i had been hurled to the edge of an abyss: there was _nothing_ there. emptiness. you have probably observed, wondergood, or you, mr. toppi, that ice is not as cold as the brow of a _dead_ man? and no matter what emptiness familiar to you you may imagine, my friends, it cannot be compared with that absolute vacuum which forms the kernel of my beautiful, light-giving star. star of the seas?--that was what you once called her, wondergood, was it not?" magnus laughed again and gulped down a glass of wine. he drank a great deal that evening. "will you have some wine, mr. toppi? no? well, suit yourself. i'll take some. so that is why, mr. wondergood, i did not want you to kiss the hand of that creature. don't turn your eyes away, old friend. imagine you are in a museum and look straight at her, bravely. did you wish to say something, toppi?" "yes, signor magnus. pardon me, mr. wondergood, but i would like to ask your permission to leave. as a gentleman, although not much of that, i...cannot remain...at...." magnus narrowed his eyes derisively: "at such a scene?" "yes, at such a scene, when one gentleman, with the silent approval of another gentleman, insults a woman like _that_," exclaimed toppi, extremely irritated, and rose. magnus, just as ironically, turned to me: "and what do you say, wondergood? shall we release this little, extremely little, gentleman?" "stay, toppi." toppi sat down obediently. from the moment magnus resumed, i, for the first time, regained my breath and looked at maria. what shall i say to you? it was _maria_. and here i understood a little _what_ happens in one's brain when one begins to go mad. "may i continue?" asked magnus. "however, i have little to add. yes, i took her when she was fourteen or fifteen years old. she herself does not know how old she really is, but i was not her first lover...nor the tenth. i could never learn her past exactly. she either lies cunningly or is actually devoid of memory. but even the most subtle questioning, which even a most expert criminal could not dodge, neither bribes nor gifts, nor threats--and she is extremely cowardly!--could compel her to reveal herself. she does not 'remember.' that's all. but her deep licentiousness, enough to shame the sultan himself, her extraordinary experience and daring in ars amandi confirms my suspicion that she received her training in a lupanaria or...or at the court of some nero. i do not know how old she is and she seems to change constantly. why should i not say that she is or years old? maria...you can do everything and you know everything?" i did not look at that woman. but in her answer there was a slight displeasure: "don't talk nonsense. what will mr. wondergood think of me?" magnus broke into loud laughter and struck the table with his glass: "do you hear, wondergood? she covets your good opinion. and if i should command her to undress at once in your presence...." "oh, my god! my god!"--sobbed toppi and covered his face with his hands. i glanced quickly into magnus' eyes--and remained rigid in the terrible enchantment of his gaze. his face was laughing. this pale mask of his was still lined with traces of faint laughter but the eyes were dim and inscrutable. directed upon me, they stared off somewhere into the distance and were horrible in their expression of dark and _empty_ madness: only the empty orbits of a skull could gaze so threateningly and in such wrath. and again darkness filled my head and when i regained my senses magnus had already turned and calmly sipped his wine. without changing his position, he raised his glass to the light, smelled the wine, sipped some more of it and said as calmly as before: "and so, wondergood, my friend. now you know about all there is to know of maria or the madonna, as you called her, and i ask you: will you take her or not? i give her away. take her. if you say yes, she will be in your bedroom to-day and...i swear by eternal salvation, you will pass a very pleasant night. well, what do you say?" "yesterday, you, and to-day, i?" "yesterday i,--to-day, you." he smiled: "what kind of man are you, wondergood, to speak of such trifles. or aren't you used to having some one else warm your bed? take her. she is a fine girl." "whom are you torturing, magnus:--me or yourself?" magnus looked at me ironically: "what a wise boy! of course, myself! you are a very clever american, mr. wondergood, and i wonder why your career has been so mediocre. go to bed, dear children. good night. what are you looking at, wondergood: do you find the hour too early? if so, take her out for a walk in the garden. when you see maria beneath the moonlight, magnuses will be unable to prove that this heavenly maiden is the same creature who...." i flared up: "you are a disgusting scoundrel and liar, thomas magnus! if she has received her training in a lupanaria, then you, my worthy signor, must have received your higher education in the penitentiary. whence comes that aroma which permeates so thoroughly your gentlemanly jokes and witticisms. the sight of your pale face is beginning to nauseate me. after enticing a woman in the fashion of a petty, common hero...." magnus struck the table with his fist. his bloodshot eyes were aflame. "silence! you are an inconceivable ass, wondergood! don't you understand that i myself, like you, was deceived by her? who, meeting _madonna_, can escape deception? oh devil! what are the sufferings of your little, shallow american soul in comparison with the pangs of mine? oh devil! witticism, jests, gentlemen and ladies, asses and tigers, gods and devils! can't you see: this is not a woman, this is--an eagle who daily plucks my liver! my suffering begins in the morning. each morning, oblivious to what passed the day before, i see madonna before me and believe. i think: what happened to me yesterday? apparently, i must be mistaken or did i miss anything? it is impossible that this clear gaze, this divine walk, this pure countenance of madonna should belong to a prostitute. it is your soul that is vile, thomas magnus: she is as pure as a host. and there were occasions when, on my knees, i actually begged forgiveness of this creature! can you imagine it: on my knees! then it was that i was really a scoundrel, wondergood. i idealized her, endowed her with my thoughts and feelings and was overjoyed, like an idiot. i almost wept with felicity when she mumblingly repeated what i would say. like a high priest i painted my idol and then knelt before it in intoxication! but the truth proved stronger at last. with each moment, with each hour, falsehood slipped off her body, so that, toward night, i even beat her. i beat her and wept. i beat her cruelly as does a procurer his mistress. and then came night with its babylonian licentiousness, the sleep of the dead and--oblivion. and then morning again. and again madonna. and again...oh, devil! over night my faith again grew, as did the liver of prometheus, and like a bird of prey she tortured me all day. i, too, am human, wondergood!" shivering as if with cold, magnus began to pace the room rapidly, gazed into the dark fireplace and approached maria. maria lifted her clear gaze to him, as if in question, while magnus stroked her head carefully and gently, as he would that of a parrot or a cat: "what a little head! what a sweet, little head.... wondergood! come, caress it!" i drew up my torn sleeve and asked ironically: "and it is this bird of prey that you now wish to give to me? have you exhausted your feed? you want my liver, too, in addition to my billions?" but magnus had already calmed himself. subduing his excitement and the drunkenness which had imperceptibly come upon him, he returned to his place without haste and ordered politely: "i will answer you in a moment, mr. wondergood. please withdraw to your room maria. i have something to say to mr. wondergood. and i would ask you, too, my honorable mr. toppi, to depart. you may join my friends in the salon." "if mr. wondergood will so command...." replied toppi, dryly, without rising. i nodded and, without looking at magnus, my secretary obediently made his exit. maria, too, left the room. to tell the truth, i again felt like clinging to his vest and weeping in the first few moments of my tête-à-tête with magnus: after all, this thief was my friend! but i satisfied myself with merely swallowing my tears. then followed a moment of brief desperation at the _departure_ of maria. and slowly, as if from the realm of remote recollection, blind and wild anger and the need of beating and destroying began to fill my heart. let me add, too, that i was extremely provoked by my torn sleeve that kept slipping constantly: it was necessary for me to be stern and austere and this made me seem ridiculous...ah, on what trifles does the result of the greatest events depend on this earth! i lighted a cigar and with studied gruffness hurled into the calm and hateful face of magnus: "now, you! enough of comedy and charlatanism. tell me what you want. so you want me to surrender to that bird of prey of yours?" magnus replied calmly, although his eyes were burning with anger: "yes. that is the trial i wanted to subject you to, wondergood. i fear that i have succumbed slightly to the emotion of useless and vain revenge and spoke more heatedly than was necessary in maria's presence. the thing is, wondergood, that all that i have so picturesquely described to you, all this passion and despair and all these sufferings of...prometheus really belong to the past. i now look upon maria without pain and even with a certain amount of pleasure, as upon a beautiful and useful little beast...useful for domestic considerations. you understand? what after all, is the liver of prometheus? it is all nonsense! in reality, i should be thankful to maria. she gnawed out with her little teeth my silly _faith_ and gave me that clear, firm and realistic outlook upon life which permits of no deceptions and...sentimentalisms. you, too, ought to experience and grasp it, wondergood, if you would follow magnus ergo." i remained silent, lazily chewing my cigar. magnus lowered his eyes and continued still more calmly and dryly: "desert pilgrims, to accustom themselves to death, used to sleep in coffins: let maria be your coffin and when you feel like going to church, kissing a woman and stretching your hand to a friend, just look at maria and her _father_, thomas magnus. take her, wondergood, and you will soon convince yourself of the value of my gift. i don't need her any longer. and when your humiliated soul shall become inflamed with truly inextinguishable, human hatred and not with weak contempt, come to me and i shall welcome you into the ranks of my yeomanry, which will very soon.... are you hesitating? well, then go, catch other lies, but be careful to avoid scoundrels and madonnas, my gentleman from illinois!" he broke into loud laughter and swallowed a glass of wine at one gulp. his swollen calm evaporated. little flames of intoxication, now merry, now ludicrous, like the lights of a carnival, now triumphant, now dim, like funeral torches at a grave, again sprang forth in his bloodshot eyes. the scoundrel was drunk but held himself firmly, merely swaying his branches, like an oak before a south wind. rising and facing me, he straightened his body cynically, as if trying to reveal himself in his entirety, and well nigh spat these words at me: "well? how long do you intend to think about it, you ass? come, quick, or i'll kick you out! quick! i'm tired of you! what's the use of my wasting words? what are you thinking of?" my head buzzed. madly pulling up that accursed sleeve of mine, i replied: "i am thinking that you are an evil, contemptible, stupid and repulsive beast! i am thinking in what springs of life or hell itself i could find for you the punishment you deserve! yes, i came upon this earth to play and to laugh. yes, i myself was ready to embrace any evil. i myself lied and pretended, but you, hairy worm, you crawled into my very heart and bit me. you took advantage of the fact that my heart was human and bit me, you hairy worm. how dared you deceive me? i will punish you." "you? me?" i am glad to say that magnus was astonished and taken aback. his eyes widened and grew round and his open mouth naïvely displayed a set of white teeth. breathing with difficulty, he repeated: "you? me?" "yes. i--you." "police?" "you are not afraid of it? very well. let all your courts be powerless, remain unpunished on this earth, you evil conscienceless creature! the day will come when the sea of falsehood, which constitutes your life, will part and all your falsehood, too, will give way and disappear. let there be no foot upon this earth to crush you, hairy worm. let! i, too, am powerless here. but the day will come when you will depart from this earth. and when you come to _me_ and fall under the shadow of my kingdom...." "your kingdom? hold on, wondergood. who are you, then?" and right at this point there occurred the most shameful event of my entire earthly life. tell me: is it not ridiculously funny when satan, even in human form, bends his knee in prayer to a prostitute and is stripped naked by the very first man he meets? yes, this is extremely ridiculous and shameful of satan, who bears with him the breath of eternity. but what would you say of satan when he turned into a powerless and pitiful liar and pasted upon his head with a great flourish the paper crown of a theatrical czar? i am ashamed, old man. give me one of your blows, the kind on which you feed your friends and hired clowns. or has this torn sleeve brought me to this senseless, pitiful wrath? or was this the last act of my human masquerade, when man's spirit descends to the mire and sweeps the dust and dirt with its breath? or has the _ruin_ of madonna, which i witnessed, dragged satan, too, into the same abyss? but this was--think of it!--this was what i answered magnus. thrusting out my chest, barely covered with my torn shirt, stealthily pulling up my sleeve, so that it might not slip off entirely, and looking sternly and angrily directly into the stupid, and as they seemed to me, frightened eyes of the scoundrel magnus, i replied _triumphantly_: "i am--satan!" magnus was silent for a moment--and then broke out into all the laughter that a drunken, repulsive, human belly can contain. of course you, old man, expected that, but i did not. i swear by eternal salvation, i did not! i shouted something but the brazen laughter of this beast drowned my voice. finally, taking advantage of a moment's interval between his thundering peals of laughter, i exclaimed quickly and modestly...like a footnote at the bottom of a page, like a commentary of a publisher: "don't you understand: i am satan. i have donned the human form! i have donned the human form!" he heard me with his eyes bulging, and with fresh thunderous roars of laughter, the outbursts shaking his entire frame, he moved toward the door, flung it open and shouted: "here! come here! here is satan! in human...human garb!" and he disappeared behind the door. oh, if i could only have fallen through the floor, disappeared or flown away, like a real devil, on wings, in that endless moment, during which he was gathering the _public_ for an extraordinary spectacle. and now they came--all of them, damn them: maria and all the six _aides_ and my miserable toppi, and magnus himself, and completing the procession--his eminence, cardinal x.! the cursed, shaven monkey walked with great dignity and even bowed to me, after which he sat down, just as dignified, in an armchair and carefully covered his knees with his robes. all were wondering, not knowing yet what it was all about, and glanced now at me and now at magnus, who tried hard to look serious. "what's the trouble, signor magnus?" asked the cardinal in a benevolent tone. "permit me to report the following, your eminence: mr. henry wondergood has just informed me that he is--satan. yes, satan, and that he has merely donned the human form. and thus our assumption that he is an american from illinois falls. mr. wondergood is satan and apparently has but recently deigned to arrive from hell. what shall we do about it, your eminence?" silence might have saved me. but how could i restrain this maddened wondergood, whose heart was aflame with insult! like a lackey who has appropriated his celebrated master's name and who faintly senses something of his grandeur, power and connections--wondergood stepped forward and said with an ironic bow: "yes, i am satan. but i must add to the speech of signor magnus that not only do i wear the human form but also that i have been robbed. are those _two_ scoundrels who have robbed me known to you, your eminence? and are you, perhaps, one of them, your eminence?" magnus alone continued to smile. the rest, it seemed to me, grew serious and awaited the cardinal's reply. it followed. the shaven monkey, it developed, was not a bad actor. pretending to be startled, the cardinal raised his right hand and said with an expression of extreme goodness, contrasting sharply with his words and gesture: "vade petro satanas!" i am not going to describe to you how they laughed. you can imagine it. even maria's teeth parted slightly. almost losing consciousness from anger and impotence, i turned to toppi for sympathy and aid. but toppi, covering his face with his hands, was cringing in the corner, silent. amid general laughter, and ringing far above it, came the heavy voice of magnus, laden with infinite ridicule: "look at the plucked rooster. that is satan!" and again there came an outburst of laughter. his eminence continuously shook, as though flapping his wings, and choked and whined. the monkey's gullet could hardly pass the cascades of laughter. i tore off that accursed sleeve madly and waving it like a flag, i ventured into a sea of falsehood, with full sails set. i knew that somewhere ahead there were rocks against which i might be shattered but the tempest of impotence and anger bore me on like a chip of wood. i am ashamed to repeat my speech here. every word of it was trembling and wailing with impotency. like a village vicar, frightening his ignorant parishioners, i threatened them with _hell_ and with all the dantean tortures of literary fame. oh, i did know something that i might really have frightened them with but how could i express the _extraordinary_ which is inexpressible in their language? and so i prattled on of eternal fire. of eternal torture. of unquenchable thirst. of the gnashing of teeth. of the fruitlessness of tears and pleading. and what else? ah, even of red hot forks i prattled, maddened more and more by the indifference and shamelessness of these shallow faces, these small eyes, these mediocre souls, regarding themselves above punishment. but they remained unmoved and smug, as if in a fortress, beyond the walls of their mediocrity and fatal blindness. and all my words were shattered against their impenetrable skulls! and think of it, the only one who was really frightened was my toppi! and yet he alone could _know_ that all my words were lies! it was so unbearably ridiculous when i met his pleading frightened eyes, that i abruptly ended my speech, suddenly, at its very climax. silently, i waved my torn sleeve, which served me as a standard, once or twice, and hurled it into the corner. for a moment it seemed to me that the shaven monkey, too, was frightened: the blue of his cheeks seemed to stand out sharply upon the pale, square face and the little coals of his eyes were glowing suspiciously beneath his black, bushy eyebrows. but he slowly raised his hand and the same sacrilegiously-jesting voice broke the general silence: "vade petro satanas!" or did the cardinal try to hide behind this jest his actual fright? i do not know. i know nothing. if i could not destroy them, like sodom and gomorrah, is it worth while speaking of cold shivers and goose flesh? a mere glass of wine can conquer them. and magnus, like the skilled healer of souls that he was, said calmly: "will you have a glass of wine, your eminence?" "with pleasure," replied the cardinal. "but none for satan," added magnus jestingly, pouring out the wine. but he could speak and do anything he pleased now: wondergood was squeezed dry and hung like a rag upon the arm of the chair. after the wine had been drunk, magnus lit a cigarette (he smokes cigarettes), cast his eye over the audience, like a lecturer before a lecture, motioned pleasantly to toppi, now grown quite pale, and said the following...although he was obviously drunk and his eyes were bloodshot, his voice was firm and his speech flowed with measured calm: "i must say, wondergood, that i listened to you very attentively and your passionate tirade created upon me, i may say, a great, artistic impression...at certain points you reminded me of the best passages of brother geronimo savanarola. don't you also find the same striking resemblance, your eminence? but alas! you are slightly behind the times. those threats of hell and eternal torture with which you might have driven the beautiful and merry florence to panic ring extremely unconvincing in the atmosphere of contemporary rome. the sinners have long since departed from the earth, mr. wondergood. have not you noticed that? and as for criminals, and, as you have expressed it, scoundrels,--a plain commissary of police is much more alarming to them than beelzebub himself with his whole staff of devils. i must also confess that your reference to the court of history and posterity was rather strange when contrasted with the picture you painted of the tortures of hell and your reference to eternity. but here, too, you failed to rise to the height of contemporary thought: every fool nowadays knows that history records with equal impartiality both the names of saints and of rogues. the whole point, mr. wondergood, which you, as an american, should be particularly familiar with, is in the scope with which history treats its respective subjects and heroes. the lashings history administers to its great criminals differ but little from her laurels--when viewed at a distance and this little distinction eventually becomes quite invisible--i assure you, wondergood. in fact, it disappears entirely! and in so far as the biped strives to find a place in history--and we are all animated by this desire, mr. wondergood--it need not be particular through which door it enters: i beg the indulgence of his eminence, but no prostitute received a new guest with greater welcome than does history a new...hero. i fear, wondergood, that your references to hell as well as those to history have fallen flat. ah, i fear your hope in the police will prove equally ill-founded: i have failed to tell you that his eminence has received a certain share of those billions which you have transferred to me in such a perfectly legal manner, while his connections...you understand?" poor toppi: all he could do was to keep on blinking! the _aides_ broke into loud laughter, but the cardinal mumbled angrily, casting upon me the burning little coals of his eyes: "he is indeed a brazen fellow. he said he is satan. throw him out, signor magnus. this is sacrilege!" "is that so?" smiled magnus politely: "i did not know that satan, too, belonged to the heavenly chair...." "satan is a fallen angel," said the cardinal in an instructive tone. "and as such he is in your service? i understand," magnus bowed his head politely in acceptance of this truth and turned smilingly to me: "do you hear, wondergood? his eminence is irritated by your audacity." i was silent. magnus winked at me slyly and continued with an air of artificial importance: "i believe, your eminence, that there must be some sort of misunderstanding here. i know the modesty and well-informed mind of mr. wondergood and i suppose that he utilized the name of satan merely as an artistic gesture. does satan ever threaten people with the police? but my unfortunate friend did. and, in general, has anybody ever seen _such_ a satan?" he stretched his hand out to me in an effective gesture--and the reply to this was another outburst of laughter. the cardinal, too, laughed, and toppi alone shook his wise head, as if to say: "idiots!"... i think magnus must have noticed that. or else he fell into intoxication. or was it because that spirit of murder with which his soul was aflame could not remain passive and was tearing at the leash. he threateningly shook his heavy, explosive head and shouted: "enough of this laughter! it is silly. why are you so sure of yourselves? it is stupid, i tell you. i believe in nothing and that is why i admit _everything_. press my hand, wondergood: they are all fools and i am quite ready to admit that you are satan. only you have fallen into a bad mess, friend satan. because it will not save you. i will soon throw you out anyhow! do you hear...devil?" he shook his finger at me threateningly and then lapsed into thought, dropping his head low and heavily, with his red eyes ablaze, like those of a bull, ready to hurl himself upon his enemy. the _aides_ and the insulted cardinal were silent with confusion. magnus again shook his finger at me significantly and said: "if you are satan, then you've come here too late. do you understand? what did you come here for, anyway? to play, you say? to tempt? to laugh at us human beings? to invent some sort of a new, evil game? to make us dance to your tune? well,--you're too late. you should have come earlier, for the earth is grown now and no longer needs your talents. i speak not of myself, who deceived you so easily and took away your money: i, thomas ergo. i speak not of maria. but look at these modest little friends of mine: where in your hell will you find such charming, fearless devils, ready for any task? and yet they are so small,--they will not even find a place in history." it was after this that thomas magnus blew me up, in the holy city of rome, in the palazzo orsini, when i still belonged to the american billionaire, henry wondergood. do you remember that genial american with his cigar and patent gold teeth? alas! he is no longer with us. he died suddenly and you will do well if you order a requiem mass for him: his illinois soul is in need of your prayers. let us receive the last breath of henry wondergood, blown up by the culprit thomas magnus, and buried by maria in the evening, when the moon was shining brightly. the end * * * * * transcriber's notes punctuation has been standardised. characters in small caps have been replaced by all caps. italic text has been denoted by _underscores_. this book was written in a period when many words had not become standarized in their spelling. numerous words have multiple spelling and hypenating variations in the text. these have been left unchanged while obvious spelling mistakes have been repaired unless noted below: pg - the following jumbled sentence has been edited to remove the repeated phrases: "again silence. finally there came a gruff voice, still silence. i knocked. again silence. finally there came a gruff voice, asking from behind the iron door:" pg - part of the sentence asking about maria appears to be missing from the original. (seek him in eternity.") generously made available by the internet archive.) is the devil a myth? by c. f. wimberly _author of "the vulture's claw," "new clothes for the old man," "the cry in the night," "the winepress," "the lost legacy," etc., etc._ new york chicago toronto fleming h. revell company london and edinburgh copyright, , by fleming h. revell company new york: fifth avenue chicago: north wabash ave. london: paternoster square edinburgh: princes street _with the fondest recollections and appreciation of one, "in age and feebleness extreme," who taught me the first lessons about the being of these studies; one who contributed her all to the rearing of noble ideals, martha m. wimberly, my mother, this book is lovingly dedicated by the author_ preface it is the writer's firm conviction, in these days when the most enthusiastic "bookworm" cannot even keep up with the titles of the book output, that an earnest, sensible reason should be given for adding another to the already endless list of books. we have enough books to-day, "good, bad, indifferent," with which, if they were collected, to build another cyclops pyramid. the sage of the old testament declared in his day, concerning the endless making of books; such a statement, compared with modern writing and publishing of books, sounds amusing. every possible subject, vagary, or ism, for which a book could be written, is overworked. bible themes of all grades, from orthodoxy to ultra higher criticism, have flooded the land. especially is the iconoclast in much evidence; he is free lance, and shows no quarters. cardinal tenets of bible faith, so long unquestioned, are being smitten with a merciless hand. disintegration is the most obvious fact among us; nothing is too sacred for the crucible of what is termed "scholarship." but why this book? let us take a little survey. over against the modern idea, that the race is endowed with all the inherent elements of goodness necessary to its regeneration, there is a correspondent belief that _evil_ is only an error. when the race by social and mental evolution succeeds in eliminating all the superstitions and false dogmas, the body politic will be self-curative, like the physical body, restoring itself by means of inspiration, respiration, exercise, sleep, food, etc., once the causes of disease are eliminated from the system. for several decades we have been approaching the doctrine which denies all personalism--either good or bad. when we repudiate the bible teaching, that the source of all evil emanates from a great personality, the bible teaching of the incarnation suffers in the same proportion. the title of this book is a question, and one by no means strained, if considered from the view-point of modern thought. we have undertaken an answer. if by reason and revelation we can arrive at a satisfactory conclusion, the gain thereby cannot be overestimated. if the personality of satan can be successfully consigned to the religious junk pile, our bible is at once thrown into a jumble of contradictions and inconsistencies. the result will be even worse than our enemies claim for it now. one of the late recognized writers on the old testament says: "the old testament is no longer considered valuable among scholars as a sacred oracle, but it is valuable in that it is the history of a people." _if the devil is a myth, our bible can be nothing better than historical chaos._ in the preparation of these pages, we wish to acknowledge with deep gratitude the assistance of mr. s. d. gordon, author of "quiet talks"; dr. i. m. haldeman, author and preacher; dr. gross alexander, editor, author, and preacher; dr. w. b. godbey, an author of great learning and extensive travel; dr. b. carradine, evangelist and author; dr. h. c. morrison, college president, editor, author, and evangelist; prof. l. t. townsend, and hon. philip mauro. if the reading of this book shall bring to any struggling soul helpful information concerning our common enemy, we shall be doubly repaid for the labour of its preparation. we send it forth saturated with prayer. c. f. w. _madisonville, ky._ contents i. the problem of evil ii. the origin of evil iii. lucifer iv. devil--satan--serpent--dragon v. diabolus--demonia--abaddon-apollyon vi. the devil a "blockade" vii. the great magician viii. the roaring lion ix. an angel of light x. the sower of tares xi. the arch slanderer xii. the double accuser xiii. satan a spy xiv. the quack doctor xv. the devil a theologian xvi. the devil a theologian (_continued_) xvii. the devil's righteousness xviii. the world's tempter xix. the confidence man xx. the trapper xxi. the incomparable archer xxii. the father of liars xxiii. the kingship of satan xxiv. the devil's handmaiden xxv. the astute author xxvi. the hypnotist xxvii. devil possession xxviii. devil oppression xxix. devil abduction xxx. the rationale of suicide xxxi. devil worship xxxii. victory through the victor xxxiii. the arrest and imprisonment xxxiv. the final consummation xxxv. satanic symbol in nature i the problem of evil "and god saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually."--_genesis vi. ._ that we may appreciate this discussion, removed as far as possible from theological terminology and theories, and get a concrete view-point, the following head-lines from a single issue of a metropolitan daily will suffice: "war clouds hanging low;" "men higher up involved;" "eighty-seven divorces on docket;" "blood flows in the streets;" "gaunt hunger among strikers;" "arrested for forgery;" "a white slave victim;" "attempted train robbery;" "kills wife and ends own life;" "two men bite dust;" "investigate bribery." this fearful list may be duplicated almost every day in the year. our land is deluged with crime, without respect to person or place; its blight touches all circles from the slum to the four hundred. wealth and poverty, culture and ignorance, fame and obscurity, suffer alike from this pandora box scourge. the march of history--the pilgrimage of the race, has enjoyed but little respite from tears and blood. those who strive to maintain a standard of purity, righteousness, and honour, are beset by strange, powerful, intangible influences, from the cradle to the grave. the child in swaddling clothes has a predisposition to willfullness, deception, and disobedience; paroxysms of passion and anger are manifested with the slightest provocation. notwithstanding the barriers thrown up by the home and society; the incentives and assurances for noble, industrious living, the dykes are continually giving way, so that police power and the frowning walls of penal institutions are insufficient to check the overflow. the church of god, with its open book, ringing out messages of life and hope at every corner; the object lessons on the "wages of sin," sweeping in full view before us, like the reel-film of a motion picture--do not seem to lessen the harvest of moral shipwreck. according to some recent police records and statistics, only about one-half of the country's criminals are apprehended; if this is true of those who violate the law, a much smaller per cent. of those who break the perfect moral law, as related to domestic and religious life, are ever exposed. when these facts are considered, the perspective for the reign of righteousness is lurid and hopeless. the country has been amazed, recently, at the revelations of how municipal and national treasuries are being looted by extortion, extravagance, and misrule, on the part of men holding positions as a sacred trust. civilization fosters and maintains a traffic which has not one redeeming feature; besides killing directly and indirectly more men daily than were blown up in the battle-ship _maine_. let us view the problem of evil from another angle: a writer on the subject of food supplies says the earth each year furnishes an abundant quantity of fruits, meats, cereals, and vegetables to feed all her peoples; yet gaunt famine is never entirely removed. even in america a surprising per cent. of our people are underfed and underclothed. "fifty thousand go to bed hungry every night in new york city," declares a professor of economics. the same ratio obtains in other large cities of our land. scenes of pinching poverty occur within a few blocks of the most wanton luxury and extravagance. one lady spends fifty thousand dollars--enough to satisfy all the hungry--on one evening's entertainment. oranges rot on the pacific coast by car-loads, when the children of the ghetto scarcely taste them. nature fills her storehouses, and tries to scatter with a prodigal hand, but her resources are cornered and controlled by a criminal system which revolves around the "almighty dollar"--the root of all evil. are we to conclude that man's free agency is responsible for this moral monstrosity? or, to be theologically particular, shall we say, free agency dominated by an innate disposition to evil: human depravity, original sin, the carnal mind? allowing the fullest latitude to the free moral agency of the race; allowing the evil nature, like the foul soil producing a continuous crop of vile weeds, to produce an inexorable bent, or predisposition to sin, operating on man's free agency--have we a full and sufficient explanation of the presence and power of evil? the carnal mind is enmity with god, not subject to his laws; but the carnal mind is in competition with a _human_ nature, wherein are found emotions and sentiments that are far from being all sinful: sympathy, tenderness, benevolence, paternal and filial love, sex-love, and honesty. again, we rarely find environment as an unmixed evil. notwithstanding these hindrances the press almost daily has details and delineations of crimes so fearful and shocking that no trace of the human appears. frequently we hear of a man, who has committed some dreadful outrage, personified as "beast," "fiend," "inhuman," etc. a young man in his teens, wishing to marry, but being under age and without sufficient means, decided that if he could dispose of his father, mother, brother, and sister--the farm and property would all be his, then, unmolested, could consummate his matrimonial plans. whereupon, armed with an axe, at the midnight hour, he executes his "fiendish" plot. another man, with a young and beautiful wife, and the father of two bright children, becomes infatuated with a young woman in a distant state; he woos and wins her affections; he returns home to arrange "some business matters" on the day preceding the wedding. this business matter was to dispose of his wife and children, which he did; on the following night, led to the marriage altar an innocent, unsuspecting girl. a young minister commits double murder, and on the following day enters his pulpit and preaches from the text: "let the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, o lord." these cases are actual occurrences, mentioned for emphasis only, that the problem of evil may be studied from life. these examples prove conclusively that the problem goes deeper than human depravity or free agency; both are accessories--conditions, binding cords, as it were, but the jarring stroke comes from a mightier hand. the unregenerated heart has been called a "playground," and a "coaling station" for the headmaster of all villainies. it was more than wounded pride and vanity that propagated the scheme of haman, whereby a whole nation was to be destroyed at a single stroke. vengeance and hate are terrible passions, but only as they are fanned by the breath of an inhabitant of the inferno can they go to such extremes. it was more than a desire to crush out heresy that could instigate a "st. bartholomew's day," then sing the te deum after the bloody deed was accomplished. we shall endeavour in the subsequent pages to throw a few rays of light, in obscure corners, on the problem of evil through its multiform phases and ramifications. ii the origin of evil "and the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the devil, and satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him."--_revelation xii. ._ it requires but a casual survey of this problem to reach a conclusion that its hideousness cannot be explained by any other hypothesis than the power of an invisible personality. when we scrutinize the footprints of the race, it will be found that progress has been along a dark, slimy trail; the infidels and philosophers who are loud in their boastings of inherent goodness will have difficulty in reconciling this fact. all who think are confronted with an ever-recurring question--yea, exclamations: why do such things happen? what meaneth these barbarities, ravages, cruelties? why so much domestic discord, ending in ruin--so many suicides? why do men and women hurl themselves over the precipice of vice and deadly indulgences--when even a novice might easily see the inevitable? for a parallel we are reminded of an incident in war: log-chains were used when the cannon-ball supply was exhausted; lanes the width of the chain length were mowed through the ranks of the opposing army. these chasms of death were closed up each time, only to be cut down again by the next discharge. the pathway of ruin is thronged--the "broad road" is easy; however, there is something stranger than this utter blindness: the victims laugh and shout on this highway, paved as it is by the macadam of crushed humanity. now, can there be found a rationale for this dreadful twist in human affairs--this seeming unfathomable conundrum? we cannot believe that god would create a "footstool" in which sin, suffering, and misery were to abound; no such provision could have been in the divine plan. in the word of god alone we find the explanation of it all. the word gives an unmistakable account of an insurrection in heaven: "michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not." this strange warfare was inaugurated by the great archangelic leader. this "war in heaven" could have but one ending: the complete overthrow of the disturber and his followers. they were cast out, and are, beyond a doubt, swarming around this sin-blinded planet--invisible, yet personal and all but omnipresent. when we remember that one-third of the angelic population of heaven cast their lot with this chieftain, his strength and personality can be somewhat understood. it is written: "the tail (influence) of the dragon drew the third part of the stars (angels) of heaven, and cast them down to the earth." in their relation to heaven, the dragon and his angels met with irremediable ruin; now, defeated, humiliated, maddened, doomed, this fallen archangel and his innumerable myrmidons are filling the whole earth with every curse that can be conjured up by their superior, supernatural intelligence. there can be no room to doubt the truth of this hellish propaganda, as he is called the "god of this world." it must be kept clearly in mind that the powers of darkness can, in no sense, mean an ethereal, impersonal spirit of evil--or perverseness of weak human nature; but rather a being who rules and commands legions upon legions of subjects--_demons_, each of them endowed with all the powers and gifts possessed when they were ministering emissaries of god. they are now "the angels which kept not their first estate." we have no way to estimate the size of this satanic army, marshalled for the destruction of the race and the overthrow of christ's kingdom. however, we read in the tenth chapter of revelation that two hundred million were turned loose in the earth at one time. ten thousand were in the country of the gadarenes when the master entered there; no wonder the entire land was kept in terror, even though their incarnation seemed to have been limited to one man living in a graveyard. seven demons were cast out of one woman. we should keep in mind the distinction between "the devil" and demons; there is but one _devil_, but the demons are swarming the length and breadth of the whole earth. just as god directs his angels in ministeries of righteousness, so this god of darkness directs his angels to do his nefarious will. there are feats so daring and important that the devil, it seems, will not trust to his underlings. he engineered in person the temptations of the master; he entered the heart of judas, and caused him to sell his lord, then commit suicide. the bible undoubtedly teaches that satan and his cohorts, having access to our fallen natures (which became so through his contribution of "forbidden fruit"--his great triumph in the garden), are inciting this world to all the crimes known to our criminal dockets. think of the train wreckers, rapists, incendiaries, white slavers, riots, strikes, grafters, gamblers, etc.; and as paul has catalogued them: "unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, maliciousness, envy, deceit, malignity, whisperers, backbiters, haters of god, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, covenant breakers, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful." no one can consider this long, gruesome list of iniquities without a feeling that they originated, somehow, in the realm of supernatural darkness. the worst things that can be said of fallen humanity is its availability and susceptibility to the machinations of this past master of the pit, whose only ambition is to rob the blood of its purchase possessions by wrecking the souls for whom christ died. our sinful nature responds to his touch; the wonderful gamut of the soul is capable of being swept its entire length by his skill. a master player on god's greatest instrument--his masterpiece. all the fearful deeds committed seem to be acts of volition, and they are; but in the dark background lurks another superior will responsible for the initiative. iii lucifer "how art thou fallen from heaven, o lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which did weaken the nations!"--_isaiah xiv. ._ "and the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp."--_revelation viii. ._ "and the fifth angel sounded, and i saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth; and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit."--_revelation ix. ._ it is reasonable to believe that all intelligent beings are morally free; and if free, are on probation. intelligence, will-power, free agency, and probation are logically inseparable, regardless of place or environment. without question, in the natural world this is true, and therefore must be true in the spiritual world. that men, angels, archangels, and redeemed spirits never attain a state of character beyond the possibility of free choice is a most fearful responsibility. but for the imperialism of intelligent will, the _fall of angels_ is unreasonable, improbable, impossible. just how temptation can assail the inhabitants of heaven--the land, we are told, "where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest"--is beyond all human comprehension. startling as this truth appears to be, the bible teaches it in unmistakable language. "lucifer, son of the morning," an archangel, a great being, created in holiness, standing near the throne of god. his name means "light bearer," indicative of his glorious office. we can scarcely imagine such honour, such power, such distinction. just what the high-calling of "light bearer" was, as it was performed under the highest commission in the universe, the book fails to tell us; but the office of lucifer was surely the peer of michael or gabriel, if not above them in rank. brilliancy and splendour radiated from his person. may we dare, not altogether by the imagination, to venture into that remote, prehistoric time when the second person of the trinity--the anointed one--the logos, a being of perfection, made in the image of the invisible god, became a manifestation. that one of whom "the whole family in heaven and earth is named"; sharing the glory and honour equally with the father, on a throne in the heavenlies. milton and others believe that the presence of this manifestation aroused in lucifer a consuming spirit of ambition and envy; he at once aspired to the place and power which god reserved for his only begotten son. we get still another side-light on the personality of lucifer, when we consider his gigantic scheme. aaron burr planned the overthrow of his country, and dreamed of rulership; such a vision were impossible in the mind of any but a master of assemblies--an empire builder. lucifer saw himself a ruler above that of a creator, as "all things were made by him." no wonder the inspired exclamation concerning him: "how art thou fallen, o lucifer." when the climax of his overthrow came, he "fell like lightning out of heaven." the honourable cognomen is now lost forever; the glory of holiness has given place to the dishonour of despair. in the language of the poet, he "preferred to rule in hell rather than serve in heaven." this light bearer of paradise is still a prince, but in the dark regions of endless woe; "ruler of the darkness of this world." this archangel who felt himself capable of heavenly authority finds an easier task here below. speaking to the master, hear his presumption and audacity, "all these things (the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them) will i give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me." what was the condition named? the restoration of what he had lost: that the son of god pay him homage and obeisance. baffled in this crowning stroke, he slunk away only to study the vantage more discreetly, reinforce, and reassert. let us keep in mind that intelligence and personality are not affected by the status of character; magnetic power and influence over others are not lost when the life is wholly given over to evil. piety and holiness may be displaced by treachery and hate, but the force of personality remains. if any change takes place, the individual becomes more subtle and more insidious in schemes to further selfish interests. if a righteous man, endowed with unusual powers, fall into a life of sin, he carries over into his wickedness all his former gifts and faculties--nothing is lost. this proposition enables us to further appreciate the marvellous capabilities of the fallen lucifer. besides the trinity, there are none superior in the universe. god allows his enemies, both men and devils, to continue a proprietary control of their talents, whether they be one or ten. there will be no devestments until the last shifting of the scene. when we remember all the attributes, previous advantages, and present opportunities of the greatest of all apostates, the conundrum of human actions, individually and nationally, begins slowly to unravel. the fight is not alone with men in sin, but with the "prince of the powers of the air." when lucifer rebelled and met the just rebuke of god's wrath, all his glory, power, and brilliancy became demonized. then, through all the millenniums there has been not one hour of relaxation; no armistice for the invisible warfare. just as saints grow in faith, vision, and divine illumination, devils sink lower and lower; but at the same time develop in skill and efficiency by a continual application of their debased energies. it is therefore reasonable to believe that our "common enemy" is far more formidable than the day he was cast into the earth. our ability to encounter him successfully becomes a more hopeless struggle with the passing days. if, in the days of paul, it were expedient to have on the "whole armour of god" to meet him, nothing short of "all the fullness of god" is the paramount need to-day. iv devil--satan--serpent--dragon "and there was war in heaven: michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. and the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the devil, and satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him."--_revelation xii. - ._ names were significant in bible times; they are given to-day at random, but then names were indicative of character. when character changed, the name changed: jacob to israel; saul to paul, etc. while the subject of these pages remained the holy, shining light bearer of heaven, he was lucifer, but that name was lost to him forever. so varied were his passions, characteristics, and powers that must be known by appropriate names, and each, as given, designates some phase of his multiform personality. _devil._ not only did lucifer lose name and character; he exchanged a brilliant, glorious external appearance (to eyes that penetrate the invisible) for one ugly, loathsome, beastly. if language can be interpreted literally, the eye of inspiration and revelation sees him a _devil--sair_ in the hebrew, "hairy one," "he goat," etc. the he goat, in the bible, stands for all that is low and base. those who partake of the _sair_ nature, in the last day, are called _goats_. he divided the sheep from the goats. god teaches us spiritual lessons in all nature, especially by the animal kingdom, and as the goat is a synonym for the lowest instincts of the animal; we find a being created in the highest realm of spiritual life sinking to the lowest level of brute life. if no further delineation were given--no other name than devil--the fall was from one extreme to the other. this cognomen carried further has a second meaning: _spoiler_, one whose touch soils and besmirches, rearranges; bright spots are smeared with black soot; flowers with sweet odour, after his blight passes over them, send out a stench; hearts of purity are defiled and debauched; faces of beauty become marred and ugly. whenever and wherever it serves his purpose, cosmos becomes chaos. he is a spoiler. _satan._ in this familiar title we see him in the character rôle which dominates all his actions. as satan he is the _hater_. of all the evil passions of the soul, hate is the most terrible. as manifested in human relationships, the hater is a murderer. somehow hate seems to be a resultant of wrath, malice, envy, jealousy, and revenge. hatred in the bosom of the weak or cowardly affects only its possessor; but hatred burning in the soul of one who is strong and courageous, nothing belonging to the object of his hatred is secure: life, personal property, or reputation. we want carefully to note the full significance of hatred; then place beside it the one who hates--yes, as no other being in all the universe can hate. he is the father of haters; the tragedies of all kinds, filling the world with terror, because of murders, bomb explosions, incendiaries, poisonings, are but the scattered rays reflected and deflected from this full orb of hate as he revolves in his sphere of darkness. satan hates god, hates the holy ghost, but the full force of his hate, of necessity, is directed towards the _son_ of god, his rival for place and power. the supreme work of the son was the atonement; now, the interest and anxiety of heaven has been transferred to this planet. the supreme triumph of the second person of the trinity was accomplished on the cross where he paid the price of human redemption. his energies are now directed to the breaking down of all that was accomplished on the cross. every movement, every motive, every virtue, coming directly or indirectly from the merits of the atonement, become at once the object of satanic hatred. therefore every inch of territory conquered by the gospel propaganda was and is a victory over his hateful protest. _serpent._ at the very suggestion of this title our nature recoils. the "nachash," and "zachal," mean "_fearful_"--"_creeper_," therefore a fearful creeper. the snake is the most repulsive and dangerous of all reptiles. there is a strange antipathy about a snake; his nature is so still, so sneaking, so oily; the appearance of one produces an involuntary shudder. who has not felt the disgust at seeing men and women--"charmers"--take a number of the sleek, slimy monsters from a cage, and wind them around arms, neck, and body? the horror felt towards the snake is not an accident; it was in the guise of a serpent the downfall of the race was accomplished. men and women who are subtle, smooth, deceitful, treacherous, secretive are called "snakes in the grass." their plans and movements are under cover; they strike or sting from an hidden covert. the serpent is synonymous with the hiss, the blazing eye, the forked tongue, the poison; once it catches the eye of a bird the poor thing may wail and flutter, but it is powerless to escape. the bird is drawn into the jaws of death by a strange magnetism. this enemy of god and race is a serpent, slipping cautiously, noiselessly through all the dark, tangled mysteries about us. no one can fathom or interpret his cunning movements; we are stung, poisoned, charmed, fastened in the slimy coils, and yet do not know it. we have most to fear from the enemy who operates in the dark. this fallen archangel is never so dangerous as when acting in the personification of a serpent. _dragon._ in the hebrew it is "tannoth," _howler_--_jackal_; making a noise like the howling jackal in the wilderness. again we are appalled at this title. the dragon is represented as a monstrous animal having the form of a serpent, with crested head, wings, and tremendous claws; ferocious and dangerous. the scriptures have appropriated this fabulous monster--believed to have existed in days of mythology as the most dreaded creature on land or sea--to enforce and emphasize the danger of him who seeks our destruction. he is called the "great red dragon"--or fiery dragon, howling like a vicious jackal. it was in this peculiar manifestation that he stood before the woman and sought to destroy the man child as soon as he was born; then cast a flood after her as she fled from his presence. the dragon incarnates himself, and king herod at once seeks to destroy the infant jesus (matt. ii.; rev. xii. - ). v diabolus--demonia--abaddon-apollyon "then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels."--_matthew xxv. ._ "and they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the hebrew tongue is abaddon, but in the greek tongue hath his name apollyon."--_revelation ix. ._ we now desire to analyze more minutely the greek names diabolus and demonia; reference was made to this distinction in a former chapter. in the authorized version the two names are often translated or rather _used_ interchangeably; devil for demon, and vice versa. we read of a "legion of devils," "seven devils," "cast out devils," "possessed with devils," etc. technically--literally translated, these statements are incorrect. demonia should never read devil--but _demon_; diabolus always means, not a devil, but _the devil_. _diabolus._ this name designates him more as to his ruling and authority than to the elements of his character. we have noticed already the meaning of devil, but from the original word we get more explicit meaning as to his rank of authority. as lucifer we do not know his ruling rank, but in his lost estate he ranks as commander-in-chief. whatever we may say of him, the prefix, "arch," designating his angel rank, can be logically attached: archspoiler--arch-deceiver--archaccuser--archslanderer, etc. however, if accurately defined, diabolus means _calumniator_--archcalumniator; a propagator of calumny. acting in the capacity of calumniator, he seeks out and defames the innocent. he sends out a million rumours daily which would be, if tangible, cases for libel in any court. _demonia._ a demon--a fallen angel--evil spirit, an imp. literally, a _shade_--a dark spot, moving as noiselessly and rapidly as a shadow. the many references in the new testament to "devil," and "devils," should always be _demons_; the great multitude, so often found in one place, come from the innumerable concourse which constitute the "powers of darkness." shadow spirits, men and women who are controlled by these dark, shadowy imps, "love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil." the transformation, as we learned, which took place with lucifer was just as great and radical with his angel followers; the difference was only that of degree of rank. _abaddon-apollyon._ we have coupled the hebrew and greek names together, as each means exactly the same. we call the attention of the reader to the variety of names, all of which are so nearly alike, but convey a significant difference. abaddon-apollyon means _destroyer_. he has been discussed as a "spoiler," but one who destroys carries the work farther than the spoiler. as abaddon or apollyon he is the king of the abyss, or "bottomless pit," and when he appears it is with purpose and equipment for destruction. just as god sent the "destroying angel" throughout egypt, bringing a curse upon pharaoh for his hardness of heart, this mighty messenger of the abyss visits his destruction wherever and whenever he finds, not the absence of the typical blood upon the door, but when he finds it, or any evidence of allegiance to the one whose sacrificial blood he seeks to destroy. as abaddon-apollyon he assumes the part of finisher of his task; when we see him a _destroyer_, we have a full-sized photograph--leaving out not a single line of countenance, or a single character or attribute of his composite nature. he may soil, spoil, deceive, traduce, accuse, slander, wound, etc., but the ultimate aim is destruction. "when sin is finished it bringeth forth death." we see how the two great rivals stand over against each other in their respective spheres: "for this cause the son of god was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil." with the same degree of purpose, the devil seeks to destroy the work of the son of god. the devil seeks to destroy truth, righteousness, virtue, religion, hope, faith, visions of god, power of the blood, thoughts of eternity and heaven. every beautiful, holy thing on earth he would destroy, leaving behind only black, charred cinders where once were the flowers of eden. just as he destroyed the earthly paradise in the long ago, so he would blot from our hopes and aspirations the paradise of the soul. his ambition and supreme joy would be to turn this world over to god blighted and wrecked by his finishing touches, while hell echoed with triumphant shouts--an infernal jubilee. abaddon-apollyon: archdestroyer. vi the devil a "blockade" "wherefore we would have come unto you, even i paul, once and again; but satan hindered us."--_ thessalonians ii. ._ "but the prince of the kingdom of persia withstood me one and twenty days; but, lo, michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me."--_daniel x. ._ we find another striking interpretation couched in the title of devil. the church in its organization is called _militant_, because it is engaged in a moral and religious warfare. the writings of paul bristle with military terms, as two mighty armies are contending and contesting for dominion. each army is fighting under a leader; the surging campaign has changed its base of operation--the battle-field has been transferred from heaven to this planet. the rivalry between christ and satan has, many times, changed _modus operandi_, but the spirit of the contest and the end--all for which they contend--change not. the title-word of this chapter is not a bible term; we appropriate and accommodate it because of its military meaning. strictly in keeping with the use of terms, the "blockade" belongs to naval operations; but any movement, reconnoitre, or countermarch, which interferes, hinders, or hedges up the way of progress, is a blockade. a campaign ends in failure because of obstructions thrown up, access to base of supplies cut off, reinforcements thwarted in reaching the scene of activities, etc., convey the idea set forth in the key scriptures used giving emphasis to the chapter heading. the apostle paul had all the advantages of equipment; his intellectual attainments the very best; he was a recognized leader of men, a chosen vessel of the lord, and full of the holy ghost. no man besides the master was more able to withstand the opposition of the "prince of darkness." yet satan actually prevents him from going to thessalonica to comfort and strengthen the struggling church at that place--literally hedges up the way. a careful examination of the tenth chapter of daniel gives us a conversation between the prophet and a "voice,"--a "vision"--having an appearance "like the similitude of the sons of men"; evidently an angel of high rank, whose mission was to encourage daniel, but he also acknowledges that the "prince of persia" hindered him from coming twenty days. this mighty angel, it seems, was helpless trying to reach daniel, until michael came upon the scene. it was michael who led the triumphant battle against him when he was overthrown in heaven. he alone was able to meet the "prince of persia," the _devil_. we can, therefore, understand how successfully satan can hinder--blockade the progress of righteousness wherever he chooses to concentrate his depraved energies. volumes would be required to record the worthy enterprises in the church of god which went down in failure, yet with no tangible explanation. sudden reverses, turning the whole current of affairs, are daily happenings; revival efforts to reach certain communities, certain individuals, find insurmountable hindrances. it is the work of the "blockade." such occurrences are generally regarded as "unfortunate coincidents" rather than a resultant of some deep-laid plans--invisible and impersonal. a baby cries at a critical moment, a dog creates an uproar, the fire-bell rings, the engine becomes disabled; landslides, swollen streams, sudden illness, and many others similar, which are never credited to the proper source or cause. the bible concedes to satan the dignity of being the god of this world; therefore he must of necessity control, to some extent, the physical phenomena, directing them to an advantage. we do not venture a dogmatic position as to what extent the hindrances in the physical world are due to his power; but the bible most clearly teaches that he is an obstructionist. there are hundreds of ways and places where moral and religious blockades obtain. it would seem that in the blaze of the last century of civilization war would be impossible. why could not our civil war have been averted? in the retrospect, we can see how easily it might have been settled without such horror and bloodshed. the hague with its millions of endowment is grinding away on international troubles, yet arbitration fails more often than it succeeds. but war continues, and all efforts in that direction generally meet a "stone wall of opposition." must we conclude that all these lapses, coming in direct conflict with human weal and happiness, are just "happen-sos"? unthinkable! "satan hindered," declares the great apostle. "the prince of persia withstood me twenty and one days," says the angel. vii the great magician "put on the whole armour of god, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."--_ephesians vi. ._ "for they are the spirits of devils working miracles, which go forth unto the kings of the earth and of the whole world."--_revelation xvi. ._ from the earliest records of history men have lived who seemed to possess strange, occult powers. magicians--performing miracles, setting aside, apparently, well-known physical laws. moses met the sorcerers and magicians of egypt in close competition. there are men to-day, on lecture platforms, performing feats which are miracles; there seems to be no visible explanation. "the hand is quicker than the eye," it is said; watches are pounded to pieces before your eyes, the fragments crammed into a gun; the gun is discharged, and the watch will be hanging on a hook, running as if nothing had happened. we once saw a man sewed up in a tarpaulin, placed in a huge trunk, and the trunk strapped securely. in less than five minutes the man came out from an enclosure where the trunk was placed; not one buckle loosened, and not one stitch in the tarpaulin broken. cannonballs are taken from hats; live ducks, rabbits, and a dozen tin vessels are drawn from one hat in rapid succession. cards are made to jump out of the deck when called by name. one magician laid his assistant on a table, cut off his head with a large knife, lifted the gory head by the hair and placed it on another table; then carried on a conversation with the severed head in the presence of the astonished audience. every one knows these wonderful feats are done by some kind of magic, but for all we can see they are done; the most astute observer cannot detect the secret. the apostle exhorts the believers to put on the whole armour of god, to be able to stand (not to be swept away or captured) against the wiles of the devil. then the devil is a trickster--a sleight-of-hand performer--a magician. one of his many methods to accomplish his purpose, we find, is delusion: practicing sleights, tricks, and works of magic on the gullibility of his victims. how many unsophisticated men and boys have been robbed in daylight on a street corner by some little "game," or trick, by a sharper. farms have been deeded away for nothing in return. now, if we were to catalogue all the tricks of all the conjurers of all ages, we have in this evil chieftain a consummation, an embodiment of them all; he is not only a magician, but the chief of them. he incessantly seeks victims more astutely than the crook seeks the ignorant with a purpose of robbery. observe the text says, "wiles of the devil"; not one, but many; while we are penetrating and avoiding one of his "wiles," behold, we are in the meshes of another. human intellect cannot fathom the feats of magic performed in friendly entertainment, where every opportunity is given to examine--then how much more are we at the mercy of séances concocted, not to entertain, but to delude and capture. the astrologers, soothsayers, and magicians; the clairvoyants, ancient and modern, are insignificant compared with this great magician. is he not superior and supernatural, possessed with unearthly powers? are there any combinations and hidden laws of which he is unacquainted? besides, no one is more familiar with the weaknesses and susceptibility of human nature than he. so astute and cunning are his "wiles"--tricks of magic--paul seems to feel that only the girdings and enduements of god, giving spiritual illumination to the things invisible, can withstand them. the antithesis of the apostle's exhortation leaves no doubt in our mind as to his meaning: if we strive and contend in our own wisdom, deception and defeat are inevitable. to be explicit, does it not look as if multitudes are under a delusion--seeing things through distorted and false lenses--when words and actions, by the best and truest people on earth, are seen as blatant hypocrisy? does it not look as if a sleight-of-hand expert were manipulating the ideals of this pleasure-mad generation; hiding the true character and dangers which lurk in every indulgence and excess? "presto, veto--change;" there you are, safe, satisfied, happy. "spirits of devils," declares the seer of patmos, "working miracles, going to the kings, and to the whole world." the arena wherein he practices his deadly delusions is the whole world. no places exempt; no peoples immune. the whole armour of god is the only sure protection. viii the roaring lion "be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."--_ peter v. ._ thus far we have studied diabolus under various titles and cognomens which deal almost exclusively with the secret side of his nature: the propaganda of hidden arts. the caption of this chapter will indicate quite a different proposition. this title swings him into full view, stripped of all deception and legerdemain. the lion walks up and down the earth, showing no quarters, making no apologies for his presence. when he roams in the forests, he is king; he allows no beast to interfere or question his rights, and none dare to do it. he kills, tears to pieces, and devours whatever he can catch; his roar strikes terror to all the forest dwellers. the lion, therefore, is noisy; his approach is with loud demonstration. there is something in noise that weakens and frightens; the keen clap of thunder, the shout of an approaching army, the blast of ram's horns, the loud proclaiming of the sword of the lord and gideon are historical examples of victories by noise. the lion is also powerful; no other beast has a chance in a match with him. one stroke with his mighty paw is death. he walks about conscious of his strength; an ox or a buffalo are no more his equal than a mouse contending with a cat. the lion is vicious; his going forth has one definite object--"seeking to devour." the lion presupposes that all the earth belongs to him; deer, antelopes, panthers, buffaloes, horses, cattle, etc., have no rights or possessions of which he feels under the slightest obligation to respect. the devil does not come out _in person_: hoofs, horns, claws, bushy mane--the make-up of a lion, building up his kingdom by tearing down and destroying men and institutions opposed to him. he does these things, as a lion, by incarnating himself in men, evil combines, corrupt politics, vicious society, the liquor traffic, the white slave system, etc. as he appropriates and embodies these institutions by entering in and possessing the men who are leaders, he no longer acts as a conjurer or snake, but a _lion_. the fullness of the earth, and they that dwell therein, belong to him, to use, desecrate, prostitute, kill, devour, or destroy, just so he may best serve and satisfy his insatiable appetite. cities are to be officered and governed, not for the peaceful protection of their citizens, but for plunder, boodle, and graft. men who desire to be public servants in deed and in truth must fight "a roaring lion." the man who steps to the front with a desire to question and curtail the exploitations of the "officials," the "traffic," the "gang," places his life at once in imminent peril. threats, black hand letters, pistols, poison, bombs, and torches are the instruments boldly used to destroy the man or men who do not believe that these human lions should be allowed to filch and devour the privileges and possessions of others. we find our "adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, walking about, seeking whom he may devour," has three methods which he uses according to the exigencies of the case. it is first a "roar," a bluff, or bulldoze: the threat of the "boss," whether he be a political boss, an ecclesiastical boss, or a liquor boss, accomplishes wonders in coercion; it frightens and cowers the weak-kneed and backboneless. the crack of the slave-driver's whip brought the obstreperous negro into humble submission. men in office, in pulpits, in editorial rooms, have been awed into silence by the roar of men "higher up." then truth, righteousness, justice, and conscience are crucified; and behind the scene leering devils hold a jubilee of triumph. however, the bluff and bulldoze will not always succeed; and when these loud, but mild methods fail, the boycott is ordered. those who can stand undaunted in the presence of roaring threats will quail before the prospects of financial ruin. employees are discharged, patronage cut off, positions given to others, preachers asked to resign. somehow evil is so compactly organized, wires of connection are so completely in touch with every nook and corner, that the "boss" sits quietly at the switchboard and issues orders. the "big stick" and boycott have carried many elections; municipal, state, and national; they have made merchandise of sovereignty, and bargain counters of conscience. "your clerk must take his name off that petition, or we will withdraw our patronage;" "his wife is an active worker in the w. c. t. u.--you must discharge him," were the identical words overheard in a private office. business and public men dread the boycott. behind the boycott is our "adversary, the devil." but the bluff and boycott by no means mark the limit when the self-assumed rights and privileges of the lion are questioned. few can rise above the threat and intimidation; but the roaring activities of the boss will not always suffice. the lion in corrupt politics, in evil traffics, in priestly bigotry and intolerance, will not hesitate to stab, shoot, or burn to get rid of an offensive opposer. it is not necessary to discuss facts so well known as these; but we are investigating the sources; we want to locate the bacilli rather than examine the pustule. we wish to reiterate a previous statement; the "roaring lion" is never heard if the still fight, the oily snake methods serve to a better advantage. the apostle's exhortation is timely: "be vigilant, be sober"--be on the alert constantly, and be at your best, as an "adversary" who knows no boundary lines in his work of subjugation and destruction has declared war to the end. ix an angel of light "for such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of christ. and no marvel; for satan himself is transformed into an angel of light."--_ corinthians xi. - ._ the devil is a person, with a great personality; but like human beings, he is not equally endowed in all the attributes of his nature. however, the book gives us no information as to his weaknesses. he is all superlative strength; but if at any point there is a special endowed faculty that would seem to overshadow the others, it is surely manifested when satan is transformed into an _angel of light_. the reason for this is obvious; it is a return to his old office of "light bearer." when he can effectively serve his purpose by this startling transformation--darkness to light--he is at once in a realm where he is familiar with every inch of the territory. a close observation of the signs of the times--the happenings in social and religious circles--will reveal the fact that _light_ is not only his most familiar rôle, but his favourite rôle. the world is attracted by things that are bright, beautiful, cheerful; anything that hides the sombre side of life, throws a mystic veil over its realities, and helps us to forget--whether it be books, music, lectures, or the nonentities of society--outweigh all else in the casting of accounts and in forming comparative estimates. if satan were allowed to pose for a full sized picture of himself, just as he wishes to be seen by the children of this generation, no portrait painter could produce a specimen of rarer beauty; it would grace the walls of the most exclusive parlour, and attract special attention in any great art gallery of the world. there would be no sharp angles, no coarse, sensuous lines, no out-of-date adornment--the traditional fiery-red would not appear, but rather the most delicate tints and shades of colour. the features would be the most graceful and artistic combination of curves and circles. the "hairy one," the jackal, the snake, the lion, the shadow, the spoiler at once become as "beautiful as a dream." amazing transformation! "the devil of to-day" is not only an apostle of sunshine, but of beauty. this world is full of beauty; and why should we not forever keep the ugly and distorted in the background? the development of the beautiful should be one of the fine arts. think only of beauty; speak only of beauty; see only the _beautiful_; then the sinful and unlovely will disappear. an angel of light--how suggestive! as an apostle of sunshine his mission is to flood the world with light, and he does it; but observe--it is _his_ light; it neither warms nor illuminates, but for spectacular purposes it answers every demand. it reveals new standards of duty; proves the wrathful things in the word of god to be spurious, and the old plan of salvation obsolete and unsuited to the present day needs. such words as self-denial, crucifixion, dead to sin, judgment day, cross bearing, etc., so prominent in the new testament, must not be given a literal interpretation. such truths cast an unnecessary gloom over the souls of otherwise happy people. "the devil of to-day" believes that ethical culture should be the slogan, the watchword, the shibboleth of every pulpit and rostrum. religion without refinement is absurd; the esthetic taste should be looked after more than belief in some abstract bible doctrine; then the race would be free from the bondage of creed and fear. true religion is nothing more than a just appreciation of art, literature, science, philosophy, and nature. god is in all these things rather than some musty, stereotyped statement of faith. he further believes it is a waste of energy for women to be organizing into societies to study and help conditions among the slums or heathen lands, and urging upon the hard worked people to pay a tenth of their income to support missionaries who are better fed and housed than themselves. far better devote the time to social clubs, book circles, euchre and bridge parties, and dressing properly. we want to call attention again to a truth often overlooked: the devil and demons are never satisfied in a disembodied state; when they cannot enter the souls of men, they seek something else. they will enter a swine when there is nothing better available. we believe "the prince of the air" can wield a powerful influence, unincarnated, _in the air_, but he schemes and works best when he can possess and direct intelligent flesh and blood. just now the machinery of the church and all the auxiliaries are devoting their energies to various branches of social service; this is good, christlike, and necessary; the point we raise, germane to this subject, is not the work, but the abuse of the idea: social service and humanitarianism are not religion. they are the fruits of the good samaritan spirit in the world, but they cannot take the place of personal relationship to god. "though i give my body to be burned, and all my goods to feed the poor," says paul, "it profiteth me nothing" without love--divine love. the angel-of-light gospel places the emphasis on works without faith. love the world, enjoy its lusts and allurements, disregard all puritanic ideals of life, be a part of all worldliness--but be kind, cheerful, optimistic, generous, benevolent: help humanity. "pay the fiddler," then dance as you please. do penance when your conscience lashes you; but buy indulgences by works of supererogation. "on with the dance, let joy be unconfined." a concrete example will illustrate the proposition before us, and also reveal the power of polished, cultured emissary of "sunshine and smiles." the little city had a population of about fifteen hundred people; there were four churches of nearly equal strength. each congregation had a large flourishing organization of young people. scarcely any worldliness obtained--dancing and card playing rarely ever. the pious, consecrated young people attracted no little attention. finally there came to the place a young woman fresh from college and conservatory as teacher of music and delsarte. she was an adept at all the niceties of modern society; things took on new colour at once. the work began with a literary club, then cards, then the dance. she was beautiful and magnetic; in six months the "stupid meetin's" of the league and christian endeavour were abandoned for things more exhilarating. the religious foundation which had been crystallizing for years among the simple hearted boys and girls gave place to the gayeties imported from the classic circles of city and college life. she moved among them "an angel of light." x the sower of tares "the kingdom of heaven is like a man that sowed good seed in his field: but while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat and went away."--_matthew xiii. - ._ "the field is the world; the good seed are the children of the kingdom; but the tares are the children of the wicked one; the enemy that sowed them is the devil."--_matthew xiii. - ._ the parable of the sower is one of common-sense appeal; the sensible farmer sows only good seed. the growing of tares among the wheat is not in the original plan. good seed were sown, but behold the tares! whence came they? while the servants slept an enemy came and sowed them. the master gives us his own interpretation: he is the sower--the good seed are the children of the kingdom, men and women into whose hearts the truth has entered--the converted part of the church. the sleeping of the servants is the unwatchfulness of the church: coldness, indifference, backslidden. the enemy seizes the opportunity--the carelessness of christ's servants--and sows _bad seed_. the enemy is the devil--the wicked one; the bad seed are the children of the devil. growing side by side in this world-field are the children of god and the children of the devil. the tare, or cheat, in appearance resembles the wheat; it grows exactly the same height, and viewed casually, or at a distance, cannot be detected from the genuine. only the threshing and sifting bring out the difference. these tares are the propaganda of the devil, but a perfect imitation of the children of the kingdom. they make a profession, adhere to the same rules and regulations, profess and maintain, outwardly, a standard of morality, wear all the regalia--even particular about details. we observe another striking resemblance: strange as it may seem, these tares--children of the devil--seek as their guide no books of heathen philosophy, or twentieth century atheism; they make great capital of the bible; the ceremonies and ordinances are carried out to the letter. on a day of dress parade and review they meekly grade a . such an inconsistency is so glaring as to be almost unthinkable; but the parable teaches it beyond a doubt. the devil sows into the church his children: _a corrupt profession of jesus christ_. in a former chapter we studied the devil as a _destroyer_; and it will be remembered that in a preceding parable he came as a vulture devouring the seed; now he seeks to further weaken and hinder by adulteration. while continuing the battering-ram process from without, a reversed method is used; he scales the ramparts and places his cohorts on the inside, and, wherever possible, assumes leadership in a campaign of self-destruction. we are amazed at such audacity, but the master, who is a rival in the field, has illuminated the parable for us. there is a note of optimism ringing out in the land to the effect that the day of triumph is at hand; doors are opening, walls are crumbling, conservative nations are studying our religion, municipalities are being renovated, higher standards in public life are demanded, the church is lifting the race out of superstition and prejudice--we are about to see a "nation born in a day." what does it mean? it means that satan is being chained--defeated, etc. this sounds good and plausible; but a closer inspection will reveal, not a retreat, not an armistice, not a victory, but a _change of base_. twenty years ago a leading teacher said: "unless the signs of the times fail, the true church of christ is about to enter upon the most serious struggle of her history. she is no longer called merely to fight an open foe without, but as dr. green, of princeton, says, 'the battle rages around the citadel,' and she is forced to fight the traitors within. the real enemy is to be found on the inside." if such a condition were true then, what is it to-day, since the last two decades have been the most revolutionary in the history of the church on the line of skepticism and advanced thought? the _free thinkers' magazine_ recently had this to say: "tom paine's work is now carried on by the descendants of his persecutors; all he said about the bible is being said in substance by orthodox divines, and from chairs of theology." another writer observes: "no need of bridlaughs and ingersols wasting time preaching against the early chapters of genesis, sneering at the story of temptation, cavilling at the record of long lives, denying the confusion of tongues, doubting if not denying the deluge, when christian ministers, on account of their official position, are doing the same work more effectually." "freedom of thought in religion," said an orthodox preacher at tom paine's one hundredth anniversary, "just what he stood for, is what most of us have come to. in his own day vilified as an atheist--to-day he is looked upon as a defender of just principles of faith." there is a wide range of opinions found in the growing crop of tares: some are literalists, touching biblical interpretation, getting the minutia of husks, but rejecting the kernel--the envelope, but missing the message; others remain in the church, preach a gospel shelter under her roof--eat her bread, but deny the supernatural _in toto_. few, if any, are honest enough to step out. the devil prefers his _cheat_ to grow in the same soil prepared for the wheat. no place is so wholesome and convenient for the children of the devil as inside the church of god. why is not the wrath of god poured out on the children of the devil who have assumed place and power in his church? the same processes used for the removal of the tares would injure and uproot some of the wheat. there is now no remedy; at an unguarded moment the harm was done. the enemy continues to enter every available door, sowing, sowing, sowing--beside all waters. not until the angelic reapers thrust in their sickles for the harvest will the children of the devil cease to occupy, influence, and control. xi the arch slanderer "for god doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil."--_genesis iii. ._ "but put forth thine hand now and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face."--_job i. ._ it is the first scene of the human drama; the staging is in an earthly paradise; perfection is written on everything animate and inanimate. with but one restriction man roams through edenic beauties, a being "good and very good," happy and holy. his communion with god is unbroken; fountains of love are opened in his heart as he beholds the beautiful mate at his side. our wildest imaginations cannot estimate the glories of that life-morning; but behold the serpent. he utters his first words in the scheme of ruin, and it is a slander against god. "aha, he knows if you eat you will be like he is--knowing all things, be as gods; he is not treating you fairly; the case is misrepresented. you will not die, but you will be wise. why does he keep back such privileges from you?" as a result of this slander, the paradise is lost. flowers, fruits, peace and plenty are exchanged for weeds, briers, toil, sweat, suffering, death. again we find his impudent presence on the day job is offering sacrifices. reading between the lines, we can imagine a conversation like this: "you here? you are looking for some pretense to discount my people; you say none are good--all hypocrites. what do you think of my servant job? what have you to say about him?" "oh, of course," says the slanderer, "you have him hedged around--blessing him continually. it pays job to be good; just take away your special care of his material welfare and see--he will curse thee to thy face." an artist once painted a picture of the human tongue in a way to represent his conception of how the "tongue of slander" should appear. it was long, coiled like a serpent, tapering at the end into a barbed spear point; from each of the papilla, scarcely visible, was a needle point, from which oozed a green, slimy poison. the slandering tongue is "a fire, a world of iniquity--it defileth the whole body--it is set on fire of hell." the slanderer is no respecter of persons; he rakes and scrapes the uttermost parts of the earth for victims: king and peasant, rich and poor, priest and prophet; living or dead suffer alike when once this vile, inhuman spirit touches them. bacon said: "calumny crosses oceans, scales mountains, and traverses deserts with greater ease than the scythian abaris, and, like him, rides on a poisoned arrow." the winds of the arabian desert not only produce death, but rapid decomposition of the body; so doth slander destroy every virtue of human character. the cloven-hoof slanderer, like the filthy worm, leaves behind a trail of offal and stench though his pathway wind through a bower of earth's sweetest flowers. a writer has said: "so deep does the slanderer sink in the murky waters of degradation and infamy that, could an angel apply an archimedian moral lever to him, with heaven as a fulcrum, he could not in a thousand years raise him to the grade of a convict felon." "whose edge is sharper than a sword; whose tongue out-venoms all the worms of nile; whose breath rides on the posting winds, and doth belie all corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave this viperous slander enter." iago is said to be the greatest villain in fiction or history; the revolting crimes of herod--slaughtering the innocent--does not compare with iago. herod saw in the man child a possible rival, and blinded by jealousy and ambition, he becomes the most heartless murderer--of all times. but what was the crime of iago? slander! with no object in view, no advantage to gain, and too much of a coward to make an open charge, he slanders by insinuation the beautiful desdemona until the enraged othello strangles her to death. how can we reconcile this base passion in human character, as slander has no other avenue of expression? it is unnatural, inhuman, and hellish. the wolf and tiger devour to satisfy hunger; the vulture eats and fattens on rotting carcases, but the slanderer does neither. with the blood cruelty of a savage beast, the degraded appetite of the scavenger, the destroyed victims of fiendish passion only intensify and burn, but never satisfy the slanderer. this spirit was never born among men; its origin is the region of the damned, where hunger gnaws, thirst fires, lust arouses, revenge consumes--but satisfaction is unknown. the hot breath of slander comes from a bourne where dead hopes spring up eternal. the caption of the chapter denominates the devil as the arch slanderer; we use it because there is no word of sufficient strength to convey the idea; "arch" fails to convey the whole truth in this case. archangel is an intelligible term, as there are many of high order; there is, however, but one slanderer. just as he is the "father of liars"--propagating all lies--his relation to liars does not admit of comparison. he slandered from the day of his fall; he is the father of slanderers. whether it be circulated in the "submerged world," the quiet circles of church life, or among the "four hundred" of fashion--it is a deflected arrow from the one great quiver. no being--holy men, angels, or the son of god--can escape the tongues dripping the venom of slander through the subtle incarnation of that fountainhead of every evil suggestion or insinuation. whatever destroys happiness, creates doubt and suspicion among the people, ending in litigation, divorces, and murders, fulfills the mission of slander. the caldron from which exudes this vile stench--filling all the earth--is seething and boiling in the bottomless pit, or wherever the throne of his majesty--the devil--is located. the society of earth will never be free from the poison of evil-speaking until the archslanderer is arrested, chained, and located in the penitentiary prepared for him from the foundation of the world. xii the double accuser "hast not thou made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side? thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land."--_job i. ._ "now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our god, and the power of his christ: for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our god day and night."--_revelation xii. ._ when we consider the diabolus character--his strength and opportunity, whereby he visits his vengeance upon a weak, susceptible race, we can readily understand that his make-up would be far from complete without a continuous outflow of slander. but his courage and audacity stand out in glaring relief when we find him an accuser. it does not require large intelligence or bravery to be a slanderer--only baseness of character--but to be an accuser, face to face with false charges, especially in the presence of one who has power over all things, reveals an impudent bravery that dazes the judgment. when questioned of god about his presence among devout spirits--as they were assembled for worship--he answered in the manner of a guilty boy: "just going to and fro in the earth." peter tells us that his mission of going to and fro is of seeking and devouring. he is then reminded of job's character--how that this saint is perfect and just; satan's blighting influence has not been able to touch and overthrow the aged job. in his shrewd rejoinder satan accuses god of two sins: _partiality and falsehood_. translated into its literal meaning, the language would be about as follows: "i deny that job is perfect; but for the protection you have thrown around him he would be as other men. his pretended piety is hypocrisy; he serves you because you have blest him with abundance; he has not fallen into sin because you have hedged him about. if you treated job as you treat others, his holiness would soon be about as genuine as mine." satan accuses god of protecting his servant and blessing him in material things in a special and partial manner, viz: "a respecter of persons." but the fiercest accusation is hidden in his reply to god's question, also put in the form of a question, and finished by an emphatic declaration: job is not the man god said he was; "but put forth thine hand and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face." a being who can stand before the lord god, of whom the hosts of heaven sing and shout--he, himself, once among the number--saying: "holy, holy, holy," and accuse him of being guilty of partiality and falsehood--what may _we_ expect from him? the word says he accuses the saints day and night. observe that he accuses the _saints_, those who are striving in righteousness. the man who lies, cheats in business, accumulates a fortune, and lives all the vices without apology is not an object of malicious accusation. the scandals in select circles cause only a ripple, even though the offenses occupy much space of the associated press. the principles of such affairs are often staged as heroes and heroines for the entertainment of a morbid public taste. satan accuses the saints; the presumption is shouted from the housetops: "there is none that doeth good, no not one." the saints--every good man and woman--must at some time face charges against their moral or religious character. this hellish machination goes on day and night. it is reasonable to conclude that much of the unrest, depression, and backslidings among the people of god may be traced to this cause; innocent men and women have not only cast away their hope through rumoured accusations, but have been driven to desperation and suicide. the reader must keep in mind the suggestion made in a former chapter: that while satan has the power by his presence of himself, or his minions, to create an atmosphere, unfathomable, impenetrable, yet surcharged with horror and dread; but his activities are seldom apart from human instrumentalities. just as he is the arch slanderer, through the word of mouth, so is he the accuser, both of god and saints, through human personalities under his control. a flood sweeps away, or lightning destroys a man's possessions; he looks up, curses and accuses god of cruelty and injustice. death enters the home; the mourners charge god falsely. his accusations are confined to no particular method; the one most suited to the case is used, whether self-condemnation or from another. self-reproach, through memory and meditation, is a most powerful agency in carrying on this work. once we begin to think on our ways--seeking to turn our steps unto the testimony of god--we face a life of sins and blunders mountain high and unsurmountable. but when faith takes wings and lifts the agonizing soul "out of the mire and clay," an everlasting reminder of the _past_ clings to us, often robbing us of peace and joy. how many christians have grown weary and given up because of memories blackened by consequences of past sins--sins which god said, if we confess and forsake, he would "remember them against us no more forever." if the truth, which can never be revealed until the judgment day, could be known! our asylums are swarming with unfortunates who have lost mental balance because of remorse and condemnation, resulting from an accusing memory. wherever satan is unable to lure the saints into actual transgression their life and usefulness are often destroyed by tormenting spirits accusing them day and night the book holds out no deliverance from this scourge until the accuser is forever cast down by the wrath of god at the final shifting of the scene. xiii satan a spy "and the lord said unto satan, whence comest thou? then satan answered the lord, and said, from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it."--_job i. ._ the spy is the most dangerous man in the army; more is he to be feared than the genius of a napoleon or a lee. the sphere in which he operates has no duplicate in military activities; his bravery, boldness, and daring are unexcelled. whether he be called from the ranks, or from among the commissioned officers, his counsel and suggestions get a hearing in the highest commandery of the army. the movements of a spy are unknown even to his own corps, much less to the enemy. after receiving authority for such a perilous undertaking he is a free lance, going and coming at will. not only does he go beyond the enemy's line, but mingles freely with them in the camp. there is nothing in his appearance to indicate who or what he is. to-day he is a civilian peddling fruits among the soldiers, or innocently driving a yoke of steers along the street or country road; to-morrow he is within the camp, dressed in their gay uniform, familiar with passwords and countersigns. then he appears as a decrepit old woman, seeking a son who "run away to jine the solgers." in a few hours he is quietly resting or joking with the boys of his own regiment. when a spy is captured all military courtesies are set aside; he is not even allowed the honour of a court-martial; but without trial he is executed at once. it is of special interest, in view of the application to our subject, to notice the particular business of a spy. just as his movements are unknown, so is his mission unknown. he hurries to and fro, gathering up such bits of information here and there as he deems important for the cause he represents. if he belongs to the federal forces he appears clothed in the "butternut gray"; then by tactics of bravery and nerve he enters the confederate gray lines. the slightest blunder is certain death. he takes a mental inventory of the whole situation, but in such a way as to attract the attention of no one. the strength of the fortifications, the size and number of the batteries, the commissary department, and the chances and probabilities of reinforcements. in a moment, under the cover of night, he fades out into the darkness and is gone. the budget of information is placed at the earliest possible moment into the war councils of his own army. satan plays the rôle of a crafty spy; he has access, by some mysterious power, to the heart life of men. at no point of the game for immortal trophies is he so dangerous as when he can take advantage because of his secret knowledge of men's weaknesses and sins. only a vicious degenerate can be tempted into all the crimes known to the docket of the bible; few beings on this planet but are fortified at some point of character. they may be weak in many ways--but early training or environment have helped them to become strong in some particulars. the spy seeks to know when and where a blow may be struck in the enemy's lines, at a place of least resistance. the soul battles are exactly the same; we have no special battles where we are strong; things that might overcome another will mean nothing to us. our battles are ever fought around the points of weak fortification; the enemy rarely, if ever, has the pleasure of shouting over our downfall from the best that is in us. the victories of athletic games--the pugilistic bouts in the sporting arena, the mortal duel with rapiers, the battle-fields where thousands fell--have been lost and won by the application of this principle. the general with his field-glass sees a weakening in the enemy's line and orders a charge; the duelist observes a shortening of breath or an awkward movement and seizes the opportunity. it is the weak link in the chain of life that breaks; sins of the lower nature--sensuality--might not appeal to some who fall an easy victim to pride, ambition, or covetousness; others who are liberal, honest to the cent, unassuming, are helpless when tempted in the realm of lower passions. we are at an incalculable disadvantage when our enemy is familiar with our vulnerable points. so long as the heart is unregenerated and unpurified by the cleansing power of the holy ghost, satan has access to every nook and corner of our heart life. he enters and discovers every vulnerable and invulnerable section of the soul's fortification. the tempted and fallen are often unable to tell how it was done. "why did you go there?" or, "why did you do it?" oh, so many, many times do we hear the answer: "i do not know." a friend once showed me a little iron safe in which he kept his valuable papers. this safe had a very ingenious lock; the combinations were such, and the mechanism so wonderful, that it was capable of _three hundred thousand combinations_. why and how are sane men and women overcome? they were met at a certain place, under peculiar circumstances; met by several--a word, a smile, an argument, a pressure of the hand. how was it done? they do not know. somehow the attack came in a way which rendered them helpless to resist. one effort failed--a dozen failed; but as often as it failed the expert changed the _combination_, until the door yielded, and an entrance into the citadel of mansoul was effected. _three hundred thousand combinations._ the spy has information from within; and, therefore, the most dangerous man in the army. satan, by his supernatural powers directing his practice and experience for several millenniums, is a crafty, sagacious spy, acquainted with all the weaknesses and emotions of the human heart. who is equal to such an enemy? contending alone, _no one_ on this sin-burdened footstool. xiv the quack doctor "having the form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away."--_ timothy iii. ._ we do not agree with some late views of the nature of sin--that it is a physical and mental disorder: the resultant of heredity, food, soil, climate and social environment. if the root of the difficulty springs from these primary causes, the whole problem of evil could be wiped out in one generation by the application of sanitary laws and social betterment. in the bible sin is known by several disease terms, but always such diseases as were incurable by any treatment known in those days: leprosy, born blind, deadly poison, paralytic, etc. sin is a disease, and the whole man, body, mind, and spirit, is more or less affected therefrom; but it is, in particular, a soul malady, going deeper than human remedies can reach, whether social or medicinal. to cure this soul disease the race has sought eagerly from the day cain and abel built their altars. all the ramifications of civilization have had one all-absorbing desire: a readjustment of something fundamentally wrong within. this fight for an atonement with the creator has been a long, heart-sore pilgrimage; it has painted the blackest pages of history and committed the bloodiest crimes. this human drama has been enacted in tragedy and tears. why is it so? because deeper than any other heart-throb is the consciousness of personal uncleanness, and the bitter anguish it has caused. the dead civilizations, on their monuments and mausoleums, have left behind, carved indelibly, one story--whether on the banks of the nile, the areopagus of greece, or the land of the montezumas--it is the story of feeling in the dark after god. they had the disease and sought for a remedy. from the days of the astrologers and soothsayers, anxious souls have been victimized by every fad, fake and fanaticism in their search for relief. the venders of pulverized snake skins and lizard tongues, in their day, found as willing a patronage as the cultured proprietors of sanitariums to-day. the long-haired man on a goods box can do a flourishing business, if he has the gift of gab to convince the crowd his stuff will _cure_. the quack doctor does not handle a variety of medicine; he knows just enough of anatomy and materia medica to make his speech sound scholarly--but his remedy, costing less than the price of one visit from a physician, will cure all the ills of the human body. like de soto, we are seeking the fountain of perennial youth--the elixir of life. just as the disease of the body and a passion to live open wide the door to charlatans, fakirs, and "healers" claiming powers direct from gabriel to beelzebub, so the disease of the soul, and a hunger for eternal life--"deep calling unto deep"--has opened the door of the heart to the religious doctor with his cure-all prescriptions. out from unknown depths comes the yearning for readjustment and reconciliation with god. no being, beside the godhead, is more familiar with the secret hopes and impulses of the soul--than satan. the long-haired quack on the street, bawling his "junk," is not half so anxious to defraud the crowd as satan is to prescribe remedies that will not cure. his chief aspiration is to flood the land with bogus treatments which not only fail to cure, but they preempt the disease-infected spots so as to prevent the introduction of the genuine remedy. the quack doctor is, no doubt, pleased when an imaginary cure has been wrought by his wares; but satan is filled with wrath if some of his formulas strike deeper than he anticipated, and a soul emerges from darkness unto light. this, however, does not often occur; he is too cunning to advertise to a hungry, sin-sick world that which will bring permanent relief. the beating of tom-toms by an upper congo medicine man to drive away evil spirits has about the same efficacy as much that may be found in the esthetic circles of the world's religiosity. "a form of godliness," be it ever so beautiful and orderly, which does not seek and obtain the inner power is just another way of beating tom-toms. we look with compassion upon the poor benighted heathen woman who trots around the temple of her god one hundred times on a moonlight night; but how much improvement over her plan of salvation do we find in the blaze of twentieth century christian enlightenment, if our religion consists of just "doing something," rather than having _faith_ in a power that saves through the impartation of the holy ghost? at no time in the history of the church have we done so many things as we are doing now--all good; but observe: the church and the world go hand in hand. it is a rare exception when an essential difference can be seen in the life and business methods of the professor and non-professor. "they will have a form of godliness," says paul, "but deny the power." it was not a dream or hallucination which took the rich and poor, in the long ago, out from the world and caused them to give up even their lives cheerfully; it was an application of the power. they had tested the "fountain opened in the house of david for sin and uncleanness." "oh, that fountain deep and wide, flowing from the wounded side, that was pierced for our redemption, long ago; in thy ever cleansing wave, there is found all power to save; it's the power that healed the nations long ago." in the multitude of pretenses, makeshifts: forms, ceremonies, chantings, genuflections, ordinances, will worship, self-righteousness, "wondrous works,"--"form of godliness"--who is responsible? it is the great quack doctor that is deceiving the world; those who will not be dragged into sin and ruin he surfeits their lives with a "form of godliness, but deny the power" plan of salvation. xv the devil a theologian "now the spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils."--_ timothy iv. ._ theology is defined as "the science which treats of god, his existence, character, government, and doctrines," or the science of religion--a system of truth derived from the scriptures. the caption of this article--the devil a theologian--jars our spiritual nerve centres. there are three things necessary to produce a theologian: experience, information, ability. from every possible view-point the devil is preëminently qualified to formulate a system of doctrinal statements having all the earmarks of genuineness and credentials of authenticity. in our discussion of the devil's theology we shall not, at the present, touch upon the theories and vile imaginations of demon-possessed men, but the finer phases of truth, beautifully presented by his apostles with a show of orthodox reasonableness. by the term devil's theology--doctrines--we do not mean his beliefs--get the distinction--but what he wants us to believe. he is every whit orthodox; he believes the old book; he does not indorse the _new theology_, or the so-called higher learning, only as it may be turned to his advantage. the word of god is a mighty reality to him; he has met its blazing truths, and has been burned by its power. he has millions of skeptics and doubters blindly following his delusions, but he is a believer in the "old school"; he "believes and trembles." we call attention to the term "doctrines"--therefore religious beliefs: reasonable, plausible, satisfying beliefs. what are they? first: ritualism is religion; when we have gone through a certain proscribed programme--whether it be a chant, reading prayers, or burning a dim light--there you are. how do we know we are religious? we have gone the rounds, said the required number of ave maries, counted the rosary, etc., etc., therefore the work is done. it sounds harsh to place these beautiful ceremonies, which have doubtless comforted so many hearts, in the enemy's catalogue; but the pharisees were rigid ritualists, yet christ denounced them as miserable hypocrites--"whited sepulchres." anything he can get us to adopt, having a semblance of reality, yet does not save--does not deal directly with the sin question, he shouts over our delusion. he appropriates ritualism for religion and it becomes his doctrine. a second doctrine: good resolution for regeneration. there has never been as much strenuous evangelism, of a certain quality, as we are having to-day. great cities unite in stupendous revival effort; no expense is spared; the leading masters of assemblies are called as workers. the zeal and motives of it all are commendable; but the bane of such evangelism is this: the work stops at the resolution period. men are brought under conviction, and the devil at once proposes his compromise. not until the "big meeting" closes do the convicted multitudes discover the deception. herein is the explanation of the lethargy, depression, and utter indifference which so often obtain after a "sweeping revival." faith is then shaken, and sometimes permanently, in the truth of a conscious, know-so salvation. if the prodigal son had stopped after passing a good resolution with himself he would have died at the swine pen without the knowledge of the father's love, the kiss, the robe, the ring, and the fatted calf. a sinner must not only "quit his meanness" but straighten out his meanness. regeneration is not by the will of the flesh, the will of man, not of blood; but it is to be born of god--born from above--a new creature. doctrines floating under the banner of evangelism which do not get believers into the kingdom must be listed with the enemy. a third doctrine: sentiment is salvation. we are a sentimental people; esthetic and humanitarian developments of recent years have done much to soften our barbarian instincts. if sentiment were salvation, this land would be redeemed. many think we are rapidly becoming a saved nation; those who enjoy such reflections should stand at the entrance of any theatre on sunday, or a pleasure garden, or a ball park; then hurry around to the entrance of the finest, best equipped church in the city for comparison. sentiment is educated emotion. rome used to shout over the bloody scenes in the amphitheatre; now we can weep over the unfortunate girl who goes down in spectacular glory behind the footlights. sentiment makes us rejoice with those who do rejoice, and weep with those who weep; it moves us to deeds of charity. satan then has no difficulty in persuading us that we are religious--spiritually redeemed; if we weep over our loved ones, our emotions are very religious. the most grief we ever witnessed at a funeral was in the home of a saloon-keeper; the dead wife and mother, a depraved opium and morphine eater; the home was utterly irreligious, but the grief was hysterical, explosive. the sacrifices of god are a broken and a contrite heart--over sins committed, producing a godly sorrow, and not a sentiment. again, the devil takes great delight in telling the unsaved and unchurched masses that religion is all selfishness; the poor are made to feel that the church is the rich man's institution. notwithstanding the efforts of god's people to reach and help the lost they are represented as mean and selfish, pretending a pious fraud, with no bread for the hungry and no helping hand for the needy. we build stately temples of worship to gratify our pride and vanity with money earned by the sweat and toil of the poor man; money that ought to be given to the poor. judas protested against breaking the alabaster box. the church is a place for dress parade; the humble and meanly clad are not wanted. all such is malicious slander against god, his church and his people; but as stereotyped as this may sound, it is being used effectually everywhere. if a church preaches salvation from sin, it is the poor man's best friend; but reference to the church and the preacher is often hissed in gatherings of toiling men. unless there shall come to this land the establishment of the righteousness of christ, as taught in his gospel, we shall see another reign of terror; the fires of restlessness, hate, and discontent are smouldering in every shop, factory, and mine. "the golden age will never come until it is brought in by the golden rule of christ." the devil is busy keeping these facts from becoming known. the doctrine stated: we are in it to serve a selfish end; take away our hope of advantages, and our faith becomes religious junk. xvi the devil a theologian (_continued_) one of the devil's tactics is to make much ado about nothing. it is astonishing how sane people can be deluded over childish non-essentials. think of the doctrine of abstinence; at certain seasons be holy with a vengeance. it is a mortal sin to let down during certain days and moons; no meats, no riotous gormandizing, no wine, no dancing, no theatre going, when the season is holy. but are we not so commanded concerning the sabbath day? the sabbath day must be kept holy, but if our moral standard and relationship fall below during the week what we are supposed to make them on sabbath, our piety is a farce. an incident will illustrate. it was a steamboat excursion; drinking and dancing were freely indulged in by the hilarious passengers. a _parson_ was among them; he danced not, neither did he look upon the wine that was red. he looked sad--_it was lent_. one week later we beheld this same _parson_ in full evening dress gracefully waltzing with one of the lambs of his flock. amazing spectacle! robes of holiness to-day, with fastings and prayers; to-morrow, broadcloth, perfume, patent leathers, and arms encircling a maiden in the dizzy whirl of the dance. paul saw such times coming and warned against them. there are many more, but we shall mention only one more: the gigantic system of saints' worship. what does this mean? anything that diverts and absorbs the attention away from things fundamental is surely of evil origin. his fall began when he conceived hatred and jealousy of jesus; now if he can get people to pay a part or all of their homage to mary, or any one of the many "saints," just so the son of god is robbed of his glory and neglected, his devilish malice is somewhat gratified. there is a long list of dead worthies who are reverenced and supplicated unto daily; but high over all is the "virgin mother of god." after the birth of the saviour mary was the wife of joseph, and bore children as a natural mother--she was not a virgin. "thou shalt have no other gods before me;" "thou shalt not make unto thee any graven images--thou shalt not bow down to them." "doctrines of devils." spiritual minded students of the bible and human conduct are forced to the conclusion that the devil is not only a wise theologian, but he is a great _preacher_; and, as we have learned, he has a mighty gospel which he preaches with effectiveness and power. he has clearly defined doctrines which he promulgates at such times and places as will best meet the desired end. but with cunning craftiness he preaches his dogmas and tenets everywhere: housetops, society parlours, centres of business, legislatures, court rooms, barrooms, and bawdy houses, as well as in pulpits. this sounds like a strange mixture: "the sacred desk" associated with such an array of evil--_ad absurdum_. if the pulpit is immune, why paul's exhortation? doctrines presuppose a preacher, and also an effort to gain an audience whenever and wherever possible. yes, the devil preaches, and if doors are barred he forces an entrance: home and foreign missions, slums, emigrants, aristocrats and sports. he has access to scores of avenues where the gospel of christ never enters; but under the cover of human interests he takes the field with our lord jesus and his ministers, offering a more beautiful, excellent, easier and successful way. as god's method of saving the world is by the foolishness of preaching, what better agency of opposition could be launched than _preaching_? nothing. far stronger is the expulsive than the opposing power. the most dangerous poison in the world is the kind that hides its death in a cup of sweetness; a child eats a sugar-coated pill and never recovers. hell is peopled by the multitudes who have drunk at the devil's fountain of soothing, satisfying poison. he keeps his deluded patrons from the fountain of cleansing by an easier way to delectable fountains, the waters of which paralyze with the chill of death. we note another very remarkable fact concerning the devil's doctrines and his style of preaching. christ's ministers often fail because of a lack of adaptability; "he overshot his crowd" is the comment often heard. the genius of this subject does not make this mistake; he is a past-master at adaptability; to those who have a feeble, fluttering conscience for spiritual things he has the sincere milk of the word that soothes and sustains; but for his robust followers, whom he has bound in chains stronger than those which bound prometheus, he gives the meat of diabolism, prepared and seasoned by a skill of six thousand years' practice. place your ear at the keyhole where his children are conducting a "revival meeting"--high carnival of sin--and hear the ideas of god, salvation, preachers, the church, and the hereafter. this is the strong gospel referred to; the gospel that fires the masses with hate and prejudice against the only means of human redemption. yes, he preaches, preaches, preaches, and from every nook and corner; ten messengers to one preaching the christ; his preachers support themselves, and touch the highways and byways; his lines are gone out into all the earth, circumscribing sea and land. the devil gets an intelligent hearing. he has a long catalogue of doctrines, but he does not believe a single one of them. we should be wise enough to eliminate them from our creed also. xvii the devil's righteousness "woe unto them! for they have gone in the way of cain."--_jude ._ "for they being ignorant of god's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of god."--_romans x. ._ we are becoming, according to the canons of this world, a righteous nation; the standard of civic and commercial righteousness is elevated as never before. sleuth-hounds are scenting every indication of misrule and running to earth evil-doers, high and low. our cities are keeping tab rigidly on sewerage, cesspools, and outhouses; a persistent war is being waged on flies, mosquitoes, and germs of all kinds. private citizens are everywhere organizing to coöperate with officials for public welfare. corporation and municipal rings must answer at the bar of an outraged public conscience. righteousness is in the air; it resounds from the pulpit, platform and press. chautauqua specialists who have discovered some deflection in the political and social woof and warp declare, amid salutes of fluttering handkerchiefs, the righteousness of twentieth century standards. preaching on the cardinal doctrines of the bible has been displaced by rhetorical messages on altruism: light, ethics, mercy, cleanness, goodness. "the fatherhood of god and the brotherhood of man," with a flavour of intellectualism, is the gospel that is now being emphasized with much gusto, and never fails to solicit the indorsement of all denominations. "be good and do good" is the _multum in parvo_ of present day righteousness. who but a chronic faultfinder could object to this upward move, so obvious now in all directions? the world is getting kinder, more sympathetic, more charitable; creed lines are dissolving like snow under an april sun; sectarian prejudice is dying under the withering frown of new ideals. does this not indicate a gradual leavening of the "whole lump"? the spirit of christ, they tell us, is being adopted everywhere. he is mounting the throne of universal empire, and the time surely is not far distant when the social, political, commercial and domestic life will be regenerated by his influence. yes--it would appear so to be; much that is done bears a christian label; it comes in the name of christ; but, says a writer, "it is the christ of bethlehem and not the christ of the cross." it is the human christ and not the sacrificial--the exponent of a blood atonement. the righteousness that has the full swing of modern religionists makes much of christ's "example," his beautiful character and self-abandonment--"he went about doing good." much attention is given to studying his leadership, his pedagogy, his art of public address, his humanity. his example and not his sacrifice saves the world; step by step the human christ has displaced the christ of calvary; his atonement was misguided zeal. this propaganda, on the surface, is reasonable and popular; but close scrutiny will reveal a poison as dangerous as it is subtle. it leaves out the blood; it is a glorification of man. "count the number of the beast, for it is the number of man." this issue is an old one; it became an entering wedge in the religious life when the first services were held after the fall. cain and abel made altars; cain piled his high with beautiful, luscious fruits of the field. no festal board ever looked more tempting, loaded with sweet smelling fruit, having variegated colours, than the altar which cain presented to god. they were the results of his own sweat and toil; he offered them as the "first fruits." but god rejected the offering; somehow the very beauty and attractiveness of it all insulted him. abel's altar was smeared with blood; on top lay a limp, bleeding lamb. nothing attractive about this picture; our esthetic nature recoils at the gore and cruelty of such an offering. yet god graciously accepted this bloody, unsightly offering; and no doubt rained fire upon it--anyhow, abel was justified. why did god reject the one and accept the other? cain and abel alike had been taught from their infancy that "without the shedding of blood there shall be no remission of sin." by transgression man stood as an alien before god; he had forfeited divine favour. notwithstanding, cain boldly brought before god a bloodless sacrifice, and presumes to force him to accept it. through all the millenniums before christ every approach to god must contain in the sacrifices and offerings an element which reminded god of the coming atonement. he declared: "for the life of the flesh is the blood, and i have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your soul. for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul" (lev. xvii. ). coming directly to the point: all this new notion of things, touching man's religion, fast becoming prevalent is the "way of cain," with a twentieth century touch and terminology. what is the essence of this new righteousness? what does it do? observe, it sets aside god's estimate of man, and ignores the plan of redemption he established at the beginning in types and shadows, then consummated in the atoning death of his son on the cross. the righteousness of to-day has much in it to commend; but it utterly disregards the only feature upon which god places emphasis. the blood and the cross, as of old, is an offense; they have found a more excellent way, but it is the "way of cain." it is offering self-righteousness rather than seeking the righteousness of god. the bloody offering of abel suggested suffering, punishment, death, judgment--but it honoured god. modern righteousness scoffs at the abel offerings by hanging a wreath of flowers on the cross, bearing a perfumed tag, "with sympathy." it is cain setting up business in town once more. a sacrificial propitiation for sin is unnecessary when we have "inherent goodness." the modern righteousness contends that each man has self-redemptive qualities; all he needs is a chance. salvation is not internal, but external. the cainites are filling the earth; they are preaching the popular sermons, writing the magazine articles, the poetry, the fiction; they occupy the chief synagogue seats of seminaries; they are conspicuous at all chatauquas and baccalaureate occasions. it is a well-known psychological fact that evil cannot exist apart from personality--whether it be bad laws, bad books, bad town, or a bad house. whence comes all this audacious, undermining insult to the whole sweep of god's plan for saving the world? whence comes all this preaching about righteousness which places the crown on man, and robs the cross of its glory? the righteousness being sounded in double diapason and angelus keys is _the righteousness of the devil_. bear in mind it is _righteousness_, and a high type of it, he demands; he wants the offering of cain to cover up all the needs of the soul--cheat the blood of its merit--insult god, and lead the race through a bowery of flowers, fruits, and music on to its ruin. anything to cheat the depositum of the gospel--that which gives a title to heaven--the precious blood. the righteousness that leaves out the blood is the "way of cain"--"the righteousness of the devil." xviii the world's tempter "again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and showeth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; and sayeth unto him, all these things will i give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me."--_matthew iv. - ._ temptation is a seduction: meaning to allure or entice one to evil. it is submitting a proposition which carries with it inducements of pleasure or gain. the mind that accedes readily and willingly to an act is not tempted. a temptation is a clash of wills, one being superior to the other if the contest results in a yielding. the word embodies the idea of an elastic--"stretched to the snapping point." if there is no response, no struggle against desire--it is not a temptation. the master was very man as well as very god; yet strange as it may seem--_he was really tempted_, and just as we are. our purpose in this discussion is not to analyze the different phases of our lord's temptation--the tests to which he was subjected,--but we wish to emphasize one thing: he was _tempted_. the appeals came from his old time enemy; his rival for supremacy. he was not taken unawares; the facts were clearly before him, just who and what it all meant--yet he was tempted. the diabolical assault did not cease until his threefold nature was "stretched to the snapping point." it came from an inferior being, and for sake of illustration, had the scheme succeeded, the sun of righteousness would have gone down forever. not only would the great plan of human redemption have proved abortive, but satan would have snatched the sceptre from the hand of the anointed one and shouted his victory in the face of god. we are amazed to think of the only begotten being near the yielding point in the presence of the fallen lucifer, but the book says he was tempted. some may contend that he could not have yielded; all the while he was conscious of divine security. this conclusion forces another untenable proposition: if he could not have yielded, his humanity was not real, but veiled in his divinity; the temptation was only a shadow. we insist that as a man jesus was tempted; he could have called to his aid supernatural intervention, but he did not. the issue was met as every man must meet it; it was manhood that conquered. had he yielded, both manhood and divinity would have become subservient to the enemy. "fall down and worship me" was the proposition. now we wish to make a few deductions from our lord's temptation. whatever includes the greater includes the lesser--_a fortiori_. natural man reached his highest expression in jesus of nazareth; he was god's exponent of human perfection. there were no weaknesses, no lack of pose or symmetry; his penetration and judgment of others were absolutely accurate. from the beginning he had known the evil one who faced him. now, with all those perfect endowments, the record says _he was tempted_. the ingenuity of satan was sufficient to bring out all the resources of the son of god. here was the greatest, wisest, purest and strongest man that ever walked upon the earth--susceptible, influenced, strained to the "snapping point," when attacked by the tempter. what will be the inevitable fate of you and me, dear reader, whenever he selects us as his victims? the unmistakable teachings of the word are that every temptation to which man is or ever has been subjected came fresh from the seething caldron of the pit. the student of human conduct has observed universal adaptability of all temptation. a great sagacious intelligence seems to be managing personally, through his cohorts, this campaign of promising propositions. there are some who can be incited to commit horrible crimes, such as murder, incendiary, born perhaps with vicious tendencies, but this class is comparatively small; others are susceptible to deeds of milder character. it would matter little to an army approaching a fortification where or how the attack should be made if the walls at every point were weak and crumbling. no time is spent in reconnoitre and playing for position; but if the battlements be strong, a faulty place must be located if there be one. satan rarely ever blunders in laying his temptations; he is a most skillful strategist. as the world's tempter he reveals an ingenuity that is truly astounding; it should cause the bravest heart to shudder once the eyes are opened to the source. knowledge of his approaches, marches, countermarches, advancings, and retreats--all with a specific object--ought to be a great breakwater. a writer gives us a striking word picture of satan's methods: "as the enemy who lays siege to a city finds out the weakest portion of the wall, or the best spot to batter it, or the lowest and safest place to scale it, or where the intervening obstacle may be easiest overcome, or where an advantage may be taken, or where an entrance may be effected, or when is the best time, or what is the best means to secure the desired end, so the arch-deceiver and destroyer of souls goes about, watchful, intent upon ruin, scanning all the powers of the mind, inspecting all the avenues to the heart and assailing every unguarded spot. sometimes he attacks our understanding by injecting erroneous doctrine; sometimes our affections by excessive devotion to things we love; sometimes our wills by strengthening them in wrong directions; sometimes our imaginations by vain, foolish, trifling thoughts; and sometimes our feelings by too high or too low excitation." some one has called satan and his subordinates not omnipresent, but "shifting imps." they swarm the air, invisible, because they are spirit, watching for opportunities to edge their way into the hearts of mankind. they are shifting position, always to a point of least resistance. like a current of electricity, always flowing from a point of higher potential pressure to one of lower, if points are connected by a conductor. the metallic substances from which the current starts and towards which it flows are called "electrodes," and are always of different potentiality. the current passes from the one of higher to the lower. man in his own strength is the lower, and unprotected by the spirit of god cannot resist the evil currents flowing from satan continually. xix the confidence man "in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of christ, who is the image of god, should shine unto them."--_ corinthians iv. ._ history is one long, tragic recital of human sorrow and suffering; but there is far more unwritten history than has ever been recorded on the printed page. along the march of civilization all that has come down to us are the lives and doings of great men; we know little of the heart agonies of the race--such as cannot be recorded--language is inadequate. most of history is a record of man's inhumanity to man, but historians deal with these dark pages only on the higher levels. the greatest suffering, the bitterest cries of anguish, the deepest wails of despair are in the lowlands of human life: down where its pathos can never be known. the darkest tragedies of war are lost by the gallant heroism of some officer; the blood and carnage are overshadowed and forgotten by the heralds of victory. the real pathos of war remains unnoticed by the chroniclers and correspondents; it is found in the heart suffering of the dying in the trenches; the black pall that settles over the homes made desolate by the news from the front. the saddest stories of life will never be told; they are the voiceless agonies and smothered sobs from victims of human treachery and deceit. millions are shambling on their weary way, waiting for the end, whose hearts are dead and buried in graves of misplaced confidence. more domestic lights have been extinguished, more love dreams turned from a sweet phantasy to an horrid nightmare, more bodies fished from the river, more shocking tragedies have resulted directly from this cause--misplaced and wrecked confidence--than from all other causes of human wretchedness. an illustration from actual life will serve to bring the caption of this chapter--the confidence man--out in bold relief. an honest old farmer, whose horizon had not extended beyond the obscure indiana neighbourhood, sold his little home and started for kansas, hoping to enlarge his possessions and give his sons and daughters a larger sphere of opportunity. that they might see the wonders of a great city, arrangements were secured for a three days' stop-over at st. louis. the confidence man saw them pass through the iron gate into the lobby. he first noted the train on which they had come to the city. with great enthusiasm he greeted the old gentleman, introduced himself, extending a business card of his "firm." with cunning palaver, and the guilelessness of the farmer--item after item of information as to name and where they came from were obtained. the man who said he thought he recognized the old gentleman soon became satisfied of it--having an uncle living in the same county--and "i have often heard him speak of you, etc., etc." it required only a short time to not only gain the confidence of the whole family, but also to get all the facts concerning their business affairs: how much the little farm brought, and how much they had left to begin life in the west, and actual cash on hand. there was not a hitch in the scheme; the new friend (?) loaded them with kindnesses and courtesies, paid all the bills at lunch and theatre--took the young people into the mysteries of the great wonderland--all so new and strange. it was the last afternoon; father and mr. confidence man were returning from a tour of sightseeing. they met a man walking in great haste; looking up he saw the two men, and suddenly laid violent hands on the "farmer's friend," demanding the payment of a note three days overdue. they quarrelled; all manner of apologies were made, that he was "entertaining an old friend, etc.," all of which caused the shylock to grow more enraged and unreasonable; they almost came to blows. finally the old man's benefactor asked to see him for a moment alone. then meekly humble, and with many regrets, asked for a loan of enough to pay the note. "we will go right down to my office, and i will reimburse you with big interest for the kindness." the honest old man was only too glad for an opportunity of returning, by such a little act, the kindness that had been shown him. the note was almost one thousand dollars; when the bills were counted out, less than ten dollars remained in his purse--the savings of a lifetime. proceeding on their way until they reached the first saloon, "it is my treat, uncle," said the man. after the drinks were served, he asked to be excused for a moment, and stepped into a back room from the bar--he was seen no more. after a long time, the barkeeper informed the old man that his _friend_ was one of the worst crooks in st. louis. with less than ten dollars he staggered out of the saloon, wandered over the city dazed and half insane. on the following day he was found down on the wharf crying like a child. what had happened? he had been in the hands of a confidence man. there are being formed in all walks of life--high and low--associations and alliances, spurred on and incited by extravagant promises--the hook baited according to the fish--which culminates in certain disaster. the pathway of life is strewn with victims of confidence friends--instead of friends. as in all these subtle and dangerous diversions we believe every trap and scheme are under the direct control and supervision of satan--playing the rôle of confidence man. many with a natural impulse for pleasure knock, and at once arms are wide open to receive them; lust beckons, and the broad way becomes choked with her votaries; covetousness shouts her promises, and the love of money soon burns out every high and holy aspiration. fame holds the chaplet in full view, and men are ready to exchange heaven in order to have it pressed upon their brow. but alas, in the end--in the end--"it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." when the curtain falls, too late to recover, we shall be found on eternity's shore, shipwrecked, robbed, ruined--victims of the great seducer. no one but an incarnate devil could stoop to the low plane of confidence man in business and social life; but think of what it means: by flattering promises, smiles, and kindness force an entrance into the heart life, and when once in possession, desecrate, prostitute, and destroy. we insist that it takes a devil-possessed man to operate in this particular field, and the world is full of such. we therefore conclude he is the god of this planet, blinding the eyes of his unnumbered victims. xx the trapper "and that they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at his will."--_ timothy ii. ._ "surely he will deliver thee from the snare of the fowler."--_psalm xci. ._ to be a trapper requires something more than setting traps and baiting them. the old trapper returns from a season spent among mountains, rivers, and forests--ladened with valuable furs of every kind: beaver, bear, otter, fox, mink, wildcat, coon, opossum, etc. remember the animal kingdom is infinite in variety; no two alike. a trap that will catch a beaver will not answer as a bear trap; a coon and a mink are as far removed from each other as a polished american and a native of madagascar. a coon will not go within a rod of a chain, but have little if any keenness of scent for protection. a rat will not go near an object if the smell of human hands is on it. volumes of natural history would be inadequate to give the details of differentiation of the animal kingdom. the old trapper in his log cabin has never read a page of zoölogy, but is far more familiar with the ways of the furry folk than the scientists who write our books on natural history. the trapper is a graduate from the school of association; he has studied the traits and pranks of the forest inhabitants by observation at close range. he knows just where the mink can be caught, and just how the trap must be baited and concealed; he has the same information about all the rest, and can apply it. once when a child, we were enraptured until late bedtime by the stories of an old trapper: telling about "the different varmints." without drawing on his imagination, he could have added many chapters to the tales of "uncle remus." the facts about our furry friends are far more interesting than fiction; the trapper knows about these facts. the psalmist calls satan a fowler; one who sets traps for old and young as the fowler sets traps for fowls. how is it done? leaves and weeds are carefully cleared away, and the trap is skillfully set by a trigger, so that the slightest touch will spring it. the ground is also cleared for several rods leading off in front of the trap; suitable food is scattered under the trap and all along the clean strip of ground. the birds excitedly follow the line of "food"--walking under the trap where it is scattered in abundance. in the scuffle, the trigger is soon touched; behold the trap falls, and they are caught; oh, how they beat their heads against the prison bars until they are covered with blood, but all is over. they are caught in the snare of the fowler. every animal and fowl will flee from the approach of danger; the trap must be hid, or in some way made to appear as something harmless; nature has endowed them to seek always self-preservation. with nothing but instinct to guide, they are easily caught by the skill and cunning of man, but never caught in the open; some, however, are more easily caught than others, but they must be trapped. the bible teaches that the devil is a trapper; his snares are set everywhere--they are man traps; no spider ever spun a web more accurately for the moth than satan's traps to catch men. it requires certain bait and certain traps for each particular animal and bird, but the snares for men are legion. man has a threefold nature: body, mind, and spirit; each of these have many avenues of approach. as the trapper gains his knowledge of the furry tribe by association, so the trapper of men, by the application of supernatural powers, in close contact and intimate association through the past millenniums, has become intimately acquainted with man. there are no facts touching his habitat, food, passions, ambitions, weaknesses, yearnings, etc.--whether in the realm of body, mind or spirit--but the cunning trapper of the pit is more minutely acquainted than man is acquainted with himself. if guileless and unsuspecting men and women were the only victims, the situation would not be so serious; not that one soul is of more value than another, but the facts are: _no one_ seems to be capable of discovering his hidden snares. the greatest and wisest--alexanders, anthonys, napoleons, kings, sages and philosophers--have been captured by him at his will. what a shudder would go over the race if it could penetrate the veil of mystery and see the traps towards which we are moving; moving on to certain capture, but for providential oversight and guidance. domestic traps, political traps, social traps, business traps, religious traps; the location and bait are suited to individual likes and dislikes. "my soul be on thy guard; ten thousand foes arise." our country is just beginning to awake to a system of trapping now being carried on in every city and town, so gigantic and heinous that we are dazed and frightened at its boldness. the great white slave traffic is carried on by traps, pure and simple; as carefully planned and skillfully executed as the methods of an old trapper who remains in the primeval forest to supply the fur market. the feelers and tentacles of this human devil-fish are running out in the highways and hedges: the factories, mills, department stores. but the traffic is not confined to the poor, uneducated girls at the ribbon counter or waist factory; girls of culture and experience are caught, but the bait used is very different. when once caught, not one in ten thousand ever escapes. a being less than a fallen archangel could never have instituted the white slave traffic. a man or woman not incarnated by the devil or some of his minions could never promulgate a system so vile, so inhuman, so hellish, as the traffic of innocent flesh and blood, to be offered and burned on the altars of lust for gain. compared with the white slave traffic, as it is prosecuted by the panderers and procurers, negro slavery, at its worst, the extermination of which the bloodiest war ever fought on this planet was waged, is like the vilest ribaldry ever sung in a den of vice to a te deum. lest we forget--satan is an expert trapper--the king of trappers. xxi the incomparable archer "wherefore take unto you the whole armour of god.... stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness.... above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked."--_ephesians vi. , , ._ when traps, tricks, seductions, and quackery, temptations, etc., fail, satan adds victims to his long list by destroying them at long range. while in a mountain peak vision of inspiration paul sees the enemy as a wrestler, a trickster, a schemer, and even a more dangerous rôle than either: a skilled marksman. by keeping close to god, and keeping ourselves unspotted from the world, we may stay his blighting touch from personal contact; but there seems to be no absolute safety until we are shielded by the "whole armour of god." there are "evil days," days of visitation and distress, over which no one has control; at such times we may not be conscious of any satanic presence; yet confusion, doubt, fear and anxiety have complete control over mind and heart. these days, and their depressing effect, can only be warded off by the protection of the "whole armour"; for emphasis, paul mentions it twice in the same paragraph. an armour is a coat of mail covering the body, made so as to be impenetrable to the missile of death. the apostle does not stop with a partial equipment; the head and feet also must be properly covered. especially does he emphasize the _shield_--that great polished, concave steel disk, strapped to the left arm, so that a thrust from sword, arrow, or spear can be easily deflected. as it is carried on the arm it can be raised or lowered so as to protect the whole body. this arrow-protecting shield must be wrought in faith, that mysterious relation which unites the soul with god. the antithesis of paul's language implies that when satan makes certain efforts to wound the soul, the shield of faith alone can save. the fight is not ended when we come out victor in a hand to hand conflict, but must next prepare to meet a shower of "fiery darts." a dart is an arrow shot from a bow; a fiery dart is a flaming torch attached to the arrow. in all ages, until the days of powder and firearms, soldiers were equipped with bow and arrows. arrowheads were made of steel, and as keen as needles. the battle-axe and broadsword were used when the lines met, but showers of arrows would fall upon the enemy with as much fatality as a round of grape and canister. often the arrows would be freshly dipped in a deadly poison, and in that case the slightest wound would result in certain death. when a fort or city was being besieged, the arrows would carry a ball of tow, having been saturated in oil; hundreds of these flaming darts would fall on the inside of the fortification and start a general conflagration. this method was practiced by the american indians when they could not reach a fort, blockhouse, or stockade because of the white man's gun; these flaming torches, falling in great number, were more to be dreaded than the tomahawk and scalping knife of the savages. satan shoots "fiery darts"--arrows--at us; he may come, as he did to the master, and find nothing in us; our hearts may be clean. but from a source entirely unexpected--here comes a flaming arrow--burning its way into the heart, igniting with hatred and misunderstanding friends and enemies in a manner never dreamed of before. how often the blow comes from the one place least expected, and for that reason all the more deadly. we are guarded in some directions, but over the walls of our stockade the devil sends his fiery darts, and we are swept away in a satanic conflagration. it requires the "whole armour"--and the shield of faith to quench the flaming arrows from his quiver. he is the world's incomparable archer; when all other methods fail, he shoots us with poisoned, fiery darts. the mother of achilles baptized him in the river styx, making him invulnerable to the weapons of the enemy; she held him by the heel during the baptismal ceremony; the heel only remained untouched by the protecting waters of the fabulous styx. one of the gods became acquainted with this fact, and shot him to death in the heel, the one vulnerable spot. again, we repeat, we are not safe without the "whole armour of god," and the "shield of faith." bear in mind, also, the incomparable archer takes a more deliberate aim if it is a shining mark, and exults most when he can lay low in the dust, wounded and disabled, one dowered with unusual capacity for noble service. xxii the father of liars "ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. he was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. when he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it."--_john viii. ._ "sin has many tools, but a lie is a handle which fits them all."--_o. w. holmes._ satan opened his propaganda with a slanderous lie; this lie was believed by the innocent parents of the race. simple and modest as this lie seemed to be, it opened a crevice in the moral government of god. confidence, fellowship, and filial relations were destroyed by the breach. the nature and character of a lie may best be understood, and we can get the estimate god places on it, by carefully studying the damages it wrought. eden was lost, god's favour lost, peace and plenty lost, innocence lost; humiliation, fear, banishment, toil, sweat, suffering and death took the place of eden's pristine glories. nothing so reveals the depths to which lucifer had fallen--and his great intelligence, losing none of its acumen, exercised in a way fitting to his depravity of character, as the launching of a lie. he has done nothing since--which more clearly exemplifies the being our bible teaches that he is. an egg was laid and a lie was hatched; this lie has gone out spreading at a geometrical progression until the infinitude of god's footstool has felt the discordant jar. a lie, and the father of it; think of this tremendous statement. the thought will overwhelm our intelligence. suppose all the peoples that have lived on the earth were lined up: to simplify matters--consider the billion and a half supposed to be living on the earth to-day; just a small part of the number belongs to civilized, christianized nations. what is the situation? under all the light of education and moral standards, justice, full and untrammelled, can scarcely be had, because of false swearing. an eminent authority says nine-tenths of the race has a price; this means that only one-tenth will rigidly adhere to the whole truth. how few will swear to their own hurt and change not. let us study this gigantic proposition from another view-point: every unregenerated heart is full of deceit. in every unregenerated heart there is a germ of all the sins of the decalogue; lying is one of the "shall nots." a close student of men will agree with the apostle paul, when he said: "i have no confidence in the flesh." carnality will not swear against its own interests; the status of civilization, whether in religion or morals, does not seem to control this matter. when we consider the falsehood and false swearing which obtain among the _best_ people, socially, financially, and so often religiously, then think of the millions living without moral standards, we can begin to appreciate the amount of lying carried on in this world. as lying is one of the outputs of carnality, and human selfishness is the tap root of carnality, and selfishness dominates the entire race, with rare exceptions here and there, we can understand how easily and naturally prevarication and lying become efficient tools to further personal interests. we once attended a celebrated criminal case in court; scores of witnesses were summoned on both sides; a bar of attorneys fought desperately every inch of ground. the prosecution covered the case beyond any question to the perfect satisfaction of the jury. and the witnesses were, in the main, both respectable and intelligent. but behold, when the defense produced their side of the case, the witnesses equally honest looking and intelligent, every point of evidence made by the prosecution was absolutely refuted. a new story was told; a new case from the one just stated. think of it--on both sides there were eye-witnesses; then every witness on one side or the other perjured themselves--and perhaps all of them on both sides. so completely has the father of liars woven the spirit of falsehood into the moral fibre of men that a sense of its fearful character is almost obliterated. men make fortunes, secure positions, are elected to office, destroy rivals, win unsuspecting love, seduce innocence, and subdue kingdoms, by being an obedient offspring of their father, inheriting his disposition and ability to breathe out falsehood. liars are children of the devil. think of the almost infinite resources for evil: "father of liars" does not fully justify the situation. while it is true he originated the first lie, and the lying spirit has ever widened through the stream of racial propagation; but the clearer interpretation signifies that he is the father of _lies_. "see," he whispers, "the advantages to be gained--don't be white livered--tell it; get the hush money--make the promise--swear you did not see it--tell her how devotedly you love her, etc." who has not met these insidious pulls on the conscience? yes, but he is only acting now as a tempter. quite true; but when the will gives away, the oath, the promise, the false statement is made under a furious lashing of the conscience. the lie belongs to him; he originated--suggested--formulated it; then literally drew it out with quite as much pain as is felt during the extraction of a tooth by a dentist. it has been said: "the devil will leave his own brat on your door-step, then accuse you of being its father." this is an inelegant, though a striking statement of a great truth. when he is unable to bring forth--deliver, etc.--his own conception, he at once charges us of being guilty of the thing conceived: the lie, vile imagination, or whatever it may be, quoting scripture to prove it: "as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." "now," he declares, "you are guilty anyhow; why not enjoy the benefits?" father of lies; millions of them spawned every day and hour: big lies, little lies, business lies, social lies, political lies, and not a few--religious lies, black lies, white lies, church lies. xxiii kingship of satan "wherein in time past ye walked according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience."--_ephesians ii. ._ "for we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."--_ephesians vi. ._ in a former chapter we discussed the origin of satan, he being an archangel--lucifer--a great shining leader of the heavenly hosts; now in his fallen estate he is no less a leader. a writer has said: "he seems to have been the rightful prince of this earth, but he has become the traitor-prince through being untrue to the trust; and the usurper-prince through seeking to retain control of the earth as his own dominion, through deceiving man, to whom the earth's dominion was given, into obeying him, and in utter defiance of god." the angels which kept not their first estate, but went down with his insurrection, are his subjects. he is superior in all villainies, but the scriptures call him a king ruling his cohorts, and is the "angel of the bottomless pit." as angel he retains his old title, but as _king_, his relations stand out significantly. as chief devil--archdemon--the title would imply rather _primus inter pares_; as commander-in-chief, a general of the highest rank. he is all these things: he gives special oversight to field operations, conducts personally great campaigns, retreats here, advances there, charges yonder--but his real aim is to get this world back under his own control; he would put himself in god's place--drive him out, dethrone him, kill him off, that he might take it all to himself, and rule supremely. however, he is _king_, and as such he is raised above the rank of leadership and commander. we are already familiar with his rank, but the purpose of this chapter is to show, specifically, that as a king his kingship has a much wider range than the bottomless pit. it is threefold. first, as angel of the bottomless pit, he is king of the _underworld_, the land of shadows, gloom, utter darkness; the land of eternal despair. we must depend upon the _infernos_, evolved from a burning imagination, in order to get any conception of that region. fearful as the scenes are, a close reading of the scriptures will reveal a condition of things so terrible that the things seen by dante and virgil are not overdrawn. over this land of woe and suffering satan is the unlimited monarch. second, he is king of the _upper world_. this statement sounds very strange; it would appear that god is entirely ruled out of his creation. but observe the language: "prince of the power of the air." just what this means in its fullness no one should dare to be dogmatic, but certainly the language cannot be meaningless words. we can but conclude that satan, in some measure, controls the forces of the physical world: storms, cyclones, cloud bursts, tidal waves, lightning bolts, earthquakes, etc. certainly, as a _destroyer_, he uses the agencies of destruction; his business is to fill the world with doubt, fear, distress and suffering. a man has a little child killed by lightning, and he curses god. does this not look as if a diabolical schemer was manipulating the affair some way? we must admit his power is permitted, and that proposition forces another to the front. why does god allow or permit his ravages? we have no answer; the ravages go on. we might ask with just as much reason: "why doesn't god kill the devil?" he certainly is able to do it, or at least stop his progress. but he does not; satan is evidently running at large, filling the world with broken hearts and all the accompanying evils which, otherwise, would not occur. that we may be able to strengthen our opinion as to the prerogatives of this "prince of the power of the air," let us remember the circumstances of job's calamities. this case is undoubtedly authentic, and the record says that satan actually controlled the powers of the air. the servant of job thought god rained fire on the sheep and burned them, but the whole affair had been turned over to the tormentor. the visitations sent on the faithful man of uz were not from the hand of god; they were manipulated by his satanic lordship--the devil. then a great wind came--possibly a tornado or cyclone--and blew the house down wherein job's children were enjoying themselves. concerning satan's relation--controlling and directing the forces of nature--we shall not conture a dogmatic position. the definite statements and incidents from the inspired record are significant indeed. strange things occur: a great vessel loaded with sunday revellers goes down with scarcely a moment's warning; a tidal wave destroys thousands; an earthquake leaves a city in ruins with fearful loss of life. does the loving, compassionate father send these calamities? would it not be a terrible indictment? but the bible gives incidents where he did send death-dealing visitations upon the people. certainly. many believe that god uses satan, in his vicious administration, to visit his wrath upon places and people. however, god has given him the title of "prince of the power of the air"--the "wickedness in high places." the third realm of his kingship is terrestrial; in this he is given a stronger title than prince or king; "the god of this world." besides, he is the "prince of darkness," and the "prince of this world." so real are his presence and power manifested here that paul declares the contest is like a wrestling boute. this figure, examined closely, will open up a great continent of truth concerning our enemy, of whom we must meet in hand to hand conflict. see the wrestlers writhe and strain; agony is depicted on their faces; the muscles contract into hard knots, perspiration bursting from every pore. all the strength of every nerve and muscle, wrought up to their full capacity, is exerted. "we wrestle," he declares, and not with flesh and blood; but "against principalities and against powers," "rulers of the darkness of this world." the great religious reformers since paul's day have left a similar testimony concerning this terrestrial enemy; his personality has never been questioned by men who were positive powers in the realm of spiritual warfare. after martin luther had produced a nation-wide reformation, having been delivered from the bondage of a benedictine monk by a revelation to his own soul that the "just shall live by faith," he declared: "satan semper mehi dixit falsum dogma." shall we deny the oft told story that luther threw his inkstand at them (demons) when they actually appeared unto him in person? is it unreasonable? they were alarmed at his triumphs, and wanted to terrify him. the kingship of satan in the under world and upper world are bible statements; his kingship in the world about us is a bible fact confirmed by human testimony. xxiv the devil's handmaiden "be not drunk on wine wherein is excess, but be ye filled with the spirit."--_ephesians v. ._ "no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of god."--_ corinthians vi. ._ the fallen lucifer knew from the beginning that his work must necessarily be in competition with the son of god; therefore he has invested his genius to originate a duplicate for all that christ has done for us. knowing that the letter killeth, but the spirit maketh alive, he seeks to furnish all the appearances, and as far as possible duplicate experiences: reformation without repentance; conviction without conversion; conversion without regeneration; membership without adoption; baptism with water without the baptism of the holy ghost; physical and emotional pleasure without the "joy of salvation." the prophet isaiah exhorts the people to say: "praise the lord," and, "with joy draw water out of the wells of salvation," and, "cry out and shout, thou inhabitant of zion, etc." the psalmist, also, gives out a continuous stream of joyous praise. in all ages people have at sundry times and places shouted out the joy of the lord. this emotional expression is by no means the only test of experimental salvation, as nothing honours god so much as simple, unemotional faith; but there are times of refreshing from the presence of the lord. this contrast of emotional experience we wish to examine. we must keep in mind the bitter rivalry between the prince of light, and the prince of darkness. the heart of a contest of this character is the expulsive power of the one over against the other. satan studies assiduously every experience, every angle of advancement of christ's kingdom, and proceeds to furnish a duplicate. he knows that the followers of jesus often rejoice with a fullness of joy--unspeakable, as it were; to meet this, he soon discovered that the exhilaration of drunkenness produced a splendid expulsive power. he proposes and promises his followers all the joys furnished by his rival; however pleasant they are always shams, and "at last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." a beverage that would produce drunkenness has been a curse from the earliest history. we call attention to two events, each one of which was so great that it left a blight sufficient to turn the course of human history into darker and bloodier channels. the first followed closely upon the remarkable deliverance from the flood. the ark had settled; life began its routine, fresh from the awful calamity. noah built an altar and worshipped god; but before the perfume of the holy incense evaporated, that faithful servant of the most high became _beastly drunk_, and his son ham looked upon his nakedness and shame. the children of ham must carry the curse until the end. the other followed closely upon a deliverance from fire. lot was a citizen of sodom, but he had not defiled himself; the iniquity of the place came up before god, and he destroyed it; not, however, until his angel led this righteous man to a place of safety. through the entreaties of his designing daughters, as they were resting in the mountains, lot became intoxicated unto idiocy. we must draw a veil over the shameful scene that occurred during his debauch; but the tribes of moab and ammon, war-like savages of the desert unto this day, was the terrible resultant. they are the incorrigible followers of the crescent rather than the cross. wherever drunkenness has touched humanity it has blighted and withered like a sirocco from sahara. no one but a fallen archangel could have invented such a beverage. yet the character of liquors used by the race in its infancy for carnival pleasures, compared with the output of the modern distillery and brewery, are as moonshine to the blistering heat of the summer sun. satan profits by experience; he has not been idle during the centuries. solomon warned against "looking upon the wine when it was red, and turneth itself in the cup"--fermentation. if fermented grape juice should, at that time, bring forth such an inspired warning, what language would be necessary to depict the character of the low grade, adulterated fire-water sold in the saloons and dives of america and europe? the true spirit and character of liquor cannot be understood if viewed as a stimulating beverage, satisfying and inflaming human passions. its author soon discovered that such an unmixed evil must answer at the bar of an outraged individual and public conscience. he saw that if liquor succeeded in all he had planned, it must send its roots deeper down than taste and appetite. hence this handmaiden of the devil has now become one of the most gigantic trusts on earth, blooming out into commercial, political, and industrial proportions. the whole business lives and moves and has its being on misery and bloodshed on one side of the counter; loot and plunder, coupled with an insane lust for gold, on the other side of the counter. it has not one redeeming feature; but so carefully has it sheltered itself by a devil-fish organization that it stands like a gibraltar. it has become so great that the actual investments in the business aggregate billions; an army larger than the combined forces, north and south, at any one time during the civil war are being supported; over one hundred millions go annually into the national exchequer. china has been called a sleeping giant; woe to the nations once she is awakened. in the liquor traffic we have a giant that never sleeps. twenty-four hours each day--like giant despair--he enslaves and imprisons the multitudes. so tremendous has this organization grown that its work does not stop with social demoralization, but with little difficulty can dictate governmental policies, throttle legislation, and bribe juries. again, we cannot judge or estimate the liquor traffic until we follow it down through its labyrinth of social, financial, and moral declension. not until we see it face to face, glaring and defiant, in the haunts where finished products are on exhibition. the "scarlet annex," temples of lust, and the white slaver's headquarters are united in the place where labour troubles are hatched, mob violence gathers fuel, and feud hatred is crystallized into bloodshed. where gamblers, thugs, yeggmen, murderers, anarchists, jail-birds, and burglars hold high carnival. we must see the bloated faces, the bleeding magdalenas, human beasts, and wife beaters, as they wallow in filth and obscenity, before the perspective is correct. the inauguration of liquor as a duplicate for god's greatest manifestation of himself--the infilling of the holy spirit--was a master stroke. in a wild, reckless debauch it supplements man's every need and hunger. in the crazed brain there is a vision of wealth, power, revenge, joy. the drunkard is clay in the liquor-demon's hand; if a coward, liquor makes him bold; if sympathetic, liquor deadens his heart; if honest, liquor makes him a thief; if a loving father or son, liquor makes him a brute. behold the handmaiden of the devil--king alcohol: the most efficient ally of the "angel of the bottomless pit." xxv the astute author "till i come give heed to reading."--_ timothy iv. ._ "of the making of books there is no end."--_ecclesiastes xii. ._ when we remember the crude methods of book making in the days of solomon, compared with the facilities of modern publishing houses, his statement has in it a touch of humour. to-day manuscripts are turned over to printers and binders, and in two weeks an edition of from five to fifty thousand copies are ready for the market. there are three million volumes in our libraries; and, a writer has said, enough new books come from the press annually to build a pyramid as large as st. paul's cathedral, london. mr. carnegie is planting his libraries in every town and city in america. evening and morning papers are laid at our doors with flaming head-lines of all that has happened the world over in the last twenty-four hours. detailed descriptions of murders, scandals, elopements, court scenes, betrayals, etc. magazines, representing every phase of life and industry, are multiplying continually. the literature of a nation is potentially its food for character building, morally and spiritually. now what are we reading? editors are calling for "stuff" with "human interest." the manuscript with "preaching" gets a return slip instead of a check; writers are governing themselves by this canon. the most popular writers of fiction a decade ago, who wrote books with high moral and spiritual tone, have step by step eliminated _religion_, and now deal with socialistic questions and new thought problems. the most popular novels are teaching false standards of life, and some of the "best sellers" are base libels on religion and the church. this is the situation, and a close observation of the output of the high-class, reputable publishers will confirm it. why is this the status of our book makers? book writing and publishing, like all other branches of human endeavour, have become commercialized; writers and publishers are pandering to a vitiated taste for revenue only. it is not literature editors are seeking, but stories that will sell. a librarian of one of our large cities told the writer that seventy-five per cent. of the books called for and read were positively harmful to the highest ideals. if such is true on this plane of literature, what can be said of the publishing houses which produce nothing but books utterly vile and immoral? it is said there are two thousand publishing concerns in new york city issuing just such literature, circulated secretly in many instances. an army of writers are employed to furnish so many "thrillers" monthly. these "stories" deal with the lowest, vilest passions of humanity. what is true of new york is also true of chicago and other cities. enough stories have been written of the james boys, wild bill, buffalo bill, and other border heroes (?), could they have lived to take the least part in so many situations, to have required a century to pass through them all. as much blood as was shed actually at shiloh has been shed by the writers of border outlawry during the past twenty-five years. the indirect influence of the books of the james boys have caused more bloodshed than those missouri bandits spilt by their unerring marksmanship. a penniless orphan boy was adopted by his well-to-do uncle, who gave him all the comforts and opportunities of an actual son. early in his teens he became a novel fiend--the lowest and vilest type; reading several each week. when scarcely fifteen years old, he armed himself with his uncle's pistol, took from the barn the finest horse, and left in the early morning. the gentleman, suspecting the truth concerning the missing horse and boy, called a neighbour, and the two gave chase to the young ingrate. they came upon him late in the day, and as the uncle seized the bridle rein, the nephew shot him through the heart, and wounded the neighbour before he could be pulled from the horse and overpowered. a beautiful girl was found dead in central park, new york. her face, form, and the fabric of her clothing showed plainly that she belonged to a home of wealth and culture. in one hand was an empty vial labelled deadly poison; in the other hand, gripped in the paroxysms of her last struggle, was a paperback novel. the explanation was simple: the heroine had a downfall, and rather than face her shame, committed suicide. if you will observe the throng of factory girls, overworked, underpaid, heart-hungry from which the white slaver reaps a rich harvest, they will be reading the class of book mentioned. they enter into the sacred relation of married life with false, distorted ideals, the end of which is often ruin: infidelity to marriage vows, abandonment, and divorce court. there is another department of literature, written with but one purpose in view: the overthrow of orthodox faith. a thousand questions are raised which the common people cannot answer. why is it the unchurched masses are continually drifting farther and farther from the church and what it stands for? labour unions have almost repudiated religion; class hatred was never more pronounced than to-day, notwithstanding the loud proclamation of human brotherhood. say what you will as to causes, this condition is not an accident; we must go far up the turbid stream to find the source of these defiling waters. when we find the source, it will be found that behind all these insidious influences stands the inspiring author. why is there such an incessant effort to divert the minds of the best people from personal relationship of jesus through faith in his blood? where is the author, the editor--even religious editors--who stand four-square for the bible of our fathers and mothers? we are glad to say there are a few exceptions; but the drift of writers and editors is away from fundamentals. satan boldly and thievishly appropriates every available avenue to the soul; wherever his cold, clammy hand touches, it leaves a chill of death. beyond a question more writers than we ever dreamed are only amanuenses of the astute author. xxvi the hypnotist "even him, whose coming is after the working of satan with all power and signs and lying wonders."--_ thessalonians ii. ._ "and deceiveth them that dwell on the earth by the means of those miracles which he had power to do in the sight of the beast."--_revelation xiii. ._ "awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead."--_ephesians v. ._ just where the natural and the supernatural exists is a most difficult psychological problem. many marvellous doings and strange apparitions, from the beginning, were attributed to the supernatural. these same wonders are now known to be the application of physical and psychological laws. the "enchanters," "soothsayers," "diviners," "magicians," and "fortune tellers" have awed the simple-minded and superstitious in all ages. a clear understanding of hypnotism, mesmerism, telepathy, odylic force, psychological phenomena, clairvoyance, black art, and spiritism, will throw light on many of these supposed supernatural mysteries. under whatever name demonstrations may be known, they are all various phases of certain well-established laws touching our physical, mental, and psychical being. one of the most common, and best understood, of these mystery workings is hypnotism which, defined, is "an artificial trance, or an artificially induced state, in which the mind becomes passive." the subject, however, acts readily upon suggestion or direction; and upon regaining normal consciousness, retains little or no recollection of the actions or ideas dominant during this condition. hypnotism is purely mental and physical; but this strange power which one can exercise over another strikingly illustrates the influence which satan exercises over millions of blinded subjects. we shall avoid any attempt to discuss the science and philosophy of hypnotism; this phase of the subject is not germane to our discussion. all these subtle laws of mind, acting in relation to the body, only now being understood by scholars, are undoubtedly familiar to our common enemy. we believe that centuries before man knew anything about psychic laws, as understood to-day, strange, unaccountable influences were operating on the wills and consciences of men. hypnotism is a form of sleep; but during the time the subject can receive and obey instructions. they are absolutely under the control of the hypnotist. paul caught an extraordinary vision of sin when he exclaimed to the ephesians: "awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead." here is a fearful figure of sin: that it is sleep--semi-consciousness-- unconsciousness; yet they think, act, move about, enjoy, love, hate, etc., etc., and they are as one asleep. observe this state is, if allowed to remain _in articulo mortis_, hypnotism, conducted by the master of black art; and they obey his will, over against observation, warning, wisdom, experience of others, even of themselves. voices may call loud and long, but do not awaken the soul under the satanic spell. there are many freaks of hypnotic influence which illustrate vividly the power of sin--and back of the sin, the sin personality. we have seen subjects placed under hypnotic sleep, and they would remain in this condition for twenty-four hours. the demonstration was made in a large department store, facing a stone-paved street, which roared day and night with cars and heavy traffic. hundreds of people swarmed about the sleeping man, laughing and talking loudly. not until the hypnotist came and touched the subject did he arouse from the heavy slumber. a still more remarkable demonstration is reported to have been accomplished in an eastern city. we give as authority the _associated press_. after the subject was placed under the hypnotic trance, he was dressed like one being prepared for burial, then put in a coffin, hauled to the cemetery in a hearse. the "corpse" was then lowered in a grave of the proper depth, the grave filled to the ground level. the air tube from the coffin to the top was large enough to enable a light to be reflected on the face of the sleeper. "buried alive," said the report. he was left in the grave several hours. if superior mind force can accomplish such marvellous feats on human will, what may we expect from supernatural mind force with a burning ambition to subdue? the columns of our _dailies_ are filled with reports of the doings of men and women that cannot be explained on any other hypothesis. think of the insane, unreasonable, illogical risk in all manner of sin--for what? a momentary taste of some "forbidden fruit." we hear that self-preservation is the first law of our being; but how often this law is utterly ignored for sensuous gratification. those who do these things are unable to understand their insane conduct until it is all over. "oh, i can see it all now," is the despairing cry so often heard. of course, the hypnotic spell is removed. how easy it is to sit and philosophize on the actions of people. "why would any sane person do such a thing?" a sane person would not; the why of all these human twists is very simple when we are willing to admit the literal teaching of god's book concerning our indefatigable enemy. "the apostate angel and his followers by pride and blasphemy against god and malice against men became liars and murderers by tempting men to do sins" (jude , r. v.). why did the prodigal son do such an insane, sinful act? why? well, he came to himself, but not until the harm was wrought. why have ten thousand prodigals since that day been guilty of the same insane conduct? the answer is obvious. why did judas sell his lord?--he who had been so highly honoured: chosen, ordained, sent out? "satan entered into judas;" there you have the whole truth. by and by, judas came to himself; then remorse and despair not only caused him to return the money, but destroy himself. in a subsequent chapter we shall discuss more particularly the suicide problem; but we are satisfied judas was a victim of two satanic schemes: the hypnotic spell deadened his reason and judgment to do the deed; then, after the crucifixion, despair gripped him like a vice. who would say that judas was excluded from the saviour's dying prayer: "father forgive them"? peter denied christ, then lied and blasphemed about it. he was restored; but satan's power over judas was not broken. his end was satan's finished work. what he did to judas he purposes to do with every "subject"--utter destruction. we once saw a snake charm a bird; the serpent's head was lifted several inches--eyes blazing, and red tongue flashing. the bird fluttered, gave a piteous wail, but was helplessly walking into the jaws of death. now the question arises: what about the freedom of the will? do we ever cease to be free agents? certainly we do not; the hypnotic subject exercises free choice; that is never destroyed, but he acts under a compelling _vis uturga_--power behind. xxvii devil possession "as they went out, behold, they brought to him a dumb man possessed with a devil. and when the devil was cast out, the dumb spake."--_matthew ix. - ._ "o generation of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak good things?"--_matthew xii. ._ one characteristic, which has been prominent in the varied manifestations of satan studied so far, is adaptability. methods that were available in the days of our lord cannot be used successfully now. by some secret unknown to us the devil enters into the souls of men. this is a mystery; so is, also, the filling of the holy spirit a mystery. the devil possessed king saul, judas, ananias and sapphira, and many are the instances recorded in the ministry of the saviour. devil possession, it seemed, was very common; christ was continually casting them out, and he also gave his apostles power likewise to cast them out. we do not believe the enemy has abandoned his old profession: an evil spirit despises a disembodied state; if people are fortified and shielded against his entrance--then the swine. as cold air whistles and roars about every crack and cranny, entering in from all directions, so evil spirits--devil and demons--press their entrance into the soul. if it is true they cannot enter except by permission,--they pry and pound until resistance is impossible, unless divine reinforcement comes to the rescue. there are maniacs, violent, desperate, incurable, to-day as truly demon possessed as was the man who lived among the tombs. this, however, is not his modern _modus operandi_; desperate maniacs could then terrorize a whole community. our great asylums have solved this problem; even the immediate family is relieved of the burden and fear. those who do not accept the theory of demon possession should explain a case at present in one of our institutions. it is a boy, at the time it attracted attention, only twelve years of age, thin, emaciated, and by no means abnormal in any particular. this child would remain quiet for days; during this time he possessed no strength beyond one of his age. at unexpected moments he would be seized with violent contortions, frothing at the mouth, and snapping like a mad dog; and a continuous flow of the most obscene language and blasphemy while the spell lasted. this is not the strangest part: he had the strength of a giant; it required four or five men to overpower him. one man was helpless in his hands; he would literally hurl them to the floor. compare this story with the one in the fifth chapter of mark: "and when he was come out of the ship, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit, who had his dwelling among the tombs; and no man could bind him, no not with chains, because that he had been often bound with fetters and chains, and the chains had been plucked asunder by him, and the fetters broken in pieces: neither could any man tame him." in countries where the gospel light has not yet shown full-orbed, demon possession with manifestations similar to those of bible times are known to be common. f. b. meyer relates numerous cases in russia; many by prayer were cast out in the name of jesus christ. "i confess," he says, "these incidents have greatly impressed me. i wonder how far it would be right to deal with certain forms of drunkenness and impurity as cases of demon-possession. it may be there is more of this demon work among us than we know, and especially in cases of mania." dr. howard taylor, of the china island mission, it is said, was accustomed to diagnose the symptoms of demon-possession in the same way as of any other disease. dr. nevins, of the presbyterian mission board, tells of hundreds of cases, witnessed by himself, where by faith in the son of god the demons were cast out, and the victims were clothed and in their right mind. cotton mather says of salem witchcraft: "those persons said to be bewitched would swoon, froth at the mouth, their bodies would cramp into irregular shapes; meanwhile they would utter accusations against good people who, they said, had bewitched them. this excited sympathy of the court. as soon as the court rendered judgment, those bewitched victims would be relieved of their physical cramps and mental torture." salem witchcraft was real cases of demon-possession, but the court blundered in that the demons were located in the wrong persons. sir walter scott says that similar manifestations of satan as were witnessed at the time of the salem witchcraft occurred simultaneously in every country on earth. he writes again: "anna cole, living at hartford, was taken with strange fits which caused her to express strange things unknown to herself, her tongue being guided by a demon. she confessed to the minister that she had been familiar with a devil." pages could be filled with modern examples which coincide so exactly with new testament records that we have no doubt the causes are the same. professor webster, late of wheaton college, said in a lecture before the students: "i once knew a man possessed of a demon. he became so vicious that he had to be confined in a cell in jail. when he heard any one swear or blaspheme, he would go into convulsions of laughter. when any one used the name of god or christ, he would curse everything good, and foam at the mouth. he possessed superhuman strength, like the man living among the tombs." the soul is god's masterpiece, created to be the habitat of the paraclete, but may, as truly, become the habitat of a demon. we believe that diabolus has so organized his forces that his minions represent various sins; they are specialists--skilled labourers: drink demons, lust demons, lying demons, anger demons, theft demons, pride, blasphemy, etc. demon possession to-day expresses itself in sins we try to control by means of courts, education, etc. homes become a miniature hell because of drink, pride, lust, or lying demons. our penitentiaries are crowded with men who were controlled by a demon, forced them into drink, anger, or theft, until the deed was committed. we may feel thankful that there are so few scriptural cases of demon possession about us--the old time possession. the wise enemy has shifted, but at the same time has greatly enlarged his field of operation. there are no witch victims to-day: the courts would not punish the witches, but the bewitched would be safely cared for in an asylum. but observe, there are ten thousand other insidious ways in which he possesses men and women, enlarging his kingdom daily; his victims multiply, but not among the tombs. the name of jesus continues to be the only remedy. xxviii devil oppression "so went satan forth from the presence of the lord, and smote job with sore boils from the sole of his foot to his crown."--_job ii. ._ "who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil."--_acts x. ._ a necessary concomitant of demon possession is its influence upon the individual's moral faculties; an entirely new type of moral tastes are developed: tempers, sympathies, and, especially, doctrines which are diametrically opposed to genuine spiritual religion and revelation. demon possession bitterly and persistently rejects, whether by a nominal professor or unbeliever, the doctrines of repentance, new birth, etc., through a blood atonement. in demon possession the fight is on the inside; in demon oppression the fight is on the outside. in the one, satan controls the man: body, mind and soul; in the other, he depresses, afflicts the man: body, mind, and soul. in the one, the victim is the incarnation of evil; in the other the victim is generally the purest and holiest of men and women. the devil or demons may be ejected by the power of the holy ghost, but the hellish enterprise is never given up; all the engineering of the pit is utilized to keep ransomed souls out of the kingdom. once a choice is made, all hell is aroused unto wrath and riot to torment, nag, and finally drag the discouraged pilgrim back into sin and apostasy. this is often accomplished successfully through an afflicted body. who knows but that the drama enacted in the land of uz has been repeated many, many times since job sat on his ash pile? "but," says the objector, "sickness and disease come as a result of exposure, natural laws violated, inoculation by infection and contagion." true, but remember he is the "prince of the power of the air." what he did once he can do again, and more efficiently. think of the strenuous war being waged on germs, microbes, and bacilli; we have diseases more violent than ever before. yet when the race of life was less complicated and simple, none of the modern precautions were thought of; flies swarmed about everything placed on the table, and their mission thought to be one of beneficence. there are many actual and implied statements in the bible which teach that disease and sickness are often the result of demon oppression; a large part of our lord's ministry was relieving those who were oppressed of the devil and demons. then his work is just as effective in the realm of the mind; the mental faculties, filled with confusion and doubt, are incapable of exercising their normal functions. multitudes are able, because of their intelligence, to guard the approaches through the physical organism, or to the extent of subjection at least; but are as completely oppressed in mind as others are in body. we do not claim that any are entirely immune from his attacks; but he is wise and sagacious enough to select such victims for specific oppression as will best satisfy and gratify his diabolical pleasure in seeing the followers of his rival suffer. he oppresses only such as he is unable to possess. many have been so troubled mentally that christian living becomes a life and death struggle. here we find another example of "wrestling not with flesh and blood." but some of satan's greatest victories and rejoicings come from soul oppression. we believe this to be the real secret of our lord's agony in the garden; it was the devil's last opportunity to thwart the great plan of salvation. oh, to cheat calvary; put our "lamb slain from the foundation of the world" in such physical, mental, and soul burdened agony he would refuse at the last moment to do all the will of his father. how near he came to accomplishing the diabolical scheme we learn from the story as given by inspiration. we remember his piteous remark as they left the paschal room: "my soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death"; then he cries out in anguish: "if it is possible, let this cup pass from me." never was he nearer the great father heart, and never was he more a man than at this time; and as a man, perhaps during the terrible crisis, he did not analyze his sufferings and emotions. all the powers of hell were combined to crush him at the hour for which he came into the world. every student of soul tragedy can appreciate, in a limited degree, the experiences of gethsemane. paul had this exact experience in mind when he wrote of the "evil days" in which we had to "wrestle." what are evil days? days when the heavens are brass, and the fountains of prayer are dried up; a cold, sinking sensation clutches the heart. the mind is in a jumble, plans are thwarted, the mail brings a message of some deception or betrayal, the hand slips, fires go out, trains missed, pressing duties remain undone; nervous anxiety and evil forebodings chill the soul. the mind and heart are filled with dread; cold perspiration swells into beads upon the brow. evil days! oh, how we stumble and blunder; we cannot even think of advancement. paul says we can only stand still, and having done all, stand. many who are not familiar with the nature of such "days" will cast away their faith, believing that their "feelings" are the index to the state of grace in the heart. but, thank god, a crushing defeat came to this traitor-prince in that the full programme leading up to the world's great atonement was carried out to the letter. it was not the physical fear of death which caused the blood-sweating agony of our lord; if so, thousands have met the martyr's end far more triumphantly than did he. some believe it was the weight of the world's sin breaking his heart. both the physical dread of death and sin burden may have entered into the garden tragedy; but it was, we repeat with emphasis, the myrmidons of hell taking the advantage of his humanity at the crisis of his life: _it was devil oppression_. devil oppression does not always come in a diseased body, a confused mind, or in days of soul depression. but sometimes they are new, instantaneous, fierce, overwhelming, and always from different angles and approaches. a vile suggestion, a remembered sin, long ago under the blood, a strong inclination to commit revolting deeds. an eminent, and deeply-pious divine of the south tells in his autobiography that while alone in his study, in meditation and prayer, he was strangely assaulted by the devil. for more than an hour the inclination to blaspheme was almost beyond his control; it seemed that vile oaths would well up in his mouth and almost leap from his tongue. so terrible was the attack that deliverance came only after a long struggle on his face crying out audibly to god. then the dark cloud of bat-winged vampires, almost visible, left as mysteriously as they came. it was devil oppression. xxix devil abduction "now the spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits."--_ timothy iv. ._ "and no marvel; for satan himself is transformed into an angel of light."--_ corinthians xi. ._ we used the above scriptures in a former chapter, but with special reference to "doctrines"; the part we wish to emphasize now, "giving heed to seducing spirits": that is to say, be led away or abducted by the devil or demon. there are four classes of people who may be subjected to the seductive influence of evil spirits. we should keep in mind that the "prince of this world" and his emissaries were once angels, and of course, when necessary, can bring their angelic attributes into seductive usefulness. one of the problems facing the church and all religious workers is to keep the converts or communicants in line; steady them in the presence of deflecting influences. the church is suffering from the inroads of every conceivable brand: isms, cults, fads, worldliness, etc., which always mean, not only usefulness paralyzed, but the loss of church and bible ideals. how many among us who once ran well, but are now tilted, side-tracked, derailed, and ditched. we are encompassed about with ten thousand plausible, seductive tenets, arguments and theories, which if yielded to will result in utter religious ruin. there are four classes of possible victims, all sincere and conscientious, none of which are basely wicked. first: the unregenerate who are blindly seeking the light, but following the inner voice and promptings, rather than the word of god. these become easy victims to the charms (?) of christian science, theosophy, spiritualism, mormonism, etc. once inducted, there follows a mental refreshing, and a carnal peace, which bring the "soul rest" and "assurance" they eagerly sought. these cults are lauded and believed as modern "revelations," but they are only _new clothes_ stretched over the dried mental mummies which lived and moved in the early centuries and dead civilizations. various shades and deductions from old hindoo philosophy, egyptian magic, gnosticism, stoicism, �stheticism, asceticism are paraded so as to catch the cultured, twentieth century devotee. in whatever form it may come, the beauty worshippers of �stheticism, the mental anesthetics of christian science, or the debasing sensuality of mormonism, it is "led away by the devil or a demon." a writer on modern spirits says: "extraordinary spiritism of to-day is but the continuation of the worship of the old idol tammuz, as worshipped by the corrupt israelites and canaanites, and the adonis, as worshipped by the greeks. the indecent practices of these mediums made it necessary to seek darkness to cover their vileness." ezekiel, in the eighth chapter, speaks of it; the delphic oracle practiced the same iniquity: the personification of lust. the second class of possible victims is the regenerated believer or nominal professor of religion. it is the belief of the writer that no greater havoc is being wrought anywhere in the realm of religious aspiration than is being done to-day among professing church-members, sane, perchance--who once knew the secrets of saving faith. to this class there seems to be two horns in the dilemma of abduction. as an eminent author says: "if we give the preponderant attention to the providences which appertain to the body, there is danger of becoming deistical and materialistic in our views. if we study the word alone, without due appreciation of the spirit and providence, there is danger of drifting away into dead formality, drying up, becoming creedistic, theoretical, and unspiritual." what can check the materialistic trend of the times? what can save the church from reflex influences of modern materialism? somehow, we have reached the place where things must appeal to the senses: we must taste, handle, smell, see, etc.; things in the church, as well as out, have jostled down to a metallic basis: something for so much. in the same degree, deny it as we will, our religion ceases to be a religion of faith. then, on the other hand, the history of christendom from the beginning, without an exception, proves the second horn to the dilemma: as we lose the spiritual afflatus, we become ceremonial. upon this reef of rocks our church is crashing to-day. we see only the material; we have a mania for statistics, figures. our sunday-schools seek organization, grades, banners, honour rolls, numbers. great schools are pushed with enthusiasm by unconverted officers and teachers. about ninety per cent. swarm out and away from the church and rarely if ever remain for the preaching of the word. in fearful, glaring reality we can see in all this ceremonialism and dress parade demoniacal abduction. the third class is much smaller; they are the select few who live in the inner circle of things. having been brought from darkness unto light they seek to walk in all the light, and to live continually in the good, acceptable, and perfect will of god. this class are the sworn, uncompromising enemies of satan's kingdom; but often their zeal is without knowledge. perchance, many are weak and unlearned. satan will leave the multitude of mystery workers and formalists to make havoc among these saintly ones. all that he accomplishes here cuts like a two-edged sword: the individual ruin, and the deadening, paralyzing influence to the cause of truth. by what method does he gain access? abduction is only possible here where preponderant emphasis is placed on the leadership of the spirit without careful, diligent adhesion to the word. the word is the spirit's weapon; without it he is handicapped. what is the result? fanaticism, dreams, visions, wild-fire, extreme positions on dress, food, domestic relations, etc., until they are "led away by a demon beyond recall." shipwrecked, "affinities," free love, infidelity, are inevitable. wherever societies, communities, or churches become inoculated with the virus of any of these phases of fanaticism--untold harm surely follows. the devil is responsible for the religious "craze," and will then exaggerate by lies and misrepresentation before the unbelievers. the fourth class are, of all, the most to be pitied, and no work of the "angel of the pit" is so hellish as his operation and strategy upon an awakened soul. those who are in religious work are grieved continually at seeing the process chilled and defeated at a point which would soon result in deliverance from the bondage of evil. satan actually assumes the person of the holy ghost. strange and amazing as this sounds, it is nevertheless true. as soon as the soul is awakened he assumes a general godfather sort of relation to the penitent one. advice and suggestions flood his mind: his pride, clothes, reputation, business, and all are used as arguments. "you should be a christian--join the church--it is your duty; but when you make a start, _be sure_ you have a genuine experience. you are conscientious--anything but a hypocrite with you. now this is not an opportune time, etc., etc.," on and on, until the penitent refuses to arise and go to his father's house. procrastination; satan literally drags him away from the mercy seat. how can he do this? where is the holy ghost all this time? why does he not protect his identity? so long as a man is in sin he has a nature that is not subject to the law of god, and cannot be: carnal mind, old man. on this territory satan has right of way; under the guise of one seeking to help them in their confusion and sorrow, he manipulates until prevenient grace is grieved away. the poor deluded soul has been "led away by a demon." it is devil abduction. xxx the rationale of suicide "and he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and went and hanged himself."--_matthew xxvii. ._ "he drew out his sword, and would have killed himself, supposing that the prisoners had been fled."--_acts xvi. ._ the devil was a murderer from the beginning of human history; his first bloodshed was fratricide--growing out of religious jealousy. he is the father of murder and murderers. this crime, provoked or unprovoked, is monstrous; the passions that incite it were born in the pit. then what may be said of self-murder: suicide? it is the most fearful, unnatural, abnormal of all forms of demise. every impulse of reason and judgment revolts at the thought. the master himself drew back from death; the book says death is an enemy. various and satisfactory explanations always follow the news of suicide, "financial reverses," "ill health," "public exposure," "domestic troubles," "melancholia," etc., etc. these explanations will not stand under the light of close scrutiny; reverses and misfortunes are generally contributing causes, but not sufficient to answer fully the horrors of suicide. we hesitate to discuss this gruesome subject, but the character study of these pages would not be complete without it. we speak not with any degree of dogmatism or claim of superior insight to hidden truth, but in the fear of god we are persuaded that not a single case of suicide, since the race took up its painful march, came about from natural causes. satan, the embodiment of monstrosities, is responsible. suicide is numbered among our vexing problems; reckoned on the basis of population, suicide has increased one hundred and fifty per cent. in two decades. scientists are tremendously interested; thoughtful people are alarmed. psychological and sociological authorities tell us that _poverty_, _disappointed affection_, and _dissipation_ are the chief causes. the problem can never be solved by social and scientific speculation. we must cross over the borderland into the supernatural before all the angles of the problem are met and satisfied. there is some strange history connected with suicide. greek philosophers wrote about it; whether among heathen or civilized peoples, it was considered a disgrace. the greeks buried them at night--on the public highways, and without religious ceremonies; and their goods were confiscated for the crown. we wish to emphasize a former statement: suicide is _unnatural_; it sets aside her first law. the law of self-preservation holds good in every walk of life; when we cease to love life, the deepest principle of our being is out of balance. the body is holy, and when it is destroyed, the highest _felo de se_ is committed; not only so, it is assuming the prerogative which belongs alone to god. "it is appointed unto man once to die." life is a sacred gift. there are two kinds of suicide: the responsible and irresponsible. the first often appears to have been deliberately planned, the act of a sane, rational mind. however, the best alienists say some phase of insanity always accompanies this rash act. the second are mentally deranged, for which there are many causes. two classes, also, as to character are found among the unfortunates: the religious and irreligious. what then may we conclude from the most mysterious tragedy on earth? satan always scores a victory when a neighbourhood is shocked by the news of a suicide; the victory is direct and indirect. if the victim is prepared or unprepared, sane or insane, the crime can somehow never be forgiven. a strange demoralizing influence is always felt; a feeling of horror and depression. if the victim is pious, and many, many are the most devout in the church, do they forfeit their salvation by the _felo de se_? not necessarily. now we wish to say here, with every word underscored: _no sane, devout person will destroy themselves_. where, then, is the motive and victory of satan? much, every way. the whole church or community will be religiously paralyzed. it is generally believed that no self-murderer can be saved. but behold a sainted mother in israel found hanging in the barn: we have in mind just such an incident, and remember also the gloom, the depression, the silent whispers, the downcast look on the faces of all who knew her. satan may know that he has nothing directly to gain, but, indirectly, doubt and discouragement prevail. anything to get the world to doubt god. a very devout man, writing of a personal experience, says: "there seemed to be some designing spirit near me for days that constantly whispered in my ear, and sometimes it seemed almost audible, "go kill thyself; you have disgraced your redeemer and you are not fit to live." scores of such testimonies are on record. think of the logical traps used by the designer to incite the deed: if poverty, "my family will be cared for better than i can." if a suffering body, "this will cure me of my pain." if fear of exposure, "that will end it--charity will forgive me then." if hopeless over some sin, "better die than face the disgrace. it will solve all the problems," says the tempter. it is often remarked concerning some one: "how cowardly;" but it is not cowardice; it is inability to answer the devil's logic to commit suicide. again, gruesome as it is, and here is more strange evidence in favour of the satanic explanation: it is fearfully contagious. professor bailey, of yale, said that the report of a suicide by any special method will be followed by others in the same manner. morbid, despondent people hear of it and follow the example. that which should be revolting in the extreme possesses a strange charm. ingersol toured the country at one time advocating suicide as the best way out of life's difficulties. many took his advice and a fearful epidemic followed. one young man in a rural community of illinois committed suicide; three others, all associates, followed in a few weeks. no special motive could be given for either. we are forced to place the blame where it belongs, and sympathize with the victims. xxxi devil worship "then he forsook god which made him, and lightly esteemed the rock of his salvation. they provoked him to jealousy with strange gods, with abominations provoked they him to anger. they sacrificed unto devils, not to god; to gods whom they knew not."--_deuteronomy xxxii. - ._ "but i say the things which the gentiles sacrificed, they sacrificed to devils, and not to god: and i would not that ye should have fellowship with devils. ye cannot drink the cup of the lord, and the cup of devils: ye cannot be partakers of the lord's table, and the table of devils."--_ corinthians x. - ._ satan's consuming passion is thirst for power. he is the "prince of darkness," but also the "god of this world," and this long period of satanic rule is called _night_. god's glorious sabbath of rest was superseded by the black intervention of toil and suffering. satan's scheming fight has been for the rulership of this world. he succeeded in winning the entire antediluvian world, which to save the coming generations necessitated the flood. he began adroitly with the only remaining family; swept the postdiluvian peoples into midnight heathenism. to-day, nearly one billion descendants of noah worship not god--but _demonian_--demons, just what the greeks and romans worshipped in apostolic times. no less than two hundred and fifty million are devil worshippers by name. satan began his fight of opposition by assuming the form or incarnating himself in the body of a snake. therefore it is not an accident, growing out of mythological tradition, that serpent worship has been the chief religion of many peoples. the egyptians worshipped set, which personified all evil--enemy of all good--they called typhon, a monstrous serpent-like animal. to this god human sacrifices were offered on great religious holidays. it is no accident that the millions who know not the true god nevertheless, some way, learned to worship the devil, and generally in the form of a serpent. the egyptians had a serpent-god in typhon; the canaanites worshipped a snake in the days of abraham; the babylonians worshipped python, which is a specie of the most deadly reptile on earth, and another name for typhon. on the monuments and tablets of many dead civilizations the engravings of serpents show their particular customs of devil worship. the american indians were snake worshippers; in ohio an altar more than a half mile in length remains in good preservation. this altar is one of the wonders, being a perfect outline of a gigantic snake. we readily see that tribal association and tradition have had nothing to do with the customs of our own aborigines; the same being who inspired the peoples of the old orient, millenniums ago, to worship the snake-devil inspired our red men in his primeval forest. david speaks of demon worship: "yea they sacrificed their sons and daughters unto _shadim_." jereboam built places to worship evil spirits; the ordained priests to serve the altars of "satyrs," and children were offered. the molech of the canaanites was also devil worship; when the israelites forgot god, they "caused their children to pass through the fire unto molech," an evil god. the damsel whom paul delivered possessed the spirit of python--the snake. the priestesses of the delphic oracles prophesied by the spirit of python; this was the dominant religion throughout greece. the aztec war god of the montezumas, where two hundred and fifty thousand human skulls were found in the temple, was a bloody system of devil worship. the yezidis of persia, descendants of the early python worshippers, worship the devil to-day, and are known as such. we are not confined to heathenism, ancient or modern, to find the same religion of "divinations." the best authorities of spiritualism believe that the supernatural, occult demonstrations, as produced in their séances, are from demon agencies. the whole system of mythology grew out of what is to-day the work of mediums. the old testament is filled with statements concerning "familiar spirits"; they heard voices, received messages, saw physical disturbances--just as may be witnessed at any spiritual séance. the most reliable of mediums do not deny that evil spirits (damned demons) come to them at times. one fact is noteworthy: when men and women become spiritists, they discard all the essentials of the christian faith. they are modern types of demon possession. it is no unusual thing during a séance to hear a regular clash of voices: blasphemy, oaths, vulgar, obscene language, terrible threats, etc. what connection do we find between devil worship and modern spiritualism? first, the moral condition among the spiritists is exactly as it was among the ancient priests and priestesses in the temples of devil worship; they literally worshipped the devil in their corrupt, degrading practices. now, among the votaries of spiritualism, every iniquity, crime, and indecency known among men and women are daily carried on. such is the testimony of one of their travelling lecturers. one of their noted mediums when under control delivered this message: "curse the marriage institution; cursed be the relation of husband and wife; cursed be all who sustain the legal marriage." from what source could we expect such a vile deliverance? second, their mediums actually pray to satan. one of their advocates at the opening of a debate with a christian minister at san jose, cal., prayed in the following language: "o devil, prince of demons in the christian's hell; oh, thou monarch of the bottomless pit; thou king of scorpions, i beseech thee to hear my prayer. thou seest the terrible straits in which i am placed, matched in debate with a big gun of christianity. remember, o prince of brimstone, that when thou stretchest forth thine arm the christian god cannot stand before thee for a moment. bless thy servant in his labours for thee; fill his mouth with wisdom; enable him to defend thee from the false charges of thy sulphurous majesty, so that this audience may know and realize that thou art a prayer hearing and a prayer answering devil" (abbreviated). similar prayers are frequently published in the _banner of light_, the organ of this cult; prayers formulated in the same language as prayers offered to the god of heaven. it cannot be doubted that pagan religion and modern spiritualism are devil worship, shifting under various forms and ceremonies in different ages and places. rev. b. clough, missionary in ceylon, says: "i now state, and i wish it to be heard in every corner of the christian world, that the devil is regularly, systematically, and ceremoniously worshipped by a large majority of the inhabitants of the island of ceylon." we repeat: his consuming passion is to be worshipped. xxxii victory through the victor "this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that jesus christ is the son of god?"--_ john v. - ._ "ye are of god, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you than he that is in the world."--_ john iv. ._ one of the grave dangers of to-day is that satan is no longer regarded as a personality. even among those whose faith is founded on the word of god, the idea of an orthodox devil smacks of superstition and an exploded hoax from the dark ages. "let us hear the love side of the gospel; away with this devil and hell business--it's too dreadful," they declare. his real existence and personality are ridiculed in many pulpits and lecture platforms. when these ideas become common among the people who think, a wide open field remains for him to work unmolested. we can also go to the other extreme: that is, to think him a greater being than the son of god. those who have followed us through these chapter studies will, we fear, come to some such conclusion. who can be equal for such a mighty prince? now this biography was undertaken that we might have a full, life-sized photo of our enemy. in this we cannot exaggerate the true status of the case; any less conception of satan than we have portrayed will put us at a serious disadvantage in the life struggle. he is a real foe, and we must meet him in the open, under cover, and invisibly. let it be written in black-faced caps, and heavily underscored: satan is all we can find out about him--plus, with emphasis on the plus. we want to keep in mind clearly the enemy, the battle-ground, and the battle; we can never match swords with him; to ignore him--big, cunning, supernatural, eternally at it--will be the most dangerous folly. but--there is victory, complete, overwhelming victory for every one who fights; but bear in mind it must be a fighter. there is one name which never fails to reverberate from the throne of god to the cavernous pits of darkness; this name shakes loose the grip, untangles the web of all the allied powers of the prince of night. satan is mighty, jesus is almighty; he met his waterloo. jesus was never defeated. his first defeat was when he was an archangel; he was overthrown and cast out of heaven. jesus said: "i was present when satan fell like lightning from heaven." he was also defeated in the wilderness; again in the garden, and at calvary. in fact, on every battle-field where he met the lord christ the defeat was stunning, humiliating. now we are in mortal combat with him, and we must not forget--he has been many times defeated. a writer says: "we have the advantage of fighting a defeated foe." standing alone, we are doomed to utter defeat, capture, ruin; but if our fight is coupled with the name of jesus, our triumph is as certain as our defeat will be without him. so long as we muster in as munitions of war our intellect, self-sufficiency, egotism, etc., the cohorts will laugh at our delusion. there is but one who can out-general his maneuvres, silence his thunderings, checkmate his diabolical acumen, know his oily, snaky approaches, penetrate his angelic beneficence, understand his insidious schemes: that one knew him from the beginning, and--outranked him in heaven and conquered him on earth. this question arises: if satan has been conquered, and jesus is yet contending with him for world-wide supremacy--why the almost universal triumph of evil? why is true righteousness at such a discount? why are the fighters failing and falling all around us? if these questions cannot be answered with a degree of sound reasoning, the whole problem of life, bible, god, atonement, gospel are in a hopeless tangle. a chinese puzzle does not compare with a riddle of everything worth while, visible and invisible. satan undoubtedly controls the machinery of this world. then wherein is the "victory that overcometh the world"? let us keep in mind the power, resources, opportunities, organization, and management of satan; also the blindness and bondage of sin, and--the free agency of man. so long as man remains carnally-minded and free, the enemy has undisputed right of way; while the heart is carnal, impure, unsanctified, the controlling motive power of man's life "is not subject to the law of god, neither indeed can be." he has in his own bosom a traitor, an alien to the government of god. "to be carnally minded is death," says paul. the "old leaven must be purged out"; we must "put off the old man (carnal mind) and his deeds, and put on the new man, etc." this putting off is absolutely necessary. jesus cannot only defeat satan, but he can destroy the "works of the devil"--one of which is the alien principle of our nature. "for this purpose the son of god was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil." the life, death, and resurrection of jesus--the god-man--is an everlasting atonement and a propitiation for sin. sin is the rubicon of our battle; once we solve, in all its fullness, the problem of sin, we rob satan of his fulcrum power. he came to jesus and found nothing: no availability, no sin, no yielding, no fellowship. he was tempted, but _without sin_. our victory must be twofold: first, through the merits of the everlasting blood covenant we may be saved from sin unto salvation--reconciliation, forgiveness. then by the fuller benefits of the atonement we may "enter into the holiest by the blood." only the pure in heart can stand the approaches of satan by way of our natural appetites. the triumphs of modern surgery are only possible by means of sterilized instruments. please observe--with all the meaning that can be couched in language: the sinful, unregenerated heart is not only in danger of being overcome, but is already in blind bondage to satan. the power of sin, both actual and original, must be broken by the pardoning grace of god through faith in the atoning blood; and the heart cleansed and empowered by the baptism of the holy ghost. the second inevitable concomitant of victory is copartnership with jesus, the captain of our salvation--"looking unto jesus the author and finisher of our faith." diabolus and his minions cannot stand before this name. his final overthrow was when jesus cried out on the cross: "it is finished." now at the sight of jesus, the cross, or the blood, the phalanx of darkness slinks away. let us lay hold of eternal life by an unfaltering faith in the blood that cleanseth, and "the name high over all: in earth, in heaven, in hell." "and they overcame him through the blood of the lamb, and the word of their testimony." amen and amen. xxxiii the arrest and imprisonment "for the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time."--_revelation xii. ._ "and i saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. and he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the devil, and satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him."--_revelation xx. - ._ the fact of a possible victory through the name of our great conqueror does not alone satisfy all the items of the indictment. if such were the only background to the picture, great as it is, the human drama is not only a fierce tragedy, but a miserable farce. thank god, personal victory is not all; there is a rift in the dark satanic cloud which has hung over the world for so many millenniums. satan is in great wrath, and his power and influence grow steadily stronger; more and more his iron grip fastens about the throat of the world. the apostasy of which christ and his apostles wrote is becoming a reality. satan will score one more gigantic victory; then is our "blessed hope of his glorious appearing," when he shall come and catch away his bride--the church, both dead and alive; that part of his following who are united to him and are earnestly yearning for his coming. this event is called by devout scholars "the rapture." just where, how, when, or how long, we have only a vague prophetic conjecture. "where, lord?" they ask. "and he said unto them, wheresoever the body is, thither will the eagles be gathered together." when the rapture shall have taken place, satan will have undisputed dominion; then shall the "man of sin" appear, setting himself up as god--to be worshipped. his reign will be the great tribulation; all the influences of righteousness will, for the time, be removed--the earth will reek in corruption and bloodshed. it is implied that, so terrible will be this time, divine intervention must necessarily shorten the tribulation, else no flesh will be left on the earth. the great tribulation will be the climax of the devil's rule on earth. it seems that he will incarnate himself in a man, giving him supernatural knowledge and power. however, something spectacular and sensational will soon occur. when the leader of a gang of thugs or desperadoes is arrested, his followers are filled with fear and consternation; then think of the excitement. an angel officer will break in on the scene--yes, that is exactly what the book tells us: the high sheriff of heaven will suddenly step down from headquarters, and will lay hold--arrest the old dragon--satan--devil--serpent (observe all his names are mentioned). whatever his titles and distinctions of the past have been, they will not save him in that hour. the apocalyptic vision is unmistakable. some can see in this wonderful language only an allegory: the good influences are to gradually bind the influences of evil, and to expect such an event as the literal arrest of the devil is a wild, irrational, unscientific, unreasonable dream. our lord said, speaking of the time of the end, that the same social conditions as prevailed in the days of noah were to be repeated: wicked ones waxing worse and worse; scarcely any living in the fear of god. to expect to see a gradual regeneration of society, politics, commerce, and the church--until evil will be overruled, chained as it were--seems to be a gigantic travesty on language and the teaching of the bible. we prefer to stand by the book rather than human interpretation--fixed up to justify the methods and results of modern religious propaganda. an angel appears--evidently an archangel: one belonging to the rank of which the fallen prince formerly belonged. this sheriff of the skies is equipped for his undertaking; officers carry handcuffs with which to bind prisoners--the angel has a great chain in his hand; he lays hold--arrests the old skulking, hateful, murderous devil. this angel-officer has also a key, and it is the key which locks the door of the bottomless pit. this door has been wide open; satan and his emissaries could go and come at pleasure. just as an officer arrests a desperado and leads him off to prison--so will the archangel arrest the devil and lock him up in the pit of darkness and despair. what will be done with his millions of cohorts? we can judge only by inference. we want to stay close to the inspired record; of one thing, however, we are confident: the footstool of god will be absolutely cleared of devil and demons; "that they shall deceive the nations no more." the prophetic picture of the divine court proceedings is very specific: we have the exact length of the prison sentence--_one thousand years_. when we remember the crimes, unnumbered crimes, the sentence seems to be an example of court leniency. but this is only a "binding over," as it were, to the real trial and judgment yet to come. this will be temporary imprisonment; but oh, it will be such a glad, happy day. the vision of isaiah, thirty-fifth chapter, will be literally fulfilled. the sceptre so long in the hand of a traitor--usurper--will pass into the hand of the prince of peace. yes, we will strengthen our weak hands and confirm our feeble knees--satan at last locked up. we shall witness with joy unspeakable and full of glory--"the restoration of all things." "and the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the lord, as the waters cover the sea." thank god forever. xxxiv the final consummation "and the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night forever and ever."--_revelation xx. ._ after the long term of imprisonment shall have ended, we are told that satan shall be loosed out of his prison for a season. this is difficult to explain; but we do not presume to question the administration of god's government: "will not the judge of all the earth do right?" satan, like many other confirmed, apostate criminals, immediately on being released, plunges more deeply into crime than before. the long term of imprisonment and punishment hardens and, if possible, more nearly consumes him with wrath. at once he launches another world-wide campaign of deception, gathering, rallying, mustering, and drilling his forces: those who by an exercise of free choice, notwithstanding the glorious millennium reign, actually fall away and enlist under the black pirate flag once more. he encompasses the whole face of the earth; like a deposed crown prince, he leads an aggressive warfare to regain the honours and influence which he so long enjoyed on the earth. now if the binding of satan is only a figure of the leavening power of righteousness overpowering the evil--what is the _thing_ which shall be unchained and loosened? such a contention is as unanswerable as it is untenable. we will repeat once more, with each word underscored: _good or evil cannot exist except in a personality_. the same school of theologians who deny the personality of satan, many of them, see nothing in the person of christ except a _christ spirit_, inherent good, etc.; all of which is unadulterated infidelity. just another method of "blasting at the rock of ages." satan shall be locked in a prison for one thousand years--then he shall be loosed, and every moment of his freedom will be occupied in preparation for the last armageddon. he does not foresee future events, and it is possible he does not understand this to be his final struggle; otherwise he would be unable to inspire such a following. as we read this brief but vivid picture of the gog and magog engagement, the marshalling and shifting for position of napoleon and wellington, preparatory to their decisive battle, in comparison to this gathering, will be like a cadet sham engagement. it seems that the lines of fortification will reach out over the entire earth, mobilizing around the holy city. the saints, also, are gathered into encampment; whether for preparation to meet the forces of satan, or for protection, the prophecy does not state; but all the powers of light and darkness are brought face to face. the battle never reaches a real encounter; the impudence and rebellion of the deposed prince and ex-convict arouses the wrath of god as never before. the cup of his indignation is full to the overflowing, and he brings the fearful conflict to a spectacular ending. the destruction of sodom and gomorrah was a microscopic event compared with the rain of fire that shall fall in consuming vengeance upon the devil and his followers, both men and demons. the saints shall be delivered in that awful hour, and this is the last shifting of the scene; the bell will ring, as it were, and the curtain will fall, closing out the long tragic history of the old world. we are not dogmatic as to the chronological order of these mighty events, but as closely as we can gather them from the word, the next move of these wonders in heaven and in earth will be the ushering in of the last judgment. the _deis ira_ breaks in upon the universe; the great white throne will swing into view. during the vision of millennial vision, its reign--john saw "thrones"; christ and his church ruling jointly the kingdoms of earth; he then is the chief shepherd, the king of kings and lord of lords--holding the sceptre of universal empire. but now when the _deis ira_ dawns, there will be just one throne, and god himself will sit upon it. if the reader wishes a detailed description of this last day, it can be found in the sixth chapter of revelation, where the whole programme is thrown into a composite picture: "the opening of the seven seals." each seal is a separate prophecy or act of events from alpha to omega of things. language breaks all bounds of rhetoric, poetry, and definition: "and i beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and lo, there was a great earthquake, and the sun became as black as the sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood, and the stars of the heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind. and the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together; and every mountain and island were moved out of their places." note the effect this marvellous demonstration will have upon the followers of the traitor-prince: "and the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the rocks and the mountains, fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the lamb: for the great day of his wrath has come; and who shall be able to stand." all the souls that have lived on the earth, good and bad, saints and sinners, devil and demons, will stand before the throne and be judged. the words, thoughts, and deeds of men and devils shall be made known. the final doom of the devil and his angels will be shown up in detail before an assembled universe: the godhead, angels, archangels, cherubim and seraphim, and all that have lived upon this planet. hence, the last and final scene of the epilogue: "and the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone ... and shall be tormented day and night forever and ever." amen and amen. xxxv satanic symbol in nature "for the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made."--_romans i. ._ the evolution of christian scholarship, during the recent decades, has wrought wonders in bringing about absolute harmony of science and religion. under the microscope, and through the telescope, men whose hearts are trained as well as their brains, the great book of nature is found to be a commentator and expositor of the book of revelation. they have not only studied and theorized about the science of religion; but by laws of induction and deduction have discovered a "religion of science," and when properly understood and applied is not out of harmony with the most orthodox faith. just as chemistry, geology, zoölogy, botany, astronomy, etc., whether seen in the protozoa or the highest type of man; the animalculi (creatures which propagate their specie by millions in a day) or the elephant; the electrons or polarius (our north star which is one hundred times brighter, larger, and hotter than the sun)--all demonstrate laws, systems, design, purpose, and beneficence from the hand of a wise father-creator: so also are there other things in the physical world discovered by the student of nature which suggest an opposite being. we remember that even the ground was cursed when sin entered with its defiling touch; where flowers and fruits did once abound has come forth a crop of vile weeds, thorns, and poisonous vines. these occupy and will conquer in any soil on the earth--the poe or mississippi valleys, without the diligent, unceasing, systematic toil of man. there must be a continuous fight against these omnipresent enemies--in garden, in vineyard, on farm. clean out every weed, allow none to produce seed of its kind; then leave the land for one year untouched, and it will be a ragged wilderness. fruits, grains, and vegetables left to fight with these enemies of the soil, and, without a single exception anywhere, they are soon choked out and will die. unaided by the skill of the gardener, the end is inevitable. but, observe again, fighting the soil demons and conquering them is only half the battle. there is not a tree, plant, shrub, vegetable, fruit, nor flower, in any latitude or zone, but that must contend with pests, parasites, and insects of all kinds. the herbivorous enemies are not limited to insects and creeping things, but actual diseases. several of the choicest fruits have cancer; various blights have destroyed whole crops of cereals. trees and vegetables have diseases that must be diagnosed and doctored as carefully as the family physician treats pneumonia or typhoid fevers. but this is not all: whole orchards are killed by the caterpillar; the boll-weevil has been known to devastate great sections in the wheat belt. the grub kills the corn as soon as it sprouts; the potato bug, the tobacco worm, the army worm, the gypsy moth, celery worm, california scale, etc., on and on, until we find that every fruit, grain or vegetable is beset by some vermin destroyer which, if not removed or poisoned, will sting to death, or gnaw at the vitals until they wither and die. the horticultural kingdom must contend with imps of death until garnered safely in the harvest. when we examine the animal kingdom we find the same conditions obtain; every animal from the bug to the buzzard, from the ant to the elephant, from mice to monkeys, have a bitter struggle for existence. a distinguished german professor has this to say, addressing the fishery association of berlin: "war is the watchword of the whole of organic nature; there is a constant war of all organisms against outward unfavourable circumstances, and there is a constant war among the different individuals. the seed grain which falls into the ground, the worm crawling on the earth, the butterfly hovering over the flower, the eagle soaring high among the clouds--all have their enemies; outward enemies threatening their existence, and enemies eating their life and strength." following these remarks he gave a long list of fish parasites sufficient to destroy the whole finny kingdom. another eminent naturalist, speaking of the perils of insect life, said: "with such savage murderers prowling among the shadows, life among our singing meadows is anything but a round of pleasure. the warfare is broadcast. not even the fluttering butterfly is safe, but is pounced upon in mid-air, its wings torn off in mockery, and is then lugged off to some dark hole in the ground. and the bee returning to its hive is waylaid on the wing, and its body is torn open for the sake of the morsel of a honey-bag within." still another scientist tells us: "the microscope shows that these murderous imps appear to have been made to inflict the most excruciating torture upon their victims." he makes special mention of the sand hornet: "he is the greatest villain that flies, and is built for a professional murderer. he carries two keen scimitars, besides a deadly poisoned poniard, and is armed throughout with a coat of mail. he lives a life of tyranny and feeds on blood." every drop of water is swarming with hideous creatures which, if sufficiently magnified, would be frightful beyond description; the air we breathe is surcharged with death: infecting organisms which, if the system in the slightest degree becomes unable to eliminate them, bring on dreadful diseases. we must fight for our physical life daily. but for the immunity provisions of providence, our bodies may be a charnal house, at any moment, of billions of bacilli hastening our end. these are stern facts which face every student of biology or natural history. as a professor has well said, "he, therefore, who objects to the teaching of the sacred scriptures concerning satan and demons, and appeals to the cæsar of the natural world, can get no help, for that cæsar echoes back with thunder tones that there are myriads of living, malignant and destructive organisms in every realm of nature, so far as is known, or so far as one can reason from analogy, that, like satan and demons, trouble and torment the innocent as well as the guilty; that in some instances these malignant organisms appear to inflict suffering for the sheer delight of doing it." what is the conclusion of the whole matter: the existence of diabolus and demonia is a fact of revelation verified by both science and philosophy. _printed in the united states of america_ images of public domain material from the google books project.) transcriber notes text emphasis id denoted as _italics_ and =bold=. +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | the | | | | scarecrow of oz | | | | | | | | by | | | | l. frank baum | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ [illustration] ===== the famous oz books ===== since , when l. frank baum introduced to the children of america the wonderful wizard of oz and all the other exciting characters who inhabit the land of oz, these delightful fairy tales have stimulated the imagination of millions of young readers. these are stories which are genuine fantasy creative, funny, tender, exciting and surprising. filled with the rarest and most absurd creatures, each of the volumes which now comprise the series, has been eagerly sought out by generation after generation until to-day they are known to all except the very young or those who were never young at all. when, in a recent survey, the =new york times= polled a group of teen agers on the books they liked best when they were young, the oz books topped the list. the famous oz books ------------------- by l. frank baum: the wizard of oz the land of oz ozma of oz dorothy and the wizard in oz the road to oz the emerald city of oz the patchwork girl of oz tik-tok of oz the scarecrow of oz rinkitink in oz the lost princess of oz the tin woodman of oz the magic of oz glinda of oz chicago the reilly & lee co. _publishers_ [illustration: the scarecrow _of_ oz] dedicated to "the uplifters" of los angeles, california, in grateful appreciation of the pleasure i have derived from association with them, and in recognition of their sincere endeavor to uplift humanity through kindness, consideration and good-fellowship. they are big men all of them and all with the generous hearts of little children. l. frank baum [illustration] +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | the | | | | =scarecrow of oz= | | | | | | by | | | | l. frank baum | | | | author of | | | | the road to oz, dorothy and the wizard in oz, the emerald | | city of oz, the land of oz, ozma of oz. the patchwork girl | | of oz, tik-tok of oz | | | | | | | | [illustration] | | | | | | | | illustrated by | | john r. neill | | | | | | =the reilly & lee co= | | chicago | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | copyright | | | | by | | | | l frank baum | | | | all | | | | rights reserved | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ [illustration] 'twixt you and me the army of children which besieged the postoffice, conquered the postmen and delivered to me its imperious commands, insisted that trot and cap'n bill be admitted to the land of oz, where trot could enjoy the society of dorothy, betsy bobbin and ozma, while the one-legged sailor-man might become a comrade of the tin woodman, the shaggy man, tik-tok and all the other quaint people who inhabit this wonderful fairyland. it was no easy task to obey this order and land trot and cap'n bill safely in oz, as you will discover by reading this book. indeed, it required the best efforts of our dear old friend, the scarecrow, to save them from a dreadful fate on the journey; but the story leaves them happily located in ozma's splendid palace and dorothy has promised me that button-bright and the three girls are sure to encounter, in the near future, some marvelous adventures in the land of oz, which i hope to be permitted to relate to you in the next oz book. meantime, i am deeply grateful to my little readers for their continued enthusiasm over the oz stories, as evinced in the many letters they send me, all of which are lovingly cherished. it takes more and more oz books every year to satisfy the demands of old and new readers, and there have been formed many "oz reading societies," where the oz books owned by different members are read aloud. all this is very gratifying to me and encourages me to write more oz stories. when the children have had enough of them, i hope they will let me know, and then i'll try to write something different. l. frank baum "royal historian of oz." "ozcot" at hollywood in california, . [illustration] list of chapters the great whirlpool cavern under the sea the ork daylight at last! the little old man of the island the flight of the midgets the bumpy man button-bright is lost, and found again the kingdom of jinxland pon, the gardener's boy the wicked king and googly-goo the wooden-legged grasshopper glinda the good and the scarecrow of oz the frozen heart trot meets the scarecrow pon summons the king to surrender the ork rescues button-bright the scarecrow meets an enemy the conquest of the witch queen gloria dorothy, betsy and ozma the waterfall the land of oz the royal reception [illustration] [illustration] [illustration: cap'n bill] chapter the great whirlpool "seems to me," said cap'n bill, as he sat beside trot under the big acacia tree, looking out over the blue ocean, "seems to me, trot, as how the more we know, the more we find we don't know." "i can't quite make that out, cap'n bill," answered the little girl in a serious voice, after a moment's thought, during which her eyes followed those of the old sailor-man across the glassy surface of the sea. "seems to me that all we learn is jus' so much gained." "i know; it looks that way at first sight," said the sailor, nodding his head; "but those as knows the least have a habit of thinkin' they know all there is to know, while them as knows the most admits what a turr'ble big world this is. it's the knowing ones that realize one lifetime ain't long enough to git more'n a few dips o' the oars of knowledge." trot didn't answer. she was a very little girl, with big, solemn eyes and an earnest, simple manner. cap'n bill had been her faithful companion for years and had taught her almost everything she knew. he was a wonderful man, this cap'n bill. not so very old, although his hair was grizzled--what there was of it. most of his head was bald as an egg and as shiny as oilcloth, and this made his big ears stick out in a funny way. his eyes had a gentle look and were pale blue in color, and his round face was rugged and bronzed. cap'n bill's left leg was missing, from the knee down, and that was why the sailor no longer sailed the seas. the wooden leg he wore was good enough to stump around with on land, or even to take trot out for a row or a sail on the ocean, but when it came to "runnin' up aloft" or performing active duties on shipboard, the old sailor was not equal to the task. the loss of his leg had ruined his career and the old sailor found comfort in devoting himself to the education and companionship of the little girl. [illustration: the old sailor devoted himself to the education of the little girl.] the accident to cap'n bill's leg had happened at about the time trot was born, and ever since that he had lived with trot's mother as "a star boarder," having enough money saved up to pay for his weekly "keep." he loved the baby and often held her on his lap; her first ride was on cap'n bill's shoulders, for she had no baby-carriage; and when she began to toddle around, the child and the sailor became close comrades and enjoyed many strange adventures together. it is said the fairies had been present at trot's birth and had marked her forehead with their invisible mystic signs, so that she was able to see and do many wonderful things. the acacia tree was on top of a high bluff, but a path ran down the bank in a zigzag way to the water's edge, where cap'n bill's boat was moored to a rock by means of a stout cable. it had been a hot, sultry afternoon, with scarcely a breath of air stirring, so cap'n bill and trot had been quietly sitting beneath the shade of the tree, waiting for the sun to get low enough for them to take a row. they had decided to visit one of the great caves which the waves had washed out of the rocky coast during many years of steady effort. the caves were a source of continual delight to both the girl and the sailor, who loved to explore their awesome depths. "i b'lieve, cap'n," remarked trot, at last, "that it's time for us to start." the old man cast a shrewd glance at the sky, the sea and the motionless boat. then he shook his head. "mebbe it's time, trot," he answered, "but i don't jes' like the looks o' things this afternoon." "what's wrong?" she asked wonderingly. "can't say as to that. things is too quiet to suit me, that's all. no breeze, not a ripple a-top the water, nary a gull a-flyin' anywhere, an' the end o' the hottest day o' the year. i ain't no weather-prophet, trot, but any sailor would know the signs is ominous." "there's nothing wrong that i can see," said trot. "if there was a cloud in the sky even as big as my thumb, we might worry about it; but--look, cap'n!--the sky is as clear as can be." he looked again and nodded. "p'r'aps we can make the cave, all right," he agreed, not wishing to disappoint her. "it's only a little way out, an' we'll be on the watch; so come along, trot." together they descended the winding path to the beach. it was no trouble for the girl to keep her footing on the steep way, but cap'n bill, because of his wooden leg, had to hold on to rocks and roots now and then to save himself from tumbling. on a level path he was as spry as anyone, but to climb up hill or down required some care. they reached the boat safely and while trot was untying the rope cap'n bill reached into a crevice of the rock and drew out several tallow candles and a box of wax matches, which he thrust into the capacious pockets of his "sou'wester." this sou'wester was a short coat of oilskin which the old sailor wore on all occasions--when he wore a coat at all--and the pockets always contained a variety of objects, useful and ornamental, which made even trot wonder where they all came from and why cap'n bill should treasure them. the jackknives--a big one and a little one--the bits of cord, the fishhooks, the nails: these were handy to have on certain occasions. but bits of shell, and tin boxes with unknown contents, buttons, pincers, bottles of curious stones and the like, seemed quite unnecessary to carry around. that was cap'n bill's business, however, and now that he added the candles and the matches to his collection trot made no comment, for she knew these last were to light their way through the caves. the sailor always rowed the boat, for he handled the oars with strength and skill. trot sat in the stern and steered. the place where they embarked was a little bight or circular bay, and the boat cut across a much larger bay toward a distant headland where the caves were located, right at the water's edge. they were nearly a mile from shore and about half-way across the bay when trot suddenly sat up straight and exclaimed: "what's that, cap'n?" he stopped rowing and turned half around to look. [illustration] "that, trot," he slowly replied, "looks to me mighty like a whirlpool." "what makes it, cap'n?" "a whirl in the air makes the whirl in the water. i was afraid as we'd meet with trouble, trot. things didn't look right. the air was too still." "it's coming closer," said the girl. the old man grabbed the oars and began rowing with all his strength. "'tain't comin' closer to us, trot," he gasped; "it's we that are comin' closer to the whirlpool. the thing is drawin' us to it like a magnet!" trot's sun-bronzed face was a little paler as she grasped the tiller firmly and tried to steer the boat away; but she said not a word to indicate fear. the swirl of the water as they came nearer made a roaring sound that was fearful to listen to. so fierce and powerful was the whirlpool that it drew the surface of the sea into the form of a great basin, slanting downward toward the center, where a big hole had been made in the ocean--a hole with walls of water that were kept in place by the rapid whirling of the air. the boat in which trot and cap'n bill were riding was just on the outer edge of this saucer-like slant, and the old sailor knew very well that unless he could quickly force the little craft away from the rushing current they would soon be drawn into the great black hole that yawned in the middle. so he exerted all his might and pulled as he had never pulled before. he pulled so hard that the left oar snapped in two and sent cap'n bill sprawling upon the bottom of the boat. he scrambled up quickly enough and glanced over the side. then he looked at trot, who sat quite still, with a serious, far-away look in her sweet eyes. the boat was now speeding swiftly of its own accord, following the line of the circular basin round and round and gradually drawing nearer to the great hole in the center. any further effort to escape the whirlpool was useless, and realizing this fact cap'n bill turned toward trot and put an arm around her, as if to shield her from the awful fate before them. he did not try to speak, because the roar of the waters would have drowned the sound of his voice. these two faithful comrades had faced dangers before, but nothing to equal that which now faced them. yet cap'n bill, noting the look in trot's eyes and remembering how often she had been protected by unseen powers, did not quite give way to despair. the great hole in the dark water--now growing nearer and nearer--looked very terrifying; but they were both brave enough to face it and await the result of the adventure. [illustration] chapter the cavern under the sea the circles were so much smaller at the bottom of the basin, and the boat moved so much more swiftly, that trot was beginning to get dizzy with the motion, when suddenly the boat made a leap and dived headlong into the murky depths of the hole. whirling like tops, but still clinging together, the sailor and the girl were separated from their boat and plunged down--down--down--into the farthermost recesses of the great ocean. at first their fall was swift as an arrow, but presently they seemed to be going more moderately and trot was almost sure that unseen arms were about her, supporting her and protecting her. she could see nothing, because the water filled her eyes and blurred her vision, but she clung fast to cap'n bill's sou'wester, while other arms clung fast to her, and so they gradually sank down and down until a full stop was made, when they began to ascend again. but it seemed to trot that they were not rising straight to the surface from where they had come. the water was no longer whirling them and they seemed to be drawn in a slanting direction through still, cool ocean depths. and then--in much quicker time than i have told it--up they popped to the surface and were cast at full length upon a sandy beach, where they lay choking and gasping for breath and wondering what had happened to them. trot was the first to recover. disengaging herself from cap'n bill's wet embrace and sitting up, she rubbed the water from her eyes and then looked around her. a soft, bluish-green glow lighted the place, which seemed to be a sort of cavern, for above and on either side of her were rugged rocks. they had been cast upon a beach of clear sand, which slanted upward from the pool of water at their feet--a pool which doubtless led into the big ocean that fed it. above the reach of the waves of the pool were more rocks, and still more and more, into the dim windings and recesses of which the glowing light from the water did not penetrate. the place looked grim and lonely, but trot was thankful that she was still alive and had suffered no severe injury during her trying adventure under water. at her side cap'n bill was sputtering and coughing, trying to get rid of the water he had swallowed. both of them were soaked through, yet the cavern was warm and comfortable and a wetting did not dismay the little girl in the least. she crawled up the slant of sand and gathered in her hand a bunch of dried seaweed, with which she mopped the face of cap'n bill and cleared the water from his eyes and ears. presently the old man sat up and stared at her intently. then he nodded his bald head three times and said in a gurgling voice: "mighty good, trot; mighty good! we didn't reach davy jones's locker that time, did we? though why we didn't, an' why we're here, is more'n i kin make out." "take it easy, cap'n," she replied. "we're safe enough, i guess, at least for the time being." he squeezed the water out of the bottoms of his loose trousers and felt of his wooden leg and arms and head, and finding he had brought all of his person with him he gathered courage to examine closely their surroundings. "where d'ye think we are, trot?" he presently asked. "can't say, cap'n. p'r'aps in one of our caves." he shook his head. "no," said he, "i don't think that, at all. the distance we came up didn't seem half as far as the distance we went down; an' you'll notice there ain't any outside entrance to this cavern whatever. it's a reg'lar dome over this pool o' water, and unless there's some passage at the back, up yonder, we're fast pris'ners." trot looked thoughtfully over her shoulder. "when we're rested," she said, "we will crawl up there and see if there's a way to get out." cap'n bill reached in the pocket of his oilskin coat and took out his pipe. it was still dry, for he kept it in an oilskin pouch with his tobacco. his matches were in a tight tin box, so in a few moments the old sailor was smoking contentedly. trot knew it helped him to think when he was in any difficulty. also, the pipe did much to restore the old sailor's composure, after his long ducking and his terrible fright--a fright that was more on trot's account than his own. the sand was dry where they sat, and soaked up the water that dripped from their clothing. when trot had squeezed the wet out of her hair she began to feel much like her old self again. by and by they got upon their feet and crept up the incline to the scattered boulders above. some of these were of huge size, but by passing between some and around others, they were able to reach the extreme rear of the cavern. "yes," said trot, with interest, "here's a round hole." "and it's black as night inside it," remarked cap'n bill. "just the same," answered the girl, "we ought to explore it, and see where it goes, 'cause it's the only poss'ble way we can get out of this place." cap'n bill eyed the hole doubtfully. "it may be a way out o' here, trot," he said, "but it may be a way into a far worse place than this. i'm not sure but our best plan is to stay right here." trot wasn't sure, either, when she thought of it in that light.. after awhile she made her way back to the sands again, and cap'n bill followed her. as they sat down, the child looked thoughtfully at the sailor's bulging pockets. [illustration: trot] "how much food have we got, cap'n?" she asked. "half a dozen ship's biscuits an' a hunk o' cheese," he replied. "want some now, trot?" she shook her head, saying: "that ought to keep us alive 'bout three days if we're careful of it." "longer'n that, trot," said cap'n bill, but his voice was a little troubled and unsteady. "but if we stay here we're bound to starve in time," continued the girl, "while if we go into the dark hole--" "some things are more hard to face than starvation," said the sailor-man, gravely. "we don't know what's inside that dark hole. trot, nor where it might lead us to." "there's a way to find that out," she persisted. instead of replying, cap'n bill began searching in his pockets. he soon drew out a little package of fishhooks and a long line. trot watched him join them together. then he crept a little way up the slope and turned over a big rock. two or three small crabs began scurrying away over the sands and the old sailor caught them and put one on his hook and the others in his pocket. coming back to the pool he swung the hook over his shoulder and circled it around his head and cast it nearly into the center of the water, where he allowed it to sink gradually, paying out the line as far as it would go. when the end was reached, he began drawing it in again, until the crab bait was floating on the surface. trot watched him cast the line a second time, and a third. she decided that either there were no fishes in the pool or they would not bite the crab bait. but cap'n bill was an old fisherman and not easily discouraged. when the crab got away he put another on the hook. when the crabs were all gone he climbed up the rocks and found some more. meantime trot tired of watching him and lay down upon the sands, where she fell fast asleep. during the next two hours her clothing dried completely, as did that of the old sailor. they were both so used to salt water that there was no danger of taking cold. finally the little girl was wakened by a splash beside her and a grunt of satisfaction from cap'n bill. she opened her eyes to find that the cap'n had landed a silver-scaled fish weighing about two pounds. this cheered her considerably and she hurried to scrape together a heap of seaweed, while cap'n bill cut up the fish with his jackknife and got it ready for cooking. they had cooked fish with seaweed before. cap'n bill wrapped his fish in some of the weed and dipped it in the water to dampen it. then he lighted a match and set fire to trot's heap, which speedily burned down to a glowing bed of ashes. then they laid the wrapped fish on the ashes, covered it with more seaweed, and allowed this to catch fire and burn to embers. after feeding the fire with seaweed for some time, the sailor finally decided that their supper was ready, so he scattered the ashes and drew out the bits of fish, still encased in their smoking wrappings. when these wrappings were removed, the fish was found thoroughly cooked and both trot and cap'n bill ate of it freely. it had a slight flavor of seaweed and would have been better with a sprinkling of salt. the soft glow which until now had lighted the cavern, began to grow dim, but there was a great quantity of seaweed in the place, so after they had eaten their fish they kept the fire alive for a time by giving it a handful of fuel now and then. from an inner pocket the sailor drew a small flask of battered metal and unscrewing the cap handed it to trot. she took but one swallow of the water, although she wanted more, and she noticed that cap'n bill merely wet his lips with it. "s'pose," said she, staring at the glowing seaweed fire and speaking slowly, "that we can catch all the fish we need; how 'bout the drinking-water, cap'n?" he moved uneasily but did not reply. both of them were thinking about the dark hole, but while trot had little fear of it the old man could not overcome his dislike to enter the place. he knew that trot was right, though. to remain in the cavern, where they now were, could only result in slow but sure death. it was nighttime upon the earth's surface, so the little girl became drowsy and soon fell asleep. after a time the old sailor slumbered on the sands beside her. it was very still and nothing disturbed them for hours. when at last they awoke the cavern was light again. they had divided one of the biscuits and were munching it for breakfast when they were startled by a sudden splash in the pool. looking toward it they saw emerging from the water the most curious creature either of them had ever beheld. it wasn't a fish, trot decided, nor was it a beast. it had wings, though, and queer wings they were: shaped like an inverted chopping-bowl and covered with tough skin instead of feathers. it had four legs--much like the legs of a stork, only double the number--and its head was shaped a good deal like that of a poll parrot, with a beak that curved downward in front and upward at the edges, and was half bill and half mouth. but to call it a bird was out of the question, because it had feathers whatever except a crest of wavy plumes of a scarlet color on the very top of its head. the strange creature must have weighed as much as cap'n bill, and as it floundered and struggled to get out of the water to the sandy beach it was so big and unusual that both trot and her companion stared at it in wonder--in wonder that was not unmixed with fear. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the ork the eyes that regarded them, as the creature stood dripping before them, were bright and mild in expression, and the queer addition to their party made no attempt to attack them and seemed quite as surprised by the meeting as they were. "i wonder," whispered trot, "what it is." "who, me?" exclaimed the creature in a shrill, high-pitched voice. "why, i'm an ork." "oh!" said the girl. "but what is an ork?" "i am," he repeated, a little proudly, as he shook the water from his funny wings; "and if ever an ork was glad to be out of the water and on dry land again, you can be mighty sure that i'm that especial, individual ork!" "have you been in the water long?" inquired cap'n bill, thinking it only polite to show an interest in the strange creature.. "why, this last ducking was about ten minutes, i believe, and that's about nine minutes and sixty seconds too long for comfort," was the reply. "but last night i was in an awful pickle, i assure you. the whirlpool caught me, and--" "oh, were you in the whirlpool, too?" asked trot eagerly. he gave her a glance that was somewhat reproachful. "i believe i was mentioning the fact, young lady, when your desire to talk interrupted me," said the ork. "i am not usually careless in my actions, but that whirlpool was so busy yesterday that i thought i'd see what mischief it was up to. so i flew a little too near it and the suction of the air drew me down into the depths of the ocean. water and i are natural enemies, and it would have conquered me this time had not a bevy of pretty mermaids come to my assistance and dragged me away from the whirling water and far up into a cavern, where they deserted me." "why, that's about the same thing that happened to us," cried trot. "was your cavern like this one?" "i haven't examined this one yet," answered the ork; "but if they happen to be alike i shudder at our fate, for the other one was a prison, with no outlet except by means of the water. i stayed there all night, however, and this morning i plunged into the pool, as far down as i could go, and then swam as hard and as far as i could. the rocks scraped my back, now and then, and i barely escaped the clutches of an ugly sea-monster; but by and by i came to the surface to catch my breath, and found myself here. that's the whole story, and as i see you have something to eat i entreat you to give me a share of it. the truth is, i'm half starved." with these words the ork squatted down beside them. very reluctantly cap'n bill drew another biscuit from his pocket and held it out. the ork promptly seized it in one of its front claws and began to nibble the biscuit in much the same manner a parrot might have done. "we haven't much grub," said the sailor-man, "but we're willin' to share it with a comrade in distress." "that's right," returned the ork, cocking its head sidewise in a cheerful manner, and then for a few minutes there was silence while they all ate of the biscuits. after a while trot said: "i've never seen or heard of an ork before. are there many of you?" "we are rather few and exclusive, i believe," was the reply. "in the country where i was born we are the absolute rulers of all living things, from ants to elephants." "what country is that?" asked cap'n bill. "orkland." "where does it lie?" "i don't know, exactly. you see, i have a restless nature, for some reason, while all the rest of my race are quiet and contented orks and seldom stray far from home. from childhood days i loved to fly long distances away, although father often warned me that i would get into trouble by so doing. "'it's a big world, flipper, my son,' he would say, 'and i've heard that in parts of it live queer two-legged creatures called men, who war upon all other living things and would have little respect for even an ork.' "this naturally aroused my curiosity and after i had completed my education and left school i decided to fly out into the world and try to get a glimpse of the creatures called men. so i left home without saying good-bye, an act i shall always regret. adventures were many, i found. i sighted men several times, but have never before been so close to them as now. also i had to fight my way through the air, for i met gigantic birds, with fluffy feathers all over them, which attacked me fiercely. besides, it kept me busy escaping from floating airships. in my rambling i had lost all track of distance or direction, so that when i wanted to go home i had no idea where my country was located. i've now been trying to find it for several months and it was during one of my flights over the ocean that i met the whirlpool and became its victim." trot and cap'n bill listened to this recital with much interest, and from the friendly tone and harmless appearance of the ork they judged he was not likely to prove so disagreeable a companion as at first they had feared he might be. the ork sat upon its haunches much as a cat does, but used the finger-like claws of its front legs almost as cleverly as if they were hands. perhaps the most curious thing about the creature was its tail, or what ought to have been its tail. this queer arrangement of skin, bones and muscle was shaped like the propellers used on boats and airships, having fan-like surfaces and being pivoted to its body. cap'n bill knew something of mechanics, and observing the propeller-like tail of the ork he said: "i s'pose you're a pretty swift flyer?" "yes, indeed; the orks are admitted to be kings of the air." "your wings don't seem to amount to much," remarked trot. "well, they are not very big," admitted the ork, waving the four hollow skins gently to and fro, "but they serve to support my body in the air while i speed along by means of my tail. still, taken altogether, i'm very handsomely formed, don't you think?" trot did not like to reply, but cap'n bill nodded gravely. "for an ork," said he, "you're a wonder. i've never seen one afore, but i can imagine you're as good as any." that seemed to please the creature and it began walking around the cavern, making its way easily up the slope. while it was gone, trot and cap'n bill each took another sip from the water-flask, to wash down their breakfast. "why, here's a hole--an exit--an outlet!" exclaimed the ork from above. "we know," said trot. "we found it last night." "well, then, let's be off," continued the ork, after sticking its head into the black hole and sniffing once or twice. "the air seems fresh and sweet, and it can't lead us to any worse place than this." [illustration] the girl and the sailor-man got up and climbed to the side of the ork. "we'd about decided to explore this hole before you came," explained cap'n bill; "but it's a dangerous place to navigate in the dark, so wait till i light a candle." "what is a candle?" inquired the ork. "you'll see in a minute," said trot. the old sailor drew one of the candles from his right-side pocket and the tin matchbox from his left-side pocket. when he lighted the match the ork gave a startled jump and eyed the flame suspiciously; but cap'n bill proceeded to light the candle and the action interested the ork very much. "light," it said, somewhat nervously, "is valuable in a hole of this sort. the candle is not dangerous, i hope?" "sometimes it burns your fingers," answered trot, "but that's about the worst it can do--'cept to blow out when you don't want it to." cap'n bill shielded the flame with his hand and crept into the hole. it wasn't any too big for a grown man, but after he had crawled a few feet it grew larger. trot came close behind him and then the ork followed. "seems like a reg'lar tunnel," muttered the sailor-man, who was creeping along awkwardly because of his wooden leg. the rocks, too, hurt his knees. for nearly half an hour the three moved slowly along the tunnel, which made many twists and turns and sometimes slanted downward and sometimes upward. finally cap'n bill stopped short, with an exclamation of disappointment, and held the flickering candle far ahead to light the scene. "what's wrong?' demanded trot, who could see nothing because the sailor's form completely filled the hole. "why, we've come to the end of our travels, i guess," he replied. "is the hole blocked?" inquired the ork. "no; it's wuss nor that," replied cap'n bill sadly. "i'm on the edge of a precipice. wait a minute an' i'll move along and let you see for yourselves. be careful, trot, not to fall." then he crept forward a little and moved to one side, holding the candle so that the girl could see to follow him. the ork came next and now all three knelt on a narrow ledge of rock which dropped straight away and left a huge black space which the tiny flame of the candle could not illuminate. "h-m!" said the ork, peering over the edge; "this doesn't look very promising, i'll admit. but let me take your candle, and i'll fly down and see what's below us." "aren't you afraid?" asked trot. "certainly i'm afraid," responded the ork. "but if we intend to escape we can't stay on this shelf forever. so, as i notice you poor creatures cannot fly, it is my duty to explore the place for you." cap'n bill handed the ork the candle, which had now burned to about half its length. the ork took it in one claw rather cautiously and then tipped its body forward and slipped over the edge. they heard a queer buzzing sound, as the tail revolved, and a brisk flapping of the peculiar wings, but they were more interested just then in following with their eyes the tiny speck of light which marked the location of the candle. this light first made a great circle, then dropped slowly downward and suddenly was extinguished, leaving everything before them black as ink. "hi, there! how did that happen?" cried the ork. "it blew out, i guess," shouted cap'n bill. "fetch it here." "i can't see where you are," said the ork. so cap'n bill got out another candle and lighted it, and its flame enabled the ork to fly back to them. it alighted on the edge and held out the bit of candle. "what made it stop burning?" asked the creature. "the wind," said trot. "you must be more careful, this time." "what's the place like?" inquired cap'n bill. "i don't know, yet; but there must be a bottom to it, so i'll try to find it." with this the ork started out again and this time sank downward more slowly. down, down, down it went, till the candle was a mere spark, and then it headed away to the left and trot and cap'n bill lost all sight of it. [illustration] in a few minutes, however, they saw the spark of light again, and as the sailor still held the second lighted candle the ork made straight toward them. it was only a few yards distant when suddenly it dropped the candle with a cry of pain and next moment alighted, fluttering wildly, upon the rocky ledge. "what's the matter?" asked trot. "it bit me!" wailed the ork. "i don't like your candles. the thing began to disappear slowly as soon as i took it in my claw, and it grew smaller and smaller until just now it turned and bit me--a most unfriendly thing to do. oh--oh! ouch, what a bite!" "that's the nature of candles, i'm sorry to say," explained cap'n bill, with a grin. "you have to handle 'em mighty keerful. but tell us, what did you find down there?" "i found a way to continue our journey," said the ork, nursing tenderly the claw which had been burned. "just below us is a great lake of black water, which looked so cold and wicked that it made me shudder; but away at the left there's a big tunnel, which we can easily walk through. i don't know where it leads to, of course, but we must follow it and find out." "why, we can't get to it," protested the little girl. "we can't fly, as you do, you must remember." "no, that's true," replied the ork musingly. "your bodies are built very poorly, it seems to me, since all you can do is crawl upon the earth's surface. but you may ride upon my back, and in that way t can promise you a safe journey to the tunnel." "are you strong enough to carry us?" asked cap'n bill, doubtfully. "yes, indeed; i'm strong enough to carry a dozen of you, if you could find a place to sit," was the reply; "but there's only room between my wings for one at a time, so i'll have to make two trips." "all right; i'll go first," decided cap'n bill. he lit another candle for trot to hold while they were gone and to light the ork on his return to her, and then the old sailor got upon the ork's back, where he sat with his wooden leg sticking straight out sidewise. "if you start to fall, clasp your arms around my neck," advised the creature. "if i start to fall, it's good night an' pleasant dreams," said cap'n bill. "all ready?" asked the ork. "start the buzz-tail," said cap'n bill, with a tremble in his voice. but the ork flew away so gently that the old man never even tottered in his seat. trot watched the light of cap'n bill's candle till it disappeared in the far distance. she didn't like to be left alone on this dangerous ledge, with a lake of black water hundreds of feet below her; but she was a brave little girl and waited patiently for the return of the ork. it came even sooner than she had expected and the creature said to her: "your friend is safe in the tunnel. now, then, get aboard and i'll carry you to him in a jiffy." i'm sure not many little girls would have cared to take that awful ride through the huge black cavern on the back of a skinny ork. trot didn't care for it, herself, but it just had to be done and so she did it as courageously as possible. her heart beat fast and she was so nervous she could scarcely hold the candle in her fingers as the ork sped swiftly through the darkness. it seemed like a long ride to her, yet in reality the ork covered the distance in a wonderfully brief period of time and soon trot stood safely beside cap'n bill on the level floor of a big arched tunnel. the sailor-man was very glad to greet his little comrade again and both were grateful to the ork for his assistance. "i dunno where this tunnel leads to," remarked cap'n bill, "but it surely looks more promisin' than that other hole we crept through." "when the ork is rested," said trot, "we'll travel on and see what happens." "rested!" cried the ork, as scornfully as his shrill voice would allow. "that bit of flying didn't tire me at all. i'm used to flying days at a time, without ever once stopping." "then let's move on," proposed cap'n bill. he still held in his hand one lighted candle, so trot blew out the other flame and placed her candle in the sailor's big pocket. she knew it was not wise to burn two candles at once. the tunnel was straight and smooth and very easy to walk through, so they made good progress. trot thought that the tunnel began about two miles from the cavern where they had been cast by the whirlpool, but now it was impossible to guess the miles traveled, for they walked steadily for hours and hours without any change in their surroundings. finally cap'n bill stopped to rest. "there's somethin' queer about this 'ere tunnel, i'm certain," he declared, wagging his head dolefully. "here's three candles gone a'ready, an' only three more left us, yet the tunnel's the same as it was when we started. an' how long it's goin' to keep up, no one knows." "couldn't we walk without a light?" asked trot. "the way seems safe enough." "it does right now," was the reply, "but we can't tell when we are likely to come to another gulf, or somethin' jes' as dangerous. in that case we'd be killed afore we knew it." "suppose i go ahead?" suggested the ork. "i don't fear a fall, you know, and if anything happens i'll call out and warn you." "that's a good idea," declared trot, and cap'n bill thought so, too. so the ork started off ahead, quite in the dark, and hand in hand the two followed him. when they had walked in this way for a good long time the ork halted and demanded food. cap'n bill had not mentioned food because there was so little left--only three biscuits and a lump of cheese about as big as his two fingers--but he gave the ork half of a biscuit, sighing as he did so. the creature didn't care for the cheese, so the sailor divided it between himself and trot. they lighted a candle and sat down in the tunnel while they ate. "my feet hurt me," grumbled the ork. "i'm not used to walking and this rocky passage is so uneven and lumpy that it hurts me to walk upon it." "can't you fly along?" asked trot. "no; the roof is too low," said the ork. after the meal they resumed their journey, which trot began to fear would never end. when cap'n bill noticed how tired the little girl was, he paused and lighted a match and looked at his big silver watch. "why, it's night!" he exclaimed. "we've tramped all day, an' still we're in this awful passage, which mebbe goes straight through the middle of the world, an' mebbe is a circle--in which case we can keep walkin' till doomsday. not knowin' what's before us so well as we know what's behind us, i propose we make a stop, now, an' try to sleep till mornin'." "that will suit me," asserted the ork, with a groan. "my feet are hurting me dreadfully and for the last few miles i've been limping with pain." "my foot hurts, too," said the sailor, looking for a smooth place on the rocky floor to sit down. "_your_ foot!" cried the ork. "why, you've only one to hurt you, while i have four. so i suffer four times as much as you possibly can. here; hold the candle while i look at the bottoms of my claws. i declare," he said, examining them by the flickering light, "there are bunches of pain all over them!" "p'r'aps," said trot, who was very glad to sit down beside her companions, "you've got corns." "corns? nonsense! orks never have corns," protested the creature, rubbing its sore feet tenderly. "then mebbe they're--they're--what do you call 'em, cap'n bill? something 'bout the pilgrim's progress, you know." "bunions," said cap'n bill. "oh, yes; mebbe you've got bunions." "it is possible," moaned the ork. "but whatever they are, another day of such walking on them would drive me crazy." "i'm sure they'll feel better by mornin'," said cap'n bill, encouragingly. "go to sleep an' try to forget your sore feet." the ork cast a reproachful look at the sailor-man, who didn't see it. then the creature asked plaintively: "do we eat now, or do we starve?" "there's only half a biscuit left for you," answered cap'n bill. "no one knows how long we'll have to stay in this dark tunnel, where there's nothing whatever to eat; so i advise you to save that morsel o' food till later." "give it me now!" demanded the ork. "if i'm going to starve, i'll do it all at once--not by degrees." cap'n bill produced the biscuit and the creature ate it in a trice. trot was rather hungry and whispered to cap'n bill that she'd take part of her share; but the old man secretly broke his own half-biscuit in two, saving trot's share for a time of greater need. he was beginning to be worried over the little girl's plight and long after she was asleep and the ork was snoring in a rather disagreeable manner, cap'n bill sat with his back to a rock and smoked his pipe and tried to think of some way to escape from this seemingly endless tunnel. but after a time he also slept, for hobbling on a wooden leg all day was tiresome, and there in the dark slumbered the three adventurers for many hours, until the ork roused itself and kicked the old sailor with one foot. "it must be another day," said he. [illustration] [illustration] chapter daylight at last cap'n bill rubbed his eyes, lit a match and consulted his watch. "nine o'clock. yes, i guess it's another day, sure enough. shall we go on?' he asked. "of course," replied the ork. "unless this tunnel is different from everything else in the world, and has no end, we'll find a way out of it sooner or later." the sailor gently wakened trot. she felt much rested by her long sleep and sprang to her feet eagerly. "let's start, cap'n," was all she said. they resumed the journey and had only taken a few steps when the ork cried "wow!" and made a great fluttering of its wings and whirling of its tail. the others, who were following a short distance behind, stopped abruptly. "what's the matter?" asked cap'n bill. "give us a light," was the reply. "i think we've come to the end of the tunnel." then, while cap'n bill lighted a candle, the creature added: "if that is true, we needn't have wakened so soon, for we were almost at the end of this place when we went to sleep." the sailor-man and trot came forward with a light. a wall of rock really faced the tunnel, but now they saw that the opening made a sharp turn to the left. so they followed on, by a narrower passage, and then made another sharp turn--this time to the right. "blow out the light, cap'n," said the ork, in a pleased voice. "we've struck daylight." daylight at last! a shaft of mellow light fell almost at their feet as trot and the sailor turned the corner of the passage, but it came from above, and raising their eyes they found they were at the bottom of a deep, rocky well, with the top far, far above their heads. and here the passage ended. [illustration] for a while they gazed in silence, at least two of them being filled with dismay at the sight. but the ork merely whistled softly and said cheerfully: "that was the toughest journey i ever had the misfortune to undertake, and i'm glad it's over. yet, unless i can manage to fly to the top of this pit, we are entombed here forever." "do you think there is room enough for you to fly in?" asked the little girl anxiously; and cap'n bill added: "it's a straight-up shaft, so i don't see how you'll ever manage it." "were i an ordinary bird--one of those horrid feathered things--i wouldn't even make the attempt to fly out," said the ork. "but my mechanical propeller tail can accomplish wonders, and whenever you're ready i'll show you a trick that is worth while." "oh!" exclaimed trot; "do you intend to take us up, too?" "why not?" "i thought," said cap'n bill, "as you'd go first, an' then send somebody to help us by lettin' down a rope." "ropes are dangerous," replied the ork, "and i might not be able to find one to reach all this distance. besides, it stands to reason that if i can get out myself i can also carry you two with me." "well, i'm not afraid," said trot, who longed to be on the earth's surface again. "s'pose we fall?'' suggested cap'n bill, doubtfully. "why, in that case we would all fall together," returned the ork. "get aboard, little girl; sit across my shoulders and put both your arms around my neck." trot obeyed and when she was seated on the ork, cap'n bill inquired: "how 'bout me, mr. ork?" "why, i think you'd best grab hold of my rear legs and let me carry you up in that manner," was the reply. cap'n bill looked way up at the top of the well, and then he looked at the ork's slender, skinny legs and heaved a deep sigh. "it's goin' to be some dangle, i guess; but if you don't waste too much time on the way up, i may be able to hang on," said he. "all ready, then!" cried the ork, and at once his whirling tail began to revolve. trot felt herself rising into the air; when the creature's legs left the ground cap'n bill grasped two of them firmly and held on for dear life. the ork's body was tipped straight upward, and trot had to embrace the neck very tightly to keep from sliding off. even in this position the ork had trouble in escaping the rough sides of the well. several times it exclaimed "wow!" as it bumped its back, or a wing hit against some jagged projection; but the tail kept whirling with remarkable swiftness and the daylight grew brighter and brighter. it was, indeed, a long journey from the bottom to the top, yet almost before trot realized they had come so far, they popped out of the hole into the clear air and sunshine and a moment later the ork alighted gently upon the ground. [illustration] the release was so sudden that even with the creature's care for its passengers cap'n bill struck the earth with a shock that sent him rolling heel over head; but by the time trot had slid down from her seat the old sailor-man was sitting up and looking around him with much satisfaction. "it's sort o' pretty here," said he. "earth is a beautiful place!" cried trot. "i wonder where on earth we are?' pondered the ork, turning first one bright eye and then the other to this side and that. trees there were, in plenty, and shrubs and flowers and green turf. but there were no houses; there were no paths; there was no sign of civilization whatever. "just before i settled down on the ground i thought i caught a view of the ocean," said the ork. "let's see if i was right." then he flew to a little hill, near by, and trot and cap'n bill followed him more slowly. when they stood on the top of the hill they could see the blue waves of the ocean in front of them, to the right of them, and at the left of them. behind the hill was a forest that shut out the view. "i hope it ain't an island, trot," said cap'n bill gravely. "if it is, i s'pose we're prisoners," she replied. "ezzackly so, trot." "but, even so, it's better than those terr'ble underground tunnels and caverns," declared the girl. "you are right, little one," agreed the ork. "anything above ground is better than the best that lies under ground. so let's not quarrel with our fate but be thankful we've escaped." "we are, indeed!" she replied. "but i wonder if we can find something to eat in this place?" "let's explore an' find out," proposed cap'n bill. "those trees over at the left look like cherry-trees." on the way to them the explorers had to walk through a tangle of vines and cap'n bill, who went first, stumbled and pitched forward on his face. "why, it's a melon!" cried trot delightedly, as she saw what had caused the sailor to fall. [illustration] cap'n bill rose to his foot, for he was not at all hurt, and examined the melon. then he took his big jackknife from his pocket and cut the melon open. it was quite ripe and looked delicious; but the old man tasted it before he permitted trot to eat any. deciding it was good he gave her a big slice and then offered the ork some. the creature looked at the fruit somewhat disdainfully, at first, but once he had tasted its flavor he ate of it as heartily as did the others. among the vines they discovered many other melons, and trot said gratefully: "well, there's no danger of our starving, even if this _is_ an island." "melons," remarked cap'n bill, "are both food an' water. we couldn't have struck anything better." farther on they came to the cherry-trees, where they obtained some of the fruit, and at the edge of the little forest were wild plums. the forest itself consisted entirely of nut trees--walnuts, filberts, almonds and chestnuts--so there would be plenty of wholesome food for them while they remained there. cap'n bill and trot decided to walk through the forest, to discover what was on the other side of it, but the ork's feet were still so sore and "lumpy" from walking on the rocks that the creature said he preferred to fly over the tree-tops and meet them on the other side. the forest was not large, so by walking briskly for fifteen minutes they reached its farthest edge and saw before them the shore of the ocean. "it's an island, all right," said trot, with a sigh. "yes, and a pretty island, too," said cap'n bill, trying to conceal his disappointment on trot's account. "i guess, partner, if the wuss comes to the wuss, i could build a raft--or even a boat--from those trees, so's we could sail away in it." the little girl brightened at this suggestion. "i don't see the ork anywhere," she remarked, looking around. then her eyes lighted upon something and she exclaimed: "oh, cap'n bill! isn't that a house, over there to the left?" cap'n bill, looking closely, saw a shed-like structure built at one edge of the forest. "seems like it, trot. not that i'd call it much of a house, but it's a buildin', all right. let's go over an' see if it's occypied." [illustration] [illustration] chapter the little old man of the island a few steps brought them to the shed, which was merely a roof of boughs built over a square space, with some branches of trees fastened to the sides to keep off the wind. the front was quite open and faced the sea, and as our friends came nearer they observed a little man, with a long pointed beard, sitting motionless on a stool and staring thoughtfully out over the water. "get out of the way, please," he called in a fretful voice. "can't you see you are obstructing my view?" "good morning," said cap'n bill, politely. "it isn't a good morning!" snapped the little man. "i've seen plenty of mornings better than this. do you call it a good morning when i'm pestered with such a crowd as you?" trot was astonished to hear such words from a stranger whom they had greeted quite properly, and cap'n bill grew red at the little man's rudeness. but the sailor said, in a quiet tone of voice: "are you the only one as lives on this 'ere island?" "your grammar's bad," was the reply. "but this is my own exclusive island, and i'll thank you to get off it as soon as possible." "we'd like to do that," said trot, and then she and cap'n bill turned away and walked down to the shore, to see if any other land was in sight. the little man rose and followed them, although both were now too provoked to pay any attention to him. "nothin' in sight, partner," reported cap'n bill, shading his eyes with his hand; "so we'll have to stay here for a time, anyhow. it isn't a bad place, trot, by any means." "that's all you know about it!" broke in the little man. "the trees are altogether too green and the rocks are harder than they ought to be. i find the sand very grainy and the water dreadfully wet. every breeze makes a draught and the sun shines in the daytime, when there's no need of it, and disappears just as soon as it begins to get dark. if you remain here you'll find the island very unsatisfactory." trot turned to look at him, and her sweet face was grave and curious. "i wonder who you are," she said. "my name is pessim," said he, with an air of pride. "i'm called the observer." "oh. what do you observe?" asked the little girl. "everything i see," was the reply, in a more surly tone. then pessim drew back with a startled exclamation and looked at some footprints in the sand. "why, good gracious me!' he cried in distress. "what's the matter now?' asked cap'n bill. "someone has pushed the earth in! don't you see it?" "it isn't pushed in far enough to hurt anything," said trot, examining the footprints. "everything hurts that isn't right," insisted the man. "if the earth were pushed in a mile, it would be a great calamity, wouldn't it?" "i s'pose so," admitted the little girl. "well, here it is pushed in a full inch! that's a twelfth of a foot, or a little more than a millionth part of a mile. therefore it is one-millionth part of a calamity--oh, dear! how dreadful!" said pessim in a wailing voice. "try to forget it, sir," advised cap'n bill, soothingly. "it's beginning to rain. let's get under your shed and keep dry." "raining! is it really raining?' asked pessim, beginning to weep. "it is," answered cap'n bill, as the drops began to descend, "and i don't see any way to stop it--although i'm some observer myself." "no; we can't stop it, i fear," said the man. "are you very busy just now?" "i won't be after i get to the shed," replied the sailor-man. "then do me a favor, please," begged pessim, walking briskly along behind them, for they were hastening to the shed. "depends on what it is," said cap'n bill. "i wish you would take my umbrella down to the shore and hold it over the poor fishes till it stops raining. i'm afraid they'll get wet," said pessim. trot laughed, but cap'n bill thought the little man was poking fun at him and so he scowled upon pessim in a way that showed he was angry. they reached the shed before getting very wet, although the rain was now coming down in big drops. the roof of the shed protected them and while they stood watching the rainstorm something buzzed in and circled around pessim's head. at once the observer began beating it away with his hands, crying out: "a bumblebee! a bumblebee! the queerest bumblebee i ever saw!" cap'n bill and trot both looked at it and the little girl said in surprise: "dear me! it's a wee little ork!" "that's what it is, sure enough," exclaimed cap'n bill. really, it wasn't much bigger than a big bumblebee, and when it came toward trot she allowed it to alight on her shoulder. "it's me, all right," said a very small voice in her ear; "but i'm in an awful pickle, just the same!" "what, are you _our_ ork, then?" demanded the girl, much amazed. "no, i'm my own ork. but i'm the only ork you know," replied the tiny creature. "what's happened to you?" asked the sailor, putting his head close to trot's shoulder in order to hear the reply better. pessim also put his head close, and the ork said: [illustration] "you will remember that when i left you i started to fly over the trees, and just as i got to this side of the forest i saw a bush that was loaded down with the most luscious fruit you can imagine. the fruit was about the size of a gooseberry and of a lovely lavender color. so i swooped down and picked off one in my bill and ate it. at once i began to grow small. i could feel myself shrinking, shrinking away, and it frightened me terribly, so that i alighted on the ground to think over what was happening. in a few seconds i had shrunk to the size you now see me; but there i remained, getting no smaller, indeed, but no larger. it is certainly a dreadful affliction! after i had recovered somewhat from the shock i began to search for you. it is not so easy to find one's way when a creature is so small, but fortunately i spied you here in this shed and came to you at once." cap'n bill and trot were much astonished at this story and felt grieved for the poor ork, but the little man pessim seemed to think it a good joke. he began laughing when he heard the story and laughed until he choked, after which he lay down on the ground and rolled and laughed again, while the tears of merriment coursed down his wrinkled cheeks. "oh, dear! oh, dear!" he finally gasped, sitting up and wiping his eyes. "this is too rich! it's almost too joyful to be true." "i don't see anything funny about it," remarked trot indignantly. "you would if you'd had my experience," said pessim, getting upon his feet and gradually resuming his solemn and dissatisfied expression of countenance. "the same thing happened to me." "oh, did it? and how did you happen to come to this island?" asked the girl. "i didn't come; the neighbors brought me," replied the little man, with a frown at the recollection. "they said i was quarrelsome and fault-finding and blamed me because i told them all the things that went wrong, or never were right, and because i told them how things ought to be. so they brought me here and left me all alone, saying that if i quarreled with myself, no one else would be made unhappy. absurd, wasn't it?" "seems to me," said cap'n bill, "those neighbors did the proper thing." "well," resumed pessim, "when i found myself king of this island i was obliged to live upon fruits, and i found many fruits growing here that i had never seen before. i tasted several and found them good and wholesome. but one day i ate a lavender berry--as the ork did--and immediately i grew so small that i was scarcely two inches high. it was a very unpleasant condition and like the ork i became frightened. i could not walk very well nor very far, for every lump of earth in my way seemed a mountain, every blade of grass a tree and every grain of sand a rocky boulder. for several days i stumbled around in an agony of fear. once a tree toad nearly gobbled me up, and if i ran out from the shelter of the bushes the gulls and cormorants swooped down upon me. finally i decided to eat another berry and become nothing at all, since life, to one as small as i was, had become a dreary nightmare. "at last i found a small tree that i thought bore the same fruit as that i had eaten. the berry was dark purple instead of light lavender, but otherwise it was quite similar. being unable to climb the tree, i was obliged to wait underneath it until a sharp breeze arose and shook the limbs so that a berry fell. instantly i seized it and taking a last view of the world--as i then thought--i ate the berry in a twinkling. then, to my surprise, i began to grow big again, until i became of my former stature, and so i have since remained. needless to say, i have never eaten again of the lavender fruit, nor do any of the beasts or birds that live upon this island eat it." they had all three listened eagerly to this amazing tale, and when it was finished the ork exclaimed: "do you think, then, that the deep purple berry is the antidote for the lavender one?" "i'm sure of it," answered pessim. "then lead me to the tree at once!" begged the ork, "for this tiny form i now have terrifies me greatly." pessim examined the ork closely. [illustration] "you are ugly enough as you are," said he. "were you any larger you might be dangerous." "oh, no," trot assured him; "the ork has been our good friend. please take us to the tree." then pessim consented, although rather reluctantly. he led them to the right, which was the east side of the island, and in a few minutes brought them near to the edge of the grove which faced the shore of the ocean. here stood a small tree bearing berries of a deep purple color. the fruit looked very enticing and cap'n bill reached up and selected one that seemed especially plump and ripe. the ork had remained perched upon trot's shoulder but now it flew down to the ground. it was so difficult for cap'n bill to kneel down, with his wooden leg, that the little girl took the berry from him and held it close to the ork's head. "it's too big to go into my mouth," said the little creature, looking at the fruit sidewise. "you'll have to make sev'ral mouthfuls of it, i guess," said trot; and that is what the ork did. he pecked at the soft, ripe fruit with his bill and ate it up very quickly, because it was good. even before he had finished the berry they could see the ork begin to grow. in a few minutes he had regained his natural size and was strutting before them, quite delighted with his transformation. "well, well! what do you think of me now?" he asked proudly. "you are very skinny and remarkably ugly," declared pessim. "you are a poor judge of orks," was the reply. "anyone can see that i'm much handsomer than those dreadful things called birds, which are all fluff and feathers." "their feathers make soft beds," asserted pessim. "and my skin would make excellent drumheads," retorted the ork. "nevertheless, a plucked bird or a skinned ork would be of no value to himself, so we needn't brag of our usefulness after we are dead. but for the sake of argument, friend pessim, i'd like to know what good _you_ would be, were you not alive?" "never mind that," said cap'n bill. "he isn't much good as he is." "i am king of this island, allow me to say, and you're intruding on my property," declared the little man, scowling upon them. "if you don't like me--and i'm sure you don't, for no one else does--why don't you go away and leave me to myself?" "well, the ork can fly, but we can't," explained trot, in answer. "we don't want to stay here a bit, but i don't see how we can get away." "you can go back into the hole you came from." cap'n bill shook his head; trot shuddered at the thought; the ork laughed aloud. "you may be king here," the creature said to pessim, "but we intend to run this island to suit ourselves, for we are three and you are one, and the balance of power lies with us." the little man made no reply to this, although as they walked back to the shed his face wore its fiercest scowl. cap'n bill gathered a lot of leaves and, assisted by trot, prepared two nice beds in opposite corners of the shed. pessim slept in a hammock which he swung between two trees. they required no dishes, as all their food consisted of fruits and nuts picked from the trees; they made no fire, for the weather was warm and there was nothing to cook; the shed had no furniture other than the rude stool which the little man was accustomed to sit upon. he called it his "throne" and they let him keep it. so they lived upon the island for three days, and rested and ate to their hearts' content. still, they were not at all happy in this life because of pessim. he continually found fault with them, and all that they did, and all their surroundings. he could see nothing good or admirable in all the world and trot soon came to understand why the little man's former neighbors had brought him to this island and left him there, all alone, so he could not annoy anyone. it was their misfortune that they had been led to this place by their adventures, for often they would have preferred the company of a wild beast to that of pessim. on the fourth day a happy thought came to the ork. they had all been racking their brains for a possible way to leave the island, and discussing this or that method, without finding a plan that was practical. cap'n bill had said he could make a raft of the trees, big enough to float them all, but he had no tools except those two pocketknives and it was not possible to chop down trees with such small blades. "and s'pose we got afloat on the ocean," said trot, "where would we drift to, and how long would it take us to get there?" cap'n bill was forced to admit he didn't know. the ork could fly away from the island any time it wished to, but the queer creature was loyal to his new friends and refused to leave them in such a lonely, forsaken place. it was when trot urged him to go, on this fourth morning, that the ork had his happy thought. "i will go," said he, "if you two will agree to ride upon my back." "we are too heavy; you might drop us," objected cap'n bill. "yes, you are rather heavy for a long journey," acknowledged the ork, "but you might eat of those lavender berries and become so small that i could carry you with ease." this quaint suggestion startled trot and she looked gravely at the speaker while she considered it, but cap'n bill gave a scornful snort and asked: "what would become of us afterward! we wouldn't be much good if we were some two or three inches high. no, mr. ork, i'd rather stay here, as i am, than be a hop-o'-my-thumb somewhere else." "why couldn't you take some of the dark purple berries along with you, to eat after we had reached our destination?" inquired the ork. "then you could grow big again whenever you pleased." trot clapped her hands with delight. "that's it!" she exclaimed. "let's do it, cap'n bill." the old sailor did not like the idea at first, but he thought it over carefully and the more he thought the better it seemed. "how could you manage to carry us, if we were so small?" he asked. "i could put you in a paper bag, and tie the bag around my neck." "but we haven't a paper bag," objected trot. the ork looked at her. "there's your sunbonnet," it said presently, "which is hollow in the middle and has two strings that you could tie around my neck." [illustration] trot took off her sunbonnet and regarded it critically. yes, it might easily hold both her and cap'n bill, after they had eaten the lavender berries and been reduced in size. she tied the strings around the ork's neck and the sunbonnet made a bag in which two tiny people might ride without danger of falling out. so she said: "i b'lieve we'll do it that way, cap'n." cap'n bill groaned but could make no logical objection except that the plan seemed to him quite dangerous--and dangerous in more ways than one. "i think so, myself," said trot soberly. "but nobody can stay alive without getting into danger sometimes, and danger doesn't mean getting hurt, cap'n; it only means we _might_ get hurt. so i guess we'll have to take the risk." "let's go and find the berries," said the ork. they said nothing to pessim, who was sitting on his stool and scowling dismally as he stared at the ocean, but started at once to seek the trees that bore the magic fruits. the ork remembered very well where the lavender berries grew and led his companions quickly to the spot. cap'n bill gathered two berries and placed them carefully in his pocket. then they went around to the east side of the island and found the tree that bore the dark purple berries. "i guess i'll take four of these," said the sailor-man, "so in case one doesn't make us grow big we can eat another." "better take six," advised the ork. "it's well to be on the safe side, and i'm sure these trees grow nowhere else in all the world." so cap'n bill gathered six of the purple berries and with their precious fruit they returned to the shed to bid good-bye to pessim. perhaps they would not have granted the surly little man this courtesy had they not wished to use him to tie the sunbonnet around the ork's neck. when pessim learned they were about to leave him he at first looked greatly pleased, but he suddenly recollected that nothing ought to please him and so began to grumble about being left alone. "we knew it wouldn't suit you," remarked cap'n bill. "it didn't suit you to have us here, and it won't suit you to have us go away." "that is quite true," admitted pessim. "i haven't been suited since i can remember; so it doesn't matter to me in the least whether you go or stay." he was interested in their experiment, however, and willingly agreed to assist, although he prophesied they would fall out of the sunbonnet on their way and be either drowned in the ocean or crushed upon some rocky shore. this uncheerful prospect did not daunt trot, but it made cap'n bill quite nervous. "i will eat my berry first," said trot, as she placed her sunbonnet on the ground, in such manner that they could get into it. then she ate the lavender berry and in a few seconds became so small that cap'n bill picked her up gently with his thumb and one finger and placed her in the middle of the sunbonnet. then he placed beside her the six purple berries--each one being about as big as the tiny trot's head--and all preparations being now made the old sailor ate his lavender berry and became very small--wooden leg and all! cap'n bill stumbled sadly in trying to climb over the edge of the sunbonnet and pitched in beside trot headfirst, which caused the unhappy pessim to laugh with glee. then the king of the island picked up the sunbonnet--so rudely that he shook its occupants like peas in a pod--and tied it, by means of its strings, securely around the ork's neck. "i hope, trot, you sewed those strings on tight," said cap'n bill anxiously. "why, we are not very heavy, you know," she replied, "so i think the stitches will hold. but be careful and not crush the berries, cap'n." "one is jammed already," he said, looking at them. "all ready?" asked the ork. "yes!" they cried together, and pessim came close to the sunbonnet and called out to them: "you'll be smashed or drowned, i'm sure you will! but farewell, and good riddance to you." the ork was provoked by this unkind speech, so he turned his tail toward the little man and made it revolve so fast that the rush of air tumbled pessim over backward and he rolled several times upon the ground before he could stop himself and sit up. by that time the ork was high in the air and speeding swiftly over the ocean. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the flight of the midgets cap'n bill and trot rode very comfortably in the sunbonnet. the motion was quite steady, for they weighed so little that the ork flew without effort. yet they were both somewhat nervous about their future fate and could not help wishing they were safe on land and their natural size again. "you're terr'ble small, trot," remarked cap'n bill, looking at his companion. "same to you, cap'n," she said with a laugh; "but as long as we have the purple berries we needn't worry about our size." "in a circus," mused the old man, "we'd be curiosities. but in a sunbonnet--high up in the air--sailin' over a big, unknown ocean--they ain't no word in any booktionary to describe us." "why, we're midgets, that's all," said the little girl. the ork flew silently for a long time. the slight swaying of the sunbonnet made cap'n bill drowsy, and he began to doze. trot, however, was wide awake, and after enduring the monotonous journey as long as she was able she called out: "don't you see land anywhere, mr. ork?" "not yet," he answered. "this is a big ocean and i've no idea in which direction the nearest land to that island lies; but if i keep flying in a straight line i'm sure to reach some place some time." that seemed reasonable, so the little people in the sunbonnet remained as patient as possible; that is, cap'n bill dozed and trot tried to remember her geography lessons so she could figure out what land they were likely to arrive at. for hours and hours the ork flew steadily, keeping to the straight line and searching with his eyes the horizon of the ocean for land. cap'n bill was fast asleep and snoring and trot had laid her head on his shoulder to rest it when suddenly the ork exclaimed: "there! i've caught a glimpse of land, at last." at this announcement they roused themselves. cap'n bill stood up and tried to peek over the edge of the sunbonnet. "what does it look like?" he inquired. "looks like another island," said the ork; "but i can judge it better in a minute or two." "i don't care much for islands, since we visited that other one," declared trot. soon the ork made another announcement. "it is surely an island, and a little one, too," said he. "but i won't stop, because i see a much bigger land straight ahead of it." "that's right," approved cap'n bill. "the bigger the land, the better it will suit us." "it's almost a continent," continued the ork after a brief silence, during which he did not decrease the speed of his flight. "i wonder if it can be orkland, the place i have been seeking so long?" "i hope not," whispered trot to cap'n bill--so softly that the ork could not hear her--"for i shouldn't like to be in a country where only orks live. this one ork isn't a bad companion, but a lot of him wouldn't be much fun." after a few more minutes of flying the ork called out in a sad voice: "no! this is not my country. it's a place i have never seen before, although i have wandered far and wide. it seems to be all mountains and deserts and green valleys and queer cities and lakes and rivers--mixed up in a very puzzling way." "most countries are like that," commented cap'n bill. "are you going to land?" "pretty soon," was the reply. "there is a mountain peak just ahead of me. what do you say to our landing on that?" "all right," agreed the sailor-man, for both he and trot were getting tired of riding in the sunbonnet and longed to set foot on solid ground again. so in a few minutes the ork slowed down his speed and then came to a stop so easily that they were scarcely jarred at all. then the creature squatted down until the sunbonnet rested on the ground, and began trying to unfasten with its claws the knotted strings. this proved a very clumsy task, because the strings were tied at the back of the ork's neck, just where his claws would not easily reach. after much fumbling he said: "i'm afraid i can't let you out, and there is no one near to help me." this was at first discouraging, but after a little thought cap'n bill said: "if you don't mind, trot, i can cut a slit in your sunbonnet with my knife." "do," she replied. "the slit won't matter, 'cause i can sew it up again afterward, when i am big." so cap'n bill got out his knife, which was just as small, in proportion, as he was, and after considerable trouble managed to cut a long slit in the sunbonnet. first he squeezed through the opening himself and then helped trot to get out. [illustration] when they stood on firm ground again their first act was to begin eating the dark purple berries which they had brought with them. two of these trot had guarded carefully during the long journey, by holding them in her lap, for their safety meant much to the tiny people. "i'm not very hungry," said the little girl as she handed a berry to cap'n bill, "but hunger doesn't count, in this case. it's like taking medicine to make you well, so we must manage to eat 'em, somehow or other." but the berries proved quite pleasant to taste and as cap'n bill and trot nibbled at their edges their forms began to grow in size--slowly but steadily. the bigger they grew the easier it was for them to eat the berries, which of course became smaller to them, and by the time the fruit was eaten our friends had regained their natural size. the little girl was greatly relieved when she found herself as large as she had ever been, and cap'n bill shared her satisfaction; for, although they had seen the effect of the berries on the ork, they had not been sure the magic fruit would have the same effect on human beings, or that the magic would work in any other country than that in which the berries grew. "what shall we do with the other four berries?" asked trot, as she picked up her sunbonnet, marveling that she had ever been small enough to ride in it. "they're no good to us now, are they, cap'n?" "i'm not sure as to that," he replied. "if they were eaten by one who had never eaten the lavender berries, they might have no effect at all; but then, contrarywise, they might. one of 'em has got badly jammed, so i'll throw it away, but the other three i b'lieve i'll carry with me. they're magic things, you know, and may come handy to us some time." he now searched in his big pockets and drew out a small wooden box with a sliding cover. the sailor had kept an assortment of nails, of various sizes, in this box, but those he now dumped loosely into his pocket and in the box placed the three sound purple berries. when this important matter was attended to they found time to look about them and see what sort of place the ork had landed them in. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the bumpy man the mountain on which they had alighted was not a barren waste, but had on its sides patches of green grass, some bushes, a few slender trees and here and there masses of tumbled rocks. the sides of the slope seemed rather steep, but with care one could climb up or down them with ease and safety. the view from where they now stood showed pleasant valleys and fertile hills lying below the heights. trot thought she saw some houses of queer shapes scattered about the lower landscape, and there were moving dots that might be people or animals, yet were too far away for her to see them clearly. not far from the place where they stood was the top of the mountain, which seemed to be flat, so the ork proposed to his companions that he would fly up and see what was there. "that's a good idea," said trot, "'cause it's getting toward evening and we'll have to find a place to sleep." the ork had not been gone more than a few minutes when they saw him appear on the edge of the top which was nearest them. "come on up!" he called. so trot and cap'n bill began to ascend the steep slope and it did not take them long to reach the place where the ork awaited them. their first view of the mountain-top pleased them very much. it was a level space of wider extent than they had guessed and upon it grew grass of a brilliant green color. in the very center stood a house built of stone and very neatly constructed. no one was in sight, but smoke was coming from the chimney, so with one accord all three began walking toward the house. "i wonder," said trot, "in what country we are, and if it's very far from my home in california." "can't say as to that, partner," answered cap'n bill, "but i'm mighty certain we've come a long way since we struck that whirlpool." "yes," she agreed, with a sigh, "it must be miles and miles!" "distance means nothing," said the ork. "i have flown pretty much all over the world, trying to find my home, and it is astonishing how many little countries there are, hidden away in the cracks and corners of this big globe of earth. if one travels, he may find some new country at every turn, and a good many of them have never yet been put upon the maps." "p'raps this is one of them," suggested trot. they reached the house after a brisk walk and cap'n bill knocked upon the door. it was at once opened by a rugged looking man who had "bumps all over him," as trot afterward declared. there were bumps on his head, bumps on his body and bumps on his arms and legs and hands. even his fingers had bumps on the ends of them. for dress he wore an old gray suit of fantastic design, which fitted him very badly because of the bumps it covered but could not conceal. but the bumpy man's eyes were kind and twinkling in expression and as soon as he saw his visitors he bowed low and said in a rather bumpy voice: "happy day! come in and shut the door, for it grows cool when the sun goes down. winter is now upon us." "why, it isn't cold a bit, outside," said trot, "so it can't be winter yet." "you will change your mind about that in a little while," declared the bumpy man. "my bumps always tell me the state of the weather, and they feel just now as if a snowstorm was coming this way. but make yourselves at home, strangers. supper is nearly ready and there is food enough for all." inside the house there was but one large room, simply but comfortably furnished. it had benches, a table and a fireplace, all made of stone. on the hearth a pot was bubbling and steaming, and trot thought it had a rather nice smell. the visitors seated themselves upon the benches--except the ork, which squatted by the fireplace--and the bumpy man began stirring the kettle briskly. "may i ask what country this is, sir?' inquired cap'n bill. "goodness me--fruit-cake and apple-sauce!--don't you know where you are?' asked the bumpy man, as he stopped stirring and looked at the speaker in surprise. "no," admitted cap'n bill. "we've just arrived." "lost your way?" questioned the bumpy man. "not exactly," said cap'n bill. "we didn't have any way to lose." "ah!" said the bumpy man, nodding his bumpy head. "this," he announced, in a solemn, impressive voice, "is the famous land of mo." "oh!" exclaimed the sailor and the girl, both in one breath. but, never having heard of the land of mo, they were no wiser than before. "i thought that would startle you," remarked the bumpy man, well pleased, as he resumed his stirring. the ork watched him a while in silence and then asked: "who may _you_ be?" "me?" answered the bumpy man. "haven't you heard of me? gingerbread and lemon-juice! i'm known, far and wide, as the mountain ear." they all received this information in silence at first, for they were trying to think what he could mean. finally trot mustered up courage to ask: "what is a mountain ear, please?" for answer the man turned around and faced them, waving the spoon with which he had been stirring the kettle, as he recited the following verses in a singsong tone of voice: "here's a mountain, hard of hearing, that's sad-hearted and needs cheering, so my duty is to listen to all sounds that nature makes, so the hill won't get uneasy-- get to coughing, or get sneezy-- for this monster bump, when frightened, is quite liable to quakes. "_you_ can hear a bell that's ringing; _i_ can feel some people's singing; but a mountain isn't sensible of what goes on, and so when i hear a blizzard blowing or it's raining hard, or snowing, i tell it to the mountain and the mountain seems to know. "thus i benefit all people while i'm living on this steeple, for i keep the mountain steady so my neighbors all may thrive. with my list'ning and my shouting i prevent this mount from spouting, and that makes me so important that i'm glad that i'm alive." when he had finished these lines of verse the bumpy man turned again to resume his stirring. the ork laughed softly and cap'n bill whistled to himself and trot made up her mind that the mountain ear must be a little crazy. but the bumpy man seemed satisfied that he had explained his position fully and presently he placed four stone plates upon the table and then lifted the kettle from the fire and poured some of its contents on each of the plates. cap'n bill and trot at once approached the table, for they were hungry, but when she examined her plate the little girl exclaimed: "why, it's molasses candy!" "to be sure," returned the bumpy man, with a pleasant smile. "eat it quick, while it's hot, for it cools very quickly this winter weather." with this he seized a stone spoon and began putting the hot molasses candy into his mouth, while the others watched him in astonishment. "doesn't it burn you?" asked the girl. "no indeed," said he. "why don't you eat? aren't you hungry?" "yes," she replied, "i am hungry. but we usually eat our candy when it is cold and hard. we always pull molasses candy before we eat it." "ha, ha, ha!" laughed the mountain ear. "what a funny idea! where in the world did you come from?" "california," she said. "california! pooh! there isn't any such place. i've heard of every place in the land of mo, but i never before heard of california." [illustration] "it isn't in the land of mo," she explained. "then it isn't worth talking about," declared the bumpy man, helping himself again from the steaming kettle, for he had been eating all the time he talked. "for my part," sighed cap'n bill, "i'd like a decent square meal, once more, just by way of variety. in the last place there was nothing but fruit to eat, and here it's worse, for there's nothing but candy." "molasses candy isn't so bad," said trot. "mine's nearly cool enough to pull, already. wait a bit, cap'n, and you can eat it." a little later she was able to gather the candy from the stone plate and begin to work it back and forth with her hands. the mountain ear was greatly amazed at this and watched her closely. it was really good candy and pulled beautifully, so that trot was soon ready to cut it into chunks for eating. cap'n bill condescended to eat one or two pieces and the ork ate several, but the bumpy man refused to try it. trot finished the plate of candy herself and then asked for a drink of water. "water?" said the mountain ear wonderingly. "what is that?" "something to drink. don't you have water in mo?" "none that ever i heard of," said he. "but i can give you some fresh lemonade. i caught it in a 'jar the last time it rained, which was only day before yesterday." "oh, does it rain lemonade here?" she inquired. "always; and it is very refreshing and healthful." [illustration ] with this he brought from a cupboard a stone jar and a dipper, and the girl found it very nice lemonade, indeed. cap'n bill liked it, too; but the ork would not touch it. "if there is no water in this country, i cannot stay here for long," the creature declared. "water means life to man and beast and bird." "there must be water in lemonade," said trot. "yes," answered the ork, "i suppose so; but there are other things in it, too, and they spoil the good water." the day's adventures had made our wanderers tired, so the bumpy man brought them some blankets in which they rolled themselves and then lay down before the fire, which their host kept alive with fuel all through the night. trot wakened several times and found the mountain ear always alert and listening intently for the slightest sound. but the little girl could hear no sound at all except the snores of cap'n bill. [illustration] chapter button-bright is lost and found again "wake up--wake up!" called the voice of the bumpy man. "didn't i tell you winter was coming? i could hear it coming with my left ear, and the proof is that it is now snowing hard outside." "is it?" said trot, rubbing her eyes and creeping out of her blanket. "where i live, in california, i have never seen snow, except far away on the tops of high mountains." "well, this is the top of a high mountain," returned the bumpy one, "and for that reason we get our heaviest snowfalls right here." the little girl went to the window and looked out. the air was filled with falling white flakes, so large in size and so queer in form that she was puzzled. "are you certain this is snow?" she asked. "to be sure. i must get my snow-shovel and turn out to shovel a path. would you like to come with me?" "yes," she said, and followed the bumpy man out when he opened the door. then she exclaimed: "why, it isn't cold a bit!" "of course not," replied the man. "it was cold last night, before the snowstorm; but snow, when it falls, is always crisp and warm." trot gathered a handful of it. "why, it's popcorn? she cried. "certainly; all snow is popcorn. what did you expect it to be?" "popcorn is not snow in my country." "well, it is the only snow we have in the land of mo, so you may as well make the best of it," said he, a little impatiently. "i'm not responsible for the absurd things that happen in your country, and when you're in mo you must do as the momen do. eat some of our snow, and you will find it is good. the only fault i find with our snow is that we get too much of it at times." with this the bumpy man set to work shoveling a path and he was so quick and industrious that he piled up the popcorn in great banks on either side of the trail that led to the mountain-top from the plains below. while he worked, trot ate popcorn and found it crisp and slightly warm, as well as nicely salted and buttered. presently cap'n bill came out of the house and joined her. "what's this?" he asked. "mo snow," said she. "but it isn't real snow, although it falls from the sky. it's popcorn." cap'n bill tasted it; then he sat down in the path and began to eat. the ork came out and pecked away with its bill as fast as it could. they all liked popcorn and they all were hungry this morning. meantime the flakes of "mo snow" came down so fast that the number of them almost darkened the air. the bumpy man was now shoveling quite a distance down the mountain-side, while the path behind him rapidly filled up with fresh-fallen popcorn. suddenly trot heard him call out: "goodness gracious--mince pie and pancakes!--here is some one buried in the snow." she ran toward him at once and the others followed, wading through the corn and crunching it underneath their feet. the mo snow was pretty deep where the bumpy man was shoveling and from beneath a great bank of it he had uncovered a pair of feet. "dear me! someone has been lost in the storm," said cap'n bill. "i hope he is still alive. let's pull him out and see." he took hold of one foot and the bumpy man took hold of the other. then they both pulled and out from the heap of popcorn came a little boy. he was dressed in a brown velvet jacket and knickerbockers, with brown stockings, buckled shoes and a blue shirt-waist that had frills down its front. when drawn from the heap the boy was chewing a mouthful of popcorn and both his hands were full of it. so at first he couldn't speak to his rescuers but lay quite still and eyed them calmly until he had swallowed his mouthful. then he said: "get my cap," and stuffed more popcorn into his mouth. while the bumpy man began shoveling into the corn-bank to find the boy's cap, trot was laughing joyfully and cap'n bill had a broad grin on his face. the ork looked from one to another and asked: "who is this stranger?" "why, it's button-bright, of course," answered trot. "if anyone ever finds a lost boy, he can make up his mind it's button-bright. but how he ever came to be lost in this far-away country is more'n i can make out." "where does he belong?" inquired the ork. [illustration] "his home used to be in philadelphia, i think; but i'm quite sure button-bright doesn't belong anywhere." "that's right," said the boy, nodding his head as he swallowed the second mouthful. "everyone belongs somewhere," remarked the ork. "not me," insisted button-bright. "i'm half-way 'round the world from philadelphia, and i've lost my magic umbrella, that used to carry me anywhere. stands to reason that if i can't get back i haven't any home. but i don't care much. this is a pretty good country, trot. i've had lots of fun here." by this time the mountain ear had secured the boy's cap and was listening to the conversation with much interest. "it seems you know this poor, snow-covered castaway," he said. "yes, indeed," answered trot. "we made a journey together to sky island, once, and were good friends." "well, then i'm glad i saved his life," said the bumpy man. "much obliged, mr. knobs," said button-bright, sitting up and staring at him, "but i don't believe you've saved anything except some popcorn that i might have eaten had you not disturbed me. it was nice and warm in that bank of popcorn, and there was plenty to eat. what made you dig me out? and what makes you so bumpy everywhere?" "as for the bumps," replied the man, looking at himself with much pride, "i was born with them and i suspect they were a gift from the fairies. they make me look rugged and big, like the mountain i serve." "all right," said button-bright and began eating popcorn again. it had stopped snowing, now, and great flocks of birds were gathering around the mountain-side, eating the popcorn with much eagerness and scarcely noticing the people at all. there were birds of every size and color, most of them having gorgeous feathers and plumes. "just look at them!" exclaimed the ork scornfully. "aren't they dreadful creatures, all covered with feathers?" "i think they're beautiful," said trot, and this made the ork so indignant that he went back into the house and sulked. button-bright reached out his hand and caught a big bird by the leg. at once it rose into the air and it was so strong that it nearly carried the little boy with it. he let go the leg in a hurry and the bird flew down again and began to eat of the popcorn, not being frightened in the least. this gave cap'n bill an idea. he felt in his pocket and drew out several pieces of stout string. moving very quietly, so as to not alarm the birds, he crept up to several of the biggest ones and tied cords around their legs, thus making them prisoners. the birds were so intent on their eating that they did not notice what had happened to them, and when about twenty had been captured in this manner cap'n bill tied the ends of all the strings together and fastened them to a huge stone, so they could not escape. the bumpy man watched the old sailor's actions with much curiosity. "the birds will be quiet until they've eaten up all the snow," he said, "but then they will want to fly away to their homes. tell me, sir, what will the poor things do when they find they can't fly?" "it may worry 'em a little," replied cap'n bill, "but they're not going to be hurt if they take it easy and behave themselves." our friends had all made a good breakfast of the delicious popcorn and now they walked toward the house again. button-bright walked beside trot and held her hand in his, because they were old friends and he liked the little girl very much. the boy was not so old as trot, and small as she was he was half a head shorter in height. the most remarkable thing about button-bright was that he was always quiet and composed, whatever happened, and nothing was ever able to astonish him. trot liked him because he was not rude and never tried to plague her. cap'n bill liked him because he had found the boy cheerful and brave at all times, and willing to do anything he was asked to do. when they came to the house trot sniffed the air and asked: "don't i smell perfume?'" [illustration] "i think you do," said the bumpy man. "you smell violets, and that proves there is a breeze springing up from the south. all our winds and breezes are perfumed and for that reason we are glad to have them blow in our direction. the south breeze always has a violet odor; the north breeze has the fragrance of wild roses; the east breeze is perfumed with lilies-of-the-valley and the west wind with lilac blossoms. so we need no weather-vane to tell us which way the wind is blowing. we have only to smell the perfume and it informs us at once." inside the house they found the ork, and button-bright regarded the strange, bird-like creature with curious interest. after examining it closely for a time he asked: "which way does your tail whirl?" "either way," said the ork. button-bright put out his hand and tried to spin it. "don't do that!" exclaimed the ork. "why not?' inquired the boy. "because it happens to be my tail, and i reserve the right to whirl it myself," explained the ork. "let's go out and fly somewhere," proposed button-bright. "i want to see how the tail works." "not now," said the ork. "i appreciate your interest in me, which i fully deserve; but i only fly when i am going somewhere, and if i got started i might not stop." "that reminds me," remarked cap'n bill, "to ask you, friend ork, how we are going to get away from here?" "get away!" exclaimed the bumpy man. "why don't you stay here? you won't find any nicer place than mo." "have you been anywhere else, sir?" "no; i can't say that i have," admitted the mountain ear. "then permit me to say you're no judge," declared cap'n bill. "but you haven't answered my question, friend ork. how are we to get away from this mountain?" the ork reflected a while before he answered. "i might carry one of you--the boy or the girl--upon my back," said he, "but three big people are more than i can manage, although i have carried two of you for a short distance. you ought not to have eaten those purple berries so soon." "p'r'aps we did make a mistake," cap'n bill acknowledged. "or we might have brought some of those lavender berries with us, instead of so many purple ones," suggested trot regretfully. cap'n bill made no reply to this statement, which showed he did not fully agree with the little girl; but he fell into deep thought, with wrinkled brows, and finally he said: "if those purple berries would make anything grow bigger, whether it'd eaten the lavender ones or not, i could find a way out of our troubles." they did not understand this speech and looked at the old sailor as if expecting him to explain what he meant. but just then a chorus of shrill cries rose from outside. "here! let me go--let me go!" the voices seemed to say. "why are we insulted in this way? mountain ear, come and help us!" trot ran to the window and looked out. "it's the birds you caught, cap'n," she said. "i didn't know they could talk." "oh, yes; all the birds in mo are educated to talk," said the bumpy man. then he looked at cap'n bill uneasily and added: "won't you let the poor things go?" "i'll see," replied the sailor, and walked out to where the birds were fluttering and complaining because the strings would not allow them to fly away. "listen to me!" he cried, and at once they became still. "we three people who are strangers in your land want to go to some other country, and we want three of you birds to carry us there. we know we are asking a great favor, but it's the only way we can think of--excep' walkin', an' i'm not much good at that because i've a wooden leg. besides, trot an' button-bright are too small to undertake a long and tiresome journey. now, tell me: which three of you birds will consent to carry us?" [illustration] the birds looked at one another as if greatly astonished. then one of them replied: "you must be crazy, old man. not one of us is big enough to fly with even the smallest of your party." "i'll fix the matter of size," promised cap'n bill. "if three of you will agree to carry us, i'll make you big an' strong enough to do it, so it won't worry you a bit." the birds considered this gravely. living in a magic country, they had no doubt but that the strange one-legged man could do what he said. after a little, one of them asked: "if you make us big, would we stay big always?" "i think so," replied cap'n bill. they chattered a while among themselves and then the bird that had first spoken said: "til go, for one." "so will i," said another; and after a pause a third said: "i'll go, too." perhaps more would have volunteered, for it seemed that for some reason they all longed to be bigger than they were; but three were enough for cap'n bill's purpose and so he promptly released all the others, who immediately flew away. the three that remained were cousins, and all were of the same brilliant plumage and in size about as large as eagles. when trot questioned them she found they were quite young, having only abandoned their nests a few weeks before. they were strong young birds, with clear, brave eyes, and the little girl decided they were the most beautiful of all the feathered creatures she had ever seen. [illustration] cap'n bill now took from his pocket the wooden box with the sliding cover and removed the three purple berries, which were still in good condition. "eat these," he said, and gave one to each of the birds. they obeyed, finding the fruit very pleasant to taste. in a few seconds they began to grow in size and grew so fast that trot feared they would never stop. but they finally did stop growing, and then they were much larger than the ork, and nearly the size of full-grown ostriches. cap'n bill was much pleased by this result. "you can carry us now, all right," said he. the birds strutted around with pride, highly pleased with their immense size. "i don't see, though," said trot doubtfully, "how we're going to ride on their backs without falling off." "we're not going to ride on their backs," answered cap'n bill. "i'm going to make swings for us to ride in." he then asked the bumpy man for some rope, but the man had no rope. he had, however, an old suit of gray clothes which he gladly presented to cap'n bill, who cut the cloth into strips and twisted it so that it was almost as strong as rope. with this material he attached to each bird a swing that dangled below its feet, and button-bright made a trial flight in one of them to prove that it was safe and comfortable. when all this had been arranged one of the birds asked: "where do you wish us to take you?" "why, just follow the ork," said cap'n bill. "he will be our leader, and wherever the ork flies you are to fly, and wherever the ork lands you are to land. is that satisfactory?" [illustration] the birds declared it was quite satisfactory, so cap'n bill took counsel with the ork. "on our way here," said that peculiar creature, "i noticed a broad, sandy desert at the left of me, on which was no living thing." "then we'd better keep away from it," replied the sailor. "not so," insisted the ork. "i have found, on my travels, that the most pleasant countries often lie in the midst of deserts; so i think it would be wise for us to fly over this desert and discover what lies beyond it. for in the direction we came from lies the ocean, as we well know, and beyond here is this strange land of mo, which we do not care to explore. on one side, as we can see from this mountain, is a broad expanse of plain, and on the other the desert. for my part, i vote for the desert." "what do you say, trot?" inquired cap'n bill. "it's all the same to me," she replied. no one thought of asking button-bright's opinion, so it was decided to fly over the desert. they bade good-bye to the bumpy man and thanked him for his kindness and hospitality. then they seated themselves in the swings--one for each bird--and told the ork to start away and they would follow. the whirl of the ork's tail astonished the birds at first, but after he had gone a short distance they rose in the air, carrying their passengers easily, and flew with strong, regular strokes of their great wings in the wake of their leader. [illustration] chapter the kingdom of jinxland trot rode with more comfort than she had expected, although the swing swayed so much that she had to hold on tight with both hands. cap'n bill's bird followed the ork, and trot came next, with button-bright trailing behind her. it was quite an imposing procession, but unfortunately there was no one to see it, for the ork had headed straight for the great sandy desert and in a few minutes after starting they were flying high over the broad waste, where no living thing could exist. the little girl thought this would be a bad place for the birds to lose strength, or for the cloth ropes to give way; but although she could not help feeling a trifle nervous and fidgety she had confidence in the huge and brilliantly plumaged bird that bore her, as well as in cap'n bill's knowledge of how to twist and fasten a rope so it would hold. that was a remarkably big desert. there was nothing to relieve the monotony of view and every minute seemed an hour and every hour a day. disagreeable fumes and gases rose from the sands, which would have been deadly to the travelers had they not been so high in the air. as it was, trot was beginning to feel sick, when a breath of fresher air filled her nostrils and on looking ahead she saw a great cloud of pink-tinted mist. even while she wondered what it could be, the ork plunged boldly into the mist and the other birds followed. she could see nothing for a time, nor could the bird which carried her see where the ork had gone, but it kept flying as sturdily as ever and in a few moments the mist was passed and the girl saw a most beautiful landscape spread out below her, extending as far as her eye could reach. she saw bits of forest, verdure clothed hills, fields of waving grain, fountains, rivers and lakes; and throughout the scene were scattered groups of pretty houses and a few grand castles and palaces. over all this delightful landscape--which from trot's high perch seemed like a magnificent painted picture--was a rosy glow such as we sometimes see in the west at sunset. in this case, however, it was not in the west only, but everywhere. no wonder the ork paused to circle slowly over this lovely country. the other birds followed his action, all eyeing the place with equal delight. then, as with one accord, the four formed a group and slowly sailed downward. this brought them to that part of the newly-discovered land which bordered on the desert's edge; but it was just as pretty here as anywhere, so the ork and the birds alighted and the three passengers at once got out of their swings. "oh, cap'n bill, isn't this fine an' dandy?" exclaimed trot rapturously. "how lucky we were to discover this beautiful country!" "the country seems rather high class, i'll admit, trot," replied the old sailor-man, looking around him, "but we don't know, as yet, what its people are like." "no one could live in such a country without being happy and good--i'm sure of that," she said earnestly. "don't you think so, button-bright?" "i'm not thinking, just now," answered the little boy. "it tires me to think, and i never seem to gain anything by it. when we see the people who live here we will know what they are like, and no 'mount of thinking will make them any different." "that's true enough," said the ork. "but now i want to make a proposal. while you are getting acquainted with this new country, which looks as if it contains everything to make one happy, i would like to fly along--all by myself--and see if i can find my home on the other side of the great desert. if i do, i will stay there, of course. but if i fail to find orkland i will return to you in a week, to see if i can do anything more to assist you." they were sorry to lose their queer companion, but could offer no objection to the plan; so the ork bade them good-bye and rising swiftly in the air, he flew over the country and was soon lost to view in the distance. the three birds which had carried our friends now begged permission to return by the way they had come, to their own homes, saying they were anxious to show their families how big they had become. so cap'n bill and trot and button-bright all thanked them gratefully for their assistance and soon the birds began their long flight toward the land of mo. being now left to themselves in this strange land, the three comrades selected a pretty pathway and began walking along it. they believed this path would lead them to a splendid castle which they espied in the distance, the turrets of which towered far above the tops of the trees which surrounded it. it did not seem very far away, so they sauntered on slowly, admiring the beautiful ferns and flowers that lined the pathway and listening to the singing of the birds and the soft chirping of the grasshoppers. [illustration] presently the path wound over a little hill. in a valley that lay beyond the hill was a tiny cottage surrounded by flower beds and fruit trees. on the shady porch of the cottage they saw, as they approached, a pleasant faced woman sitting amidst a group of children, to whom she was telling stories. the children quickly discovered the strangers and ran toward them with exclamations of astonishment, so that trot and her friends became the center of a curious group, all chattering excitedly. cap'n bill's wooden leg seemed to arouse the wonder of the children, as they could not understand why he had not two meat legs. this attention seemed to please the old sailor, who patted the heads of the children kindly and then, raising his hat to the woman, he inquired: "can you tell us, madam, just what country this is?" she stared hard at all three of the strangers as she replied briefly: "jinxland." "oh!" exclaimed cap'n bill, with a puzzled look. "and where is jinxland, please?" "in the quadling country," said she. "what!" cried trot, in sudden excitement. "do you mean to say this is the quadling country of the land of oz?" "to be sure i do," the woman answered. "every bit of land that is surrounded by the great desert is the land of oz, as you ought to know as well as i do; but i'm sorry to say that jinxland is separated from the rest of the quadling country by that row of high mountains you see yonder, which have such steep sides that no one can cross them. so we live here all by ourselves, and are ruled by our own king, instead of by ozma of oz." "i've been to the land of oz before," said button-bright, "but i've never been here." "did you ever hear of jinxland before?' asked trot. "no," said button-bright. "it is on the map of oz, though," asserted the woman, "and it's a fine country, i assure you. if only," she added, and then paused to look around her with a frightened expression. "if only--" here she stopped again, as if not daring to go on with her speech. "if only what, ma'am?" asked cap'n bill. the woman sent the children into the house. then she came closer to the strangers and whispered: "if only we had a different king, we would be very happy and contented." "what's the matter with your king?" asked trot, curiously. but the woman seemed frightened to have said so much. she retreated to her porch, merely saying: "the king punishes severely any treason on the part of his subjects." "what's treason?" asked button-bright. "in this case," replied cap'n bill, "treason seems to consist of knockin' the king; but i guess we know his disposition now as well as if the lady had said more." "i wonder," said trot, going up to the woman, "if you could spare us something to eat. we haven't had anything but popcorn and lemonade for a long time." "bless your heart! of course i can spare you some food," the woman answered, and entering her cottage she soon returned with a tray loaded with sandwiches, cakes and cheese. one of the children drew a bucket of clear, cold water from a spring and the three wanderers ate heartily and enjoyed the good things immensely. when button-bright could eat no more he filled the pockets of his jacket with cakes and cheese, and not even the children objected to this. indeed they all seemed pleased to see the strangers eat, so cap'n bill decided that no matter what the king of jinxland was like, the people would prove friendly and hospitable. [illustration] "whose castle is that, yonder, ma'am?" he asked, waving his hand toward the towers that rose above the trees. "it belongs to his majesty, king krewl," she said. "oh, indeed; and does he live there?" "when he is not out hunting with his fierce courtiers and war captains," she replied. "is he hunting now?" trot inquired. "i do not know, my dear. the less we know about the king's actions the safer we are." it was evident the woman did not like to talk about king krewl and so, having finished their meal, they said good-bye and continued along the pathway. "don't you think we'd better keep away from that king's castle, cap'n?" asked trot. "well," said he, "king krewl would find out, sooner or later, that we are in his country, so we may as well face the music now. perhaps he isn't quite so bad as that woman thinks he is. kings aren't always popular with their people, you know, even if they do the best they know how." "ozma is pop'lar," said button-bright. "ozma is diff'rent from any other ruler, from all i've heard," remarked trot musingly, as she walked beside the boy. "and, after all, we are really in the land of oz, where ozma rules ev'ry king and ev'rybody else. i never heard of anybody getting hurt in her dominions, did you, button-bright?" "not when she knows about it," he replied. "but those birds landed us in just the wrong place, seems to me. they might have carried us right on, over that row of mountains, to the em'rald city." "true enough," said cap'n bill; "but they didn't, an' so we must make the best of jinxland. let's try not to be afraid." "oh, i'm not very scared," said button-bright, pausing to look at a pink rabbit that popped its head out of a hole in the field near by. "nor am i," added trot. "really, cap'n, i'm so glad to be anywhere at all in the wonderful fairyland of oz that i think i'm the luckiest girl in all the world. dorothy lives in the em'rald city, you know, and so does the scarecrow and the tin woodman and tik-tok and the shaggy man--and all the rest of 'em that we've heard so much about not to mention ozma, who must be the sweetest and loveliest girl in all the world!" "take your time, trot," advised button-bright. "you don't have to say it all in one breath, you know. and you haven't mentioned half of the curious people in the em'rald city." "that 'ere em'rald city," said cap'n bill impressively, "happens to be on the other side o' those mountains, that we're told no one is able to cross. i don't want to discourage of you, trot, but we're a'most as much separated from your ozma an' dorothy as we were when we lived in californy." there was so much truth in this statement that they all walked on in silence for some time. finally they reached the grove of stately trees that bordered the grounds of the king's castle. they had gone half-way through it when the sound of sobbing, as of someone in bitter distress, reached their ears and caused them to halt abruptly. [illustration] [illustration] chapter pon, the gardener's boy it was button-bright who first discovered, lying on his face beneath a broad spreading tree near the pathway, a young man whose body shook with the force of his sobs. he was dressed in a long brown smock and had sandals on his feet, betokening one in humble life. his head was bare and showed a shock of brown, curly hair. button-bright looked down on the young man and said: "who cares, anyhow?" "i do!" cried the young man, interrupting his sobs to roll over, face upward, that he might see who had spoken. "i care, for my heart is broken!" "can't you get another one?" asked the little boy. "i don't want another!" wailed the young man. by this time trot and cap'n bill arrived at the spot and the girl leaned over and said in a sympathetic voice: "tell us your troubles and perhaps we may help you." the youth sat up, then, and bowed politely. afterward he got upon his feet, but still kept wringing his hands as he tried to choke down his sobs. trot thought he was very brave to control such awful agony so well. "my name is pon," he began. "i'm the gardener's boy." "then the gardener of the king is your father, i suppose," said trot. "not my father, but my master," was the reply. "i do the work and the gardener gives the orders. and it was not my fault, in the least, that the princess gloria fell in love with me." "did she, really?" asked the little girl. "i don't see why," remarked button-bright, staring at the youth. "and who may the princess gloria be?" inquired cap'n bill. "she is the niece of king krewl, who is her guardian. the princess lives in the castle and is the loveliest and sweetest maiden in all jinxland. she is fond of flowers and used to walk in the gardens with her attendants. at such times, if i was working at my tasks, i used to cast down my eyes as gloria passed me; but one day i glanced up and found her gazing at me with a very tender look in her eyes. the next day she dismissed her attendants and, coming to my side, began to talk with me. she said i had touched her heart as no other young man had ever done. i kissed her hand. just then the king came around a bend in the walk. he struck me with his fist and kicked me with his foot. then he seized the arm of the princess and rudely dragged her into the castle." "wasn't he awful!" gasped trot indignantly. "he is a very abrupt king," said pon, "so it was the least i could expect. up to that time i had not thought of loving princess gloria, but realizing it would be impolite not to return her love, i did so. we met at evening, now and then, and she told me the king wanted her to marry a rich courtier named googly-goo, who is old enough to be gloria's father. she has refused googly-goo thirty-nine times, but he still persists and has brought many rich presents to bribe the king. on that account king krewl has commanded his niece to marry the old man, but the princess has assured me, time and again, that she will wed only me. this morning we happened to meet in the grape arbor and as i was respectfully saluting the cheek of the princess, two of the king's guards seized me and beat me terribly before the very eyes of gloria, whom the king himself held back so she could not interfere." [illustration] "why, this king must be a monster!" cried trot. "he is far worse than that," said pon, mournfully. "but, see here," interrupted cap'n bill, who had listened carefully to pon. "this king may not be so much to blame, after all. kings are proud folks, because they're so high an' mighty, an' it isn't reasonable for a royal princess to marry a common gardener's boy." "it isn't right," declared button-bright. "a princess should marry a prince." "i'm not a common gardener's boy," protested pon. "if i had my rights i would be the king instead of krewl. as it is, i'm a prince, and as royal as any man in jinxland." "how does that come?" asked cap'n bill. "my father used to be the king and krewl was his prime minister. but one day while out hunting, king phearse--that was my father's name--had a quarrel with krewl and tapped him gently on the nose with the knuckles of his closed hand. this so provoked the wicked krewl that he tripped my father backward, so that he fell into a deep pond. at once krewl threw in a mass of heavy stones, which so weighted down my poor father that his body could not rise again to the surface. it is impossible to kill anyone in this land, as perhaps you know, but when my father was pressed down into the mud at the bottom of the deep pool and the stones held him so he could never escape, he was of no more use to himself or the world than if he had died. knowing this, krewl proclaimed himself king, taking possession of the royal castle and driving all my father's people out. i was a small boy, then, but when i grew up i became a gardener. i have served king krewl without his knowing that i am the son of the same king phearse whom he so cruelly made away with." "my, but that's a terr'bly exciting story!" said trot, drawing a long breath. "but tell us, pon, who was gloria's father?" "oh, he was the king before my father," replied pon. "father was prime minister for king kynd, who was gloria's father. she was only a baby when king kynd fell into the great gulf that lies just this side of the mountains--the same mountains that separate jinxland from the rest of the land of oz. it is said the great gulf has no bottom; but, however that may be, king kynd has never been seen again and my father became king in his place." "seems to me," said trot, "that if gloria had her rights she would be queen of jinxland." "well, her father was a king," admitted pon, "and so was my father; so we are of equal rank, although she's a great lady and i'm a humble gardener's boy. i can't see why we should not marry if we want to--except that king krewl won't let us." "it's a sort of mixed-up mess, taken altogether," remarked cap'n bill. "but we are on our way to visit king krewl, and if we get a chance, young man, we'll put in a good word for you." "do, please!" begged pon. "was it the flogging you got that broke your heart?' inquired button-bright. "why, it helped to break it, of course," said pon. "i'd get it fixed up, if i were you," advised the boy, tossing a pebble at a chipmunk in a tree. "you ought to give gloria just as good a heart as she gives you." "that's common sense," agreed cap'n bill. so they left the gardener's boy standing beside the path, and resumed their journey toward the castle. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the wicked king and googly-goo when our friends approached the great doorway of the castle they found it guarded by several soldiers dressed in splendid uniforms. they were armed with swords and lances. cap'n bill walked straight up to them and asked: "does the king happen to be at home?" "his magnificent and glorious majesty, king krewl, is at present inhabiting his royal castle," was the stiff reply. "then i guess we'll go in an' say how-d'ye-do," continued cap'n bill, attempting to enter the doorway. but a soldier barred his way with a lance. "who are you, what are your names, and where do you come from? demanded the soldier. "you wouldn't know if we told you," returned the sailor, "seein' as we're strangers in a strange land." "oh, if you are strangers you will be permitted to enter," said the soldier, lowering his lance. "his majesty is very fond of strangers." "do many strangers come here?" asked trot. "you are the first that ever came to our country," said the man. "but his majesty has often said that if strangers ever arrived in jinxland he would see that they had a very exciting time." cap'n bill scratched his chin thoughtfully. he wasn't very favorably impressed by this last remark. but he decided that as there was no way of escape from jinxland it would be wise to confront--the king boldly and try to win his favor. so they entered the castle, escorted by one of the soldiers. it was certainly a fine castle, with many large rooms, all beautifully furnished. the passages were winding and handsomely decorated, and after following several of these the soldier led them into an open court that occupied the very center of the huge building. it was surrounded on every side by high turreted walls, and contained beds of flowers, fountains and walks of many colored marbles which were matched together in quaint designs. in an open space near the middle of the court they saw a group of courtiers and their ladies, who surrounded a lean man who wore upon his head a jeweled crown. his face was hard and sullen and through the slits of his half-closed eyelids the eyes glowed like coals of fire. he was dressed in brilliant satins and velvets and was seated in a golden throne-chair. this personage was king krewl, and as soon as cap'n bill saw him the old sailor knew at once that he was not going to like the king of jinxland. "hello! who's here?" said his majesty, with a deep scowl. "strangers, sire," answered the soldier, bowing so low that his forehead touched the marble tiles. "strangers, eh? well, well; what an unexpected visit! advance, strangers, and give an account of yourselves." the king's voice was as harsh as his features. trot shuddered a little but cap'n bill calmly replied: "there ain't much for us to say, 'cept as we've arrived to look over your country an' see how we like it. judgin' from the way you speak, you don't know who we are, or you'd be jumpin' up to shake hands an' offer us seats. kings usually treat us pretty well, in the great big outside world where we come from, but in this little kingdom which don't amount to much, anyhow folks don't seem to 'a' got much culchure." the king listened with amazement to this bold speech, first with a frown and then gazing at the two children and the old sailor with evident curiosity. the courtiers were dumb with fear, for no one had ever dared speak in such a manner to their self-willed, cruel king before. his majesty, however, was somewhat frightened, for cruel people are always cowards, and he feared these mysterious strangers might possess magic powers that would destroy him unless he treated them well. so he commanded his people to give the new arrivals seats, and they obeyed with trembling haste. after being seated, cap'n bill lighted his pipe and began puffing smoke from it, a sight so strange to them that it filled them all with wonder. presently the king asked: "how did you penetrate to this hidden country? did you cross the desert or the mountains?" "desert," answered cap'n bill, as if the task were too easy to be worth talking about. "indeed! no one has ever been able to do that before," said the king. "well, it's easy enough, if you know how," asserted cap'n bill, so carelessly that it greatly impressed his hearers. the king shifted in his throne uneasily. he was more afraid of these strangers than before. "do you intend to stay long in jinxland?" was his next anxious question. "depends on how we like it," said cap'n bill. "just now i might suggest to your majesty to order some rooms got ready for us in your dinky little castle here. and a royal banquet, with some fried onions an' pickled tripe, would set easy on our stomicks an' make us a bit happier than we are now." "your wishes shall be attended to," said king krewl, but his eyes flashed from between their slits in a wicked way that made trot hope the food wouldn't be poisoned. at the king's command several of his attendants hastened away to give the proper orders to the castle servants and no sooner were they gone than a skinny old man entered the courtyard and bowed before the king. this disagreeable person was dressed in rich velvets, with many furbelows and laces. he was covered with golden chains, finely wrought rings and jeweled ornaments. he walked with mincing steps and glared at all the courtiers as if he considered himself far superior to any or all of them. [illustration] "well, well, your majesty; what news--what news?" he demanded, in a shrill, cracked voice. the king gave him a surly look. "no news, lord googly-goo, except that strangers have arrived," he said. googly-goo cast a contemptuous glance at cap'n bill and a disdainful one at trot and button-bright. then he said: "strangers do not interest me, your majesty. but the princess gloria is very interesting--very interesting, indeed! what does she say, sire? will she marry me?" "ask her," retorted the king. "i have, many times; and every time she has refused." "well?" said the king harshly. "well," said googly-goo in a jaunty tone, "a bird that _can_ sing, and _won't_ sing, must be _made_ to sing." "huh!" sneered the king. "that's easy, with a bird; but a girl is harder to manage." "still," persisted googly-goo, "we must overcome difficulties. the chief trouble is that gloria fancies she loves that miserable gardener's boy, pon. suppose we throw pon into the great gulf, your majesty?" "it would do you no good," returned the king. "she would still love him." "too bad, too bad!" sighed googly-goo. "i have laid aside more than a bushel of precious gems--each worth a king's ransom--to present to your majesty on the day i wed gloria." the king's eyes sparkled, for he loved wealth above everything; but the next moment he frowned deeply again. "it won't help us to kill pon," he muttered. "what we must do is kill gloria's love for pon." "that is better, if you can find a way to do it," agreed googly-goo. "everything would come right if you could kill gloria's love for that gardener's boy. really, sire, now that i come to think of it, there must be fully a bushel and a half of those jewels!" just then a messenger entered the court to say that the banquet was prepared for the strangers. so cap'n bill, trot and button-bright entered the castle and were taken to a room where a fine feast was spread upon the table. "i don't like that lord googly-goo," remarked trot as she was busily eating. "nor i," said cap'n bill. "but from the talk we heard i guess the gardener's boy won't get the princess." "perhaps not," returned the girl; "but i hope old googly doesn't get her, either." "the king means to sell her for all those jewels," observed button-bright, his mouth half full of cake and jam. "poor princess!" sighed trot. "i'm sorry for her, although i've never seen her. but if she says no to googly-goo, and means it, what can they do?" "don't let us worry about a strange princess," advised cap'n bill. "i've a notion we're not too safe, ourselves, with this cruel king." the two children felt the same way and all three were rather solemn during the remainder of the meal. when they had eaten, the servants escorted them to their rooms. cap'n bill's room was way to one end of the castle, very high up, and trot's room was at the opposite end, rather low down. as for button-bright, they placed him in the middle, so that all were as far apart as they could possibly be. they didn't like this arrangement very well, but all the rooms were handsomely furnished and being guests of the king they dared not complain. after the strangers had left the courtyard the king and googly-goo had a long talk together, and the king said: [illustration] "i cannot force gloria to marry you just now, because those strangers may interfere. i suspect that the wooden-legged man possesses great magical powers, or he would never have been able to carry himself and those children across the deadly desert." "i don't like him; he looks dangerous," answered googly-goo. "but perhaps you are mistaken about his being a wizard. why don't you test his powers?" "how?" asked the king. "send for the wicked witch. she will tell you in a moment whether that wooden-legged person is a common man or a magician." "ha! that's a good idea," cried the king. "why didn't i think of the wicked witch before? but the woman demands rich rewards for her services." "never mind; i will pay her," promised the wealthy googly-goo. so a servant was dispatched to summon the wicked witch, who lived but a few leagues from king krewl's castle. while they awaited her, the withered old courtier proposed that they pay a visit to princess gloria and see if she was not now in a more complaisant mood. so the two started away together and searched the castle over without finding gloria. at last googly-goo suggested she might be in the rear garden, which was a large park filled with bushes and trees and surrounded by a high wall. and what was their anger, when they turned a corner of the path, to find in a quiet nook the beautiful princess, and kneeling before her, pon, the gardener's boy! with a roar of rage the king dashed forward; but pon had scaled the wall by means of a ladder, which still stood in its place, and when he saw the king coming he ran up the ladder and made good his escape. but this left gloria confronted by her angry guardian, the king, and by old googly-goo, who was trembling with a fury he could not express in words. seizing the princess by her arm the king dragged her back to the castle. pushing her into a room on the lower floor he locked the door upon the unhappy girl. and at that moment the arrival of the wicked witch was announced. [illustration] hearing this, the king smiled, as a tiger smiles, showing his teeth. and googly-goo smiled, as a serpent smiles, for he had no teeth except a couple of fangs. and having frightened each other with these smiles the two dreadful men went away to the royal council chamber to meet the wicked witch. [illustration: queen gloria] [illustration] chapter the wooden-legged grass-hopper now it so happened that trot, from the window of her room, had witnessed the meeting of the lovers in the garden and had seen the king come and drag gloria away. the little girl's heart went out in sympathy for the poor princess, who seemed to her to be one of the sweetest and loveliest young ladies she had ever seen, so she crept along the passages and from a hidden niche saw gloria locked in her room. the key was still in the lock, so when the king had gone away, followed by googly-goo, trot stole up to the door, turned the key and entered. the princess lay prone upon a couch, sobbing bitterly. trot went up to her and smoothed her hair and tried to comfort her. "don't cry," she said. "i've unlocked the door, so you can go away any time you want to." "it isn't that," sobbed the princess. "i am unhappy because they will not let me love pon, the gardener's boy!" "well, never mind; pon isn't any great shakes, anyhow, seems to me," said trot soothingly. "there are lots of other people you can love." gloria rolled over on the couch and looked at the little girl reproachfully. "pon has won my heart, and i can't help loving him," she explained. then with sudden indignation she added: "but i'll never love googly-goo--never, as long as i live!" "i should say not!" replied trot. "pon may not be much good, but old googly is very, very bad. hunt around, and i'm sure you'll find someone worth your love. you're very pretty, you know, and almost anyone ought to love you." "you don't understand, my dear," said gloria, as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a dainty lace handkerchief bordered with pearls. "when you are older you will realize that a young lady cannot decide whom she will love, or choose the most worthy. her heart alone decides for her, and whomsoever her heart selects, she must love, whether he amounts to much or not." trot was a little puzzled by this speech, which seemed to her unreasonable; but she made no reply and presently gloria's grief softened and she began to question the little girl about herself and her adventures. trot told her how they had happened to come to jinxland, and all about cap'n bill and the ork and pessim and the bumpy man. while they were thus conversing together, getting more and more friendly as they became better acquainted, in the council chamber the king and googly-goo were talking with the wicked witch. this evil creature was old and ugly. she had lost one eye and wore a black patch over it, so the people of jinxland had named her "blinkie." of course witches are forbidden to exist in the land of oz, but jinxland was so far removed from the center of ozma's dominions, and so absolutely cut off from it by the steep mountains and the bottomless gulf, that the laws of oz were not obeyed very well in that country. so there were several witches in jinxland who were the terror of the people, but king krewl favored them and permitted them to exercise their evil sorcery. blinkie was the leader of all the other witches and therefore the most hated and feared. the king used her witchcraft at times to assist him in carrying out his cruelties and revenge, but he was always obliged to pay blinkie large sums of money or heaps of precious jewels before she would undertake an enchantment. this made him hate the old woman almost as much as his subjects did, but to-day lord googly-goo had agreed to pay the witch's price, so the king greeted her with gracious favor. "can you destroy the love of princess gloria for the gardener's boy?" inquired his majesty. the wicked witch thought about it before she replied: "that's a hard question to answer. i can do lots of clever magic, but love is a stubborn thing to conquer. when you think you've killed it, it's liable to bob up again as strong as ever. i believe love and cats have nine lives. in other words, killing love is a hard job, even for a skillful witch, but i believe i can do something that will answer your purpose just as well." "what is that?" asked the king. [illustration] "i can freeze the girl's heart. i've got a special incantation for that, and when gloria's heart is thoroughly frozen she can no longer love pon." "just the thing!" exclaimed googly-goo, and the king was likewise much pleased. they bargained a long time as to the price, but finally the old courtier agreed to pay the wicked witch's demands. it was arranged that they should take gloria to blinkie's house the next day, to have her heart frozen. then king krewl mentioned to the old hag the strangers who had that day arrived in jinxland, and said to her: "i think the two children--the boy and the girl--are unable to harm me, but i have a suspicion that the wooden-legged man is a powerful wizard." the witch's face wore a troubled look when she heard this. "if you are right," she said, "this wizard might spoil my incantation and interfere with me in other ways. so it will be best for me to meet this stranger at once and match my magic against his, to decide which is the stronger." "all right," said the king. "come with me and i will lead you to the man's room." googly-goo did not accompany them, as he was obliged to go home to get the money and jewels he had promised to pay old blinkie, so the other two climbed several flights of stairs and went through many passages until they came to the room occupied by cap'n bill. the sailor-man, finding his bed soft and inviting, and being tired with the adventures he had experienced, had decided to take a nap. when the wicked witch and the king softly opened his door and entered, cap'n bill was snoring with such vigor that he did not hear them at all. blinkie approached the bed and with her one eye anxiously stared at the sleeping stranger. "ah," she said in a soft whisper, "i believe you are right, king krewl. the man looks to me like a very powerful wizard. but by good luck i have caught him asleep, so i shall transform him before he wakes up, giving him such a form that he will be unable to oppose me." "careful!" cautioned the king, also speaking low. "if he discovers what you are doing he may destroy you, and that would annoy me because i need you to attend to gloria." but the wicked witch realized as well as he did that she must be careful. she carried over her arm a black bag, from which she now drew several packets carefully wrapped in paper. three of these she selected, replacing the others in the bag. two of the packets she mixed together and then she cautiously opened the third. "better stand back, your majesty," she advised, "for if this powder falls on you you might be transformed yourself." the king hastily retreated to the end of the room. as blinkie mixed the third powder with the others she waved her hands over it, mumbled a few words, and then backed away as quickly as she could. cap'n bill was slumbering peacefully, all unconscious of what was going on. puff! a great cloud of smoke rolled over the bed and completely hid him from view. when the smoke rolled away, both blinkie and the king saw that the body of the stranger had quite disappeared, while in his place, crouching in the middle of the bed, was a little gray grasshopper. one curious thing about this grasshopper was that the last joint of its left leg was made of wood. another curious thing--considering it was a grasshopper--was that it began talking, crying out in a tiny but sharp voice: "here--you people! what do you mean by treating me so? put me back where i belong, at once, or you'll be sorry!" [illustration] the cruel king turned pale at hearing the grasshopper's threats, but the wicked witch merely laughed in derision. then she raised her stick and aimed a vicious blow at the grasshopper, but before the stick struck the bed the tiny hopper made a marvelous jump--marvelous, indeed, when we consider that it had a wooden leg. it rose in the air and sailed across the room and passed right through the open window, where it disappeared from their view. "good!" shouted the king. "we are well rid of this desperate wizard." and then they both laughed heartily at the success of the incantation, and went away to complete their horrid plans. after trot had visited a time with princess gloria, the little girl went to button-bright's room but did not find him there. then she went to cap'n bill's room, but he was not there because the witch and the king had been there before her. so she made her way downstairs and questioned the servants. they said they had seen the little boy go out into the garden, some time ago, but the old man with the wooden leg they had not seen at all. therefore trot, not knowing what else to do, rambled through the great gardens, seeking for button-bright or cap'n bill and not finding either of them. this part of the garden, which lay before the castle, was not walled in, but extended to the roadway, and the paths were open to the edge of the forest; so, after two hours of vain search for her friends, the little girl returned to the castle. but at the doorway a soldier stopped her. "i live here," said trot, "so it's all right to let me in. the king has given me a room." "well, he has taken it back again," was the soldier's reply. "his majesty's orders are to turn you away if you attempt to enter. i am also ordered to forbid the boy, your companion, to again enter the king's castle." "how 'bout cap'n bill'?' she inquired. "why, it seems he has mysteriously disappeared," replied the soldier, shaking his head ominously. "where he has gone to, i can't make out, but i can assure you he is no longer in this castle. i'm sorry, little girl, to disappoint you. don't blame me; i must obey my master's orders." now, all her life trot had been accustomed to depend on cap'n bill, so when this good friend was suddenly taken from her she felt very miserable and forlorn indeed. she was brave enough not to cry before the soldier, or even to let him see her grief and anxiety, but after she was turned away from the castle she sought a quiet bench in the garden and for a time sobbed as if her heart would break. it was button-bright who found her, at last, just as the sun had set and the shades of evening were falling. he also had been turned away from the king's castle, when he tried to enter it, and in the park he came across trot. "never mind," said the boy. "we can find a place to sleep." "i want cap'n bill," wailed the girl. "well, so do i," was the reply. "but we haven't got him. where do you s'pose he is, trot?" "i don't s'pose anything. he's gone, an' that's all i know 'bout it." button-bright sat on the bench beside her and thrust his hands in the pockets of his knickerbockers. then he reflected somewhat gravely for him. "cap'n bill isn't around here," he said, letting his eyes wander over the dim garden, "so we must go somewhere else if we want to find him. besides, it's fast getting dark, and if we want to find a place to sleep we must get busy while we can see where to go." he rose from the bench as he said this and trot also jumped up, drying her eyes on her apron. then she walked beside him out of the grounds of the king's castle. they did not go by the main path, but passed through an opening in a hedge and found themselves in a small but well-worn roadway. following this for some distance, along a winding way, they came upon no house or building that would afford them refuge for the night. it became so dark that they could scarcely see their way, and finally trot stopped and suggested that they camp under a tree. [illustration] "all right," said button-bright, "i've often found that leaves make a good warm blanket. but--look there, trot!--isn't that a light flashing over yonder?" "it certainly is, button-bright. let's go over and see if it's a house. whoever lives there couldn't treat us worse than the king did." to reach the light they had to leave the road, so they stumbled over hillocks and brushwood, hand in hand, keeping the tiny speck of light always in sight. they were rather forlorn little waifs, outcasts in a strange country and forsaken by their only friend and guardian, cap'n bill. so they were very glad when finally they reached a small cottage and, looking in through its one window, saw pon, the gardener's boy, sitting by a fire of twigs. as trot opened the door and walked boldly in, pon sprang up to greet them. they told him of cap'n bill's disappearance and how they had been turned out of the king's castle. as they finished the story pon shook his head sadly. "king krewl is plotting mischief, i fear," said he, "for to-day he sent for old blinkie, the wicked witch, and with my own eyes i saw her come from the castle and hobble away toward her hut. she had been with the king and googly-goo, and i was afraid they were going to work some enchantment on gloria so she would no longer love me. but perhaps the witch was only called to the castle to enchant your friend, cap'n bill." "could she do that?" asked trot, horrified by the suggestion. "i suppose so, for old blinkie can do a lot of wicked magical things." "what sort of an enchantment could she put on cap'n bill?" "i don't know. but he has disappeared, so i'm pretty certain she has done something dreadful to him. but don't worry. if it has happened, it can't be helped, and if it hasn't happened we may be able to find him in the morning." with this pon went to the cupboard and brought food for them. trot was far too worried to eat, but button-bright made a good supper from the simple food and then lay down before the fire and went to sleep. the little girl and the gardener's boy, however, sat for a long time staring into the fire, busy with their thoughts. but at last trot, too, became sleepy and pon gently covered her with the one blanket he possessed. then he threw more wood on the fire and laid himself down before it, next to button-bright. soon all three were fast asleep. they were in a good deal of trouble; but they were young, and sleep was good to them because for a time it made them forget. [illustration] [illustration] chapter glinda the good and the scarecrow of oz that country south of the emerald city, in the land of oz, is known as the quadling country, and in the very southernmost part of it stands a splendid palace in which lives glinda the good. glinda is the royal sorceress of oz. she has wonderful magical powers and uses them only to benefit the subjects of ozma's kingdom. even the famous wizard of oz pays tribute to her, for glinda taught him all the real magic he knows, and she is his superior in all sorts of sorcery. everyone loves glinda, from the dainty and exquisite ruler, ozma, down to the humblest inhabitant of oz, for she is always kindly and helpful and willing to listen to their troubles, however busy she may be. no one knows her age, but all can see how beautiful and stately she is. her hair is like red gold and finer than the finest silken strands. her eyes are blue as the sky and always frank and smiling. her cheeks are the envy of peach-blows and her mouth is enticing as a rosebud. glinda is tall and wears splendid gowns that trail behind her as she walks. she wears no jewels, for her beauty would shame them. for attendants glinda has half a hundred of the loveliest girls in oz. they are gathered from all over oz, from among the winkies, the munchkins, the gillikins and the quadlings, as well as from ozma's magnificent emerald city, and it is considered a great favor to be allowed to serve the royal sorceress. among the many wonderful things in glinda's palace is the great book of records. in this book is inscribed everything that takes place in all the world, just the instant it happens; so that by referring to its pages glinda knows what is taking place far and near, in every country that exists. in this way she learns when and where she can help any in distress or danger, and although her duties are confined to assisting those who inhabit the land of oz, she is always interested in what takes place in the unprotected outside world. [illustration: the most popular man in the land of oz] so it was that on a certain evening glinda sat in her library, surrounded by a bevy of her maids, who were engaged in spinning, weaving and embroidery, when an attendant announced the arrival at the palace of the scarecrow. this personage was one of the most famous and popular in all the land of oz. his body was merely a suit of munchkin clothes stuffed with straw, but his head was a round sack filled with bran, with which the wizard of oz had mixed some magic brains of a very superior sort. the eyes, nose and mouth of the scarecrow were painted upon the front of the sack, as were his ears, and since this quaint being had been endowed with life, the expression of his face was very interesting, if somewhat comical. the scarecrow was good all through, even to his brains, and while he was naturally awkward in his movements and lacked the neat symmetry of other people, his disposition was so kind and considerate and he was so obliging and honest, that all who knew him loved him, and there were few people in oz who had not met our scarecrow and made his acquaintance. he lived part of the time in ozma's palace at the emerald city, part of the time in his own corncob castle in the winkie country, and part of the time he traveled over all oz, visiting with the people and playing with the children, whom he dearly loved. it was on one of his wandering journeys that the scarecrow had arrived at glinda's palace, and the sorceress at once made him welcome. as he sat beside her, talking of his adventures, he asked: "what's new in the way of news?" glinda opened her great book of records and read some of the last pages. "here is an item quite curious and interesting," she announced, an accent of surprise in her voice. "three people from the big outside world have arrived in jinxland." "where is jinxland?' inquired the scarecrow. "very near here, a little to the east of us," she said. "in fact, jinxland is a little slice taken off the quadling country, but separated from it by a range of high mountains, at the foot of which lies a wide, deep gulf that is supposed to be impassable." "then jinxland is really a part of the land of oz," said he. "yes," returned glinda, "but oz people know nothing of it, except what is recorded here in my book." "what does the book say about it?' asked the scarecrow. "it is ruled by a wicked man called king krewl, although he has no right to the title. most of the people are good, but they are very timid and live in constant fear of their fierce ruler. there are also several wicked witches who keep the inhabitants of jinxland in a state of terror." "do those witches have any magical powers?" inquired the scarecrow. "yes, they seem to understand witchcraft in its most evil form, for one of them has just transformed a respectable and honest old sailor--one of the strangers who arrived there--into a grasshopper. this same witch, blinkie by name, is also planning to freeze the heart of a beautiful jinxland girl named princess gloria." "why, that's a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed the scarecrow. glinda's face was very grave. she read in her book how trot and button-bright were turned out of the king's castle, and how they found refuge in the hut of pon, the gardener's boy. "i'm afraid those helpless earth people will endure much suffering in jinxland, even if the wicked king and the witches permit them to live," said the good sorceress, thoughtfully. "i wish i might help them." "can i do anything?" asked the scarecrow, anxiously. "if so, tell me what to do, and til do it." [illustration] for a few moments glinda did not reply, but sat musing over the records. then she said: "i am going to send you to jinxland, to protect trot and button-bright and cap'n bill." "all right," answered the scarecrow in a cheerful voice. "i know button-bright already, for he has been in the land of oz before. you remember he went away from the land of oz in one of our wizard's big bubbles." "yes," said glinda, "i remember that." then she carefully instructed the scarecrow what to do and gave him certain magical things which he placed in the pockets of his ragged munchkin coat. "as you have no need to sleep," said she, "you may as well start at once." "the night is the same as day to me," he replied, "except that i cannot see my way so well in the dark." "i will furnish a light to guide you," promised the sorceress. so the scarecrow bade her good-bye and at once started on his journey. by morning he had reached the mountains that separated the quadling country from jinxland. the sides of these mountains were too steep to climb, but the scarecrow took a small rope from his pocket and tossed one end upward, into the air. the rope unwound itself for hundreds of feet, until it caught upon a peak of rock at the very top of a mountain, for it was a magic rope furnished him by glinda. the scarecrow climbed the rope and, after pulling it up, let it down on the other side of the mountain range. when he descended the rope on this side he found himself in jinxland, but at his feet yawned the great gulf, which must be crossed before he could proceed any farther. [illustration] [illustration] the scarecrow knelt down and examined the ground carefully, and in a moment he discovered a fuzzy brown spider that had rolled itself into a ball. so he took two tiny pills from his pocket and laid them beside the spider, which unrolled itself and quickly ate up the pills. then the scarecrow said in a voice of command: "spin!" and the spider obeyed instantly. [illustration] in a few moments the little creature had spun two slender but strong strands that reached way across the gulf, one being five or six feet above the other. when these were completed the scarecrow started across the tiny bridge, walking upon one strand as a person walks upon a rope, and holding to the upper strand with his hands to prevent him from losing his balance and toppling over into the gulf. the tiny threads held him safely, thanks to the strength given them by the magic pills. presently he was safe across and standing on the plains of jinxland. far away he could see the towers of the king's castle and toward this he at once began to walk. [illustration] chapter the frozen heart in the hut of pon, the gardener's boy, button-bright was the first to waken in the morning. leaving his companions still asleep, he went out into the fresh morning air and saw some blackberries growing on bushes in a field not far away. going to the bushes he found the berries ripe and sweet, so he began eating them. more bushes were scattered over the fields, so the boy wandered on, from bush to bush, without paying any heed to where he was wandering. then a butterfly fluttered by. he gave chase to it and followed it a long way. when finally he paused to look around him, button-bright could see no sign of pon's house, nor had he the slightest idea in which direction it lay. "well, i'm lost again," he remarked to himself. "but never mind; i've been lost lots of times. someone is sure to find me." trot was a little worried about button-bright when she awoke and found him gone. knowing how careless he was, she believed that he had strayed away, but felt that he would come back in time, because he had a habit of not staying lost. pon got the little girl some food for her breakfast and then together they went out of the hut and stood in the sunshine. pon's house was some distance off the road, but they could see it from where they stood and both gave a start of surprise when they discovered two soldiers walking along the roadway and escorting princess gloria between them. the poor girl had her hands bound together, to prevent her from struggling, and the soldiers rudely dragged her forward when her steps seemed to lag. behind this group came king krewl, wearing his jeweled crown and swinging in his hand a slender golden staff with a ball of clustered gems at one end. "where are they going?'' asked trot. "to the house of the wicked witch, i fear," pon replied. "come, let us follow them, for i am sure they intend to harm my dear gloria." "won't they see us?" she asked timidly. "we won't let them. i know a short cut through the trees to blinkie's house," said he. so they hurried away through the trees and reached the house of the witch ahead of the king and his soldiers. hiding themselves in the shrubbery, they watched the approach of poor gloria and her escort, all of whom passed so near to them that pon could have put out a hand and touched his sweetheart, had he dared to. blinkie's house had eight sides, with a door and a window in each side. smoke was coming out of the chimney and as the guards brought gloria to one of the doors it was opened by the old witch in person. she chuckled with evil glee and rubbed her skinny hands together to show the delight with which she greeted her victim, for blinkie was pleased to be able to perform her wicked rites on one so fair and sweet as the princess. gloria struggled to resist when they bade her enter the house, so the soldiers forced her through the doorway and even the king gave her a shove as he followed close behind. pon was so incensed at the cruelty shown gloria that he forgot all caution and rushed forward to enter the house also; but one of the soldiers prevented him, pushing the gardener's boy away with violence and slamming the door in his face. "never mind," said trot soothingly, as pon rose from where he had fallen. "you couldn't do much to help the poor princess if you were inside. how unfortunate it is that you are in love with her!" "true," he answered sadly, "it is indeed my misfortune. if i did not love her, it would be none of my business what the king did to his niece gloria; but the unlucky circumstance of my loving her makes it my duty to defend her." "i don't see how you can, duty or no duty," observed trot. "no; i am powerless, for they are stronger than i. but we might peek in through the window and see what they are doing." trot was somewhat curious, too, so they crept up to one of the windows and looked in, and it so happened that those inside the witch's house were so busy they did not notice that pon and trot were watching them. gloria had been tied to a stout post in the center of the room and the king was giving the wicked witch a quantity of money and jewels, which googly-goo had provided in payment. when this had been done the king said to her: "are you perfectly sure you can freeze this maiden's heart, so that she will no longer love that low gardener's boy?" "sure as witchcraft, your majesty," the creature replied. "then get to work," said the king. "there may be some unpleasant features about the ceremony that would annoy me, so i'll bid you good day and leave you to carry out your contract. one word, however: if you fail, i shall burn you at the stake!" then he beckoned to his soldiers to follow him, and throwing wide the door of the house walked out. this action was so sudden that king krewl almost caught trot and pon eavesdropping, but they managed to run around the house before he saw them. away he marched, up the road, followed by his men, heartlessly leaving gloria to the mercies of old blinkie. [illustration] when they again crept up to the window, trot and pon saw blinkie gloating over her victim. although nearly fainting from fear, the proud princess gazed with haughty defiance into the face of the wicked creature; but she was bound so tightly to the post that she could do no more to express her loathing. pretty soon blinkie went to a kettle that was swinging by a chain over the fire and tossed into it several magical compounds. the kettle gave three flashes, and at every flash another witch appeared in the room. these hags were very ugly but when one-eyed blinkie whispered her orders to them they grinned with joy as they began dancing around gloria. first one and then another cast something into the kettle, when to the astonishment of the watchers at the window all three of the old women were instantly transformed into maidens of exquisite beauty, dressed in the daintiest costumes imaginable. only their eyes could not be disguised, and an evil glare still shone in their depths. but if the eyes were cast down or hidden, one could not help but admire these beautiful creatures, even with the knowledge that they were mere illusions of witchcraft. trot certainly admired them, for she had never seen anything so dainty and bewitching, but her attention was quickly drawn to their deeds instead of their persons, and then horror replaced admiration. into the kettle old blinkie poured another mess from a big brass bottle she took from a chest, and this made the kettle begin to bubble and smoke violently. one by one the beautiful witches approached to stir the contents of the kettle and to mutter a magic charm. their movements were graceful and rhythmic and the wicked witch who had called them to her aid watched them with an evil grin upon her wrinkled face. finally the incantation was complete. the kettle ceased bubbling and together the witches lifted it from the fire. then blinkie brought a wooden ladle and filled it from the contents of the kettle. going with the spoon to princess gloria she cried: "love no more! magic art now will freeze your mortal heart!" with this she dashed the contents of the ladle full upon gloria's breast. trot saw the body of the princess become transparent, so that her beating heart showed plainly. but now the heart turned from a vivid red to gray, and then to white. a layer of frost formed about it and tiny icicles clung to its surface. then slowly the body of the girl became visible again and the heart was hidden from view. gloria seemed to have fainted, but now she recovered and, opening her beautiful eyes, stared coldly and without emotion at the group of witches confronting her. blinkie and the others knew by that one cold look that their charm had been successful. they burst into a chorus of wild laughter and the three beautiful ones began dancing again, while blinkie unbound the princess and set her free. trot rubbed her eyes to prove that she was wide awake and seeing clearly, for her astonishment was great when the three lovely maidens turned into ugly, crooked hags again, leaning on broomsticks and canes. they jeered at gloria, but the princess regarded them with cold disdain. being now free, she walked to a door, opened it and passed out. and the witches let her go. trot and pon had been so intent upon this scene that in their eagerness they had pressed quite hard against the window. just as gloria went out of the house the window-sash broke loose from its fastenings and fell with a crash into the room. the witches uttered a chorus of screams and then, seeing that their magical incantation had been observed, they rushed for the open window with uplifted broomsticks and canes. but pon was off like the wind, and trot followed at his heels. fear lent them strength to run, to leap across ditches, to speed up the hills and to vault the low fences as a deer would. [illustration] the band of witches had dashed through the window in pursuit; but blinkie was so old, and the others so crooked and awkward, that they soon realized they would be unable to overtake the fugitives. so the three who had been summoned by the wicked witch put their canes or broomsticks between their legs and flew away through the air, quickly disappearing against the blue sky. blinkie, however, was so enraged at pon and trot that she hobbled on in the direction they had taken, fully determined to catch them, in time, and to punish them terribly for spying upon her witchcraft. when pon and trot had run so far that they were confident they had made good their escape, they sat down near the edge of a forest to get their breath again, for both were panting hard from their exertions. trot was the first to recover speech, and she said to her companion: "my! wasn't it tenable?" "the most terrible thing i ever saw," pon agreed. "and they froze gloria's heart; so now she can't love you any more." "well, they froze her heart, to be sure," admitted pon, "but i'm in hopes i can melt it with my love." "where do you s'pose gloria is?' asked the girl, after a pause. "she left the witch's house just before we did. perhaps she has gone back to the king's castle," he said. "i'm pretty sure she started off in a different direction," declared trot. "i looked over my shoulder, as i ran, to see how close the witches were, and i'm sure i saw gloria walking slowly away toward the north." "then let us circle around that way," proposed pon, "and perhaps we shall meet her." trot agreed to this and they left the grove and began to circle around toward the north, thus drawing nearer and nearer to old blinkie's house again. the wicked witch did not suspect this change of direction, so when she came to the grove she passed through it and continued on. pon and trot had reached a place less than half a mile from the witch's house when they saw gloria walking toward them. the princess moved with great dignity and with no show of haste whatever, holding her head high and looking neither to right nor left. pon rushed forward, holding out his arms as if to embrace her and calling her sweet names. but gloria gazed upon him coldly and repelled him with a haughty gesture. at this the poor gardener's boy sank upon his knees and hid his face in his arms, weeping bitter tears; but the princess was not at all moved by his distress. passing him by, she drew her skirts aside, as if unwilling they should touch him, and then she walked up the path a way and hesitated, as if uncertain where to go next. trot was grieved by pon's sobs and indignant because gloria treated him so badly. but she remembered why. "i guess your heart is frozen, all right," she said to the princess. gloria nodded gravely, in reply, and then turned her back upon the little girl. "can't you like even me?" asked trot, half pleadingly. "no," said gloria. "your voice sounds like a refrig'rator," sighed the little girl. "i'm awful sorry for you, 'cause you were sweet an' nice to me before this happened. you can't help it, of course; but it's a dreadful thing, jus' the same." "my heart is frozen to all mortal loves," announced gloria, calmly. "i do not love even myself." [illustration] "that's too bad," said trot, "for, if you can't love anybody, you can't expect anybody to love you." "i do!" cried pon. "i shall always love her." "well, you're just a gardener's boy," replied trot, "and i didn't think you 'mounted to much, from the first. i can love the old princess gloria, with a warm heart an' nice manners, but this one gives me the shivers." "it's her icy heart, that's all," said pon. "that's enough," insisted trot. "seeing her heart isn't big enough to skate on, i can't see that she's of any use to anyone. for my part, i'm goin' to try to find button-bright an' cap'n bill." "i will go with you," decided pon. "it is evident that gloria no longer loves me and that her heart is frozen too stiff for me to melt it with my own love; therefore i may as well help you to find your friends." as trot started off, pon cast one more imploring look at the princess, who returned it with a chilly stare. so he followed after the little girl. as for the princess, she hesitated a moment and then turned in the same direction the others had taken, but going far more slowly. soon she heard footsteps pattering behind her, and up came googly-goo, a little out of breath with running. "stop, gloria!" he cried. "i have come to take you back to my mansion, where we are to be married." she looked at him wonderingly a moment, then tossed her head disdainfully and walked on. but googly-goo kept beside her. "what does this mean?" he demanded. "haven't you discovered that you no longer love that gardener's boy, who stood in my way?" "yes; i have discovered it," she replied. "my heart is frozen to all mortal loves. i cannot love you, or pon, or the cruel king my uncle, or even myself. go your way, googly-goo, for i will wed no one at all." he stopped in dismay when he heard this, but in another minute he exclaimed angrily: "you _must_ wed me, princess gloria, whether you want to or not! i paid to have your heart frozen; i also paid the king to permit our marriage. if you now refuse me it will mean that i have been robbed--robbed--robbed of my precious money and jewels!" he almost wept with despair, but she laughed a cold, bitter laugh and passed on. googly-goo caught at her arm, as if to restrain her, but she whirled and dealt him a blow that sent him reeling into a ditch beside the path. here he lay for a long time, half covered by muddy water, dazed with surprise. finally the old courtier arose, dripping, and climbed from the ditch. the princess had gone; so, muttering threats of vengeance upon her, upon the king and upon blinkie, old googly-goo hobbled back to his mansion to have the mud removed from his costly velvet clothes. [illustration] [illustration] chapter trot meets the scarecrow trot and pon covered many leagues of ground, searching through forests, in fields and in many of the little villages of jinxland, but could find no trace of either cap'n bill or button-bright. finally they paused beside a cornfield and sat upon a stile to rest. pon took some apples from his pocket and gave one to trot. then he began eating another himself, for this was their time for luncheon. when his apple was finished pon tossed the core into the field. "tchuk-tchuk!" said a strange voice. "what do you mean by hitting me in the eye with an apple-core?" then rose up the form of the scarecrow, who had hidden himself in the cornfield while he examined pon and trot and decided whether they were worthy to be helped. "excuse me," said pon. "i didn't know you were there." "how did you happen to be there, anyhow?" asked trot. the scarecrow came forward with awkward steps and stood beside them. "ah, you are the gardener's boy," he said to pon. then he turned to trot. "and you are the little girl who came to jinxland riding on a big bird, and who has had the misfortune to lose her friend, cap'n bill, and her chum, button-bright." "why, how did you know all that?" she inquired. "i know a lot of things," replied the scarecrow, winking at her comically. "my brains are the carefully-assorted, double-distilled, high-efficiency sort that the wizard of oz makes. he admits, himself, that my brains are the best he ever manufactured." "i think i've heard of you," said trot slowly, as she looked the scarecrow over with much interest; "but you used to live in the land of oz." "oh, i do now," he replied cheerfully. "i've just come over the mountains from the quadling country to see if i can be of any help to you." "who, me?" asked pon. "no, the strangers from the big world. it seems they need looking after." "i'm doing that myself," said pon, a little ungraciously. "if you will pardon me for saying so, i don't see how a scarecrow with painted eyes can look after anyone." "if you don't see that, you are more blind than the scarecrow," asserted trot. "he's a fairy man, pon, and comes from the fairyland of oz, so he can do 'most anything. i hope," she added, turning to the scarecrow, "you can find cap'n bill for me." "i will try, anyhow," he promised. "but who is that old woman who is running toward us and shaking her stick at us?" trot and pon turned around and both uttered an exclamation of fear. the next instant they took to their heels and ran fast up the path. for it was old blinkie, the wicked witch, who had at last traced them to this place. her anger was so great that she was determined not to abandon the chase of pon and trot until she had caught and punished them. the scarecrow understood at once that the old woman meant harm to his new friends, so as she drew near he stepped before her. his appearance was so sudden and unexpected that blinkie ran into him and toppled him over, but she tripped on his straw body and went rolling in the path beside him. [illustration] the scarecrow sat up and said: "i beg your pardon!" but she whacked him with her stick and knocked him flat again. then, furious with rage, the old witch sprang upon her victim and began pulling the straw out of his body. the poor scarecrow was helpless to resist and in a few moments all that was left of him was an empty suit of clothes and a heap of straw beside it. fortunately, blinkie did not harm his head, for it rolled into a little hollow and escaped her notice. fearing that pon and trot would escape her, she quickly resumed the chase and disappeared over the brow of a hill, following the direction in which she had seen them go. only a short time elapsed before a gray grasshopper with a wooden leg came hopping along and lit directly on the upturned face of the scarecrow's head. "pardon me, but you are resting yourself upon my nose," remarked the scarecrow. [illustration] "oh! are you alive?" asked the grasshopper. "that is a question i have never been able to decide," said the scarecrow's head. "when my body is properly stuffed i have animation and can move around as well as any live person. the brains in the head you are now occupying as a throne, are of very superior quality and do a lot of very clever thinking. but whether that is being alive, or not, i cannot prove to you; for one who lives is liable to death, while i am only liable to destruction." "seems to me," said the grasshopper, rubbing his nose with his front legs, "that in your case it doesn't matter--unless you're destroyed already." "i am not; all i need is re-stuffing," declared the scarecrow; "and if pon and trot escape the witch, and come back here, i am sure they will do me that favor." "tell me! are trot and pon around here?" inquired the grasshopper, its small voice trembling with excitement. the scarecrow did not answer at once, for both his eyes were staring straight upward at a beautiful face that was slightly bent over his head. it was, indeed, princess gloria, who had wandered to this spot, very much surprised when she heard the scarecrow's head talk and the tiny gray grasshopper answer it. "this," said the scarecrow, still staring at her, "must be the princess who loves pon, the gardener's boy." "oh, indeed!" exclaimed the grasshopper--who of course was cap'n bill--as he examined the young lady curiously. "no," said gloria frigidly, "i do not love pon, or anyone else, for the wicked witch has frozen my heart." "what a shame!" cried the scarecrow. "one so lovely should be able to love. but would you mind, my dear, stuffing that straw into my body again?" the dainty princess glanced at the straw and at the well-worn blue munchkin clothes and shrank back in disdain. but she was spared from refusing the scarecrow's request by the appearance of trot and pon, who had hidden in some bushes just over the brow of the hill and waited until old blinkie had passed them by. their hiding place was on the same side as the witch's blind eye, and she rushed on in the chase of the girl and the youth without being aware that they had tricked her. [illustration] trot was shocked at the scarecrow's sad condition and at once began putting the straw back into his body. pon, at sight of gloria, again appealed to her to take pity on him, but the frozen-hearted princess turned coldly away and with a sigh the gardener's boy began to assist trot. neither of them at first noticed the small grasshopper, which at their appearance had skipped off the scarecrow's nose and was now clinging to a wisp of grass beside the path, where he was not likely to be stepped upon. not until the scarecrow had been neatly restuffed and set upon his feet again when he bowed to his restorers and expressed his thanks did the grasshopper move from his perch. then he leaped lightly into the path and called out: "trot--trot! look at me. i'm cap'n bill! see what the wicked witch has done to me." the voice was small, to be sure, but it reached trot's ears and startled her greatly. she looked intently at the grasshopper, her eyes wide with fear at first; then she knelt down and, noticing the wooden leg, she began to weep sorrowfully. "oh, cap'n bill--dear cap'n bill! what a cruel thing to do!'' she sobbed. "don't cry, trot," begged the grasshopper. "it didn't hurt any, and it doesn't hurt now. but it's mighty inconvenient an' humiliatin', to say the least." "i wish," said the girl indignantly, while trying hard to restrain her tears, "that i was big 'nough an' strong 'nough to give that horrid witch a good beating. she ought to be turned into a toad for doing this to you, cap'n bill!" "never mind," urged the scarecrow, in a comforting voice, "such a transformation doesn't last always, and as a general thing there's some way to break the enchantment. i'm sure glinda could do it, in a jiffy." "who is glinda?" inquired cap'n bill. then the scarecrow told them all about glinda, not forgetting to mention her beauty and goodness and her wonderful powers of magic. he also explained how the royal sorceress had sent him to jinxland especially to help the strangers, whom she knew to be in danger because of the wiles of the cruel king and the wicked witch. [illustration] [illustration] chapter pon summons the king to surrender gloria had drawn near to the group to listen to their talk, and it seemed to interest her in spite of her frigid manner. they knew, of course, that the poor princess could not help being cold and reserved, so they tried not to blame her. "i ought to have come here a little sooner," said the scarecrow, regretfully; "but glinda sent me as soon as she discovered you were here and were likely to get into trouble. and now that we are all together--except button-bright, over whom it is useless to worry--i propose we hold a council of war, to decide what is best to be done." that seemed a wise thing to do, so they all sat down upon the grass, including gloria, and the grasshopper perched upon trot's shoulder and allowed her to stroke him gently with her hand. "in the first place," began the scarecrow, "this king krewl is a usurper and has no right to rule this kingdom of jinxland." "that is true," said pon, eagerly. "my father was king before him, and i--" "you are a gardener's boy," interrupted the scarecrow. "your father had no right to rule, either, for the rightful king of this land was the father of princess gloria, and only she is entitled to sit upon the throne of jinxland." "good!" exclaimed trot. "but what'll we do with king krewl? i s'pose he won't give up the throne unless he has to." "no, of course not," said the scarecrow. "therefore it will be our duty to _make_ him give up the throne." "how?" asked trot. "give me time to think," was the reply. "that's what my brains are for. i don't know whether you people ever think, or not, but my brains are the best that the wizard of oz ever turned out, and if i give them plenty of time to work, the result usually surprises me." "take your time, then," suggested trot. "there's no hurry." "thank you," said the straw man, and sat perfectly still for half an hour. during this interval the grasshopper whispered in trot's ear, to which he was very close, and trot whispered back to the grasshopper sitting upon her shoulder. pon cast loving glances at gloria, who paid not the slightest heed to them. finally the scarecrow laughed aloud. "brains working?" inquired trot. "yes. they seem in fine order to-day. we will conquer king krewl and put gloria upon his throne as queen of jinxland." "fine!" cried the little girl, clapping her hands together gleefully. "but how?" "leave the _how_ to me," said the scarecrow proudly. "as a conqueror i'm a wonder. we will, first of all, write a message to send to king krewl, asking him to surrender. if he refuses, then we will make him surrender." "why ask him, when we _know_ he'll refuse?" inquired pon. "why, we must be polite, whatever we do," explained the scarecrow. "it would be very rude to conquer a king without proper notice." [illustration] they found it difficult to write a message without paper, pen and ink, none of which was at hand; so it was decided to send pon as a messenger, with instructions to ask the king, politely but firmly, to surrender. pon was not anxious to be the messenger. indeed, he hinted that it might prove a dangerous mission. but the scarecrow was now the acknowledged head of the army of conquest, and he would listen to no refusal. so off pon started for the king's castle, and the others accompanied him as far as his hut, where they had decided to await the gardener's boy's return. i think it was because pon had known the scarecrow such a short time that he lacked confidence in the straw man's wisdom. it was easy to say: "we will conquer king krewl," but when pon drew near to the great castle he began to doubt the ability of a straw-stuffed man, a girl, a grasshopper and a frozen-hearted princess to do it. as for himself, he had never thought of defying the king before. that was why the gardener's boy was not very bold when he entered the castle and passed through to the enclosed court where the king was just then seated, with his favorite courtiers around him. none prevented pon's entrance, because he was known to be the gardener's boy, but when the king saw him he began to frown fiercely. he considered pon to be to blame for all his trouble with princess gloria, who since her heart had been frozen had escaped to some unknown place, instead of returning to the castle to wed googly-goo, as she had been expected to do. so the king bared his teeth angrily as he demanded: [illustration] "what have you done with princess gloria?" "nothing, your majesty! i have done nothing at all," answered pon in a faltering voice. "she does not love me any more and even refuses to speak to me." "then why are you here, you rascal?" roared the king. pon looked first one way and then another, but saw no means of escape; so he plucked up courage. "i am here to summon your majesty to surrender." "what!" shouted the king. "surrender? surrender to whom?" pon's heart sank to his boots. "to the scarecrow," he replied. some of the courtiers began to titter, but king krewl was greatly annoyed. he sprang up and began to beat poor pon with the golden staff he carried. pon howled lustily and would have run away had not two of the soldiers held him until his majesty was exhausted with punishing the boy. then they let him go and he left the castle and returned along the road, sobbing at every step because his body was so sore and aching. "well," said the scarecrow, "did the king surrender?" "no; but he gave me a good drubbing!" sobbed poor pon. trot was very sorry for pon, but gloria did not seem affected in any way by her lover's anguish. the grasshopper leaped to the scarecrow's shoulder and asked him what he was going to do next. "conquer," was the reply. "but i will go alone, this time, for beatings cannot hurt me at all; nor can lance thrusts--or sword cuts--or arrow pricks." "why is that?" inquired trot. "because i have no nerves, such as you meat people possess. even grasshoppers have nerves, but straw doesn't; so whatever they do--except just one thing--they cannot injure me. therefore i expect to conquer king krewl with ease." "what is that one thing you excepted?" asked trot. "they will never think of it, so never mind. and now, if you will kindly excuse me for a time, i'll go over to the castle and do my conquering." "you have no weapons," pon reminded him. "true," said the scarecrow. "but if i carried weapons i might injure someone--perhaps seriously--and that would make me unhappy. i will just borrow that riding-whip, which i see in the corner of your hut, if you don't mind. it isn't exactly proper to walk with a riding-whip, but i trust you will excuse the inconsistency." pon handed him the whip and the scarecrow bowed to all the party and left the hut, proceeding leisurely along the way to the king's castle. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the ork rescues button-bright i must now tell you what had become of button-bright since he wandered away in the morning and got lost. this small boy, as perhaps you have discovered, was almost as destitute of nerves as the scarecrow. nothing ever astonished him much; nothing ever worried him or made him unhappy. good fortune or bad fortune he accepted with a quiet smile, never complaining, whatever happened. this was one reason why button-bright was a favorite with all who knew him--and perhaps it was the reason why he so often got into difficulties, or found himself lost. to-day, as he wandered here and there, over hill and down dale, he missed trot and cap'n bill, of whom he was fond, but nevertheless he was not unhappy. the birds sang merrily and the wildflowers were beautiful and the breeze had a fragrance of new-mown hay. "the only bad thing about this country is its king," he reflected; "but the country isn't to blame for that." a prairie-dog stuck its round head out of a mound of earth and looked at the boy with bright eyes. "walk around my house, please," it said, "and then you won't harm it or disturb the babies." "all right," answered button-bright, and took care not to step on the mound. he went on, whistling merrily, until a petulant voice cried: "oh, stop it! please stop that noise. it gets on my nerves." button-bright saw an old gray owl sitting in the crotch of a tree, and he replied with a laugh: "all right, old fussy," and stopped whistling until he had passed out of the owl's hearing. at noon he came to a farmhouse where an aged couple lived. they gave him a good dinner and treated him kindly, but the man was deaf and the woman was dumb, so they could answer no questions to guide him on the way to port's house. when he left them he was just as much lost as he had been before. every grove of trees he saw from a distance he visited, for he remembered that the king's castle was near a grove of trees and pon's hut was near the king's castle; but always he met with disappointment. finally, passing through one of these groves, he came out into the open and found himself face to face with the ork. "hello!" said button-bright. "where did _you_ come from?" [illustration] "from orkland," was the reply. "i've found my own country, at last, and it is not far from here, either. i would have come back to you sooner, to see how you are getting along, had not my family and friends welcomed my return so royally that a great celebration was held in my honor. so i couldn't very well leave orkland again until the excitement was over." "can you find your way back home again?" asked the boy. "yes, easily; for now i know exactly where it is. but where are trot and cap'n bill?" button-bright related to the ork their adventures since it had left them in jinxland, telling of trot's fear that the king had done something wicked to cap'n bill, and of pon's love for gloria, and how trot and button-bright had been turned out of the king's castle. that was all the news that the boy had, but it made the ork anxious for the safety of his friends. "we must go to them at once, for they may need us," he said. "i don't know where to go," confessed button-bright. "i'm lost." "well, i can take you back to the hut of the gardener's boy," promised the ork, "for when i fly high in the air i can look down and easily spy the king's castle. that was how i happened to spy you, just entering the grove; so i flew down and waited until you came out." "how can you carry me?" asked the boy. "you'll have to sit straddle my shoulders and put your arms around my neck. do you think you can keep from falling off?" "til try," said button-bright. so the ork squatted down and the boy took his seat and held on tight. then the skinny creature's tail began whirling and up they went, far above all the tree-tops. after the ork had circled around once or twice, its sharp eyes located the towers of the castle and away it flew, straight toward the place. as it hovered in the air, near by the castle, button-bright pointed out pon's hut, so they landed just before it and trot came running out to greet them. gloria was introduced to the ork, who was surprised to find cap'n bill transformed into a grasshopper. "how do you like it?" asked the creature. "why, it worries me a good deal," answered cap'n bill, perched upon trot's shoulder. "i'm always afraid o' bein' stepped on, and i don't like the flavor of grass an' can't seem to get used to it. it's my nature to eat grass, you know, but i begin to suspect it's an acquired taste." "can you give molasses?" asked the ork. "i guess i'm not that kind of a grasshopper," replied cap'n bill. "but i can't say what i might do if i was squeezed--which i hope i won't be." "well," said the ork, "it's a great pity, and i'd like to meet that cruel king and his wicked witch and punish them both severely. you're awfully small, cap'n bill, but i think i would recognize you anywhere by your wooden leg." then the ork and button-bright were told all about gloria's frozen heart and how the scarecrow had come from the land of oz to help them. the ork seemed rather disturbed when it learned that the scarecrow had gone alone to conquer king krewl. "i'm afraid he'll make a fizzle of it," said the skinny creature, "and there's no telling what that terrible king might do to the poor scarecrow, who seems like a very interesting person. so i believe i'll take a hand in this conquest myself." "how?" asked trot. "wait and see," was the reply. "but, first of all, i must fly home again--back to my own country--so if you'll forgive my leaving you so soon, i'll be off at once. stand away from my tail, please, so that the wind from it, when it revolves, won't knock you over." they gave the creature plenty of room and away it went like a flash and soon disappeared in the sky. "i wonder," said button-bright, looking solemnly after the ork, "whether he'll ever come back again." "of course he will!" returned trot. "the ork's a pretty good fellow, and we can depend on him. an' mark my words, button-bright, whenever our ork does come back, there's one cruel king in jinxland that'll wish he hadn't." [illustration] [illustration] chapter the scarecrow meets an enemy the scarecrow was not a bit afraid of king krewl. indeed, he rather enjoyed the prospect of conquering the evil king and putting gloria on the throne of jinxland in his place. so he advanced boldly to the royal castle and demanded admittance. seeing that he was a stranger, the soldiers allowed him to enter. he made his way straight to the throne room, where at that time his majesty was settling the disputes among his subjects. "who are you?" demanded the king. "i'm the scarecrow of oz, and i command you to surrender yourself my prisoner." [illustration] "why should i do that?" inquired the king, much astonished at the straw man's audacity. "because i've decided you are too cruel a king to rule so beautiful a country. you must remember that jinxland is a part of oz, and therefore you owe allegiance to ozma of oz, whose friend and servant i am." now, when he heard this, king krewl was much disturbed in mind, for he knew the scarecrow spoke the truth. but no one had ever before come to jinxland from the land of oz and the king did not intend to be put out of his throne if he could help it. therefore he gave a harsh, wicked laugh of derision and said: "i'm busy, now. stand out of my way, scarecrow, and i'll talk with you by and by." but the scarecrow turned to the assembled courtiers and people and called in a loud voice: "i hereby declare, in the name of ozma of oz, that this man is no longer ruler of jinxland. from this moment princess gloria is your rightful queen, and i ask all of you to be loyal to her and to obey her commands." the people looked fearfully at the king, whom they all hated in their hearts, but likewise feared. krewl was now in a terrible rage and he raised his golden sceptre and struck the scarecrow so heavy a blow that he fell to the floor. but he was up again, in an instant, and with pon's riding-whip he switched the king so hard that the wicked monarch roared with pain as much as with rage, calling on his soldiers to capture the scarecrow. they tried to do that, and thrust their lances and swords into the straw body, but without doing any damage except to make holes in the scarecrow's clothes. however, they were many against one and finally old googly-goo brought a rope which he wound around the scarecrow, binding his legs together and his arms to his sides, and after that the fight was over. the king stormed and danced around in a dreadful fury, for he had never been so switched since he was a boy--and perhaps not then. he ordered the scarecrow thrust into the castle prison, which was no task at all because one man could carry him easily, bound as he was. even after the prisoner was removed the king could not control his anger. he tried to figure out some way to be revenged upon the straw man, but could think of nothing that could hurt him. at last, when the terrified people and the frightened courtiers had all slunk away, old googly-goo approached the king with a malicious grin upon his face. "i'll tell you what to do," said he. "build a big bonfire and burn the scarecrow up, and that will be the end of him." the king was so delighted with this suggestion that he hugged old googly-goo in his joy. "of course!" he cried. "the very thing. why did i not think of it my self?" so he summoned his soldiers and retainers and bade them prepare a great bonfire in an open space in the castle park. also he sent word to all his people to assemble and witness the destruction of the scarecrow who had dared to defy his power. before long a vast throng gathered in the park and the servants had heaped up enough fuel to make a fire that might be seen for miles away--even in the daytime. when all was prepared, the king had his throne brought out for him to sit upon and enjoy the spectacle, and then he sent his soldiers to fetch the scarecrow. [illustration] now the one thing in all the world that the straw man really feared was fire. he knew he would burn very easily and that his ashes wouldn't amount to much afterward. it wouldn't hurt him to be destroyed in such a manner, but he realized that many people in the land of oz, and especially dorothy and the royal ozma, would feel sad if they learned that their old friend the scarecrow was no longer in existence. in spite of this, the straw man was brave and faced his fiery fate like a hero. when they marched him out before the concourse of people he turned to the king with great calmness and said: "this wicked deed will cost you your throne, as well as much suffering, for my friends will avenge my destruction." "your friends are not here, nor will they know what i have done to you, when you are gone and cannot tell them," answered the king in a scornful voice. then he ordered the scarecrow bound to a stout stake that he had had driven into the ground, and the materials for the fire were heaped all around him. when this had been done, the king's brass band struck up a lively tune and old googly-goo came forward with a lighted match and set fire to the pile. [illustration] at once the flames shot up and crept closer and closer toward the scarecrow. the king and all his people were so intent upon this terrible spectacle that none of them noticed how the sky grew suddenly dark. perhaps they thought that the loud buzzing sound--like the noise of a dozen moving railway trains--came from the blazing fagots; that the rush of wind was merely a breeze. but suddenly down swept a flock of orks, half a hundred of them at the least, and the powerful currents of air caused by their revolving tails sent the bonfire scattering in every direction, so that not one burning brand ever touched the scarecrow. but that was not the only effect of this sudden tornado. king krewl was blown out of his throne and went tumbling heels over head until he landed with a bump against the stone wall of his own castle, and before he could rise a big ork sat upon him and held him pressed flat to the ground. old googly-goo shot up into the air like a rocket and landed on a tree, where he hung by the middle on a high limb, kicking the air with his feet and clawing the air with his hands, and howling for mercy like the coward he was. the people pressed back until they were jammed close together, while all the soldiers were knocked over and sent sprawling to the earth. the excitement was great for a few minutes, and every frightened inhabitant of jinxland looked with awe and amazement at the great orks whose descent had served to rescue the scarecrow and conquer king krewl at one and the same time. the ork, who was the leader of the band, soon had the scarecrow free of his bonds. then he said: "well, we were just in time to save you, which is better than being a minute too late. you are now the master here, and we are determined to see your orders obeyed." with this the ork picked up krewl's golden crown, which had fallen off his head, and placed it upon the head of the scarecrow, who in his awkward way then shuffled over to the throne and sat down in it. seeing this, a rousing cheer broke from the crowd of people, who tossed their hats and waved their handkerchiefs and hailed the scarecrow as their king. the soldiers joined the people in the cheering, for now they fully realized that their hated master was conquered and it would be wise to show their good will to the conqueror. some of them bound krewl with ropes and dragged him forward, dumping his body on the ground before the scarecrow's throne. googly-goo struggled until he finally slid off the limb of the tree and came tumbling to the ground. he then tried to sneak away and escape, but the soldiers seized and bound him beside krewl. "the tables are turned," said the scarecrow, swelling out his chest until the straw within it crackled pleasantly, for he was highly pleased; "but it was you and your people who did it, friend ork, and from this time you may count me your humble servant." [illustration] [illustration] chapter the conquest of the witch now as soon as the conquest of king krewl had taken place, one of the orks had been dispatched to pon's house with the joyful news. at once gloria and pon and trot and button-bright hastened toward the castle. they were somewhat surprised by the sight that met their eyes, for there was the scarecrow, crowned king, and all the people kneeling humbly before him. so they likewise bowed low to the new ruler and then stood beside the throne. cap'n bill, as the gray grasshopper, was still perched upon trot's shoulder, but now he hopped to the shoulder of the scarecrow and whispered into the painted ear: "i thought gloria was to be queen of jinxland." the scarecrow shook his head. "not yet," he answered. "no queen with a frozen heart is fit to rule any country." then he turned to his new friend, the ork, who was strutting about, very proud of what he had done, and said: "do you suppose you, or your followers, could find old blinkie the witch?" "where is she?" asked the ork. "somewhere in jinxland, i'm sure." "then," said the ork, "we shall certainly be able to find her." "it will give me great pleasure," declared the scarecrow. "when you have found her, bring her here to me, and i will then decide what to do with her." the ork called his followers together and spoke a few words to them in a low tone. a moment after they rose into the air--so suddenly that the scarecrow, who was very light in weight, was blown quite out of his throne and into the arms of pon, who replaced him carefully upon his seat. there was an eddy of dust and ashes, too, and the grasshopper only saved himself from being whirled into the crowd of people by jumping into a tree, from where a series of hops soon brought him back to trot's shoulder again. the orks were quite out of sight by this time, so the scarecrow made a speech to the people and presented gloria to them, whom they knew well already and were fond of. but not all of them knew of her frozen heart, and when the scarecrow related the story of the wicked witch's misdeeds, which had been encouraged and paid for by krewl and googly-goo, the people were very indignant. meantime the fifty orks had scattered all over jinxland, which is not a very big country, and their sharp eyes were peering into every valley and grove and gully. finally one of them spied a pair of heels sticking out from underneath some bushes, and with a shrill whistle to warn his comrades that the witch was found the ork flew down and dragged old blinkie from her hiding-place. then two or three of the orks seized the clothing of the wicked woman in their strong claws and, lifting her high in the air, where she struggled and screamed to no avail, they flew with her straight to the royal castle and set her down before the throne of the scarecrow. [illustration] [illustration] "good!" exclaimed the straw man, nodding his stuffed head with satisfaction. "now we can proceed to business. mistress witch, i am obliged to request, gently but firmly, that you undo all the wrongs you have done by means of your witchcraft." "pah!" cried old blinkie in a scornful voice. "i defy you all! by my magic powers i can turn you all into pigs, rooting in the mud, and i'll do it if you are not careful." "i think you are mistaken about that," said the scarecrow, and rising from his throne he walked with wobbling steps to the side of the wicked witch. "before i left the land of oz, glinda the royal sorceress gave me a box, which i was not to open except in an emergency. but i feel pretty sure that this occasion is an emergency; don't you, trot?' he asked, turning toward the little girl. "why, we've got to do _something_," replied trot seriously. "things seem in an awful muddle here, jus' now, and they'll be worse if we don't stop this witch from doing more harm to people." "that is my idea, exactly," said the scarecrow, and taking a small box from his pocket he opened the cover and tossed the contents toward blinkie. the old woman shrank back, pale and trembling, as a fine white dust settled all about her. under its influence she seemed to the eyes of all observers to shrivel and grow smaller. "oh, dear--oh, dear!" she wailed, wringing her hands in fear. "haven't you the antidote, scarecrow? didn't the great sorceress give you another box?" "she did," answered the scarecrow. "then give it me--quick!" pleaded the witch. "give it me--and i'll do anything you ask me to!" "you will do what i ask first," declared the scarecrow, firmly. the witch was shriveling and growing smaller every moment. "be quick, then!" she cried. "tell me what i must do and let me do it, or it will be too late." "you made trot's friend, cap'n bill, a grasshopper. i command you to give him back his proper form again," said the scarecrow. "where is he? where's the grasshopper? quick--quick!" she screamed. cap'n bill, who had been deeply interested in this conversation, gave a great leap from trot's shoulder and landed on that of the scarecrow. blinkie saw him alight and at once began to make magic passes and to mumble magic incantations. she was in a desperate hurry, knowing that she had no time to waste, and the grasshopper was so suddenly transformed into the old sailor-man, cap'n bill, that he had no opportunity to jump off the scarecrow's shoulder; so his great weight bore the stuffed scarecrow to the ground. no harm was done, however, and the straw man got up and brushed the dust from his clothes while trot delightedly embraced cap'n bill. "the other box! quick! give me the other box," begged blinkie, who had now shrunk to half her former size. "not yet," said the scarecrow. "you must first melt princess gloria's frozen heart." "i can't; it's an awful job to do that! i can't," asserted the witch, in an agony of fear--for still she was growing smaller. "you must!" declared the scarecrow, firmly. the witch cast a shrewd look at him and saw that he meant it; so she began dancing around gloria in a frantic manner. the princess looked coldly on, as if not at all interested in the proceedings, while blinkie tore a handful of hair from her own head and ripped a strip of cloth from the bottom of her gown. then the witch sank upon her knees, took a purple powder from her black bag and sprinkled it over the hair and cloth. "i hate to do it--i hate to do it!" she wailed, "for there is no more of this magic compound in all the world. but i must sacrifice it to save my own life. a match! give me a match, quick!" and panting from lack of breath she gazed imploringly from one to another. [illustration] cap'n bill was the only one who had a match, but he lost no time in handing it to blinkie, who quickly set fire to the hair and the cloth and the purple powder. at once a purple cloud enveloped gloria, and this gradually turned to a rosy pink color--brilliant and quite transparent. through the rosy cloud they could all see the beautiful princess, standing proud and erect. then her heart became visible, at first frosted with ice but slowly growing brighter and warmer until all the frost had disappeared and it was beating as softly and regularly as any other heart. and now the cloud dispersed and disclosed gloria, her face suffused with joy, smiling tenderly upon the friends who were grouped about her. poor pon stepped forward--timidly, fearing a repulse, but with pleading eyes and arms fondly outstretched toward his former sweetheart--and the princess saw him and her sweet face lighted with a radiant smile. without an instant's hesitation she threw herself into pon's arms and this reunion of two loving hearts was so affecting that the people turned away and lowered their eyes so as not to mar the sacred joy of the faithful lovers. but blinkie's small voice was shouting to the scarecrow for help. "the antidote!" she screamed. "give me the other box--quick!" the scarecrow looked at the witch with his quaint, painted eyes and saw that she was now no taller than his knee. so he took from his pocket the second box and scattered its contents on blinkie. she ceased to grow any smaller, but she could never regain her former size, and this the wicked old woman well knew. [illustration] she did not know, however, that the second powder had destroyed all her power to work magic, and seeking to be revenged upon the scarecrow and his friends she at once began to mumble a charm so terrible in its effect that it would have destroyed half the population of jinxland--had it worked. but it did not work at all, to the amazement of old blinkie. and by this time the scarecrow noticed what the little witch was trying to do, and said to her: "go home, blinkie, and behave yourself. you are no longer a witch, but an ordinary old woman, and since you are powerless to do more evil i advise you to try to do some good in the world. believe me, it is more fun to accomplish a good act than an evil one, as you will discover when once you have tried it." but blinkie was at that moment filled with grief and chagrin at losing her magic powers. she started away toward her home, sobbing and bewailing her fate, and not one who saw her go was at all sorry for her. [illustration] chapter queen gloria next morning the scarecrow called upon all the courtiers and the people to assemble in the throne room of the castle, where there was room enough for all that were able to attend. they found the straw man seated upon the velvet cushions of the throne, with the king's glittering crown still upon his stuffed head. on one side of the throne, in a lower chair, sat gloria, looking radiantly beautiful and fresh as a new-blown rose. on the other side sat pon, the gardener's boy, still dressed in his old smock frock and looking sad and solemn; for pon could not make himself believe that so splendid a princess would condescend to love him when she had come to her own and was seated upon a throne. trot and cap'n bill sat at the feet of the scarecrow and were much interested in the proceedings. button-bright had lost himself before breakfast, but came into the throne room before the ceremonies were over. back of the throne stood a row of the great orks, with their leader in the center, and the entrance to the palace was guarded by more orks, who were regarded with wonder and awe. when all were assembled, the scarecrow stood up and made a speech. he told how gloria's father, the good king kynd, who had once ruled them and been loved by everyone, had been destroyed by king phearse, the father of pon, and how king phearse had been destroyed by king krewl. this last king had been a bad ruler, as they knew very well, and the scarecrow declared that the only one in all jinxland who had the right to sit upon the throne was princess gloria, the daughter of king kynd. "but," he added, "it is not for me, a stranger, to say who shall rule you. you must decide for yourselves, or you will not be content. so choose now who shall be your future ruler." and they all shouted: "the scarecrow! the scarecrow shall rule us!" which proved that the stuffed man had made himself very popular by his conquest of king krewl, and the people thought they would like him for their king. but the scarecrow shook his head so vigorously that it became loose, and trot had to pin it firmly to his body again. "no," said he, "i belong in the land of oz, where i am the humble servant of the lovely girl who rules us all the royal ozma. you must choose one of your own inhabitants to rule over jinxland. who shall it be?" they hesitated for a moment, and some few cried: "pon!" but many more shouted: "gloria!" so the scarecrow took gloria's hand and led her to the throne, where he first seated her and then took the glittering crown off his own head and placed it upon that of the young lady, where it nestled prettily amongst her soft curls. the people cheered and shouted then, kneeling before their new queen; but gloria leaned down and took pon's hand in both her own and raised him to the seat beside her. "you shall have both a king and a queen to care for you and to protect you, my dear subjects," she said in a sweet voice, while her face glowed with happiness; "for pon was a king's son before he became a gardener's boy, and because i love him he is to be my royal consort." that pleased them all, especially pon, who realized that this was the most important moment of his life. trot and button-bright and cap'n bill all congratulated him on winning the beautiful gloria; but the ork sneezed twice and said that in his opinion the young lady might have done better. then the scarecrow ordered the guards to bring in the wicked krewl, king no longer, and when he appeared, loaded with chains and dressed in fustian, the people hissed him and drew back as he passed so their garments would not touch him. krewl was not haughty or overbearing any more; on the contrary he seemed very meek and in great fear of the fate his conquerors had in store for him. but gloria and pon were too happy to be revengeful and so they offered to appoint krewl to the position of gardener's boy at the castle, pon having resigned to become king. but they said he must promise to reform his wicked ways and to do his duty faithfully, and he must change his name from krewl to grewl. all this the man eagerly promised to do, and so when pon retired to a room in the castle to put on princely raiment, the old brown smock he had formerly worn was given to grewl, who then went out into the garden to water the roses. [illustration] the remainder of that famous day, which was long remembered in jinxland, was given over to feasting and merrymaking. in the evening there was a grand dance in the courtyard, where the brass band played a new piece of music called the "ork trot" which was dedicated to "our glorious gloria, the queen." while the queen and pon were leading this dance, and all the jinxland people were having a good time, the strangers were gathered in a group in the park outside the castle. cap'n bill, trot, button-bright and the scarecrow were there, and so was their old friend the ork; but of all the great flock of orks which had assisted in the conquest but three remained in jinxland, besides their leader, the others having returned to their own country as soon as gloria was crowned queen. to the young ork who had accompanied them in their adventures cap'n bill said: "you've surely been a friend in need, and we're mighty grateful to you for helping us. i might have been a grasshopper yet if it hadn't been for you, an' i might remark that bein' a grasshopper isn't much fun." "if it hadn't been for you, friend ork," said the scarecrow, "i fear i could not have conquered king krewl." "no," agreed trot, "you'd have been just a heap of ashes by this time." "and i might have been lost yet," added button-bright. "much obliged, mr. ork." "oh, that's all right," replied the ork. "friends must stand together, you know, or they wouldn't be friends. but now i must leave you and be off to my own country, where there's going to be a surprise party on my uncle, and i've promised to attend it." "dear me," said the scarecrow, regretfully. "that is very unfortunate." "why so?" asked the ork. "i hoped you would consent to carry us over those mountains, into the land of oz. my mission here is now finished and i want to get back to the emerald city." "how did you cross the mountains before?" inquired the ork. "i scaled the cliffs by means of a rope, and crossed the great gulf on a strand of spider web. of course i can return in the same manner, but it would be a hard journey and perhaps an impossible one for trot and button-bright and cap'n bill. so i thought that if you had the time you and your people would carry us over the mountains and land us all safely on the other side, in the land of oz." the ork thoughtfully considered the matter for a while. then he said: "i mustn't break my promise to be present at the surprise party; but, tell me, could you go to oz to-night?" "what, now?" exclaimed trot. "it is a fine moonlight night," said the ork, "and i've found in my experience that there's no time so good as right away. the fact is," he explained, "it's a long journey to orkland and i and my cousins here are all rather tired by our day's work. but if you will start now, and be content to allow us to carry you over the mountains and dump you on the other side, just say the word and--off we go!" cap'n bill and trot looked at one another questioningly. the little girl was eager to visit the famous fairyland of oz and the old sailor had endured such hardships in jinxland that he would be glad to be out of it. "it's rather impolite of us not to say good-bye to the new king and queen," remarked the scarecrow, "but i'm sure they're too happy to miss us, and i assure you it will be much easier to fly on the backs of the orks over those steep mountains than to climb them as i did." "all right; let's go!" trot decided. "but where's button-bright?" just at this important moment button-bright was lost again, and they all scattered in search of him. he had been standing beside them just a few minutes before, but his friends had an exciting hunt for him before they finally discovered the boy seated among the members of the band, beating the end of the bass drum with the bone of a turkey-leg that he had taken from the table in the banquet room. "hello, trot," he said, looking up at the little girl when she found him. "this is the first chance i ever had to pound a drum with a regular drum stick. and i ate all the meat off the bone myself." "come quick. we're going to the land of oz." "oh, what's the hurry?" said button-bright; but she seized his arm and dragged him away to the park, where the others were waiting. trot climbed upon the back of her old friend, the ork leader, and the others took their seats on the backs of his three cousins. as soon as all were placed and clinging to the skinny necks of the creatures, the revolving tails began to whirl and up rose the four monster orks and sailed away toward the mountains. they were so high in the air that when they passed the crest of the highest peak it seemed far below them. no sooner were they well across the barrier than the orks swooped downward and landed their passengers upon the ground. "here we are, safe in the land of oz!' cried the scarecrow joyfully. "oh, are we?" asked trot, looking around her curiously. she could see the shadows of stately trees and the outlines of rolling hills; beneath her feet was soft turf, but otherwise the subdued light of the moon disclosed nothing clearly. "seems jus' like any other country," was cap'n bill's comment. [illustration] "but it isn't," the scarecrow assured him. "you are now within the borders of the most glorious fairyland in all the world. this part of it is just a corner of the quadling country, and the least interesting portion of it. it's not very thickly settled, around here, i'll admit, but--" he was interrupted by a sudden whir and a rush of air as the four orks mounted into the sky. "good night!" called the shrill voices of the strange creatures, and although trot shouted "good night!" as loudly as she could, the little girl was almost ready to cry because the orks had not waited to be properly thanked for all their kindness to her and to cap'n bill. but the orks were gone, and thanks for good deeds do not amount to much except to prove one's politeness. "well, friends," said the scarecrow, "we mustn't stay here in the meadows all night, so let us find a pleasant place to sleep. not that it matters to me, in the least, for i never sleep; but i know that meat people like to shut their eyes and lie still during the dark hours." "i'm pretty tired," admitted trot, yawning as she followed the straw man along a tiny path, "so, if you don't find a house handy, cap'n bill and i will sleep under the trees, or even on this soft grass." but a house was not very far off, although when the scarecrow stumbled upon it there was no light in it whatever. cap'n bill knocked on the door several times, and there being no response the scarecrow boldly lifted the latch and walked in, followed by the others. and no sooner had they entered than a soft light filled the room. trot couldn't tell where it came from, for no lamp of any sort was visible, but she did not waste much time on this problem, because directly in the center of the room stood a table set for three, with lots of good food on it and several of the dishes smoking hot. [illustration] the little girl and button-bright both uttered exclamations of pleasure, but they looked in vain for any cook stove or fireplace, or for any person who might have prepared for them this delicious feast. "it's fairyland," muttered the boy, tossing his cap in a corner and seating himself at the table. "this supper smells 'most as good as that turkey-leg i had in jinxland. please pass the muffins, cap'n bill." trot thought it was strange that no people but themselves were in the house, but on the wall opposite the door was a gold frame bearing in big letters the word: "welcome." so she had no further hesitation in eating of the food so mysteriously prepared for them. "but there are only places for three!' she exclaimed. "three are quite enough," said the scarecrow. "i never eat, because i am stuffed full already, and i like my nice clean straw better than i do food." trot and the sailor-man were hungry and made a hearty meal, for not since they had left home had they tasted such good food. it was surprising that button-bright could eat so soon after his feast in jinxland, but the boy always ate whenever there was an opportunity. "if i don't eat now," he said, "the next time i'm hungry i'll wish i had." "really, cap'n," remarked trot, when she found a dish of ice-cream appear beside her plate, "i b'lieve this is fairyland, sure enough." "there's no doubt of it, trot," he answered gravely. "i've been here before," said button-bright, "so i know." after supper they discovered three tiny bedrooms adjoining the big living room of the house, and in each room was a comfortable white bed with downy pillows. you may be sure that the tired mortals were not long in bidding the scarecrow good night and creeping into their beds, where they slept soundly until morning. for the first time since they set eyes on the terrible whirlpool, trot and cap'n bill were free from anxiety and care. button-bright never worried about anything. the scarecrow, not being able to sleep, looked out of the window and tried to count the stars. [illustration] chapter dorothy, betsy and ozma i suppose many of my readers have read descriptions of the beautiful and magnificent emerald city of oz, so i need not describe it here, except to state that never has any city in any fairyland ever equalled this one in stately splendor. it lies almost exactly in the center of the land of oz, and in the center of the emerald city rises the wall of glistening emeralds that surrounds the palace of ozma. the palace is almost a city in itself and is inhabited by many of the ruler's especial friends and those who have won her confidence and favor. as for ozma herself, there are no words in any dictionary i can find that are fitted to describe this young girl's beauty of mind and person. merely to see her is to love her for her charming face and manners; to know her is to love her for her tender sympathy, her generous nature, her truth and honor. born of a long line of fairy queens, ozma is as nearly perfect as any fairy may be, and she is noted for her wisdom as well as for her other qualities. her happy subjects adore their girl ruler and each one considers her a comrade and protector. at the time of which i write, ozma's best friend and most constant companion was a little kansas girl named dorothy, a mortal who had come to the land of oz in a very curious manner and had been offered a home in ozma's palace. furthermore, dorothy had been made a princess of oz, and was as much at home in the royal palace as was the gentle ruler. she knew almost every part of the great country and almost all of its numerous inhabitants. next to ozma she was loved better than anyone in all oz, for dorothy was simple and sweet, seldom became angry and had such a friendly, chummy way that she made friends wherever she wandered. it was she who first brought the scarecrow and the tin woodman and the cowardly lion to the emerald city. dorothy had also introduced to ozma the shaggy man and the hungry tiger, as well as billina the yellow hen, eureka the pink kitten, and many other delightful characters and creatures. coming as she did from our world, dorothy was much like many other girls we know; so there were times when she was not so wise as she might have been, and other times when she was obstinate and got herself into trouble. but life in a fairyland had taught the little girl to accept all sorts of surprising things as matters-of-course, for while dorothy was no fairy--but just as mortal as we are--she had seen more wonders than most mortals ever do. another little girl from our outside world also lived in ozma's palace. this was betsy bobbin, whose strange adventures had brought her to the emerald city, where ozma had cordially welcomed her. betsy was a shy little thing and could never get used to the marvels that surrounded her, but she and dorothy were firm friends and thought themselves very fortunate in being together in this delightful country. one day dorothy and betsy were visiting ozma in the girl ruler's private apartment, and among the things that especially interested them was ozma's magic picture, set in a handsome frame and hung upon the wall of the room. this picture was a magic one because it constantly changed its scenes and showed events and adventures happening in all parts of the world. thus it was really a "moving picture" of life, and if the one who stood before it wished to know what any absent person was doing, the picture instantly showed that person, with his or her surroundings. the two girls were not wishing to see anyone in particular, on this occasion, but merely enjoyed watching the shifting scenes, some of which were exceedingly curious and remarkable. suddenly dorothy exclaimed: "why, there's button-bright!" and this drew ozma also to look at the picture, for she and dorothy knew the boy well. "who is button-bright?" asked betsy, who had never met him. "why, he's the little boy who is just getting off the back of that strange flying creature," exclaimed dorothy. then she turned to ozma and asked: "what is that thing, ozma? a bird? i've never seen anything like it before." [illustration] "it is an ork," answered ozma, for they were watching the scene where the ork and the three big birds were first landing their passengers in jinxland, after the long flight across the desert. "i wonder," added the girl ruler, musingly, "why those strangers dare venture into that unfortunate country, which is ruled by a wicked king." "that girl, and the one-legged man, seem to be mortals from the outside world," said dorothy. "the man isn't one-legged," corrected betsy; "he has one wooden leg." "it's almost as bad," declared dorothy, watching cap'n bill stump around. "they are three mortal adventurers," said ozma, "and they seem worthy and honest. but i fear they will be treated badly in jinxland, and if they meet with any misfortune there it will reflect upon me, for jinxland is a part of my dominions." "can't we help them in any way?" inquired dorothy. "that seems like a nice little girl. i'd be sorry if anything happened to her." "let us watch the picture for awhile," suggested ozma, and so they all drew chairs before the magic picture and followed the adventures of trot and cap'n bill and button-bright. presently the scene shifted and showed their friend the scarecrow crossing the mountains into jinxland, and that somewhat relieved ozma's anxiety, for she knew at once that glinda the good had sent the scarecrow to protect the strangers. the adventures in jinxland proved very interesting to the three girls in ozma's palace, who during the succeeding days spent much of their time in watching the picture. it was like a story to them. [illustration: dorothy] "that girl's a reg'lar trump!' exclaimed dorothy, referring to trot, and ozma answered: "she's a dear little thing, and i'm sure nothing very bad will happen to her. the old sailor is a fine character, too, for he has never once grumbled over being a grasshopper, as so many would have done." when the scarecrow was so nearly burned up the girls all shivered a little, and they clapped their hands in joy when the flock of orks came and saved him. so it was that when all the exciting adventures in jinxland were over and the four orks had begun their flight across the mountains to carry the mortals into the land of oz, ozma called the wizard to her and asked him to prepare a place for the strangers to sleep. the famous wizard of oz was a quaint little man who inhabited the royal palace and attended to all the magical things that ozma wanted done. he was not as powerful as glinda, to be sure, but he could do a great many wonderful things. he proved this by placing a house in the uninhabited part of the quadling country where the orks landed cap'n bill and trot and button-bright, and fitting it with all the comforts i have described in the last chapter. next morning dorothy said to ozma: "oughtn't we to go meet the strangers, so we can show them the way to the emerald city? i'm sure that little girl will feel shy in this beautiful land, and i know if 'twas me i'd like somebody to give me a welcome." ozma smiled at her little friend and answered: "you and betsy may go to meet them, if you wish, but i can not leave my palace just now, as i am to have a conference with jack pumpkinhead and professor wogglebug on important matters. you may take the sawhorse and the red wagon, and if you start soon you will be able to meet the scarecrow and the strangers at glinda's palace." "oh, thank you!" cried dorothy, and went away to tell betsy and to make preparations for the journey. [illustration: betsy] [illustration] chapter the waterfall glinda's castle was a long way from the mountains, but the scarecrow began the journey cheerfully, since time was of no great importance in the land of oz and he had recently made the trip and knew the way. it never mattered much to button-bright where he was or what he was doing; the boy was content in being alive and having good companions to share his wanderings. as for trot and cap'n bill, they now found themselves so comfortable and free from danger, in this fine fairyland, and they were so awed and amazed by the adventures they were encountering, that the journey to glinda's castle was more like a pleasure trip than a hardship, so many wonderful things were there to see. button-bright had been in oz before, but never in this part of it, so the scarecrow was the only one who knew the paths and could lead them. they had eaten a hearty breakfast, which they found already prepared for them and awaiting them on the table when they arose from their refreshing sleep, so they left the magic house in a contented mood and with hearts lighter and more happy than they had known for many a day. as they marched along through the fields, the sun shone brightly and the breeze was laden with delicious fragrance, for it carried with it the breath of millions of wildflowers. at noon, when they stopped to rest by the banks of a pretty river, trot said with a long-drawn breath that was much like a sigh: "i wish we'd brought with us some of the food that was left from our breakfast, for i'm getting hungry again." scarcely had she spoken when a table rose up before them, as if from the ground itself, and it was loaded with fruits and nuts and cakes and many other good things to eat. the little girl's eyes opened wide at this display of magic, and cap'n bill was not sure that the things were actually there and fit to eat until he had taken them in his hand and tasted them. but the scarecrow said with a laugh: "someone is looking after your welfare, that is certain, and from the looks of this table i suspect my friend the wizard has taken us in his charge. i've known him to do things like this before, and if we are in the wizard's care you need not worry about your future." "who's worrying?" inquired button-bright, already at the table and busily eating. the scarecrow looked around the place while the others were feasting, and finding many things unfamiliar to him he shook his head and remarked: "i must have taken the wrong path, back in that last valley, for on my way to jinxland i remember that i passed around the foot of this river, where there was a great waterfall." "did the river make a bend, after the waterfall?" asked cap'n bill. "no, the river disappeared. only a pool of whirling water showed what had become of the river; but i suppose it is under ground, somewhere, and will come to the surface again in another part of the country." "well," suggested trot, as she finished her luncheon, "as there is no way to cross this river, i s'pose we'll have to find that waterfall, and go around it." "exactly," replied the scarecrow; so they soon renewed their journey, following the river for a long time until the roar of the waterfall sounded in their ears. by and by they came to the waterfall itself, a sheet of silver dropping far, far down into a tiny lake which seemed to have no outlet. from the top of the fall, where they stood, the banks gradually sloped away, so that the descent by land was quite easy, while the river could do nothing but glide over an edge of rock and tumble straight down to the depths below. "you see," said the scarecrow, leaning over the brink, "this is called by our oz people the great waterfall, because it is certainly the highest one in all the land; but i think--help!" [illustration] he had lost his balance and pitched headforemost into the river. they saw a flash of straw and blue clothes, and the painted face looking upward in surprise. the next moment the scarecrow was swept over the waterfall and plunged into the basin below. the accident had happened so suddenly that for a moment they were all too horrified to speak or move. "quick! we must go to help him or he will be drowned," trot exclaimed. even while speaking she began to descend the bank to the pool below, and cap'n bill followed as swiftly as his wooden leg would let him. button-bright came more slowly, calling to the girl: "he can't drown, trot; he's a scarecrow." but she wasn't sure a scarecrow couldn't drown and never relaxed her speed until she stood on the edge of the pool, with the spray dashing in her face. cap'n bill, puffing and panting, had just voice enough to ask, as he reached her side: "see him, trot?" "not a speck of him. oh, cap'n, what do you s'pose has become of him?" "i s'pose," replied the sailor, "that he's in that water, more or less far down, and i'm 'fraid it'll make his straw pretty soggy. but as fer his bein' drowned, i agree with button-bright that it can't be done." [illustration] there was small comfort in this assurance and trot stood for some time searching with her eyes the bubbling water, in the hope that the scarecrow would finally come to the surface. presently she heard button-bright calling: "come here, trot!" and looking around she saw that the boy had crept over the wet rocks to the edge of the waterfall and seemed to be peering behind it. making her way toward him, she asked: "what do you see?" "a cave," he answered. "let's go in. perhaps we'll find the scarecrow there." she was a little doubtful of that, but the cave interested her, and so did it cap'n bill. there was just space enough at the edge of the sheet of water for them to crowd in behind it, but after that dangerous entrance they found room enough to walk upright and after a time they came to an opening in the w r all of rock. approaching this opening, they gazed within it and found a series of steps, cut so that they might easily descend into the cavern. trot turned to look inquiringly at her companions. the falling water made such din and roaring that her voice could not be heard. cap'n bill nodded his head, but before he could enter the cave, button-bright was before him, clambering down the steps without a particle of fear. so the others followed the boy. the first steps were wet with spray, and slippery, but the remainder were quite dry. a rosy light seemed to come from the interior of the cave, and this lighted their way. after the steps there was a short tunnel, high enough for them to walk erect in, and then they reached the cave itself and paused in wonder and admiration. they stood on the edge of a vast cavern, the walls and domed roof of which were lined with countless rubies, exquisitely cut and flashing sparkling rays from one to another. this caused a radiant light that permitted the entire cavern to be distinctly seen, and the effect was so marvelous that trot drew in her breath with a sort of a gasp, and stood quite still in wonder. but the walls and roof of the cavern were merely a setting for a more wonderful scene. in the center was a bubbling cauldron of water, for here the river rose again, splashing and dashing till its spray rose high in the air, where it took the ruby color of the jewels and seemed like a seething mass of flame. and while they gazed into the tumbling, tossing water, the body of the scarecrow suddenly rose in the center, struggling and kicking, and the next instant wholly disappeared from view. "my, but he's wet!" exclaimed button-bright; but none of the others heard him. trot and cap'n bill discovered that a broad ledge--covered, like the walls, with glittering rubies--ran all around the cavern; so they followed this gorgeous path to the rear and found where the water made its final dive underground, before it disappeared entirely. where it plunged into this dim abyss the river was black and dreary looking, and they stood gazing in awe until just beside them the body of the scarecrow again popped up from the water. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the land of oz the straw man's appearance on the water was so sudden that it startled trot, but cap'n bill had the presence of mind to stick his wooden leg out over the water and the scarecrow made a desperate clutch and grabbed the leg with both hands. he managed to hold on until trot and button-bright knelt down and seized his clothing, but the children would have been powerless to drag the soaked scarecrow ashore had not cap'n bill now assisted them. when they laid him on the ledge of rubies he was the most useless looking scarecrow you can imagine--his straw sodden and dripping with water, his clothing wet and crumpled, while even the sack upon which his face was painted had become so wrinkled that the old jolly expression of their stuffed friend's features was entirely gone. but he could still speak, and when trot bent down her ear she heard him say: "get me out of here as soon as you can." that seemed a wise thing to do, so cap'n bill lifted his head and shoulders, and trot and button-bright each took a leg; among them they partly carried and partly dragged the damp scarecrow out of the ruby cavern, along the tunnel, and up the flight of rock steps. it was somewhat difficult to get him past the edge of the waterfall, but they succeeded, after much effort, and a few minutes later laid their poor comrade on a grassy bank where the sun shone upon him freely and he was beyond the reach of the spray. cap'n bill now knelt down and examined the straw that the scarecrow was stuffed with. "i don't believe it'll be of much use to him, any more," said he, "for it's full of polliwogs an' fish eggs, an' the water has took all the crinkle out o' the straw an' ruined it. i guess, trot, that the best thing for us to do is to empty out all his body an' carry his head an' clothes along the road till we come to a field or a house where we can get some fresh straw." "yes, cap'n," she agreed, "there's nothing else to be done. but how shall we ever find the road to glinda's palace, without the scarecrow to guide us?" "that's easy," said the scarecrow, speaking in a rather feeble but distinct voice. "if cap'n bill will carry my head on his shoulders, eyes front, i can tell him which way to go." so they followed that plan and emptied all the old, wet straw out of the scarecrow's body. then the sailor-man wrung out the clothes and laid them in the sun till they were quite dry. trot took charge of the head and pressed the wrinkles out of the face as it dried, so that after a while the scarecrow's expression became natural again, and as jolly as before. this work consumed some time, but when it was completed they again started upon their journey, button-bright carrying the boots and hat, trot the bundle of clothes, and cap'n bill the head. the scarecrow, having regained his composure and being now in a good humor, despite his recent mishaps, beguiled their way with stories of the land of oz. [illustration] it was not until the next morning, however, that they found straw with which to restuff the scarecrow. that evening they came to the same little house they had slept in before, only now it was magically transferred to a new place. the same bountiful supper as before was found smoking hot upon the table and the same cosy beds were ready for them to sleep in. they rose early and after breakfast went out of doors, and there, lying just beside the house, was a heap of clean, crisp straw. ozma had noticed the scarecrow's accident in her magic picture and had notified the wizard to provide the straw, for she knew the adventurers were not likely to find straw in the country through which they were now traveling. they lost no time in stuffing the scarecrow anew, and he was greatly delighted at being able to walk around again and to assume the leadership of the little party. "really," said trot, "i think you're better than you were before, for you are fresh and sweet all through and rustle beautifully when you move." "thank you, my dear," he replied gratefully. "i always feel like a new man when i'm freshly stuffed. no one likes to get musty, you know, and even good straw may be spoiled by age." "it was water that spoiled you, the last time," remarked button-bright, "which proves that too much bathing is as bad as too little. but, after all, scarecrow, water is not as dangerous for you as fire." "all things are good in moderation," declared the scarecrow. "but now, let us hurry on, or we shall not reach glinda's palace by nightfall." [illustration] [illustration] chapter the royal reception at about four o'clock of that same day the red wagon drew up at the entrance to glinda's palace and dorothy and betsy jumped out. ozma's red wagon was almost a chariot, being inlaid with rubies and pearls, and it was drawn by ozma's favorite steed, the wooden sawhorse. "shall i unharness you," asked dorothy, "so you can come in and visit?" "no," replied the sawhorse. "til just stand here and think. take your time. thinking doesn't seem to bore me at all." "what will you think of?" inquired betsy. "of the acorn that grew the tree from which i was made." so they left the wooden animal and went in to see glinda, who welcomed the little girls in her most cordial manner. "i knew you were on your way," said the good sorceress when they were seated in her library, "for i learned from my record book that you intended to meet trot and button-bright on their arrival here." "is the strange little girl named trot?' asked dorothy. "yes; and her companion, the old sailor, is named cap'n bill. i think we shall like them very much, for they are just the kind of people to enjoy and appreciate our fairyland and i do not see any way, at present, for them to return again to the outside world." "well, there's room enough here for them, i'm sure," said dorothy. "betsy and i are already eager to welcome trot. it will keep us busy for a year, at least, showing her all the wonderful things in oz." glinda smiled. "i have lived here many years," said she, "and i have not seen all the wonders of oz vet." meantime the travelers were drawing near to the palace, and when they first caught sight of its towers trot realized that it was far more grand and imposing than was the king's castle in jinxland. the nearer they came, the more beautiful the palace appeared, and when finally the scarecrow led them up the great marble steps, even button-bright was filled with awe. "i don't see any soldiers to guard the place," said the little girl. "there is no need to guard glinda's palace," replied the scarecrow. "we have no wicked people in oz, that we know of, and even if there were any, glinda's magic would be powerful enough to protect her." button-bright was now standing on the top steps of the entrance, and he suddenly exclaimed: "why, there's the sawhorse and the red wagon! hip, hooray!" and next moment he was rushing down to throw his arms around the neck of the wooden horse, which good-naturedly permitted this familiarity when it recognized in the boy an old friend. button-bright's shout had been heard inside the palace, so now dorothy and betsy came running out to embrace their beloved friend, the scarecrow, and to welcome trot and cap'n bill to the land of oz. "we've been watching you for a long time, in ozma's magic picture," said dorothy, "and ozma has sent us to invite you to her own palace in the em'rald city. i don't know if you realize how lucky you are to get that invitation, but you'll understand it better after you've seen the royal palace and the em'rald city." glinda now appeared in person to lead all the party into her azure reception room. trot was a little afraid of the stately sorceress, but gained courage by holding fast to the hands of betsy and dorothy. cap'n bill had no one to help him feel at ease, so the old sailor sat stiffly on the edge of his chair and said: "yes, ma'am," or "no, ma'am," when he was spoken to, and was greatly embarrassed by so much splendor. the scarecrow had lived so much in palaces that he felt quite at home, and he chatted to glinda and the oz girls in a merry, light-hearted way. he told all about his adventures in jinxland, and at the great waterfall, and on the journey hither--most of which his hearers knew already--and then he asked dorothy and betsy what had happened in the emerald city since he had left there. they all passed the evening and the night at glinda's palace, and the sorceress was so gracious to cap'n bill that the old man by degrees regained his self-possession and began to enjoy himself. trot had already come to the conclusion that in dorothy and betsy she had found two delightful comrades, and button-bright was just as much at home here as he had been in the fields of jinxland or when he was buried in the popcorn snow of the land of mo. the next morning they arose bright and early and after breakfast bade good-bye to the kind sorceress, whom trot and cap'n bill thanked earnestly for sending the scarecrow to jinxland to rescue them. then they all climbed into the red wagon. there was room for all on the broad seats, and when all had taken their places--dorothy, trot and betsy on the rear seat and cap'n bill, button-bright and the scarecrow in front--they called "gid-dap!" to the sawhorse and the wooden steed moved briskly away, pulling the red wagon with ease. it was now that the strangers began to perceive the real beauties of the land of oz, for they were passing through a more thickly settled part of the country and the population grew more dense as they drew nearer to the emerald city. everyone they met had a cheery word or a smile for the scarecrow, dorothy and betsy bobbin, and some of them remembered button-bright and welcomed him back to their country. it was a happy party, indeed, that journeyed in the red wagon to the emerald city, and trot already began to hope that ozma would permit her and cap'n bill to live always in the land of oz. when they reached the great city they were more amazed than ever, both by the concourse of people in their quaint and picturesque costumes, and by the splendor of the city itself. but the magnificence of the royal palace quite took their breath away, until ozma received them in her own pretty apartment and by her charming manners and assuring smiles made them feel they were no longer strangers. trot was given a lovely little room next to that of dorothy, while cap'n bill had the cosiest sort of a room next to trot's and overlooking the gardens. and that evening ozma gave a grand banquet and reception in honor of the new arrivals. while trot had read of many of the people she then met, cap'n bill was less familiar with them and many of the unusual characters introduced to him that evening caused the old sailor to open his eyes wide in astonishment. [illustration] [illustration] he had thought the live scarecrow about as curious as anyone could be, but now he met the tin woodman, who was all made of tin, even to his heart, and carried a gleaming axe over his shoulder wherever he went. then there was jack pumpkinhead, whose head was a real pumpkin with the face carved upon it; and professor wogglebug, who had the shape of an enormous bug but was dressed in neat fitting garments. the professor was an interesting talker and had very polite manners, but his face was so comical that it made cap'n bill smile to look at it. a great friend of dorothy and ozma seemed to be a machine man called tik-tok, who ran down several times during the evening and had to be wound up again by someone before he could move or speak. at the reception appeared the shaggy man and his brother, both very popular in oz, as well as dorothy's uncle henry and aunt em, two happy old people who lived in a pretty cottage near the palace. but what perhaps seemed most surprising to both trot and cap'n bill was the number of peculiar animals admitted into ozma's parlors, where they not only conducted themselves quite properly but were able to talk as well as anyone. there was the cowardly lion, an immense beast with a beautiful mane; and the hungry tiger, who smiled continually; and eureka the pink kitten, who lay curled upon a cushion and had rather supercilious manners; and the wooden sawhorse; and nine tiny piglets that belonged to the wizard; and a mule named hank, who belonged to betsy bobbin. a fuzzy little terrier dog, named toto, lay at dorothy's feet but seldom took part in the conversation, although he listened to every word that was said. but the most wonderful of all to trot was a square beast with a winning smile, that squatted in a corner of the room and wagged his square head at everyone in quite a jolly way. betsy told trot that this unique beast was called the woozy, and there was no other like him in all the world. cap'n bill and trot had both looked around expectantly for the wizard of oz, but the evening was far advanced before the famous little man entered the room. but he went up to the strangers at once and said: "i know you, but you don't know me; so let's get acquainted." and they did get acquainted, in a very short time, and before the evening was over trot felt that she knew every person and animal present at the reception, and that they were all her good friends. suddenly they looked around for button-bright, but he was nowhere to be found. "dear me!" cried trot. "he's lost again." "never mind, my dear," said ozma, with her charming smile, "no one can go far astray in the land of oz, and if button-bright isn't lost occasionally, he isn't happy." [illustration] * * * * * transcriber notes all illustrations were placed so as to not split paragraphs. the color illustrations were grouped together (between pages and ) in the printed version; but have been moved to the relevent point within the story. minor typos corrected. available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/tiktokofoz baum transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). [illustration] tik-tok of oz [illustration] tik-tok of oz by l. frank baum author of the road to oz, dorothy and the wizard in oz, the emerald city of oz, the land of oz, ozma of oz, the patchwork girl of oz [illustration] illustrated by john r. neill the reilly & lee co. chicago [illustration: copyright by l frank baum all rights reserved] [illustration: to louis f. gottschalk, whose sweet and dainty melodies breathe the true spirit of fairyland, this book is affectionately dedicated] [illustration] to my readers [illustration] the very marked success of my last year's fairy book, "the patchwork girl of oz," convinces me that my readers like the oz stories "best of all," as one little girl wrote me. so here, my dears, is a new oz story in which is introduced ann soforth, the queen of oogaboo, whom tik-tok assisted in conquering our old acquaintance, the nome king. it also tells of betsy bobbin and how, after many adventures, she finally reached the marvelous land of oz. there is a play called "the tik-tok man of oz," but it is not like this story of "tik-tok of oz," although some of the adventures recorded in this book, as well as those in several other oz books, are included in the play. those who have seen the play and those who have read the other oz books will find in this story a lot of strange characters and adventures that they have never heard of before. in the letters i receive from children there has been an urgent appeal for me to write a story that will take trot and cap'n bill to the land of oz, where they will meet dorothy and ozma. also they think button-bright ought to get acquainted with ojo the lucky. as you know, i am obliged to talk these matters over with dorothy by means of the "wireless," for that is the only way i can communicate with the land of oz. when i asked her about this idea, she replied: "why, haven't you heard?" i said "no." "well," came the message over the wireless, "i'll tell you all about it, by and by, and then you can make a book of that story for the children to read." so, if dorothy keeps her word and i am permitted to write another oz book, you will probably discover how all these characters came together in the famous emerald city. meantime, i want to tell all my little friends--whose numbers are increasing by many thousands every year--that i am very grateful for the favor they have shown my books and for the delightful little letters i am constantly receiving. i am almost sure that i have as many friends among the children of america as any story writer alive; and this, of course, makes me very proud and happy. l. frank baum. "ozcot" at hollywood in california, . [illustration] list of chapters chapter page --ann's army --out of oogaboo --magic mystifies the marchers --betsy braves the billows --the roses repulse the refugees --shaggy seeks his stray brother --polychrome's pitiful plight --tik-tok tackles a tough task --ruggedo's rage is rash and reckless --a terrible tumble through a tube --the famous fellowship of fairies --the lovely lady of light --the jinjin's just judgment --the long-eared hearer learns by listening --the dragon defies danger --the naughty nome --a tragic transformation --a clever conquest --king kaliko --quox quietly quits --a bashful brother --kindly kisses --ruggedo reforms --dorothy is delighted --the land of love [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] chapter ann's army "i won't!" cried ann; "i won't sweep the floor. it is beneath my dignity." "some one must sweep it," replied ann's younger sister, salye; "else we shall soon be wading in dust. and you are the eldest, and the head of the family." "i'm queen of oogaboo," said ann, proudly. "but," she added with a sigh, "my kingdom is the smallest and the poorest in all the land of oz." this was quite true. away up in the mountains, in a far corner of the beautiful fairyland of oz, lies a small valley which is named oogaboo, and in this valley lived a few people who were usually happy and contented and never cared to wander over the mountain pass into the more settled parts of the land. they knew that all of oz, including their own territory, was ruled by a beautiful princess named ozma, who lived in the splendid emerald city; yet the simple folk of oogaboo never visited ozma. they had a royal family of their own--not especially to rule over them, but just as a matter of pride. ozma permitted the various parts of her country to have their kings and queens and emperors and the like, but all were ruled over by the lovely girl queen of the emerald city. the king of oogaboo used to be a man named jol jemkiph soforth, who for many years did all the drudgery of deciding disputes and telling his people when to plant cabbages and pickle onions. but the king's wife had a sharp tongue and small respect for the king, her husband; therefore one night king jol crept over the pass into the land of oz and disappeared from oogaboo for good and all. the queen waited a few years for him to return and then started in search of him, leaving her eldest daughter, ann soforth, to act as queen. now, ann had not forgotten when her birthday came, for that meant a party and feasting and dancing, but she had quite forgotten how many years the birthdays marked. in a land where people live always, this is not considered a cause for regret, so we may justly say that queen ann of oogaboo was old enough to make jelly--and let it go at that. but she didn't make jelly, or do any more of the housework than she could help. she was an ambitious woman and constantly resented the fact that her kingdom was so tiny and her people so stupid and unenterprising. often she wondered what had become of her father and mother, out beyond the pass, in the wonderful land of oz, and the fact that they did not return to oogaboo led ann to suspect that they had found a better place to live. so, when salye refused to sweep the floor of the living room in the palace, and ann would not sweep it, either, she said to her sister: "i'm going away. this absurd kingdom of oogaboo tires me." "go, if you want to," answered salye; "but you are very foolish to leave this place." "why?" asked ann. "because in the land of oz, which is ozma's country, you will be a nobody, while here you are a queen." "oh, yes! queen over eighteen men, twenty-seven women and forty-four children!" returned ann bitterly. "well, there are certainly more people than that in the great land of oz," laughed salye. "why don't you raise an army and conquer them, and be queen of all oz?" she asked, trying to taunt ann and so to anger her. then she made a face at her sister and went into the back yard to swing in the hammock. her jeering words, however, had given queen ann an idea. she reflected that oz was reported to be a peaceful country and ozma a mere girl who ruled with gentleness to all and was obeyed because her people loved her. even in oogaboo the story was told that ozma's sole army consisted of twenty-seven fine officers, who wore beautiful uniforms but carried no weapons, because there was no one to fight. once there had been a private soldier, besides the officers, but ozma had made him a captain-general and taken away his gun for fear it might accidentally hurt some one. the more ann thought about the matter the more she was convinced it would be easy to conquer the land of oz and set herself up as ruler in ozma's place, if she but had an army to do it with. afterward she could go out into the world and conquer other lands, and then perhaps she could find a way to the moon, and conquer that. she had a warlike spirit that preferred trouble to idleness. it all depended on an army, ann decided. she carefully counted in her mind all the men of her kingdom. yes; there were exactly eighteen of them, all told. that would not make a very big army, but by surprising ozma's unarmed officers her men might easily subdue them. "gentle people are always afraid of those that bluster," ann told herself. "i don't wish to shed any blood, for that would shock my nerves and i might faint; but if we threaten and flash our weapons i am sure the people of oz will fall upon their knees before me and surrender." this argument, which she repeated to herself more than once, finally determined the queen of oogaboo to undertake the audacious venture. "whatever happens," she reflected, "can make me no more unhappy than my staying shut up in this miserable valley and sweeping floors and quarreling with sister salye; so i will venture all, and win what i may." that very day she started out to organize her army. the first man she came to was jo apple, so called because he had an apple orchard. "jo," said ann, "i am going to conquer the world, and i want you to join my army." "don't ask me to do such a fool thing, for i must politely refuse your majesty," said jo apple. "i have no intention of asking you. i shall command you, as queen of oogaboo, to join," said ann. "in that case, i suppose i must obey," the man remarked, in a sad voice. "but i pray you to consider that i am a very important citizen, and for that reason am entitled to an office of high rank." "you shall be a general," promised ann. "with gold epaulets and a sword?" he asked. "of course," said the queen. then she went to the next man, whose name was jo bunn, as he owned an orchard where graham-buns and wheat-buns, in great variety, both hot and cold, grew on the trees. "jo," said ann, "i am going to conquer the world, and i command you to join my army." "impossible!" he exclaimed. "the bun crop has to be picked." "let your wife and children do the picking," said ann. "but i'm a man of great importance, your majesty," he protested. "for that reason you shall be one of my generals, and wear a cocked hat with gold braid, and curl your mustaches and clank a long sword," she promised. so he consented, although sorely against his will, and the queen walked on to the next cottage. here lived jo cone, so called because the trees in his orchard bore crops of excellent ice-cream cones. "jo," said ann, "i am going to conquer the world, and you must join my army." "excuse me, please," said jo cone. "i am a bad fighter. my good wife conquered me years ago, for she can fight better than i. take her, your majesty, instead of me, and i'll bless you for the favor." "this must be an army of men--fierce, ferocious warriors," declared ann, looking sternly upon the mild little man. "and you will leave my wife here in oogaboo?" he asked. "yes; and make you a general." "i'll go," said jo cone, and ann went on to the cottage of jo clock, who had an orchard of clock-trees. this man at first insisted that he would not join the army, but queen ann's promise to make him a general finally won his consent. "how many generals are there in your army?" he asked. "four, so far," replied ann. "and how big will the army be?" was his next question. "i intend to make every one of the eighteen men in oogaboo join it," she said. "then four generals are enough," announced jo clock. "i advise you to make the rest of them colonels." ann tried to follow his advice. the next four men she visited--who were jo plum, jo egg, jo banjo and jo cheese, named after the trees in their orchards--she made colonels of her army; but the fifth one, jo nails, said colonels and generals were getting to be altogether too common in the army of oogaboo and he preferred to be a major. so jo nails, jo cake, jo ham and jo stockings were all four made majors, while the next four--jo sandwich, jo padlocks, jo sundae and jo buttons--were appointed captains of the army. but now queen ann was in a quandary. there remained but two other men in all oogaboo, and if she made these two lieutenants, while there were four captains, four majors, four colonels and four generals, there was likely to be jealousy in her army, and perhaps mutiny and desertions. one of these men, however, was jo candy, and he would not go at all. no promises could tempt him, nor could threats move him. he said he must remain at home to harvest his crop of jackson-balls, lemon-drops, bonbons and chocolate-creams. also he had large fields of crackerjack and buttered pop corn to be mowed and threshed, and he was determined not to disappoint the children of oogaboo by going away to conquer the world and so let the candy crop spoil. finding jo candy so obstinate, queen ann let him have his own way and continued her journey to the house of the eighteenth and last man in oogaboo, who was a young fellow named jo files. this files had twelve trees which bore steel files of various sorts; but also he had nine book-trees, on which grew a choice selection of story-books. in case you have never seen books growing upon trees, i will explain that those in jo files' orchard were enclosed in broad green husks which, when fully ripe, turned to a deep red color. then the books were picked and husked and were ready to read. if they were picked too soon, the stories were found to be confused and uninteresting and the spelling bad. however, if allowed to ripen perfectly, the stories were fine reading and the spelling and grammar excellent. [illustration] files freely gave his books to all who wanted them, but the people of oogaboo cared little for books and so he had to read most of them himself, before they spoiled. for, as you probably know, as soon as the books were read the words disappeared and the leaves withered and faded--which is the worst fault of all books which grow upon trees. when queen ann spoke to this young man files, who was both intelligent and ambitious, he said he thought it would be great fun to conquer the world. but he called her attention to the fact that he was far superior to the other men of her army. therefore, he would not be one of her generals or colonels or majors or captains, but claimed the honor of being sole private. ann did not like this idea at all. "i hate to have a private soldier in my army," she said; "they're so common. i am told that princess ozma once had a private soldier, but she made him her captain-general, which is good evidence that the private was unnecessary." "ozma's army doesn't fight," returned files; "but your army must fight like fury in order to conquer the world. i have read in my books that it is always the private soldiers who do the fighting, for no officer is ever brave enough to face the foe. also, it stands to reason that your officers must have some one to command and to issue their orders to; therefore i'll be the one. i long to slash and slay the enemy and become a hero. then, when we return to oogaboo, i'll take all the marbles away from the children and melt them up and make a marble statue of myself for all to look upon and admire." ann was much pleased with private files. he seemed indeed to be such a warrior as she needed in her enterprise, and her hopes of success took a sudden bound when files told her he knew where a gun-tree grew and would go there at once and pick the ripest and biggest musket the tree bore. [illustration] [illustration] chapter out of oogaboo three days later the grand army of oogaboo assembled in the square in front of the royal palace. the sixteen officers were attired in gorgeous uniforms and carried sharp, glittering swords. the private had picked his gun and, although it was not a very big weapon, files tried to look fierce and succeeded so well that all his commanding officers were secretly afraid of him. the women were there, protesting that queen ann soforth had no right to take their husbands and fathers from them; but ann commanded them to keep silent, and that was the hardest order to obey they had ever received. [illustration: for--ward march!] the queen appeared before her army dressed in an imposing uniform of green, covered with gold braid. she wore a green soldier-cap with a purple plume in it and looked so royal and dignified that everyone in oogaboo except the army was glad she was going. the army was sorry she was not going alone. "form ranks!" she cried in her shrill voice. salye leaned out of the palace window and laughed. "i believe your army can run better than it can fight," she observed. "of course," replied general bunn, proudly. "we're not looking for trouble, you know, but for plunder. the more plunder and the less fighting we get, the better we shall like our work." "for my part," said files, "i prefer war and carnage to anything. the only way to become a hero is to conquer, and the story-books all say that the easiest way to conquer is to fight." "that's the idea, my brave man!" agreed ann. "to fight is to conquer and to conquer is to secure plunder and to secure plunder is to become a hero. with such noble determination to back me, the world is mine! good-bye, salye. when we return we shall be rich and famous. come, generals; let us march." at this the generals straightened up and threw out their chests. then they swung their glittering swords in rapid circles and cried to the colonels: "for--ward march!" then the colonels shouted to the majors: "for--ward march!" and the majors yelled to the captains: "for--ward march!" and the captains screamed to the private: "for--ward march!" so files shouldered his gun and began to march, and all the officers followed after him. queen ann came last of all, rejoicing in her noble army and wondering why she had not decided long ago to conquer the world. in this order the procession marched out of oogaboo and took the narrow mountain pass which led into the lovely fairyland of oz. [illustration] [illustration] chapter magic mystifies the marchers princess ozma was all unaware that the army of oogaboo, led by their ambitious queen, was determined to conquer her kingdom. the beautiful girl ruler of oz was busy with the welfare of her subjects and had no time to think of ann soforth and her disloyal plans. but there was one who constantly guarded the peace and happiness of the land of oz and this was the official sorceress of the kingdom, glinda the good. in her magnificent castle, which stands far north of the emerald city where ozma holds her court, glinda owns a wonderful magic record book, in which is printed every event that takes place anywhere, just as soon as it happens. the smallest things and the biggest things are all recorded in this book. if a child stamps its foot in anger, glinda reads about it; if a city burns down, glinda finds the fact noted in her book. the sorceress always reads her record book every day, and so it was she knew that ann soforth, queen of oogaboo, had foolishly assembled an army of sixteen officers and one private soldier, with which she intended to invade and conquer the land of oz. there was no danger but that ozma, supported by the magic arts of glinda the good and the powerful wizard of oz--both her firm friends--could easily defeat a far more imposing army than ann's; but it would be a shame to have the peace of oz interrupted by any sort of quarreling or fighting. so glinda did not even mention the matter to ozma, or to anyone else. she merely went into a great chamber of her castle, known as the magic room, where she performed a magical ceremony which caused the mountain pass that led from oogaboo to make several turns and twists. the result was that when ann and her army came to the end of the pass they were not in the land of oz at all, but in an adjoining territory that was quite distinct from ozma's domain and separated from oz by an invisible barrier. as the oogaboo people emerged into this country, the pass they had traversed disappeared behind them and it was not likely they would ever find their way back into the valley of oogaboo. they were greatly puzzled, indeed, by their surroundings and did not know which way to go. none of them had ever visited oz, so it took them some time to discover they were not in oz at all, but in an unknown country. "never mind," said ann, trying to conceal her disappointment; "we have started out to conquer the world, and here is part of it. in time, as we pursue our victorious journey, we will doubtless come to oz; but, until we get there, we may as well conquer whatever land we find ourselves in." "have we conquered this place, your majesty?" anxiously inquired major cake. "most certainly," said ann. "we have met no people, as yet, but when we do, we will inform them that they are our slaves." "and afterward we will plunder them of all their possessions," added general apple. "they may not possess anything," objected private files; "but i hope they will fight us, just the same. a peaceful conquest wouldn't be any fun at all." "don't worry," said the queen. "_we_ can fight, whether our foes do or not; and perhaps we would find it more comfortable to have the enemy surrender promptly." it was a barren country and not very pleasant to travel in. moreover, there was little for them to eat, and as the officers became hungry they became fretful. many would have deserted had they been able to find their way home, but as the oogaboo people were now hopelessly lost in a strange country they considered it more safe to keep together than to separate. queen ann's temper, never very agreeable, became sharp and irritable as she and her army tramped over the rocky roads without encountering either people or plunder. she scolded her officers until they became surly, and a few of them were disloyal enough to ask her to hold her tongue. others began to reproach her for leading them into difficulties and in the space of three unhappy days every man was mourning for his orchard in the pretty valley of oogaboo. files, however, proved a different sort. the more difficulties he encountered the more cheerful he became, and the sighs of the officers were answered by the merry whistle of the private. his pleasant disposition did much to encourage queen ann and before long she consulted the private soldier more often than she did his superiors. it was on the third day of their pilgrimage that they encountered their first adventure. toward evening the sky was suddenly darkened and major nails exclaimed: "a fog is coming toward us." "i do not think it is a fog," replied files, looking with interest at the approaching cloud. "it seems to me more like the breath of a rak." "what is a rak?" asked ann, looking about fearfully. "a terrible beast with a horrible appetite," answered the soldier, growing a little paler than usual. "i have never seen a rak, to be sure, but i have read of them in the story-books that grew in my orchard, and if this is indeed one of those fearful monsters, we are not likely to conquer the world." hearing this, the officers became quite worried and gathered closer about their soldier. "what is the thing like?" asked one. "the only picture of a rak that i ever saw in a book was rather blurred," said files, "because the book was not quite ripe when it was picked. but the creature can fly in the air and run like a deer and swim like a fish. inside its body is a glowing furnace of fire, and the rak breathes in air and breathes out smoke, which darkens the sky for miles around, wherever it goes. it is bigger than a hundred men and feeds on any living thing." the officers now began to groan and to tremble, but files tried to cheer them, saying: "it may not be a rak, after all, that we see approaching us, and you must not forget that we people of oogaboo, which is part of the fairyland of oz, cannot be killed." "nevertheless," said captain buttons, "if the rak catches us, and chews us up into small pieces, and swallows us--what will happen then?" "then each small piece will still be alive," declared files. "i cannot see how that would help us," wailed colonel banjo. "a hamburger steak is a hamburger steak, whether it is alive or not!" "i tell you, this may not be a rak," persisted files. "we will know, when the cloud gets nearer, whether it is the breath of a rak or not. if it has no smell at all, it is probably a fog; but if it has an odor of salt and pepper, it is a rak and we must prepare for a desperate fight." they all eyed the dark cloud fearfully. before long it reached the frightened group and began to envelop them. every nose sniffed the cloud--and every one detected in it the odor of salt and pepper. "the rak!" shouted private files, and with a howl of despair the sixteen officers fell to the ground, writhing and moaning in anguish. queen ann sat down upon a rock and faced the cloud more bravely, although her heart was beating fast. as for files, he calmly loaded his gun and stood ready to fight the foe, as a soldier should. they were now in absolute darkness, for the cloud which covered the sky and the setting sun was black as ink. then through the gloom appeared two round, glowing balls of red, and files at once decided these must be the monster's eyes. he raised his gun, took aim and fired. there were several bullets in the gun, all gathered from an excellent bullet-tree in oogaboo, and they were big and hard. they flew toward the monster and struck it, and with a wild, weird cry the rak came fluttering down and its huge body fell plump upon the forms of the sixteen officers, who thereupon screamed louder than before. "badness me!" moaned the rak. "see what you've done with that dangerous gun of yours!" "i can't see," replied files, "for the cloud formed by your breath darkens my sight!" "don't tell me it was an accident," continued the rak, reproachfully, as it still flapped its wings in a helpless manner. "don't claim you didn't know the gun was loaded, i beg of you!" "i don't intend to," replied files. "did the bullets hurt you very badly?" "one has broken my jaw, so that i can't open my mouth. you will notice that my voice sounds rather harsh and husky, because i have to talk with my teeth set close together. another bullet broke my left wing, so that i can't fly; and still another broke my right leg, so that i can't walk. it was the most careless shot i ever heard of!" "can't you manage to lift your body off from my commanding officers?" inquired files. "from their cries i'm afraid your great weight is crushing them." [illustration] "i hope it is," growled the rak. "i want to crush them, if possible, for i have a bad disposition. if only i could open my mouth, i'd eat all of you, although my appetite is poorly this warm weather." with this the rak began to roll its immense body sidewise, so as to crush the officers more easily; but in doing this it rolled completely off from them and the entire sixteen scrambled to their feet and made off as fast as they could run. private files could not see them go but he knew from the sound of their voices that they had escaped, so he ceased to worry about them. "pardon me if i now bid you good-bye," he said to the rak. "the parting is caused by our desire to continue our journey. if you die, do not blame me, for i was obliged to shoot you as a matter of self-protection." "i shall not die," answered the monster, "for i bear a charmed life. but i beg you not to leave me!" "why not?" asked files. "because my broken jaw will heal in about an hour, and then i shall be able to eat you. my wing will heal in a day and my leg will heal in a week, when i shall be as well as ever. having shot me, and so caused me all this annoyance, it is only fair and just that you remain here and allow me to eat you as soon as i can open my jaws." "i beg to differ with you," returned the soldier firmly. "i have made an engagement with queen ann of oogaboo to help her conquer the world, and i cannot break my word for the sake of being eaten by a rak." "oh; that's different," said the monster. "if you've an engagement, don't let me detain you." so files felt around in the dark and grasped the hand of the trembling queen, whom he led away from the flapping, sighing rak. they stumbled over the stones for a way but presently began to see dimly the path ahead of them, as they got farther and farther away from the dreadful spot where the wounded monster lay. by and by they reached a little hill and could see the last rays of the sun flooding a pretty valley beyond, for now they had passed beyond the cloudy breath of the rak. here were huddled the sixteen officers, still frightened and panting from their run. they had halted only because it was impossible for them to run any farther. queen ann gave them a severe scolding for their cowardice, at the same time praising files for his courage. "we are wiser than he, however," muttered general clock, "for by running away we are now able to assist your majesty in conquering the world; whereas, had files been eaten by the rak, he would have deserted your army." after a brief rest they descended into the valley, and as soon as they were out of sight of the rak the spirits of the entire party rose quickly. just at dusk they came to a brook, on the banks of which queen ann commanded them to make camp for the night. each officer carried in his pocket a tiny white tent. this, when placed upon the ground, quickly grew in size until it was large enough to permit the owner to enter it and sleep within its canvas walls. files was obliged to carry a knapsack, in which was not only his own tent but an elaborate pavilion for queen ann, besides a bed and chair and a magic table. this table, when set upon the ground in ann's pavilion, became of large size, and in a drawer of the table was contained the queen's supply of extra clothing, her manicure and toilet articles and other necessary things. the royal bed was the only one in the camp, the officers and private sleeping in hammocks attached to their tent poles. there was also in the knapsack a flag bearing the royal emblem of oogaboo, and this flag files flew upon its staff every night, to show that the country they were in had been conquered by the queen of oogaboo. so far, no one but themselves had seen the flag, but ann was pleased to see it flutter in the breeze and considered herself already a famous conqueror. [illustration] chapter betsy braves the billows the waves dashed and the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled and the ship struck a rock. betsy bobbin was running across the deck and the shock sent her flying through the air until she fell with a splash into the dark blue water. the same shock caught hank, a thin little, sad-faced mule, and tumbled him also into the sea, far from the ship's side. when betsy came up, gasping for breath because the wet plunge had surprised her, she reached out in the dark and grabbed a bunch of hair. at first she thought it was the end of a rope, but presently she heard a dismal "hee-haw!" and knew she was holding fast to the end of hank's tail. suddenly the sea was lighted up by a vivid glare. the ship, now in the far distance, caught fire, blew up and sank beneath the waves. betsy shuddered at the sight, but just then her eye caught a mass of wreckage floating near her and she let go the mule's tail and seized the rude raft, pulling herself up so that she rode upon it in safety. hank also saw the raft and swam to it, but he was so clumsy he never would have been able to climb upon it had not betsy helped him to get aboard. they had to crowd close together, for their support was only a hatch-cover torn from the ship's deck; but it floated them fairly well and both the girl and the mule knew it would keep them from drowning. the storm was not over, by any means, when the ship went down. blinding bolts of lightning shot from cloud to cloud and the clamor of deep thunderclaps echoed far over the sea. the waves tossed the little raft here and there as a child tosses a rubber ball and betsy had a solemn feeling that for hundreds of watery miles in every direction there was no living thing besides herself and the small donkey. perhaps hank had the same thought, for he gently rubbed his nose against the frightened girl and said "hee-haw!" in his softest voice, as if to comfort her. "you'll protect me, hank dear, won't you?" she cried helplessly, and the mule said "hee-haw!" again, in tones that meant a promise. on board the ship, during the days that preceded the wreck, when the sea was calm, betsy and hank had become good friends; so, while the girl might have preferred a more powerful protector in this dreadful emergency, she felt that the mule would do all in a mule's power to guard her safety. all night they floated, and when the storm had worn itself out and passed away with a few distant growls, and the waves had grown smaller and easier to ride, betsy stretched herself out on the wet raft and fell asleep. hank did not sleep a wink. perhaps he felt it his duty to guard betsy. anyhow, he crouched on the raft beside the tired sleeping girl and watched patiently until the first light of dawn swept over the sea. the light wakened betsy bobbin. she sat up, rubbed her eyes and stared across the water. "oh, hank; there's land ahead!" she exclaimed. "hee-haw!" answered hank in his plaintive voice. the raft was floating swiftly toward a very beautiful country and as they drew near betsy could see banks of lovely flowers showing brightly between leafy trees. but no people were to be seen at all. [illustration] chapter the roses repulse the refugees gently the raft grated on the sandy beach. then betsy easily waded ashore, the mule following closely behind her. the sun was now shining and the air was warm and laden with the fragrance of roses. "i'd like some breakfast, hank," remarked the girl, feeling more cheerful now that she was on dry land; "but we can't eat the flowers, although they do smell mighty good." "hee-haw!" replied hank and trotted up a little pathway to the top of the bank. betsy followed and from the eminence looked around her. a little way off stood a splendid big greenhouse, its thousands of crystal panes glittering in the sunlight. "there ought to be people somewhere 'round," observed betsy thoughtfully; "gardeners, or somebody. let's go and see, hank. i'm getting hungrier ev'ry minute." so they walked toward the great greenhouse and came to its entrance without meeting with anyone at all. a door stood ajar, so hank went in first, thinking if there was any danger he could back out and warn his companion. but betsy was close at his heels and the moment she entered was lost in amazement at the wonderful sight she saw. the greenhouse was filled with magnificent rosebushes, all growing in big pots. on the central stem of each bush bloomed a splendid rose, gorgeously colored and deliciously fragrant, and in the center of each rose was the face of a lovely girl. as betsy and hank entered, the heads of the roses were drooping and their eyelids were closed in slumber; but the mule was so amazed that he uttered a loud "hee-haw!" and at the sound of his harsh voice the rose leaves fluttered, the roses raised their heads and a hundred startled eyes were instantly fixed upon the intruders. "i--i beg your pardon!" stammered betsy, blushing and confused. "o-o-o-h!" cried the roses, in a sort of sighing chorus; and one of them added: "what a horrid noise!" "why, that was only hank," said betsy, and as if to prove the truth of her words the mule uttered another loud "hee-haw!" at this all the roses turned on their stems as far as they were able and trembled as if some one were shaking their bushes. a dainty moss rose gasped: "dear me! how dreadfully dreadful!" "it isn't dreadful at all," said betsy, somewhat indignant. "when you get used to hank's voice it will put you to sleep." the roses now looked at the mule less fearfully and one of them asked: "is that savage beast named hank?" "yes; hank's my comrade, faithful and true," answered the girl, twining her arms around the little mule's neck and hugging him tight. "aren't you, hank?" hank could only say in reply: "hee-haw!" and at his bray the roses shivered again. "please go away!" begged one. "can't you see you're frightening us out of a week's growth?" "go away!" echoed betsy. "why, we've no place to go. we've just been wrecked." "wrecked?" asked the roses in a surprised chorus. "yes; we were on a big ship and the storm came and wrecked it," explained the girl. "but hank and i caught hold of a raft and floated ashore to this place, and--we're tired and hungry. what country _is_ this, please?" [illustration] "this is the rose kingdom," replied the moss rose, haughtily, "and it is devoted to the culture of the rarest and fairest roses grown." "i believe it," said betsy, admiring the pretty blossoms. "but only roses are allowed here," continued a delicate tea rose, bending her brows in a frown; "therefore you must go away before the royal gardener finds you and casts you back into the sea." "oh! is there a royal gardener, then?" inquired betsy. "to be sure." "and is he a rose, also?" "of course not; he's a man--a wonderful man," was the reply. "well, i'm not afraid of a man," declared the girl, much relieved, and even as she spoke the royal gardener popped into the greenhouse--a spading fork in one hand and a watering pot in the other. he was a funny little man, dressed in a rose-colored costume, with ribbons at his knees and elbows, and a bunch of ribbons in his hair. his eyes were small and twinkling, his nose sharp and his face puckered and deeply lined. "o-ho!" he exclaimed, astonished to find strangers in his greenhouse, and when hank gave a loud bray the gardener threw the watering pot over the mule's head and danced around with his fork, in such agitation that presently he fell over the handle of the implement and sprawled at full length upon the ground. betsy laughed and pulled the watering pot off from hank's head. the little mule was angry at the treatment he had received and backed toward the gardener threateningly. "look out for his heels!" called betsy warningly and the gardener scrambled to his feet and hastily hid behind the roses. "you are breaking the law!" he shouted, sticking out his head to glare at the girl and the mule. "what law?" asked betsy. "the law of the rose kingdom. no strangers are allowed in these domains." "not when they're shipwrecked?" she inquired. "the law doesn't except shipwrecks," replied the royal gardener, and he was about to say more when suddenly there was a crash of glass and a man came tumbling through the roof of the greenhouse and fell plump to the ground. [illustration] chapter shaggy seeks his stray brother this sudden arrival was a queer looking man, dressed all in garments so shaggy that betsy at first thought he must be some animal. but the stranger ended his fall in a sitting position and then the girl saw it was really a man. he held an apple in his hand, which he had evidently been eating when he fell, and so little was he jarred or flustered by the accident that he continued to munch this apple as he calmly looked around him. "good gracious!" exclaimed betsy, approaching him. "who _are_ you, and where did you come from?" "me? oh, i'm shaggy man," said he, taking another bite of the apple. "just dropped in for a short call. excuse my seeming haste." "why, i s'pose you couldn't help the haste," said betsy. "no. i climbed an apple tree, outside; branch gave way and--here i am." as he spoke the shaggy man finished his apple, gave the core to hank--who ate it greedily--and then stood up to bow politely to betsy and the roses. the royal gardener had been frightened nearly into fits by the crash of glass and the fall of the shaggy stranger into the bower of roses, but now he peeped out from behind a bush and cried in his squeaky voice: "you're breaking the law! you're breaking the law!" shaggy stared at him solemnly. "is the glass the law in this country?" he asked. "breaking the glass is breaking the law," squeaked the gardener, angrily. "also, to intrude in any part of the rose kingdom is breaking the law." "how do you know?" asked shaggy. "why, it's printed in a book," said the gardener, coming forward and taking a small book from his pocket. "page thirteen. here it is: 'if any stranger enters the rose kingdom he shall at once be condemned by the ruler and put to death.' so you see, strangers," he continued triumphantly, "it's death for you all and your time has come!" but just here hank interposed. he had been stealthily backing toward the royal gardener, whom he disliked, and now the mule's heels shot out and struck the little man in the middle. he doubled up like the letter "u" and flew out of the door so swiftly--never touching the ground--that he was gone before betsy had time to wink. but the mule's attack frightened the girl. "come," she whispered, approaching the shaggy man and taking his hand; "let's go somewhere else. they'll surely kill us if we stay here!" "don't worry, my dear," replied shaggy, patting the child's head. "i'm not afraid of anything, so long as i have the love magnet." "the love magnet! why, what is that?" asked betsy. "it's a charming little enchantment that wins the heart of everyone who looks upon it," was the reply. "the love magnet used to hang over the gateway to the emerald city, in the land of oz; but when i started on this journey our beloved ruler, ozma of oz, allowed me to take it with me." "oh!" cried betsy, staring hard at him; "are you really from the wonderful land of oz?" "yes. ever been there, my dear?" "no; but i've heard about it. and do you know princess ozma?" "very well indeed." "and--and princess dorothy?" "dorothy's an old chum of mine," declared shaggy. "dear me!" exclaimed betsy. "and why did you ever leave such a beautiful land as oz?" "on an errand," said shaggy, looking sad and solemn. "i'm trying to find my dear little brother." "oh! is he lost?" questioned betsy, feeling very sorry for the poor man. "been lost these ten years," replied shaggy, taking out a handkerchief and wiping a tear from his eye. "i didn't know it until lately, when i saw it recorded in the magic record book of the sorceress glinda, in the land of oz. so now i'm trying to find him." "where was he lost?" asked the girl sympathetically. "back in colorado, where i used to live before i went to oz. brother was a miner, and dug gold out of a mine. one day he went into his mine and never came out. they searched for him, but he was not there. disappeared entirely," shaggy ended miserably. "for goodness sake! what do you s'pose became of him?" she asked. "there is only one explanation," replied shaggy, taking another apple from his pocket and eating it to relieve his misery. "the nome king probably got him." "the nome king! who is he?" "why, he's sometimes called the metal monarch, and his name is ruggedo. lives in some underground cavern. claims to own all the metals hidden in the earth. don't ask me why." "why?" "'cause i don't know. but this ruggedo gets wild with anger if anyone digs gold out of the earth, and my private opinion is that he captured brother and carried him off to his underground kingdom. no--don't ask me why. i see you're dying to ask me why. but i don't know." "but--dear me!--in that case you will never find your lost brother!" exclaimed the girl. "maybe not; but it's my duty to try," answered shaggy. "i've wandered so far without finding him, but that only proves he is not where i've been looking. what i seek now is the hidden passage to the underground cavern of the terrible metal monarch." "well," said betsy doubtfully, "it strikes me that if you ever manage to get there the metal monarch will make you, too, his prisoner." "nonsense!" answered shaggy, carelessly. "you mustn't forget the love magnet." "what about it?" she asked. "when the fierce metal monarch sees the love magnet, he will love me dearly and do anything i ask." "it must be wonderful," said betsy, with awe. "it is," the man assured her. "shall i show it to you?" "oh, do!" she cried; so shaggy searched in his shaggy pocket and drew out a small silver magnet, shaped like a horseshoe. the moment betsy saw it she began to like the shaggy man better than before. hank also saw the magnet and crept up to shaggy to rub his head lovingly against the man's knee. but they were interrupted by the royal gardener, who stuck his head into the greenhouse and shouted angrily: "you are all condemned to death! your only chance to escape is to leave here instantly." this startled little betsy, but the shaggy man merely waved the magnet toward the gardener, who, seeing it, rushed forward and threw himself at shaggy's feet, murmuring in honeyed words: "oh, you lovely, lovely man! how fond i am of you! every shag and bobtail that decorates you is dear to me--all i have is yours! but for goodness' sake get out of here before you die the death." "i'm not going to die," declared shaggy man. "you must. it's the law," exclaimed the gardener, beginning to weep real tears. "it breaks my heart to tell you this bad news, but the law says that all strangers must be condemned by the ruler to die the death." "no ruler has condemned us yet," said betsy. "of course not," added shaggy. "we haven't even seen the ruler of the rose kingdom." "well, to tell the truth," said the gardener, in a perplexed tone of voice, "we haven't any real ruler, just now. you see, all our rulers grow on bushes in the royal gardens, and the last one we had got mildewed and withered before his time. so we had to plant him, and at this time there is no one growing on the royal bushes who is ripe enough to pick." "how do you know?" asked betsy. "why, i'm the royal gardener. plenty of royalties are growing, i admit; but just now they are all green. until one ripens, i am supposed to rule the rose kingdom myself, and see that its laws are obeyed. therefore, much as i love you, shaggy, i must put you to death." "wait a minute," pleaded betsy. "i'd like to see those royal gardens before i die." "so would i," added shaggy man. "take us there, gardener." "oh, i can't do that," objected the gardener. but shaggy again showed him the love magnet and after one glance at it the gardener could no longer resist. he led shaggy, betsy and hank to the end of the great greenhouse and carefully unlocked a small door. passing through this they came into the splendid royal garden of the rose kingdom. it was all surrounded by a tall hedge and within the enclosure grew several enormous rosebushes having thick green leaves of the texture of velvet. upon these bushes grew the members of the royal family of the rose kingdom--men, women and children in all stages of maturity. they all seemed to have a light green hue, as if unripe or not fully developed, their flesh and clothing being alike green. they stood perfectly lifeless upon their branches, which swayed softly in the breeze, and their wide-open eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing and unintelligent. while examining these curious growing people, betsy passed behind a big central bush and at once uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. for there, blooming in perfect color and shape, stood a royal princess, whose beauty was amazing. "why, she's ripe!" cried betsy, pushing aside some of the broad leaves to observe her more clearly. "well, perhaps so," admitted the gardener, who had come to the girl's side; "but she's a girl, and so we can't use her for a ruler." "no, indeed!" came a chorus of soft voices, and looking around betsy discovered that all the roses had followed them from the greenhouse and were now grouped before the entrance. "you see," explained the gardener, "the subjects of rose kingdom don't want a girl ruler. they want a king." [illustration] [illustration] "a king! we want a king!" repeated the chorus of roses. "isn't she royal?" inquired shaggy, admiring the lovely princess. "of course, for she grows on a royal bush. this princess is named ozga, as she is a distant cousin of ozma of oz; and, were she but a man, we would joyfully hail her as our ruler." the gardener then turned away to talk with his roses and betsy whispered to her companion: "let's pick her, shaggy." "all right," said he. "if she's royal, she has the right to rule this kingdom, and if we pick her she will surely protect us and prevent our being hurt, or driven away." so betsy and shaggy each took an arm of the beautiful rose princess and a little twist of her feet set her free of the branch upon which she grew. very gracefully she stepped down from the bush to the ground, where she bowed low to betsy and shaggy and said in a delightfully sweet voice: "i thank you." but at the sound of these words the gardener and the roses turned and discovered that the princess had been picked, and was now alive. over every face flashed an expression of resentment and anger, and one of the roses cried aloud: "audacious mortals! what have you done?" [illustration] "picked a princess for you, that's all," replied betsy, cheerfully. "but we won't have her! we want a king!" exclaimed a jacque rose, and another added with a voice of scorn: "no girl shall rule over us!" the newly-picked princess looked from one to another of her rebellious subjects in astonishment. a grieved look came over her exquisite features. "have i no welcome here, pretty subjects?" she asked gently. "have i not come from my royal bush to be your ruler?" "you were picked by mortals, without our consent," replied the moss rose, coldly; "so we refuse to allow you to rule us." "turn her out, gardener, with the others!" cried the tea rose. "just a second, please!" called shaggy, taking the love magnet from his pocket. "i guess this will win their love, princess. here--take it in your hand and let the roses see it." princess ozga took the magnet and held it poised before the eyes of her subjects; but the roses regarded it with calm disdain. "why, what's the matter?" demanded shaggy in surprise. "the magnet never failed to work before!" "i know," said betsy, nodding her head wisely. "these roses have no hearts." "that's it," agreed the gardener. "they're pretty, and sweet, and alive; but still they are roses. their stems have thorns, but no hearts." the princess sighed and handed the magnet to the shaggy man. "what shall i do?" she asked sorrowfully. "turn her out, gardener, with the others!" commanded the roses. "we will have no ruler until a man-rose--a king--is ripe enough to pick." "very well," said the gardener meekly. "you must excuse me, my dear shaggy, for opposing your wishes, but you and the others, including ozga, must get out of rose kingdom immediately, if not before." "don't you love me, gardy?" asked shaggy, carelessly displaying the magnet. "i do. i dote on thee!" answered the gardener earnestly; "but no true man will neglect his duty for the sake of love. my duty is to drive you out, so--out you go!" with this he seized a garden fork and began jabbing it at the strangers, in order to force them to leave. hank the mule was not afraid of the fork and when he got his heels near to the gardener the man fell back to avoid a kick. but now the roses crowded around the outcasts and it was soon discovered that beneath their draperies of green leaves were many sharp thorns which were more dangerous than hank's heels. neither betsy nor ozga nor shaggy nor the mule cared to brave those thorns and when they pressed away from them they found themselves slowly driven through the garden door into the greenhouse. from there they were forced out at the entrance and so through the territory of the flower-strewn rose kingdom, which was not of very great extent. the rose princess was sobbing bitterly; betsy was indignant and angry; hank uttered defiant "hee-haws" and the shaggy man whistled softly to himself. the boundary of the rose kingdom was a deep gulf, but there was a drawbridge in one place and this the royal gardener let down until the outcasts had passed over it. then he drew it up again and returned with his roses to the greenhouse, leaving the four queerly assorted comrades to wander into the bleak and unknown country that lay beyond. "i don't mind, much," remarked shaggy, as he led the way over the stony, barren ground. "i've got to search for my long-lost little brother, anyhow, so it won't matter where i go." "hank and i will help you find your brother," said betsy in her most cheerful voice. "i'm so far away from home now that i don't s'pose i'll ever find my way back; and, to tell the truth, it's more fun traveling around and having adventures than sticking at home. don't you think so, hank?" [illustration] "hee-haw!" said hank, and the shaggy man thanked them both. "for my part," said princess ozga of roseland, with a gentle sigh, "i must remain forever exiled from my kingdom. so i, too, will be glad to help the shaggy man find his lost brother." "that's very kind of you, ma'am," said shaggy. "but unless i can find the underground cavern of ruggedo,[a] the metal monarch, i shall never find poor brother." [footnote a: this king was formerly named "roquat," but after he drank of the "waters of oblivion" he forgot his own name and had to take another.] "doesn't anyone know where it is?" inquired betsy. "_some_ one must know, of course," was shaggy's reply. "but we are not the ones. the only way to succeed is for us to keep going until we find a person who can direct us to ruggedo's cavern." "we may find it ourselves, without any help," suggested betsy. "who knows?" "no one knows that, except the person who's writing this story," said shaggy. "but we won't find anything--not even supper--unless we travel on. here's a path. let's take it and see where it leads to." [illustration] chapter polychrome's pitiful plight the rain king got too much water in his basin and spilled some over the brim. that made it rain in a certain part of the country--a real hard shower, for a time--and sent the rainbow scampering to the place to show the gorgeous colors of his glorious bow as soon as the mist of rain had passed and the sky was clear. the coming of the rainbow is always a joyous event to earth folk, yet few have ever seen it close by. usually the rainbow is so far distant that you can observe its splendid hues but dimly, and that is why we seldom catch sight of the dancing daughters of the rainbow. in the barren country where the rain had just fallen there appeared to be no human beings at all; but the rainbow appeared, just the same, and dancing gayly upon its arch were the rainbow's daughters, led by the fairylike polychrome, who is so dainty and beautiful that no girl has ever quite equalled her in loveliness. polychrome was in a merry mood and danced down the arch of the bow to the ground, daring her sisters to follow her. laughing and gleeful, they also touched the ground with their twinkling feet; but all the daughters of the rainbow knew that this was a dangerous pastime, so they quickly climbed upon their bow again. all but polychrome. though the sweetest and merriest of them all, she was likewise the most reckless. moreover, it was an unusual sensation to pat the cold, damp earth with her rosy toes. before she realized it the bow had lifted and disappeared in the billowy blue sky, and here was polychrome standing helpless upon a rock, her gauzy draperies floating about her like brilliant cobwebs and not a soul--fairy or mortal--to help her regain her lost bow! "dear me!" she exclaimed, a frown passing across her pretty face, "i'm caught again. this is the second time my carelessness has left me on earth while my sisters returned to our sky palaces. the first time i enjoyed some pleasant adventures, but this is a lonely, forsaken country and i shall be very unhappy until my rainbow comes again and i can climb aboard. let me think what is best to be done." she crouched low upon the flat rock, drew her draperies about her and bowed her head. it was in this position that betsy bobbin spied polychrome as she came along the stony path, followed by hank, the princess and shaggy. at once the girl ran up to the radiant daughter of the rainbow and exclaimed: "oh, what a lovely, lovely creature!" polychrome raised her golden head. there were tears in her blue eyes. "i'm the most miserable girl in the whole world!" she sobbed. the others gathered around her. "tell us your troubles, pretty one," urged the princess. "i--i've lost my bow!" wailed polychrome. "take me, my dear," said shaggy man in a sympathetic tone, thinking she meant "beau" instead of "bow." "i don't want you!" cried polychrome, stamping her foot imperiously; "i want my _rain_bow." "oh; that's different," said shaggy. "but try to forget it. when i was young i used to cry for the rainbow myself, but i couldn't have it. looks as if _you_ couldn't have it, either; so please don't cry." polychrome looked at him reproachfully. "i don't like you," she said. "no?" replied shaggy, drawing the love magnet from his pocket; "not a little bit?--just a wee speck of a like?" "yes, yes!" said polychrome, clasping her hands in ecstasy as she gazed at the enchanted talisman; "i love you, shaggy man!" "of course you do," said he calmly; "but i don't take any credit for it. it's the love magnet's powerful charm. but you seem quite alone and friendless, little rainbow. don't you want to join our party until you find your father and sisters again?" "where are you going?" she asked. "we don't just know that," said betsy, taking her hand; "but we're trying to find shaggy's long-lost brother, who has been captured by the terrible metal monarch. won't you come with us, and help us?" polychrome looked from one to another of the queer party of travelers and a bewitching smile suddenly lighted her face. "a donkey, a mortal maid, a rose princess and a shaggy man!" she exclaimed. "surely you need help, if you intend to face ruggedo." "do you know him, then?" inquired betsy. "no, indeed. ruggedo's caverns are beneath the earth's surface, where no rainbow can ever penetrate. but i've heard of the metal monarch. he is also called the nome king, you know, and he has made trouble for a good many people--mortals and fairies--in his time," said polychrome. "do you fear him, then?" asked the princess, anxiously. "no one can harm a daughter of the rainbow," said polychrome proudly. "i'm a sky fairy." "then," said betsy, quickly, "you will be able to tell us the way to ruggedo's cavern." "no," returned polychrome, shaking her head, "that is one thing i cannot do. but i will gladly go with you and help you search for the place." this promise delighted all the wanderers and after the shaggy man had found the path again they began moving along it in a more happy mood. the rainbow's daughter danced lightly over the rocky trail, no longer sad, but with her beautiful features wreathed in smiles. shaggy came next, walking steadily and now and then supporting the rose princess, who followed him. betsy and hank brought up the rear, and if she tired with walking the girl got upon hank's back and let the stout little donkey carry her for awhile. at nightfall they came to some trees that grew beside a tiny brook and here they made camp and rested until morning. then away they tramped, finding berries and fruits here and there which satisfied the hunger of betsy, shaggy and hank, so that they were well content with their lot. it surprised betsy to see the rose princess partake of their food, for she considered her a fairy; but when she mentioned this to polychrome, the rainbow's daughter explained that when ozga was driven out of her rose kingdom she ceased to be a fairy and would never again be more than a mere mortal. polychrome, however, was a fairy wherever she happened to be, and if she sipped a few dewdrops by moonlight for refreshment no one ever saw her do it. as they continued their wandering journey, direction meant very little to them, for they were hopelessly lost in this strange country. shaggy said it would be best to go toward the mountains, as the natural entrance to ruggedo's underground cavern was likely to be hidden in some rocky, deserted place; but mountains seemed all around them except in the one direction that they had come from, which led to the rose kingdom and the sea. therefore it mattered little which way they traveled. by and by they espied a faint trail that looked like a path and after following this for some time they reached a cross-roads. here were many paths, leading in various directions, and there was a signpost so old that there were now no words upon the sign. at one side was an old well, with a chain windlass for drawing water, yet there was no house or other building anywhere in sight. while the party halted, puzzled which way to proceed, the mule approached the well and tried to look into it. "he's thirsty," said betsy. "it's a dry well," remarked shaggy. "probably there has been no water in it for many years. but, come; let us decide which way to travel." no one seemed able to decide that. they sat down in a group and tried to consider which road might be the best to take. hank, however, could not keep away from the well and finally he reared up on his hind legs, got his head over the edge and uttered a loud "hee-haw!" betsy watched her animal friend curiously. "i wonder if he sees anything down there?" she said. at this, shaggy rose and went over to the well to investigate, and betsy went with him. the princess and polychrome, who had become fast friends, linked arms and sauntered down one of the roads, to find an easy path. "really," said shaggy, "there does seem to be something at the bottom of this old well." "can't we pull it up, and see what it is?" asked the girl. there was no bucket at the end of the windlass chain, but there was a big hook that at one time was used to hold a bucket. shaggy let down this hook, dragged it around on the bottom and then pulled it up. an old hoopskirt came with it, and betsy laughed and threw it away. the thing frightened hank, who had never seen a hoopskirt before, and he kept a good distance away from it. several other objects the shaggy man captured with the hook and drew up, but none of these was important. "this well seems to have been the dump for all the old rubbish in the country," he said, letting down the hook once more. "i guess i've captured everything now. no--the hook has caught again. help me, betsy! whatever this thing is, it's heavy." she ran up and helped him turn the windlass and after much effort a confused mass of copper came in sight. "good gracious!" exclaimed shaggy. "here is a surprise, indeed!" "what is it?" inquired betsy, clinging to the windlass and panting for breath. for answer the shaggy man grasped the bundle of copper and dumped it upon the ground, free of the well. then he turned it over with his foot, spread it out, and to betsy's astonishment the thing proved to be a copper man. "just as i thought," said shaggy, looking hard at the object. "but unless there are two copper men in the world this is the most astonishing thing i ever came across." at this moment the rainbow's daughter and the rose princess approached them, and polychrome said: "what have you found, shaggy one?" "either an old friend, or a stranger," he replied. "oh, here's a sign on his back!" cried betsy, who had knelt down to examine the man. "dear me; how funny! listen to this." then she read the following words, engraved upon the copper plates of the man's body: smith & tinker's patent double-action, extra-responsive, thought-creating, perfect-talking _mechanical man_ fitted with our special clockwork attachment. thinks, speaks, acts, and does everything but live. "isn't he wonderful!" exclaimed the princess. "yes; but here's more," said betsy, reading from another engraved plate: directions for using: for thinking:--wind the clockwork man under his left arm, (marked no. ). for speaking:--wind the clockwork man under his right arm, (marked no. ). for walking and action:--wind clockwork man in the middle of his back, (marked no. ). n. b.--this mechanism is guaranteed to work perfectly for a thousand years. "if he's guaranteed for a thousand years," said polychrome, "he ought to work yet." "of course," replied shaggy. "let's wind him up." in order to do this they were obliged to set the copper man upon his feet, in an upright position, and this was no easy task. he was inclined to topple over, and had to be propped again and again. the girls assisted shaggy, and at last tik-tok seemed to be balanced and stood alone upon his broad feet. "yes," said shaggy, looking at the copper man carefully, "this must be, indeed, my old friend tik-tok, whom i left ticking merrily in the land of oz. but how he came to this lonely place, and got into that old well, is surely a mystery." "if we wind him, perhaps he will tell us," suggested betsy. "here's the key, hanging to a hook on his back. what part of him shall i wind up first?" "his thoughts, of course," said polychrome, "for it requires thought to speak or move intelligently." so betsy wound him under his left arm, and at once little flashes of light began to show in the top of his head, which was proof that he had begun to think. "now, then," said shaggy, "wind up his phonograph." "what's that?" she asked. "why, his talking-machine. his thoughts may be interesting, but they don't tell us anything." so betsy wound the copper man under his right arm, and then from the interior of his copper body came in jerky tones the words: "ma-ny thanks!" "hurrah!" cried shaggy, joyfully, and he slapped tik-tok upon the back in such a hearty manner that the copper man lost his balance and tumbled to the ground in a heap. but the clockwork that enabled him to speak had been wound up and he kept saying: "pick-me-up! pick-me-up! pick-me-up!" until they had again raised him and balanced him upon his feet, when he added politely: "ma-ny thanks!" "he won't be self-supporting until we wind up his action," remarked shaggy; so betsy wound it, as tight as she could--for the key turned rather hard--and then tik-tok lifted his feet, marched around in a circle and ended by stopping before the group and making them all a low bow. "how in the world did you happen to be in that well, when i left you safe in oz?" inquired shaggy. "it is a long sto-ry," replied tik-tok, "but i'll tell it in a few words. af-ter you had gone in search of your broth-er, oz-ma saw you wan-der-ing in strange lands when-ev-er she looked in her mag-ic pic-ture, and she also saw your broth-er in the nome king's cav-ern; so she sent me to tell you where to find your broth-er and told me to help you if i could. the sor-cer-ess, glin-da the good, trans-port-ed me to this place in the wink of an eye; but here i met the nome king himself--old rug-ge-do, who is called in these parts the met-al mon-arch. rug-ge-do knew what i had come for, and he was so an-gry that he threw me down the well. af-ter my works ran down i was help-less un-til you came a-long and pulled me out a-gain. ma-ny thanks." "this is, indeed, good news," said shaggy. "i suspected that my brother was the prisoner of ruggedo; but now i know it. tell us, tik-tok, how shall we get to the nome king's underground cavern?" "the best way is to walk," said tik-tok. "we might crawl, or jump, or roll o-ver and o-ver un-til we get there; but the best way is to walk." "i know; but which road shall we take?" "my ma-chin-er-y is-n't made to tell that," replied tik-tok. "there is more than one entrance to the underground cavern," said polychrome; "but old ruggedo has cleverly concealed every opening, so that earth dwellers can not intrude in his domain. if we find our way underground at all, it will be by chance." "then," said betsy, "let us select any road, haphazard, and see where it leads us." "that seems sensible," declared the princess. "it may require a lot of time for us to find ruggedo, but we have more time than anything else." "if you keep me wound up," said tik-tok, "i will last a thou-sand years." "then the only question to decide is which way to go," added shaggy, looking first at one road and then at another. but while they stood hesitating, a peculiar sound reached their ears--a sound like the tramping of many feet. "what's coming?" cried betsy; and then she ran to the left-hand road and glanced along the path. "why, it's an army!" she exclaimed. "what shall we do, hide or run?" "stand still," commanded shaggy. "i'm not afraid of an army. if they prove to be friendly, they can help us; if they are enemies, i'll show them the love magnet." [illustration] [illustration] chapter tik-tok tackles a tough task while shaggy and his companions stood huddled in a group at one side, the army of oogaboo was approaching along the pathway, the tramp of their feet being now and then accompanied by a dismal groan as one of the officers stepped on a sharp stone or knocked his funnybone against his neighbor's sword-handle. then out from among the trees marched private files, bearing the banner of oogaboo, which fluttered from a long pole. this pole he stuck in the ground just in front of the well and then he cried in a loud voice: "i hereby conquer this territory in the name of queen ann soforth of oogaboo, and all the inhabitants of the land i proclaim her slaves!" some of the officers now stuck their heads out of the bushes and asked: "is the coast clear, private files?" "there is no coast here," was the reply, "but all's well." "i hope there's water in it," said general cone, mustering courage to advance to the well; but just then he caught a glimpse of tik-tok and shaggy and at once fell upon his knees, trembling and frightened, and cried out: "mercy, kind enemies! mercy! spare us, and we will be your slaves forever!" the other officers, who had now advanced into the clearing, likewise fell upon their knees and begged for mercy. files turned around and, seeing the strangers for the first time, examined them with much curiosity. then, discovering that three of the party were girls, he lifted his cap and made a polite bow. "what's all this?" demanded a harsh voice, as queen ann reached the place and beheld her kneeling army. "permit us to introduce ourselves," replied shaggy, stepping forward. "this is tik-tok, the clockwork man--who works better than some meat people. and here is princess ozga of roseland, just now unfortunately exiled from her kingdom of roses. i next present polychrome, a sky fairy, who lost her bow by an accident and can't find her way home. the small girl here is betsy bobbin, from some unknown earthly paradise called oklahoma, and with her you see mr. hank, a mule with a long tail and a short temper." "puh!" said ann, scornfully; "a pretty lot of vagabonds you are, indeed; all lost or strayed, i suppose, and not worth a queen's plundering. i'm sorry i've conquered you." "but you haven't conquered us yet," called betsy indignantly. "no," agreed files, "that is a fact. but if my officers will kindly command me to conquer you, i will do so at once, after which we can stop arguing and converse more at our ease." the officers had by this time risen from their knees and brushed the dust from their trousers. to them the enemy did not look very fierce, so the generals and colonels and majors and captains gained courage to face them and began strutting in their most haughty manner. "you must understand," said ann, "that i am the queen of oogaboo, and this is my invincible army. we are busy conquering the world, and since you seem to be a part of the world, and are obstructing our journey, it is necessary for us to conquer you--unworthy though you may be of such high honor." "that's all right," replied shaggy. "conquer us as often as you like. we don't mind." "but we won't be anybody's slaves," added betsy, positively. [illustration] "we'll see about that," retorted the queen, angrily. "advance, private files, and bind the enemy hand and foot!" but private files looked at pretty betsy and fascinating polychrome and the beautiful rose princess and shook his head. "it would be impolite, and i won't do it," he asserted. "you must!" cried ann. "it is your duty to obey orders." "i haven't received any orders from my officers," objected the private. but the generals now shouted: "forward, and bind the prisoners!" and the colonels and majors and captains repeated the command, yelling it as loud as they could. all this noise annoyed hank, who had been eyeing the army of oogaboo with strong disfavor. the mule now dashed forward and began backing upon the officers and kicking fierce and dangerous heels at them. the attack was so sudden that the officers scattered like dust in a whirlwind, dropping their swords as they ran and trying to seek refuge behind the trees and bushes. betsy laughed joyously at the comical rout of the "noble army," and polychrome danced with glee. but ann was furious at this ignoble defeat of her gallant forces by one small mule. "private files, i command you to do your duty!" she cried again, and then she herself ducked to escape the mule's heels--for hank made no distinction in favor of a lady who was an open enemy. betsy grabbed her champion by the forelock, however, and so held him fast, and when the officers saw that the mule was restrained from further attacks they crept fearfully back and picked up their discarded swords. "private files, seize and bind these prisoners!" screamed the queen. "no," said files, throwing down his gun and removing the knapsack which was strapped to his back, "i resign my position as the army of oogaboo. i enlisted to fight the enemy and become a hero, but if you want some one to bind harmless girls you will have to hire another private." then he walked over to the others and shook hands with shaggy and tik-tok. "treason!" shrieked ann, and all the officers echoed her cry. "nonsense," said files. "i've the right to resign if i want to." "indeed you haven't!" retorted the queen. "if you resign it will break up my army, and then i cannot conquer the world." she now turned to the officers and said: "i must ask you to do me a favor. i know it is undignified in officers to fight, but unless you immediately capture private files and force him to obey my orders there will be no plunder for any of us. also it is likely you will all suffer the pangs of hunger, and when we meet a powerful foe you are liable to be captured and made slaves." the prospect of this awful fate so frightened the officers that they drew their swords and rushed upon files, who stood beside shaggy, in a truly ferocious manner. the next instant, however, they halted and again fell upon their knees; for there, before them, was the glistening love magnet, held in the hand of the smiling shaggy man, and the sight of this magic talisman at once won the heart of every oogabooite. even ann saw the love magnet, and forgetting all enmity and anger threw herself upon shaggy and embraced him lovingly. quite disconcerted by this unexpected effect of the magnet, shaggy disengaged himself from the queen's encircling arms and quickly hid the talisman in his pocket. the adventurers from oogaboo were now his firm friends, and there was no more talk about conquering and binding any of his party. "if you insist on conquering anyone," said shaggy, "you may march with me to the underground kingdom of ruggedo. to conquer the world, as you have set out to do, you must conquer everyone under its surface as well as those upon its surface, and no one in all the world needs conquering so much as ruggedo." "who is he?" asked ann. [illustration] "the metal monarch, king of the nomes." "is he rich?" inquired major stockings in an anxious voice. "of course," answered shaggy. "he owns all the metal that lies underground--gold, silver, copper, brass and tin. he has an idea he also owns all the metals above ground, for he says all metal was once a part of his kingdom. so, by conquering the metal monarch, you will win all the riches in the world." "ah!" exclaimed general apple, heaving a deep sigh, "that would be plunder worth our while. let's conquer him, your majesty." the queen looked reproachfully at files, who was sitting next to the lovely princess and whispering in her ear. "alas," said ann, "i have no longer an army. i have plenty of brave officers, indeed, but no private soldier for them to command. therefore i cannot conquer ruggedo and win all his wealth." "why don't you make one of your officers the private?" asked shaggy; but at once every officer began to protest and the queen of oogaboo shook her head as she replied: "that is impossible. a private soldier must be a terrible fighter, and my officers are unable to fight. they are exceptionally brave in commanding others to fight, but could not themselves meet the enemy and conquer." "very true, your majesty," said colonel plum, eagerly. "there are many kinds of bravery and one cannot be expected to possess them all. i myself am brave as a lion in all ways until it comes to fighting, but then my nature revolts. fighting is unkind and liable to be injurious to others; so, being a gentleman, i never fight." "nor i!" shouted each of the other officers. "you see," said ann, "how helpless i am. had not private files proved himself a traitor and a deserter, i would gladly have conquered this ruggedo; but an army without a private soldier is like a bee without a stinger." "i am not a traitor, your majesty," protested files. "i resigned in a proper manner, not liking the job. but there are plenty of people to take my place. why not make shaggy man the private soldier?" "he might be killed," said ann, looking tenderly at shaggy, "for he is mortal, and able to die. if anything happened to him, it would break my heart." "it would hurt me worse than that," declared shaggy. "you must admit, your majesty, that i am commander of this expedition, for it is my brother we are seeking, rather than plunder. but i and my companions would like the assistance of your army, and if you help us to conquer ruggedo and to rescue my brother from captivity we will allow you to keep all the gold and jewels and other plunder you may find." this prospect was so tempting that the officers began whispering together and presently colonel cheese said: "your majesty, by combining our brains we have just evolved a most brilliant idea. we will make the clockwork man the private soldier!" "who? me?" asked tik-tok. "not for a sin-gle sec-ond! i can-not fight, and you must not for-get that it was rug-ge-do who threw me in the well." "at that time you had no gun," said polychrome. "but if you join the army of oogaboo you will carry the gun that mr. files used." "a sol-dier must be a-ble to run as well as to fight," protested tik-tok, "and if my works run down, as they of-ten do, i could nei-ther run nor fight." "i'll keep you wound up, tik-tok," promised betsy. "why, it isn't a bad idea," said shaggy. "tik-tok will make an ideal soldier, for nothing can injure him except a sledge hammer. and, since a private soldier seems to be necessary to this army, tik-tok is the only one of our party fitted to undertake the job." "what must i do?" asked tik-tok. "obey orders," replied ann. "when the officers command you to do anything, you must do it; that is all." "and that's enough, too," said files. "do i get a salary?" inquired tik-tok. "you get your share of the plunder," answered the queen. "yes," remarked files, "one-half of the plunder goes to queen ann, the other half is divided among the officers, and the private gets the rest." "that will be sat-is-fac-tor-y," said tik-tok, picking up the gun and examining it wonderingly, for he had never before seen such a weapon. then ann strapped the knapsack to tik-tok's copper back and said: "now we are ready to march to ruggedo's kingdom and conquer it. officers, give the command to march." "fall--in!" yelled the generals, drawing their swords. "fall--in!" cried the colonels, drawing their swords. "fall--in!" shouted the majors, drawing their swords. "fall--in!" bawled the captains, drawing their swords. tik-tok looked at them and then around him in surprise. "fall in what? the well?" he asked. "no," said queen ann, "you must fall in marching order." "can-not i march with-out fall-ing in-to it?" asked the clockwork man. "shoulder your gun and stand ready to march," advised files; so tik-tok held the gun straight and stood still. "what next?" he asked. the queen turned to shaggy. "which road leads to the metal monarch's cavern?" "we don't know, your majesty," was the reply. "but this is absurd!" said ann with a frown. "if we can't get to ruggedo, it is certain that we can't conquer him." "you are right," admitted shaggy; "but i did not say we could not get to him. we have only to discover the way, and that was the matter we were considering when you and your magnificent army arrived here." "well, then, get busy and discover it," snapped the queen. that was no easy task. they all stood looking from one road to another in perplexity. the paths radiated from the little clearing like the rays of the midday sun, and each path seemed like all the others. files and the rose princess, who had by this time become good friends, advanced a little way along one of the roads and found that it was bordered by pretty wild flowers. "why don't you ask the flowers to tell you the way?" he said to his companion. "the flowers?" returned the princess, surprised at the question. "of course," said files. "the field-flowers must be second-cousins to a rose princess, and i believe if you ask them they will tell you." she looked more closely at the flowers. there were hundreds of white daisies, golden buttercups, bluebells and daffodils growing by the roadside, and each flower-head was firmly set upon its slender but stout stem. there were even a few wild roses scattered here and there and perhaps it was the sight of these that gave the princess courage to ask the important question. she dropped to her knees, facing the flowers, and extended both her arms pleadingly toward them. "tell me, pretty cousins," she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "which way will lead us to the kingdom of ruggedo, the nome king?" at once all the stems bent gracefully to the right and the flower heads nodded once--twice--thrice in that direction. "that's it!" cried files joyfully. "now we know the way." ozga rose to her feet and looked wonderingly at the field-flowers, which had now resumed their upright position. "was it the wind, do you think?" she asked in a low whisper. "no, indeed," replied files. "there is not a breath of wind stirring. but these lovely blossoms are indeed your cousins and answered your question at once, as i knew they would." [illustration] chapter ruggedo's rage is rash and reckless the way taken by the adventurers led up hill and down dale and wound here and there in a fashion that seemed aimless. but always it drew nearer to a range of low mountains and files said more than once that he was certain the entrance to ruggedo's cavern would be found among these rugged hills. in this he was quite correct. far underneath the nearest mountain was a gorgeous chamber hollowed from the solid rock, the walls and roof of which glittered with thousands of magnificent jewels. here, on a throne of virgin gold, sat the famous nome king, dressed in splendid robes and wearing a superb crown cut from a single blood-red ruby. ruggedo, the monarch of all the metals and precious stones of the underground world, was a round little man with a flowing white beard, a red face, bright eyes and a scowl that covered all his forehead. one would think, to look at him, that he ought to be jolly; one might think, considering his enormous wealth, that he ought to be happy; but this was not the case. the metal monarch was surly and cross because mortals had dug so much treasure out of the earth and kept it above ground, where all the power of ruggedo and his nomes was unable to recover it. he hated not only the mortals but also the fairies who live upon the earth or above it, and instead of being content with the riches he still possessed he was unhappy because he did not own all the gold and jewels in the world. ruggedo had been nodding, half asleep, in his chair when suddenly he sat upright uttered a roar of rage and began pounding upon a huge gong that stood beside him. the sound filled the vast cavern and penetrated to many caverns beyond, where countless thousands of nomes were working at their unending tasks, hammering out gold and silver and other metals, or melting ores in great furnaces, or polishing glittering gems. the nomes trembled at the sound of the king's gong and whispered fearfully to one another that something unpleasant was sure to happen; but none dared pause in his task. the heavy curtains of cloth-of-gold were pushed aside and kaliko, the king's high chamberlain, entered the royal presence. "what's up, your majesty?" he asked, with a wide yawn, for he had just wakened. "up?" roared ruggedo, stamping his foot viciously. "those foolish mortals are up, that's what! and they want to come down." "down here?" inquired kaliko. "yes!" "how do you know?" continued the chamberlain, yawning again. "i feel it in my bones," said ruggedo. "i can always feel it when those hateful earth-crawlers draw near to my kingdom. i am positive, kaliko, that mortals are this very minute on their way here to annoy me--and i hate mortals more than i do catnip tea!" "well, what's to be done?" demanded the nome. "look through your spyglass, and see where the invaders are," commanded the king. so kaliko went to a tube in the wall of rock and put his eye to it. the tube ran from the cavern up to the side of the mountain and turned several curves and corners, but as it was a magic spyglass kaliko was able to see through it just as easily as if it had been straight. "ho--hum," said he. "i see 'em, your majesty." "what do they look like?" inquired the monarch. "that's a hard question to answer, for a queerer assortment of creatures i never yet beheld," replied the nome. "however, such a collection of curiosities may prove dangerous. there's a copper man, worked by machinery--" "bah! that's only tik-tok," said ruggedo. "i'm not afraid of him. why, only the other day i met the fellow and threw him down a well." "then some one must have pulled him out again," said kaliko. "and there's a little girl--" "dorothy?" asked ruggedo, jumping up in fear. "no; some other girl. in fact, there are several girls, of various sizes; but dorothy is not with them, nor is ozma." "that's good!" exclaimed the king, sighing in relief. kaliko still had his eye to the spyglass. "i see," said he, "an army of men from oogaboo. they are all officers and carry swords. and there is a shaggy man--who seems very harmless--and a little donkey with big ears." "pooh!" cried ruggedo, snapping his fingers in scorn. "i've no fear of such a mob as that. a dozen of my nomes can destroy them all in a jiffy." "i'm not so sure of that," said kaliko. "the people of oogaboo are hard to destroy, and i believe the rose princess is a fairy. as for polychrome, you know very well that the rainbow's daughter cannot be injured by a nome." "polychrome! is she among them?" asked the king. "yes; i have just recognized her." "then these people are coming here on no peaceful errand," declared ruggedo, scowling fiercely. "in fact, no one ever comes here on a peaceful errand. i hate everybody, and everybody hates me!" "very true," said kaliko. "i must in some way prevent these people from reaching my dominions. where are they now?" "just now they are crossing the rubber country, your majesty." "good! are your magnetic rubber wires in working order?" "i think so," replied kaliko. "is it your royal will that we have some fun with these invaders?" "it is," answered ruggedo. "i want to teach them a lesson they will never forget." now, shaggy had no idea that he was in a rubber country, nor had any of his companions. they noticed that everything around them was of a dull gray color and that the path upon which they walked was soft and springy, yet they had no suspicion that the rocks and trees were rubber and even the path they trod was made of rubber. presently they came to a brook where sparkling water dashed through a deep channel and rushed away between high rocks far down the mountain-side. across the brook were stepping-stones, so placed that travelers might easily leap from one to another and in that manner cross the water to the farther bank. tik-tok was marching ahead, followed by his officers and queen ann. after them came betsy bobbin and hank, polychrome and shaggy, and last of all the rose princess with files. the clockwork man saw the stream and the stepping-stones and, without making a pause, placed his foot upon the first stone. the result was astonishing. first he sank down in the soft rubber, which then rebounded and sent tik-tok soaring high in the air, where he turned a succession of flip-flops and alighted upon a rubber rock far in the rear of the party. general apple did not see tik-tok bound, so quickly had he disappeared; therefore he also stepped upon the stone (which you will guess was connected with kaliko's magnetic rubber wire) and instantly shot upward like an arrow. general cone came next and met with a like fate, but the others now noticed that something was wrong and with one accord they halted the column and looked back along the path. there was tik-tok, still bounding from one rubber rock to another, each time rising a less distance from the ground. and there was general apple, bounding away in another direction, his three-cornered hat jammed over his eyes and his long sword thumping him upon the arms and head as it swung this way and that. and there, also, appeared general cone, who had struck a rubber rock headforemost and was so crumpled up that his round body looked more like a bouncing-ball than the form of a man. betsy laughed merrily at the strange sight and polychrome echoed her laughter. but ozga was grave and wondering, while queen ann became angry at seeing the chief officers of the army of oogaboo bounding around in so undignified a manner. she shouted to them to stop, but they were unable to obey, even though they would have been glad to do so. finally, however, they all ceased bounding and managed to get upon their feet and rejoin the army. "why did you do that?" demanded ann, who seemed greatly provoked. "don't ask them why," said shaggy earnestly. "i knew you would ask them why, but you ought not to do it. the reason is plain. those stones are rubber; therefore they are not stones. those rocks around us are rubber, and therefore they are not rocks. even this path is not a path; it's rubber. unless we are very careful, your majesty, we are all likely to get the bounce, just as your poor officers and tik-tok did." [illustration] "then let's be careful," remarked files, who was full of wisdom; but polychrome wanted to test the quality of the rubber, so she began dancing. every step sent her higher and higher into the air, so that she resembled a big butterfly fluttering lightly. presently she made a great bound and bounded way across the stream, landing lightly and steadily on the other side. "there is no rubber over here," she called to them. "suppose you all try to bound over the stream, without touching the stepping-stones." ann and her officers were reluctant to undertake such a risky adventure, but betsy at once grasped the value of the suggestion and began jumping up and down until she found herself bounding almost as high as polychrome had done. then she suddenly leaned forward and the next bound took her easily across the brook, where she alighted by the side of the rainbow's daughter. "come on, hank!" called the girl, and the donkey tried to obey. he managed to bound pretty high but when he tried to bound across the stream he misjudged the distance and fell with a splash into the middle of the water. "hee-haw!" he wailed, struggling toward the far bank. betsy rushed forward to help him out, but when the mule stood safely beside her she was amazed to find he was not wet at all. "it's dry water," said polychrome, dipping her hand into the stream and showing how the water fell from it and left it perfectly dry. "in that case," returned betsy, "they can all walk through the water." she called to ozga and shaggy to wade across, assuring them the water was shallow and would not wet them. at once they followed her advice, avoiding the rubber stepping-stones, and made the crossing with ease. this encouraged the entire party to wade through the dry water, and in a few minutes all had assembled on the bank and renewed their journey along the path that led to the nome king's dominions. when kaliko again looked through his magic spyglass he exclaimed: "bad luck, your majesty! all the invaders have passed the rubber country and now are fast approaching the entrance to your caverns." ruggedo raved and stormed at the news and his anger was so great that several times, as he strode up and down his jeweled cavern, he paused to kick kaliko upon his shins, which were so sensitive that the poor nome howled with pain. finally the king said: "there's no help for it; we must drop these audacious invaders down the hollow tube." kaliko gave a jump, at this, and looked at his master wonderingly. "if you do that, your majesty," he said, "you will make tititi-hoochoo very angry." "never mind that," retorted ruggedo. "tititi-hoochoo lives on the other side of the world, so what do i care for his anger?" kaliko shuddered and uttered a little groan. "remember his terrible powers," he pleaded, "and remember that he warned you, the last time you slid people through the hollow tube, that if you did it again he would take vengeance upon you." the metal monarch walked up and down in silence, thinking deeply. "of two dangers," said he, "it is wise to choose the least. what do you suppose these invaders want?" "let the long-eared hearer listen to them," suggested kaliko. "call him here at once!" commanded ruggedo eagerly. so in a few minutes there entered the cavern a nome with enormous ears, who bowed low before the king. "strangers are approaching," said ruggedo, "and i wish to know their errand. listen carefully to their talk and tell me why they are coming here, and what for." the nome bowed again and spread out his great ears, swaying them gently up and down and back and forth. for half an hour he stood silent, in an attitude of listening, while both the king and kaliko grew impatient at the delay. at last the long-eared hearer spoke: [illustration] "shaggy man is coming here to rescue his brother from captivity," said he. "ha, the ugly one!" exclaimed ruggedo. "well, shaggy man may have his ugly brother, for all i care. he's too lazy to work and is always getting in my way. where is the ugly one now, kaliko?" "the last time your majesty stumbled over the prisoner you commanded me to send him to the metal forest, which i did. i suppose he is still there." "very good. the invaders will have a hard time finding the metal forest," said the king, with a grin of malicious delight, "for half the time i can't find it myself. yet i created the forest and made every tree, out of gold and silver, so as to keep the precious metals in a safe place and out of the reach of mortals. but tell me, hearer, do the strangers want anything else?" "yes, indeed they do!" returned the nome. "the army of oogaboo is determined to capture all the rich metals and rare jewels in your kingdom, and the officers and their queen have arranged to divide the spoils and carry them away." when he heard this ruggedo uttered a bellow of rage and began dancing up and down, rolling his eyes, clicking his teeth together and swinging his arms furiously. then, in an ecstasy of anger he seized the long ears of the hearer and pulled and twisted them cruelly; but kaliko grabbed up the king's sceptre and rapped him over the knuckles with it, so that ruggedo let go the ears and began to chase his royal chamberlain around the throne. the hearer took advantage of this opportunity to slip away from the cavern and escape, and after the king had tired himself out chasing kaliko he threw himself into his throne and panted for breath, while he glared wickedly at his defiant subject. "you'd better save your strength to fight the enemy," suggested kaliko. "there will be a terrible battle when the army of oogaboo gets here." "the army won't get here," said the king, still coughing and panting. "i'll drop 'em down the hollow tube--every man jack and every girl jill of 'em!" "and defy tititi-hoochoo?" asked kaliko. "yes. go at once to my chief magician and order him to turn the path toward the hollow tube, and to make the top of the tube invisible, so they'll all fall into it." kaliko went away shaking his head, for he thought ruggedo was making a great mistake. he found the magician and had the path twisted so that it led directly to the opening of the hollow tube, and this opening he made invisible. having obeyed the orders of his master, the royal chamberlain went to his private room and began to write letters of recommendation of himself, stating that he was an honest man, a good servant and a small eater. "pretty soon," he said to himself, "i shall have to look for another job, for it is certain that ruggedo has ruined himself by this reckless defiance of the mighty tititi-hoochoo. and in seeking a job nothing is so effective as a letter of recommendation." [illustration] [illustration] chapter a terrible tumble through a tube i suppose that polychrome, and perhaps queen ann and her army, might have been able to dispel the enchantment of ruggedo's chief magician had they known that danger lay in their pathway; for the rainbow's daughter was a fairy and as oogaboo is a part of the land of oz its inhabitants cannot easily be deceived by such common magic as the nome king could command. but no one suspected any especial danger until after they had entered ruggedo's cavern, and so they were journeying along in quite a contented manner when tik-tok, who marched ahead, suddenly disappeared. the officers thought he must have turned a corner, so they kept on their way and all of them likewise disappeared--one after another. queen ann was rather surprised at this, and in hastening forward to learn the reason she also vanished from sight. betsy bobbin had tired her feet by walking, so she was now riding upon the back of the stout little mule, facing backward and talking to shaggy and polychrome, who were just behind. suddenly hank pitched forward and began falling and betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. all around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind. once betsy's heels flew up and struck a similar substance overhead. they were, indeed, descending the "hollow tube" that led to the other side of the world. "stop, hank--stop!" cried the girl; but hank only uttered a plaintive "hee-haw!" for it was impossible for him to obey. after several minutes had passed and no harm had befallen them, betsy gained courage. she could see nothing at all, nor could she hear anything except the rush of air past her ears as they plunged downward along the tube. whether she and hank were alone, or the others were with them, she could not tell. but had some one been able to take a flash-light photograph of the tube at that time a most curious picture would have resulted. there was tik-tok, flat upon his back and sliding headforemost down the incline. and there were the officers of the army of oogaboo, all tangled up in a confused crowd, flapping their arms and trying to shield their faces from the clanking swords, which swung back and forth during the swift journey and pommeled everyone within their reach. now followed queen ann, who had struck the tube in a sitting position and went flying along with a dash and abandon that thoroughly bewildered the poor lady, who had no idea what had happened to her. then, a little distance away, but unseen by the others in the inky darkness, slid betsy and hank, while behind them were shaggy and polychrome and finally files and the princess. when first they tumbled into the tube all were too dazed to think clearly, but the trip was a long one, because the cavity led straight through the earth to a place just opposite the nome king's dominions, and long before the adventurers got to the end they had begun to recover their wits. "this is awful, hank!" cried betsy in a loud voice, and queen ann heard her and called out: "are you safe, betsy?" "mercy, no!" answered the little girl. "how could anyone be safe when she's going about sixty miles a minute?" then, after a pause, she added: "but where do you s'pose we're going to, your maj'sty?" "don't ask her that, please don't!" said shaggy, who was not too far away to overhear them. "and please don't ask me why, either." "why?" said betsy. "no one can tell where we are going until we get there," replied shaggy, and then he yelled "ouch!" for polychrome had overtaken him and was now sitting on his head. the rainbow's daughter laughed merrily, and so infectious was this joyous laugh that betsy echoed it and hank said "hee-haw!" in a mild and sympathetic tone of voice. "i'd like to know where and when we'll arrive, just the same," exclaimed the little girl. "be patient and you'll find out, my dear," said polychrome. "but isn't this an odd experience? here am i, whose home is in the skies, making a journey through the center of the earth--where i never expected to be!" "how do you know we're in the center of the earth?" asked betsy, her voice trembling a little through nervousness. "why, we can't be anywhere else," replied polychrome. "i have often heard of this passage, which was once built by a magician who was a great traveler. he thought it would save him the bother of going around the earth's surface, but he tumbled through the tube so fast that he shot out at the other end and hit a star in the sky, which at once exploded." "the star exploded?" asked betsy wonderingly. "yes; the magician hit it so hard." "and what became of the magician?" inquired the girl. "no one knows that," answered polychrome. "but i don't think it matters much." "it matters a good deal, if we also hit the stars when we come out," said queen ann, with a moan. "don't worry," advised polychrome. "i believe the magician was going the other way, and probably he went much faster than we are going." "it's fast enough to suit me," remarked shaggy, gently removing polychrome's heel from his left eye. "couldn't you manage to fall all by yourself, my dear?" "i'll try," laughed the rainbow's daughter. all this time they were swiftly falling through the tube, and it was not so easy for them to talk as you may imagine when you read their words. but although they were so helpless and altogether in the dark as to their fate, the fact that they were able to converse at all cheered them considerably. files and ozga were also conversing as they clung tightly to one another, and the young fellow bravely strove to reassure the princess, although he was terribly frightened, both on her account and on his own. an hour, under such trying circumstances, is a very long time, and for more than an hour they continued their fearful journey. then, just as they began to fear the tube would never end, tik-tok popped out into broad daylight and, after making a graceful circle in the air, fell with a splash into a great marble fountain. out came the officers, in quick succession, tumbling heels over head and striking the ground in many undignified attitudes. "for the love of sassafras!" exclaimed a peculiar person who was hoeing pink violets in a garden. "what can all this mean?" for answer, queen ann sailed up from the tube, took a ride through the air as high as the treetops, and alighted squarely on top of the peculiar person's head, smashing a jeweled crown over his eyes and tumbling him to the ground. the mule was heavier and had betsy clinging to his back, so he did not go so high up. fortunately for his little rider he struck the ground upon his four feet. betsy was jarred a trifle but not hurt and when she looked around her she saw the queen and the peculiar person struggling together upon the ground, where the man was trying to choke ann and she had both hands in his bushy hair and was pulling with all her might. some of the officers, when they got upon their feet, hastened to separate the combatants and sought to restrain the peculiar person so that he could not attack their queen again. [illustration] by this time, shaggy, polychrome, ozga and files had all arrived and were curiously examining the strange country in which they found themselves and which they knew to be exactly on the opposite side of the world from the place where they had fallen into the tube. it was a lovely place, indeed, and seemed to be the garden of some great prince, for through the vistas of trees and shrubbery could be seen the towers of an immense castle. but as yet the only inhabitant to greet them was the peculiar person just mentioned, who had shaken off the grasp of the officers without effort and was now trying to pull the battered crown from off his eyes. shaggy, who was always polite, helped him to do this and when the man was free and could see again he looked at his visitors with evident amazement. "well, well, well!" he exclaimed. "where did you come from and how did you get here?" betsy tried to answer him, for queen ann was surly and silent. "i can't say, exac'ly where we came from, 'cause i don't know the name of the place," said the girl, "but the way we got here was through the hollow tube." "don't call it a 'hollow' tube, please," exclaimed the peculiar person in an irritated tone of voice. "if it's a tube, it's sure to be hollow." "why?" asked betsy. "because all tubes are made that way. but this tube is private property and everyone is forbidden to fall into it." "we didn't do it on purpose," explained betsy, and polychrome added: "i am quite sure that ruggedo, the nome king, pushed us down that tube." "ha! ruggedo! did you say ruggedo?" cried the man, becoming much excited. "that is what she said," replied shaggy, "and i believe she is right. we were on our way to conquer the nome king when suddenly we fell into the tube." "then you are enemies of ruggedo?" inquired the peculiar person. "not exac'ly enemies," said betsy, a little puzzled by the question, "'cause we don't know him at all; but we started out to conquer him, which isn't as friendly as it might be." "true," agreed the man. he looked thoughtfully from one to another of them for a while and then he turned his head over his shoulder and said: "never mind the fire and pincers, my good brothers. it will be best to take these strangers to the private citizen." "very well, tubekins," responded a voice, deep and powerful, that seemed to come out of the air, for the speaker was invisible. all our friends gave a jump, at this. even polychrome was so startled that her gauze draperies fluttered like a banner in a breeze. shaggy shook his head and sighed; queen ann looked very unhappy; the officers clung to each other, trembling violently. but soon they gained courage to look more closely at the peculiar person. as he was a type of all the inhabitants of this extraordinary land whom they afterward met, i will try to tell you what he looked like. his face was beautiful, but lacked expression. his eyes were large and blue in color and his teeth finely formed and white as snow. his hair was black and bushy and seemed inclined to curl at the ends. so far no one could find any fault with his appearance. he wore a robe of scarlet, which did not cover his arms and extended no lower than his bare knees. on the bosom of the robe was embroidered a terrible dragon's head, as horrible to look at as the man was beautiful. his arms and legs were left bare and the skin of one arm was bright yellow and the skin of the other arm a vivid green. he had one blue leg and one pink one, while both his feet--which showed through the open sandals he wore--were jet black. betsy could not decide whether these gorgeous colors were dyes or the natural tints of the skin, but while she was thinking it over the man who had been called "tubekins" said: "follow me to the residence--all of you!" but just then a voice exclaimed: "here's another of them, tubekins, lying in the water of the fountain." [illustration] "gracious!" cried betsy; "it must be tik-tok, and he'll drown." "water is a bad thing for his clockworks, anyhow," agreed shaggy, as with one accord they all started for the fountain. but before they could reach it, invisible hands raised tik-tok from the marble basin and set him upon his feet beside it, water dripping from every joint of his copper body. "ma--ny tha--tha--tha--thanks!" he said; and then his copper jaws clicked together and he could say no more. he next made an attempt to walk but after several awkward trials found he could not move his joints. peals of jeering laughter from persons unseen greeted tik-tok's failure, and the new arrivals in this strange land found it very uncomfortable to realize that there were many creatures around them who were invisible, yet could be heard plainly. "shall i wind him up?" asked betsy, feeling very sorry for tik-tok. "i think his machinery is wound; but he needs oiling," replied shaggy. at once an oil-can appeared before him, held on a level with his eyes by some unseen hand. shaggy took the can and tried to oil tik-tok's joints. as if to assist him, a strong current of warm air was directed against the copper man, which quickly dried him. soon he was able to say "ma-ny thanks!" quite smoothly and his joints worked fairly well. "come!" commanded tubekins, and turning his back upon them he walked up the path toward the castle. "shall we go?" asked queen ann, uncertainly; but just then she received a shove that almost pitched her forward on her head; so she decided to go. the officers who hesitated received several energetic kicks, but could not see who delivered them; therefore they also decided--very wisely--to go. the others followed willingly enough, for unless they ventured upon another terrible journey through the tube they must make the best of the unknown country they were in, and the best seemed to be to obey orders. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the famous fellowship of fairies after a short walk through very beautiful gardens they came to the castle and followed tubekins through the entrance and into a great domed chamber, where he commanded them to be seated. from the crown which he wore, betsy had thought this man must be the king of the country they were in, yet after he had seated all the strangers upon benches that were ranged in a semicircle before a high throne, tubekins bowed humbly before the vacant throne and in a flash became invisible and disappeared. the hall was an immense place, but there seemed to be no one in it beside themselves. presently, however, they heard a low cough near them, and here and there was the faint rustling of a robe and a slight patter as of footsteps. then suddenly there rang out the clear tone of a bell and at the sound all was changed. gazing around the hall in bewilderment they saw that it was filled with hundreds of men and women, all with beautiful faces and staring blue eyes and all wearing scarlet robes and jeweled crowns upon their heads. in fact, these people seemed exact duplicates of tubekins and it was difficult to find any mark by which to tell them apart. "my! what a lot of kings and queens!" whispered betsy to polychrome, who sat beside her and appeared much interested in the scene but not a bit worried. "it is certainly a strange sight," was polychrome's reply; "but i cannot see how there can be more than one king, or queen, in any one country, for were these all rulers, no one could tell who was master." one of the kings who stood near and overheard this remark turned to her and said: "one who is master of himself is always a king, if only to himself. in this favored land all kings and queens are equal, and it is our privilege to bow before one supreme ruler--the private citizen." "who's he?" inquired betsy. as if to answer her, the clear tones of the bell again rang out and instantly there appeared seated in the throne the man who was lord and master of all these royal ones. this fact was evident when with one accord they fell upon their knees and touched their foreheads to the floor. the private citizen was not unlike the others, except that his eyes were black instead of blue and in the centers of the black irises glowed red sparks that seemed like coals of fire. but his features were very beautiful and dignified and his manner composed and stately. instead of the prevalent scarlet robe, he wore one of white, and the same dragon's head that decorated the others was embroidered upon its bosom. "what charge lies against these people, tubekins?" he asked in quiet, even tones. "they came through the forbidden tube, o mighty citizen," was the reply. "you see, it was this way," said betsy. "we were marching to the nome king, to conquer him and set shaggy's brother free, when on a sudden--" "who are you?" demanded the private citizen sternly. "me? oh, i'm betsy bobbin, and--" "who is the leader of this party?" asked the citizen. "sir, i am queen ann of oogaboo, and--" "then keep quiet," said the citizen. "who is the leader?" no one answered for a moment. then general bunn stood up. "sit down!" commanded the citizen. "i can see that sixteen of you are merely officers, and of no account." "but we have an army," said general clock, blusteringly, for he didn't like to be told he was of no account. "where is your army?" asked the citizen. "it's me," said tik-tok, his voice sounding a little rusty. "i'm the on-ly pri-vate sol-dier in the par-ty." hearing this, the citizen rose and bowed respectfully to the clockwork man. "pardon me for not realizing your importance before," said he. "will you oblige me by taking a seat beside me on my throne?" tik-tok rose and walked over to the throne, all the kings and queens making way for him. then with clanking steps he mounted the platform and sat on the broad seat beside the citizen. ann was greatly provoked at this mark of favor shown to the humble clockwork man, but shaggy seemed much pleased that his old friend's importance had been recognized by the ruler of this remarkable country. the citizen now began to question tik-tok, who told in his mechanical voice about shaggy's quest of his lost brother, and how ozma of oz had sent the clockwork man to assist him, and how they had fallen in with queen ann and her people from oogaboo. also he told how betsy and hank and polychrome and the rose princess had happened to join their party. "and you intended to conquer ruggedo, the metal monarch and king of the nomes?" asked the citizen. "yes. that seemed the on-ly thing for us to do," was tik-tok's reply. "but he was too clev-er for us. when we got close to his cav-ern he made our path lead to the tube, and made the op-en-ing in-vis-i-ble, so that we all fell in-to it be-fore we knew it was there. it was an eas-y way to get rid of us and now rug-ge-do is safe and we are far a-way in a strange land." the citizen was silent a moment and seemed to be thinking. then he said: "most noble private soldier, i must inform you that by the laws of our country anyone who comes through the forbidden tube must be tortured for nine days and ten nights and then thrown back into the tube. but it is wise to disregard laws when they conflict with justice, and it seems that you and your followers did not disobey our laws willingly, being forced into the tube by ruggedo. therefore the nome king is alone to blame, and he alone must be punished." "that suits me," said tik-tok. "but rug-ge-do is on the o-ther side of the world where he is a-way out of your reach." the citizen drew himself up proudly. "do you imagine anything in the world or upon it can be out of the reach of the great jinjin?" he asked. "oh! are you, then, the great jinjin?" inquired tik-tok. "i am." "then your name is ti-ti-ti-hoo-choo?" "it is." queen ann gave a scream and began to tremble. shaggy was so disturbed that he took out a handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his brow. polychrome looked sober and uneasy for the first time, while files put his arms around the rose princess as if to protect her. as for the officers, the name of the great jinjin set them moaning and weeping at a great rate and every one fell upon his knees before the throne, begging for mercy. betsy was worried at seeing her companions so disturbed, but did not know what it was all about. only tik-tok was unmoved at the discovery. "then," said he, "if you are ti-ti-ti-hoo-choo, and think rug-ge-do is to blame, i am sure that some-thing queer will hap-pen to the king of the nomes." "i wonder what 'twill be," said betsy. the private citizen--otherwise known as tititi-hoochoo, the great jinjin--looked at the little girl steadily. "i will presently decide what is to happen to ruggedo," said he in a hard, stern voice. then, turning to the throng of kings and queens, he continued: "tik-tok has spoken truly, for his machinery will not allow him to lie, nor will it allow his thoughts to think falsely. therefore these people are not our enemies and must be treated with consideration and justice. take them to your palaces and entertain them as guests until to-morrow, when i command that they be brought again to my residence. by then i shall have formed my plans." no sooner had tititi-hoochoo spoken than he disappeared from sight. immediately after, most of the kings and queens likewise disappeared. but several of them remained visible and approached the strangers with great respect. one of the lovely queens said to betsy: "i trust you will honor me by being my guest. i am erma, queen of light." "may hank come with me?" asked the girl. "the king of animals will care for your mule," was the reply. "but do not fear for him, for he will be treated royally. all of your party will be reunited on the morrow." "i--i'd like to have _some_ one with me," said betsy, pleadingly. queen erma looked around and smiled upon polychrome. "will the rainbow's daughter be an agreeable companion?" she asked. "oh, yes!" exclaimed the girl. so polychrome and betsy became guests of the queen of light, while other beautiful kings and queens took charge of the others of the party. [illustration] the two girls followed erma out of the hall and through the gardens of the residence to a village of pretty dwellings. none of these was so large or imposing as the castle of the private citizen, but all were handsome enough to be called palaces--as, in fact, they really were. [illustration: betsy] [illustration] chapter the lovely lady of light the palace of the queen of light stood on a little eminence and was a mass of crystal windows, surmounted by a vast crystal dome. when they entered the portals erma was greeted by six lovely maidens, evidently of high degree, who at once aroused betsy's admiration. each bore a wand in her hand, tipped with an emblem of light, and their costumes were also emblematic of the lights they represented. erma introduced them to her guests and each made a graceful and courteous acknowledgment. first was sunlight, radiantly beautiful and very fair; the second was moonlight, a soft, dreamy damsel with nut-brown hair; next came starlight, equally lovely but inclined to be retiring and shy. these three were dressed in shimmering robes of silvery white. the fourth was daylight, a brilliant damsel with laughing eyes and frank manners, who wore a variety of colors. then came firelight, clothed in a fleecy flame-colored robe that wavered around her shapely form in a very attractive manner. the sixth maiden, electra, was the most beautiful of all, and betsy thought from the first that both sunlight and daylight regarded electra with envy and were a little jealous of her. but all were cordial in their greetings to the strangers and seemed to regard the queen of light with much affection, for they fluttered around her in a flashing, radiant group as she led the way to her regal drawing-room. this apartment was richly and cosily furnished, the upholstery being of many tints, and both betsy and polychrome enjoyed resting themselves upon the downy divans after their strenuous adventures of the day. the queen sat down to chat with her guests, who noticed that daylight was the only maiden now seated beside erma. the others had retired to another part of the room, where they sat modestly with entwined arms and did not intrude themselves at all. the queen told the strangers all about this beautiful land, which is one of the chief residences of fairies who minister to the needs of mankind. so many important fairies lived there that, to avoid rivalry, they had elected as their ruler the only important personage in the country who had no duties to mankind to perform and was, in effect, a private citizen. this ruler, or jinjin, as was his title, bore the name of tititi-hoochoo, and the most singular thing about him was that he had no heart. but instead of this he possessed a high degree of reason and justice and while he showed no mercy in his judgments he never punished unjustly or without reason. to wrong-doers tititi-hoochoo was as terrible as he was heartless, but those who were innocent of evil had nothing to fear from him. all the kings and queens of this fairyland paid reverence to jinjin, for as they expected to be obeyed by others they were willing to obey the one in authority over them. the inhabitants of the land of oz had heard many tales of this fearfully just jinjin, whose punishments were always equal to the faults committed. polychrome also knew of him, although this was the first time she had ever seen him face to face. but to betsy the story was all new, and she was greatly interested in tititi-hoochoo, whom she no longer feared. time sped swiftly during their talk and suddenly betsy noticed that moonlight was sitting beside the queen of light, instead of daylight. "but tell me, please," she pleaded, "why do you all wear a dragon's head embroidered on your gowns?" erma's pleasant face became grave as she answered: "the dragon, as you must know, was the first living creature ever made; therefore the dragon is the oldest and wisest of living things. by good fortune the original dragon, who still lives, is a resident of this land and supplies us with wisdom whenever we are in need of it. he is old as the world and remembers everything that has happened since the world was created." "did he ever have any children?" inquired the girl. "yes, many of them. some wandered into other lands, where men, not understanding them, made war upon them; but many still reside in this country. none, however, is as wise as the original dragon, for whom we have great respect. as he was the first resident here, we wear the emblem of the dragon's head to show that we are the favored people who alone have the right to inhabit this fairyland, which in beauty almost equal the fairyland of oz, and in power quite surpasses it." "i understand about the dragon, now," said polychrome, nodding her lovely head. betsy did not quite understand, but she was at present interested in observing the changing lights. as daylight had given way to moonlight, so now starlight sat at the right hand of erma the queen, and with her coming a spirit of peace and content seemed to fill the room. polychrome, being herself a fairy, had many questions to ask about the various kings and queens who lived in this far-away, secluded place, and before erma had finished answering them a rosy glow filled the room and firelight took her place beside the queen. betsy liked firelight, but to gaze upon her warm and glowing features made the little girl sleepy, and presently she began to nod. thereupon erma rose and took betsy's hand gently in her own. "come," said she; "the feast time has arrived and the feast is spread." "that's nice," exclaimed the small mortal. "now that i think of it, i'm awful hungry. but p'raps i can't eat your fairy food." the queen smiled and led her to a doorway. as she pushed aside a heavy drapery a flood of silvery light greeted them, and betsy saw before her a splendid banquet hall, with a table spread with snowy linen and crystal and silver. at one side was a broad, throne-like seat for erma and beside her now sat the brilliant maid electra. polychrome was placed on the queen's right hand and betsy upon her left. the other five messengers of light now waited upon them, and each person was supplied with just the food she liked best. polychrome found her dish of dewdrops, all fresh and sparkling, while betsy was so lavishly served that she decided she had never in her life eaten a dinner half so good. "i s'pose," she said to the queen, "that miss electra is the youngest of all these girls." "why do you suppose that?" inquired erma, with a smile. "'cause electric'ty is the newest light we know of. didn't mr. edison discover it?" "perhaps he was the first mortal to discover it," replied the queen. "but electricity was a part of the world from its creation, and therefore my electra is as old as daylight or moonlight, and equally beneficent to mortals and fairies alike." betsy was thoughtful for a time. then she remarked, as she looked at the six messengers of light: "we couldn't very well do without any of 'em; could we?" erma laughed softly. "_i_ couldn't, i'm sure," she replied, "and i think mortals would miss any one of my maidens, as well. daylight cannot take the place of sunlight, which gives us strength and energy. moonlight is of value when daylight, worn out with her long watch, retires to rest. if the moon in its course is hidden behind the earth's rim, and my sweet moonlight cannot cheer us, starlight takes her place, for the skies always lend her power. without firelight we should miss much of our warmth and comfort, as well as much cheer when the walls of houses encompass us. but always, when other lights forsake us, our glorious electra is ready to flood us with bright rays. as queen of light, i love all my maidens, for i know them to be faithful and true." "i love 'em, too!" declared betsy. "but sometimes, when i'm _real_ sleepy, i can get along without any light at all." "are you sleepy now?" inquired erma, for the feast had ended. "a little," admitted the girl. so electra showed her to a pretty chamber where there was a soft, white bed, and waited patiently until betsy had undressed and put on a shimmery silken nightrobe that lay beside her pillow. then the light-maid bade her good night and opened the door. when she closed it after her betsy was in darkness. in six winks the little girl was fast asleep. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the jinjin's just judgment all the adventurers were reunited next morning when they were brought from various palaces to the residence of tititi-hoochoo and ushered into the great hall of state. as before, no one was visible except our friends and their escorts until the first bell sounded. then in a flash the room was seen to be filled with the beautiful kings and queens of the land. the second bell marked the appearance in the throne of the mighty jinjin, whose handsome countenance was as composed and expressionless as ever. all bowed low to the ruler. their voices softly murmured: "we greet the private citizen, mightiest of rulers, whose word is law and whose law is just." tititi-hoochoo bowed in acknowledgment. then, looking around the brilliant assemblage, and at the little group of adventurers before him, he said: "an unusual thing has happened. inhabitants of other lands than ours, who are different from ourselves in many ways, have been thrust upon us through the forbidden tube, which one of our people foolishly made years ago and was properly punished for his folly. but these strangers had no desire to come here and were wickedly thrust into the tube by a cruel king on the other side of the world, named ruggedo. this king is an immortal, but he is not good. his magic powers hurt mankind more than they benefit them. because he had unjustly kept the shaggy man's brother a prisoner, this little band of honest people, consisting of both mortals and immortals, determined to conquer ruggedo and to punish him. fearing they might succeed in this, the nome king misled them so that they fell into the tube. "now, this same ruggedo has been warned by me, many times, that if ever he used this forbidden tube in any way he would be severely punished. i find, by referring to the fairy records, that this king's servant, a nome named kaliko, begged his master not to do such a wrong act as to drop these people into the tube and send them tumbling into our country. but ruggedo defied me and my orders. "therefore these strangers are innocent of any wrong. it is only ruggedo who deserves punishment, and i will punish him." he paused a moment and then continued in the same cold, merciless voice: "these strangers must return through the tube to their own side of the world; but i will make their fall more easy and pleasant than it was before. also i shall send with them an instrument of vengeance, who in my name will drive ruggedo from his underground caverns, take away his magic powers and make him a homeless wanderer on the face of the earth--a place he detests." there was a little murmur of horror from the kings and queens at the severity of this punishment, but no one uttered a protest, for all realized that the sentence was just. "in selecting my instrument of vengeance," went on tititi-hoochoo, "i have realized that this will be an unpleasant mission. therefore no one of us who is blameless should be forced to undertake it. in this wonderful land it is seldom one is guilty of wrong, even in the slightest degree, and on examining the records i found no king or queen had erred. nor had any among their followers or servants done any wrong. but finally i came to the dragon family, which we highly respect, and then it was that i discovered the error of quox. "quox, as you well know, is a young dragon who has not yet acquired the wisdom of his race. because of this lack, he has been disrespectful toward his most ancient ancestor, the original dragon, telling him once to mind his own business and again saying that the ancient one had grown foolish with age. we are aware that dragons are not the same as fairies and cannot be altogether guided by our laws, yet such disrespect as quox has shown should not be unnoticed by us. therefore i have selected quox as my royal instrument of vengeance and he shall go through the tube with these people and inflict upon ruggedo the punishment i have decreed." all had listened quietly to this speech and now the kings and queens bowed gravely to signify their approval of the jinjin's judgment. tititi-hoochoo turned to tubekins. "i command you," said he, "to escort these strangers to the tube and see that they all enter it." the king of the tube, who had first discovered our friends and brought them to the private citizen, stepped forward and bowed. as he did so, the jinjin and all the kings and queens suddenly disappeared and only tubekins remained visible. "all right," said betsy, with a sigh; "i don't mind going back so _very_ much, 'cause the jinjin promised to make it easy for us." indeed, queen ann and her officers were the only ones who looked solemn and seemed to fear the return journey. one thing that bothered ann was her failure to conquer this land of tititi-hoochoo. as they followed their guide through the gardens to the mouth of the tube she said to shaggy: "how can i conquer the world, if i go away and leave this rich country unconquered?" "you can't," he replied. "don't ask me why, please, for if you don't know i can't inform you." "why not?" said ann; but shaggy paid no attention to the question. this end of the tube had a silver rim and around it was a gold railing to which was attached a sign that read: "if you are out, stay there. if you are in, don't come out." on a little silver plate just inside the tube was engraved the words: "_burrowed and built by hiergargo the magician, in the year of the world_ _for his own exclusive uses_." "he was some builder, i must say," remarked betsy, when she had read the inscription; "but if he had known about that star i guess he'd have spent his time playing solitaire." "well, what are we waiting for?" inquired shaggy, who was impatient to start. "quox," replied tubekins. "but i think i hear him coming." "is the young dragon invisible?" asked ann, who had never seen a live dragon and was a little fearful of meeting one. "no, indeed," replied the king of the tube. "you'll see him in a minute; but before you part company i'm sure you'll wish he _was_ invisible." "is he dangerous, then?" questioned files. "not at all. but quox tires me dreadfully," said tubekins, "and i prefer his room to his company." at that instant a scraping sound was heard, drawing nearer and nearer until from between two big bushes appeared a huge dragon, who approached the party, nodded his head and said: "good morning." had quox been at all bashful i am sure he would have felt uncomfortable at the astonished stare of every eye in the group-except tubekins, of course, who was not astonished because he had seen quox so often. betsy had thought a "young" dragon must be a small dragon, yet here was one so enormous that the girl decided he must be full grown, if not overgrown. his body was a lovely sky-blue in color and it was thickly set with glittering silver scales, each one as big as a serving-tray. around his neck was a pink ribbon with a bow just under his left ear, and below the ribbon appeared a chain of pearls to which was attached a golden locket about as large around as the end of a bass drum. this locket was set with many large and beautiful jewels. the head and face of quox were not especially ugly, when you consider that he was a dragon; but his eyes were so large that it took him a long time to wink and his teeth seemed very sharp and terrible when they showed, which they did whenever the beast smiled. also his nostrils were quite large and wide, and those who stood near him were liable to smell brimstone--especially when he breathed out fire, as it is the nature of dragons to do. to the end of his long tail was attached a big electric light. perhaps the most singular thing about the dragon's appearance at this time was the fact that he had a row of seats attached to his back, one seat for each member of the party. these seats were double, with curved backs, so that two could sit in them, and there were twelve of these double seats, all strapped firmly around the dragon's thick body and placed one behind the other, in a row that extended from his shoulders nearly to his tail. "aha!" exclaimed tubekins; "i see that tititi-hoochoo has transformed quox into a carryall." "i'm glad of that," said betsy. "i hope, mr. dragon, you won't mind our riding on your back." "not a bit," replied quox. "i'm in disgrace just now, you know, and the only way to redeem my good name is to obey the orders of the jinjin. if he makes me a beast of burden, it is only a part of my punishment, and i must bear it like a dragon. i don't blame you people at all, and i hope you'll enjoy the ride. hop on, please. all aboard for the other side of the world!" silently they took their places. hank sat in the front seat with betsy, so that he could rest his front hoofs upon the dragon's head. behind them were shaggy and polychrome, then files and the princess, and queen ann and tik-tok. the officers rode in the rear seats. when all had mounted to their places the dragon looked very like one of those sight-seeing wagons so common in big cities--only he had legs instead of wheels. "all ready?" asked quox, and when they said they were he crawled to the mouth of the tube and put his head in. "good-bye, and good luck to you!" called tubekins; but no one thought to reply, because just then the dragon slid his great body into the tube and the journey to the other side of the world had begun. at first they went so fast that they could scarcely catch their breaths, but presently quox slowed up and said with a sort of cackling laugh: "my scales! but that is some tumble. i think i shall take it easy and fall slower, or i'm likely to get dizzy. is it very far to the other side of the world?" "haven't you ever been through this tube before?" inquired shaggy. "never. nor has anyone else in our country; at least, not since i was born." "how long ago was that?" asked betsy. "that i was born? oh, not very long ago. i'm only a mere child. if i had not been sent on this journey, i would have celebrated my three thousand and fifty-sixth birthday next thursday. mother was going to make me a birthday cake with three thousand and fifty-six candles on it; but now, of course, there will be no celebration, for i fear i shall not get home in time for it." "three thousand and fifty-six years!" cried betsy. "why, i had no idea anything could live that long!" "my respected ancestor, whom i would call a stupid old humbug if i had not reformed, is so old that i am a mere baby compared with him," said quox. "he dates from the beginning of the world, and insists on telling us stories of things that happened fifty thousand years ago, which are of no interest at all to youngsters like me. in fact, grandpa isn't up to date. he lives altogether in the past, so i can't see any good reason for his being alive to-day.... are you people able to see your way, or shall i turn on more light?' "oh, we can see very nicely, thank you; only there's nothing to see but ourselves," answered betsy. this was true. the dragon's big eyes were like headlights on an automobile and illuminated the tube far ahead of them. also he curled his tail upward so that the electric light on the end of it enabled them to see one another quite clearly. but the tube itself was only dark metal, smooth as glass but exactly the same from one of its ends to the other. therefore there was no scenery of interest to beguile the journey. they were now falling so gently that the trip was proving entirely comfortable, as the jinjin had promised it would be; but this meant a longer journey and the only way they could make time pass was to engage in conversation. the dragon seemed a willing and persistent talker and he was of so much interest to them that they encouraged him to chatter. his voice was a little gruff but not unpleasant when one became used to it. "my only fear," said he presently, "is that this constant sliding over the surface of the tube will dull my claws. you see, this hole isn't straight down, but on a steep slant, and so instead of tumbling freely through the air i must skate along the tube. fortunately, there is a file in my tool-kit, and if my claws get dull they can be sharpened again." "why do you want sharp claws?" asked betsy. "they are my natural weapons, and you must not forget that i have been sent to conquer ruggedo." "oh, you needn't mind about that," remarked queen ann, in her most haughty manner; "for when we get to ruggedo i and my invincible army can conquer him without your assistance." "very good," returned the dragon, cheerfully. "that will save me a lot of bother--if you succeed. but i think i shall file my claws, just the same." he gave a long sigh, as he said this, and a sheet of flame, several feet in length, shot from his mouth. betsy shuddered and hank said "hee-haw!" while some of the officers screamed in terror. but the dragon did not notice that he had done anything unusual. "is there fire inside of you?" asked shaggy. "of course," answered quox. "what sort of a dragon would i be if my fire went out?" "what keeps it going?" betsy inquired. "i've no idea. i only know it's there," said quox. "the fire keeps me alive and enables me to move; also to think and speak." "ah! you are ver-y much like my-self," said tik-tok. "the on-ly dif-fer-ence is that i move by clock-work, while you move by fire." "i don't see a particle of likeness between us, i must confess," retorted quox, gruffly. "you are not a live thing; you're a dummy." "but i can do things, you must ad-mit," said tik-tok. "yes, when you are wound up," sneered the dragon. "but if you run down, you are helpless." "what would happen to you, quox, if you ran out of gasoline?" inquired shaggy, who did not like this attack upon his friend. "i don't use gasoline." "well, suppose you ran out of fire." "what's the use of supposing that?" asked quox. "my great-great-great-grandfather has lived since the world began, and he has never once run out of fire to keep him going. but i will confide to you that as he gets older he shows more smoke and less fire. as for tik-tok, he's well enough in his way, but he's merely copper. and the metal monarch knows copper through and through. i wouldn't be surprised if ruggedo melted tik-tok in one of his furnaces and made copper pennies of him." "in that case, i would still keep going," remarked tik-tok, calmly. "pennies do," said betsy regretfully. "this is all nonsense," said the queen, with irritation. "tik-tok is my great army--all but the officers--and i believe he will be able to conquer ruggedo with ease. what do you think, polychrome?" "you might let him try," answered the rainbow's daughter, with her sweet ringing laugh, that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells. "and if tik-tok fails, you have still the big fire-breathing dragon to fall back on." "ah!" said the dragon, another sheet of flame gushing from his mouth and nostrils; "it's a wise little girl, this polychrome. anyone would know she is a fairy." [illustration] [illustration] chapter the long-eared hearer learns by listening during this time ruggedo, the metal monarch and king of the nomes, was trying to amuse himself in his splendid jeweled cavern. it was hard work for ruggedo to find amusement to-day, for all the nomes were behaving well and there was no one to scold or to punish. the king had thrown his sceptre at kaliko six times, without hitting him once. not that kaliko had done anything wrong. on the contrary, he had obeyed the king in every way but one: he would not stand still, when commanded to do so, and let the heavy sceptre strike him. we can hardly blame kaliko for this, and even the cruel ruggedo forgave him; for he knew very well that if he mashed his royal chamberlain he could never find another so intelligent and obedient. kaliko could make the nomes work when their king could not, for the nomes hated ruggedo and there were so many thousands of the quaint little underground people that they could easily have rebelled and defied the king had they dared to do so. sometimes, when ruggedo abused them worse than usual, they grew sullen and threw down their hammers and picks. then, however hard the king scolded or whipped them, they would not work until kaliko came and begged them to. for kaliko was one of themselves and was as much abused by the king as any nome in the vast series of caverns. but to-day all the little people were working industriously at their tasks and ruggedo, having nothing to do, was greatly bored. he sent for the long-eared hearer and asked him to listen carefully and report what was going on in the big world. "it seems," said the hearer, after listening for awhile, "that the women in america have clubs." "are there spikes in them?" asked ruggedo, yawning. "i cannot hear any spikes, your majesty," was the reply. "then their clubs are not as good as my sceptre. what else do you hear?" "there's a war." "bah! there's always a war. what else?" for a time the hearer was silent, bending forward and spreading out his big ears to catch the slightest sound. then suddenly he said: "here is an interesting thing, your majesty. these people are arguing as to who shall conquer the metal monarch, seize his treasure and drive him from his dominions." "what people?" demanded ruggedo, sitting up straight in his throne. "the ones you threw down the hollow tube." "where are they now?" "in the same tube, and coming back this way," said the hearer. ruggedo got out of his throne and began to pace up and down the cavern. "i wonder what can be done to stop them," he mused. "well," said the hearer, "if you could turn the tube upside down, they would be falling the other way, your majesty." ruggedo glared at him wickedly, for it was impossible to turn the tube upside down and he believed the hearer was slyly poking fun at him. presently he asked: "how far away are those people now?" "about nine thousand three hundred and six miles, seventeen furlongs, eight feet and four inches--as nearly as i can judge from the sound of their voices," replied the hearer. "aha! then it will be some time before they arrive," said ruggedo, "and when they get here i shall be ready to receive them." he rushed to his gong and pounded upon it so fiercely that kaliko came bounding into the cavern with one shoe off and one shoe on, for he was just dressing himself after a swim in the hot bubbling lake of the underground kingdom. "kaliko, those invaders whom we threw down the tube are coming back again!" he exclaimed. "i thought they would," said the royal chamberlain, pulling on the other shoe. "tititi-hoochoo would not allow them to remain in his kingdom, of course, and so i've been expecting them back for some time. that was a very foolish action of yours, rug." "what, to throw them down the tube?" "yes. tititi-hoochoo has forbidden us to throw even rubbish into the tube." "pooh! what do i care for the jinjin?" asked ruggedo scornfully. "he never leaves his own kingdom, which is on the other side of the world." "true; but he might send some one through the tube to punish you," suggested kaliko. "i'd like to see him do it! who could conquer my thousands of nomes?" "why, they've been conquered before, if i remember aright," answered kaliko with a grin. "once i saw you running from a little girl named dorothy, and her friends, as if you were really afraid." "well, i _was_ afraid, that time," admitted the nome king, with a deep sigh, "for dorothy had a yellow hen that laid eggs!" the king shuddered as he said "eggs," and kaliko also shuddered, and so did the long-eared hearer; for eggs are the only things that the nomes greatly dread. the reason for this is that eggs belong on the earth's surface, where birds and fowl of all sorts live, and there is something about a hen's egg, especially, that fills a nome with horror. if by chance the inside of an egg touches one of these underground people, he withers up and blows away and that is the end of him--unless he manages quickly to speak a magical word which only a few of the nomes know. therefore ruggedo and his followers had very good cause to shudder at the mere mention of eggs. "but dorothy," said the king, "is not with this band of invaders; nor is the yellow hen. as for tititi-hoochoo, he has no means of knowing that we are afraid of eggs." "you mustn't be too sure of that," kaliko warned him. "tititi-hoochoo knows a great many things, being a fairy, and his powers are far superior to any we can boast." ruggedo shrugged impatiently and turned to the hearer. "listen," said he, "and tell me if you hear any eggs coming through the tube." the long-eared one listened and then shook his head. but kaliko laughed at the king. "no one can hear an egg, your majesty," said he. "the only way to discover the truth is to look through the magic spyglass." "that's it!" cried the king. "why didn't i think of it before? look at once, kaliko!" so kaliko went to the spyglass and by uttering a mumbled charm he caused the other end of it to twist around, so that it pointed down the opening of the tube. then he put his eye to the glass and was able to gaze along all the turns and windings of the magic spyglass and then deep into the tube, to where our friends were at that time falling. "dear me!" he exclaimed. "here comes a dragon." "a big one?" asked ruggedo. "a monster. he has an electric light on the end of his tail, so i can see him very plainly. and the other people are all riding upon his back." "how about the eggs?" inquired the king. kaliko looked again. [illustration] "i can see no eggs at all," said he; "but i imagine that the dragon is as dangerous as eggs. probably tititi-hoochoo has sent him here to punish you for dropping those strangers into the forbidden tube. i warned you not to do it, your majesty." this news made the nome king anxious. for a few minutes he paced up and down, stroking his long beard and thinking with all his might. after this he turned to kaliko and said: "all the harm a dragon can do is to scratch with his claws and bite with his teeth." "that is not all, but it's quite enough," returned kaliko earnestly. "on the other hand, no one can hurt a dragon, because he's the toughest creature alive. one flop of his huge tail could smash a hundred nomes to pancakes, and with teeth and claws he could tear even you or me into small bits, so that it would be almost impossible to put us together again. once, a few hundred years ago, while wandering through some deserted caverns, i came upon a small piece of a nome lying on the rocky floor. i asked the piece of nome what had happened to it. fortunately the mouth was a part of this piece--the mouth and the left eye--so it was able to tell me that a fierce dragon was the cause. it had attacked the poor nome and scattered him in every direction, and as there was no friend near to collect his pieces and put him together, they had been separated for a great many years. so you see, your majesty, it is not in good taste to sneer at a dragon." the king had listened attentively to kaliko. said he: "it will only be necessary to chain this dragon which tititi-hoochoo has sent here, in order to prevent his reaching us with his claws and teeth." "he also breathes flames," kaliko reminded him. "my nomes are not afraid of fire, nor am i," said ruggedo. "well, how about the army of oogaboo?" "sixteen cowardly officers and tik-tok! why, i could defeat them single-handed; but i won't try to. i'll summon my army of nomes to drive the invaders out of my territory, and if we catch any of them i intend to stick needles into them until they hop with pain." "i hope you won't hurt any of the girls," said kaliko. "i'll hurt 'em all!" roared the angry metal monarch. "and that braying mule i'll make into hoof-soup, and feed it to my nomes, that it may add to their strength." "why not be good to the strangers and release your prisoner, the shaggy man's brother?" suggested kaliko. "never!" "it may save you a lot of annoyance. and you don't want the ugly one." "i don't want him; that's true. but i won't allow anybody to order me around. i'm king of the nomes and i'm the metal monarch, and i shall do as i please and what i please and when i please!" with this speech ruggedo threw his sceptre at kaliko's head, aiming it so well that the royal chamberlain had to fall flat upon the floor in order to escape it. but the hearer did not see the sceptre coming and it swept past his head so closely that it broke off the tip of one of his long ears. he gave a dreadful yell that quite startled ruggedo, and the king was sorry for the accident because those long ears of the hearer were really valuable to him. so the nome king forgot to be angry with kaliko and ordered his chamberlain to summon general guph and the army of nomes and have them properly armed. they were then to march to the mouth of the tube, where they could seize the travelers as soon as they appeared. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the dragon defies danger although the journey through the tube was longer, this time, than before, it was so much more comfortable that none of our friends minded it at all. they talked together most of the time and as they found the dragon good-natured and fond of the sound of his own voice they soon became well acquainted with him and accepted him as a companion. "you see," said shaggy, in his frank way, "quox is on our side, and therefore the dragon is a good fellow. if he happened to be an enemy, instead of a friend, i am sure i should dislike him very much, for his breath smells of brimstone, he is very conceited and he is so strong and fierce that he would prove a dangerous foe." "yes, indeed," returned quox, who had listened to this speech with pleasure; "i suppose i am about as terrible as any living thing. i am glad you find me conceited, for that proves i know my good qualities. as for my breath smelling of brimstone, i really can't help it, and i once met a man whose breath smelled of onions, which i consider far worse." "i don't," said betsy; "i love onions." "and i love brimstone," declared the dragon, "so don't let us quarrel over one another's peculiarities." saying this, he breathed a long breath and shot a flame fifty feet from his mouth. the brimstone made betsy cough, but she remembered about the onions and said nothing. they had no idea how far they had gone through the center of the earth, nor when to expect the trip to end. at one time the little girl remarked: "i wonder when we'll reach the bottom of this hole. and isn't it funny, shaggy man, that what is the bottom to us now, was the top when we fell the other way?" "what puzzles me," said files, "is that we are able to fall both ways." "that," announced tik-tok, "is be-cause the world is round." "exactly," responded shaggy. "the machinery in your head is in fine working order, tik-tok. you know, betsy, that there is such a thing as the attraction of gravitation, which draws everything toward the center of the earth. that is why we fall out of bed, and why everything clings to the surface of the earth." "then why doesn't everything go on down to the center of the earth?" inquired the little girl. "i was afraid you were going to ask me that," replied shaggy in a sad tone. "the reason, my dear, is that the earth is so solid that other solid things can't get through it. but when there's a hole, as there is in this case, we drop right down to the center of the world." "why don't we stop there?" asked betsy. "because we go so fast that we acquire speed enough to carry us right up to the other end." "i don't understand that, and it makes my head ache to try to figure it out," she said after some thought. "one thing draws us to the center and another thing pushes us away from it. but--" "don't ask me why, please," interrupted the shaggy man. "if you can't understand it, let it go at that." "do _you_ understand it?" she inquired. "all the magic isn't in fairyland," he said gravely. "there's lots of magic in all nature, and you may see it as well in the united states, where you and i once lived, as you can here." "i never did," she replied. "because you were so used to it all that you didn't realize it was magic. is anything more wonderful than to see a flower grow and blossom, or to get light out of the electricity in the air? the cows that manufacture milk for us must have machinery fully as remarkable as that in tik-tok's copper body, and perhaps you've noticed that--" and then, before shaggy could finish his speech, the strong light of day suddenly broke upon them, grew brighter, and completely enveloped them. the dragon's claws no longer scraped against the metal tube, for he shot into the open air a hundred feet or more and sailed so far away from the slanting hole that when he landed it was on the peak of a mountain and just over the entrance to the many underground caverns of the nome king. some of the officers tumbled off their seats when quox struck the ground, but most of the dragon's passengers only felt a slight jar. all were glad to be on solid earth again and they at once dismounted and began to look about them. queerly enough, as soon as they had left the dragon, the seats that were strapped to the monster's back disappeared, and this probably happened because there was no further use for them and because quox looked far more dignified in just his silver scales. of course he still wore the forty yards of ribbon around his neck, as well as the great locket, but these only made him look "dressed up," as betsy remarked. [illustration] now the army of nomes had gathered thickly around the mouth of the tube, in order to be ready to capture the band of invaders as soon as they popped out. there were, indeed, hundreds of nomes assembled, and they were led by guph, their most famous general. but they did not expect the dragon to fly so high, and he shot out of the tube so suddenly that it took them by surprise. when the nomes had rubbed the astonishment out of their eyes and regained their wits, they discovered the dragon quietly seated on the mountain-side far above their heads, while the other strangers were standing in a group and calmly looking down upon them. general guph was very angry at the escape, which was no one's fault but his own. "come down here and be captured!" he shouted, waving his sword at them. "come up here and capture us--if you dare!" replied queen ann, who was winding up the clockwork of her private soldier, so he could fight more briskly. guph's first answer was a roar of rage at the defiance; then he turned and issued a command to his nomes. these were all armed with sharp spears and with one accord they raised these spears and threw them straight at their foes, so that they rushed through the air in a perfect cloud of flying weapons. some damage might have been done had not the dragon quickly crawled before the others, his body being so big that it shielded every one of them, including hank. the spears rattled against the silver scales of quox and then fell harmlessly to the ground. they were magic spears, of course, and all straightway bounded back into the hands of those who had thrown them, but even guph could see that it was useless to repeat the attack. it was now queen ann's turn to attack, so the generals yelled "for--ward march!" and the colonels and majors and captains repeated the command and the valiant army of oogaboo, which seemed to be composed mainly of tik-tok, marched forward in single column toward the nomes, while betsy and polychrome cheered and hank gave a loud "hee-haw!" and shaggy shouted "hooray!" and queen ann screamed: "at 'em, tik-tok--at 'em!" the nomes did not await the clockwork man's attack but in a twinkling disappeared into the underground caverns. they made a great mistake in being so hasty, for tik-tok had not taken a dozen steps before he stubbed his copper toe on a rock and fell flat to the ground, where he cried: "pick me up! pick me up! pick me up!" until shaggy and files ran forward and raised him to his feet again. the dragon chuckled softly to himself as he scratched his left ear with his hind claw, but no one was paying much attention to quox just then. it was evident to ann and her officers that there could be no fighting unless the enemy was present, and in order to find the enemy they must boldly enter the underground kingdom of the nomes. so bold a step demanded a council of war. "don't you think i'd better drop in on ruggedo and obey the orders of the jinjin?" asked quox. "by no means!" returned queen ann. "we have already put the army of nomes to flight and all that yet remains is to force our way into those caverns and conquer the nome king and all his people." "that seems to me something of a job," said the dragon, closing his eyes sleepily. "but go ahead, if you like, and i'll wait here for you. don't be in any hurry on my account. to one who lives thousands of years the delay of a few days means nothing at all, and i shall probably sleep until the time comes for me to act." ann was provoked at this speech. "you may as well go back to tititi-hoochoo now," she said, "for the nome king is as good as conquered already." but quox shook his head. "no," said he; "i'll wait." [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] chapter the naughty nome shaggy man had said nothing during the conversation between queen ann and quox, for the simple reason that he did not consider the matter worth an argument. safe within his pocket reposed the love magnet, which had never failed to win every heart. the nomes, he knew, were not like the heartless roses and therefore could be won to his side as soon as he exhibited the magic talisman. shaggy's chief anxiety had been to reach ruggedo's kingdom and now that the entrance lay before him he was confident he would be able to rescue his lost brother. let ann and the dragon quarrel as to who should conquer the nomes, if they liked; shaggy would let them try, and if they failed he had the means of conquest in his own pocket. but ann was positive she could not fail, for she thought her army could do anything. so she called the officers together and told them how to act, and she also instructed tik-tok what to do and what to say. "please do not shoot your gun except as a last resort," she added, "for i do not wish to be cruel or to shed any blood--unless it is absolutely necessary." "all right," replied tik-tok; "but i do not think rug-ge-do would bleed if i filled him full of holes and put him in a ci-der press." then the officers fell in line, the four generals abreast and then the four colonels and the four majors and the four captains. they drew their glittering swords and commanded tik-tok to march, which he did. twice he fell down, being tripped by the rough rocks, but when he struck the smooth path he got along better. into the gloomy mouth of the cavern entrance he stepped without hesitation, and after him proudly pranced the officers and queen ann. the others held back a little, waiting to see what would happen. of course the nome king knew they were coming and was prepared to receive them. just within the rocky passage that led to the jeweled throne-room was a deep pit, which was usually covered. ruggedo had ordered the cover removed and it now stood open, scarcely visible in the gloom. the pit was so large around that it nearly filled the passage and there was barely room for one to walk around it by pressing close to the rock walls. this tik-tok did, for his copper eyes saw the pit clearly and he avoided it; but the officers marched straight into the hole and tumbled in a heap on the bottom. an instant later queen ann also walked into the pit, for she had her chin in the air and was careless where she placed her feet. then one of the nomes pulled a lever which replaced the cover on the pit and made the officers of oogaboo and their queen fast prisoners. as for tik-tok, he kept straight on to the cavern where ruggedo sat in his throne and there he faced the nome king and said: "i here-by con-quer you in the name of queen ann so-forth of oo-ga-boo, whose ar-my i am, and i de-clare that you are her pris-on-er!" ruggedo laughed at him. "where is this famous queen?" he asked. "she'll be here in a min-ute," said tik-tok. "per-haps she stopped to tie her shoe-string." "now, see here, tik-tok," began the nome king, in a stern voice, "i've had enough of this nonsense. your queen and her officers are all prisoners, having fallen into my power, so perhaps you'll tell me what you mean to do." [illustration] "my or-ders were to con-quer you," replied tik-tok, "and my ma-chin-er-y has done the best it knows how to car-ry out those or-ders." ruggedo pounded on his gong and kaliko appeared, followed closely by general guph. "take this copper man into the shops and set him to work hammering gold," commanded the king. "being run by machinery he ought to be a steady worker. he ought never to have been made, but since he exists i shall hereafter put him to good use." "if you try to cap-ture me," said tik-tok, "i shall fight." "don't do that!" exclaimed general guph, earnestly, "for it will be useless to resist and you might hurt some one." but tik-tok raised his gun and took aim and not knowing what damage the gun might do the nomes were afraid to face it. while he was thus defying the nome king and his high officials, betsy bobbin rode calmly into the royal cavern, seated upon the back of hank the mule. the little girl had grown tired of waiting for "something to happen" and so had come to see if ruggedo had been conquered. "nails and nuggets!" roared the king; "how dare you bring that beast here and enter my presence unannounced?" "there wasn't anybody to announce me," replied betsy. "i guess your folks were all busy. are you conquered yet?" "no!" shouted the king, almost beside himself with rage. "then please give me something to eat, for i'm awful hungry," said the girl. "you see, this conquering business is a good deal like waiting for a circus parade; it takes a long time to get around and don't amount to much anyhow." the nomes were so much astonished at this speech that for a time they could only glare at her silently, not finding words to reply. the king finally recovered the use of his tongue and said: "earth-crawler! this insolence to my majesty shall be your death-warrant. you are an ordinary mortal, and to stop a mortal from living is so easy a thing to do that i will not keep you waiting half so long as you did for my conquest." "i'd rather you wouldn't stop me from living," remarked betsy, getting off hank's back and standing beside him. "and it would be a pretty cheap king who killed a visitor while she was hungry. if you'll give me something to eat, i'll talk this killing business over with you afterward; only, i warn you now that i don't approve of it, and never will." her coolness and lack of fear impressed the nome king, although he bore an intense hatred toward all mortals. "what do you wish to eat?" he asked gruffly. "oh, a ham-sandwich would do, or perhaps a couple of hard-boiled eggs--" "eggs!" shrieked the three nomes who were present, shuddering till their teeth chattered. "what's the matter?" asked betsy wonderingly. "are eggs as high here as they are at home?" "guph," said the king in an agitated voice, turning to his general, "let us destroy this rash mortal at once! seize her and take her to the slimy cave and lock her in." guph glanced at tik-tok, whose gun was still pointed, but just then kaliko stole softly behind the copper man and kicked his knee-joints so that they suddenly bent forward and tumbled tik-tok to the floor, his gun falling from his grasp. then guph, seeing tik-tok helpless, made a grab at betsy. at the same time hank's heels shot out and caught the general just where his belt was buckled. he rose into the air swift as a cannon-ball, struck the nome king fairly and flattened his majesty against the wall of rock on the opposite side of the cavern. together they fell to the floor in a dazed and crumpled condition, seeing which kaliko whispered to betsy: "come with me--quick!--and i will save you." she looked into kaliko's face inquiringly and thought he seemed honest and good-natured, so she decided to follow him. he led her and the mule through several passages and into a small cavern very nicely and comfortably furnished. "this is my own room," said he, "but you are quite welcome to use it. wait here a minute and i'll get you something to eat." when kaliko returned he brought a tray containing some broiled mushrooms, a loaf of mineral bread and some petroleum-butter. the butter betsy could not eat, but the bread was good and the mushrooms delicious. "here's the door key," said kaliko, "and you'd better lock yourself in." "won't you let polychrome and the rose princess come here, too?" she asked. "i'll see. where are they?" "i don't know. i left them outside," said betsy. "well, if you hear three raps on the door, open it," said kaliko; "but don't let anyone in unless they give the three raps." "all right," promised betsy, and when kaliko left the cosy cavern she closed and locked the door. in the meantime ann and her officers, finding themselves prisoners in the pit, had shouted and screamed until they were tired out, but no one had come to their assistance. it was very dark and damp in the pit and they could not climb out because the walls were higher than their heads and the cover was on. the queen was first angry and then annoyed and then discouraged; but the officers were only afraid. every one of the poor fellows heartily wished he was back in oogaboo caring for his orchard, and some were so unhappy that they began to reproach ann for causing them all this trouble and danger. finally the queen sat down on the bottom of the pit and leaned her back against the wall. by good luck her sharp elbow touched a secret spring in the wall and a big flat rock swung inward. ann fell over backward, but the next instant she jumped up and cried to the others: "a passage! a passage! follow me, my brave men, and we may yet escape." then she began to crawl through the passage, which was as dark and dank as the pit, and the officers followed her in single file. they crawled, and they crawled, and they kept on crawling, for the passage was not big enough to allow them to stand upright. it turned this way and twisted that, sometimes like a corkscrew and sometimes zigzag, but seldom ran for long in a straight line. "it will never end--never!" moaned the officers, who were rubbing all the skin off their knees on the rough rocks. "it _must_ end," retorted ann courageously, "or it never would have been made. we don't know where it will lead us to, but any place is better than that loathsome pit." so she crawled on, and the officers crawled on, and while they were crawling through this awful underground passage polychrome and shaggy and files and the rose princess, who were standing outside the entrance to ruggedo's domains, were wondering what had become of them. [illustration] chapter a tragic transformation "don't let us worry," said shaggy to his companions, "for it may take the queen some time to conquer the metal monarch, as tik-tok has to do everything in his slow, mechanical way." "do you suppose they are likely to fail?" asked the rose princess. "i do, indeed," replied shaggy. "this nome king is really a powerful fellow and has a legion of nomes to assist him, whereas our bold queen commands a clockwork man and a band of faint-hearted officers." "she ought to have let quox do the conquering," said polychrome, dancing lightly upon a point of rock and fluttering her beautiful draperies. "but perhaps the dragon was wise to let her go first, for when she fails to conquer ruggedo she may become more modest in her ambitions." "where is the dragon now?" inquired ozga. "up there on the rocks," replied files. "look, my dear; you may see him from here. he said he would take a little nap while we were mixing up with ruggedo, and he added that after we had gotten into trouble he would wake up and conquer the nome king in a jiffy, as his master the jinjin has ordered him to do." "quox means well," said shaggy, "but i do not think we shall need his services; for just as soon as i am satisfied that queen ann and her army have failed to conquer ruggedo, i shall enter the caverns and show the king my love magnet. that he cannot resist; therefore the conquest will be made with ease." this speech of shaggy man's was overheard by the long-eared hearer, who was at that moment standing by ruggedo's side. for when the king and guph had recovered from hank's kick and had picked themselves up, their first act was to turn tik-tok on his back and put a heavy diamond on top of him, so that he could not get up again. then they carefully put his gun in a corner of the cavern and the king sent guph to fetch the long-eared hearer. [illustration] the hearer was still angry at ruggedo for breaking his ear, but he acknowledged the nome king to be his master and was ready to obey his commands. therefore he repeated shaggy's speech to the king, who at once realized that his kingdom was in grave danger. for ruggedo knew of the love magnet and its powers and was horrified at the thought that shaggy might show him the magic talisman and turn all the hatred in his heart into love. ruggedo was proud of his hatred and abhorred love of any sort. "really," said he, "i'd rather be conquered and lose my wealth and my kingdom than gaze at that awful love magnet. what can i do to prevent the shaggy man from taking it out of his pocket?" kaliko returned to the cavern in time to overhear this question, and being a loyal nome and eager to serve his king, he answered by saying: "if we can manage to bind the shaggy man's arms, tight to his body, he could not get the love magnet out of his pocket. "true!" cried the king in delight at this easy solution of the problem. "get at once a dozen nomes, with ropes, and place them in the passage where they can seize and bind shaggy as soon as he enters." this kaliko did, and meanwhile the watchers outside the entrance were growing more and more uneasy about their friends. "i don't worry so much about the oogaboo people," said polychrome, who had grown sober with waiting, and perhaps a little nervous, "for they could not be killed, even though ruggedo might cause them much suffering and perhaps destroy them utterly. but we should not have allowed betsy and hank to go alone into the caverns. the little girl is mortal and possesses no magic powers whatever, so if ruggedo captures her she will be wholly at his mercy." "that is indeed true," replied shaggy. "i wouldn't like to have anything happen to dear little betsy, so i believe i'll go in right away and put an end to all this worry." "we may as well go with you," asserted files, "for by means of the love magnet you can soon bring the nome king to reason." so it was decided to wait no longer. shaggy walked through the entrance first, and after him came the others. they had no thought of danger to themselves, and shaggy, who was going along with his hands thrust into his pockets, was much surprised when a rope shot out from the darkness and twined around his body, pinning down his arms so securely that he could not even withdraw his hands from the pockets. then appeared several grinning nomes, who speedily tied knots in the ropes and then led the prisoner along the passage to the cavern. no attention was paid to the others, but files and the princess followed on after shaggy, determined not to desert their friend and hoping that an opportunity might arise to rescue him. as for polychrome, as soon as she saw that trouble had overtaken shaggy she turned and ran lightly back through the passage and out of the entrance. then she easily leaped from rock to rock until she paused beside the great dragon, who lay fast asleep. "wake up, quox!" she cried. "it is time for you to act." but quox did not wake up. he lay as one in a trance, absolutely motionless, with his enormous eyes tight closed. the eyelids had big silver scales on them, like all the rest of his body. polychrome might have thought quox was dead had she not known that dragons do not die easily or had she not observed his huge body swelling as he breathed. she picked up a piece of rock and pounded against his eyelids with it, saying: "wake up, quox--wake up!" but he would not waken. "dear me, how unfortunate!" sighed the lovely rainbow's daughter. "i wonder what is the best and surest way to waken a dragon. all our friends may be captured and destroyed while this great beast lies asleep." [illustration] she walked around quox two or three times, trying to discover some tender place on his body where a thump or a punch might be felt; but he lay extended along the rocks with his chin flat upon the ground and his legs drawn underneath his body, and all that one could see was his thick sky-blue skin--thicker than that of a rhinoceros--and his silver scales. then, despairing at last of wakening the beast, and worried over the fate of her friends, polychrome again ran down to the entrance and hurried along the passage into the nome king's cavern. here she found ruggedo lolling in his throne and smoking a long pipe. beside him stood general guph and kaliko, and ranged before the king were the rose princess, files and the shaggy man. tik-tok still lay upon the floor weighted down by the big diamond. ruggedo was now in a more contented frame of mind. one by one he had met the invaders and easily captured them. the dreaded love magnet was indeed in shaggy's pocket, only a few feet away from the king, but shaggy was powerless to show it and unless ruggedo's eyes beheld the talisman it could not affect him. as for betsy bobbin and her mule, he believed kaliko had placed them in the slimy cave, while ann and her officers he thought safely imprisoned in the pit. ruggedo had no fear of files or ozga, but to be on the safe side he had ordered golden handcuffs placed upon their wrists. these did not cause them any great annoyance but prevented them from making an attack, had they been inclined to do so. the nome king, thinking himself wholly master of the situation, was laughing and jeering at his prisoners when polychrome, exquisitely beautiful and dancing like a ray of light, entered the cavern. "oho!" cried the king; "a rainbow under ground, eh?" and then he stared hard at polychrome, and still harder, and then he sat up and pulled the wrinkles out of his robe and arranged his whiskers. "on my word," said he, "you are a very captivating creature; moreover, i perceive you are a fairy." "i am polychrome, the rainbow's daughter," she said proudly. "well," replied ruggedo, "i like you. the others i hate. i hate everybody--but you! wouldn't you like to live always in this beautiful cavern, polychrome? see! the jewels that stud the walls have every tint and color of your rainbow--and they are not so elusive. i'll have fresh dewdrops gathered for your feasting every day and you shall be queen of all my nomes and pull kaliko's nose whenever you like." "no, thank you," laughed polychrome. "my home is in the sky, and i'm only on a visit to this solid, sordid earth. but tell me, ruggedo, why my friends have been wound with cords and bound with chains?" "they threatened me," answered ruggedo. "the fools did not know how powerful i am." "then, since they are now helpless, why not release them and send them back to the earth's surface?" "because i hate 'em and mean to make 'em suffer for their invasion. but i'll make a bargain with you, sweet polly. remain here and live with me and i'll set all these people free. you shall be my daughter or my wife or my aunt or grandmother--whichever you like--only stay here to brighten my gloomy kingdom and make me happy!" polychrome looked at him wonderingly. then she turned to shaggy and asked: "are you sure he hasn't seen the love magnet?" "i'm positive," answered shaggy. "but you seem to be something of a love magnet yourself, polychrome." she laughed again and said to ruggedo: "not even to rescue my friends would i live in your kingdom. nor could i endure for long the society of such a wicked monster as you." "you forget," retorted the king, scowling darkly, "that you also are in my power." "not so, ruggedo. the rainbow's daughter is beyond the reach of your spite or malice." "seize her!" suddenly shouted the king, and general guph sprang forward to obey. polychrome stood quite still, yet when guph attempted to clutch her his hands met in air, and now the rainbow's daughter was in another part of the room, as smiling and composed as before. [illustration] several times guph endeavored to capture her and ruggedo even came down from his throne to assist his general; but never could they lay hands upon the lovely sky fairy, who flitted here and there with the swiftness of light and constantly defied them with her merry laughter as she evaded their efforts. so after a time they abandoned the chase and ruggedo returned to his throne and wiped the perspiration from his face with a finely-woven handkerchief of cloth-of-gold. "well," said polychrome, "what do you intend to do now?" "i'm going to have some fun, to repay me for all my bother," replied the nome king. then he said to kaliko: "summon the executioners." kaliko at once withdrew and presently returned with a score of nomes, all of whom were nearly as evil looking as their hated master. they bore great golden pincers, and prods of silver, and clamps and chains and various wicked-looking instruments, all made of precious metals and set with diamonds and rubies. "now, pang," said ruggedo, addressing the leader of the executioners, "fetch the army of oogaboo and their queen from the pit and torture them here in my presence--as well as in the presence of their friends. it will be great sport." "i hear your majesty, and i obey your majesty," answered pang, and went with his nomes into the passage. in a few minutes he returned and bowed to ruggedo. "they're all gone," said he. "gone!" exclaimed the nome king. "gone where?" "they left no address, your majesty; but they are not in the pit." "picks and puddles!" roared the king; "who took the cover off?" "no one," said pang. "the cover was there, but the prisoners were not under it." "in that case," snarled the king, trying to control his disappointment, "go to the slimy cave and fetch hither the girl and the donkey. and while we are torturing them kaliko must take a hundred nomes and search for the escaped prisoners--the queen of oogaboo and her officers. if he does not find them, i will torture kaliko." kaliko went away looking sad and disturbed, for he knew the king was cruel and unjust enough to carry out this threat. pang and the executioners also went away, in another direction, but when they came back betsy bobbin was not with them, nor was hank. "there is no one in the slimy cave, your majesty," reported pang. "jumping jellycakes!" screamed the king. "another escape? are you sure you found the right cave?" "there is but one slimy cave, and there is no one in it," returned pang positively. ruggedo was beginning to be alarmed as well as angry. however, these disappointments but made him the more vindictive and he cast an evil look at the other prisoners and said: "never mind the girl and the donkey. here are four, at least, who cannot escape my vengeance. let me see; i believe i'll change my mind about tik-tok. have the gold crucible heated to a white, seething heat, and then we'll dump the copper man into it and melt him up." "but, your majesty," protested kaliko, who had returned to the room after sending a hundred nomes to search for the oogaboo people, "you must remember that tik-tok is a very curious and interesting machine. it would be a shame to deprive the world of such a clever contrivance." "say another word, and you'll go into the furnace with him!" roared the king. "i'm getting tired of you, kaliko, and the first thing you know i'll turn you into a potato and make saratoga-chips of you! the next to consider," he added more mildly, "is the shaggy man. as he owns the love magnet, i think i'll transform him into a dove, and then we can practice shooting at him with tik-tok's gun. now, this is a very interesting ceremony and i beg you all to watch me closely and see that i've nothing up my sleeve." he came out of his throne to stand before the shaggy man, and then he waved his hands, palms downward, in seven semicircles over his victim's head, saying in a low but clear tone of voice the magic wugwa: "adi, edi, idi, odi, udi, oo-i-oo! idu, ido, idi, ide, ida, woo!" the effect of this well-known sorcery was instantaneous. instead of the shaggy man, a pretty dove lay fluttering upon the floor, its wings confined by tiny cords wound around them. ruggedo gave an order to pang, who cut the cords with a pair of scissors. being freed, the dove quickly flew upward and alighted on the shoulder of the rose princess, who stroked it tenderly. "very good! very good!" cried ruggedo, rubbing his hands gleefully together. "one enemy is out of my way, and now for the others." (perhaps my readers should be warned not to attempt the above transformation; for, although the exact magical formula has been described, it is unlawful in all civilized countries for anyone to transform a person into a dove by muttering the words ruggedo used. there were no laws to prevent the nome king from performing this transformation, but if it should be attempted in any other country, and the magic worked, the magician would be severely punished.) when polychrome saw shaggy man transformed into a dove and realized that ruggedo was about to do something as dreadful to the princess and files, and that tik-tok would soon be melted in a crucible, she turned and ran from the cavern, through the passage and back to the place where quox lay asleep. [illustration] [illustration] chapter a clever conquest the great dragon still had his eyes closed and was even snoring in a manner that resembled distant thunder; but polychrome was now desperate, because any further delay meant the destruction of her friends. she seized the pearl necklace, to which was attached the great locket, and jerked it with all her strength. the result was encouraging. quox stopped snoring and his eyelids flickered. so polychrome jerked again--and again--till slowly the great lids raised and the dragon looked at her steadily. said he, in a sleepy tone: "what's the matter, little rainbow?" "come quick!" exclaimed polychrome. "ruggedo has captured all our friends and is about to destroy them." "well, well," said quox, "i suspected that would happen. step a little out of my path, my dear, and i'll make a rush for the nome king's cavern." she fell back a few steps and quox raised himself on his stout legs, whisked his long tail and in an instant had slid down the rocks and made a dive through the entrance. along the passage he swept, nearly filling it with his immense body, and now he poked his head into the jeweled cavern of ruggedo. but the king had long since made arrangements to capture the dragon, whenever he might appear. no sooner did quox stick his head into the room than a thick chain fell from above and encircled his neck. then the ends of the chain were drawn tight--for in an adjoining cavern a thousand nomes were pulling on them--and so the dragon could advance no further toward the king. he could not use his teeth or his claws and as his body was still in the passage he had not even room to strike his foes with his terrible tail. ruggedo was delighted with the success of his strategem. he had just transformed the rose princess into a fiddle and was about to transform files into a fiddle bow, when the dragon appeared to interrupt him. so he called out: "welcome, my dear quox, to my royal entertainment. since you are here, you shall witness some very neat magic, and after i have finished with files and tik-tok i mean to transform you into a tiny lizard--one of the chameleon sort--and you shall live in my cavern and amuse me." "pardon me for contradicting your majesty," returned quox in a quiet voice, "but i don't believe you'll perform any more magic." "eh? why not?" asked the king in surprise. "there's a reason," said quox. "do you see this ribbon around my neck?" "yes; and i'm astonished that a dignified dragon should wear such a silly thing." "do you see it plainly?" persisted the dragon, with a little chuckle of amusement. "i do," declared ruggedo. "then you no longer possess any magical powers, and are as helpless as a clam," asserted quox. "my great master, tititi-hoochoo, the jinjin, enchanted this ribbon in such a way that whenever your majesty looked upon it all knowledge of magic would desert you instantly, nor will any magical formula you can remember ever perform your bidding." "pooh! i don't believe a word of it!" cried ruggedo, half frightened, nevertheless. then he turned toward files and tried to transform him into a fiddle bow. but he could not remember the right words or the right pass of the hands and after several trials he finally gave up the attempt. by this time the nome king was so alarmed that he was secretly shaking in his shoes. "i told you not to anger tititi-hoochoo," grumbled kaliko, "and now you see the result of your disobedience." ruggedo promptly threw his sceptre at his royal chamberlain, who dodged it with his usual cleverness, and then he said with an attempt to swagger: "never mind; i don't need magic to enable me to destroy these invaders; fire and the sword will do the business and i am still king of the nomes and lord and master of my underground kingdom!" "again i beg to differ with your majesty," said quox. "the great jinjin commands you to depart instantly from this kingdom and seek the earth's surface, where you will wander for all time to come, without a home or country, without a friend or follower, and without any more riches than you can carry with you in your pockets. the great jinjin is so generous that he will allow you to fill your pockets with jewels or gold, but you must take nothing more." ruggedo now stared at the dragon in amazement. "does tititi-hoochoo condemn me to such a fate?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "he does," said quox. "and just for throwing a few strangers down the forbidden tube?" "just for that," repeated quox in a stern, gruff voice. "well, i won't do it. and your crazy old jinjin can't make me do it, either!" declared ruggedo. "i intend to remain here, king of the nomes, until the end of the world, and i defy your tititi-hoochoo and all his fairies--as well as his clumsy messenger, whom i have been obliged to chain up!" the dragon smiled again, but it was not the sort of smile that made ruggedo feel very happy. instead, there was something so cold and merciless in the dragon's expression that the condemned nome king trembled and was sick at heart. there was little comfort for ruggedo in the fact that the dragon was now chained, although he had boasted of it. he glared at the immense head of quox as if fascinated and there was fear in the old king's eyes as he watched his enemy's movements. for the dragon was now moving; not abruptly, but as if he had something to do and was about to do it. very deliberately he raised one claw, touched the catch of the great jeweled locket that was suspended around his neck, and at once it opened wide. nothing much happened at first; half a dozen hen's eggs rolled out upon the floor and then the locket closed with a sharp click. but the effect upon the nomes of this simple thing was astounding. general guph, kaliko, pang and his band of executioners were all standing close to the door that led to the vast series of underground caverns which constituted the dominions of the nomes, and as soon as they saw the eggs they raised a chorus of frantic screams and rushed through the door, slamming it in ruggedo's face and placing a heavy bronze bar across it. ruggedo, dancing with terror and uttering loud cries, now leaped upon the seat of his throne to escape the eggs, which had rolled steadily toward him. perhaps these eggs, sent by the wise and crafty tititi-hoochoo, were in some way enchanted, for they all rolled directly after ruggedo and when they reached the throne where he had taken refuge they began rolling up the legs to the seat. this was too much for the king to bear. his horror of eggs was real and absolute and he made a leap from the throne to the center of the room and then ran to a far corner. the eggs followed, rolling slowly but steadily in his direction. ruggedo threw his sceptre at them, and then his ruby crown, and then he drew off his heavy golden sandals and hurled these at the advancing eggs. but the eggs dodged every missile and continued to draw nearer. the king stood trembling, his eyes staring in terror, until they were but half a yard distant; then with an agile leap he jumped clear over them and made a rush for the passage that led to the outer entrance. of course the dragon was in his way, being chained in the passage with his head in the cavern, but when he saw the king making toward him he crouched as low as he could and dropped his chin to the floor, leaving a small space between his body and the roof of the passage. ruggedo did not hesitate an instant. impelled by fear, he leaped to the dragon's nose and then scrambled to his back, where he succeeded in squeezing himself through the opening. after the head was passed there was more room and he slid along the dragon's scales to his tail and then ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the entrance. not pausing here, so great was his fright, the king dashed on down the mountain path, but before he had gone very far he stumbled and fell. when he picked himself up he observed that no one was following him, and while he recovered his breath he happened to think of the decree of the jinjin--that he should be driven from his kingdom and made a wanderer on the face of the earth. well, here he was, driven from his cavern in truth; driven by those dreadful eggs; but he would go back and defy them; he would not submit to losing his precious kingdom and his tyrannical powers, all because tititi-hoochoo had said he must. so, although still afraid, ruggedo nerved himself to creep back along the path to the entrance, and when he arrived there he saw the six eggs lying in a row just before the arched opening. at first he paused a safe distance away to consider the case, for the eggs were now motionless. while he was wondering what could be done, he remembered there was a magical charm which would destroy eggs and render them harmless to nomes. there were nine passes to be made and six verses of incantation to be recited; but ruggedo knew them all. now that he had ample time to be exact, he carefully went through the entire ceremony. but nothing happened. the eggs did not disappear, as he had expected; so he repeated the charm a second time. when that also failed, he remembered, with a moan of despair, that his magic power had been taken away from him and in the future he could do no more than any common mortal. and there were the eggs, forever barring him from the kingdom which he had ruled so long with absolute sway! he threw rocks at them, but could not hit a single egg. he raved and scolded and tore his hair and beard, and danced in helpless passion, but that did nothing to avert the just judgment of the jinjin, which ruggedo's own evil deeds had brought upon him. from this time on he was an outcast--a wanderer upon the face of the earth--and he had even forgotten to fill his pockets with gold and jewels before he fled from his former kingdom! [illustration] [illustration] chapter king kaliko after the king had made good his escape files said to the dragon, in a said voice: "alas! why did you not come before? because you were sleeping instead of conquering, the lovely rose princess has become a fiddle without a bow, while poor shaggy sits there a cooing dove!" "don't worry," replied quox. "tititi-hoochoo knows his business, and i had my orders from the great jinjin himself. bring the fiddle here and touch it lightly to my pink ribbon." files obeyed and at the moment of contact with the ribbon the nome king's charm was broken and the rose princess herself stood before them as sweet and smiling as ever. the dove, perched on the back of the throne, had seen and heard all this, so without being told what to do it flew straight to the dragon and alighted on the ribbon. next instant shaggy was himself again and quox said to him grumblingly: "please get off my left toe, shaggy man, and be more particular where you step." "i beg your pardon!" replied shaggy, very glad to resume his natural form. then he ran to lift the heavy diamond off tik-tok's chest and to assist the clockwork man to his feet. "ma-ny thanks!" said tik-tok. "where is the wick-ed king who want-ed to melt me in a cru-ci-ble?" "he has gone, and gone for good," answered polychrome, who had managed to squeeze into the room beside the dragon and had witnessed the occurrences with much interest. "but i wonder where betsy bobbin and hank can be, and if any harm has befallen them." "we must search the cavern until we find them," declared shaggy; but when he went to the door leading to the other caverns he found it shut and barred. "i've a pretty strong push in my forehead," said quox, "and i believe i can break down that door, even though it's made of solid gold." "but you are a prisoner, and the chains that hold you are fastened in some other room, so that we cannot release you," files said anxiously. "oh, never mind that," returned the dragon. "i have remained a prisoner only because i wished to be one," and with this he stepped forward and burst the stout chains as easily as if they had been threads. but when he tried to push in the heavy metal door, even his mighty strength failed, and after several attempts he gave it up and squatted himself in a corner to think of a better way. "i'll o-pen the door," asserted tik-tok, and going to the king's big gong he pounded upon it until the noise was almost deafening. kaliko, in the next cavern, was wondering what had happened to ruggedo and if he had escaped the eggs and outwitted the dragon. but when he heard the sound of the gong, which had so often called him into the king's presence, he decided that ruggedo had been victorious; so he took away the bar, threw open the door and entered the royal cavern. great was his astonishment to find the king gone and the enchantments removed from the princess and shaggy. but the eggs were also gone and so kaliko advanced to the dragon, whom he knew to be tititi-hoochoo's messenger, and bowed humbly before the beast. "what is your will?" he inquired. [illustration] "where is betsy?" demanded the dragon. "safe in my own private room," said kaliko. "go and get her!" commanded quox. so kaliko went to betsy's room and gave three raps upon the door. the little girl had been asleep, but she heard the raps and opened the door. "you may come out now," said kaliko. "the king has fled in disgrace and your friends are asking for you." so betsy and hank returned with the royal chamberlain to the throne cavern, where she was received with great joy by her friends. they told her what had happened to ruggedo and she told them how kind kaliko had been to her. quox did not have much to say until the conversation was ended, but then he turned to kaliko and asked: "do you suppose you could rule your nomes better than ruggedo has done?" "me?" stammered the chamberlain, greatly surprised by the question. "well, i couldn't be a worse king, i'm sure." "would the nomes obey you?" inquired the dragon. "of course," said kaliko. "they like me better than ever they did ruggedo." "then hereafter you shall be the metal monarch, king of the nomes, and tititi-hoochoo expects you to rule your kingdom wisely and well," said quox. "hooray!" cried betsy; "i'm glad of that. king kaliko, i salute your majesty and wish you joy in your gloomy old kingdom!" "we all wish him joy," said polychrome; and then the others made haste to congratulate the new king. "will you release my dear brother?" asked shaggy. "the ugly one? very willingly," replied kaliko. "i begged ruggedo long ago to send him away, but he would not do so. i also offered to help your brother to escape, but he would not go." "he's so conscientious!" said shaggy, highly pleased. "all of our family have noble natures. but is my dear brother well?" he added anxiously. "he eats and sleeps very steadily," replied the new king. "i hope he doesn't work too hard," said shaggy. "he doesn't work at all. in fact, there is nothing he can do in these dominions as well as our nomes, whose numbers are so great that it worries us to keep them all busy. so your brother has only to amuse himself." "why, it's more like visiting, than being a prisoner," asserted betsy. "not exactly," returned kaliko. "a prisoner cannot go where or when he pleases, and is not his own master." "where is my brother now?" inquired shaggy. "in the metal forest." "where is that?" "the metal forest is in the great domed cavern, the largest in all our dominions," replied kaliko. "it is almost like being out of doors, it is so big, and ruggedo made the wonderful forest to amuse himself, as well as to tire out his hard-working nomes. all the trees are gold and silver and the ground is strewn with precious stones, so it is a sort of treasury." "let us go there at once and rescue my dear brother," pleaded shaggy earnestly. kaliko hesitated. "i don't believe i can find the way," said he. "ruggedo made three secret passages to the metal forest, but he changes the location of these passages every week, so that no one can get to the metal forest without his permission. however, if we look sharp, we may be able to discover one of these secret ways." "that reminds me to ask what has become of queen ann and the officers of oogaboo," said files. "i'm sure i can't say," replied kaliko. "do you suppose ruggedo destroyed them?" "oh, no; i'm quite sure he didn't. they fell into the big pit in the passage, and we put the cover on to keep them there; but when the executioners went to look for them they had all disappeared from the pit and we could find no trace of them." "that's funny," remarked betsy thoughtfully. "i don't believe ann knew any magic, or she'd have worked it before. but to disappear like that _seems_ like magic; now, doesn't it?" they agreed that it did, but no one could explain the mystery. "however," said shaggy, "they are gone, that is certain, so we cannot help them or be helped by them. and the important thing just now is to rescue my dear brother from captivity." "why do they call him the ugly one?" asked betsy. "i do not know," confessed shaggy. "i cannot remember his looks very well, it is so long since i have seen him; but all of our family are noted for their handsome faces." betsy laughed and shaggy seemed rather hurt; but polychrome relieved his embarrassment by saying softly: "one can be ugly in looks, but lovely in disposition." "our first task," said shaggy, a little comforted by this remark, "is to find one of those secret passages to the metal forest." "true," agreed kaliko. "so i think i will assemble the chief nomes of my kingdom in this throne room and tell them that i am their new king. then i can ask them to assist us in searching for the secret passages." "that's a good idea," said the dragon, who seemed to be getting sleepy again. kaliko went to the big gong and pounded on it just as ruggedo used to do; but no one answered the summons. "of course not," said he, jumping up from the throne, where he had seated himself. "that is my call, and i am still the royal chamberlain, and will be until i appoint another in my place." so he ran out of the room and found guph and told him to answer the summons of the king's gong. having returned to the royal cavern, kaliko first pounded the gong and then sat in the throne, wearing ruggedo's discarded ruby crown and holding in his hand the sceptre which ruggedo had so often thrown at his head. when guph entered he was amazed. "better get out of that throne before old ruggedo comes back," he said warningly. "he isn't coming back, and i am now the king of the nomes, in his stead," announced kaliko. "all of which is quite true," asserted the dragon, and all of those who stood around the throne bowed respectfully to the new king. seeing this, guph also bowed, for he was glad to be rid of such a hard master as ruggedo. then kaliko, in quite a kingly way, informed guph that he was appointed the royal chamberlain, and promised not to throw the sceptre at his head unless he deserved it. [illustration] all this being pleasantly arranged, the new chamberlain went away to tell the news to all the nomes of the underground kingdom, every one of whom would be delighted with the change in kings. [illustration] [illustration] chapter quox quietly quits when the chief nomes assembled before their new king they joyfully saluted him and promised to obey his commands. but, when kaliko questioned them, none knew the way to the metal forest, although all had assisted in its making. so the king instructed them to search carefully for one of the passages and to bring him the news as soon as they had found it. meantime quox had managed to back out of the rocky corridor and so regain the open air and his old station on the mountain-side, and there he lay upon the rocks, sound asleep, until the next day. the others of the party were all given as good rooms as the caverns of the nomes afforded, for king kaliko felt that he was indebted to them for his promotion and was anxious to be as hospitable as he could. much wonderment had been caused by the absolute disappearance of the sixteen officers of oogaboo and their queen. not a nome had seen them, nor were they discovered during the search for the passages leading to the metal forest. perhaps no one was unhappy over their loss, but all were curious to know what had become of them. on the next day, when our friends went to visit the dragon, quox said to them: "i must now bid you good-bye, for my mission here is finished and i must depart for the other side of the world, where i belong." "will you go through the tube again?" asked betsy. "to be sure. but it will be a lonely trip this time, with no one to talk to, and i cannot invite any of you to go with me. therefore, as soon as i slide into the hole i shall go to sleep, and when i pop out at the other end i will wake up at home." they thanked the dragon for befriending them and wished him a pleasant journey. also they sent their thanks to the great jinjin, whose just condemnation of ruggedo had served their interests so well. then quox yawned and stretched himself and ambled over to the tube, into which he slid headforemost and disappeared. they really felt as if they had lost a friend, for the dragon had been both kind and sociable during their brief acquaintance with him; but they knew it was his duty to return to his own country. so they went back to the caverns to renew the search for the hidden passages that led to the forest, but for three days all efforts to find them proved in vain. it was polychrome's custom to go every day to the mountain and watch for her father, the rainbow, for she was growing tired with wandering upon the earth and longed to rejoin her sisters in their sky palaces. and on the third day, while she sat motionless upon a point of rock, whom should she see slyly creeping up the mountain but ruggedo! the former king looked very forlorn. his clothes were soiled and torn and he had no sandals upon his feet or hat upon his head. having left his crown and sceptre behind when he fled, the old nome no longer seemed kingly, but more like a beggarman. several times had ruggedo crept up to the mouth of the caverns, only to find the six eggs still on guard. he knew quite well that he must accept his fate and become a homeless wanderer, but his chief regret now was that he had neglected to fill his pockets with gold and jewels. he was aware that a wanderer with wealth at his command would fare much better than one who was a pauper, so he still loitered around the caverns wherein he knew so much treasure was stored, hoping for a chance to fill his pockets. that was how he came to recollect the metal forest. "aha!" said he to himself, "i alone know the way to that forest, and once there i can fill my pockets with the finest jewels in all the world." he glanced at his pockets and was grieved to find them so small. perhaps they might be enlarged, so that they would hold more. he knew of a poor woman who lived in a cottage at the foot of the mountain, so he went to her and begged her to sew pockets all over his robe, paying her with the gift of a diamond ring which he had worn upon his finger. the woman was delighted to possess so valuable a ring and she sewed as many pockets on ruggedo's robe as she possibly could. then he returned up the mountain and, after gazing cautiously around to make sure he was not observed, he touched a spring in a rock and it swung slowly backward, disclosing a broad passageway. this he entered, swinging the rock in place behind him. however, ruggedo had failed to look as carefully as he might have done, for polychrome was seated only a little distance off and her clear eyes marked exactly the manner in which ruggedo had released the hidden spring. so she rose and hurried into the cavern, where she told kaliko and her friends of her discovery. "i've no doubt that that is a way to the metal forest," exclaimed shaggy. "come, let us follow ruggedo at once and rescue my poor brother!" they agreed to this and king kaliko called together a band of nomes to assist them by carrying torches to light their way. "the metal forest has a brilliant light of its own," said he, "but the passage across the valley is likely to be dark." polychrome easily found the rock and touched the spring, so in less than an hour after ruggedo had entered they were all in the passage and following swiftly after the former king. "he means to rob the forest, i'm sure," said kaliko; "but he will find he is no longer of any account in this kingdom and i will have my nomes throw him out." "then please throw him as hard as you can," said betsy, "for he deserves it. i don't mind an honest, out-an'-out enemy, who fights square; but changing girls into fiddles and ordering 'em put into slimy caves is mean and tricky, and ruggedo doesn't deserve any sympathy. but you'll have to let him take as much treasure as he can get in his pockets, kaliko." "yes, the jinjin said so; but we won't miss it much. there is more treasure in the metal forest than a million nomes could carry in their pockets." it was not difficult to walk through this passage, especially when the torches lighted the way, so they made good progress. but it proved to be a long distance and betsy had tired herself with walking and was seated upon the back of the mule when the passage made a sharp turn and a wonderful and glorious light burst upon them. the next moment they were all standing upon the edge of the marvelous metal forest. it lay under another mountain and occupied a great domed cavern, the roof of which was higher than a church steeple. in this space the industrious nomes had built, during many years of labor, the most beautiful forest in the world. the trees--trunks, branches and leaves--were all of solid gold, while the bushes and underbrush were formed of filigree silver, virgin pure. the trees towered as high as natural live oaks do and were of exquisite workmanship. on the ground were thickly strewn precious gems of every hue and size, while here and there among the trees were paths pebbled with cut diamonds of the clearest water. taken all together, more treasure was gathered in this metal forest than is contained in all the rest of the world--if we except the land of oz, where perhaps its value is equalled in the famous emerald city. our friends were so amazed at the sight that for a while they stood gazing in silent wonder. then shaggy exclaimed: "my brother! my dear lost brother! is he indeed a prisoner in this place?" [illustration] "yes," replied kaliko. "the ugly one has been here for two or three years, to my positive knowledge." "but what could he find to eat?" inquired betsy. "it's an awfully swell place to live in, but one can't breakfast on rubies and di'monds, or even gold." "one doesn't need to, my dear," kaliko assured her. "the metal forest does not fill all of this great cavern, by any means. beyond these gold and silver trees are other trees of the real sort, which bear foods very nice to eat. let us walk in that direction, for i am quite sure we will find shaggy's brother in that part of the cavern, rather than in this." so they began to tramp over the diamond-pebbled paths, and at every step they were more and more bewildered by the wondrous beauty of the golden trees with their glittering foliage. suddenly they heard a scream. jewels scattered in every direction as some one hidden among the bushes scampered away before them. then a loud voice cried: "halt!" and there was the sound of a struggle. [illustration] chapter a bashful brother with fast beating hearts they all rushed forward and, beyond a group of stately metal trees, came full upon a most astonishing scene. there was ruggedo in the hands of the officers of oogaboo, a dozen of whom were clinging to the old nome and holding him fast in spite of his efforts to escape. there also was queen ann, looking grimly upon the scene of strife; but when she observed her former companions approaching she turned away in a shamefaced manner. for ann and her officers were indeed a sight to behold. her majesty's clothing, once so rich and gorgeous, was now worn and torn into shreds by her long crawl through the tunnel, which, by the way, had led her directly into the metal forest. it was, indeed, one of the three secret passages, and by far the most difficult of the three. ann had not only torn her pretty skirt and jacket, but her crown had become bent and battered and even her shoes were so cut and slashed that they were ready to fall from her feet. the officers had fared somewhat worse than their leader, for holes were worn in the knees of their trousers, while sharp points of rock in the roof and sides of the tunnel had made rags of every inch of their once brilliant uniforms. a more tattered and woeful army never came out of a battle, than these harmless victims of the rocky passage. but it had seemed their only means of escape from the cruel nome king; so they had crawled on, regardless of their sufferings. when they reached the metal forest their eyes beheld more plunder than they had ever dreamed of; yet they were prisoners in this huge dome and could not escape with the riches heaped about them. perhaps a more unhappy and homesick lot of "conquerors" never existed than this band from oogaboo. after several days of wandering in their marvelous prison they were frightened by the discovery that ruggedo had come among them. rendered desperate by their sad condition, the officers exhibited courage for the first time since they left home and, ignorant of the fact that ruggedo was no longer king of the nomes, they threw themselves upon him and had just succeeded in capturing him when their fellow adventurers reached the spot. "goodness gracious!" cried betsy. "what has happened to you all?" ann came forward to greet them, sorrowful and indignant. "we were obliged to escape from the pit through a small tunnel, which was lined with sharp and jagged rocks," said she, "and not only was our clothing torn to rags but our flesh is so bruised and sore that we are stiff and lame in every joint. to add to our troubles we find we are still prisoners; but now that we have succeeded in capturing the wicked metal monarch we shall force him to grant us our liberty." "ruggedo is no longer metal monarch, or king of the nomes," files informed her. "he has been deposed and cast out of his kingdom by quox; but here is the new king, whose name is kaliko, and i am pleased to assure your majesty that he is our friend." "glad to meet your majesty, i'm sure," said kaliko, bowing as courteously as if the queen still wore splendid raiment. the officers, having heard this explanation, now set ruggedo free; but, as he had no place to go, he stood by and faced his former servant, who was now king in his place, in a humble and pleading manner. "what are you doing here?" asked kaliko sternly. "why, i was promised as much treasure as i could carry in my pockets," replied ruggedo; "so i came here to get it, not wishing to disturb your majesty." "you were commanded to leave the country of the nomes forever!" declared kaliko. "i know; and i'll go as soon as i have filled my pockets," said ruggedo, meekly. "then fill them, and be gone," returned the new king. ruggedo obeyed. stooping down, he began gathering up jewels by the handful and stuffing them into his many pockets. they were heavy things, these diamonds and rubies and emeralds and amethysts and the like, so before long ruggedo was staggering with the weight he bore, while the pockets were not yet filled. when he could no longer stoop over without falling, betsy and polychrome and the rose princess came to his assistance, picking up the finest gems and tucking them into his pockets. at last these were all filled and ruggedo presented a comical sight, for surely no man ever before had so many pockets, or any at all filled with such a choice collection of precious stones. he neglected to thank the young ladies for their kindness, but gave them a surly nod of farewell and staggered down the path by the way he had come. they let him depart in silence, for with all he had taken, the masses of jewels upon the ground seemed scarcely to have been disturbed, so numerous were they. also they hoped they had seen the last of the degraded king. [illustration] "i'm awful glad he's gone," said betsy, sighing deeply. "if he doesn't get reckless and spend his wealth foolishly, he's got enough to start a bank when he gets to oklahoma." "but my brother--my dear brother! where is he?" inquired shaggy anxiously. "have you seen him, queen ann?" "what does your brother look like?" asked the queen. shaggy hesitated to reply, but betsy said: "he's called the ugly one. perhaps you'll know him by that." "the only person we have seen in this cavern," said ann, "has run away from us whenever we approached him. he hides over yonder, among the trees that are not gold, and we have never been able to catch sight of his face. so i cannot tell whether he is ugly or not." "that must be my dear brother!" exclaimed shaggy. "yes, it must be," assented kaliko. "no one else inhabits this splendid dome, so there can be no mistake." "but why does he hide among those green trees, instead of enjoying all these glittery golden ones?" asked betsy. "because he finds food among the natural trees," replied kaliko, "and i remember that he has built a little house there, to sleep in. as for these glittery golden trees, i will admit they are very pretty at first sight. one cannot fail to admire them, as well as the rich jewels scattered beneath them; but if one has to look at them always, they become pretty tame." "i believe that is true," declared shaggy. "my dear brother is very wise to prefer real trees to the imitation ones. but come; let us go there and find him." shaggy started for the green grove at once, and the others followed him, being curious to witness the final rescue of his long-sought, long-lost brother. not far from the edge of the grove they came upon a small hut, cleverly made of twigs and golden branches woven together. as they approached the place they caught a glimpse of a form that darted into the hut and slammed the door tight shut after him. shaggy man ran to the door and cried aloud: "brother! brother!" "who calls," demanded a sad, hollow voice from within. "it is shaggy--your own loving brother--who has been searching for you a long time and has now come to rescue you." "too late!" replied the gloomy voice. "no one can rescue me now." "oh, but you are mistaken about that," said shaggy. "there is a new king of the nomes, named kaliko, in ruggedo's place, and he has promised you shall go free." "free! i dare not go free!" said the ugly one, in a voice of despair. "why not, brother?" asked shaggy, anxiously. "do you know what they have done to me?" came the answer through the closed door. "no. tell me, brother, what have they done?" "when ruggedo first captured me i was very handsome. don't you remember, shaggy?" "not very well, brother; you were so young when i left home. but i remember that mother thought you were beautiful." "she was right! i am sure she was right," wailed the prisoner. "but ruggedo wanted to injure me--to make me ugly in the eyes of all the world--so he performed a wicked enchantment. i went to bed beautiful--or you might say handsome--to be very modest i will merely claim that i was good-looking--and i wakened the next morning the homeliest man in all the world! i am so repulsive that when i look in a mirror i frighten myself." "poor brother!" said shaggy softly, and all the others were silent from sympathy. "i was so ashamed of my looks," continued the voice of shaggy's brother, "that i tried to hide; but the cruel king ruggedo forced me to appear before all the legion of nomes, to whom he said: 'behold the ugly one!' but when the nomes saw my face they all fell to laughing and jeering, which prevented them from working at their tasks. seeing this, ruggedo became angry and pushed me into a tunnel, closing the rock entrance so that i could not get out. i followed the length of the tunnel until i reached this huge dome, where the marvelous metal forest stands, and here i have remained ever since." "poor brother!" repeated shaggy. "but i beg you now to come forth and face us, who are your friends. none here will laugh or jeer, however unhandsome you may be." "no, indeed," they all added pleadingly. but the ugly one refused the invitation. "i cannot," said he; "indeed, i cannot face strangers, ugly as i am." shaggy man turned to the group surrounding him. "what shall i do?" he asked in sorrowful tones. "i cannot leave my dear brother here, and he refuses to come out of that house and face us." "i'll tell you," replied betsy. "let him put on a mask." "the very idea i was seeking!" exclaimed shaggy joyfully; and then he called out: "brother, put a mask over your face, and then none of us can see what your features are like." "i have no mask," answered the ugly one. "look here," said betsy; "he can use my handkerchief." shaggy looked at the little square of cloth and shook his head. "it isn't big enough," he objected; "i'm sure it isn't big enough to hide a man's face. but he can use mine." saying this he took from his pocket his own handkerchief and went to the door of the hut. "here, my brother," he called, "take this handkerchief and make a mask of it. i will also pass you my knife, so that you may cut holes for the eyes, and then you must tie it over your face." the door slowly opened, just far enough for the ugly one to thrust out his hand and take the handkerchief and the knife. then it closed again. "don't forget a hole for your nose," cried betsy. "you must breathe, you know." for a time there was silence. queen ann and her army sat down upon the ground to rest. betsy sat on hank's back. polychrome danced lightly up and down the jeweled paths while files and the princess wandered through the groves arm in arm. tik-tok, who never tired, stood motionless. by and by a noise sounded from within the hut. "are you ready?" asked shaggy. "yes, brother," came the reply, and the door was thrown open to allow the ugly one to step forth. betsy might have laughed aloud had she not remembered how sensitive to ridicule shaggy's brother was, for the handkerchief with which he had masked his features was a red one covered with big white polka dots. in this two holes had been cut--in front of the eyes--while two smaller ones before the nostrils allowed the man to breathe freely. the cloth was then tightly drawn over the ugly one's face and knotted at the back of his neck. he was dressed in clothes that had once been good, but now were sadly worn and frayed. his silk stockings had holes in them, and his shoes were stub-toed and needed blackening. "but what can you expect," whispered betsy, "when the poor man has been a prisoner for so many years?" shaggy had darted forward, and embraced his newly found brother with both his arms. the brother also embraced shaggy, who then led him forward and introduced him to all the assembled company. "this is the new nome king," he said when he came to kaliko. "he is our friend, and has granted you your freedom." "that is a kindly deed," replied ugly in a sad voice, "but i dread to go back to the world in this direful condition. unless i remain forever masked, my dreadful face would curdle all the milk and stop all the clocks." "can't the enchantment be broken in some way?" inquired betsy. shaggy looked anxiously at kaliko, who shook his head. "i am sure _i_ can't break the enchantment," he said. "ruggedo was fond of magic, and learned a good many enchantments that we nomes know nothing of." "perhaps ruggedo himself might break his own enchantment," suggested ann; "but unfortunately we have allowed the old king to escape." "never mind, my dear brother," said shaggy consolingly; "i am very happy to have found you again, although i may never see your face. so let us make the most of this joyful reunion." the ugly one was affected to tears by this tender speech, and the tears began to wet the red handkerchief; so shaggy gently wiped them away with his coat sleeve. [illustration] [illustration] chapter kindly kisses "won't you be dreadful sorry to leave this lovely place?" betsy asked the ugly one. "no, indeed," said he. "jewels and gold are cold and heartless things, and i am sure i would presently have died of loneliness had i not found this natural forest at the edge of the artificial one. anyhow, without these real trees i should soon have starved to death." betsy looked around at the quaint trees. "i don't just understand that," she admitted. "what could you find to eat here?" "the best food in the world," ugly answered. "do you see that grove at your left?" he added, pointing it out; "well, such trees as those do not grow in your country, or in any other place but this cavern. i have named them 'hotel trees,' because they bear a certain kind of table d'hote fruit called 'three-course nuts.'" "that's funny!" said betsy. "what are the 'three-course nuts' like?" "something like cocoanuts, to look at," explained the ugly one. "all you have to do is to pick one of them and then sit down and eat your dinner. you first unscrew the top part and find a cupfull of good soup. after you've eaten that, you unscrew the middle part and find a hollow filled with meat and potatoes, vegetables and a fine salad. eat that, and unscrew the next section, and you come to the dessert in the bottom of the nut. that is pie and cake, cheese and crackers, and nuts and raisins. the three-course nuts are not all exactly alike in flavor or in contents, but they are all good and in each one may be found a complete three-course dinner." "but how about breakfasts?" inquired betsy. "why, there are breakfast trees for that, which grow over there at the right. they bear nuts, like the others, only the nuts contain coffee or chocolate, instead of soup; oatmeal instead of meat-and-potatoes, and fruits instead of dessert. sad as has been my life in this wonderful prison, i must admit that no one could live more luxuriously in the best hotel in the world than i have lived here; but i will be glad to get into the open air again and see the good old sun and the silvery moon and the soft green grass and the flowers that are kissed by the morning dew. ah, how much more lovely are those blessed things than the glitter of gems or the cold gleam of gold!" "of course," said betsy. "i once knew a little boy who wanted to catch the measles, because all the little boys in his neighborhood but him had had 'em, and he was really unhappy 'cause he couldn't catch 'em, try as he would. so i'm pretty certain that the things we want, and can't have, are not good for us. isn't that true, shaggy?" "not always, my dear," he gravely replied. "if we didn't want anything, we would never get anything, good or bad. i think our longings are natural, and if we act as nature prompts us we can't go far wrong." "for my part," said queen ann, "i think the world would be a dreary place without the gold and jewels." "all things are good in their way," said shaggy; "but we may have too much of any good thing. and i have noticed that the value of anything depends upon how scarce it is, and how difficult it is to obtain." "pardon me for interrupting you," said king kaliko, coming to their side, "but now that we have rescued shaggy's brother i would like to return to my royal cavern. being the king of the nomes, it is my duty to look after my restless subjects and see that they behave themselves." so they all turned and began walking through the metal forest to the other side of the great domed cave, where they had first entered it. shaggy and his brother walked side by side and both seemed rejoiced that they were together after their long separation. betsy didn't dare look at the polka-dot handkerchief, for fear she would laugh aloud; so she walked behind the two brothers and led hank by holding fast to his left ear. when at last they reached the place where the passage led to the outer world, queen ann said, in a hesitating way that was unusual with her: "i have not conquered this nome country, nor do i expect to do so; but i would like to gather a few of these pretty jewels before i leave this place." "help yourself, ma'am," said king kaliko, and at once the officers of the army took advantage of his royal permission and began filling their pockets, while ann tied a lot of diamonds in a big handkerchief. this accomplished, they all entered the passage, the nomes going first to light the way with their torches. they had not proceeded far when betsy exclaimed: "why, there are jewels here, too!" all eyes were turned upon the ground and they found a regular trail of jewels strewn along the rock floor. "this is queer!" said kaliko, much surprised. "i must send some of my nomes to gather up these gems and replace them in the metal forest, where they belong. i wonder how they came to be here?" all the way along the passage they found this trail of jewels, but when they neared the end the mystery was explained. for there, squatted upon the floor with his back to the rock wall, sat old ruggedo, puffing and blowing as if he was all tired out. then they realized it was he who had scattered the jewels, from his many pockets, which one by one had burst with the weight of their contents as he had stumbled along the passage. "but i don't mind," said ruggedo, with a deep sigh. "i now realize that i could not have carried such a weighty load very far, even had i managed to escape from this passage with it. the woman who sewed the pockets on my robe used poor thread, for which i shall thank her." "have you any jewels left?" inquired betsy. he glanced into some of the remaining pockets. "a few," said he, "but they will be sufficient to supply my wants, and i no longer have any desire to be rich. if some of you will kindly help me to rise, i'll get out of here and leave you, for i know you all despise me and prefer my room to my company." shaggy and kaliko raised the old king to his feet, when he was confronted by shaggy's brother, whom he now noticed for the first time. the queer and unexpected appearance of the ugly one so startled ruggedo that he gave a wild cry and began to tremble, as if he had seen a ghost. "wh--wh--who is this?" he faltered. "i am that helpless prisoner whom your cruel magic transformed from a handsome man into an ugly one!" answered shaggy's brother, in a voice of stern reproach. "really, ruggedo," said betsy, "you ought to be ashamed of that mean trick." "i am, my dear," admitted ruggedo, who was now as meek and humble as formerly he had been cruel and vindictive. "then," returned the girl, "you'd better do some more magic and give the poor man his own face again." "i wish i could," answered the old king; "but you must remember that tititi-hoochoo has deprived me of all my magic powers. however, i never took the trouble to learn just how to break the charm i cast over shaggy's brother, for i intended he should always remain ugly." "every charm," remarked pretty polychrome, "has its antidote; and, if you knew this charm of ugliness, ruggedo, you must have known how to dispel it." he shook his head. [illustration] "if i did, i--i've forgotten," he stammered regretfully. "try to think!" pleaded shaggy, anxiously. "_please_ try to think!" ruggedo ruffled his hair with both hands, sighed, slapped his chest, rubbed his ear, and stared stupidly around the group. "i've a faint recollection that there _was_ one thing that would break the charm," said he; "but misfortune has so addled my brain that i can't remember what it was." "see here, ruggedo," said betsy, sharply, "we've treated you pretty well, so far, but we won't stand for any nonsense, and if you know what's good for yourself you'll think of that charm!" "why?" he demanded, turning to look wonderingly at the little girl. "because it means so much to shaggy's brother. he's dreadfully ashamed of himself, the way he is now, and you're to blame for it. fact is, ruggedo, you've done so much wickedness in your life that it won't hurt you to do a kind act now." ruggedo blinked at her, and sighed again, and then tried very hard to think. "i seem to remember, dimly," said he, "that a certain kind of a kiss will break the charm of ugliness." "what kind of a kiss?" "what kind? why, it was--it was--it was either the kiss of a mortal maid; or--or--the kiss of a mortal maid who had once been a fairy; or--or the kiss of one who is still a fairy. i can't remember which. but of course no maid, mortal or fairy, would ever consent to kiss a person so ugly--so dreadfully, fearfully, terribly ugly--as shaggy's brother." "i'm not so sure of that," said betsy, with admirable courage; "i'm a mortal maid, and if it is _my_ kiss that will break this awful charm, i--i'll do it!" "oh, you really couldn't," protested ugly. "i would be obliged to remove my mask, and when you saw my face, nothing could induce you to kiss me, generous as you are." "well, as for that," said the little girl, "i needn't see your face at all. here's my plan: you stay in this dark passage, and we'll send away the nomes with their torches. then you'll take off the handkerchief, and i--i'll kiss you." "this is awfully kind of you, betsy!" said shaggy, gratefully. "well, it surely won't kill me," she replied; "and, if it makes you and your brother happy, i'm willing to take some chances." so kaliko ordered the torch-bearers to leave the passage, which they did by going through the rock opening. queen ann and her army also went out; but the others were so interested in betsy's experiment that they remained grouped at the mouth of the passageway. when the big rock swung into place, closing tight the opening, they were left in total darkness. "now, then," called betsy in a cheerful voice, "have you got that handkerchief off your face, ugly?" "yes," he replied. "well, where are you, then?" she asked, reaching out her arms. "here," said he. "you'll have to stoop down, you know." he found her hands and clasping them in his own stooped until his face was near to that of the little girl. the others heard a clear, smacking kiss, and then betsy exclaimed: "there! i've done it, and it didn't hurt a bit!" "tell me, dear brother; is the charm broken?" asked shaggy. "i do not know," was the reply. "it may be, or it may not be. i cannot tell." "has anyone a match?" inquired betsy. "i have several," said shaggy. "then let ruggedo strike one of them and look at your brother's face, while we all turn our backs. ruggedo made your brother ugly, so i guess he can stand the horror of looking at him, if the charm isn't broken." agreeing to this, ruggedo took the match and lighted it. he gave one look and then blew out the match. "ugly as ever!" he said with a shudder. "so it wasn't the kiss of a mortal maid, after all." "let me try," proposed the rose princess, in her sweet voice. "i am a mortal maid who was once a fairy. perhaps my kiss will break the charm." files did not wholly approve of this, but he was too generous to interfere. so the rose princess felt her way through the darkness to shaggy's brother and kissed him. ruggedo struck another match, while they all turned away. "no," announced the former king; "that didn't break the charm, either. it must be the kiss of a fairy that is required--or else my memory has failed me altogether." "polly," said betsy, pleadingly, "won't _you_ try?" "of course i will!" answered polychrome, with a merry laugh. "i've never kissed a mortal man in all the thousands of years i have existed, but i'll do it to please our faithful shaggy man, whose unselfish affection for his ugly brother deserves to be rewarded." even as polychrome was speaking she tripped lightly to the side of the ugly one and quickly touched his cheek with her lips. "oh, thank you--thank you!" he fervently cried. "i've changed, this time, i know. i can feel it! i'm different. shaggy--dear shaggy--i am myself again!" files, who was near the opening, touched the spring that released the big rock and it suddenly swung backward and let in a flood of daylight. everyone stood motionless, staring hard at shaggy's brother, who, no longer masked by the polka-dot handkerchief, met their gaze with a glad smile. "well," said shaggy man, breaking the silence at last and drawing a long, deep breath of satisfaction, "you are no longer the ugly one, my dear brother; but, to be entirely frank with you, the face that belongs to you is no more handsome than it ought to be." "i think he's rather good looking," remarked betsy, gazing at the man critically. "in comparison with what he was," said king kaliko, "he is really beautiful. you, who never beheld his ugliness, may not understand that; but it was my misfortune to look at the ugly one many times, and i say again that, in comparison with what he was, the man is now beautiful." "all right," returned betsy, briskly, "we'll take your word for it, kaliko. and now let us get out of this tunnel and into the world again." [illustration] chapter ruggedo reforms it did not take them long to regain the royal cavern of the nome king, where kaliko ordered served to them the nicest refreshments the place afforded. ruggedo had come trailing along after the rest of the party and while no one paid any attention to the old king they did not offer any objection to his presence or command him to leave them. he looked fearfully to see if the eggs were still guarding the entrance, but they had now disappeared; so he crept into the cavern after the others and humbly squatted down in a corner of the room. there betsy discovered him. all of the little girl's companions were now so happy at the success of shaggy's quest for his brother, and the laughter and merriment seemed so general, that betsy's heart softened toward the friendless old man who had once been their bitter enemy, and she carried to him some of the food and drink. ruggedo's eyes filled with tears at this unexpected kindness. he took the child's hand in his own and pressed it gratefully. "look here, kaliko," said betsy, addressing the new king, "what's the use of being hard on ruggedo? all his magic power is gone, so he can't do any more harm, and i'm sure he's sorry he acted so badly to everybody." "are you?" asked kaliko, looking down at his former master. "i am," said ruggedo. "the girl speaks truly. i'm sorry and i'm harmless. i don't want to wander through the wide world, on top of the ground, for i'm a nome. no nome can ever be happy any place but underground." "that being the case," said kaliko, "i will let you stay here as long as you behave yourself; but, if you try to act badly again, i shall drive you out, as tititi-hoochoo has commanded, and you'll have to wander." "never fear. i'll behave," promised ruggedo. "it is hard work being a king, and harder still to be a good king. but now that i am a common nome i am sure i can lead a blameless life." they were all pleased to hear this and to know that ruggedo had really reformed. "i hope he'll keep his word," whispered betsy to shaggy; "but if he gets bad again we will be far away from the nome kingdom and kaliko will have to 'tend to the old nome himself." polychrome had been a little restless during the last hour or two. the lovely daughter of the rainbow knew that she had now done all in her power to assist her earth friends, and so she began to long for her sky home. "i think," she said, after listening intently, "that it is beginning to rain. the rain king is my uncle, you know, and perhaps he has read my thoughts and is going to help me. anyway, i must take a look at the sky and make sure." so she jumped up and ran through the passage to the outer entrance, and they all followed after her and grouped themselves on a ledge of the mountain-side. sure enough, dark clouds had filled the sky and a slow, drizzling rain had set in. "it can't last for long," said shaggy, looking upward, "and when it stops we shall lose the sweet little fairy we have learned to love. alas," he continued, after a moment, "the clouds are already breaking in the west, and--see!--isn't that the rainbow coming?" betsy didn't look at the sky; she looked at polychrome, whose happy, smiling face surely foretold the coming of her father to take her to the cloud palaces. a moment later a gleam of sunshine flooded the mountain and a gorgeous rainbow appeared. with a cry of gladness polychrome sprang upon a point of rock and held out her arms. straightway the rainbow descended until its end was at her very feet, when with a graceful leap she sprang upon it and was at once clasped in the arms of her radiant sisters, the daughters of the rainbow. but polychrome released herself to lean over the edge of the glowing arch and nod, and smile and throw a dozen kisses to her late comrades. "good-bye!" she called, and they all shouted "good-bye!" in return and waved their hands to their pretty friend. slowly the magnificent bow lifted and melted into the sky, until the eyes of the earnest watchers saw only fleecy clouds flitting across the blue. "i'm dreadful sorry to see polychrome go," said betsy, who felt like crying; "but i s'pose she'll be a good deal happier with her sisters in the sky palaces." "to be sure," returned shaggy, nodding gravely. "it's her home, you know, and those poor wanderers who, like ourselves, have no home, can realize what that means to her." "once," said betsy, "i, too, had a home. now, i've only--only--dear old hank!" [illustration] she twined her arms around her shaggy friend who was not human, and he said: "hee-haw!" in a tone that showed he understood her mood. and the shaggy friend who was human stroked the child's head tenderly and said: "you're wrong about that, betsy dear. i will never desert you." "nor i!" exclaimed shaggy's brother, in earnest tones. the little girl looked up at them gratefully, and her eyes smiled through their tears. "all right," she said. "it's raining again, so let's go back into the cavern." rather soberly, for all loved polychrome and would miss her, they reëntered the dominions of the nome king. [illustration] [illustration] chapter dorothy is delighted "well," said queen ann, when all were again seated in kaliko's royal cavern, "i wonder what we shall do next. if i could find my way back to oogaboo i'd take my army home at once, for i'm sick and tired of these dreadful hardships." "don't you want to conquer the world?" asked betsy. "no; i've changed my mind about that," admitted the queen. "the world is too big for one person to conquer and i was happier with my own people in oogaboo. i wish--oh, how earnestly i wish--that i was back there this minute!" "so do i!" yelled every officer in a fervent tone. now, it is time for the reader to know that in the far-away land of oz the lovely ruler, ozma, had been following the adventures of her shaggy man, and tik-tok, and all the others they had met. day by day ozma, with the wonderful wizard of oz seated beside her, had gazed upon a magic picture in a radium frame, which occupied one side of the ruler's cosy boudoir in the palace of the emerald city. the singular thing about this magic picture was that it showed whatever scene ozma wished to see, with the figures all in motion, just as it was taking place. so ozma and the wizard had watched every action of the adventurers from the time shaggy had met shipwrecked betsy and hank in the rose kingdom, at which time the rose princess, a distant cousin of ozma, had been exiled by her heartless subjects. when ann and her people so earnestly wished to return to oogaboo, ozma was sorry for them and remembered that oogaboo was a corner of the land of oz. she turned to her attendant and asked: "can not your magic take these unhappy people to their old home, wizard?" "it can, your highness," replied the little wizard. "i think the poor queen has suffered enough in her misguided effort to conquer the world," said ozma, smiling at the absurdity of the undertaking, "so no doubt she will hereafter be contented in her own little kingdom. please send her there, wizard, and with her the officers and files." "how about the rose princess?" asked the wizard. "send her to oogaboo with files," answered ozma. "they have become such good friends that i am sure it would make them unhappy to separate them." "very well," said the wizard, and without any fuss or mystery whatever he performed a magical rite that was simple and effective. therefore those seated in the nome king's cavern were both startled and amazed when all the people of oogaboo suddenly disappeared from the room, and with them the rose princess. at first they could not understand it at all; but presently shaggy suspected the truth, and believing that ozma was now taking an interest in the party he drew from his pocket a tiny instrument which he placed against his ear. ozma, observing this action in her magic picture, at once caught up a similar instrument from a table beside her and held it to her own ear. the two instruments recorded the same delicate vibrations of sound and formed a wireless telephone, an invention of the wizard. those separated by any distance were thus enabled to converse together with perfect ease and without any wire connection. "do you hear me, shaggy man?" asked ozma. "yes, your highness," he replied. "i have sent the people of oogaboo back to their own little valley," announced the ruler of oz; "so do not worry over their disappearance." "that was very kind of you," said shaggy. "but your highness must permit me to report that my own mission here is now ended. i have found my lost brother, and he is now beside me, freed from the enchantment of ugliness which ruggedo cast upon him. tik-tok has served me and my comrades faithfully, as you requested him to do, and i hope you will now transport the clockwork man back to your fairyland of oz." "i will do that," replied ozma. "but how about yourself, shaggy?" "i have been very happy in oz," he said, "but my duty to others forces me to exile myself from that delightful land. i must take care of my new-found brother, for one thing, and i have a new comrade in a dear little girl named betsy bobbin, who has no home to go to, and no other friends but me and a small donkey named hank. i have promised betsy never to desert her as long as she needs a friend, and so i must give up the delights of the land of oz forever." he said this with a sigh of regret, and ozma made no reply but laid the tiny instrument on her table, thus cutting off all further communication with the shaggy man. but the lovely ruler of oz still watched her magic picture, with a thoughtful expression upon her face, and the little wizard of oz watched ozma and smiled softly to himself. in the cavern of the nome king shaggy replaced the wireless telephone in his pocket and turning to betsy said in as cheerful a voice as he could muster: "well, little comrade, what shall we do next?" "i don't know, i'm sure," she answered with a puzzled face. "i'm kind of sorry our adventures are over, for i enjoyed them, and now that queen ann and her people are gone, and polychrome is gone, and--dear me!--where's tik-tok, shaggy?" "he also has disappeared," said shaggy, looking around the cavern and nodding wisely. "by this time he is in ozma's palace in the land of oz, which is his home." "isn't it your home, too?" asked betsy. "it used to be, my dear; but now my home is wherever you and my brother are. we are wanderers, you know, but if we stick together i am sure we shall have a good time." "then," said the girl, "let us get out of this stuffy, underground cavern and go in search of new adventures. i'm sure it has stopped raining." "i'm ready," said shaggy, and then they bade good-bye to king kaliko, and thanked him for his assistance, and went out to the mouth of the passage. the sky was now clear and a brilliant blue in color; the sun shone brightly and even this rugged, rocky country seemed delightful after their confinement underground. there were but four of them now--betsy and hank, and shaggy and his brother--and the little party made their way down the mountain and followed a faint path that led toward the southwest. during this time ozma had been holding a conference with the wizard, and later with tik-tok, whom the magic of the wizard had quickly transported to ozma's palace. tik-tok had only words of praise for betsy bobbin, "who," he said, "is al-most as nice as dor-o-thy her-self." "let us send for dorothy," said ozma, and summoning her favorite maid, who was named jellia jamb, she asked her to request princess dorothy to attend her at once. so a few moments later dorothy entered ozma's room and greeted her and the wizard and tik-tok with the same gentle smile and simple manner that had won for the little girl the love of everyone she met. "did you want to see me, ozma?" she asked. "yes, dear. i am puzzled how to act, and i want your advice." "i don't b'lieve it's worth much," replied dorothy, "but i'll do the best i can. what is it all about, ozma?" "you all know," said the girl ruler, addressing her three friends, "what a serious thing it is to admit any mortals into this fairyland of oz. it is true i have invited several mortals to make their home here, and all of them have proved true and loyal subjects. indeed, no one of you three was a native of oz. dorothy and the wizard came here from the united states, and tik-tok came from the land of ev. but of course he is not a mortal. shaggy is another american, and he is the cause of all my worry, for our dear shaggy will not return here and desert the new friends he has found in his recent adventures, because he believes they need his services." "shaggy man was always kind-hearted," remarked dorothy. "but who are these new friends he has found?" "one is his brother, who for many years has been a prisoner of the nome king, our old enemy ruggedo. this brother seems a kindly, honest fellow, but he has done nothing to entitle him to a home in the land of oz." "who else?" asked dorothy. "i have told you about betsy bobbin, the little girl who was shipwrecked--in much the same way you once were--and has since been following the shaggy man in his search for his lost brother. you remember her, do you not?" "oh, yes!" exclaimed dorothy. "i've often watched her and hank in the magic picture, you know. she's a dear little girl, and old hank is a darling! where are they now?" "look and see," replied ozma with a smile at her friend's enthusiasm. dorothy turned to the picture, which showed betsy and hank, with shaggy and his brother, trudging along the rocky paths of a barren country. "seems to me," she said, musingly, "that they're a good way from any place to sleep, or any nice things to eat." "you are right," said tik-tok. "i have been in that coun-try, and it is a wil-der-ness." "it is the country of the nomes," explained the wizard, "who are so mischievous that no one cares to live near them. i'm afraid shaggy and his friends will endure many hardships before they get out of that rocky place, unless--" he turned to ozma and smiled. "unless i ask you to transport them all here?" she asked. "yes, your highness." "could your magic do that?" inquired dorothy. "i think so," said the wizard. "well," said dorothy, "as far as betsy and hank are concerned, i'd like to have them here in oz. it would be such fun to have a girl playmate of my own age, you see. and hank is such a dear little mule!" ozma laughed at the wistful expression in the girl's eyes, and then she drew dorothy to her and kissed her. "am i not your friend and playmate?" she asked. dorothy flushed. "you know how dearly i love you, ozma!" she cried. "but you're so busy ruling all this land of oz that we can't always be together." "i know, dear. my first duty is to my subjects, and i think it would be a delight to us all to have betsy with us. there's a pretty suite of rooms just opposite your own where she can live, and i'll build a golden stall for hank in the stable where the sawhorse lives. then we'll introduce the mule to the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, and i'm sure they will soon become firm friends. but i cannot very well admit betsy and hank into oz unless i also admit shaggy's brother." "and, unless you admit shaggy's brother, you will keep out poor shaggy, whom we are all very fond of," said the wizard. "well, why not ad-mit him?" demanded tik-tok. "the land of oz is not a refuge for all mortals in distress," explained ozma. "i do not wish to be unkind to shaggy man, but his brother has no claim on me." "the land of oz isn't crowded," suggested dorothy. "then you advise me to admit shaggy's brother?" inquired ozma. "well, we can't afford to lose our shaggy man, can we?" "no, indeed!" returned ozma. "what do you say, wizard?" "i'm getting my magic ready to transport them all." "and you, tik-tok?" "shag-gy's broth-er is a good fel-low, and we can't spare shag-gy." "so, then, the question is settled," decided ozma. "perform your magic, wizard!" he did so, placing a silver plate upon a small standard and pouring upon the plate a small quantity of pink powder which was contained in a crystal vial. then he muttered a rather difficult incantation which the sorceress glinda the good had taught him, and it all ended in a puff of perfumed smoke from the silver plate. this smoke was so pungent that it made both ozma and dorothy rub their eyes for a moment. "you must pardon these disagreeable fumes," said the wizard. "i assure you the smoke is a very necessary part of my wizardry." "look!" cried dorothy, pointing to the magic picture; "they're gone! all of them are gone." indeed, the picture now showed the same rocky landscape as before, but the three people and the mule had disappeared from it. "they are gone," said the wizard, polishing the silver plate and wrapping it in a fine cloth, "because they are here." at that moment jellia jamb entered the room. "your highness," she said to ozma, "the shaggy man and another man are in the waiting room and ask to pay their respects to you. shaggy is crying like a baby, but he says they are tears of joy." [illustration] "send them here at once, jellia!" commanded ozma. "also," continued the maid, "a girl and a small-sized mule have mysteriously arrived, but they don't seem to know where they are or how they came here. shall i send them here, too?" "oh, no!" exclaimed dorothy, eagerly jumping up from her chair; "i'll go to meet betsy myself, for she'll feel awful strange in this big palace." and she ran down the stairs two at a time to greet her new friend, betsy bobbin. [illustration] [illustration] chapter the land of love "well, is 'hee-haw' all you are able to say?" inquired the sawhorse, as he examined hank with his knot eyes and slowly wagged the branch that served him for a tail. they were in a beautiful stable in the rear of ozma's palace, where the wooden sawhorse--very much alive--lived in a gold-paneled stall, and where there were rooms for the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, which were filled with soft cushions for them to lie upon and golden troughs for them to eat from. beside the stall of the sawhorse had been placed another for hank, the mule. this was not quite so beautiful as the other, for the sawhorse was ozma's favorite steed; but hank had a supply of cushions for a bed (which the sawhorse did not need because he never slept) and all this luxury was so strange to the little mule that he could only stand still and regard his surroundings and his queer companions with wonder and amazement. the cowardly lion, looking very dignified, was stretched out upon the marble floor of the stable, eyeing hank with a calm and critical gaze, while near by crouched the huge hungry tiger, who seemed equally interested in the new animal that had just arrived. the sawhorse, standing stiffly before hank, repeated his question: "is 'hee-haw' all you are able to say?" hank moved his ears in an embarrassed manner. "i have never said anything else, until now," he replied; and then he began to tremble with fright to hear himself talk. "i can well understand that," remarked the lion, wagging his great head with a swaying motion. "strange things happen in this land of oz, as they do everywhere else. i believe you came here from the cold, civilized, outside world, did you not?" "i did," replied hank. "one minute i was outside of oz--and the next minute i was inside! that was enough to give me a nervous shock, as you may guess; but to find myself able to talk, as betsy does, is a marvel that staggers me." "that is because you are in the land of oz," said the sawhorse. "all animals talk, in this favored country, and you must admit it is more sociable than to bray your dreadful 'hee-haw,' which nobody can understand." "mules understand it very well," declared hank. "oh, indeed! then there must be other mules in your outside world," said the tiger, yawning sleepily. "there are a great many in america," said hank. "are you the only tiger in oz?" "no," acknowledged the tiger, "i have many relatives living in the jungle country; but i am the only tiger living in the emerald city." "there are other lions, too," said the sawhorse; "but i am the only horse, of any description, in this favored land." "that is why this land is favored," said the tiger. "you must understand, friend hank, that the sawhorse puts on airs because he is shod with plates of gold, and because our beloved ruler, ozma of oz, likes to ride upon his back." "betsy rides upon _my_ back," declared hank proudly. "who is betsy?" "the dearest, sweetest girl in all the world!" the sawhorse gave an angry snort and stamped his golden feet. the tiger crouched and growled. slowly the great lion rose to his feet, his mane bristling. "friend hank," said he, "either you are mistaken in judgment or you are willfully trying to deceive us. the dearest, sweetest girl in the world is our dorothy, and i will fight anyone--animal or human--who dares to deny it!" "so will i!" snarled the tiger, showing two rows of enormous white teeth. "you are all wrong!" asserted the sawhorse in a voice of scorn. "no girl living can compare with my mistress, ozma of oz!" hank slowly turned around until his heels were toward the others. then he said stubbornly: "i am not mistaken in my statement, nor will i admit there can be a sweeter girl alive than betsy bobbin. if you want to fight, come on--i'm ready for you!" while they hesitated, eyeing hank's heels doubtfully, a merry peal of laughter startled the animals and turning their heads they beheld three lovely girls standing just within the richly carved entrance to the stable. in the center was ozma, her arms encircling the waists of dorothy and betsy, who stood on either side of her. ozma was nearly half a head taller than the two other girls, who were almost of one size. unobserved, they had listened to the talk of the animals, which was a very strange experience indeed to little betsy bobbin. "you foolish beasts!" exclaimed the ruler of oz, in a gentle but chiding tone of voice. "why should you fight to defend us, who are all three loving friends and in no sense rivals? answer me!" she continued, as they bowed their heads sheepishly. "i have the right to express my opinion, your highness," pleaded the lion. "and so have the others," replied ozma. "i am glad you and the hungry tiger love dorothy best, for she was your first friend and companion. also i am pleased that my sawhorse loves me best, for together we have endured both joy and sorrow. hank has proved his faith and loyalty by defending his own little mistress; and so you are all right in one way, but wrong in another. our land of oz is a land of love, and here friendship outranks every other quality. unless you can all be friends, you cannot retain our love." they accepted this rebuke very meekly. "all right," said the sawhorse, quite cheerfully; "shake hoofs, friend mule." hank touched his hoof to that of the wooden horse. "let us be friends and rub noses," said the tiger. so hank modestly rubbed noses with the big beast. the lion merely nodded and said, as he crouched before the mule: "any friend of a friend of our beloved ruler is a friend of the cowardly lion. that seems to cover your case. if ever you need help or advice, friend hank, call on me." "why, this is as it should be," said ozma, highly pleased to see them so fully reconciled. then she turned to her companions: "come, my dears, let us resume our walk." as they turned away betsy said wonderingly: "do all the animals in oz talk as we do?" "almost all," answered dorothy. "there's a yellow hen here, and she can talk, and so can her chickens; and there's a pink kitten upstairs in my room who talks very nicely; but i've a little fuzzy black dog, named toto, who has been with me in oz a long time, and he's never said a single word but 'bow-wow!'" "do you know why?" asked ozma. "why, he's a kansas dog; so i s'pose he's different from these fairy animals," replied dorothy. "hank isn't a fairy animal, any more than toto," said ozma, "yet as soon as he came under the spell of our fairyland he found he could talk. it was the same way with billina, the yellow hen whom you brought here at one time. the same spell has affected toto, i assure you; but he's a wise little dog and while he knows everything that is said to him he prefers not to talk." "goodness me!" exclaimed dorothy. "i never s'pected toto was fooling me all this time." then she drew a small silver whistle from her pocket and blew a shrill note upon it. a moment later there was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and a shaggy black dog came running up the path. [illustration] dorothy knelt down before him and shaking her finger just above his nose she said: "toto, haven't i always been good to you?" toto looked up at her with his bright black eyes and wagged his tail. "bow-wow!" he said, and betsy knew at once that meant yes, as well as dorothy and ozma knew it, for there was no mistaking the tone of toto's voice. "that's a dog answer," said dorothy. "how would you like it, toto, if i said nothing to you but 'bow-wow'?" toto's tail was wagging furiously now, but otherwise he was silent. "really, dorothy," said betsy, "he can talk with his bark and his tail just as well as we can. don't you understand such dog language?" "of course i do," replied dorothy. "but toto's got to be more sociable. see here, sir!" she continued, addressing the dog, "i've just learned, for the first time, that you can say words--if you want to. don't you want to, toto?" "woof!" said toto, and that meant "no." "not just one word, toto, to prove you're as good as any other animal in oz?" "woof!" "just one word, toto--and then you may run away." he looked at her steadily a moment. "all right. here i go!" he said, and darted away as swift as an arrow. dorothy clapped her hands in delight, while betsy and ozma both laughed heartily at her pleasure and the success of her experiment. arm in arm they sauntered away through the beautiful gardens of the palace, where magnificent flowers bloomed in abundance and fountains shot their silvery sprays far into the air. and by and by, as they turned a corner, they came upon shaggy man and his brother, who were seated together upon a golden bench. the two arose to bow respectfully as the ruler of oz approached them. "how are you enjoying our land of oz?" ozma asked the stranger. "i am very happy here, your highness," replied shaggy's brother. "also i am very grateful to you for permitting me to live in this delightful place." "you must thank shaggy for that," said ozma. "being his brother, i have made you welcome here." "when you know brother better," said shaggy earnestly, "you will be glad he has become one of your loyal subjects. i am just getting acquainted with him myself, and i find much in his character to admire." leaving the brothers, ozma and the girls continued their walk. presently betsy exclaimed: "shaggy's brother can't ever be as happy in oz as _i_ am. do you know, dorothy, i didn't believe any girl could ever have such a good time--_anywhere_--as i'm having now?" "i know," answered dorothy. "i've felt that way myself, lots of times." "i wish," continued betsy, dreamily, "that every little girl in the world could live in the land of oz; and every little boy, too!" ozma laughed at this. "it is quite fortunate for us, betsy, that your wish cannot be granted," said she, "for all that army of girls and boys would crowd us so that we would have to move away." "yes," agreed betsy, after a little thought, "i guess that's true." [illustration] * * * * * transcriber's note: all illustrations were placed so as to not split paragraphs. three presumed typographical errors were corrected: p. , rooks to rocks ("on the rough =rocks=."); p. , any to my ("... get off =my= left toe ..."); and p. , comma to question mark ("what could you find to eat here=?="). all usage of "every one" and "everyone" were both retained. glinda of oz by l. frank baum in which are related the exciting experiences of princess ozma of oz, and dorothy, in their hazardous journey to the home of the flatheads, and to the magic isle of the skeezers, and how they were rescued from dire peril by the sorcery of glinda the good by l. frank baum "royal historian of oz" this book is dedicated to my son robert stanton baum list of chapters the call to duty ozma and dorothy the mist maidens the magic tent the magic stairway flathead mountain the magic isle queen coo-ee-oh lady aurex under water the conquest of the skeezers the diamond swan the alarm bell ozma's counsellors the great sorceress the enchanted fishes under the great dome the cleverness of ervic red reera, the yookoohoo a puzzling problem the three adepts the sunken island the magic words glinda's triumph chapter one the call to duty glinda, the good sorceress of oz, sat in the grand court of her palace, surrounded by her maids of honor--a hundred of the most beautiful girls of the fairyland of oz. the palace court was built of rare marbles, exquisitely polished. fountains tinkled musically here and there; the vast colonnade, open to the south, allowed the maidens, as they raised their heads from their embroideries, to gaze upon a vista of rose-hued fields and groves of trees bearing fruits or laden with sweet-scented flowers. at times one of the girls would start a song, the others joining in the chorus, or one would rise and dance, gracefully swaying to the music of a harp played by a companion. and then glinda smiled, glad to see her maids mixing play with work. presently among the fields an object was seen moving, threading the broad path that led to the castle gate. some of the girls looked upon this object enviously; the sorceress merely gave it a glance and nodded her stately head as if pleased, for it meant the coming of her friend and mistress--the only one in all the land that glinda bowed to. then up the path trotted a wooden animal attached to a red wagon, and as the quaint steed halted at the gate there descended from the wagon two young girls, ozma, ruler of oz, and her companion, princess dorothy. both were dressed in simple white muslin gowns, and as they ran up the marble steps of the palace they laughed and chatted as gaily as if they were not the most important persons in the world's loveliest fairyland. the maids of honor had risen and stood with bowed heads to greet the royal ozma, while glinda came forward with outstretched arms to greet her guests. "we've just come on a visit, you know," said ozma. "both dorothy and i were wondering how we should pass the day when we happened to think we'd not been to your quadling country for weeks, so we took the sawhorse and rode straight here." "and we came so fast," added dorothy, "that our hair is blown all fuzzy, for the sawhorse makes a wind of his own. usually it's a day's journey from the em'rald city, but i don't s'pose we were two hours on the way." "you are most welcome," said glinda the sorceress, and led them through the court to her magnificent reception hall. ozma took the arm of her hostess, but dorothy lagged behind, kissing some of the maids she knew best, talking with others, and making them all feel that she was their friend. when at last she joined glinda and ozma in the reception hall, she found them talking earnestly about the condition of the people, and how to make them more happy and contented--although they were already the happiest and most contented folks in all the world. this interested ozma, of course, but it didn't interest dorothy very much, so the little girl ran over to a big table on which was lying open glinda's great book of records. this book is one of the greatest treasures in oz, and the sorceress prizes it more highly than any of her magical possessions. that is the reason it is firmly attached to the big marble table by means of golden chains, and whenever glinda leaves home she locks the great book together with five jeweled padlocks, and carries the keys safely hidden in her bosom. i do not suppose there is any magical thing in any fairyland to compare with the record book, on the pages of which are constantly being printed a record of every event that happens in any part of the world, at exactly the moment it happens. and the records are always truthful, although sometimes they do not give as many details as one could wish. but then, lots of things happen, and so the records have to be brief or even glinda's great book could not hold them all. glinda looked at the records several times each day, and dorothy, whenever she visited the sorceress, loved to look in the book and see what was happening everywhere. not much was recorded about the land of oz, which is usually peaceful and uneventful, but today dorothy found something which interested her. indeed, the printed letters were appearing on the page even while she looked. "this is funny!" she exclaimed. "did you know, ozma, that there were people in your land of oz called skeezers?" "yes," replied ozma, coming to her side, "i know that on professor wogglebug's map of the land of oz there is a place marked 'skeezer,' but what the skeezers are like i do not know. no one i know has ever seen them or heard of them. the skeezer country is 'way at the upper edge of the gillikin country, with the sandy, impassable desert on one side and the mountains of oogaboo on another side. that is a part of the land of oz of which i know very little." "i guess no one else knows much about it either, unless it's the skeezers themselves," remarked dorothy. "but the book says: 'the skeezers of oz have declared war on the flatheads of oz, and there is likely to be fighting and much trouble as the result.'" "is that all the book says?" asked ozma. "every word," said dorothy, and ozma and glinda both looked at the record and seemed surprised and perplexed. "tell me, glinda," said ozma, "who are the flatheads?" "i cannot, your majesty," confessed the sorceress. "until now i never have heard of them, nor have i ever heard the skeezers mentioned. in the faraway corners of oz are hidden many curious tribes of people, and those who never leave their own countries and never are visited by those from our favored part of oz, naturally are unknown to me. however, if you so desire, i can learn through my arts of sorcery something of the skeezers and the flatheads." "i wish you would," answered ozma seriously. "you see, glinda, if these are oz people they are my subjects and i cannot allow any wars or troubles in the land i rule, if i can possibly help it." "very well, your majesty," said the sorceress, "i will try to get some information to guide you. please excuse me for a time, while i retire to my room of magic and sorcery." "may i go with you?" asked dorothy, eagerly. "no, princess," was the reply. "it would spoil the charm to have anyone present." so glinda locked herself in her own room of magic and dorothy and ozma waited patiently for her to come out again. in about an hour glinda appeared, looking grave and thoughtful. "your majesty," she said to ozma, "the skeezers live on a magic isle in a great lake. for that reason--because the skeezers deal in magic--i can learn little about them." "why, i didn't know there was a lake in that part of oz," exclaimed ozma. "the map shows a river running through the skeezer country, but no lake." "that is because the person who made the map never had visited that part of the country," explained the sorceress. "the lake surely is there, and in the lake is an island--a magic isle--and on that island live the people called the skeezers." "what are they like?" inquired the ruler of oz. "my magic cannot tell me that," confessed glinda, "for the magic of the skeezers prevents anyone outside of their domain knowing anything about them." "the flatheads must know, if they're going to fight the skeezers," suggested dorothy. "perhaps so," glinda replied, "but i can get little information concerning the flatheads, either. they are people who inhabit a mountain just south of the lake of the skeezers. the mountain has steep sides and a broad, hollow top, like a basin, and in this basin the flatheads have their dwellings. they also are magic-workers and usually keep to themselves and allow no one from outside to visit them. i have learned that the flatheads number about one hundred people--men, women and children--while the skeezers number just one hundred and one." "what did they quarrel about, and why do they wish to fight one another?" was ozma's next question. "i cannot tell your majesty that," said glinda. "but see here!" cried dorothy, "it's against the law for anyone but glinda and the wizard to work magic in the land of oz, so if these two strange people are magic-makers they are breaking the law and ought to be punished!" ozma smiled upon her little friend. "those who do not know me or my laws," she said, "cannot be expected to obey my laws. if we know nothing of the skeezers or the flatheads, it is likely that they know nothing of us." "but they ought to know, ozma, and we ought to know. who's going to tell them, and how are we going to make them behave?" "that," returned ozma, "is what i am now considering. what would you advise, glinda?" the sorceress took a little time to consider this question, before she made reply. then she said: "had you not learned of the existence of the flatheads and the skeezers, through my book of records, you would never have worried about them or their quarrels. so, if you pay no attention to these peoples, you may never hear of them again." "but that wouldn't be right," declared ozma. "i am ruler of all the land of oz, which includes the gillikin country, the quadling country, the winkie country and the munchkin country, as well as the emerald city, and being the princess of this fairyland it is my duty to make all my people--wherever they may be--happy and content and to settle their disputes and keep them from quarreling. so, while the skeezers and flatheads may not know me or that i am their lawful ruler, i now know that they inhabit my kingdom and are my subjects, so i would not be doing my duty if i kept away from them and allowed them to fight." "that's a fact, ozma," commented dorothy. "you've got to go up to the gillikin country and make these people behave themselves and make up their quarrels. but how are you going to do it?" "that is what is puzzling me also, your majesty," said the sorceress. "it may be dangerous for you to go into those strange countries, where the people are possibly fierce and warlike." "i am not afraid," said ozma, with a smile. "'tisn't a question of being 'fraid," argued dorothy. "of course we know you're a fairy, and can't be killed or hurt, and we know you've a lot of magic of your own to help you. but, ozma dear, in spite of all this you've been in trouble before, on account of wicked enemies, and it isn't right for the ruler of all oz to put herself in danger." "perhaps i shall be in no danger at all," returned ozma, with a little laugh. "you mustn't imagine danger, dorothy, for one should only imagine nice things, and we do not know that the skeezers and flatheads are wicked people or my enemies. perhaps they would be good and listen to reason." "dorothy is right, your majesty," asserted the sorceress. "it is true we know nothing of these faraway subjects, except that they intend to fight one another, and have a certain amount of magic power at their command. such folks do not like to submit to interference and they are more likely to resent your coming among them than to receive you kindly and graciously, as is your due." "if you had an army to take with you," added dorothy, "it wouldn't be so bad; but there isn't such a thing as an army in all oz." "i have one soldier," said ozma. "yes, the soldier with the green whiskers; but he's dreadful 'fraid of his gun and never loads it. i'm sure he'd run rather than fight. and one soldier, even if he were brave, couldn't do much against two hundred and one flatheads and skeezers." "what then, my friends, would you suggest?" inquired ozma. "i advise you to send the wizard of oz to them, and let him inform them that it is against the laws of oz to fight, and that you command them to settle their differences and become friends," proposed glinda. "let the wizard tell them they will be punished if they refuse to obey the commands of the princess of all the land of oz." ozma shook her head, to indicate that the advice was not to her satisfaction. "if they refuse, what then?" she asked. "i should be obliged to carry out my threat and punish them, and that would be an unpleasant and difficult thing to do. i am sure it would be better for me to go peacefully, without an army and armed only with my authority as ruler, and plead with them to obey me. then, if they prove obstinate i could resort to other means to win their obedience." "it's a ticklish thing, anyhow you look at it," sighed dorothy. "i'm sorry now that i noticed the record in the great book." "but can't you realize, my dear, that i must do my duty, now that i am aware of this trouble?" asked ozma. "i am fully determined to go at once to the magic isle of the skeezers and to the enchanted mountain of the flatheads, and prevent war and strife between their inhabitants. the only question to decide is whether it is better for me to go alone, or to assemble a party of my friends and loyal supporters to accompany me." "if you go i want to go, too," declared dorothy. "whatever happens it's going to be fun--'cause all excitement is fun--and i wouldn't miss it for the world!" neither ozma nor glinda paid any attention to this statement, for they were gravely considering the serious aspect of this proposed adventure. "there are plenty of friends who would like to go with you," said the sorceress, "but none of them would afford your majesty any protection in case you were in danger. you are yourself the most powerful fairy in oz, although both i and the wizard have more varied arts of magic at our command. however, you have one art that no other in all the world can equal--the art of winning hearts and making people love to bow to your gracious presence. for that reason i believe you can accomplish more good alone than with a large number of subjects in your train." "i believe that also," agreed the princess. "i shall be quite able to take care of myself, you know, but might not be able to protect others so well. i do not look for opposition, however. i shall speak to these people in kindly words and settle their dispute--whatever it may be--in a just manner." "aren't you going to take me?" pleaded dorothy. "you'll need some companion, ozma." the princess smiled upon her little friend. "i see no reason why you should not accompany me," was her reply. "two girls are not very warlike and they will not suspect us of being on any errand but a kindly and peaceful one. but, in order to prevent war and strife between these angry peoples, we must go to them at once. let us return immediately to the emerald city and prepare to start on our journey early tomorrow morning." glinda was not quite satisfied with this plan, but could not think of any better way to meet the problem. she knew that ozma, with all her gentleness and sweet disposition, was accustomed to abide by any decision she had made and could not easily be turned from her purpose. moreover she could see no great danger to the fairy ruler of oz in the undertaking, even though the unknown people she was to visit proved obstinate. but dorothy was not a fairy; she was a little girl who had come from kansas to live in the land of oz. dorothy might encounter dangers that to ozma would be as nothing but to an "earth child" would be very serious. the very fact that dorothy lived in oz, and had been made a princess by her friend ozma, prevented her from being killed or suffering any great bodily pain as long as she lived in that fairyland. she could not grow big, either, and would always remain the same little girl who had come to oz, unless in some way she left that fairyland or was spirited away from it. but dorothy was a mortal, nevertheless, and might possibly be destroyed, or hidden where none of her friends could ever find her. she could, for instance be cut into pieces, and the pieces, while still alive and free from pain, could be widely scattered; or she might be buried deep underground or "destroyed" in other ways by evil magicians, were she not properly protected. these facts glinda was considering while she paced with stately tread her marble hall. finally the good sorceress paused and drew a ring from her finger, handing it to dorothy. "wear this ring constantly until your return," she said to the girl. "if serious danger threatens you, turn the ring around on your finger once to the right and another turn to the left. that will ring the alarm bell in my palace and i will at once come to your rescue. but do not use the ring unless you are actually in danger of destruction. while you remain with princess ozma i believe she will be able to protect you from all lesser ills." "thank you, glinda," responded dorothy gratefully, as she placed the ring on her finger. "i'm going to wear my magic belt which i took from the nome king, too, so i guess i'll be safe from anything the skeezers and flatheads try to do to me." ozma had many arrangements to make before she could leave her throne and her palace in the emerald city, even for a trip of a few days, so she bade goodbye to glinda and with dorothy climbed into the red wagon. a word to the wooden sawhorse started that astonishing creature on the return journey, and so swiftly did he run that dorothy was unable to talk or do anything but hold tight to her seat all the way back to the emerald city. chapter two ozma and dorothy residing in ozma's palace at this time was a live scarecrow, a most remarkable and intelligent creature who had once ruled the land of oz for a brief period and was much loved and respected by all the people. once a munchkin farmer had stuffed an old suit of clothes with straw and put stuffed boots on the feet and used a pair of stuffed cotton gloves for hands. the head of the scarecrow was a stuffed sack fastened to the body, with eyes, nose, mouth and ears painted on the sack. when a hat had been put on the head, the thing was a good imitation of a man. the farmer placed the scarecrow on a pole in his cornfield and it came to life in a curious manner. dorothy, who was passing by the field, was hailed by the live scarecrow and lifted him off his pole. he then went with her to the emerald city, where the wizard of oz gave him some excellent brains, and the scarecrow soon became an important personage. ozma considered the scarecrow one of her best friends and most loyal subjects, so the morning after her visit to glinda she asked him to take her place as ruler of the land of oz while she was absent on a journey, and the scarecrow at once consented without asking any questions. ozma had warned dorothy to keep their journey a secret and say nothing to anyone about the skeezers and flatheads until their return, and dorothy promised to obey. she longed to tell her girl friends, tiny trot and betsy bobbin, of the adventure they were undertaking, but refrained from saying a word on the subject although both these girls lived with her in ozma's palace. indeed, only glinda the sorceress knew they were going, until after they had gone, and even the sorceress didn't know what their errand might be. princess ozma took the sawhorse and the red wagon, although she was not sure there was a wagon road all the way to the lake of the skeezers. the land of oz is a pretty big place, surrounded on all sides by a deadly desert which it is impossible to cross, and the skeezer country, according to the map, was in the farthest northwestern part of oz, bordering on the north desert. as the emerald city was exactly in the center of oz, it was no small journey from there to the skeezers. around the emerald city the country is thickly settled in every direction, but the farther away you get from the city the fewer people there are, until those parts that border on the desert have small populations. also those faraway sections are little known to the oz people, except in the south, where glinda lives and where dorothy has often wandered on trips of exploration. the least known of all is the gillikin country, which harbors many strange bands of people among its mountains and valleys and forests and streams, and ozma was now bound for the most distant part of the gillikin country. "i am really sorry," said ozma to dorothy, as they rode away in the red wagon, "not to know more about the wonderful land i rule. it is my duty to be acquainted with every tribe of people and every strange and hidden country in all oz, but i am kept so busy at my palace making laws and planning for the comforts of those who live near the emerald city, that i do not often find time to make long journeys." "well," replied dorothy, "we'll prob'bly find out a lot on this trip, and we'll learn all about the skeezers and flatheads, anyhow. time doesn't make much diff'rence in the land of oz, 'cause we don't grow up, or get old, or become sick and die, as they do other places; so, if we explore one place at a time, we'll by-an'-by know all about every nook and corner in oz." dorothy wore around her waist the nome king's magic belt, which protected her from harm, and the magic ring which glinda had given her was on her finger. ozma had merely slipped a small silver wand into the bosom of her gown, for fairies do not use chemicals and herbs and the tools of wizards and sorcerers to perform their magic. the silver wand was ozma's one weapon of offense and defense and by its use she could accomplish many things. they had left the emerald city just at sunrise and the sawhorse traveled very swiftly over the roads towards the north, but in a few hours the wooden animal had to slacken his pace because the farm houses had become few and far between and often there were no paths at all in the direction they wished to follow. at such times they crossed the fields, avoiding groups of trees and fording the streams and rivulets whenever they came to them. but finally they reached a broad hillside closely covered with scrubby brush, through which the wagon could not pass. "it will be difficult even for you and me to get through without tearing our dresses," said ozma, "so we must leave the sawhorse and the wagon here until our return." "that's all right," dorothy replied, "i'm tired riding, anyhow. do you s'pose, ozma, we're anywhere near the skeezer country?" "i cannot tell, dorothy dear, but i know we've been going in the right direction, so we are sure to find it in time." the scrubby brush was almost like a grove of small trees, for it reached as high as the heads of the two girls, neither of whom was very tall. they were obliged to thread their way in and out, until dorothy was afraid they would get lost, and finally they were halted by a curious thing that barred their further progress. it was a huge web--as if woven by gigantic spiders--and the delicate, lacy film was fastened stoutly to the branches of the bushes and continued to the right and left in the form of a half circle. the threads of this web were of a brilliant purple color and woven into numerous artistic patterns, but it reached from the ground to branches above the heads of the girls and formed a sort of fence that hedged them in. "it doesn't look very strong, though," said dorothy. "i wonder if we couldn't break through." she tried but found the web stronger than it seemed. all her efforts could not break a single thread. "we must go back, i think, and try to get around this peculiar web," ozma decided. so they turned to the right and, following the web found that it seemed to spread in a regular circle. on and on they went until finally ozma said they had returned to the exact spot from which they had started. "here is a handkerchief you dropped when we were here before," she said to dorothy. "in that case, they must have built the web behind us, after we walked into the trap," exclaimed the little girl. "true," agreed ozma, "an enemy has tried to imprison us." "and they did it, too," said dorothy. "i wonder who it was." "it's a spider-web, i'm quite sure," returned ozma, "but it must be the work of enormous spiders." "quite right!" cried a voice behind them. turning quickly around they beheld a huge purple spider sitting not two yards away and regarding them with its small bright eyes. then there crawled from the bushes a dozen more great purple spiders, which saluted the first one and said: "the web is finished, o king, and the strangers are our prisoners." dorothy did not like the looks of these spiders at all. they had big heads, sharp claws, small eyes and fuzzy hair all over their purple bodies. "they look wicked," she whispered to ozma. "what shall we do?" ozma gazed upon the spiders with a serious face. "what is your object in making us prisoners?" she inquired. "we need someone to keep house for us," answered the spider king. "there is sweeping and dusting to be done, and polishing and washing of dishes, and that is work my people dislike to do. so we decided that if any strangers came our way we would capture them and make them our servants." "i am princess ozma, ruler of all oz," said the girl with dignity. "well, i am king of all spiders," was the reply, "and that makes me your master. come with me to my palace and i will instruct you in your work." "i won't," said dorothy indignantly. "we won't have anything to do with you." "we'll see about that," returned the spider in a severe tone, and the next instant he made a dive straight at dorothy, opening the claws in his legs as if to grab and pinch her with the sharp points. but the girl was wearing her magic belt and was not harmed. the spider king could not even touch her. he turned swiftly and made a dash at ozma, but she held her magic wand over his head and the monster recoiled as if it had been struck. "you'd better let us go," dorothy advised him, "for you see you can't hurt us." "so i see," returned the spider king angrily. "your magic is greater than mine. but i'll not help you to escape. if you can break the magic web my people have woven you may go; if not you must stay here and starve." with that the spider king uttered a peculiar whistle and all the spiders disappeared. "there is more magic in my fairyland than i dreamed of," remarked the beautiful ozma, with a sigh of regret. "it seems that my laws have not been obeyed, for even these monstrous spiders defy me by means of magic." "never mind that now," said dorothy; "let's see what we can do to get out of this trap." they now examined the web with great care and were amazed at its strength. although finer than the finest silken hairs, it resisted all their efforts to work through, even though both girls threw all their weight against it. "we must find some instrument which will cut the threads of the web," said ozma, finally. "let us look about for such a tool." so they wandered among the bushes and finally came to a shallow pool of water, formed by a small bubbling spring. dorothy stooped to get a drink and discovered in the water a green crab, about as big as her hand. the crab had two big, sharp claws, and as soon as dorothy saw them she had an idea that those claws could save them. "come out of the water," she called to the crab; "i want to talk to you." rather lazily the crab rose to the surface and caught hold of a bit of rock. with his head above the water he said in a cross voice: "what do you want?" "we want you to cut the web of the purple spiders with your claws, so we can get through it," answered dorothy. "you can do that, can't you?" "i suppose so," replied the crab. "but if i do what will you give me?" "what do you wish?" ozma inquired. "i wish to be white, instead of green," said the crab. "green crabs are very common, and white ones are rare; besides the purple spiders, which infest this hillside, are afraid of white crabs. could you make me white if i should agree to cut the web for you?" "yes," said ozma, "i can do that easily. and, so you may know i am speaking the truth, i will change your color now." she waved her silver wand over the pool and the crab instantly became snow-white--all except his eyes, which remained black. the creature saw his reflection in the water and was so delighted that he at once climbed out of the pool and began moving slowly toward the web, by backing away from the pool. he moved so very slowly that dorothy cried out impatiently: "dear me, this will never do!" caching the crab in her hands she ran with him to the web. she had to hold him up even then, so he could reach with his claws strand after strand of the filmy purple web, which he was able to sever with one nip. when enough of the web had been cut to allow them to pass, dorothy ran back to the pool and placed the white crab in the water, after which she rejoined ozma. they were just in time to escape through the web, for several of the purple spiders now appeared, having discovered that their web had been cut, and had the girls not rushed through the opening the spiders would have quickly repaired the cuts and again imprisoned them. ozma and dorothy ran as fast as they could and although the angry spiders threw a number of strands of web after them, hoping to lasso them or entangle them in the coils, they managed to escape and clamber to the top of the hill. chapter three the mist maidens from the top of the hill ozma and dorothy looked down into the valley beyond and were surprised to find it filled with a floating mist that was as dense as smoke. nothing in the valley was visible except these rolling waves of mist, but beyond, on the other side, rose a grassy hill that appeared quite beautiful. "well," said dorothy, "what are we to do, ozma? walk down into that thick fog, an' prob'bly get lost in it, or wait till it clears away?" "i'm not sure it will clear away, however long we wait," replied ozma, doubtfully. "if we wish to get on, i think we must venture into the mist." "but we can't see where we're going, or what we're stepping on," protested dorothy. "there may be dreadful things mixed up in that fog, an' i'm scared just to think of wading into it." even ozma seemed to hesitate. she was silent and thoughtful for a little while, looking at the rolling drifts that were so gray and forbidding. finally she said: "i believe this is a mist valley, where these moist clouds always remain, for even the sunshine above does not drive them away. therefore the mist maids must live here, and they are fairies and should answer my call." she placed her two hands before her mouth, forming a hollow with them, and uttered a clear, thrilling, bird-like cry. it floated far out over the mist waves and presently was answered by a similar sound, as of a far-off echo. dorothy was much impressed. she had seen many strange things since coming to this fairy country, but here was a new experience. at ordinary times ozma was just like any little girl one might chance to meet--simple, merry, lovable as could be--yet with a certain reserve that lent her dignity in her most joyous moods. there were times, however, when seated on her throne and commanding her subjects, or when her fairy powers were called into use, when dorothy and all others about her stood in awe of their lovely girl ruler and realized her superiority. ozma waited. presently out from the billows rose beautiful forms, clothed in fleecy, trailing garments of gray that could scarcely be distinguished from the mist. their hair was mist-color, too; only their gleaming arms and sweet, pallid faces proved they were living, intelligent creatures answering the call of a sister fairy. like sea nymphs they rested on the bosom of the clouds, their eyes turned questioningly upon the two girls who stood upon the bank. one came quite near and to her ozma said: "will you please take us to the opposite hillside? we are afraid to venture into the mist. i am princess ozma of oz, and this is my friend dorothy, a princess of oz." the mist maids came nearer, holding out their arms. without hesitation ozma advanced and allowed them to embrace her and dorothy plucked up courage to follow. very gently the mist maids held them. dorothy thought the arms were cold and misty--they didn't seem real at all--yet they supported the two girls above the surface of the billows and floated with them so swiftly to the green hillside opposite that the girls were astonished to find themselves set upon the grass before they realized they had fairly started. "thank you!" said ozma gratefully, and dorothy also added her thanks for the service. the mist maids made no answer, but they smiled and waved their hands in good-bye as again they floated out into the mist and disappeared from view. chapter four the magic tent "well," said dorothy with a laugh, "that was easier than i expected. it's worth while, sometimes, to be a real fairy. but i wouldn't like to be that kind, and live in a dreadful fog all the time." they now climbed the bank and found before them a delightful plain that spread for miles in all directions. fragrant wild flowers were scattered throughout the grass; there were bushes bearing lovely blossoms and luscious fruits; now and then a group of stately trees added to the beauty of the landscape. but there were no dwellings or signs of life. the farther side of the plain was bordered by a row of palms, and just in front of the palms rose a queerly shaped hill that towered above the plain like a mountain. the sides of this hill were straight up and down; it was oblong in shape and the top seemed flat and level. "oh, ho!" cried dorothy; "i'll bet that's the mountain glinda told us of, where the flatheads live." "if it is," replied ozma, "the lake of the skeezers must be just beyond the line of palm trees. can you walk that far, dorothy?" "of course, in time," was the prompt answer. "i'm sorry we had to leave the sawhorse and the red wagon behind us, for they'd come in handy just now; but with the end of our journey in sight a tramp across these pretty green fields won't tire us a bit." it was a longer tramp than they suspected, however, and night overtook them before they could reach the flat mountain. so ozma proposed they camp for the night and dorothy was quite ready to approve. she didn't like to admit to her friend she was tired, but she told herself that her legs "had prickers in 'em," meaning they had begun to ache. usually when dorothy started on a journey of exploration or adventure, she carried with her a basket of food, and other things that a traveler in a strange country might require, but to go away with ozma was quite a different thing, as experience had taught her. the fairy ruler of oz only needed her silver wand--tipped at one end with a great sparkling emerald--to provide through its magic all that they might need. therefore ozma, having halted with her companion and selected a smooth, grassy spot on the plain, waved her wand in graceful curves and chanted some mystic words in her sweet voice, and in an instant a handsome tent appeared before them. the canvas was striped purple and white, and from the center pole fluttered the royal banner of oz. "come, dear," said ozma, taking dorothy's hand, "i am hungry and i'm sure you must be also; so let us go in and have our feast." on entering the tent they found a table set for two, with snowy linen, bright silver and sparkling glassware, a vase of roses in the center and many dishes of delicious food, some smoking hot, waiting to satisfy their hunger. also, on either side of the tent were beds, with satin sheets, warm blankets and pillows filled with swansdown. there were chairs, too, and tall lamps that lighted the interior of the tent with a soft, rosy glow. dorothy, resting herself at her fairy friend's command, and eating her dinner with unusual enjoyment, thought of the wonders of magic. if one were a fairy and knew the secret laws of nature and the mystic words and ceremonies that commanded those laws, then a simple wave of a silver wand would produce instantly all that men work hard and anxiously for through weary years. and dorothy wished in her kindly, innocent heart, that all men and women could be fairies with silver wands, and satisfy all their needs without so much work and worry, for then, she imagined, they would have all their working hours to be happy in. but ozma, looking into her friend's face and reading those thoughts, gave a laugh and said: "no, no, dorothy, that wouldn't do at all. instead of happiness your plan would bring weariness to the world. if every one could wave a wand and have his wants fulfilled there would be little to wish for. there would be no eager striving to obtain the difficult, for nothing would then be difficult, and the pleasure of earning something longed for, and only to be secured by hard work and careful thought, would be utterly lost. there would be nothing to do you see, and no interest in life and in our fellow creatures. that is all that makes life worth our while--to do good deeds and to help those less fortunate than ourselves." "well, you're a fairy, ozma. aren't you happy?" asked dorothy. "yes, dear, because i can use my fairy powers to make others happy. had i no kingdom to rule, and no subjects to look after, i would be miserable. also, you must realize that while i am a more powerful fairy than any other inhabitant of oz, i am not as powerful as glinda the sorceress, who has studied many arts of magic that i know nothing of. even the little wizard of oz can do some things i am unable to accomplish, while i can accomplish things unknown to the wizard. this is to explain that i'm not all-powerful, by any means. my magic is simply fairy magic, and not sorcery or wizardry." "all the same," said dorothy, "i'm mighty glad you could make this tent appear, with our dinners and beds all ready for us." ozma smiled. "yes, it is indeed wonderful," she agreed. "not all fairies know that sort of magic, but some fairies can do magic that fills me with astonishment. i think that is what makes us modest and unassuming--the fact that our magic arts are divided, some being given each of us. i'm glad i don't know everything, dorothy, and that there still are things in both nature and in wit for me to marvel at." dorothy couldn't quite understand this, so she said nothing more on the subject and presently had a new reason to marvel. for when they had quite finished their meal table and contents disappeared in a flash. "no dishes to wash, ozma!" she said with a laugh. "i guess you'd make a lot of folks happy if you could teach 'em just that one trick." for an hour ozma told stories, and talked with dorothy about various people in whom they were interested. and then it was bedtime, and they undressed and crept into their soft beds and fell asleep almost as soon as their heads touched their pillows. chapter five the magic stairway the flat mountain looked much nearer in the clear light of the morning sun, but dorothy and ozma knew there was a long tramp before them, even yet. they finished dressing only to find a warm, delicious breakfast awaiting them, and having eaten they left the tent and started toward the mountain which was their first goal. after going a little way dorothy looked back and found that the fairy tent had entirely disappeared. she was not surprised, for she knew this would happen. "can't your magic give us a horse an' wagon, or an automobile?" inquired dorothy. "no, dear; i'm sorry that such magic is beyond my power," confessed her fairy friend. "perhaps glinda could," said dorothy thoughtfully. "glinda has a stork chariot that carries her through the air," said ozma, "but even our great sorceress cannot conjure up other modes of travel. don't forget what i told you last night, that no one is powerful enough to do everything." "well, i s'pose i ought to know that, having lived so long in the land of oz," replied dorothy; "but i can't do any magic at all, an' so i can't figure out e'zactly how you an' glinda an' the wizard do it." "don't try," laughed ozma. "but you have at least one magical art, dorothy: you know the trick of winning all hearts." "no, i don't," said dorothy earnestly. "if i really can do it, ozma, i am sure i don't know how i do it." it took them a good two hours to reach the foot of the round, flat mountain, and then they found the sides so steep that they were like the wall of a house. "even my purple kitten couldn't climb 'em," remarked dorothy, gazing upward. "but there is some way for the flatheads to get down and up again," declared ozma; "otherwise they couldn't make war with the skeezers, or even meet them and quarrel with them." "that's so, ozma. let's walk around a ways; perhaps we'll find a ladder or something." they walked quite a distance, for it was a big mountain, and as they circled around it and came to the side that faced the palm trees, they suddenly discovered an entrance way cut out of the rock wall. this entrance was arched overhead and not very deep because it merely led to a short flight of stone stairs. "oh, we've found a way to the top at last," announced ozma, and the two girls turned and walked straight toward the entrance. suddenly they bumped against something and stood still, unable to proceed farther. "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy, rubbing her nose, which had struck something hard, although she could not see what it was; "this isn't as easy as it looks. what has stopped us, ozma? is it magic of some sort?" ozma was feeling around, her bands outstretched before her. "yes, dear, it is magic," she replied. "the flatheads had to have a way from their mountain top from the plain below, but to prevent enemies from rushing up the stairs to conquer them, they have built, at a small distance before the entrance a wall of solid stone, the stones being held in place by cement, and then they made the wall invisible." "i wonder why they did that?" mused dorothy. "a wall would keep folks out anyhow, whether it could be seen or not, so there wasn't any use making it invisible. seems to me it would have been better to have left it solid, for then no one would have seen the entrance behind it. now anybody can see the entrance, as we did. and prob'bly anybody that tries to go up the stairs gets bumped, as we did." ozma made no reply at once. her face was grave and thoughtful. "i think i know the reason for making the wall invisible," she said after a while. "the flatheads use the stairs for coming down and going up. if there was a solid stone wall to keep them from reaching the plain they would themselves be imprisoned by the wall. so they had to leave some place to get around the wall, and, if the wall was visible, all strangers or enemies would find the place to go around it and then the wall would be useless. so the flatheads cunningly made their wall invisible, believing that everyone who saw the entrance to the mountain would walk straight toward it, as we did, and find it impossible to go any farther. i suppose the wall is really high and thick, and can't be broken through, so those who find it in their way are obliged to go away again." "well," said dorothy, "if there's a way around the wall, where is it?" "we must find it," returned ozma, and began feeling her way along the wall. dorothy followed and began to get discouraged when ozma had walked nearly a quarter of a mile away from the entrance. but now the invisible wall curved in toward the side of the mountain and suddenly ended, leaving just space enough between the wall and the mountain for an ordinary person to pass through. the girls went in, single file, and ozma explained that they were now behind the barrier and could go back to the entrance. they met no further obstructions. "most people, ozma, wouldn't have figured this thing out the way you did," remarked dorothy. "if i'd been alone the invisible wall surely would have stumped me." reaching the entrance they began to mount the stone stairs. they went up ten stairs and then down five stairs, following a passage cut from the rock. the stairs were just wide enough for the two girls to walk abreast, arm in arm. at the bottom of the five stairs the passage turned to the right, and they ascended ten more stairs, only to find at the top of the flight five stairs leading straight down again. again the passage turned abruptly, this time to the left, and ten more stairs led upward. the passage was now quite dark, for they were in the heart of the mountain and all daylight had been shut out by the turns of the passage. however, ozma drew her silver wand from her bosom and the great jewel at its end gave out a lustrous, green-tinted light which lighted the place well enough for them to see their way plainly. ten steps up, five steps down, and a turn, this way or that. that was the program, and dorothy figured that they were only gaining five stairs upward each trip that they made. "those flatheads must be funny people," she said to ozma. "they don't seem to do anything in a bold straightforward manner. in making this passage they forced everyone to walk three times as far as is necessary. and of course this trip is just as tiresome to the flatheads as it is to other folks." "that is true," answered ozma; "yet it is a clever arrangement to prevent their being surprised by intruders. every time we reach the tenth step of a flight, the pressure of our feet on the stone makes a bell ring on top of the mountain, to warn the flatheads of our coming." "how do you know that?" demanded dorothy, astonished. "i've heard the bell ever since we started," ozma told her. "you could not hear it, i know, but when i am holding my wand in my hand i can hear sounds a great distance off." "do you hear anything on top of the mountain 'cept the bell?" inquired dorothy. "yes. the people are calling to one another in alarm and many footsteps are approaching the place where we will reach the flat top of the mountain." this made dorothy feel somewhat anxious. "i'd thought we were going to visit just common, ordinary people," she remarked, "but they're pretty clever, it seems, and they know some kinds of magic, too. they may be dangerous, ozma. p'raps we'd better stayed at home." finally the upstairs-and-downstairs passage seemed coming to an end, for daylight again appeared ahead of the two girls and ozma replaced her wand in the bosom of her gown. the last ten steps brought them to the surface, where they found themselves surrounded by such a throng of queer people that for a time they halted, speechless, and stared into the faces that confronted them. dorothy knew at once why these mountain people were called flatheads. their heads were really flat on top, as if they had been cut off just above the eyes and ears. also the heads were bald, with no hair on top at all, and the ears were big and stuck straight out, and the noses were small and stubby, while the mouths of the flatheads were well shaped and not unusual. their eyes were perhaps their best feature, being large and bright and a deep violet in color. the costumes of the flatheads were all made of metals dug from their mountain. small gold, silver, tin and iron discs, about the size of pennies, and very thin, were cleverly wired together and made to form knee trousers and jackets for the men and skirts and waists for the women. the colored metals were skillfully mixed to form stripes and checks of various sorts, so that the costumes were quite gorgeous and reminded dorothy of pictures she had seen of knights of old clothed armor. aside from their flat heads, these people were not really bad looking. the men were armed with bows and arrows and had small axes of steel stuck in their metal belts. they wore no hats nor ornaments. chapter six flathead mountain when they saw that the intruders on their mountain were only two little girls, the flatheads grunted with satisfaction and drew back, permitting them to see what the mountain top looked like. it was shaped like a saucer, so that the houses and other buildings--all made of rocks--could not be seen over the edge by anyone standing in the plain below. but now a big fat flathead stood before the girls and in a gruff voice demanded: "what are you doing here? have the skeezers sent you to spy upon us?" "i am princess ozma, ruler of all the land of oz." "well, i've never heard of the land of oz, so you may be what you claim," returned the flathead. "this is the land of oz--part of it, anyway," exclaimed dorothy. "so princess ozma rules you flathead people, as well as all the other people in oz." the man laughed, and all the others who stood around laughed, too. some one in the crowd called: "she'd better not tell the supreme dictator about ruling the flatheads. eh, friends?" "no, indeed!" they all answered in positive tones. "who is your supreme dictator?" answered ozma. "i think i'll let him tell you that himself," answered the man who had first spoken. "you have broken our laws by coming here; and whoever you are the supreme dictator must fix your punishment. come along with me." he started down a path and ozma and dorothy followed him without protest, as they wanted to see the most important person in this queer country. the houses they passed seemed pleasant enough and each had a little yard in which were flowers and vegetables. walls of rock separated the dwellings, and all the paths were paved with smooth slabs of rock. this seemed their only building material and they utilized it cleverly for every purpose. directly in the center of the great saucer stood a larger building which the flathead informed the girls was the palace of the supreme dictator. he led them through an entrance hall into a big reception room, where they sat upon stone benches and awaited the coming of the dictator. pretty soon he entered from another room--a rather lean and rather old flathead, dressed much like the others of this strange race, and only distinguished from them by the sly and cunning expression of his face. he kept his eyes half closed and looked through the slits of them at ozma and dorothy, who rose to receive him. "are you the supreme dictator of the flatheads?" inquired ozma. "yes, that's me," he said, rubbing his hands slowly together. "my word is law. i'm the head of the flatheads on this flat headland." "i am princess ozma of oz, and i have come from the emerald city to--" "stop a minute," interrupted the dictator, and turned to the man who had brought the girls there. "go away, dictator felo flathead!" he commanded. "return to your duty and guard the stairway. i will look after these strangers." the man bowed and departed, and dorothy asked wonderingly: "is he a dictator, too?" "of course," was the answer. "everybody here is a dictator of something or other. they're all office holders. that's what keeps them contented. but i'm the supreme dictator of all, and i'm elected once a year. this is a democracy, you know, where the people are allowed to vote for their rulers. a good many others would like to be supreme dictator, but as i made a law that i am always to count the votes myself, i am always elected." "what is your name?" asked ozma. "i am called the su-dic, which is short for supreme dictator. i sent that man away because the moment you mentioned ozma of oz, and the emerald city, i knew who you are. i suppose i'm the only flathead that ever heard of you, but that's because i have more brains than the rest." dorothy was staring hard at the su-dic. "i don't see how you can have any brains at all," she remarked, "because the part of your head is gone where brains are kept." "i don't blame you for thinking that," he said. "once the flatheads had no brains because, as you say, there is no upper part to their heads, to hold brains. but long, long ago a band of fairies flew over this country and made it all a fairyland, and when they came to the flatheads the fairies were sorry to find them all very stupid and quite unable to think. so, as there was no good place in their bodies in which to put brains the fairy queen gave each one of us a nice can of brains to carry in his pocket and that made us just as intelligent as other people. see," he continued, "here is one of the cans of brains the fairies gave us." he took from a pocket a bright tin can having a pretty red label on it which said: "concentrated brains, extra quality." "and does every flathead have the same kind of brains?" asked dorothy. "yes, they're all alike. here's another can." from another pocket he produced a second can of brains. "did the fairies give you a double supply?" inquired dorothy. "no, but one of the flatheads thought he wanted to be the su-dic and tried to get my people to rebel against me, so i punished him by taking away his brains. one day my wife scolded me severely, so i took away her can of brains. she didn't like that and went out and robbed several women of their brains. then i made a law that if anyone stole another's brains, or even tried to borrow them, he would forfeit his own brains to the su-dic. so each one is content with his own canned brains and my wife and i are the only ones on the mountain with more than one can. i have three cans and that makes me very clever--so clever that i'm a good sorcerer, if i do say it myself. my poor wife had four cans of brains and became a remarkable witch, but alas! that was before those terrible enemies, the skeezers, transformed her into a golden pig." "good gracious!" cried dorothy; "is your wife really a golden pig?" "she is. the skeezers did it and so i have declared war on them. in revenge for making my wife a pig i intend to ruin their magic island and make the skeezers the slaves of the flatheads!" the su-dic was very angry now; his eyes flashed and his face took on a wicked and fierce expression. but ozma said to him, very sweetly and in a friendly voice: "i am sorry to hear this. will you please tell me more about your troubles with the skeezers? then perhaps i can help you." she was only a girl, but there was dignity in her pose and speech which impressed the su-dic. "if you are really princess ozma of oz," the flathead said, "you are one of that band of fairies who, under queen lurline, made all oz a fairyland. i have heard that lurline left one of her own fairies to rule oz, and gave the fairy the name of ozma." "if you knew this why did you not come to me at the emerald city and tender me your loyalty and obedience?" asked the ruler of oz. "well, i only learned the fact lately, and i've been too busy to leave home," he explained, looking at the floor instead of into ozma's eyes. she knew he had spoken a falsehood, but only said: "why did you quarrel with the skeezers?" "it was this way," began the su-dic, glad to change the subject. "we flatheads love fish, and as we have no fish on this mountain we would sometimes go to the lake of the skeezers to catch fish. this made the skeezers angry, for they declared the fish in their lake belonged to them and were under their protection and they forbade us to catch them. that was very mean and unfriendly in the skeezers, you must admit, and when we paid no attention to their orders they set a guard on the shore of the lake to prevent our fishing. "now, my wife, rora flathead, having four cans of brains, had become a wonderful witch, and fish being brain food, she loved to eat fish better than any one of us. so she vowed she would destroy every fish in the lake, unless the skeezers let us catch what we wanted. they defied us, so rora prepared a kettleful of magic poison and went down to the lake one night to dump it all in the water and poison the fish. it was a clever idea, quite worthy of my dear wife, but the skeezer queen--a young lady named coo-ee-oh--hid on the bank of the lake and taking rora unawares, transformed her into a golden pig. the poison was spilled on the ground and wicked queen coo-ee-oh, not content with her cruel transformation, even took away my wife's four cans of brains, so she is now a common grunting pig without even brains enough to know her own name." "then," said ozma thoughtfully, "the queen of the skeezers must be a sorceress." "yes," said the su-dic, "but she doesn't know much magic, after all. she is not as powerful as rora flathead was, nor half as powerful as i am now, as queen coo-ee-oh will discover when we fight our great battle and destroy her." "the golden pig can't be a witch any more, of course," observed dorothy. "no; even had queen coo-ee-oh left her the four cans of brains, poor rora, in a pig's shape, couldn't do any witchcraft. a witch has to use her fingers, and a pig has only cloven hoofs." "it seems a sad story," was ozma's comment, "and all the trouble arose because the flatheads wanted fish that did not belong to them." "as for that," said the su-dic, again angry, "i made a law that any of my people could catch fish in the lake of the skeezers, whenever they wanted to. so the trouble was through the skeezers defying my law." "you can only make laws to govern your own people," asserted ozma sternly. "i, alone, am empowered to make laws that must be obeyed by all the peoples of oz." "pooh!" cried the su-dic scornfully. "you can't make me obey your laws, i assure you. i know the extent of your powers, princess ozma of oz, and i know that i am more powerful than you are. to prove it i shall keep you and your companion prisoners in this mountain until after we have fought and conquered the skeezers. then, if you promise to be good, i may let you go home again." dorothy was amazed by this effrontery and defiance of the beautiful girl ruler of oz, whom all until now had obeyed without question. but ozma, still unruffled and dignified, looked at the su-dic and said: "you did not mean that. you are angry and speak unwisely, without reflection. i came here from my palace in the emerald city to prevent war and to make peace between you and the skeezers. i do not approve of queen coo-ee-oh's action in transforming your wife rora into a pig, nor do i approve of rora's cruel attempt to poison the fishes in the lake. no one has the right to work magic in my dominions without my consent, so the flatheads and the skeezers have both broken my laws--which must be obeyed." "if you want to make peace," said the su-dic, "make the skeezers restore my wife to her proper form and give back her four cans of brains. also make them agree to allow us to catch fish in their lake." "no," returned ozma, "i will not do that, for it would be unjust. i will have the golden pig again transformed into your wife rora, and give her one can of brains, but the other three cans must be restored to those she robbed. neither may you catch fish in the lake of the skeezers, for it is their lake and the fish belong to them. this arrangement is just and honorable, and you must agree to it." "never!" cried the su-dic. just then a pig came running into the room, uttering dismal grunts. it was made of solid gold, with joints at the bends of the legs and in the neck and jaws. the golden pig's eyes were rubies, and its teeth were polished ivory. "there!" said the su-dic, "gaze on the evil work of queen coo-ee-oh, and then say if you can prevent my making war on the skeezers. that grunting beast was once my wife--the most beautiful flathead on our mountain and a skillful witch. now look at her!" "fight the skeezers, fight the skeezers, fight the skeezers!" grunted the golden pig. "i will fight the skeezers," exclaimed the flathead chief, "and if a dozen ozmas of oz forbade me i would fight just the same." "not if i can prevent it!" asserted ozma. "you can't prevent it. but since you threaten me, i'll have you confined in the bronze prison until the war is over," said the su-dic. he whistled and four stout flatheads, armed with axes and spears, entered the room and saluted him. turning to the men he said: "take these two girls, bind them with wire ropes and cast them into the bronze prison." the four men bowed low and one of them asked: "where are the two girls, most noble su-dic?" the su-dic turned to where ozma and dorothy had stood but they had vanished! chapter seven the magic isle ozma, seeing it was useless to argue with the supreme dictator of the flatheads, had been considering how best to escape from his power. she realized that his sorcery might be difficult to overcome, and when he threatened to cast dorothy and her into a bronze prison she slipped her hand into her bosom and grasped her silver wand. with the other hand she grasped the hand of dorothy, but these motions were so natural that the su-dic did not notice them. then when he turned to meet his four soldiers, ozma instantly rendered both herself and dorothy invisible and swiftly led her companion around the group of flatheads and out of the room. as they reached the entry and descended the stone steps, ozma whispered: "let us run, dear! we are invisible, so no one will see us." dorothy understood and she was a good runner. ozma had marked the place where the grand stairway that led to the plain was located, so they made directly for it. some people were in the paths but these they dodged around. one or two flatheads heard the pattering of footsteps of the girls on the stone pavement and stopped with bewildered looks to gaze around them, but no one interfered with the invisible fugitives. the su-dic had lost no time in starting the chase. he and his men ran so fast that they might have overtaken the girls before they reached the stairway had not the golden pig suddenly run across their path. the su-dic tripped over the pig and fell flat, and his four men tripped over him and tumbled in a heap. before they could scramble up and reach the mouth of the passage it was too late to stop the two girls. there was a guard on each side of the stairway, but of course they did not see ozma and dorothy as they sped past and descended the steps. then they had to go up five steps and down another ten, and so on, in the same manner in which they had climbed to the top of the mountain. ozma lighted their way with her wand and they kept on without relaxing their speed until they reached the bottom. then they ran to the right and turned the corner of the invisible wall just as the su-dic and his followers rushed out of the arched entrance and looked around in an attempt to discover the fugitives. ozma now knew they were safe, so she told dorothy to stop and both of them sat down on the grass until they could breathe freely and become rested from their mad flight. as for the su-dic, he realized he was foiled and soon turned and climbed his stairs again. he was very angry--angry with ozma and angry with himself--because, now that he took time to think, he remembered that he knew very well the art of making people invisible, and visible again, and if he had only thought of it in time he could have used his magic knowledge to make the girls visible and so have captured them easily. however, it was now too late for regrets and he determined to make preparations at once to march all his forces against the skeezers. "what shall we do next?" asked dorothy, when they were rested. "let us find the lake of the skeezers," replied ozma. "from what that dreadful su-dic said i imagine the skeezers are good people and worthy of our friendship, and if we go to them we may help them to defeat the flatheads." "i s'pose we can't stop the war now," remarked dorothy reflectively, as they walked toward the row of palm trees. "no; the su-dic is determined to fight the skeezers, so all we can do is to warn them of their danger and help them as much as possible." "of course you'll punish the flatheads," said dorothy. "well, i do not think the flathead people are as much to blame as their supreme dictator," was the answer. "if he is removed from power and his unlawful magic taken from him, the people will probably be good and respect the laws of the land of oz, and live at peace with all their neighbors in the future." "i hope so," said dorothy with a sigh of doubt the palms were not far from the mountain and the girls reached them after a brisk walk. the huge trees were set close together, in three rows, and had been planted so as to keep people from passing them, but the flatheads had cut a passage through this barrier and ozma found the path and led dorothy to the other side. beyond the palms they discovered a very beautiful scene. bordered by a green lawn was a great lake fully a mile from shore to shore, the waters of which were exquisitely blue and sparkling, with little wavelets breaking its smooth surface where the breezes touched it. in the center of this lake appeared a lovely island, not of great extent but almost entirely covered by a huge round building with glass walls and a high glass dome which glittered brilliantly in the sunshine. between the glass building and the edge of the island was no grass, flowers or shrubbery, but only an expanse of highly polished white marble. there were no boats on either shore and no signs of life could be seen anywhere on the island. "well," said dorothy, gazing wistfully at the island, "we've found the lake of the skeezers and their magic isle. i guess the skeezers are in that big glass palace, but we can't get at 'em." chapter eight queen coo-ee-oh princess ozma considered the situation gravely. then she tied her handkerchief to her wand and, standing at the water's edge, waved the handkerchief like a flag, as a signal. for a time they could observe no response. "i don't see what good that will do," said dorothy. "even if the skeezers are on that island and see us, and know we're friends, they haven't any boats to come and get us." but the skeezers didn't need boats, as the girls soon discovered. for on a sudden an opening appeared at the base of the palace and from the opening came a slender shaft of steel, reaching out slowly but steadily across the water in the direction of the place where they stood. to the girls this steel arrangement looked like a triangle, with the base nearest the water. it came toward them in the form of an arch, stretching out from the palace wall until its end reached the bank and rested there, while the other end still remained on the island. then they saw that it was a bridge, consisting of a steel footway just broad enough to walk on, and two slender guide rails, one on either side, which were connected with the footway by steel bars. the bridge looked rather frail and dorothy feared it would not bear their weight, but ozma at once called, "come on!" and started to walk across, holding fast to the rail on either side. so dorothy summoned her courage and followed after. before ozma had taken three steps she halted and so forced dorothy to halt, for the bridge was again moving and returning to the island. "we need not walk after all," said ozma. so they stood still in their places and let the steel bridge draw them onward. indeed, the bridge drew them well into the glass-domed building which covered the island, and soon they found themselves standing in a marble room where two handsomely dressed young men stood on a platform to receive them. ozma at once stepped from the end of the bridge to the marble platform, followed by dorothy, and then the bridge disappeared with a slight clang of steel and a marble slab covered the opening from which it had emerged. the two young men bowed profoundly to ozma, and one of them said: "queen coo-ee-oh bids you welcome, o strangers. her majesty is waiting to receive you in her palace." "lead on," replied ozma with dignity. but instead of "leading on," the platform of marble began to rise, carrying them upward through a square hole above which just fitted it. a moment later they found themselves within the great glass dome that covered almost all of the island. within this dome was a little village, with houses, streets, gardens and parks. the houses were of colored marbles, prettily designed, with many stained-glass windows, and the streets and gardens seemed well cared for. exactly under the center of the lofty dome was a small park filled with brilliant flowers, with an elaborate fountain, and facing this park stood a building larger and more imposing than the others. toward this building the young men escorted ozma and dorothy. on the streets and in the doorways or open windows of the houses were men, women and children, all richly dressed. these were much like other people in different parts of the land of oz, except that instead of seeming merry and contented they all wore expressions of much solemnity or of nervous irritation. they had beautiful homes, splendid clothes, and ample food, but dorothy at once decided something was wrong with their lives and that they were not happy. she said nothing, however, but looked curiously at the skeezers. at the entrance of the palace ozma and dorothy were met by two other young men, in uniform and armed with queer weapons that seemed about halfway between pistols and guns, but were like neither. their conductors bowed and left them, and the two in uniforms led the girls into the palace. in a beautiful throne room, surrounded by a dozen or more young men and women, sat the queen of the skeezers, coo-ee-oh. she was a girl who looked older than ozma or dorothy--fifteen or sixteen, at least--and although she was elaborately dressed as if she were going to a ball she was too thin and plain of feature to be pretty. but evidently queen coo-ee-oh did not realize this fact, for her air and manner betrayed her as proud and haughty and with a high regard for her own importance. dorothy at once decided she was "snippy" and that she would not like queen coo-ee-oh as a companion. the queen's hair was as black as her skin was white and her eyes were black, too. the eyes, as she calmly examined ozma and dorothy, had a suspicious and unfriendly look in them, but she said quietly: "i know who you are, for i have consulted my magic oracle, which told me that one calls herself princess ozma, the ruler of all the land of oz, and the other is princess dorothy of oz, who came from a country called kansas. i know nothing of the land of oz, and i know nothing of kansas." "why, this is the land of oz!" cried dorothy. "it's a part of the land of oz, anyhow, whether you know it or not." "oh, in-deed!" answered queen coo-ee-oh, scornfully. "i suppose you will claim next that this princess ozma, ruling the land of oz, rules me!" "of course," returned dorothy. "there's no doubt of it." the queen turned to ozma. "do you dare make such a claim?" she asked. by this time ozma had made up her mind as to the character of this haughty and disdainful creature, whose self-pride evidently led her to believe herself superior to all others. "i did not come here to quarrel with your majesty," said the girl ruler of oz, quietly. "what and who i am is well established, and my authority comes from the fairy queen lurline, of whose band i was a member when lurline made all oz a fairyland. there are several countries and several different peoples in this broad land, each of which has its separate rulers, kings, emperors and queens. but all these render obedience to my laws and acknowledge me as the supreme ruler." "if other kings and queens are fools that does not interest me in the least," replied coo-ee-oh, disdainfully. "in the land of the skeezers i alone am supreme. you are impudent to think i would defer to you--or to anyone else." "let us not speak of this now, please," answered ozma. "your island is in danger, for a powerful foe is preparing to destroy it." "pah! the flatheads. i do not fear them." "their supreme dictator is a sorcerer." "my magic is greater than his. let the flatheads come! they will never return to their barren mountain-top. i will see to that." ozma did not like this attitude, for it meant that the skeezers were eager to fight the flatheads, and ozma's object in coming here was to prevent fighting and induce the two quarrelsome neighbors to make peace. she was also greatly disappointed in coo-ee-oh, for the reports of su-dic had led her to imagine the queen more just and honorable than were the flatheads. indeed ozma reflected that the girl might be better at heart than her self-pride and overbearing manner indicated, and in any event it would be wise not to antagonize her but to try to win her friendship. "i do not like wars, your majesty," said ozma. "in the emerald city, where i rule thousands of people, and in the countries near to the emerald city, where thousands more acknowledge my rule, there is no army at all, because there is no quarreling and no need to fight. if differences arise between my people, they come to me and i judge the cases and award justice to all. so, when i learned there might be war between two faraway people of oz, i came here to settle the dispute and adjust the quarrel." "no one asked you to come," declared queen coo-ee-oh. "it is my business to settle this dispute, not yours. you say my island is a part of the land of oz, which you rule, but that is all nonsense, for i've never heard of the land of oz, nor of you. you say you are a fairy, and that fairies gave you command over me. i don't believe it! what i do believe is that you are an impostor and have come here to stir up trouble among my people, who are already becoming difficult to manage. you two girls may even be spies of the vile flatheads, for all i know, and may be trying to trick me. but understand this," she added, proudly rising from her jeweled throne to confront them, "i have magic powers greater than any fairy possesses, and greater than any flathead possesses. i am a krumbic witch--the only krumbic witch in the world--and i fear the magic of no other creature that exists! you say you rule thousands. i rule one hundred and one skeezers. but every one of them trembles at my word. now that ozma of oz and princess dorothy are here, i shall rule one hundred and three subjects, for you also shall bow before my power. more than that, in ruling you i also rule the thousands you say you rule." dorothy was very indignant at this speech. "i've got a pink kitten that sometimes talks like that," she said, "but after i give her a good whipping she doesn't think she's so high and mighty after all. if you only knew who ozma is you'd be scared to death to talk to her like that!" queen coo-ee-oh gave the girl a supercilious look. then she turned again to ozma. "i happen to know," said she, "that the flatheads intend to attack us tomorrow, but we are ready for them. until the battle is over, i shall keep you two strangers prisoners on my island, from which there is no chance for you to escape." she turned and looked around the band of courtiers who stood silently around her throne. "lady aurex," she continued, singling out one of the young women, "take these children to your house and care for them, giving them food and lodging. you may allow them to wander anywhere under the great dome, for they are harmless. after i have attended to the flatheads i will consider what next to do with these foolish girls." she resumed her seat and the lady aurex bowed low and said in a humble manner: "i obey your majesty's commands." then to ozma and dorothy she added, "follow me," and turned to leave the throne room. dorothy looked to see what ozma would do. to her surprise and a little to her disappointment ozma turned and followed lady aurex. so dorothy trailed after them, but not without giving a parting, haughty look toward queen coo-ee-oh, who had her face turned the other way and did not see the disapproving look. chapter nine lady aurex lady aurex led ozma and dorothy along a street to a pretty marble house near to one edge of the great glass dome that covered the village. she did not speak to the girls until she had ushered them into a pleasant room, comfortably furnished, nor did any of the solemn people they met on the street venture to speak. when they were seated lady aurex asked if they were hungry, and finding they were summoned a maid and ordered food to be brought. this lady aurex looked to be about twenty years old, although in the land of oz where people have never changed in appearance since the fairies made it a fairyland--where no one grows old or dies--it is always difficult to say how many years anyone has lived. she had a pleasant, attractive face, even though it was solemn and sad as the faces of all skeezers seemed to be, and her costume was rich and elaborate, as became a lady in waiting upon the queen. ozma had observed lady aurex closely and now asked her in a gentle tone: "do you, also, believe me to be an impostor?" "i dare not say," replied lady aurex in a low tone. "why are you afraid to speak freely?" inquired ozma. "the queen punishes us if we make remarks that she does not like." "are we not alone then, in this house?" "the queen can hear everything that is spoken on this island--even the slightest whisper," declared lady aurex. "she is a wonderful witch, as she has told you, and it is folly to criticise her or disobey her commands." ozma looked into her eyes and saw that she would like to say more if she dared. so she drew from her bosom her silver wand, and having muttered a magic phrase in a strange tongue, she left the room and walked slowly around the outside of the house, making a complete circle and waving her wand in mystic curves as she walked. lady aurex watched her curiously and, when ozma had again entered the room and seated herself, she asked: "what have you done?" "i've enchanted this house in such a manner that queen coo-ee-oh, with all her witchcraft, cannot hear one word we speak within the magic circle i have made," replied ozma. "we may now speak freely and as loudly as we wish, without fear of the queen's anger." lady aurex brightened at this. "can i trust you?" she asked. "ev'rybody trusts ozma," exclaimed dorothy. "she is true and honest, and your wicked queen will be sorry she insulted the powerful ruler of all the land of oz." "the queen does not know me yet," said ozma, "but i want you to know me, lady aurex, and i want you to tell me why you, and all the skeezers, are unhappy. do not fear coo-ee-oh's anger, for she cannot hear a word we say, i assure you." lady aurex was thoughtful a moment; then she said: "i shall trust you, princess ozma, for i believe you are what you say you are--our supreme ruler. if you knew the dreadful punishments our queen inflicts upon us, you would not wonder we are so unhappy. the skeezers are not bad people; they do not care to quarrel and fight, even with their enemies the flatheads; but they are so cowed and fearful of coo-ee-oh that they obey her slightest word, rather than suffer her anger." "hasn't she any heart, then?" asked dorothy. "she never displays mercy. she loves no one but herself," asserted lady aurex, but she trembled as she said it, as if afraid even yet of her terrible queen. "that's pretty bad," said dorothy, shaking her head gravely. "i see you've a lot to do here, ozma, in this forsaken corner of the land of oz. first place, you've got to take the magic away from queen coo-ee-oh, and from that awful su-dic, too. my idea is that neither of them is fit to rule anybody, 'cause they're cruel and hateful. so you'll have to give the skeezers and flatheads new rulers and teach all their people that they're part of the land of oz and must obey, above all, the lawful ruler, ozma of oz. then, when you've done that, we can go back home again." ozma smiled at her little friend's earnest counsel, but lady aurex said in an anxious tone: "i am surprised that you suggest these reforms while you are yet prisoners on this island and in coo-ee-oh's power. that these things should be done, there is no doubt, but just now a dreadful war is likely to break out, and frightful things may happen to us all. our queen has such conceit that she thinks she can overcome the su-dic and his people, but it is said su-dic's magic is very powerful, although not as great as that possessed by his wife rora, before coo-ee-oh transformed her into a golden pig." "i don't blame her very much for doing that," remarked dorothy, "for the flatheads were wicked to try to catch your beautiful fish and the witch rora wanted to poison all the fishes in the lake." "do you know the reason?" asked the lady aurex. "i don't s'pose there was any reason, 'cept just wickedness," replied dorothy. "tell us the reason," said ozma earnestly. "well, your majesty, once--a long time ago--the flatheads and the skeezers were friendly. they visited our island and we visited their mountain, and everything was pleasant between the two peoples. at that time the flatheads were ruled by three adepts in sorcery, beautiful girls who were not flatheads, but had wandered to the flat mountain and made their home there. these three adepts used their magic only for good, and the mountain people gladly made them their rulers. they taught the flatheads how to use their canned brains and how to work metals into clothing that would never wear out, and many other things that added to their happiness and content. "coo-ee-oh was our queen then, as now, but she knew no magic and so had nothing to be proud of. but the three adepts were very kind to coo-ee-oh. they built for us this wonderful dome of glass and our houses of marble and taught us to make beautiful clothing and many other things. coo-ee-oh pretended to be very grateful for these favors, but it seems that all the time she was jealous of the three adepts and secretly tried to discover their arts of magic. in this she was more clever than anyone suspected. she invited the three adepts to a banquet one day, and while they were feasting coo-ee-oh stole their charms and magical instruments and transformed them into three fishes--a gold fish, a silver fish and a bronze fish. while the poor fishes were gasping and flopping helplessly on the floor of the banquet room one of them said reproachfully: 'you will be punished for this, coo-ee-oh, for if one of us dies or is destroyed, you will become shrivelled and helpless, and all your stolen magic will depart from you.' frightened by this threat, coo-ee-oh at once caught up the three fish and ran with them to the shore of the lake, where she cast them into the water. this revived the three adepts and they swam away and disappeared. "i, myself, witnessed this shocking scene," continued lady aurex, "and so did many other skeezers. the news was carried to the flatheads, who then turned from friends to enemies. the su-dic and his wife rora were the only ones on the mountain who were glad the three adepts had been lost to them, and they at once became rulers of the flatheads and stole their canned brains from others to make themselves the more powerful. some of the adepts' magic tools had been left on the mountain, and these rora seized and by the use of them she became a witch. "the result of coo-ee-oh's treachery was to make both the skeezers and the flatheads miserable instead of happy. not only were the su-dic and his wife cruel to their people, but our queen at once became proud and arrogant and treated us very unkindly. all the skeezers knew she had stolen her magic powers and so she hated us and made us humble ourselves before her and obey her slightest word. if we disobeyed, or did not please her, or if we talked about her when we were in our own homes she would have us dragged to the whipping post in her palace and lashed with knotted cords. that is why we fear her so greatly." this story filled ozma's heart with sorrow and dorothy's heart with indignation. "i now understand," said ozma, "why the fishes in the lake have brought about war between the skeezers and the flatheads." "yes," lady aurex answered, "now that you know the story it is easy to understand. the su-dic and his wife came to our lake hoping to catch the silver fish, or gold fish, or bronze fish--any one of them would do--and by destroying it deprive coo-ee-oh of her magic. then they could easily conquer her. also they had another reason for wanting to catch the fish--they feared that in some way the three adepts might regain their proper forms and then they would be sure to return to the mountain and punish rora and the su-dic. that was why rora finally tried to poison all the fishes in the lake, at the time coo-ee-oh transformed her into a golden pig. of course this attempt to destroy the fishes frightened the queen, for her safety lies in keeping the three fishes alive." "i s'pose coo-ee-oh will fight the flatheads with all her might," observed dorothy. "and with all her magic," added ozma, thoughtfully. "i do not see how the flatheads can get to this island to hurt us," said lady aurex. "they have bows and arrows, and i guess they mean to shoot the arrows at your big dome, and break all the glass in it," suggested dorothy. but lady aurex shook her head with a smile. "they cannot do that," she replied. "why not?" "i dare not tell you why, but if the flatheads come to-morrow morning you will yourselves see the reason." "i do not think they will attempt to harm the island," ozma declared. "i believe they will first attempt to destroy the fishes, by poison or some other means. if they succeed in that, the conquest of the island will not be difficult." "they have no boats," said lady aurex, "and coo-ee-oh, who has long expected this war, has been preparing for it in many astonishing ways. i almost wish the flatheads would conquer us, for then we would be free from our dreadful queen; but i do not wish to see the three transformed fishes destroyed, for in them lies our only hope of future happiness." "ozma will take care of you, whatever happens," dorothy assured her. but the lady aurex, not knowing the extent of ozma's power--which was, in fact, not so great as dorothy imagined--could not take much comfort in this promise. it was evident there would be exciting times on the morrow, if the flatheads really attacked the skeezers of the magic isle. chapter ten under water when night fell all the interior of the great dome, streets and houses, became lighted with brilliant incandescent lamps, which rendered it bright as day. dorothy thought the island must look beautiful by night from the outer shore of the lake. there was revelry and feasting in the queen's palace, and the music of the royal band could be plainly heard in lady aurex's house, where ozma and dorothy remained with their hostess and keeper. they were prisoners, but treated with much consideration. lady aurex gave them a nice supper and when they wished to retire showed them to a pretty room with comfortable beds and wished them a good night and pleasant dreams. "what do you think of all this, ozma?" dorothy anxiously inquired when they were alone. "i am glad we came," was the reply, "for although there may be mischief done to-morrow, it was necessary i should know about these people, whose leaders are wild and lawless and oppress their subjects with injustice and cruelties. my task, therefore, is to liberate the skeezers and the flatheads and secure for them freedom and happiness. i have no doubt i can accomplish this in time." "just now, though, we're in a bad fix," asserted dorothy. "if queen coo-ee-oh conquers to-morrow, she won't be nice to us, and if the su-dic conquers, he'll be worse." "do not worry, dear," said ozma, "i do not think we are in danger, whatever happens, and the result of our adventure is sure to be good." dorothy was not worrying, especially. she had confidence in her friend, the fairy princess of oz, and she enjoyed the excitement of the events in which she was taking part. so she crept into bed and fell asleep as easily as if she had been in her own cosy room in ozma's palace. a sort of grating, grinding sound awakened her. the whole island seemed to tremble and sway, as it might do in an earthquake. dorothy sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of them, and then found it was daybreak. ozma was hurriedly dressing herself. "what is it?" asked dorothy, jumping out of bed. "i'm not sure," answered ozma "but it feels as if the island is sinking." as soon as possible they finished dressing, while the creaking and swaying continued. then they rushed into the living room of the house and found lady aurex, fully dressed, awaiting them. "do not be alarmed," said their hostess. "coo-ee-oh has decided to submerge the island, that is all. but it proves the flatheads are coming to attack us." "what do you mean by sub-sub-merging the island?" asked dorothy. "come here and see," was the reply. lady aurex led them to a window which faced the side of the great dome which covered all the village, and they could see that the island was indeed sinking, for the water of the lake was already half way up the side of the dome. through the glass could be seen swimming fishes, and tall stalks of swaying seaweeds, for the water was clear as crystal and through it they could distinguish even the farther shore of the lake. "the flatheads are not here yet," said lady aurex. "they will come soon, but not until all of this dome is under the surface of the water." "won't the dome leak?" dorothy inquired anxiously. "no, indeed." "was the island ever sub-sub-sunk before?" "oh, yes; on several occasions. but coo-ee-oh doesn't care to do that often, for it requires a lot of hard work to operate the machinery. the dome was built so that the island could disappear. i think," she continued, "that our queen fears the flatheads will attack the island and try to break the glass of the dome." "well, if we're under water, they can't fight us, and we can't fight them," asserted dorothy. "they could kill the fishes, however," said ozma gravely. "we have ways to fight, also, even though our island is under water," claimed lady aurex. "i cannot tell you all our secrets, but this island is full of surprises. also our queen's magic is astonishing." "did she steal it all from the three adepts in sorcery that are now fishes?" "she stole the knowledge and the magic tools, but she has used them as the three adepts never would have done." by this time the top of the dome was quite under water and suddenly the island stopped sinking and became stationary. "see!" cried lady aurex, pointing to the shore. "the flatheads have come." on the bank, which was now far above their heads, a crowd of dark figures could be seen. "now let us see what coo-ee-oh will do to oppose them," continued lady aurex, in a voice that betrayed her excitement. * * * * * the flatheads, pushing their way through the line of palm trees, had reached the shore of the lake just as the top of the island's dome disappeared beneath the surface. the water now flowed from shore to shore, but through the clear water the dome was still visible and the houses of the skeezers could be dimly seen through the panes of glass. "good!" exclaimed the su-dic, who had armed all his followers and had brought with him two copper vessels, which he carefully set down upon the ground beside him. "if coo-ee-oh wants to hide instead of fighting our job will be easy, for in one of these copper vessels i have enough poison to kill every fish in the lake." "kill them, then, while we have time, and then we can go home again," advised one of the chief officers. "not yet," objected the su-dic. "the queen of the skeezers has defied me, and i want to get her into my power, as well as to destroy her magic. she transformed my poor wife into a golden pig, and i must have revenge for that, whatever else we do." "look out!" suddenly exclaimed the officers, pointing into the lake; "something's going to happen." from the submerged dome a door opened and something black shot swiftly out into the water. the door instantly closed behind it and the dark object cleaved its way through the water, without rising to the surface, directly toward the place where the flatheads were standing. "what is that?" dorothy asked the lady aurex. "that is one of the queen's submarines," was the reply. "it is all enclosed, and can move under water. coo-ee-oh has several of these boats which are kept in little rooms in the basement under our village. when the island is submerged, the queen uses these boats to reach the shore, and i believe she now intends to fight the flatheads with them." the su-dic and his people knew nothing of coo-ee-oh's submarines, so they watched with surprise as the under-water boat approached them. when it was quite near the shore it rose to the surface and the top parted and fell back, disclosing a boat full of armed skeezers. at the head was the queen, standing up in the bow and holding in one hand a coil of magic rope that gleamed like silver. the boat halted and coo-ee-oh drew back her arm to throw the silver rope toward the su-dic, who was now but a few feet from her. but the wily flathead leader quickly realized his danger and before the queen could throw the rope he caught up one of the copper vessels and dashed its contents full in her face! chapter eleven the conquest of the skeezers queen coo-ee-oh dropped the rope, tottered and fell headlong into the water, sinking beneath the surface, while the skeezers in the submarine were too bewildered toassist her and only stared at the ripples in the water where she had disappeared. a moment later there arose to the surface a beautiful white swan. this swan was of large size, very gracefully formed, and scattered all over its white feathers were tiny diamonds, so thickly placed that as the rays of the morning sun fell upon them the entire body of the swan glistened like one brilliant diamond. the head of the diamond swan had a bill of polished gold and its eyes were two sparkling amethysts. "hooray!" cried the su-dic, dancing up and down with wicked glee. "my poor wife, rora, is avenged at last. you made her a golden pig, coo-ee-oh, and now i have made you a diamond swan. float on your lake forever, if you like, for your web feet can do no more magic and you are as powerless as the pig you made of my wife! "villain! scoundrel!" croaked the diamond swan. "you will be punished for this. oh, what a fool i was to let you enchant me! "a fool you were, and a fool you are!" laughed the su-dic, dancing madly in his delight. and then he carelessly tipped over the other copper vessel with his heel and its contents spilled on the sands and were lost to the last drop. the su-dic stopped short and looked at the overturned vessel with a rueful countenance. "that's too bad--too bad!" he exclaimed sorrowfully. "i've lost all the poison i had to kill the fishes with, and i can't make any more because only my wife knew the secret of it, and she is now a foolish pig and has forgotten all her magic." "very well," said the diamond swan scornfully, as she floated upon the water and swam gracefully here and there. "i'm glad to see you are foiled. your punishment is just beginning, for although you have enchanted me and taken away my powers of sorcery you have still the three magic fishes to deal with, and they'll destroy you in time, mark my words." the su-dic stared at the swan a moment. then he yelled to his men: "shoot her! shoot the saucy bird!" they let fly some arrows at the diamond swan, but she dove under the water and the missiles fell harmless. when coo-ce-oh rose to the surface she was far from the shore and she swiftly swam across the lake to where no arrows or spears could reach her. the su-dic rubbed his chin and thought what to do next. near by floated the submarine in which the queen had come, but the skeezers who were in it were puzzled what to do with themselves. perhaps they were not sorry their cruel mistress had been transformed into a diamond swan, but the transformation had left them quite helpless. the under-water boat was not operated by machinery, but by certain mystic words uttered by coo-ee-oh. they didn't know how to submerge it, or how to make the water-tight shield cover them again, or how to make the boat go back to the castle, or make it enter the little basement room where it was usually kept. as a matter of fact, they were now shut out of their village under the great dome and could not get back again. so one of the men called to the supreme dictator of the flatheads, saying: "please make us prisoners and take us to your mountain, and feed and keep us, for we have nowhere to go." then the su-dic laughed and answered: "not so. i can't be bothered by caring for a lot of stupid skeezers. stay where you are, or go wherever you please, so long as you keep away from our mountain." he turned to his men and added: "we have conquered queen coo-ee-oh and made her a helpless swan. the skeezers are under water and may stay there. so, having won the war, let us go home again and make merry and feast, having after many years proved the flatheads to be greater and more powerful than the skeezers." so the flatheads marched away and passed through the row of palms and went back to their mountain, where the su-dic and a few of his officers feasted and all the others were forced to wait on them. "i'm sorry we couldn't have roast pig," said the su-dic, "but as the only pig we have is made of gold, we can't eat her. also the golden pig happens to be my wife, and even were she not gold i am sure she would be too tough to eat." chapter twelve the diamond swan when the flatheads had gone away the diamond swan swam back to the boat and one of the young skeezers named ervic said to her eagerly: "how can we get back to the island, your majesty?" "am i not beautiful?" asked coo-ee-oh, arching her neck gracefully and spreading her diamond-sprinkled wings. "i can see my reflection in the water, and i'm sure there is no bird nor beast, nor human as magnificent as i am!" "how shall we get back to the island, your majesty?" pleaded ervic. "when my fame spreads throughout the land, people will travel from all parts of this lake to look upon my loveliness," said coo-ee-oh, shaking her feathers to make the diamonds glitter more brilliantly. "but, your majesty, we must go home and we do not know how to get there," ervic persisted. "my eyes," remarked the diamond swan, "are wonderfully blue and bright and will charm all beholders." "tell us how to make the boat go--how to get back into the island," begged ervic and the others cried just as earnestly: "tell us, coo-ee-oh; tell us!" "i don't know," replied the queen in a careless tone. "you are a magic-worker, a sorceress, a witch!" "i was, of course, when i was a girl," she said, bending her head over the clear water to catch her reflection in it; "but now i've forgotten all such foolish things as magic. swans are lovelier than girls, especially when they're sprinkled with diamonds. don't you think so?" and she gracefully swam away, without seeming to care whether they answered or not. ervic and his companions were in despair. they saw plainly that coo-ee-oh could not or would not help them. the former queen had no further thought for her island, her people, or her wonderful magic; she was only intent on admiring her own beauty. "truly," said ervic, in a gloomy voice, "the flatheads have conquered us!" * * * * * some of these events had been witnessed by ozma and dorothy and lady aurex, who had left the house and gone close to the glass of the dome, in order to see what was going on. many of the skeezers had also crowded against the dome, wondering what would happen next. although their vision was to an extent blurred by the water and the necessity of looking upward at an angle, they had observed the main points of the drama enacted above. they saw queen coo-ee-oh's submarine come to the surface and open; they saw the queen standing erect to throw her magic rope; they saw her sudden transformation into a diamond swan, and a cry of amazement went up from the skeezers inside the dome. "good!" exclaimed dorothy. "i hate that old su-dic, but i'm glad coo-ee-oh is punished." "this is a dreadful misfortune!" cried lady aurex, pressing her hands upon her heart. "yes," agreed ozma, nodding her head thoughtfully; "coo-ee-oh's misfortune will prove a terrible blow to her people." "what do you mean by that?" asked dorothy in surprise. "seems to me the skeezers are in luck to lose their cruel queen." "if that were all you would be right," responded lady aurex; "and if the island were above water it would not be so serious. but here we all are, at the bottom of the lake, and fast prisoners in this dome." "can't you raise the island?" inquired dorothy. "no. only coo-ee-oh knew how to do that," was the answer. "we can try," insisted dorothy. "if it can be made to go down, it can be made to come up. the machinery is still here, i suppose. "yes; but the machinery works by magic, and coo-ee-oh would never share her secret power with any one of us." dorothy's face grew grave; but she was thinking. "ozma knows a lot of magic," she said. "but not that kind of magic," ozma replied. "can't you learn how, by looking at the machinery?" "i'm afraid not, my dear. it isn't fairy magic at all; it is witchcraft." "well," said dorothy, turning to lady aurex, "you say there are other sub-sub-sinking boats. we can get in one of those, and shoot out to the top of the water, like coo-ee-oh did, and so escape. and then we can help to rescue all the skeezers down here." "no one knows how to work the under-water boats but the queen," declared lady aurex. "isn't there any door or window in this dome that we could open?" "no; and, if there were, the water would rush in to flood the dome, and we could not get out." "the skeezers," said ozma, "could not drown; they only get wet and soggy and in that condition they would be very uncomfortable and unhappy. but you are a mortal girl, dorothy, and if your magic belt protected you from death you would have to lie forever at the bottom of the lake." "no, i'd rather die quickly," asserted the little girl. "but there are doors in the basement that open--to let out the bridges and the boats--and that would not flood the dome, you know." "those doors open by a magic word, and only coo-ee-oh knows the word that must be uttered," said lady aurex. "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy, "that dreadful queen's witchcraft upsets all my plans to escape. i guess i'll give it up, ozma, and let you save us." ozma smiled, but her smile was not so cheerful as usual. the princess of oz found herself confronted with a serious problem, and although she had no thought of despairing she realized that the skeezers and their island, as well as dorothy and herself, were in grave trouble and that unless she could find a means to save them they would be lost to the land of oz for all future time. "in such a dilemma," said she, musingly, "nothing is gained by haste. careful thought may aid us, and so may the course of events. the unexpected is always likely to happen, and cheerful patience is better than reckless action." "all right," returned dorothy; "take your time, ozma; there's no hurry. how about some breakfast, lady aurex?" their hostess led them back to the house, where she ordered her trembling servants to prepare and serve breakfast. all the skeezers were frightened and anxious over the transformation of their queen into a swan. coo-ee-oh was feared and hated, but they had depended on her magic to conquer the flatheads and she was the only one who could raise their island to the surface of the lake again. before breakfast was over several of the leading skeezers came to aurex to ask her advice and to question princess ozma, of whom they knew nothing except that she claimed to be a fairy and the ruler of all the land, including the lake of the skeezers. "if what you told queen coo-ee-oh was the truth," they said to her, "you are our lawful mistress, and we may depend on you to get us out of our difficulties." "i will try to do that," ozma graciously assured them, "but you must remember that the powers of fairies are granted them to bring comfort and happiness to all who appeal to them. on the contrary, such magic as coo-ee-oh knew and practiced is unlawful witchcraft and her arts are such as no fairy would condescend to use. however, it is sometimes necessary to consider evil in order to accomplish good, and perhaps by studying coo-ee-oh's tools and charms of witchcraft i may be able to save us. do you promise to accept me as your ruler and to obey my commands?" they promised willingly. "then," continued ozma, "i will go to coo-ee-oh's palace and take possession of it. perhaps what i find there will be of use to me. in the meantime tell all the skeezers to fear nothing, but have patience. let them return to their homes and perform their daily tasks as usual. coo-ee-oh's loss may not prove a misfortune, but rather a blessing." this speech cheered the skeezers amazingly. really, they had no one now to depend upon but ozma, and in spite of their dangerous position their hearts were lightened by the transformation and absence of their cruel queen. they got out their brass band and a grand procession escorted ozma and dorothy to the palace, where all of coo-ee-oh's former servants were eager to wait upon them. ozma invited lady aurex to stay at the palace also, for she knew all about the skeezers and their island and had also been a favorite of the former queen, so her advice and information were sure to prove valuable. ozma was somewhat disappointed in what she found in the palace. one room of coo-ee-oh's private suite was entirely devoted to the practice of witchcraft, and here were countless queer instruments and jars of ointments and bottles of potions labeled with queer names, and strange machines that ozma could not guess the use of, and pickled toads and snails and lizards, and a shelf of books that were written in blood, but in a language which the ruler of oz did not know. "i do not see," said ozma to dorothy, who accompanied her in her search, "how coo-ee-oh knew the use of the magic tools she stole from the three adept witches. moreover, from all reports these adepts practiced only good witchcraft, such as would be helpful to their people, while coo-ee-oh performed only evil." "perhaps she turned the good things to evil uses?" suggested dorothy. "yes, and with the knowledge she gained coo-ee-oh doubtless invented many evil things quite unknown to the good adepts, who are now fishes," added ozma. "it is unfortunate for us that the queen kept her secrets so closely guarded, for no one but herself could use any of these strange things gathered in this room." "couldn't we capture the diamond swan and make her tell the secrets?" asked dorothy. "no; even were we able to capture her, coo-ee-oh now has forgotten all the magic she ever knew. but until we ourselves escape from this dome we could not capture the swan, and were we to escape we would have no use for coo-ee-oh's magic." "that's a fact," admitted dorothy. "but--say, ozma, here's a good idea! couldn't we capture the three fishes--the gold and silver and bronze ones, and couldn't you transform 'em back to their own shapes, and then couldn't the three adepts get us out of here?" "you are not very practical, dorothy dear. it would be as hard for us to capture the three fishes, from among all the other fishes in the lake, as to capture the swan." "but if we could, it would be more help to us," persisted the little girl. "that is true," answered ozma, smiling at her friend's eagerness. "you find a way to catch the fish, and i'll promise when they are caught to restore them to their proper forms." "i know you think i can't do it," replied dorothy, "but i'm going to try." she left the palace and went to a place where she could look through a clear pane of the glass dome into the surrounding water. immediately she became interested in the queer sights that met her view. the lake of the skeezers was inhabited by fishes of many kinds and many sizes. the water was so transparent that the girl could see for a long distance and the fishes came so close to the glass of the dome that sometimes they actually touched it. on the white sands at the bottom of the lake were star-fish, lobsters, crabs and many shell fish of strange shapes and with shells of gorgeous hues. the water foliage was of brilliant colors and to dorothy it resembled a splendid garden. but the fishes were the most interesting of all. some were big and lazy, floating slowly along or lying at rest with just their fins waving. many with big round eyes looked full at the girl as she watched them and dorothy wondered if they could hear her through the glass if she spoke to them. in oz, where all the animals and birds can talk, many fishes are able to talk also, but usually they are more stupid than birds and animals because they think slowly and haven't much to talk about. in the lake of the skeezers the fish of smaller size were more active than the big ones and darted quickly in and out among the swaying weeds, as if they had important business and were in a hurry. it was among the smaller varieties that dorothy hoped to spy the gold and silver and bronze fishes. she had an idea the three would keep together, being companions now as they were in their natural forms, but such a multitude of fishes constantly passed, the scene shifting every moment, that she was not sure she would notice them even if they appeared in view. her eyes couldn't look in all directions and the fishes she sought might be on the other side of the dome, or far away in the lake. "p'raps, because they were afraid of coo-ee-oh, they've hid themselves somewhere, and don't know their enemy has been transformed," she reflected. she watched the fishes for a long time, until she became hungry and went back to the palace for lunch. but she was not discouraged. "anything new, ozma?" she asked. "no, dear. did you discover the three fishes?" "not yet. but there isn't anything better for me to do, ozma, so i guess i'll go back and watch again." chapter thirteen the alarm bell glinda, the good, in her palace in the quadling country, had many things to occupy her mind, for not only did she look after the weaving and embroidery of her bevy of maids, and assist all those who came to her to implore her help--beasts and birds as well as people--but she was a close student of the arts of sorcery and spent much time in her magical laboratory, where she strove to find a remedy for every evil and to perfect her skill in magic. nevertheless, she did not forget to look in the great book of records each day to see if any mention was made of the visit of ozma and dorothy to the enchanted mountain of the flatheads and the magic isle of the skeezers. the records told her that ozma had arrived at the mountain, that she had escaped, with her companion, and gone to the island of the skeezers, and that queen coo-ee-oh had submerged the island so that it was entirely under water. then came the statement that the flatheads had come to the lake to poison the fishes and that their supreme dictator had transformed queen coo-ee-oh into a swan. no other details were given in the great book and so glinda did not know that since coo-ee-oh had forgotten her magic none of the skeezers knew how to raise the island to the surface again. so glinda was not worried about ozma and dorothy until one morning, while she sat with her maids, there came a sudden clang of the great alarm bell. this was so unusual that every maid gave a start and even the sorceress for a moment could not think what the alarm meant. then she remembered the ring she had given dorothy when she left the palace to start on her venture. in giving the ring glinda had warned the little girl not to use its magic powers unless she and ozma were in real danger, but then she was to turn it on her finger once to the right and once to the left and glinda's alarm bell would ring. so the sorceress now knew that danger threatened her beloved ruler and princess dorothy, and she hurried to her magic room to seek information as to what sort of danger it was. the answer to her question was not very satisfactory, for it was only: "ozma and dorothy are prisoners in the great dome of the isle of the skeezers, and the dome is under the water of the lake." "hasn't ozma the power to raise the island to the surface?" inquired glinda. "no," was the reply, and the record refused to say more except that queen coo-ee-oh, who alone could command the island to rise, had been transformed by the flathead su-dic into a diamond swan. then glinda consulted the past records of the skeezers in the great book. after diligent search she discovered that coo-ee-oh was a powerful sorceress who had gained most of her power by treacherously transforming the adepts of magic, who were visiting her, into three fishes--gold, silver and bronze--after which she had them cast into the lake. glinda reflected earnestly on this information and decided that someone must go to ozma's assistance. while there was no great need of haste, because ozma and dorothy could live in a submerged dome a long time, it was evident they could not get out until someone was able to raise the island. the sorceress looked through all her recipes and books of sorcery, but could find no magic that would raise a sunken island. such a thing had never before been required in sorcery. then glinda made a little island, covered by a glass dome, and sunk it in a pond near her castle, and experimented in magical ways to bring it to the surface. she made several such experiments, but all were failures. it seemed a simple thing to do, yet she could not do it. nevertheless, the wise sorceress did not despair of finding a way to liberate her friends. finally she concluded that the best thing to do was to go to the skeezer country and examine the lake. while there she was more likely to discover a solution to the problem that bothered her, and to work out a plan for the rescue of ozma and dorothy. so glinda summoned her storks and her aerial chariot, and telling her maids she was going on a journey and might not soon return, she entered the chariot and was carried swiftly to the emerald city. in princess ozma's palace the scarecrow was now acting as ruler of the land of oz. there wasn't much for him to do, because all the affairs of state moved so smoothly, but he was there in case anything unforeseen should happen. glinda found the scarecrow playing croquet with trot and betsy bobbin, two little girls who lived at the palace under ozma's protection and were great friends of dorothy and much loved by all the oz people. "something's happened!" cried trot, as the chariot of the sorceress descended near them. "glinda never comes here 'cept something's gone wrong." "i hope no harm has come to ozma, or dorothy," said betsy anxiously, as the lovely sorceress stepped down from her chariot. glinda approached the scarecrow and told him of the dilemma of ozma and dorothy and she added: "we must save them, somehow, scarecrow." "of course," replied the scarecrow, stumbling over a wicket and falling flat on his painted face. the girls picked him up and patted his straw stuffing into shape, and he continued, as if nothing had occurred: "but you'll have to tell me what to do, for i never have raised a sunken island in all my life." "we must have a council of state as soon as possible," proposed the sorceress. "please send messengers to summon all of ozma's counsellors to this palace. then we can decide what is best to be done." the scarecrow lost no time in doing this. fortunately most of the royal counsellors were in the emerald city or near to it, so they all met in the throne room of the palace that same evening. chapter fourteen ozma's counsellors no ruler ever had such a queer assortment of advisers as the princess ozma had gathered about her throne. indeed, in no other country could such amazing people exist. but ozma loved them for their peculiarities and could trust every one of them. first there was the tin woodman. every bit of him was tin, brightly polished. all his joints were kept well oiled and moved smoothly. he carried a gleaming axe to prove he was a woodman, but seldom had cause to use it because he lived in a magnificent tin castle in the winkie country of oz and was the emperor of all the winkies. the tin woodman's name was nick chopper. he had a very good mind, but his heart was not of much account, so he was very careful to do nothing unkind or to hurt anyone's feelings. another counsellor was scraps, the patchwork girl of oz, who was made of a gaudy patchwork quilt, cut into shape and stuffed with cotton. this patchwork girl was very intelligent, but so full of fun and mad pranks that a lot of more stupid folks thought she must be crazy. scraps was jolly under all conditions, however grave they might be, but her laughter and good spirits were of value in cheering others and in her seemingly careless remarks much wisdom could often be found. then there was the shaggy man--shaggy from head to foot, hair and whiskers, clothes and shoes--but very kind and gentle and one of ozma's most loyal supporters. tik-tok was there, a copper man with machinery inside him, so cleverly constructed that he moved, spoke and thought by three separate clock-works. tik-tok was very reliable because he always did exactly what he was wound up to do, but his machinery was liable to run down at times and then he was quite helpless until wound up again. a different sort of person was jack pumpkinhead, one of ozma's oldest friends and her companion on many adventures. jack's body was very crude and awkward, being formed of limbs of trees of different sizes, jointed with wooden pegs. but it was a substantial body and not likely to break or wear out, and when it was dressed the clothes covered much of its roughness. the head of jack pumpkinhead was, as you have guessed, a ripe pumpkin, with the eyes, nose and mouth carved upon one side. the pumpkin was stuck on jack's wooden neck and was liable to get turned sidewise or backward and then he would have to straighten it with his wooden hands. the worst thing about this sort of a head was that it did not keep well and was sure to spoil sooner or later. so jack's main business was to grow a field of fine pumpkins each year, and always before his old head spoiled he would select a fresh pumpkin from the field and carve the features on it very neatly, and have it ready to replace the old head whenever it became necessary. he didn't always carve it the same way, so his friends never knew exactly what sort of an expression they would find on his face. but there was no mistaking him, because he was the only pumpkin-headed man alive in the land of oz. a one-legged sailor-man was a member of ozma's council. his name was cap'n bill and he had come to the land of oz with trot, and had been made welcome on account of his cleverness, honesty and good nature. he wore a wooden leg to replace the one he had lost and was a great friend of all the children in oz because he could whittle all sorts of toys out of wood with his big jack-knife. professor h. m. wogglebug, t. e., was another member of the council. the "h. m." meant highly magnified, for the professor was once a little bug, who became magnified to the size of a man and always remained so. the "t. e." meant that he was thoroughly educated. he was at the head of princess ozma's royal athletic college, and so that the students would not have to study and so lose much time that could be devoted to athletic sports, such as football, baseball and the like, professor wogglebug had invented the famous educational pills. if one of the college students took a geography pill after breakfast, he knew his geography lesson in an instant; if he took a spelling pill he at once knew his spelling lesson, and an arithmetic pill enabled the student to do any kind of sum without having to think about it. these useful pills made the college very popular and taught the boys and girls of oz their lessons in the easiest possible way. in spite of this, professor wogglebug was not a favorite outside his college, for he was very conceited and admired himself so much and displayed his cleverness and learning so constantly, that no one cared to associate with him. ozma found him of value in her councils, nevertheless. perhaps the most splendidly dressed of all those present was a great frog as large as a man, called the frogman, who was noted for his wise sayings. he had come to the emerald city from the yip country of oz and was a guest of honor. his long-tailed coat was of velvet, his vest of satin and his trousers of finest silk. there were diamond buckles on his shoes and he carried a gold-headed cane and a high silk hat. all of the bright colors were represented in his rich attire, so it tired one's eyes to look at him for long, until one became used to his splendor. the best farmer in all oz was uncle henry, who was dorothy's own uncle, and who now lived near the emerald city with his wife aunt em. uncle henry taught the oz people how to grow the finest vegetables and fruits and grains and was of much use to ozma in keeping the royal storehouses well filled. he, too, was a counsellor. the reason i mention the little wizard of oz last is because he was the most important man in the land of oz. he wasn't a big man in size but he was a man in power and intelligence and second only to glinda the good in all the mystic arts of magic. glinda had taught him, and the wizard and the sorceress were the only ones in oz permitted by law to practice wizardry and sorcery, which they applied only to good uses and for the benefit of the people. the wizard wasn't exactly handsome but he was pleasant to look at. his bald head was as shiny as if it had been varnished; there was always a merry twinkle in his eyes and he was as spry as a schoolboy. dorothy says the reason the wizard is not as powerful as glinda is because glinda didn't teach him all she knows, but what the wizard knows he knows very well and so he performs some very remarkable magic. the ten i have mentioned assembled, with the scarecrow and glinda, in ozma's throne room, right after dinner that evening, and the sorceress told them all she knew of the plight of ozma and dorothy. "of course we must rescue them," she continued, "and the sooner they are rescued the better pleased they will be; but what we must now determine is how they can be saved. that is why i have called you together in council." "the easiest way," remarked the shaggy man, "is to raise the sunken island of the skeezers to the top of the water again." "tell me how?" said glinda. "i don't know how, your highness, for i have never raised a sunken island." "we might all get under it and lift," suggested professor wogglebug. "how can we get under it when it rests on the bottom of the lake?" asked the sorceress. "couldn't we throw a rope around it and pull it ashore?" inquired jack pumpkinhead. "why not pump the water out of the lake?" suggested the patchwork girl with a laugh. "do be sensible!" pleaded glinda. "this is a serious matter, and we must give it serious thought." "how big is the lake and how big is the island?" was the frogman's question. "none of us can tell, for we have not been there." "in that case," said the scarecrow, "it appears to me we ought to go to the skeezer country and examine it carefully." "quite right," agreed the tin woodman. "we-will-have-to-go-there-any-how," remarked tik-tok in his jerky machine voice. "the question is which of us shall go, and how many of us?" said the wizard. "i shall go of course," declared the scarecrow. "and i," said scraps. "it is my duty to ozma to go," asserted the tin woodman. "i could not stay away, knowing our loved princess is in danger," said the wizard. "we all feel like that," uncle henry said. finally one and all present decided to go to the skeezer country, with glinda and the little wizard to lead them. magic must meet magic in order to conquer it, so these two skillful magic-workers were necessary to insure the success of the expedition. they were all ready to start at a moment's notice, for none had any affairs of importance to attend to. jack was wearing a newly made pumpkin-head and the scarecrow had recently been stuffed with fresh straw. tik-tok's machinery was in good running order and the tin woodman always was well oiled. "it is quite a long journey," said glinda, "and while i might travel quickly to the skeezer country by means of my stork chariot the rest of you will be obliged to walk. so, as we must keep together, i will send my chariot back to my castle and we will plan to leave the emerald city at sunrise to-morrow." chapter fifteen the great sorceress betsy and trot, when they heard of the rescue expedition, begged the wizard to permit them to join it and he consented. the glass cat, overhearing the conversation, wanted to go also and to this the wizard made no objection. this glass cat was one of the real curiosities of oz. it had been made and brought to life by a clever magician named dr. pipt, who was not now permitted to work magic and was an ordinary citizen of the emerald city. the cat was of transparent glass, through which one could plainly see its ruby heart beating and its pink brains whirling around in the top of the head. the glass cat's eyes were emeralds; its fluffy tail was of spun glass and very beautiful. the ruby heart, while pretty to look at, was hard and cold and the glass cat's disposition was not pleasant at all times. it scorned to catch mice, did not eat, and was extremely lazy. if you complimented the remarkable cat on her beauty, she would be very friendly, for she loved admiration above everything. the pink brains were always working and their owner was indeed more intelligent than most common cats. three other additions to the rescue party were made the next morning, just as they were setting out upon their journey. the first was a little boy called button bright, because he had no other name that anyone could remember. he was a fine, manly little fellow, well mannered and good humored, who had only one bad fault. he was continually getting lost. to be sure, button bright got found as often as he got lost, but when he was missing his friends could not help being anxious about him. "some day," predicted the patchwork girl, "he won't be found, and that will be the last of him." but that didn't worry button bright, who was so careless that he did not seem to be able to break the habit of getting lost. the second addition to the party was a munchkin boy of about button bright's age, named ojo. he was often called "ojo the lucky," because good fortune followed him wherever he went. he and button bright were close friends, although of such different natures, and trot and betsy were fond of both. the third and last to join the expedition was an enormous lion, one of ozma's regular guardians and the most important and intelligent beast in all oz. he called himself the cowardly lion, saying that every little danger scared him so badly that his heart thumped against his ribs, but all who knew him knew that the cowardly lion's fears were coupled with bravery and that however much he might be frightened he summoned courage to meet every danger he encountered. often he had saved dorothy and ozma in times of peril, but afterward he moaned and trembled and wept because he had been so scared. "if ozma needs help, i'm going to help her," said the great beast. "also, i suspect the rest of you may need me on the journey--especially trot and betsy--for you may pass through a dangerous part of the country. i know that wild gillikin country pretty well. its forests harbor many ferocious beasts." they were glad the cowardly lion was to join them, and in good spirits the entire party formed a procession and marched out of the emerald city amid the shouts of the people, who wished them success and a safe return with their beloved ruler. they followed a different route from that taken by ozma and dorothy, for they went through the winkie country and up north toward oogaboo. but before they got there they swerved to the left and entered the great gillikin forest, the nearest thing to a wilderness in all oz. even the cowardly lion had to admit that certain parts of this forest were unknown to him, although he had often wandered among the trees, and the scarecrow and tin woodman, who were great travelers, never had been there at all. the forest was only reached after a tedious tramp, for some of the rescue expedition were quite awkward on their feet. the patchwork girl was as light as a feather and very spry; the tin woodman covered the ground as easily as uncle henry and the wizard; but tik-tok moved slowly and the slightest obstruction in the road would halt him until the others cleared it away. then, too, tik-tok's machinery kept running down, so betsy and trot took turns in winding it up. the scarecrow was more clumsy but less bother, for although he often stumbled and fell he could scramble up again and a little patting of his straw-stuffed body would put him in good shape again. another awkward one was jack pumpkinhead, for walking would jar his head around on his neck and then he would be likely to go in the wrong direction. but the frogman took jack's arm and then he followed the path more easily. cap'n bill's wooden leg didn't prevent him from keeping up with the others and the old sailor could walk as far as any of them. when they entered the forest the cowardly lion took the lead. there was no path here for men, but many beasts had made paths of their own which only the eyes of the lion, practiced in woodcraft, could discern. so he stalked ahead and wound his way in and out, the others following in single file, glinda being next to the lion. there are dangers in the forest, of course, but as the huge lion headed the party he kept the wild denizens of the wilderness from bothering the travelers. once, to be sure, an enormous leopard sprang upon the glass cat and caught her in his powerful jaws, but he broke several of his teeth and with howls of pain and dismay dropped his prey and vanished among the trees. "are you hurt?" trot anxiously inquired of the glass cat. "how silly!" exclaimed the creature in an irritated tone of voice; "nothing can hurt glass, and i'm too solid to break easily. but i'm annoyed at that leopard's impudence. he has no respect for beauty or intelligence. if he had noticed my pink brains work, i'm sure he would have realized i'm too important to be grabbed in a wild beast's jaws." "never mind," said trot consolingly; "i'm sure he won't do it again." they were almost in the center of the forest when ojo, the munchkin boy, suddenly said: "why, where's button bright?" they halted and looked around them. button bright was not with the party. "dear me," remarked betsy, "i expect he's lost again!" "when did you see him last, ojo?" inquired glinda. "it was some time ago," replied ojo. "he was trailing along at the end and throwing twigs at the squirrels in the trees. then i went to talk to betsy and trot, and just now i noticed he was gone." "this is too bad," declared the wizard, "for it is sure to delay our journey. we must find button bright before we go any farther, for this forest is full of ferocious beasts that would not hesitate to tear the boy to pieces." "but what shall we do?" asked the scarecrow. "if any of us leaves the party to search for button bright he or she might fall a victim to the beasts, and if the lion leaves us we will have no protector. "the glass cat could go," suggested the frogman. "the beasts can do her no harm, as we have discovered." the wizard turned to glinda. "cannot your sorcery discover where button bright is?" he asked. "i think so," replied the sorceress. she called to uncle henry, who had been carrying her wicker box, to bring it to her, and when he obeyed she opened it and drew out a small round mirror. on the surface of the glass she dusted a white powder and then wiped it away with her handkerchief and looked in the mirror. it reflected a part of the forest, and there, beneath a wide-spreading tree, button bright was lying asleep. on one side of him crouched a tiger, ready to spring; on the other side was a big gray wolf, its bared fangs glistening in a wicked way. "goodness me!" cried trot, looking over glinda's shoulder. "they'll catch and kill him sure." everyone crowded around for a glimpse at the magic mirror. "pretty bad--pretty bad!" said the scarecrow sorrowfully. "comes of getting lost!" said cap'n bill, sighing. "guess he's a goner!" said the frogman, wiping his eyes on his purple silk handkerchief. "but where is he? can't we save him?" asked ojo the lucky. "if we knew where he is we could probably save him," replied the little wizard, "but that tree looks so much like all the other trees, that we can't tell whether it's far away or near by." "look at glinda!" exclaimed betsy glinda, having handed the mirror to the wizard, had stepped aside and was making strange passes with her outstretched arms and reciting in low, sweet tones a mystical incantation. most of them watched the sorceress with anxious eyes, despair giving way to the hope that she might be able to save their friend. the wizard, however, watched the scene in the mirror, while over his shoulders peered trot, the scarecrow and the shaggy man. what they saw was more strange than glinda's actions. the tiger started to spring on the sleeping boy, but suddenly lost its power to move and lay flat upon the ground. the gray wolf seemed unable to lift its feet from the ground. it pulled first at one leg and then at another, and finding itself strangely confined to the spot began to back and snarl angrily. they couldn't hear the barkings and snarls, but they could see the creature's mouth open and its thick lips move. button bright, however, being but a few feet away from the wolf, heard its cries of rage, which wakened him from his untroubled sleep. the boy sat up and looked first at the tiger and then at the wolf. his face showed that for a moment he was quite frightened, but he soon saw that the beasts were unable to approach him and so he got upon his feet and examined them curiously, with a mischievous smile upon his face. then he deliberately kicked the tiger's head with his foot and catching up a fallen branch of a tree he went to the wolf and gave it a good whacking. both the beasts were furious at such treatment but could not resent it. button bright now threw down the stick and with his hands in his pockets wandered carelessly away. "now," said glinda, "let the glass cat run and find him. he is in that direction," pointing the way, "but how far off i do not know. make haste and lead him back to us as quickly as you can." the glass cat did not obey everyone's orders, but she really feared the great sorceress, so as soon as the words were spoken the crystal animal darted away and was quickly lost to sight. the wizard handed the mirror back to glinda, for the woodland scene had now faded from the glass. then those who cared to rest sat down to await button bright's coming. it was not long before hye appeared through the trees and as he rejoined his friends he said in a peevish tone: "don't ever send that glass cat to find me again. she was very impolite and, if we didn't all know that she had no manners, i'd say she insulted me." glinda turned upon the boy sternly. "you have caused all of us much anxiety and annoyance," said she. "only my magic saved you from destruction. i forbid you to get lost again." "of course," he answered. "it won't be my fault if i get lost again; but it wasn't my fault this time." chapter sixteen the enchanted fishes i must now tell you what happened to ervic and the three other skeezers who were left floating in the iron boat after queen coo-ee-oh had been transformed into a diamond swan by the magic of the flathead su-dic. the four skeezers were all young men and their leader was ervic. coo-ee-oh had taken them with her in the boat to assist her if she captured the flathead chief, as she hoped to do by means of her silver rope. they knew nothing about the witchcraft that moved the submarine and so, when left floating upon the lake, were at a loss what to do. the submarine could not be submerged by them or made to return to the sunken island. there were neither oars nor sails in the boat, which was not anchored but drifted quietly upon the surface of the lake. the diamond swan had no further thought or care for her people. she had sailed over to the other side of the lake and all the calls and pleadings of ervic and his companions were unheeded by the vain bird. as there was nothing else for them to do, they sat quietly in their boat and waited as patiently as they could for someone to come to their aid. the flatheads had refused to help them and had gone back to their mountain. all the skeezers were imprisoned in the great dome and could not help even themselves. when evening came, they saw the diamond swan, still keeping to the opposite shore of the lake, walk out of the water to the sands, shake her diamond-sprinkled feathers, and then disappear among the bushes to seek a resting place for the night. "i'm hungry," said ervic. "i'm cold," said another skeezer. "i'm tired," said a third. "i'm afraid," said the last one of them. but it did them no good to complain. night fell and the moon rose and cast a silvery sheen over the surface of the water. "go to sleep," said ervic to his companions. "i'll stay awake and watch, for we may be rescued in some unexpected way." so the other three laid themselves down in the bottom of the boat and were soon fast asleep. ervic watched. he rested himself by leaning over the bow of the boat, his face near to the moonlit water, and thought dreamily of the day's surprising events and wondered what would happen to the prisoners in the great dome. suddenly a tiny goldfish popped its head above the surface of the lake, not more than a foot from his eyes. a silverfish then raised its head beside that of the goldfish, and a moment later a bronzefish lifted its head beside the others. the three fish, all in a row, looked earnestly with their round, bright eyes into the astonished eyes of ervic the skeezer. "we are the three adepts whom queen coo-ee-oh betrayed and wickedly transformed," said the goldfish, its voice low and soft but distinctly heard in the stillness of the night. "i know of our queen's treacherous deed," replied ervic, "and i am sorry for your misfortune. have you been in the lake ever since?" "yes," was the reply. "i--i hope you are well--and comfortable," stammered ervic, not knowing what else to say. "we knew that some day coo-ee-oh would meet with the fate she so richly deserves," declared the bronzefish. "we have waited and watched for this time. now if you will promise to help us and will be faithful and true, you can aid us in regaining our natural forms, and save yourself and all your people from the dangers that now threaten you." "well," said ervic, "you can depend on my doing the best i can. but i'm no witch, nor magician, you must know." "all we ask is that you obey our instructions," returned the silverfish. "we know that you are honest and that you served coo-ee-oh only because you were obliged to in order to escape her anger. do as we command and all will be well." "i promise!" exclaimed the young man. "tell me what i am to do first." "you will find in the bottom of your boat the silver cord which dropped from coo-ee-oh's hand when she was transformed," said the goldfish. "tie one end of that cord to the bow of your boat and drop the other end to us in the water. together we will pull your boat to the shore." ervic much doubted that the three small fishes could move so heavy a boat, but he did as he was told and the fishes all seized their end of the silver cord in their mouths and headed toward the nearest shore, which was the very place where the flatheads had stood when they conquered queen coo-ee-oh. at first the boat did not move at all, although the fishes pulled with all their strength. but presently the strain began to tell. very slowly the boat crept toward the shore, gaining more speed at every moment. a couple of yards away from the sandy beach the fishes dropped the cord from their mouths and swam to one side, while the iron boat, being now under way, continued to move until its prow grated upon the sands. ervic leaned over the side and said to the fishes: "what next?" "you will find upon the sand," said the silverfish, "a copper kettle, which the su-dic forgot when he went away. cleanse it thoroughly in the water of the lake, for it has had poison in it. when it is cleaned, fill it with fresh water and hold it over the side of the boat, so that we three may swim into the kettle. we will then instruct you further." "do you wish me to catch you, then?" asked ervic in surprise. "yes," was the reply. so ervic jumped out of the boat and found the copper kettle. carrying it a little way down the beach, he washed it well, scrubbing away every drop of the poison it had contained with sand from the shore. then he went back to the boat. ervic's comrades were still sound asleep and knew nothing of the three fishes or what strange happenings were taking place about them. ervic dipped the kettle in the lake, holding fast to the handle until it was under water. the gold and silver and bronze fishes promptly swam into the kettle. the young skeezer then lifted it, poured out a little of the water so it would not spill over the edge, and said to the fishes: "what next?" "carry the kettle to the shore. take one hundred steps to the east, along the edge of the lake, and then you will see a path leading through the meadows, up hill and down dale. follow the path until you come to a cottage which is painted a purple color with white trimmings. when you stop at the gate of this cottage we will tell you what to do next. be careful, above all, not to stumble and spill the water from the kettle, or you would destroy us and all you have done would be in vain." the goldfish issued these commands and ervic promised to be careful and started to obey. he left his sleeping comrades in the boat, stepping cautiously over their bodies, and on reaching the shore took exactly one hundred steps to the east. then he looked for the path and the moonlight was so bright that he easily discovered it, although it was hidden from view by tall weeds until one came full upon it. this path was very narrow and did not seem to be much used, but it was quite distinct and ervic had no difficulty in following it. he walked through a broad meadow, covered with tall grass and weeds, up a hill and down into a valley and then up another hill and down again. it seemed to ervic that he had walked miles and miles. indeed the moon sank low and day was beginning to dawn when finally he discovered by the roadside a pretty little cottage, painted purple with white trimmings. it was a lonely place--no other buildings were anywhere about and the ground was not tilled at all. no farmer lived here, that was certain. who would care to dwell in such an isolated place? but ervic did not bother his head long with such questions. he went up to the gate that led to the cottage, set the copper kettle carefully down and bending over it asked: "what next?" chapter seventeen under the great dome when glinda the good and her followers of the rescue expedition came in sight of the enchanted mountain of the flatheads, it was away to the left of them, for the route they had taken through the great forest was some distance from that followed by ozma and dorothy. they halted awhile to decide whether they should call upon the supreme dictator first, or go on to the lake of the skeezers. "if we go to the mountain," said the wizard, "we may get into trouble with that wicked su-dic, and then we would be delayed in rescuing ozma and dorothy. so i think our best plan will be to go to the skeezer country, raise the sunken island and save our friends and the imprisoned skeezers. afterward we can visit the mountain and punish the cruel magician of the flatheads." "that is sensible," approved the shaggy man. "i quite agree with you." the others, too, seemed to think the wizard's plan the best, and glinda herself commended it, so on they marched toward the line of palm trees that hid the skeezers' lake from view. pretty soon they came to the palms. these were set closely together, the branches, which came quite to the ground, being so tightly interlaced that even the glass cat could scarcely find a place to squeeze through. the path which the flatheads used was some distance away. "here's a job for the tin woodman," said the scarecrow. so the tin woodman, who was always glad to be of use, set to work with his sharp, gleaming axe, which he always carried, and in a surprisingly short time had chopped away enough branches to permit them all to pass easily through the trees. now the clear waters of the beautiful lake were before them and by looking closely they could see the outlines of the great dome of the sunken island, far from shore and directly in the center of the lake. of course every eye was at first fixed upon this dome, where ozma and dorothy and the skeezers were still fast prisoners. but soon their attention was caught by a more brilliant sight, for here was the diamond swan swimming just before them, its long neck arched proudly, the amethyst eyes gleaming and all the diamond-sprinkled feathers glistening splendidly under the rays of the sun. "that," said glinda, "is the transformation of queen coo-ce-oh, the haughty and wicked witch who betrayed the three adepts at magic and treated her people like slaves." "she's wonderfully beautiful now," remarked the frogman. "it doesn't seem like much of a punishment," said trot. "the flathead su-dic ought to have made her a toad." "i am sure coo-ee-oh is punished," said glinda, "for she has lost all her magic power and her grand palace and can no longer misrule the poor skeezers." "let us call to her, and hear what she has to say," proposed the wizard. so glinda beckoned the diamond swan, which swam gracefully to a position near them. before anyone could speak coo-ee-oh called to them in a rasping voice--for the voice of a swan is always harsh and unpleasant--and said with much pride: "admire me, strangers! admire the lovely coo-ee-oh, the handsomest creature in all oz. admire me!" "handsome is as handsome does," replied the scarecrow. "are your deeds lovely, coo-ce-oh?" "deeds? what deeds can a swan do but swim around and give pleasure to all beholders?" said the sparkling bird. "have you forgotten your former life? have you forgotten your magic and witchcraft?" inquired the wizard. "magic--witchcraft? pshaw, who cares for such silly things?" retorted coo-ee-oh. "as for my past life, it seems like an unpleasant dream. i wouldn't go back to it if i could. don't you admire my beauty, strangers?" "tell us, coo-ee-oh," said glinda earnestly, "if you can recall enough of your witchcraft to enable us to raise the sunken island to the surface of the lake. tell us that and i'll give you a string of pearls to wear around your neck and add to your beauty." "nothing can add to my beauty, for i'm the most beautiful creature anywhere in the whole world." "but how can we raise the island?" "i don't know and i don't care. if ever i knew i've forgotten, and i'm glad of it," was the response. "just watch me circle around and see me glitter! "it's no use," said button bright; "the old swan is too much in love with herself to think of anything else." "that's a fact," agreed betsy with a sigh; "but we've got to get ozma and dorothy out of that lake, somehow or other." "and we must do it in our own way," added the scarecrow. "but how?" asked uncle henry in a grave voice, for he could not bear to think of his dear niece dorothy being out there under water; "how shall we do it?" "leave that to glinda," advised the wizard, realizing he was helpless to do it himself. "if it were just an ordinary sunken island," said the powerful sorceress, "there would be several ways by which i might bring it to the surface again. but this is a magic isle, and by some curious art of witchcraft, unknown to any but queen coo-ce-oh, it obeys certain commands of magic and will not respond to any other. i do not despair in the least, but it will require some deep study to solve this difficult problem. if the swan could only remember the witchcraft that she invented and knew as a woman, i could force her to tell me the secret, but all her former knowledge is now forgotten." "it seems to me," said the wizard after a brief silence had followed glinda's speech, "that there are three fishes in this lake that used to be adepts at magic and from whom coo-ee-oh stole much of her knowledge. if we could find those fishes and return them to their former shapes, they could doubtless tell us what to do to bring the sunken island to the surface." "i have thought of those fishes," replied glinda, "but among so many fishes as this lake contains how are we to single them out?" you will understand, of course, that had glinda been at home in her castle, where the great book of records was, she would have known that ervic the skeezer already had taken the gold and silver and bronze fishes from the lake. but that act had been recorded in the book after glinda had set out on this journey, so it was all unknown to her. "i think i see a boat yonder on the shore," said ojo the munchkin boy, pointing to a place around the edge of the lake. "if we could get that boat and row all over the lake, calling to the magic fishes, we might be able to find them." "let us go to the boat," said the wizard. they walked around the lake to where the boat was stranded upon the beach, but found it empty. it was a mere shell of blackened steel, with a collapsible roof that, when in position, made the submarine watertight, but at present the roof rested in slots on either side of the magic craft. there were no oars or sails, no machinery to make the boat go, and although glinda promptly realized it was meant to be operated by witchcraft, she was not acquainted with that sort of magic. "however," said she, "the boat is merely a boat, and i believe i can make it obey a command of sorcery, as well as it did the command of witchcraft. after i have given a little thought to the matter, the boat will take us wherever we desire to go." "not all of us," returned the wizard, "for it won't hold so many. but, most noble sorceress, provided you can make the boat go, of what use will it be to us?" "can't we use it to catch the three fishes?" asked button bright. "it will not be necessary to use the boat for that purpose," replied glinda. "wherever in the lake the enchanted fishes may be, they will answer to my call. what i am trying to discover is how the boat came to be on this shore, while the island on which it belongs is under water yonder. did coo-ee-oh come here in the boat to meet the flatheads before the island was sunk, or afterward?" no one could answer that question, of course; but while they pondered the matter three young men advanced from the line of trees, and rather timidly bowed to the strangers. "who are you, and where did you come from?" inquired the wizard. "we are skeezers," answered one of them, "and our home is on the magic isle of the lake. we ran away when we saw you coming, and hid behind the trees, but as you are strangers and seem to be friendly we decided to meet you, for we are in great trouble and need assistance." "if you belong on the island, why are you here?" demanded glinda. so they told her all the story: how the queen had defied the flatheads and submerged the whole island so that her enemies could not get to it or destroy it; how, when the flatheads came to the shore, coo-ee-oh had commanded them, together with their friend ervic, to go with her in the submarine to conquer the su-dic, and how the boat had shot out from the basement of the sunken isle, obeying a magic word, and risen to the surface, where it opened and floated upon the water. then followed the account of how the su-dic had transformed coo-ee-oh into a swan, after which she had forgotten all the witchcraft she ever knew. the young men told how, in the night when they were asleep, their comrade ervic had mysteriously disappeared, while the boat in some strange manner had floated to the shore and stranded upon the beach. that was all they knew. they had searched in vain for three days for ervic. as their island was under water and they could not get back to it, the three skeezers had no place to go, and so had waited patiently beside their boat for something to happen. being questioned by glinda and the wizard, they told all they knew about ozma and dorothy and declared the two girls were still in the village under the great dome. they were quite safe and would be well cared for by lady aurex, now that the queen who opposed them was out of the way. when they had gleaned all the information they could from these skeezers, the wizard said to glinda: "if you find you can make this boat obey your sorcery, you could have it return to the island, submerge itself, and enter the door in the basement from which it came. but i cannot see that our going to the sunken island would enable our friends to escape. we would only join them as prisoners." "not so, friend wizard," replied glinda. "if the boat would obey my commands to enter the basement door, it would also obey my commands to come out again, and i could bring ozma and dorothy back with me." "and leave all of our people still imprisoned?" asked one of the skeezers reproachfully. "by making several trips in the boat, glinda could fetch all your people to the shore," replied the wizard. "but what could they do then?" inquired another skeezer. "they would have no homes and no place to go, and would be at the mercy of their enemies, the flatheads." "that is true," said glinda the good. "and as these people are ozma's subjects, i think she would refuse to escape with dorothy and leave the others behind, or to abandon the island which is the lawful home of the skeezers. i believe the best plan will be to summon the three fishes and learn from them how to raise the island." the little wizard seemed to think that this was rather a forlorn hope. "how will you summon them," he asked the lovely sorceress, "and how can they hear you?" "that is something we must consider carefully," responded stately glinda, with a serene smile. "i think i can find a way." all of ozma's counsellors applauded this sentiment, for they knew well the powers of the sorceress. "very well," agreed the wizard. "summon them, most noble glinda." chapter eighteen the cleverness of ervic we must now return to ervic the skeezer, who, when he had set down the copper kettle containing the three fishes at the gate of the lonely cottage, had asked, "what next?" the goldfish stuck its head above the water in the kettle and said in its small but distinct voice: "you are to lift the latch, open the door, and walk boldly into the cottage. do not be afraid of anything you see, for however you seem to be threatened with dangers, nothing can harm you. the cottage is the home of a powerful yookoohoo, named reera the red, who assumes all sorts of forms, sometimes changing her form several times in a day, according to her fancy. what her real form may be we do not know. this strange creature cannot be bribed with treasure, or coaxed through friendship, or won by pity. she has never assisted anyone, or done wrong to anyone, that we know of. all her wonderful powers are used for her own selfish amusement. she will order you out of the house but you must refuse to go. remain and watch reera closely and try to see what she uses to accomplish her transformations. if you can discover the secret whisper it to us and we will then tell you what to do next." "that sounds easy," returned ervic, who had listened carefully. "but are you sure she will not hurt me, or try to transform me?" "she may change your form," replied the goldfish, "but do not worry if that happens, for we can break that enchantment easily. you may be sure that nothing will harm you, so you must not be frightened at anything you see or hear." now ervic was as brave as any ordinary young man, and he knew the fishes who spoke to him were truthful and to be relied upon, nevertheless he experienced a strange sinking of the heart as he picked up the kettle and approached the door of the cottage. his hand trembled as he raised the latch, but he was resolved to obey his instructions. he pushed the door open, took three strides into the middle of the one room the cottage contained, and then stood still and looked around him. the sights that met his gaze were enough to frighten anyone who had not been properly warned. on the floor just before ervic lay a great crocodile, its red eyes gleaming wickedly and its wide open mouth displaying rows of sharp teeth. horned toads hopped about; each of the four upper corners of the room was festooned with a thick cobweb, in the center of which sat a spider as big around as a washbasin, and armed with pincher-like claws; a red-and-green lizard was stretched at full length on the window-sill and black rats darted in and out of the holes they had gnawed in the floor of the cottage. but the most startling thing was a huge gray ape which sat upon a bench and knitted. it wore a lace cap, such as old ladies wear, and a little apron of lace, but no other clothing. its eyes were bright and looked as if coals were burning in them. the ape moved as naturally as an ordinary person might, and on ervic's entrance stopped knitting and raised its head to look at him. "get out!" cried a sharp voice, seeming to come from the ape's mouth. ervic saw another bench, empty, just beyond him, so he stepped over the crocodile, sat down upon the bench and carefully placed the kettle beside him. "get out!" again cried the voice. ervic shook his head. "no," said he, "i'm going to stay." the spiders left their four corners, dropped to the floor and made a rush toward the young skeezer, circling around his legs with their pinchers extended. ervic paid no attention to them. an enormous black rat ran up ervic's body, passed around his shoulders and uttered piercing squeals in his ears, but he did not wince. the green-and-red lizard, coming from the window-sill, approached ervic and began spitting a flaming fluid at him, but ervic merely stared at the creature and its flame did not touch him. the crocodile raised its tail and, swinging around, swept ervic off the bench with a powerful blow. but the skeezer managed to save the kettle from upsetting and he got up, shook off the horned toads that were crawling over him and resumed his seat on the bench. all the creatures, after this first attack, remained motionless, as if awaiting orders. the old gray ape knitted on, not looking toward ervic now, and the young skeezer stolidly kept his seat. he expected something else to happen, but nothing did. a full hour passed and ervic was growing nervous. "what do you want?" the ape asked at last. "nothing," said ervic. "you may have that!" retorted the ape, and at this all the strange creatures in the room broke into a chorus of cackling laughter. another long wait. "do you know who i am?" questioned the ape. "you must be reera the red--the yookoohoo," ervic answered. "knowing so much, you must also know that i do not like strangers. your presence here in my home annoys me. do you not fear my anger?" "no," said the young man. "do you intend to obey me, and leave this house?" "no," replied ervic, just as quietly as the yookoohoo had spoken. the ape knitted for a long time before resuming the conversation. "curiosity," it said, "has led to many a man's undoing. i suppose in some way you have learned that i do tricks of magic, and so through curiosity you have come here. you may have been told that i do not injure anyone, so you are bold enough to disobey my commands to go away. you imagine that you may witness some of the rites of witchcraft, and that they may amuse you. have i spoken truly?" "well," remarked ervic, who had been pondering on the strange circumstances of his coming here, "you are right in some ways, but not in others. i am told that you work magic only for your own amusement. that seems to me very selfish. few people understand magic. i'm told that you are the only real yookoohoo in all oz. why don't you amuse others as well as yourself?" "what right have you to question my actions?" "none at all." "and you say you are not here to demand any favors of me?" "for myself i want nothing from you." "you are wise in that. i never grant favors." "that doesn't worry me," declared ervic. "but you are curious? you hope to witness some of my magic transformations?" "if you wish to perform any magic, go ahead," said ervic. "it may interest me and it may not. if you'd rather go on with your knitting, it's all the same to me. i am in no hurry at all." this may have puzzled red reera, but the face beneath the lace cap could show no expression, being covered with hair. perhaps in all her career the yookoohoo had never been visited by anyone who, like this young man, asked for nothing, expected nothing, and had no reason for coming except curiosity. this attitude practically disarmed the witch and she began to regard the skeezer in a more friendly way. she knitted for some time, seemingly in deep thought, and then she arose and walked to a big cupboard that stood against the wall of the room. when the cupboard door was opened ervic could see a lot of drawers inside, and into one of these drawers--the second from the bottom--reera thrust a hairy hand. until now ervic could see over the bent form of the ape, but suddenly the form, with its back to him, seemed to straighten up and blot out the cupboard of drawers. the ape had changed to the form of a woman, dressed in the pretty gillikin costume, and when she turned around he saw that it was a young woman, whose face was quite attractive. "do you like me better this way?" reera inquired with a smile. "you look better," he said calmly, "but i'm not sure i like you any better." she laughed, saying: "during the heat of the day i like to be an ape, for an ape doesn't wear any clothes to speak of. but if one has gentlemen callers it is proper to dress up." ervic noticed her right hand was closed, as if she held something in it. she shut the cupboard door, bent over the crocodile and in a moment the creature had changed to a red wolf. it was not pretty even now, and the wolf crouched beside its mistress as a dog might have done. its teeth looked as dangerous as had those of the crocodile. next the yookoohoo went about touching all the lizards and toads, and at her touch they became kittens. the rats she changed into chipmunks. now the only horrid creatures remaining were the four great spiders, which hid themselves behind their thick webs. "there!" reera cried, "now my cottage presents a more comfortable appearance. i love the toads and lizards and rats, because most people hate them, but i would tire of them if they always remained the same. sometimes i change their forms a dozen times a day." "you are clever," said ervic. "i did not hear you utter any incantations or magic words. all you did was to touch the creatures." "oh, do you think so?" she replied. "well, touch them yourself, if you like, and see if you can change their forms." "no," said the skeezer, "i don't understand magic and if i did i would not try to imitate your skill. you are a wonderful yookoohoo, while i am only a common skeezer." this confession seemed to please reera, who liked to have her witchcraft appreciated. "will you go away now?" she asked. "i prefer to be alone." "i prefer to stay here," said ervic. "in another person's home, where you are not wanted?" "yes." "is not your curiosity yet satisfied?" demanded reera, with a smile. "i don't know. is there anything else you can do?" "many things. but why should i exhibit my powers to a stranger?" "i can think of no reason at all," he replied. she looked at him curiously. "you want no power for yourself, you say, and you're too stupid to be able to steal my secrets. this isn't a pretty cottage, while outside are sunshine, broad prairies and beautiful wildflowers. yet you insist on sitting on that bench and annoying me with your unwelcome presence. what have you in that kettle?" "three fishes," he answered readily. "where did you get them?" "i caught them in the lake of the skeezers." "what do you intend to do with the fishes?" "i shall carry them to the home of a friend of mine who has three children. the children will love to have the fishes for pets." she came over to the bench and looked into the kettle, where the three fishes were swimming quietly in the water. "they're pretty," said reera. "let me transform them into something else." "no," objected the skeezer. "i love to transform things; it's so interesting. and i've never transformed any fishes in all my life." "let them alone," said ervic. "what shapes would you prefer them to have? i can make them turtles, or cute little sea-horses; or i could make them piglets, or rabbits, or guinea-pigs; or, if you like i can make chickens of them, or eagles, or bluejays." "let them alone!" repeated ervic. "you're not a very pleasant visitor," laughed red reera. "people accuse me of being cross and crabbed and unsociable, and they are quite right. if you had come here pleading and begging for favors, and half afraid of my yookoohoo magic, i'd have abused you until you ran away; but you're quite different from that. you're the unsociable and crabbed and disagreeable one, and so i like you, and bear with your grumpiness. it's time for my midday meal; are you hungry?" "no," said ervic, although he really desired food. "well, i am," reera declared and clapped her hands together. instantly a table appeared, spread with linen and bearing dishes of various foods, some smoking hot. there were two plates laid, one at each end of the table, and as soon as reera seated herself all her creatures gathered around her, as if they were accustomed to be fed when she ate. the wolf squatted at her right hand and the kittens and chipmunks gathered at her left. "come, stranger, sit down and eat," she called cheerfully, "and while we're eating let us decide into what forms we shall change your fishes." "they're all right as they are," asserted ervic, drawing up his bench to the table. "the fishes are beauties--one gold, one silver and one bronze. nothing that has life is more lovely than a beautiful fish." "what! am i not more lovely?" reera asked, smiling at his serious face. "i don't object to you--for a yookoohoo, you know," he said, helping himself to the food and eating with good appetite. "and don't you consider a beautiful girl more lovely than a fish, however pretty the fish may be?" "well," replied ervic, after a period of thought, "that might be. if you transformed my three fish into three girls--girls who would be adepts at magic, you know they might please me as well as the fish do. you won't do that of course, because you can't, with all your skill. and, should you be able to do so, i fear my troubles would be more than i could bear. they would not consent to be my slaves--especially if they were adepts at magic--and so they would command me to obey them. no, mistress reera, let us not transform the fishes at all." the skeezer had put his case with remarkable cleverness. he realized that if he appeared anxious for such a transformation the yookoohoo would not perform it, yet he had skillfully suggested that they be made adepts at magic. chapter nineteen red reera, the yookoohoo after the meal was over and reera had fed her pets, including the four monster spiders which had come down from their webs to secure their share, she made the table disappear from the floor of the cottage. "i wish you'd consent to my transforming your fishes," she said, as she took up her knitting again. the skeezer made no reply. he thought it unwise to hurry matters. all during the afternoon they sat silent. once reera went to her cupboard and after thrusting her hand into the same drawer as before, touched the wolf and transformed it into a bird with gorgeous colored feathers. this bird was larger than a parrot and of a somewhat different form, but ervic had never seen one like it before. "sing!" said reera to the bird, which had perched itself on a big wooden peg--as if it had been in the cottage before and knew just what to do. and the bird sang jolly, rollicking songs with words to them--just as a person who had been carefully trained might do. the songs were entertaining and ervic enjoyed listening to them. in an hour or so the bird stopped singing, tucked its head under its wing and went to sleep. reera continued knitting but seemed thoughtful. now ervic had marked this cupboard drawer well and had concluded that reera took something from it which enabled her to perform her transformations. he thought that if he managed to remain in the cottage, and reera fell asleep, he could slyly open the cupboard, take a portion of whatever was in the drawer, and by dropping it into the copper kettle transform the three fishes into their natural shapes. indeed, he had firmly resolved to carry out this plan when the yookoohoo put down her knitting and walked toward the door. "i'm going out for a few minutes," said she; "do you wish to go with me, or will you remain here?" ervic did not answer but sat quietly on his bench. so reera went out and closed the cottage door. as soon as she was gone, ervic rose and tiptoed to the cupboard. "take care! take care!" cried several voices, coming from the kittens and chipmunks. "if you touch anything we'll tell the yookoohoo!" ervic hesitated a moment but, remembering that he need not consider reera's anger if he succeeded in transforming the fishes, he was about to open the cupboard when he was arrested by the voices of the fishes, which stuck their heads above the water in the kettle and called out: "come here, ervic!" so he went back to the kettle and bent over it "let the cupboard alone," said the goldfish to him earnestly. "you could not succeed by getting that magic powder, for only the yookoohoo knows how to use it. the best way is to allow her to transform us into three girls, for then we will have our natural shapes and be able to perform all the arts of magic we have learned and well understand. you are acting wisely and in the most effective manner. we did not know you were so intelligent, or that reera could be so easily deceived by you. continue as you have begun and try to persuade her to transform us. but insist that we be given the forms of girls." the goldfish ducked its head down just as reera re-entered the cottage. she saw ervic bent over the kettle, so she came and joined him. "can your fishes talk?" she asked. "sometimes," he replied, "for all fishes in the land of oz know how to speak. just now they were asking me for some bread. they are hungry." "well, they can have some bread," said reera. "but it is nearly supper-time, and if you would allow me to transform your fishes into girls they could join us at the table and have plenty of food much nicer than crumbs. why not let me transform them?" "well," said ervic, as if hesitating, "ask the fishes. if they consent, why--why, then, i'll think it over." reera bent over the kettle and asked: "can you hear me, little fishes?" all three popped their heads above water. "we can hear you," said the bronzefish. "i want to give you other forms, such as rabbits, or turtles or girls, or something; but your master, the surly skeezer, does not wish me to. however, he has agreed to the plan if you will consent." "we'd like to be girls," said the silverfish. "no, no!" exclaimed ervic. "if you promise to make us three beautiful girls, we will consent," said the goldfish. "no, no!" exclaimed ervic again. "also make us adepts at magic," added the bronzefish. "i don't know exactly what that means," replied reera musingly, "but as no adept at magic is as powerful as yookoohoo, i'll add that to the transformation." "we won't try to harm you, or to interfere with your magic in any way," promised the goldfish. "on the contrary, we will be your friends." "will you agree to go away and leave me alone in my cottage, whenever i command you to do so?" asked reera. "we promise that," cried the three fishes. "don't do it! don't consent to the transformation," urged ervic. "they have already consented," said the yookoohoo, laughing in his face, "and you have promised me to abide by their decision. so, friend skeezer, i shall perform the transformation whether you like it or not." ervic seated himself on the bench again, a deep scowl on his face but joy in his heart. reera moved over to the cupboard, took something from the drawer and returned to the copper kettle. she was clutching something tightly in her right hand, but with her left she reached within the kettle, took out the three fishes and laid them carefully on the floor, where they gasped in distress at being out of water. reera did not keep them in misery more than a few seconds, for she touched each one with her right hand and instantly the fishes were transformed into three tall and slender young women, with fine, intelligent faces and clothed in handsome, clinging gowns. the one who had been a goldfish had beautiful golden hair and blue eyes and was exceedingly fair of skin; the one who had been a bronzefish had dark brown hair and clear gray eyes and her complexion matched these lovely features. the one who had been a silverfish had snow-white hair of the finest texture and deep brown eyes. the hair contrasted exquisitely with her pink cheeks and ruby-red lips, nor did it make her look a day older than her two companions. as soon as they secured these girlish shapes, all three bowed low to the yookoohoo and said: "we thank you, reera." then they bowed to the skeezer and said: "we thank you, ervic." "very good!" cried the yookoohoo, examining her work with critical approval. "you are much better and more interesting than fishes, and this ungracious skeezer would scarcely allow me to do the transformations. you surely have nothing to thank him for. but now let us dine in honor of the occasion." she clapped her hands together and again a table loaded with food appeared in the cottage. it was a longer table, this time, and places were set for the three adepts as well as for reera and ervic. "sit down, friends, and eat your fill," said the yookoohoo, but instead of seating herself at the head of the table she went to the cupboard, saying to the adepts: "your beauty and grace, my fair friends, quite outshine my own. so that i may appear properly at the banquet table i intend, in honor of this occasion, to take upon myself my natural shape." scarcely had she finished this speech when reera transformed herself into a young woman fully as lovely as the three adepts. she was not quite so tall as they, but her form was more rounded and more handsomely clothed, with a wonderful jeweled girdle and a necklace of shining pearls. her hair was a bright auburn red, and her eyes large and dark. "do you claim this is your natural form?" asked ervic of the yookoohoo. "yes," she replied. "this is the only form i am really entitled to wear. but i seldom assume it because there is no one here to admire or appreciate it and i get tired admiring it myself." "i see now why you are named reera the red," remarked ervic. "it is on account of my red hair," she explained smiling. "i do not care for red hair myself, which is one reason i usually wear other forms." "it is beautiful," asserted the young man; and then remembering the other women present he added: "but, of course, all women should not have red hair, because that would make it too common. gold and silver and brown hair are equally handsome." the smiles that he saw interchanged between the four filled the poor skeezer with embarrassment, so he fell silent and attended to eating his supper, leaving the others to do the talking. the three adepts frankly told reera who they were, how they became fishes and how they had planned secretly to induce the yookoohoo to transform them. they admitted that they had feared, had they asked her to help, that she would have refused them. "you were quite right," returned the yookoohoo. "i make it my rule never to perform magic to assist others, for if i did there would always be crowd at my cottage demanding help and i hate crowds and want to be left alone." "however, now that you are restored to your proper shapes, i do not regret my action and i hope you will be of use in saving the skeezer people by raising their island to the surface of the lake, where it really belongs. but you must promise me that after you go away you will never come here again, nor tell anyone what i have done for you." the three adepts and ervic thanked the yookoohoo warmly. they promised to remember her wish that they should not come to her cottage again and so, with a good-bye, took their departure. chapter twenty a puzzling problem glinda the good, having decided to try her sorcery upon the abandoned submarine, so that it would obey her commands, asked all of her party, including the skeezers, to withdraw from the shore of the lake to the line of palm trees. she kept with her only the little wizard of oz, who was her pupil and knew how to assist her in her magic rites. when they two were alone beside the stranded boat, glinda said to the wizard: "i shall first try my magic recipe no. , which is intended to make inanimate objects move at my command. have you a skeropythrope with you?" "yes, i always carry one in my bag," replied the wizard. he opened his black bag of magic tools and took out a brightly polished skeropythrope, which he handed to the sorceress. glinda had also brought a small wicker bag, containing various requirements of sorcery, and from this she took a parcel of powder and a vial of liquid. she poured the liquid into the skeropythrope and added the powder. at once the skeropythrope began to sputter and emit sparks of a violet color, which spread in all directions. the sorceress instantly stepped into the middle of the boat and held the instrument so that the sparks fell all around her and covered every bit of the blackened steel boat. at the same time glinda crooned a weird incantation in the language of sorcery, her voice sounding low and musical. after a little the violet sparks ceased, and those that had fallen upon the boat had disappeared and left no mark upon its surface. the ceremony was ended and glinda returned the skeropythrope to the wizard, who put it away in his black bag. "that ought to do the business all right," he said confidently. "let us make a trial and see," she replied. so they both entered the boat and seated themselves. speaking in a tone of command the sorceress said to the boat: "carry us across the lake, to the farther shore." at once the boat backed off the sandy beach, turned its prow and moved swiftly over the water. "very good--very good indeed!" cried the wizard, when the boat slowed up at the shore opposite from that whence they had departed. "even coo-ee-oh, with all her witchcraft, could do no better." the sorceress now said to the boat: "close up, submerge and carry us to the basement door of the sunken island--the door from which you emerged at the command of queen coo-ee-oh." the boat obeyed. as it sank into the water the top sections rose from the sides and joined together over the heads of glinda and the wizard, who were thus enclosed in a water-proof chamber. there were four glass windows in this covering, one on each side and one on either end, so that the passengers could see exactly where they were going. moving under water more slowly than on the surface, the submarine gradually approached the island and halted with its bow pressed against the huge marble door in the basement under the dome. this door was tightly closed and it was evident to both glinda and the wizard that it would not open to admit the underwater boat unless a magic word was spoken by them or someone from within the basement of the island. but what was this magic word? neither of them knew. "i'm afraid," said the wizard regretfully, "that we can't get in, after all. unless your sorcery can discover the word to open the marble door." "that is probably some word only known to coo-ce-oh," replied the sorceress. "i may be able to discover what it is, but that will require time. let us go back again to our companions." "it seems a shame, after we have made the boat obey us, to be balked by just a marble door," grumbled the wizard. at glinda's command the boat rose until it was on a level with the glass dome that covered the skeezer village, when the sorceress made it slowly circle all around the great dome. many faces were pressed against the glass from the inside, eagerly watching the submarine, and in one place were dorothy and ozma, who quickly recognized glinda and the wizard through the glass windows of the boat. glinda saw them, too, and held the boat close to the dome while the friends exchanged greetings in pantomime. their voices, unfortunately, could not be heard through the dome and the water and the side of the boat. the wizard tried to make the girls understand, through signs, that he and glinda had come to their rescue, and ozma and dorothy understood this from the very fact that the sorceress and the wizard had appeared. the two girl prisoners were smiling and in safety, and knowing this glinda felt she could take all the time necessary in order to effect their final rescue. as nothing more could be done just then, glinda ordered the boat to return to shore and it obeyed readily. first it ascended to the surface of the water, then the roof parted and fell into the slots at the side of the boat, and then the magic craft quickly made the shore and beached itself on the sands at the very spot from which it had departed at glinda's command. all the oz people and the skeezers at once ran to the boat to ask if they had reached the island, and whether they had seen ozma and dorothy. the wizard told them of the obstacle they had met in the way of a marble door, and how glinda would now undertake to find a magic way to conquer the door. realizing that it would require several days to succeed in reaching the island raising it and liberating their friends and the skeezer people, glinda now prepared a camp half way between the lake shore and the palm trees. the wizard's wizardry made a number of tents appear and the sorcery of the sorceress furnished these tents all complete, with beds, chairs, tables, flags, lamps and even books with which to pass idle hours. all the tents had the royal banner of oz flying from the centerpoles and one big tent, not now occupied, had ozma's own banner moving in the breeze. betsy and trot had a tent to themselves, and button bright and ojo had another. the scarecrow and the tin woodman paired together in one tent and so did jack pumpkinhead and the shaggy man, cap'n bill and uncle henry, tik-tok and professor wogglebug. glinda had the most splendid tent of all, except that reserved for ozma, while the wizard had a little one of his own. whenever it was meal time, tables loaded with food magically appeared in the tents of those who were in the habit of eating, and these complete arrangements made the rescue party just comfortable as they would have been in their own homes. far into the night glinda sat in her tent studying a roll of mystic scrolls in search of a word that would open the basement door of the island and admit her to the great dome. she also made many magical experiments, hoping to discover something that would aid her. yet the morning found the powerful sorceress still unsuccessful. glinda's art could have opened any ordinary door, you may be sure, but you must realize that this marble door of the island had been commanded not to open save in obedience to one magic word, and therefore all other magic words could have no effect upon it. the magic word that guarded the door had probably been invented by coo-ee-oh, who had now forgotten it. the only way, then, to gain entrance to the sunken island was to break the charm that held the door fast shut. if this could be done no magic would be required to open it. the next day the sorceress and the wizard again entered the boat and made it submerge and go to the marble door, which they tried in various ways to open, but without success. "we shall have to abandon this attempt, i think," said glinda. "the easiest way to raise the island would be for us to gain admittance to the dome and then descend to the basement and see in what manner coo-ee-oh made the entire island sink or rise at her command. it naturally occurred to me that the easiest way to gain admittance would be by having the boat take us into the basement through the marble door from which coo-ee-oh launched it. but there must be other ways to get inside the dome and join ozma and dorothy, and such ways we must find by study and the proper use of our powers of magic." "it won't be easy," declared the wizard, "for we must not forget that ozma herself understands considerable magic, and has doubtless tried to raise the island or find other means of escape from it and failed." "that is true," returned glinda, "but ozma's magic is fairy magic, while you are a wizard and i am a sorceress. in this way the three of us have a great variety of magic to work with, and if we should all fail it will be because the island is raised and lowered by a magic power none of us is acquainted with. my idea therefore is to seek--by such magic as we possess--to accomplish our object in another way." they made the circle of the dome again in their boat, and once more saw ozma and dorothy through their windows and exchanged signals with the two imprisoned girls. ozma realized that her friends were doing all in their power to rescue her and smiled an encouragement to their efforts. dorothy seemed a little anxious but was trying to be as brave as her companion. after the boat had returned to the camp and glinda was seated in her tent, working out various ways by which ozma and dorothy could be rescued, the wizard stood on the shore dreamily eying the outlines of the great dome which showed beneath the clear water, when he raised his eyes and saw a group of strange people approaching from around the lake. three were young women of stately presence, very beautifully dressed, who moved with remarkable grace. they were followed at a little distance by a good-looking young skeezer. the wizard saw at a glance that these people might be very important, so he advanced to meet them. the three maidens received him graciously and the one with the golden hair said: "i believe you are the famous wizard of oz, of whom i have often heard. we are seeking glinda, the sorceress, and perhaps you can lead us to her." "i can, and will, right gladly," answered the wizard. "follow me, please." the little wizard was puzzled as to the identity of the three lovely visitors but he gave no sign that might embarrass them. he understood they did not wish to be questioned, and so he made no remarks as he led the way to glinda's tent. with a courtly bow the wizard ushered the three visitors into the gracious presence of glinda, the good. chapter twenty-one the three adepts the sorceress looked up from her work as the three maidens entered, and something in their appearance and manner led her to rise and bow to them in her most dignified manner. the three knelt an instant before the great sorceress and then stood upright and waited for her to speak. "whoever you may be," said glinda, "i bid you welcome." "my name is audah," said one. "my name is aurah," said another. "my name is aujah," said the third. glinda had never heard these names before, but looking closely at the three she asked: "are you witches or workers in magic?" "some of the secret arts we have gleaned from nature," replied the brownhaired maiden modestly, "but we do not place our skill beside that of the great sorceress, glinda the good." "i suppose you are aware it is unlawful to practice magic in the land of oz, without the permission of our ruler, princess ozma?" "no, we were not aware of that," was the reply. "we have heard of ozma, who is the appointed ruler of all this great fairyland, but her laws have not reached us, as yet." glinda studied the strange maidens thoughtfully; then she said to them: "princess ozma is even now imprisoned in the skeezer village, for the whole island with its great dome, was sunk to the bottom of the lake by the witchcraft of coo-ee-oh, whom the flathead su-dic transformed into a silly swan. i am seeking some way to overcome coo-ee-oh's magic and raise the isle to the surface again. can you help me do this?" the maidens exchanged glances, and the white-haired one replied: "we do not know; but we will try to assist you." "it seems," continued glinda musingly, "that coo-ee-oh derived most of her witchcraft from three adepts at magic, who at one time ruled the flatheads. while the adepts were being entertained by coo-ee-oh at a banquet in her palace, she cruelly betrayed them and after transforming them into fishes cast them into the lake. "if i could find these three fishes and return them to their natural shapes--they might know what magic coo-ee-oh used to sink the island. i was about to go to the shore and call these fishes to me when you arrived. so, if you will join me, we will try to find them." the maidens exchanged smiles now, and the golden-haired one, audah, said to glinda: "it will not be necessary to go to the lake. we are the three fishes." "indeed!" cried glinda. "then you are the three adepts at magic, restored to your proper forms?" "we are the three adepts," admitted aujah. "then," said glinda, "my task is half accomplished. but who destroyed the transformation that made you fishes?" "we have promised not to tell," answered aurah; "but this young skeezer was largely responsible for our release; he is brave and clever, and we owe him our gratitude." glinda looked at ervic, who stood modestly behind the adepts, hat in hand. "he shall be properly rewarded," she declared, "for in helping you he has helped us all, and perhaps saved his people from being imprisoned forever in the sunken isle." the sorceress now asked her guests to seat themselves and a long talk followed, in which the wizard of oz shared. "we are quite certain," said aurah, "that if we could get inside the dome we could discover coo-ee-oh's secrets, for in all her work, after we became fishes, she used the formulas and incantations and arts that she stole from us. she may have added to these things, but they were the foundation of all her work." "what means do you suggest for our getting into the dome?" inquired glinda. the three adepts hesitated to reply, for they had not yet considered what could be done to reach the inside of the great dome. while they were in deep thought, and glinda and the wizard were quietly awaiting their suggestions, into the tent rushed trot and betsy, dragging between them the patchwork girl. "oh, glinda," cried trot, "scraps has thought of a way to rescue ozma and dorothy and all of the skeezers." the three adepts could not avoid laughing merrily, for not only were they amused by the queer form of the patchwork girl, but trot's enthusiastic speech struck them as really funny. if the great sorceress and the famous wizard and the three talented adepts at magic were unable as yet to solve the important problem of the sunken isle, there was little chance for a patched girl stuffed with cotton to succeed. but glinda, smiling indulgently at the earnest faces turned toward her, patted the children's heads and said: "scraps is very clever. tell us what she has thought of, my dear." "well," said trot, "scraps says that if you could dry up all the water in the lake the island would be on dry land, an' everyone could come and go whenever they liked." glinda smiled again, but the wizard said to the girls: "if we should dry up the lake, what would become of all the beautiful fishes that now live in the water?" "dear me! that's so," admitted betsy, crestfallen; "we never thought of that, did we trot?" "couldn't you transform 'em into polliwogs?" asked scraps, turning a somersault and then standing on one leg. "you could give them a little, teeny pond to swim in, and they'd be just as happy as they are as fishes." "no indeed!" replied the wizard, severely. "it is wicked to transform any living creatures without their consent, and the lake is the home of the fishes and belongs to them." "all right," said scraps, making a face at him; "i don't care." "it's too bad," sighed trot, "for i thought we'd struck a splendid idea." "so you did," declared glinda, her face now grave and thoughtful. "there is something in the patchwork girl's idea that may be of real value to us." "i think so, too," agreed the golden-haired adept. "the top of the great dome is only a few feet below the surface of the water. if we could reduce the level of the lake until the dome sticks a little above the water, we could remove some of the glass and let ourselves down into the village by means of ropes." "and there would be plenty of water left for the fishes to swim in," added the white-haired maiden. "if we succeed in raising the island we could fill up the lake again," suggested the brown-haired adept. "i believe," said the wizard, rubbing his hands together in delight, "that the patchwork girl has shown us the way to success." the girls were looking curiously at the three beautiful adepts, wondering who they were, so glinda introduced them to trot and betsy and scraps, and then sent the children away while she considered how to carry the new idea into effect. not much could be done that night, so the wizard prepared another tent for the adepts, and in the evening glinda held a reception and invited all her followers to meet the new arrivals. the adepts were greatly astonished at the extraordinary personages presented to them, and marveled that jack pumpkinhead and the scarecrow and the tin woodman and tik-tok could really live and think and talk just like other people. they were especially pleased with the lively patchwork girl and loved to watch her antics. it was quite a pleasant party, for glinda served some dainty refreshments to those who could eat, and the scarecrow recited some poems, and the cowardly lion sang a song in his deep bass voice. the only thing that marred their joy was the thought that their beloved ozma and dear little dorothy were yet confined in the great dome of the sunken island. chapter twenty-two the sunken island as soon as they had breakfasted the next morning, glinda and the wizard and the three adepts went down to the shore of the lake and formed a line with their faces toward the submerged island. all the others came to watch them, but stood at a respectful distance in the background. at the right of the sorceress stood audah and aurah, while at the left stood the wizard and aujah. together they stretched their arms over the water's edge and in unison the five chanted a rhythmic incantation. this chant they repeated again and again, swaying their arms gently from side to side, and in a few minutes the watchers behind them noticed that the lake had begun to recede from the shore. before long the highest point of the dome appeared above the water. gradually the water fell, making the dome appear to rise. when it was three or four feet above the surface glinda gave the signal to stop, for their work had been accomplished. the blackened submarine was now entirely out of water, but uncle henry and cap'n bill managed to push it into the lake. glinda, the wizard, ervic and the adepts got into the boat, taking with them a coil of strong rope, and at the command of the sorceress the craft cleaved its way through the water toward the part of the dome which was now visible. "there's still plenty of water for the fish to swim in," observed the wizard as they rode along. "they might like more but i'm sure they can get along until we have raised the island and can fill up the lake again." the boat touched gently on the sloping glass of the dome, and the wizard took some tools from his black bag and quickly removed one large pane of glass, thus making a hole large enough for their bodies to pass through. stout frames of steel supported the glass of the dome, and around one of these frames the wizard tied the end of a rope. "i'll go down first," said he, "for while i'm not as spry as cap'n bill i'm sure i can manage it easily. are you sure the rope is long enough to reach the bottom?" "quite sure," replied the sorceress. so the wizard let down the rope and climbing through the opening lowered himself down, hand over hand, clinging to the rope with his legs and feet. below in the streets of the village were gathered all the skeezers, men, women and children, and you may be sure that ozma and dorothy, with lady aurex, were filled with joy that their friends were at last coming to their rescue. the queen's palace, now occupied by ozma, was directly in the center of the dome, so that when the rope was let down the end of it came just in front of the palace entrance. several skeezers held fast to the rope's end to steady it and the wizard reached the ground in safety. he hugged first ozma and then dorothy, while all the skeezers cheered as loud as they could. the wizard now discovered that the rope was long enough to reach from the top of the dome to the ground when doubled, so he tied a chair to one end of the rope and called to glinda to sit in the chair while he and some of the skeezers lowered her to the pavement. in this way the sorceress reached the ground quite comfortably and the three adepts and ervic soon followed her. the skeezers quickly recognized the three adepts at magic, whom they had learned to respect before their wicked queen betrayed them, and welcomed them as friends. all the inhabitants of the village had been greatly frightened by their imprisonment under water, but now realized that an attempt was to be made to rescue them. glinda, the wizard and the adepts followed ozma and dorothy into the palace, and they asked lady aurex and ervic to join them. after ozma had told of her adventures in trying to prevent war between the flatheads and the skeezers, and glinda had told all about the rescue expedition and the restoration of the three adepts by the help of ervic, a serious consultation was held as to how the island could be made to rise. "i've tried every way in my power," said ozma, "but coo-ee-oh used a very unusual sort of magic which i do not understand. she seems to have prepared her witchcraft in such a way that a spoken word is necessary to accomplish her designs, and these spoken words are known only to herself." "that is a method we taught her," declared aurah the adept. "i can do no more, glinda," continued ozma, "so i wish you would try what your sorcery can accomplish." "first, then," said glinda, "let us visit the basement of the island, which i am told is underneath the village." a flight of marble stairs led from one of coo-ee-oh's private rooms down to the basement, but when the party arrived all were puzzled by what they saw. in the center of a broad, low room, stood a mass of great cog-wheels, chains and pulleys, all interlocked and seeming to form a huge machine; but there was no engine or other motive power to make the wheels turn. "this, i suppose, is the means by which the island is lowered or raised," said ozma, "but the magic word which is needed to move the machinery is unknown to us." the three adepts were carefully examining the mass of wheels, and soon the golden-haired one said: "these wheels do not control the island at all. on the contrary, one set of them is used to open the doors of the little rooms where the submarines are kept, as may be seen from the chains and pulleys used. each boat is kept in a little room with two doors, one to the basement room where we are now and the other letting into the lake. "when coo-ee-oh used the boat in which she attacked the flatheads, she first commanded the basement door to open and with her followers she got into the boat and made the top close over them. then the basement door being closed, the outer door was slowly opened, letting the water fill the room to float the boat, which then left the island, keeping under water." "but how could she expect to get back again?" asked the wizard. "why the boat would enter the room filled with water and after the outer door was closed a word of command started a pump which pumped all the water from the room. then the boat would open and coo-ee-oh could enter the basement." "i see," said the wizard. "it is a clever contrivance, but won't work unless one knows the magic words." "another part of this machinery," explained the white-haired adept, "is used to extend the bridge from the island to the mainland. the steel bridge is in a room much like that in which the boats are kept, and at coo-ce-oh's command it would reach out, joint by joint, until its far end touched the shore of the lake. the same magic command would make the bridge return to its former position. of course the bridge could not be used unless the island was on the surface of the water." "but how do you suppose coo-ee-oh managed to sink the island, and make it rise again?" inquired glinda. this the adepts could not yet explain. as nothing more could be learned from the basement they mounted the steps to the queen's private suite again, and ozma showed them to a special room where coo-ee-oh kept her magical instruments and performed all her arts of witchcraft. chapter twenty-three the magic words many interesting things were to be seen in the room of magic, including much that had been stolen from the adepts when they were transformed to fishes, but they had to admit that coo-ee-oh had a rare genius for mechanics, and had used her knowledge in inventing a lot of mechanical apparatus that ordinary witches, wizards and sorcerers could not understand. they all carefully inspected this room, taking care to examine every article they came across. "the island," said glinda thoughtfully, "rests on a base of solid marble. when it is submerged, as it is now, the base of the island is upon the bottom of the lake. what puzzles me is how such a great weight can be lifted and suspended in the water, even by magic." "i now remember," returned aujah, "that one of the arts we taught coo-ee-oh was the way to expand steel, and i think that explains how the island is raised and lowered. i noticed in the basement a big steel pillar that passed through the floor and extended upward to this palace. perhaps the end of it is concealed in this very room. if the lower end of the steel pillar is firmly embedded in the bottom of the lake, coo-ee-oh could utter a magic word that would make the pillar expand, and so lift the entire island to the level of the water." "i've found the end of the steel pillar. it's just here," announced the wizard, pointing to one side of the room where a great basin of polished steel seemed to have been set upon the floor. they all gathered around, and ozma said: "yes, i am quite sure that is the upper end of the pillar that supports the island. i noticed it when i first came here. it has been hollowed out, you see, and something has been burned in the basin, for the fire has left its marks. i wondered what was under the great basin and got several of the skeezers to come up here and try to lift it for me. they were strong men, but could not move it at all." "it seems to me," said audah the adept, "that we have discovered the manner in which coo-ee-oh raised the island. she would burn some sort of magic powder in the basin, utter the magic word, and the pillar would lengthen out and lift the island with it." "what's this?" asked dorothy, who had been searching around with the others, and now noticed a slight hollow in the wall, near to where the steel basin stood. as she spoke dorothy pushed her thumb into the hollow and instantly a small drawer popped out from the wall. the three adepts, glinda and the wizard sprang forward and peered into the drawer. it was half filled with a grayish powder, the tiny grains of which constantly moved as if impelled by some living force. "it may be some kind of radium," said the wizard. "no," replied glinda, "it is more wonderful than even radium, for i recognize it as a rare mineral powder called gaulau by the sorcerers. i wonder how coo-ee-oh discovered it and where she obtained it." "there is no doubt," said aujah the adept, "that this is the magic powder coo-ee-oh burned in the basin. if only we knew the magic word, i am quite sure we could raise the island." "how can we discover the magic word?" asked ozma, turning to glinda as she spoke. "that we must now seriously consider," answered the sorceress. so all of them sat down in the room of magic and began to think. it was so still that after a while dorothy grew nervous. the little girl never could keep silent for long, and at the risk of displeasing her magic-working friends she suddenly said: "well, coo-ee-oh used just three magic words, one to make the bridge work, and one to make the submarines go out of their holes, and one to raise and lower the island. three words. and coo-ee-oh's name is made up of just three words. one is 'coo,' and one is 'ee,' and one is 'oh.'" the wizard frowned but glinda looked wonderingly at the young girl and ozma cried out: "a good thought, dorothy dear! you may have solved our problem." "i believe it is worth a trial," agreed glinda. "it would be quite natural for coo-ee-oh to divide her name into three magic syllables, and dorothy's suggestion seems like an inspiration." the three adepts also approved the trial but the brown-haired one said: "we must be careful not to use the wrong word, and send the bridge out under water. the main thing, if dorothy's idea is correct, is to hit upon the one word that moves the island." "let us experiment," suggested the wizard. in the drawer with the moving gray powder was a tiny golden cup, which they thought was used for measuring. glinda filled this cup with the powder and carefully poured it into the shallow basin, which was the top of the great steel pillar supporting the island. then aurah the adept lighted a taper and touched it to the powder, which instantly glowed fiery red and tumbled about the basin with astonishing energy. while the grains of powder still glowed red the sorceress bent over it and said in a voice of command: "coo!" they waited motionless to see what would happen. there was a grating noise and a whirl of machinery, but the island did not move a particle. dorothy rushed to the window, which overlooked the glass side of the dome. "the boats!" she exclaimed. "the boats are all loose an' sailing under water." "we've made a mistake," said the wizard gloomily. "but it's one which shows we are on the right track," declared aujah the adept. "we know now that coo-ee-oh used the syllables of her name for the magic words." "if 'coo' sends out the boats, it is probable that ee' works the bridge," suggested ozma. "so the last part of the name may raise the island." "let us try that next then," proposed the wizard. he scraped the embers of the burned powder out of the basin and glinda again filled the golden cup from the drawer and placed it on top the steel pillar. aurah lighted it with her taper and ozma bent over the basin and murmured the long drawn syllable: "oh-h-h!" instantly the island trembled and with a weird groaning noise it moved upward--slowly, very slowly, but with a steady motion, while all the company stood by in awed silence. it was a wonderful thing, even to those skilled in the arts of magic, wizardry and sorcery, to realize that a single word could raise that great, heavy island, with its immense glass dome. "why, we're way above the lake now!" exclaimed dorothy from the window, when at last the island ceased to move. "that is because we lowered the level of the water," explained glinda. they could hear the skeezers cheering lustily in the streets of the village as they realized that they were saved. "come," said ozma eagerly, "let us go down and join the people." "not just yet," returned glinda, a happy smile upon her lovely face, for she was overjoyed at their success. "first let us extend the bridge to the mainland, where our friends from the emerald city are waiting." it didn't take long to put more powder in the basin, light it and utter the syllable "ee!" the result was that a door in the basement opened and the steel bridge moved out, extended itself joint by joint, and finally rested its far end on the shore of the lake just in front of the encampment. "now," said glinda, "we can go up and receive the congratulations of the skeezers and of our friends of the rescue expedition." across the water, on the shore of the lake, the patchwork girl was waving them a welcome. chapter twenty-four glinda's triumph of course all those who had joined glinda's expedition at once crossed the bridge to the island, where they were warmly welcomed by the skeezers. before all the concourse of people princess ozma made a speech from a porch of the palace and demanded that they recognize her as their lawful ruler and promise to obey the laws of the land of oz. in return she agreed to protect them from all future harm and declared they would no longer be subjected to cruelty and abuse. this pleased the skeezers greatly, and when ozma told them they might elect a queen to rule over them, who in turn would be subject to ozma of oz, they voted for lady aurex, and that same day the ceremony of crowning the new queen was held and aurex was installed as mistress of the palace. for her prime minister the queen selected ervic, for the three adepts had told of his good judgment, faithfulness and cleverness, and all the skeezers approved the appointment. glinda, the wizard and the adepts stood on the bridge and recited an incantation that quite filled the lake with water again, and the scarecrow and the patchwork girl climbed to the top of the great dome and replaced the pane of glass that had been removed to allow glinda and her followers to enter. when evening came ozma ordered a great feast prepared, to which every skeezer was invited. the village was beautifully decorated and brilliantly lighted and there was music and dancing until a late hour to celebrate the liberation of the people. for the skeezers had been freed, not only from the water of the lake but from the cruelty of their former queen. as the people from the emerald city prepared the next morning to depart queen aurex said to ozma: "there is only one thing i now fear for my people, and that is the enmity of the terrible su-dic of the flatheads. he is liable to come here at any time and try to annoy us, and my skeezers are peaceful folks and unable to fight the wild and wilful flatheads." "do not worry," returned ozma, reassuringly. "we intend to stop on our way at the flatheads' enchanted mountain and punish the su-dic for his misdeeds." that satisfied aurex and when ozma and her followers trooped over the bridge to the shore, having taken leave of their friends, all the skeezers cheered them and waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and the band played and the departure was indeed a ceremony long to be remembered. the three adepts at magic, who had formerly ruled the flatheads wisely and considerately, went with princess ozma and her people, for they had promised ozma to stay on the mountain and again see that the laws were enforced. glinda had been told all about the curious flatheads and she had consulted with the wizard and formed a plan to render them more intelligent and agreeable. when the party reached the mountain ozma and dorothy showed them how to pass around the invisible wall--which had been built by the flatheads after the adepts were transformed--and how to gain the up-and-down stairway that led to the mountain top. the su-dic had watched the approach of the party from the edge of the mountain and was frightened when he saw that the three adepts had recovered their natural forms and were coming back to their former home. he realized that his power would soon be gone and yet he determined to fight to the last. he called all the flatheads together and armed them, and told them to arrest all who came up the stairway and hurl them over the edge of the mountain to the plain below. but although they feared the supreme dictator, who had threatened to punish them if they did not obey his commands, as soon as they saw the three adepts they threw down their arms and begged their former rulers to protect them. the three adepts assured the excited flatheads that they had nothing to fear. seeing that his people had rebelled the su-dic ran away and tried to hide, but the adepts found him and had him cast into a prison, all his cans of brains being taken away from him. after this easy conquest of the su-dic, glinda told the adepts of her plan, which had already been approved by ozma of oz, and they joyfully agreed to it. so, during the next few days, the great sorceress transformed, in a way, every flathead on the mountain. taking them one at a time, she had the can of brains that belonged to each one opened and the contents spread on the flat head, after which, by means of her arts of sorcery, she caused the head to grow over the brains--in the manner most people wear them--and they were thus rendered as intelligent and good looking as any of the other inhabitants of the land of oz. when all had been treated in this manner there were no more flatheads at all, and the adepts decided to name their people mountaineers. one good result of glinda's sorcery was that no one could now be deprived of the brains that belonged to him and each person had exactly the share he was entitled to. even the su-dic was given his portion of brains and his flat head made round, like the others, but he was deprived of all power to work further mischief, and with the adepts constantly watching him he would be forced to become obedient and humble. the golden pig, which ran grunting about the streets, with no brains at all, was disenchanted by glinda, and in her woman's form was given brains and a round head. this wife of the su-dic had once been even more wicked than her evil husband, but she had now forgotten all her wickedness and was likely to be a good woman thereafter. these things being accomplished in a satisfactory manner, princess ozma and her people bade farewell to the three adepts and departed for the emerald city, well pleased with their interesting adventures. they returned by the road over which ozma and dorothy had come, stopping to get the sawhorse and the red wagon where they had left them. "i'm very glad i went to see these peoples," said princess ozma, "for i not only prevented any further warfare between them, but they have been freed from the rule of the su-dic and coo-ee-oh and are now happy and loyal subjects of the land of oz. which proves that it is always wise to do one's duty, however unpleasant that duty may seem to be." the wonderful oz books by l. frank baum: the wizard of oz the land of oz ozma of oz dorothy and the wizard in oz the road to oz the emerald city of oz the patchwork girl of oz tik-tok of oz the scarecrow of oz rinkitink in oz the lost princess of oz the tin woodman of oz the magic of oz glinda of oz a world of girls by l.t. meade published by the new york book company, new york. this edition dated . a world of girls, by l.t. meade. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ a world of girls, by l.t. meade. chapter one. "good-bye" to the old life. "me want to see hetty," said an imperious baby voice. "no, no; not this morning, miss nan, dear." "me do want to see hetty," was the quick, impatient reply. and a sturdy indignant little face looked up at nurse, to watch the effect of the last decisive words. finding no affirmative reply on nurse's placid face, the small lips closed firmly--two dimples came and went on two very round cheeks--the mischievous brown eyes grew full of laughter, and the next moment the little questioner had squeezed her way through a slightly open door, and was toddling down the broad stone stairs and across a landing to hetty's room. the room door was open, so the truant went in. a bed with the bedclothes all tossed about, a half worn-out slipper on the floor, a very untidy dressing-table met her eyes, but no hetty. "me want hetty, me do," piped the treble voice, and then the little feet commenced a careful and watchful pilgrimage, the lips still firmly shut, the dimples coming and going, and the eyes throwing many upward glances in the direction of nurse and the nursery. no pursuit as yet, and great, great hope of finding hetty somewhere in the down-stair regions. ah, now, how good! those dangerous stairs had been descended, and the little voice calling in shrill tones for hetty rang out in the wide hall. "let her come to me," suddenly said an answering voice, and a girl of about twelve, dressed in deep mourning, suddenly opened the door of a small study and clasped the little one in her arms. "so you have found me, my precious, my dearest! brave, plucky little nan, you have got away from nurse and found me out! come into the study, now, darling, and you shall have some breakfast." "me want a bicky, hetty," said the baby voice; the round arms clasped hester's neck, but the brown eyes were already travelling eagerly over the breakfast table in quest of spoil for those rosy little lips. "here are two biscuits, nan. nan, look me in the face--here, sit steady on my knee; you lose me, don't you nan?" "course me do," said the child. "and i'm going away from you, nan, darling. for months and months i won't see anything of you. my heart will be always with you, and i shall think of you morning, noon, and night. i love no one as i love you, nan. you will think of me, and love me too; won't you, nan?" "me will," said nan; "me want more bicky, hetty." "yes, yes," answered hester; "put your arms tight round my neck, and you shall have sugar, too. tighter than that, nan, and you shall have two lumps of sugar--oh, yes, you shall--i don't care if it makes you sick-- you shall have just what you want the last moment we are together." baby nan was only too pleased to crumple up a crape frill and to smear a black dress with sticky little fingers for the sake of the sugar which hetty plied her with. "more, hetty," she said; "me'll skeeze 'oo vedy tight for more." on this scene nurse unexpectedly entered. "well, i never! and so you found your way all downstairs by yourself, you little toddle. now, miss hetty, i hope you haven't been giving the precious lamb sugar; you know it never does suit the little dear. oh, fie! baby; and what sticky hands! miss hetty, she has crumpled all your crape frills." "what matter?" said hester. "i wanted a good hug, and i gave her three or four lumps. babies won't squeeze you tight for nothing. there, my nancy, go back to nurse. nurse, take her away; i'll break down in a minute if i see her looking at me with that little pout." nurse took the child into her arms. "good-bye, miss hester, dear. try to be a good girl at school. take my word, missy--things won't be as dark as they seem." "good-bye, nurse," said hester hastily. "is that you, father? are you calling me?" she gathered up her muff and gloves, and ran out of the little study where she had been making believe to eat breakfast. a tall, stern-looking man was in the hall, buttoning on an overcoat; a brougham waited at the door. the next moment hester and her father were bowling away in the direction of the nearest railway station. nan's little chubby face had faded from view. the old square grey house, sacred to hester because of nan, had also disappeared; the avenue even was past, and hester closed her bright brown eyes. she felt that she was being pushed out into a cold world, and was no longer in the same snug nest with nan. an intolerable pain was at her heart; she did not glance at her father, who during their entire drive occupied himself over his morning paper. at last they reached the railway station, and just as sir john thornton was handing his daughter into a comfortable first-class carriage, marked "for ladies only," and was presenting her with her railway ticket and a copy of the last week's illustrated newspaper, he spoke-- "the guard will take care of you, hester. i am giving him full directions, and he will come to you at every station, and bring you tea or any refreshment you may require. this train takes you straight to sefton, and mrs willis will meet you, or send for you there. good-bye, my love; try to be a good girl, and curb your wild spirits. i hope to see you very much improved when you come home at midsummer. good-bye, dear, good-bye. ah, you want to kiss me--well, just one kiss. there-- oh, my dear! you know i have a great dislike to emotion in public." sir john thornton said this because a pair of arms had been flung suddenly round his neck, and two kisses imprinted passionately on his sallow cheek. a tear also rested on his cheek, but that he wiped away. chapter two. travelling companions. the train moved rapidly on its way, and the girl in one corner of the railway carriage cried silently behind her crape veil. her tears were very subdued, but her heart felt sore, bruised, indignant; she hated the idea of school-life before her, she hated the expected restraints and the probable punishments; she fancied herself going from a free life into a prison, and detested it accordingly. three months before, hester thornton had been one of the happiest, brightest, and merriest of little girls in ---shire; but the mother who was her guardian angel, who had kept the frank and spirited child in check without appearing to do so, who had guided her by the magical power of love and not in the least by that of fear, had met her death suddenly by means of a carriage accident, and hester and baby nan were left motherless. several little brothers and sisters had come between hester and nan, but from various causes they had all died in their infancy, and only the eldest and youngest of sir john thornton's family remained. hester's father was stern, uncompromising. he was a very just and upright man, but he knew nothing of the ways of children, and when hester in her usual tom-boyish fashion climbed trees and tore her dresses, and rode bare-backed on one or two of his most dangerous horses, he not only tried a little sharp, and therefore useless, correction, but determined to take immediate steps to have his wild and rather unmanageable little daughter sent to a first-class school. hester was on her way there now, and very sore was her heart, and indignant her impulses. father's "good-bye" seemed to her to be the crowning touch to her unhappiness, and she made up her mind not to be good, not to learn her lessons, not to come home at midsummer crowned with honours and reduced to an every-day and pattern little girl. no, she would be the same wild hetty as of yore: and when father saw that school could do nothing for her, that it could never make her into a good and ordinary little girl, he would allow her to remain at home. at home there was, at least, nan to love, and there was mother to remember. hetty was a child of the strongest feelings. since her mother's death she had scarcely mentioned her name. when her father alluded to his wife, hester ran out of the room: when the servants spoke of their late mistress, hester turned pale, stamped her feet, and told them to be quiet. "you are not worthy to speak of my mother," she electrified them all one day by exclaiming. "my mother is an angel now, and you--oh, you are not fit to breathe her name!" only to one person would hetty ever voluntarily say a word about the beloved dead mother, and that was to little nan. nan said her prayers, as she expressed it, to hetty now; and hetty taught her a little phrase to use instead of the familiar "god bless mother." she taught the child to say, "thank god for making mother into a beautiful angel;" and when nan asked what an angel was, and how the cosy mother she remembered could be turned into one, hester was beguiled into a soft and tearful talk, and she drew several lovely pictures of white-robed angels, until the little child was satisfied and said-- "me like that, hetty--me'll be angel too, hetty, same as mamma." these talks with nan, however, did not come very often, and of late they had almost ceased, for nan was only two and a half, and the strange sad fact remained that in three months she had almost forgotten her mother. hester on her way to school this morning cried for some time, then she sat silent, her crape veil still down, and her eyes watching furtively her fellow-passengers. they consisted of two rather fidgety old ladies, who wrapped themselves in rugs, were very particular on the question of hot bottles, and watched hester in their turn with considerable curiosity and interest. presently one of them offered the little girl a sandwich, which she was too proud or too shy to accept, although by this time she was feeling extremely hungry. "you will, perhaps, prefer a cake, my dear?" said the good-natured little old lady. "my sister agnes has got some delicious queen-cakes in her basket--will you eat one?" hester murmured a feeble assent, and the queen-cake did her so much good that she ventured to raise her crape veil and to look around her. "ah, that is much better," said the first little old lady. "come to this side of the carriage, my love; we are just going to pass through a lovely bit of country, and you will like to watch the view. see; if you place yourself here, my sister agnes's basket will be just at your feet, and you can help yourself to a queen-cake whenever you are so disposed." "thank you," responded hester, in a much more cheerful tone, for it was really quite impossible to keep up reserve with such a bright-looking little old lady; "your queen-cakes are very nice, and i liked that one, but one is quite enough, thank you. it is nan who is so particularly fond of queen-cakes." "and who is nan, my dear?" asked the sister to whom the queen-cakes specially belonged. "she is my dear little baby sister," said hester in a sorrowful tone. "ah, and it was about her you were crying just now," said the first lady, laying her hand on hester's arm. "never mind us, dear, we have seen a great many tears--a great many. they are the way of the world. women are born to them. as kingsley says--`women must weep.' it was quite natural that you should cry about your sweet little nan, and i wish we could send her some of these queen-cakes that you say she is so fond of. are you going to be long away from her, love?" "oh, yes, for months and months," said hester. "i did not know," she added, "that it was such a common thing to cry. i never used to." "ah, you have had other trouble, poor child," glancing at her deep mourning frock. "yes, it is since then i have cried so often. please, i would rather not speak about it." "quite right, my love, quite right," said miss agnes in a much brisker tone than her sister. "we will turn the conversation now to something inspiriting. jane is quite right, there are plenty of tears in the world; but there is also a great deal of sunshine and heaps of laughter, merry laughter--the laughter of youth, my child. now, i dare say, though you have begun your journey so sadly, that you are really bound on quite a pleasant little expedition. for instance, you are going to visit a kind aunt, or some one else who will give you a delightful welcome." "no," said hester, "i am not. i am going to a dreadful place, and the thought of that, and parting from little nan, are the reasons why i cried. i am going to prison--i am, indeed." "oh, my dear love!" exclaimed both the little old ladies in a breath. then miss agnes continued: "you have really taken jane's breath away-- quite. yes, jane, i see that you are in for an attack of palpitation. never mind her, dear, she palpitates very easily; but i think you must be mistaken, my love, in mentioning such an appalling word as `prison.' yes, now i come to think of it, it is absolutely certain that you must be mistaken; for if you were going to such a terrible place of punishment you would be under the charge of a policeman. you are given to strong language, dear, like other young folk." "well, i call it prison," continued hester, who was rather flattered by all this bustle and miss jane's agitation; "it has a dreadful sound, hasn't it? i call it prison, but father says i am going to school--you can't wonder that i am crying, can you? oh! what is the matter?" for the two little old ladies jumped up at this juncture, and gave hetty a kiss apiece on her soft young lips. "my darling," they both exclaimed. "we are so relieved and delighted! your strong language startled us, and school is anything but what you imagine, dear. ah, jane! can you ever forget our happy days at school?" miss jane sighed and rolled up her eyes, and then the two commenced a vigorous catechising of the little girl. really, hester could not help feeling almost sunshiny before that long journey came to an end, for she and the misses bruce made some delightful discoveries. the little old ladies very quickly found out that they lived close to the school where hetty was to spend the next few months. they knew mrs willis well-- they knew the delightful rambling, old-fashioned house where hester was to live--they even knew two or three of the scholars: and they said so often to the little girl that she was going into a life of clover-- positive clover--that she began to smile, and even partly to believe them. "i am glad i shall be near you, at least," she said at last, with a frank sweet smile, for she had greatly taken to her kind fellow-travellers. "yes, my dear," exclaimed miss jane. "we attend the same church, and i shall look out for you on sunday, and," she continued, glancing first at her sister and then addressing hester, "perhaps mrs willis will allow you to visit us occasionally." "i'll come to-morrow, if you like," said hester. "well, dear, well--that must be as mrs willis thinks best. ah, here we are at sefton at last. we shall look out for you in church on sunday, my love." chapter three. at lavender house. hester's journey had really proved wonderfully agreeable. she had taken a great fancy to the little old ladies who had fussed over her and made themselves pleasant in her behalf. she felt herself something like a heroine as she poured out a little, just a little, of her troubles into their sympathising ears; and their cheerful remarks with regard to school and school-life had caused her to see clearly that there might be another and a brighter side to the gloomy picture she had drawn with regard to her future. but during the drive of two and a half miles from sefton to lavender house, hester once more began to feel anxious and troubled. the misses bruce had gone off with some other passengers in a little omnibus to their small villa in the town, but lavender house was some distance off, and the little omnibus never went so far. an old-fashioned carriage, which the ladies told hester belonged to mrs willis, had been sent to meet her, and a man whom the misses bruce addressed as "thomas" helped to place her trunk and a small portmanteau on the roof of the vehicle. the little girl had to take her drive alone, and the rather ancient horse which drew the old carriage climbed up and down the steep roads in a most leisurely fashion. it was a cold winter's day, and by the time thomas had executed some commissions in sefton, and had reached the gates of the avenue which led to lavender house, it was very nearly dark. hester trembled at the darkness, and when the gates were shut behind them by a rosy-faced urchin of ten, she once more began to feel the cruel and desolate idea that she was going to prison. they drove slowly down a long and winding avenue, and, although hester could not see, she knew they must be passing under trees, for several times their branches made a noise against the roof of the carriage. at last they came to a standstill. the old servant scrambled slowly down from his seat on the box, and, opening the carriage-door, held out his hand to help the little stranger to alight. "come now, missy," he said in cheering tones, "come out, and you'll be warm and snug in a minute. dear, dear! i expect you're nearly froze up, poor little miss, and it _is_ a most bitter cold night." he rang a bell which hung by the entrance of a deep porch, and the next moment the wide hall door was flung open by a neat maid-servant, and hester stepped within. "she's come," exclaimed several voices in different keys, and proceeding apparently from different quarters. hester looked around her in a half-startled way, but she could see no one, except the maid, who smiled at her and said-- "welcome to lavender house, miss. if you'll step into the porter's room for one moment, there is a good fire there, and i'll acquaint miss danesbury that you have arrived." the little room in question was at the right-hand side of a very wide and cheerful hall, which was decorated in pale tints of green, and had a handsome encaustic-tiled floor. a blazing fire and two lamps made the hall look cheerful, but hester was very glad to take refuge from the unknown voices in the porter's small room. she found herself quite trembling with shyness, and cold, and an indescribable longing to get back to nan; and as she waited for miss danesbury and wondered fearfully who or what miss danesbury was, she scarcely derived any comfort from the blazing fire near which she stood. "rather tall for her age, but i fear, i greatly fear, a little sulky," said a voice behind her; and when she turned round in an agony of trepidation and terror, she suddenly found herself face to face with a tall, kind-looking, middle-aged lad and also with a bright gipsy-looking girl. "annie forest, how very naughty of you to hide behind the door! you are guilty of disobedience in coming into the room without leave. i must report you, my dear; yes, i really must. you lose two good conduct marks for this, and will probably have thirty lines in addition to your usual quantity of french poetry." "but she won't tell on me, she won't, dear old danesbury," said the girl; "she couldn't be so hard-hearted, the precious love, particularly as curiosity happens to be one of her own special little virtues! take a kiss, danesbury, and now, a you love me you'll be merciful!" the girl flitted away, and miss danesbury turned to hester, whose face had changed from red to pale during this little scene. "what a horrid, vulgar, low-bred girl!" she exclaimed with passion, for in all the experiences of her short life hester had never even imagined that personal remarks could be made of any one in their very presence. "i hope she'll get a lot of punishment--i hope you are not going to forgive her," she continued, for her anger had for the time quite overcome her shyness. "oh, my dear, my dear! we should all be forgiving," exclaimed miss danesbury in her gentle voice. "welcome to lavender house, love; i am sorry i was not in the hall to receive you. had i been, this little _rencontre_ would not have occurred. annie forest meant no harm, however--she's a wild little sprite, but affectionate. you and she will be the best friends possible by-and-by. now, let me take you to your room; the gong for tea will sound in exactly five minutes, and i am sure you will be glad of something to eat." miss danesbury then led hester across the hall and up some broad, low, thickly-carpeted stairs. when they had ascended two flights, and were standing on a handsome landing, she paused. "do you see this baize door, dear?" she said. "this is the entrance to the school part of the house. this part that we are now in belongs exclusively to mrs willis, and the girls are never allowed to come here without leave. all the school-life is lived at the other side of this baize door, and a very happy life i assure you it is for those little girls who make up their minds to be brave and good. now kiss me, my dear, and let me bid you welcome once again to lavender house." "are you our principal teacher, then?" asked hester. "i? oh dear, no, my love. i teach the younger children english, and i look after the interests and comforts of all. i am a very useful sort of person, i believe, and i have a motherly heart, dear, and it is a way with little girls to come to me when they are in trouble. now, my love, we must not chatter any longer. take my hand, and let us get to your room as fast as possible." miss danesbury pushed open the baize door, and instantly hester found herself in a different region. mrs willis's part of the house gave the impression of warmth, luxuriance, and even elegance of arrangement. at the other side of the door were long, narrow corridors, with snow-white, but carpetless floors, and rather cold, distempered walls. miss danesbury, holding the new pupil's hand, led her down two corridors, and past a great number of shut doors, behind which hester could near suppressed laughter and eager, chattering voices. at last, however, they stopped at a door which had the number " " written over it. "this is your bedroom, dear," said the english teacher, "and to-night you will not be sorry to have it alone. mrs willis received a telegram from susan drummond, your room-mate, this afternoon, and she will not arrive until to-morrow." however bare and even cold the corridors looked, the bedroom into which hester was ushered by no means corresponded with this appearance. it was a small, but daintily-furnished little room. the floor was carpeted with green felt, the one window was hung with pretty draperies, and two little, narrow, white beds were arranged gracefully with french canopies. all the furniture in the room was of a minute description, but good of its kind. beside each bed stood a mahogany chest of drawers. at two corresponding corners were marble washhand-stands, and even two pretty, toilet tables stood side by side in the recess of the window. but the sight that perhaps pleased hester most was a small bright fire which burnt in the grate. "now, dear, this is your room. as you have arrived first you can choose your own bed and your own chest of drawers. ah, that is right, ellen has unfastened your portmanteau; she will unpack your trunk to-night, and take it to the box-room. now, dear, smooth your hair and wash your hands. the gong will sound instantly. i will come for you when it does." chapter four. little drawing-rooms and little tiffs. miss danesbury, true to her word, came to fetch hester down to tea. they went down some broad carpetless stairs, along a wide stone hall, and then paused for an instant at a half-open door from which a stream of eager voices issued. "i will introduce you to your school-fellows, and i hope your future friends," said miss danesbury. "after tea you will come with me to see mrs willis--she is never in the school-room at tea-time. mdlle. perier or miss good usually superintends. now, my dear, come along-- why, surely you are not frightened?" "oh, please, may i sit near you?" asked hester. "no, my love; i take care of the little ones, and they are at a table by themselves. now, come in at once--the moment you dread will soon be over, and it is nothing, my love--really nothing." nothing! never, as long as hester lived, did she forget the supreme agony of terror and shyness which came over her as she entered that long, low, brightly-lighted room. the forty pairs of curious eyes which were raised inquisitively to her face became as torturing as forty burning suns. she felt an almost uncontrollable desire to run away and hide--she wondered if she could possibly keep from screaming aloud. in the end she found herself, she scarcely knew how, seated beside a gentle, sweet-mannered girl, and munching bread and butter which tasted drier than sawdust, and occasionally trying to sip something very hot and scalding which she vaguely understood went by the name of tea. the buzzing voices all chattering eagerly in french, and the occasional sharp, high-pitched reprimands coming in peremptory tones from the thin lips of mdlle. perier, sounded far off and distant--her head was dizzy, her eyes swam--the tired and shy child endured tortures. in after-days, in long after-years when the memory of lavender house was to come back to hetty thornton as one of the sweetest, brightest episodes in her existence--in the days when she was to know almost every blade of grass in the gardens, and to be familiar with each corner of the old house, with each face which now appeared so strange, she might wonder at her feelings to-night, but never even then could she forget them. she sat at the table in a dream, trying to eat the tasteless bread and butter. suddenly and swiftly the thick and somewhat stale piece of bread on her plate was exchanged for a thin, fresh, and delicately-cut slice. "eat that," whispered a voice--"i know the other is horrid. it's a shame of perier to give such stuff to a stranger." "mdlle. cecile, you are transgressing: you are talking english," came in a torrent of rapid french from the head of the table. "you lose a conduct mark, ma'amselle." the young girl who sat next hester inclined her head gently and submissively, and hester, venturing to glance at her, saw that a delicate pink had spread itself over her pale face. she was a plain girl; but even hester, in this first moment of terror, could scarcely have been afraid of her, so benign was her expression, so sweet the glance from her soft, full brown eyes. hester now further observed that the thin bread and butter had been removed from cecil's own plate. she began to wonder why this girl was indulged with better food than the rest of her comrades. hester was beginning to feel a little less shy, and was taking one or two furtive glances at her companions, when she suddenly felt herself turning crimson, and all her agony of shyness and dislike to her school-life returning. she encountered the full, bright, quizzical gaze of the girl who had made personal remarks about her in the porter's room. the merry black eyes of this gipsy maiden fairly twinkled with suppressed fun when they met hers, and the bright head even nodded audaciously across the table to her. not for worlds would hester return this friendly greeting--she still held to her opinion that miss forest was one of the most ill-bred people she had ever met, and, in addition to feeling a considerable amount of fear of her, she quite made up her mind that she would never be on friendly terms with so underbred a girl. at this moment grace was repeated in sonorous tones by a stern-looking person who sat at the foot of the long table, and whom hester had not before noticed. instantly the girls rose from their seats, and began to file in orderly procession out of the tea-room. hester looked round in terror for the friendly miss danesbury, but she could not catch sight of her anywhere. at this moment, however, her companion of the tea-table touched her arm. "we may speak english now for half an hour," she said, "and most of us are going to the play-room. we generally tell stories round the fire upon these dark winter's nights. would you like to come with me to-night? shall we be chums for this evening?" "i don't know what `chums' are," said hester; "but," she added, with the dawning of a faint smile on her poor, sad little face, "i shall be very glad to go with you." "come then," said cecil temple, and she pulled hester's hand within her arm, and walked with her across the wide stone hall, and into the largest room hester had ever seen. never, anywhere, could there have been a more delightful play-room than this. it was so large that two great fires which burned at either end were not at all too much to emit even tolerable warmth. the room was bright with three or four lamps which were suspended from the ceiling, the floor was covered with matting, and the walls were divided into curious partitions, which gave the room a peculiar but very cosy effect. these partitions consisted of large panels, and were divided by slender rails the one from the other. "this is my cosy corner," said cecil, "and you shall sit with me in it to-night. you see," she added, "each of us girls has her own partition, and we can do exactly what we like in it. we can put our own photographs, our own drawings, our own treasures on our panels. under each division is our own little work-table, and, in fact, our own individual treasures lie round us in the enclosure of this dear little rail. the centre of the room is common property, and you see what a great space there is round each fire-place where we can chatter and talk, and be on common ground. the fire-place at the end of the room near the door is reserved especially for the little ones, but we elder girls sit at the top. of course you will belong to us. how old are you?" "twelve," said hester. "oh, well, you are so tall that you cannot possibly be put with the little ones, so you must come in with us." "and shall i have a railed-in division and a panel of my own?" asked hester. "it sounds a very nice arrangement. i hope my department will be close to yours, miss?" "temple is my name," said cecil, "but you need not call me that. i am cecil to all my friends, and you are my friend this evening, for you are my chum, you know. oh, you were asking me about our departments--you won't have any at first, for you have got to earn it, but i will invite you to mine pretty often. come now, let us go inside. is not it just like the darlingest little drawing-room? i am so sorry that i have only one easy chair, but you shall have it to-night, and i will sit on this three-legged stool. i am saving up my money to buy another armchair, and annie has promised to upholster it for me." "is annie one of the maids?" "oh, dear, no!--she's dear old annie forest, the liveliest girl in the school. poor darling, she's seldom out of hot water; but we all love her, we can't help it. poor annie, she hardly ever has the luxury of a department to herself, so she is useful all round. she's the most amusing and good-natured dear pet in christendom." "i don't like her at all," said hester; "i did not know you were talking of her--she is a most rude, uncouth girl." cecil temple, who had been arranging a small dark green table-cloth with daffodils worked artistically in each corner on her little table, stood up as the newcomer uttered these words, and regarded her fixedly. "it is a pity to draw hasty conclusions," she said. "there is no girl more loved in the school than annie forest. even the teachers, although they are always punishing her, cannot help having a soft corner in their hearts for her. what can she possibly have done to offend you?--but oh!--hush--don't speak--she is coming into the room." as cecil finished her rather eager defence of her friend, and prevented the indignant words which were bubbling to hester's lips, a gay voice was heard singing a comic song in the passage--the play-room door was flung open with a bang, and miss forest entered the room with a small girl seated on each of her shoulders. "hold on, janny love; keep your arms well round me, mabel. now then, here we go--twice up the room and down again. no more, as i'm alive. i've got to attend to other matters than you." she placed the little girls on the floor amid peals of laughter, and shouts from several little ones to give them a ride too. the children began to cling to her skirts and to drag her in all directions, and she finally escaped from them with one dexterous bound which placed her in that portion of the play-room where the little ones knew they were not allowed to enter. until her arrival the different girls scattered about the large room had been more or less orderly, chattering and laughing together, it is true, but in a quiet manner. now the whole place appeared suddenly in an uproar. "annie, come here--annie, darling, give me your opinion about this-- annie, my precious, naughty creature, come and tell me about your last scrape." annie forest blew several kisses to her adorers, but did not attach herself to any of them. "the temple requires me," she said, in her sauciest tones; "my beloved friends, the temple as usual is vouchsafing its sacred shelter to the stranger." in an instant annie was kneeling inside the inclosure of miss temple's rail and laughing immoderately. "you dear stranger!" she exclaimed, turning round and gazing full into hester's shy face, "i do declare i have been punished for the intense ardour with which i longed to embrace you. has she told you, cecil darling, what i did in her behalf? how i ventured beyond the sacred precincts of the baize door and hid inside the porter's room? poor dear, she jumped when she heard my friendly voice, and as i spoke miss danesbury caught me in the very act. poor old dear, she cried when she complained of me, but duty is danesbury's motto; she would go to the stake for it, and i respect her immensely. i have got my twenty lines of that horrible french poetry, to learn--the very thought almost strangles me, and i foresee plainly that i shall do something terribly naughty within the next few hours; i must, my love--i really must. i have just come here to shake hands with miss thornton, and then i must away to my penance. ah, how little i shall learn, and how hard i shall think! welcome to lavender house, miss thornton; look upon me as your devoted ally, and if you have a spark of pity in your breast, feel for the girl whom you got into a scrape the very moment you entered these sacred walls." "i don't understand you," said hester, who would not hold out her hand, and who was standing up in a very stiff, shy, and angular position. "i think you were very rude to startle me, and make personal remarks the very moment i came into the house." "oh, dear!--i only said you were tall, and looked rather sulky, love-- you did, you know, really." "it was very rude of you," repeated hester, turning crimson, and trying to keep back her tears. "well, my dear, i meant no harm; shake hands, now, and let us make friends." but hester felt either too shy or too miserable to yield to this request--she half turned her back, and leaned against miss temple's panel. "never mind her," whispered gentle cecil temple; but annie forest's bright face had darkened ominously--the school favourite was not accustomed to having her advances flung back in her face. she left the room singing a defiant, naughty song, and several of the girls who had overheard this scene whispered one to the other-- "she can't be at all nice--she would not even shake hands with annie. fancy her turning against our annie in that way!" chapter five. the head-mistress. annie forest had scarcely left the room before miss danesbury appeared with a message for hester, who was to come with her directly to see mrs willis. the poor shy girl felt only too glad to leave behind her the cruel, staring, and now by no means approving eyes of her school-mates. she had overheard several of their whispers, and felt rather alarmed at her own act. but hester, shy as she was, could be very tenacious of an idea. she had taken a dislike to annie forest, and she was quite determined to be true to what she considered her convictions--namely, that annie was underbred and common, and not at all the kind of girl whom her mother would have cared for her to know. the little girl followed miss danesbury in silence. they crossed the stone hall together, and now passing through another baize door, found themselves once more in the handsome entrance-hall. they walked across this hall to a door carefully protected from all draughts by rich plush curtains, and miss danesbury, turning the handle, and going a step or two into the room, said in her gentle voice-- "i have brought hester thornton to see you, mrs willis, according to your wish." miss danesbury then withdrew, and hester ventured to raise her eyes and to look timidly at the head-mistress. a tall woman, with a beautiful face and silvery white hair, came instantly to meet her, laid her two hands on the girl's shoulders, and then, raising her shy little face, imprinted a kiss on her forehead. "your mother was one of my earliest pupils, hester," she said, "and you are--no--" after a pause, "you are not very like her. you are her child, however, my dear, and as such you have a warm welcome from me. now, come and sit by the fire, and let us talk." hester did not feel nearly so constrained with this graceful and gracious lady as she had done with her school-mates. the atmosphere of the room recalled her beloved mother's boudoir at home. the rich, dove-coloured satin dress, the cap made of mechlin lace which softened and shaded mrs willis's silvery hair, appeared homelike to the little girl, who had grown up accustomed to all the luxuries of wealth. above all, the head-mistress's mention of her mother drew her heart toward the beautiful face, and attracted her toward the rich, full tones of a voice which could be powerful and commanding at will. mrs willis, notwithstanding her white hair, had a youthful face, and hester made the comment which came first to her lips-- "i did not think you were old enough to have taught my mother." "i am sixty, dear, and i have kept this school for thirty years. your mother was not the only pupil who sent her children to be taught by me when the time came. now, you can sit on this stool by the fire and tell me about your home. your mother--ah, poor child, you would rather not talk about her just yet. helen's daughter must have strong feelings-- ah, yes; i see, i see. another time, darling, when you know me better. now tell me about your little sister, and your father. you do not know, perhaps, that i am nan's godmother?" after this the head-mistress and the new pupil had a long conversation. hester forgot her shyness; her whole heart had gone out instantly to this beautiful woman who had known, and loved, and taught her mother. "i will try to be good at school," she said at last; "but, oh, please, mrs willis, it does not seem to me to-night as if school-life could be happy." "it has its trials, hester; but the brave and the noble girls often find this time of discipline one of the best in their lives--good at the time, very good to look back on by-and-by. you will find a miniature world around you; you will be surrounded by temptations; and you will have rare chances of proving whether your character can be strong and great and true. i think, as a rule, my girls are happy, and as a rule they turn out well. the great motto of life here, hester, is earnestness. we are earnest in our work, we are earnest in our play. a half-hearted girl has no chance at lavender house. in play-time, laugh with the merriest, my child: in school-hours, study with the most studious. do you understand me?" "i try to, a little," said hester, "but it seems all very strange just now." "no doubt it does, and at first you will have to encounter many perplexities and to fight many battles. never mind, if you have the right spirit within you, you will come out on the winning side. now, tell me, have you made any acquaintances as yet among the girls?" "yes--cecil temple has been kind to me." "cecil is one of my dearest pupils; cultivate her friendship, hester-- she is honourable, she is sympathising. i am not afraid to say that cecil has a great heart." "there is another girl," continued hester, "who has spoken to me. i need not make her my friend, need i?" "who is she, dear?" "miss forest--i don't like her." "what! our school favourite. you will change your mind, i expect--but that is the gong for prayers. you shall come with me to chapel, to-night, and i will introduce you to mr everard." chapter six. "i am unhappy." between forty and fifty young girls assembled night and morning for prayers in the pretty chapel which adjoined lavender house. this chapel had been reconstructed from the ruins of an ancient priory, on the site of which the house was built. the walls, and even the beautiful eastern window, belonged to a far-off date. the roof had been carefully reared in accordance with the style of the east window, and the whole effect was beautiful and impressive. mrs willis was particularly fond of her own chapel. here she hoped the girls' best lessons might be learned, and here she had even once or twice brought a refractory pupil, and tried what a gentle word or two spoken in these old and sacred walls might effect. here, on wet sundays the girls assembled for service; and here, every evening at nine o'clock, came the vicar of the large parish to which lavender house belonged, to conduct evening prayers. he was an old man, and a great friend of mrs willis's, and he often told her that he considered these young girls some of the most important members of his flock. here hester knelt to-night. it is to be doubted whether in her confusion, and in the strange loneliness which even mrs willis had scarcely removed, she prayed much. it is certain she did not join in the evening hymn, which, with the aid of an organ and some sweet girl-voices, was beautifully and almost pathetically rendered. after evening prayers had come to an end, mrs willis took hester's hand and led her up to the old, white-headed vicar. "this is my new pupil, mr everard, or rather i should say, our new pupil. her education depends as much on you as on me." the vicar held out his hands, and took hester's within them, and then drew her forward to the light. "this little face does not seem quite strange to me," he said. "have i ever seen you before, my dear?" "no, sir," replied hester. "you have seen her mother," said mrs willis--"do you remember your favourite pupil, helen anstey, of long ago?" "ah! indeed--indeed! i shall never forget helen. and are you her child, little one?" but hester's face had grown white. the solemn service in the chapel, joined to all the excitement and anxieties of the day, had strung up her sensitive nerves to a pitch higher than she could endure. suddenly, as the vicar spoke to her, and mrs willis looked kindly down at her new pupil, the chapel seemed to reel round, the pupils one by one disappeared, and the tired girl only saved herself from fainting by a sudden burst of tears. "oh, i am unhappy," she sobbed, "without my mother! please, please, don't talk to me about my mother." she could scarcely take in the gentle words which her two friends said to her, and she hardly noticed when mrs willis did such a wonderful thing as to stoop down and kiss a second time the lips of a new pupil. finally she found herself consigned to miss danesbury's care, who hurried her off to her room, and helped her to undress and tucked her into her little bed. "now, love, you shall have some hot gruel. no, not a word. you ate little or no tea, to-night--i watched you from my distant table. half your loneliness is caused by want of food--i know it, my love; i am a very practical person. now, eat your gruel, and then shut your eyes and go to sleep." "you are very kind to me," said hester, "and so is mrs willis, and so is mr everard, and i like cecil temple--but, oh. i wish annie forest was not in the school!" "hush, my dear, i implore of you. you pain me by these words. i am quite confident that annie will be your best friend yet." hester's lips said nothing, but her eyes answered "never" as plainly as eyes could speak. chapter seven. a day at school. if hester thornton went to sleep that night under a sort of dreamy, hazy impression that school was a place without a great deal of order, with many kind and sympathising faces, and with some not so agreeable; if she went to sleep under the impression that she had dropped into a sort of medley, that she had found herself in a vast new world where certain personages exercised undoubtedly a strong moral influence, but where on the whole a number of other people did pretty much what they pleased-- she awoke in the morning to find her preconceived ideas scattered to the four winds. there was nothing of apparent liberty about the lavender house arrangements in the early morning hours. in the first, place, it seemed quite the middle of the night when hester was awakened by a loud gong, which clanged through the house and caused her to sit up in bed in a considerable state of fright and perplexity. a moment or two later a neatly-dressed maid-servant came into the room with a can of hot water; she lit a pair of candles on the mantelpiece, and, with the remark that the second gong would sound in half an hour, and that all the young ladies would be expected to assemble in the chapel at seven o'clock precisely, she left the room. hester pulled her pretty little gold watch from under her pillow, and saw with a sigh that it was now half-past six. "what odious hours they keep in this horrid place!" she said to herself. "well, well, i always did know that school would be unendurable." she waited for five minutes before she got up, and then she dressed herself languidly, and, if the truth must be told, in a very untidy fashion. she managed to be dressed by the time the second gong sounded, but she had only one moment to give to her private prayers. she reflected, however, that this did not greatly matter as she was going down to prayers immediately in the chapel. the service in the chapel the night before had impressed her more deeply than she cared to own, and she followed her companions downstairs with a certain feeling of pleasure at the thought of again seeing mr everard and mrs willis. she wondered if they would take much notice of her this morning, and she thought it just possible that mr everard, who had looked at her so compassionately the night before, might be induced, for the sake of his old friendship with her mother, to take her home with him to spend the day. she thought she would rather like to spend a day with mr everard, and she fancied he was the sort of person who would influence her and help her to be good. hester fancied that if some very interesting and quite out of the common person took her in hand, she might be formed into something extremely noble--noble enough even to forgive annie forest. the girls all filed into the chapel, which was lighted as brightly and cheerily as the night before; but hester found herself placed on a bench far down in the building. she was no longer in the place of honour by mrs willis's side. she was one of a number, and no one looked particularly at her or noticed her in any way. a shy young curate read the morning prayers; mr everard was not present, and mrs willis, who was, walked out of the chapel when prayers were over without even glancing in hester's direction. this was bad enough for the poor little dreamer of dreams, but worse was to follow. mrs willis did not speak to hester, but she did stop for an instant beside annie forest. hester saw her lay her white hand on the young girl's shoulder and whisper for an instant in her ear. annie's lovely gipsy face flushed a vivid crimson. "for your sake, darling," she whispered back; but hester caught the words, and was consumed by a fierce jealousy. the girls went into the school-room, where mdlle. perier gave a french lesson to the upper class. hester belonged to no class at present, and could look around her, and have plenty of time to reflect on her own miseries, and particularly on what she now considered the favouritism shown by mrs willis. "mr everard at least will read through that girl," she said to herself; "he could not possibly endure any one so loud. yes, i am sure that my only friend at home, cecilia day, would call annie very loud. i wonder mrs willis can endure her. mrs willis seems so ladylike herself, but--oh, i beg your pardon, what's the matter?" a very sharp voice had addressed itself to the idle hester. "but, mademoiselle, you are doing nothing! this cannot for a moment be permitted. pardonnez-moi, you know not the french? here is a little easy lesson. study it, mademoiselle, and don't let your eyes wander a moment from the page." hester favoured mdlle. perier with a look of lofty contempt, but she received the well-thumbed lesson-book in absolute silence. at eight o'clock came breakfast, which was nicely served, and was very good and abundant. hester was thoroughly hungry this morning, and did not feel so shy as the night before. she found herself seated between two strange girls, who talked to her a little and would have made themselves friendly had she at all encouraged them to do so. after breakfast came half an hour's recreation, when, the weather being very bad, the girls again assembled in the cosy play-room. hester looked round eagerly for cecil temple, who greeted her with a kind smile, but did not ask her into her inclosure. annie forest was not present, and hester breathed a sigh of relief at her absence. the half-hour devoted to recreation proved rather dull to the newcomer. hester could not understand her present world. to the girl who had been brought up practically as an only child in the warm shelter of a home, the ways and doings of school-girl life were an absolute enigma. hester had no idea of unbending or of making herself agreeable. the girls voted her to one another stiff and tiresome, and quickly left her to her own devices. she looked longingly at cecil temple; but cecil, who could never be knowingly unkind to any one, was seizing the precious moments to write a letter to her father, and hester presently wandered down the room and tried to take an interest in the little ones. from twelve to fifteen quite little children were in the school, and hester wondered with a sort of vague half-pain if she might see any child among the group the least like nan. "they will like to have me with them," she said to herself. "poor little dots, they always like big girls to notice them, and didn't they make a fuss about miss forest last night! well, nan is fond enough of me, and little children find out so quickly what one is really like." hester walked boldly into the group. the little dots were all as busy as bees, were not the least lonely, or the least shy, and very plainly gave the intruder to understand that they would prefer her room to her company. hester was not proud with little children--she loved them dearly. some of the smaller ones in question were beautiful little creatures, and her heart warmed to them for nan's sake. she could not stoop to conciliate the older girls, but she could make an effort with the babies. she knelt on the floor and took up a headless doll. "i know a little girl who had a doll like that," she said. here she paused and several pairs of eyes were fixed on her. "poor dolly's b'oke," said the owner of the headless one in a tone of deep commiseration. "you _are_ such a breaker, you know, annie," said annie's little five-year-old sister. "please tell us about the little girl what had the doll wifout the head," she proceeded, glancing at hester. "oh, it was taken to a hospital, and got back its head," said hester quite cheerfully; "it became quite well again, and was a more beautiful doll than ever." this announcement caused intense wonder and was certainly carrying the interest of all the little ones. hester was deciding that the child who possessed the headless doll _had_ a look of nan about her dark brown eyes, when suddenly there was a diversion--the play-room door was opened noisily, banged-to with a very loud report, and a gay voice sang out-- "the fairy queen has just paid me a visit. who wants sweeties from the fairy queen?" instantly all the little feet had scrambled to the perpendicular, each pair of hands was clapped noisily, each little throat shouted a joyful-- "here comes annie!" annie forest was surrounded, and hester knelt alone on the hearth-rug. she felt herself colouring painfully--she did not fail to observe that two laughing eyes had fixed themselves with a momentary triumph on her face; then, snatching up a book, which happened to lie close, she seated herself with her back to all the girls, and her head bent over the page. it is quite doubtful whether she saw any of the words, but she was at least determined not to cry. the half-hour so wearisome to poor hester came to an end, and the girls, conducted by miss danesbury, filed into the school-room and took their places in the different classes. work had now begun in serious earnest. the school-room presented an animated and busy scene. the young faces with their varying expressions betokened on the whole the preponderance of an earnest spirit. discipline, not too severe, reigned triumphant. hester was not yet appointed to any place among these busy workers, but while she stood wondering, a little confused, and half intending to drop into an empty seat which happened to be close, miss danesbury came up to her. "follow me, miss thornton," she said, and she conducted the young girl up the whole length of the great school-room, and pushed aside some baize curtains which concealed a second smaller room, where mrs willis sat before a desk. the head-mistress was no longer dressed in soft pearl-grey and mechlin lace. she wore a black silk dress, and her white cap seemed to hester to add a severe tone to her features. she neither shook hands with the new pupil nor kissed her, but said instantly in a bright though authoritative tone-- "i must now find out as quickly as possible what you know, hester, in order to place you in the most suitable class." hester was a clever girl, and passed through the ordeal of a rather stiff examination with considerable ability. mrs willis pronounced her english and general information quite up to the usual standard for girls of her age--her french was deficient, but she showed some talent for german. "on the whole i am pleased with your general intelligence, and i think you have good capacities, hester," she said in conclusion. "i shall ask miss good, our very accomplished english teacher, to place you in the third-class. you will have to work very hard, however, at your french, to maintain your place there. but mdlle. perier is kind and painstaking, and it rests with yourself to quickly acquire a conversational acquaintance with the language. you are aware that, except during recreation, you are never allowed to speak in any other tongue. now, go back to the school-room, my dear." as mrs willis spoke she laid her finger on a little silver gong which stood by her side. "one moment, please," said hester, colouring crimson, "i want to ask you a question, please." "is it about your lessons?" "no--oh, no; it is--" "then pardon me, my dear," uttered the governess, "i sit in my room every evening from eight to half-past, and i am then at liberty to see a pupil on any subject which is not trifling. nothing but lessons are spoken of in lesson hours, hester. ah, here comes miss good. miss good, i should wish you to place hester thornton in the third-class. her english is up to the average. i will see mdlle. perier about her at twelve o'clock." hester followed the english teacher into the great school-room, took her place in the third-class, at the desk which was pointed out to her, was given a pile of new books, and was asked to attend to the history lesson which was then going on. notwithstanding her confusion, a certain sense of soreness, and some indignation at what she considered mrs willis's altered manner, she acquitted herself with considerable spirit, and was pleased to see that her class companions regarded her with some respect. an english literature lecture followed the history, and here again hester acquitted herself with _eclat_. the subject to-day was "julius caesar," and hester had read shakespeare's play over many times with her mother. but when the hour came for foreign languages, her brief triumph ceased. lower and lower did she fall in her school-fellows' estimation, as she stumbled through her truly english-french. mdlle. perier, who was a very fiery little woman, almost screamed at her--the girls coloured and nearly tittered. hester hoped to recover her lost laurels in german, but by this time her head ached, and she did very little better in the german which she loved than in the french which she detested. at twelve o'clock she was relieved to find that school was over for the present, and she heard the english teacher's voice desiring the girls to go quickly to their rooms, and to assemble in five minutes' time in the great stone hall, equipped for their walk. the walk lasted for a little over an hour, and was a very dreary penance to poor hester, as she was neither allowed to run, race, nor talk a word of english. she sighed heavily once or twice, and several of the girls who looked at her curiously agreed with annie forest that she was decidedly sulky. the walk was followed by dinner; then came half an hour of recreation in the delightful play-room, and eager chattering in the english tongue. at three o'clock the school assembled once more; but now the studies were of a less severe character, and hester spent one of her first happy half-hours over a drawing lesson. she had a great love for drawing, and felt some pride in the really beautiful copy which she was making of the stump of an old gnarled oak-tree. her dismay, however, was proportionately great when the drawing-master drew his pencil right across her copy. "i particularly requested you not to sketch in any of the shadows, miss thornton. did you not hear me say that my lesson to-day was in outline? i gave you a shaded piece to copy in outline--did you not understand?" "this is my first day at school," whispered back poor hester, speaking in english in her distress. whereupon the master smiled, and even forgot to report her for her transgression of the french tongue. hester spent the rest of that afternoon over her music lesson. the music-master was an irascible little german, but hester played with some taste, and was therefore not too severely rapped over the knuckles. then came tea and another half-hour of recreation, which was followed by two silent hours in the school-room, each girl bent busily over her books in preparation for the next day's work. hester studied hard, for she had made up her mind to be the intellectual prodigy of the school. even on this first day, miserable as it was, she had won a few plaudits for her quickness and powers of observation. how much better could she work when she had really fallen into the tone of the school, and understood the lessons which she was now so carefully preparing! during her busy day she had failed to notice one thing: namely, the absence of annie forest. annie had not been in the school-room, had not been in the play-room; but now, as the clock struck eight, she entered the school-room with a listless expression, and took her place in the same class with hester. her eyes were heavy, as if she had been crying, and when a companion touched her, and gave her a sympathising glance, she shook her head with a sorrowful gesture, but did not speak. glasses of milk and slices of bread and butler were now handed round to the girls, and miss danesbury asked if any one would like to see mrs willis before prayers. hester half sprang to her feet, but then sat down again. mrs willis had annoyed her by refusing to break her rules and answer her question during lesson hours. no, the silly child resolved that she would not trouble mrs willis now. "no one to-night, then?" said miss danesbury, who had noticed hester's movement. suddenly annie forest sprang to her feet. "i'm going, miss danesbury," she said. "you need not show me the way; i can find it alone." with her short, curly hair falling about her face, she ran out of the room. chapter eight. "you have woken me too soon." when hester reached her bedroom after prayers on that second evening, she was dismayed to find that she no longer could consider the pretty little bedroom her own. it had not only an occupant, but an occupant who had left untidy traces of her presence on the floor, for a stocking lay in one direction and a muddy boot sprawled in another. the newcomer had herself got into bed, where she lay with a quantity of red hair tossed about on the pillow, and a heavy freckled face turned upward, with the eyes shut and the mouth slightly open. as hester entered the room, from these parted lips came unmistakable and loud snores. she stood still dismayed. "how terrible!" she said to herself--"oh, what a girl! and i cannot sleep in the room with any one who snores--i really cannot!" she stood perfectly still, with her hands clasped before her, and her eyes fixed with almost ludicrous dismay on this unexpected trial. as she gazed, a fresh discovery caused her to utter an exclamation of horror aloud. the newcomer had curled herself up comfortably in _her_ bed. suddenly, to her surprise, a voice said very quietly, without a flicker of expression coming over the calm face, or the eyes even making an effort to open-- "are you my new school-mate?" "yes," said hester, "i am sorry to say i am." "oh, don't be sorry, there's a good creature; there's nothing to be sorry about. i'll stop snoring when i turn on my side--it's all right. i always snore for half an hour to rest my back, and the time is nearly up. don't trouble me to open my eyes, i am not the least curious to see you. you have a cross voice, but you'll get used to me after a bit." "but you're in my bed," said hester. "will you please to get into your own?" "oh, no, don't ask me; i like your bed best. i slept in it the whole of last term. i changed the sheets myself, so it does not matter. do you mind putting my muddy boots outside the door, and folding up my stockings? i forgot them, and i shall have a bad mark if danesbury comes in. good-night--i'm turning on my side--i won't snore any more." the heavy face was now only seen in profile, and hester, knowing that miss danesbury would soon appear to put out the candle, had to hurry into the other bed as fast as she could; something impelled her, however, to take up the muddy boots with two very gingerly fingers, and place them outside the door. she slept better this second night, and was not quite so startled the next morning when the remorseless gong aroused her from slumber. the maid-servant came in as usual to light the candles, and to place two cans of hot water by the two wash-handstands. "you are awake, miss?" she said to hester. "oh, yes," replied hester almost cheerfully. "well, that's all right," said the servant. "now i must try and rouse miss drummond, and she always takes a deal of waking; and if you don't mind, miss, it will be an act of kindness to call out to her in the middle of your own dressing--that is, if i don't wake her effectual." with these words, the housemaid approached the bed where the red-haired girl lay again on her back, and again snoring loudly. "miss drummond, wake, miss; it's half-past six. wake up, miss--i have brought your hot water." "eh?--what?" said the voice in the bed sleepily; "don't bother me, hannah--i--i've determined not to ride this morning; go away--" then more sleepily, and in a lower key, "tell percy he can't bring the dogs in here." "i ain't neither your hannah, nor your percy, nor one of the dogs," replied the rather irate alice--"there, get up, miss, do. i never see such a young lady for sleeping, never." "i won't be bothered," said the occupant of the bed, and now she turned deliberately on her side and snored more loudly than ever. "there's no help for it," said alice: "i have to do it nearly every morning, so don't you be startled, miss. poor thing, she would never have a good conduct mark but for me. now then, here goes. you needn't be frightened, miss--she don't mind it the least bit in the world." here alice seized a rough turkish towel, placed it under the sleepy head with its shock of red hair, and, dipping a sponge in a basin of icy cold water, dashed it on the white face. this remedy proved effectual; two large pale blue eyes opened wide, a voice said in a tranquil and unmoved tone-- "oh, thank you, alice. so i'm back at this horrid, detestable school again?" "get your feet well on the carpet, miss drummond, before you falls off again," said the servant. "now then, you'd better get dressed as fast as possible, miss--you have lost five minutes already." hester, who had laughed immoderately during this little scene, was already up and going through the processes of her toilet. miss drummond, seated on the edge of her bed, regarded her with sleepy eyes. "so you are my new room-mate?" she said--"what's your name?" "hester thornton," replied hetty with dignity. "oh--i'm susy drummond--you may call me susy if you like." hester made no response to this gracious invitation. miss drummond sat motionless, gazing down at her toes. "had not you better get dressed?" said hester after a long pause, for she really feared the young lady would fall asleep where she was sitting. miss drummond started. "dressed! so i will, dear creature. have the sweet goodness to hand me my clothes." "where are they?" asked hester rather crossly, for she did not care to act as lady's-maid. "they are over there, on a chair, in that lovely heap with a shawl flung over them. there, toss them this way--i'll get into them somehow." miss drummond did manage to get into her garments; but her whole appearance was so heavy and untidy when she was dressed, that hester by the very force of contrast felt obliged to take extra pains with her own toilet. "now, that's a comfort," said susan, "i'm in my clothes. how bitter it is! there's one comfort, the chapel will be warm. i often catch forty winks in chapel--that is, if i'm lucky enough to get behind one of the tall girls, where mrs willis won't see me. it does seem to me," continued susan in a meditative tone, "the strangest thing why girls are not allowed sleep enough." hester was pinning a clean collar round her neck when miss drummond came up close, leaned over the dressing-table, and regarded her with languid curiosity. "a penny for your thoughts. miss prunes and prism." "why do you call me that?" said hester angrily. "because you look like it, sweet. now, don't be cross, little pet--no one ever yet was cross with sleepy susy drummond. now, tell me, love, what had you for breakfast yesterday?" "i'm sure i forget," said hester. "you _forget_?--how extraordinary! you're sure that it was not buttered scones? we have them sometimes, and i tell you they are enough even to keep a girl awake. well, at least you can let me know if the eggs were very stale, and the coffee very weak, and whether the butter was second-rate dorset, or good and fresh. come now--my breakfast is of immense importance to me, i assure you." "i dare say," answered hester. "you can see for yourself this morning what is on the table--i can only inform you that it was good enough for me, and that i don't remember what it was." "oh, dear!" exclaimed susan drummond, "i'm afraid she has a little temper of her own--poor little room-mate. i wonder if chocolate-creams would sweeten that little temper?" "please don't talk--i'm going to say my prayers," said hester. she did kneel down, and made a slight effort to ask god to help her through the day's work and the day's play. in consequence, she rose from her knees with a feeling of strength and sweetness which even the feeblest prayer when uttered in earnest can always give. the prayer-gong now sounded, and all the girls assembled in the chapel. miss drummond was greeted by many appreciative nods, and more than one pair of longing eyes gazed in the direction of her pockets, which stuck out in the most ungainly fashion. hester was relieved to find that her room-mate did not share her class in school, nor sit anywhere near her at table. when the half-hour's recreation after breakfast arrived, hester, determined to be beholden to none of her school-mates for companionship, seated herself comfortably in an easy chair, with a new book. presently she was startled by a little stream of lollipops falling in a shower over her head, down her neck, and into her lap. she started up with an expression of disgust. instantly miss drummond sank into the vacated chair. "thank you, love," she said, in a cosy, purring voice. "eat your lollipops, and look at me; i'm going to sleep. please pull my toe when danesbury comes in. oh, fie! prunes and prisms--not so cross--eat your lollipops; they will sweeten the expression of that--little--face." the last words came out drowsily. as she said "face," miss drummond's languid eyes were closed--she was fast asleep. chapter nine. work and play. in a few days hester was accustomed to her new life. she fell into its routine, and in a certain measure won the respect of her fellow-pupils. she worked hard, and kept her place in class, and her french became a little more like the french tongue and a little less like the english. she showed marked ability in many of her other studies, and the mistresses and masters spoke well of her. after a fortnight spent at lavender house, hester had to acknowledge that the little misses bruce were right, and that school might be a really enjoyable place for some girls. she would not yet admit that it could be enjoyable for her. hester was too shy, too proud, too exacting to be popular with her school-fellows. she knew nothing of school-girl life--she had never learned the great secret of success in all life's perplexities, the power to give and take. it never occurred to hester to look over a hasty word, to take no notice of an envious or insolent look. as far as her lessons were concerned she was doing well; but the hardest lesson of all, the training of mind and character, which the daily companionship of her school-fellows alone could give her, in this lesson she was making no way. each day she was shutting herself up more and more from all kindly advances, and the only one in the school whom she sincerely and cordially liked was gentle cecil temple. mrs willis had some ideas with regard to the training of her young people which were peculiarly her own. she had found them successful, and, during her thirty years' experience, had never seen reason to alter them. she was determined to give her girls a great deal more liberty than was accorded in most of the boarding-schools of her day. she never made what she called impossible rules; she allowed the girls full liberty to chatter in their bedrooms; she did not watch them during play-hours; she never read the letters they received, and only superintended the specimen home letter which each girl was required to write once a month. other head-mistresses wondered at the latitude she allowed her girls, but she invariably replied-- "i always find it works best to trust them. if a girl is found to be utterly untrustworthy. i don't expel her, but i request her parents to remove her to a more strict school." mrs willis also believed much in that quiet half-hour each evening, when the girls who cared to come could talk to her alone. on these occasions she always dropped the school-mistress and adopted the _role_ of the mother. with a very refractory pupil she spoke in the tenderest tones of remonstrance and affection at these times. if her words failed--if the discipline of the day and the gentle sympathy of these moments at night did not effect their purpose, she had yet another expedient--the vicar was asked to see the girl who would not yield to this motherly influence. mr everard had very seldom taken mrs willis's place. as he said to her, "your influence must be the mainspring. at supreme moments i will help you with personal influence, but otherwise, except for my nightly prayers with your girls, and my weekly class, and the teachings which they with others hear from my lips sunday after sunday, they had better look to you." the girls knew this rule well, and the one or two rare instances in the school history where the vicar had stepped in to interfere, were spoken of with bated breath and with intense awe. mrs willis had a great idea of bringing as much happiness as possible into young lives. it was with this idea that she had the quaint little compartments railed off in the play-room. "for the elder girls," she would say, "there is no pleasure so great as having, however small the spot, a little liberty hall of their own. in her compartment each girl is absolute monarch. no one can enter inside the little curtained rail without her permission. here she can show her individual taste, her individual ideas. here she can keep her most-prized possessions. in short, her compartment in the play-room is a little home to her." the play-room, large as it was, admitted of only twenty compartments; these compartments were not easily won. no amount of cleverness attained them; they were altogether dependent on conduct. no girl could be the honourable owner of her own little drawing-room until she had distinguished herself by some special act of kindness and self-denial. mrs willis had no fixed rule on this subject. she alone gave away the compartments, and she often made choice of girls on whom she conferred this honour in a way which rather puzzled and surprised their fellows. when the compartment was won it was not a secure possession. to retain it depended also on conduct; and here again mrs willis was absolute in her sway. more than once the girls had entered the room in the morning to find some favourite's furniture removed and her little possessions taken carefully down from the walls, the girl herself alone knowing the reason for this sudden change. annie forest, who had been at lavender house for four years, had once, for a solitary month of her existence, owned her own special drawing-room. she had obtained it as a reward for an act of heroism. one of the little pupils had set her pinafore on fire. there was no teacher present at the moment--the other girls had screamed and run for help, but annie, very pale, had caught the little one in her arms and had crushed out the flames with her own hands. the child's life was spared, the child was not even hurt, but annie was in the hospital for a week. at the end of a week she returned to the school-room and play-room as the heroine of the hour. mrs willis herself kissed her brow, and presented her in the midst of the approving smiles of her companions with the prettiest drawing-room of the sets. annie retained her honourable post for one month. never did the girls of lavender house forget the delights of that month. the fantastic arrangements of the little drawing-room filled them with ecstasies. annie was truly japanese in her style--she was also intensely liberal in all her arrangements. in the tiny space of this little inclosure wild pranks were perpetrated, ceaseless jokes made up. from annie's drawing-room issued peals of exquisite mirth. she gave afternoon tea from a japanese set of tea-things. outside her drawing-room always collected a crowd of girls, who tried to peep over the rail or to draw aside the curtains. inside the sacred spot certainly reigned chaos, and one day miss danesbury had to fly to the rescue, for in a fit of mad mirth annie herself had knocked down the little japanese tea-table, the tea-pot and tea-things were in fragments on the floor, and the tea and milk poured in streams outside the curtains. mrs willis sent for annie that evening, and miss forest retired from her interview with red eyes and a meek expression. "girls," she said, in confidence that night, "good-bye to japan. i gave her leave to do it--the care of an empire is more than i can manage." the next day the japanese drawing-room had been handed over to another possessor, and annie reigned as queen over her empire no more. mrs willis, anxious at all times that her girls should be happy, made special arrangements for their benefit on sunday. sunday was by no means dull at lavender house--sunday was totally unlike the six days which followed it. even the stupidest girl could scarcely complain of the severity of sunday lessons--even the merriest girl could scarcely speak of the day as dull. mrs willis made an invariable rule of spending all sunday with her pupils. on this day she really unbent--on this day she was all during the long hours, what she was during the short half-hour on each evening in the week. on sunday she neither reproved nor corrected. if punishment or correction were necessary, she deputed miss good or miss danesbury to take her place. on sunday she sat with the little children round her knee, and the older girls clustering about her. her gracious and motherly face was like a sun shining in the midst of these young girls. in short, she was like the personified form of goodness in their midst. it was necessary, therefore, that all those who wished to do right should be happy on sunday, and only those few who deliberately preferred evil should shrink from the brightness of this day. it is astonishing how much a sympathising and guiding spirit can effect. the girls at lavender house thought sunday the shortest day in the week. there were no unoccupied or dull moments--school toil was forgotten--school punishment ceased, to be resumed again if necessary on monday morning. the girls in their best dresses could chatter freely in english--they could read their favourite books--they could wander about the house as they pleased: for on sunday the two baize doors were always wide-open, and mrs willis's own private suite of rooms was ready to receive them. if the day was fine they walked to church, each choosing her own companion for the pleasant walk; if the day was wet there was service in the chapel, mr everard always conducting either morning or evening prayers. in the afternoon the girls were allowed to do pretty much as they pleased, but after tea there always came a delightful hour, when the elder girls retired with their mistress into her own special boudoir, and she either told them stories or sang to them as only she could sing. at sixty years of age mrs willis still possessed the most sympathetic and touching voice those girls had ever listened to. hester thornton broke down completely on her first sunday at lavender house when she heard her school-mistress sing "the better land." no one remarked on her tears, but two people saw them; for her mistress kissed her tenderly that night, and said a few strong words of help and encouragement, and annie forest, who made no comment, had also seen them, and wondered vaguely if this new and disagreeable pupil had a heart after all. on sunday night mrs willis herself went round to each little bed and gave a mother-kiss to each of her pupils--a mother-kiss and a murmured blessing; and in many breasts resolves were then formed which were to help the girls through the coming week. some of these resolves, made not in their own strength, bore fruit in long after-years. there is no doubt that very few girls who lived long enough at lavender house ever in after-days found their sundays dull. chapter ten. varieties. without any doubt, wild, naughty, impulsive annie forest was the most popular girl in the school. she was always in scrapes--she was scarcely ever out of hot water--her promises of amendment were truly like the proverbial pie-crust: but she was so lovable, so kind-hearted, so saucy and piquant and pretty, that very few could resist the nameless charm which she possessed. the little ones adored annie, who was kindness itself to them; the bigger girls could not help admiring her fearlessness and courage; the best and noblest girls in the school tried to influence her for good. she was more or less an object of interest to every one; her courage was of just the sort to captivate school-girls, and her moral weakness was not observed by these inexperienced young eyes. hester alone, of all the girls who for a long time had come to lavender house, failed to see any charm in annie. she began by considering her ill-bred, and when she found she was the school favourite, she tossed her proud little head and determined that she for one would never be subjugated by such a naughty girl. hester could read character with tolerable clearness; she was an observant child--very observant, and very thoughtful for her twelve years; and as the little witch annie had failed to throw any spell over her, she saw her faults far more clearly than did her companions. there is no doubt that this brilliant, charming, and naughty annie had heaps of faults; she had no perseverance; she was all passion and impulse; she could be the kindest of the kind, but from sheer thoughtlessness and wildness she often inflicted severe pain, even on those she loved best. annie very nearly worshipped mrs willis, she had the most intense adoration for her, she respected her beyond any other human being. there were moments when the impulsive and hot-headed child felt that she could gladly lay down her life for her school-mistress. once the mistress was ill, and annie curled herself up all night outside her door, thereby breaking rules, and giving herself a severe cold; but her passion and agony were so great that she could only be soothed by at last stealing into the darkened room and kissing the face she loved. "prove your love to me, annie, by going downstairs and keeping the school rules as perfectly as possible," whispered the teacher. "i will--i will never break a rule again as long as i live, if you get better, mrs willis," responded the child. she ran downstairs with her resolves strong within her, and yet in half an hour she was reprimanded for wilful and desperate disobedience. one day cecil temple had invited a select number of friends to afternoon tea in her little drawing-room. it was the wednesday half-holiday, and cecil's tea, poured into the tiniest cups and accompanied by thin wafer biscuits, was of the most _recherche_ quality. cecil had invited hester thornton, and a tall girl who belonged to the first-class and whose name was dora russell, to partake of this dainty beverage. they were sitting round the tiny tea-table, on little red stools with groups of flowers artistically painted on them, and were all three conducting themselves in a most ladylike and refined manner, when annie forest's curly head and saucy face popped over the inclosure, and her voice said eagerly-- "oh, may i be permitted to enter the shrine?" "certainly, annie," said cecil, in her most cordial tones. "i have got another cup and saucer, and there is a little tea left in the tea-pot." annie came in, and ensconced herself cosily on the floor. it did not matter in the least to her that hester thornton's brow grew dark, and that miss russell suddenly froze into complete indifference to all her surroundings. annie was full of a subject which excited her very much; she had suddenly discovered that she wanted to give mrs willis a present, and she wished to know if any of the girls would like to join her. "i will give her the present this day week," said excitable annie. "i have quite made up my mind. will any one join me?" "but there is nothing special about this day week, annie," said miss temple. "it will neither be mrs willis's birthday, nor christmas day, nor new year's day, nor easter day. next wednesday will be just like any other wednesday. why should we make mrs willis a present?" "oh, because she looks as if she wanted one, poor dear. i thought she looked sad this morning; her eyes drooped and her mouth was down at the corners. i am sure she's wanting something from us all by now, just to show that we love her, you know." "pshaw!" here burst from hester's lips. "why do you say that?" said annie, turning round with her bright eyes flashing. "you've no right to be so contemptuous when i speak about our--our head-mistress. oh, cecil," she continued, "do let us give her a little surprise--some spring flowers, or something just to show her that we love her." "but _you_ don't love her," said hester, stoutly. here was throwing down the gauntlet with a vengeance! annie sprang to her feet and confronted hester with a whole torrent of angry words. hester firmly maintained her position. she said over and over again that love proved itself by deeds, not by words; that if annie learned her lessons, and obeyed the school rules, she would prove her affection for mrs willis far more than by empty protestations. hester's words were true, but they were uttered in an unkind spirit, and the very flavour of truth which they possessed caused them to enter annie's heart and to wound her deeply. she turned, not red, but very white, and her large and lovely eyes grew misty with unshed tears. "you are cruel," she gasped, rather than spoke, and then she pushed aside the curtains of cecil's compartment and walked out of the play-room. there was a dead silence among the three girls when she left them. hester's heart was still hot, and she was still inclined to maintain her own position, and to believe she had done right in speaking in so severe a tone to annie. but even she had been made a little uneasy by the look of deep suffering which had suddenly transformed annie's charming childish face into that of a troubled and pained woman. she sat down meekly on her little three-legged stool and, taking up her tiny cup and saucer, sipped some of the cold tea. cecil temple was the first to speak. "how could you?" she said, in an indignant voice for her. "annie is not the girl to be driven, and, in any case, it is not for you to correct her. oh, mrs willis would have been so pained had she heard you--you were not _kind_, miss thornton. there, i don't wish to be rude, but i fear i must leave you and miss russell--i must try and find annie." "i'm going back to my own drawing-room," said miss russell, rising to her feet. "perhaps," she added, turning round with a very gracious smile to hester, "you will come and see me there, after tea, this evening." miss russell drew aside the curtains of cecil temple's little room, and disappeared. hester, with her eyes full of tears, now turned eagerly to cecil. "forgive me, cecil," she exclaimed. "i did not mean to be unkind, but it is really quite ridiculous the way you all spoil that girl--you know as well as i do that she is a very naughty girl. i suppose it is because of her pretty face," continued hester, "that you are all so unjust, and so blind to her faults." "you are prejudiced the other way, hester," said cecil in a more gentle tone. "you have disliked annie from the first. there, don't keep me--i must go to her now. there is no knowing what harm your words may have done. annie is not like other girls. if you knew her story, you would perhaps be kinder to her." cecil then ran out of her drawing-room, leaving hester in sole possession of the little tea-things and the three-legged stools. she sat and thought for some time; she was a girl with a great deal of obstinacy in her nature, and she was not disposed to yield her own point, even to cecil temple; but cecil's words had, nevertheless, made some impression on her. at tea-time that night, annie and cecil entered the room together. annie's eyes were as bright as stars, and her usually pale cheeks glowed with a deep colour. she had never looked prettier--she had never looked so defiant, so mischievous, so utterly reckless. mdlle. perier fired indignant french at her across the table. annie answered respectfully, and became demure in a moment; but even in the short instant in which the governess was obliged to lower her eyes to her plate, she had thrown a look so irresistibly comic at her companions, that several of them had tittered aloud. not once did she glance at hester although she occasionally looked boldly in her direction; but when she did so, her versatile face assumed a blank expression, as if she were seeing nothing. when tea was over, dora russell surprised the members of her own class by walking straight up to hester, putting her hand inside her arm, and leading her off to her own very refined-looking little drawing-room. "i want to tell you," she said, when the two girls found themselves inside the small inclosure, "that i quite agree with you in your opinion of miss forest. i think you were very brave to speak to her as you did to-day. as a rule, i never trouble myself with what the little girls in the third-class do, and of course annie seldom comes under my notice; but i think she is a decidedly spoiled child, and your rebuff will doubtless do her a great deal of good." these words of commendation, coming from tall and dignified miss russell, completely turned poor hester's head. "oh, i am so glad you think so!" she stammered, colouring high with pleasure. "you see," she added, assuming a little tone of extra refinement, "at home i always associated with girls who were perfect ladies." "yes, any one can see that," remarked miss russell approvingly. "and i do think annie underbred," continued hester. "i cannot understand," she added, "why miss temple likes her so much." "oh, cecil is so amiable; she sees good in every one," answered miss russell. "annie is evidently not a lady, and i am glad at last to find some one of the girls who belong to the middle school capable of discerning this fact. of course, we of the first-class have nothing whatever to say to miss forest, but i really think mrs willis is not acting quite fairly by the other girls when she allows a young person of that description into the school. i wish to assure you, miss thornton, that you have at least my sympathy, and i shall be very pleased to see you in my drawing-room now and then." as these last words were uttered, both girls were conscious of a little rustling sound not far away. miss russell drew back her curtain, and asked very sharply, "who is there?" but no one replied, nor was there any one in sight, for the girls who did not possess compartments were congregated at the other end of the long play-room, listening to stories which emma marshall, a clever elder girl, was relating for their benefit. miss russell talked on indifferent subjects to hester, and at the end of the half-hour the two entered the class-room side by side, hester's little head a good deal turned by this notice from one of the oldest girls in the school. as the two walked together into the school-room, susan drummond, who, tall as she was, was only in the fourth class, rushed up to miss forest, and whispered something in her ear. "it is just as i told you," she said, and her sleepy voice was quite wide awake and animated. annie forest rewarded her by a playful pinch on her cheek; then she returned to her own class, with a severe reprimand from the class teacher, and silence reigned in the long room, as the girls began to prepare their lessons as usual for the next day. miss russell took her place at her desk in her usual dignified manner. she was a clever girl, and was going to leave school at the end of next term. hers was a particularly fastidious, but by no means great nature--she was the child of wealthy parents, she was also well-born, and because of her money, and a certain dignity and style which had come to her as nature's gifts, she held an influence, though by no means a large one, in the school. no one particularly disliked her, but no one, again, ardently loved her. the girls in her own class thought it well to be friendly with dora russell, and dora accepted their homage with more or less indifference. she did not greatly care for either their praise or blame. dora possessed in a strong degree that baneful quality, which more than anything else precludes the love of others--she was essentially selfish. she sat now before her desk, little guessing how she had caused hester's small heart to beat by her patronage, and little suspecting the mischief she had done to the girl by her injudicious words. had she known, it is to be doubted whether she would have greatly cared. she looked through the books which contained her tasks for the next day's work, and, finding they did not require a great deal of preparation, put them aside, and amused herself during the rest of preparation time with a story-book, which she artfully concealed behind the leaves of some exercises. she knew she was breaking the rules, but this fact did not trouble her, for her moral nature was, after all, no better than poor annie's, and she had not a tenth of her lovable qualities. dora russell was the soul of neatness and order. to look inside her school-desk was a positive pleasure; to glance at her own neat and trim figure was more or less of a delight. hers were the whitest hands in the school, and hers the most perfectly kept and glossy hair. as the preparation hour drew to a close, she replaced her exercises and books in exquisite order in her school-desk and shut down the lid. hester's eyes followed her as she walked out of the school-room, for the head class never had supper with the younger girls. hester wondered if she would glance in her direction; but miss russell had gratified a very passing whim when she condescended to notice and praise hester, and she had already almost forgotten her existence. at bed-time that night susan drummond's behaviour was at the least extraordinary. in the first place, instead of being almost overpoweringly friendly with hester, she scarcely noticed her; in the next place, she made some very peculiar preparations. "what _are_ you doing on the floor, susan?" inquired hetty in an innocent tone. "that's nothing to you," replied miss drummond, turning a dusky red, and looking annoyed at being discovered. "i do wish," she added, "that you would go round to your side of the room and leave me alone; i sha'n't have done what i want to do before danesbury comes in to put out the candle." hester was not going to put herself out with any of susan drummond's vagaries; she looked upon sleepy susan as a girl quite beneath her notice, but even she could not help observing her, when she saw her sit up in bed a quarter of an hour after the candles had been put out, and in the flickering firelight which shone conveniently bright for her purpose, fasten a piece of string first round one of her toes, and then to the end of the bed-post. "what _are_ you doing?" said hester again, half laughing. "oh, what a spy you are!" said susan. "i want to wake, that's all; and whenever i turn in bed that string will tug at my toe, and, of course, i'll rouse up. if you were more good-natured, i'd give the other end of the string to you; but, of course, that plan would never answer." "no, indeed," replied hester; "i am not going to trouble myself to wake you. you must trust to your sponge of cold water in the morning, unless your own admirable device succeeds." "i'm going to sleep now, at any rate," answered susan; "i'm on my back, and i'm beginning to snore; good-night." once or twice during the night hester heard groans from the self-sacrificing susan, who, doubtless, found the string attached to her foot very inconvenient. hester, however, slept on when it might have been better for the peace of many in the school that she should have awakened. she heard no sound when, long before day, sleepy susan stepped softly out of bed, and wrapping a thick shawl about her, glided out of the room. she was away for over half an hour, but she returned to her chamber and got into bed without in the least disturbing hester. in the morning she was found so soundly asleep that even the sponge of cold water could not arouse her. "pull the string at the foot of the bed, alice," said hester: "she fastened a string to her toe, and twisted the other end round the bed-post, last night--pull it, alice, it may effect its purpose." but there was no string now round susan drummond's foot, nor was it found hanging to the bed-post. chapter eleven. what was found in the school-desk. the next morning, when the whole school were assembled, and all the classes were getting ready for the real work of the day, miss good, the english teacher, stepped to the head of the room, and, holding a neatly bound volume of "jane eyre" in her hand, begged to know to whom it belonged. there was a hush of astonishment when she held up the little book, for all the girls knew well that this special volume was not allowed for school literature. "the house maid who dusts the school-room found this book on the floor," continued the teacher. "it lay beside a desk near the top of the room. i see the name has been torn out, so i cannot tell who is the owner. i must request her, however, to step forward and take possession of her property. if there is the slightest attempt at concealment, the whole matter will be laid before mrs willis at noon to-day." when miss good had finished her little speech, she held up the book in its green binding and looked down the room. hester did not know why her heart beat--no one glanced at her, no one regarded her; all eyes were fixed on miss good, who stood with a severe, unsmiling, but expectant face. "come, young ladies," she said, "the owner has surely no difficulty in recognising her own property. i give you exactly thirty seconds more; then, if no one claims the book, i place the affair in mrs willis's hands." just then there was a stir among the girls in the head class. a tall girl in dove-coloured cashmere, with a smooth head of golden hair, and a fair face which was a good deal flushed at this moment, stepped to the front, and said in a clear and perfectly modulated voice-- "i had no idea of concealing the fact that `jane eyre' belongs to me. i was only puzzled for a moment to know how it got on the floor. i placed it carefully in my desk last night. i think this circumstance ought to be inquired into." "oh! oh!" came from several suppressed voices here and there through the room; "whoever would have supposed that dora russell would be obliged to humble herself in this way?" "attention, young ladies!" said miss good; "no talking, if you please. do i understand, miss russell, that `jane eyre' is yours?" "yes, miss good." "why did you keep it in your desk--were you reading it during preparation?" "on, yes, certainly." "you are, of course, aware that you were breaking two very stringent rules of the school. in the first place, no story-books are allowed to be concealed in a school-desk, or to be read during preparation. in the second place, this special book is not allowed to be read at any time in lavender house. you know these rules, miss russell?" "yes, miss good." "i must retain the book--you can return now to your place in class." miss russell bowed sedately, and with an apparently unmoved face, except for the slightly deepened glow on her smooth cheek, resumed her interrupted work. lessons went off as usual, but during recreation the mystery of the discovered book was largely discussed by the girls. as is the custom of school-girls, they took violent sides in the matter--some rejoicing in dora's downfall, some pitying her intensely. hester was, of course, one of miss russell's champions, and she looked at her with tender sympathy when she came with her haughty and graceful manner into the school-room, and her little heart beat with a vague hope that dora might turn to her for sympathy. dora, however, did nothing of the kind. she refused to discuss the affair with her companions, and none of them quite knew what mrs willis said to her, or what special punishment was inflicted on the proud girl. several of her school-fellows expected that dora's drawing-room would be taken away from her, but she still retained it; and after a few days the affair of the book was almost forgotten. there was, however, an uncomfortable and an uneasy spirit abroad in the school. susan drummond, who was certainly one of the most uninteresting girls in lavender house, was often seen walking with and talking to miss forest. sometimes annie shook her pretty head over susan's remarks; sometimes she listened to her; sometimes she laughed and spoke eagerly for a moment or two, and appeared to acquiesce in suggestions which her companion urged. annie had always been the soul of disorder--of wild pranks, of naughty and disobedient deeds--but, hitherto, in all her wildness she had never intentionally hurt any one but herself. hers was a giddy and thoughtless, but by no means a bitter tongue--she thought well of all her school-fellows--and on occasions she could be self-sacrificing and good-natured to a remarkable extent. the girls of the head class took very little notice of annie, but her other school-companions, as a rule, succumbed to her sunny, bright, and witty ways. she offended them a hundred times a day, and a hundred times a day was forgiven. hester was the first girl in the third-class who had ever persistently disliked annie and annie, after making one or two overtures of friendship, began to return miss thornton's aversion; but she had never cordially hated her until the day they met in cecil temple's drawing-room and hester had wounded annie in her tenderest part by doubting her affection for mrs willis. since that day there was a change very noticeable in annie forest--she was not so gay as formerly, but she was a great deal more mischievous-- she was not nearly so daring, but she was capable now of little actions slight in themselves, which yet were calculated to cause mischief and real unhappiness. her sudden friendship with susan drummond did her no good, and she persistently avoided all intercourse with cecil temple, who hitherto had influenced her in the right direction. the incident of the green book had passed with no apparent result of grave importance, but the spirit of mischief which had caused this book to be found was by no means asleep in the school. pranks were played in a most mysterious fashion with the girls' properties. hester herself was the very next victim. she too was a neat and orderly child--she was clever and thoroughly enjoyed her school work. she was annoyed, therefore, and dreadfully puzzled, by discovering one morning that her neat french exercise-book was disgracefully blotted, and one page torn across. she was severely reprimanded by mdlle. perier for such gross untidiness and carelessness, and when she assured the governess that she knew nothing whatever of the circumstance, that she was never guilty of blots, and had left the book in perfect order the night before, the french lady only shrugged her shoulders, made an expressive gesture with her eyebrows, and plainly showed hester that she thought the less she said on that subject the better. hester was required to write out her exercise again, and she fancied she saw a triumphant look in annie forest's eyes as she left the school-room, where poor hester was obliged to remain to undergo her unmerited punishment. "cecil," called hester, in a passionate and eager voice, as miss temple was passing her place. cecil paused for a moment. "what is it, hetty?--oh, i am so sorry you must stay in this lovely bright day." "i have done nothing wrong," said hester; "i never blotted this exercise-book; i never tore this page. it is most unjust not to believe my word; it is most unjust to punish me for what i have not done." miss temple's face looked puzzled and sad. "i must not stay to talk to you now, hester," she whispered; "i am breaking the rules. you can come to my drawing-room by-and-by, and we will discuss this matter." but hester and cecil, talk as they would, could find no solution to the mystery. cecil absolutely refused to believe that annie forest had anything to do with the matter. "no," she said, "such deceit is not in annie's nature. i would do anything to help you, hester; but i can't, and i won't, believe that annie tried deliberately to do you any harm." "i am quite certain she did," retorted hester, "and from this moment i refuse to speak to her until she confesses what she has done and apologises to me. indeed, i have a great mind to go and tell everything to mrs willis." "oh, i would not do that," said cecil; "none of your school-fellows would forgive you if you charged such a favourite as annie with a crime which you cannot in the least prove against her. you must be patient, hester, and if you are, i will take your part, and try to get at the bottom of the mystery." cecil, however, failed to do so. annie laughed when the affair was discussed in her presence, but her clear eyes looked as innocent as the day, and nothing would induce cecil to doubt miss forest's honour. the mischievous sprite, however, who was sowing such seeds of unhappiness in the hitherto peaceful school was not satisfied with two deeds of daring; for a week afterwards cecil temple found a book of mrs browning's, out of which she was learning a piece for recitation, with its cover half torn off, and, still worse, a caricature of mrs willis sketched with some cleverness and a great deal of malice on the title-page. on the very same morning, dora russell, on opening her desk, was seen to throw up her hands with a gesture of dismay. the neat composition she had finished the night before was not to be seen in its accustomed place, but in a corner of the desk were two bulky and mysterious parcels, one of which contained a great junk of rich plum-cake, and the other some very sticky and messy "turkish delight;" while the paper which enveloped these luxuries was found to be that on which the missing composition was written. dora's face grew very white--she forgot the ordinary rules of the school, and, leaving her class, walked down the room, and interrupted miss good, who was beginning to instruct the third-class in english grammar. "will you please come and see something in my desk, miss good?" she said in a voice which trembled with excitement. it was while she was speaking that cecil found the copy of mrs browning mutilated, and with the disgraceful caricature on its title-page. startled as she was by this discovery, and also by miss russell's extraordinary behaviour, she had presence of mind enough to hide the sight which pained her from her companions. unobserved, in the strong interest of the moment, for all the girls were watching dora russell and miss good, she managed to squeeze the little volume into her pocket. she had indeed received a great shock, for she knew well that the only girl who could caricature in the school was annie forest. for a moment her troubled eyes sought the ground, but then she raised them and looked at annie. annie, however, with a particularly cheerful face, and her bright dark eyes full of merriment, was gazing in astonishment at the scene which was taking place in front of miss russell's desk. dora, whose enunciation was very clear, seemed to have absolutely forgotten herself; she disregarded miss good's admonitions, and declared stoutly that at such a moment she did not care what rules she broke. she was quite determined that the culprit who had dared to desecrate her composition, and put plum-cake and "turkish delight" into her desk, should be publicly exposed and punished. "the thing cannot go on any longer, miss good," she said; "there is a girl in this school who ought to be expelled from it, and i for one declare openly that i will not submit to associate with a girl who is worse than unladylike. if you will permit me, miss good, i will carry these things at once to mrs willis, and beg of her to investigate the whole affair, and bring the culprit to justice, and to turn her out of the school." "stay, miss russell," exclaimed the english teacher, "you strangely and completely forget yourself. you are provoked. i own, but you have no right to stand up and absolutely hoist the flag of rebellion in the faces of the other girls. i cannot excuse your conduct. i will myself take away these parcels which were found in your desk, and will report the affair to mrs willis. she will take what steps she thinks right in bringing you to order, and in discovering the author of this mischief. return instantly to your desk, miss russell; you strangely forget yourself." miss good left the room, having removed the plum-cake and "turkish delight" from dora russell's desk, and lessons continued as best they could under such exciting circumstances. at twelve o'clock that day, just as the girls were preparing to go up to their rooms to get ready for their usual walk, mrs willis came into the school-room. "stay one moment, young ladies," said the head-mistress in that slightly vibrating and authoritative voice of hers. "i have a word or two to say to you all. miss good has just brought me a painful story of wanton and cruel mischief. there are fifty girls in this school, who, until lately, lived happily together. there is now one girl among the fifty whose object it is to sow seeds of discord and misery among her companions. miss good has told me of three different occasions on which mischief has been done to different girls in the school. twice miss russell's desk has been disturbed, once miss thornton's. it is possible that other girls may also have suffered who have been noble enough not to complain. there is, however, a grave mischief, in short, a moral disease in our midst. such a thing is worse than bodily illness--it must be stamped out instantly and completely at the risk of any personal suffering. i am now going to ask you, girls, a simple question, and i demand instant truth without any reservation. miss russell's desk has been tampered with--miss thornton's desk has been tampered with. has any other girl suffered injury--has any other girl's desk been touched?" mrs willis looked down the long room--her voice had reached every corner, and the quiet, dignified, and deeply-pained expression in her fine eyes was plainly visible to each girl in the school. even the little ones were startled and subdued by the tone of mrs willis's voice, and one or two of them suddenly burst into tears. mrs willis paused for a full moment, then she repeated her question. "i insist upon knowing the exact truth, my dear children," she said gently but with great decision. "my desk has also been tampered with," said miss temple in a low voice. every one started when cecil spoke, and even annie forest glanced at her with a half-frightened and curious expression. cecil's voice indeed was so low, so shaken with doubt and pain, that her companions scarcely recognised it. "come here, miss temple," said mrs willis. cecil instantly left her desk and walked up the room. "your desk has also been tampered with, you say?" repeated the head-mistress. "yes, madam." "when did you discover this?" "to-day, mrs willis." "you kept it to yourself?" "yes." "will you now repeat in the presence of the school, and in a loud enough voice to be heard by all here, exactly what was done?" "pardon me," answered cecil, and now her voice was a little less agitated and broken, and she looked full into the face of her teacher, "i cannot do that." "you deliberately disobey me, cecil?" said mrs willis. "yes, madam." mrs willis's face flushed--she did not, however, look angry--she laid her hand on cecil's shoulder and looked full into her eyes. "you are one of my best pupils, cecil," she said tenderly. "at such a moment as this honour requires you to stand by your mistress. i must insist on your telling me here and now exactly what has occurred." cecil's face grew whiter and whiter. "i cannot tell you," she murmured; "it breaks my heart, but i cannot tell you." "you have defied me, cecil," said mrs willis in a tone of deep pain. "i must, my dear, insist on your obedience, but not now. miss good, will you take miss temple to the chapel? i will come to you, cecil, in an hour's time." cecil walked down the room crying silently. her deep distress and her very firm refusal to disclose what she knew had made a great impression on her school-fellows. they all felt troubled and uneasy, and annie forest's face was very pale. "this thing, this wicked, mischievous thing has gone deeper than i feared," said mrs willis, when cecil had left the room. "only some very strong motive would make cecil temple behave as she is now doing. she is influenced by a mistaken idea of what is right; she wishes to shield the guilty person. i may as well tell you all, young ladies, that, dear as cecil is to me, she is now under the ban of my severe displeasure. until she confesses the truth and humbles herself before me, i cannot be reconciled to her. i cannot permit her to associate with you. she has done very wrong, and her punishment must be proportionately severe. there is one chance for her, however. will the girl whom she is mistakenly, though generously, trying to shield, come forward and confess her guilt, and so release poor cecil from the terrible position in which she has placed herself? by doing so, the girl who has caused all this misery will at least show me that she is trying to repent." mrs willis paused again, and now she looked down the room with a face of almost entreaty. several pairs of eyes were fixed anxiously on her, several looked away, and many girls glanced in the direction of annie forest, who, feeling herself suspected, returned their glances with bold defiance, and instantly assumed her most reckless manner. mrs willis waited for a full minute. "the culprit is not noble enough," she said then. "now, girls, i must ask each of you to come up one by one and deny or confess this charge. as you do so, you are silently to leave the school-room and go up to your rooms, and prepare for the walk which has been so painfully delayed. miss conway, you are at the head of the school, will you set the example?" one by one the girls of the head class stepped up to their teacher, and of each one she asked the same question-- "are you guilty?" each girl replied in the negative and walked out of the school-room. the second-class followed the example of the first, and then the third-class came up to their teacher. several ears were strained to hear annie forest's answer, but her eyes were lifted fearlessly to mrs willis's face, and her "no!" was heard all over the room. chapter twelve. in the chapel. the bright light from a full noontide sun was shining in coloured bars through the richly-painted windows of the little chapel when mrs willis sought cecil temple there. cecil's face was in many ways a remarkable one. her soft brown eyes were generally filled with a steadfast and kindly ray. gentleness was her special prerogative, but there was nothing weak about her--hers was the gentleness of a strong and pure and noble soul. to know cecil was to love her. she was a motherless girl, and the only child of a most indulgent father. colonel temple was now in india, and cecil was to finish her education under mrs willis's care, and then, if necessary, to join her father. mrs willis had always taken a special interest in this girl. she admired her for her great moral worth. cecil was not particularly clever, but she was so studious, so painstaking, that she always kept a high place in class. she was without doubt a religious girl, but there was nothing of the prig about her. she was not, however, ashamed of her religion, and, if the fitting occasion arose, she was fearless in expressing her opinion. mrs willis used to call cecil her "little standard-bearer," and she relied greatly on her influence over the third-class girls. mrs willis considered the third-class, perhaps, the most important in the school. she was often heard to say-- "the girls who fill this class have come to a turning-point--they have come to the age when resolves may be made for life, and kept. the good third-class girl is very unlikely to degenerate as she passes through the second and first classes. on the other hand, there is very little hope that the idle or mischievous third-class girl will mend her ways as she goes higher in the school." mrs willis's steps were very slow, and her thoughts extremely painful, as she entered the chapel to-day. had any one else offered her defiance she would have known how to deal with the culprit, but cecil would never have acted as she did without the strongest motive, and mrs willis felt more sorrowful than angry as she sat down by the side of her favourite pupil. "i have kept you waiting longer than i intended, my dear," she said. "i was unexpectedly interrupted, and i am sorry; but you have had more time to think, cecil." "yes, i have thought," answered cecil, in a very low tone. "and, perhaps," continued her governess, "in this quiet and beautiful and sacred place, my dear pupil has also prayed?" "i have prayed," said cecil. "then you have been guided, cecil," said mrs willis in a tone of relief. "we do not come to god in our distress without being shown the right way. your doubts have been removed, cecil; you can now speak fully to me; can you not, dear?" "i have asked god to tell me what is right," said cecil. "i don't pretend to know. i am very much puzzled. it seems to me that more good would be done if i concealed what you asked me to confess in the school-room. my own feeling is that i ought not to tell you. i know this is great disobedience, and i am quite willing to receive any punishment you think right to give me. yes, i think i am quite willing to receive _any_ punishment." mrs willis put her hand on cecil's shoulder. "ordinary punishments are not likely to affect you, cecil," she said; "on you i have no idea of inflicting extra lessons, or depriving you of half-holidays, or even taking away your drawing-room. but there is something else you must lose, and that i know will touch you deeply--i must remove from you my confidence." cecil's face grew very pale. "and your love, too?" she said, looking up with imploring eyes: "oh, surely not your love as well?" "i ask you frankly, cecil," replied mrs willis, "can perfect love exist without perfect confidence? i would not willingly deprive you of my love, but of necessity the love i have hitherto felt for you must be altered--in short, the old love which enabled me to rest on you and trust you, will cease." cecil covered her face with her hands. "this punishment is very cruel," she said. "you are right; it reaches down to my very heart. but," she added, looking up with a strong and sweet light in her face, "i will try and bear it, and some day you will understand." "listen, cecil," said mrs willis, "you have just told me you have prayed to god, and have asked him to show you the right path. now, my dear, suppose we kneel together, and both of us ask him to show us the way out of this difficult matter. i want to be guided to use the right words with you, cecil. you want to be guided to receive the instruction which i, as your teacher and mother-friend, would give you." cecil and mrs willis both knelt down, and the head-mistress said a few words in a voice of great earnestness and entreaty; then they resumed their seats. "now, cecil," said mrs willis, "you must remember in listening to me that i am speaking to you as i believe god wishes me to. if i can convince you that you are doing wrong in concealing what you know from me, will you act as i wish in the matter?" "i long to be convinced," said cecil, in a low tone. "that is right, my dear; i can now speak to you with perfect freedom. my words you will remember, cecil, are now, i firmly believe, directed by god; they are also the result of a large experience. i have trained many girls. i have watched the phases of thought in many young minds. cecil, look at me. i can read you like a book." cecil looked up expectantly. "your motive for this concealment is as clear as the daylight, cecil. you are keeping back what you know because you want to shield some one. am i not right, my dear?" the colour flooded cecil's pale face. she bent her head in silent assent, but her eyes were too full of tears, and her lips trembled too much to allow her to speak. "the girl you want to defend," continued mrs willis, in that clear patient voice of hers, "is one whom you and i both love; is one for whom we both have prayed; is one for whom we would both gladly sacrifice ourselves if necessary--her name is--" "oh, don't," said cecil imploringly--"don't say her name; you have no right to suspect her." "i must say her name, cecil dear. if you suspect annie forest, why should not i? you do suspect her, do you not, cecil?" cecil began to cry. "i know it," continued mrs willis. "now, cecil, we will suppose, terrible as this suspicion is, fearfully as it pains us both, that annie forest _is_ guilty. we must suppose for the sake of my argument that this is the case. do you not know, my dear cecil, that you are doing the falsest, cruellest thing by dear annie in trying to hide her sin from me? suppose, just for the sake of our argument, that this cowardly conduct on annie's part was never found out by me; what effect would it have on annie herself?" "it would save her in the eyes of the school," said cecil. "just so, but god would know the truth. her next downfall would be deeper. in short, cecil, under the idea of friendship you would have done the cruellest thing in all the world for your friend." cecil was quite silent. "this is one way to look at it," continued mrs willis, "but there are many other points from which this case ought to be viewed. you owe much to annie, but not all--you have a duty to perform to your other school-fellows. you have a duty to perform to me. if you possess a clue which will enable me to convict annie forest of her sin, in common justice you have no right to withhold it. remember that while she goes about free and unsuspected some other girl is under the ban--some other girl is watched and feared. you fail in your duty to your school-fellows when you keep back your knowledge, cecil. when you refuse to trust me, you fail in your duty to your mistress; for i cannot stamp out this evil and wicked thing from our midst unless i know all. when you conceal your knowledge, you ruin the character of the girl you seek to shield. when you conceal your knowledge, you go against god's express wish. there--i have spoken to you as he directed me to speak." cecil suddenly sprang to her feet. "i never thought of all these things," she said. "you are right, but it is very hard, and mine is only a suspicion. oh, do be tender to her, and--forgive me--may i go away now?" as she spoke, she pulled out the torn copy of mrs browning, laid it on her teacher's lap, and ran swiftly out of the chapel. chapter thirteen. talking over the mystery. annie forest sitting in the midst of a group of eager admirers, was chatting volubly. never had she been in higher spirits, never had her pretty face looked more bright and daring. cecil temple, coming into the play-room, started when she saw her. annie, however, instantly rose from the low hassock on which she had perched herself and, running up to cecil, put her hand through her arm. "we are all discussing the mystery, darling," said she; "we have discussed it, and literally torn it to shreds, and yet never got at the kernel. we have guessed and guessed what your motive can be in concealing the truth from mrs willis, and we all unanimously vote that you are a dear old martyr, and that you have some admirable reason for keeping back the truth. you cannot think what an excitement we are in-- even susy drummond has stayed awake to listen to our chatter. now, cecil, do come and sit here in this most inviting little armchair, and tell us what our dear head-mistress said to you in the chapel. it did seem so awful to send you to the chapel, poor dear cecil." cecil stood perfectly still and quiet while annie was pouring out her torrent of eager words; her eyes, indeed, did not quite meet her companion's, but she allowed annie to retain her clasp of her arm, and she evidently listened with attention to her words. now, however, when miss forest tried to draw her into the midst of the eager and animated group who sat round the play-room fire, she hesitated and looked longingly in the direction of her peaceful little drawing-room. her hesitation, however, was but momentary. quite silently she walked with annie down the large play-room and entered the group of girls. "here's your throne, queen cecil," said annie trying to push her into the little armchair; but cecil would not seat herself. "how nice that you have come, cecil!" said mary pierce, a second-class girl. "i really think, we all think, that you were very brave to stand out against mrs willis as you did. of course we are devoured with curiosity to know what it means; aren't we, flo?" "yes, we're in agonies," answered flo dunstan, another second-class girl. "you will tell exactly what mrs willis said, darling heroine?" proceeded annie in her most dulcet tones. "you concealed your knowledge, didn't you? you were very firm, weren't you? dear, brave love!" "for my part, i think cecil temple the soul of brave firmness," here interrupted susan drummond. "i fancy she's as hard and firm in herself when she wants to conceal a thing as that rocky sweetmeat which always hurts our teeth to get through. yes, i do fancy that." "oh, susy, what a horrid metaphor!" here interrupted several girls. one, however, of the eager group of school-girls had not opened her lips or said a word; that girl was hester thornton. she had been drawn into the circle by an intense curiosity; but she had made no comment with regard to cecil's conduct. if she knew anything of the mystery she had thrown no light on it. she had simply sat motionless, with watchful and alert eyes and silent tongue. now, for the first time, she spoke. "i think, if you will allow her, that cecil has got something to say," she remarked. cecil glanced down at her with a very brief look of gratitude. "thank you, hester," she said. "i won't keep you a moment, girls. i cannot offer to throw any light on the mystery which makes us all so miserable to-day; but i think it right to undeceive you with regard to myself. i have not concealed what i know from mrs willis. she is in possession of all the facts, and what i found in my desk this morning is now in her keeping. she has made me see that in concealing my knowledge i was acting wrongly, and whatever pain has come to me in the matter, she now knows all." when cecil had finished her sad little speech she walked straight out of the group of girls, and, without glancing at one of them, went across the play-room to her own compartment. she had failed to observe a quick and startled glance from susan drummond's sleepy blue eyes, nor had she heard her mutter--half to her companions, half to herself--"cecil is not like the rocky sweetmeat; i was mistaken in her." neither had cecil seen the flash of almost triumph in hester's eyes, nor the defiant glance she threw at miss forest. annie stood with her hands clasped, and a little frown of perplexity between her brows, for a moment; then she ran fearlessly down the play-room, and said in a low voice at the other side of cecil's curtains-- "may i come in?" cecil said "yes," and annie, entering the pretty little drawing-room, flung her arms round miss temple's neck. "cecil," she exclaimed impulsively, "you're in great trouble. i am a giddy, reckless thing, i know, but i don't laugh at people when they are in real trouble. won't you tell me all about it, cecil?" "i will, annie. sit down there and i will tell you everything. i think you have a right to know, and i am glad you have come to me. i thought, perhaps--but no matter. annie, can't you guess what i am going to say?" "no, i'm sure i can't," said annie. "i saw for a moment or two to-day that some of those absurd girls suspected me of being the author of all this mischief. now, you know, cecil, i love a bit of fun beyond words. if there's any going on i feel nearly mad until i am in it; but what was done to-day was not at all in accordance with my ideas of fun. to tear up miss russell's essay and fill her desk with stupid plum-cake and turkish delight seems to me but a sorry kind of jest. now, if i had been guilty of that sort of thing, i'd have managed something far cleverer than that. if _i_ had tampered with dora russell's desk, i'd have done the thing in style. the dear, sweet, dignified creature should have shrieked in real terror. you don't know perhaps, cecil, that our admirable dora is no end of a coward. i wonder what she would have said if i had put a little nest of field-mice in her desk. i saw that the poor thing suspected me, as she gave way to her usual little sneer about the `underbred girl:' but, of course, _you_ know me, cecil. why, my dear cecil, what is the matter? how white you are, and you are actually crying! what is it, cecil? what is it, cecil, darling?" cecil dried her eyes quickly. "you know my pet copy of mrs browning's poems, don't you, annie?" "oh, yes, of course. you lent it to me one day. don't you remember how you made me cry over that picture of little alice, the over-worked factory girl? what about the book, cecil?" "i found the book in my desk," said cecil, in a steady tone, and now fixing her eyes on annie, who knelt by her side--"i found the book in my desk, although i never keep it there; for it is quite against the rules to keep our recreation books in our school-desks, and you know, annie, i always think it is so much easier to keep these little rules. they are matters of duty and conscience after all. i found my copy of mrs browning in my desk this morning with the cover torn off, and with a very painful and ludicrous caricature of our dear mrs willis sketched on the title-page." "what?" said annie. "no, no; impossible." "you know nothing about it do you, annie?" "i never put it there, if that's what you mean," said annie. but her face had undergone a curious change. her light and easy and laughing manner had altered. when cecil mentioned the caricature she flushed a vivid crimson. her flush had quickly died away, leaving her olive-tinted face paler than its wont. "i see," she said, after a long pause, "you, too, suspected me, cecil, and that is why you tried to conceal the thing. you know that i am the only girl in the school who can draw caricatures, but did you suppose that i would show _her_ dishonour? of course things look ugly for me, if this is what you found in your book; but i did not think that _you_ would suspect me, cecil." "i will believe you, annie," said cecil eagerly. "i long beyond words to believe you. with all your faults, no one has ever yet found you out in a lie. if you look at me, annie, and tell me honestly that you know nothing whatever about that caricature, i will believe you. yes, i will believe you fully, and i will go with you to mrs willis and tell her that, whoever did the wrong, you are innocent in this matter. say you know nothing about it, dear, dear annie, and take a load off my heart." "i never put the caricature into your book, cecil." "and you know nothing about it?" "i cannot say that; i never--never put it in your book." "oh, annie, exclaimed poor cecil, you are trying to deceive me. why won't you be brave? oh, annie, i never thought you would stoop to a lie!" "i'm telling no lie," answered annie with sudden passion. "i do know something about the caricature, but i never put it into that book. there! you doubt me, you have ceased to believe me, and i won't waste any more words on the matter." chapter fourteen. "sent to coventry." there were many girls in the school who remembered that dismal half-holiday--they remembered its forced mirth and its hidden anxiety; and as the hours flew by the suspicion that annie forest was the author of all the mischief grew and deepened. a school is like a little world, and popular opinion is apt to change with great rapidity. annie was undoubtedly the favourite of the school; but favourites are certain to have enemies, and there were several girls unworthy enough and mean enough to be jealous of poor annie's popularity. she was the kind of girl whom only very small natures could really dislike. her popularity arose from the simple fact that hers was a peculiarly joyous and unselfish nature. she was a girl with scarcely any self-consciousness; those she loved, she loved devotedly; she threw herself with a certain feverish impetuosity into their lives, and made their interests her own. to get into mischief and trouble for the sake of a friend was an every-day occurrence with annie. she was not the least studious; she had no one particular talent, unless it was an untrained and birdlike voice; she was always more or less in hot water about her lessons, always behindhand in her tasks, always leaving undone what she should do, and doing what she should not do. she was a contradictory, erratic creature--jealous of no one, envious of no one--dearly loving a joke, and many times inflicting pain from sheer thoughtlessness, but always ready to say she was sorry, always ready to make friends again. it is strange that such a girl as annie should have enemies, but she had, and in the last few weeks the feeling of jealousy and envy which had always been smouldering in some breasts took more active form. two reasons accounted for this: hester's openly avowed and persistent dislike to annie, and miss russell's declared conviction that she was underbred and not a lady. miss russell was the only girl in the first-class who had hitherto given wild little annie a thought. in the first-class, to-day, annie had to act the unpleasing part of the wicked little heroine. miss russell was quite certain of annie's guilt; she and her companions condescended to discuss poor annie and to pull all her little virtues to pieces, and to magnify her sins to an alarming extent. after two or three hours of judicious conversation, dora russell and most of the other first-class girls decided that annie ought to be expelled, and unanimously resolved that they at least, would do what they could to "send her to coventry." in the lower part of the school annie also had a few enemies, and these girls, having carefully observed hester's attitude toward her, now came up close to this dignified little lady, and asked her boldly to declare her opinion with regard to annie's guilt. hester, without the least hesitation, assured them that "of course annie had done it." "there is not room for a single doubt on the subject," she said; "there--look at her now." at this instant annie was leaving cecil's compartment, and with red eyes, and hair, as usual, falling about her face, was running out of the play-room. she seemed in great distress; but, nevertheless, before she reached the door, she stopped to pick up a little girl of five, who was fretting about some small annoyance. annie took the little one in her arms, kissed her tenderly, whispered some words in her ear, which caused the little face to light up with some smiles and the round arms to clasp annie with an ecstatic hug. she dropped the child, who ran back to play merrily with her companions, and left the room. the group of middle-class girls still sat on by the fire, but hester thornton now, not annie, was the centre of attraction. it was the first time in all her young life that hester had found herself in the enviable position of a favourite; and without at all knowing what mischief she was doing, she could not resist improving the occasion, and making the most of her dislike for annie. several of those who even were fond of miss forest came round to the conviction that she was really guilty, and one by one, as is the fashion not only among school-girls but in the greater world outside, they began to pick holes in their former favourite. these girls, too, resolved that, if annie were really so mean as maliciously to injure other girls' property and get them into trouble, she must be "sent to coventry." "what's coventry?" asked one of the little ones, the child whom annie had kissed and comforted, now sidling up to the group. "oh, a nasty place, phena," said mary bell, putting her arm round the pretty child and drawing her to her side. "and who is going there?" "why, i am afraid it is naughty annie forest." "she's not naughty! annie sha'n't go to any nasty place. i hate you, mary bell." the little one looked round the group with flashing eyes of defiance, then wrenched herself away to return to her younger companions. "it was stupid of you to say that, mary," remarked one of the girls. "well," she continued, "i suppose it is all settled, and poor annie, to say the least of it, is not a lady. for my own part, i always thought her great fun, but if she is proved guilty of this offence i wash my hands of her." "we all wash our hands of her," echoed the girls, with the exception of susan drummond, who, as usual, was nodding in her chair. "what do you say, susy?" asked one or two--"you have not opened your lips all this lime." "i--eh?--what?" asked susan, stretching herself and yawning, "oh, about annie forest--i suppose you are right, girls. is not that the tea-gong? i'm awfully hungry." hester thornton went into the tea-room that evening feeling particularly virtuous, and with an idea that she had distinguished herself in some way. poor foolish, thoughtless hester, she little guessed what seed she had sown, and what a harvest she was preparing for her own reaping by-and-by. chapter fifteen. about some people who thought no evil. a few days after this hester was much delighted to receive an invitation from her little friends, the misses bruce. these good ladies had not forgotten the lonely and miserable child whom they had comforted not a little during her journey to school six weeks ago. they invited hester to spend the next half-holiday with them, and as this happened to fall on a saturday, mrs willis gave hester permission to remain with her friends until eight o'clock, when she would send the carriage to fetch her home. the trouble about annie had taken place the wednesday before, and all the girls' heads were full of the uncleared-up mystery when hester started on her little expedition. nothing was known; no fresh light had been thrown on the subject. everything went on as usual within the school, and a casual observer would never have noticed the cloud which rested over that usually happy dwelling. a casual observer would have noticed little or no change in annie forest; her merry laugh was still heard, her light step still danced across the play-room floor, she was in her place in class, and was, if anything, a little more attentive and a little more successful over her lessons. her pretty, piquant face, her arch expression, the bright, quick and droll glance which she alone could give, were still to be seen; but those who knew her well and those who loved her best saw a change in annie. in the play-room she devoted herself exclusively to the little ones; she never went near cecil temple's drawing-room, she never mingled with the girls of the middle school as they clustered round the cheerful fire. at meal-times she ate little, and her room-fellow was heard to declare that she was awakened more than once in the middle of the night by the sound of annie's sobs. in chapel, too, when she fancied herself quite unobserved, her face wore an expression of great pain; but if mrs willis happened to glance in her direction, instantly the little mouth became demure and almost hard, the dark eyelashes were lowered over the bright eyes, the whole expression of the face showed the extreme of indifference. hester felt more sure than ever of annie's guilt; but one or two of the other girls in the school wavered in this opinion, and would have taken annie out of "coventry" had she herself made the smallest advance toward them. annie and hester had not spoken to each other now for several days; but on this afternoon, which was a bright one in early spring, as hester was changing her school-dress for her sunday one, and preparing for her visit to the misses bruce, there came a light knock at her door. she said "come in," rather impatiently, for she was in a hurry, and dreaded being kept. to her surprise annie forest put in her curly head, and then, dancing with her usual light movement across the room, she laid a little bunch of dainty spring flowers on the dressing-table beside hester. hester stared, first at the intruder and then at the early primroses. she passionately loved flowers, and would have exclaimed with ecstasy at these had anyone brought them in except annie. "i want you," said annie, rather timidly for her, "to take these flowers from me to miss agnes and miss jane bruce. it will be very kind of you if you will take them. i am sorry to have interrupted you--thank you very much." she was turning away when hester compelled herself to remark-- "is there any message with the flowers?" "oh, no--only annie forest's love. they'll understand." she turned half round as she spoke, and hester saw that her eyes had filled with tears. she felt touched in spite of herself. there was something in annie's face now which reminded her of her darling little nan at home. she had seen the same beseeching, sorrowful look in nan's brown eyes when she had wanted her friends to kiss her and take her to their hearts and love her. hester would not allow herself, however, to feel any tenderness toward annie. of course she was not really a bit like sweet little nan, and it was absurd to suppose that a great girl like annie could want caressing and petting and soothing; still, in spite of herself, annie's look haunted her, and she took great care of the little flower-offering, and presented it with annie's message instantly on her arrival to the little old ladies. miss jane and miss agnes were very much pleased with the early primroses. they looked at one another and said-- "poor dear little girl," in tender voices, and then they put the flowers into one of their daintiest vases, and made much of them, and showed them to any visitors who happened to call that afternoon. their little house looked something like a doll's house to hester, who had been accustomed all her life to large rooms and spacious passages; but it was the sweetest, daintiest, and most charming little abode in the world. it was not unlike a nest, and the misses bruce in certain ways resembled bright little robin redbreasts, so small, so neat, so chirrupy they were. hester enjoyed her afternoon immensely; the little ladies were right in their prophecy, and she was no longer lonely at school. she enjoyed talking about her school-fellows, about her new life, about her studies. the misses bruce were decidedly fond of a gossip, but something which she could not at all define in their manner prevented hester from retailing for their benefit any unkind news. they told her frankly at last that they were only interested in the good things which went on in the school, and that they found no pursuit so altogether delightful as finding out the best points in all the people they came across. they would not even laugh at sleepy, tiresome susan drummond; on the contrary, they pitied her, and miss jane wondered if the girl could be quite well, whereupon miss agnes shook her head, and said emphatically that it was hester's duty to rouse poor susy, and to make her waking life so interesting to her that she should no longer care to spend so many hours in the world of dreams. there is such a thing as being so kind-hearted, so gentle, so charitable as to make the people who have not encouraged these virtues feel quite uncomfortable. by the mere force of contrast they begin to see themselves something as they really are. since hester had come to lavender house she had taken very little pains to please others rather than herself, and she was now almost startled to see how she had allowed selfishness to get the better of her. while the misses bruce were speaking, old longings, which had slept since her mother's death, came back to the young girl, and she began to wish that she could be kinder to susan drummond, and that she could overcome her dislike to annie forest. she longed to say something about annie to the little ladies, but they evidently did not wish to allude to the subject. when she was going away, they gave her a small parcel. "you will kindly give this to your schoolfellow, miss forest, hester dear," they both said, and then they kissed her, and said they hoped they should see her again: and hester got into the old-fashioned school brougham, and held the brown-paper parcel in her hand. as she was going into the chapel that night, mary bell came up to her and whispered-- "we have not got to the bottom of that mystery about annie forest yet. mrs willis can evidently make nothing of her, and i believe mr everard is going to talk to her after prayers to-night." as she was speaking, annie herself pushed rather rudely past the two girls; her face was flushed, and her hair was even more untidy than was its wont. "here is a parcel for you, miss forest," said hester, in a much more gentle tone than she was wont to use when she addressed this objectionable school-mate. all the girls were now filing into the chapel, and hester should certainly not have presented the little parcel at that moment. "breaking the rules, miss thornton," said annie; "all right, toss it here." then, as hester failed to comply, she ran back, knocking her school-fellows out of place, and, snatching the parcel from hester's hand, threw it high in the air. this was a piece of not only wilful audacity and disobedience, but it even savoured of the profane, for annie's step was on the threshold of the chapel, and the parcel fell with a noisy bang on the floor some feet inside the little building. "bring me that parcel, annie forest," whispered the stern voice of the head-mistress. annie sullenly complied; but when she came up to mrs willis, her governess took her hand, and pushed her down into a low seat a little behind her. chapter sixteen. "an enemy hath done this." the short evening service was over, and one by one, in orderly procession, the girls left the chapel. annie was about to rise to her feet to follow her school-companions, when mrs willis stooped down and whispered something in her ear. her face became instantly suffused with a dull red; she resumed her seat, and buried her face in both her hands. one or two of the girls noticed her despondent attitude as they left the chapel, and cecil temple looked back with a glance of such unutterable sympathy that annie's proud, suffering little heart would have been touched could she but have seen the look. presently the young steps died away, and annie, raising her head, saw that she was alone with mr everard, who seated himself in the place which mrs willis had occupied by her side. "your governess has asked me to speak to you, my dear," he said, in his kind and fatherly tones; "she wants us to discuss this thing which is making you so unhappy quite fully together." here the clergyman paused, and, noticing a sudden wistful and soft look in the girl's brown eyes, he continued: "perhaps, however, you have something to say to me which will throw light on this mystery?" "no, sir, i have nothing to say," replied annie, and now again the sullen expression passed like a wave over her face. "poor child," said mr everard. "perhaps, annie," he continued, "you do not quite understand me--you do not quite read my motive in talking to you to-night. i am not here in any sense to reprove you. you are either guilty of this sin, or you are not guilty. in either case i pity you; it is very hard, very bitter, to be falsely accused--i pity you much if this is the case; but it is still harder, annie, still more bitter, still more absolutely crushing to be accused of a sin which we are trying to conceal. in that terrible case god himself hides his face. poor child, poor child, i pity you most of all if you are guilty." annie had again covered her face, and bowed her head over her hands. she did not speak for a moment, but presently mr everard heard a low sob, and then another, and another, until at last her whole frame was shaken with a perfect tempest of weeping. the old clergyman, who had seen many strange phases of human nature, who had in his day comforted and guided more than one young school-girl, was far too wise to do anything to check this flow of grief. he knew annie would speak more fully and more frankly when her tears were over. he was right. she presently raised a very tear-stained face to the clergyman. "i felt very bitter at your coming to speak to me," she began. "mrs willis has always sent for you when everything else has failed with us girls, and i did not think she would treat me so. i was determined not to say anything to you. now, however, you have spoken good words to me, and i can't turn away from you. i will tell you all that is in my heart. i will promise before god to conceal nothing, if only you will do one thing for me." "what is that, my child?" "will you believe me?" "undoubtedly." "ah, but you have not been tried yet. i thought mrs willis would certainly believe; but she said the circumstantial evidence was too strong--perhaps it will be too strong for you." "i promise to believe you, annie forest; if, before god, you can assure me that you are speaking the whole truth, i will fully believe you." annie paused again, then she rose from her seat and stood a pace away from the old minister. "this is the truth before god," she said, as she locked her two hands together and raised her eyes freely and unshrinkingly to mr everard's face. "i have always loved mrs willis. i have reasons for loving her which the girls don't know about. the girls don't know that when my mother was dying she gave me into mrs willis's charge, and she said, `you must keep annie until her father comes back.' mother did not know where father was; but she said he would be sure to come back some day, and look for mother and me: and mrs willis said she would keep me faithfully until father came to claim me. that is four years ago, and my father has never come, nor have i heard of him, and i think, i am almost sure, that the little money which mother left must be all used up. mrs willis never says anything about money, and she did not wish me to tell my story to the girls. none of them know except cecil temple. i am sure some day father will come home, and he will give mrs willis back the money she has spent on me; but never, never, never can he repay her for her goodness to me. you see i cannot help loving mrs willis. it is quite impossible for any girl to have such a friend and not to love her. i know i am very wild, and that i do all sorts of mad things. it seems to me that i cannot help myself sometimes: but i would not willingly, indeed, i would not willingly hurt anybody. last wednesday, as you know, there was a great disturbance in the school. dora russell's desk was tampered with, and so was cecil temple's. you know, of course, what was found in both the desks. mrs willis sent for me, and asked me about the caricature which was drawn in cecil's book. i looked at it and i told her the truth. i did not conceal one thing. i told her the whole truth as far as i knew it. she did not believe me. she said so. what more could i do then?" here annie paused, she began to unclasp and clasp her hands, and she looked full at mr everard with a most pleading expression. "do you mind repeating to me exactly what you said to your governess?" he questioned. "i said this, sir. i said, `yes, mrs willis, i did draw that caricature. you will scarcely understand how i, who love you so much, could have been so mad and ungrateful as to do anything to turn you into ridicule. i would cut off my right hand now not to have done it; but i did do it, and i must tell you the truth.' `tell me, dear,' she said, quite gently then. `it was one wet afternoon about a fortnight ago,' i said to her; `a lot of us middle-school-girls were sitting together, and i had a pencil and some bits of paper, and i was making up funny little groups of a lot of us, and the girls were screaming with laughter, for somehow i managed to make the likeness that i wanted in each case.' it was very wrong of me, i know. it was against the rules; but i was in one of my maddest humours, and i really do not care what the consequences were. at last one of the girls said: `you won't dare to make a picture like that of mrs willis, annie--you know you won't dare.' the minute she said that name i began to feel ashamed. i remembered i was breaking one of the rules, and i suddenly tore up all my bits of paper and flung them into the fire, and i said, `no, i would not dare to show her dishonour.' well, afterwards, as i was washing my hands for tea up in my room, the temptation came over me so strongly that i felt i could not resist it, to make a funny little sketch of mrs willis. i had a little scrap of thin paper, and i took out my pencil and did it all in a minute. it seemed to me very funny, and i could not help laughing at it; and then i thrust it into my private writing-case, which i always keep locked, and i put the key in my pocket and ran downstairs. i forgot all about the caricature. i had never shown it to anyone. how it got into cecil's book is more than i can say. when i had finished speaking mrs willis looked very hard at the book. `you are right,' she said; `this caricature is drawn on a very thin piece of paper, which has been cleverly pasted on the title-page.' then, mr everard, she asked me a lot of questions. had i ever parted with my keys? had i ever left my desk unlocked? `no,' i said, `my desk is always locked, and my keys are always in my pocket. indeed,' i added, `my keys were absolutely safe for the last week, for they went in a white petticoat to the wash, and came back as rusty as possible.' i could not open my desk for a whole week, which was a great nuisance. i told all this story to mrs willis, and she said to me, `you are positively certain that this caricature has been taken out of your desk by somebody else, and pasted in here? you are sure that the caricature you drew is not to be found in your desk?' `yes,' i said; `how can i be anything but sure; these are my pencil marks, and that is the funny little turn i gave to your neck which made me laugh when i drew it. yes; i am certainly sure.' "`i have always been told, annie,' mrs willis said, `that you are the only girl in the school who can draw these caricatures. you have never seen an attempt at this kind of drawing amongst your school-fellows, or amongst any of the teachers?' "`i have never seen any of them try this special kind of drawing,' i said. `i wish i was like them. i wish i had never, never done it.' "`you have got your keys now?' mrs willis said. "`yes,' i answered, pulling them all covered with rust out of my pocket. "then she told me to leave the keys on the table, and to go upstairs and fetch down my little private desk. "i did so, and she made me put the rusty key in the lock and open the desk, and together we searched through its contents. we pulled out everything, or rather i did, and i scattered all my possessions about on the table, and then i looked up almost triumphantly at mrs willis. "`you see the caricature is not here,' i said, `somebody picked the lock and took it away.' "`this lock has not been picked,' mrs willis said, `and what is that little piece of white paper sticking out of the private drawer?' "`oh, i forgot my private drawer,' i said; `but there is nothing in it-- nothing whatever,' and then i touched the spring, and pulled it open, and there lay the little caricature which i had drawn in the bottom of the drawer. there it lay, not as i had left it, for i had never put it into the private drawer. i saw mrs willis's face turn very white, and i noticed that her hands trembled. i was all red myself, and very hot, and there was a choking lump in my throat, and i could not have got a single word out even if i had wished to. so i began scrambling the things back into my desk, as hard as ever i could, and then i locked it, and put the rusty keys back in my pocket. "`what am i to believe now, annie?' mrs willis said. "`believe anything you like now,' i managed to say; and then i took my desk and walked out of the room, and would not wait even though she called me back. "that is the whole story, mr everard," continued annie. "i have no explanation whatever to give. i did make the one caricature of my dear governess. i did not make the other. the second caricature is certainly a copy of the first, but i did not make it. i don't know who made it. i have no light whatever to throw on the subject. you see after all," added annie forest, raising her eyes to the clergyman's face, "it is impossible for you to believe me. mrs willis does not believe me, and you cannot be expected to. i don't suppose you are to be blamed. i don't see how you can help yourself." "the circumstantial evidence is very strong against you, annie," replied the clergyman; "still, i promised to believe, and i have no intention of going back from my word. if, in the presence of god in this little church you would willingly and deliberately tell me a lie i should never trust human being again. no, annie forest, you have many faults, but you are not a liar. i see the impress of truth on your brow, in your eyes, on your lips. this is a very gainful mystery, my child; but i believe you. i am going to see mrs willis now. god bless you, annie. be brave, be courageous, don't foster malice in your heart to any unknown enemy. an enemy has truly done this thing, poor child; but god himself will bring this mystery to light. trust him, my dear; and now i am going to see mrs willis." while mr everard was speaking, annie's whole expressive face had changed; the sullen look had left it; the eyes were bright with renewed hope; the lips had parted in smiles. there was a struggle for speech, but no words came; the young girl stooped down and raised the old clergyman's withered hands to her lips. "let me stay here a little longer," she managed to say at last; and then he left her. chapter seventeen. "the sweets are poisoned." "i think, my dear madam," said mr everard to mrs willis, "that you must believe your pupil. she has not refused to confess to you from any stubbornness, but from, the simple reason that she has nothing to confess. i am firmly convinced that things are as she stated them, mrs willis. there is a mystery here which we neither of us can explain, but which we must unravel." then mrs willis and the clergyman had a long and anxious talk together. it lasted for a long time, and some of its results at least were manifest the next morning, for, just before the morning's work began, mrs willis came to the large school-room, and, calling annie forest to her side, laid her hand on the young girl's shoulder. "i wish to tell you all, young ladies," she said, "that i completely and absolutely exonerate annie forest from having any part in the disgraceful occurrence which took place in this school-room a short time ago. i allude, of course, as you all know, to the book which was found tampered with in cecil temple's desk. some one else in this room is guilty, and the mystery has still to be unravelled, and the guilty girl has still to come forward and declare herself. if she is willing at this moment to come to me here, and fully and freely confess her sin, i will quite forgive her." the head-mistress paused, and, still with her hand on annie's shoulder, looked anxiously down the long room. the love and forgiveness which she felt shone in her eyes at this moment. no girl need have feared aught but tenderness from her just then. no one stirred; the moment passed, and a look of sternness returned to the mistress's fine face. "no," she said, in her emphatic and clear tones, "the guilty girl prefers waiting until god discovers her sin for her. my dear, whoever you are, that hour is coming, and you cannot escape from it. in the meantime, girls, i wish you all to receive annie forest as quite innocent. i believe in her, so does mr everard, and so must you. anyone who treats miss forest except as a perfectly innocent and truthful girl incurs my severe displeasure. my dear, you may return to your seat." annie, whose face was partly hidden by her curly hair during the greater part of this speech, now tossed it back, and raised her brown eyes with a look of adoration in them to her teacher. mrs willis's face, however, still looked harassed. her eyes met annie's, but no corresponding glow was kindled in them; their glance was just, calm, but cold. the childish heart was conscious of a keen pang of agony, and annie went back to her lessons without any sense of exultation. the fact was this: mrs willis's judgment and reason had been brought round by mr everard's words, but in her heart of hearts, almost unknown to herself, there still lingered a doubt of the innocence of her wayward and pretty pupil. she said over and over to herself that she really now quite believed in annie forest, but then would come those whisperings from her pained and sore heart. "why did she ever make a caricature of one who has been as a mother to her? if she made one caricature, could she not make another? above all things, if _she_ did not do it, who did?" mrs willis turned away from these unpleasant whispers--she would not let them stay with her, and turned a deaf ear to their ugly words. she had publicly declared in the school her belief in annie's absolute innocence, but at the moment when her pupil looked up at her with a world of love and adoration in her gaze, she found to her own infinite distress that she could not give her the old love. annie went back to her companions, and bent her head over her lessons, and tried to believe that she was very thankful and very happy, and cecil temple managed to whisper a gentle word of congratulation to her, and at the twelve o'clock walk annie perceived that a few of her school-fellows looked at her with friendly eyes again. she perceived now that when she went into the play-room she was not absolutely tabooed, and that, if she chose, she might speedily resume her old reign of popularity. annie had, to a remarkable extent, the gift of inspiring love, and her old favourites would quickly have flocked back to their sovereign had she so willed it. it is certainly true that the girls to whom the whole story was known in all its bearings found it difficult to understand how annie could be innocent; but mr everard's and mrs willis's assertions were too potent to be disregarded, and most of the girls were only too willing to let the whole affair slide from their minds, and to take back their favourite annie to their hearts again. annie, however, herself did not so will it. in the play-room she fraternised with the little ones who were alike her friends in adversity and sunshine; she rejected the overtures of her old favourites, but played, and romped, and was merry with the children of the sixth class. she even declined cecil's invitation to come and sit with her in her drawing-room. "oh, no," she said, "i hate being still; i am in no humour for a talk. another time, cecil, another time. now then, sybil, my beauty, get well on my back, and i'll be the willing dog carrying you round and round the room." annie's face had not a trace of care or anxiety on it, but her eyes would not quite meet cecil's, and cecil sighed as she turned away, and her heart, too, began to whisper little, mocking, ugly doubts of poor annie. during the half-hour before tea that evening annie was sitting on the floor with a small child in her lap, and two other little ones tumbling about her, when she was startled by a shower of lollipops being poured over her head, down her neck, and into her lap. she started up and met the sleepy gaze of susan drummond. "that's to congratulate you, miss," said susan; "you're a very lucky girl to have escaped as you did." the little ones began putting susan's lollipops vigorously into their mouths. annie sprang to her feet, shaking the sticky sweetmeats out of her dress on to the floor. "what have i escaped from?" she asked, turning round and facing her companion haughtily. "oh, dear me!" said susan, stepping back a pace or two. "i--ah--" stifling a yawn--"i only meant you were very near getting into an ugly scrape. it's no affair of mine, i'm sure; only i thought you'd like the lollipops." "no, i don't like them at all," said annie, "nor you either. go back to your own companions, please." susan sulkily walked away, and annie stooped down on the floor. "now, little darlings," she said, "you mustn't eat those. no, no, they are not good at all; and they have come from one of annie's enemies. most likely they are full of poison. let us collect them all, every one, and we will throw them into the fire before we go to tea." "but i don't think there's any poison in them," said little janie west in a regretful tone, as she gobbled down a particularly luscious chocolate cream; "they are all big, and fat, and bursty, and _so_ sweet, annie, dear." "never mind, janie, they are dangerous sweeties all the same. come, come, throw them into my apron, and i will run over and toss them into the fire, and we'll have time for a game of leap-frog before tea; oh, fie, judy," as a very small fat baby began to whimper, "you would not eat the sweeties of one of annie's enemies." this last appeal was successful. the children made a valiant effort, and dashed the tempting goodies into annie's alpaca apron. when they were all collected, she marched up the play-room and in the presence of susan drummond, hester thornton, cecil temple, and several more of her school-companions, threw them into the fire. "so much for _that_ overture, miss drummond," she said, making a mock curtsey, and returning once more to the children. chapter eighteen. in the hammock. just at this time the weather suddenly changed. after the cold and dreariness of winter came soft spring days--came longer evenings and brighter mornings. hester thornton found that, she could dress by daylight, then that she was no longer cold and shivering when she reached the chapel, then that she began intensely to enjoy her mid-day walk, then that she found her winter things a little too hot, until at last, almost suddenly it seemed to the expectant and anxious girls, glorious spring weather broke upon the world, the winds were soft and westerly, the buds swelled and swelled into leaf on the trees, and the flowers bloomed in the delightful old-fashioned gardens of lavender house. instantly, it seemed to the girls, their whole lives had altered. the play-room was deserted or only put up with on wet days. at twelve o'clock, instead of taking a monotonous walk on the roads, they ran races, played tennis, croquet, or any other game they liked best in the gardens. later on in the day, when the sun was not so powerful, they took their walk; but even then they had time to rush back to their beloved shady garden for a little time before tea and preparation for their next day's work. easter came this year about the middle of april, and easter found these girls almost enjoying summer weather. how they looked forward to their few easter holidays! what plans they made, what tennis matches were arranged, what games and amusements of all sorts were in anticipation! mrs willis herself generally went away for a few days at easter; so did the french governess, and the school was nominally placed under the charge of miss good and miss danesbury. mrs willis did not approve of long easter holidays; she never gave more than a week, and in consequence only the girls who lived quite near went home. out of the fifty girls who resided at lavender house about ten went away at easter; the remaining forty stayed behind, and were often heard to declare that holidays at lavender house were the most delightful things in the world. at this particular easter time the girls were rather surprised to near that mrs willis had made up her mind not to go away as usual; miss good was to have a holiday, and mrs willis and miss danesbury were to look after the school. this was felt to be an unusual, indeed unheard-of, proceeding, and the girls commented about it a good deal, and somehow, without absolutely intending to do so, they began to settle in their own minds that mrs willis was staying in the school on account of annie forest, and that in her heart of hearts she did not absolutely believe in her innocence. mrs willis certainly gave the girls no reason to come to this conclusion; she was consistently kind to annie, and had apparently quite restored her to her old place in her favour. annie was more gentle than of old, and less inclined to get into scrapes; but the girls loved her far less in her present unnatural condition of reserve and good behaviour than they did in her old daring and hoydenish days. cecil temple always spent easter with an old aunt who lived in a neighbouring town; she openly said this year that she did not wish to go away, but her governess would not allow her to change her usual plans, and she left lavender house with a curious feeling of depression and coming trouble. as she was getting into the cab which was to take her to the station annie flew to her side, threw a great bouquet of flowers which she had gathered into her lap, and, flinging her arms tightly round her neck, whispered suddenly and passionately: "oh, cecil, believe in me." "i--i--i don't know that i don't," said cecil, rather lamely. "no, cecil, you don't--not in your heart of hearts. neither you nor mrs willis--you neither of you believe in me from the very bottom of your hearts; oh, it is hard!" annie gave vent to a little sob, sprang away from cecil's arms, and disappeared into a shrubbery close by. she stayed there until the sound of the retreating cab died away in the avenue, then, tossing back her hair, rearranging her rather tattered garden hat, and hastily wiping some tears from her eyes, she came out from her retreat, and began to look around her for some amusement. what should she do? where should she go? how should she occupy herself? sounds of laughter and merriment filled the air; the garden was all alive with gay young figures running here and there. girls stood in groups under the horse chestnut tree--girls walked two and two up the shady walk at the end of the garden--little ones gambolled and rolled on the grass--a tennis match was going on vigorously, and the croquet ground was occupied by eight girls of the middle school. annie was one of the most successful tennis players in the school; she had indeed a gift for all games of skill, and seldom missed her mark. now she looked with a certain wistful longing toward the tennis-court; but, after a brief hesitation, she turned away from it and entered the shady walk at the farther end of the garden. as she walked along, slowly, meditatively, and sadly, her eyes suddenly lighted up. glancing to one of the tall trees she saw a hammock suspended there which had evidently been forgotten during the winter. the tree was not yet quite in leaf, and it was very easy for annie to climb up its branches, to readjust the hammock, and to get into it. after its winter residence in the tree this soft couch was found full of withered leaves, and otherwise rather damp and uncomfortable. annie tossed the leaves on to the ground, and laughed as she swung herself gently backwards and forwards. early as the season still was the sun was so bright and the air so soft that she could not but enjoy herself, and she laughed with pleasure, and only wished that she had a fairy tale by her side to help to soothe her off to sleep. in the distance she heard some children calling "annie," "annie forest;" but she was far too comfortable and too lazy to answer them, and presently she closed her eyes and really did fall asleep. she was awakened by a very slight sound--by nothing more nor less than the gentle and very refined conversation of two girls, who sat under the oak-tree in which annie's hammock swung. hearing the voices, she bent a little forward, and saw that the speakers were dora russell and hester thornton. her first inclination was to laugh, toss down some leaves, and instantly reveal herself: the next she drew back hastily, and began to listen with all her ears. "i never liked her," said hester--"i never even from the very first pretended to like her. i think she is underbred, and not fit to associate with the other girls in the school-room." "she is treated with most unfair partiality," retorted miss russell in her thin and rather bitter voice. "i have not the smallest doubt, not the smallest, that she was guilty of putting those messes into my desk, of destroying my composition, and of caricaturing mrs willis in cecil temple's book. i wonder after that mrs willis did not see through her, but it is astonishing to what lengths favouritism will carry one. mrs willis and mr everard are behaving in a very unfair way to the rest of us in upholding this commonplace, disagreeable girl; but it will be to mrs willis's own disadvantage. hester, i am, as you know, leaving school at midsummer, and i shall certainly use all my influence to induce my father and mother not to send the younger girls here; they could not associate with a person like miss forest." "i never take much notice of her," said hester; "but of course what you say is quite right, dora. you have great discrimination, and your sisters might possibly be taken in by her." "oh, not at all, i assure you; they know a true lady when they see her. however, they must not be imperilled. i will ask my parents to send them to mdlle. lablanche. i hear that her establishment is most _recherche_." "mrs willis is very nice herself, and so are most of the girls," said hester, after a pause. then they were both silent, for hester had stooped down to examine some little fronds and moss which grew at the foot of the tree. after a pause, hester said-- "i don't think annie is the favourite she was with the girls." "oh, of course not; they all, in their heart of hearts, know she is guilty. will you come indoors, and have tea with me in my drawing-room, hester?" the two girls walked slowly away, and presently annie let herself gently out of her hammock and dropped to the ground. she had heard every word; she had not revealed herself, and a new and terrible--and, truth to say, absolutely foreign--sensation from her true nature now filled her mind. she felt that she almost hated those two who had spoken so cruelly, so unjustly of her. she began to trace her misfortunes and her unhappiness to the date of hester's entrance into the school. even more than dora russell did she dislike hester; she made up her mind to revenge herself on both these girls. her heart was very, very sore; she missed the old words, the old love, the old brightness, the old popularity; she missed the mother-tones in mrs willis's voice--her heart cried out for them, at night she often wept for them. she became more and more sure that she owed all her misfortunes to hester, and in a smaller degree to dora. dora believed that she had deliberately insulted her, and injured her composition, when she knew herself that she was quite innocent of even harbouring such a thought, far less carrying it into effect. well, now, she would really do something to injure both these girls, and perhaps the carrying out of her revenge would satisfy her sore heart. chapter nineteen. cup and ball. just toward the end of the easter holidays, hester thornton was thrown into a great tumult of excitement, of wonder, of half regret and half joy, by a letter which she received from her father. in this letter he informed her that he had made up his mind to break up his establishment for several years, to go abroad, and to leave hester altogether under mrs willis's care. when hester had read so far, she flung her letter on the table, put her head into her hands, and burst into tears. "oh, how cruel of father!" she exclaimed; "how am i to live without ever going home--how am i to endure life without seeing my little nan?" hester cried bitterly; the strongest love of her nature was now given to this pretty and sweet little sister, and dismal pictures rose rapidly before her of nan growing up without in the least remembering her-- perhaps, still worse, of nan being unkindly treated and neglected by strangers. after a long pause, she raised her head, wiped her eyes, and resumed her letter. now, indeed, she started with astonishment, and gave an exclamation of delight--sir john thornton had arranged that mrs willis was also to receive little nan, although she was younger than any other child present in the school. hester scarcely waited to finish her letter. she crammed it into her pocket, rushed up to susan drummond, and astonished that placid young lady by suddenly kissing her. "nan is coming, susy!" she exclaimed; "dear, darling, lovely little nan is coming--oh, i am so happy!" she was far too impatient to explain matters to stolid susan, and danced downstairs, her eyes sparkling and smiles on her lips. it was nothing to her now how long she stayed at school--her heart's treasure would be with her there, and she could not but feel happy. after breakfast mrs willis sent for her, and told her what arrangements were being made; she said that she was going to remove susan drummond out of hester's bedroom, in order that hester might enjoy her little sister's company at night. she spoke very gently, and entered with full sympathy into the girl's delight over the little motherless sister, and hester felt more drawn to her governess than she had ever been. nan was to arrive at lavender house on the following evening, and for the first week her nurse was to remain with her until she got accustomed to her new life. the morning of the day of nan's arrival was also the last of the easter holidays, and hester, awakening earlier than her wont, lay in bed, and planned what she would do to welcome the little one. the idea of having nan with her continually had softened and touched hester. she was not unhappy in her school-life--indeed, there was much in its monotonous, busy, and healthy occupation to stimulate and rouse the good in her. her intellect was being vigorously exercised, and, by contact with her school-fellows, her character was being moulded; but the perfect harmony and brightness of the school had been much interrupted since hester's arrival; her dislike to annie forest had been unfortunate in more ways than one, and that dislike, which was increasing each day, was hardening hester's heart. but it was not hard this morning--all that was sweetest, and softest, and best in her had come to the surface--the little sister, whom her mother had left in her charge, was now to be her daily and hourly companion. for nan's sake, then, she must be very good; her deeds must be gentle and kind, and her thoughts charitable. hester had an instinctive feeling that baby eyes saw deep below the surface; hester felt if nan were to lose even a shadow of her faith in her she could almost die of shame. hester had been very proud of dora russell's friendship. never before had it been known in the school that a first-class girl took a third into such close companionship, and hester's little head had been slightly turned by the fact. her better judgment and her better nature had been rather blinded by the fascinations of this tall, graceful, satirical dora. she had been weak enough to agree with dora with her lips when in her heart of hearts she knew she was all wrong. by nature hester was an honourable girl, with many fine traits in her character-- by nature dora was small and mean and poor of soul. this morning hester ran up to her favourite. "little nan is coming to-night," she said. dora was talking at the moment to miss maitland, another first-class girl, and the two stared rather superciliously at hester, and, after a pause, dora said in her finest drawl-- "who _is_ little nan?" it was hester's turn to stare, for she had often spoken of nan to this beloved friend, who had listened to her narrative and had appeared to sympathise. "my little sister, of course," she exclaimed. "i have often talked to you about her, dora. are you not glad she is coming?" "no, my dear child, i can't say that i am. if you wish to retain my friendship, hester, you must be careful to keep the little mite away from me; i can't bear small children." hester walked away with her heart swelling, and she fancied she heard the two elder girls laughing as she left the play-room. many other girls, however, in the school thoroughly sympathised with hester, and amongst them no one was more delighted than susan drummond. "i am awfully good-natured not to be as cross as two sticks, hetty," she exclaimed, "for i am being turned out of my comfortable room; and whose room do you suppose i am now to share? why, that little imp annie forest's." but hester felt charitable, even toward annie, on this happy day. in the evening little nan arrived. she was a very pretty, dimpled, brown-eyed creature, of just three years of age. she had all the imperious ways of a spoilt baby, and, evidently, fear was a word not to be found in her vocabulary. she clung to hester, but smiled and nodded to the other girls, who made advances to her, and petted her, and thought her a very charming baby. beside nan, all the other little girls in the school looked old. she was quite, two years the youngest, and it was soon very evident that she would establish that most imperious of all reigns--a baby reign--in the school. hester fondled her and talked to her, and the little thing sat on her knee and stroked her face. "me like 'oo, hetty," she said several times, and she added many other endearing and pretty words which caused hester's heart to swell with delight. she alone, of all the girls, had taken no notice of the new plaything. she walked to her usual corner, sat down on the floor, and began to play cup and ball for the benefit of two or three of the smallest children. hester did not regard her in the least; she sat with nan on her knee, stroking back her sunny curls, and remarking on her various charms to several of the girls who sat round her. "see, how pretty that dimple in her chin is," she said, "and oh, my pet, your eyes look wiser, and bigger, and saucier than ever. look at me, nan; look at your own hetty." nan's attention, however, was diverted by the gayly-painted cup and ball which annie was using with her wonted dexterity. "dat a pitty toy," she said, giving one quick and rather solemn glance at her sister, and again fixing her admiring gaze on the cup and ball. annie forest had heard the words, and she darted a sudden, laughing look at the little one. annie's power over children was well-known. nan began to wriggle on hester's knee. "dat a pitty lady," she said again, "and dat a pitty, tibby [little] toy; nan go see." in an instant, before hester could prevent her, she had trotted across the room, and was kneeling with the other children and shouting with delight over annie's play. "she'll get her, you'll see, hester," said one of the girls maliciously; "she'll soon be much fonder of annie forest than of you. annie wins the heart of every little child in the school." "she won't win my nan's from me," said hester in a confident tone; but in spite of her words a great pang of jealousy had gone through her. she rose to her feet and followed her little sister. "nan, you are sleepy, you must go to bed." "no, no, hetty; me not s'eepy, me kite awake; go 'way, hetty, nan want to see the pitty tibby toy." annie raised her eyes to hester's. she did not really want to be unkind, and at that moment it had certainly never entered into her head to steal hester's treasure from her, but she could not help a look of suppressed delight and triumph filling her eyes. hester could scarcely bear the look; she stooped down, and taking one of nan's little dimpled hands tried to drag her away. instantly annie threw the cup and ball on the floor. "the play is all over to-night, little darling," she said; "give annie forest one kiss, and run to bed with sister hester." nan, who had been puckering up her face to cry, smiled instantly; then she scrambled to her feet, and flung her little fat arms round annie's neck. "dat a vedy pitty p'ay," she said in a patronising tone, "and me like 'oo, me do." then she gave her hand willingly to hester, and trotted out of the play-room by her side. chapter twenty. in the south parlour. immediately after easter the real excitement of the school-year began. all the girls who had ambition, who had industry, and who had a desire to please distant fathers, mothers, or guardians, worked hard for that great day at midsummer when mrs willis distributed her valuable prizes. from the moment of hester's entrance into the school she had heard this day spoken of. it was, without doubt, the greatest day of the year at lavender house. smaller prizes were given at christmas, but the great honours were always reserved for this long sunshiny june day, when mrs willis herself presented her marks of approbation to her successful pupils. the girls who had lived in the school for two or three years gave hester vivid descriptions of the excitements, the pleasures, the delights of this day of days. in the first place, it was the first of the holidays, in the second it was spent almost from morning to night in the open air--for a great tent was erected on the lawn; and visitors thronged to lavender house, and fathers and mothers, and aunts and uncles, arrived from a distance to witness the triumphs of the favoured children who had won the prizes. the giving away of the prizes was, of course, _the_ event of the day; but there were many other minor joys. always in the evenings there was some special entertainment. these entertainments differed from year to year, mrs willis allowing the girls to choose them for themselves, and only making one proviso, that they must take all the trouble, and all the pains--in short, that they themselves must be the entertainers. one year they had tableaux vivants; another a fancy ball, every pretty dress of which had been designed by themselves, and many even made by their own industrious little fingers. mrs willis delighted in the interest and occupation that this yearly entertainment gave to her pupils, and she not only, encouraged them in their efforts to produce something very unique and charming, but took care that they should have sufficient time to work up their ideas properly. always after easter she gave the girls of the three first classes two evenings absolutely to themselves; and these they spent in a pretty room called the south parlour, which belonged to mrs willis's part of the house, and was rarely used, except for these great preparations. hester, therefore, after easter found her days very full indeed. every spare moment she devoted to little nan, but she was quite determined to win a substantial prize, and she was also deeply interested in various schemes proposed in the south parlour. with regard to prizes, mrs willis also went on a plan of her own. each girl was expected to come up to a certain standard of excellence in all her studies, and if she fell very much below this standard she was not allowed to try for any prize; if she came up to it, she could select one subject, but only one, for competition. on the monday after the easter holidays the special subjects for the midsummer prizes were given out, and the girls were expected to send in their answers as to the special prize they meant to compete for by the following friday. when this day arrived hester thornton and dora russell both discovered that they had made the same choice--they were going to try for the english composition prize. this subject always obtained one of the most costly prizes, and several of the girls shook their heads over hester's choice. "you are very silly to try for that, hetty," they exclaimed, "for mrs willis has such queer ideas with regard to english composition. of course, we go in for it in a general way, and learn the rules of grammar and punctuation, and so forth, but mrs willis says that school-girls' themes are so bad and affected, as a rule, and she says she does not think anyone will go in for her pet prize who has not natural ability. in consequence, she gives only one prize for composition between the three first classes. you had better change your mind, hetty, before it is too late, for much older girls will compete with you, and there are several who are going to try." hester, however, only smiled, and assured her eager friend that she would stick to her pet subject, and try to do the best she could. on the morning when the girls signified their choice of subject, mrs willis came into the school-room and made one of her little yearly speeches with regard to the right spirit in which her girls should try for these honours. the few and well-chosen words of the head-mistress generally roused those girls who loved her best to a fever of enthusiasm, and even hester, who was comparatively a newcomer, felt a great wish, as she listened to that clear and vibrating voice and watched the many expressions which passed over the noble face, that she might find something beyond the mere earthly honour and glory of success in this coming trial. having finished her little speech, mrs willis made several remarks with regard to the choice of subjects. she spoke of the english composition prize last, and here she heightened the interest and excitement which always hung around this special prize. contrary to her usual rule, she would this year give no subject for an english theme. each girl might choose what pleased her best. on nearing these words annie forest, who had been sitting by her desk looking rather dull and dejected, suddenly sprang to her feet, her face aglow, her eyes sparkling, and began whispering vigorously to miss good. miss good nodded, and, going up to mrs willis, said aloud that annie had changed her mind, and that from not wishing to try for any of the prizes, she now intended to compete for the english composition. mrs willis looked a little surprised, but without any comment she immediately entered annie's name in the list of competitors, and annie sat down again, not even glancing at her astonished school-fellows, who could not conceal their amazement, for she had never hitherto shown the slightest desire to excel in this department. on the evening of this friday the girls of the three first classes assembled for the first time in the south parlour. hitherto these meetings had been carried on in a systematic and business-like fashion. it was impossible for all the girls who belonged to these three large classes to assemble on each occasion. careful selections, therefore, were, as a rule, made from their numbers. these girls formed a committee to superintend and carry on the real preparations for the coming treat, and the others only met when specially summoned by the committee to appear. as usual now the three classes found themselves in the south parlour--as usual they chattered volubly, and started schemes, to reject them again with peals of laughter. many ideas were put forward, to be cast aside as utterly worthless. no one seemed to have any very brilliant thought, and as the first step on these occasions was to select what the entertainment should be, proceedings seemed to come to a standstill. the fact was the most daring originator, the one whoso ideas were always flavoured with a spice of novelty, was absolutely silent. cecil temple, who had taken a seat near annie, suddenly, bent forward and spoke to her aloud. "we have all said what we would like, and we none of us appear to have thought of anything at all worth having," she said; "but you have not spoken at all, annie. give us an idea, dear--you know you originated the fancy ball last year." thus publicly appealed to, annie raised her full brown eyes, glanced at her companions, not one of whom, with the exception of cecil, returned her gaze fully; then, rising to her feet, she spoke in a slightly contemptuous tone. "these preparations seem to me to be much ado about nothing; they lake up a lot of our time, and the results aren't worth the trouble--i have nothing particular to say. oh, well, yes, if you like--let's have blind man's buff and a magic lantern;" and then, dropping a mock curtsey to her companions, she dashed out of the south parlour. "insufferable girl!" said dora russell; "i wonder you try to draw her out, cecil. you know perfectly that we none of us care to have anything to do with her." "i know perfectly that you are all doing your best to make her life miserable," said cecil, suddenly and boldly. "no one in this school has obeyed mrs willis's command to treat annie as innocent--you are practically sending her to coventry, and i think it is unjust and unfair. you don't know, girls, that you are ruining poor annie's happiness." "oh, dear! she doesn't seem at all dull," said miss west, a second-class girl. "i do think she's a hardened little wretch." "little you know about her," said cecil, the colour fading out of her pale face. then, after a pause, she added, "the injustice of the whole thing is that in this treatment of annie you break the spirit of mrs willis's command--you, none of you, certainly tell her that she is guilty, but you treat her as such." here hester thornton said a daring thing. "i don't believe mrs willis in her heart of hearts considers annie guiltless." these words of hester's were laughed at by most of the girls, but dora russell gave her an approving nod, and cecil, looking paler than ever, dropped suddenly into her seat, and no longer tried to defend her absent friend. "at any rate," said miss conway, who as the head girl of the whole school was always listened to with great respect. "it is unfortunate for the success of our entertainment that there should be all this discussion and bad feeling with regard to miss forest. for my own part, i cannot make out why the poor little creature should be hunted down, or what affair it is of ours whether she is innocent or not. if mr everard and mrs willis says she is innocent, is not that enough? the fact of her guilt or innocence can't hurt us one way or another. it is a great pity, however, for our own sakes, that we should be out with her now, for, whatever her faults, she is the only one of us who is ever gifted with an original thought. but, as we can't have her, let us set to work without her--we really can't waste the whole evening over this sort of talk." discussions as to the coming pleasure were now again resumed with vigour, and after a great deal of animated arguing it was resolved that two short plays should be acted; that a committee should be immediately formed, who should select the plays, and apportion their various parts to the different actors. the committee selected included miss russell, miss conway, hester thornton, cecil temple, and two other girls of the second-class. the conference then broke up, but there was a certain sense of flatness over everything, and cecil was not the only girl who sighed for the merry meetings of last year--when annie had been the life and soul of all the proceedings, and when one brilliant idea after another with regard to the costumes for the fancy ball had dropped from her merry tongue. chapter twenty one. stealing hearts. when annie ran out of the south parlour she found herself suddenly face to face with mrs willis. "well, my dear child," said the head-mistress in her kindest voice, "where are you running to? but i suppose i must not ask; you are, of course, one of the busy and secret conclave in the south parlour?" "no. i have left them," said annie, bending her head, and after her usual habit when agitated, shaking her hair about her face. "left them?" repeated mrs willis, "you mean, dear, that they have sent you for some message." "no. i am not one of them. may i go into the garden, mrs willis?" "certainly, my dear." annie did not even glance at her governess. she pushed aside the baize door, and found herself in the great stone hall which led to the play-room and school-room. her garden hat hung on a peg in the hall, and she tossed it off its place, and holding it in her hand ran toward the side door which opened directly into the garden. she had a wild wish to get to the shelter of the forsaken hammock and there cry out her whole heart. the moment she got into the open air, however, she was met by a whole troop of the little children, who were coming in after their usual short exercise before going to bed. miss danesbury was with them, and when annie ran out by the open door, she entered holding two little ones by the hands. last in this group toddled hester's little sister nan. the moment she saw annie her little face broke into smiles; she held out two hands eagerly, and fled to the young girl's side. "where dat pitty toy?" she said, raising her round face to annie's; "some one did buy dat toy, and it's vedy pitty, and me wants it--where's dat toy?" annie stooped down, and spoke suddenly and impulsively to the little child. "you shall have the toy for your very own, nan, if you will do something for me?" nan's baby eyes looked straight into annie's. "me will," she said emphatically; "me want dat toy." "put your arms round me, little darling, and give me a great, tight hug." this request was great fun to nan, who squeezed her little arms round annie's neck, and pressed her dimpled cheek to her lips. "dere," she said triumphantly, "will dat do?" "yes, you little treasure, and you'll try to love me, won't you?" "me do," said nan, in a solemn voice; but then miss danesbury called her, and she ran into the house. as nan trotted into the house she put up her dimpled hand to wipe something from her round cheek--it was a tear which annie forest had left there. annie herself, when all the little ones had disappeared, walked slowly and sadly down toward the shady walk. the sun had just set, and though it was now nearly may, and the evenings long, the wind was sufficiently cold to cause annie to shiver in her thin house frock. at all times utterly fearless with regard to her health, she gave it no thought now, but entering the walk where she knew she should not be disturbed, she looked up at the hammock, and wondered whether she should climb into it. she decided, however, not to do so--the great and terrible weight of tears which had pressed close to her heart were relieved by nan's embrace; she no longer cared to cry until she could cry no longer--the worst of her pain had been soothed by the sweet baby graciousness of the little one. then there darted into poor annie's sore heart and perplexed brain that dangerous thought and temptation which was to work so much future pain and trouble. she already loved little nan, and nan, as most children did, had taken a fancy to her. annie stood still, and clasped her hands as the dark idea came to her to steal the heart of little nan from hester, and so revenge herself on her. by doing this she would touch hester in her most vulnerable point--she would take from her what she valued most. the temptation came swiftly, and annie listened to it, and thought how easy it would be to carry it into effect. she knew well that no little child could resist her when she chose to exercise her charms--it would be easy, easy work to make that part of nan which was most precious all her own. annie became fascinated by the idea; how completely then she would have revenged all her wrongs on hester! some day hester would bitterly repent of her unjust prejudice toward her; some day hester would come to her, and beg of her in agony to give her back her darling's love; ah! when that day came it would be her turn to triumph. she felt more than satisfied as the temptation grew upon her; she shut out persistently from her view all the other side of the picture; she would not let herself think that the work she was about to undertake was cruel and mean. hester had been more than unjust, and she was going to punish her. annie paced faster and faster up and down the shady walk, and whenever her resolution wavered, the memory of hester's face as she had seen it the same night in the south parlour came visibly back and strengthened it. yes, her turn had come at last. hester had contrived since her entrance into the school to make annie's life thoroughly miserable. well, never mind, it was annie's turn now to make her wretched. chapter twenty two. in burn castle wood. in concentrating her thoughts of revenge on hester annie ceased to trouble her head about dora russell. she considered hester a crueller enemy than dora. hester belonged to her own set, worked in her own class, and would naturally, had things not turned out so unjustly, so unfairly, have been her friend, and not her enemy. dora had nothing to say to annie, and before hester's advent into the school had scarcely noticed her existence. annie therefore concentrated all her powers on punishing hester. this gave her an aim and an occupation, and at first she felt that her revenge might give her real pleasure. susan drummond now shared annie's bedroom, and annie was rather startled one evening to hear this phlegmatic young person burst out into a strong tirade against hester and dora. dora had managed, for some inexplicable reason, to offend susan, and susan now looked to annie for sympathy, and boldly suggested that they should get up what she was pleased to call "a lark" between them for the punishment of this very dignified young lady. annie had never liked susan, and she now stared at her, and said in her quick way-- "you won't catch me helping you in any of your larks. i've had trouble enough on that score as it is." susan gazed at her stupidly, and a dull read spread over her face. "but i thought you hated dora and hester," she said--"i'm sure they hate you." annie was silent. "you do hate them, don't you?" persisted miss drummond. "it's nothing to you what i feel toward them, susy," said annie. "please don't disturb me with any more of your chatter; i am very sleepy, and you are keeping me awake." thus silenced, susan had to content herself by turning on her back, and going into the land of dreams; but she was evidently a good deal surprised and disappointed, and began to entertain a certain respect, and even fear, of annie, which had been hitherto unknown to her. meanwhile hester was very busy, very happy, and more satisfied--brighter and better employed than she had ever been in her life before. nan's love satisfied the affectionate side of her nature, and all her intellect was strained to the utmost to win honours in the coming struggle. she had stuck firmly to her resolve to work for the english composition prize, and she firmly made up her own mind to leave no stone unturned to win it. what affection she, possessed for miss russell was not at all of a character to prevent her from thoroughly enjoying taking the prize out of her hands. her love for dora had been fed by vanity, and was not at all of a deep or noble character. she was some time carefully choosing the subject of her theme, and at last she resolved to write a brief historical description of the last days of marie antoinette. to write properly on this subject she had to read up a great deal, and had to find references in books which were not usually allowed as school-room property. mrs willis, however, always allowed the girls who were working for the english composition prize to have access to her rather extensive library, and here hester was often to be found during play-hours. two evenings in the week were also taken up in preparation for the coming plays, and as hester was to take rather an important part in one, and a small character in another, she was obliged to devote herself to getting up her parts during the weekly half-holidays. thus every moment was busy, and, except at night, she had little time to devote herself to nan. nan slept in a pretty crib in hester's room, and each evening the young girl knelt down by her sister's side, and gazed at her with love which was almost motherly swelling in her breast. all that was best of hester was drawn out at these moments; something greater than ambition--something far and away above school triumphs and school jealousies spoke then in her heart of hearts. these moments found her capable of being both sympathising and forgiving; these moments followed out in her daily life might have made hester almost great. now was the time, with her eyes full of tears and her lips trembling with emotion, for annie forest to have caught a glimpse of the divine in hester; the hardness, the pride, the haughty spirit were all laid aside, and hers was the true child-heart as she knelt by the sleeping baby. hester prayed earnestly at these moments, and, in truth, nan did better for her than any sermon; better for her than even mrs willis's best influences. nan was as the voice of god to her sister. hester, in her very busy life, had no time to notice, however, a very slight and almost imperceptible change in bright little nan. in the mornings she was in too great a hurry to pay much heed to the little one's chatter; in the afternoons she had scarcely an instant to devote to her, and when she saw her playing happily with the other children she was quite content, and always supposed that when a spare half-hour did come in her busy life nan would rush to her with the old ecstasy, and give her the old devotion. one day, toward the end of a very fine may, the girls were all to go for a picnic to some woods about four miles away. they had looked forward for several days to this relaxation, and were in the highest state of delight and the wildest spirits. after an early dinner they were to drive in several large waggonettes to the place of _rendezvous_, where they were to be regaled with gypsy-tea, and were to have a few hours in the lovely woods or burn castle, one of the show places of the neighbourhood. mrs willis had invited the misses bruce to accompany them, and they were all to leave the house punctually at two o'clock. the weather was wonderfully fine and warm, and it was decided that all the children, even nan, should go. perhaps none of the girls looked forward to this day's pleasure with greater joy than did hester; she determined to make it a real holiday, and a real time of relaxation. she would forget her english theme; she would cease to worry herself about marie antoinette; she would cease to repeat her part in the coming play; and she would devote herself exclusively and determinedly to nan's pleasure. she pictured the little one's raptures; she heard her gay shouts of joy, her ceaseless little rippling chatter, her baby glee, and, above all things, her intense happiness at being with her own hetty for the greater part of a whole day. hester would ride her on her shoulder, would race with her; all her usual, companions would be as nothing to her on this occasion, she would give herself up solely to nan. as she was dressing that morning she said a word or two to the child about the coming treat. "we'll light a fire in the wood, nan, and hang a kettle over it, and make tea--such good tea; won't it be nice?" nan clapped her hands. "and may i take out my little ummabella (umbrella), case it might wain?" she asked anxiously. hester flew to her and kissed her. "you funny darling!" she said. "oh, we shall have such a day! you'll be with your own hetty all day long--your own hetty; won't you be glad?" "me am," said nan; "own hetty, and own annie; me am glad." hester scarcely heard the last words, for the prayer-gong sounded, and she had to fly downstairs. at dinner time the girls were discussing who would go with each, and all were very merry and full of fun. "miss danesbury will take the little children," said miss good. "mrs willis says that all the little ones are to be in miss danesbury's charge." "oh, please," said hester suddenly, "may nan come with me, miss good? she'll be so disappointed if she doesn't, and i'll take such care of her." miss good nodded a careless acquiescence, and hester proceeded with her dinner, feeling thoroughly satisfied. immediately after dinner the girls flew to their rooms to prepare for their expedition. hastily opening a drawer, hester pulled out a white frock, white pique pelisse, and washing hat for nan--she meant her darling to look as charming as possible. "oh, dear, miss danesbury should have brought her here by now," she said to herself impatiently, and then, hearing the crunching of carriage wheels on the drive, she flew to the bell and rang it. in a few moments one of the maids appeared. "do you know where miss nan is, alice? she is to go to burn castle with me, and i want to dress her, for it is nearly time to go." alice looked a little surprised. "if you please, miss," she said, "i think miss nan has just gone." "what do you mean, alice? miss good said especially she was to go with me." "i know nothing about that, miss; i only know that i saw miss forest carrying her downstairs in her arms about three minutes ago, and they went off in the waggonette with all the other little children and miss danesbury." hester stood perfectly still, her colour changed from red to white; for full half a minute she was silent. then, hearing voices from below calling to her, she said in a cold, quiet tone-- "that will do, alice; thank you for letting me know." she turned to her drawer and put back nan's white and pretty things, and also replaced a new and very becoming shady hat which she had meant to wear herself. in her old winter hat, and looking almost untidy for her, she walked slowly downstairs and took her place in the waggonette which was drawn up at the door. cecil temple and one or two other girls whom hester liked very much were in the same waggonette, but she scarcely cared to talk to them, and only joined in their laughter by a strong effort. she was deeply wounded, but her keenest present desire was to hide any feelings of jealousy she had toward annie from the quick eyes of her school-fellows. "why," suddenly exclaimed julia morris, a particularly unobservant girl, "i thought you were going to bring that dear baby sister with you, hester. oh, i do hope there is nothing the matter with her." "nan has gone on in the first waggonette with the little children," said hester as cheerfully as she could speak, but she coloured slightly, and saw that cecil was regarding her attentively. susan drummond exclaimed suddenly-- "i saw annie forest rushing down the stairs with little nan, and nan had her arms round her neck, and was laughing merrily. you need not be anxious about nan, hester; she was quite content to go with annie." "i did not say i was anxious," replied hester in a cold voice. "how very beautiful that avenue of beech trees is, cecil!" "but annie heard miss good say that you were to take nan," persisted julia morris. "she could not but have noticed it, for you did flush up so, hester, and looked so eager. i never saw anyone more in earnest about a trifle in my life; it was impossible for annie not to have heard." "the great thing is that nan is happy," said hester in a fretted voice. "do let us change the subject, girls." cecil instantly began talking about the coming plays, and soon the conversation became of an absorbing character, and hester's voice was heard oftener than the others, and she laughed more frequently than her companions. for all this forced merriment, however, cecil did not fail to observe that when hester got to the place of meeting at burn castle she looked around her with a quick and eager glance. then the colour faded from her face, and her eyes grew dim. that look of pain on hester's face was quite enough for kind-hearted cecil. she had thrown herself on the grass with an exclamation of delight, but in an instant she was on her feet. "now, of course, the first thing is to find little nan," she said; "she'll be missing you dreadful, hetty." cecil held out her hand to hester to run with her through the wood, but, to her surprise, hester drew back. "i'm tired," she said; "i daresay we shall find nan presently. she is sure to be safe, as she is under miss danesbury's care." cecil made no remark, but set off by herself to find the little children. presently, standing on a little knoll, and putting her two hands round her lips, so as to form a speaking trumpet, she shouted to hester. hester came slowly and apparently unwillingly toward her, but when she got to the foot of the knoll, cecil flew down, and, taking her by the hand, ran with her to the top. "oh, do come quick!" she exclaimed; "it is such a pretty sight." down in the valley about fifty yards away were the ten or twelve little children who formed the infant portion of the school. miss danesbury was sitting at some distance off quietly reading, and the children, decked with flowers, and carrying tall grasses and reeds in their hands, were flying round and round in a merry circle, while in their midst, and the centre of attraction, stood annie, whose hat was tossed aside, and whose bright, curling hair was literally crowned with wild flowers. on annie's shoulder stood little nan, carefully and beautifully poised, and round nan's wavy curls was a starry wreath of wood-anemones. nan was shouting gleefully and clapping her hands, while annie balanced her slightest movement with the greatest agility, and kept her little feet steady on her shoulders with scarcely an effort. as the children ran round and round annie she waltzed gracefully backwards and forwards to meet them, and they all sang snatches of nursery rhymes. when cecil and hester appeared they had reached in their varied collection-- "humpty dumpty sat on a wall, humpty dumpty had a great fall." here nan exclaimed, in her clear, high-pitched voice-- "me no fall, annie," and the small children on the ground clapped their hands and blew kisses to her. "isn't it pretty? isn't annie sweet with children?" said cecil, looking round to hester with all the admiration she felt for her friend shining in her face. the expression, however, which hester wore at that moment really startled cecil: she was absolutely colourless, and presently she called aloud in a harsh, strained voice-- "be careful of her! how wicked of you to put her like that on your shoulder! she will fall--yes, i know she will fall; oh, do be careful!" hester's voice startled the children, who ceased sinking and dancing: annie made a hasty step forward, and one little voice alone kept singing out the words-- "humpty dumpty got a great fall!" when there was a crash and a cry, and nan, in some inexplicable way, had fallen backwards from annie's shoulders. in one instant hester was in the midst of the group. "don't touch her," she said, as annie flew to pick up the child, who, falling with some force on her head, had been stunned; "don't touch her--don't dare! it was your doing; you did it on purpose--you wished to do it!" "you are unjust," said annie, in a low tone. "nan was perfectly safe until you startled her. like all the rest you are unjust. nan would have come to no harm if you had not spoken." hester did not vouchsafe another word. she sat on the ground with the unconscious and pretty little flower-crowned figure laid across her lap; she was terrified, and thought in her inexperience that nan must be dead. at the first mention of the accident cecil had flown to fetch some water, and when she and miss danesbury applied it to little nan's temples, she presently sighed, and opened her brown eyes wide. "i hope--i trust she is not much hurt," said miss danesbury; "but i think it safest to take her home at once. cecil, dear, can you do anything about fetching a waggonette round to the stile at the entrance of the wood? now the puzzle is, who is to take care of the rest of the little children? if only they were under miss good's care, i should breathe more easily." "i am going home with nan," said hester, in a hard voice. "of course, my love: no one would think of parting you from your little sister," said the governess soothingly. "if you please, miss danesbury," said annie, whose face was quite as pale as hester's, and her eyes heavy as though she longed to cry, "will you trust me with the little ones? if you do, i will promise to take them straight to miss good, and to be most careful of them." miss danesbury's gentle and kind face looked relieved. "thank you, annie--of course i trust you, dear. take the children at once to the meeting-place under the great oak, and wait there until miss good appears." annie suddenly sprang forward, and threw her arms round miss danesbury's neck. "miss danesbury, you comfort me," she said, in a kind of stifled voice, and then she ran off with the children. chapter twenty three. "humpty dumpty had a great fall." all the stupor and languor which immediately followed nan's fall passed off during her drive home; she chatted and laughed, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. hester turned with a relieved face to miss danesbury. "my little darling is all right, is she not?" she said. "oh, i was so terrified--oh, how thankful i am no harm has been done!" miss danesbury did not return hester's full gaze; she attempted to take little nan on her knee, but nan clung to hetty. then she said-- "you must be careful to keep the sun off her, dear--hold your parasol well down--just so. that is better. when we get home, i will put her to bed at once. please god, there _is_ nothing wrong; cut one cannot be too careful." something in miss danesbury's manner affected hester strangely; she clasped nan's slight baby form closer and closer to her heart, and no longer joined in the little one's mirth. as the drive drew to a close, nan again ceased talking, and fell into a heavy sleep. miss danesbury's face grew graver and graver, and, when the waggonette drew up at lavender house, she insisted on lifting the sleeping child out of hester's arms, and carrying her up to her little crib. when nan's little head was laid on the cool pillow, she again opened her eyes, and instantly asked for a drink. miss danesbury gave her some milk and water, but the moment she drank it she was sick. "just as i feared," said the governess; "there is some little mischief-- not much, i hope--but we must instantly send for the doctor." as miss danesbury walked across the room to ring the bell, hester followed her. "she's not in danger?" she whispered in a hoarse voice; "if she is, annie is guilty of murder." "don't, my dear," said the governess; "you must keep quiet for nan's sake. please god, she will soon be better. all i really apprehend is a little excitement and feverishness, which will pass off in a few days with care. hester, my dear, i suddenly remember that the house is nearly empty, for all the servants are also enjoying a holiday. i think i must send you for dr mayflower. the waggonette is still at the door. drive at once to town, my dear, and ask the coachman to take you to number , the parade. if you are very quick, you will catch dr mayflower before he goes out on his afternoon rounds." hester glanced for half an instant at nan, but her eyes were again closed. "i will take the best care of her," said the governess in a kind voice; "don't lose an instant, dear." hester snatched up her hat and flew downstairs. in a moment she was in the waggonette, and the driver was speedily urging his horses in the direction of the small town of sefton, two miles and a half away. hester was terrified now--so terrified, in such an agony, that she even forgot annie; her hatred toward annie became of secondary importance to her. all her ideas, all her thoughts, were swallowed up in the one great hope--should she be in time to reach dr mayflower's house before he set off on his afternoon rounds? as the waggonette approached sefton she buried her face in her hands and uttered a sharp inward cry of agony. "please god, let me find the doctor!" it was a real prayer from her heart of hearts. the waggonette drew up at the doctor's residence, to discover him stepping into his brougham. hester was a shy child, and had never seen him before; but she instantly raised her voice, and almost shouted to him--"you are to come with me; please, you are to come at once. little nan is ill--she is hurt. please, you are to come at once." "eh! young lady?" said the round-faced doctor. "oh! i see; you are one of the little girls from lavender house. is anything wrong there, dear?" hester managed to relate what had occurred; whereupon the doctor instantly opened the door of the waggonette. "jump out, young lady," he said; "i will drive you back in my brougham. masters," addressing his coachman, "to lavender house." hester sat back in the soft-cushioned carriage, which bowled smoothly along the road. it seemed to her impatience that the pace at which they went was not half quick enough--she longed to put her head out of the window to shout to the coachman to go faster. she felt intensely provoked with the doctor, who sat placidly by her side reading a newspaper. presently she saw that his eyes were fixed on her. he spoke in his quietest tones. "we always take precisely twenty minutes to drive from the parade to lavender house--twenty minutes, neither more nor less. we shall be there now in exactly ten minutes." hester tried to smile, but failed; her agony of apprehension grew and grew. she breathed more freely when they turned into the avenue. when they stopped at the wide stone porch, and the doctor got out, she uttered a sigh of relief. she took dr mayflower herself up to nan's room. miss danesbury opened the door, the doctor went inside, and hester crouched down on the landing and waited. it seemed to her that the good physician would never come out. when he did she raised a perfectly blanched face to his, she opened her lips, tried to speak, but no words would come. her agitation was so intense that the kind-hearted doctor took instant pity on her. "come into this room, my child," he said. "my dear, you will be ill yourself if you give way like this. pooh! pooh! this agitation is extreme--is uncalled for. you have got a shock. i shall prescribe a glass of sherry at once. come downstairs with me, and i will see that you get one." "but how is she, sir--how is she?" poor hester managed to articulate. "oh! the little one--sweet, pretty, little darling. i did not know she was your sister--a dear little child. she got an ugly fall, though-- came on a nasty place." "but, please, sir, how is she? she--she--she is not in danger?" "danger? by no means, unless you put her into it. she must be kept very quiet, and, above all things, not excited. i will come to see her again to-morrow morning. with proper care she ought to be quite herself in a few days. ah! now you've got a little colour in your cheek, come down with me and have that glass of sherry, and you will feel all right." chapter twenty four. annie to the rescue. the picnic-party arrived home late. the accident to little nan had not shortened the day's pleasure, although mrs willis, the moment she heard of it, had come back; for she entered the hall just as the doctor was stepping into his carriage. he gave her his opinion, and said that he trusted no further mischief, beyond a little temporary excitement, had been caused. he again, however, spoke of the great necessity of keeping nan quiet, and said that her school-fellows must not come to her, and that she must not be excited in any way. mrs willis came into the great hall where hester was standing. instantly she went up to the young girl, and put her arm around and drew her to her side. "darling," she said, "this is a grievous anxiety for you; no words can express my sorrow and my sympathy; but the doctor is quite hopeful, hester, and, please god, we shall soon have the little one as well as ever." "you are really sorry for me?" said hester, raising her eyes to the head-mistress's face. "of course, dear; need you ask?" "then you will have that wicked annie forest punished--well punished-- well punished." "sometimes, hester," said mrs willis very gravely, "god takes the punishment of our wrongdoings into his own hands. annie came home with me. had you seen her face as we drove together you would not have asked _me_ to punish her." "unjust, always unjust," muttered hester, but in so low a voice that mrs willis did not hear the words. "please may i go to little nan?" she said. "certainly, hester--some tea shall be sent up to you presently." miss danesbury arranged to spend that night in nan's room. a sofa bed was brought in for her to lie on, for mrs willis had yielded to hester's almost feverish entreaties that she might not be banished from her little sister. not a sound reached the room where nan was lying-- even the girls took off their shoes as they passed the door--not a whisper came to disturb the sick child. little nan slept most of the evening, only sometimes opening her eyes and looking up drowsily when miss danesbury changed the cold application to her head. at nine o'clock there came a low tap at the room door. hester went to open it; one of her school-fellows stood without. "the prayer-gong is not to be sounded to-night. will you come to the chapel now? mrs willis sent me to ask." hester shook her head. "i cannot," she whispered; "tell her i cannot come." "oh, i am so sorry?" replied the girl; "is nan very bad?" "i don't know: i hope not. good-night." hester closed the room door, took off her dress, and began very softly to prepare to get into bed. she put on her dressing-gown, and knelt down as usual to her private prayers. when she got on her knees, however, she found it impossible to pray; her brain felt in a whirl, her feelings were unprayerlike; and with the temporary relief of believing nan in no immediate danger came such a flood of hatred toward annie as almost frightened her. she tried to ask god to make nan better--quite well; but even this petition seemed to go no way--to reach no one--to fall flat on the empty air. she rose from her knees, and got quietly into bed. nan lay in that half-drowsy and languid state until midnight. hester, with all her very slight expedience of illness, thought that as long as nan was quiet she must be getting better; but miss danesbury was by no means so sure, and, notwithstanding the doctor's verdict, she felt anxious about the child. hester had said that she could not sleep; but at miss danesbury's special request she got into bed, and before she knew anything about it was in a sound slumber. at midnight, when all the house was quiet, and miss danesbury kept a lonely watch by the sick child's pillow, there came a marked change for the worse in the little one. she opened her feverish eyes wide and began to call out piteously; but her cry now was, not for hester, but for annie. "me want my annie," she said over and over, "me do, me do. no, no; go 'way, naughty daybury, me want my annie; me do want her." miss danesbury felt puzzled and distressed. hester, however, was awakened by the piteous cry, and sat up in bed. "what is it, miss danesbury?" she asked. "she is very much excited, hester; she is calling for annie forest." "oh, that is quite impossible," said hester, a shudder passing through her. "annie can't come here. the doctor specially said that none of the girls were to come near nan." "me want annie; me want my own annie," wailed the sick child. "give me my dressing-gown, please, miss danesbury, and i will go to her," said hester. she sprang out of bed, and approached the little crib. the brightness of nan's feverish eyes was distinctly seen. she looked up at hester, who bent over her; then she uttered a sharp cry and covered her little face. "go 'way, go 'way, naughty hetty--nan want annie; annie sing, annie p'ay with nan--go 'way, go 'way, hetty." hester's heart was too full to allow her to speak; but she knelt by the crib and tried to take one of the little hot hands in hers. nan, however, pushed her hands away, and now began to cry loudly. "annie!--annie!--annie! me want 'oo; nan want 'oo--poor tibby nan want 'oo, annie!" miss danesbury touched hester on her shoulder. "my dear," she said, "the child's wish must be gratified. annie has an extraordinary power over children, and under the circumstances i shall take it upon me to disobey the doctor's directions. the child must be quieted at all hazards. run for annie, dear--you know her room. i had better stay with little nan, for, though she loves you best, you don't soothe her at present--that is often so with a fever case." "one moment," said hester. she turned again to the little crib. "hetty is going to fetch annie for nan. will nan give her own hetty one kiss?" instantly the little arms were flung round hester's neck. "me like 'oo now, dood hetty. go for annie, dood hetty." instantly hester ran out of the room. she flew quickly down the long passage, and did not know what a strange little figure she made as the moon from a large window at one end fell full upon her. so eerie, so ghost-like was her appearance as she flew noiselessly with her bare feet along the passage that some one--hester did not know whom--gave a stifled cry. the cry seemed to come from a good way off, and hester was too preoccupied to notice it. she darted into the room where susan drummond and annie forest slept. "annie you are to come to nan," she said in a sharp high-pitched voice which she scarcely recognised as her own. "coming," said annie, and she walked instantly to the door with her dress on, and stood in the moonlight. "you are dressed!" said hester in astonishment. "i could not undress--i lay down as i was. i fancied i heard nan's voice calling me. i guessed i should be sent for." "well, come now," said hester in her hardest tones. "you were only sent for because nan must be quieted at any risk. come, and see if you can quiet her. i don't suppose," with a bitter laugh, "that you will succeed." "i think so," replied annie, in a very soft and gentle tone. she walked back by hester's side and entered the sick-room. she walked straight up to the little cot, and knelt down by nan, and said, in that strangely melodious voice of hers-- "little darling, annie has come." "me like 'oo," said nan, with a satisfied coo in her voice, and she turned round on her side, with her back to miss danesbury and hester, and her eyes fixed on annie. "sing `four-and-twenty,' annie; sing `four-and-twenty,'" she said presently. "four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," sang annie in a low clear voice, without a moment's hesitation. she went through the old nursery rhyme once--twice. then nan interrupted her fretfully-- "me don't want dat 'dain; sing `boy blue,' annie." annie sang. "`tree little kittens,' annie," interrupted the little voice presently. for more than two hours annie knelt by the child, singing nursery rhyme after nursery rhyme, while the bright beautiful eyes were fixed on her face, and the little voice said incessantly-- "sing, annie--sing." "`baby bun,' now," said nan, when annie had come almost to the end of her selection. "bye baby bunting, daddy's gone a-hunting-- he's gone to fetch a rabbit-skin, to place the baby bunting in." over and over and over did annie sing the words. whenever, even for a brief moment she paused, nan said-- "sing, annie--sing `baby bun.'" and all the time the eyes remained wide-open, and the little hands were burning hot; but, gradually, after more than two hours of constant singing, annie began to fancy that the burning skin was cooler. then-- could she believe it?--she saw the lids droop over the wide-open eyes. five minutes later, to the tune of "baby bunting," nan had fallen into a deep and sound sleep. chapter twenty five. a spoilt baby. in the morning nan was better, and although for days she was in a very precarious state, and had to be kept as quiet as possible, yet miss danesbury's great dread that fever would set in had passed away. the doctor said, however, that nan had barely escaped real injury to her brain, and that it would be many a day before she would romp again, and play freely and noisily with the other children. nan had chosen her own nurse, and with the imperiousness of all babies--to say nothing of sick babies--she had her way. from morning till night annie remained with her, and when the doctor saw how annie alone could soothe and satisfy the child he would not allow it to be otherwise. at first nan would lie with her hand in annie's, and her little cry of "sing, annie," going on from lime to time; but as she grew better annie would sit with her by the open window, with her head pillowed on her breast, and her arm round the little slender form, and nan would smile and look adoringly at annie, who would often return her gaze with intense sadness, and an indescribable something in her face which caused the little one to stroke her cheek tenderly, and say in her sweet baby voice-- "poor annie; poor tibby annie!" they made a pretty picture as they sat there. annie, with her charming gypsy face, her wild, luxuriant, curly hair, all the sauciness and unrest in her soothed by the magic of the little child's presence; and the little child herself, with her faint wild-rose colour, her dark deep eyes, clear as summer pools, and her sunshiny golden hair. but pretty as the picture was hester loathed it, for hester thought during these wretched days that her heart would break. not that nan turned away from hetty; she petted her and kissed her and sometimes put an arm round hetty and an arm round annie, as though, if she could, she would draw them together; but anyone could see that her heart of hearts was given to annie, and that hester ranked second in her love. hester would not for worlds express any of her bitter feelings before annie; nay, as the doctor and miss danesbury both declared that, however culpable annie might have been in causing the accident, she had saved little nan's life by her wonderful skill in soothing her to sleep on the first night of her illness, hester had felt obliged to grumble something which might have been taken for "thanks." annie, in reply to this grumble, had bestowed upon hester one of her quickest, brightest glances, for she fathomed the true state of hester's heart toward her well enough. these were very bad days for poor hester, and but for the avidity with which she threw herself into her studies she could scarcely have borne them. by slow degrees nan got better; she was allowed to come downstairs and to sit in annie's arms in the garden, and then mrs willis interfered, and said that annie must go back to her studies, and only devote her usual play-hours and half-holidays to nan's service. this mandate, however, produced woe and tribulation. the spoilt child screamed and beat her little hands, and worked herself up into such a pitch of excitement that that night she found her way in her sleep to annie's room, and annie had to quiet her by taking her into her bed. in the morning the doctor had to be sent for, and he instantly prescribed a day or two more of annie's company for the child. mrs willis felt dreadfully puzzled. she had undertaken the charge of the little one: her father was already far away, so it was impossible now to make any change of plans; the child was ill--had been injured by an accident caused by annie's carelessness and by hester's want of self-control. but weak and ill as nan still was, mrs willis felt that an undue amount of spoiling was good for no one. she thought it highly unjust to annie to keep her from her school employments at this most important period of the year. if annie did not reach a certain degree of excellence in her school marks she could not be promoted in her class. mrs willis did not expect the wild and heedless girl to carry off any special prizes; but her abilities were quite up to the average, and she always hoped to rouse sufficient ambition in her to enable her to acquire a good and sound education. mrs willis knew how necessary this was for poor annie's future, and, after giving the doctor an assurance that nan's whims and pleasures should be attended to for the next two or three days, she determined at the end of that time to assert her own authority with the child, and to insist on annie working hard at her lessons, and returning to her usual school-room life. on the morning of the third day mrs willis made inquiries, heard that nan had spent an excellent night, eaten a hearty breakfast, and was altogether looking blooming. when the girls assembled in the school-room for their lessons, annie brought her little charge down to the large play-room, where they established themselves cosily, and annie began to instruct little nan in the mysteries of-- "tic, tac, too, the little horse has lost his shoe." nan was entering into the spirit of the game, was imagining herself a little horse, and was holding out her small foot to be shod, when mrs willis entered the room. "come with me, nan," she said; "i have got something to show you." nan got up instantly, held out one hand to mrs willis and the other to annie, and said, in her confident baby tones-- "me tum; annie tumming too." mrs willis said nothing, but, holding the little hand, and accompanied by annie, she went out of the play-room, across the stone hall, and through the baize doors until she reached her own delightful private sitting-room. there were heaps of pretty things about, and nan gazed round her with the appreciative glance of a pleased connoisseur. "pitty 'oom," she said approvingly. "nan likes this 'oom. me'll stay here, and so will annie." here she uttered a sudden cry of rapture--on the floor, with its leaves temptingly open, lay a gayly-painted picture-book, and curled up in a soft fluffy ball by its side was a white persian kitten asleep. mrs willis whispered something to annie, who ran out of the room, and nan knelt down in a perfect rapture of worship by the kitten's side. "pitty tibby pussy!" she exclaimed several times, and she rubbed it so persistently the wrong way that the kitten shivered and stood up, arched its beck very high, yawned, turned round three times, and lay down again. alas! "tibby pussy" was not allowed to have any continuous slumber. nan dragged the persian by its tail into her lap, and when it resisted this indignity, and with two or three light bounds disappeared out of the room, she stretched out her little hands and began to cry for it. "turn back, puss, puss--turn back, poor tibby puss--nan loves 'oo. annie, go fetch puss for nan." then for the first time she discovered that annie was absent, and that she was alone, with the exception of mrs willis, who sat busily writing at a distant table. mrs willis counted for nothing at all with nan--she did not consider her of the smallest importance, and after giving her a quick glance of some disdain she began to trot round the room on a voyage of discovery. any moment annie would come back--annie had, indeed, probably gone to fetch the kitten, and would quickly return with it. she walked slowly round and round, keeping well away from that part of the room where mrs willis sat. presently she found a very choice little china jug, which she carefully subtracted with her small fingers from a cabinet, which contained many valuable treasures. she sat down on the floor exactly beneath the cabinet, and began to play with her jug. she went through in eager pantomime a little game which annie had invented for her, and imagined that she was a little milkmaid, and that the jug was full of sweet new milk; she called out to an imaginary set of purchasers, "want any milk?" and then she floured some by way of drops of milk into the palm of her little hand, which she drank up in the name of her customers with considerable gusto. presently, knocking the little jug with some vehemence on the floor she deprived it with one neat blow of its handle and spout. mrs willis was busily writing, and did not look up. nan was not in the least disconcerted; she said aloud-- "poor tibby zug b'oke," and then she left the fragments on the floor, and started off on a fresh voyage of discovery. this time she dragged down a large photographic album on to a cushion, and, kneeling by it, began to look through the pictures, flapping the pages together with a loud noise, and laughing merrily as she did so. she was now much nearer to mrs willis, who was attracted by the sound, and looking up hastened to the rescue of one of her most precious collections of photographs. "nan, dear," she said, "shut up that book at once. nan mustn't touch. shut the book, darling, and go and sit on the floor, and look at your nice-coloured pictures." nan, still holding a chubby hand between the leaves of the album, gave mrs willis a full defiant glance, and said-- "me won't." "come, nan," said the head-mistress. "me want annie," said nan, still kneeling by the album, and, bending her head over the photographs, she turned the page and burst into a peal of laughter. "pitty bow vow," she said, pointing to a photograph of a retriever; "oh, pitty bow woo, nan loves 'oo." mrs willis stooped down and lifted the little girl into her arms. "nan, dear," she said, "it is naughty to disobey. sit down by your picture-book, and be a good girl." "me won't," said nan again, and here she raised her small dimpled hand and gave mrs willis a smart slap on her cheek. "naughty lady, me don't like 'oo; go 'way. nan want annie--nan do want annie. me don't love 'oo, naughty lady; go 'way." mrs willis took nan on her knee. she felt that the little will must be bent to hers, but the task was no easy one. the child scarcely knew her, she was still weak and excitable, and she presently burst into storms of tears, and sobbed and sobbed as though her little heart would break, her one cry being for "annie, annie, annie." when annie did join her in the play hour, the little cheeks were flushed, the white brow ached, and the child's small hands were hot and feverish. mrs willis felt terribly puzzled. chapter twenty six. under the laurel-bush. mrs willis owned to herself that she was nonplussed; it was quite impossible to allow annie to neglect her studies, and yet little nan's health was still too precarious to allow her to run the risk of having the child constantly fretted. suddenly a welcome idea occurred to her; she would write at once to nan's old nurse, and see if she could come to lavender house for the remainder of the present term. mrs willis dispatched her letter that very day, and by the following evening the nurse was once more in possession of her much-loved little charge. the habits of her babyhood were too strong for nan; she returned to them gladly enough, and though in her heart of hearts she was still intensely loyal to annie, she no longer fretted when she was not with her. annie resumed her ordinary work and though hester was very cold to her, several of the other girls in the school frankly confided to their favourite how much they had missed her, and how glad they were to have her back with them once more. annie found herself at this time in an ever-shifting mood--one moment she longed intensely for a kiss, and a fervent pardon from mrs willis's lips; another, she said to herself defiantly she could and would live without it; one moment the hungry and sorrowful look in hester's eyes went straight to annie's heart, and she wished she might restore her little treasure whom she had stolen; the next she rejoiced in her strange power over nan, and resolved to keep all the love she could get. in short, annie was in that condition when she could be easily influenced for good or evil--she was in that state of weakness when temptation is least easily resisted. a few days after the arrival of nan's nurse mrs willis was obliged unexpectedly to leave home; a near relative was dangerously ill in london, and the school-mistress went away in much trouble and anxiety. some of her favourite pupils flocked to the front entrance to see their beloved mistress off. amongst the group cecil stood, and several girls of the first-class; many of the little girls were also present, but annie was not amongst them. just at the last moment she rushed up breathlessly; she was tying some starry jasmine and some blue forget-me-nots together, and as the carriage was moving off she flung the charming bouquet into her mistress's lap. mrs willis rewarded her with one of her old looks of confidence and love; she raised the flowers to her lips and kissed them, and her eyes smiled on annie. "good-bye, dear," she called out; "good-bye, all my dear girls; i will try and be back to-morrow night. remember, my children, during my absence i trust you." the carriage disappeared down the avenue, and the group of girls melted away. cecil looked round for annie, but annie had been the first to disappear. when her mistress had kissed the flowers and smiled at her, annie darted into the shrubbery and stood there wiping the fast-falling tears from her eyes. she was interrupted in this occupation by the sudden cries of two glad and eager voices, and instantly her hands were taken, and some girls rather younger than herself began to drag her in the opposite direction through the shrubbery. "come, annie--come at once, annie, darling," exclaimed phyllis and nora raymond. "the basket has come; it's under the thick laurel-tree in the back avenue. we are all waiting for you; we none of us will open it till you arrive." annie's face, a truly april one, changed as if by magic. the tears dried on her cheeks; her eyes filled with sunlight; she was all eager for the coming fun. "then we won't lose a moment, phyllis," she said; "we'll see what that duck of a betty has done for us." the three girls scampered down the back avenue, where they found five of their companions, amongst them susan drummond, standing in different attitudes of expectation near a very large and low-growing laurel-tree. everyone raised a shout when annie appeared; she was undoubtedly recognised as queen and leader of the proceedings. she took her post without an instant's hesitation, and began ordering her willing subjects about. "now, is the coast clear? yes, i think so. come, susie, greedy as you are, you must take your part. you alone of all of us can cackle with the exact imitation of an old hen: get behind that tree at once and watch the yard. don't forget to cackle for your life if you even see the shadow of a footfall. norah, my pretty birdie, you must be the thrush for the nonce; here, lake your post, watch the lawn and the front avenue. now then, girls, the rest of us can see what spoils betty has provided for us." the basket was dragged from its hiding-place, and longing faces peered eagerly and greedily into its contents. "on, oh! i say, cherries! and what a lot! good betty! dear, darling betty! you gathered those from your own trees, and they are as ripe as your apple-blossom cheeks! now then, what next? i do declare, meringues! betty knew my weakness. twelve meringues--that is one and a half apiece; susan drummond sha'n't have more than her share. meringues and cheesecakes and--tartlets--oh! oh! what a duck betty is! a plum-cake--good, excellent betty, she deserves to be canonised! what have we here? roast chickens--better and better! what is in this parcel? slices of ham; betty knew she dare not show her face again if she forgot the ham. knives and forks, spoons--fresh rolls--salt and pepper, and a dozen bottles of ginger-beer, and a little corkscrew in case we want it." these various exclamations came from many lips. the contents of the basket were carefully and tenderly replaced, the lid was fastened down, and it was once more consigned to its hiding-place under the thick boughs of the laurel. not a moment too soon, for just at this instant susan cackled fiercely, and the little group withdrew, annie first whispering-- "at twelve to-night, then, girls--oh, yes, i have managed the key." chapter twenty seven. truants. it was a proverbial saying in the school that annie forest was always in hot water; she was exceedingly daring, and loved what she called a spice of danger. this was not the first stolen picnic at which annie reigned as queen, but this was the largest she had yet organised, and this was the first time she had dared to go out of doors with her satellites. hitherto these naughty sprites had been content to carry their baskets full of artfully-concealed provisions to a disused attic which was exactly over the box-room, and consequently out of reach of the inhabited part of the house. here, making a table of a great chest which stood in the attic, they feasted gloriously, undisturbed by the musty smell or by the innumerable spiders and beetles which disappeared rapidly in all directions at their approach; but when annie one day incautiously suggested that on summer nights the outside world was all at their disposal, they began to discover flaws in their banqueting-hall. mary price said the musty smell made her half sick; phyllis declared that at the sight of a spider she invariably turned faint; and susan drummond was heard to murmur that in a dusty, fusty attic even meringues scarcely kept her awake. the girls were all wild to try a midnight picnic out of doors, and annie in her present mood, was only too eager for the fun. with her usual skill she organised the whole undertaking, and eight agitated, slightly frightened, but much excited girls retired to their rooms that night. annie, in her heart of hearts, felt rather sorry that mrs willis should happen to be away; dim ideas of honour and trustworthiness were still stirring in her breast, but she dared not think now. the night was in every respect propitious; the moon would not rise until after twelve, so the little party could get away under the friendly shelter of the darkness, and soon afterwards have plenty of light to enjoy their stolen feast. they had arranged to make no movement until close on midnight, and then they were all to meet in a passage which belonged to the kitchen regions, and where there was a side door which opened directly into the shrubbery. this door was not very often unlocked, and annie had taken the key from its place in the lock some days before. she went to bed with her companions at nine o'clock as usual, and presently fell into an uneasy doze. she awoke to hear the great clock in the hall strike eleven and a few minutes afterwards she heard miss danesbury's footsteps retiring to her room at the other end of the passage. "danesbury is always the last to go to bed," whispered annie to herself; "i can get up presently." she lay for another twenty minutes, then, softly rising, began to put on her clothes in the dark. over her dress she fastened her waterproof, and placed a close-fitting brown velvet cap on her curly head. having dressed herself, she approached susan's bed with the intention of rousing her. "i shall have fine work now," she said, "and shall probably have to resort to cold water. really, if susy proves too hard to wake, i shall let her sleep on--her drowsiness is past bearing." annie, however, was considerably startled when she discovered that miss drummond's bed was without an occupant. at this moment the room door was very softly opened, and susan, fully dressed and in her waterproof, came in. "why, susy, where have you been?" exclaimed annie. "fancy you being awake a moment before it is necessary!" "for once in a way i was restless," replied miss drummond, "so i thought i would get up, and take a turn in the passage outside. the house is perfectly quiet, and we can come now; most of the girls are already waiting at the side door." holding their shoes in their hands, annie and susan went noiselessly down the carpetless stairs, and found the remaining six girls waiting for them by the side door. "rover is our one last danger now," said annie, as she fitted the well-oiled key into the lock. "put on your shoes, girls, and let me out first; i think i can manage him." she was alluding to a great mastiff which was usually kept chained up by day. phyllis and norah laid their hands on her arm. "oh, annie, oh, love, suppose he seizes on you, and knocks you down--oh, dare you venture?" "let me go," said annie a little contemptuously; "you don't suppose i am afraid?" her fingers trembled, for her nerves were highly strung; but she managed to unlock the door and draw back the bolts, and, opening it softly, she went out into the silent night. very slight as the noise she made was, it had aroused the watchful rover, who trotted around swiftly to know what was the matter. but annie had made friends with rover long ago by stealing to his kennel door and feeding him, and she had now but to say "rover" in her melodious voice, and throw her arms around his neck, to completely subvert his morals. "he is one of us, girls," she called in a whisper to her companions; "come out. rover will be as naughty as the rest of us, and go with us as our bodyguard to the fairies' field. now, i will lock the door on the outside, and we can be off. ah, the moon is getting up splendidly, and when we have secured betty's basket, we shall be quite out of reach of danger." at annie's words of encouragement the seven girls ventured out. she locked the door, put the key into her pocket, and, holding rover by his collar; led the way in the direction of the laurel-bush. the basket was secured, and susan, to her disgust, and mary morris were elected for the first part of the way to carry it. the young truants then walked quickly down the avenue until they came to a turn-stile which led into a wood. chapter twenty eight. in the fairies' field. the moon had now come up brilliantly, and the little party were in the highest possible spirits. they had got safely away from the house, and there was now, comparatively speaking, little fear of discovery. the more timid ones, who ventured to confess that their hearts were in their mouths while annie was unlocking the side door, now became the most excited, and perhaps the boldest, under the reaction, which set in. even the wood, which was comparatively dark, with only patches of moonlight here and there, and queer weird shadows where the trees were thinnest, could not affect their spirits. the poor, sleepy rabbits must have been astonished that night at the shouts of the revellers, as they hurried past them, and the birds must have taken their sleepy heads from under their downy wings, and wondered if the morning had come some hours before its usual time. more than one solemn old owl blinked at them, and hooted as they passed, and told them in owl language what silly, naughty young things they were, and how they would repent of this dissipation by-and-by. but if the girls were to have an hour of remorse, it did not visit them then; their hearts were like feathers, and by the time they reached the fields where the fairies were supposed to play their spirits had become almost uncontrollable. luckily for them this small green field lay in a secluded hollow, and more luckily for them no tramps were about to hear their merriment. rover, who constituted himself annie's protector, now lay down by her side, and as she was the real ringleader and queen of the occasion, she ordered her subjects about pretty sharply. "now, girls, quick; open the basket. yes, i'm going to rest. i have organised the whole thing, and i'm fairly tired; so i'll just sit quietly here, and rover will take care of me while you set things straight. ah! good betty; she did not even forget the white table-cloth." here one of the girls remarked casually that the grass was wet with dew, and that it was well they had all put on their waterproofs. annie interrupted again in a petulant voice-- "don't croak, mary morris. out with the chickens, lay the ham in this corner, and the cherries will make a picturesque pile in the middle. twelve meringues in all, that means a meringue and a half each. we shall have some difficulty in dividing. oh, dear! oh, dear! how hungry i am! i was far too excited to eat anything at supper-time." "so was i," said phyllis, coming up and pressing close to annie. "i do think miss danesbury cuts the bread and butter too thick--don't you, annie? i could not eat mine at all, to-night, and cecil temple asked me if i was not well." "those who don't want chicken hold up their hands," here interrupted annie, who had tossed her brown cap on the grass, and between whose brows a faint frown had passed for an instant at the mention of cecil's name. the feast now began in earnest, and silence reigned for a short time, broken only by the clatter of plates, and such an occasional remark as "pass the salt, please," "pepper this way, if you've no objection," "how good chicken tastes in fairy-land," etc. at last the ginger-beer bottles began to pop--the girl's first hunger was appeased. rover gladly crunched up all the bones, and conversation flowed once more, accompanied by the delicate diversion of taking alternate bites at meringues and cheesecakes. "i wish the fairies would come out," said annie. "oh, don't!" shivered phyllis, looking round her nervously. "annie, darling, do tell us a ghost story," cried several voices. annie laughed, and commenced a series of nonsense tales, all of a slightly eerie character, which she made up on the spot. the moon riding high in the heavens looked down on the young giddy heads, and their laughter, naughty as they were, sounded sweet in the night air. time flew quickly, and the girls suddenly discovered that they must pack up their table-cloth and remove all traces of the feast unless they wished the bright light of morning to discover them. they rose hastily, sighing, and slightly depressed now that their fun was over. the white table-cloth, no longer very white, was packed into the basket, the ginger-beer bottles placed on top of it, and the lid fastened down. not a crumb of the feast remained; rover had demolished the bones, and the eight girls had made short work of everything else, with the exception of the cherry-stones, which phyllis carefully collected and popped into a little hole in the ground. the party then progressed slowly homewards, and once more entered the dark wood. they were much more silent now; the wood was darker, and the chill which foretells the dawn was making itself felt in the air. either the sense of cold, or a certain effect produced by annie's ridiculous stories, made many of the little party unduly nervous. they had only taken a few steps through the wood when phyllis suddenly uttered a piercing shriek. this shriek was echoed by nora and by mary morris, and all their hearts seemed to leap into their mouths when they saw something move among the trees. rover uttered a growl, and, but for annie's detaining hand, would have sprung forward. the high-spirited girl was not to be easily daunted. "behold, girls, the goblin of the woods," she exclaimed. "quiet, rover; stand still." the next instant the fears of the little party reached their culmination when a tall, dark figure stood directly in their paths. "if you don't let us pass at once," said annie's voice, "i'll set rover at you." the dog began to bark loudly, and quivered from head to foot. the figure moved a little to one side, and a rather deep and slightly dramatic voice said-- "i mean you no harm, young ladies; i'm only a gypsy-mother from the tents yonder. you are welcome to get back to lavender house. i have then one course plain before me." "come on, girls," said annie, now considerably frightened, while phyllis, and nora, and one or two more began to sob. "look here, young ladies," said the gypsy in a whining voice, "i don't mean you no harm, my pretties, and it's no affair of mine telling the good ladies at lavender house what i've seen. you cross my hand, dears, each of you, with a bit of silver, and all i'll do is to tell your pretty fortunes, and mum is the word with the gypsy-mother as far as this night's prank is concerned." "we had better do it, annie--we had better do it," here sobbed phyllis. "if this was found out by mrs willis we might be expelled--we might, indeed; and that horrid woman is sure to tell of us--i know she is." "quite sure to tell, dear," said the tall gypsy, dropping a curtsey in a manner which looked frightfully sarcastic in the long shadows made by the trees. "quite sure to tell, and to be expelled is the very least that could happen to such naughty little ladies. here's a nice little bit of clearing in the wood, and we'll all come over, and mother rachel will tell your fortunes in a twinkling, and no one will be the wiser. sixpence apiece, my dears--only sixpence apiece." "oh, come; do, do come," said nora, and the next moment they were all standing in a circle round mother rachel, who pocketed her black-mail eagerly, and repeated some gibberish over each little hand. over annie's palm she lingered for a brief moment, and looked with her penetrating eyes into the girl's face. "you'll have suffering before you, miss; some suspicion, and danger even to life itself. but you'll triumph, my dear, you'll triumph. you're a plucky one, and you'll do a brave deed. there--good-night, young ladies; you have nothing more to fear from mother rachel." the tall dark figure disappeared into the blackest shadows of the wood, and the girls, now like so many frightened hares, flew home. they deposited their basket where betty would find it, under the shadow of the great laurel in the back avenue. they all bade rover an affectionate "good-night." annie softly unlocked the side door, and one by one, with their shoes in their hands, they regained their bedrooms. they were all very tired, and very cold, and a dull fear and sense of insecurity rested over each little heart. suppose mother rachel proved unfaithful, notwithstanding the sixpences? chapter twenty nine. hester's forgotten book. it wanted scarcely three weeks to the holidays, and therefore scarcely three weeks to that auspicious day when lavender house was to be the scene of one long triumph, and was to be the happy spot selected for a midsummer holiday, accompanied by all that could make a holiday perfect--for youth and health would be there, and even the unsuccessful competitors for the great prizes would not have too sore hearts, for they would know that on the next day they were going home. each girl who had done her best would have a word of commendation, and only those who were very naughty, or very stubborn, could resist the all-potent elixir of happiness which would be poured out so abundantly for mrs willis's pupils on this day. now that the time was drawing so near, those girls who were working for prizes found themselves fully occupied from morning to night. in play-hours even, girls would be seen with their heads bent over their books, and, between the prizes and the acting, no little bees in any hive could be more constantly employed than were these young girls just now. no happiness is, after all, to be compared to the happiness of healthful occupation. busy people have no time to fret and no time to grumble. according to our old friend, dr watts, people who are healthily busy have also no time to be naughty, for the old doctor says that it is for idle hands that mischief is prepared. be that as it may, and there is great truth in it, some naughty sprites, some bad fairies, were flitting around and about that apparently peaceful atmosphere. that sunny home, governed by all that was sweet and good, was not without its serpent. of all the prizes which attracted interest and aroused competition, the prize for english composition was this year the most popular. in the first place, this was known to be mrs willis's own favourite subject. she had a great wish that her girls should write intelligibly--she had a greater wish that, if possible, they should think. "never was there so much written and printed," she was often heard to say; "but can anyone show me a book with thoughts in it? can anyone show me, unless as a rare exception, a book which will live? oh, yes, these books which issue from the press in thousands are, many of them, very smart, a great many of them clever, but they are thrown off too quickly. all great things, great books amongst them, must be evolved slowly." then she would tell her pupils what she considered the reason of this. "in these days," she would say, "all girls are what is called highly educated. girls and boys alike must go in for competitive examinations, must take out diplomas, and must pass certain standards of excellence. the system is cramming from beginning to end. there is no time for reflection. in short, my dear girls, you swallow a great deal, but you do not digest your intellectual food." mrs willis hailed with pleasure any little dawnings of real thought in her girls' prize essays. more than once she bestowed the prize upon the essay which seemed to the girls the most crude and unfinished. "never mind," she would say, "here is an idea--or at least half an idea. this little bit of composition is original, and not, at best, a poor imitation of sir walter scott or lord macaulay." thus the girls found a strong stimulus to be their real selves in these little essays, and the best of them chose their subject and let it ferment in their brains without the aid of books, except for the more technical parts. more than one girl in the school was surprised at dora russell exerting herself to try for the prize essay. she was just about to close her school career, and they could not make out why she roused herself to work for the most difficult prize, for which she would have to compete with any girl in the school who chose to make a similar attempt. dora, however, had her own, not very high motive for making the attempt. she was a thoroughly accomplished girl, graceful in her appearance and manner; in short, just the sort of girl who would be supposed to do credit to a school. she played with finish, and even delicacy of touch. there was certainly no soul in her music, but neither were there any wrong notes. her drawings were equally correct, her perspective good, her trees were real trees, and the colouring of her water-colour sketches was pure. she spoke french extremely well, and with a correct accent, and her german also was above the average. nevertheless, dora was commonplace, and those girls who knew her best spoke sarcastically, and smiled at one another when she alluded to her prize essay, and seemed confident of being the successful competitor. "you won't like to be beaten, dora, say, by annie forest," they would laughingly remark; whereupon dora's calm face would slightly flush and her lips would assume a very proud curve. if there was one thing she could not bear it was to be beaten. "why do you try for it, dora?" her class-fellows would ask; but here dora made no reply: she kept her reason to herself. the fact was dora, who must be a copyist to the end of the chapter, and who could never to her latest day do anything original, had determined to try for the composition prize because she happened accidentally to hear a conversation between mrs willis and miss danesbury, in which something was said about a gold locket with mrs willis's portrait inside. dora instantly jumped at the conclusion that this was to be the great prize bestowed upon the successful essayist. delightful idea; how well the trinket would look round her smooth white throat! instantly she determined to try for this prize, and of course as instantly the bare idea of defeat became intolerable to her. she went steadily and methodically to work. with extreme care she chose her subject. knowing something of mrs willis's peculiarities, she determined that her theme should not be historical; she believed that she could express herself freely and with power if only she could secure an un-hackneyed subject. suddenly an idea which she considered brilliant occurred to her. she would call her composition "the river." this should not bear reference to father thames, or any other special river of england, but it should trace the windings of some fabled stream of dora's imagination, which, as it flowed along, should tell something of the story of the many places by which it passed. dora was charmed with her own thought, and worked hard, evening after evening, at her subject, covering sheets of manuscript paper with pencilled jottings, and arranging and rearranging her somewhat confused thoughts. she greatly admired a perfectly rounded period, and she was most particular as to the style in which she wrote. for the purpose of improving her style she even studied old volumes of addison's _spectator_; but after a time she gave up this course of study, for she found it so difficult to mould her english to addison's that she came to the comfortable conclusion that addison was decidedly obsolete, and that if she wished to do full justice to "the river" she must trust to her own unaided genius. at last the first ten pages were written. the subject was entered upon with considerable flourishes, and some rather apt poetical quotations from a book containing a collection of poems; the river itself had already left its home in the mountain, and was careering merrily past sunny meadows and little rural, impossible cottages, where the golden-haired children played. dora made a very neat copy of her essay so far. she now began to see her way clearly--there would be a very powerful passage as the river approached the murky town. here, indeed, would be room for powerful and pathetic writing. she wondered if she might venture so far as to hide a suicide in her rushing waters; and then at last the brawling river would lose itself in the sea; and, of course, there would not be the smallest connection between her river, and kingsley's well-known song, "clear and cool." she finished writing her ten pages, and being now positively certain of her gold locket, went to bed in a happy state of mind. this was the very night when annie was to lead her revellers through the dark wood, but dora, who never troubled herself about the younger classes, would have been certainly the last to notice the fact that a few of the girls in lavender house seemed little disposed to eat their suppers of thick bread-and-butter and milk. she went to bed and dreamt happy dreams about her golden locket, and had little idea that any mischief was about to be performed. hester thornton also, but in a very different spirit, was working hard at her essay. hester worked conscientiously; she had chosen "marie antoinette" as her theme, and she read the sorrowful story of the beautiful queen with intense interest, and tried hard to get herself into the spirit of the times about which she must write. she had scarcely begun her essay yet, but she had already collected most of the historical facts. hester was a very careful little student, and as she prepared herself for the great work. she thought little or nothing about the prize; she only wanted to do justice to the unfortunate queen of france. she was in bed that night, and just dropping off to sleep, when she suddenly remembered that she had left a volume of french poetry on her school-desk. this was against the rules, and she knew that miss danesbury would confiscate the book in the morning, and would not let her have it back for a week. hester particularly wanted this special book just now, as some of the verses bore reference to her subject, and she could scarcely get on with her essay without having it to refer to she must lose no time in instantly beginning to write her essay, and to do without her book of poetry for a week would be a serious injury to her. she resolved, therefore, to break through one of the rules, and, after lying awake until the whole house was quiet, to slip downstairs, enter the school-room and secure her poems. she heard the clock strike eleven, and she knew that in a very few moments miss danesbury and miss good would have retired to their rooms. ah, yes, that was miss danesbury's step passing her door. ten minutes later she glided out of bed, slipped on her dressing-gown, and opening her door, ran swiftly down the carpetless stairs, and found herself in the great stone hall which led to the school-room. she was surprised to find the school-room door a little ajar, but she entered the room without hesitation, and, dark as it was, soon found her desk, and the book of poems lying on the top. hester was about to return when she was startled by a little noise in that portion of the room where the first-class girls sat. the next moment somebody came heavily and rather clumsily down the room, and the moon which was just beginning to rise fell for an instant on a girl's face. hester recognised the face of susan drummond. what could she be doing here? she did not dare to speak, for she herself had broken a rule in visiting the school-room. she remained, therefore, perfectly still until susan's steps died away, and then, thankful to have secured her own property, returned to her bedroom, and a moment or two later was sound asleep. chapter thirty. "a muddy stream." in the morning dora russell sat down as usual before her orderly and neatly-kept desk. she raised the lid to find everything in its place-- her books and exercises all as they should be, and her pet essay in a neat brown-paper cover, lying just as she had left it the night before. she was really getting quite excited about her river, and as this was a half-holiday, she determined to have a good work at it in the afternoon. she was beginning also to experience that longing for an auditor which occasionally is known to trouble the breasts of genius. she felt that those graceful ideas, that elegant language, those measured periods, might strike happily on some other ears before they were read aloud as the great work of the midsummer holidays. she knew that hester thornton was making what she was pleased to term a poor little attempt at trying for the same prize. hester would scarcely venture to copy anything from dora's essay; she would probably be discouraged, poor girl, in working any longer at her own composition; but dora felt that the temptation to read "the river," as far as it had gone, to hester was really too great to be resisted. accordingly, after dinner she graciously invited hester to accompany her to a bower in the garden, where the two friends might revel over the results of dora's extraordinary talents. hester was still, to a certain extent, under dora's influence, and had not the courage to tell her that she intended to be very busy over her own essay this afternoon. "now, hester, dear," said dora, when they found themselves both seated in the bower, "you are the only girl in the school to whom i could confide the subject of my great essay. i really believe that i have hit on something absolutely original. my dear child, i hope you won't allow yourself to be discouraged. i fear that you won't have much heart to go on with your theme after you have read my words; but, never mind, dear, it will be good practice for you, and you know it _was_ rather silly to go in for a prize which i intended to compete for." "may i read your essay, please, dora?" asked hester. "i am very much interested in my own study, and, whether i win the prize or not, i shall always remember the pleasure i took in writing it." "what subject did you select, dear?" inquired miss russell. "well, i am attempting a little sketch of marie antoinette." "ah, hackneyed, my dear girl--terribly hackneyed; but, of course, i don't mean to discourage you. _now_!--i draw a life--picture, and i call it `the river.' see how it begins--why, i declare i know the words by heart, `_as our eyes rest on this clear and limpid stream, as we see the sun sparkle_.' my dear hester, you shall read me my essay aloud. i shall like to hear my own words from your lips, and you have really a pretty accent, dear." hester folded back the brown-paper cover, and wanting to have her task over began to read nastily. but, as her eyes rested on the first lines, she turned to her companion, and said-- "did you not tell me that your essay was called `the river'?" "yes, dear; the full title is `the windings of a noble river.'" "that's very odd," replied hester. "what i see here is `the meanderings of a muddy stream.' `_as our dull orbs rest on this turbid water on which the sun cannot possibly shine_.' why, dora, this cannot be your essay, and yet, surely, it is your handwriting." dora, with her face suddenly flushing a vivid crimson, snatched the manuscript from hester's hand, and looked over it eagerly. alas! there was no doubt. the title of this essay was "the meanderings of a muddy stream," and the words which immediately followed were a smart and ridiculous parody on her own high-flown sentences. the resemblance to her handwriting was perfect. the brown-paper cover, neatly sewn on to protect the white manuscript, was undoubtedly her cover; the very paper on which the words were written seemed in all particulars the same. dora turned the sheets eagerly, and here for the first time she saw a difference. only four or five pages of the nonsense essay had been attempted, and the night before, when finishing her toil, she had proudly numbered her tenth page. she looked through the whole thing, turning leaf after leaf, while her cheeks were crimson, and her hands trembled. in the first moment of horrible humiliation and dismay she literally could not speak. at last, springing to her feet, and confronting the astonished and almost frightened hester, she found her voice. "hester, you must help me in this. the most dreadful, the most atrocious fraud has been committed. some one has been base enough, audacious enough, wicked enough, to go to my desk privately, and take away my real essay--my work over which i have laboured and toiled. the expressions of my--my--yes, i will say it--my genius, have been ruthlessly burnt, or otherwise made away with, and _this_ thing has been put in their place. hester, why don't you speak--why do you stare at me like this?" "i am puzzled by the writing," said hester; "the writing is yours." "the writing is mine!--oh, you wicked girl! the writing is an imitation of mine--a feeble and poor imitation. i thought, hester, that by this time you knew your friend's handwriting. i thought that one in whom i have confided--one whom i have stooped to notice because i fancied we had a community of soul, would not be so ridiculous and so silly as to mistake this writing for mine. look again, please, hester thornton, and tell me if i am ever so vulgar as to cross my _t's_. you know i _always_ loop them; and do i make a capital b in this fashion? and do i indulge in flourishes? i grant you that the general effect to a casual observer would be something the same, but you, hester--i thought you knew me better." here hester, examining the false essay, had to confess that the crossed _t's_ and the flourishes were unlike miss russell's calligraphy. "it is a forgery, most cleverly done," said dora. "there is such a thing, hester, as being wickedly clever. this spiteful, cruel attempt to injure another can have but proceeded from one _very_ low order of mind. hester, there has been plenty of favouritism in this school, but do you suppose i shall allow such a thing as this to pass over unsearched into? if necessary, i shall ask my father to interfere. this is a slight--an outrage; but the whole mystery shall at last be cleared up. miss good and miss danesbury shall be informed at once, and the very instant mrs willis returns she shall be told what a serpent she has been nursing in this false, wicked girl, annie forest." "stop, dora," said hester suddenly. she sprang to her feet, clasping her hands, and her colour varied rapidly from white to red. a sudden light poured in upon her, and she was about to speak when something-- quite a small, trivial thing--occurred. she only saw little nan in the distance flying swiftly, with outstretched arms, to meet a girl, whose knees she clasped in baby ecstasy. the girl stooped down and kissed the little face, and the round arms were flung around her neck. the next instant annie forest continued her walk alone, and nan, looking wistfully back after her, went in another direction with her nurse. the whole scene took but a moment to enact, but as she watched, hester's face grew hard and white. she sat down again, with her lips firmly pressed together. "what is it, hester?" exclaimed dora. "what were you going to say? you surely know nothing about this?" "well, dora, i am not the guilty person. i was only going to remark that you cannot be _sure_ it is annie forest." "oh, so you are going to take that horrid girl's part now? i wonder at you! she all but killed your little sister, and then stole her love away from you. did you see the little thing now, how she flew to her? why, she never kisses you like that." "i know--i know," said hester, and she turned away her face with a groan, and leant forward against the rustic bench, pressing her hot forehead down on her hands. "you'll have your triumph, hester, when miss forest is publicly expelled," said dora, tapping her lightly on the shoulder, and then, taking up the forged essay, she went slowly out of the garden. chapter thirty one. good and bad angels. hester stayed behind in the shady little arbour, and then, on that soft spring day, while the birds sang overhead, and the warm light breezes came in and fanned her hot cheeks, good angels and bad drew near to fight for a victory. which would conquer? hester had many faults, but hitherto she had been honourable and truthful; her sins had been those of pride and jealousy, but she had never told a falsehood in her life. she, knew perfectly--she trembled as the full knowledge overpowered her--that she had it in her power to exonerate annie. she could not in the least imagine now stupid susan drummond could contrive and carry out such a clever and deep-laid plot; but she knew also that if she related what she had seen with her own eyes the night before, she would probably give such a clew to the apparent mystery that the truth would come to light. if annie was cleared from this accusation, doubtless the old story of her supposed guilt with regard to mrs willis's caricature would also be read with its right key. hester was a clever and sharp girl; and the fact of seeing susan drummond in the school-room in the dead of night opened her eyes also to one or two other apparent little mysteries. while susan was her own room-mate she had often given a passing wonder to the fact of her extraordinary desire to overcome her sleepiness, and had laughed over the expedients susan had used to wake at all moments. these things, at the time, had scarcely given her a moment's serious reflection; but now she pondered them carefully, and became more and more certain that, for some inexplicable and unfathomable reason, sleepy, and apparently innocent, susan drummond wished to sow the seeds of mischief and discord in the school. hester was sure that if she chose to speak now she could clear poor annie, and restore her to her lost place in mrs willis's favour. should she do so?--ah! should she? her lips trembled, her colour came and went as the angels, good and bad, fought hard for victory within her. how she had longed to revenge herself on annie! how cordially she had hated her! now was the moment of her revenge. she had but to remain silent now, and to let matters take their course; she had but to hold her tongue about the little incident of last night, and, without any doubt, circumstantial evidence would point at annie forest, and she would be expelled from the school. mrs willis must condemn her now. mr everard must pronounce her guilty now. she would go, and when the coast was again clear the love which she had taken from hester--the precious love of hester's only little sister--would return. "you will be miserable: you will be miserable," whispered the good angels sorrowfully in her ear; but she did not listen to them. "i said i would revenge myself, and this is my opportunity," she murmured. "silence--just simply silence--will be my revenge." then the good angels went sorrowfully back to their father in heaven, and the wicked angels rejoiced. hester had fallen very low. chapter thirty two. fresh suspicions. mrs willis was not at home many hours before dora russell begged for an interview with her. annie had not as yet heard anything of the changed essay; for dora had resolved to keep the thing a secret until mrs willis herself took the matter in hand. annie was feeling not a little anxious and depressed. she was sorry now that she had led the girls that wild escapade through the wood. phyllis and nora were both suffering from heavy colds in consequence, and susan drummond was looking more pasty about her complexion, and was more dismally sleepy than usual. annie was going through her usual season of intense remorse after one of her wild pranks. no one repented with more apparent fervour than she did, and yet no one so easily succumbed to the next temptation. had annie been alone in the matter she would have gone straight to mrs willis and confessed all; but she could not do this without implicating her companions, who would have screamed with horror at the very suggestion. all the girls were more or less depressed by the knowledge that the gypsy woman, mother rachel, shared their secret; and they often whispered together as to the chances of her betraying them. old betty they could trust; for betty, the cake-woman, had been an arch-conspirator with the naughty girls of lavender house from time immemorial. betty had always managed to provide their stolen suppers for them, and had been most accommodating in the matter of pay. yes, with betty they felt they were safe; but mother rachel was a different person. she might like to be paid a few more sixpences for her silence; she might hover about the grounds; she might be noticed. at any moment she might boldly demand an interview with mrs willis. "i'm awfully afraid of mother rachel," phyllis moaned, as she shivered under the influence of her bad cold. nora said "i should faint if i saw her again, i know i should while the other girls always went out provided with stray sixpences, in case the gypsy-mother should start up from some unexpected quarter and demand black-mail." on the day of mrs willis's return, annie was pacing up and down the shady walk, and indulging in some rather melancholy and regretful thoughts, when susan drummond and mary morris rushed up to her, white with terror. "she's down there by the copse, and she's beckoning to us! oh, do come with us--do, darling, dear annie." "there's no use in it," replied annie; "mother rachel wants money, and i am not going to give her any. don't be afraid of her, girls, and don't give her money. after all, why should she tell on us? she would gain nothing by doing so." "oh, yes, she would, annie--she would, annie," said mary morris, beginning to sob; "oh, do come with us, do! we must pacify her, we really must." "i can't come now," said annie; "hark! some one is calling me. yes, miss danesbury--what is it?" "mrs willis wishes to see you at once, annie, in her private sitting-room," replied miss danesbury; and annie, wondering not a little, but quite unsuspicious, ran off. the fact, however, of her having deliberately disobeyed mrs willis, and done something which she knew would greatly pain her, brought a shade of embarrassment to her usually candid face. she had also to confess to herself that she did not feel quite so comfortable about mother rachel as she had given mary morris and susan drummond to understand. her steps lagged more and more as she approached the house, and she wished, oh, how longingly! oh, how regretfully! that she had not been naughty and wild and disobedient in her beloved teacher's absence. "but where is the use of regretting what is done?" she said, half aloud. "i know i can never be good--never, never!" she pushed aside the heavy velvet curtains which shaded the door of the private sitting-room, and went in, to find mrs willis seated by her desk, very pale and tired and unhappy looking, while dora russell, with crimson spots on her cheeks and a very angry glitter in her eyes, stood by the mantelpiece. "come here, annie dear," said mrs willis in her usual gentle and affectionate tone. annie's first wild impulse was to rush to her governess's side, to fling her arms round her neck, and, as a child would confess to her mother, to tell her all that story of the walk through the wood, and the stolen picnic in the fairies' field. three things, however, restrained her-- she must not relieve her own troubles at the expense of betraying others; she could not, even if she were willing, say a word in the presence of this cold and angry-looking dora; in the third place, mrs willis looked very tired and very sad. not for worlds would she add to her troubles at this instant. she came into the room, however, with a slight hesitation of manner, and a clouded brow, which caused mrs willis to watch her with anxiety, and dora with triumph. "come here, annie," repeated the governess. "i want to speak to you. something very dishonourable and disgraceful has been done in my absence." annie's face suddenly became as white as a sheet. could the gypsy-mother have already betrayed them all? mrs willis, noticing her too evident confusion, continued in a voice, which, in spite of herself, became stern and severe. "i shall expect the truth at any cost, my dear. look at this manuscript-book. do you know anything of the handwriting?" "why, it is yours, of course, dora," said annie, who was now absolutely bewildered. "it is _not_ mine," began dora, but mrs willis held up her hand. "allow me to speak, miss russell. i can best explain matters. annie, during my absence some one has been guilty of a very base and wicked act. one of the girls in this school has gone secretly to dora russell's desk, and taken away ten pages of an essay which she had called `the river,' and which she was preparing for the prize competition next month. instead of dora's essay this that you now see was put in its place. examine it, my dear. can you tell me anything about it?" annie took the manuscript-book, and turned the leaves. "is it meant for a parody?" she asked, after a pause; "it sounds ridiculous. no, mrs willis, i know nothing whatever about it; some one has imitated dora's handwriting. i cannot imagine who is the culprit." she threw the manuscript-book with a certain easy carelessness on the table by her side, and glanced up with a twinkle of mirth in her eyes at dora. "i suppose it is meant for a clever parody," she repeated; "at least it is amusing." her manner displeased mrs willis, and very nearly maddened poor dora. "we have not sent for you, annie," said her teacher, "to ask you your opinion of the parody, but to try and get you to throw light on the subject. we must find out, and at once, who has been so wicked as to deliberately injure another girl." "but why have you sent for _me_?" asked annie, drawing herself up, and speaking with a little shade of haughtiness. "because," said dora russell, who could no longer contain her outraged feelings, "because you alone can throw light on it--because you alone in the school are base enough to do anything so mean--because you alone can caricature." "oh, that is it," said annie; "you suspect me, then. do _you_ suspect me, mrs willis?" "my dear--what can i say?" "nothing, if you do. in this school my word has long gone for nothing. i am a naughty, headstrong, wilful girl, but in this matter i am perfectly innocent. i never saw that essay before; i never in all my life went to dora russell's desk. i am headstrong and wild, but i don't do spiteful things. i have no object in injuring dora; she is nothing to me--nothing. she is trying for the essay prize, but she has no chance of winning it. why should i trouble myself to injure her? why should i even take the pains to parody her words and copy her handwriting? mrs willis, you need not believe me--i see you do not believe me--but i am quite innocent." here annie burst into sudden tears, and ran out of the room. chapter thirty three. untrustworthy. dora russell had declared, in hester's presence, and with intense energy in her manner, that the author of the insult to which she had been exposed should be publicly punished, and, if possible, expelled. on the evening of her interview with the head teacher, she had so far forgotten herself as to reiterate this desire with extreme vehemence. she had boldly declared her firm conviction of annie's guilt, and had broadly hinted at mrs willis's favouritism toward her. the great dignity, however, of her teacher's manner, and the half-sorrowful, half-indignant look she bestowed on the excited girl, calmed her down after a time. mrs willis felt full sympathy for dora, and could well understand how trying and aggravating this practical joke must be to so proud a girl; but although her faith was undoubtedly shaken in annie, she would not allow this sentiment to appear. "i will do all i can for you, dora," she said, when the weeping annie had left the room; "i will do everything in my power to find out who has injured you. annie has absolutely denied the accusation you bring against her, and unless her guilt can be proved it is but right to believe her innocent. there are many other girls in lavender house; and to-morrow morning i will sift this unpleasant affair to the very bottom. go, now, my dear, and if you have sufficient self-command and self-control, try to have courage to write your essay over again. i have no doubt that your second rendering of your subject will be more attractive than the first. beginners cannot too often re-write their themes." dora gave her head a proud little toss, but she was sufficiently in awe of mrs willis to keep back any retort, and she went out of the room feeling unsatisfied and wretched, and inclined for a sympathising chat with her little friend, hester thornton. hester, however, when she reached her, seemed not at all disposed to talk to anyone. "i've had it all out with mrs willis, and there is no doubt she will be exposed to-morrow morning," said dora, half aloud. hester, whose head was bent over her french history, looked up with an annoyed expression. "who will be exposed?" she asked, in a petulant voice. "oh, how stupid you are growing, hester thornton!" exclaimed dora; "why, that horrid annie forest, of course--but really i have no patience to talk to you; you have lost all your spirit. i was very foolish to demean myself by taking so much notice of one of the little girls." dora sailed down the play-room to her own drawing-room, fully expecting hester to rise and rush after her; but to her surprise hester did not stir, but sat with her head bent over her book, and her cheeks slightly flushed. the next morning mrs willis kept her word to dora, and made the very strictest inquiries with regard to the practical joke to which dora had been subjected. she first of all fully explained what had taken place in the presence of the whole school, and then each girl was called up in rotation, and asked two questions: first, had she done this mischievous thing herself? second, could she throw any light on the subject? one by one each girl appeared before her teacher, replied in the negative to both queries, and returned to her seat. "now, girls," said mrs willis, "you have each of you denied this charge. such a thing as has happened to dora could not have been done without hands. the teachers in the school are above suspicion; the servants are none of them clever enough to perform this base trick. i suspect one of you, and i am quite determined to get at the truth. during the whole of this half-year there has been a spirit of unhappiness, of mischief, and of suspicion in our midst. under these circumstances love cannot thrive; under these circumstances the true and ennobling sense of brotherly kindness, and all those feelings which real religion prompt must languish. i tell you all now plainly that i will not have this thing in lavender house. it is simply disgraceful for one girl to play such tricks on her fellows. this is not the first time nor the second time that the school-desks have been tampered with. i will find out--i am determined to find out, who this dishonest person is; and as she has not chosen to confess to me, as she has preferred falsehood to truth, i will visit her, when i do discover her, with my very gravest displeasure. in this school i have always endeavoured to inculcate the true principles of honour and of trust. i have laid down certain broad rules, and expect them to be obeyed; but i have never hampered you with petty and humiliating restraints. i have given you a certain freedom, which i believed to be for your best good, and i have never suspected one of you until you have given me due cause. "now, however, i tell you plainly that i alter all my tactics. one girl sitting in this room is guilty. for her sake i shall treat you all as guilty, and punish you accordingly. for the remainder of this term, or until the hour when the guilty girl chooses to release her companions, you are all, with the exception of the little children and miss russell, who can scarcely have played this trick on herself, under punishment. i withdraw your half-holidays--i take from you the use of the south parlour for your acting, and every drawing-room in the play-room is confiscated. but this, is not all that i do. in taking from you my trust, i must treat you as untrustworthy--you will no longer enjoy the liberty you used to delight in--everywhere you will be watched. a teacher will sit in your play-room with you, a teacher will accompany you into the grounds, and i tell you plainly, girls, that chance words and phrases which drop from your lips shall be taken up, and used, if necessary, to the elucidation of this disgraceful mystery." here mrs willis left the room, and the teachers desired the several girls in their classes to attend to their morning studies. nothing could exceed the dismay which her words had produced. the innocent girls were fairly stunned, and from that hour for many a day all sunshine and happiness seemed really to have left lavender house. the two, however, who felt the change most acutely, and on whose altered faces their companions began to fix suspicious eyes, were annie forest and hester thornton. hester was burdened with an intolerable sense of the shameful falsehood she had told; annie, guilty in another matter, succumbed at last utterly to a sense of misery and injustice. her orphaned and lonely position for the first time began to tell on her; she ate little and slept little, her face grew very pale and thin, and her health really suffered. all the routine of happy life at lavender house was changed. in the large play-room the drawing-rooms were unused; there were no pleasant little knots of girls whispering happily and confidentially together, for whenever two or three girls sat down to have a chat they found that one or another of the teachers was within hearing. the acting for the coming play progressed so languidly that no one expected it would really take place, and the one relief and relaxation to the unhappy girls lay in the fact that the holidays were not far off, and that in the meantime they might work hard for the prizes. the days passed in a truly melancholy fashion, and, perhaps, for the first time the girls fully appreciated the old privileges of freedom and trust which were now forfeited. there was a feeble little attempt at a joke and a laugh in the school at dora's expense. the most frivolous of the girls whispered of her as she passed as "the muddy stream;" but no one took up the fun with avidity--the shadow of somebody's sin had fallen too heavily upon all the bright young lives. chapter thirty four. betty falls ill at an awkward time. the eight girls who had gone out on their midnight picnic were much startled one day by an unpleasant discovery. betty had never come for her basket. susan drummond, who had a good deal of curiosity, and always poked her nose into unexpected corners, had been walking with a miss allison in that part of the grounds where the laurel-bush stood. she had caught a peep of the white handle of the basket, and had instantly turned her companion's attention to something else. miss allison had not observed susan's start of dismay; but susan had taken the first opportunity of getting rid of her, and had run off in search of one of the girls who had shared in the picnic. she came across annie forest, who was walking, as usual, by herself, with her head slightly bent, and her curling hair in sad confusion. susan whispered the direful intelligence that old betty had forsaken them, and that the basket, with its ginger-beer bottles and its stained table-cloth, might be discovered at any moment. annie's pale face flushed slightly at susan's words. "why should we try to conceal the thing?" she said, speaking with sudden energy, and a look of hope and animation coming back to her face. "susy, let's go, all of us, and tell the miserable truth to mrs willis; it will be much the best way. we did not do the other thing, and when we have confessed about this our hearts will be at rest." "no, we did not do the other thing," said susan, a queer grey colour coming over her face; "but confess about this, annie forest!--i think you are mad. you dare not tell." "all right," said annie, "i won't, unless you all agree to it," and then she continued her walk, leaving susan standing on the gravelled path with her hands clasped together, and a look of most genuine alarm and dismay on her usually phlegmatic face. susan quickly found phyllis and nora, and it was only too easy to arouse the fears of these timid little people. their poor little faces became almost pallid, and they were not a little startled at the fact of annie forest, their own arch-conspirator, wishing to betray their secret. "oh," said susan drummond, "she's not out and out shabby; she says she won't tell unless we all wish it. but what is to become of the basket?" "come, come, young ladies; no whispering, if you please," said miss good, who came up at this moment. "susan, you are looking pale and cold, walk up and down that path half-a-dozen times, and then go into the house. phyllis and nora, you can come with me as far as the lodge. i want to take a message from mrs willis to mary martin about the fowl for to-morrow's dinner." phyllis and nora, with dismayed faces, waited solemnly away with the english teacher, and susan was left to her solitary meditations. things had come to such a pass that her slow wits were brought into play, and she neither felt sleepy, nor did she indulge in her usual habit of eating lollipops. that basket might be discovered any day, and then--then disgrace was imminent. susan could not make out what had become of old betty; never before had she so utterly failed them. betty lived in a little cottage about half a mile from lavender house. she was a sturdy, apple-cheeked, little old woman, and had for many a day added to her income--indeed, almost supported herself--by means of the girls at lavender house. the large cherry trees in her little garden bore their rich crop of fruit year after year for mrs willis's girls, and every day at an early hour betty would tramp into sefton and return with a temptingly-laden basket of the most approved cakes and tarts. there was a certain paling at one end of the grounds to which betty used to come. here on the grass she would sit contentedly with the contents of her basket arranged in the most tempting order before her, and to this seductive spot she knew well that those little misses who loved goodies, cakes, and tartlets would be sure to find their way. betty charged high for her wares; but, as she was always obliging in the matter of credit the thoughtless girls cared very little that they paid double the shop prices for betty's cakes. the best girls in the school, certainly, never went to betty; but annie forest, susan drummond, and several others had regular accounts with her, and few days passed that their young faces would not peep over the paling and their voices ask-- "what have you got to tempt me with to-day, betty?" it was, however, in the matter of stolen picnics, of grand feasts in the old attic, etc, etc, that betty was truly great. no one so clever as she in concealing a basket of delicious eatables, no one knew better what school-girls liked. she undoubtedly charged her own prices, but what she gave was of the best, and betty was truly in her element when she had an order from the young ladies of lavender house for a grand secret feast. "you shall have it, my pretties--you shall have it," she would say, wrinkling up her bright blue eyes, and smiling broadly. "you leave it to betty, my little loves; you leave it to betty." on the occasion of the picnic to the fairies' field betty had, indeed, surpassed herself in the delicious eatables she had provided; all had gone smoothly, the basket had been placed in a secure hiding-place under the thick laurel. it was to be fetched away by betty herself at an early hour on the following morning. no wonder susan was perplexed as she paced about and pretended to warm herself. it was a june evening, but the weather was still a little cold. susan remembered now that. betty had not come to her favourite station at the stile for several days. was it possible that the old woman was ill? as this idea occurred to her, susan became more alarmed. she knew that there was very little chance of the basket remaining long in concealment. rover might any day remember his pleasant picnic with affection, and drag the white basket from under the laurel-bush. michael the gardener would be certain to see it when next he cleaned up the back avenue. oh, it was more than dangerous to leave it there, and yet susan knew of no better hiding-place. a sudden idea came to her: she pulled out her pretty little watch, and saw that she need not return to the house for another half-hour. "suppose she ran as fast as possible to betty's little cottage, and begged of the old woman to come by the first light in the morning and fetch away the basket?" the moment susan conceived this idea she resolved to put it into execution. she looked around her hastily; no teacher was in sight, miss good was away at the lodge, miss danesbury was playing with the little children. mademoiselle, she knew, had gone indoors with a bad headache. she left the broad walk where she had been desired to stay, and, plunging into the shrubbery, soon reached betty's paling. in a moment she had climbed the bars, had jumped lightly into the field, and was running as fast as possible in the direction of betty's cottage. she reached the high road, and started and trembled violently as a carriage with some ladies and gentlemen passed her. she thought she recognised the faces of the two little misses bruce, but did not dare to look at them, and hurried panting along the road, and hoping she might be mistaken. in less than a quarter of an hour she had reached betty's little cottage, and was standing trying to recover her breath by the shut door. the place had a deserted look, and several overripe cherries had fallen from the trees and were lying neglected on the ground. susan knocked impatiently. there was no discernible answer. she had no time to wait, she lifted the latch, which yielded to her pressure, and went in. poor old betty, crippled, and in severe pain with rheumatism, was lying on her little bed. "eh, dear--and is that you, my pretty missy?" she asked, as susan, hot and tired, came up to her side. "oh, betty, are you ill?" asked miss drummond. "i came to tell you you have forgotten the basket." "no, my dear, no--not forgot. by no means that, lovey; but i has been took with the rheumatism this past week, and can't move hand nor foot. i was wondering how you'd do without your cakes and tartlets, dear, and to think of them cherries lying there good for nothing on the ground is enough to break one's 'eart." "so it is," said susan, giving an appreciative glance toward the open door. "they are beautiful cherries, and full of juice, i am sure. i'll take a few, betty, as i am going out, and pay you for them another day. but what i have come about now is the basket. you must get the basket away, however ill you are. if the basket is discovered we are all lost, and then good-bye to your gains." "well, missy, dear, if i could crawl on my hands and knees i'd go and fetch it, rather than you should be worried; but i can't set fool to the ground at all. the doctor says as 'tis somethink like rheumatic fever as i has." "oh, dear, oh, dear," said susan, not wasting any of her precious moments in pitying the poor suffering old woman. "what _is_ to be done? i tell you, betty, if that basket is found we are all lost." "but the laurel is very thick, lovey; it ain't likely to be found--it ain't, indeed." "i tell you it _is_ likely to be found, you tiresome old woman, and you really must go for it or send for it. you really must." old betty began to ponder. "there's moses," she said, after a pause of anxious thought; "he's a 'cute little chap, and he might go. he lives in the fourth cottage along the lane. moses is his name--moses moore. i'd give him a pint of cherries for the job. if you wouldn't mind sending moses to me, miss susan, why, i'll do my best; only it seems a pity to let anybody into your secrets, young ladies, but old betty herself." "it is a pity," said susan; "but, under the circumstances, it can't be helped. what cottage did you say this moses lived in?" "the fourth from here, down the lane, lovey--moses is the lad's name; he's a freckled boy, with a cast in one eye. you send him up to me, dearie, but don't mention the cherries, or he'll be after stealing them. he's a sad rogue, is moses; but i think i can tempt him with the cherries." susan did not wait to bid poor old betty "good-bye," but ran out of the cottage, shutting the door after her, and snatching up two or three ripe cherries to eat on her way. she was so far fortunate as to find the redoubtable moses at home, and to convey him bodily to old betty's presence. the queer boy grinned horribly, and looked as wicked as boy could look; but on the subject of cherries he was undoubtedly susceptible, and after a good deal of haggling and insisting that the pint should be a quart, he expressed his willingness to start off at four o'clock on the following morning, and bring away the basket from under the laurel-tree. chapter thirty five. "you are welcome to tell." annie continued her walk. the circumstances of the last two months had combined to do for her what nothing had hitherto effected. when a little child she had known hardship and privation, she had passed through that experience which is metaphorically spoken of as "going down hill." as a baby little annie had been surrounded by comforts and luxuries, and her father and mother had lived in a large house, and kept a carriage, and annie had two nurses to wait on herself alone. these were in the days before she could remember anything. with her first early memories came the recollection of a much smaller house, of much fewer servants, of her mother often in tears, and her father often away. then there was no house at all that the forests could call their own, only rooms of a tolerably cheerful character, and annie's nurse went away, and she look her daily walks by her mother's side and slept in a little cot in her mother's room. then came a very, very sad day, when her mother lay cold and still and fainting on her bed, and her tall and handsome father caught annie in his arms and pressed her to his heart, and told her to be a good child and to keep up her spirits, and, above all things, to take care of mother. then her father had gone away; and though annie expected him back, he did not come, and she and her mother went into poorer and shabbier lodgings, and her mother began to try her tear-dimmed eyes by working at church embroidery, and annie used to notice that she coughed a good deal as she worked. then there was another move, and this time mrs forest and her little daughter found themselves in one bedroom, and things began to grow very gloomy and food even was scarce. at last there was a change. one day a lady came into the dingy little room, and all of a sudden it seemed as if the sun had come out again. this lady brought comforts with her--toys and books for the child, good, brave words of cheer for the mother. at last annie's mother died, and she went away to lavender house to live with this good friend who had made her mother's dying hours easy. "annie, annie," said the dying mother, "i owe everything to mrs willis; we knew each other long ago when we were girls, and she has come to me now and made everything easy. when i am gone she will take care of you. oh, my child, i cannot repay her; but will you try?" "yes, mother," said little annie, gazing full into her mother's face with her sweet bright eyes, "i'll--i'll love her, mother; i'll give her lots and lots of love." annie had gone to lavender house, and kept her word, for she had almost worshipped the good mistress who was so true and kind to her, and who had so befriended her mother. through all the vicissitudes of her short existence annie had, however, never lost one precious gift. hers was an affectionate, but also a wonderfully bright, nature. it was as impossible for annie to turn away from laughter and merriment as it would be for a flower to keep its head determinedly turned from the sun. in their darkest days annie had managed to make her mother laugh; her little face was a sunbeam, her very naughtinesses were of a laughable character. her mother died--her father was still away, but annie retained her brave and cheerful spirit, for she gave and received love. mrs willis loved her--she bestowed upon her amongst all her girls the tenderest glances, the most motherly caresses. the teachers undoubtedly corrected and even scolded her, but they could not help liking her, and even her worst scrapes made them smile. annie's companions adored her; the little children would do anything for their own annie, and even the servants in the school said that there was no young lady in lavender house fit to hold a candle to miss forest. during the last half-year, however, things had been different. suspicion and mistrust began to dog the footsteps of the bright young girl; she was no longer a universal favourite--some of the girls even openly expressed their dislike of her. all this annie could have borne, but for the fact that mrs willis joined in the universal suspicion. the old glance now never came to her eyes, nor the old tone to her voice. for the first time annie's spirits utterly flagged; she could not bear this universal coldness, this universal chill. she began to droop physically as well as mentally. she was pacing up and down the walk, thinking very sadly, wondering vaguely if her father would ever return, and conscious of a feeling of more or less indifference to everything and everyone, when she was suddenly roused from her meditation by the patter of small feet and by a very eager little exclamation-- "me tumming--me tumming, annie!" and then nan raised her charming face and placed her cool baby hand in annie's. there was delicious comfort in the clasp of the little hand, and in the look of love and pleasure which lit up the small face. "me yiding from naughty nurse--me 'tay with 'oo, annie--me love 'oo, annie." annie stooped down, kissed the little one, and lifted her into her arms. "why ky?" said nan, who saw with consternation two big tears in annie's eyes; "dere, poor ickle annie--me love 'oo--me buy 'oo a new doll." "dearest little darling," said annie in a voice of almost passionate pain; then, with that wonderful instinct which made her in touch with all little children, she cheered up, wiped away her tears, and allowed laughter once more to wreathe her lips and fill her eyes. "come, nan," she said, "you and i will have such a race." she placed the child on her shoulder, clasped the little hands securely round her neck, and ran to the sound of nan's shouts down the shady walk. at the farther end nan suddenly tightened her clasp, drew herself up, ceased to laugh, and said with some fright in her voice-- "who dat?" annie, too, stood still with a sudden start, for the gypsy woman, mother rachel, was standing directly in their path. "go 'way, naughty woman," said nan, shaking her small hand imperiously. the gypsy dropped a low curtsey, and spoke in a slightly mocking tone. "a pretty little dear," she said. "yes, truly now, a pretty little winsome dear; and oh, what shoes! and little open-work socks! and i don't doubt real lace trimming on all her little garments--i don't doubt it a bit." "go 'way--me don't like 'oo," said nan. "let's wun back--gee, gee," she said, addressing annie, whom she had constituted into a horse for the time being. "yes, nan; in one minute," said annie. "please, mother rachel, what are you doing here?" "only waiting to see you, pretty missie," replied the tall gypsy. "you are the dear little lady who crossed my hand with silver that night in the wood. eh, but it was a bonny night, with a bonny bright moon, and none of the dear little ladies meant any harm--no, no. mother rachel knows that." "look here," said annie, "i'm not going to be afraid of you. i have no more silver to give you. if you like, you may go up to the house and tell what you have seen. i am very unhappy, and whether you tell or not can make very little difference to me now. good-night; i am not the least afraid of you--you can do just as you please about telling mrs willis." "eh, my dear?" said the gypsy; "do you think i'd work you any harm--you, and the seven other dear little ladies? no, not for the world, my dear--not for the world. you don't know mother rachel when you think she'd be that mean." "well, don't come here again," said annie. "good-night." she turned on her heel, and nan shouted back-- "go 'way, naughty woman--nan don't love 'oo, 'tall, 'tall." the gypsy stood still for a moment with a frown knitting her brows; then she slowly turned, and, creeping on all-fours through the underwood, climbed the hedge into the field beyond. "oh, no," she laughed, after a moment; "the little missy thinks she ain't afraid of me; but she be. trust mother rachel for knowing that much. i make no doubt," she added after a pause, "that the little one's clothes are trimmed with real lace. well, little missie annie forest, i can see with half an eye that you set store by that baby-girl. you had better not cross mother rachel's whims, or she can punish you in a way you don't think of." chapter thirty six. how moses moore kept his appointment. susan drummond got back to lavender house without apparent discovery. she was certainly late when she took her place in the class-room for her next day's preparation; but, beyond a very sharp reprimand from mademoiselle, no notice was taken of this fact. she managed to whisper to nora and phyllis that the basket would be moved by the first dawn the next morning, and the little girls went to bed happier in consequence. nothing ever could disturb susan's slumbers, and that night she certainly slept without rocking. as she was getting into bed she ventured to tell annie how successfully she had manoeuvred; but annie received her news with the most absolute indifference, looking at her for a moment with a queer smile, and then saying-- "my own wish is that this should be found out. as a matter of course, i sha'n't betray you, girls; but as things now stand i am anxious that mrs willis should know the very worst of me." after a remark which susan considered so simply idiotic, there was, of course, no further conversation between the two girls. moses moore had certainly promised betty to rise soon after dawn on the following morning and go to lavender house to carry off the basket from under the laurel-tree. moses, a remarkably indolent lad, had been stimulated by the thought of the delicious cherries which would be his as soon as he brought the basket to betty. he had cleverly stipulated that a quart--not a pint--of cherries was to be his reward, and he looked forward with considerable pleasure to picking them himself, and putting a few extra ones into his mouth on the sly. moses was not at all the kind of boy who would have scrupled to steal a few cherries; but in this particular old betty, ill as she was, was too sharp for him, or for any of the other village lads. her bed was drawn up close to her little window, and her window looked directly on to the two cherry trees. never, to all appearance, did betty close her eyes. however early the hour might be in which a village boy peeped over the wall of her garden, he always saw her white night-cap moving, and he knew that her bright blue eyes would be on him, and he would be proclaimed a thief all over the place before many minutes were over. moses, therefore, was very glad to secure his cherries by fair means, as he could not obtain them by foul; and he went to bed and to sleep determined to be off on his errand with the dawn. a very natural thing, however, happened. moses, unaccustomed to getting up at half-past three in the morning, never opened his eyes until the church clock struck five. then he started upright, rubbed and rubbed at his sleepy orbs, tumbled into his clothes, and, softly opening the cottage door, set off on his errand. the fact of his being nearly an hour and a half late did not trouble him in the least. in any case, he would get to lavender house before six o'clock, and would have consumed his cherries in less than an hour from that date. moses sauntered gayly along the roads, whistling as he went, and occasionally tossing his battered cap in the air. he often lingered on his way, now to cut down a particularly tempting switch from the hedge, now to hunt for a possible bird's nest. it was very, nearly six o'clock when he reached the back avenue, swung himself over the gate, which was locked, and ran softly on the dewy grass in the direction of the laurel-bush. old betty had given him most careful instructions, and he was far too sharp a lad to forget what was necessary for the obtaining of a quart of cherries. he found his tree, and lay flat down on the ground in order to pull out the basket. his fingers had just clasped the handle when there came a sudden interruption--a rush, a growl, and some very sharp teeth had inserted themselves into the back of his ragged jacket. poor moses found himself, to his horror, in the clutches of a great mastiff. the creature held him tight, and laid one heavy paw on him to prevent him rising. under these circumstances, moses thought it quite unnecessary to retain any self-control. he shrieked, he screamed, he wriggled; his piercing yells filled the air, and, fortunately for him, his being two hours too late brought assistance to his aid. michael, the gardener, and a strong boy who helped him, rushed to the spot, and liberated the terrified lad, who, after all, was only frightened, for rover had satisfied himself with tearing his jacket to pieces, not himself. "give me the b-basket," sobbed moses, "and let me g-g-go." "you may certainly go, you little tramp," said michael, "but jim and me will keep the basket. i much misdoubt me if there isn't mischief here. what's the basket put hiding here for, and who does it belong to?" "old b-b-betty," gasped forth the agitated moses. "well, let old betty fetch it herself. mrs willis will keep it for her," said michael. "come along, jim, get to your weeding, do. there, little scamp, you had better make yourself scarce." moses certainly look his advice, for he scuttled off like a hare. whether he ever got his cherries or not, history does not disclose. michael, looking gravely at jim, opened the basket, examined its contents, and, shaking his head solemnly, carried it into the house. "there's been deep work going on, jim, and my missis ought to know," said michael, who was an exceedingly strict disciplinarian. jim, however, had a soft corner in his heart for the young ladies, and he commenced his weeding with a profound sigh. chapter thirty seven. a broken trust. the next morning annie forest opened her eyes with that strange feeling of indifference and want of vivacity which come so seldom to youth. she saw the sun shining through the closed blinds; she heard the birds twittering and singing in the large elm-tree which nearly touched the windows; she knew well how the world looked at this moment, for often and often in her old light-hearted days she had risen before the maid came to call her, and, kneeling by the deep window-ledge, had looked out at the bright fresh, sparkling day. a new day, with all its hours before it, its light vivid but not too glaring, its dress all manner of tender shades and harmonious colourings! annie had a poetical nature, and she gloried in these glimpses which she got all by herself of the fresh, glad world. to-day, however, she lay still, sorry to know that the brief night was at an end, and that the day, with its coldness and suspicion, its terrible absence of love and harmony, was about to begin. annie's nature was very emotional; she was intensely sensitive to her surroundings; the greyness of her present life was absolute destruction to such a nature as hers. the dressing-bell rang; the maid came in to draw up the blinds, and call the girls. annie rose languidly, and began to dress herself. she first finished her toilet, and then approached her little bed, and stood by its side for a moment hesitating. she did not want to pray, and yet she felt impelled to go down on her knees. as she knelt with her curls falling about her face, and her bands pressed to her eyes, one line of one of her favourite poems came flashing with swiftness and power across; her memory-- "a soul which has sinned and is pardoned again." the words filled her whole heart with a sudden sense of peace and of great longing. the prayer-bell rang: she rose, and, turning to susan drummond, said earnestly-- "oh, susy, i do wish mrs willis could know about our going to the fairy-field; i do so want god to forgive me." susan stared in her usual dull, uncomprehending way; then she flushed a little, and said brusquely-- "i think you have quite taken leave of your senses, annie forest." annie said no more, but at prayers in the chapel she was glad to find herself near gentle cecil temple, and the words kept repeating themselves to her all during the morning lessons-- "a soul which has sinned and is pardoned again." just before morning school, several of the girls started and looked distressed when they found that mrs willis lingered in the room. she stood for a moment by the english teacher's desk, said something to her in a low voice, and then, walking slowly to her own post at the head of the great school-room, she said suddenly-- "i want to ask you a question, miss drummond. will you please just stand up in your place in class and answer me without a moment's hesitation?" phyllis and nora found themselves turning very pale; mary price and one or two more of the rebels also began to tremble, but susan looked dogged and indifferent enough as she turned her eyes toward her teacher. "yes, madam," she said, rising and dropping a curtsey. "my friends, the misses bruce, came to call on me yesterday evening, susan, and told me that they saw you running very quickly on the high road in the direction of the village. you, of course, know that you broke a very distinct rule when you left the grounds without leave. tell me at once where you were going." susan hesitated, coloured to her dullest red, and looked down. then, because she had no ready excuse to offer, she blurted out the truth-- "i was going to see old betty." "the cake-woman?" "yes." "what for?" "i--i heard she was ill." "indeed--you may sit down. miss drummond. miss good, will you ask michael to step for a moment into the school-room?" several of the girls now indeed held their breath, and more than one heart beat with heavy, frightened bumps as a moment later michael followed miss good into the room, carrying the redoubtable picnic-basket on his arm. "michael," said mrs willis, "i wish you to tell the young ladies exactly how you found the basket this morning. stand by my side, please, and speak loud enough for them to hear." after a moment's pause michael related somewhat diffusely and with an occasional break in his narrative the scene which had occurred between him and moses that morning. "that will do, michael; you can now go," said the head-mistress. she waited until the old servant had closed the door, and then she turned to her girls-- "it is not quite a fortnight since i stood where i now stand, and asked one girl to be honourable and to save her companions. one girl was guilty of sin and would not confess, and for her sake all her companions are now suffering. i am tired of this sort of thing--i am tired of standing in this place and appealing to your honour, which is dead, to your truth, which is nowhere. girls, you puzzle me--you half break my heart. in this case more than one is guilty. how many of the girls in lavender house are going to tell me a lie this morning?" there was a very brief pause; then a slight cry, and a girl rose from her seat and walked up the long school-room. "i am the most guilty of all," said annie forest. "annie!" said mrs willis, in a tone half of pain, half of relief, "have you come to your senses at last?" "oh, i'm so glad to be able to speak the truth," said annie. "please punish me very, very hard; i am the most guilty of all." "what did you do with this basket?" "we took it for a picnic--it was my plan, i led the others." "where was your picnic?" "in the fairies' field." "ah! at what time?" "at night--in the middle of the night--the night you went to london." mrs willis put her hand to her brow; her face was very white and the girls could see that she trembled. "i trusted my girls--" she said; then she broke off abruptly. "you had companions in this wickedness--name them." "yes, i had companions; i led them on." "name them, miss forest." for the first time annie raised her eyes to mrs willis's face: then she turned and looked down the long school-room. "oh, won't they tell themselves?" she said. nothing could be more appealing than her glance. it melted the hearts of phyllis and nora, who began to sob, and to declare brokenly that they had gone too, and that they were very, very sorry. spurred by their example mary price also confessed, and one by one all the little conspirators revealed the truth, with the exception of susan, who kept her eyes steadily fixed on the floor. "susan drummond," said mrs willis, "come here." there was something in her tone which startled every girl in the school. never had they heard this ring in their teacher's voice before. "susan," said mrs willis, "i don't ask you if you are guilty; i fear, poor miserable girl, that if i did you would load your conscience with a fresh lie. i don't ask you if you are guilty because i know you are. the fact of your running without leave to see old betty is circumstantial evidence. i judge you by that and pronounce you guilty. now, young ladies, you who have treated me so badly, who have betrayed my trust, who have been wanting in honour, i must think, i must ask god to teach me how to deal with you. in the meantime, you cannot associate with your companions. miss good, will you take each of these eight girls to their bedrooms." as annie was leaving the room she looked full into mrs willis's face. strange to say, at this moment of her great disgrace the cloud which had so long brooded over her was lifted. the sweet eyes never looked sweeter. the old annie, and yet a better and a braver annie than had ever existed before, followed her companions out of the school-room. chapter thirty eight. is she still guilty? on the evening of that day cecil temple knocked at the door of mrs willis's private sitting-room. "ah, cecil! is that you?" said her governess. "i am always glad to see you, dear; but i happen to be particularly busy to-night. have you anything in particular to say to me?" "i only wanted to talk about annie, mrs willis. you believe in her at last, don't you?" "believe in her at last!" said the head-mistress in a tone of astonishment and deep pain. "no, cecil, my dear; you ask too much of my faith. i do not believe in annie." cecil paused; she hesitated, and seemed half afraid to proceed. "perhaps," she said at last in a slightly timid tone, "you have not seen her since this morning?" "no; i have been particularly busy. besides, the eight culprits are under punishment; part of their punishment is that i will not see them." "don't you think, mrs willis," said cecil, "that annie made rather a brave confession this morning?" "i admit, my dear, that annie spoke in somewhat of her old impulsive way; she blamed herself, and did not try to screen her--misdemeanours behind her companions. in this one particular she reminded me of the old annie who, notwithstanding all her faults. i used to trust and love. but as to her confession being very brave, my dear cecil, you must remember that she did not _confess_ until she was obliged; she knew, and so did all the other girls, that i could have got the truth out of old betty had they chosen to keep their lips sealed. then, my dear, consider what she did. on the very night that i was away she violated the trust i had in her--she bade me `good-bye' with smiles and sweet glances, and then she did this in my absence. no, cecil, i fear poor annie is not what we thought her. she has done untold mischief during the half-year, and has willfully lied and deceived me. i find, on comparing dates, that it was on the very night of the girls picnic that dora's theme was changed. there is no doubt whatever that annie was the guilty person. i did my best to believe in her, and to depend on mr everard's judgment of her character, but i confess i can do so no longer. cecil, dear, i am not surprised that you look pale and sad. no, we will not give up this poor annie; we will try to love her even through her sin. ah! poor child, poor child! how much i have prayed for her! she was to me as a child of my own. now, dear cecil, i must ask you to leave me." cecil went slowly out of her governess's presence, and, wandering across the wide stone hall, she entered the play-room. it happened to be a wet night, and the room was full of girls, who hung together in groups and whispered softly. there were no loud voices, and, except from the little ones, there was no laughter. a great depression hung over the place, and few could have recognised the happy girls of lavender house in these sad young faces. cecil walked slowly into the room, and presently finding hester thornton, she sat down by her side. "i can't get mrs willis to see it," she said very sadly. "what?" asked hester. "why, that we have got our old annie back again; that she did take the girls out to that picnic, and was as wild, and reckless, and naughty as possible about it; and then, just like the old annie i have always known, the moment the fun was over she began to repent, and that she has gone on repenting ever since, which has accounted for her poor, sad little face and white cheeks. of course she longed to tell--nora and phyllis have told me so--but she would not betray them. now at last there is a load off her heart, and, though she is in great disgrace and punishment, she is not very unhappy. i went to see her an hour ago, and i saw in her face that my own darling annie has returned. but what do you think mrs willis does, hester? she is so hurt and disappointed, that she believes annie is guilty of the other thing--she believes that annie stole dora's theme, and that she caricatured her in my book some time ago. she believes it--she is sure of it. now, do you think, hester, that annie's face would look quite peaceful and happy to-night if she had only confessed half her faults--if she had this meanness, this sin, these lies still resting on her soul? oh! i wish mrs willis would see her! i wish--i wish i but i can do nothing. you agree with me, don't you, hester? just put yourself in annie's place, and tell me if _you_ would feel happy, and if your heart would be at rest, if you had only confessed half your sin, and if through you all your school-fellows were under disgrace and suspicion? you could not, could you, hester? why, hester, how white you are!" "you are so metaphysical," said hester, rising; "you quite puzzle me. how can i put myself in your friend annie's place? i never understood her--i never wanted to. put myself in her place?--no, certainly that i'm never likely to. i hope that i shall never be in such a predicament." hester walked away, and cecil sat still in great perplexity. cecil was a girl with a true sense of religion. the love of god guided every action of her simple and straightforward life. she was neither beautiful nor clever; but no one in the school was more respected and honoured, no one more sincerely loved. cecil knew what the peace of god meant, and when she saw even a shadowy reflection of that peace on annie's little face, she was right in believing that she must be innocent of the guilt which was attributed to her. the whole school assembled for prayers that night in the little chapel, and mr everard, who had heard the story of that day's confession from mrs willis, said a few words appropriate to the occasion to the unhappy young girls. whatever effect his words had on the others, and they were very simple and straightforward, annie's face grew quiet and peaceful as she listened to them. the old clergyman assured the girls that god was waiting to forgive those who truly repented, and that the way to repent was to rise up and sin no more. "the present fun is not worth the after-pain," he said in conclusion. "it is an old saying that stolen waters are sweet, but only at the time: afterwards only those who drink of them know the full extent of their bitterness." this little address from mr everard strengthened poor annie for an ordeal which was immediately before her, for mrs willis asked all the school to follow her to the play-room, and there she told them that she was about to restore to them their lost privileges; that circumstances, in her opinion, now so strongly pointed the guilt of the stolen essay in the direction of one girl, that she could no longer ask the school to suffer for her sake. "she still refuses to confess her sin," said mrs willis, "but, unless another girl proclaims herself guilty, and proves to me beyond doubt that she drew the caricature which was found in cecil temple's book, and that she changed dora russell's essay, and, imitating her hand, put another in its place, i proclaim the guilty person to be annie forest, and on her alone i visit my displeasure. you can retire to your rooms, young ladies. to-morrow morning lavender house resumes its old cheerfulness." chapter thirty nine. hester's hour of trial. however calmly or however peacefully annie slept that night, poor hester did not close her eyes. the white face of the girl she had wronged and injured kept rising before her. why had she so deceived annie? why from the very first had she turned from her and misjudged her, and misrepresented her? was annie, indeed, all bad? hester had to own to herself that to-night annie was better than she--was greater than she. could she now have undone the past, she would not have acted as she had done; she would not for the sake of a little paltry revenge have defiled her conscience with a lie, have told her governess that she could throw no light on the circumstance of the stolen essay. this was the first lie hester had ever told; she was naturally both straightforward and honourable, but her sin of sins, that which made her hard and almost unlovable, was an intensely proud and haughty spirit. she was very sorry she had told that lie; she was very sorry she had yielded to that temptation; but not for worlds would she now humble herself to confess-- not for worlds would she let the school know of her cowardice and shame. no, if there was no other means of clearing: annie except through her confession, she must remain with the shadow of this sin over her to her dying day. hester, however, was now really unhappy, and also truly sorry for poor annie. could she have got off without disgrace or punishment, she would have been truly glad to see annie exonerated. she was quite certain that susan drummond was at the bottom of all the mischief which had been done lately at lavender house. she could not make out how stupid susan was clever enough to caricature and to imitate peoples' hands. still she was convinced that she was the guilty person, and she wondered and wondered if she could induce susan to come forward and confess the truth, and so save annie without bringing her, hester, into any trouble. she resolved to speak to susan, and without confessing that she had been in the school-room on the night the essay was changed, to let her know plainly that she suspected her. she became much calmer when she determined to carry out this resolve, and toward morning she fell asleep. she was awakened at a very early hour by little nan clambering over the side of her crib, and cuddling down cosily in a way she loved by hester's side. "me so 'nug, 'nug," said little nan. "oh, hetty, hetty, there's a wy on the teiling!" hester had then to rouse herself, and enter into an animated conversation on the subject of flies generally, and in especial she had to talk of that particular fly which would perambulate on the ceiling over nan's head. "me like wies," said nan, "and me like 'oo, hetty, and me love--me love annie." hester kissed her little sister passionately; but this last observation, accompanied by the expression of almost angelic devotion which filled little nan's brown eyes, as she repeated that she liked flies and hetty, but that she loved annie, had the effect of again hardening her heart. hester's hour of trial, however, was at hand, and before that day was over she was to experience that awful emptiness and desolation which those know whom god is punishing. lessons went on as usual at lavender house that morning, and, to the surprise of several, annie was seen in her old place in class. she worked with a steadiness quite new to her; no longer interlarding her hours of study with those indescribable glances of fun and mischief, first at one school-companion and then at another, which used to worry her teachers so much. there were no merry glances from annie that morning: but she worked steadily and rapidly, and went through that trying ordeal, her french verbs, with such satisfaction that mademoiselle was on the point of praising her, until she remembered that annie was in disgrace. after school, however, annie did not join her companions in the grounds, but went up to her bedroom, where, by mrs willis's orders, she was to remain until the girls went in. she was to take her own exercise later in the day. it was now the tenth of june--an intensely sultry day; a misty heat brooded over everything, and not a breath of air stirred the leaves in the trees. the girls wandered about languidly, too enervated by the heat to care to join in any noisy games. they were now restored to their full freedom, and there is no doubt they enjoyed the privileges of having little confabs, and whispering secrets to each other without having miss good and miss danesbury for ever at their elbows. they talked of many things--of the near approach of the holidays, of the prize day which was now so close at hand, of annie's disgrace, and so on. they wondered, many of them, if annie would ever be brought to confess her sin, and, if not, how mrs willis would act toward her. dora russell said in her most contemptuous tones-- "she is nothing, after all, but a charity child, and mrs willis has supported her for years for nothing." "yes, and she's too clever by half; eh, poor old muddy stream?" remarked a saucy little girl. "by the way, dora, dear, how goes the river now?-- has it lost itself in the arms of mother ocean yet?" dora turned red and walked away, and her young tormentor exclaimed with considerable gusto-- "there, i have silenced her for a bit; i do hate the way she talks about charity children. whatever her faults, annie is the sweetest and prettiest girl in the school, in my opinion." in the meantime hester was looking in all directions for susan drummond. she thought the present a very fitting opportunity to open her attack on her, and she was the more anxious to bring her to reason as a certain look in annie's face--a pallid and very weary look--had gone to her heart, and touched her in spite of herself. now, even though little nan loved her, hester would save annie could she do so not at her own expense. look, however, as she would, nowhere could she find miss drummond. she called and called, but no sleepy voice replied. susan, indeed, knew better; she had curled herself up in a hammock which hung between the boughs of a shady tree, and though hester passed under her very head, she was sucking lollipops and going off comfortably into the land of dreams, and had no intention of replying. hester wandered down the shady walk, and at its farther end she was gratified by the sight of little nan, who, under her nurse's charge, was trying to string daisies on the grass. hester sat down by her side, and nan climbed over and made fine havoc of her neat print dress, and laughed, and was at her merriest and best. "i hear say that that naughty miss forest has done something out-and-out disgraceful," whispered the nurse. "oh, don't!" said hester impatiently. "why should everyone throw mud at a girl when she is down? if poor annie is naughty and guilty, she is suffering now." "annie _not_ naughty," said little nan. "me love my own annie; me do, me do." "and you love your own poor old nurse, too?" responded the somewhat jealous nurse. hester left the two playing happily together, the little one caressing her nurse, and blowing one or two kisses after her sister's retreating form. hester returned to the house, and went up to her room to prepare for dinner. she had washed her hands, and was standing before the looking-glass re-plaiting her long hair when susan drummond, looking extremely wild and excited, and with her eyes almost starting out of her head, rushed into the room. "oh, hester, hester!" she gasped, and she flung herself on hester's bed, with her face downwards; she seemed absolutely deprived for the moment of the power of any further speech. "what is the matter, susan?" inquired hester half impatiently. "what have you come into my room for? are you going into a fit of hysterics? you had better control yourself, for the dinner gong will sound directly." susan gasped two or three times, made a rush to hester's wash-handstand, and taking up a glass, poured some cold water into it, and gulped it down. "now i can speak," she said. "i ran so fast that my breath quite left me. hester, put on your walking things or go without them, just as you please--only go at once if you would save her." "save whom?" asked hester. "your little sister--little nan. i--i saw it all. i was in the hammock, and nobody knew i was there, and somehow i wasn't so sleepy as usual, and i heard nan's voice, and i looked over the side of the hammock, and she was sitting on the grass picking daisies, and her nurse was with her, and presently you came up. i heard you calling me, but i wasn't going to answer. i felt too comfortable. you stayed with nan and her nurse for a little, and then went away; and i heard nan's nurse say to her: `sit here, missy, till i come back to you; i am going to fetch another reel of sewing cotton from the house. sit still, missy; i'll be back directly.' she went away, and nan went on picking her daisies. all on a sudden i heard nan give a sharp little cry, and i looked over the hammock, and there was a tall dark woman, with such a wicked face, and she snatched up nan in her arms, and put a thick shawl over her face, and ran off with her. it was all done in an instant. i shouted, and i scrambled out of the hammock, and i rushed down the path; but there wasn't a sign of anybody there. i don't know where the woman went--it seemed as if the earth swallowed up both her and little nan. why, hester, are you going to faint?" "water!" gasped hester--"one sip--now let me go." chapter forty. a gipsy maid. in a few moments everyone in lavender house was made acquainted with susan's story. at such a time ceremony was laid aside, dinner forgotten, teachers, pupils, servants all congregated in the grounds, all rushed to the spot where nan's withered daisies still lay, all peered through the underwood, and all, alas! looked, in vain for the tall dark woman and the little child. little nan, the baby of the school, had been stolen--there were loud and terrified lamentations. nan's nurse was almost tearing her hair, was rushing frantically here, there, and everywhere. no one blamed the nurse for leaving her little charge in apparent safety for a few moments, but the poor woman's own distress was pitiable to see. mrs willis took hester's hand, and told the poor stunned girl that she was sending to sefton immediately for two or three policemen, and that in the meantime every man on the place should commence the search for the woman and child. "without any doubt," mrs willis added, "we shall soon have our little nan back again; it is quite impossible that the woman, whoever she is, can have taken her so far away in so short a time." in the meantime, annie in her bedroom heard the fuss and the noise. she leaned out of her window and saw phyllis in the distance; she called to her. phyllis ran up, the tears streaming down her cheeks. "oh, something so dreadful!" she gasped; "a wicked, wicked woman has stolen little nan thornton. she ran off with her just where the undergrowth is so thick at the end of the shady walk. it happened to her half an hour ago, and they are all looking, but they cannot find the woman or little nan anywhere. oh, it is so dreadful! is that you, mary?" phyllis ran off to join her sister, and annie put her head in again, and looked round her pretty room. "the gipsy," she murmured, "the tall, dark gipsy has taken little nan!" her face was very white, her eyes shone, her lips expressed a firm and almost obstinate determination. with all her usual impulsiveness, she decided on a course of action--she snatched up a piece of paper and scribbled a hasty line: ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "dear mother-friend,--however badly you think of annie, annie loves you with all her heart. forgive me, i must go myself to look for little nan. that tall, dark woman is a gipsy--i have seen her before; her name is mother rachel. tell hetty i won't return until i bring her little sister back.--your repentant and sorrowful annie." annie twisted up the note, directed it to mrs willis, and left it on her dressing-table. then, with a wonderful amount of forethought for her, she emptied the contents of a little purse into a tiny gingham bag, which she fastened inside the front of her dress. she put on her shady hat, and threw a shawl across her arm, and then, slipping softly downstairs, she went out through the deserted kitchens, down the back avenue, and past the laurel-bush, until she came to the stile which led into the wood--she was going straight to the gipsies' encampment. annie, with some of the gipsy's characteristics in her own blood, had always taken an extraordinary interest in these queer wandering people. gipsies had a fascination for her, she loved stories about them; if a gipsy encampment was near, she always begged the teachers to walk in that direction. annie had a very vivid imagination, and in the days when she reigned as favourite in the school she used to make up stories for the express benefit of her companions. these stories, as a rule, always turned upon the gipsies. many and many a time had the girls of lavender house almost gasped with horror as annie described the queer ways of these people. for her, personally, their wildness and their freedom had a certain fascination, and she was heard in her gayest moments to remark that she would rather like to be stolen and adopted by a gipsy tribe. whenever annie had an opportunity she chatted with the gipsy wives, and allowed them to tell her fortune, and listened eagerly to their narratives. when a little child she had once for several months been under the care of a nurse who was a reclaimed gipsy, and this girl had given her all kinds of information about them. annie often felt that she quite loved these wild people, and mother rachel was the first gipsy she cordially shrank from and disliked. when the little girl started now on her wild-goose chase after nan she was by no means devoid of a plan of action. the knowledge she had taken so many years to acquire came to her aid, and she determined to use it for nan's benefit. she knew that the gipsies, with all their wandering and erratic habits, had a certain attachment, if not for homes, at least for sites; she knew that as a rule they encamped over and over again in the same place; she knew that their wanderings were conducted with method, and their apparently lawless lives governed by strict self-made rules. annie made straight now for the encampment, which stood in a little dell at the other side of the fairies' field. here for weeks past the gipsies' tents had been seen; here the gipsy children had played, and the men and women smoked and lain about in the sun. anne entered the small field now, but uttered no exclamation of surprise when she found that all the tents, with the exception of one, had been removed, and that this tent also was being rapidly taken down by a man and a girl, while a tall boy stood by, holding a donkey by the bridle. annie wasted no time in looking for nan here. before the girl and the man could see her, she darted behind a bush, and removing her little bag of money, hid it carefully under some long grass; then she pulled a very bright yellow sash out of her pocket, tied it round her blue cotton dress, and leaving her little shawl also on the ground, tripped gayly up to the tent. she saw with pleasure that the girl who was helping the man was about her own size. she went up and touched her on the shoulder. "look here," she said, "i want to make such a pretty play by-and-by--i want to play that i'm a gipsy girl. will you give me your clothes, if i give you mine? see, mine are neat, and this sash is very handsome. will you have them? do. i am so anxious to play at being a gipsy." the girl turned and stared. annie's pretty blue print and gay sash were certainly tempting bait. she glanced at her father. "the little lady wants to change," she said in an eager voice. the man nodded acquiescence, and the girl taking annie's hand, ran quickly with her to the bottom of the field. "you don't mean it, surely?" she said. "eh, but i'm uncommon willing." "yes, i certainly mean it," said annie. "you are a dear, good, obliging girl, and how nice you will look in my pretty blue cotton! i like that striped petticoat of yours, too, and that gay handkerchief you wear round your shoulders. thank you so very much. now, do i look like a real, real gipsy?" "your hair ain't ragged enough, miss." "oh, clip it, then; clip it away. i want to be quite the real thing. have you got a pair of scissors?" the girl ran back to the tent, and presently returned to shear poor annie's beautiful hair in truly rough fashion. "now, miss, you look much more like, only your arms are a bit too white. stay, we has got some walnut-juice; we was just a-using of it. i'll touch you up fine, miss." so she did, darkening annie's brown skin to a real gipsy tone. "you're, a dear, good girl," said annie, in conclusion; and as the girl's father called her roughly at this moment, she was obliged to go away, looking ungainly enough in the english child's neat clothes. chapter forty one. disguised. annie ran out of the field, mounted the stile which led into the wood, and stood there until the gipsy man and girl, and the boy with the donkey, had finally disappeared. then she left her hiding-place, and taking her little gingham bag out of the long grass, secured it once more in the front of her dress. she felt queer and uncomfortable in her new dress, and the gipsy girl's heavy shoes tired her feet; but she was not to be turned from her purpose by any manner of discomforts, and she started bravely on her long trudge over the dusty roads, for her object was to follow the gipsies to their next encampment, about ten miles away. she had managed, with some tact, to obtain a certain amount of information from the delighted gipsy girl. the girl told annie that she was very glad they were going from here; that this was a very dull place, and that they would not have stayed so long but for mother rachel, who for some reasons of her own, had refused to stir. here the girl drew herself up short, and coloured under her dark skin. but annie's tact never failed. she even yawned a little, and seemed scarcely to hear the girl's words. now, in the distance, she followed these people. in her disguise, uncomfortable as it was, she felt tolerably safe. should any of the people in lavender house happen to pass her on the way, they would never recognise annie forest in this small gipsy maiden. when she did approach the gipsies' dwelling she might have some hope of passing as one of themselves. the only one whom she had really to fear was the girl with whom she had changed clothes, and she trusted to her wits to keep out of this young person's way. when zillah, her old gipsy nurse, had charmed her long ago with gipsy legends and stories, annie had always begged to hear about the fair english children whom the gipsies stole, and zillah had let her into some secrets which partly accounted for the fact that so few of these children are ever recovered. she walked very fast now; her depression was gone, a great excitement, a great longing, a great hope, keeping her up. she forgot that she had eaten nothing since breakfast: she forgot everything in all the world now but her great love for little nan, and her desire to lay down her very life, if necessary, to rescue nan from the terrible fate which awaited her if she was brought up as a gipsy's child. annie, however, was unaccustomed to such long walks, and besides, recent events had weakened her, and by the time she reached sefton--for her road lay straight through this little town--she was so hot and thirsty that she looked around her anxiously to find some place of refreshment. in an unconscious manner she paused before a restaurant, where she and several other girls of lavender house had more than once been regaled with buns and milk. the remembrance of the fresh milk and the nice buns came gratefully before the memory of the tired child now. forgetting her queer attire, she went into the shop, and walked boldly up to the counter. annie's disguise, however, was good, and the young woman who was serving, instead of bending forward with the usual gracious "what can i get for you, miss?" said very sharply-- "go away at once, little girl; we don't allow beggars here; leave the shop instantly. no, i have nothing for you." annie was about to reply rather hotly, for she had an idea that even a gipsy's money might purchase buns and milk, when she was suddenly startled, and almost terrified into betraying herself, by encountering the gentle and fixed stare of miss jane bruce, who had been leaning over the counter and talking to one of the shop-women when annie entered. "here is a penny for you, little girl," she said. "you can get a nice hunch of stale bread for a penny in the shop at the corner of the high street." annie's eyes flashed back at the little lady, her lips quivered, and, clasping the penny, she rushed out of the shop. "my dear," said miss jane, turning to her sister, "did you notice the extraordinary likeness that little gipsy girl bore to annie forest?" miss agnes sighed. "not particularly, love," she answered; "but i scarcely looked at her. i wonder if our dear little annie is any happier than she was. ah, i think we have done here. good afternoon, mrs tremlett." the little old ladies, trotted off, giving no more thoughts to the gipsy child. poor annie almost ran down the street, and never paused till she reached a shop of much humbler appearance, where she was served with some cold slices of german sausage, some indifferent bread and butter, and milk by no means over-good. the coarse fare, and the rough people who surrounded her, made the poor child feel both sick and frightened. she found she could only keep up her character by remaining almost silent, for the moment she opened her lips people turned round and stared at her. she paid for her meal, however, and presently found herself at the other side of sefton, and in a part of the country which was comparatively strange to her. the gipsies' present encampment was about a mile away from the town of oakley, a much larger place than sefton. sefton and oakley lay about six miles apart. annie trudged bravely on, her head aching; for, of course, as a gipsy girl, she could use no parasol to shade her from the sun. at last the comparative cool of the evening arrived, and the little girl gave a sigh of relief, and looked forward to her bed and supper at oakley. she had made up her mind to sleep there, and to go to the gipsies' encampment very early in the morning. it was quite dark by the time she reached oakley, and she was now so tired, and her feet so blistered from walking in the gipsy girl's rough shoes, that she could scarcely proceed another step. the noise and the size of oakley, too, bewildered and frightened her. she had learnt a lesson in sefton, and dared not venture into the more respectable streets. how could she sleep in those hot, common, close houses? surely it would be better for her to lie down under a cool hedge-row-- there could be no real cold on this lovely summer's night, and the hours would quickly pass, and the time soon arrive when she must go boldly in search of nan. she resolved to sleep in a hayfield which took her fancy just outside the town, and she only went into oakley for the purpose of buying some bread and milk. annie was so far fortunate as to get a refreshing draught of really good milk from a woman who stood by a cottage door, and who gave her a piece of girdle-cake to eat with it. "you're one of the gipsies, my dear?" said the woman. "i saw them passing in their caravans an hour back. no doubt you are for taking up your old quarters in the copse, just alongside of squire thompson's long acre field. how is it you are not with the rest of them, child?" "i was late in starting," said annie. "can you tell me the best way to get from here to the long acre field?" "oh! you take that turn-stile, child, and keep in the narrow path by the cornfields; it's two miles and a half from here as the crow flies. no, no, my dear, i don't want your pennies; but you might humour my little girl here by telling her fortune--she's wonderful taken by the gipsy folk." annie coloured painfully. the child came forward, and she crossed her hand with a piece of silver. she looked at the little palm and muttered something about being rich and fortunate, and marrying a prince in disguise, and having no trouble whatever. "eh! but that's a fine lot, is yours, peggy," said the gratified mother. peggy however, aged nine, had a wiser head on her young shoulders. "she didn't tell no proper fortune," she said disparagingly, when annie left the cottage. "she didn't speak about no crosses, and no biting disappointments, and no bleeding wounds. i don't believe in her, i don't. i like fortunes mixed, not all one way; them fortunes ain't natural, and i don't believe she's no proper gipsy girl." chapter forty two. hester. at lavender house the confusion, the terror, and the dismay were great. for several hours the girls seemed quite to lose their heads, and just when, under mrs willis's and the other teachers' calmness and determination, they were being restored to discipline and order, the excitement and alarm broke out afresh when some one brought annie's little note to mrs willis, and the school discovered that she also was missing. on this occasion no one did doubt her motives; disobedient as her act was, no one wasted words of blame on her. all, from the head-mistress to the smallest child in the school, knew that it was love for little nan that had taken annie off; and the tears started to mrs willis's eyes when she first read the tiny note, and then placed it tenderly in, her desk. hester's face became almost ashen in its hue when she heard what annie had done. "annie has gone herself to bring back nan to you, hester," said phyllis. "it was i told her, and i know now by her face that she must have made up her mind at once." "very disobedient of her to go," said dora russell; but no one took up dora's tone, and mary price said, after a pause-- "disobedient or not, it was brave--it was really very plucky." "it is my opinion," said nora, "that if anyone in the world can find little nan it will be annie. you remember. phyllis, how often she has talked to us about gipsies, and what a lot she knows about them?" "oh, yes; she'll be better than fifty policemen," echoed several girls; and then two or three young faces were turned toward hester, and some voice said almost scornfully--"you'll have to love annie now; you'll have to admit that there is something good in our annie when she brings your little nan home again." hester's lips quivered; she tried to speak, but a sudden burst of tears came from her instead. she walked slowly out of the astonished little group, who none of them believed that proud hester thornton could weep. the wretched girl rushed up to her room, where she threw herself on her bed and gave way to some of the bitterest tears she had ever shed. all her indifference to annie, all her real unkindness, all her ever-increasing dislike came back now to torture and harass her. she began to believe with the girls that annie would be successful; she began dimly to acknowledge in her heart the strange power which this child possessed; she guessed that annie would heap coals of fire on her head by bringing back her little sister. she hoped, she longed, she could almost have found it in her heart to pray that some one else, not annie, might save little nan. for not yet had hester made up her mind to confess the truth about annie forest. to confess the truth now meant humiliation in the eyes of the whole school. even for nan's sake she could not, she would not, be great enough for this. sobbing on her bed, trembling from head to foot, in an agony of almost uncontrollable grief, she could not bring her proud and stubborn little heart to accept god's only way of piece. no, she hoped she might be able to influence susan drummond and induce her to confess, and if annie was not cleared in that way, if she really saved little nan, she would doubtless be restored to much of her lost favour in the school. hester had never been a favourite at lavender house; but now her great trouble caused all the girls to speak to her kindly and considerately, and as she lay on her bed she presently heard a gentle step on the floor of her room--a cool little hand was laid tenderly on her forehead, and opening her swollen eyes, she met cecil's loving gaze. "there is no news yet, hester," said cecil; "but mrs willis has just gone herself into sefton, and will not lose an hour in getting further help. mrs willis looks quite haggard. of course she is very anxious both about annie and nan." "oh, annie is safe enough," murmured hester, burying her head in the bedclothes. "i don't know; annie is very impulsive, and very pretty; the gipsies may like to steal her too--of course she has gone straight to one of their encampments. naturally mrs willis is most anxious." hester pressed her hand to her throbbing head. "we are all so sorry for you, dear," said cecil gently. "thank you--being sorry for one does not do a great deal of good, does it?" "i thought sympathy always did good," replied cecil, looking puzzled. "thank you," said hester again. she lay quite still for several minutes with her eyes closed. her face looked intensely unhappy. cecil was not easily repelled, and she guessed only too surely that hester's proud heart was suffering much. she was puzzled, however, how to approach her, and had almost made up her mind to go away and beg of kind-hearted miss danesbury to see if she could come and do something, when through the open window there came the shrill sweet laughter and the eager, high-pitched tones of some of the youngest children in the school. a strange quiver passed over hester's face at the sound; she sat up in bed, and gasped out in a half-strangled voice-- "oh! i can't bear it--little nan, little nan! cecil, i am very, very unhappy." "i know it, darling," said cecil, and she put her arms round the excited girl. "oh, hester! don't turn away from me; do let us be unhappy together." "but you did not care for nan." "i did--we all loved the pretty darling." "suppose i never see her again?" said hester half wildly. "oh, cecil! and mother left her to me! mother gave her to me to take care of, and to bring to her some day in heaven. oh, little nan, my pretty, my love, my sweet! i think i could better bear her being dead than this." "you could, hester," said cecil, "if she was never to be found; but i don't think god will give you such a terrible punishment. i think little nan will be restored to you. let us ask god to do it, hetty--let us kneel down now, we two little girls, and pray to him with all our might." "i can't pray; don't ask me," said hester, turning her face away. "then i will." "but not here, cecil. cecil, i am not good--i am not good enough to pray." "we don't want to be good to pray," said cecil. "we want perhaps to be unhappy--perhaps sorry; but if god waited just for goodness, i don't think he would get many prayers." "well, i am unhappy, but not sorry. no, no; don't ask me, i cannot pray." chapter forty three. susan. mrs willis came back at a very late hour from sefton. the police were confident that they must soon discover both children, but no tidings had yet been heard of either of them. mrs willis ordered her girls to bed, and went herself to kiss hester and give her a special "good-night." she was struck by the peculiarly unhappy, and even hardened, expression on the poor child's face, and felt that she did not half understand her. in the middle of the night hester awoke from a troubled dream. she awoke with a sharp cry, so sharp and intense in its sound that had any girl been awake in the next room she must have heard it. she felt that she could no longer remain close to that little empty cot. she suddenly remembered that susan drummond would be alone to-night: what time so good as the present for having a long talk with susan and getting her to clear annie? she slipped out of bed, put on her dressing-gown, and softly opening the door, ran down the passage to susan's room. susan was in bed, and fast asleep. hester could see her face quite plainly in the moonlight, for susan slept facing the window, and the blind was not drawn down. hester had some difficulty in awakening miss drummond, who, however, at last sat up in bed, yawning prodigiously. "what is the matter? is that you, hester thornton? have you got any news of little nan? has annie come back?" "no, they are both still away. susy, i want to speak to you." "dear me! what for? must you speak in the middle of the night?" "yes, for i don't want anyone else to know. oh, susan, please don't go to sleep." "my dear, i won't, if i can help it. do you mind throwing a little cold water over my face and head? there is a can by the bed-side. i always keep one handy. ah, thanks--now i am wide awake. i shall probably remain so for about two minutes. can you get your say over in that time?" "i wonder, susan," said hester, "if you have got any heart--but heart or not, i have just come here to-night to tell you that i have found you out. you are at the bottom of all this mischief about annie forest." susan had a most phlegmatic face, an utterly unemotional voice, and she now stared calmly at hester and demanded to know what in the world she meant. hester felt her temper going, her self-control deserting her. susan's apparent innocence and indifference drove her half frantic. "oh, you are mean," she said. "you pretend to be innocent, but you are the deepest and wickedest girl in the school. i tell you, susan, i have found you out--you put that caricature of mrs willis into cecil's book; you changed dora's theme. i don't know why you did it, nor how you did it, but you are the guilty person, and you have allowed the sin of it to remain on annie's shoulders all this time. oh, you are the very meanest girl i ever heard of!" "dear, dear!" said susan, "i wish i had not asked you to throw cold water over my head and face, and allow myself to be made very wet and uncomfortable, just to be told i am the meanest girl you ever met. and pray what affair is this of yours? you certainly don't love annie forest." "i don't, but i want justice to be done to her. annie is very, very unhappy. oh, susy, won't you go and tell mrs willis the truth?" "really, my dear hester, i think you are a little mad. how long have you known all this about me, pray?" "oh, for some time since--since the night the essay was changed." "ah, then, if what you stale is true, you told mrs willis a lie, for she distinctly asked you if you knew anything about the `muddy stream,' and you said you didn't. i saw you--i remarked how very red you got when you plumped out that great lie! my dear, if i am the meanest and wickedest girl in the school, prove it--go, tell mrs willis what you know. now, if you will allow me, i will get back into the land of dreams." susan curled herself up once more in her bed, wrapped the bedclothes tightly round her, and was to all appearance oblivious of hester's presence. chapter forty four. under the hedge. it is one thing to talk of the delights of sleeping under a hedge-row and another to realise them. a hayfield is a very charming place, but in the middle of the night, with the dew clinging to everything, it is apt to prove but a chilly bed; the most familiar objects put on strange and unreal forms, the most familiar sounds become loud and alarming. annie slept for about an hour soundly; then she awoke, trembling with cold in every limb, startled and almost terrified by the oppressive loneliness of the night, sure that the insect life which surrounded her, and which would keep up successions of chirps, and croaks, and buzzes, was something mysterious and terrifying. annie was a brave child, but even brave little girls may be allowed to possess nerves under her present conditions, and when a spider ran across her face she started up with a scream of terror. at this moment she almost regretted the close and dirty lodgings which she might have obtained for a few pence at oakley. the hay in the field which she had selected was partly cut and partly standing. the cut portion had been piled up into little cocks and hillocks, and these, with the night shadows round them, appeared to the frightened child to assume large and half-human proportions. she found she could not sleep any longer. she wrapped her shawl tightly round her, and, crouching into the hedge-row, waited for the dawn. that watched-for dawn seemed to the tired child as if it would never come; but at last her solitary vigil came to an end, the cold grew greater, a little gentle breeze stirred the uncut grass, and up in the sky overhead the stars became fainter and the atmosphere clearer. then came a little faint flush of pink, then a brighter light, and then all in a moment the birds burst into a perfect jubilee of song, the insects talked and chirped and buzzed in new tones, the hay-cocks became simply hay-cocks, the dew sparkled on the wet grass, the sun had risen, and the new day had begun. annie sat up and rubbed her tired eyes. with the sunshine and brightness her versatile spirits revived; she buckled on her courage like an armour, and almost laughed at the miseries of the past few hours. once more she believed that success and victory would be hers, once more in her small way she was ready to do or die. she believed absolutely in the holiness of her mission. love--love alone simple and pure, was guiding her. she gave no thought to after-consequences, she gave no memory to past events: her object now was to rescue nan, and she herself was nothing. annie had a fellow-feeling, a rare sympathy with every little child; but no child had ever come to take nan's place with her. the child she had first begun to notice simply out of a naughty spirit of revenge, had twined herself round her heart, and annie loved nan all the more dearly because she had long ago repented of stealing her affections from hester, and would gladly have restored her to her old place next to hetty's heart. her love for nan, therefore, had the purity and greatness which all love that calls forth self-sacrifice must possess. annie had denied herself, and kept away from nan of late. now, indeed, she was going to rescue her; but if she thought of herself at all, it was with the certainty that for this present act of disobedience mrs willis would dismiss her from the school, and she would not see little nan again. never mind that, if nan herself was saved. annie was disobedient, but on this occasion she was not unhappy; she had none of that remorse which troubled her so much after her wild picnic in the fairies' field. on the contrary, she had a strange sense of peace and even guidance; she had confessed this sin to mrs willis, and, though she was suspected of far worse, her own innocence kept her heart untroubled. the verse which had occurred to her two mornings before still rang in her ears-- "a soul which has sinned and is pardoned again." the impulsive, eager child was possessed just now of something which men call true courage; it was founded on the knowledge that god would help her, and was accordingly calm and strengthening. annie rose from her damp bed, and looked around her for a little stream where she might wash her face and hands; suddenly she remembered that face and hands were dyed, and that she would do best to leave them alone. she smoothed out as best she could the ragged elf-locks which the gipsy maid had left on her curly head, and then, covering her face with her hands, said simply and earnestly--"please, my father in heaven, help me to find little nan;" then she set off through the cornfields in the direction of the gipsies' encampment. chapter forty five. tiger. it was still very, very early in the morning, and the gipsy folk, tired from their march on the preceding day, slept. there stood the conical, queer-shaped tents, four in number; at a little distance off grazed the donkeys and a couple of rough mules; at the door of the tents lay stretched out in profound repose two or three dogs. annie dreaded the barking of the dogs, although she guessed that if they set up a noise, and a gipsy wife or man put out their heads in consequence, they would only desire the gipsy child to lie down and keep quiet. she stood still for a moment--she was very anxious to prowl around the place and examine the ground while the gipsies still slept, but the watchful dogs deterred her. she stood perfectly quiet behind the hedge-row, thinking hard. should she trust to a charm she knew she possessed, and venture into the encampment? annie had almost as great a fascination over dogs and cats as she had over children. as a little child going to visit with her mother at strange houses, the watch-dogs never barked at her; on the contrary, they yielded to the charm which seemed to come from her little fingers as she patted their great heads. slowly their tails would move backwards and forwards as she petted them, and even the most ferocious would look at her with affection. annie wondered if the gipsy dogs would now allow her to approach without barking. she felt that the chances were in her favour; she was dressed in gipsy garments, there would be nothing strange in her appearance, and if she could get near one of the dogs she knew that she could exercise the magic of her touch. her object, then, was to approach one of the tents very, very quietly-- so softly that even the dog's ears should not detect the light footfall. if she could approach close enough to put her hand on the dog's neck all would be well. she pulled off the gipsy maid's rough shoes, hid them in the grass where she could find them again, and came gingerly, step by step, nearer and nearer the principal tent. at its entrance lay a ferocious-looking half-bred bull-dog. annie possessed that necessary accompaniment to courage--great outward calm; the greater the danger, the more cool and self-possessed did she become. she was within a step or two of the tent when she trod accidentally on a small twig: it cracked, giving her foot a sharp pain, and, very slight as the sound was, causing the bull-dog to awake. he raised his wicked face, saw the figure like his own people, and yet unlike, but a step or two away, and, uttering a low growl, sprang forward. in the ordinary course of things this growl would have risen in volume and would have terminated in a volley of barking; but annie was prepared: she went down on her knees, held out her arms, said, "poor fellow!" in her own seductive voice, and the bull-dog fawned at her feet. he licked one of her hands while she patted him gently with the other. "come, poor fellow," she said then in a gentle tone, and annie and the dog began to perambulate round the tents. the other dogs raised sleepy eyes, but seeing tiger and the girl together, took no notice whatever, except by a thwack or two of their stumpy tails. annie was now looking not only at the tents, but for something else which zillah, her nurse, had told her might be found near to many gipsy encampments. this was a small subterranean passage, which generally led into a long-disused underground danish fort. zillah had told her what uses the gipsies liked to make of these underground passages, and how they often chose those which had two entrances. she told her that in this way they eluded the police, and were enabled successfully to hide the goods which they stole. she had also described to her their great ingenuity in hiding the entrances to these underground retreats. annie's idea now was that little nan was hidden in one of these vaults, and she determined first to make sure of its existence, and then to venture herself into this underground region in search of the lost child. she had made a decided conquest in the person of tiger, who followed her round and round the tents, and when the gipsies at last began to stir and annie crept into the hedge-row, the dog crouched by her side. tiger was the favourite dog of the camp, and presently one of the men called to him; he rose unwillingly, looked back with longing eyes at annie, and trotted off, to return in the space of about five minutes with a great bunch of broken bread in his mouth. this was his breakfast, and he meant to share it with his new friend. annie was too hungry to be fastidious, and she also knew the necessity of keeping up her strength. she crept still farther under the hedge, and the dog and girl shared the broken bread between them. presently the tents were all astir; the gipsy children began to swarm about, the women lit fires in the open air, and the smell of very appetising breakfasts filled the atmosphere. the men also lounged into view, standing lazily at the doors of their tents, and smoking great pipes of tobacco. annie lay quiet. she could see from her hiding-place without being seen. suddenly--and her eyes began to dilate, and she found her heart beating strangely--she laid her hand on tiger, who was quivering all over. "stay with me, dear dog," she said. there was a great commotion and excitement in the gipsy camp; the children screamed and ran into the tents, the women paused in their preparation for breakfast, the men took their short pipes out of their mouths; every dog, with the exception of tiger, barked ferociously. tiger and annie alone were motionless. the cause of all this uproar was a body of police, about six in number, who came boldly into the field, and demanded instantly to search the tents. "we want a woman who calls herself mother rachel," they said. "she belongs to this encampment. we know her: let her come forward at once; we wish to question her." the men stood about; the women came near; the children crept out of their tents, placing their fingers to their frightened lips, and staring at the men who represented those horrors to their unsophisticated minds called law and order. "we must search the tents. we won't stir from the spot until we have had an interview with mother rachel," said the principal member of the police force. the men answered respectfully that the gipsy mother was not yet up; but if the gentlemen would wait a moment she would soon come and speak to them. the officers expressed their willingness to wait, and collected round the tents. just at this instant, under the hedge-row, tiger raised his head. annie's watchful eyes accompanied the dog's. he was gazing after a tiny gipsy maid who was skulking along the hedge, and who presently disappeared through a very small opening into the neighbouring field. quick as thought annie, holding tiger's collar, darted after her. the little maid heard the footsteps: but seeing another gipsy girl, and their own dog, tiger, she took no further notice, but ran openly and very swiftly across the field until she came to a broken wall. here she tugged and tugged at some loose stones, managed to push one away, and then called down into the ground-- "mother rachel!" "come, tiger," said annie. she flew to a hedge not far off, and once more the dog and she hid themselves. the small girl was too excited to notice either their coming or going; she went on calling anxiously into the ground-- "mother rachel! mother rachel!" presently a black head and a pair of brawny shoulders appeared, and the tall woman whose face and figure annie knew so well stepped up out of the ground, pushed back the stones into their place, and, taking the gipsy child into her arms, ran swiftly across the field in the direction of the tents. chapter forty six. for love of nan. now was annie's time. "tiger," she said, for she had heard the men calling the dog's name. "i want to go right down into that hole in the ground, and you are to come with me. don't let us lose a moment, good dog." the dog wagged his tail, capered about in front of annie, and then with a wonderful shrewdness ran before her to the broken wall, where he stood with his head bent downwards and his eyes fixed on the ground. annie pulled and tugged at the loose stones; they were so heavy and so cunningly arranged that she wondered how the little maid, who was smaller than herself, had managed to remove them. she saw quickly, however, that they were arranged with a certain leverage, and that the largest stone that which formed the real entrance to the underground passage, was balanced in its place in such a fashion that when she leant on a certain portion of it, it moved aside, and allowed plenty of room for her to go down into the earth. very dark and dismal and uninviting did the rude steps, which led nobody knew where, appear. for one moment annie hesitated; but the thought of nan hidden somewhere in this awful wretchedness nerved her courage. "go first, tiger, please," she said, and the dog scampered down, sniffing the earth as he went. annie followed him, but she had scarcely got her head below the level of the ground before she found herself in total and absolute darkness; she had unwittingly touched the heavy stone, which had swung back into its place. she heard tiger sniffing below, and, calling to him to keep by her side, she went very carefully down and down and down, until at last she knew by the increase of air that she must have come to the end of the narrow entrance passage. she was now able to stand upright, and raising her hand, she tried in vain to find a roof. the room where she stood, then, must be lofty. she went forward in the utter darkness very, very slowly; suddenly her head again came in contact with the roof; she made a few steps farther on, and then found that to proceed at all she must go on her hands and knees. she bent down and peered through the darkness. "we'll go on, tiger," she said, and, holding the dog's collar and clinging to him for protection, she crept along the narrow passage. suddenly she gave an exclamation of joy--at the other end of this gloomy passage was light--faint twilight surely, but still undoubted light, which came down from some chink in the outer world. annie came to the end of the passage, and, standing upright, found herself suddenly in a room; a very small and miserable room, certainly, but with the twilight shining through it, which revealed not only that it was a room, but a room which contained a heap of straw, a three-legged stool, and two or three cracked cups and saucers. here, then, was mother rachel's lair, and here she must look for nan. the darkness had been so intense that even the faint twilight of this little chamber had dazzled annie's eyes for a moment; the next, however, her vision became clear. she saw that the straw bed contained a bundle; she went near--out of the wrapped-up bundle of shawls appeared the head of a child. the child slept, and moaned in its slumbers. annie bent over it and said, "thank god!" in a tone of rapture, and then, stooping down, she passionately kissed the lips of little nan. nan's skin had been dyed with the walnut-juice, her pretty soft hair had been cut short, her dainty clothes had been changed for the most ragged gipsy garments, but still she was undoubtedly nan, the child whom annie had come to save. from her uneasy slumbers the poor little one awoke with a cry of terror. she could not recognise annie's changed face, and clasped her hands before her eyes, and said piteously-- "me want to go home--go 'way, naughty woman, me want my annie." "little darling!" said annie, in her sweetest tones. the changed face had not appealed to nan, but the old voice went straight to her baby heart; she stopped crying and looked anxiously toward the entrance of the room. "turn in, annie--me here, annie--little nan want 'oo." annie glanced around her in despair. suddenly her quick eyes lighted on a jug of water. she flew to it, and washed and laved her face. "coming, darling," she said, as she tried to remove the hateful dye. she succeeded partly, and when she came back, to her great joy, the child recognised her. "now, little precious, we will get out of this as fast as we can," said annie, and clasping nan tightly in her arms, she prepared to return by the way she had come. then and there, for the first time, there flashed across her memory the horrible fact that the stone door had swung back into its place, and that by no possible means could she open it. she and nan and tiger were buried in a living tomb, and must either stay there and perish, or await the tender mercies of the cruel mother rachel. nan, with her arms tightly clasped round annie's neck, began to cry fretfully. she was impatient to get out of this dismal place; she was no longer oppressed by fears, for with the annie whom she loved she felt absolutely safe; but she was hungry and cold and uncomfortable, and it seemed but a step, to little inexperienced nan, from annie's arms to her snug, cheerful nursery at lavender house. "turn, annie--turn home, annie," she begged, and, when annie did not stir, she began to weep. in truth, the poor, brave little girl was sadly puzzled, and her first gleam of returning hope lay in the remembrance of zillah's words, that there were generally two entrances to these old underground forts. tiger, who seemed thoroughly at home in this little room, and had curled himself up comfortably on the heap of straw, had probably often been here before. perhaps tiger knew the way to the second entrance. annie called him to her side. "tiger," she said, going down on her knees, and looking full into his ugly but intelligent face, "nan and i want to go out of this." tiger wagged his stumpy tail. "we are hungry, tiger, and we want something to eat, and you'd like a bone, wouldn't you?" tiger's tail went with ferocious speed, and he licked annie's hand. "there's no use going back that way, dear dog," continued the girl, pointing with her arm in the direction they had come. "the door is fastened, tiger, and we can't get out. we can't get out because the door is shut." the dog's tail had ceased to wag; he took in the situation, for his whole expression showed dejection, and he drooped his head. it was now quite evident to annie that tiger had been here before, and that on some other occasion in his life he had wanted to get out and could not because the door was shut. "now, tiger," said annie, speaking cheerfully, and rising to her feet, "we must get out. nan and i are hungry, and you want your bone. take us out the other way, good tiger--the other way, dear dog." she moved instantly toward the little passage; the dog followed her. "the other way," she said, and she turned her back on the long narrow passage, and took a step or two into complete darkness. the dog began to whine, caught hold of her dress, and tried to pull her back. "quite right, tiger, we won't go that way," said annie instantly. she returned into the dimly-lighted room. "find a way--and a way out, tiger," she said. the dog evidently understood her; he moved restlessly about the room. finally he got up on the bed, pulled and scratched and tore away the straw at the upper end, then, wagging his tail, flew to annie's side. she came back with him. beneath the straw was a tiny, tiny trap-door. "oh, tiger!" said the girl; she went down on her knees, and, finding she could not stir it, wondered if this also was kept in its place by a system of balancing. she was right; after a very little pressing the door moved aside, and annie saw four or five rudely carved steps. "come, nan," she said joyfully, "tiger has saved us; these steps must lead us out." the dog, with a joyful whine, went down first, and annie, clasping nan tightly in her arms, followed him. four, five, six steps they went down; then, to annie's great joy, she found that the next step began to ascend. up and up she went, cheered by a welcome shaft of light. finally she, nan, and the dog found themselves emerging into the open air, through a hole which might have been taken for a large rabbit burrow. chapter forty seven. rescued. the girl, the child, and the dog found themselves in a comparatively strange country--annie had completely lost her bearings. she looked around her for some sign of the gipsies' encampment; but whether she had really gone a greater distance than she imagined in those underground vaults, or whether the tents were hidden in some hollow of the ground, she did not know; she was only conscious that she was in a strange country, that nan was clinging to her and crying for her breakfast, and that tiger was sniffing the air anxiously. annie guessed that tiger could take them back to the camp, but this was by no means her wish. when she emerged out of the underground passage she was conscious for the first time of a strange and unknown experience. absolute terror seized the brave child: she trembled from head to foot, her head ached violently, and the ground on which she stood seemed to reel, and the sky to turn round. she sat down for a moment on the green grass. what ailed her? where was she? how could she get home? nan's little piteous wail, "me want my bekfas', me want my nursie, me want hetty," almost irritated her. "oh, nan," she said at last piteously, "have you not got your own annie? oh, nan, dear little nan, annie feels so ill!" nan had the biggest and softest of baby hearts--breakfast, nurse, hetty, were all forgotten in the crowning desire to comfort annie. she climbed on her knee and stroked her face and kissed her lips. "'oo better now?" she said in a tone of baby inquiry. annie roused herself with a great effort. "yes, darling," she said; "we will try and get home. come, tiger. tiger, dear, i don't want to go back to the gipsies; take me the other way--take me to oakley." tiger again sniffed the air, looked anxiously at annie, and trotted on in front. little nan in her ragged gipsy clothes walked sedately by annie's side. "where 'oo s'oes?" she said, pointing to the girl's bare feet. "gone, nan--gone. never mind, i've got you. my little treasure, my little love, you're safe at last." as annie tottered, rather than walked, down a narrow path which led directly through a field of standing corn, she was startled by the sudden apparition of a bright-eyed girl, who appeared so suddenly in her path that she might have been supposed to have risen out of the very ground. the girl stared hard at annie, fixed her eyes inquiringly on nan and tiger, and then, turning on her heel, dashed up the path, went through a turn-stile, across the road, and into a cottage. "mother," she exclaimed, "i said she warn't a real gipsy: she's a-coming back, and her face is all streaked like, and she has a little 'un along with her, and a dawg, and the only one as is gipsy is the dawg. come and look at her, mother; oh, she is a fine take-in!" the round-faced, good-humoured looking mother, whose name was mrs williams, had been washing and putting away the breakfast things when her daughter entered. she now wiped her hands hastily and came to the cottage door. "cross the road, and come to the stile, mother," said the energetic peggy--"oh, there she be a-creeping along--oh, ain't she a take-in?" "'sakes alive!" ejaculated mrs williams, "the girl is ill! why, she can't keep herself steady! there! i knew she'd fall; ah! poor little thing--poor little thing." it did not take mrs williams an instant to reach annie's side; and in another moment she had lifted her in her strong arms and carried her into the cottage, peggy lifting nan and following in the rear, while tiger walked by their sides. chapter forty eight. dark days. a whole week had passed, and there were no tidings whatever of little nan or of annie forest. no one at lavender house had heard a word about them; the police came and went, detectives even arrived from london, but there were no traces whatever of the missing children. the midsummer holiday was now close at hand, but no one spoke of it or thought of it. mrs willis told the teachers that the prizes should be distributed, but she said she could invite no guests and could allow of no special festivities. miss danesbury and miss good repeated her words to the school-girls, who answered without hesitation that they did not wish for feasting and merriment; they would rather the day passed unnoticed. in truth, the fact that their baby was gone, that their favourite and prettiest and brightest school-mate had also disappeared, caused such gloom, such distress, such apprehension that even the most thoughtless of those girls could scarcely have laughed or been merry. school-hours were still kept after a fashion, but there was no life in the lessons. in truth, it seemed as if the sun would never shine again at lavender house. hester was ill; not very ill--she had no fever, she had no cold; she had, as the good doctor explained it, nothing at all wrong, except that her nervous system had got a shock. "when the little one is found, miss hetty will be quite well again," said the good doctor: but the little one had not been found yet, and hester had completely broken down. she lay on her bed, saying little or nothing, eating scarcely anything, sleeping not at all. all the girls were kind to her, and each one in the school took turns in trying to comfort her; but no one could win a smile from hester, and even mrs willis failed utterly to reach or touch her heart. mr everard came once to see her, but he had scarcely spoken many words when hester broke into an agony of weeping, and begged him to go away. he shook his head when he left her, and said sadly to himself-- "that girl has got something on her mind; she is grieving for more than the loss of her little sister." the twentieth of june came at last, and the girls sat about in groups in the pleasant, shady garden, and talked of the very sad breaking-up day they were to have on the morrow, and wondered if, when they returned to school again, annie and little nan would have been found. cecil temple, dora russell, and one or two others were sitting together, and whispering in low voices. mary price joined them, and said anxiously-- "i don't think the doctor is satisfied about hester. perhaps i ought not to have listened, but i heard him talking to miss danesbury just now; he said she must be got to sleep somehow, and she is to have a composing draught to-night." "i wish poor hetty would not turn away from us all," said cecil; "i wish she would not quite give up hope; i do feel sure that nan and annie will be found yet." "have you been praying about it, cecil?" asked mary, kneeling on the grass, laying her elbows on cecil's knees, and looking into her face. "do you say this because you have faith?" "i have prayed, and i have faith," replied cecil in her simple, earnest way. "why, dora, what is the matter?" "only that it's horrid to leave like this," said dora; "i--i thought my last day at school would have been so different, and somehow i am sorry i spoke so much against that poor little annie." here cecil suddenly rose from her seat, and, going up to dora, clasped her arms round her neck. "thank you, dora," she said with fervour; "i love you for those words." "here comes susy," remarked mary price. "i really don't think _anything_ would move susy; she's just as stolid and indifferent as ever. ah, susy, here's a place for you--oh, what _is_ the matter with phyllis? see how she's rushing toward us! phyllis, my dear, don't break your neck." susan, with her usual nonchalance, seated herself by dora russell's side. phyllis burst excitedly into the group. "i think," she exclaimed, "i really, really do think that news has come of annie's father. nora said that janet told her that a foreign letter came this morning to mrs willis, and somebody saw mrs willis talking to miss danesbury--oh, i forgot, only i know that the girls of the school are whispering the news that mrs willis cried, and miss danesbury said, `after waiting for him four years, and now, when he comes back, he won't find her!' oh, dear, oh, dear! there is danesbury. cecil, darling love, go to her, and find out the truth." cecil rose at once, went across the lawn, said a few words to miss danesbury, and came back to the other girls. "it is true," she said sadly; "there came a letter this morning from captain forest; he will be at lavender house in a week. miss danesbury says it is a wonderful letter, and he has been shipwrecked, and on an island by himself for ever so long; but he is safe now, and will soon be in england. miss danesbury says mrs willis can scarcely speak about that letter; she is in great, great trouble, and miss danesbury confesses that they are all more anxious than they dare to admit about annie and little nan." at this moment the sound of carriage wheels was heard on the drive, and susan, peering forward to see who was arriving, remarked in her usual nonchalant manner-- "only the little misses bruce in their basket-carriage--what dull-looking women they are!" nobody commented, however, on her observation, and gradually the little group of girls sank into absolute silence. from where they sat they could see the basket-carriage waiting at the front entrance--the little ladies had gone inside, all was perfect silence and stillness. suddenly on the stillness a sound broke--the sound of a girl running quickly; nearer and nearer came the steps, and the four or five who sat together under the oak-tree noticed the quick panting breath, and felt even before a word was uttered that evil tidings were coming to them. they all started to their feet, however; they all uttered a cry of horror and distress when hester herself broke into their midst. she was supposed to be lying down in a darkened room, she was supposed to be very ill--what was she doing here? "hetty!" exclaimed cecil. hester pushed past her; she rushed up to susan drummond, and seized her arm. "news has come!" she panted; "news--news at last! nan is found!--and annie--they are both found--but annie is dying. come, susan, come this moment; we must both tell what we know now." by her impetuosity, by the intense fire of her passion and agony, even susan was electrified into leaving her seat and going with her. chapter forty nine. two confessions. hester dragged her startled and rather unwilling companion in through the front entrance, past some agitated-looking servants who stood about in the hall, and through the velvet curtains into mrs willis's boudoir. the misses bruce were there, and mrs willis in her bonnet and cloak was hastily packing some things into a basket. "i--i must speak to you," said hester, going up to her governess. "susan and i have got something to say, and we must say it here, now at once?" "no, not now, hester," replied mrs willis, looking for a moment into her pupil's agitated face. "whatever you and susan drummond have to tell cannot be listened to by me at this moment. i have not an instant to lose." "you are going to annie?" asked hester. "yes; don't keep me. good-bye, my dears; good-bye." mrs willis moved toward the door. hester, who felt almost beside herself, rushed after her, and caught her arm. "take us with you, take susy and me with you--we must we must see annie before she dies." "hush, my child," said mrs willis very quietly; "try to calm yourself. whatever you have got to say shall be listened to later on--now moments are precious, and i cannot attend to you. calm yourself, hester, and thank god for your dear little sister's safety. prepare yourself to receive her, for the carriage which takes me to annie will bring little nan home." mrs willis left the room, and hester threw herself on hen knees and covered her face with her trembling hands. presently she was aroused by a light touch on her arm; it was susan drummond. "i may go now, i suppose, hester? you are not quite determined to make a fool of me, are you?" "i have determined to expose you, you coward, you mean, mean girl!" answered hester, springing to her feet. "come, i have no idea of letting you go. mrs willis won't listen--we will find mr everard." whether susan would really have gone with hester remains to be proved, but just at that moment all possibility of retreat was cut away from her by miss agnes bruce, who quietly entered mrs willis's private sitting-room, followed by the very man hester was about to seek. "i thought it best, my dear," she said, turning apologetically to hester, "to go at once for our good clergyman; you can tell him all that is in your heart, and i will leave you. before i go, however. i should like to tell you how i found annie and little nan." hester made no answer; just for a brief moment she raised her eyes to miss agnes's kind face, then they sought the floor. "the story can be told in a few words, dear," said the little lady. "a work-woman of the name of williams, whom my sister and i have employed for years, and who lives near oakley, called on us this morning to apologise for not being able to finish some needlework. she told us that she had a sick child, and also a little girl of three, in her house. she said she had found the child, in ragged gipsy garments, fainting in a field. she took her into her house, and, on undressing her, found that she was no true gipsy, but that her face and hands and arms had been dyed; she said the little one had been treated in a similar manner. jane's suspicions and mine were instantly roused, and we went back with the woman to oakley, and round, as we had anticipated, that the children were little nan and annie. the sad thing is that annie is in high fever, and knows no one. we waited there until the doctor arrived, who spoke very, very seriously of her case. little nan is well, and asked for you." with these last words miss agnes bruce softly left the room, closing the door after her. "now, susan," said hester, without an instant's pause; "come, let us tell mr everard of our wickedness. oh, sir," she added, raising her eyes to the clergyman's face, "if annie dies i shall go mad. oh, i cannot, cannot bear life if annie dies!" "tell me what is wrong, my poor child," said mr everard. he laid his hand on her shoulder, and gradually and skillfully drew from the agitated and miserable girl the story of her sin, of her cowardice, and of her deep, though until now unavailing repentance. how from the first she had hated and disliked annie; how unjustly she had felt toward her; how she had longed and hoped annie was guilty; and how, when at last the clew was put into her hands to prove annie's absolute innocence, she had determined not to use it. "from the day nan was lost," continued hester, "it has been all agony and all repentance; but, oh, i was too proud to tell! i was too proud to humble myself to the very dust!" "but not now," said the clergyman very gently. "no, no; not now. i care for nothing now in all the world except that annie may live." "you don't mind the fact that mrs willis and all your school-fellows must know of this, and must--must judge you accordingly?" "they can't think worse of me than i think of myself. i only want annie to live." "no, hester," answered mr everard, "you want more than that--you want far more than that. it may be that god will take annie forest away. we cannot tell. with him alone are the issues of life or death. what you really want, my child, is the forgiveness of the little girl you have wronged, and the forgiveness of your father in heaven." hester began to sob wildly. "if--if she dies--may i see her first?" she gasped. "yes; i will try and promise you that. now, will you go to your room? i must speak to miss drummond alone; she is a far worse culprit than you." mr everard opened the door for hester, who went silently out. "meet me in the chapel to-night," he whispered low in her car, "i will talk with you and pray with you there." he closed the door, and came back to susan. all throughout this interview his manner had been very gentle to hester; but the clergyman could be stern, and there was a gleam of very righteous anger in his eyes as he turned to the sullen girl who leaned heavily against the table. "this narrative of hester thornton's is, of course, quite true, miss drummond?" "oh, yes; there seems to be no use in denying that," said susan. "i must insist on your telling me the exact story of your sin. there is no use in your attempting to deny anything; only the utmost candour on your part can now save you from being publicly expelled." "i am willing to tell," answered susan. "i meant no harm; it was done as a bit of fun. i had a cousin at home who was very clever at drawing caricatures, and i happened to have nothing to do one day, and i was alone in annie's bedroom, and i thought i'd like to see what she kept in her desk. i always had a fancy for collecting odd keys, and i found one on my bunch which fitted her desk exactly. i opened it, and i found such a smart little caricature of mrs willis. i sent the caricature to my cousin, and begged of her to make an exact copy of it. she did so, and i put annie's back in her desk, and pasted the other into cecil's book. i didn't like dora russell, and i wrapped up the sweeties in her theme; but i did the other for pure fun, for i knew cecil would be so shocked; but i never guessed the blame would fall on annie. when i found it did, i felt inclined to tell once or twice, but it seemed too much trouble, and, besides, i knew mrs willis would punish me, and, of course, i didn't wish that. "dora russell was always very nasty to me, and when i found she was putting on such airs, and pretending she could write such a grand essay for the prize, i thought i'd take down her pride a bit. i went to her desk, and i got some of the rough copy of the thing she was calling `the river,' and i sent it off to my cousin, and my cousin made up such a ridiculous paper, and she hit off dora's writing to the life, and, of course, i had to put it into dora's desk and tear up her real copy. it was very unlucky hester being in the room. of course i never guessed that, or i wouldn't have gone. that was the night we all went with annie to the fairies' field. i never meant to get hester into a scrape, nor annie either, for that matter; but, of course, i couldn't be expected to tell on myself." susan related her story in her usual monotonous and singsong voice. there was no trace of apparent emotion on her face, or of regret in her tones. when she had finished speaking mr everard was absolutely silent. "i took a great deal of trouble," continued susan, after a pause, in a slightly fretful key. "it was really nothing but a joke, and i don't see why such a fuss should have been made. i know i lost a great deal of sleep trying to manage that twine business round my foot. i don't think i shall trouble myself playing any more tricks upon school-girls-- they are not worth it." "you'll never play any more tricks on these girls," said mr everard, rising to his feet, and suddenly filling the room and reducing susan to an abject silence by the ring of his stern, deep voice. "i take it upon me, in the absence of your mistress, to pronounce your punishment. you leave lavender house in disgrace this evening. miss good will take you home, and explain to your parents the cause of your dismissal. you are not to see _any_ of your school-fellows again. your meanness, your cowardice, your sin require no words on my part to deepen their vileness. through pure wantonness you have cast a cruel shadow on an innocent young life. if that girl dies, you indeed are not blameless in the cause of her early removal, for through you her heart and spirit were broken. miss drummond, i pray god you may at least repent and be sorry. there are some people mentioned in the bible who are spoken of as past feeling. wretched girl, while there is yet time, pray that you may not belong to them. now i must leave you, but i shall lock you in. miss good will come for you in about an hour to take you away." susan drummond sank down on the nearest seat, and began to cry softly; one or two pin-pricks from mr everard's stern words may possibly have reached her shallow heart--no one can tell. she left lavender house that evening, and none of the girls who had lived with her as their school-mate heard of her again. chapter fifty. the heart of little nan. for several days now annie had lain unconscious in mrs williams's little bedroom; the kind-hearted woman could not find it in her heart to send the sick child away. her husband and the neighbours expostulated with her, and said that annie was only a poor little waif. "she has no call on you," said jane allen, a hard-featured woman who lived next door. "why should you put yourself out just for a sick lass? and she'll be much better on in the workhouse infirmary." but mrs williams shook her head at her hard-featured and hard-hearted neighbour, and resisted her husband's entreaties. "eh!" she said, "but the poor lamb needs a good bit of mothering, and i misdoubt me she wouldn't get much of that in the infirmary." so annie stayed, and tossed from side to side of her little bed, and murmured unintelligible words, and grew daily a little weaker and a little more delirious. the parish doctor called, and shook his head over her: he was not a particularly clever man, but he was the best the williamses could afford. while annie suffered and went deeper into that valley of humiliation and weakness which leads to the gate of the valley of the shadow of death, little nan played with peggy williams, and accustomed herself after the fashion of little children to all the ways of her new and humble home. it was on the eighth day of annie's fever that the misses bruce discovered her, and on the evening of that day mrs willis knelt by her little favourite's bed. a better doctor had been called in, and all that money could procure had been got now for poor annie; but the second doctor considered her case even more critical, and said that the close air of the cottage was much against her recovery. "i didn't make that caricature; i took the girls into the fairies' field, but i never pasted that caricature into cecil's book. i know you don't believe me, cecil; but do you think i would really do anything so mean about one whom i love? no, no! i am innocent! god knows it. yes, i am glad of that--god knows it." over, and over in mrs willis's presence these piteous words would come from the fever-stricken child, but always when she came to the little sentence "god knows i am innocent," her voice would grow tranquil, and a faint and sweet smile would play round her lips. late that night a carriage drew up at a little distance from the cottage, and a moment or two afterwards mrs willis was called out of the room to speak to cecil temple. "i have found out the truth about annie; i have come at once to tell you," she said; and then she repeated the substance of hester's and susan's story. "god help me for having misjudged her," murmured the head-mistress; then she bade cecil "good-night," and returned to the sick-room. the next time annie broke out with her piteous wail, "they believe me guilty--mrs willis does--they all do," the mistress laid her hand with a firm and gentle pressure on the child's arm. "not now, my dear," she said, in a slow, clear, and emphatic voice. "god has shown your governess the truth, and she believes in you." the very carefully-uttered words pierced through the clouded brain; for a moment annie lay quite still, with her bright and lovely eyes fixed on her teacher. "is that really you?" she asked. "i am here, my darling." "and you believe in me?" "i do most absolutely." "god does, too, you know," answered annie--bringing out the words quickly, and turning her head to the other side. the fever had once more gained supremacy, and she rambled on unceasingly through the dreary night. now, however, when the passionate words broke out, "they believe me guilty," mrs willis always managed to quiet her by saying, "i know you are innocent." the next day at noon those girls who had not gone home--for many had started by the morning train--were wandering aimlessly about the grounds. mr everard had gone to see annie, and had promised to bring back the latest tidings about her. hester, holding little nan's hand--for she could scarcely bear to have her recovered treasure out of sight--had wandered away from the rest of her companions, and had seated herself with nan under a large oak-tree which grew close to the entrance of the avenue. she had come here in order to be the very first to see mr everard on his return. nan had climbed into hester's lap, and hester had buried her aching head in little nan's bright curls, when she started suddenly to her feet and ran forward. her quick ears had detected the sound of wheels. how soon mr everard had returned; surely the news was bad! she flew to the gate, and held it open in order to avoid the short delay which the lodge-keeper might cause in coming to unfasten it. she flushed however, vividly, and felt half inclined to retreat into the shade, when she saw that the gentleman who was approaching was not mr everard, but a tall, handsome, and foreign-looking man, who drove a light dog-cart himself. the moment he saw hester with little nan clinging to her skirts he stopped short. "is this lavender house, little girl?" "yes, sir," replied hester. "and can you tell me--but of course you know--you are one of the young ladies who live here, eh?" hester nodded. "then you can tell me if mrs willis is at home--but of course she is." "no, sir," answered hester; "i am sorry to tell you that mrs willis is away. she has been called away on very, very sad business; she won't come back to-night." something in hester's tone caused the stranger to look at her attentively; he jumped off the dog-cart and came to her side. "see, here, miss--" "thornton," put in hester. "yes, miss--miss thornton, perhaps you can manage for me as well as mrs willis; after all i don't particularly want to see her. if you belong to lavender house, you, of course, know my--i mean you have a school-mate here, a little, pretty gipsy rogue called forest--little annie forest. i want to see her--can you take me to her!" "you are her father?" gasped hester. "yes, my dear child, i am her father. now you can take me to her at once." hester covered her face. "oh, i cannot," she said--"i cannot take you to annie. oh, sir, if you knew all, you would feel inclined to kill me. don't ask me about annie--don't, don't." the stranger looked fairly nonplussed and not a little alarmed. just at this moment nan's tiny fingers touched his hand. "me'll lake 'oo to my annie," she said--"mine poor annie. annie's vedy sick, but me'll take 'oo." the tall, foreign-looking man lifted nan into his arms. "sick, is she?" he answered. "look here young lady," he added, turning to hester, "whatever you have got to say, i am sure you will try and say it; you will pity a father's anxiety and master your own feelings. where _is_ my little girl?" hester hastily dried her tears. "she is in a cottage near oakley, sir." "indeed! oakley is some miles from here?" "and she is very ill." "what of?" "fever; they--they fear she may die." "take me to her," said the stranger. "if she is ill and dying she wants me. take me to her at once. here, jump on the dog-cart; and, little one, you shall come too." so furiously did captain forest drive that in a very little over an hour's time his panting horse stopped at a few steps from the cottage. he called to a boy to hold him, and, accompanied by hester, and carrying nan in his arms, he stood on the threshold of mrs williams' humble little abode. mr everard was coming out. "hester," he said, "you here? i was coming for you." "oh, then she is worse?" "she is conscious, and has asked for you. yes, she is very, very ill." "mr everard, this gentleman is annie's father." mr everard looked pityingly at captain forest. "you have come back at a sad hour, sir," he said. "but no, it cannot harm her to see you. come with me." captain forest went first into the sick-room; hester waited outside. she had the little kitchen to herself, for all the williamses, with the exception of the good mother, had moved for the time being to other quarters. surely mr everard would come for her in a moment? surely captain forest, who had gone into the sick-room with nan in his arms, would quickly return? there was no sound. all was absolute quiet. how soon would hester be summoned? could she--could she bear to look at annie's dying face? her agony drove her down on her knees. "oh, if you would only spare annie!" she prayed to god. then she wiped her eyes. this terrible suspense seemed more than she could bear. suddenly the bedroom door was softly and silently opened, and mr everard came out. "she sleeps," he said; "there is a shadow of hope. little nan has done it. nan asked to lie down beside her and she said, `poor annie! poor annie!' and stroked her cheek; and in some way, i don't know how, the two have gone to sleep together. annie did not even glance at her father; she was quite taken up with nan. you can come to the door and look at her, hester." hester did so. a time had been when she could scarcely have borne that sight without a pang of jealousy; now she turned to mr everard: "i--i could even give her the heart of little nan to keep her here," she murmured. chapter fifty one. the prize essay. annie did not die. the fever passed away in that long and refreshing sleep, while nan's cool hand lay against her cheek. she came slowly, slowly back to life--to a fresh, a new, and a glad life. hester, from being her enemy, was now her dearest and warmest friend. her father was at home again, and she could no longer think or speak of herself as lonely or sad. she recovered, and in future days reigned as a greater favourite than ever at lavender house. it is only fair to say that tiger never went back to the gipsies, but devoted himself first and foremost to annie, and then to the captain, who pronounced him a capital dog, and when he heard his story vowed he never would part with him. owing to annie's illness, and to all the trouble and confusion which immediately ensued, mrs willis did not give away her prizes at the usual time; but when her scholars once more assembled at lavender house she astonished several of them by a few words. "my dears," she said, standing in her accustomed place at the head of the long school-room, "i intend now, before our first day of lessons begins, to distribute those prizes which would have been yours, under ordinary circumstances, on the twenty-first of june. the prizes will be distributed during the afternoon recess: but here, and now, i wish to say something about--and also to give away--the prize for english composition. six essays, all written with more or less care, have been given to me to inspect. there are reasons which we need not now go into which made it impossible to me to say anything in favour of a theme called `the river,' written by my late pupil, miss russell: but i can cordially praise a very nice historical sketch of marie antoinette, the work of hester thornton. mary price has also written a study which pleases me much, as it shows thought and even a little originality. the remainder of the six essays simply reach an ordinary average. you will be surprised therefore, my dears, to learn that i do not award the prize to any of these themes, but rather to a seventh composition, which was put into my hands yesterday by miss danesbury. it is crude and unfinished, and doubtless but for her recent illness would have received many corrections: but these few pages, which are called `a lonely child,' drew tears from my eyes; crude as they are, they have the merit of real originality. they are too morbid to read to you, girls, and i sincerely trust and pray the young writer may never pen anything so sad again. such as they are, however, they rank first in the order of merit, and the prize is hers. annie, my dear, come forward." annie left her seat, and, amid the cheers of her companions, went up to mrs willis, who placed a locket, attached to a slender gold chain, round her neck; the locket contained a miniature of the head-mistress's much-loved face. "after all, think of our annie forest turning out clever, as well as being the prettiest and dearest girl in the school i exclaimed several or her companions." "only i do wish," added one, "that mrs willis had let us see the essay. annie, treasure, come here; tell us what the `lonely child' was about." "i don't remember," answered annie. "i don't know what loneliness means now, so how can i describe it?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the end. the road to oz in which is related how dorothy gale of kansas, the shaggy man, button bright, and polychrome the rainbow's daughter met on an enchanted road and followed it all the way to the marvelous land of oz. by l. frank baum "royal historian of oz" contents --to my readers-- . the way to butterfield . dorothy meets button-bright . a queer village . king dox . the rainbow's daughter . the city of beasts . the shaggy man's transformation . the musicker . facing the scoodlers . escaping the soup-kettle . johnny dooit does it . the deadly desert crossed . the truth pond . tik-tok and billina . the emperor's tin castle . visiting the pumpkin-field . the royal chariot arrives . the emerald city . the shaggy man's welcome . princess ozma of oz . dorothy receives the guests . important arrivals . the grand banquet . the birthday celebration to my readers well, my dears, here is what you have asked for: another "oz book" about dorothy's strange adventures. toto is in this story, because you wanted him to be there, and many other characters which you will recognize are in the story, too. indeed, the wishes of my little correspondents have been considered as carefully as possible, and if the story is not exactly as you would have written it yourselves, you must remember that a story has to be a story before it can be written down, and the writer cannot change it much without spoiling it. in the preface to "dorothy and the wizard of oz" i said i would like to write some stories that were not "oz" stories, because i thought i had written about oz long enough; but since that volume was published i have been fairly deluged with letters from children imploring me to "write more about dorothy," and "more about oz," and since i write only to please the children i shall try to respect their wishes. there are some new characters in this book that ought to win your love. i'm very fond of the shaggy man myself, and i think you will like him, too. as for polychrome--the rainbow's daughter--and stupid little button-bright, they seem to have brought a new element of fun into these oz stories, and i am glad i discovered them. yet i am anxious to have you write and tell me how you like them. since this book was written i have received some very remarkable news from the land of oz, which has greatly astonished me. i believe it will astonish you, too, my dears, when you hear it. but it is such a long and exciting story that it must be saved for another book--and perhaps that book will be the last story that will ever be told about the land of oz. l. frank baum coronado, . . the way to butterfield "please, miss," said the shaggy man, "can you tell me the road to butterfield?" dorothy looked him over. yes, he was shaggy, all right, but there was a twinkle in his eye that seemed pleasant. "oh yes," she replied; "i can tell you. but it isn't this road at all." "no?" "you cross the ten-acre lot, follow the lane to the highway, go north to the five branches, and take--let me see--" "to be sure, miss; see as far as butterfield, if you like," said the shaggy man. "you take the branch next the willow stump, i b'lieve; or else the branch by the gopher holes; or else--" "won't any of 'em do, miss?" "'course not, shaggy man. you must take the right road to get to butterfield." "and is that the one by the gopher stump, or--" "dear me!" cried dorothy. "i shall have to show you the way, you're so stupid. wait a minute till i run in the house and get my sunbonnet." the shaggy man waited. he had an oat-straw in his mouth, which he chewed slowly as if it tasted good; but it didn't. there was an apple-tree beside the house, and some apples had fallen to the ground. the shaggy man thought they would taste better than the oat-straw, so he walked over to get some. a little black dog with bright brown eyes dashed out of the farm-house and ran madly toward the shaggy man, who had already picked up three apples and put them in one of the big wide pockets of his shaggy coat. the little dog barked and made a dive for the shaggy man's leg; but he grabbed the dog by the neck and put it in his big pocket along with the apples. he took more apples, afterward, for many were on the ground; and each one that he tossed into his pocket hit the little dog somewhere upon the head or back, and made him growl. the little dog's name was toto, and he was sorry he had been put in the shaggy man's pocket. pretty soon dorothy came out of the house with her sunbonnet, and she called out: "come on, shaggy man, if you want me to show you the road to butterfield." she climbed the fence into the ten-acre lot and he followed her, walking slowly and stumbling over the little hillocks in the pasture as if he was thinking of something else and did not notice them. "my, but you're clumsy!" said the little girl. "are your feet tired?" "no, miss; it's my whiskers; they tire very easily in this warm weather," said he. "i wish it would snow, don't you?" "'course not, shaggy man," replied dorothy, giving him a severe look. "if it snowed in august it would spoil the corn and the oats and the wheat; and then uncle henry wouldn't have any crops; and that would make him poor; and--" "never mind," said the shaggy man. "it won't snow, i guess. is this the lane?" "yes," replied dorothy, climbing another fence; "i'll go as far as the highway with you." "thankee, miss; you're very kind for your size, i'm sure," said he gratefully. "it isn't everyone who knows the road to butterfield," dorothy remarked as she tripped along the lane; "but i've driven there many a time with uncle henry, and so i b'lieve i could find it blindfolded." "don't do that, miss," said the shaggy man earnestly; "you might make a mistake." "i won't," she answered, laughing. "here's the highway. now it's the second--no, the third turn to the left--or else it's the fourth. let's see. the first one is by the elm tree, and the second is by the gopher holes; and then--" "then what?" he inquired, putting his hands in his coat pockets. toto grabbed a finger and bit it; the shaggy man took his hand out of that pocket quickly, and said "oh!" dorothy did not notice. she was shading her eyes from the sun with her arm, looking anxiously down the road. "come on," she commanded. "it's only a little way farther, so i may as well show you." after a while, they came to the place where five roads branched in different directions; dorothy pointed to one, and said: "that's it, shaggy man." "i'm much obliged, miss," he said, and started along another road. "not that one!" she cried; "you're going wrong." he stopped. "i thought you said that other was the road to butterfield," said he, running his fingers through his shaggy whiskers in a puzzled way. "so it is." "but i don't want to go to butterfield, miss." "you don't?" "of course not. i wanted you to show me the road, so i shouldn't go there by mistake." "oh! where do you want to go, then?" "i'm not particular, miss." this answer astonished the little girl; and it made her provoked, too, to think she had taken all this trouble for nothing. "there are a good many roads here," observed the shaggy man, turning slowly around, like a human windmill. "seems to me a person could go 'most anywhere, from this place." dorothy turned around too, and gazed in surprise. there were a good many roads; more than she had ever seen before. she tried to count them, knowing there ought to be five, but when she had counted seventeen she grew bewildered and stopped, for the roads were as many as the spokes of a wheel and ran in every direction from the place where they stood; so if she kept on counting she was likely to count some of the roads twice. "dear me!" she exclaimed. "there used to be only five roads, highway and all. and now--why, where's the highway, shaggy man?" "can't say, miss," he responded, sitting down upon the ground as if tired with standing. "wasn't it here a minute ago?" "i thought so," she answered, greatly perplexed. "and i saw the gopher holes, too, and the dead stump; but they're not here now. these roads are all strange--and what a lot of them there are! where do you suppose they all go to?" "roads," observed the shaggy man, "don't go anywhere. they stay in one place, so folks can walk on them." he put his hand in his side-pocket and drew out an apple--quick, before toto could bite him again. the little dog got his head out this time and said "bow-wow!" so loudly that it made dorothy jump. "o, toto!" she cried; "where did you come from?" "i brought him along," said the shaggy man. "what for?" she asked. "to guard these apples in my pocket, miss, so no one would steal them." with one hand the shaggy man held the apple, which he began eating, while with the other hand he pulled toto out of his pocket and dropped him to the ground. of course toto made for dorothy at once, barking joyfully at his release from the dark pocket. when the child had patted his head lovingly, he sat down before her, his red tongue hanging out one side of his mouth, and looked up into her face with his bright brown eyes, as if asking her what they should do next. dorothy didn't know. she looked around her anxiously for some familiar landmark; but everything was strange. between the branches of the many roads were green meadows and a few shrubs and trees, but she couldn't see anywhere the farm-house from which she had just come, or anything she had ever seen before--except the shaggy man and toto. besides this, she had turned around and around so many times trying to find out where she was, that now she couldn't even tell which direction the farm-house ought to be in; and this began to worry her and make her feel anxious. "i'm 'fraid, shaggy man," she said, with a sigh, "that we're lost!" "that's nothing to be afraid of," he replied, throwing away the core of his apple and beginning to eat another one. "each of these roads must lead somewhere, or it wouldn't be here. so what does it matter?" "i want to go home again," she said. "well, why don't you?" said he. "i don't know which road to take." "that is too bad," he said, shaking his shaggy head gravely. "i wish i could help you; but i can't. i'm a stranger in these parts." "seems as if i were, too," she said, sitting down beside him. "it's funny. a few minutes ago i was home, and i just came to show you the way to butterfield--" "so i shouldn't make a mistake and go there--" "and now i'm lost myself and don't know how to get home!" "have an apple," suggested the shaggy man, handing her one with pretty red cheeks. "i'm not hungry," said dorothy, pushing it away. "but you may be, to-morrow; then you'll be sorry you didn't eat the apple," said he. "if i am, i'll eat the apple then," promised dorothy. "perhaps there won't be any apple then," he returned, beginning to eat the red-cheeked one himself. "dogs sometimes can find their way home better than people," he went on; "perhaps your dog can lead you back to the farm." "will you, toto?" asked dorothy. toto wagged his tail vigorously. "all right," said the girl; "let's go home." toto looked around a minute and dashed up one of the roads. "good-bye, shaggy man," called dorothy, and ran after toto. the little dog pranced briskly along for some distance; when he turned around and looked at his mistress questioningly. "oh, don't 'spect me to tell you anything; i don't know the way," she said. "you'll have to find it yourself." but toto couldn't. he wagged his tail, and sneezed, and shook his ears, and trotted back where they had left the shaggy man. from here he started along another road; then came back and tried another; but each time he found the way strange and decided it would not take them to the farm-house. finally, when dorothy had begun to tire with chasing after him, toto sat down panting beside the shaggy man and gave up. dorothy sat down, too, very thoughtful. the little girl had encountered some queer adventures since she came to live at the farm; but this was the queerest of them all. to get lost in fifteen minutes, so near to her home and in the unromantic state of kansas, was an experience that fairly bewildered her. "will your folks worry?" asked the shaggy man, his eyes twinkling in a pleasant way. "i s'pose so," answered dorothy with a sigh. "uncle henry says there's always something happening to me; but i've always come home safe at the last. so perhaps he'll take comfort and think i'll come home safe this time." "i'm sure you will," said the shaggy man, smilingly nodding at her. "good little girls never come to any harm, you know. for my part, i'm good, too; so nothing ever hurts me." dorothy looked at him curiously. his clothes were shaggy, his boots were shaggy and full of holes, and his hair and whiskers were shaggy. but his smile was sweet and his eyes were kind. "why didn't you want to go to butterfield?" she asked. "because a man lives there who owes me fifteen cents, and if i went to butterfield and he saw me he'd want to pay me the money. i don't want money, my dear." "why not?" she inquired. "money," declared the shaggy man, "makes people proud and haughty. i don't want to be proud and haughty. all i want is to have people love me; and as long as i own the love magnet, everyone i meet is sure to love me dearly." "the love magnet! why, what's that?" "i'll show you, if you won't tell any one," he answered, in a low, mysterious voice. "there isn't any one to tell, 'cept toto," said the girl. the shaggy man searched in one pocket, carefully; and in another pocket; and in a third. at last he drew out a small parcel wrapped in crumpled paper and tied with a cotton string. he unwound the string, opened the parcel, and took out a bit of metal shaped like a horseshoe. it was dull and brown, and not very pretty. "this, my dear," said he, impressively, "is the wonderful love magnet. it was given me by an eskimo in the sandwich islands--where there are no sandwiches at all--and as long as i carry it every living thing i meet will love me dearly." "why didn't the eskimo keep it?" she asked, looking at the magnet with interest. "he got tired of being loved and longed for some one to hate him. so he gave me the magnet and the very next day a grizzly bear ate him." "wasn't he sorry then?" she inquired. "he didn't say," replied the shaggy man, wrapping and tying the love magnet with great care and putting it away in another pocket. "but the bear didn't seem sorry a bit," he added. "did you know the bear?" asked dorothy. "yes; we used to play ball together in the caviar islands. the bear loved me because i had the love magnet. i couldn't blame him for eating the eskimo, because it was his nature to do so." "once," said dorothy, "i knew a hungry tiger who longed to eat fat babies, because it was his nature to; but he never ate any because he had a conscience." "this bear," replied the shaggy man, with a sigh, "had no conscience, you see." the shaggy man sat silent for several minutes, apparently considering the cases of the bear and the tiger, while toto watched him with an air of great interest. the little dog was doubtless thinking of his ride in the shaggy man's pocket and planning to keep out of reach in the future. at last the shaggy man turned and inquired, "what's your name, little girl?" "my name's dorothy," said she, jumping up again, "but what are we going to do? we can't stay here forever, you know." "let's take the seventh road," he suggested. "seven is a lucky number for little girls named dorothy." "the seventh from where?" "from where you begin to count." so she counted seven roads, and the seventh looked just like all the others; but the shaggy man got up from the ground where he had been sitting and started down this road as if sure it was the best way to go; and dorothy and toto followed him. . dorothy meets button-bright the seventh road was a good road, and curved this way and that--winding through green meadows and fields covered with daisies and buttercups and past groups of shady trees. there were no houses of any sort to be seen, and for some distance they met with no living creature at all. dorothy began to fear they were getting a good way from the farm-house, since here everything was strange to her; but it would do no good at all to go back where the other roads all met, because the next one they chose might lead her just as far from home. she kept on beside the shaggy man, who whistled cheerful tunes to beguile the journey, until by and by they followed a turn in the road and saw before them a big chestnut tree making a shady spot over the highway. in the shade sat a little boy dressed in sailor clothes, who was digging a hole in the earth with a bit of wood. he must have been digging some time, because the hole was already big enough to drop a football into. dorothy and toto and the shaggy man came to a halt before the little boy, who kept on digging in a sober and persistent fashion. "who are you?" asked the girl. he looked up at her calmly. his face was round and chubby and his eyes were big, blue and earnest. "i'm button-bright," said he. "but what's your real name?" she inquired. "button-bright." "that isn't a really-truly name!" she exclaimed. "isn't it?" he asked, still digging. "'course not. it's just a--a thing to call you by. you must have a name." "must i?" "to be sure. what does your mama call you?" he paused in his digging and tried to think. "papa always said i was bright as a button; so mama always called me button-bright," he said. "what is your papa's name?" "just papa." "what else?" "don't know." "never mind," said the shaggy man, smiling. "we'll call the boy button-bright, as his mama does. that name is as good as any, and better than some." dorothy watched the boy dig. "where do you live?" she asked. "don't know," was the reply. "how did you come here?" "don't know," he said again. "don't you know where you came from?" "no," said he. "why, he must be lost," she said to the shaggy man. she turned to the boy once more. "what are you going to do?" she inquired. "dig," said he. "but you can't dig forever; and what are you going to do then?" she persisted. "don't know," said the boy. "but you must know something," declared dorothy, getting provoked. "must i?" he asked, looking up in surprise. "of course you must." "what must i know?" "what's going to become of you, for one thing," she answered. "do you know what's going to become of me?" he asked. "not--not 'zactly," she admitted. "do you know what's going to become of you?" he continued, earnestly. "i can't say i do," replied dorothy, remembering her present difficulties. the shaggy man laughed. "no one knows everything, dorothy," he said. "but button-bright doesn't seem to know anything," she declared. "do you, button-bright?" he shook his head, which had pretty curls all over it, and replied with perfect calmness: "don't know." never before had dorothy met with anyone who could give her so little information. the boy was evidently lost, and his people would be sure to worry about him. he seemed two or three years younger than dorothy, and was prettily dressed, as if someone loved him dearly and took much pains to make him look well. how, then, did he come to be in this lonely road? she wondered. near button-bright, on the ground, lay a sailor hat with a gilt anchor on the band. his sailor trousers were long and wide at the bottom, and the broad collar of his blouse had gold anchors sewed on its corners. the boy was still digging at his hole. "have you ever been to sea?" asked dorothy. "to see what?" answered button-bright. "i mean, have you ever been where there's water?" "yes," said button-bright; "there's a well in our back yard." "you don't understand," cried dorothy. "i mean, have you ever been on a big ship floating on a big ocean?" "don't know," said he. "then why do you wear sailor clothes?" "don't know," he answered, again. dorothy was in despair. "you're just awful stupid, button-bright," she said. "am i?" he asked. "yes, you are." "why?" looking up at her with big eyes. she was going to say: "don't know," but stopped herself in time. "that's for you to answer," she replied. "it's no use asking button-bright questions," said the shaggy man, who had been eating another apple; "but someone ought to take care of the poor little chap, don't you think? so he'd better come along with us." toto had been looking with great curiosity in the hole which the boy was digging, and growing more and more excited every minute, perhaps thinking that button-bright was after some wild animal. the little dog began barking loudly and jumped into the hole himself, where he began to dig with his tiny paws, making the earth fly in all directions. it spattered over the boy. dorothy seized him and raised him to his feet, brushing his clothes with her hand. "stop that, toto!" she called. "there aren't any mice or woodchucks in that hole, so don't be foolish." toto stopped, sniffed at the hole suspiciously, and jumped out of it, wagging his tail as if he had done something important. "well," said the shaggy man, "let's start on, or we won't get anywhere before night comes." "where do you expect to get to?" asked dorothy. "i'm like button-bright. i don't know," answered the shaggy man, with a laugh. "but i've learned from long experience that every road leads somewhere, or there wouldn't be any road; so it's likely that if we travel long enough, my dear, we will come to some place or another in the end. what place it will be we can't even guess at this moment, but we're sure to find out when we get there." "why, yes," said dorothy; "that seems reas'n'ble, shaggy man." . a queer village button-bright took the shaggy man's hand willingly; for the shaggy man had the love magnet, you know, which was the reason button-bright had loved him at once. they started on, with dorothy on one side, and toto on the other, the little party trudging along more cheerfully than you might have supposed. the girl was getting used to queer adventures, which interested her very much. wherever dorothy went toto was sure to go, like mary's little lamb. button-bright didn't seem a bit afraid or worried because he was lost, and the shaggy man had no home, perhaps, and was as happy in one place as in another. before long they saw ahead of them a fine big arch spanning the road, and when they came nearer they found that the arch was beautifully carved and decorated with rich colors. a row of peacocks with spread tails ran along the top of it, and all the feathers were gorgeously painted. in the center was a large fox's head, and the fox wore a shrewd and knowing expression and had large spectacles over its eyes and a small golden crown with shiny points on top of its head. while the travelers were looking with curiosity at this beautiful arch there suddenly marched out of it a company of soldiers--only the soldiers were all foxes dressed in uniforms. they wore green jackets and yellow pantaloons, and their little round caps and their high boots were a bright red color. also, there was a big red bow tied about the middle of each long, bushy tail. each soldier was armed with a wooden sword having an edge of sharp teeth set in a row, and the sight of these teeth at first caused dorothy to shudder. a captain marched in front of the company of fox-soldiers, his uniform embroidered with gold braid to make it handsomer than the others. almost before our friends realized it the soldiers had surrounded them on all sides, and the captain was calling out in a harsh voice: "surrender! you are our prisoners." "what's a pris'ner?" asked button-bright. "a prisoner is a captive," replied the fox-captain, strutting up and down with much dignity. "what's a captive?" asked button-bright. "you're one," said the captain. that made the shaggy man laugh "good afternoon, captain," he said, bowing politely to all the foxes and very low to their commander. "i trust you are in good health, and that your families are all well?" the fox-captain looked at the shaggy man, and his sharp features grew pleasant and smiling. "we're pretty well, thank you, shaggy man," said he; and dorothy knew that the love magnet was working and that all the foxes now loved the shaggy man because of it. but toto didn't know this, for he began barking angrily and tried to bite the captain's hairy leg where it showed between his red boots and his yellow pantaloons. "stop, toto!" cried the little girl, seizing the dog in her arms. "these are our friends." "why, so we are!" remarked the captain in tones of astonishment. "i thought at first we were enemies, but it seems you are friends instead. you must come with me to see king dox." "who's he?" asked button-bright, with earnest eyes. "king dox of foxville; the great and wise sovereign who rules over our community." "what's sov'rin, and what's c'u'nity?" inquired button-bright. "don't ask so many questions, little boy." "why?" "ah, why indeed?" exclaimed the captain, looking at button-bright admiringly. "if you don't ask questions you will learn nothing. true enough. i was wrong. you're a very clever little boy, come to think of it--very clever indeed. but now, friends, please come with me, for it is my duty to escort you at once to the royal palace." the soldiers marched back through the arch again, and with them marched the shaggy man, dorothy, toto, and button-bright. once through the opening they found a fine, big city spread out before them, all the houses of carved marble in beautiful colors. the decorations were mostly birds and other fowl, such as peacocks, pheasants, turkeys, prairie-chickens, ducks, and geese. over each doorway was carved a head representing the fox who lived in that house, this effect being quite pretty and unusual. as our friends marched along, some of the foxes came out on the porches and balconies to get a view of the strangers. these foxes were all handsomely dressed, the girl-foxes and women-foxes wearing gowns of feathers woven together effectively and colored in bright hues which dorothy thought were quite artistic and decidedly attractive. button-bright stared until his eyes were big and round, and he would have stumbled and fallen more than once had not the shaggy man grasped his hand tightly. they were all interested, and toto was so excited he wanted to bark every minute and to chase and fight every fox he caught sight of; but dorothy held his little wiggling body fast in her arms and commanded him to be good and behave himself. so he finally quieted down, like a wise doggy, deciding there were too many foxes in foxville to fight at one time. by-and-by they came to a big square, and in the center of the square stood the royal palace. dorothy knew it at once because it had over its great door the carved head of a fox just like the one she had seen on the arch, and this fox was the only one who wore a golden crown. there were many fox-soldiers guarding the door, but they bowed to the captain and admitted him without question. the captain led them through many rooms, where richly dressed foxes were sitting on beautiful chairs or sipping tea, which was being passed around by fox-servants in white aprons. they came to a big doorway covered with heavy curtains of cloth of gold. beside this doorway stood a huge drum. the fox-captain went to this drum and knocked his knees against it--first one knee and then the other--so that the drum said: "boom-boom." "you must all do exactly what i do," ordered the captain; so the shaggy man pounded the drum with his knees, and so did dorothy and so did button-bright. the boy wanted to keep on pounding it with his little fat knees, because he liked the sound of it; but the captain stopped him. toto couldn't pound the drum with his knees and he didn't know enough to wag his tail against it, so dorothy pounded the drum for him and that made him bark, and when the little dog barked the fox-captain scowled. the golden curtains drew back far enough to make an opening, through which marched the captain with the others. the broad, long room they entered was decorated in gold with stained-glass windows of splendid colors. in the corner of the room upon a richly carved golden throne, sat the fox-king, surrounded by a group of other foxes, all of whom wore great spectacles over their eyes, making them look solemn and important. dorothy knew the king at once, because she had seen his head carved on the arch and over the doorway of the palace. having met with several other kings in her travels, she knew what to do, and at once made a low bow before the throne. the shaggy man bowed, too, and button-bright bobbed his head and said "hello." "most wise and noble potentate of foxville," said the captain, addressing the king in a pompous voice, "i humbly beg to report that i found these strangers on the road leading to your foxy majesty's dominions, and have therefore brought them before you, as is my duty." "so--so," said the king, looking at them keenly. "what brought you here, strangers?" "our legs, may it please your royal hairiness," replied the shaggy man. "what is your business here?" was the next question. "to get away as soon as possible," said the shaggy man. the king didn't know about the magnet, of course; but it made him love the shaggy man at once. "do just as you please about going away," he said; "but i'd like to show you the sights of my city and to entertain your party while you are here. we feel highly honored to have little dorothy with us, i assure you, and we appreciate her kindness in making us a visit. for whatever country dorothy visits is sure to become famous." this speech greatly surprised the little girl, who asked: "how did your majesty know my name?" "why, everybody knows you, my dear," said the fox-king. "don't you realize that? you are quite an important personage since princess ozma of oz made you her friend." "do you know ozma?" she asked, wondering. "i regret to say that i do not," he answered, sadly; "but i hope to meet her soon. you know the princess ozma is to celebrate her birthday on the twenty-first of this month." "is she?" said dorothy. "i didn't know that." "yes; it is to be the most brilliant royal ceremony ever held in any city in fairyland, and i hope you will try to get me an invitation." dorothy thought a moment. "i'm sure ozma would invite you if i asked her," she said; "but how could you get to the land of oz and the emerald city? it's a good way from kansas." "kansas!" he exclaimed, surprised. "why, yes; we are in kansas now, aren't we?" she returned. "what a queer notion!" cried the fox-king, beginning to laugh. "whatever made you think this is kansas?" "i left uncle henry's farm only about two hours ago; that's the reason," she said, rather perplexed. "but, tell me, my dear, did you ever see so wonderful a city as foxville in kansas?" he questioned. "no, your majesty." "and haven't you traveled from oz to kansas in less than half a jiffy, by means of the silver shoes and the magic belt?" "yes, your majesty," she acknowledged. "then why do you wonder that an hour or two could bring you to foxville, which is nearer to oz than it is to kansas?" "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy; "is this another fairy adventure?" "it seems to be," said the fox-king, smiling. dorothy turned to the shaggy man, and her face was grave and reproachful. "are you a magician? or a fairy in disguise?" she asked. "did you enchant me when you asked the way to butterfield?" the shaggy man shook his head. "who ever heard of a shaggy fairy?" he replied. "no, dorothy, my dear; i'm not to blame for this journey in any way, i assure you. there's been something strange about me ever since i owned the love magnet; but i don't know what it is any more than you do. i didn't try to get you away from home, at all. if you want to find your way back to the farm i'll go with you willingly, and do my best to help you." "never mind," said the little girl, thoughtfully. "there isn't so much to see in kansas as there is here, and i guess aunt em won't be very much worried; that is, if i don't stay away too long." "that's right," declared the fox-king, nodding approval. "be contented with your lot, whatever it happens to be, if you are wise. which reminds me that you have a new companion on this adventure--he looks very clever and bright." "he is," said dorothy; and the shaggy man added: "that's his name, your royal foxiness--button-bright." . king dox it was amusing to note the expression on the face of king dox as he looked the boy over, from his sailor hat to his stubby shoes, and it was equally diverting to watch button-bright stare at the king in return. no fox ever beheld a fresher, fairer child's face, and no child had ever before heard a fox talk, or met with one who dressed so handsomely and ruled so big a city. i am sorry to say that no one had ever told the little boy much about fairies of any kind; this being the case, it is easy to understand how much this strange experience startled and astonished him. "how do you like us?" asked the king. "don't know," said button-bright. "of course you don't. it's too short an acquaintance," returned his majesty. "what do you suppose my name is?" "don't know," said button-bright. "how should you? well, i'll tell you. my private name is dox, but a king can't be called by his private name; he has to take one that is official. therefore my official name is king renard the fourth. ren-ard with the accent on the 'ren'." "what's 'ren'?" asked button-bright. "how clever!" exclaimed the king, turning a pleased face toward his counselors. "this boy is indeed remarkably bright. 'what's 'ren'?' he asks; and of course 'ren' is nothing at all, all by itself. yes, he's very bright indeed." "that question is what your majesty might call foxy," said one of the counselors, an old grey fox. "so it is," declared the king. turning again to button-bright, he asked: "having told you my name, what would you call me?" "king dox," said the boy. "why?" "'cause 'ren''s nothing at all," was the reply. "good! very good indeed! you certainly have a brilliant mind. do you know why two and two make four?" "no," said button-bright. "clever! clever indeed! of course you don't know. nobody knows why; we only know it's so, and can't tell why it's so. button-bright, those curls and blue eyes do not go well with so much wisdom. they make you look too youthful, and hide your real cleverness. therefore, i will do you a great favor. i will confer upon you the head of a fox, so that you may hereafter look as bright as you really are." as he spoke the king waved his paw toward the boy, and at once the pretty curls and fresh round face and big blue eyes were gone, while in their place a fox's head appeared upon button-bright's shoulders--a hairy head with a sharp nose, pointed ears, and keen little eyes. "oh, don't do that!" cried dorothy, shrinking back from her transformed companion with a shocked and dismayed face. "too late, my dear; it's done. but you also shall have a fox's head if you can prove you're as clever as button-bright." "i don't want it; it's dreadful!" she exclaimed; and, hearing this verdict, button-bright began to boo-hoo just as if he were still a little boy. "how can you call that lovely head dreadful?" asked the king. "it's a much prettier face than he had before, to my notion, and my wife says i'm a good judge of beauty. don't cry, little fox-boy. laugh and be proud, because you are so highly favored. how do you like the new head, button-bright?" "d-d-don't n-n-n-know!" sobbed the child. "please, please change him back again, your majesty!" begged dorothy. king renard iv shook his head. "i can't do that," he said; "i haven't the power, even if i wanted to. no, button-bright must wear his fox head, and he'll be sure to love it dearly as soon as he gets used to it." both the shaggy man and dorothy looked grave and anxious, for they were sorrowful that such a misfortune had overtaken their little companion. toto barked at the fox-boy once or twice, not realizing it was his former friend who now wore the animal head; but dorothy cuffed the dog and made him stop. as for the foxes, they all seemed to think button-bright's new head very becoming and that their king had conferred a great honor on this little stranger. it was funny to see the boy reach up to feel of his sharp nose and wide mouth, and wail afresh with grief. he wagged his ears in a comical manner and tears were in his little black eyes. but dorothy couldn't laugh at her friend just yet, because she felt so sorry. just then three little fox-princesses, daughters of the king, entered the room, and when they saw button-bright one exclaimed: "how lovely he is!" and the next one cried in delight: "how sweet he is!" and the third princess clapped her hands with pleasure and said, "how beautiful he is!" button-bright stopped crying and asked timidly: "am i?" "in all the world there is not another face so pretty," declared the biggest fox-princess. "you must live with us always, and be our brother," said the next. "we shall all love you dearly," the third said. this praise did much to comfort the boy, and he looked around and tried to smile. it was a pitiful attempt, because the fox face was new and stiff, and dorothy thought his expression more stupid than before the transformation. "i think we ought to be going now," said the shaggy man, uneasily, for he didn't know what the king might take into his head to do next. "don't leave us yet, i beg of you," pleaded king renard. "i intend to have several days of feasting and merry-making in honor of your visit." "have it after we're gone, for we can't wait," said dorothy, decidedly. but seeing this displeased the king, she added: "if i'm going to get ozma to invite you to her party i'll have to find her as soon as poss'ble, you know." in spite of all the beauty of foxville and the gorgeous dresses of its inhabitants, both the girl and the shaggy man felt they were not quite safe there, and would be glad to see the last of it. "but it is now evening," the king reminded them, "and you must stay with us until morning, anyhow. therefore, i invite you to be my guests at dinner, and to attend the theater afterward and sit in the royal box. to-morrow morning, if you really insist upon it, you may resume your journey." they consented to this, and some of the fox-servants led them to a suite of lovely rooms in the big palace. button-bright was afraid to be left alone, so dorothy took him into her own room. while a maid-fox dressed the little girl's hair--which was a bit tangled--and put some bright, fresh ribbons in it, another maid-fox combed the hair on poor button-bright's face and head and brushed it carefully, tying a pink bow to each of his pointed ears. the maids wanted to dress the children in fine costumes of woven feathers, such as all the foxes wore; but neither of them consented to that. "a sailor suit and a fox head do not go well together," said one of the maids, "for no fox was ever a sailor that i can remember." "i'm not a fox!" cried button-bright. "alas, no," agreed the maid. "but you've got a lovely fox head on your skinny shoulders, and that's almost as good as being a fox." the boy, reminded of his misfortune, began to cry again. dorothy petted and comforted him and promised to find some way to restore him his own head. "if we can manage to get to ozma," she said, "the princess will change you back to yourself in half a second; so you just wear that fox head as comf't'bly as you can, dear, and don't worry about it at all. it isn't nearly as pretty as your own head, no matter what the foxes say; but you can get along with it for a little while longer, can't you?" "don't know," said button-bright, doubtfully; but he didn't cry any more after that. dorothy let the maids pin ribbons to her shoulders, after which they were ready for the king's dinner. when they met the shaggy man in the splendid drawing room of the palace they found him just the same as before. he had refused to give up his shaggy clothes for new ones, because if he did that he would no longer be the shaggy man, he said, and he might have to get acquainted with himself all over again. he told dorothy he had brushed his shaggy hair and whiskers; but she thought he must have brushed them the wrong way, for they were quite as shaggy as before. as for the company of foxes assembled to dine with the strangers, they were most beautifully costumed, and their rich dresses made dorothy's simple gown and button-bright's sailor suit and the shaggy man's shaggy clothes look commonplace. but they treated their guests with great respect and the king's dinner was a very good dinner indeed. foxes, as you know, are fond of chicken and other fowl; so they served chicken soup and roasted turkey and stewed duck and fried grouse and broiled quail and goose pie, and as the cooking was excellent the king's guests enjoyed the meal and ate heartily of the various dishes. the party went to the theater, where they saw a play acted by foxes dressed in costumes of brilliantly colored feathers. the play was about a fox-girl who was stolen by some wicked wolves and carried to their cave; and just as they were about to kill her and eat her a company of fox-soldiers marched up, saved the girl, and put all the wicked wolves to death. "how do you like it?" the king asked dorothy. "pretty well," she answered. "it reminds me of one of mr. aesop's fables." "don't mention aesop to me, i beg of you!" exclaimed king dox. "i hate that man's name. he wrote a good deal about foxes, but always made them out cruel and wicked, whereas we are gentle and kind, as you may see." "but his fables showed you to be wise and clever, and more shrewd than other animals," said the shaggy man, thoughtfully. "so we are. there is no question about our knowing more than men do," replied the king, proudly. "but we employ our wisdom to do good, instead of harm; so that horrid aesop did not know what he was talking about." they did not like to contradict him, because they felt he ought to know the nature of foxes better than men did; so they sat still and watched the play, and button-bright became so interested that for the time he forgot he wore a fox head. afterward they went back to the palace and slept in soft beds stuffed with feathers; for the foxes raised many fowl for food, and used their feathers for clothing and to sleep upon. dorothy wondered why the animals living in foxville did not wear just their own hairy skins as wild foxes do; when she mentioned it to king dox he said they clothed themselves because they were civilized. "but you were born without clothes," she observed, "and you don't seem to me to need them." "so were human beings born without clothes," he replied; "and until they became civilized they wore only their natural skins. but to become civilized means to dress as elaborately and prettily as possible, and to make a show of your clothes so your neighbors will envy you, and for that reason both civilized foxes and civilized humans spend most of their time dressing themselves." "i don't," declared the shaggy man. "that is true," said the king, looking at him carefully; "but perhaps you are not civilized." after a sound sleep and a good night's rest they had their breakfast with the king and then bade his majesty good-bye. "you've been kind to us--'cept poor button-bright," said dorothy, "and we've had a nice time in foxville." "then," said king dox, "perhaps you'll be good enough to get me an invitation to princess ozma's birthday celebration." "i'll try," she promised; "if i see her in time." "it's on the twenty-first, remember," he continued; "and if you'll just see that i'm invited i'll find a way to cross the dreadful desert into the marvelous land of oz. i've always wanted to visit the emerald city, so i'm sure it was fortunate you arrived here just when you did, you being princess ozma's friend and able to assist me in getting the invitation." "if i see ozma i'll ask her to invite you," she replied. the fox-king had a delightful luncheon put up for them, which the shaggy man shoved in his pocket, and the fox-captain escorted them to an arch at the side of the village opposite the one by which they had entered. here they found more soldiers guarding the road. "are you afraid of enemies?" asked dorothy. "no; because we are watchful and able to protect ourselves," answered the captain. "but this road leads to another village peopled by big, stupid beasts who might cause us trouble if they thought we were afraid of them." "what beasts are they?" asked the shaggy man. the captain hesitated to answer. finally, he said: "you will learn all about them when you arrive at their city. but do not be afraid of them. button-bright is so wonderfully clever and has now such an intelligent face that i'm sure he will manage to find a way to protect you." this made dorothy and the shaggy man rather uneasy, for they had not so much confidence in the fox-boy's wisdom as the captain seemed to have. but as their escort would say no more about the beasts, they bade him good-bye and proceeded on their journey. . the rainbow's daughter toto, now allowed to run about as he pleased, was glad to be free again and able to bark at the birds and chase the butterflies. the country around them was charming, yet in the pretty fields of wild-flowers and groves of leafy trees were no houses whatever, or sign of any inhabitants. birds flew through the air and cunning white rabbits darted amongst the tall grasses and green bushes; dorothy noticed even the ants toiling busily along the roadway, bearing gigantic loads of clover seed; but of people there were none at all. they walked briskly on for an hour or two, for even little button-bright was a good walker and did not tire easily. at length as they turned a curve in the road they beheld just before them a curious sight. a little girl, radiant and beautiful, shapely as a fairy and exquisitely dressed, was dancing gracefully in the middle of the lonely road, whirling slowly this way and that, her dainty feet twinkling in sprightly fashion. she was clad in flowing, fluffy robes of soft material that reminded dorothy of woven cobwebs, only it was colored in soft tintings of violet, rose, topaz, olive, azure, and white, mingled together most harmoniously in stripes which melted one into the other with soft blendings. her hair was like spun gold and flowed around her in a cloud, no strand being fastened or confined by either pin or ornament or ribbon. filled with wonder and admiration our friends approached and stood watching this fascinating dance. the girl was no taller than dorothy, although more slender; nor did she seem any older than our little heroine. suddenly she paused and abandoned the dance, as if for the first time observing the presence of strangers. as she faced them, shy as a frightened fawn, poised upon one foot as if to fly the next instant, dorothy was astonished to see tears flowing from her violet eyes and trickling down her lovely rose-hued cheeks. that the dainty maiden should dance and weep at the same time was indeed surprising; so dorothy asked in a soft, sympathetic voice: "are you unhappy, little girl?" "very!" was the reply; "i am lost." "why, so are we," said dorothy, smiling; "but we don't cry about it." "don't you? why not?" "'cause i've been lost before, and always got found again," answered dorothy simply. "but i've never been lost before," murmured the dainty maiden, "and i'm worried and afraid." "you were dancing," remarked dorothy, in a puzzled tone of voice. "oh, that was just to keep warm," explained the maiden, quickly. "it was not because i felt happy or gay, i assure you." dorothy looked at her closely. her gauzy flowing robes might not be very warm, yet the weather wasn't at all chilly, but rather mild and balmy, like a spring day. "who are you, dear?" she asked, gently. "i'm polychrome," was the reply. "polly whom?" "polychrome. i'm the daughter of the rainbow." "oh!" said dorothy with a gasp; "i didn't know the rainbow had children. but i might have known it, before you spoke. you couldn't really be anything else." "why not?" inquired polychrome, as if surprised. "because you're so lovely and sweet." the little maiden smiled through her tears, came up to dorothy, and placed her slender fingers in the kansas girl's chubby hand. "you'll be my friend--won't you?" she said, pleadingly. "of course." "and what is your name?" "i'm dorothy; and this is my friend shaggy man, who owns the love magnet; and this is button-bright--only you don't see him as he really is because the fox-king carelessly changed his head into a fox head. but the real button-bright is good to look at, and i hope to get him changed back to himself, some time." the rainbow's daughter nodded cheerfully, no longer afraid of her new companions. "but who is this?" she asked, pointing to toto, who was sitting before her wagging his tail in the most friendly manner and admiring the pretty maid with his bright eyes. "is this, also, some enchanted person?" "oh no, polly--i may call you polly, mayn't i? your whole name's awful hard to say." "call me polly if you wish, dorothy." "well, polly, toto's just a dog; but he has more sense than button-bright, to tell the truth; and i'm very fond of him." "so am i," said polychrome, bending gracefully to pat toto's head. "but how did the rainbow's daughter ever get on this lonely road, and become lost?" asked the shaggy man, who had listened wonderingly to all this. "why, my father stretched his rainbow over here this morning, so that one end of it touched this road," was the reply; "and i was dancing upon the pretty rays, as i love to do, and never noticed i was getting too far over the bend in the circle. suddenly i began to slide, and i went faster and faster until at last i bumped on the ground, at the very end. just then father lifted the rainbow again, without noticing me at all, and though i tried to seize the end of it and hold fast, it melted away entirely and i was left alone and helpless on the cold, hard earth!" "it doesn't seem cold to me, polly," said dorothy; "but perhaps you're not warmly dressed." "i'm so used to living nearer the sun," replied the rainbow's daughter, "that at first i feared i would freeze down here. but my dance has warmed me some, and now i wonder how i am ever to get home again." "won't your father miss you, and look for you, and let down another rainbow for you?" "perhaps so, but he's busy just now because it rains in so many parts of the world at this season, and he has to set his rainbow in a lot of different places. what would you advise me to do, dorothy?" "come with us," was the answer. "i'm going to try to find my way to the emerald city, which is in the fairy land of oz. the emerald city is ruled by a friend of mine, the princess ozma, and if we can manage to get there i'm sure she will know a way to send you home to your father again." "do you really think so?" asked polychrome, anxiously. "i'm pretty sure." "then i'll go with you," said the little maid; "for travel will help keep me warm, and father can find me in one part of the world as well as another--if he gets time to look for me." "come along, then," said the shaggy man, cheerfully; and they started on once more. polly walked beside dorothy a while, holding her new friend's hand as if she feared to let it go; but her nature seemed as light and buoyant as her fleecy robes, for suddenly she darted ahead and whirled round in a giddy dance. then she tripped back to them with sparkling eyes and smiling cheeks, having regained her usual happy mood and forgotten all her worry about being lost. they found her a charming companion, and her dancing and laughter--for she laughed at times like the tinkling of a silver bell--did much to enliven their journey and keep them contented. . the city of beasts when noon came they opened the fox-king's basket of luncheon, and found a nice roasted turkey with cranberry sauce and some slices of bread and butter. as they sat on the grass by the roadside the shaggy man cut up the turkey with his pocket-knife and passed slices of it around. "haven't you any dewdrops, or mist-cakes, or cloudbuns?" asked polychrome, longingly. "'course not," replied dorothy. "we eat solid things, down here on the earth. but there's a bottle of cold tea. try some, won't you?" the rainbow's daughter watched button-bright devour one leg of the turkey. "is it good?" she asked. he nodded. "do you think i could eat it?" "not this," said button-bright. "but i mean another piece?" "don't know," he replied. "well, i'm going to try, for i'm very hungry," she decided, and took a thin slice of the white breast of turkey which the shaggy man cut for her, as well as a bit of bread and butter. when she tasted it polychrome thought the turkey was good--better even than mist-cakes; but a little satisfied her hunger and she finished with a tiny sip of cold tea. "that's about as much as a fly would eat," said dorothy, who was making a good meal herself. "but i know some people in oz who eat nothing at all." "who are they?" inquired the shaggy man. "one is a scarecrow who's stuffed with straw, and the other a woodman made out of tin. they haven't any appetites inside of 'em, you see; so they never eat anything at all." "are they alive?" asked button-bright. "oh yes," replied dorothy; "and they're very clever and very nice, too. if we get to oz i'll introduce them to you." "do you really expect to get to oz?" inquired the shaggy man, taking a drink of cold tea. "i don't know just what to 'spect," answered the child, seriously; "but i've noticed if i happen to get lost i'm almost sure to come to the land of oz in the end, somehow 'r other; so i may get there this time. but i can't promise, you know; all i can do is wait and see." "will the scarecrow scare me?" asked button-bright. "no; 'cause you're not a crow," she returned. "he has the loveliest smile you ever saw--only it's painted on and he can't help it." luncheon being over they started again upon their journey, the shaggy man, dorothy and button-bright walking soberly along, side by side, and the rainbow's daughter dancing merrily before them. sometimes she darted along the road so swiftly that she was nearly out of sight, then she came tripping back to greet them with her silvery laughter. but once she came back more sedately, to say: "there's a city a little way off." "i 'spected that," returned dorothy; "for the fox-people warned us there was one on this road. it's filled with stupid beasts of some sort, but we musn't be afraid of 'em 'cause they won't hurt us." "all right," said button-bright; but polychrome didn't know whether it was all right or not. "it's a big city," she said, "and the road runs straight through it." "never mind," said the shaggy man; "as long as i carry the love magnet every living thing will love me, and you may be sure i shan't allow any of my friends to be harmed in any way." this comforted them somewhat, and they moved on again. pretty soon they came to a signpost that read: "haf a myle to dunkiton." "oh," said the shaggy man, "if they're donkeys, we've nothing to fear at all." "they may kick," said dorothy, doubtfully. "then we will cut some switches, and make them behave," he replied. at the first tree he cut himself a long, slender switch from one of the branches, and shorter switches for the others. "don't be afraid to order the beasts around," he said; "they're used to it." before long the road brought them to the gates of the city. there was a high wall all around, which had been whitewashed, and the gate just before our travelers was a mere opening in the wall, with no bars across it. no towers or steeples or domes showed above the enclosure, nor was any living thing to be seen as our friends drew near. suddenly, as they were about to boldly enter through the opening, there arose a harsh clamor of sound that swelled and echoed on every side, until they were nearly deafened by the racket and had to put their fingers to their ears to keep the noise out. it was like the firing of many cannon, only there were no cannon-balls or other missiles to be seen; it was like the rolling of mighty thunder, only not a cloud was in the sky; it was like the roar of countless breakers on a rugged seashore, only there was no sea or other water anywhere about. they hesitated to advance; but, as the noise did no harm, they entered through the whitewashed wall and quickly discovered the cause of the turmoil. inside were suspended many sheets of tin or thin iron, and against these metal sheets a row of donkeys were pounding their heels with vicious kicks. the shaggy man ran up to the nearest donkey and gave the beast a sharp blow with his switch. "stop that noise!" he shouted; and the donkey stopped kicking the metal sheet and turned its head to look with surprise at the shaggy man. he switched the next donkey, and made him stop, and then the next, so that gradually the rattling of heels ceased and the awful noise subsided. the donkeys stood in a group and eyed the strangers with fear and trembling. "what do you mean by making such a racket?" asked the shaggy man, sternly. "we were scaring away the foxes," said one of the donkeys, meekly. "usually they run fast enough when they hear the noise, which makes them afraid." "there are no foxes here," said the shaggy man. "i beg to differ with you. there's one, anyhow," replied the donkey, sitting upright on its haunches and waving a hoof toward button-bright. "we saw him coming and thought the whole army of foxes was marching to attack us." "button-bright isn't a fox," explained the shaggy man. "he's only wearing a fox head for a time, until he can get his own head back." "oh, i see," remarked the donkey, waving its left ear reflectively. "i'm sorry we made such a mistake, and had all our work and worry for nothing." the other donkeys by this time were sitting up and examining the strangers with big, glassy eyes. they made a queer picture, indeed; for they wore wide, white collars around their necks and the collars had many scallops and points. the gentlemen-donkeys wore high pointed caps set between their great ears, and the lady-donkeys wore sunbonnets with holes cut in the top for the ears to stick through. but they had no other clothing except their hairy skins, although many wore gold and silver bangles on their front wrists and bands of different metals on their rear ankles. when they were kicking they had braced themselves with their front legs, but now they all stood or sat upright on their hind legs and used the front ones as arms. having no fingers or hands the beasts were rather clumsy, as you may guess; but dorothy was surprised to observe how many things they could do with their stiff, heavy hoofs. some of the donkeys were white, some were brown, or gray, or black, or spotted; but their hair was sleek and smooth and their broad collars and caps gave them a neat, if whimsical, appearance. "this is a nice way to welcome visitors, i must say!" remarked the shaggy man, in a reproachful tone. "oh, we did not mean to be impolite," replied a grey donkey which had not spoken before. "but you were not expected, nor did you send in your visiting cards, as it is proper to do." "there is some truth in that," admitted the shaggy man; "but, now you are informed that we are important and distinguished travelers, i trust you will accord us proper consideration." these big words delighted the donkeys, and made them bow to the shaggy man with great respect. said the grey one: "you shall be taken before his great and glorious majesty king kik-a-bray, who will greet you as becomes your exalted stations." "that's right," answered dorothy. "take us to some one who knows something." "oh, we all know something, my child, or we shouldn't be donkeys," asserted the grey one, with dignity. "the word 'donkey' means 'clever,' you know." "i didn't know it," she replied. "i thought it meant 'stupid'." "not at all, my child. if you will look in the encyclopedia donkaniara you will find i'm correct. but come; i will myself lead you before our splendid, exalted, and most intellectual ruler." all donkeys love big words, so it is no wonder the grey one used so many of them. . the shaggy man's transformation they found the houses of the town all low and square and built of bricks, neatly whitewashed inside and out. the houses were not set in rows, forming regular streets, but placed here and there in a haphazard manner which made it puzzling for a stranger to find his way. "stupid people must have streets and numbered houses in their cities, to guide them where to go," observed the grey donkey, as he walked before the visitors on his hind legs, in an awkward but comical manner; "but clever donkeys know their way about without such absurd marks. moreover, a mixed city is much prettier than one with straight streets." dorothy did not agree with this, but she said nothing to contradict it. presently she saw a sign on a house that read: "madam de fayke, hoofist," and she asked their conductor: "what's a 'hoofist,' please?" "one who reads your fortune in your hoofs," replied the grey donkey. "oh, i see," said the little girl. "you are quite civilized here." "dunkiton," he replied, "is the center of the world's highest civilization." they came to a house where two youthful donkeys were whitewashing the wall, and dorothy stopped a moment to watch them. they dipped the ends of their tails, which were much like paint-brushes, into a pail of whitewash, backed up against the house, and wagged their tails right and left until the whitewash was rubbed on the wall, after which they dipped these funny brushes in the pail again and repeated the performance. "that must be fun," said button-bright. "no, it's work," replied the old donkey; "but we make our youngsters do all the whitewashing, to keep them out of mischief." "don't they go to school?" asked dorothy. "all donkeys are born wise," was the reply, "so the only school we need is the school of experience. books are only for those who know nothing, and so are obliged to learn things from other people." "in other words, the more stupid one is, the more he thinks he knows," observed the shaggy man. the grey donkey paid no attention to this speech because he had just stopped before a house which had painted over the doorway a pair of hoofs, with a donkey tail between them and a rude crown and sceptre above. "i'll see if his magnificent majesty king kik-a-bray is at home," said he. he lifted his head and called "whee-haw! whee-haw! whee-haw!" three times, in a shocking voice, turning about and kicking with his heels against the panel of the door. for a time there was no reply; then the door opened far enough to permit a donkey's head to stick out and look at them. it was a white head, with big, awful ears and round, solemn eyes. "have the foxes gone?" it asked, in a trembling voice. "they haven't been here, most stupendous majesty," replied the grey one. "the new arrivals prove to be travelers of distinction." "oh," said the king, in a relieved tone of voice. "let them come in." he opened the door wide, and the party marched into a big room, which, dorothy thought, looked quite unlike a king's palace. there were mats of woven grasses on the floor and the place was clean and neat; but his majesty had no other furniture at all--perhaps because he didn't need it. he squatted down in the center of the room and a little brown donkey ran and brought a big gold crown which it placed on the monarch's head, and a golden staff with a jeweled ball at the end of it, which the king held between his front hoofs as he sat upright. "now then," said his majesty, waving his long ears gently to and fro, "tell me why you are here, and what you expect me to do for you." he eyed button-bright rather sharply, as if afraid of the little boy's queer head, though it was the shaggy man who undertook to reply. "most noble and supreme ruler of dunkiton," he said, trying not to laugh in the solemn king's face, "we are strangers traveling through your dominions and have entered your magnificent city because the road led through it, and there was no way to go around. all we desire is to pay our respects to your majesty--the cleverest king in all the world, i'm sure--and then to continue on our way." this polite speech pleased the king very much; indeed, it pleased him so much that it proved an unlucky speech for the shaggy man. perhaps the love magnet helped to win his majesty's affections as well as the flattery, but however this may be, the white donkey looked kindly upon the speaker and said: "only a donkey should be able to use such fine, big words, and you are too wise and admirable in all ways to be a mere man. also, i feel that i love you as well as i do my own favored people, so i will bestow upon you the greatest gift within my power--a donkey's head." as he spoke he waved his jeweled staff. although the shaggy man cried out and tried to leap backward and escape, it proved of no use. suddenly his own head was gone and a donkey head appeared in its place--a brown, shaggy head so absurd and droll that dorothy and polly both broke into merry laughter, and even button-bright's fox face wore a smile. "dear me! dear me!" cried the shaggy man, feeling of his shaggy new head and his long ears. "what a misfortune--what a great misfortune! give me back my own head, you stupid king--if you love me at all!" "don't you like it?" asked the king, surprised. "hee-haw! i hate it! take it away, quick!" said the shaggy man. "but i can't do that," was the reply. "my magic works only one way. i can do things, but i can't undo them. you'll have to find the truth pond, and bathe in its water, in order to get back your own head. but i advise you not to do that. this head is much more beautiful than the old one." "that's a matter of taste," said dorothy. "where is the truth pond?" asked the shaggy man, earnestly. "somewhere in the land of oz; but just the exact location of it i can not tell," was the answer. "don't worry, shaggy man," said dorothy, smiling because her friend wagged his new ears so comically. "if the truth pond is in oz, we'll be sure to find it when we get there." "oh! are you going to the land of oz?" asked king kik-a-bray. "i don't know," she replied, "but we've been told we are nearer the land of oz than to kansas, and if that's so, the quickest way for me to get home is to find ozma." "haw-haw! do you know the mighty princess ozma?" asked the king, his tone both surprised and eager. "'course i do; she's my friend," said dorothy. "then perhaps you'll do me a favor," continued the white donkey, much excited. "what is it?" she asked. "perhaps you can get me an invitation to princess ozma's birthday celebration, which will be the grandest royal function ever held in fairyland. i'd love to go." "hee-haw! you deserve punishment, rather than reward, for giving me this dreadful head," said the shaggy man, sorrowfully. "i wish you wouldn't say 'hee-haw' so much," polychrome begged him; "it makes cold chills run down my back." "but i can't help it, my dear; my donkey head wants to bray continually," he replied. "doesn't your fox head want to yelp every minute?" he asked button-bright. "don't know," said the boy, still staring at the shaggy man's ears. these seemed to interest him greatly, and the sight also made him forget his own fox head, which was a comfort. "what do you think, polly? shall i promise the donkey king an invitation to ozma's party?" asked dorothy of the rainbow's daughter, who was flitting about the room like a sunbeam because she could never keep still. "do as you please, dear," answered polychrome. "he might help to amuse the guests of the princess." "then, if you will give us some supper and a place to sleep to-night, and let us get started on our journey early to-morrow morning," said dorothy to the king, "i'll ask ozma to invite you--if i happen to get to oz." "good! hee-haw! excellent!" cried kik-a-bray, much pleased. "you shall all have fine suppers and good beds. what food would you prefer, a bran mash or ripe oats in the shell?" "neither one," replied dorothy, promptly. "perhaps plain hay, or some sweet juicy grass would suit you better," suggested kik-a-bray, musingly. "is that all you have to eat?" asked the girl. "what more do you desire?" "well, you see we're not donkeys," she explained, "and so we're used to other food. the foxes gave us a nice supper in foxville." "we'd like some dewdrops and mist-cakes," said polychrome. "i'd prefer apples and a ham sandwich," declared the shaggy man, "for although i've a donkey head, i still have my own particular stomach." "i want pie," said button-bright. "i think some beefsteak and chocolate layer-cake would taste best," said dorothy. "hee-haw! i declare!" exclaimed the king. "it seems each one of you wants a different food. how queer all living creatures are, except donkeys!" "and donkeys like you are queerest of all," laughed polychrome. "well," decided the king, "i suppose my magic staff will produce the things you crave; if you are lacking in good taste it is not my fault." with this, he waved his staff with the jeweled ball, and before them instantly appeared a tea-table, set with linen and pretty dishes, and on the table were the very things each had wished for. dorothy's beefsteak was smoking hot, and the shaggy man's apples were plump and rosy-cheeked. the king had not thought to provide chairs, so they all stood in their places around the table and ate with good appetite, being hungry. the rainbow's daughter found three tiny dewdrops on a crystal plate, and button-bright had a big slice of apple pie, which he devoured eagerly. afterward the king called the brown donkey, which was his favorite servant, and bade it lead his guests to the vacant house where they were to pass the night. it had only one room and no furniture except beds of clean straw and a few mats of woven grasses; but our travelers were contented with these simple things because they realized it was the best the donkey-king had to offer them. as soon as it was dark they lay down on the mats and slept comfortably until morning. at daybreak there was a dreadful noise throughout the city. every donkey in the place brayed. when he heard this the shaggy man woke up and called out "hee-haw!" as loud as he could. "stop that!" said button-bright, in a cross voice. both dorothy and polly looked at the shaggy man reproachfully. "i couldn't help it, my dears," he said, as if ashamed of his bray; "but i'll try not to do it again." of coursed they forgave him, for as he still had the love magnet in his pocket they were all obliged to love him as much as ever. they did not see the king again, but kik-a-bray remembered them; for a table appeared again in their room with the same food upon it as on the night before. "don't want pie for breakfus'," said button-bright. "i'll give you some of my beefsteak," proposed dorothy; "there's plenty for us all." that suited the boy better, but the shaggy man said he was content with his apples and sandwiches, although he ended the meal by eating button-bright's pie. polly liked her dewdrops and mist-cakes better than any other food, so they all enjoyed an excellent breakfast. toto had the scraps left from the beefsteak, and he stood up nicely on his hind legs while dorothy fed them to him. breakfast ended, they passed through the village to the side opposite that by which they had entered, the brown servant-donkey guiding them through the maze of scattered houses. there was the road again, leading far away into the unknown country beyond. "king kik-a-bray says you must not forget his invitation," said the brown donkey, as they passed through the opening in the wall. "i shan't," promised dorothy. perhaps no one ever beheld a more strangely assorted group than the one which now walked along the road, through pretty green fields and past groves of feathery pepper-trees and fragrant mimosa. polychrome, her beautiful gauzy robes floating around her like a rainbow cloud, went first, dancing back and forth and darting now here to pluck a wild-flower or there to watch a beetle crawl across the path. toto ran after her at times, barking joyously the while, only to become sober again and trot along at dorothy's heels. the little kansas girl walked holding button-bright's hand clasped in her own, and the wee boy with his fox head covered by the sailor hat presented an odd appearance. strangest of all, perhaps, was the shaggy man, with his shaggy donkey head, who shuffled along in the rear with his hands thrust deep in his big pockets. none of the party was really unhappy. all were straying in an unknown land and had suffered more or less annoyance and discomfort; but they realized they were having a fairy adventure in a fairy country, and were much interested in finding out what would happen next. . the musicker about the middle of the forenoon they began to go up a long hill. by-and-by this hill suddenly dropped down into a pretty valley, where the travelers saw, to their surprise, a small house standing by the road-side. it was the first house they had seen, and they hastened into the valley to discover who lived there. no one was in sight as they approached, but when they began to get nearer the house they heard queer sounds coming from it. they could not make these out at first, but as they became louder our friends thought they heard a sort of music like that made by a wheezy hand-organ; the music fell upon their ears in this way: tiddle-widdle-iddle oom pom-pom! oom, pom-pom! oom, pom-pom! tiddle-tiddle-tiddle oom pom-pom! oom, pom-pom--pah! "what is it, a band or a mouth-organ?" asked dorothy. "don't know," said button-bright. "sounds to me like a played-out phonograph," said the shaggy man, lifting his enormous ears to listen. "oh, there just couldn't be a funnygraf in fairyland!" cried dorothy. "it's rather pretty, isn't it?" asked polychrome, trying to dance to the strains. tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom, oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom! came the music to their ears, more distinctly as they drew nearer the house. presently, they saw a little fat man sitting on a bench before the door. he wore a red, braided jacket that reached to his waist, a blue waistcoat, and white trousers with gold stripes down the sides. on his bald head was perched a little, round, red cap held in place by a rubber elastic underneath his chin. his face was round, his eyes a faded blue, and he wore white cotton gloves. the man leaned on a stout gold-headed cane, bending forward on his seat to watch his visitors approach. singularly enough, the musical sounds they had heard seemed to come from the inside of the fat man himself; for he was playing no instrument nor was any to be seen near him. they came up and stood in a row, staring at him, and he stared back while the queer sounds came from him as before: tiddle-iddle-iddle, oom pom-pom, oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom! tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom, oom, pom-pom--pah! "why, he's a reg'lar musicker!" said button-bright. "what's a musicker?" asked dorothy. "him!" said the boy. hearing this, the fat man sat up a little stiffer than before, as if he had received a compliment, and still came the sounds: tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom, oom pom-pom, oom-- "stop it!" cried the shaggy man, earnestly. "stop that dreadful noise." the fat man looked at him sadly and began his reply. when he spoke the music changed and the words seemed to accompany the notes. he said--or rather sang: it isn't a noise that you hear, but music, harmonic and clear. my breath makes me play like an organ, all day-- that bass note is in my left ear. "how funny!" exclaimed dorothy; "he says his breath makes the music." "that's all nonsense," declared the shaggy man; but now the music began again, and they all listened carefully. my lungs are full of reeds like those in organs, therefore i suppose, if i breathe in or out my nose, the reeds are bound to play. so as i breathe to live, you know, i squeeze out music as i go; i'm very sorry this is so-- forgive my piping, pray! "poor man," said polychrome; "he can't help it. what a great misfortune it is!" "yes," replied the shaggy man; "we are only obliged to hear this music a short time, until we leave him and go away; but the poor fellow must listen to himself as long as he lives, and that is enough to drive him crazy. don't you think so?" "don't know," said button-bright. toto said, "bow-wow!" and the others laughed. "perhaps that's why he lives all alone," suggested dorothy. "yes; if he had neighbors, they might do him an injury," responded the shaggy man. all this while the little fat musicker was breathing the notes: tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom, pom-pom, and they had to speak loud in order to hear themselves. the shaggy man said: "who are you, sir?" the reply came in the shape of this sing-song: i'm allegro da capo, a very famous man; just find another, high or low, to match me if you can. some people try, but can't, to play and have to practice every day; but i've been musical always, since first my life began. "why, i b'lieve he's proud of it," exclaimed dorothy; "and seems to me i've heard worse music than he makes." "where?" asked button-bright. "i've forgotten, just now. but mr. da capo is certainly a strange person--isn't he?--and p'r'aps he's the only one of his kind in all the world." this praise seemed to please the little fat musicker, for he swelled out his chest, looked important and sang as follows: i wear no band around me, and yet i am a band! i do not strain to make my strains but, on the other hand, my toot is always destitute of flats or other errors; to see sharp and be natural are for me but minor terrors. "i don't quite understand that," said polychrome, with a puzzled look; "but perhaps it's because i'm accustomed only to the music of the spheres." "what's that?" asked button-bright. "oh, polly means the atmosphere and hemisphere, i s'pose," explained dorothy. "oh," said button-bright. "bow-wow!" said toto. but the musicker was still breathing his constant oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom-- and it seemed to jar on the shaggy man's nerves. "stop it, can't you?" he cried angrily; "or breathe in a whisper; or put a clothes-pin on your nose. do something, anyhow!" but the fat one, with a sad look, sang this answer: music hath charms, and it may soothe even the savage, they say; so if savage you feel just list to my reel, for sooth to say that's the real way. the shaggy man had to laugh at this, and when he laughed he stretched his donkey mouth wide open. said dorothy: "i don't know how good his poetry is, but it seems to fit the notes, so that's all that can be 'xpected." "i like it," said button-bright, who was staring hard at the musicker, his little legs spread wide apart. to the surprise of his companions, the boy asked this long question: "if i swallowed a mouth-organ, what would i be?" "an organette," said the shaggy man. "but come, my dears; i think the best thing we can do is to continue on our journey before button-bright swallows anything. we must try to find that land of oz, you know." hearing this speech the musicker sang, quickly: if you go to the land of oz please take me along, because on ozma's birthday i'm anxious to play the loveliest song ever was. "no thank you," said dorothy; "we prefer to travel alone. but if i see ozma i'll tell her you want to come to her birthday party." "let's be going," urged the shaggy man, anxiously. polly was already dancing along the road, far in advance, and the others turned to follow her. toto did not like the fat musicker and made a grab for his chubby leg. dorothy quickly caught up the growling little dog and hurried after her companions, who were walking faster than usual in order to get out of hearing. they had to climb a hill, and until they got to the top they could not escape the musicker's monotonous piping: oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom; tiddle-iddle-widdle, oom, pom-pom; oom, pom-pom--pah! as they passed the brow of the hill, however, and descended on the other side, the sounds gradually died away, whereat they all felt much relieved. "i'm glad i don't have to live with the organ-man; aren't you, polly?" said dorothy. "yes indeed," answered the rainbow's daughter. "he's nice," declared button-bright, soberly. "i hope your princess ozma won't invite him to her birthday celebration," remarked the shaggy man; "for the fellow's music would drive her guests all crazy. you've given me an idea, button-bright; i believe the musicker must have swallowed an accordeon in his youth." "what's 'cordeon?" asked the boy. "it's a kind of pleating," explained dorothy, putting down the dog. "bow-wow!" said toto, and ran away at a mad gallop to chase a bumble-bee. . facing the scoodlers the country wasn't so pretty now. before the travelers appeared a rocky plain covered with hills on which grew nothing green. they were nearing some low mountains, too, and the road, which before had been smooth and pleasant to walk upon, grew rough and uneven. button-bright's little feet stumbled more than once, and polychrome ceased her dancing because the walking was now so difficult that she had no trouble to keep warm. it had become afternoon, yet there wasn't a thing for their luncheon except two apples which the shaggy man had taken from the breakfast table. he divided these into four pieces and gave a portion to each of his companions. dorothy and button-bright were glad to get theirs; but polly was satisfied with a small bite, and toto did not like apples. "do you know," asked the rainbow's daughter, "if this is the right road to the emerald city?" "no, i don't," replied dorothy, "but it's the only road in this part of the country, so we may as well go to the end of it." "it looks now as if it might end pretty soon," remarked the shaggy man; "and what shall we do if it does?" "don't know," said button-bright. "if i had my magic belt," replied dorothy, thoughtfully, "it could do us a lot of good just now." "what is your magic belt?" asked polychrome. "it's a thing i captured from the nome king one day, and it can do 'most any wonderful thing. but i left it with ozma, you know; 'cause magic won't work in kansas, but only in fairy countries." "is this a fairy country?" asked button-bright. "i should think you'd know," said the little girl, gravely. "if it wasn't a fairy country you couldn't have a fox head and the shaggy man couldn't have a donkey head, and the rainbow's daughter would be invis'ble." "what's that?" asked the boy. "you don't seem to know anything, button-bright. invis'ble is a thing you can't see." "then toto's invis'ble," declared the boy, and dorothy found he was right. toto had disappeared from view, but they could hear him barking furiously among the heaps of grey rock ahead of them. they moved forward a little faster to see what the dog was barking at, and found perched upon a point of rock by the roadside a curious creature. it had the form of a man, middle-sized and rather slender and graceful; but as it sat silent and motionless upon the peak they could see that its face was black as ink, and it wore a black cloth costume made like a union suit and fitting tight to its skin. its hands were black, too, and its toes curled down, like a bird's. the creature was black all over except its hair, which was fine, and yellow, banged in front across the black forehead and cut close at the sides. the eyes, which were fixed steadily upon the barking dog, were small and sparkling and looked like the eyes of a weasel. "what in the world do you s'pose that is?" asked dorothy in a hushed voice, as the little group of travelers stood watching the strange creature. "don't know," said button-bright. the thing gave a jump and turned half around, sitting in the same place but with the other side of its body facing them. instead of being black, it was now pure white, with a face like that of a clown in a circus and hair of a brilliant purple. the creature could bend either way, and its white toes now curled the same way the black ones on the other side had done. "it has a face both front and back," whispered dorothy, wonderingly; "only there's no back at all, but two fronts." having made the turn, the being sat motionless as before, while toto barked louder at the white man than he had done at the black one. "once," said the shaggy man, "i had a jumping jack like that, with two faces." "was it alive?" asked button-bright. "no," replied the shaggy man; "it worked on strings and was made of wood." "wonder if this works with strings," said dorothy; but polychrome cried "look!" for another creature just like the first had suddenly appeared sitting on another rock, its black side toward them. the two twisted their heads around and showed a black face on the white side of one and a white face on the black side of the other. "how curious," said polychrome; "and how loose their heads seem to be! are they friendly to us, do you think?" "can't tell, polly," replied dorothy. "let's ask 'em." the creatures flopped first one way and then the other, showing black or white by turns; and now another joined them, appearing on another rock. our friends had come to a little hollow in the hills, and the place where they now stood was surrounded by jagged peaks of rock, except where the road ran through. "now there are four of them," said the shaggy man. "five," declared polychrome. "six," said dorothy. "lots of 'em!" cried button-bright; and so there were--quite a row of the two-sided black and white creatures sitting on the rocks all around. toto stopped barking and ran between dorothy's feet, where he crouched down as if afraid. the creatures did not look pleasant or friendly, to be sure, and the shaggy man's donkey face became solemn, indeed. "ask 'em who they are, and what they want," whispered dorothy; so the shaggy man called out in a loud voice: "who are you?" "scoodlers!" they yelled in chorus, their voices sharp and shrill. "what do you want?" called the shaggy man. "you!" they yelled, pointing their thin fingers at the group; and they all flopped around, so they were white, and then all flopped back again, so they were black. "but what do you want us for?" asked the shaggy man, uneasily. "soup!" they all shouted, as if with one voice. "goodness me!" said dorothy, trembling a little; "the scoodlers must be reg'lar cannibals." "don't want to be soup," protested button-bright, beginning to cry. "hush, dear," said the little girl, trying to comfort him; "we don't any of us want to be soup. but don't worry; the shaggy man will take care of us." "will he?" asked polychrome, who did not like the scoodlers at all, and kept close to dorothy. "i'll try," promised the shaggy man; but he looked worried. happening just then to feel the love magnet in his pocket, he said to the creatures, with more confidence: "don't you love me?" "yes!" they shouted, all together. "then you mustn't harm me, or my friends," said the shaggy man, firmly. "we love you in soup!" they yelled, and in a flash turned their white sides to the front. "how dreadful!" said dorothy. "this is a time, shaggy man, when you get loved too much." "don't want to be soup!" wailed button-bright again; and toto began to whine dismally, as if he didn't want to be soup, either. "the only thing to do," said the shaggy man to his friends, in a low tone, "is to get out of this pocket in the rocks as soon as we can, and leave the scoodlers behind us. follow me, my dears, and don't pay any attention to what they do or say." with this, he began to march along the road to the opening in the rocks ahead, and the others kept close behind him. but the scoodlers closed up in front, as if to bar their way, and so the shaggy man stooped down and picked up a loose stone, which he threw at the creatures to scare them from the path. at this the scoodlers raised a howl. two of them picked their heads from their shoulders and hurled them at the shaggy man with such force that he fell over in a heap, greatly astonished. the two now ran forward with swift leaps, caught up their heads, and put them on again, after which they sprang back to their positions on the rocks. . escaping the soup-kettle the shaggy man got up and felt of himself to see if he was hurt; but he was not. one of the heads had struck his breast and the other his left shoulder; yet though they had knocked him down, the heads were not hard enough to bruise him. "come on," he said firmly; "we've got to get out of here some way," and forward he started again. the scoodlers began yelling and throwing their heads in great numbers at our frightened friends. the shaggy man was knocked over again, and so was button-bright, who kicked his heels against the ground and howled as loud as he could, although he was not hurt a bit. one head struck toto, who first yelped and then grabbed the head by an ear and started running away with it. the scoodlers who had thrown their heads began to scramble down and run to pick them up, with wonderful quickness; but the one whose head toto had stolen found it hard to get it back again. the head couldn't see the body with either pair of its eyes, because the dog was in the way, so the headless scoodler stumbled around over the rocks and tripped on them more than once in its effort to regain its top. toto was trying to get outside the rocks and roll the head down the hill; but some of the other scoodlers came to the rescue of their unfortunate comrade and pelted the dog with their own heads until he was obliged to drop his burden and hurry back to dorothy. the little girl and the rainbow's daughter had both escaped the shower of heads, but they saw now that it would be useless to try to run away from the dreadful scoodlers. "we may as well submit," declared the shaggy man, in a rueful voice, as he got upon his feet again. he turned toward their foes and asked: "what do you want us to do?" "come!" they cried, in a triumphant chorus, and at once sprang from the rocks and surrounded their captives on all sides. one funny thing about the scoodlers was they could walk in either direction, coming or going, without turning around; because they had two faces and, as dorothy said, "two front sides," and their feet were shaped like the letter t upside down. they moved with great rapidity and there was something about their glittering eyes and contrasting colors and removable heads that inspired the poor prisoners with horror, and made them long to escape. but the creatures led their captives away from the rocks and the road, down the hill by a side path until they came before a low mountain of rock that looked like a huge bowl turned upside down. at the edge of this mountain was a deep gulf--so deep that when you looked into it there was nothing but blackness below. across the gulf was a narrow bridge of rock, and at the other end of the bridge was an arched opening that led into the mountain. over this bridge the scoodlers led their prisoners, through the opening into the mountain, which they found to be an immense hollow dome lighted by several holes in the roof. all around the circular space were built rock houses, set close together, each with a door in the front wall. none of these houses was more than six feet wide, but the scoodlers were thin people sidewise and did not need much room. so vast was the dome that there was a large space in the middle of the cave, in front of all these houses, where the creatures might congregate as in a great hall. it made dorothy shudder to see a huge iron kettle suspended by a stout chain in the middle of the place, and underneath the kettle a great heap of kindling wood and shavings, ready to light. "what's that?" asked the shaggy man, drawing back as they approached this place, so that they were forced to push him forward. "the soup kettle!" yelled the scoodlers, and then they shouted in the next breath: "we're hungry!" button-bright, holding dorothy's hand in one chubby fist and polly's hand in the other, was so affected by this shout that he began to cry again, repeating the protest: "don't want to be soup, i don't!" "never mind," said the shaggy man, consolingly; "i ought to make enough soup to feed them all, i'm so big; so i'll ask them to put me in the kettle first." "all right," said button-bright, more cheerfully. but the scoodlers were not ready to make soup yet. they led the captives into a house at the farthest side of the cave--a house somewhat wider than the others. "who lives here?" asked the rainbow's daughter. the scoodlers nearest her replied: "the queen." it made dorothy hopeful to learn that a woman ruled over these fierce creatures, but a moment later they were ushered by two or three of the escort into a gloomy, bare room--and her hope died away. for the queen of the scoodlers proved to be much more dreadful in appearance than any of her people. one side of her was fiery red, with jet-black hair and green eyes and the other side of her was bright yellow, with crimson hair and black eyes. she wore a short skirt of red and yellow and her hair, instead of being banged, was a tangle of short curls upon which rested a circular crown of silver--much dented and twisted because the queen had thrown her head at so many things so many times. her form was lean and bony and both her faces were deeply wrinkled. "what have we here?" asked the queen sharply, as our friends were made to stand before her. "soup!" cried the guard of scoodlers, speaking together. "we're not!" said dorothy, indignantly; "we're nothing of the sort." "ah, but you will be soon," retorted the queen, a grim smile making her look more dreadful than before. "pardon me, most beautiful vision," said the shaggy man, bowing before the queen politely. "i must request your serene highness to let us go our way without being made into soup. for i own the love magnet, and whoever meets me must love me and all my friends." "true," replied the queen. "we love you very much; so much that we intend to eat your broth with real pleasure. but tell me, do you think i am so beautiful?" "you won't be at all beautiful if you eat me," he said, shaking his head sadly. "handsome is as handsome does, you know." the queen turned to button-bright. "do you think i'm beautiful?" she asked. "no," said the boy; "you're ugly." "i think you're a fright," said dorothy. "if you could see yourself you'd be terribly scared," added polly. the queen scowled at them and flopped from her red side to her yellow side. "take them away," she commanded the guard, "and at six o'clock run them through the meat chopper and start the soup kettle boiling. and put plenty of salt in the broth this time, or i'll punish the cooks severely." "any onions, your majesty?" asked one of the guard. "plenty of onions and garlic and a dash of red pepper. now, go!" the scoodlers led the captives away and shut them up in one of the houses, leaving only a single scoodler to keep guard. the place was a sort of store-house; containing bags of potatoes and baskets of carrots, onions and turnips. "these," said their guard, pointing to the vegetables, "we use to flavor our soups with." the prisoners were rather disheartened by this time, for they saw no way to escape and did not know how soon it would be six o'clock and time for the meatchopper to begin work. but the shaggy man was brave and did not intend to submit to such a horrid fate without a struggle. "i'm going to fight for our lives," he whispered to the children, "for if i fail we will be no worse off than before, and to sit here quietly until we are made into soup would be foolish and cowardly." the scoodler on guard stood near the doorway, turning first his white side toward them and then his black side, as if he wanted to show to all of his greedy four eyes the sight of so many fat prisoners. the captives sat in a sorrowful group at the other end of the room--except polychrome, who danced back and forth in the little place to keep herself warm, for she felt the chill of the cave. whenever she approached the shaggy man he would whisper something in her ear, and polly would nod her pretty head as if she understood. the shaggy man told dorothy and button-bright to stand before him while he emptied the potatoes out of one of the sacks. when this had been secretly done, little polychrome, dancing near to the guard, suddenly reached out her hand and slapped his face, the next instant whirling away from him quickly to rejoin her friends. the angry scoodler at once picked off his head and hurled it at the rainbow's daughter; but the shaggy man was expecting that, and caught the head very neatly, putting it in the sack, which he tied at the mouth. the body of the guard, not having the eyes of its head to guide it, ran here and there in an aimless manner, and the shaggy man easily dodged it and opened the door. fortunately, there was no one in the big cave at that moment, so he told dorothy and polly to run as fast as they could for the entrance, and out across the narrow bridge. "i'll carry button-bright," he said, for he knew the little boy's legs were too short to run fast. dorothy picked up toto and then seized polly's hand and ran swiftly toward the entrance to the cave. the shaggy man perched button-bright on his shoulders and ran after them. they moved so quickly and their escape was so wholly unexpected that they had almost reached the bridge when one of the scoodlers looked out of his house and saw them. the creature raised a shrill cry that brought all of its fellows bounding out of the numerous doors, and at once they started in chase. dorothy and polly had reached the bridge and crossed it when the scoodlers began throwing their heads. one of the queer missiles struck the shaggy man on his back and nearly knocked him over; but he was at the mouth of the cave now, so he set down button-bright and told the boy to run across the bridge to dorothy. then the shaggy man turned around and faced his enemies, standing just outside the opening, and as fast as they threw their heads at him he caught them and tossed them into the black gulf below. the headless bodies of the foremost scoodlers kept the others from running close up, but they also threw their heads in an effort to stop the escaping prisoners. the shaggy man caught them all and sent them whirling down into the black gulf. among them he noticed the crimson and yellow head of the queen, and this he tossed after the others with right good will. presently every scoodler of the lot had thrown its head, and every head was down in the deep gulf, and now the helpless bodies of the creatures were mixed together in the cave and wriggling around in a vain attempt to discover what had become of their heads. the shaggy man laughed and walked across the bridge to rejoin his companions. "it's lucky i learned to play base-ball when i was young," he remarked, "for i caught all those heads easily and never missed one. but come along, little ones; the scoodlers will never bother us or anyone else any more." button-bright was still frightened and kept insisting, "i don't want to be soup!" for the victory had been gained so suddenly that the boy could not realize they were free and safe. but the shaggy man assured him that all danger of their being made into soup was now past, as the scoodlers would be unable to eat soup for some time to come. so now, anxious to get away from the horrid gloomy cave as soon as possible, they hastened up the hillside and regained the road just beyond the place where they had first met the scoodlers; and you may be sure they were glad to find their feet on the old familiar path again. . johnny dooit does it "it's getting awful rough walking," said dorothy, as they trudged along. button-bright gave a deep sigh and said he was hungry. indeed, all were hungry, and thirsty, too; for they had eaten nothing but the apples since breakfast; so their steps lagged and they grew silent and weary. at last they slowly passed over the crest of a barren hill and saw before them a line of green trees with a strip of grass at their feet. an agreeable fragrance was wafted toward them. our travelers, hot and tired, ran forward on beholding this refreshing sight and were not long in coming to the trees. here they found a spring of pure bubbling water, around which the grass was full of wild strawberry plants, their pretty red berries ripe and ready to eat. some of the trees bore yellow oranges and some russet pears, so the hungry adventurers suddenly found themselves provided with plenty to eat and to drink. they lost no time in picking the biggest strawberries and ripest oranges and soon had feasted to their hearts' content. walking beyond the line of trees they saw before them a fearful, dismal desert, everywhere gray sand. at the edge of this awful waste was a large, white sign with black letters neatly painted upon it and the letters made these words: all persons are warned not to venture upon this desert for the deadly sands will turn any living flesh to dust in an instant. beyond this barrier is the land of oz but no one can reach that beautiful country because of these destroying sands "oh," said dorothy, when the shaggy man had read the sign aloud; "i've seen this desert before, and it's true no one can live who tries to walk upon the sands." "then we musn't try it," answered the shaggy man thoughtfully. "but as we can't go ahead and there's no use going back, what shall we do next?" "don't know," said button-bright. "i'm sure i don't know, either," added dorothy, despondently. "i wish father would come for me," sighed the pretty rainbow's daughter, "i would take you all to live upon the rainbow, where you could dance along its rays from morning till night, without a care or worry of any sort. but i suppose father's too busy just now to search the world for me." "don't want to dance," said button-bright, sitting down wearily upon the soft grass. "it's very good of you, polly," said dorothy; "but there are other things that would suit me better than dancing on rainbows. i'm 'fraid they'd be kind of soft an' squashy under foot, anyhow, although they're so pretty to look at." this didn't help to solve the problem, and they all fell silent and looked at one another questioningly. "really, i don't know what to do," muttered the shaggy man, gazing hard at toto; and the little dog wagged his tail and said "bow-wow!" just as if he could not tell, either, what to do. button-bright got a stick and began to dig in the earth, and the others watched him for a while in deep thought. finally, the shaggy man said: "it's nearly evening, now; so we may as well sleep in this pretty place and get rested; perhaps by morning we can decide what is best to be done." there was little chance to make beds for the children, but the leaves of the trees grew thickly and would serve to keep off the night dews, so the shaggy man piled soft grasses in the thickest shade and when it was dark they lay down and slept peacefully until morning. long after the others were asleep, however, the shaggy man sat in the starlight by the spring, gazing thoughtfully into its bubbling waters. suddenly he smiled and nodded to himself as if he had found a good thought, after which he, too, laid himself down under a tree and was soon lost in slumber. in the bright morning sunshine, as they ate of the strawberries and sweet juicy pears, dorothy said: "polly, can you do any magic?" "no dear," answered polychrome, shaking her dainty head. "you ought to know some magic, being the rainbow's daughter," continued dorothy, earnestly. "but we who live on the rainbow among the fleecy clouds have no use for magic," replied polychrome. "what i'd like," said dorothy, "is to find some way to cross the desert to the land of oz and its emerald city. i've crossed it already, you know, more than once. first a cyclone carried my house over, and some silver shoes brought me back again--in half a second. then ozma took me over on her magic carpet, and the nome king's magic belt took me home that time. you see it was magic that did it every time 'cept the first, and we can't 'spect a cyclone to happen along and take us to the emerald city now." "no indeed," returned polly, with a shudder, "i hate cyclones, anyway." "that's why i wanted to find out if you could do any magic," said the little kansas girl. "i'm sure i can't; and i'm sure button-bright can't; and the only magic the shaggy man has is the love magnet, which won't help us much." "don't be too sure of that, my dear," spoke the shaggy man, a smile on his donkey face. "i may not be able to do magic myself, but i can call to us a powerful friend who loves me because i own the love magnet, and this friend surely will be able to help us." "who is your friend?" asked dorothy. "johnny dooit." "what can johnny do?" "anything," answered the shaggy man, with confidence. "ask him to come," she exclaimed, eagerly. the shaggy man took the love magnet from his pocket and unwrapped the paper that surrounded it. holding the charm in the palm of his hand he looked at it steadily and said these words: "dear johnny dooit, come to me. i need you bad as bad can be." "well, here i am," said a cheery little voice; "but you shouldn't say you need me bad, 'cause i'm always, always, good." at this they quickly whirled around to find a funny little man sitting on a big copper chest, puffing smoke from a long pipe. his hair was grey, his whiskers were grey; and these whiskers were so long that he had wound the ends of them around his waist and tied them in a hard knot underneath the leather apron that reached from his chin nearly to his feet, and which was soiled and scratched as if it had been used a long time. his nose was broad, and stuck up a little; but his eyes were twinkling and merry. the little man's hands and arms were as hard and tough as the leather in his apron, and dorothy thought johnny dooit looked as if he had done a lot of hard work in his lifetime. "good morning, johnny," said the shaggy man. "thank you for coming to me so quickly." "i never waste time," said the newcomer, promptly. "but what's happened to you? where did you get that donkey head? really, i wouldn't have known you at all, shaggy man, if i hadn't looked at your feet." the shaggy man introduced johnny dooit to dorothy and toto and button-bright and the rainbow's daughter, and told him the story of their adventures, adding that they were anxious now to reach the emerald city in the land of oz, where dorothy had friends who would take care of them and send them safe home again. "but," said he, "we find that we can't cross this desert, which turns all living flesh that touches it into dust; so i have asked you to come and help us." johnny dooit puffed his pipe and looked carefully at the dreadful desert in front of them--stretching so far away they could not see its end. "you must ride," he said, briskly. "what in?" asked the shaggy man. "in a sand-boat, which has runners like a sled and sails like a ship. the wind will blow you swiftly across the desert and the sand cannot touch your flesh to turn it into dust." "good!" cried dorothy, clapping her hands delightedly. "that was the way the magic carpet took us across. we didn't have to touch the horrid sand at all." "but where is the sand-boat?" asked the shaggy man, looking all around him. "i'll make you one," said johnny dooit. as he spoke, he knocked the ashes from his pipe and put it in his pocket. then he unlocked the copper chest and lifted the lid, and dorothy saw it was full of shining tools of all sorts and shapes. johnny dooit moved quickly now--so quickly that they were astonished at the work he was able to accomplish. he had in his chest a tool for everything he wanted to do, and these must have been magic tools because they did their work so fast and so well. the man hummed a little song as he worked, and dorothy tried to listen to it. she thought the words were something like these: the only way to do a thing is do it when you can, and do it cheerfully, and sing and work and think and plan. the only real unhappy one is he who dares to shirk; the only really happy one is he who cares to work. whatever johnny dooit was singing he was certainly doing things, and they all stood by and watched him in amazement. he seized an axe and in a couple of chops felled a tree. next he took a saw and in a few minutes sawed the tree-trunk into broad, long boards. he then nailed the boards together into the shape of a boat, about twelve feet long and four feet wide. he cut from another tree a long, slender pole which, when trimmed of its branches and fastened upright in the center of the boat, served as a mast. from the chest he drew a coil of rope and a big bundle of canvas, and with these--still humming his song--he rigged up a sail, arranging it so it could be raised or lowered upon the mast. dorothy fairly gasped with wonder to see the thing grow so speedily before her eyes, and both button-bright and polly looked on with the same absorbed interest. "it ought to be painted," said johnny dooit, tossing his tools back into the chest, "for that would make it look prettier. but 'though i can paint it for you in three seconds it would take an hour to dry, and that's a waste of time." "we don't care how it looks," said the shaggy man, "if only it will take us across the desert." "it will do that," declared johnny dooit. "all you need worry about is tipping over. did you ever sail a ship?" "i've seen one sailed," said the shaggy man. "good. sail this boat the way you've seen a ship sailed, and you'll be across the sands before you know it." with this he slammed down the lid of the chest, and the noise made them all wink. while they were winking the workman disappeared, tools and all. . the deadly desert crossed "oh, that's too bad!" cried dorothy; "i wanted to thank johnny dooit for all his kindness to us." "he hasn't time to listen to thanks," replied the shaggy man; "but i'm sure he knows we are grateful. i suppose he is already at work in some other part of the world." they now looked more carefully at the sand-boat, and saw that the bottom was modeled with two sharp runners which would glide through the sand. the front of the sand-boat was pointed like the bow of a ship, and there was a rudder at the stern to steer by. it had been built just at the edge of the desert, so that all its length lay upon the gray sand except the after part, which still rested on the strip of grass. "get in, my dears," said the shaggy man; "i'm sure i can manage this boat as well as any sailor. all you need do is sit still in your places." dorothy got in, toto in her arms, and sat on the bottom of the boat just in front of the mast. button-bright sat in front of dorothy, while polly leaned over the bow. the shaggy man knelt behind the mast. when all were ready he raised the sail half-way. the wind caught it. at once the sand-boat started forward--slowly at first, then with added speed. the shaggy man pulled the sail way up, and they flew so fast over the deadly desert that every one held fast to the sides of the boat and scarcely dared to breathe. the sand lay in billows, and was in places very uneven, so that the boat rocked dangerously from side to side; but it never quite tipped over, and the speed was so great that the shaggy man himself became frightened and began to wonder how he could make the ship go slower. "it we're spilled in this sand, in the middle of the desert," dorothy thought to herself, "we'll be nothing but dust in a few minutes, and that will be the end of us." but they were not spilled, and by-and-by polychrome, who was clinging to the bow and looking straight ahead, saw a dark line before them and wondered what it was. it grew plainer every second, until she discovered it to be a row of jagged rocks at the end of the desert, while high above these rocks she could see a tableland of green grass and beautiful trees. "look out!" she screamed to the shaggy man. "go slowly, or we shall smash into the rocks." he heard her, and tried to pull down the sail; but the wind would not let go of the broad canvas and the ropes had become tangled. nearer and nearer they drew to the great rocks, and the shaggy man was in despair because he could do nothing to stop the wild rush of the sand-boat. they reached the edge of the desert and bumped squarely into the rocks. there was a crash as dorothy, button-bright, toto and polly flew up in the air in a curve like a skyrocket's, one after another landing high upon the grass, where they rolled and tumbled for a time before they could stop themselves. the shaggy man flew after them, head first, and lighted in a heap beside toto, who, being much excited at the time, seized one of the donkey ears between his teeth and shook and worried it as hard as he could, growling angrily. the shaggy man made the little dog let go, and sat up to look around him. dorothy was feeling one of her front teeth, which was loosened by knocking against her knee as she fell. polly was looking sorrowfully at a rent in her pretty gauze gown, and button-bright's fox head had stuck fast in a gopher hole and he was wiggling his little fat legs frantically in an effort to get free. otherwise they were unhurt by the adventure; so the shaggy man stood up and pulled button-bright out of the hole and went to the edge of the desert to look at the sand-boat. it was a mere mass of splinters now, crushed out of shape against the rocks. the wind had torn away the sail and carried it to the top of a tall tree, where the fragments of it fluttered like a white flag. "well," he said, cheerfully, "we're here; but where the here is i don't know." "it must be some part of the land of oz," observed dorothy, coming to his side. "must it?" "'course it must. we're across the desert, aren't we? and somewhere in the middle of oz is the emerald city." "to be sure," said the shaggy man, nodding. "let's go there." "but i don't see any people about, to show us the way," she continued. "let's hunt for them," he suggested. "there must be people somewhere; but perhaps they did not expect us, and so are not at hand to give us a welcome." . the truth pond they now made a more careful examination of the country around them. all was fresh and beautiful after the sultriness of the desert, and the sunshine and sweet, crisp air were delightful to the wanderers. little mounds of yellowish green were away at the right, while on the left waved a group of tall leafy trees bearing yellow blossoms that looked like tassels and pompoms. among the grasses carpeting the ground were pretty buttercups and cowslips and marigolds. after looking at these a moment dorothy said reflectively: "we must be in the country of the winkies, for the color of that country is yellow, and you will notice that 'most everything here is yellow that has any color at all." "but i thought this was the land of oz," replied the shaggy man, as if greatly disappointed. "so it is," she declared; "but there are four parts to the land of oz. the north country is purple, and it's the country of the gillikins. the east country is blue, and that's the country of the munchkins. down at the south is the red country of the quadlings, and here, in the west, the yellow country of the winkies. this is the part that is ruled by the tin woodman, you know." "who's he?" asked button-bright. "why, he's the tin man i told you about. his name is nick chopper, and he has a lovely heart given him by the wonderful wizard." "where does he live?" asked the boy. "the wizard? oh, he lives in the emerald city, which is just in the middle of oz, where the corners of the four countries meet." "oh," said button-bright, puzzled by this explanation. "we must be some distance from the emerald city," remarked the shaggy man. "that's true," she replied; "so we'd better start on and see if we can find any of the winkies. they're nice people," she continued, as the little party began walking toward the group of trees, "and i came here once with my friends the scarecrow, and the tin woodman, and the cowardly lion, to fight a wicked witch who had made all the winkies her slaves." "did you conquer her?" asked polly. "why, i melted her with a bucket of water, and that was the end of her," replied dorothy. "after that the people were free, you know, and they made nick chopper--that's the tin woodman--their emp'ror." "what's that?" asked button-bright. "emp'ror? oh, it's something like an alderman, i guess." "oh," said the boy. "but i thought princess ozma ruled oz," said the shaggy man. "so she does; she rules the emerald city and all the four countries of oz; but each country has another little ruler, not so big as ozma. it's like the officers of an army, you see; the little rulers are all captains, and ozma's the general." by this time they had reached the trees, which stood in a perfect circle and just far enough apart so that their thick branches touched--or "shook hands," as button-bright remarked. under the shade of the trees they found, in the center of the circle, a crystal pool, its water as still as glass. it must have been deep, too, for when polychrome bent over it she gave a little sigh of pleasure. "why, it's a mirror!" she cried; for she could see all her pretty face and fluffy, rainbow-tinted gown reflected in the pool, as natural as life. dorothy bent over, too, and began to arrange her hair, blown by the desert wind into straggling tangles. button-bright leaned over the edge next, and then began to cry, for the sight of his fox head frightened the poor little fellow. "i guess i won't look," remarked the shaggy man, sadly, for he didn't like his donkey head, either. while polly and dorothy tried to comfort button-bright, the shaggy man sat down near the edge of the pool, where his image could not be reflected, and stared at the water thoughtfully. as he did this he noticed a silver plate fastened to a rock just under the surface of the water, and on the silver plate was engraved these words: the truth pond "ah!" cried the shaggy man, springing to his feet with eager joy; "we've found it at last." "found what?" asked dorothy, running to him. "the truth pond. now, at last, i may get rid of this frightful head; for we were told, you remember, that only the truth pond could restore to me my proper face." "me, too!" shouted button-bright, trotting up to them. "of course," said dorothy. "it will cure you both of your bad heads, i guess. isn't it lucky we found it?" "it is, indeed," replied the shaggy man. "i hated dreadfully to go to princess ozma looking like this; and she's to have a birthday celebration, too." just then a splash startled them, for button-bright, in his anxiety to see the pool that would "cure" him, had stepped too near the edge and tumbled heels over head into the water. down he went, out of sight entirely, so that only his sailor hat floated on the top of the truth pond. he soon bobbed up, and the shaggy man seized him by his sailor collar and dragged him to the shore, dripping and gasping for breath. they all looked upon the boy wonderingly, for the fox head with its sharp nose and pointed ears was gone, and in its place appeared the chubby round face and blue eyes and pretty curls that had belonged to button-bright before king dox of foxville transformed him. "oh, what a darling!" cried polly, and would have hugged the little one had he not been so wet. their joyful exclamations made the child rub the water out of his eyes and look at his friends questioningly. "you're all right now, dear," said dorothy. "come and look at yourself." she led him to the pool, and although there were still a few ripples on the surface of the water he could see his reflection plainly. "it's me!" he said, in a pleased yet awed whisper. "'course it is," replied the girl, "and we're all as glad as you are, button-bright." "well," announced the shaggy man, "it's my turn next." he took off his shaggy coat and laid it on the grass and dived head first into the truth pond. when he came up the donkey head had disappeared, and the shaggy man's own shaggy head was in its place, with the water dripping in little streams from his shaggy whiskers. he scrambled ashore and shook himself to get off some of the wet, and then leaned over the pool to look admiringly at his reflected face. "i may not be strictly beautiful, even now," he said to his companions, who watched him with smiling faces; "but i'm so much handsomer than any donkey that i feel as proud as i can be." "you're all right, shaggy man," declared dorothy. "and button-bright is all right, too. so let's thank the truth pond for being so nice, and start on our journey to the emerald city." "i hate to leave it," murmured the shaggy man, with a sigh. "a truth pond wouldn't be a bad thing to carry around with us." but he put on his coat and started with the others in search of some one to direct them on their way. . tik-tok and billina they had not walked far across the flower-strewn meadows when they came upon a fine road leading toward the northwest and winding gracefully among the pretty yellow hills. "that way," said dorothy, "must be the direction of the emerald city. we'd better follow the road until we meet some one or come to a house." the sun soon dried button-bright's sailor suit and the shaggy man's shaggy clothes, and so pleased were they at regaining their own heads that they did not mind at all the brief discomfort of getting wet. "it's good to be able to whistle again," remarked the shaggy man, "for those donkey lips were so thick i could not whistle a note with them." he warbled a tune as merrily as any bird. "you'll look more natural at the birthday celebration, too," said dorothy, happy in seeing her friends so happy. polychrome was dancing ahead in her usual sprightly manner, whirling gaily along the smooth, level road, until she passed from sight around the curve of one of the mounds. suddenly they heard her exclaim "oh!" and she appeared again, running toward them at full speed. "what's the matter, polly?" asked dorothy, perplexed. there was no need for the rainbow's daughter to answer, for turning the bend in the road there came advancing slowly toward them a funny round man made of burnished copper, gleaming brightly in the sun. perched on the copper man's shoulder sat a yellow hen, with fluffy feathers and a pearl necklace around her throat. "oh, tik-tok!" cried dorothy, running forward. when she came to him, the copper man lifted the little girl in his copper arms and kissed her cheek with his copper lips. "oh, billina!" cried dorothy, in a glad voice, and the yellow hen flew to her arms, to be hugged and petted by turns. the others were curiously crowding around the group, and the girl said to them: "it's tik-tok and billina; and oh! i'm so glad to see them again." "wel-come to oz," said the copper man in a monotonous voice. dorothy sat right down in the road, the yellow hen in her arms, and began to stroke billina's back. said the hen: "dorothy, dear, i've got some wonderful news to tell you." "tell it quick, billina!" said the girl. just then toto, who had been growling to himself in a cross way, gave a sharp bark and flew at the yellow hen, who ruffled her feathers and let out such an angry screech that dorothy was startled. "stop, toto! stop that this minute!" she commanded. "can't you see that billina is my friend?" in spite of this warning had she not grabbed toto quickly by the neck the little dog would have done the yellow hen a mischief, and even now he struggled madly to escape dorothy's grasp. she slapped his ears once or twice and told him to behave, and the yellow hen flew to tik-tok's shoulder again, where she was safe. "what a brute!" croaked billina, glaring down at the little dog. "toto isn't a brute," replied dorothy, "but at home uncle henry has to whip him sometimes for chasing the chickens. now look here, toto," she added, holding up her finger and speaking sternly to him, "you've got to understand that billina is one of my dearest friends, and musn't be hurt--now or ever." toto wagged his tail as if he understood. "the miserable thing can't talk," said billina, with a sneer. "yes, he can," replied dorothy; "he talks with his tail, and i know everything he says. if you could wag your tail, billina, you wouldn't need words to talk with." "nonsense!" said billina. "it isn't nonsense at all. just now toto says he's sorry, and that he'll try to love you for my sake. don't you, toto?" "bow-wow!" said toto, wagging his tail again. "but i've such wonderful news for you, dorothy," cried the yellow hen; "i've--" "wait a minute, dear," interrupted the little girl; "i've got to introduce you all, first. that's manners, billina. this," turning to her traveling companions, "is mr. tik-tok, who works by machinery 'cause his thoughts wind up, and his talk winds up, and his action winds up--like a clock." "do they all wind up together?" asked the shaggy man. "no; each one separate. but he works just lovely, and tik-tok was a good friend to me once, and saved my life--and billina's life, too." "is he alive?" asked button-bright, looking hard at the copper man. "oh, no, but his machinery makes him just as good as alive." she turned to the copper man and said politely: "mr. tik-tok, these are my new friends: the shaggy man, and polly the rainbow's daughter, and button-bright, and toto. only toto isn't a new friend, 'cause he's been to oz before." the copper man bowed low, removing his copper hat as he did so. "i'm ve-ry pleased to meet dor-o-thy's fr-r-r-r---" here he stopped short. "oh, i guess his speech needs winding!" said the little girl, running behind the copper man to get the key off a hook at his back. she wound him up at a place under his right arm and he went on to say: "par-don me for run-ning down. i was a-bout to say i am pleased to meet dor-o-thy's friends, who must be my friends." the words were somewhat jerky, but plain to understand. "and this is billina," continued dorothy, introducing the yellow hen, and they all bowed to her in turn. "i've such wonderful news," said the hen, turning her head so that one bright eye looked full at dorothy. "what is it, dear?" asked the girl. "i've hatched out ten of the loveliest chicks you ever saw." "oh, how nice! and where are they, billina?" "i left them at home. but they're beauties, i assure you, and all wonderfully clever. i've named them dorothy." "which one?" asked the girl. "all of them," replied billina. "that's funny. why did you name them all with the same name?" "it was so hard to tell them apart," explained the hen. "now, when i call 'dorothy,' they all come running to me in a bunch; it's much easier, after all, than having a separate name for each." "i'm just dying to see 'em, billina," said dorothy, eagerly. "but tell me, my friends, how did you happen to be here, in the country of the winkies, the first of all to meet us?" "i'll tell you," answered tik-tok, in his monotonous voice, all the sounds of his words being on one level--"prin-cess oz-ma saw you in her mag-ic pic-ture, and knew you were com-ing here; so she sent bil-lin-a and me to wel-come you as she could not come her-self; so that--fiz-i-dig-le cum-so-lut-ing hy-ber-gob-ble in-tu-zib-ick--" "good gracious! whatever's the matter now?" cried dorothy, as the copper man continued to babble these unmeaning words, which no one could understand at all because they had no sense. "don't know," said button-bright, who was half scared. polly whirled away to a distance and turned to look at the copper man in a fright. "his thoughts have run down, this time," remarked billina composedly, as she sat on tik-tok's shoulder and pruned her sleek feathers. "when he can't think, he can't talk properly, any more than you can. you'll have to wind up his thoughts, dorothy, or else i'll have to finish his story myself." dorothy ran around and got the key again and wound up tik-tok under his left arm, after which he could speak plainly again. "par-don me," he said, "but when my thoughts run down, my speech has no mean-ing, for words are formed on-ly by thought. i was a-bout to say that oz-ma sent us to wel-come you and in-vite you to come straight to the em-er-ald ci-ty. she was too bus-y to come her-self, for she is pre-par-ing for her birth-day cel-e-bra-tion, which is to be a grand af-fair." "i've heard of it," said dorothy, "and i'm glad we've come in time to attend. is it far from here to the emerald city?" "not ve-ry far," answered tik-tok, "and we have plen-ty of time. to-night we will stop at the pal-ace of the tin wood-man, and to-mor-row night we will ar-rive at the em-er-ald ci-ty." "goody!" cried dorothy. "i'd like to see dear nick chopper again. how's his heart?" "it's fine," said billina; "the tin woodman says it gets softer and kindlier every day. he's waiting at his castle to welcome you, dorothy; but he couldn't come with us because he's getting polished as bright as possible for ozma's party." "well then," said dorothy, "let's start on, and we can talk more as we go." they proceeded on their journey in a friendly group, for polychrome had discovered that the copper man was harmless and was no longer afraid of him. button-bright was also reassured, and took quite a fancy to tik-tok. he wanted the clockwork man to open himself, so that he might see the wheels go round; but that was a thing tik-tok could not do. button-bright then wanted to wind up the copper man, and dorothy promised he should do so as soon as any part of the machinery ran down. this pleased button-bright, who held fast to one of tik-tok's copper hands as he trudged along the road, while dorothy walked on the other side of her old friend and billina perched by turns upon his shoulder or his copper hat. polly once more joyously danced ahead and toto ran after her, barking with glee. the shaggy man was left to walk behind; but he didn't seem to mind that a bit, and whistled merrily or looked curiously upon the pretty scenes they passed. at last they came to a hilltop from which the tin castle of nick chopper could plainly be seen, its towers glistening magnificently under the rays of the declining sun. "how pretty!" exclaimed dorothy. "i've never seen the emp'ror's new house before." "he built it because the old castle was damp, and likely to rust his tin body," said billina. "all those towers and steeples and domes and gables took a lot of tin, as you can see." "is it a toy?" asked button-bright softly. "no, dear," answered dorothy; "it's better than that. it's the fairy dwelling of a fairy prince." . the emperor's tin castle the grounds around nick chopper's new house were laid out in pretty flower-beds, with fountains of crystal water and statues of tin representing the emperor's personal friends. dorothy was astonished and delighted to find a tin statue of herself standing on a tin pedestal at a bend in the avenue leading up to the entrance. it was life-size and showed her in her sunbonnet with her basket on her arm, just as she had first appeared in the land of oz. "oh, toto--you're there too!" she exclaimed; and sure enough there was the tin figure of toto lying at the tin dorothy's feet. also, dorothy saw figures of the scarecrow, and the wizard, and ozma, and of many others, including tik-tok. they reached the grand tin entrance to the tin castle, and the tin woodman himself came running out of the door to embrace little dorothy and give her a glad welcome. he welcomed her friends as well, and the rainbow's daughter he declared to be the loveliest vision his tin eyes had ever beheld. he patted button-bright's curly head tenderly, for he was fond of children, and turned to the shaggy man and shook both his hands at the same time. nick chopper, the emperor of the winkies, who was also known throughout the land of oz as the tin woodman, was certainly a remarkable person. he was neatly made, all of tin, nicely soldered at the joints, and his various limbs were cleverly hinged to his body so that he could use them nearly as well as if they had been common flesh. once, he told the shaggy man, he had been made all of flesh and bones, as other people are, and then he chopped wood in the forests to earn his living. but the axe slipped so often and cut off parts of him--which he had replaced with tin--that finally there was no flesh left, nothing but tin; so he became a real tin woodman. the wonderful wizard of oz had given him an excellent heart to replace his old one, and he didn't at all mind being tin. every one loved him, he loved every one; and he was therefore as happy as the day was long. the emperor was proud of his new tin castle, and showed his visitors through all the rooms. every bit of the furniture was made of brightly polished tin--the tables, chairs, beds, and all--even the floors and walls were of tin. "i suppose," said he, "that there are no cleverer tinsmiths in all the world than the winkies. it would be hard to match this castle in kansas; wouldn't it, little dorothy?" "very hard," replied the child, gravely. "it must have cost a lot of money," remarked the shaggy man. "money! money in oz!" cried the tin woodman. "what a queer idea! did you suppose we are so vulgar as to use money here?" "why not?" asked the shaggy man. "if we used money to buy things with, instead of love and kindness and the desire to please one another, then we should be no better than the rest of the world," declared the tin woodman. "fortunately money is not known in the land of oz at all. we have no rich, and no poor; for what one wishes the others all try to give him, in order to make him happy, and no one in all oz cares to have more than he can use." "good!" cried the shaggy man, greatly pleased to hear this. "i also despise money--a man in butterfield owes me fifteen cents, and i will not take it from him. the land of oz is surely the most favored land in all the world, and its people the happiest. i should like to live here always." the tin woodman listened with respectful attention. already he loved the shaggy man, although he did not yet know of the love magnet. so he said: "if you can prove to the princess ozma that you are honest and true and worthy of our friendship, you may indeed live here all your days, and be as happy as we are." "i'll try to prove that," said the shaggy man, earnestly. "and now," continued the emperor, "you must all go to your rooms and prepare for dinner, which will presently be served in the grand tin dining-hall. i am sorry, shaggy man, that i can not offer you a change of clothing; but i dress only in tin, myself, and i suppose that would not suit you." "i care little about dress," said the shaggy man, indifferently. "so i should imagine," replied the emperor, with true politeness. they were shown to their rooms and permitted to make such toilets as they could, and soon they assembled again in the grand tin dining-hall, even toto being present. for the emperor was fond of dorothy's little dog, and the girl explained to her friends that in oz all animals were treated with as much consideration as the people--"if they behave themselves," she added. toto behaved himself, and sat in a tin high-chair beside dorothy and ate his dinner from a tin platter. indeed, they all ate from tin dishes, but these were of pretty shapes and brightly polished; dorothy thought they were just as good as silver. button-bright looked curiously at the man who had "no appetite inside him," for the tin woodman, although he had prepared so fine a feast for his guests, ate not a mouthful himself, sitting patiently in his place to see that all built so they could eat were well and plentifully served. what pleased button-bright most about the dinner was the tin orchestra that played sweet music while the company ate. the players were not tin, being just ordinary winkies; but the instruments they played upon were all tin--tin trumpets, tin fiddles, tin drums and cymbals and flutes and horns and all. they played so nicely the "shining emperor waltz," composed expressly in honor of the tin woodman by mr. h. m. wogglebug, t.e., that polly could not resist dancing to it. after she had tasted a few dewdrops, freshly gathered for her, she danced gracefully to the music while the others finished their repast; and when she whirled until her fleecy draperies of rainbow hues enveloped her like a cloud, the tin woodman was so delighted that he clapped his tin hands until the noise of them drowned the sound of the cymbals. altogether it was a merry meal, although polychrome ate little and the host nothing at all. "i'm sorry the rainbow's daughter missed her mist-cakes," said the tin woodman to dorothy; "but by a mistake miss polly's mist-cakes were mislaid and not missed until now. i'll try to have some for her breakfast." they spent the evening telling stories, and the next morning left the splendid tin castle and set out upon the road to the emerald city. the tin woodman went with them, of course, having by this time been so brightly polished that he sparkled like silver. his axe, which he always carried with him, had a steel blade that was tin plated and a handle covered with tin plate beautifully engraved and set with diamonds. the winkies assembled before the castle gates and cheered their emperor as he marched away, and it was easy to see that they all loved him dearly. . visiting the pumpkin-field dorothy let button-bright wind up the clock-work in the copper man this morning--his thinking machine first, then his speech, and finally his action; so he would doubtless run perfectly until they had reached the emerald city. the copper man and the tin man were good friends, and not so much alike as you might think. for one was alive and the other moved by means of machinery; one was tall and angular and the other short and round. you could love the tin woodman because he had a fine nature, kindly and simple; but the machine man you could only admire without loving, since to love such a thing as he was as impossible as to love a sewing-machine or an automobile. yet tik-tok was popular with the people of oz because he was so trustworthy, reliable and true; he was sure to do exactly what he was wound up to do, at all times and in all circumstances. perhaps it is better to be a machine that does its duty than a flesh-and-blood person who will not, for a dead truth is better than a live falsehood. about noon the travelers reached a large field of pumpkins--a vegetable quite appropriate to the yellow country of the winkies--and some of the pumpkins which grew there were of remarkable size. just before they entered upon this field they saw three little mounds that looked like graves, with a pretty headstone to each one of them. "what is this?" asked dorothy, in wonder. "it's jack pumpkinhead's private graveyard," replied the tin woodman. "but i thought nobody ever died in oz," she said. "nor do they; although if one is bad, he may be condemned and killed by the good citizens," he answered. dorothy ran over to the little graves and read the words engraved upon the tombstones. the first one said: here lies the mortal part of jack pumpkinhead which spoiled april th. she then went to the next stone, which read: here lies the mortal part of jack pumpkinhead which spoiled october nd. on the third stone were carved these words: here lies the mortal part of jack pumpkinhead which spoiled january th. "poor jack!" sighed dorothy. "i'm sorry he had to die in three parts, for i hoped to see him again." "so you shall," declared the tin woodman, "since he is still alive. come with me to his house, for jack is now a farmer and lives in this very pumpkin field." they walked over to a monstrous big, hollow pumpkin which had a door and windows cut through the rind. there was a stovepipe running through the stem, and six steps had been built leading up to the front door. they walked up to this door and looked in. seated on a bench was a man clothed in a spotted shirt, a red vest, and faded blue trousers, whose body was merely sticks of wood, jointed clumsily together. on his neck was set a round, yellow pumpkin, with a face carved on it such as a boy often carves on a jack-lantern. this queer man was engaged in snapping slippery pumpkin-seeds with his wooden fingers, trying to hit a target on the other side of the room with them. he did not know he had visitors until dorothy exclaimed: "why, it's jack pumpkinhead himself!" he turned and saw them, and at once came forward to greet the little kansas girl and nick chopper, and to be introduced to their new friends. button-bright was at first rather shy with the quaint pumpkinhead, but jack's face was so jolly and smiling--being carved that way--that the boy soon grew to like him. "i thought a while ago that you were buried in three parts," said dorothy, "but now i see you're just the same as ever." "not quite the same, my dear, for my mouth is a little more one-sided than it used to be; but pretty nearly the same. i've a new head, and this is the fourth one i've owned since ozma first made me and brought me to life by sprinkling me with the magic powder." "what became of the other heads, jack?" "they spoiled and i buried them, for they were not even fit for pies. each time ozma has carved me a new head just like the old one, and as my body is by far the largest part of me, i am still jack pumpkinhead, no matter how often i change my upper end. once we had a dreadful time to find another pumpkin, as they were out of season, and so i was obliged to wear my old head a little longer than was strictly healthy. but after this sad experience i resolved to raise pumpkins myself, so as never to be caught again without one handy; and now i have this fine field that you see before you. some grow pretty big--too big to be used for heads--so i dug out this one and use it for a house." "isn't it damp?" asked dorothy. "not very. there isn't much left but the shell, you see, and it will last a long time yet." "i think you are brighter than you used to be, jack," said the tin woodman. "your last head was a stupid one." "the seeds in this one are better," was the reply. "are you going to ozma's party?" asked dorothy. "yes," said he, "i wouldn't miss it for anything. ozma's my parent, you know, because she built my body and carved my pumpkin head. i'll follow you to the emerald city to-morrow, where we shall meet again. i can't go to-day, because i have to plant fresh pumpkin-seeds and water the young vines. but give my love to ozma, and tell her i'll be there in time for the jubilation." "we will," she promised; and then they all left him and resumed their journey. . the royal chariot arrives the neat yellow houses of the winkies were now to be seen standing here and there along the roadway, giving the country a more cheerful and civilized look. they were farm-houses, though, and set far apart; for in the land of oz there were no towns or villages except the magnificent emerald city in its center. hedges of evergreen or of yellow roses bordered the broad highway and the farms showed the care of their industrious inhabitants. the nearer the travelers came to the great city the more prosperous the country became, and they crossed many bridges over the sparkling streams and rivulets that watered the lands. as they walked leisurely along the shaggy man said to the tin woodman: "what sort of a magic powder was it that made your friend the pumpkinhead live?" "it was called the powder of life," was the answer; "and it was invented by a crooked sorcerer who lived in the mountains of the north country. a witch named mombi got some of this powder from the crooked sorcerer and took it home with her. ozma lived with the witch then, for it was before she became our princess, while mombi had transformed her into the shape of a boy. well, while mombi was gone to the crooked sorcerer's, the boy made this pumpkin-headed man to amuse himself, and also with the hope of frightening the witch with it when she returned. but mombi was not scared, and she sprinkled the pumpkinhead with her magic powder of life, to see if the powder would work. ozma was watching, and saw the pumpkinhead come to life; so that night she took the pepper-box containing the powder and ran away with it and with jack, in search of adventures. "next day they found a wooden saw-horse standing by the roadside, and sprinkled it with the powder. it came to life at once, and jack pumpkinhead rode the saw-horse to the emerald city." "what became of the saw-horse, afterward?" asked the shaggy man, much interested in this story. "oh, it's alive yet, and you will probably meet it presently in the emerald city. afterward, ozma used the last of the powder to bring the flying gump to life; but as soon as it had carried her away from her enemies the gump was taken apart, so it doesn't exist any more." "it's too bad the powder of life was all used up," remarked the shaggy man; "it would be a handy thing to have around." "i am not so sure of that, sir," answered the tin woodman. "a while ago the crooked sorcerer who invented the magic powder fell down a precipice and was killed. all his possessions went to a relative--an old woman named dyna, who lives in the emerald city. she went to the mountains where the sorcerer had lived and brought away everything she thought of value. among them was a small bottle of the powder of life; but of course dyna didn't know it was a magic powder, at all. it happened she had once had a big blue bear for a pet; but the bear choked to death on a fishbone one day, and she loved it so dearly that dyna made a rug of its skin, leaving the head and four paws on the hide. she kept the rug on the floor of her front parlor." "i've seen rugs like that," said the shaggy man, nodding, "but never one made from a blue bear." "well," continued the tin woodman, "the old woman had an idea that the powder in the bottle must be moth-powder, because it smelled something like moth-powder; so one day she sprinkled it on her bear rug to keep the moths out of it. she said, looking lovingly at the skin: 'i wish my dear bear were alive again!' to her horror, the bear rug at once came to life, having been sprinkled with the magic powder; and now this live bear rug is a great trial to her, and makes her a lot of trouble." "why?" asked the shaggy man. "well, it stands up on its four feet and walks all around, and gets in the way; and that spoils it for a rug. it can't speak, although it is alive; for, while its head might say words, it has no breath in a solid body to push the words out of its mouth. it's a very slimpsy affair altogether, that bear rug, and the old woman is sorry it came to life. every day she has to scold it, and make it lie down flat on the parlor floor to be walked upon; but sometimes when she goes to market the rug will hump up its back skin, and stand on its four feet, and trot along after her." "i should think dyna would like that," said dorothy. "well, she doesn't; because every one knows it isn't a real bear, but just a hollow skin, and so of no actual use in the world except for a rug," answered the tin woodman. "therefore i believe it is a good thing that all the magic powder of life is now used up, as it can not cause any more trouble." "perhaps you're right," said the shaggy man, thoughtfully. at noon they stopped at a farmhouse, where it delighted the farmer and his wife to be able to give them a good luncheon. the farm people knew dorothy, having seen her when she was in the country before, and they treated the little girl with as much respect as they did the emperor, because she was a friend of the powerful princess ozma. they had not proceeded far after leaving this farm-house before coming to a high bridge over a broad river. this river, the tin woodman informed them, was the boundary between the country of the winkies and the territory of the emerald city. the city itself was still a long way off, but all around it was a green meadow as pretty as a well-kept lawn, and in this were neither houses nor farms to spoil the beauty of the scene. from the top of the high bridge they could see far away the magnificent spires and splendid domes of the superb city, sparkling like brilliant jewels as they towered above the emerald walls. the shaggy man drew a deep breath of awe and amazement, for never had he dreamed that such a grand and beautiful place could exist--even in the fairyland of oz. polly was so pleased that her violet eyes sparkled like amethysts, and she danced away from her companions across the bridge and into a group of feathery trees lining both the roadsides. these trees she stopped to look at with pleasure and surprise, for their leaves were shaped like ostrich plumes, their feather edges beautifully curled; and all the plumes were tinted in the same dainty rainbow hues that appeared in polychrome's own pretty gauze gown. "father ought to see these trees," she murmured; "they are almost as lovely as his own rainbows." then she gave a start of terror, for beneath the trees came stalking two great beasts, either one big enough to crush the little daughter of the rainbow with one blow of his paws, or to eat her up with one snap of his enormous jaws. one was a tawny lion, as tall as a horse, nearly; the other a striped tiger almost the same size. polly was too frightened to scream or to stir; she stood still with a wildly beating heart until dorothy rushed past her and with a glad cry threw her arms around the huge lion's neck, hugging and kissing the beast with evident joy. "oh, i'm so glad to see you again!" cried the little kansas girl. "and the hungry tiger, too! how fine you're both looking. are you well and happy?" "we certainly are, dorothy," answered the lion, in a deep voice that sounded pleasant and kind; "and we are greatly pleased that you have come to ozma's party. it's going to be a grand affair, i promise you." "there will be lots of fat babies at the celebration, i hear," remarked the hungry tiger, yawning so that his mouth opened dreadfully wide and showed all his big, sharp teeth; "but of course i can't eat any of 'em." "is your conscience still in good order?" asked dorothy, anxiously. "yes; it rules me like a tyrant," answered the tiger, sorrowfully. "i can imagine nothing more unpleasant than to own a conscience," and he winked slyly at his friend the lion. "you're fooling me!" said dorothy, with a laugh. "i don't b'lieve you'd eat a baby if you lost your conscience. come here, polly," she called, "and be introduced to my friends." polly advanced rather shyly. "you have some queer friends, dorothy," she said. "the queerness doesn't matter so long as they're friends," was the answer. "this is the cowardly lion, who isn't a coward at all, but just thinks he is. the wizard gave him some courage once, and he has part of it left." the lion bowed with great dignity to polly. "you are very lovely, my dear," said he. "i hope we shall be friends when we are better acquainted." "and this is the hungry tiger," continued dorothy. "he says he longs to eat fat babies; but the truth is he is never hungry at all, 'cause he gets plenty to eat; and i don't s'pose he'd hurt anybody even if he was hungry." "hush, dorothy," whispered the tiger; "you'll ruin my reputation if you are not more discreet. it isn't what we are, but what folks think we are, that counts in this world. and come to think of it miss polly would make a fine variegated breakfast, i'm sure." . the emerald city the others now came up, and the tin woodman greeted the lion and the tiger cordially. button-bright yelled with fear when dorothy first took his hand and led him toward the great beasts; but the girl insisted they were kind and good, and so the boy mustered up courage enough to pat their heads; after they had spoken to him gently and he had looked into their intelligent eyes his fear vanished entirely and he was so delighted with the animals that he wanted to keep close to them and stroke their soft fur every minute. as for the shaggy man, he might have been afraid if he had met the beasts alone, or in any other country, but so many were the marvels in; the land of oz that he was no longer easily surprised, and dorothy's friendship for the lion and tiger was enough to assure him they were safe companions. toto barked at the cowardly lion in joyous greeting, for he knew the beast of old and loved him, and it was funny to see how gently the lion raised his huge paw to pat toto's head. the little dog smelled of the tiger's nose, and the tiger politely shook paws with him; so they were quite likely to become firm friends. tik-tok and billina knew the beasts well, so merely bade them good day and asked after their healths and inquired about the princess ozma. now it was seen that the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger were drawing behind them a splendid golden chariot, to which they were harnessed by golden cords. the body of the chariot was decorated on the outside with designs in clusters of sparkling emeralds, while inside it was lined with a green and gold satin, and the cushions of the seats were of green plush embroidered in gold with a crown, underneath which was a monogram. "why, it's ozma's own royal chariot!" exclaimed dorothy. "yes," said the cowardly lion; "ozma sent us to meet you here, for she feared you would be weary with your long walk and she wished you to enter the city in a style becoming your exalted rank." "what!" cried polly, looking at dorothy curiously. "do you belong to the nobility?" "just in oz i do," said the child, "'cause ozma made me a princess, you know. but when i'm home in kansas i'm only a country girl, and have to help with the churning and wipe the dishes while aunt em washes 'em. do you have to help wash dishes on the rainbow, polly?" "no, dear," answered polychrome, smiling. "well, i don't have to work any in oz, either," said dorothy. "it's kind of fun to be a princess once in a while; don't you think so?" "dorothy and polychrome and button-bright are all to ride in the chariot," said the lion. "so get in, my dears, and be careful not to mar the gold or put your dusty feet on the embroidery." button-bright was delighted to ride behind such a superb team, and he told dorothy it made him feel like an actor in a circus. as the strides of the animals brought them nearer to the emerald city every one bowed respectfully to the children, as well as to the tin woodman, tik-tok, and the shaggy man, who were following behind. the yellow hen had perched upon the back of the chariot, where she could tell dorothy more about her wonderful chickens as they rode. and so the grand chariot came finally to the high wall surrounding the city, and paused before the magnificent jewel-studded gates. these were opened by a cheerful-looking little man who wore green spectacles over his eyes. dorothy introduced him to her friends as the guardian of the gates, and they noticed a big bunch of keys suspended on the golden chain that hung around his neck. the chariot passed through the outer gates into a fine arched chamber built in the thick wall, and through the inner gates into the streets of the emerald city. polychrome exclaimed in rapture at the wondrous beauty that met her eyes on every side as they rode through this stately and imposing city, the equal of which has never been discovered, even in fairyland. button-bright could only say "my!" so amazing was the sight; but his eyes were wide open and he tried to look in every direction at the same time, so as not to miss anything. the shaggy man was fairly astounded at what he saw, for the graceful and handsome buildings were covered with plates of gold and set with emeralds so splendid and valuable that in any other part of the world any one of them would have been worth a fortune to its owner. the sidewalks were superb marble slabs polished as smooth as glass, and the curbs that separated the walks from the broad street were also set thick with clustered emeralds. there were many people on these walks--men, women and children--all dressed in handsome garments of silk or satin or velvet, with beautiful jewels. better even than this: all seemed happy and contented, for their faces were smiling and free from care, and music and laughter might be heard on every side. "don't they work at all?" asked the shaggy man. "to be sure they work," replied the tin woodman; "this fair city could not be built or cared for without labor, nor could the fruit and vegetables and other food be provided for the inhabitants to eat. but no one works more than half his time, and the people of oz enjoy their labors as much as they do their play." "it's wonderful!" declared the shaggy man. "i do hope ozma will let me live here." the chariot, winding through many charming streets, paused before a building so vast and noble and elegant that even button-bright guessed at once that it was the royal palace. its gardens and ample grounds were surrounded by a separate wall, not so high or thick as the wall around the city, but more daintily designed and built all of green marble. the gates flew open as the chariot appeared before them, and the cowardly lion and hungry tiger trotted up a jeweled driveway to the front door of the palace and stopped short. "here we are!" said dorothy, gaily, and helped button-bright from the chariot. polychrome leaped out lightly after them, and they were greeted by a crowd of gorgeously dressed servants who bowed low as the visitors mounted the marble steps. at their head was a pretty little maid with dark hair and eyes, dressed all in green embroidered with silver. dorothy ran up to her with evident pleasure, and exclaimed: "o, jellia jamb! i'm so glad to see you again. where's ozma?" "in her room, your highness," replied the little maid demurely, for this was ozma's favorite attendant. "she wishes you to come to her as soon as you have rested and changed your dress, princess dorothy. and you and your friends are to dine with her this evening." "when is her birthday, jellia?" asked the girl. "day after to-morrow, your highness." "and where's the scarecrow?" "he's gone into the munchkin country to get some fresh straw to stuff himself with, in honor of ozma's celebration," replied the maid. "he returns to the emerald city to-morrow, he said." by this time, tok-tok, the tin woodman, and the shaggy man had arrived and the chariot had gone around to the back of the palace, billina going with the lion and tiger to see her chickens after her absence from them. but toto stayed close beside dorothy. "come in, please," said jellia jamb; "it shall be our pleasant duty to escort all of you to the rooms prepared for your use." the shaggy man hesitated. dorothy had never known him to be ashamed of his shaggy looks before, but now that he was surrounded by so much magnificence and splendor the shaggy man felt sadly out of place. dorothy assured him that all her friends were welcome at ozma's palace, so he carefully dusted his shaggy shoes with his shaggy handkerchief and entered the grand hall after the others. tik-tok lived at the royal palace and the tin woodman always had the same room whenever he visited ozma, so these two went at once to remove the dust of the journey from their shining bodies. dorothy also had a pretty suite of rooms which she always occupied when in the emerald city; but several servants walked ahead politely to show the way, although she was quite sure she could find the rooms herself. she took button-bright with her, because he seemed too small to be left alone in such a big palace; but jellia jamb herself ushered the beautiful daughter of the rainbow to her apartments, because it was easy to see that polychrome was used to splendid palaces and was therefore entitled to especial attention. . the shaggy man's welcome the shaggy man stood in the great hall, his shaggy hat in his hands, wondering what would become of him. he had never been a guest in a fine palace before; perhaps he had never been a guest anywhere. in the big, cold, outside world people did not invite shaggy men to their homes, and this shaggy man of ours had slept more in hay-lofts and stables than in comfortable rooms. when the others left the great hall he eyed the splendidly dressed servants of the princess ozma as if he expected to be ordered out; but one of them bowed before him as respectfully as if he had been a prince, and said: "permit me, sir, to conduct you to your apartments." the shaggy man drew a long breath and took courage. "very well," he answered. "i'm ready." through the big hall they went, up the grand staircase carpeted thick with velvet, and so along a wide corridor to a carved doorway. here the servant paused, and opening the door said with polite deference: "be good enough to enter, sir, and make yourself at home in the rooms our royal ozma has ordered prepared for you. whatever you see is for you to use and enjoy, as if your own. the princess dines at seven, and i shall be here in time to lead you to the drawing-room, where you will be privileged to meet the lovely ruler of oz. is there any command, in the meantime, with which you desire to honor me?" "no," said the shaggy man; "but i'm much obliged." he entered the room and shut the door, and for a time stood in bewilderment, admiring the grandeur before him. he had been given one of the handsomest apartments in the most magnificent palace in the world, and you can not wonder that his good fortune astonished and awed him until he grew used to his surroundings. the furniture was upholstered in cloth of gold, with the royal crown embroidered upon it in scarlet. the rug upon the marble floor was so thick and soft that he could not hear the sound of his own footsteps, and upon the walls were splendid tapestries woven with scenes from the land of oz. books and ornaments were scattered about in profusion, and the shaggy man thought he had never seen so many pretty things in one place before. in one corner played a tinkling fountain of perfumed water, and in another was a table bearing a golden tray loaded with freshly gathered fruit, including several of the red-cheeked apples that the shaggy man loved. at the farther end of this charming room was an open doorway, and he crossed over to find himself in a bedroom containing more comforts than the shaggy man had ever before imagined. the bedstead was of gold and set with many brilliant diamonds, and the coverlet had designs of pearls and rubies sewed upon it. at one side of the bedroom was a dainty dressing-room with closets containing a large assortment of fresh clothing; and beyond this was the bath--a large room having a marble pool big enough to swim in, with white marble steps leading down to the water. around the edge of the pool were set rows of fine emeralds as large as door-knobs, while the water of the bath was clear as crystal. for a time the shaggy man gazed upon all this luxury with silent amazement. then he decided, being wise in his way, to take advantage of his good fortune. he removed his shaggy boots and his shaggy clothing, and bathed in the pool with rare enjoyment. after he had dried himself with the soft towels he went into the dressing-room and took fresh linen from the drawers and put it on, finding that everything fitted him exactly. he examined the contents of the closets and selected an elegant suit of clothing. strangely enough, everything about it was shaggy, although so new and beautiful, and he sighed with contentment to realize that he could now be finely dressed and still be the shaggy man. his coat was of rose-colored velvet, trimmed with shags and bobtails, with buttons of blood-red rubies and golden shags around the edges. his vest was a shaggy satin of a delicate cream color, and his knee-breeches of rose velvet trimmed like the coat. shaggy creamy stockings of silk, and shaggy slippers of rose leather with ruby buckles, completed his costume, and when he was thus attired the shaggy man looked at himself in a long mirror with great admiration. on a table he found a mother-of-pearl chest decorated with delicate silver vines and flowers of clustered rubies, and on the cover was a silver plate engraved with these words: the shaggy man: his box of ornaments the chest was not locked, so he opened it and was almost dazzled by the brilliance of the rich jewels it contained. after admiring the pretty things, he took out a fine golden watch with a big chain, several handsome finger-rings, and an ornament of rubies to pin upon the breast of his shaggy shirt-bosom. having carefully brushed his hair and whiskers all the wrong way to make them look as shaggy as possible, the shaggy man breathed a deep sigh of joy and decided he was ready to meet the royal princess as soon as she sent for him. while he waited he returned to the beautiful sitting room and ate several of the red-cheeked apples to pass away the time. meanwhile, dorothy had dressed herself in a pretty gown of soft grey embroidered with silver, and put a blue-and-gold suit of satin upon little button-bright, who looked as sweet as a cherub in it. followed by the boy and toto--the dog with a new green ribbon around his neck--she hastened down to the splendid drawing-room of the palace, where, seated upon an exquisite throne of carved malachite and nestled amongst its green satin cushions was the lovely princess ozma, waiting eagerly to welcome her friend. . princess ozma of oz the royal historians of oz, who are fine writers and know any number of big words, have often tried to describe the rare beauty of ozma and failed because the words were not good enough. so of course i cannot hope to tell you how great was the charm of this little princess, or how her loveliness put to shame all the sparkling jewels and magnificent luxury that surrounded her in this her royal palace. whatever else was beautiful or dainty or delightful of itself faded to dullness when contrasted with ozma's bewitching face, and it has often been said by those who know that no other ruler in all the world can ever hope to equal the gracious charm of her manner. everything about ozma attracted one, and she inspired love and the sweetest affection rather than awe or ordinary admiration. dorothy threw her arms around her little friend and hugged and kissed her rapturously, and toto barked joyfully and button-bright smiled a happy smile and consented to sit on the soft cushions close beside the princess. "why didn't you send me word you were going to have a birthday party?" asked the little kansas girl, when the first greetings were over. "didn't i?" asked ozma, her pretty eyes dancing with merriment. "did you?" replied dorothy, trying to think. "who do you imagine, dear, mixed up those roads, so as to start you wandering in the direction of oz?" inquired the princess. "oh! i never 'spected you of that," cried dorothy. "i've watched you in my magic picture all the way here," declared ozma, "and twice i thought i should have to use the magic belt to save you and transport you to the emerald city. once was when the scoodlers caught you, and again when you reached the deadly desert. but the shaggy man was able to help you out both times, so i did not interfere." "do you know who button-bright is?" asked dorothy. "no; i never saw him until you found him in the road, and then only in my magic picture." "and did you send polly to us?" "no, dear; the rainbow's daughter slid from her father's pretty arch just in time to meet you." "well," said dorothy, "i've promised king dox of foxville and king kik-a-bray of dunkiton that i'd ask you to invite them to your party." "i have already done that," returned ozma, "because i thought it would please you to favor them." "did you 'vite the musicker?" asked button-bright. "no; because he would be too noisy, and might interfere with the comfort of others. when music is not very good, and is indulged in all the time, it is better that the performer should be alone," said the princess. "i like the musicker's music," declared the boy, gravely. "but i don't," said dorothy. "well, there will be plenty of music at my celebration," promised ozma; "so i've an idea button-bright won't miss the musicker at all." just then polychrome danced in, and ozma rose to greet the rainbow's daughter in her sweetest and most cordial manner. dorothy thought she had never seen two prettier creatures together than these lovely maidens; but polly knew at once her own dainty beauty could not match that of ozma, yet was not a bit jealous because this was so. the wizard of oz was announced, and a dried-up, little, old man, clothed all in black, entered the drawing-room. his face was cheery and his eyes twinkling with humor, so polly and button-bright were not at all afraid of the wonderful personage whose fame as a humbug magician had spread throughout the world. after greeting dorothy with much affection, he stood modestly behind ozma's throne and listened to the lively prattle of the young people. now the shaggy man appeared, and so startling was his appearance, all clad in shaggy new raiment, that dorothy cried "oh!" and clasped her hands impulsively as she examined her friend with pleased eyes. "he's still shaggy, all right," remarked button-bright; and ozma nodded brightly because she had meant the shaggy man to remain shaggy when she provided his new clothes for him. dorothy led him toward the throne, as he was shy in such fine company, and presented him gracefully to the princess, saying: "this, your highness, is my friend, the shaggy man, who owns the love magnet." "you are welcome to oz," said the girl ruler, in gracious accents. "but tell me, sir, where did you get the love magnet which you say you own?" the shaggy man grew red and looked downcast, as he answered in a low voice: "i stole it, your majesty." "oh, shaggy man!" cried dorothy. "how dreadful! and you told me the eskimo gave you the love magnet." he shuffled first on one foot and then on the other, much embarrassed. "i told you a falsehood, dorothy," he said; "but now, having bathed in the truth pond, i must tell nothing but the truth." "why did you steal it?" asked ozma, gently. "because no one loved me, or cared for me," said the shaggy man, "and i wanted to be loved a great deal. it was owned by a girl in butterfield who was loved too much, so that the young men quarreled over her, which made her unhappy. after i had stolen the magnet from her, only one young man continued to love the girl, and she married him and regained her happiness." "are you sorry you stole it?" asked the princess. "no, your highness; i'm glad," he answered; "for it has pleased me to be loved, and if dorothy had not cared for me i could not have accompanied her to this beautiful land of oz, or met its kind-hearted ruler. now that i'm here, i hope to remain, and to become one of your majesty's most faithful subjects." "but in oz we are loved for ourselves alone, and for our kindness to one another, and for our good deeds," she said. "i'll give up the love magnet," said the shaggy man, eagerly; "dorothy shall have it." "but every one loves dorothy already," declared the wizard. "then button-bright shall have it." "don't want it," said the boy, promptly. "then i'll give it to the wizard, for i'm sure the lovely princess ozma does not need it." "all my people love the wizard, too," announced the princess, laughing; "so we will hang the love magnet over the gates of the emerald city, that whoever shall enter or leave the gates may be loved and loving." "that is a good idea," said the shaggy man; "i agree to it most willingly." those assembled now went in to dinner, which you can imagine was a grand affair; and afterward ozma asked the wizard to give them an exhibition of his magic. the wizard took eight tiny white piglets from an inside pocket and set them on the table. one was dressed like a clown, and performed funny antics, and the others leaped over the spoons and dishes and ran around the table like race-horses, and turned hand-springs and were so sprightly and amusing that they kept the company in one roar of merry laughter. the wizard had trained these pets to do many curious things, and they were so little and so cunning and soft that polychrome loved to pick them up as they passed near her place and fondle them as if they were kittens. it was late when the entertainment ended, and they separated to go to their rooms. "to-morrow," said ozma, "my invited guests will arrive, and you will find among them some interesting and curious people, i promise you. the next day will be my birthday, and the festivities will be held on the broad green just outside the gates of the city, where all my people can assemble without being crowded." "i hope the scarecrow won't be late," said dorothy, anxiously. "oh, he is sure to return to-morrow," answered ozma. "he wanted new straw to stuff himself with, so he went to the munchkin country, where straw is plentiful." with this the princess bade her guests good night and went to her own room. . dorothy receives the guests next morning dorothy's breakfast was served in her own pretty sitting room, and she sent to invite polly and the shaggy man to join her and button-bright at the meal. they came gladly, and toto also had breakfast with them, so that the little party that had traveled together to oz was once more reunited. no sooner had they finished eating than they heard the distant blast of many trumpets, and the sound of a brass band playing martial music; so they all went out upon the balcony. this was at the front of the palace and overlooked the streets of the city, being higher than the wall that shut in the palace grounds. they saw approaching down the street a band of musicians, playing as hard and loud as they could, while the people of the emerald city crowded the sidewalks and cheered so lustily that they almost drowned the noise of the drums and horns. dorothy looked to see what they were cheering at, and discovered that behind the band was the famous scarecrow, riding proudly upon the back of a wooden saw-horse which pranced along the street almost as gracefully as if it had been made of flesh. its hoofs, or rather the ends of its wooden legs, were shod with plates of solid gold, and the saddle strapped to the wooden body was richly embroidered and glistened with jewels. as he reached the palace the scarecrow looked up and saw dorothy, and at once waved his peaked hat at her in greeting. he rode up to the front door and dismounted, and the band stopped playing and went away and the crowds of people returned to their dwellings. by the time dorothy and her friends had re-entered her room, the scarecrow was there, and he gave the girl a hearty embrace and shook the hands of the others with his own squashy hands, which were white gloves filled with straw. the shaggy man, button-bright, and polychrome stared hard at this celebrated person, who was acknowledged to be the most popular and most beloved man in all the land of oz. "why, your face has been newly painted!" exclaimed dorothy, when the first greetings were over. "i had it touched up a bit by the munchkin farmer who first made me," answered the scarecrow, pleasantly. "my complexion had become a bit grey and faded, you know, and the paint had peeled off one end of my mouth, so i couldn't talk quite straight. now i feel like myself again, and i may say without immodesty that my body is stuffed with the loveliest oat-straw in all oz." he pushed against his chest. "hear me crunkle?" he asked. "yes," said dorothy; "you sound fine." button-bright was wonderfully attracted by the strawman, and so was polly. the shaggy man treated him with great respect, because he was so queerly made. jellia jamb now came to say that ozma wanted princess dorothy to receive the invited guests in the throne-room, as they arrived. the ruler was herself busy ordering the preparations for the morrow's festivities, so she wished her friend to act in her place. dorothy willingly agreed, being the only other princess in the emerald city; so she went to the great throne-room and sat in ozma's seat, placing polly on one side of her and button-bright on the other. the scarecrow stood at the left of the throne and the tin woodman at the right, while the wonderful wizard and the shaggy man stood behind. the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger came in, with bright new bows of ribbon on their collars and tails. after greeting dorothy affectionately the huge beasts lay down at the foot of the throne. while they waited, the scarecrow, who was near the little boy, asked: "why are you called button-bright?" "don't know," was the answer. "oh yes, you do, dear," said dorothy. "tell the scarecrow how you got your name." "papa always said i was bright as a button, so mama always called me button-bright," announced the boy. "where is your mama?" asked the scarecrow. "don't know," said button-bright. "where is your home?" asked the scarecrow. "don't know," said button-bright. "don't you want to find your mama again?" asked the scarecrow. "don't know," said button-bright, calmly. the scarecrow looked thoughtful. "your papa may have been right," he observed; "but there are many kinds of buttons, you see. there are silver and gold buttons, which are highly polished and glitter brightly. there are pearl and rubber buttons, and other kinds, with surfaces more or less bright. but there is still another sort of button which is covered with dull cloth, and that must be the sort your papa meant when he said you were bright as a button. don't you think so?" "don't know," said button-bright. jack pumpkinhead arrived, wearing a pair of new, white kid gloves; and he brought a birthday present for ozma consisting of a necklace of pumpkin-seeds. in each seed was set a sparkling carolite, which is considered the rarest and most beautiful gem that exists. the necklace was in a plush case and jellia jamb put it on a table with the princess ozma's other presents. next came a tall, beautiful woman clothed in a splendid trailing gown, trimmed with exquisite lace as fine as cobweb. this was the important sorceress known as glinda the good, who had been of great assistance to both ozma and dorothy. there was no humbug about her magic, you may be sure, and glinda was as kind as she was powerful. she greeted dorothy most lovingly, and kissed button-bright and polly, and smiled upon the shaggy man, after which jellia jamb led the sorceress to one of the most magnificent rooms of the royal palace and appointed fifty servants to wait upon her. the next arrival was mr. h. m. woggle-bug, t.e.; the "h. m." meaning highly magnified and the "t.e." meaning thoroughly educated. the woggle-bug was head professor at the royal college of oz, and he had composed a fine ode in honor of ozma's birthday. this he wanted to read to them; but the scarecrow wouldn't let him. soon they heard a clucking sound and a chorus of "cheep! cheep!" and a servant threw open the door to allow billina and her ten fluffy chicks to enter the throne-room. as the yellow hen marched proudly at the head of her family, dorothy cried, "oh, you lovely things!" and ran down from her seat to pet the little yellow downy balls. billina wore a pearl necklace, and around the neck of each chicken was a tiny gold chain holding a locket with the letter "d" engraved upon the outside. "open the lockets, dorothy," said billina. the girl obeyed and found a picture of herself in each locket. "they were named after you, my dear," continued the yellow hen, "so i wanted all my chickens to wear your picture. cluck--cluck! come here, dorothy--this minute!" she cried, for the chickens were scattered and wandering all around the big room. they obeyed the call at once, and came running as fast as they could, fluttering their fluffy wings in a laughable way. it was lucky that billina gathered the little ones under her soft breast just then, for tik-tok came in and tramped up to the throne on his flat copper feet. "i am all wound up and work-ing fine-ly," said the clock-work man to dorothy. "i can hear him tick," declared button-bright. "you are quite the polished gentleman," said the tin woodman. "stand up here beside the shaggy man, tik-tok, and help receive the company." dorothy placed soft cushions in a corner for billina and her chicks, and had just returned to the throne and seated herself when the playing of the royal band outside the palace announced the approach of distinguished guests. and my, how they did stare when the high chamberlain threw open the doors and the visitors entered the throne-room! first walked a gingerbread man neatly formed and baked to a lovely brown tint. he wore a silk hat and carried a candy cane prettily striped with red and yellow. his shirt-front and cuffs were white frosting, and the buttons on his coat were licorice drops. behind the gingerbread man came a child with flaxen hair and merry blue eyes, dressed in white pajamas, with sandals on the soles of its pretty bare feet. the child looked around smiling and thrust its hands into the pockets of the pajamas. close after it came a big rubber bear, walking erect on its hind feet. the bear had twinkling black eyes, and its body looked as if it had been pumped full of air. following these curious visitors were two tall, thin men and two short, fat men, all four dressed in gorgeous uniforms. ozma's high chamberlain now hurried forward to announce the names of the new arrivals, calling out in a loud voice: "his gracious and most edible majesty, king dough the first, ruler of the two kingdoms of hiland and loland. also the head boolywag of his majesty, known as chick the cherub, and their faithful friend para bruin, the rubber bear." these great personages bowed low as their names were called, and dorothy hastened to introduce them to the assembled company. they were the first foreign arrivals, and the friends of princess ozma were polite to them and tried to make them feel that they were welcome. chick the cherub shook hands with every one, including billina, and was so joyous and frank and full of good spirits that john dough's head booleywag at once became a prime favorite. "is it a boy or a girl?" whispered dorothy. "don't know," said button-bright. "goodness me! what a queer lot of people you are," exclaimed the rubber bear, looking at the assembled company. "so're you," said button-bright, gravely. "is king dough good to eat?" "he's too good to eat," laughed chick the cherub. "i hope none of you are fond of gingerbread," said the king, rather anxiously. "we should never think of eating our visitors, if we were," declared the scarecrow; "so please do not worry, for you will be perfectly safe while you remain in oz." "why do they call you chick?" the yellow hen asked the child. "because i'm an incubator baby, and never had any parents," replied the head booleywag. "my chicks have a parent, and i'm it," said billina. "i'm glad of that," answered the cherub, "because they'll have more fun worrying you than if they were brought up in an incubator. the incubator never worries, you know." king john dough had brought for ozma's birthday present a lovely gingerbread crown, with rows of small pearls around it and a fine big pearl in each of its five points. after this had been received by dorothy with proper thanks and placed on the table with the other presents, the visitors from hiland and loland were escorted to their rooms by the high chamberlain. they had no sooner departed than the band before the palace began to play again, announcing more arrivals, and as these were doubtless from foreign parts the high chamberlain hurried back to receive them in his most official manner. . important arrivals first entered a band of ryls from the happy valley, all merry little sprites like fairy elves. a dozen crooked knooks followed from the great forest of burzee. they had long whiskers and pointed caps and curling toes, yet were no taller than button-bright's shoulder. with this group came a man so easy to recognize and so important and dearly beloved throughout the known world, that all present rose to their feet and bowed their heads in respectful homage, even before the high chamberlain knelt to announce his name. "the most mighty and loyal friend of children, his supreme highness--santa claus!" said the chamberlain, in an awed voice. "well, well, well! glad to see you--glad to meet you all!" cried santa claus, briskly, as he trotted up the long room. he was round as an apple, with a fresh rosy face, laughing eyes, and a bushy beard as white as snow. a red cloak trimmed with beautiful ermine hung from his shoulders and upon his back was a basket filled with pretty presents for the princess ozma. "hello, dorothy; still having adventures?" he asked in his jolly way, as he took the girl's hand in both his own. "how did you know my name, santa?" she replied, feeling more shy in the presence of this immortal saint than she ever had before in her young life. "why, don't i see you every christmas eve, when you're asleep?" he rejoined, pinching her blushing cheek. "oh, do you?" "and here's button-bright, i declare!" cried santa claus, holding up the boy to kiss him. "what a long way from home you are; dear me!" "do you know button-bright, too?" questioned dorothy, eagerly. "indeed i do. i've visited his home several christmas eves." "and do you know his father?" asked the girl. "certainly, my dear. who else do you suppose brings him his christmas neckties and stockings?" with a sly wink at the wizard. "then where does he live? we're just crazy to know, 'cause button-bright's lost," she said. santa laughed and laid his finger aside of his nose as if thinking what to reply. he leaned over and whispered something in the wizard's ear, at which the wizard smiled and nodded as if he understood. now santa claus spied polychrome, and trotted over to where she stood. "seems to me the rainbow's daughter is farther from home than any of you," he observed, looking at the pretty maiden admiringly. "i'll have to tell your father where you are, polly, and send him to get you." "please do, dear santa claus," implored the little maid, beseechingly. "but just now we must all have a jolly good time at ozma's party," said the old gentleman, turning to put his presents on the table with the others already there. "it isn't often i find time to leave my castle, as you know; but ozma invited me and i just couldn't help coming to celebrate the happy occasion." "i'm so glad!" exclaimed dorothy. "these are my ryls," pointing to the little sprites squatting around him. "their business is to paint the colors of the flowers when they bud and bloom; but i brought the merry fellows along to see oz, and they've left their paint-pots behind them. also i brought these crooked knooks, whom i love. my dears, the knooks are much nicer than they look, for their duty is to water and care for the young trees of the forest, and they do their work faithfully and well. it's hard work, though, and it makes my knooks crooked and gnarled, like the trees themselves; but their hearts are big and kind, as are the hearts of all who do good in our beautiful world." "i've read of the ryls and knooks," said dorothy, looking upon these little workers with interest. santa claus turned to talk with the scarecrow and the tin woodman, and he also said a kind word to the shaggy man, and afterward went away to ride the saw-horse around the emerald city. "for," said he, "i must see all the grand sights while i am here and have the chance, and ozma has promised to let me ride the saw-horse because i'm getting fat and short of breath." "where are your reindeer?" asked polychrome. "i left them at home, for it is too warm for them in this sunny country," he answered. "they're used to winter weather when they travel." in a flash he was gone, and the ryls and knooks with him; but they could all hear the golden hoofs of the saw-horse ringing on the marble pavement outside, as he pranced away with his noble rider. presently the band played again, and the high chamberlain announced: "her gracious majesty, the queen of merryland." they looked earnestly to discover whom this queen might be, and saw advancing up the room an exquisite wax doll dressed in dainty fluffs and ruffles and spangled gown. she was almost as big as button-bright, and her cheeks and mouth and eyebrow were prettily painted in delicate colors. her blue eyes stared a bit, being of glass, yet the expression upon her majesty's face was quite pleasant and decidedly winning. with the queen of merryland were four wooden soldiers, two stalking ahead of her with much dignity and two following behind, like a royal bodyguard. the soldiers were painted in bright colors and carried wooden guns, and after them came a fat little man who attracted attention at once, although he seemed modest and retiring. for he was made of candy, and carried a tin sugar-sifter filled with powdered sugar, with which he dusted himself frequently so that he wouldn't stick to things if he touched them. the high chamberlain had called him "the candy man of merryland," and dorothy saw that one of his thumbs looked as if it had been bitten off by some one who was fond of candy and couldn't resist the temptation. the wax doll queen spoke prettily to dorothy and the others, and sent her loving greetings to ozma before she retired to the rooms prepared for her. she had brought a birthday present wrapped in tissue paper and tied with pink and blue ribbons, and one of the wooden soldiers placed it on the table with the other gifts. but the candy man did not go to his room, because he said he preferred to stay and talk with the scarecrow and tik-tok and the wizard and tin woodman, whom he declared the queerest people he had ever met. button-bright was glad the candy man stayed in the throne room, because the boy thought this guest smelled deliciously of wintergreen and maple sugar. the braided man now entered the room, having been fortunate enough to receive an invitation to the princess ozma's party. he was from a cave halfway between the invisible valley and the country of the gargoyles, and his hair and whiskers were so long that he was obliged to plait them into many braids that hung to his feet, and every braid was tied with a bow of colored ribbon. "i've brought princess ozma a box of flutters for her birthday," said the braided man, earnestly; "and i hope she will like them, for they are the finest quality i have ever made." "i'm sure she will be greatly pleased," said dorothy, who remembered the braided man well; and the wizard introduced the guest to the rest of the company and made him sit down in a chair and keep quiet, for, if allowed, he would talk continually about his flutters. the band then played a welcome to another set of guests, and into the throne-room swept the handsome and stately queen of ev. beside her was young king evardo, and following them came the entire royal family of five princesses and four princes of ev. the kingdom of ev lay just across the deadly desert to the north of oz, and once ozma and her people had rescued the queen of ev and her ten children from the nome king, who had enslaved them. dorothy had been present on this adventure, so she greeted the royal family cordially; and all the visitors were delighted to meet the little kansas girl again. they knew tik-tok and billina, too, and the scarecrow and tin woodman, as well as the lion and tiger; so there was a joyful reunion, as you may imagine, and it was fully an hour before the queen and her train retired to their rooms. perhaps they would not have gone then had not the band begun to play to announce new arrivals; but before they left the great throne-room king evardo added to ozma's birthday presents a diadem of diamonds set in radium. the next comer proved to be king renard of foxville; or king dox, as he preferred to be called. he was magnificently dressed in a new feather costume and wore white kid mittens over his paws and a flower in his button-hole and had his hair parted in the middle. king dox thanked dorothy fervently for getting him the invitation to come to oz, which he all his life longed to visit. he strutted around rather absurdly as he was introduced to all the famous people assembled in the throne-room, and when he learned that dorothy was a princess of oz the fox king insisted on kneeling at her feet and afterward retired backward--a dangerous thing to do, as he might have stubbed his paw and tumbled over. no sooner was he gone than the blasts of bugles and clatter of drums and cymbals announced important visitors, and the high chamberlain assumed his most dignified tone as he threw open the door and said proudly: "her sublime and resplendent majesty, queen zixi of ix! his serene and tremendous majesty, king bud of noland. her royal highness, the princess fluff." that three such high and mighty royal personages should arrive at once was enough to make dorothy and her companions grow solemn and assume their best company manners; but when the exquisite beauty of queen zixi met their eyes they thought they had never beheld anything so charming. dorothy decided that zixi must be about sixteen years old, but the wizard whispered to her that this wonderful queen had lived thousands of years, but knew the secret of remaining always fresh and beautiful. king bud of noland and his dainty fair-haired sister, the princess fluff, were friends of zixi, as their kingdoms were adjoining, so they had traveled together from their far-off domains to do honor to ozma of oz on the occasion of her birthday. they brought many splendid gifts; so the table was now fairly loaded down with presents. dorothy and polly loved the princess fluff the moment they saw her, and little king bud was so frank and boyish that button-bright accepted him as a chum at once and did not want him to go away. but it was after noon now, and the royal guests must prepare their toilets for the grand banquet at which they were to assemble that evening to meet the reigning princess of this fairyland; so queen zixi was shown to her room by a troop of maidens led by jellia jamb, and bud and fluff presently withdrew to their own apartments. "my! what a big party ozma is going to have," exclaimed dorothy. "i guess the palace will be chock full, button-bright; don't you think so?" "don't know," said the boy. "but we must go to our rooms, pretty soon, to dress for the banquet," continued the girl. "i don't have to dress," said the candy man from merryland. "all i need do is to dust myself with fresh sugar." "tik-tok always wears the same suits of clothes," said the tin woodman; "and so does our friend the scarecrow." "my feathers are good enough for any occasion," cried billina, from her corner. "then i shall leave you four to welcome any new guests that come," said dorothy; "for button-bright and i must look our very best at ozma's banquet." "who is still to come?" asked the scarecrow. "well, there's king kik-a-bray of dunkiton, and johnny dooit, and the good witch of the north. but johnny dooit may not get here until late, he's so very busy." "we will receive them and give them a proper welcome," promised the scarecrow. "so run along, little dorothy, and get yourself dressed." . the grand banquet i wish i could tell you how fine the company was that assembled that evening at ozma's royal banquet. a long table was spread in the center of the great dining-hall of the palace and the splendor of the decorations and the blaze of lights and jewels was acknowledged to be the most magnificent sight that any of the guests had ever seen. the jolliest person present, as well as the most important, was of course old santa claus; so he was given the seat of honor at one end of the table while at the other end sat princess ozma, the hostess. john dough, queen zixi, king bud, the queen of ev and her son evardo, and the queen of merryland had golden thrones to sit in, while the others were supplied with beautiful chairs. at the upper end of the banquet room was a separate table provided for the animals. toto sat at one end of this table with a bib tied around his neck and a silver platter to eat from. at the other end was placed a small stand, with a low rail around the edge of it, for billina and her chicks. the rail kept the ten little dorothys from falling off the stand, while the yellow hen could easily reach over and take her food from her tray upon the table. at other places sat the hungry tiger, the cowardly lion, the saw-horse, the rubber bear, the fox king and the donkey king; they made quite a company of animals. at the lower end of the great room was another table, at which sat the ryls and knooks who had come with santa claus, the wooden soldiers who had come with the queen of merryland, and the hilanders and lolanders who had come with john dough. here were also seated the officers of the royal palace and of ozma's army. the splendid costumes of those at the three tables made a gorgeous and glittering display that no one present was ever likely to forget; perhaps there has never been in any part of the world at any time another assemblage of such wonderful people as that which gathered this evening to honor the birthday of the ruler of oz. when all members of ethe company were in their places an orchestra of five hundred pieces, in a balcony overlooking the banquet room, began to play sweet and delightful music. then a door draped with royal green opened, and in came the fair and girlish princess ozma, who now greeted her guests in person for the first time. as she stood by her throne at the head of the banquet table every eye was turned eagerly upon the lovely princess, who was as dignified as she was bewitching, and who smiled upon all her old and new friends in a way that touched their hearts and brought an answering smile to every face. each guest had been served with a crystal goblet filled with lacasa, which is a sort of nectar famous in oz and nicer to drink than soda-water or lemonade. santa now made a pretty speech in verse, congratulating ozma on having a birthday, and asking every one present to drink to the health and happiness of their dearly beloved hostess. this was done with great enthusiasm by those who were made so they could drink at all, and those who could not drink politely touched the rims of their goblets to their lips. all seated themselves at the tables and the servants of the princess began serving the feast. i am quite sure that only in fairyland could such a delicious repast be prepared. the dishes were of precious metals set with brilliant jewels and the good things to eat which were placed upon them were countless in number and of exquisite flavor. several present, such as the candy man, the rubber bear, tik-tok, and the scarecrow, were not made so they could eat, and the queen of merryland contented herself with a small dish of sawdust; but these enjoyed the pomp and glitter of the gorgeous scene as much as did those who feasted. the woggle-bug read his "ode to ozma," which was written in very good rhythm and was well received by the company. the wizard added to the entertainment by making a big pie appear before dorothy, and when the little girl cut the pie the nine tiny piglets leaped out of it and danced around the table, while the orchestra played a merry tune. this amused the company very much, but they were even more pleased when polychrome, whose hunger had been easily satisfied, rose from the table and performed her graceful and bewildering rainbow dance for them. when it was ended, the people clapped their hands and the animals clapped their paws, while billina cackled and the donkey king brayed approval. johnny dooit was present, and of course he proved he could do wonders in the way of eating, as well as in everything else that he undertook to do; the tin woodman sang a love song, every one joining in the chorus; and the wooden soldiers from merryland gave an exhibition of a lightning drill with their wooden muskets; the ryls and knooks danced the fairy circle; and the rubber bear bounced himself all around the room. there was laughter and merriment on every side, and everybody was having a royal good time. button-bright was so excited and interested that he paid little attention to his fine dinner and a great deal of attention to his queer companions; and perhaps he was wise to do this, because he could eat at any other time. the feasting and merrymaking continued until late in the evening, when they separated to meet again the next morning and take part in the birthday celebration, to which this royal banquet was merely the introduction. . the birthday celebration a clear, perfect day, with a gentle breeze and a sunny sky, greeted princess ozma as she wakened next morning, the anniversary of her birth. while it was yet early all the city was astir and crowds of people came from all parts of the land of oz to witness the festivities in honor of their girl ruler's birthday. the noted visitors from foreign countries, who had all been transported to the emerald city by means of the magic belt, were as much a show to the ozites as were their own familiar celebrities, and the streets leading from the royal palace to the jeweled gates were thronged with men, women, and children to see the procession as it passed out to the green fields where the ceremonies were to take place. and what a great procession it was! first came a thousand young girls--the prettiest in the land--dressed in white muslin, with green sashes and hair ribbons, bearing green baskets of red roses. as they walked they scattered these flowers upon the marble pavements, so that the way was carpeted thick with roses for the procession to walk upon. then came the rulers of the four kingdoms of oz: the emperor of the winkies, the monarch of the munchkins, the king of the quadlings and the sovereign of the gillikins, each wearing a long chain of emeralds around his neck to show that he was a vassal of the ruler of the emerald city. next marched the emerald city cornet band, clothed in green-and-gold uniforms and playing the "ozma two-step." the royal army of oz followed, consisting of twenty-seven officers, from the captain-general down to the lieutenants. there were no privates in ozma's army because soldiers were not needed to fight battles, but only to look important, and an officer always looks more imposing than a private. while the people cheered and waved their hats and handkerchiefs, there came walking the royal princess ozma, looking so pretty and sweet that it is no wonder her people love her so dearly. she had decided she would not ride in her chariot that day, as she preferred to walk in the procession with her favored subjects and her guests. just in front of her trotted the living blue bear rug owned by old dyna, which wobbled clumsily on its four feet because there was nothing but the skin to support them, with a stuffed head at one end and a stubby tail at the other. but whenever ozma paused in her walk the bear rug would flop down flat upon the ground for the princess to stand upon until she resumed her progress. following the princess stalked her two enormous beasts, the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, and even if the army had not been there these two would have been powerful enough to guard their mistress from any harm. next marched the invited guests, who were loudly cheered by the people of oz along the road, and were therefore obliged to bow to right and left almost every step of the way. first was santa claus, who, because he was fat and not used to walking, rode the wonderful saw-horse. the merry old gentleman had a basket of small toys with him, and he tossed the toys one by one to the children as he passed by. his ryls and knooks marched close behind him. queen zixi of ix came after; then john dough and the cherub, with the rubber bear named para bruin strutting between them on its hind legs; then the queen of merryland, escorted by her wooden soldiers; then king bud of noland and his sister, the princess fluff; then the queen of ev and her ten royal children; then the braided man and the candy man, side by side; then king dox of foxville and king kik-a-bray of dunkiton, who by this time had become good friends; and finally johnny dooit, in his leather apron, smoking his long pipe. these wonderful personages were not more heartily cheered by the people than were those who followed after them in the procession. dorothy was a general favorite, and she walked arm in arm with the scarecrow, who was beloved by all. then came polychrome and button-bright, and the people loved the rainbow's pretty daughter and the beautiful blue-eyed boy as soon as they saw them. the shaggy man in his shaggy new suit attracted much attention because he was such a novelty. with regular steps tramped the machine-man tik-tok, and there was more cheering when the wizard of oz followed in the procession. the woggle-bug and jack pumpkinhead were next, and behind them glinda the sorceress and the good witch of the north. finally came billina, with her brood of chickens to whom she clucked anxiously to keep them together and to hasten them along so they would not delay the procession. another band followed, this time the tin band of the emperor of the winkies, playing a beautiful march called, "there's no plate like tin." then came the servants of the royal palace, in a long line, and behind them all the people joined the procession and marched away through the emerald gates and out upon the broad green. here had been erected a splendid pavilion, with a grandstand big enough to seat all the royal party and those who had taken part in the procession. over the pavilion, which was of green silk and cloth of gold, countless banners waved in the breeze. just in front of this, and connected with it by a runway had been built a broad platform, so that all the spectators could see plainly the entertainment provided for them. the wizard now became master of ceremonies, as ozma had placed the conduct of the performance in his hands. after the people had all congregated about the platform and the royal party and the visitors were seated in the grandstand, the wizard skillfully performed some feats of juggling glass balls and lighted candles. he tossed a dozen or so of them high in the air and caught them one by one as they came down, without missing any. then he introduced the scarecrow, who did a sword-swallowing act that aroused much interest. after this the tin woodman gave an exhibition of swinging the axe, which he made to whirl around him so rapidly that the eye could scarcely follow the motion of the gleaming blade. glinda the sorceress then stepped upon the platform, and by her magic made a big tree grow in the middle of the space, made blossoms appear upon the tree, and made the blossoms become delicious fruit called tamornas, and so great was the quantity of fruit produced that when the servants climbed the tree and tossed it down to the crowd, there was enough to satisfy every person present. para bruin, the rubber bear, climbed to a limb of the big tree, rolled himself into a ball, and dropped to the platform, whence he bounded up again to the limb. he repeated this bouncing act several times, to the great delight of all the children present. after he had finished, and bowed, and returned to his seat, glinda waved her wand and the tree disappeared; but its fruit still remained to be eaten. the good witch of the north amused the people by transforming ten stones into ten birds, the ten birds into ten lambs, and the ten lambs into ten little girls, who gave a pretty dance and were then transformed into ten stones again, just as they were in the beginning. johnny dooit next came on the platform with his tool-chest, and in a few minutes built a great flying machine; then put his chest in the machine and the whole thing flew away together--johnny and all--after he had bid good-bye to those present and thanked the princess for her hospitality. the wizard then announced the last act of all, which was considered really wonderful. he had invented a machine to blow huge soap-bubbles, as big as balloons, and this machine was hidden under the platform so that only the rim of the big clay pipe to produce the bubbles showed above the flooring. the tank of soapsuds, and the air-pumps to inflate the bubbles, were out of sight beneath, so that when the bubbles began to grow upon the floor of the platform it really seemed like magic to the people of oz, who knew nothing about even the common soap-bubbles that our children blow with a penny clay pipe and a basin of soap-and-water. the wizard had invented another thing. usually, soap-bubbles are frail and burst easily, lasting only a few moments as they float in the air; but the wizard added a sort of glue to his soapsuds, which made his bubbles tough; and, as the glue dried rapidly when exposed to the air, the wizard's bubbles were strong enough to float for hours without breaking. he began by blowing--by means of his machinery and air-pumps--several large bubbles which he allowed to float upward into the sky, where the sunshine fell upon them and gave them iridescent hues that were most beautiful. this aroused much wonder and delight because it was a new amusement to every one present--except perhaps dorothy and button-bright, and even they had never seen such big, strong bubbles before. the wizard then blew a bunch of small bubbles and afterward blew a big bubble around them so they were left in the center of it; then he allowed the whole mass of pretty globes to float into the air and disappear in the far distant sky. "that is really fine!" declared santa claus, who loved toys and pretty things. "i think, mr. wizard, i shall have you blow a bubble around me; then i can float away home and see the country spread out beneath me as i travel. there isn't a spot on earth that i haven't visited, but i usually go in the night-time, riding behind my swift reindeer. here is a good chance to observe the country by daylight, while i am riding slowly and at my ease." "do you think you will be able to guide the bubble?" asked the wizard. "oh yes; i know enough magic to do that," replied santa claus. "you blow the bubble, with me inside of it, and i'll be sure to get home in safety." "please send me home in a bubble, too!" begged the queen of merryland. "very well, madam; you shall try the journey first," politely answered old santa. the pretty wax doll bade good-bye to the princess ozma and the others and stood on the platform while the wizard blew a big soap-bubble around her. when completed, he allowed the bubble to float slowly upward, and there could be seen the little queen of merryland standing in the middle of it and blowing kisses from her fingers to those below. the bubble took a southerly direction, quickly floating out of sight. "that's a very nice way to travel," said princess fluff. "i'd like to go home in a bubble, too." so the wizard blew a big bubble around princess fluff, and another around king bud, her brother, and a third one around queen zixi; and soon these three bubbles had mounted into the sky and were floating off in a group in the direction of the kingdom of noland. the success of these ventures induced the other guests from foreign lands to undertake bubble journeys, also; so the wizard put them one by one inside his bubbles, and santa claus directed the way they should go, because he knew exactly where everybody lived. finally, button-bright said: "i want to go home, too." "why, so you shall!" cried santa; "for i'm sure your father and mother will be glad to see you again. mr. wizard, please blow a big, fine bubble for button-bright to ride in, and i'll agree to send him home to his family as safe as safe can be." "i'm sorry," said dorothy with a sigh, for she was fond of her little comrade; "but p'raps it's best for button-bright to get home; 'cause his folks must be worrying just dreadful." she kissed the boy, and ozma kissed him, too, and all the others waved their hands and said good-bye and wished him a pleasant journey. "are you glad to leave us, dear?" asked dorothy, a little wistfully. "don't know," said button-bright. he sat down cross-legged on the platform, with his sailor hat tipped back on his head, and the wizard blew a beautiful bubble all around him. a minute later it had mounted into the sky, sailing toward the west, and the last they saw of button-bright he was still sitting in the middle of the shining globe and waving his sailor hat at those below. "will you ride in a bubble, or shall i send you and toto home by means of the magic belt?" the princess asked dorothy. "guess i'll use the belt," replied the little girl. "i'm sort of 'fraid of those bubbles." "bow-wow!" said toto, approvingly. he loved to bark at the bubbles as they sailed away, but he didn't care to ride in one. santa claus decided to go next. he thanked ozma for her hospitality and wished her many happy returns of the day. then the wizard blew a bubble around his chubby little body and smaller bubbles around each of his ryls and knooks. as the kind and generous friend of children mounted into the air the people all cheered at the top of their voices, for they loved santa claus dearly; and the little man heard them through the walls of his bubble and waved his hands in return as he smiled down upon them. the band played bravely while every one watched the bubble until it was completely out of sight. "how 'bout you, polly?" dorothy asked her friend. "are you 'fraid of bubbles, too?" "no," answered polychrome, smiling; "but santa claus promised to speak to my father as he passed through the sky. so perhaps i shall get home an easier way." indeed, the little maid had scarcely made this speech when a sudden radiance filled the air, and while the people looked on in wonder the end of a gorgeous rainbow slowly settled down upon the platform. with a glad cry, the rainbow's daughter sprang from her seat and danced along the curve of the bow, mounting gradually upward, while the folds of her gauzy gown whirled and floated around her like a cloud and blended with the colors of the rainbow itself. "good-bye ozma! good-bye dorothy!" cried a voice they knew belonged to polychrome; but now the little maiden's form had melted wholly into the rainbow, and their eyes could no longer see her. suddenly, the end of the rainbow lifted and its colors slowly faded like mist before a breeze. dorothy sighed deeply and turned to ozma. "i'm sorry to lose polly," she said; "but i guess she's better off with her father; 'cause even the land of oz couldn't be like home to a cloud fairy." "no indeed," replied the princess; "but it has been delightful for us to know polychrome for a little while, and--who knows?--perhaps we may meet the rainbow's daughter again, some day." the entertainment being now ended, all left the pavilion and formed their gay procession back to the emerald city again. of dorothy's recent traveling companions only toto and the shaggy man remained, and ozma had decided to allow the latter to live in oz for a time, at least. if he proved honest and true she promised to let him live there always, and the shaggy man was anxious to earn this reward. they had a nice quiet dinner together and passed a pleasant evening with the scarecrow, the tin woodman, tik-tok, and the yellow hen for company. when dorothy bade them good-night, she kissed them all good-bye at the same time. for ozma had agreed that while dorothy slept she and toto should be transported by means of the magic belt to her own little bed in the kansas farm-house and the little girl laughed as she thought how astonished uncle henry and aunt em would be when she came down to breakfast with them next morning. quite content to have had so pleasant an adventure, and a little tired by all the day's busy scenes, dorothy clasped toto in her arms and lay down upon the pretty white bed in her room in ozma's royal palace. presently she was sound asleep. the emerald city of oz by l. frank baum author of the road to oz, dorothy and the wizard in oz, the land of oz, etc. contents --author's note-- . how the nome king became angry . how uncle henry got into trouble . how ozma granted dorothy's request . how the nome king planned revenge . how dorothy became a princess . how guph visited the whimsies . how aunt em conquered the lion . how the grand gallipoot joined the nomes . how the wogglebug taught athletics . how the cuttenclips lived . how the general met the first and foremost . how they matched the fuddles . how the general talked to the king . how the wizard practiced sorcery . how dorothy happened to get lost . how dorothy visited utensia . how they came to bunbury . how ozma looked into the magic picture . how bunnybury welcomed the strangers . how dorothy lunched with a king . how the king changed his mind . how the wizard found dorothy . how they encountered the flutterbudgets . how the tin woodman told the sad news . how the scarecrow displayed his wisdom . how ozma refused to fight for her kingdom . how the fierce warriors invaded oz . how they drank at the forbidden fountain . how glinda worked a magic spell . how the story of oz came to an end author's note perhaps i should admit on the title page that this book is "by l. frank baum and his correspondents," for i have used many suggestions conveyed to me in letters from children. once on a time i really imagined myself "an author of fairy tales," but now i am merely an editor or private secretary for a host of youngsters whose ideas i am requestsed to weave into the thread of my stories. these ideas are often clever. they are also logical and interesting. so i have used them whenever i could find an opportunity, and it is but just that i acknowledge my indebtedness to my little friends. my, what imaginations these children have developed! sometimes i am fairly astounded by their daring and genius. there will be no lack of fairy-tale authors in the future, i am sure. my readers have told me what to do with dorothy, and aunt em and uncle henry, and i have obeyed their mandates. they have also given me a variety of subjects to write about in the future: enough, in fact, to keep me busy for some time. i am very proud of this alliance. children love these stories because children have helped to create them. my readers know what they want and realize that i try to please them. the result is very satisfactory to the publishers, to me, and (i am quite sure) to the children. i hope, my dears, it will be a long time before we are obliged to dissolve partnership. l. frank baum. coronado, . how the nome king became angry the nome king was in an angry mood, and at such times he was very disagreeable. every one kept away from him, even his chief steward kaliko. therefore the king stormed and raved all by himself, walking up and down in his jewel-studded cavern and getting angrier all the time. then he remembered that it was no fun being angry unless he had some one to frighten and make miserable, and he rushed to his big gong and made it clatter as loud as he could. in came the chief steward, trying not to show the nome king how frightened he was. "send the chief counselor here!" shouted the angry monarch. kaliko ran out as fast as his spindle legs could carry his fat, round body, and soon the chief counselor entered the cavern. the king scowled and said to him: "i'm in great trouble over the loss of my magic belt. every little while i want to do something magical, and find i can't because the belt is gone. that makes me angry, and when i'm angry i can't have a good time. now, what do you advise?" "some people," said the chief counselor, "enjoy getting angry." "but not all the time," declared the king. "to be angry once in a while is really good fun, because it makes others so miserable. but to be angry morning, noon and night, as i am, grows monotonous and prevents my gaining any other pleasure in life. now what do you advise?" "why, if you are angry because you want to do magical things and can't, and if you don't want to get angry at all, my advice is not to want to do magical things." hearing this, the king glared at his counselor with a furious expression and tugged at his own long white whiskers until he pulled them so hard that he yelled with pain. "you are a fool!" he exclaimed. "i share that honor with your majesty," said the chief counselor. the king roared with rage and stamped his foot. "ho, there, my guards!" he cried. "ho" is a royal way of saying, "come here." so, when the guards had hoed, the king said to them: "take this chief counselor and throw him away." then the guards took the chief counselor, and bound him with chains to prevent his struggling, and threw him away. and the king paced up and down his cavern more angry than before. finally he rushed to his big gong and made it clatter like a fire alarm. kaliko appeared again, trembling and white with fear. "fetch my pipe!" yelled the king. "your pipe is already here, your majesty," replied kaliko. "then get my tobacco!" roared the king. "the tobacco is in your pipe, your majesty," returned the steward. "then bring a live coal from the furnace!" commanded the king. "the tobacco is lighted, and your majesty is already smoking your pipe," answered the steward. "why, so i am!" said the king, who had forgotten this fact; "but you are very rude to remind me of it." "i am a lowborn, miserable villain," declared the chief steward, humbly. the nome king could think of nothing to say next, so he puffed away at his pipe and paced up and down the room. finally, he remembered how angry he was, and cried out: "what do you mean, kaliko, by being so contented when your monarch is unhappy?" "what makes you unhappy?" asked the steward. "i've lost my magic belt. a little girl named dorothy, who was here with ozma of oz, stole my belt and carried it away with her," said the king, grinding his teeth with rage. "she captured it in a fair fight," kaliko ventured to say. "but i want it! i must have it! half my power is gone with that belt!" roared the king. "you will have to go to the land of oz to recover it, and your majesty can't get to the land of oz in any possible way," said the steward, yawning because he had been on duty ninety-six hours, and was sleepy. "why not?" asked the king. "because there is a deadly desert all around that fairy country, which no one is able to cross. you know that fact as well as i do, your majesty. never mind the lost belt. you have plenty of power left, for you rule this underground kingdom like a tyrant, and thousands of nomes obey your commands. i advise you to drink a glass of melted silver, to quiet your nerves, and then go to bed." the king grabbed a big ruby and threw it at kaliko's head. the steward ducked to escape the heavy jewel, which crashed against the door just over his left ear. "get out of my sight! vanish! go away--and send general blug here," screamed the nome king. kaliko hastily withdrew, and the nome king stamped up and down until the general of his armies appeared. this nome was known far and wide as a terrible fighter and a cruel, desperate commander. he had fifty thousand nome soldiers, all well drilled, who feared nothing but their stern master. yet general blug was a trifle uneasy when he arrived and saw how angry the nome king was. "ha! so you're here!" cried the king. "so i am," said the general. "march your army at once to the land of oz, capture and destroy the emerald city, and bring back to me my magic belt!" roared the king. "you're crazy," calmly remarked the general. "what's that? what's that? what's that?" and the nome king danced around on his pointed toes, he was so enraged. "you don't know what you're talking about," continued the general, seating himself upon a large cut diamond. "i advise you to stand in a corner and count sixty before you speak again. by that time you may be more sensible." the king looked around for something to throw at general blug, but as nothing was handy he began to consider that perhaps the man was right and he had been talking foolishly. so he merely threw himself into his glittering throne and tipped his crown over his ear and curled his feet up under him and glared wickedly at blug. "in the first place," said the general, "we cannot march across the deadly desert to the land of oz. and if we could, the ruler of that country, princess ozma, has certain fairy powers that would render my army helpless. had you not lost your magic belt we might have some chance of defeating ozma; but the belt is gone." "i want it!" screamed the king. "i must have it." "well, then, let us try in a sensible way to get it," replied the general. "the belt was captured by a little girl named dorothy, who lives in kansas, in the united states of america." "but she left it in the emerald city, with ozma," declared the king. "how do you know that?" asked the general. "one of my spies, who is a blackbird, flew over the desert to the land of oz, and saw the magic belt in ozma's palace," replied the king with a groan. "now that gives me an idea," said general blug, thoughtfully. "there are two ways to get to the land of oz without traveling across the sandy desert." "what are they?" demanded the king, eagerly. "one way is over the desert, through the air; and the other way is under the desert, through the earth." hearing this the nome king uttered a yell of joy and leaped from his throne, to resume his wild walk up and down the cavern. "that's it, blug!" he shouted. "that's the idea, general! i'm king of the under world, and my subjects are all miners. i'll make a secret tunnel under the desert to the land of oz--yes! right up to the emerald city--and you will march your armies there and capture the whole country!" "softly, softly, your majesty. don't go too fast," warned the general. "my nomes are good fighters, but they are not strong enough to conquer the emerald city." "are you sure?" asked the king. "absolutely certain, your majesty." "then what am i to do?" "give up the idea and mind your own business," advised the general. "you have plenty to do trying to rule your underground kingdom." "but i want the magic belt--and i'm going to have it!" roared the nome king. "i'd like to see you get it," replied the general, laughing maliciously. the king was by this time so exasperated that he picked up his scepter, which had a heavy ball, made from a sapphire, at the end of it, and threw it with all his force at general blug. the sapphire hit the general upon his forehead and knocked him flat upon the ground, where he lay motionless. then the king rang his gong and told his guards to drag out the general and throw him away; which they did. this nome king was named roquat the red, and no one loved him. he was a bad man and a powerful monarch, and he had resolved to destroy the land of oz and its magnificent emerald city, to enslave princess ozma and little dorothy and all the oz people, and recover his magic belt. this same belt had once enabled roquat the red to carry out many wicked plans; but that was before ozma and her people marched to the underground cavern and captured it. the nome king could not forgive dorothy or princess ozma, and he had determined to be revenged upon them. but they, for their part, did not know they had so dangerous an enemy. indeed, ozma and dorothy had both almost forgotten that such a person as the nome king yet lived under the mountains of the land of ev--which lay just across the deadly desert to the south of the land of oz. an unsuspected enemy is doubly dangerous. . how uncle henry got into trouble dorothy gale lived on a farm in kansas, with her aunt em and her uncle henry. it was not a big farm, nor a very good one, because sometimes the rain did not come when the crops needed it, and then everything withered and dried up. once a cyclone had carried away uncle henry's house, so that he was obliged to build another; and as he was a poor man he had to mortgage his farm to get the money to pay for the new house. then his health became bad and he was too feeble to work. the doctor ordered him to take a sea voyage and he went to australia and took dorothy with him. that cost a lot of money, too. uncle henry grew poorer every year, and the crops raised on the farm only bought food for the family. therefore the mortgage could not be paid. at last the banker who had loaned him the money said that if he did not pay on a certain day, his farm would be taken away from him. this worried uncle henry a good deal, for without the farm he would have no way to earn a living. he was a good man, and worked in the field as hard as he could; and aunt em did all the housework, with dorothy's help. yet they did not seem to get along. this little girl, dorothy, was like dozens of little girls you know. she was loving and usually sweet-tempered, and had a round rosy face and earnest eyes. life was a serious thing to dorothy, and a wonderful thing, too, for she had encountered more strange adventures in her short life than many other girls of her age. aunt em once said she thought the fairies must have marked dorothy at her birth, because she had wandered into strange places and had always been protected by some unseen power. as for uncle henry, he thought his little niece merely a dreamer, as her dead mother had been, for he could not quite believe all the curious stories dorothy told them of the land of oz, which she had several times visited. he did not think that she tried to deceive her uncle and aunt, but he imagined that she had dreamed all of those astonishing adventures, and that the dreams had been so real to her that she had come to believe them true. whatever the explanation might be, it was certain that dorothy had been absent from her kansas home for several long periods, always disappearing unexpectedly, yet always coming back safe and sound, with amazing tales of where she had been and the unusual people she had met. her uncle and aunt listened to her stories eagerly and in spite of their doubts began to feel that the little girl had gained a lot of experience and wisdom that were unaccountable in this age, when fairies are supposed no longer to exist. most of dorothy's stories were about the land of oz, with its beautiful emerald city and a lovely girl ruler named ozma, who was the most faithful friend of the little kansas girl. when dorothy told about the riches of this fairy country uncle henry would sigh, for he knew that a single one of the great emeralds that were so common there would pay all his debts and leave his farm free. but dorothy never brought any jewels home with her, so their poverty became greater every year. when the banker told uncle henry that he must pay the money in thirty days or leave the farm, the poor man was in despair, as he knew he could not possibly get the money. so he told his wife, aunt em, of his trouble, and she first cried a little and then said that they must be brave and do the best they could, and go away somewhere and try to earn an honest living. but they were getting old and feeble and she feared that they could not take care of dorothy as well as they had formerly done. probably the little girl would also be obliged to go to work. they did not tell their niece the sad news for several days, not wishing to make her unhappy; but one morning the little girl found aunt em softly crying while uncle henry tried to comfort her. then dorothy asked them to tell her what was the matter. "we must give up the farm, my dear," replied her uncle sadly, "and wander away into the world to work for our living." the girl listened quite seriously, for she had not known before how desperately poor they were. "we don't mind for ourselves," said her aunt, stroking the little girl's head tenderly; "but we love you as if you were our own child, and we are heart-broken to think that you must also endure poverty, and work for a living before you have grown big and strong." "what could i do to earn money?" asked dorothy. "you might do housework for some one, dear, you are so handy; or perhaps you could be a nurse-maid to little children. i'm sure i don't know exactly what you can do to earn money, but if your uncle and i are able to support you we will do it willingly, and send you to school. we fear, though, that we shall have much trouble in earning a living for ourselves. no one wants to employ old people who are broken down in health, as we are." dorothy smiled. "wouldn't it be funny," she said, "for me to do housework in kansas, when i'm a princess in the land of oz?" "a princess!" they both exclaimed, astonished. "yes; ozma made me a princess some time ago, and she has often begged me to come and live always in the emerald city," said the child. her uncle and aunt looked at her in amazement. then the man said: "do you suppose you could manage to return to your fairyland, my dear?" "oh yes," replied dorothy; "i could do that easily." "how?" asked aunt em. "ozma sees me every day at four o'clock, in her magic picture. she can see me wherever i am, no matter what i am doing. and at that time, if i make a certain secret sign, she will send for me by means of the magic belt, which i once captured from the nome king. then, in the wink of an eye, i shall be with ozma in her palace." the elder people remained silent for some time after dorothy had spoken. finally, aunt em said, with another sigh of regret: "if that is the case, dorothy, perhaps you'd better go and live in the emerald city. it will break our hearts to lose you from our lives, but you will be so much better off with your fairy friends that it seems wisest and best for you to go." "i'm not so sure about that," remarked uncle henry, shaking his gray head doubtfully. "these things all seem real to dorothy, i know; but i'm afraid our little girl won't find her fairyland just what she had dreamed it to be. it would make me very unhappy to think that she was wandering among strangers who might be unkind to her." dorothy laughed merrily at this speech, and then she became very sober again, for she could see how all this trouble was worrying her aunt and uncle, and knew that unless she found a way to help them their future lives would be quite miserable and unhappy. she knew that she could help them. she had thought of a way already. yet she did not tell them at once what it was, because she must ask ozma's consent before she would be able to carry out her plans. so she only said: "if you will promise not to worry a bit about me, i'll go to the land of oz this very afternoon. and i'll make a promise, too; that you shall both see me again before the day comes when you must leave this farm." "the day isn't far away, now," her uncle sadly replied. "i did not tell you of our trouble until i was obliged to, dear dorothy, so the evil time is near at hand. but if you are quite sure your fairy friends will give you a home, it will be best for you to go to them, as your aunt says." that was why dorothy went to her little room in the attic that afternoon, taking with her a small dog named toto. the dog had curly black hair and big brown eyes and loved dorothy very dearly. the child had kissed her uncle and aunt affectionately before she went upstairs, and now she looked around her little room rather wistfully, gazing at the simple trinkets and worn calico and gingham dresses, as if they were old friends. she was tempted at first to make a bundle of them, yet she knew very well that they would be of no use to her in her future life. she sat down upon a broken-backed chair--the only one the room contained--and holding toto in her arms waited patiently until the clock struck four. then she made the secret signal that had been agreed upon between her and ozma. uncle henry and aunt em waited downstairs. they were uneasy and a good deal excited, for this is a practical humdrum world, and it seemed to them quite impossible that their little niece could vanish from her home and travel instantly to fairyland. so they watched the stairs, which seemed to be the only way that dorothy could get out of the farmhouse, and they watched them a long time. they heard the clock strike four but there was no sound from above. half-past four came, and now they were too impatient to wait any longer. softly, they crept up the stairs to the door of the little girl's room. "dorothy! dorothy!" they called. there was no answer. they opened the door and looked in. the room was empty. . how ozma granted dorothy's request i suppose you have read so much about the magnificent emerald city that there is little need for me to describe it here. it is the capital city of the land of oz, which is justly considered the most attractive and delightful fairyland in all the world. the emerald city is built all of beautiful marbles in which are set a profusion of emeralds, every one exquisitely cut and of very great size. there are other jewels used in the decorations inside the houses and palaces, such as rubies, diamonds, sapphires, amethysts and turquoises. but in the streets and upon the outside of the buildings only emeralds appear, from which circumstance the place is named the emerald city of oz. it has nine thousand, six hundred and fifty-four buildings, in which lived fifty-seven thousand three hundred and eighteen people, up to the time my story opens. all the surrounding country, extending to the borders of the desert which enclosed it upon every side, was full of pretty and comfortable farmhouses, in which resided those inhabitants of oz who preferred country to city life. altogether there were more than half a million people in the land of oz--although some of them, as you will soon learn, were not made of flesh and blood as we are--and every inhabitant of that favored country was happy and prosperous. no disease of any sort was ever known among the ozites, and so no one ever died unless he met with an accident that prevented him from living. this happened very seldom, indeed. there were no poor people in the land of oz, because there was no such thing as money, and all property of every sort belonged to the ruler. the people were her children, and she cared for them. each person was given freely by his neighbors whatever he required for his use, which is as much as any one may reasonably desire. some tilled the lands and raised great crops of grain, which was divided equally among the entire population, so that all had enough. there were many tailors and dressmakers and shoemakers and the like, who made things that any who desired them might wear. likewise there were jewelers who made ornaments for the person, which pleased and beautified the people, and these ornaments also were free to those who asked for them. each man and woman, no matter what he or she produced for the good of the community, was supplied by the neighbors with food and clothing and a house and furniture and ornaments and games. if by chance the supply ever ran short, more was taken from the great storehouses of the ruler, which were afterward filled up again when there was more of any article than the people needed. every one worked half the time and played half the time, and the people enjoyed the work as much as they did the play, because it is good to be occupied and to have something to do. there were no cruel overseers set to watch them, and no one to rebuke them or to find fault with them. so each one was proud to do all he could for his friends and neighbors, and was glad when they would accept the things he produced. you will know by what i have here told you, that the land of oz was a remarkable country. i do not suppose such an arrangement would be practical with us, but dorothy assures me that it works finely with the oz people. oz being a fairy country, the people were, of course, fairy people; but that does not mean that all of them were very unlike the people of our own world. there were all sorts of queer characters among them, but not a single one who was evil, or who possessed a selfish or violent nature. they were peaceful, kind hearted, loving and merry, and every inhabitant adored the beautiful girl who ruled them and delighted to obey her every command. in spite of all i have said in a general way, there were some parts of the land of oz not quite so pleasant as the farming country and the emerald city which was its center. far away in the south country there lived in the mountains a band of strange people called hammer-heads, because they had no arms and used their flat heads to pound any one who came near them. their necks were like rubber, so that they could shoot out their heads to quite a distance, and afterward draw them back again to their shoulders. the hammer-heads were called the "wild people," but never harmed any but those who disturbed them in the mountains where they lived. in some of the dense forests there lived great beasts of every sort; yet these were for the most part harmless and even sociable, and conversed agreeably with those who visited their haunts. the kalidahs--beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers--had once been fierce and bloodthirsty, but even they were now nearly all tamed, although at times one or another of them would get cross and disagreeable. not so tame were the fighting trees, which had a forest of their own. if any one approached them these curious trees would bend down their branches, twine them around the intruders, and hurl them away. but these unpleasant things existed only in a few remote parts of the land of oz. i suppose every country has some drawbacks, so even this almost perfect fairyland could not be quite perfect. once there had been wicked witches in the land, too; but now these had all been destroyed; so, as i said, only peace and happiness reigned in oz. for some time ozma had ruled over this fair country, and never was ruler more popular or beloved. she is said to be the most beautiful girl the world has ever known, and her heart and mind are as lovely as her person. dorothy gale had several times visited the emerald city and experienced adventures in the land of oz, so that she and ozma had now become firm friends. the girl ruler had even made dorothy a princess of oz, and had often implored her to come to ozma's stately palace and live there always; but dorothy had been loyal to her aunt em and uncle henry, who had cared for her since she was a baby, and she had refused to leave them because she knew they would be lonely without her. however, dorothy now realized that things were going to be different with her uncle and aunt from this time forth, so after giving the matter deep thought she decided to ask ozma to grant her a very great favor. a few seconds after she had made the secret signal in her little bedchamber, the kansas girl was seated in a lovely room in ozma's palace in the emerald city of oz. when the first loving kisses and embraces had been exchanged, the fair ruler inquired: "what is the matter, dear? i know something unpleasant has happened to you, for your face was very sober when i saw it in my magic picture. and whenever you signal me to transport you to this safe place, where you are always welcome, i know you are in danger or in trouble." dorothy sighed. "this time, ozma, it isn't i," she replied. "but it's worse, i guess, for uncle henry and aunt em are in a heap of trouble, and there seems no way for them to get out of it--anyhow, not while they live in kansas." "tell me about it, dorothy," said ozma, with ready sympathy. "why, you see uncle henry is poor; for the farm in kansas doesn't 'mount to much, as farms go. so one day uncle henry borrowed some money, and wrote a letter saying that if he didn't pay the money back they could take his farm for pay. course he 'spected to pay by making money from the farm; but he just couldn't. an' so they're going to take the farm, and uncle henry and aunt em won't have any place to live. they're pretty old to do much hard work, ozma; so i'll have to work for them, unless--" ozma had been thoughtful during the story, but now she smiled and pressed her little friend's hand. "unless what, dear?" she asked. dorothy hesitated, because her request meant so much to them all. "well," said she, "i'd like to live here in the land of oz, where you've often 'vited me to live. but i can't, you know, unless uncle henry and aunt em could live here too." "of course not," exclaimed the ruler of oz, laughing gaily. "so, in order to get you, little friend, we must invite your uncle and aunt to live in oz, also." "oh, will you, ozma?" cried dorothy, clasping her chubby little hands eagerly. "will you bring them here with the magic belt, and give them a nice little farm in the munchkin country, or the winkie country--or some other place?" "to be sure," answered ozma, full of joy at the chance to please her little friend. "i have long been thinking of this very thing, dorothy dear, and often i have had it in my mind to propose it to you. i am sure your uncle and aunt must be good and worthy people, or you would not love them so much; and for your friends, princess, there is always room in the land of oz." dorothy was delighted, yet not altogether surprised, for she had clung to the hope that ozma would be kind enough to grant her request. when, indeed, had her powerful and faithful friend refused her anything? "but you must not call me 'princess'," she said; "for after this i shall live on the little farm with uncle henry and aunt em, and princesses ought not to live on farms." "princess dorothy will not," replied ozma with her sweet smile. "you are going to live in your own rooms in this palace, and be my constant companion." "but uncle henry--" began dorothy. "oh, he is old, and has worked enough in his lifetime," interrupted the girl ruler; "so we must find a place for your uncle and aunt where they will be comfortable and happy and need not work more than they care to. when shall we transport them here, dorothy?" "i promised to go and see them again before they were turned out of the farmhouse," answered dorothy; "so--perhaps next saturday--" "but why wait so long?" asked ozma. "and why make the journey back to kansas again? let us surprise them, and bring them here without any warning." "i'm not sure that they believe in the land of oz," said dorothy, "though i've told 'em 'bout it lots of times." "they'll believe when they see it," declared ozma; "and if they are told they are to make a magical journey to our fairyland, it may make them nervous. i think the best way will be to use the magic belt without warning them, and when they have arrived you can explain to them whatever they do not understand." "perhaps that's best," decided dorothy. "there isn't much use in their staying at the farm until they are put out, 'cause it's much nicer here." "then to-morrow morning they shall come here," said princess ozma. "i will order jellia jamb, who is the palace housekeeper, to have rooms all prepared for them, and after breakfast we will get the magic belt and by its aid transport your uncle and aunt to the emerald city." "thank you, ozma!" cried dorothy, kissing her friend gratefully. "and now," ozma proposed, "let us take a walk in the gardens before we dress for dinner. come, dorothy dear!" . how the nome king planned revenge the reason most people are bad is because they do not try to be good. now, the nome king had never tried to be good, so he was very bad indeed. having decided to conquer the land of oz and to destroy the emerald city and enslave all its people, king roquat the red kept planning ways to do this dreadful thing, and the more he planned the more he believed he would be able to accomplish it. about the time dorothy went to ozma the nome king called his chief steward to him and said: "kaliko, i think i shall make you the general of my armies." "i think you won't," replied kaliko, positively. "why not?" inquired the king, reaching for his scepter with the big sapphire. "because i'm your chief steward and know nothing of warfare," said kaliko, preparing to dodge if anything were thrown at him. "i manage all the affairs of your kingdom better than you could yourself, and you'll never find another steward as good as i am. but there are a hundred nomes better fitted to command your army, and your generals get thrown away so often that i have no desire to be one of them." "ah, there is some truth in your remarks, kaliko," remarked the king, deciding not to throw the scepter. "summon my army to assemble in the great cavern." kaliko bowed and retired, and in a few minutes returned to say that the army was assembled. so the king went out upon a balcony that overlooked the great cavern, where fifty thousand nomes, all armed with swords and pikes, stood marshaled in military array. when they were not required as soldiers all these nomes were metal workers and miners, and they had hammered so much at the forges and dug so hard with pick and shovel that they had acquired great muscular strength. they were strangely formed creatures, rather round and not very tall. their toes were curly and their ears broad and flat. in time of war every nome left his forge or mine and became part of the great army of king roquat. the soldiers wore rock-colored uniforms and were excellently drilled. the king looked upon this tremendous army, which stood silently arrayed before him, and a cruel smile curled the corners of his mouth, for he saw that his legions were very powerful. then he addressed them from the balcony, saying: "i have thrown away general blug, because he did not please me. so i want another general to command this army. who is next in command?" "i am," replied colonel crinkle, a dapper-looking nome, as he stepped forward to salute his monarch. the king looked at him carefully and said: "i want you to march this army through an underground tunnel, which i am going to bore, to the emerald city of oz. when you get there i want you to conquer the oz people, destroy them and their city, and bring all their gold and silver and precious stones back to my cavern. also you are to recapture my magic belt and return it to me. will you do this, general crinkle?" "no, your majesty," replied the nome; "for it can't be done." "oh indeed!" exclaimed the king. then he turned to his servants and said: "please take general crinkle to the torture chamber. there you will kindly slice him into thin slices. afterward you may feed him to the seven-headed dogs." "anything to oblige your majesty," replied the servants, politely, and led the condemned man away. when they had gone, the king addressed the army again. "listen!" said he. "the general who is to command my armies must promise to carry out my orders. if he fails he will share the fate of poor crinkle. now, then, who will volunteer to lead my hosts to the emerald city?" for a time no one moved and all were silent. then an old nome with white whiskers so long that they were tied around his waist to prevent their tripping him up, stepped out of the ranks and saluted the king. "i'd like to ask a few questions, your majesty," he said. "go ahead," replied the king. "these oz people are quite good, are they not?" "as good as apple pie," said the king. "and they are happy, i suppose?" continued the old nome. "happy as the day is long," said the king. "and contented and prosperous?" inquired the nome. "very much so," said the king. "well, your majesty," remarked he of the white whiskers, "i think i should like to undertake the job, so i'll be your general. i hate good people; i detest happy people; i'm opposed to any one who is contented and prosperous. that is why i am so fond of your majesty. make me your general and i'll promise to conquer and destroy the oz people. if i fail i'm ready to be sliced thin and fed to the seven-headed dogs." "very good! very good, indeed! that's the way to talk!" cried roquat the red, who was greatly pleased. "what is your name, general?" "i'm called guph, your majesty." "well, guph, come with me to my private cave, and we'll talk it over." then he turned to the army. "nomes and soldiers," said he, "you are to obey the commands of general guph until he becomes dog-feed. any man who fails to obey his new general will be promptly thrown away. you are now dismissed." guph went to the king's private cave and sat down upon an amethyst chair and put his feet on the arm of the king's ruby throne. then he lighted his pipe and threw the live coal he had taken from his pocket upon the king's left foot and puffed the smoke into the king's eyes and made himself comfortable. for he was a wise old nome, and he knew that the best way to get along with roquat the red was to show that he was not afraid of him. "i'm ready for the talk, your majesty," he said. the king coughed and looked at his new general fiercely. "do you not tremble to take such liberties with your monarch?" he asked. "oh no," replied guph, calmly, and he blew a wreath of smoke that curled around the king's nose and made him sneeze. "you want to conquer the emerald city, and i'm the only nome in all your dominions who can conquer it. so you will be very careful not to hurt me until i have carried out your wishes. after that--" "well, what then?" inquired the king. "then you will be so grateful to me that you won't care to hurt me," replied the general. "that is a very good argument," said roquat. "but suppose you fail?" "then it's the slicing machine. i agree to that," announced guph. "but if you do as i tell you there will be no failure. the trouble with you, roquat, is that you don't think carefully enough. i do. you would go ahead and march through your tunnel into oz, and get defeated and driven back. i won't. and the reason i won't is because when i march i'll have all my plans made, and a host of allies to assist my nomes." "what do you mean by that?" asked the king. "i'll explain, king roquat. you're going to attack a fairy country, and a mighty fairy country, too. they haven't much of an army in oz, but the princess who ruled them has a fairy wand; and the little girl dorothy has your magic belt; and at the north of the emerald city lives a clever sorceress called glinda the good, who commands the spirits of the air. also i have heard that there is a wonderful wizard in ozma's palace, who is so skillful that people used to pay him money in america to see him perform. so you see it will be no easy thing to overcome all this magic." "we have fifty thousand soldiers!" cried the king proudly. "yes; but they are nomes," remarked guph, taking a silk handkerchief from the king's pocket and wiping his own pointed shoes with it. "nomes are immortals, but they are not strong on magic. when you lost your famous belt the greater part of your own power was gone from you. against ozma you and your nomes would have no show at all." roquat's eyes flashed angrily. "then away you go to the slicing machine!" he cried. "not yet," said the general, filling his pipe from the king's private tobacco pouch. "what do you propose to do?" asked the monarch. "i propose to obtain the power we need," answered guph. "there are a good many evil creatures who have magic powers sufficient to destroy and conquer the land of oz. we will get them on our side, band them all together, and then take ozma and her people by surprise. it's all very simple and easy when you know how. alone, we should be helpless to injure the ruler of oz, but with the aid of the evil powers we can summon we shall easily succeed." king roquat was delighted with this idea, for he realized how clever it was. "surely, guph, you are the greatest general i have ever had!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy. "you must go at once and make arrangements with the evil powers to assist us, and meantime i'll begin to dig the tunnel." "i thought you'd agree with me, roquat," replied the new general. "i'll start this very afternoon to visit the chief of the whimsies." . how dorothy became a princess when the people of the emerald city heard that dorothy had returned to them every one was eager to see her, for the little girl was a general favorite in the land of oz. from time to time some of the folk from the great outside world had found their way into this fairyland, but all except one had been companions of dorothy and had turned out to be very agreeable people. the exception i speak of was the wonderful wizard of oz, a sleight-of-hand performer from omaha who went up in a balloon and was carried by a current of air to the emerald city. his queer and puzzling tricks made the people of oz believe him a great wizard for a time, and he ruled over them until dorothy arrived on her first visit and showed the wizard to be a mere humbug. he was a gentle, kind-hearted little man, and dorothy grew to like him afterward. when, after an absence, the wizard returned to the land of oz, ozma received him graciously and gave him a home in a part of the palace. in addition to the wizard two other personages from the outside world had been allowed to make their home in the emerald city. the first was a quaint shaggy man, whom ozma had made the governor of the royal storehouses, and the second a yellow hen named billina, who had a fine house in the gardens back of the palace, where she looked after a large family. both these had been old comrades of dorothy, so you see the little girl was quite an important personage in oz, and the people thought she had brought them good luck, and loved her next best to ozma. during her several visits this little girl had been the means of destroying two wicked witches who oppressed the people, and she had discovered a live scarecrow who was now one of the most popular personages in all the fairy country. with the scarecrow's help she had rescued nick chopper, a tin woodman, who had rusted in a lonely forest, and the tin man was now the emperor of the country of the winkies and much beloved because of his kind heart. no wonder the people thought dorothy had brought them good luck! yet, strange as it may seem, she had accomplished all these wonders not because she was a fairy or had any magical powers whatever, but because she was a simple, sweet and true little girl who was honest to herself and to all whom she met. in this world in which we live simplicity and kindness are the only magic wands that work wonders, and in the land of oz dorothy found these same qualities had won for her the love and admiration of the people. indeed, the little girl had made many warm friends in the fairy country, and the only real grief the ozites had ever experienced was when dorothy left them and returned to her kansas home. now she received a joyful welcome, although no one except ozma knew at first that she had finally come to stay for good and all. that evening dorothy had many callers, and among them were such important people as tiktok, a machine man who thought and spoke and moved by clockwork; her old companion the genial shaggy man; jack pumpkinhead, whose body was brush-wood and whose head was a ripe pumpkin with a face carved upon it; the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, two great beasts from the forest, who served princess ozma, and professor h. m. wogglebug, t.e. this wogglebug was a remarkable creature. he had once been a tiny little bug, crawling around in a school-room, but he was discovered and highly magnified so that he could be seen more plainly, and while in this magnified condition he had escaped. he had always remained big, and he dressed like a dandy and was so full of knowledge and information (which are distinct acquirements) that he had been made a professor and the head of the royal college. dorothy had a nice visit with these old friends, and also talked a long time with the wizard, who was little and old and withered and dried up, but as merry and active as a child. afterward, she went to see billina's fast-growing family of chicks. toto, dorothy's little black dog, also met with a cordial reception. toto was an especial friend of the shaggy man, and he knew every one else. being the only dog in the land of oz, he was highly respected by the people, who believed animals entitled to every consideration if they behaved themselves properly. dorothy had four lovely rooms in the palace, which were always reserved for her use and were called "dorothy's rooms." these consisted of a beautiful sitting room, a dressing room, a dainty bedchamber and a big marble bathroom. and in these rooms were everything that heart could desire, placed there with loving thoughtfulness by ozma for her little friend's use. the royal dressmakers had the little girl's measure, so they kept the closets in her dressing room filled with lovely dresses of every description and suitable for every occasion. no wonder dorothy had refrained from bringing with her her old calico and gingham dresses! here everything that was dear to a little girl's heart was supplied in profusion, and nothing so rich and beautiful could ever have been found in the biggest department stores in america. of course dorothy enjoyed all these luxuries, and the only reason she had heretofore preferred to live in kansas was because her uncle and aunt loved her and needed her with them. now, however, all was to be changed, and dorothy was really more delighted to know that her dear relatives were to share in her good fortune and enjoy the delights of the land of oz, than she was to possess such luxury for herself. next morning, at ozma's request, dorothy dressed herself in a pretty sky-blue gown of rich silk, trimmed with real pearls. the buckles of her shoes were set with pearls, too, and more of these priceless gems were on a lovely coronet which she wore upon her forehead. "for," said her friend ozma, "from this time forth, my dear, you must assume your rightful rank as a princess of oz, and being my chosen companion you must dress in a way befitting the dignity of your position." dorothy agreed to this, although she knew that neither gowns nor jewels could make her anything else than the simple, unaffected little girl she had always been. as soon as they had breakfasted--the girls eating together in ozma's pretty boudoir--the ruler of oz said: "now, dear friend, we will use the magic belt to transport your uncle and aunt from kansas to the emerald city. but i think it would be fitting, in receiving such distinguished guests, for us to sit in my throne room." "oh, they're not very 'stinguished, ozma," said dorothy. "they're just plain people, like me." "being your friends and relatives, princess dorothy, they are certainly distinguished," replied the ruler, with a smile. "they--they won't hardly know what to make of all your splendid furniture and things," protested dorothy, gravely. "it may scare 'em to see your grand throne room, an' p'raps we'd better go into the back yard, ozma, where the cabbages grow an' the chickens are playing. then it would seem more natural to uncle henry and aunt em." "no; they shall first see me in my throne room," replied ozma, decidedly; and when she spoke in that tone dorothy knew it was not wise to oppose her, for ozma was accustomed to having her own way. so together they went to the throne room, an immense domed chamber in the center of the palace. here stood the royal throne, made of solid gold and encrusted with enough precious stones to stock a dozen jewelry stores in our country. ozma, who was wearing the magic belt, seated herself in the throne, and dorothy sat at her feet. in the room were assembled many ladies and gentlemen of the court, clothed in rich apparel and wearing fine jewelry. two immense animals squatted, one on each side of the throne--the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger. in a balcony high up in the dome an orchestra played sweet music, and beneath the dome two electric fountains sent sprays of colored perfumed water shooting up nearly as high as the arched ceiling. "are you ready, dorothy?" asked the ruler. "i am," replied dorothy; "but i don't know whether aunt em and uncle henry are ready." "that won't matter," declared ozma. "the old life can have very little to interest them, and the sooner they begin the new life here the happier they will be. here they come, my dear!" as she spoke, there before the throne appeared uncle henry and aunt em, who for a moment stood motionless, glaring with white and startled faces at the scene that confronted them. if the ladies and gentlemen present had not been so polite i am sure they would have laughed at the two strangers. aunt em had her calico dress skirt "tucked up," and she wore a faded, blue-checked apron. her hair was rather straggly and she had on a pair of uncle henry's old slippers. in one hand she held a dish-towel and in the other a cracked earthenware plate, which she had been engaged in wiping when so suddenly transported to the land of oz. uncle henry, when the summons came, had been out in the barn "doin' chores." he wore a ragged and much soiled straw hat, a checked shirt without any collar and blue overalls tucked into the tops of his old cowhide boots. "by gum!" gasped uncle henry, looking around as if bewildered. "well, i swan!" gurgled aunt em in a hoarse, frightened voice. then her eyes fell upon dorothy, and she said: "d-d-d-don't that look like our little girl--our dorothy, henry?" "hi, there--look out, em!" exclaimed the old man, as aunt em advanced a step; "take care o' the wild beastses, or you're a goner!" but now dorothy sprang forward and embraced and kissed her aunt and uncle affectionately, afterward taking their hands in her own. "don't be afraid," she said to them. "you are now in the land of oz, where you are to live always, and be comfer'ble an' happy. you'll never have to worry over anything again, 'cause there won't be anything to worry about. and you owe it all to the kindness of my friend princess ozma." here she led them before the throne and continued: "your highness, this is uncle henry. and this is aunt em. they want to thank you for bringing them here from kansas." aunt em tried to "slick" her hair, and she hid the dish-towel and dish under her apron while she bowed to the lovely ozma. uncle henry took off his straw hat and held it awkwardly in his hands. but the ruler of oz rose and came from her throne to greet her newly arrived guests, and she smiled as sweetly upon them as if they had been a king and queen. "you are very welcome here, where i have brought you for princess dorothy's sake," she said, graciously, "and i hope you will be quite happy in your new home." then she turned to her courtiers, who were silently and gravely regarding the scene, and added: "i present to my people our princess dorothy's beloved uncle henry and aunt em, who will hereafter be subjects of our kingdom. it will please me to have you show them every kindness and honor in your power, and to join me in making them happy and contented." hearing this, all those assembled bowed low and respectfully to the old farmer and his wife, who bobbed their own heads in return. "and now," said ozma to them, "dorothy will show you the rooms prepared for you. i hope you will like them, and shall expect you to join me at luncheon." so dorothy led her relatives away, and as soon as they were out of the throne room and alone in the corridor, aunt em squeezed dorothy's hand and said: "child, child! how in the world did we ever get here so quick? and is it all real? and are we to stay here, as she says? and what does it all mean, anyhow?" dorothy laughed. "why didn't you tell us what you were goin' to do?" inquired uncle henry, reproachfully. "if i'd known about it, i'd 'a put on my sunday clothes." "i'll 'splain ever'thing as soon as we get to your rooms," promised dorothy. "you're in great luck, uncle henry and aunt em; an' so am i! and oh! i'm so happy to have got you here, at last!" as he walked by the little girl's side, uncle henry stroked his whiskers thoughtfully. "'pears to me, dorothy, we won't make bang-up fairies," he remarked. "an' my back hair looks like a fright!" wailed aunt em. "never mind," returned the little girl, reassuringly. "you won't have anything to do now but to look pretty, aunt em; an' uncle henry won't have to work till his back aches, that's certain." "sure?" they asked, wonderingly, and in the same breath. "course i'm sure," said dorothy. "you're in the fairyland of oz, now; an' what's more, you belong to it!" . how guph visited the whimsies the new general of the nome king's army knew perfectly well that to fail in his plans meant death for him. yet he was not at all anxious or worried. he hated every one who was good and longed to make all who were happy unhappy. therefore he had accepted this dangerous position as general quite willingly, feeling sure in his evil mind that he would be able to do a lot of mischief and finally conquer the land of oz. yet guph determined to be careful, and to lay his plans well, so as not to fail. he argued that only careless people fail in what they attempt to do. the mountains underneath which the nome king's extensive caverns were located lay grouped just north of the land of ev, which lay directly across the deadly desert to the east of the land of oz. as the mountains were also on the edge of the desert the nome king found that he had only to tunnel underneath the desert to reach ozma's dominions. he did not wish his armies to appear above ground in the country of the winkies, which was the part of the land of oz nearest to king roquat's own country, as then the people would give the alarm and enable ozma to fortify the emerald city and assemble an army. he wanted to take all the oz people by surprise; so he decided to run the tunnel clear through to the emerald city, where he and his hosts could break through the ground without warning and conquer the people before they had time to defend themselves. roquat the red began work at once upon his tunnel, setting a thousand miners at the task and building it high and broad enough for his armies to march through it with ease. the nomes were used to making tunnels, as all the kingdom in which they lived was under ground; so they made rapid progress. while this work was going on general guph started out alone to visit the chief of the whimsies. these whimsies were curious people who lived in a retired country of their own. they had large, strong bodies, but heads so small that they were no bigger than door-knobs. of course, such tiny heads could not contain any great amount of brains, and the whimsies were so ashamed of their personal appearance and lack of commonsense that they wore big heads made of pasteboard, which they fastened over their own little heads. on these pasteboard heads they sewed sheep's wool for hair, and the wool was colored many tints--pink, green and lavender being the favorite colors. the faces of these false heads were painted in many ridiculous ways, according to the whims of the owners, and these big, burly creatures looked so whimsical and absurd in their queer masks that they were called "whimsies." they foolishly imagined that no one would suspect the little heads that were inside the imitation ones, not knowing that it is folly to try to appear otherwise than as nature has made us. the chief of the whimsies had as little wisdom as the others, and had been chosen chief merely because none among them was any wiser or more capable of ruling. the whimsies were evil spirits and could not be killed. they were hated and feared by every one and were known as terrible fighters because they were so strong and muscular and had not sense enough to know when they were defeated. general guph thought the whimsies would be a great help to the nomes in the conquest of oz, for under his leadership they could be induced to fight as long so they could stand up. so he traveled to their country and asked to see the chief, who lived in a house that had a picture of his grotesque false head painted over the doorway. the chief's false head had blue hair, a turned-up nose, and a mouth that stretched half across the face. big green eyes had been painted upon it, but in the center of the chin were two small holes made in the pasteboard, so that the chief could see through them with his own tiny eyes; for when the big head was fastened upon his shoulders the eyes in his own natural head were on a level with the false chin. said general guph to the chief of the whimsies: "we nomes are going to conquer the land of oz and capture our king's magic belt, which the oz people stole from him. then we are going to plunder and destroy the whole country. and we want the whimsies to help us." "will there be any fighting?" asked the chief. "plenty," replied guph. that must have pleased the chief, for he got up and danced around the room three times. then he seated himself again, adjusted his false head, and said: "we have no quarrel with ozma of oz." "but you whimsies love to fight, and here is a splendid chance to do so," urged guph. "wait till i sing a song," said the chief. then he lay back in his chair and sang a foolish song that did not seem to the general to mean anything, although he listened carefully. when he had finished, the chief whimsie looked at him through the holes in his chin and asked: "what reward will you give us if we help you?" the general was prepared for this question, for he had been thinking the matter over on his journey. people often do a good deed without hope of reward, but for an evil deed they always demand payment. "when we get our magic belt," he made reply, "our king, roquat the red, will use its power to give every whimsie a natural head as big and fine as the false head he now wears. then you will no longer be ashamed because your big strong bodies have such teenty-weenty heads." "oh! will you do that?" asked the chief, eagerly. "we surely will," promised the general. "i'll talk to my people," said the chief. so he called a meeting of all the whimsies and told them of the offer made by the nomes. the creatures were delighted with the bargain, and at once agreed to fight for the nome king and help him to conquer oz. one whimsie alone seemed to have a glimmer of sense, for he asked: "suppose we fail to capture the magic belt? what will happen then, and what good will all our fighting do?" but they threw him into the river for asking foolish questions, and laughed when the water ruined his pasteboard head before he could swim out again. so the compact was made and general guph was delighted with his success in gaining such powerful allies. but there were other people, too, just as important as the whimsies, whom the clever old nome had determined to win to his side. . how aunt em conquered the lion "these are your rooms," said dorothy, opening a door. aunt em drew back at the sight of the splendid furniture and draperies. "ain't there any place to wipe my feet?" she asked. "you will soon change your slippers for new shoes," replied dorothy. "don't be afraid, aunt em. here is where you are to live, so walk right in and make yourself at home." aunt em advanced hesitatingly. "it beats the topeka hotel!" she cried admiringly. "but this place is too grand for us, child. can't we have some back room in the attic, that's more in our class?" "no," said dorothy. "you've got to live here, 'cause ozma says so. and all the rooms in this palace are just as fine as these, and some are better. it won't do any good to fuss, aunt em. you've got to be swell and high-toned in the land of oz, whether you want to or not; so you may as well make up your mind to it." "it's hard luck," replied her aunt, looking around with an awed expression; "but folks can get used to anything, if they try. eh, henry?" "why, as to that," said uncle henry, slowly, "i b'lieve in takin' what's pervided us, an' askin' no questions. i've traveled some, em, in my time, and you hain't; an' that makes a difference atween us." then dorothy showed them through the rooms. the first was a handsome sitting-room, with windows opening upon the rose gardens. then came separate bedrooms for aunt em and uncle henry, with a fine bathroom between them. aunt em had a pretty dressing room, besides, and dorothy opened the closets and showed several exquisite costumes that had been provided for her aunt by the royal dressmakers, who had worked all night to get them ready. everything that aunt em could possibly need was in the drawers and closets, and her dressing-table was covered with engraved gold toilet articles. uncle henry had nine suits of clothes, cut in the popular munchkin fashion, with knee-breeches, silk stockings, and low shoes with jeweled buckles. the hats to match these costumes had pointed tops and wide brims with small gold bells around the edges. his shirts were of fine linen with frilled bosoms, and his vests were richly embroidered with colored silks. uncle henry decided that he would first take a bath and then dress himself in a blue satin suit that had caught his fancy. he accepted his good fortune with calm composure and refused to have a servant to assist him. but aunt em was "all of a flutter," as she said, and it took dorothy and jellia jamb, the housekeeper, and two maids a long time to dress her and do up her hair and get her "rigged like a popinjay," as she quaintly expressed it. she wanted to stop and admire everything that caught her eye, and she sighed continually and declared that such finery was too good for an old country woman, and that she never thought she would have to "put on airs" at her time of life. finally she was dressed, and when she went into the sitting-room there was uncle henry in his blue satin, walking gravely up and down the room. he had trimmed his beard and mustache and looked very dignified and respectable. "tell me, dorothy," he said; "do all the men here wear duds like these?" "yes," she replied; "all 'cept the scarecrow and the shaggy man--and of course the tin woodman and tiktok, who are made of metal. you'll find all the men at ozma's court dressed just as you are--only perhaps a little finer." "henry, you look like a play-actor," announced aunt em, looking at her husband critically. "an' you, em, look more highfalutin' than a peacock," he replied. "i guess you're right," she said regretfully; "but we're helpless victims of high-toned royalty." dorothy was much amused. "come with me," she said, "and i'll show you 'round the palace." she took them through the beautiful rooms and introduced them to all the people they chanced to meet. also she showed them her own pretty rooms, which were not far from their own. "so it's all true," said aunt em, wide-eyed with amazement, "and what dorothy told us of this fairy country was plain facts instead of dreams! but where are all the strange creatures you used to know here?" "yes, where's the scarecrow?" inquired uncle henry. "why, he's just now away on a visit to the tin woodman, who is emp'ror of the winkie country," answered the little girl. "you'll see him when he comes back, and you're sure to like him." "and where's the wonderful wizard?" asked aunt em. "you'll see him at ozma's luncheon, for he lives here in this palace," was the reply. "and jack pumpkinhead?" "oh, he lives a little way out of town, in his own pumpkin field. we'll go there some time and see him, and we'll call on professor wogglebug, too. the shaggy man will be at the luncheon, i guess, and tiktok. and now i'll take you out to see billina, who has a house of her own." so they went into the back yard, and after walking along winding paths some distance through the beautiful gardens they came to an attractive little house where the yellow hen sat on the front porch sunning herself. "good morning, my dear mistress," called billina, fluttering down to meet them. "i was expecting you to call, for i heard you had come back and brought your uncle and aunt with you." "we're here for good and all, this time, billina," cried dorothy, joyfully. "uncle henry and aunt em belong to oz now as much as i do!" "then they are very lucky people," declared billina; "for there couldn't be a nicer place to live. but come, my dear; i must show you all my dorothys. nine are living and have grown up to be very respectable hens; but one took cold at ozma's birthday party and died of the pip, and the other two turned out to be horrid roosters, so i had to change their names from dorothy to daniel. they all had the letter 'd' engraved upon their gold lockets, you remember, with your picture inside, and 'd' stands for daniel as well as for dorothy." "did you call both the roosters daniel?" asked uncle henry. "yes, indeed. i've nine dorothys and two daniels; and the nine dorothys have eighty-six sons and daughters and over three hundred grandchildren," said billina, proudly. "what names do you give 'em all, dear?" inquired the little girl. "oh, they are all dorothys and daniels, some being juniors and some double-juniors. dorothy and daniel are two good names, and i see no object in hunting for others," declared the yellow hen. "but just think, dorothy, what a big chicken family we've grown to be, and our numbers increase nearly every day! ozma doesn't know what to do with all the eggs we lay, and we are never eaten or harmed in any way, as chickens are in your country. they give us everything to make us contented and happy, and i, my dear, am the acknowledged queen and governor of every chicken in oz, because i'm the eldest and started the whole colony." "you ought to be very proud, ma'am," said uncle henry, who was astonished to hear a hen talk so sensibly. "oh, i am," she replied. "i've the loveliest pearl necklace you ever saw. come in the house and i'll show it to you. and i've nine leg bracelets and a diamond pin for each wing. but i only wear them on state occasions." they followed the yellow hen into the house, which aunt em declared was neat as a pin. they could not sit down, because all billina's chairs were roosting-poles made of silver; so they had to stand while the hen fussily showed them her treasures. then they had to go into the back rooms occupied by billina's nine dorothys and two daniels, who were all plump yellow chickens and greeted the visitors very politely. it was easy to see that they were well bred and that billina had looked after their education. in the yards were all the children and grandchildren of these eleven elders and they were of all sizes, from well-grown hens to tiny chickens just out of the shell. about fifty fluffy yellow youngsters were at school, being taught good manners and good grammar by a young hen who wore spectacles. they sang in chorus a patriotic song of the land of oz, in honor of their visitors, and aunt em was much impressed by these talking chickens. dorothy wanted to stay and play with the young chickens for awhile, but uncle henry and aunt em had not seen the palace grounds and gardens yet and were eager to get better acquainted with the marvelous and delightful land in which they were to live. "i'll stay here, and you can go for a walk," said dorothy. "you'll be perfec'ly safe anywhere, and may do whatever you want to. when you get tired, go back to the palace and find your rooms, and i'll come to you before luncheon is ready." so uncle henry and aunt em started out alone to explore the grounds, and dorothy knew that they couldn't get lost, because all the palace grounds were enclosed by a high wall of green marble set with emeralds. it was a rare treat to these simple folk, who had lived in the country all their lives and known little enjoyment of any sort, to wear beautiful clothes and live in a palace and be treated with respect and consideration by all around them. they were very happy indeed as they strolled up the shady walks and looked upon the gorgeous flowers and shrubs, feeling that their new home was more beautiful than any tongue could describe. suddenly, as they turned a corner and walked through a gap in a high hedge, they came face to face with an enormous lion, which crouched upon the green lawn and seemed surprised by their appearance. they stopped short, uncle henry trembling with horror and aunt em too terrified to scream. next moment the poor woman clasped her husband around the neck and cried: "save me, henry, save me!" "can't even save myself, em," he returned, in a husky voice, "for the animile looks as if it could eat both of us an' lick its chops for more! if i only had a gun--" "haven't you, henry? haven't you?" she asked anxiously. "nary gun, em. so let's die as brave an' graceful as we can. i knew our luck couldn't last!" "i won't die. i won't be eaten by a lion!" wailed aunt em, glaring upon the huge beast. then a thought struck her, and she whispered, "henry, i've heard as savage beastses can be conquered by the human eye. i'll eye that lion out o' countenance an' save our lives." "try it, em," he returned, also in a whisper. "look at him as you do at me when i'm late to dinner." aunt em turned upon the lion a determined countenance and a wild dilated eye. she glared at the immense beast steadily, and the lion, who had been quietly blinking at them, began to appear uneasy and disturbed. "is anything the matter, ma'am?" he asked, in a mild voice. at this speech from the terrible beast aunt em and uncle henry both were startled, and then uncle henry remembered that this must be the lion they had seen in ozma's throne room. "hold on, em!" he exclaimed. "quit the eagle eye conquest an' take courage. i guess this is the same cowardly lion dorothy has told us about." "oh, is it?" she cried, much relieved. "when he spoke, i got the idea; and when he looked so 'shamed like, i was sure of it," uncle henry continued. aunt em regarded the animal with new interest. "are you the cowardly lion?" she inquired. "are you dorothy's friend?" "yes'm," answered the lion, meekly. "dorothy and i are old chums and are very fond of each other. i'm the king of beasts, you know, and the hungry tiger and i serve princess ozma as her body guards." "to be sure," said aunt em, nodding. "but the king of beasts shouldn't be cowardly." "i've heard that said before," remarked the lion, yawning till he showed two great rows of sharp white teeth; "but that does not keep me from being frightened whenever i go into battle." "what do you do, run?" asked uncle henry. "no; that would be foolish, for the enemy would run after me," declared the lion. "so i tremble with fear and pitch in as hard as i can; and so far i have always won my fight." "ah, i begin to understand," said uncle henry. "were you scared when i looked at you just now?" inquired aunt em. "terribly scared, madam," answered the lion, "for at first i thought you were going to have a fit. then i noticed you were trying to overcome me by the power of your eye, and your glance was so fierce and penetrating that i shook with fear." this greatly pleased the lady, and she said quite cheerfully: "well, i won't hurt you, so don't be scared any more. i just wanted to see what the human eye was good for." "the human eye is a fearful weapon," remarked the lion, scratching his nose softly with his paw to hide a smile. "had i not known you were dorothy's friends i might have torn you both into shreds in order to escape your terrible gaze." aunt em shuddered at hearing this, and uncle henry said hastily: "i'm glad you knew us. good morning, mr. lion; we'll hope to see you again--by and by--some time in the future." "good morning," replied the lion, squatting down upon the lawn again. "you are likely to see a good deal of me, if you live in the land of oz." . how the grand gallipoot joined the nomes after leaving the whimsies, guph continued on his journey and penetrated far into the northwest. he wanted to get to the country of the growleywogs, and in order to do that he must cross the ripple land, which was a hard thing to do. for the ripple land was a succession of hills and valleys, all very steep and rocky, and they changed places constantly by rippling. while guph was climbing a hill it sank down under him and became a valley, and while he was descending into a valley it rose up and carried him to the top of a hill. this was very perplexing to the traveler, and a stranger might have thought he could never cross the ripple land at all. but guph knew that if he kept steadily on he would get to the end at last; so he paid no attention to the changing hills and valleys and plodded along as calmly as if walking upon the level ground. the result of this wise persistence was that the general finally reached firmer soil and, after penetrating a dense forest, came to the dominion of the growleywogs. no sooner had he crossed the border of this domain when two guards seized him and carried him before the grand gallipoot of the growleywogs, who scowled upon him ferociously and asked him why he dared intrude upon his territory. "i'm the lord high general of the invincible army of the nomes, and my name is guph," was the reply. "all the world trembles when that name is mentioned." the growleywogs gave a shout of jeering laughter at this, and one of them caught the nome in his strong arms and tossed him high into the air. guph was considerably shaken when he fell upon the hard ground, but he appeared to take no notice of the impertinence and composed himself to speak again to the grand gallipoot. "my master, king roquat the red, has sent me here to confer with you. he wishes your assistance to conquer the land of oz." here the general paused, and the grand gallipoot scowled upon him more terribly than ever and said: "go on!" the voice of the grand gallipoot was partly a roar and partly a growl. he mumbled his words badly and guph had to listen carefully in order to understand him. these growleywogs were certainly remarkable creatures. they were of gigantic size, yet were all bone and skin and muscle, there being no meat or fat upon their bodies at all. their powerful muscles lay just underneath their skins, like bunches of tough rope, and the weakest growleywog was so strong that he could pick up an elephant and toss it seven miles away. it seems unfortunate that strong people are usually so disagreeable and overbearing that no one cares for them. in fact, to be different from your fellow creatures is always a misfortune. the growleywogs knew that they were disliked and avoided by every one, so they had become surly and unsociable even among themselves. guph knew that they hated all people, including the nomes; but he hoped to win them over, nevertheless, and knew that if he succeeded they would afford him very powerful assistance. "the land of oz is ruled by a namby-pamby girl who is disgustingly kind and good," he continued. "her people are all happy and contented and have no care or worries whatever." "go on!" growled the grand gallipoot. "once the nome king enslaved the royal family of ev--another goody-goody lot that we detest," said the general. "but ozma interfered, although it was none of her business, and marched her army against us. with her was a kansas girl named dorothy, and a yellow hen, and they marched directly into the nome king's cavern. there they liberated our slaves from ev and stole king roquat's magic belt, which they carried away with them. so now our king is making a tunnel under the deadly desert, so we can march through it to the emerald city. when we get there we mean to conquer and destroy all the land and recapture the magic belt." again he paused, and again the grand gallipoot growled: "go on!" guph tried to think what to say next, and a happy thought soon occurred to him. "we want you to help us in this conquest," he announced, "for we need the mighty aid of the growleywogs in order to make sure that we shall not be defeated. you are the strongest people in all the world, and you hate good and happy creatures as much as we nomes do. i am sure it will be a real pleasure to you to tear down the beautiful emerald city, and in return for your valuable assistance we will allow you to bring back to your country ten thousand people of oz, to be your slaves." "twenty thousand!" growled the grand gallipoot. "all right, we promise you twenty thousand," agreed the general. the gallipoot made a signal and at once his attendants picked up general guph and carried him away to a prison, where the jailer amused himself by sticking pins in the round fat body of the old nome, to see him jump and hear him yell. but while this was going on the grand gallipoot was talking with his counselors, who were the most important officials of the growleywogs. when he had stated to them the proposition of the nome king, he said: "my advice is to offer to help them. then, when we have conquered the land of oz, we will take not only our twenty thousand prisoners but all the gold and jewels we want." "let us take the magic belt, too," suggested one counselor. "and rob the nome king and make him our slave," said another. "that is a good idea," declared the grand gallipoot. "i'd like king roquat for my own slave. he could black my boots and bring me my porridge every morning while i am in bed." "there is a famous scarecrow in oz. i'll take him for my slave," said a counselor. "i'll take tiktok, the machine man," said another. "give me the tin woodman," said a third. they went on for some time, dividing up the people and the treasure of oz in advance of the conquest. for they had no doubt at all that they would be able to destroy ozma's domain. were they not the strongest people in all the world? "the deadly desert has kept us out of oz before," remarked the grand gallipoot, "but now that the nome king is building a tunnel we shall get into the emerald city very easily. so let us send the little fat general back to his king with our promise to assist him. we will not say that we intend to conquer the nomes after we have conquered oz, but we will do so, just the same." this plan being agreed upon, they all went home to dinner, leaving general guph still in prison. the nome had no idea that he had succeeded in his mission, for finding himself in prison he feared the growleywogs intended to put him to death. by this time the jailer had tired of sticking pins in the general, and was amusing himself by carefully pulling the nome's whiskers out by the roots, one at a time. this enjoyment was interrupted by the grand gallipoot sending for the prisoner. "wait a few hours," begged the jailer. "i haven't pulled out a quarter of his whiskers yet." "if you keep the grand gallipoot waiting, he'll break your back," declared the messenger. "perhaps you're right," sighed the jailer. "take the prisoner away, if you will, but i advise you to kick him at every step he takes. it will be good fun, for he is as soft as a ripe peach." so guph was led away to the royal castle, where the grand gallipoot told him that the growleywogs had decided to assist the nomes in conquering the land of oz. "whenever you are ready," he added, "send me word and i will march with eighteen thousand of my most powerful warriors to your aid." guph was so delighted that he forgot all the smarting caused by the pins and the pulling of whiskers. he did not even complain of the treatment he had received, but thanked the grand gallipoot and hurried away upon his journey. he had now secured the assistance of the whimsies and the growleywogs; but his success made him long for still more allies. his own life depended upon his conquering oz, and he said to himself: "i'll take no chances. i'll be certain of success. then, when oz is destroyed, perhaps i shall be a greater man than old roquat, and i can throw him away and be king of the nomes myself. why not? the whimsies are stronger than the nomes, and they also are my friends. there are some people still stronger than the growleywogs, and if i can but induce them to aid me i shall have nothing more to fear." . how the wogglebug taught athletics it did not take dorothy long to establish herself in her new home, for she knew the people and the manners and customs of the emerald city just as well as she knew the old kansas farm. but uncle henry and aunt em had some trouble in getting used to the finery and pomp and ceremony of ozma's palace, and felt uneasy because they were obliged to be "dressed up" all the time. yet every one was very courteous and kind to them and endeavored to make them happy. ozma, especially, made much of dorothy's relatives, for her little friend's sake, and she well knew that the awkwardness and strangeness of their new mode of life would all wear off in time. the old people were chiefly troubled by the fact that there was no work for them to do. "ev'ry day is like sunday, now," declared aunt em, solemnly, "and i can't say i like it. if they'd only let me do up the dishes after meals, or even sweep an' dust my own rooms, i'd be a deal happier. henry don't know what to do with himself either, and once when he stole out an' fed the chickens billina scolded him for letting 'em eat between meals. i never knew before what a hardship it is to be rich and have everything you want." these complaints began to worry dorothy; so she had a long talk with ozma upon the subject. "i see i must find them something to do," said the girlish ruler of oz, seriously. "i have been watching your uncle and aunt, and i believe they will be more contented if occupied with some light tasks. while i am considering this matter, dorothy, you might make a trip with them through the land of oz, visiting some of the odd corners and introducing your relatives to some of our curious people." "oh, that would be fine!" exclaimed dorothy, eagerly. "i will give you an escort befitting your rank as a princess," continued ozma; "and you may go to some of the places you have not yet visited yourself, as well as some others that you know. i will mark out a plan of the trip for you and have everything in readiness for you to start to-morrow morning. take your time, dear, and be gone as long as you wish. by the time you return i shall have found some occupation for uncle henry and aunt em that will keep them from being restless and dissatisfied." dorothy thanked her good friend and kissed the lovely ruler gratefully. then she ran to tell the joyful news to her uncle and aunt. next morning, after breakfast, everything was found ready for their departure. the escort included omby amby, the captain general of ozma's army, which consisted merely of twenty-seven officers besides the captain general. once omby amby had been a private soldier--the only private in the army--but as there was never any fighting to do ozma saw no need of a private, so she made omby amby the highest officer of them all. he was very tall and slim and wore a gay uniform and a fierce mustache. yet the mustache was the only fierce thing about omby amby, whose nature was as gentle as that of a child. the wonderful wizard had asked to join the party, and with him came his friend the shaggy man, who was shaggy but not ragged, being dressed in fine silks with satin shags and bobtails. the shaggy man had shaggy whiskers and hair, but a sweet disposition and a soft, pleasant voice. there was an open wagon, with three seats for the passengers, and the wagon was drawn by the famous wooden sawhorse which had once been brought to life by ozma by means of a magic powder. the sawhorse wore wooden shoes to keep his wooden legs from wearing away, and he was strong and swift. as this curious creature was ozma's own favorite steed, and very popular with all the people of the emerald city, dorothy knew that she had been highly favored by being permitted to use the sawhorse on her journey. in the front seat of the wagon sat dorothy and the wizard. uncle henry and aunt em sat in the next seat and the shaggy man and omby amby in the third seat. of course toto was with the party, curled up at dorothy's feet, and just as they were about to start, billina came fluttering along the path and begged to be taken with them. dorothy readily agreed, so the yellow hen flew up and perched herself upon the dashboard. she wore her pearl necklace and three bracelets upon each leg, in honor of the occasion. dorothy kissed ozma good-bye, and all the people standing around waved their handkerchiefs, and the band in an upper balcony struck up a military march. then the wizard clucked to the sawhorse and said: "gid-dap!" and the wooden animal pranced away and drew behind him the big red wagon and all the passengers, without any effort at all. a servant threw open a gate of the palace enclosure, that they might pass out; and so, with music and shouts following them, the journey was begun. "it's almost like a circus," said aunt em, proudly. "i can't help feelin' high an' mighty in this kind of a turn-out." indeed, as they passed down the street, all the people cheered them lustily, and the shaggy man and the wizard and the captain general all took off their hats and bowed politely in acknowledgment. when they came to the great wall of the emerald city, the gates were opened by the guardian who always tended them. over the gateway hung a dull-colored metal magnet shaped like a horse-shoe, placed against a shield of polished gold. "that," said the shaggy man, impressively, "is the wonderful love magnet. i brought it to the emerald city myself, and all who pass beneath this gateway are both loving and beloved." "it's a fine thing," declared aunt em, admiringly. "if we'd had it in kansas i guess the man who held a mortgage on the farm wouldn't have turned us out." "then i'm glad we didn't have it," returned uncle henry. "i like oz better than kansas, even; an' this little wood sawhorse beats all the critters i ever saw. he don't have to be curried, or fed, or watered, an' he's strong as an ox. can he talk, dorothy?" "yes, uncle," replied the child. "but the sawhorse never says much. he told me once that he can't talk and think at the same time, so he prefers to think." "which is very sensible," declared the wizard, nodding approvingly. "which way do we go, dorothy?" "straight ahead into the quadling country," she answered. "i've got a letter of interduction to miss cuttenclip." "oh!" exclaimed the wizard, much interested. "are we going there? then i'm glad i came, for i've always wanted to meet the cuttenclips." "who are they?" inquired aunt em. "wait till we get there," replied dorothy, with a laugh; "then you'll see for yourself. i've never seen the cuttenclips, you know, so i can't 'zactly 'splain 'em to you." once free of the emerald city the sawhorse dashed away at tremendous speed. indeed, he went so fast that aunt em had hard work to catch her breath, and uncle henry held fast to the seat of the red wagon. "gently--gently, my boy!" called the wizard, and at this the sawhorse slackened his speed. "what's wrong?" asked the animal, slightly turning his wooden head to look at the party with one eye, which was a knot of wood. "why, we wish to admire the scenery, that's all," answered the wizard. "some of your passengers," added the shaggy man, "have never been out of the emerald city before, and the country is all new to them." "if you go too fast you'll spoil all the fun," said dorothy. "there's no hurry." "very well; it is all the same to me," observed the sawhorse; and after that he went at a more moderate pace. uncle henry was astonished. "how can a wooden thing be so intelligent?" he asked. "why, i gave him some sawdust brains the last time i fitted his head with new ears," explained the wizard. "the sawdust was made from hard knots, and now the sawhorse is able to think out any knotty problem he meets with." "i see," said uncle henry. "i don't," remarked aunt em; but no one paid any attention to this statement. before long they came to a stately building that stood upon a green plain with handsome shade trees grouped here and there. "what is that?" asked uncle henry. "that," replied the wizard, "is the royal athletic college of oz, which is directed by professor h. m. wogglebug, t.e." "let's stop and make a call," suggested dorothy. so the sawhorse drew up in front of the great building and they were met at the door by the learned wogglebug himself. he seemed fully as tall as the wizard, and was dressed in a red and white checked vest and a blue swallow-tailed coat, and had yellow knee breeches and purple silk stockings upon his slender legs. a tall hat was jauntily set upon his head and he wore spectacles over his big bright eyes. "welcome, dorothy," said the wogglebug; "and welcome to all your friends. we are indeed pleased to receive you at this great temple of learning." "i thought it was an athletic college," said the shaggy man. "it is, my dear sir," answered the wogglebug, proudly. "here it is that we teach the youth of our great land scientific college athletics--in all their purity." "don't you teach them anything else?" asked dorothy. "don't they get any reading, writing and 'rithmetic?" "oh, yes; of course. they get all those, and more," returned the professor. "but such things occupy little of their time. please follow me and i will show you how my scholars are usually occupied. this is a class hour and they are all busy." they followed him to a big field back of the college building, where several hundred young ozites were at their classes. in one place they played football, in another baseball. some played tennis, some golf; some were swimming in a big pool. upon a river which wound through the grounds several crews in racing boats were rowing with great enthusiasm. other groups of students played basketball and cricket, while in one place a ring was roped in to permit boxing and wrestling by the energetic youths. all the collegians seemed busy and there was much laughter and shouting. "this college," said professor wogglebug, complacently, "is a great success. its educational value is undisputed, and we are turning out many great and valuable citizens every year." "but when do they study?" asked dorothy. "study?" said the wogglebug, looking perplexed at the question. "yes; when do they get their 'rithmetic, and jogerfy, and such things?" "oh, they take doses of those every night and morning," was the reply. "what do you mean by doses?" dorothy inquired, wonderingly. "why, we use the newly invented school pills, made by your friend the wizard. these pills we have found to be very effective, and they save a lot of time. please step this way and i will show you our laboratory of learning." he led them to a room in the building where many large bottles were standing in rows upon shelves. "these are the algebra pills," said the professor, taking down one of the bottles. "one at night, on retiring, is equal to four hours of study. here are the geography pills--one at night and one in the morning. in this next bottle are the latin pills--one three times a day. then we have the grammar pills--one before each meal--and the spelling pills, which are taken whenever needed." "your scholars must have to take a lot of pills," remarked dorothy, thoughtfully. "how do they take 'em, in applesauce?" "no, my dear. they are sugar-coated and are quickly and easily swallowed. i believe the students would rather take the pills than study, and certainly the pills are a more effective method. you see, until these school pills were invented we wasted a lot of time in study that may now be better employed in practicing athletics." "seems to me the pills are a good thing," said omby amby, who remembered how it used to make his head ache as a boy to study arithmetic. "they are, sir," declared the wogglebug, earnestly. "they give us an advantage over all other colleges, because at no loss of time our boys become thoroughly conversant with greek and latin, mathematics and geography, grammar and literature. you see they are never obliged to interrupt their games to acquire the lesser branches of learning." "it's a great invention, i'm sure," said dorothy, looking admiringly at the wizard, who blushed modestly at this praise. "we live in an age of progress," announced professor wogglebug, pompously. "it is easier to swallow knowledge than to acquire it laboriously from books. is it not so, my friends?" "some folks can swallow anything," said aunt em, "but to me this seems too much like taking medicine." "young men in college always have to take their medicine, one way or another," observed the wizard, with a smile; "and, as our professor says, these school pills have proved to be a great success. one day while i was making them i happened to drop one of them, and one of billina's chickens gobbled it up. a few minutes afterward this chick got upon a roost and recited 'the boy stood on the burning deck' without making a single mistake. then it recited 'the charge of the light brigade' and afterwards 'excelsior.' you see, the chicken had eaten an elocution pill." they now bade good-bye to the professor, and thanking him for his kind reception mounted again into the red wagon and continued their journey. . how the cuttenclips lived the travelers had taken no provisions with them because they knew that they would be welcomed wherever they might go in the land of oz, and that the people would feed and lodge them with genuine hospitality. so about noon they stopped at a farm-house and were given a delicious luncheon of bread and milk, fruits and wheat cakes with maple syrup. after resting a while and strolling through the orchards with their host--a round, jolly farmer--they got into the wagon and again started the sawhorse along the pretty, winding road. there were signposts at all the corners, and finally they came to one which read: take this road to the cuttenclips there was also a hand pointing in the right direction, so they turned the sawhorse that way and found it a very good road, but seemingly little traveled. "i've never seen the cuttenclips before," remarked dorothy. "nor i," said the captain general. "nor i," said the wizard. "nor i," said billina. "i've hardly been out of the emerald city since i arrived in this country," added the shaggy man. "why, none of us has been there, then," exclaimed the little girl. "i wonder what the cuttenclips are like." "we shall soon find out," said the wizard, with a sly laugh. "i've heard they are rather flimsy things." the farm-houses became fewer as they proceeded, and the path was at times so faint that the sawhorse had hard work to keep in the road. the wagon began to jounce, too; so they were obliged to go slowly. after a somewhat wearisome journey they came in sight of a high wall, painted blue with pink ornaments. this wall was circular, and seemed to enclose a large space. it was so high that only the tops of the trees could be seen above it. the path led up to a small door in the wall, which was closed and latched. upon the door was a sign in gold letters reading as follows: visitors are requested to move slowly and carefully, and to avoid coughing or making any breeze or draught. "that's strange," said the shaggy man, reading the sign aloud. "who are the cuttenclips, anyhow?" "why, they're paper dolls," answered dorothy. "didn't you know that?" "paper dolls! then let's go somewhere else," said uncle henry. "we're all too old to play with dolls, dorothy." "but these are different," declared the girl. "they're alive." "alive!" gasped aunt em, in amazement. "yes. let's go in," said dorothy. so they all got out of the wagon, since the door in the wall was not big enough for them to drive the sawhorse and wagon through it. "you stay here, toto!" commanded dorothy, shaking her finger at the little dog. "you're so careless that you might make a breeze if i let you inside." toto wagged his tail as if disappointed at being left behind; but he made no effort to follow them. the wizard unlatched the door, which opened outward, and they all looked eagerly inside. just before the entrance was drawn up a line of tiny soldiers, with uniforms brightly painted and paper guns upon their shoulders. they were exactly alike, from one end of the line to the other, and all were cut out of paper and joined together in the centers of their bodies. as the visitors entered the enclosure the wizard let the door swing back into place, and at once the line of soldiers tumbled over, fell flat upon their backs, and lay fluttering upon the ground. "hi there!" called one of them; "what do you mean by slamming the door and blowing us over?" "i beg your pardon, i'm sure," said the wizard, regretfully. "i didn't know you were so delicate." "we're not delicate!" retorted another soldier, raising his head from the ground. "we are strong and healthy; but we can't stand draughts." "may i help you up?" asked dorothy. "if you please," replied the end soldier. "but do it gently, little girl." dorothy carefully stood up the line of soldiers, who first dusted their painted clothes and then saluted the visitors with their paper muskets. from the end it was easy to see that the entire line had been cut out of paper, although from the front the soldiers looked rather solid and imposing. "i've a letter of introduction from princess ozma to miss cuttenclip," announced dorothy. "very well," said the end soldier, and blew upon a paper whistle that hung around his neck. at once a paper soldier in a captain's uniform came out of a paper house near by and approached the group at the entrance. he was not very big, and he walked rather stiffly and uncertainly on his paper legs; but he had a pleasant face, with very red cheeks and very blue eyes, and he bowed so low to the strangers that dorothy laughed, and the breeze from her mouth nearly blew the captain over. he wavered and struggled and finally managed to remain upon his feet. "take care, miss!" he said, warningly. "you're breaking the rules, you know, by laughing." "oh, i didn't know that," she replied. "to laugh in this place is nearly as dangerous as to cough," said the captain. "you'll have to breathe very quietly, i assure you." "we'll try to," promised the girl. "may we see miss cuttenclip, please?" "you may," promptly returned the captain. "this is one of her reception days. be good enough to follow me." he turned and led the way up a path, and as they followed slowly, because the paper captain did not move very swiftly, they took the opportunity to gaze around them at this strange paper country. beside the path were paper trees, all cut out very neatly and painted a brilliant green color. and back of the trees were rows of cardboard houses, painted in various colors but most of them having green blinds. some were large and some small, and in the front yards were beds of paper flowers quite natural in appearance. over some of the porches paper vines were twined, giving them a cozy and shady look. as the visitors passed along the street a good many paper dolls came to the doors and windows of their houses to look at them curiously. these dolls were nearly all the same height, but were cut into various shapes, some being fat and some lean. the girl dolls wore many beautiful costumes of tissue paper, making them quite fluffy; but their heads and hands were no thicker than the paper of which they were made. some of the paper people were on the street, walking along or congregated in groups and talking together; but as soon as they saw the strangers they all fluttered into the houses as fast as they could go, so as to be out of danger. "excuse me if i go edgewise," remarked the captain as they came to a slight hill. "i can get along faster that way and not flutter so much." "that's all right," said dorothy. "we don't mind how you go, i'm sure." at one side of the street was a paper pump, and a paper boy was pumping paper water into a paper pail. the yellow hen happened to brush against this boy with her wing, and he flew into the air and fell into a paper tree, where he stuck until the wizard gently pulled him out. at the same time, the pail went into the air, spilling the paper water, while the paper pump bent nearly double. "goodness me!" said the hen. "if i should flop my wings i believe i'd knock over the whole village!" "then don't flop them--please don't!" entreated the captain. "miss cuttenclip would be very much distressed if her village was spoiled." "oh, i'll be careful," promised billina. "are not all these paper girls and women named miss cuttenclips?" inquired omby amby. "no indeed," answered the captain, who was walking better since he began to move edgewise. "there is but one miss cuttenclip, who is our queen, because she made us all. these girls are cuttenclips, to be sure, but their names are emily and polly and sue and betty and such things. only the queen is called miss cuttenclip." "i must say that this place beats anything i ever heard of," observed aunt em. "i used to play with paper dolls myself, an' cut 'em out; but i never thought i'd ever see such things alive." "i don't see as it's any more curious than hearing hens talk," returned uncle henry. "you're likely to see many queer things in the land of oz, sir," said the wizard. "but a fairy country is extremely interesting when you get used to being surprised." "here we are!" called the captain, stopping before a cottage. this house was made of wood, and was remarkably pretty in design. in the emerald city it would have been considered a tiny dwelling, indeed; but in the midst of this paper village it seemed immense. real flowers were in the garden and real trees grew beside it. upon the front door was a sign reading: miss cuttenclip. just as they reached the porch the front door opened and a little girl stood before them. she appeared to be about the same age as dorothy, and smiling upon her visitors she said, sweetly: "you are welcome." all the party seemed relieved to find that here was a real girl, of flesh and blood. she was very dainty and pretty as she stood there welcoming them. her hair was a golden blonde and her eyes turquoise blue. she had rosy cheeks and lovely white teeth. over her simple white lawn dress she wore an apron with pink and white checks, and in one hand she held a pair of scissors. "may we see miss cuttenclip, please?" asked dorothy. "i am miss cuttenclip," was the reply. "won't you come in?" she held the door open while they all entered a pretty sitting-room that was littered with all sorts of paper--some stiff, some thin, and some tissue. the sheets and scraps were of all colors. upon a table were paints and brushes, while several pair of scissors, of different sizes, were lying about. "sit down, please," said miss cuttenclip, clearing the paper scraps off some of the chairs. "it is so long since i have had any visitors that i am not properly prepared to receive them. but i'm sure you will pardon my untidy room, for this is my workshop." "do you make all the paper dolls?" inquired dorothy. "yes; i cut them out with my scissors, and paint the faces and some of the costumes. it is very pleasant work, and i am happy making my paper village grow." "but how do the paper dolls happen to be alive?" asked aunt em. "the first dolls i made were not alive," said miss cuttenclip. "i used to live near the castle of a great sorceress named glinda the good, and she saw my dolls and said they were very pretty. i told her i thought i would like them better if they were alive, and the next day the sorceress brought me a lot of magic paper. 'this is live paper,' she said, 'and all the dolls you cut out of it will be alive, and able to think and to talk. when you have used it all up, come to me and i will give you more.' "of course i was delighted with this present," continued miss cuttenclip, "and at once set to work and made several paper dolls, which, as soon as they were cut out, began to walk around and talk to me. but they were so thin that i found that any breeze would blow them over and scatter them dreadfully; so glinda found this lonely place for me, where few people ever come. she built the wall to keep any wind from blowing away my people, and told me i could build a paper village here and be its queen. that is why i came here and settled down to work and started the village you now see. it was many years ago that i built the first houses, and i've kept pretty busy and made my village grow finely; and i need not tell you that i am very happy in my work." "many years ago!" exclaimed aunt em. "why, how old are you, child?" "i never keep track of the years," said miss cuttenclip, laughing. "you see, i don't grow up at all, but stay just the same as i was when first i came here. perhaps i'm older even than you are, madam; but i couldn't say for sure." they looked at the lovely little girl wonderingly, and the wizard asked: "what happens to your paper village when it rains?" "it does not rain here," replied miss cuttenclip. "glinda keeps all the rain storms away; so i never worry about my dolls getting wet. but now, if you will come with me, it will give me pleasure to show you over my paper kingdom. of course you must go slowly and carefully, and avoid making any breeze." they left the cottage and followed their guide through the various streets of the village. it was indeed an amazing place, when one considered that it was all made with scissors, and the visitors were not only greatly interested but full of admiration for the skill of little miss cuttenclip. in one place a large group of especially nice paper dolls assembled to greet their queen, whom it was easy to see they loved early. these dolls marched and danced before the visitors, and then they all waved their paper handkerchiefs and sang in a sweet chorus a song called "the flag of our native land." at the conclusion of the song they ran up a handsome paper flag on a tall flagpole, and all of the people of the village gathered around to cheer as loudly as they could--although, of course, their voices were not especially strong. miss cuttenclip was about to make her subjects a speech in reply to this patriotic song, when the shaggy man happened to sneeze. he was a very loud and powerful sneezer at any time, and he had tried so hard to hold in this sneeze that when it suddenly exploded the result was terrible. the paper dolls were mowed down by dozens, and flew and fluttered in wild confusion in every direction, tumbling this way and that and getting more or less wrinkled and bent. a wail of terror and grief came from the scattered throng, and miss cuttenclip exclaimed: "dear me! dear me!" and hurried at once to the rescue of her overturned people. "oh, shaggy man! how could you?" asked dorothy, reproachfully. "i couldn't help it--really i couldn't," protested the shaggy man, looking quite ashamed. "and i had no idea it took so little to upset these paper dolls." "so little!" said dorothy. "why, it was 'most as bad as a kansas cyclone." and then she helped miss cuttenclip rescue the paper folk and stand them on their feet again. two of the cardboard houses had also tumbled over, and the little queen said she would have to repair them and paste them together before they could be lived in again. and now, fearing they might do more damage to the flimsy paper people, they decided to go away. but first they thanked miss cuttenclip very warmly for her courtesy and kindness to them. "any friend of princess ozma is always welcome here--unless he sneezes," said the queen with a rather severe look at the shaggy man, who hung his head. "i like to have visitors admire my wonderful village, and i hope you will call again." miss cuttenclip herself led them to the door in the wall, and as they passed along the street the paper dolls peeped at them half fearfully from the doors and windows. perhaps they will never forget the shaggy man's awful sneeze, and i am sure they were all glad to see the meat people go away. . how the general met the first and foremost on leaving the growleywogs general guph had to recross the ripple lands, and he did not find it a pleasant thing to do. perhaps having his whiskers pulled out one by one and being used as a pin-cushion for the innocent amusement of a good natured jailer had not improved the quality of guph's temper, for the old nome raved and raged at the recollection of the wrongs he had suffered, and vowed to take vengeance upon the growleywogs after he had used them for his purposes and oz had been conquered. he went on in this furious way until he was half across the ripple land. then he became seasick, and the rest of the way this naughty nome was almost as miserable as he deserved to be. but when he reached the plains again and the ground was firm under his feet he began to feel better, and instead of going back home he turned directly west. a squirrel, perched in a tree, saw him take this road and called to him warningly: "look out!" but he paid no attention. an eagle paused in its flight through the air to look at him wonderingly and say: "look out!" but on he went. no one can say that guph was not brave, for he had determined to visit those dangerous creatures the phanfasms, who resided upon the very top of the dread mountain of phantastico. the phanfasms were erbs, and so dreaded by mortals and immortals alike that no one had been near their mountain home for several thousand years. yet general guph hoped to induce them to join in his proposed warfare against the good and happy oz people. guph knew very well that the phanfasms would be almost as dangerous to the nomes as they would to the ozites, but he thought himself so clever that he believed he could manage these strange creatures and make them obey him. and there was no doubt at all that if he could enlist the services of the phanfasms, their tremendous power, united to the strength of the growleywogs and the cunning of the whimsies would doom the land of oz to absolute destruction. so the old nome climbed the foothills and trudged along the wild mountain paths until he came to a big gully that encircled the mountain of phantastico and marked the boundary line of the dominion of the phanfasms. this gully was about a third of the way up the mountain, and it was filled to the brim with red-hot molten lava in which swam fire-serpents and poisonous salamanders. the heat from this mass and its poisonous smell were both so unbearable that even birds hesitated to fly over the gully, but circled around it. all living things kept away from the mountain. now guph had heard, during his long lifetime, many tales of these dreaded phanfasms; so he had heard of this barrier of melted lava, and also he had been told that there was a narrow bridge that spanned it in one place. so he walked along the edge until he found the bridge. it was a single arch of gray stone, and lying flat upon the bridge was a scarlet alligator, seemingly fast asleep. when guph stumbled over the rocks in approaching the bridge the creature opened its eyes, from which tiny flames shot in all directions, and after looking at the intruder very wickedly the scarlet alligator closed its eyelids again and lay still. guph saw there was no room for him to pass the alligator on the narrow bridge, so he called out to it: "good morning, friend. i don't wish to hurry you, but please tell me if you are coming down, or going up?" "neither," snapped the alligator, clicking its cruel jaws together. the general hesitated. "are you likely to stay there long?" he asked. "a few hundred years or so," said the alligator. guph softly rubbed the end of his nose and tried to think what to do. "do you know whether the first and foremost phanfasm of phantastico is at home or not?" he presently inquired. "i expect he is, seeing he is always at home," replied the alligator. "ah; who is that coming down the mountain?" asked the nome, gazing upward. the alligator turned to look over its shoulder, and at once guph ran to the bridge and leaped over the sentinel's back before it could turn back again. the scarlet monster made a snap at the nome's left foot, but missed it by fully an inch. "ah ha!" laughed the general, who was now on the mountain path. "i fooled you that time." "so you did; and perhaps you fooled yourself," retorted the alligator. "go up the mountain, if you dare, and find out what the first and foremost will do to you!" "i will," declared guph, boldly; and on he went up the path. at first the scene was wild enough, but gradually it grew more and more awful in appearance. all the rocks had the shapes of frightful beings and even the tree trunks were gnarled and twisted like serpents. suddenly there appeared before the nome a man with the head of an owl. his body was hairy like that of an ape, and his only clothing was a scarlet scarf twisted around his waist. he bore a huge club in his hand and his round owl eyes blinked fiercely upon the intruder. "what are you doing here?" he demanded, threatening guph with his club. "i've come to see the first and foremost phanfasm of phantastico," replied the general, who did not like the way this creature looked at him, but still was not afraid. "ah; you shall see him!" the man said, with a sneering laugh. "the first and foremost shall decide upon the best way to punish you." "he will not punish me," returned guph, calmly, "for i have come here to do him and his people a rare favor. lead on, fellow, and take me directly to your master." the owl-man raised his club with a threatening gesture. "if you try to escape," he said, "beware--" but here the general interrupted him. "spare your threats," said he, "and do not be impertinent, or i will have you severely punished. lead on, and keep silent!" this guph was really a clever rascal, and it seems a pity he was so bad, for in a good cause he might have accomplished much. he realized that he had put himself into a dangerous position by coming to this dreadful mountain, but he also knew that if he showed fear he was lost. so he adopted a bold manner as his best defense. the wisdom of this plan was soon evident, for the phanfasm with the owl's head turned and led the way up the mountain. at the very top was a level plain upon which were heaps of rock that at first glance seemed solid. but on looking closer guph discovered that these rock heaps were dwellings, for each had an opening. not a person was to be seen outside the rock huts. all was silent. the owl-man led the way among the groups of dwellings to one standing in the center. it seemed no better and no worse than any of the others. outside the entrance to this rock heap the guide gave a low wail that sounded like "lee-ow-ah!" suddenly there bounded from the opening another hairy man. this one wore the head of a bear. in his hand he bore a brass hoop. he glared at the stranger in evident surprise. "why have you captured this foolish wanderer and brought him here?" he demanded, addressing the owl-man. "i did not capture him," was the answer. "he passed the scarlet alligator and came here of his own free will and accord." the first and foremost looked at the general. "have you tired of life, then?" he asked. "no indeed," answered guph. "i am a nome, and the chief general of king roquat the red's great army of nomes. i come of a long-lived race, and i may say that i expect to live a long time yet. sit down, you phanfasms--if you can find a seat in this wild haunt--and listen to what i have to say." with all his knowledge and bravery general guph did not know that the steady glare from the bear eyes was reading his inmost thoughts as surely as if they had been put into words. he did not know that these despised rock heaps of the phanfasms were merely deceptions to his own eyes, nor could he guess that he was standing in the midst of one of the most splendid and luxurious cities ever built by magic power. all that he saw was a barren waste of rock heaps, a hairy man with an owl's head and another with a bear's head. the sorcery of the phanfasms permitted him to see no more. suddenly the first and foremost swung his brass hoop and caught guph around the neck with it. the next instant, before the general could think what had happened to him, he was dragged inside the rock hut. here, his eyes still blinded to realities, he perceived only a dim light, by which the hut seemed as rough and rude inside as it was outside. yet he had a strange feeling that many bright eyes were fastened upon him and that he stood in a vast and extensive hall. the first and foremost now laughed grimly and released his prisoner. "if you have anything to say that is interesting," he remarked, "speak out, before i strangle you." so guph spoke out. he tried not to pay any attention to a strange rustling sound that he heard, as of an unseen multitude drawing near to listen to his words. his eyes could see only the fierce bear-man, and to him he addressed his speech. first he told of his plan to conquer the land of oz and plunder the country of its riches and enslave its people, who, being fairies, could not be killed. after relating all this, and telling of the tunnel the nome king was building, he said he had come to ask the first and foremost to join the nomes, with his band of terrible warriors, and help them to defeat the oz people. the general spoke very earnestly and impressively, but when he had finished the bear-man began to laugh as if much amused, and his laughter seemed to be echoed by a chorus of merriment from an unseen multitude. then, for the first time, guph began to feel a trifle worried. "who else has promised to help you?" finally asked the first and foremost. "the whimsies," replied the general. again the bear-headed phanfasm laughed. "any others?" he inquired. "only the growleywogs," said guph. this answer set the first and foremost laughing anew. "what share of the spoils am i to have?" was the next question. "anything you like, except king roquat's magic belt," replied guph. at this the phanfasm set up a roar of laughter, which had its echo in the unseen chorus, and the bear-man seemed so amused that he actually rolled upon the ground and shouted with merriment. "oh, these blind and foolish nomes!" he said. "how big they seem to themselves and how small they really are!" suddenly he arose and seized guph's neck with one hairy paw, dragging him out of the hut into the open. here he gave a curious wailing cry, and, as if in answer, from all the rocky huts on the mountain-top came flocking a horde of phanfasms, all with hairy bodies, but wearing heads of various animals, birds and reptiles. all were ferocious and repulsive-looking to the deceived eyes of the nome, and guph could not repress a shudder of disgust as he looked upon them. the first and foremost slowly raised his arms, and in a twinkling his hairy skin fell from him and he appeared before the astonished nome as a beautiful woman, clothed in a flowing gown of pink gauze. in her dark hair flowers were entwined, and her face was noble and calm. at the same instant the entire band of phanfasms was transformed into a pack of howling wolves, running here and there as they snarled and showed their ugly yellow fangs. the woman now raised her arms, even as the man-bear had done, and in a twinkling the wolves became crawling lizards, while she herself changed into a huge butterfly. guph had only time to cry out in fear and take a step backward to avoid the lizards when another transformation occurred, and all returned instantly to the forms they had originally worn. then the first and foremost, who had resumed his hairy body and bear head, turned to the nome and asked: "do you still demand our assistance?" "more than ever," answered the general, firmly. "then tell me: what can you offer the phanfasms that they have not already?" inquired the first and foremost. guph hesitated. he really did not know what to say. the nome king's vaunted magic belt seemed a poor thing compared to the astonishing magical powers of these people. gold, jewels and slaves they might secure in any quantity without especial effort. he felt that he was dealing with powers greatly beyond him. there was but one argument that might influence the phanfasms, who were creatures of evil. "permit me to call your attention to the exquisite joy of making the happy unhappy," said he at last. "consider the pleasure of destroying innocent and harmless people." "ah! you have answered me," cried the first and foremost. "for that reason alone we will aid you. go home, and tell your bandy-legged king that as soon as his tunnel is finished the phanfasms will be with him and lead his legions to the conquest of oz. the deadly desert alone has kept us from destroying oz long ago, and your underground tunnel is a clever thought. go home, and prepare for our coming!" guph was very glad to be permitted to go with this promise. the owl-man led him back down the mountain path and ordered the scarlet alligator to crawl away and allow the nome to cross the bridge in safety. after the visitor had gone a brilliant and gorgeous city appeared upon the mountain top, clearly visible to the eyes of the gaily dressed multitude of phanfasms that lived there. and the first and foremost, beautifully arrayed, addressed the others in these words: "it is time we went into the world and brought sorrow and dismay to its people. too long have we remained for ourselves upon this mountain top, for while we are thus secluded many nations have grown happy and prosperous, and the chief joy of the race of phanfasms is to destroy happiness. so i think it is lucky that this messenger from the nomes arrived among us just now, to remind us that the opportunity has come for us to make trouble. we will use king roquat's tunnel to conquer the land of oz. then we will destroy the whimsies, the growleywogs and the nomes, and afterward go out to ravage and annoy and grieve the whole world." the multitude of evil phanfasms eagerly applauded this plan, which they fully approved. i am told that the erbs are the most powerful and merciless of all the evil spirits, and the phanfasms of phantastico belong to the race of erbs. . how they matched the fuddles dorothy and her fellow travelers rode away from the cuttenclip village and followed the indistinct path as far as the sign-post. here they took the main road again and proceeded pleasantly through the pretty farming country. when evening came they stopped at a dwelling and were joyfully welcomed and given plenty to eat and good beds for the night. early next morning, however, they were up and eager to start, and after a good breakfast they bade their host good-bye and climbed into the red wagon, to which the sawhorse had been hitched all night. being made of wood, this horse never got tired nor cared to lie down. dorothy was not quite sure whether he ever slept or not, but it was certain that he never did when anybody was around. the weather is always beautiful in oz, and this morning the air was cool and refreshing and the sunshine brilliant and delightful. in about an hour they came to a place where another road branched off. there was a sign-post here which read: this way to fuddlecumjig "oh, here is where we turn," said dorothy, observing the sign. "what! are we going to fuddlecumjig?" asked the captain general. "yes; ozma thought we might enjoy the fuddles. they are said to be very interesting," she replied. "no one would suspect it from their name," said aunt em. "who are they, anyhow? more paper things?" "i think not," answered dorothy, laughing; "but i can't say 'zactly, aunt em, what they are. we'll find out when we get there." "perhaps the wizard knows," suggested uncle henry. "no; i've never been there before," said the wizard. "but i've often heard of fuddlecumjig and the fuddles, who are said to be the most peculiar people in all the land of oz." "in what way?" asked the shaggy man. "i don't know, i'm sure," said the wizard. just then, as they rode along the pretty green lane toward fuddlecumjig, they espied a kangaroo sitting by the roadside. the poor animal had its face covered with both its front paws and was crying so bitterly that the tears coursed down its cheeks in two tiny streams and trickled across the road, where they formed a pool in a small hollow. the sawhorse stopped short at this pitiful sight, and dorothy cried out, with ready sympathy: "what's the matter, kangaroo?" "boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" wailed the kangaroo; "i've lost my mi--mi--mi--oh, boo-hoo! boo-hoo!"-- "poor thing," said the wizard, "she's lost her mister. it's probably her husband, and he's dead." "no, no, no!" sobbed the kangaroo. "it--it isn't that. i've lost my mi--mi--oh, boo, boo-hoo!" "i know," said the shaggy man; "she's lost her mirror." "no; it's my mi--mi--mi--boo-hoo! my mi--oh, boo-hoo!" and the kangaroo cried harder than ever. "it must be her mince-pie," suggested aunt em. "or her milk-toast," proposed uncle henry. "i've lost my mi--mi--mittens!" said the kangaroo, getting it out at last. "oh!" cried the yellow hen, with a cackle of relief. "why didn't you say so before?" "boo-hoo! i--i--couldn't," answered the kangaroo. "but, see here," said dorothy, "you don't need mittens in this warm weather." "yes, indeed i do," replied the animal, stopping her sobs and removing her paws from her face to look at the little girl reproachfully. "my hands will get all sunburned and tanned without my mittens, and i've worn them so long that i'll probably catch cold without them." "nonsense!" said dorothy. "i never heard of any kangaroo wearing mittens." "didn't you?" asked the animal, as if surprised. "never!" repeated the girl. "and you'll probably make yourself sick if you don't stop crying. where do you live?" "about two miles beyond fuddlecumjig," was the answer. "grandmother gnit made me the mittens, and she's one of the fuddles." "well, you'd better go home now, and perhaps the old lady will make you another pair," suggested dorothy. "we're on our way to fuddlecumjig, and you may hop along beside us." so they rode on, and the kangaroo hopped beside the red wagon and seemed quickly to have forgotten her loss. by and by the wizard said to the animal: "are the fuddles nice people?" "oh, very nice," answered the kangaroo; "that is, when they're properly put together. but they get dreadfully scattered and mixed up, at times, and then you can't do anything with them." "what do you mean by their getting scattered?" inquired dorothy. "why, they're made in a good many small pieces," explained the kangaroo; "and whenever any stranger comes near them they have a habit of falling apart and scattering themselves around. that's when they get so dreadfully mixed, and it's a hard puzzle to put them together again." "who usually puts them together?" asked omby amby. "any one who is able to match the pieces. i sometimes put grandmother gnit together myself, because i know her so well i can tell every piece that belongs to her. then, when she's all matched, she knits for me, and that's how she made my mittens. but it took a good many days hard knitting, and i had to put grandmother together a good many times, because every time i came near, she'd scatter herself." "i should think she would get used to your coming, and not be afraid," said dorothy. "it isn't that," replied the kangaroo. "they're not a bit afraid, when they're put together, and usually they're very jolly and pleasant. it's just a habit they have, to scatter themselves, and if they didn't do it they wouldn't be fuddles." the travelers thought upon this quite seriously for a time, while the sawhorse continued to carry them rapidly forward. then aunt em remarked: "i don't see much use our visitin' these fuddles. if we find them scattered, all we can do is to sweep 'em up, and then go about our business." "oh, i b'lieve we'd better go on," replied dorothy. "i'm getting hungry, and we must try to get some luncheon at fuddlecumjig. perhaps the food won't be scattered as badly as the people." "you'll find plenty to eat there," declared the kangaroo, hopping along in big bounds because the sawhorse was going so fast; "and they have a fine cook, too, if you can manage to put him together. there's the town now--just ahead of us!" they looked ahead and saw a group of very pretty houses standing in a green field a little apart from the main road. "some munchkins came here a few days ago and matched a lot of people together," said the kangaroo. "i think they are together yet, and if you go softly, without making any noise, perhaps they won't scatter." "let's try it," suggested the wizard. so they stopped the sawhorse and got out of the wagon, and, after bidding good bye to the kangaroo, who hopped away home, they entered the field and very cautiously approached the group of houses. so silently did they move that soon they saw through the windows of the houses, people moving around, while others were passing to and fro in the yards between the buildings. they seemed much like other people from a distance, and apparently they did not notice the little party so quietly approaching. they had almost reached the nearest house when toto saw a large beetle crossing the path and barked loudly at it. instantly a wild clatter was heard from the houses and yards. dorothy thought it sounded like a sudden hailstorm, and the visitors, knowing that caution was no longer necessary, hurried forward to see what had happened. after the clatter an intense stillness reigned in the town. the strangers entered the first house they came to, which was also the largest, and found the floor strewn with pieces of the people who lived there. they looked much like fragments of wood neatly painted, and were of all sorts of curious and fantastic shapes, no two pieces being in any way alike. they picked up some of these pieces and looked at them carefully. on one which dorothy held was an eye, which looked at her pleasantly but with an interested expression, as if it wondered what she was going to do with it. quite near by she discovered and picked up a nose, and by matching the two pieces together found that they were part of a face. "if i could find the mouth," she said, "this fuddle might be able to talk, and tell us what to do next." "then let us find it," replied the wizard, and so all got down on their hands and knees and began examining the scattered pieces. "i've found it!" cried the shaggy man, and ran to dorothy with a queer-shaped piece that had a mouth on it. but when they tried to fit it to the eye and nose they found the parts wouldn't match together. "that mouth belongs to some other person," said dorothy. "you see we need a curve here and a point there, to make it fit the face." "well, it must be here some place," declared the wizard; "so if we search long enough we shall find it." dorothy fitted an ear on next, and the ear had a little patch of red hair above it. so while the others were searching for the mouth she hunted for pieces with red hair, and found several of them which, when matched to the other pieces, formed the top of a man's head. she had also found the other eye and the ear by the time omby amby in a far corner discovered the mouth. when the face was thus completed, all the parts joined together with a nicety that was astonishing. "why, it's like a picture puzzle!" exclaimed the little girl. "let's find the rest of him, and get him all together." "what's the rest of him like?" asked the wizard. "here are some pieces of blue legs and green arms, but i don't know whether they are his or not." "look for a white shirt and a white apron," said the head which had been put together, speaking in a rather faint voice. "i'm the cook." "oh, thank you," said dorothy. "it's lucky we started you first, for i'm hungry, and you can be cooking something for us to eat while we match the other folks together." it was not so very difficult, now that they had a hint as to how the man was dressed, to find the other pieces belonging to him, and as all of them now worked on the cook, trying piece after piece to see if it would fit, they finally had the cook set up complete. when he was finished he made them a low bow and said: "i will go at once to the kitchen to prepare your dinner. you will find it something of a job to get all the fuddles together, so i advise you to begin on the lord high chigglewitz, whose first name is larry. he's a bald-headed fat man and is dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons, a pink vest and drab breeches. a piece of his left knee is missing, having been lost years ago when he scattered himself too carelessly. that makes him limp a little, but he gets along very well with half a knee. as he is the chief personage in this town of fuddlecumjig, he will be able to welcome you and assist you with the others. so it will be best to work on him while i'm getting your dinner." "we will," said the wizard; "and thank you very much, cook, for the suggestion." aunt em was the first to discover a piece of the lord high chigglewitz. "it seems to me like a fool business, this matching folks together," she remarked; "but as we haven't anything to do till dinner's ready, we may as well get rid of some of this rubbish. here, henry, get busy and look for larry's bald head. i've got his pink vest, all right." they worked with eager interest, and billina proved a great help to them. the yellow hen had sharp eyes and could put her head close to the various pieces that lay scattered around. she would examine the lord high chigglewitz and see which piece of him was next needed, and then hunt around until she found it. so before an hour had passed old larry was standing complete before them. "i congratulate you, my friends," he said, speaking in a cheerful voice. "you are certainly the cleverest people who ever visited us. i was never matched together so quickly in my life. i'm considered a great puzzle, usually." "well," said dorothy, "there used to be a picture puzzle craze in kansas, and so i've had some 'sperience matching puzzles. but the pictures were flat, while you are round, and that makes you harder to figure out." "thank you, my dear," replied old larry, greatly pleased. "i feel highly complimented. were i not a really good puzzle, there would be no object in my scattering myself." "why do you do it?" asked aunt em, severely. "why don't you behave yourself, and stay put together?" the lord high chigglewitz seemed annoyed by this speech; but he replied, politely: "madam, you have perhaps noticed that every person has some peculiarity. mine is to scatter myself. what your own peculiarity is i will not venture to say; but i shall never find fault with you, whatever you do." "now you've got your diploma, em," said uncle henry, with a laugh, "and i'm glad of it. this is a queer country, and we may as well take people as we find them." "if we did, we'd leave these folks scattered," she returned, and this retort made everybody laugh good-naturedly. just then omby amby found a hand with a knitting needle in it, and they decided to put grandmother gnit together. she proved an easier puzzle than old larry, and when she was completed they found her a pleasant old lady who welcomed them cordially. dorothy told her how the kangaroo had lost her mittens, and grandmother gnit promised to set to work at once and make the poor animal another pair. then the cook came to call them to dinner, and they found an inviting meal prepared for them. the lord high chigglewitz sat at the head of the table and grandmother gnit at the foot, and the guests had a merry time and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. after dinner they went out into the yard and matched several other people together, and this work was so interesting that they might have spent the entire day at fuddlecumjig had not the wizard suggested that they resume their journey. "but i don't like to leave all these poor people scattered," said dorothy, undecided what to do. "oh, don't mind us, my dear," returned old larry. "every day or so some of the gillikins, or munchkins, or winkies come here to amuse themselves by matching us together, so there will be no harm in leaving these pieces where they are for a time. but i hope you will visit us again, and if you do you will always be welcome, i assure you." "don't you ever match each other?" she inquired. "never; for we are no puzzles to ourselves, and so there wouldn't be any fun in it." they now said goodbye to the queer fuddles and got into their wagon to continue their journey. "those are certainly strange people," remarked aunt em, thoughtfully, as they drove away from fuddlecumjig, "but i really can't see what use they are, at all." "why, they amused us all for several hours," replied the wizard. "that is being of use to us, i'm sure." "i think they're more fun than playing solitaire or mumbletypeg," declared uncle henry, soberly. "for my part, i'm glad we visited the fuddles." . how the general talked to the king when general guph returned to the cavern of the nome king his majesty asked: "well, what luck? will the whimsies join us?" "they will," answered the general. "they will fight for us with all their strength and cunning." "good!" exclaimed the king. "what reward did you promise them?" "your majesty is to use the magic belt to give each whimsie a large, fine head, in place of the small one he is now obliged to wear." "i agree to that," said the king. "this is good news, guph, and it makes me feel more certain of the conquest of oz." "but i have other news for you," announced the general. "good or bad?" "good, your majesty." "then i will hear it," said the king, with interest. "the growleywogs will join us." "no!" cried the astonished king. "yes, indeed," said the general. "i have their promise." "but what reward do they demand?" inquired the king, suspiciously, for he knew how greedy the growleywogs were. "they are to take a few of the oz people for their slaves," replied guph. he did not think it necessary to tell roquat that the growleywogs demanded twenty thousand slaves. it would be time enough for that when oz was conquered. "a very reasonable request, i'm sure," remarked the king. "i must congratulate you, guph, upon the wonderful success of your journey." "but that is not all," said the general, proudly. the king seemed astonished. "speak out, sir!" he commanded. "i have seen the first and foremost phanfasm of the mountain of phantastico, and he will bring his people to assist us." "what!" cried the king. "the phanfasms! you don't mean it, guph!" "it is true," declared the general, proudly. the king became thoughtful, and his brows wrinkled. "i'm afraid, guph," he said rather anxiously, "that the first and foremost may prove as dangerous to us as to the oz people. if he and his terrible band come down from the mountain they may take the notion to conquer the nomes!" "pah! that is a foolish idea," retorted guph, irritably, but he knew in his heart that the king was right. "the first and foremost is a particular friend of mine, and will do us no harm. why, when i was there, he even invited me into his house." the general neglected to tell the king how he had been jerked into the hut of the first and foremost by means of the brass hoop. so roquat the red looked at his general admiringly and said: "you are a wonderful nome, guph. i'm sorry i did not make you my general before. but what reward did the first and foremost demand?" "nothing at all," answered guph. "even the magic belt itself could not add to his powers of sorcery. all the phanfasms wish is to destroy the oz people, who are good and happy. this pleasure will amply repay them for assisting us." "when will they come?" asked roquat, half fearfully. "when the tunnel is completed," said the general. "we are nearly halfway under the desert now," announced the king; "and that is fast work, because the tunnel has to be drilled through solid rock. but after we have passed the desert it will not take us long to extend the tunnel to the walls of the emerald city." "well, whenever you are ready, we shall be joined by the whimsies, the growleywogs and the phanfasms," said guph; "so the conquest of oz is assured without a doubt." again, the king seemed thoughtful. "i'm almost sorry we did not undertake the conquest alone," said he. "all of these allies are dangerous people, and they may demand more than you have promised them. it might have been better to have conquered oz without any outside assistance." "we could not do it," said the general, positively. "why not, guph?" "you know very well. you have had one experience with the oz people, and they defeated you." "that was because they rolled eggs at us," replied the king, with a shudder. "my nomes cannot stand eggs, any more than i can myself. they are poison to all who live underground." "that is true enough," agreed guph. "but we might have taken the oz people by surprise, and conquered them before they had a chance to get any eggs. our former defeat was due to the fact that the girl dorothy had a yellow hen with her. i do not know what ever became of that hen, but i believe there are no hens at all in the land of oz, and so there could be no eggs there." "on the contrary," said guph, "there are now hundreds of chickens in oz, and they lay heaps of those dangerous eggs. i met a goshawk on my way home, and the bird informed me that he had lately been to oz to capture and devour some of the young chickens. but they are protected by magic, so the hawk did not get a single one of them." "that is a very bad report," said the king, nervously. "very bad, indeed. my nomes are willing to fight, but they simply can't face hen's eggs--and i don't blame them." "they won't need to face them," replied guph. "i'm afraid of eggs myself, and don't propose to take any chances of being poisoned by them. my plan is to send the whimsies through the tunnel first, and then the growleywogs and the phanfasms. by the time we nomes get there the eggs will all be used up, and we may then pursue and capture the inhabitants at our leisure." "perhaps you are right," returned the king, with a dismal sigh. "but i want it distinctly understood that i claim ozma and dorothy as my own prisoners. they are rather nice girls, and i do not intend to let any of those dreadful creatures hurt them, or make them their slaves. when i have captured them i will bring them here and transform them into china ornaments to stand on my mantle. they will look very pretty--dorothy on one end of the mantle and ozma on the other--and i shall take great care to see they are not broken when the maids dust them." "very well, your majesty. do what you will with the girls for all i care. now that our plans are arranged, and we have the three most powerful bands of evil spirits in the world to assist us, let us make haste to get the tunnel finished as soon as possible." "it will be ready in three days," promised the king, and hurried away to inspect the work and see that the nomes kept busy. . how the wizard practiced sorcery "where next?" asked the wizard when they had left the town of fuddlecumjig and the sawhorse had started back along the road. "why, ozma laid out this trip," replied dorothy, "and she 'vised us to see the rigmaroles next, and then visit the tin woodman." "that sounds good," said the wizard. "but what road do we take to get to the rigmaroles?" "i don't know, 'zactly," returned the little girl; "but it must be somewhere just southwest from here." "then why need we go way back to the crossroads?" asked the shaggy man. "we might save a lot of time by branching off here." "there isn't any path," asserted uncle henry. "then we'd better go back to the signposts, and make sure of our way," decided dorothy. but after they had gone a short distance farther the sawhorse, who had overheard their conversation, stopped and said: "here is a path." sure enough, a dim path seemed to branch off from the road they were on, and it led across pretty green meadows and past leafy groves, straight toward the southwest. "that looks like a good path," said omby amby. "why not try it?" "all right," answered dorothy. "i'm anxious to see what the rigmaroles are like, and this path ought to take us there the quickest way." no one made any objection to this plan, so the sawhorse turned into the path, which proved to be nearly as good as the one they had taken to get to the fuddles. as first they passed a few retired farm houses, but soon these scattered dwellings were left behind and only the meadows and the trees were before them. but they rode along in cheerful contentment, and aunt em got into an argument with billina about the proper way to raise chickens. "i do not care to contradict you," said the yellow hen, with dignity, "but i have an idea i know more about chickens than human beings do." "pshaw!" replied aunt em. "i've raised chickens for nearly forty years, billina, and i know you've got to starve 'em to make 'em lay lots of eggs, and stuff 'em if you want good broilers." "broilers!" exclaimed billina, in horror. "broil my chickens!" "why, that's what they're for, ain't it?" asked aunt em, astonished. "no, aunt, not in oz," said dorothy. "people do not eat chickens here. you see, billina was the first hen that was ever seen in this country, and i brought her here myself. everybody liked her an' respected her, so the oz people wouldn't any more eat her chickens than they would eat billina." "well, i declare," gasped aunt em. "how about the eggs?" "oh, if we have more eggs than we want to hatch, we allow people to eat them," said billina. "indeed, i am very glad the oz folks like our eggs, for otherwise they would spoil." "this certainly is a queer country," sighed aunt em. "excuse me," called the sawhorse, "the path has ended and i'd like to know which way to go." they looked around and sure enough there was no path to be seen. "well," said dorothy, "we're going southwest, and it seems just as easy to follow that direction without a path as with one." "certainly," answered the sawhorse. "it is not hard to draw the wagon over the meadow. i only want to know where to go." "there's a forest over there across the prairie," said the wizard, "and it lies in the direction we are going. make straight for the forest, sawhorse, and you're bound to go right." so the wooden animal trotted on again and the meadow grass was so soft under the wheels that it made easy riding. but dorothy was a little uneasy at losing the path, because now there was nothing to guide them. no houses were to be seen at all, so they could not ask their way of any farmer; and although the land of oz was always beautiful, wherever one might go, this part of the country was strange to all the party. "perhaps we're lost," suggested aunt em, after they had proceeded quite a way in silence. "never mind," said the shaggy man; "i've been lost many a time--and so has dorothy--and we've always been found again." "but we may get hungry," remarked omby amby. "that is the worst of getting lost in a place where there are no houses near." "we had a good dinner at the fuddle town," said uncle henry, "and that will keep us from starving to death for a long time." "no one ever starved to death in oz," declared dorothy, positively; "but people may get pretty hungry sometimes." the wizard said nothing, and he did not seem especially anxious. the sawhorse was trotting along briskly, yet the forest seemed farther away than they had thought when they first saw it. so it was nearly sundown when they finally came to the trees; but now they found themselves in a most beautiful spot, the wide-spreading trees being covered with flowering vines and having soft mosses underneath them. "this will be a good place to camp," said the wizard, as the sawhorse stopped for further instructions. "camp!" they all echoed. "certainly," asserted the wizard. "it will be dark before very long and we cannot travel through this forest at night. so let us make a camp here, and have some supper, and sleep until daylight comes again." they all looked at the little man in astonishment, and aunt em said, with a sniff: "a pretty camp we'll have, i must say! i suppose you intend us to sleep under the wagon." "and chew grass for our supper," added the shaggy man, laughing. but dorothy seemed to have no doubts and was quite cheerful "it's lucky we have the wonderful wizard with us," she said; "because he can do 'most anything he wants to." "oh, yes; i forgot we had a wizard," said uncle henry, looking at the little man curiously. "i didn't," chirped billina, contentedly. the wizard smiled and climbed out of the wagon, and all the others followed him. "in order to camp," said he, "the first thing we need is tents. will some one please lend me a handkerchief?" the shaggy man offered him one, and aunt em another. he took them both and laid them carefully upon the grass near to the edge of the forest. then he laid his own handkerchief down, too, and standing a little back from them he waved his left hand toward the handkerchiefs and said: "tents of canvas, white as snow, let me see how fast you grow!" then, lo and behold! the handkerchiefs became tiny tents, and as the travelers looked at them the tents grew bigger and bigger until in a few minutes each one was large enough to contain the entire party. "this," said the wizard, pointing to the first tent, "is for the accommodation of the ladies. dorothy, you and your aunt may step inside and take off your things." every one ran to look inside the tent, and they saw two pretty white beds, all ready for dorothy and aunt em, and a silver roost for billina. rugs were spread upon the grassy floor and some camp chairs and a table completed the furniture. "well, well, well! this beats anything i ever saw or heard of!" exclaimed aunt em, and she glanced at the wizard almost fearfully, as if he might be dangerous because of his great powers. "oh, mr. wizard! how did you manage to do it?" asked dorothy. "it's a trick glinda the sorceress taught me, and it is much better magic than i used to practice in omaha, or when i first came to oz," he answered. "when the good glinda found i was to live in the emerald city always, she promised to help me, because she said the wizard of oz ought really to be a clever wizard, and not a humbug. so we have been much together and i am learning so fast that i expect to be able to accomplish some really wonderful things in time." "you've done it now!" declared dorothy. "these tents are just wonderful!" "but come and see the men's tent," said the wizard. so they went to the second tent, which had shaggy edges because it has been made from the shaggy man's handkerchief, and found that completely furnished also. it contained four neat beds for uncle henry, omby amby, the shaggy man and the wizard. also there was a soft rug for toto to lie upon. "the third tent," explained the wizard, "is our dining room and kitchen." they visited that next, and found a table and dishes in the dining tent, with plenty of those things necessary to use in cooking. the wizard carried out a big kettle and set it swinging on a crossbar before the tent. while he was doing this omby amby and the shaggy man brought a supply of twigs from the forest and then they built a fire underneath the kettle. "now, dorothy," said the wizard, smiling, "i expect you to cook our supper." "but there is nothing in the kettle," she cried. "are you sure?" inquired the wizard. "i didn't see anything put in, and i'm almost sure it was empty when you brought it out," she replied. "nevertheless," said the little man, winking slyly at uncle henry, "you will do well to watch our supper, my dear, and see that it doesn't boil over." then the men took some pails and went into the forest to search for a spring of water, and while they were gone aunt em said to dorothy: "i believe the wizard is fooling us. i saw the kettle myself, and when he hung it over the fire there wasn't a thing in it but air." "don't worry," remarked billina, confidently, as she nestled in the grass before the fire. "you'll find something in the kettle when it's taken off--and it won't be poor, innocent chickens, either." "your hen has very bad manners, dorothy," said aunt em, looking somewhat disdainfully at billina. "it seems too bad she ever learned how to talk." there might have been another unpleasant quarrel between aunt em and billina had not the men returned just then with their pails filled with clear, sparkling water. the wizard told dorothy that she was a good cook and he believed their supper was ready. so uncle henry lifted the kettle from the fire and poured its contents into a big platter which the wizard held for him. the platter was fairly heaped with a fine stew, smoking hot, with many kinds of vegetables and dumplings and a rich, delicious gravy. the wizard triumphantly placed the platter upon the table in the dining tent and then they all sat down in camp chairs to the feast. there were several other dishes on the table, all carefully covered, and when the time came to remove these covers they found bread and butter, cakes, cheese, pickles and fruits--including some of the luscious strawberries of oz. no one ventured to ask a question as to how these things came there. they contented themselves by eating heartily the good things provided, and toto and billina had their full share, you may be sure. after the meal was over, aunt em whispered to dorothy: "that may have been magic food, my dear, and for that reason perhaps it won't be very nourishing; but i'm willing to say it tasted as good as anything i ever et." then she added, in a louder voice: "who's going to do the dishes?" "no one, madam," answered the wizard. "the dishes have 'done' themselves." "la sakes!" ejaculated the good lady, holding up her hands in amazement. for, sure enough, when she looked at the dishes they had a moment before left upon the table, she found them all washed and dried and piled up into neat stacks. . how dorothy happened to get lost it was a beautiful evening, so they drew their camp chairs in a circle before one of the tents and began to tell stories to amuse themselves and pass away the time before they went to bed. pretty soon a zebra was seen coming out of the forest, and he trotted straight up to them and said politely: "good evening, people." the zebra was a sleek little animal and had a slender head, a stubby mane and a paint-brush tail--very like a donkey's. his neatly shaped white body was covered with regular bars of dark brown, and his hoofs were delicate as those of a deer. "good evening, friend zebra," said omby amby, in reply to the creature's greeting. "can we do anything for you?" "yes," answered the zebra. "i should like you to settle a dispute that has long been a bother to me, as to whether there is more water or land in the world." "who are you disputing with?" asked the wizard. "with a soft-shell crab," said the zebra. "he lives in a pool where i go to drink every day, and he is a very impertinent crab, i assure you. i have told him many times that the land is much greater in extent than the water, but he will not be convinced. even this very evening, when i told him he was an insignificant creature who lived in a small pool, he asserted that the water was greater and more important than the land. so, seeing your camp, i decided to ask you to settle the dispute for once and all, that i may not be further annoyed by this ignorant crab." when they had listened to this explanation dorothy inquired: "where is the soft-shell crab?" "not far away," replied the zebra. "if you will agree to judge between us i will run and get him." "run along, then," said the little girl. so the animal pranced into the forest and soon came trotting back to them. when he drew near they found a soft-shell crab clinging fast to the stiff hair of the zebra's head, where it held on by one claw. "now then, mr. crab," said the zebra, "here are the people i told you about; and they know more than you do, who lives in a pool, and more than i do, who lives in a forest. for they have been travelers all over the world, and know every part of it." "there is more of the world than oz," declared the crab, in a stubborn voice. "that is true," said dorothy; "but i used to live in kansas, in the united states, and i've been to california and to australia and so has uncle henry." "for my part," added the shaggy man, "i've been to mexico and boston and many other foreign countries." "and i," said the wizard, "have been to europe and ireland." "so you see," continued the zebra, addressing the crab, "here are people of real consequence, who know what they are talking about." "then they know there's more water in the world than there is land," asserted the crab, in a shrill, petulant voice. "they know you are wrong to make such an absurd statement, and they will probably think you are a lobster instead of a crab," retorted the animal. at this taunt the crab reached out its other claw and seized the zebra's ear, and the creature gave a cry of pain and began prancing up and down, trying to shake off the crab, which clung fast. "stop pinching!" cried the zebra. "you promised not to pinch if i would carry you here!" "and you promised to treat me respectfully," said the crab, letting go the ear. "well, haven't i?" demanded the zebra. "no; you called me a lobster," said the crab. "ladies and gentlemen," continued the zebra, "please pardon my poor friend, because he is ignorant and stupid, and does not understand. also the pinch of his claw is very annoying. so pray tell him that the world contains more land than water, and when he has heard your judgment i will carry him back and dump him into his pool, where i hope he will be more modest in the future." "but we cannot tell him that," said dorothy, gravely, "because it would not be true." "what!" exclaimed the zebra, in astonishment; "do i hear you aright?" "the soft-shell crab is correct," declared the wizard. "there is considerably more water than there is land in the world." "impossible!" protested the zebra. "why, i can run for days upon the land, and find but little water." "did you ever see an ocean?" asked dorothy. "never," admitted the zebra. "there is no such thing as an ocean in the land of oz." "well, there are several oceans in the world," said dorothy, "and people sail in ships upon these oceans for weeks and weeks, and never see a bit of land at all. and the joggerfys will tell you that all the oceans put together are bigger than all the land put together." at this the crab began laughing in queer chuckles that reminded dorothy of the way billina sometimes cackled. "now will you give up, mr. zebra?" it cried, jeeringly; "now will you give up?" the zebra seemed much humbled. "of course i cannot read geographys," he said. "you could take one of the wizard's school pills," suggested billina, "and that would make you learned and wise without studying." the crab began laughing again, which so provoked the zebra that he tried to shake the little creature off. this resulted in more ear-pinching, and finally dorothy told them that if they could not behave they must go back to the forest. "i'm sorry i asked you to decide this question," said the zebra, crossly. "so long as neither of us could prove we were right we quite enjoyed the dispute; but now i can never drink at that pool again without the soft-shell crab laughing at me. so i must find another drinking place." "do! do, you ignoramus!" shouted the crab, as loudly as his little voice would carry. "rile some other pool with your clumsy hoofs, and let your betters alone after this!" then the zebra trotted back to the forest, bearing the crab with him, and disappeared amid the gloom of the trees. and as it was now getting dark the travelers said good night to one another and went to bed. dorothy awoke just as the light was beginning to get strong next morning, and not caring to sleep any later she quietly got out of bed, dressed herself, and left the tent where aunt em was yet peacefully slumbering. outside she noticed billina busily pecking around to secure bugs or other food for breakfast, but none of the men in the other tent seemed awake. so the little girl decided to take a walk in the woods and try to discover some path or road that they might follow when they again started upon their journey. she had reached the edge of the forest when the yellow hen came fluttering along and asked where she was going. "just to take a walk, billina; and maybe i'll find some path," said dorothy. "then i'll go along," decided billina, and scarcely had she spoken when toto ran up and joined them. toto and the yellow hen had become quite friendly by this time, although at first they did not get along well together. billina had been rather suspicious of dogs, and toto had had an idea that it was every dog's duty to chase a hen on sight. but dorothy had talked to them and scolded them for not being agreeable to one another until they grew better acquainted and became friends. i won't say they loved each other dearly, but at least they had stopped quarreling and now managed to get on together very well. the day was growing lighter every minute and driving the black shadows out of the forest; so dorothy found it very pleasant walking under the trees. she went some distance in one direction, but not finding a path, presently turned in a different direction. there was no path here, either, although she advanced quite a way into the forest, winding here and there among the trees and peering through the bushes in an endeavor to find some beaten track. "i think we'd better go back," suggested the yellow hen, after a time. "the people will all be up by this time and breakfast will be ready." "very well," agreed dorothy. "let's see--the camp must be over this way." she had probably made a mistake about that, for after they had gone far enough to have reached the camp they still found themselves in the thick of the woods. so the little girl stopped short and looked around her, and toto glanced up into her face with his bright little eyes and wagged his tail as if he knew something was wrong. he couldn't tell much about direction himself, because he had spent his time prowling among the bushes and running here and there; nor had billina paid much attention to where they were going, being interested in picking bugs from the moss as they passed along. the yellow hen now turned one eye up toward the little girl and asked: "have you forgotten where the camp is, dorothy?" "yes," she admitted; "have you, billina?" "i didn't try to remember," returned billina. "i'd no idea you would get lost, dorothy." "it's the thing we don't expect, billina, that usually happens," observed the girl, thoughtfully. "but it's no use standing here. let's go in that direction," pointing a finger at random. "it may be we'll get out of the forest over there." so on they went again, but this way the trees were closer together, and the vines were so tangled that often they tripped dorothy up. suddenly a voice cried sharply: "halt!" at first, dorothy could see nothing, although she looked around very carefully. but billina exclaimed: "well, i declare!" "what is it?" asked the little girl: for toto began barking at something, and following his gaze she discovered what it was. a row of spoons had surrounded the three, and these spoons stood straight up on their handles and carried swords and muskets. their faces were outlined in the polished bowls and they looked very stern and severe. dorothy laughed at the queer things. "who are you?" she asked. "we're the spoon brigade," said one. "in the service of his majesty king kleaver," said another. "and you are our prisoners," said a third. dorothy sat down on an old stump and looked at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "what would happen," she inquired, "if i should set my dog on your brigade?" "he would die," replied one of the spoons, sharply. "one shot from our deadly muskets would kill him, big as he is." "don't risk it, dorothy," advised the yellow hen. "remember this is a fairy country, yet none of us three happens to be a fairy." dorothy grew sober at this. "p'raps you're right, billina," she answered. "but how funny it is, to be captured by a lot of spoons!" "i do not see anything very funny about it," declared a spoon. "we're the regular military brigade of the kingdom." "what kingdom?" she asked. "utensia," said he. "i never heard of it before," asserted dorothy. then she added thoughtfully, "i don't believe ozma ever heard of utensia, either. tell me, are you not subjects of ozma of oz?" "we have never heard of her," retorted a spoon. "we are subjects of king kleaver, and obey only his orders, which are to bring all prisoners to him as soon as they are captured. so step lively, my girl, and march with us, or we may be tempted to cut off a few of your toes with our swords." this threat made dorothy laugh again. she did not believe she was in any danger; but here was a new and interesting adventure, so she was willing to be taken to utensia that she might see what king kleaver's kingdom was like. . how dorothy visited utensia there must have been from six to eight dozen spoons in the brigade, and they marched away in the shape of a hollow square, with dorothy, billina and toto in the center of the square. before they had gone very far toto knocked over one of the spoons by wagging his tail, and then the captain of the spoons told the little dog to be more careful, or he would be punished. so toto was careful, and the spoon brigade moved along with astonishing swiftness, while dorothy really had to walk fast to keep up with it. by and by they left the woods and entered a big clearing, in which was the kingdom of utensia. standing all around the clearing were a good many cookstoves, ranges and grills, of all sizes and shapes, and besides these there were several kitchen cabinets and cupboards and a few kitchen tables. these things were crowded with utensils of all sorts: frying pans, sauce pans, kettles, forks, knives, basting and soup spoons, nutmeg graters, sifters, colanders, meat saws, flat irons, rolling pins and many other things of a like nature. when the spoon brigade appeared with the prisoners a wild shout arose and many of the utensils hopped off their stoves or their benches and ran crowding around dorothy and the hen and the dog. "stand back!" cried the captain, sternly, and he led his captives through the curious throng until they came before a big range that stood in the center of the clearing. beside this range was a butcher block upon which lay a great cleaver with a keen edge. it rested upon the flat of its back, its legs were crossed and it was smoking a long pipe. "wake up, your majesty," said the captain. "here are prisoners." hearing this, king kleaver sat up and looked at dorothy sharply. "gristle and fat!" he cried. "where did this girl come from?" "i found her in the forest and brought her here a prisoner," replied the captain. "why did you do that?" inquired the king, puffing his pipe lazily. "to create some excitement," the captain answered. "it is so quiet here that we are all getting rusty for want of amusement. for my part, i prefer to see stirring times." "naturally," returned the cleaver, with a nod. "i have always said, captain, without a bit of irony, that you are a sterling officer and a solid citizen, bowled and polished to a degree. but what do you expect me to do with these prisoners?" "that is for you to decide," declared the captain. "you are the king." "to be sure; to be sure," muttered the cleaver, musingly. "as you say, we have had dull times since the steel and grindstone eloped and left us. command my counselors and the royal courtiers to attend me, as well as the high priest and the judge. we'll then decide what can be done." the captain saluted and retired and dorothy sat down on an overturned kettle and asked: "have you anything to eat in your kingdom?" "here! get up! get off from me!" cried a faint voice, at which his majesty the cleaver said: "excuse me, but you're sitting on my friend the ten-quart kettle." dorothy at once arose, and the kettle turned right side up and looked at her reproachfully. "i'm a friend of the king, so no one dares sit on me," said he. "i'd prefer a chair, anyway," she replied. "sit on that hearth," commanded the king. so dorothy sat on the hearth-shelf of the big range, and the subjects of utensia began to gather around in a large and inquisitive throng. toto lay at dorothy's feet and billina flew upon the range, which had no fire in it, and perched there as comfortably as she could. when all the counselors and courtiers had assembled--and these seemed to include most of the inhabitants of the kingdom--the king rapped on the block for order and said: "friends and fellow utensils! our worthy commander of the spoon brigade, captain dipp, has captured the three prisoners you see before you and brought them here for--for--i don't know what for. so i ask your advice how to act in this matter, and what fate i should mete out to these captives. judge sifter, stand on my right. it is your business to sift this affair to the bottom. high priest colender, stand on my left and see that no one testifies falsely in this matter." as these two officials took their places, dorothy asked: "why is the colander the high priest?" "he's the holiest thing we have in the kingdom," replied king kleaver. "except me," said a sieve. "i'm the whole thing when it comes to holes." "what we need," remarked the king, rebukingly, "is a wireless sieve. i must speak to marconi about it. these old-fashioned sieves talk too much. now, it is the duty of the king's counselors to counsel the king at all times of emergency, so i beg you to speak out and advise me what to do with these prisoners." "i demand that they be killed several times, until they are dead!" shouted a pepperbox, hopping around very excitedly. "compose yourself, mr. paprica," advised the king. "your remarks are piquant and highly-seasoned, but you need a scattering of commonsense. it is only necessary to kill a person once to make him dead; but i do not see that it is necessary to kill this little girl at all." "i don't, either," said dorothy. "pardon me, but you are not expected to advise me in this matter," replied king kleaver. "why not?" asked dorothy. "you might be prejudiced in your own favor, and so mislead us," he said. "now then, good subjects, who speaks next?" "i'd like to smooth this thing over, in some way," said a flatiron, earnestly. "we are supposed to be useful to mankind, you know." "but the girl isn't mankind! she's womankind!" yelled a corkscrew. "what do you know about it?" inquired the king. "i'm a lawyer," said the corkscrew, proudly. "i am accustomed to appear at the bar." "but you're crooked," retorted the king, "and that debars you. you may be a corking good lawyer, mr. popp, but i must ask you to withdraw your remarks." "very well," said the corkscrew, sadly; "i see i haven't any pull at this court." "permit me," continued the flatiron, "to press my suit, your majesty. i do not wish to gloss over any fault the prisoner may have committed, if such a fault exists; but we owe her some consideration, and that's flat!" "i'd like to hear from prince karver," said the king. at this a stately carvingknife stepped forward and bowed. "the captain was wrong to bring this girl here, and she was wrong to come," he said. "but now that the foolish deed is done let us all prove our mettle and have a slashing good time." "that's it! that's it!" screamed a fat choppingknife. "we'll make mincemeat of the girl and hash of the chicken and sausage of the dog!" there was a shout of approval at this and the king had to rap again for order. "gentlemen, gentlemen!" he said, "your remarks are somewhat cutting and rather disjointed, as might be expected from such acute intellects. but you give me no reasons for your demands." "see here, kleaver; you make me tired," said a saucepan, strutting before the king very impudently. "you're about the worst king that ever reigned in utensia, and that's saying a good deal. why don't you run things yourself, instead of asking everybody's advice, like the big, clumsy idiot you are?" the king sighed. "i wish there wasn't a saucepan in my kingdom," he said. "you fellows are always stewing, over something, and every once in a while you slop over and make a mess of it. go hang yourself, sir--by the handle--and don't let me hear from you again." dorothy was much shocked by the dreadful language the utensils employed, and she thought that they must have had very little proper training. so she said, addressing the king, who seemed very unfit to rule his turbulent subjects: "i wish you'd decide my fate right away. i can't stay here all day, trying to find out what you're going to do with me." "this thing is becoming a regular broil, and it's time i took part in it," observed a big gridiron, coming forward. "what i'd like to know," said a can-opener, in a shrill voice, "is why the little girl came to our forest anyhow and why she intruded upon captain dipp--who ought to be called dippy--and who she is, and where she came from, and where she is going, and why and wherefore and therefore and when." "i'm sorry to see, sir jabber," remarked the king to the can-opener, "that you have such a prying disposition. as a matter of fact, all the things you mention are none of our business." having said this the king relighted his pipe, which had gone out. "tell me, please, what is our business?" inquired a potato-masher, winking at dorothy somewhat impertinently. "i'm fond of little girls, myself, and it seems to me she has as much right to wander in the forest as we have." "who accuses the little girl, anyway?" inquired a rolling-pin. "what has she done?" "i don't know," said the king. "what has she done, captain dipp?" "that's the trouble, your majesty. she hasn't done anything," replied the captain. "what do you want me to do?" asked dorothy. this question seemed to puzzle them all. finally, a chafingdish, exclaimed irritably: "if no one can throw any light on this subject you must excuse me if i go out." at this, a big kitchen fork pricked up its ears and said in a tiny voice: "let's hear from judge sifter." "that's proper," returned the king. so judge sifter turned around slowly several times and then said: "we have nothing against the girl except the stove-hearth upon which she sits. therefore i order her instantly discharged." "discharged!" cried dorothy. "why, i never was discharged in my life, and i don't intend to be. if it's all the same to you, i'll resign." "it's all the same," declared the king. "you are free--you and your companions--and may go wherever you like." "thank you," said the little girl. "but haven't you anything to eat in your kingdom? i'm hungry." "go into the woods and pick blackberries," advised the king, lying down upon his back again and preparing to go to sleep. "there isn't a morsel to eat in all utensia, that i know of." so dorothy jumped up and said: "come on, toto and billina. if we can't find the camp, we may find some blackberries." the utensils drew back and allowed them to pass without protest, although captain dipp marched the spoon brigade in close order after them until they had reached the edge of the clearing. there the spoons halted; but dorothy and her companions entered the forest again and began searching diligently for a way back to the camp, that they might rejoin their party. . how they came to bunbury wandering through the woods, without knowing where you are going or what adventure you are about to meet next, is not as pleasant as one might think. the woods are always beautiful and impressive, and if you are not worried or hungry you may enjoy them immensely; but dorothy was worried and hungry that morning, so she paid little attention to the beauties of the forest, and hurried along as fast as she could go. she tried to keep in one direction and not circle around, but she was not at all sure that the direction she had chosen would lead her to the camp. by and by, to her great joy, she came upon a path. it ran to the right and to the left, being lost in the trees in both directions, and just before her, upon a big oak, were fastened two signs, with arms pointing both ways. one sign read: take the other road to bunbury and the second sign read: take the other road to bunnybury "well!" exclaimed billina, eyeing the signs, "this looks as if we were getting back to civilization again." "i'm not sure about the civil'zation, dear," replied the little girl; "but it looks as if we might get somewhere, and that's a big relief, anyhow." "which path shall we take?" inquired the yellow hen. dorothy stared at the signs thoughtfully. "bunbury sounds like something to eat," she said. "let's go there." "it's all the same to me," replied billina. she had picked up enough bugs and insects from the moss as she went along to satisfy her own hunger, but the hen knew dorothy could not eat bugs; nor could toto. the path to bunbury seemed little traveled, but it was distinct enough and ran through the trees in a zigzag course until it finally led them to an open space filled with the queerest houses dorothy had ever seen. they were all made of crackers laid out in tiny squares, and were of many pretty and ornamental shapes, having balconies and porches with posts of bread-sticks and roofs shingled with wafer-crackers. there were walks of bread-crusts leading from house to house and forming streets, and the place seemed to have many inhabitants. when dorothy, followed by billina and toto, entered the place, they found people walking the streets or assembled in groups talking together, or sitting upon the porches and balconies. and what funny people they were! men, women and children were all made of buns and bread. some were thin and others fat; some were white, some light brown and some very dark of complexion. a few of the buns, which seemed to form the more important class of the people, were neatly frosted. some had raisins for eyes and currant buttons on their clothes; others had eyes of cloves and legs of stick cinnamon, and many wore hats and bonnets frosted pink and green. there was something of a commotion in bunbury when the strangers suddenly appeared among them. women caught up their children and hurried into their houses, shutting the cracker doors carefully behind them. some men ran so hastily that they tumbled over one another, while others, more brave, assembled in a group and faced the intruders defiantly. dorothy at once realized that she must act with caution in order not to frighten these shy people, who were evidently unused to the presence of strangers. there was a delightful fragrant odor of fresh bread in the town, and this made the little girl more hungry than ever. she told toto and billina to stay back while she slowly advanced toward the group that stood silently awaiting her. "you must 'scuse me for coming unexpected," she said, softly, "but i really didn't know i was coming here until i arrived. i was lost in the woods, you know, and i'm as hungry as anything." "hungry!" they murmured, in a horrified chorus. "yes; i haven't had anything to eat since last night's supper," she exclaimed. "are there any eatables in bunbury?" they looked at one another undecidedly, and then one portly bun man, who seemed a person of consequence, stepped forward and said: "little girl, to be frank with you, we are all eatables. everything in bunbury is eatable to ravenous human creatures like you. but it is to escape being eaten and destroyed that we have secluded ourselves in this out-of-the-way place, and there is neither right nor justice in your coming here to feed upon us." dorothy looked at him longingly. "you're bread, aren't you?" she asked. "yes; bread and butter. the butter is inside me, so it won't melt and run. i do the running myself." at this joke all the others burst into a chorus of laughter, and dorothy thought they couldn't be much afraid if they could laugh like that. "couldn't i eat something besides people?" she asked. "couldn't i eat just one house, or a side-walk or something? i wouldn't mind much what it was, you know." "this is not a public bakery, child," replied the man, sternly. "it's private property." "i know mr.--mr.--" "my name is c. bunn, esquire," said the man. "'c' stands for cinnamon, and this place is called after my family, which is the most aristocratic in the town." "oh, i don't know about that," objected another of the queer people. "the grahams and the browns and whites are all excellent families, and there is none better of their kind. i'm a boston brown, myself." "i admit you are all desirable citizens," said mr. bunn rather stiffly; "but the fact remains that our town is called bunbury." "'scuse me," interrupted dorothy; "but i'm getting hungrier every minute. now, if you're polite and kind, as i'm sure you ought to be, you'll let me eat something. there's so much to eat here that you will never miss it." then a big, puffed-up man, of a delicate brown color, stepped forward and said: "i think it would be a shame to send this child away hungry, especially as she agrees to eat whatever we can spare and not touch our people." "so do i, pop," replied a roll who stood near. "what, then, do you suggest, mr. over?" inquired mr. bunn. "why, i'll let her eat my back fence, if she wants to. it's made of waffles, and they're very crisp and nice." "she may also eat my wheelbarrow," added a pleasant looking muffin. "it's made of nabiscos with a zuzu wheel." "very good; very good," remarked mr. bunn. "that is certainly very kind of you. go with pop over and mr. muffin, little girl, and they will feed you." "thank you very much," said dorothy, gratefully. "may i bring my dog toto, and the yellow hen? they're hungry, too." "will you make them behave?" asked the muffin. "of course," promised dorothy. "then come along," said pop over. so dorothy and billina and toto walked up the street and the people seemed no longer to be at all afraid of them. mr. muffin's house came first, and as his wheelbarrow stood in the front yard the little girl ate that first. it didn't seem very fresh, but she was so hungry that she was not particular. toto ate some, too, while billina picked up the crumbs. while the strangers were engaged in eating, many of the people came and stood in the street curiously watching them. dorothy noticed six roguish looking brown children standing all in a row, and she asked: "who are you, little ones?" "we're the graham gems," replied one; "and we're all twins." "i wonder if your mother could spare one or two of you?" asked billina, who decided that they were fresh baked; but at this dangerous question the six little gems ran away as fast as they could go. "you musn't say such things, billina," said dorothy, reprovingly. "now let's go into pop over's back yard and get the waffles." "i sort of hate to let that fence go," remarked mr. over, nervously, as they walked toward his house. "the neighbors back of us are soda biscuits, and i don't care to mix with them." "but i'm hungry yet," declared the girl. "that wheelbarrow wasn't very big." "i've got a shortcake piano, but none of my family can play on it," he said, reflectively. "suppose you eat that." "all right," said dorothy; "i don't mind. anything to be accommodating." so mr. over led her into the house, where she ate the piano, which was of an excellent flavor. "is there anything to drink here?" she asked. "yes; i've a milk pump and a water pump; which will you have?" he asked. "i guess i'll try 'em both," said dorothy. so mr. over called to his wife, who brought into the yard a pail made of some kind of baked dough, and dorothy pumped the pail full of cool, sweet milk and drank it eagerly. the wife of pop over was several shades darker than her husband. "aren't you overdone?" the little girl asked her. "no indeed," answered the woman. "i'm neither overdone nor done over; i'm just mrs. over, and i'm the president of the bunbury breakfast band." dorothy thanked them for their hospitality and went away. at the gate mr. cinnamon bunn met her and said he would show her around the town. "we have some very interesting inhabitants," he remarked, walking stiffly beside her on his stick-cinnamon legs; "and all of us who are in good health are well bred. if you are no longer hungry we will call upon a few of the most important citizens." toto and billina followed behind them, behaving very well, and a little way down the street they came to a handsome residence where aunt sally lunn lived. the old lady was glad to meet the little girl and gave her a slice of white bread and butter which had been used as a door-mat. it was almost fresh and tasted better than anything dorothy had eaten in the town. "where do you get the butter?" she inquired. "we dig it out of the ground, which, as you may have observed, is all flour and meal," replied mr. bunn. "there is a butter mine just at the opposite side of the village. the trees which you see here are all doughleanders and doughderas, and in the season we get quite a crop of dough-nuts off them." "i should think the flour would blow around and get into your eyes," said dorothy. "no," said he; "we are bothered with cracker dust sometimes, but never with flour." then he took her to see johnny cake, a cheerful old gentleman who lived near by. "i suppose you've heard of me," said old johnny, with an air of pride. "i'm a great favorite all over the world." "aren't you rather yellow?" asked dorothy, looking at him critically. "maybe, child. but don't think i'm bilious, for i was never in better health in my life," replied the old gentleman. "if anything ailed me, i'd willingly acknowledge the corn." "johnny's a trifle stale," said mr. bunn, as they went away; "but he's a good mixer and never gets cross-grained. i will now take you to call upon some of my own relatives." they visited the sugar bunns, the currant bunns and the spanish bunns, the latter having a decidedly foreign appearance. then they saw the french rolls, who were very polite to them, and made a brief call upon the parker h. rolls, who seemed a bit proud and overbearing. "but they're not as stuck up as the frosted jumbles," declared mr. bunn, "who are people i really can't abide. i don't like to be suspicious or talk scandal, but sometimes i think the jumbles have too much baking powder in them." just then a dreadful scream was heard, and dorothy turned hastily around to find a scene of great excitement a little way down the street. the people were crowding around toto and throwing at him everything they could find at hand. they pelted the little dog with hard-tack, crackers, and even articles of furniture which were hard baked and heavy enough for missiles. toto howeled a little as the assortment of bake stuff struck him; but he stood still, with head bowed and tail between his legs, until dorothy ran up and inquired what the matter was. "matter!" cried a rye loafer, indignantly, "why the horrid beast has eaten three of our dear crumpets, and is now devouring a salt-rising biscuit!" "oh, toto! how could you?" exclaimed dorothy, much distressed. toto's mouth was full of his salt-rising victim; so he only whined and wagged his tail. but billina, who had flown to the top of a cracker house to be in a safe place, called out: "don't blame him, dorothy; the crumpets dared him to do it." "yes, and you pecked out the eyes of a raisin bunn--one of our best citizens!" shouted a bread pudding, shaking its fist at the yellow hen. "what's that! what's that?" wailed mr. cinnamon bunn, who had now joined them. "oh, what a misfortune--what a terrible misfortune!" "see here," said dorothy, determined to defend her pets, "i think we've treated you all pretty well, seeing you're eatables an' reg'lar food for us. i've been kind to you and eaten your old wheelbarrows and pianos and rubbish, an' not said a word. but toto and billina can't be 'spected to go hungry when the town's full of good things they like to eat, 'cause they can't understand your stingy ways as i do." "you must leave here at once!" said mr. bunn, sternly. "suppose we won't go?" said dorothy, who was now much provoked. "then," said he, "we will put you into the great ovens where we are made, and bake you." dorothy gazed around and saw threatening looks upon the faces of all. she had not noticed any ovens in the town, but they might be there, nevertheless, for some of the inhabitants seemed very fresh. so she decided to go, and calling to toto and billina to follow her she marched up the street with as much dignity as possible, considering that she was followed by the hoots and cries of the buns and biscuits and other bake stuff. . how ozma looked into the magic picture princess ozma was a very busy little ruler, for she looked carefully after the comfort and welfare of her people and tried to make them happy. if any quarrels arose she decided them justly; if any one needed counsel or advice she was ready and willing to listen to them. for a day or two after dorothy and her companions had started on their trip, ozma was occupied with the affairs of her kingdom. then she began to think of some manner of occupation for uncle henry and aunt em that would be light and easy and yet give the old people something to do. she soon decided to make uncle henry the keeper of the jewels, for some one really was needed to count and look after the bins and barrels of emeralds, diamonds, rubies and other precious stones that were in the royal storehouses. that would keep uncle henry busy enough, but it was harder to find something for aunt em to do. the palace was full of servants, so there was no detail of housework that aunt em could look after. while ozma sat in her pretty room engaged in thought she happened to glance at her magic picture. this was one of the most important treasures in all the land of oz. it was a large picture, set in a beautiful gold frame, and it hung in a prominent place upon a wall of ozma's private room. usually this picture seemed merely a country scene, but whenever ozma looked at it and wished to know what any of her friends or acquaintances were doing, the magic of this wonderful picture was straightway disclosed. for the country scene would gradually fade away and in its place would appear the likeness of the person or persons ozma might wish to see, surrounded by the actual scenes in which they were then placed. in this way the princess could view any part of the world she wished, and watch the actions of any one in whom she was interested. ozma had often seen dorothy in her kansas home by this means, and now, having a little leisure, she expressed a desire to see her little friend again. it was while the travelers were at fuddlecumjig, and ozma laughed merrily as she watched in the picture her friends trying to match the pieces of grandmother gnit. "they seem happy and are doubtless having a good time," the girl ruler said to herself; and then she began to think of the many adventures she herself had encountered with dorothy. the image of her friends now faded from the magic picture and the old landscape slowly reappeared. ozma was thinking of the time when with dorothy and her army she marched to the nome king's underground cavern, beyond the land of ev, and forced the old monarch to liberate his captives, who belonged to the royal family of ev. that was the time when the scarecrow nearly frightened the nome king into fits by throwing one of billina's eggs at him, and dorothy had captured king roquat's magic belt and brought it away with her to the land of oz. the pretty princess smiled at the recollection of this adventure, and then she wondered what had become of the nome king since then. merely because she was curious and had nothing better to do, ozma glanced at the magic picture and wished to see in it the king of the nomes. roquat the red went every day into his tunnel to see how the work was getting along and to hurry his workmen as much as possible. he was there now, and ozma saw him plainly in the magic picture. she saw the underground tunnel, reaching far underneath the deadly desert which separated the land of oz from the mountains beneath which the nome king had his extensive caverns. she saw that the tunnel was being made in the direction of the emerald city, and knew at once it was being dug so that the army of nomes could march through it and attack her own beautiful and peaceful country. "i suppose king roquat is planning revenge against us," she said, musingly, "and thinks he can surprise us and make us his captives and slaves. how sad it is that any one can have such wicked thoughts! but i must not blame king roquat too severely, for he is a nome, and his nature is not so gentle as my own." then she dismissed from her mind further thought of the tunnel, for that time, and began to wonder if aunt em would not be happy as royal mender of the stockings of the ruler of oz. ozma wore few holes in her stockings; still, they sometimes needed mending. aunt em ought to be able to do that very nicely. next day, the princess watched the tunnel again in her magic picture, and every day afterward she devoted a few minutes to inspecting the work. it was not especially interesting, but she felt that it was her duty. slowly but surely the big, arched hole crept through the rocks underneath the deadly desert, and day by day it drew nearer and nearer to the emerald city. . how bunnybury welcomed the strangers dorothy left bunbury the same way she had entered it and when they were in the forest again she said to billina: "i never thought that things good to eat could be so dis'gree'ble." "often i've eaten things that tasted good but were disagreeable afterward," returned the yellow hen. "i think, dorothy, if eatables are going to act badly, it's better before than after you eat them." "p'raps you're right," said the little girl, with a sigh. "but what shall we do now?" "let us follow the path back to the signpost," suggested billina. "that will be better than getting lost again." "why, we're lost anyhow," declared dorothy; "but i guess you're right about going back to that signpost, billina." they returned along the path to the place where they had first found it, and at once took "the other road" to bunnybury. this road was a mere narrow strip, worn hard and smooth but not wide enough for dorothy's feet to tread. still, it was a guide, and the walking through the forest was not at all difficult. before long they reached a high wall of solid white marble, and the path came to an end at this wall. at first dorothy thought there was no opening at all in the marble, but on looking closely she discovered a small square door about on a level with her head, and underneath this closed door was a bell-push. near the bell-push a sign was painted in neat letters upon the marble, and the sign read: no admittance except on business this did not discourage dorothy, however, and she rang the bell. pretty soon a bolt was cautiously withdrawn and the marble door swung slowly open. then she saw it was not really a door, but a window, for several brass bars were placed across it, being set fast in the marble and so close together that the little girl's fingers might barely go between them. back of the bars appeared the face of a white rabbit--a very sober and sedate face--with an eye-glass held in his left eye and attached to a cord in his button-hole. "well! what is it?" asked the rabbit, sharply. "i'm dorothy," said the girl, "and i'm lost, and--" "state your business, please," interrupted the rabbit. "my business," she replied, "is to find out where i am, and to--" "no one is allowed in bunnybury without an order or a letter of introduction from either ozma of oz or glinda the good," announced the rabbit; "so that settles the matter," and he started to close the window. "wait a minute!" cried dorothy. "i've got a letter from ozma." "from the ruler of oz?" asked the rabbit, doubtingly. "of course. ozma's my best friend, you know; and i'm a princess myself," she announced, earnestly. "hum--ha! let me see your letter," returned the rabbit, as if he still doubted her. so she hunted in her pocket and found the letter ozma had given her. then she handed it through the bars to the rabbit, who took it in his paws and opened it. he read it aloud in a pompous voice, as if to let dorothy and billina see that he was educated and could read writing. the letter was as follows: "it will please me to have my subjects greet princess dorothy, the bearer of this royal missive, with the same courtesy and consideration they would extend to me." "ha--hum! it is signed 'ozma of oz,'" continued the rabbit, "and is sealed with the great seal of the emerald city. well, well, well! how strange! how remarkable!" "what are you going to do about it?" inquired dorothy, impatiently. "we must obey the royal mandate," replied the rabbit. "we are subjects of ozma of oz, and we live in her country. also we are under the protection of the great sorceress glinda the good, who made us promise to respect ozma's commands." "then may i come in?" she asked. "i'll open the door," said the rabbit. he shut the window and disappeared, but a moment afterward a big door in the wall opened and admitted dorothy to a small room, which seemed to be a part of the wall and built into it. here stood the rabbit she had been talking with, and now that she could see all of him, she gazed at the creature in surprise. he was a good sized white rabbit with pink eyes, much like all other white rabbits. but the astonishing thing about him was the manner in which he was dressed. he wore a white satin jacket embroidered with gold, and having diamond buttons. his vest was rose-colored satin, with tourmaline buttons. his trousers were white, to correspond with the jacket, and they were baggy at the knees--like those of a zouave--being tied with knots of rose ribbons. his shoes were of white plush with diamond buckles, and his stockings were rose silk. the richness and even magnificence of the rabbit's clothing made dorothy stare at the little creature wonderingly. toto and billina had followed her into the room and when he saw them the rabbit ran to a table and sprang upon it nimbly. then he looked at the three through his monocle and said: "these companions, princess, cannot enter bunnybury with you." "why not?" asked dorothy. "in the first place they would frighten our people, who dislike dogs above all things on earth; and, secondly, the letter of the royal ozma does not mention them." "but they're my friends," persisted dorothy, "and go wherever i go." "not this time," said the rabbit, decidedly. "you, yourself, princess, are a welcome visitor, since you come so highly recommended; but unless you consent to leave the dog and the hen in this room i cannot permit you to enter the town." "never mind us, dorothy," said billina. "go inside and see what the place is like. you can tell us about it afterward, and toto and i will rest comfortably here until you return." this seemed the best thing to do, for dorothy was curious to see how the rabbit people lived and she was aware of the fact that her friends might frighten the timid little creatures. she had not forgotten how toto and billina had misbehaved in bunbury, and perhaps the rabbit was wise to insist on their staying outside the town. "very well," she said, "i'll go in alone. i s'pose you're the king of this town, aren't you?" "no," answered the rabbit, "i'm merely the keeper of the wicket, and a person of little importance, although i try to do my duty. i must now inform you, princess, that before you enter our town you must consent to reduce." "reduce what?" asked dorothy. "your size. you must become the size of the rabbits, although you may retain your own form." "wouldn't my clothes be too big for me?" she inquired. "no; they will reduce when your body does." "can you make me smaller?" asked the girl. "easily," returned the rabbit. "and will you make me big again, when i'm ready to go away?" "i will," said he. "all right, then; i'm willing," she announced. the rabbit jumped from the table and ran--or rather hopped--to the further wall, where he opened a door so tiny that even toto could scarcely have crawled through it. "follow me," he said. now, almost any other little girl would have declared that she could not get through so small a door; but dorothy had already encountered so many fairy adventures that she believed nothing was impossible in the land of oz. so she quietly walked toward the door, and at every step she grew smaller and smaller until, by the time the opening was reached, she could pass through it with ease. indeed, as she stood beside the rabbit, who sat upon his hind legs and used his paws as hands, her head was just about as high as his own. then the keeper of the wicket passed through and she followed, after which the door swung shut and locked itself with a sharp click. dorothy now found herself in a city so strange and beautiful that she gave a gasp of surprise. the high marble wall extended all around the place and shut out all the rest of the world. and here were marble houses of curious forms, most of them resembling overturned kettles but with delicate slender spires and minarets running far up into the sky. the streets were paved with white marble and in front of each house was a lawn of rich green clover. everything was as neat as wax, the green and white contrasting prettily together. but the rabbit people were, after all, the most amazing things dorothy saw. the streets were full of them, and their costumes were so splendid that the rich dress of the keeper of the wicket was commonplace when compared with the others. silks and satins of delicate hues seemed always used for material, and nearly every costume sparkled with exquisite gems. but the lady rabbits outshone the gentlemen rabbits in splendor, and the cut of their gowns was really wonderful. they wore bonnets, too, with feathers and jewels in them, and some wheeled baby carriages in which the girl could see wee bunnies. some were lying asleep while others lay sucking their paws and looking around them with big pink eyes. as dorothy was no bigger in size than the grown-up rabbits she had a chance to observe them closely before they noticed her presence. then they did not seem at all alarmed, although the little girl naturally became the center of attraction and regarded her with great curiosity. "make way!" cried the keeper of the wicket, in a pompous voice; "make way for princess dorothy, who comes from ozma of oz." hearing this announcement, the throng of rabbits gave place to them on the walks, and as dorothy passed along they all bowed their heads respectfully. walking thus through several handsome streets they came to a square in the center of the city. in this square were some pretty trees and a statue in bronze of glinda the good, while beyond it were the portals of the royal palace--an extensive and imposing building of white marble covered with a filigree of frosted gold. . how dorothy lunched with a king a line of rabbit soldiers was drawn up before the palace entrance, and they wore green and gold uniforms with high shakos upon their heads and held tiny spears in their hands. the captain had a sword and a white plume in his shako. "salute!" called the keeper of the wicket. "salute princess dorothy, who comes from ozma of oz!" "salute!" yelled the captain, and all the soldiers promptly saluted. they now entered the great hall of the palace, where they met a gaily dressed attendant, from whom the keeper of the wicket inquired if the king were at leisure. "i think so," was the reply. "i heard his majesty blubbering and wailing as usual only a few minutes ago. if he doesn't stop acting like a cry-baby i'm going to resign my position here and go to work." "what's the matter with your king?" asked dorothy, surprised to hear the rabbit attendant speak so disrespectfully of his monarch. "oh, he doesn't want to be king, that's all; and he simply has to," was the reply. "come!" said the keeper of the wicket, sternly; "lead us to his majesty; and do not air our troubles before strangers, i beg of you." "why, if this girl is going to see the king, he'll air his own troubles," returned the attendant. "that is his royal privilege," declared the keeper. so the attendant led them into a room all draped with cloth-of-gold and furnished with satin-covered gold furniture. there was a throne in this room, set on a dais and having a big, cushioned seat, and on this seat reclined the rabbit king. he was lying on his back, with his paws in the air, and whining very like a puppy-dog. "your majesty! your majesty! get up. here's a visitor," called out the attendant. the king rolled over and looked at dorothy with one watery pink eye. then he sat up and wiped his eyes carefully with a silk handkerchief and put on his jeweled crown, which had fallen off. "excuse my grief, fair stranger," he said, in a sad voice. "you behold in me the most miserable monarch in all the world. what time is it, blinkem?" "one o'clock, your majesty," replied the attendant to whom the question was addressed. "serve luncheon at once!" commanded the king. "luncheon for two--that's for my visitor and me--and see that the human has some sort of food she's accustomed to." "yes, your majesty," answered the attendant, and went away. "tie my shoe, bristle," said the king to the keeper of the wicket. "ah me! how unhappy i am!" "what seems to be worrying your majesty?" asked dorothy. "why, it's this king business, of course," he returned, while the keeper tied his shoe. "i didn't want to be king of bunnybury at all, and the rabbits all knew it. so they elected me--to save themselves from such a dreadful fate, i suppose--and here i am, shut up in a palace, when i might be free and happy." "seems to me," said dorothy, "it's a great thing to be a king." "were you ever a king?" inquired the monarch. "no," she answered, laughing. "then you know nothing about it," he said. "i haven't inquired who you are, but it doesn't matter. while we're at luncheon, i'll tell you all my troubles. they're a great deal more interesting than anything you can say about yourself." "perhaps they are, to you," replied dorothy. "luncheon is served!" cried blinkem, throwing open the door, and in came a dozen rabbits in livery, all bearing trays which they placed upon the table, where they arranged the dishes in an orderly manner. "now clear out--all of you!" exclaimed the king. "bristle, you may wait outside, in case i want you." when they had gone and the king was alone with dorothy he came down from his throne, tossed his crown into a corner and kicked his ermine robe under the table. "sit down," he said, "and try to be happy. it's useless for me to try, because i'm always wretched and miserable. but i'm hungry, and i hope you are." "i am," said dorothy. "i've only eaten a wheelbarrow and a piano to-day--oh, yes! and a slice of bread and butter that used to be a door-mat." "that sounds like a square meal," remarked the king, seating himself opposite her; "but perhaps it wasn't a square piano. eh?" dorothy laughed. "you don't seem so very unhappy now," she said. "but i am," protested the king, fresh tears gathering in his eyes. "even my jokes are miserable. i'm wretched, woeful, afflicted, distressed and dismal as an individual can be. are you not sorry for me?" "no," answered dorothy, honestly, "i can't say i am. seems to me that for a rabbit you're right in clover. this is the prettiest little city i ever saw." "oh, the city is good enough," he admitted. "glinda, the good sorceress, made it for us because she was fond of rabbits. i don't mind the city so much, although i wouldn't live here if i had my choice. it is being king that has absolutely ruined my happiness." "why wouldn't you live here by choice?" she asked. "because it is all unnatural, my dear. rabbits are out of place in such luxury. when i was young i lived in a burrow in the forest. i was surrounded by enemies and often had to run for my life. it was hard getting enough to eat, at times, and when i found a bunch of clover i had to listen and look for danger while i ate it. wolves prowled around the hole in which i lived and sometimes i didn't dare stir out for days at a time. oh, how happy and contented i was then! i was a real rabbit, as nature made me--wild and free!--and i even enjoyed listening to the startled throbbing of my own heart!" "i've often thought," said dorothy, who was busily eating, "that it would be fun to be a rabbit." "it is fun--when you're the genuine article," agreed his majesty. "but look at me now! i live in a marble palace instead of a hole in the ground. i have all i want to eat, without the joy of hunting for it. every day i must dress in fine clothes and wear that horrible crown till it makes my head ache. rabbits come to me with all sorts of troubles, when my own troubles are the only ones i care about. when i walk out i can't hop and run; i must strut on my rear legs and wear an ermine robe! and the soldiers salute me and the band plays and the other rabbits laugh and clap their paws and cry out: 'hail to the king!' now let me ask you, as a friend and a young lady of good judgment: isn't all this pomp and foolishness enough to make a decent rabbit miserable?" "once," said dorothy, reflectively, "men were wild and unclothed and lived in caves and hunted for food as wild beasts do. but they got civ'lized, in time, and now they'd hate to go back to the old days." "that is an entirely different case," replied the king. "none of you humans were civilized in one lifetime. it came to you by degrees. but i have known the forest and the free life, and that is why i resent being civilized all at once, against my will, and being made a king with a crown and an ermine robe. pah!" "if you don't like it, why don't you resign?" she asked. "impossible!" wailed the rabbit, wiping his eyes again with his handkerchief. "there's a beastly law in this town that forbids it. when one is elected a king, there's no getting out of it." "who made the laws?" inquired dorothy. "the same sorceress who made the town--glinda the good. she built the wall, and fixed up the city, and gave us several valuable enchantments, and made the laws. then she invited all the pink-eyed white rabbits of the forest to come here, after which she left us to our fate." "what made you 'cept the invitation, and come here?" asked the child. "i didn't know how dreadful city life was, and i'd no idea i would be elected king," said he, sobbing bitterly. "and--and--now i'm it--with a capital i--and can't escape!" "i know glinda," remarked dorothy, eating for dessert a dish of charlotte russe, "and when i see her again, i'll ask her to put another king in your place." "will you? will you, indeed?" asked the king, joyfully. "i will if you want me to," she replied. "hurroo--huray!" shouted the king; and then he jumped up from the table and danced wildly about the room, waving his napkin like a flag and laughing with glee. after a time he managed to control his delight and returned to the table. "when are you likely to see glinda?" he inquired. "oh, p'raps in a few days," said dorothy. "and you won't forget to ask her?" "of course not." "princess," said the rabbit king, earnestly, "you have relieved me of a great unhappiness, and i am very grateful. therefore i propose to entertain you, since you are my guest and i am the king, as a slight mark of my appreciation. come with me to my reception hall." he then summoned bristle and said to him: "assemble all the nobility in the great reception hall, and also tell blinkem that i want him immediately." the keeper of the wicket bowed and hurried away, and his majesty turned to dorothy and continued: "we'll have time for a walk in the gardens before the people get here." the gardens were back of the palace and were filled with beautiful flowers and fragrant shrubs, with many shade and fruit trees and marble-paved walks running in every direction. as they entered this place blinkem came running to the king, who gave him several orders in a low voice. then his majesty rejoined dorothy and led her through the gardens, which she admired very much. "what lovely clothes your majesty wears!" she said, glancing at the rich blue satin costume, embroidered, with pearls in which the king was dressed. "yes," he returned, with an air of pride, "this is one of my favorite suits; but i have a good many that are even more elaborate. we have excellent tailors in bunnybury, and glinda supplies all the material. by the way, you might ask the sorceress, when you see her, to permit me to keep my wardrobe." "but if you go back to the forest you will not need clothes," she said. "n--o!" he faltered; "that may be so. but i've dressed up so long that i'm used to it, and i don't imagine i'd care to run around naked again. so perhaps the good glinda will let me keep the costumes." "i'll ask her," agreed dorothy. then they left the gardens and went into a fine, big reception hall, where rich rugs were spread upon the tiled floors and the furniture was exquisitely carved and studded with jewels. the king's chair was an especially pretty piece of furniture, being in the shape of a silver lily with one leaf bent over to form the seat. the silver was everywhere thickly encrusted with diamonds and the seat was upholstered in white satin. "oh, what a splendid chair!" cried dorothy, clasping her hands admiringly. "isn't it?" answered the king, proudly. "it is my favorite seat, and i think it especially becoming to my complexion. while i think of it, i wish you'd ask glinda to let me keep this lily chair when i go away." "it wouldn't look very well in a hole in the ground, would it?" she suggested. "maybe not; but i'm used to sitting in it and i'd like to take it with me," he answered. "but here come the ladies and gentlemen of the court; so please sit beside me and be presented." . how the king changed his mind just then a rabbit band of nearly fifty pieces marched in, playing upon golden instruments and dressed in neat uniforms. following the band came the nobility of bunnybury, all richly dressed and hopping along on their rear legs. both the ladies and the gentlemen wore white gloves upon their paws, with their rings on the outside of the gloves, as this seemed to be the fashion here. some of the lady rabbits carried lorgnettes, while many of the gentlemen rabbits wore monocles in their left eyes. the courtiers and their ladies paraded past the king, who introduced princess dorothy to each couple in a very graceful manner. then the company seated themselves in chairs and on sofas and looked expectantly at their monarch. "it is our royal duty, as well as our royal pleasure," he said, "to provide fitting entertainment for our distinguished guest. we will now present the royal band of whiskered friskers." as he spoke the musicians, who had arranged themselves in a corner, struck up a dance melody while into the room pranced the whiskered friskers. they were eight pretty rabbits dressed only in gauzy purple skirts fastened around their waists with diamond bands. their whiskers were colored a rich purple, but otherwise they were pure white. after bowing before the king and dorothy the friskers began their pranks, and these were so comical that dorothy laughed with real enjoyment. they not only danced together, whirling and gyrating around the room, but they leaped over one another, stood upon their heads and hopped and skipped here and there so nimbly that it was hard work to keep track of them. finally, they all made double somersaults and turned handsprings out of the room. the nobility enthusiastically applauded, and dorothy applauded with them. "they're fine!" she said to the king. "yes, the whiskered friskers are really very clever," he replied. "i shall hate to part with them when i go away, for they have often amused me when i was very miserable. i wonder if you would ask glinda--" "no, it wouldn't do at all," declared dorothy, positively. "there wouldn't be room in your hole in the ground for so many rabbits, 'spec'ly when you get the lily chair and your clothes there. don't think of such a thing, your majesty." the king sighed. then he stood up and announced to the company: "we will now hold a military drill by my picked bodyguard of royal pikemen." now the band played a march and a company of rabbit soldiers came in. they wore green and gold uniforms and marched very stiffly but in perfect time. their spears, or pikes, had slender shafts of polished silver with golden heads, and during the drill they handled these weapons with wonderful dexterity. "i should think you'd feel pretty safe with such a fine bodyguard," remarked dorothy. "i do," said the king. "they protect me from every harm. i suppose glinda wouldn't--" "no," interrupted the girl; "i'm sure she wouldn't. it's the king's own bodyguard, and when you are no longer king you can't have 'em." the king did not reply, but he looked rather sorrowful for a time. when the soldiers had marched out he said to the company: "the royal jugglers will now appear." dorothy had seen many jugglers in her lifetime, but never any so interesting as these. there were six of them, dressed in black satin embroidered with queer symbols in silver--a costume which contrasted strongly with their snow-white fur. first, they pushed in a big red ball and three of the rabbit jugglers stood upon its top and made it roll. then two of them caught up a third and tossed him into the air, all vanishing, until only the two were left. then one of these tossed the other upward and remained alone of all his fellows. this last juggler now touched the red ball, which fell apart, being hollow, and the five rabbits who had disappeared in the air scrambled out of the hollow ball. next they all clung together and rolled swiftly upon the floor. when they came to a stop only one fat rabbit juggler was seen, the others seeming to be inside him. this one leaped lightly into the air and when he came down he exploded and separated into the original six. then four of them rolled themselves into round balls and the other two tossed them around and played ball with them. these were but a few of the tricks the rabbit jugglers performed, and they were so skillful that all the nobility and even the king applauded as loudly as did dorothy. "i suppose there are no rabbit jugglers in all the world to compare with these," remarked the king. "and since i may not have the whiskers friskers or my bodyguard, you might ask glinda to let me take away just two or three of these jugglers. will you?" "i'll ask her," replied dorothy, doubtfully. "thank you," said the king; "thank you very much. and now you shall listen to the winsome waggish warblers, who have often cheered me in my moments of anguish." the winsome waggish warblers proved to be a quartette of rabbit singers, two gentlemen and two lady rabbits. the gentlemen warblers wore full-dress swallow-tailed suits of white satin, with pearls for buttons, while the lady warblers were gowned in white satin dresses with long trails. the first song they sang began in this way: "when a rabbit gets a habit of living in a city and wearing clothes and furbelows and jewels rare and pretty, he scorns the bun who has to run and burrow in the ground and pities those whose watchful foes are man and gun and hound." dorothy looked at the king when she heard this song and noticed that he seemed disturbed and ill at ease. "i don't like that song," he said to the warblers. "give us something jolly and rollicking." so they sang to a joyous, tinkling melody as follows: "bunnies gay delight to play in their fairy town secure; ev'ry frisker flirts his whisker at a pink-eyed girl demure. ev'ry maid in silk arrayed at her partner shyly glances, paws are grasped, waists are clasped as they whirl in giddy dances. then together through the heather 'neath the moonlight soft they stroll; each is very blithe and merry, gamboling with laughter droll. life is fun to ev'ry one guarded by our magic charm for to dangers we are strangers, safe from any thought of harm." "you see," said dorothy to the king, when the song ended, "the rabbits all seem to like bunnybury except you. and i guess you're the only one that ever has cried or was unhappy and wanted to get back to your muddy hole in the ground." his majesty seemed thoughtful, and while the servants passed around glasses of nectar and plates of frosted cakes their king was silent and a bit nervous. when the refreshments had been enjoyed by all and the servants had retired dorothy said: "i must go now, for it's getting late and i'm lost. i've got to find the wizard and aunt em and uncle henry and all the rest sometime before night comes, if i poss'bly can." "won't you stay with us?" asked the king. "you will be very welcome." "no, thank you," she replied. "i must get back to my friends. and i want to see glinda just as soon as i can, you know." so the king dismissed his court and said he would himself walk with dorothy to the gate. he did not weep nor groan any more, but his long face was quite solemn and his big ears hung dejectedly on each side of it. he still wore his crown and his ermine and walked with a handsome gold-headed cane. when they arrived at the room in the wall the little girl found toto and billina waiting for her very patiently. they had been liberally fed by some of the attendants and were in no hurry to leave such comfortable quarters. the keeper of the wicket was by this time back in his old place, but he kept a safe distance from toto. dorothy bade good bye to the king as they stood just inside the wall. "you've been good to me," she said, "and i thank you ever so much. as soon as poss'ble i'll see glinda and ask her to put another king in your place and send you back into the wild forest. and i'll ask her to let you keep some of your clothes and the lily chair and one or two jugglers to amuse you. i'm sure she will do it, 'cause she's so kind she doesn't like any one to be unhappy." "ahem!" said the king, looking rather downcast. "i don't like to trouble you with my misery; so you needn't see glinda." "oh, yes i will," she replied. "it won't be any trouble at all." "but, my dear," continued the king, in an embarrassed way, "i've been thinking the subject over carefully, and i find there are a lot of pleasant things here in bunnybury that i would miss if i went away. so perhaps i'd better stay." dorothy laughed. then she looked grave. "it won't do for you to be a king and a cry-baby at the same time," she said. "you've been making all the other rabbits unhappy and discontented with your howls about being so miserable. so i guess it's better to have another king." "oh, no indeed!" exclaimed the king, earnestly. "if you won't say anything to glinda i'll promise to be merry and gay all the time, and never cry or wail again." "honor bright?" she asked. "on the royal word of a king i promise it!" he answered. "all right," said dorothy. "you'd be a reg'lar lunatic to want to leave bunnybury for a wild life in the forest, and i'm sure any rabbit outside the city would be glad to take your place." "forget it, my dear; forget all my foolishness," pleaded the king, earnestly. "hereafter i'll try to enjoy myself and do my duty by my subjects." so then she left him and entered through the little door into the room in the wall, where she grew gradually bigger and bigger until she had resumed her natural size. the keeper of the wicket let them out into the forest and told dorothy that she had been of great service to bunnybury because she had brought their dismal king to a realization of the pleasure of ruling so beautiful a city. "i shall start a petition to have your statue erected beside glinda's in the public square," said the keeper. "i hope you will come again, some day, and see it." "perhaps i shall," she replied. then, followed by toto and billina, she walked away from the high marble wall and started back along the narrow path toward the sign-post. . how the wizard found dorothy when they came to the signpost, there, to their joy, were the tents of the wizard pitched beside the path and the kettle bubbling merrily over the fire. the shaggy man and omby amby were gathering firewood while uncle henry and aunt em sat in their camp chairs talking with the wizard. they all ran forward to greet dorothy, as she approached, and aunt em exclaimed: "goodness gracious, child! where have you been?" "you've played hookey the whole day," added the shaggy man, reproachfully. "well, you see, i've been lost," explained the little girl, "and i've tried awful hard to find the way back to you, but just couldn't do it." "did you wander in the forest all day?" asked uncle henry. "you must be a'most starved!" said aunt em. "no," said dorothy, "i'm not hungry. i had a wheelbarrow and a piano for breakfast, and lunched with a king." "ah!" exclaimed the wizard, nodding with a bright smile. "so you've been having adventures again." "she's stark crazy!" cried aunt em. "whoever heard of eating a wheelbarrow?" "it wasn't very big," said dorothy; "and it had a zuzu wheel." "and i ate the crumbs," said billina, soberly. "sit down and tell us about it," begged the wizard. "we've hunted for you all day, and at last i noticed your footsteps in this path--and the tracks of billina. we found the path by accident, and seeing it only led to two places i decided you were at either one or the other of those places. so we made camp and waited for you to return. and now, dorothy, tell us where you have been--to bunbury or to bunnybury?" "why, i've been to both," she replied; "but first i went to utensia, which isn't on any path at all." she then sat down and related the day's adventures, and you may be sure aunt em and uncle henry were much astonished at the story. "but after seeing the cuttenclips and the fuddles," remarked her uncle, "we ought not to wonder at anything in this strange country." "seems like the only common and ordinary folks here are ourselves," rejoined aunt em, diffidently. "now that we're together again, and one reunited party," observed the shaggy man, "what are we to do next?" "have some supper and a night's rest," answered the wizard promptly, "and then proceed upon our journey." "where to?" asked the captain general. "we haven't visited the rigmaroles or the flutterbudgets yet," said dorothy. "i'd like to see them--wouldn't you?" "they don't sound very interesting," objected aunt em. "but perhaps they are." "and then," continued the little wizard, "we will call upon the tin woodman and jack pumpkinhead and our old friend the scarecrow, on our way home." "that will be nice!" cried dorothy, eagerly. "can't say they sound very interesting, either," remarked aunt em. "why, they're the best friends i have!" asserted the little girl, "and you're sure to like them, aunt em, 'cause ever'body likes them." by this time twilight was approaching, so they ate the fine supper which the wizard magically produced from the kettle and then went to bed in the cozy tents. they were all up bright and early next morning, but dorothy didn't venture to wander from the camp again for fear of more accidents. "do you know where there's a road?" she asked the little man. "no, my dear," replied the wizard; "but i'll find one." after breakfast he waved his hand toward the tents and they became handkerchiefs again, which were at once returned to the pockets of their owners. then they all climbed into the red wagon and the sawhorse inquired: "which way?" "never mind which way," replied the wizard. "just go as you please and you're sure to be right. i've enchanted the wheels of the wagon, and they will roll in the right direction, never fear." as the sawhorse started away through the trees dorothy said: "if we had one of those new-fashioned airships we could float away over the top of the forest, and look down and find just the places we want." "airship? pah!" retorted the little man, scornfully. "i hate those things, dorothy, although they are nothing new to either you or me. i was a balloonist for many years, and once my balloon carried me to the land of oz, and once to the vegetable kingdom. and once ozma had a gump that flew all over this kingdom and had sense enough to go where it was told to--which airships won't do. the house which the cyclone brought to oz all the way from kansas, with you and toto in it--was a real airship at the time; so you see we've got plenty of experience flying with the birds." "airships are not so bad, after all," declared dorothy. "some day they'll fly all over the world, and perhaps bring people even to the land of oz." "i must speak to ozma about that," said the wizard, with a slight frown. "it wouldn't do at all, you know, for the emerald city to become a way-station on an airship line." "no," said dorothy, "i don't s'pose it would. but what can we do to prevent it?" "i'm working out a magic recipe to fuddle men's brains, so they'll never make an airship that will go where they want it to go," the wizard confided to her. "that won't keep the things from flying, now and then, but it'll keep them from flying to the land of oz." just then the sawhorse drew the wagon out of the forest and a beautiful landscape lay spread before the travelers' eyes. moreover, right before them was a good road that wound away through the hills and valleys. "now," said the wizard, with evident delight, "we are on the right track again, and there is nothing more to worry about." "it's a foolish thing to take chances in a strange country," observed the shaggy man. "had we kept to the roads we never would have been lost. roads always lead to some place, else they wouldn't be roads." "this road," added the wizard, "leads to rigmarole town. i'm sure of that because i enchanted the wagon wheels." sure enough, after riding along the road for an hour or two they entered a pretty valley where a village was nestled among the hills. the houses were munchkin shaped, for they were all domes, with windows wider than they were high, and pretty balconies over the front doors. aunt em was greatly relieved to find this town "neither paper nor patch-work," and the only surprising thing about it was that it was so far distant from all other towns. as the sawhorse drew the wagon into the main street the travelers noticed that the place was filled with people, standing in groups and seeming to be engaged in earnest conversation. so occupied with themselves were the inhabitants that they scarcely noticed the strangers at all. so the wizard stopped a boy and asked: "is this rigmarole town?" "sir," replied the boy, "if you have traveled very much you will have noticed that every town differs from every other town in one way or another and so by observing the methods of the people and the way they live as well as the style of their dwelling places it ought not to be a difficult thing to make up your mind without the trouble of asking questions whether the town bears the appearance of the one you intended to visit or whether perhaps having taken a different road from the one you should have taken you have made an error in your way and arrived at some point where--" "land sakes!" cried aunt em, impatiently; "what's all this rigmarole about?" "that's it!" said the wizard, laughing merrily. "it's a rigmarole because the boy is a rigmarole and we've come to rigmarole town." "do they all talk like that?" asked dorothy, wonderingly. "he might have said 'yes' or 'no' and settled the question," observed uncle henry. "not here," said omby amby. "i don't believe the rigmaroles know what 'yes' or 'no' means." while the boy had been talking several other people had approached the wagon and listened intently to his speech. then they began talking to one another in long, deliberate speeches, where many words were used but little was said. but when the strangers criticized them so frankly one of the women, who had no one else to talk to, began an address to them, saying: "it is the easiest thing in the world for a person to say 'yes' or 'no' when a question that is asked for the purpose of gaining information or satisfying the curiosity of the one who has given expression to the inquiry has attracted the attention of an individual who may be competent either from personal experience or the experience of others to answer it with more or less correctness or at least an attempt to satisfy the desire for information on the part of the one who has made the inquiry by--" "dear me!" exclaimed dorothy, interrupting the speech. "i've lost all track of what you are saying." "don't let her begin over again, for goodness sake!" cried aunt em. but the woman did not begin again. she did not even stop talking, but went right on as she had begun, the words flowing from her mouth in a stream. "i'm quite sure that if we waited long enough and listened carefully, some of these people might be able to tell us something, in time," said the wizard. "let's don't wait," returned dorothy. "i've heard of the rigmaroles, and wondered what they were like; but now i know, and i'm ready to move on." "so am i," declared uncle henry; "we're wasting time here." "why, we're all ready to go," said the shaggy man, putting his fingers to his ears to shut out the monotonous babble of those around the wagon. so the wizard spoke to the sawhorse, who trotted nimbly through the village and soon gained the open country on the other side of it. dorothy looked back, as they rode away, and noticed that the woman had not yet finished her speech but was talking as glibly as ever, although no one was near to hear her. "if those people wrote books," omby amby remarked with a smile, "it would take a whole library to say the cow jumped over the moon." "perhaps some of 'em do write books," asserted the little wizard. "i've read a few rigmaroles that might have come from this very town." "some of the college lecturers and ministers are certainly related to these people," observed the shaggy man; "and it seems to me the land of oz is a little ahead of the united states in some of its laws. for here, if one can't talk clearly, and straight to the point, they send him to rigmarole town; while uncle sam lets him roam around wild and free, to torture innocent people." dorothy was thoughtful. the rigmaroles had made a strong impression upon her. she decided that whenever she spoke, after this, she would use only enough words to express what she wanted to say. . how they encountered the flutterbudgets they were soon among the pretty hills and valleys again, and the sawhorse sped up hill and down at a fast and easy pace, the roads being hard and smooth. mile after mile was speedily covered, and before the ride had grown at all tiresome they sighted another village. the place seemed even larger than rigmarole town, but was not so attractive in appearance. "this must be flutterbudget center," declared the wizard. "you see, it's no trouble at all to find places if you keep to the right road." "what are the flutterbudgets like?" inquired dorothy. "i do not know, my dear. but ozma has given them a town all their own, and i've heard that whenever one of the people becomes a flutterbudget he is sent to this place to live." "that is true," omby amby added; "flutterbudget center and rigmarole town are called 'the defensive settlements of oz.'" the village they now approached was not built in a valley, but on top of a hill, and the road they followed wound around the hill, like a corkscrew, ascending the hill easily until it came to the town. "look out!" screamed a voice. "look out, or you'll run over my child!" they gazed around and saw a woman standing upon the sidewalk nervously wringing her hands as she gazed at them appealingly. "where is your child?" asked the sawhorse. "in the house," said the woman, bursting into tears; "but if it should happen to be in the road, and you ran over it, those great wheels would crush my darling to jelly. oh dear! oh dear! think of my darling child being crushed into jelly by those great wheels!" "gid-dap!" said the wizard sharply, and the sawhorse started on. they had not gone far before a man ran out of a house shouting wildly, "help! help!" the sawhorse stopped short and the wizard and uncle henry and the shaggy man and omby amby jumped out of the wagon and ran to the poor man's assistance. dorothy followed them as quickly as she could. "what's the matter?" asked the wizard. "help! help!" screamed the man; "my wife has cut her finger off and she's bleeding to death!" then he turned and rushed back to the house, and all the party went with him. they found a woman in the front dooryard moaning and groaning as if in great pain. "be brave, madam!" said the wizard, consolingly. "you won't die just because you have cut off a finger, you may be sure." "but i haven't cut off a finger!" she sobbed. "then what has happened?" asked dorothy. "i--i pricked my finger with a needle while i was sewing, and--and the blood came!" she replied. "and now i'll have blood-poisoning, and the doctors will cut off my finger, and that will give me a fever and i shall die!" "pshaw!" said dorothy; "i've pricked my finger many a time, and nothing happened." "really?" asked the woman, brightening and wiping her eyes upon her apron. "why, it's nothing at all," declared the girl. "you're more scared than hurt." "ah, that's because she's a flutterbudget," said the wizard, nodding wisely. "i think i know now what these people are like." "so do i," announced dorothy. "oh, boo-hoo-hoo!" sobbed the woman, giving way to a fresh burst of grief. "what's wrong now?" asked the shaggy man. "oh, suppose i had pricked my foot!" she wailed. "then the doctors would have cut my foot off, and i'd be lamed for life!" "surely, ma'am," replied the wizard, "and if you'd pricked your nose they might cut your head off. but you see you didn't." "but i might have!" she exclaimed, and began to cry again. so they left her and drove away in their wagon. and her husband came out and began calling "help!" as he had before; but no one seemed to pay any attention to him. as the travelers turned into another street they found a man walking excitedly up and down the pavement. he appeared to be in a very nervous condition and the wizard stopped him to ask: "is anything wrong, sir?" "everything is wrong," answered the man, dismally. "i can't sleep." "why not?" inquired omby amby. "if i go to sleep i'll have to shut my eyes," he explained; "and if i shut my eyes they may grow together, and then i'd be blind for life!" "did you ever hear of any one's eyes growing together?" asked dorothy. "no," said the man, "i never did. but it would be a dreadful thing, wouldn't it? and the thought of it makes me so nervous i'm afraid to go to sleep." "there's no help for this case," declared the wizard; and they went on. at the next street corner a woman rushed up to them crying: "save my baby! oh, good, kind people, save my baby!" "is it in danger?" asked dorothy, noticing that the child was clasped in her arms and seemed sleeping peacefully. "yes, indeed," said the woman, nervously. "if i should go into the house and throw my child out of the window, it would roll way down to the bottom of the hill; and then if there were a lot of tigers and bears down there, they would tear my darling babe to pieces and eat it up!" "are there any tigers and bears in this neighborhood?" the wizard asked. "i've never heard of any," admitted the woman, "but if there were--" "have you any idea of throwing your baby out of the window?" questioned the little man. "none at all," she said; "but if--" "all your troubles are due to those 'ifs'," declared the wizard. "if you were not a flutterbudget you wouldn't worry." "there's another 'if'," replied the woman. "are you a flutterbudget, too?" "i will be, if i stay here long," exclaimed the wizard, nervously. "another 'if'!" cried the woman. but the wizard did not stop to argue with her. he made the sawhorse canter all the way down the hill, and only breathed easily when they were miles away from the village. after they had ridden in silence for a while dorothy turned to the little man and asked: "do 'ifs' really make flutterbudgets?" "i think the 'ifs' help," he answered seriously. "foolish fears, and worries over nothing, with a mixture of nerves and ifs, will soon make a flutterbudget of any one." then there was another long silence, for all the travelers were thinking over this statement, and nearly all decided it must be true. the country they were now passing through was everywhere tinted purple, the prevailing color of the gillikin country; but as the sawhorse ascended a hill they found that upon the other side everything was of a rich yellow hue. "aha!" cried the captain general; "here is the country of the winkies. we are just crossing the boundary line." "then we may be able to lunch with the tin woodman," announced the wizard, joyfully. "must we lunch on tin?" asked aunt em. "oh, no;" replied dorothy. "nick chopper knows how to feed meat people, and he will give us plenty of good things to eat, never fear. i've been to his castle before." "is nick chopper the tin woodman's name?" asked uncle henry. "yes; that's one of his names," answered the little girl; "and another of his names is 'emp'ror of the winkies.' he's the king of this country, you know, but ozma rules over all the countries of oz." "does the tin woodman keep any flutterbudgets or rigmaroles at his castle?" inquired aunt em, uneasily. "no indeed," said dorothy, positively. "he lives in a new tin castle, all full of lovely things." "i should think it would rust," said uncle henry. "he has thousands of winkies to keep it polished for him," explained the wizard. "his people love to do anything in their power for their beloved emperor, so there isn't a particle of rust on all the big castle." "i suppose they polish their emperor, too," said aunt em. "why, some time ago he had himself nickel-plated," the wizard answered; "so he only needs rubbing up once in a while. he's the brightest man in all the world, is dear nick chopper; and the kindest-hearted." "i helped find him," said dorothy, reflectively. "once the scarecrow and i found the tin woodman in the woods, and he was just rusted still, that time, an' no mistake. but we oiled his joints an' got 'em good and slippery, and after that he went with us to visit the wizard at the em'rald city." "was that the time the wizard scared you?" asked aunt em. "he didn't treat us well, at first," acknowledged dorothy; "for he made us go away and destroy the wicked witch. but after we found out he was only a humbug wizard we were not afraid of him." the wizard sighed and looked a little ashamed. "when we try to deceive people we always make mistakes," he said. "but i'm getting to be a real wizard now, and glinda the good's magic, that i am trying to practice, can never harm any one." "you were always a good man," declared dorothy, "even when you were a bad wizard." "he's a good wizard now," asserted aunt em, looking at the little man admiringly. "the way he made those tents grow out of handkerchiefs was just wonderful! and didn't he enchant the wagon wheels so they'd find the road?" "all the people of oz," said the captain general, "are very proud of their wizard. he once made some soap-bubbles that astonished the world." the wizard blushed at this praise, yet it pleased him. he no longer looked sad, but seemed to have recovered his usual good humor. the country through which they now rode was thickly dotted with farmhouses, and yellow grain waved in all the fields. many of the winkies could be seen working on their farms and the wild and unsettled parts of oz were by this time left far behind. these winkies appeared to be happy, light-hearted folk, and all removed their caps and bowed low when the red wagon with its load of travelers passed by. it was not long before they saw something glittering in the sunshine far ahead. "see!" cried dorothy; "that's the tin castle, aunt em!" and the sawhorse, knowing his passengers were eager to arrive, broke into a swift trot that soon brought them to their destination. . how the tin woodman told the sad news the tin woodman received princess dorothy's party with much grace and cordiality, yet the little girl decided that something must be worrying with her old friend, because he was not so merry as usual. but at first she said nothing about this, for uncle henry and aunt em were fairly bubbling over with admiration for the beautiful tin castle and its polished tin owner. so her suspicion that something unpleasant had happened was for a time forgotten. "where is the scarecrow?" she asked, when they had all been ushered into the big tin drawing-room of the castle, the sawhorse being led around to the tin stable in the rear. "why, our old friend has just moved into his new mansion," explained the tin woodman. "it has been a long time in building, although my winkies and many other people from all parts of the country have been busily working upon it. at last, however, it is completed, and the scarecrow took possession of his new home just two days ago." "i hadn't heard that he wanted a home of his own," said dorothy. "why doesn't he live with ozma in the emerald city? he used to, you know; and i thought he was happy there." "it seems," said the tin woodman, "that our dear scarecrow cannot be contented with city life, however beautiful his surroundings might be. originally he was a farmer, for he passed his early life in a cornfield, where he was supposed to frighten away the crows." "i know," said dorothy, nodding. "i found him, and lifted him down from his pole." "so now, after a long residence in the emerald city, his tastes have turned to farm life again," continued the tin man. "he feels that he cannot be happy without a farm of his own, so ozma gave him some land and every one helped him build his mansion, and now he is settled there for good." "who designed his house?" asked the shaggy man. "i believe it was jack pumpkinhead, who is also a farmer," was the reply. they were now invited to enter the tin dining room, where luncheon was served. aunt em found, to her satisfaction, that dorothy's promise was more than fulfilled; for, although the tin woodman had no appetite of his own, he respected the appetites of his guests and saw that they were bountifully fed. they passed the afternoon in wandering through the beautiful gardens and grounds of the palace. the walks were all paved with sheets of tin, brightly polished, and there were tin fountains and tin statues here and there among the trees. the flowers were mostly natural flowers and grew in the regular way; but their host showed them one flower bed which was his especial pride. "you see, all common flowers fade and die in time," he explained, "and so there are seasons when the pretty blooms are scarce. therefore i decided to make one tin flower bed all of tin flowers, and my workmen have created them with rare skill. here you see tin camelias, tin marigolds, tin carnations, tin poppies and tin hollyhocks growing as naturally as if they were real." indeed, they were a pretty sight, and glistened under the sunlight like spun silver. "isn't this tin hollyhock going to seed?" asked the wizard, bending over the flowers. "why, i believe it is!" exclaimed the tin woodman, as if surprised. "i hadn't noticed that before. but i shall plant the tin seeds and raise another bed of tin hollyhocks." in one corner of the gardens nick chopper had established a fish-pond in which they saw swimming and disporting themselves many pretty tin fishes. "would they bite on hooks?" asked aunt em, curiously. the tin woodman seemed hurt at this question. "madam," said he, "do you suppose i would allow anyone to catch my beautiful fishes, even if they were foolish enough to bite on hooks? no, indeed! every created thing is safe from harm in my domain, and i would as soon think of killing my little friend dorothy as killing one of my tin fishes." "the emperor is very kind-hearted, ma'am," explained the wizard. "if a fly happens to light upon his tin body he doesn't rudely brush it off, as some people might do; he asks it politely to find some other resting place." "what does the fly do then?" enquired aunt em. "usually it begs his pardon and goes away," said the wizard, gravely. "flies like to be treated politely as well as other creatures, and here in oz they understand what we say to them, and behave very nicely." "well," said aunt em, "the flies in kansas, where i came from, don't understand anything but a swat. you have to smash 'em to make 'em behave; and it's the same way with 'skeeters. do you have 'skeeters in oz?" "we have some very large mosquitoes here, which sing as beautifully as song birds," replied the tin woodman. "but they never bite or annoy our people, because they are well fed and taken care of. the reason they bite people in your country is because they are hungry--poor things!" "yes," agreed aunt em; "they're hungry, all right. an' they ain't very particular who they feed on. i'm glad you've got the 'skeeters educated in oz." that evening after dinner they were entertained by the emperor's tin cornet band, which played for them several sweet melodies. also the wizard did a few sleight-of-hand tricks to amuse the company; after which they all retired to their cozy tin bedrooms and slept soundly until morning. after breakfast dorothy said to the tin woodman: "if you'll tell us which way to go we'll visit the scarecrow on our way home." "i will go with you, and show you the way," replied the emperor; "for i must journey to-day to the emerald city." he looked so anxious, as he said this, that the little girl asked: "there isn't anything wrong with ozma, is there?" "not yet," said he; "but i'm afraid the time has come when i must tell you some very bad news, little friend." "oh, what is it?" cried dorothy. "do you remember the nome king?" asked the tin woodman. "i remember him very well," she replied. "the nome king has not a kind heart," said the emperor, sadly, "and he has been harboring wicked thoughts of revenge, because we once defeated him and liberated his slaves and you took away his magic belt. so he has ordered his nomes to dig a long tunnel underneath the deadly desert, so that he may march his hosts right into the emerald city. when he gets there he intends to destroy our beautiful country." dorothy was much surprised to hear this. "how did ozma find out about the tunnel?" she asked. "she saw it in her magic picture." "of course," said dorothy; "i might have known that. and what is she going to do?" "i cannot tell," was the reply. "pooh!" cried the yellow hen. "we're not afraid of the nomes. if we roll a few of our eggs down the tunnel they'll run away back home as fast as they can go." "why, that's true enough!" exclaimed dorothy. "the scarecrow once conquered all the nome king's army with some of billina's eggs." "but you do not understand all of the dreadful plot," continued the tin woodman. "the nome king is clever, and he knows his nomes would run from eggs; so he has bargained with many terrible creatures to help him. these evil spirits are not afraid of eggs or anything else, and they are very powerful. so the nome king will send them through the tunnel first, to conquer and destroy, and then the nomes will follow after to get their share of the plunder and slaves." they were all startled to hear this, and every face wore a troubled look. "is the tunnel all ready?" asked dorothy. "ozma sent me word yesterday that the tunnel was all completed except for a thin crust of earth at the end. when our enemies break through this crust, they will be in the gardens of the royal palace, in the heart of the emerald city. i offered to arm all my winkies and march to ozma's assistance; but she said no." "i wonder why?" asked dorothy. "she answered that all the inhabitants of oz, gathered together, were not powerful enough to fight and overcome the evil forces of the nome king. therefore she refuses to fight at all." "but they will capture and enslave us, and plunder and ruin all our lovely land!" exclaimed the wizard, greatly disturbed by this statement. "i fear they will," said the tin woodman, sorrowfully. "and i also fear that those who are not fairies, such as the wizard, and dorothy, and her uncle and aunt, as well as toto and billina, will be speedily put to death by the conquerors." "what can be done?" asked dorothy, shuddering a little at the prospect of this awful fate. "nothing can be done!" gloomily replied the emperor of the winkies. "but since ozma refuses my army i will go myself to the emerald city. the least i may do is to perish beside my beloved ruler." . how the scarecrow displayed his wisdom this amazing news had saddened every heart and all were now anxious to return to the emerald city and share ozma's fate. so they started without loss of time, and as the road led past the scarecrow's new mansion they determined to make a brief halt there and confer with him. "the scarecrow is probably the wisest man in all oz," remarked the tin woodman, when they had started upon their journey. "his brains are plentiful and of excellent quality, and often he has told me things i might never have thought of myself. i must say i rely a great deal upon the scarecrow's brains in this emergency." the tin woodman rode on the front seat of the wagon, where dorothy sat between him and the wizard. "has the scarecrow heard of ozma's trouble?" asked the captain general. "i do not know, sir," was the reply. "when i was a private," said omby amby, "i was an excellent army, as i fully proved in our war against the nomes. but now there is not a single private left in our army, since ozma made me the captain general, so there is no one to fight and defend our lovely ruler." "true," said the wizard. "the present army is composed only of officers, and the business of an officer is to order his men to fight. since there are no men there can be no fighting." "poor ozma!" whispered dorothy, with tears in her sweet eyes. "it's dreadful to think of all her lovely fairy country being destroyed. i wonder if we couldn't manage to escape and get back to kansas by means of the magic belt? and we might take ozma with us and all work hard to get money for her, so she wouldn't be so very lonely and unhappy about the loss of her fairyland." "do you think there would be any work for me in kansas?" asked the tin woodman. "if you are hollow, they might use you in a canning factory," suggested uncle henry. "but i can't see the use of your working for a living. you never eat or sleep or need a new suit of clothes." "i was not thinking of myself," replied the emperor, with dignity. "i merely wondered if i could not help to support dorothy and ozma." as they indulged in these sad plans for the future they journeyed in sight of the scarecrow's new mansion, and even though filled with care and worry over the impending fate of oz, dorothy couldn't help a feeling of wonder at the sight she saw. the scarecrow's new house was shaped like an immense ear of corn. the rows of kernels were made of solid gold, and the green upon which the ear stood upright was a mass of sparkling emeralds. upon the very top of the structure was perched a figure representing the scarecrow himself, and upon his extended arms, as well as upon his head, were several crows carved out of ebony and having ruby eyes. you may imagine how big this ear of corn was when i tell you that a single gold kernel formed a window, swinging outward upon hinges, while a row of four kernels opened to make the front entrance. inside there were five stories, each story being a single room. the gardens around the mansion consisted of cornfields, and dorothy acknowledged that the place was in all respects a very appropriate home for her good friend the scarecrow. "he would have been very happy here, i'm sure," she said, "if only the nome king had left us alone. but if oz is destroyed of course this place will be destroyed too." "yes," replied the tin woodman, "and also my beautiful tin castle, that has been my joy and pride." "jack pumpkinhead's house will go too," remarked the wizard, "as well as professor wogglebug's athletic college, and ozma's royal palace, and all our other handsome buildings." "yes, oz will indeed become a desert when the nome king gets through with it," sighed omby amby. the scarecrow came out to meet them and gave them all a hearty welcome. "i hear you have decided always to live in the land of oz, after this," he said to dorothy; "and that will delight my heart, for i have greatly disliked our frequent partings. but why are you all so downcast?" "have you heard the news?" asked the tin woodman. "no news to make me sad," replied the scarecrow. then nick chopper told his friend of the nome king's tunnel, and how the evil creatures of the north had allied themselves with the underground monarch for the purpose of conquering and destroying oz. "well," said the scarecrow, "it certainly looks bad for ozma, and all of us. but i believe it is wrong to worry over anything before it happens. it is surely time enough to be sad when our country is despoiled and our people made slaves. so let us not deprive ourselves of the few happy hours remaining to us." "ah! that is real wisdom," declared the shaggy man, approvingly. "after we become really unhappy we shall regret these few hours that are left to us, unless we enjoy them to the utmost." "nevertheless," said the scarecrow, "i shall go with you to the emerald city and offer ozma my services." "she says we can do nothing to oppose our enemies," announced the tin woodman. "and doubtless she is right, sir," answered the scarecrow. "still, she will appreciate our sympathy, and it is the duty of ozma's friends to stand by her side when the final disaster occurs." he then led them into his queer mansion and showed them the beautiful rooms in all the five stories. the lower room was a grand reception hall, with a hand-organ in one corner. this instrument the scarecrow, when alone, could turn to amuse himself, as he was very fond of music. the walls were hung with white silk, upon which flocks of black crows were embroidered in black diamonds. some of the chairs were made in the shape of big crows and upholstered with cushions of corn-colored silk. the second story contained a fine banquet room, where the scarecrow might entertain his guests, and the three stories above that were bed-chambers exquisitely furnished and decorated. "from these rooms," said the scarecrow, proudly, "one may obtain fine views of the surrounding cornfields. the corn i grow is always husky, and i call the ears my regiments, because they have so many kernels. of course i cannot ride my cobs, but i really don't care shucks about that. taken altogether, my farm will stack up with any in the neighborhood." the visitors partook of some light refreshment and then hurried away to resume the road to the emerald city. the scarecrow found a seat in the wagon between omby amby and the shaggy man, and his weight did not add much to the load because he was stuffed with straw. "you will notice i have one oat-field on my property," he remarked, as they drove away. "oat-straw is, i have found, the best of all straws to re-stuff myself with when my interior gets musty or out of shape." "are you able to re-stuff yourself without help?" asked aunt em. "i should think that after the straw was taken out of you there wouldn't be anything left but your clothes." "you are almost correct, madam," he answered. "my servants do the stuffing, under my direction. for my head, in which are my excellent brains, is a bag tied at the bottom. my face is neatly painted upon one side of the bag, as you may see. my head does not need re-stuffing, as my body does, for all that it requires is to have the face touched up with fresh paint occasionally." it was not far from the scarecrow's mansion to the farm of jack pumpkinhead, and when they arrived there both uncle henry and aunt em were much impressed. the farm was one vast pumpkin field, and some of the pumpkins were of enormous size. in one of them, which had been neatly hollowed out, jack himself lived, and he declared that it was a very comfortable residence. the reason he grew so many pumpkins was in order that he might change his head as often as it became wrinkled or threatened to spoil. the pumpkin-headed man welcomed his visitors joyfully and offered them several delicious pumpkin pies to eat. "i don't indulge in pumpkin pies myself, for two reasons," he said. "one reason is that were i to eat pumpkins i would become a cannibal, and the other reason is that i never eat, not being hollow inside." "very good reasons," agreed the scarecrow. they told jack pumpkinhead of the dreadful news about the nome king, and he decided to go with them to the emerald city and help comfort ozma. "i had expected to live here in ease and comfort for many centuries," said jack, dolefully; "but of course if the nome king destroys everything in oz i shall be destroyed too. really, it seems too bad, doesn't it?" they were soon on their journey again, and so swiftly did the sawhorse draw the wagon over the smooth roads that before twilight fell they had reached the royal palace in the emerald city, and were at their journey's end. . how ozma refused to fight for her kingdom ozma was in her rose garden picking a bouquet when the party arrived, and she greeted all her old and new friends as smilingly and sweetly as ever. dorothy's eyes were full of tears as she kissed the lovely ruler of oz, and she whispered to her: "oh, ozma, ozma! i'm so sorry!" ozma seemed surprised. "sorry for what, dorothy?" she asked. "for all your trouble about the nome king," was the reply. ozma laughed with genuine amusement. "why, that has not troubled me a bit, dear princess," she replied. then, looking around at the sad faces of her friends, she added: "have you all been worrying about this tunnel?" "we have!" they exclaimed in a chorus. "well, perhaps it is more serious than i imagined," admitted the fair ruler; "but i haven't given the matter much thought. after dinner we will all meet together and talk it over." so they went to their rooms and prepared for dinner, and dorothy dressed herself in her prettiest gown and put on her coronet, for she thought that this might be the last time she would ever appear as a princess of oz. the scarecrow, the tin woodman and jack pumpkinhead all sat at the dinner table, although none of them was made so he could eat. usually they served to enliven the meal with their merry talk, but to-night all seemed strangely silent and uneasy. as soon as the dinner was finished ozma led the company to her own private room in which hung the magic picture. when they had seated themselves the scarecrow was the first to speak. "is the nome king's tunnel finished, ozma?" he asked. "it was completed to-day," she replied. "they have built it right under my palace grounds, and it ends in front of the forbidden fountain. nothing but a crust of earth remains to separate our enemies from us, and when they march here, they will easily break through this crust and rush upon us." "who will assist the nome king?" inquired the scarecrow. "the whimsies, the growleywogs and the phanfasms," she replied. "i watched to-day in my magic picture the messengers whom the nome king sent to all these people to summon them to assemble in his great caverns." "let us see what they are doing now," suggested the tin woodman. so ozma wished to see the nome king's cavern, and at once the landscape faded from the magic picture and was replaced by the scene then being enacted in the jeweled cavern of king roquat. a wild and startling scene it was which the oz people beheld. before the nome king stood the chief of the whimsies and the grand gallipoot of the growleywogs, surrounded by their most skillful generals. very fierce and powerful they looked, so that even the nome king and general guph, who stood beside his master, seemed a bit fearful in the presence of their allies. now a still more formidable creature entered the cavern. it was the first and foremost of the phanfasms and he proudly sat down in king roquat's own throne and demanded the right to lead his forces through the tunnel in advance of all the others. the first and foremost now appeared to all eyes in his hairy skin and the bear's head. what his real form was even roquat did not know. through the arches leading into the vast series of caverns that lay beyond the throne room of king roquat could be seen ranks upon ranks of the invaders--thousands of phanfasms, growleywogs and whimsies standing in serried lines, while behind them were massed the thousands upon thousands of general guph's own army of nomes. "listen!" whispered ozma. "i think we can hear what they are saying." so they kept still and listened. "is all ready?" demanded the first and foremost, haughtily. "the tunnel is finally completed," replied general guph. "how long will it take us to march to the emerald city?" asked the grand gallipoot of the growleywogs. "if we start at midnight," replied the nome king, "we shall arrive at the emerald city by daybreak. then, while all the oz people are sleeping, we will capture them and make them our slaves. after that we will destroy the city itself and march through the land of oz, burning and devastating as we go." "good!" cried the first and foremost. "when we get through with oz it will be a desert wilderness. ozma shall be my slave." "she shall be my slave!" shouted the grand gallipoot, angrily. "we'll decide that by and by," said king roquat hastily. "don't let us quarrel now, friends. first let us conquer oz, and then we will divide the spoils of war in a satisfactory manner." the first and foremost smiled wickedly; but he only said: "i and my phanfasms go first, for nothing on earth can oppose our power." they all agreed to that, knowing the phanfasms to be the mightiest of the combined forces. king roquat now invited them to attend a banquet he had prepared, where they might occupy themselves in eating and drinking until midnight arrived. as they had now seen and heard all of the plot against them that they cared to, ozma allowed her magic picture to fade away. then she turned to her friends and said: "our enemies will be here sooner than i expected. what do you advise me to do?" "it is now too late to assemble our people," said the tin woodman, despondently. "if you had allowed me to arm and drill my winkies, we might have put up a good fight and destroyed many of our enemies before we were conquered." "the munchkins are good fighters, too," said omby amby; "and so are the gillikins." "but i do not wish to fight," declared ozma, firmly. "no one has the right to destroy any living creatures, however evil they may be, or to hurt them or make them unhappy. i will not fight, even to save my kingdom." "the nome king is not so particular," remarked the scarecrow. "he intends to destroy us all and ruin our beautiful country." "because the nome king intends to do evil is no excuse for my doing the same," replied ozma. "self-preservation is the first law of nature," quoted the shaggy man. "true," she said, readily. "i would like to discover a plan to save ourselves without fighting." that seemed a hopeless task to them, but realizing that ozma was determined not to fight, they tried to think of some means that might promise escape. "couldn't we bribe our enemies, by giving them a lot of emeralds and gold?" asked jack pumpkinhead. "no, because they believe they are able to take everything we have," replied the ruler. "i have thought of something," said dorothy. "what is it, dear?" asked ozma. "let us use the magic belt to wish all of us in kansas. we will put some emeralds in our pockets, and can sell them in topeka for enough to pay off the mortgage on uncle henry's farm. then we can all live together and be happy." "a clever idea!" exclaimed the scarecrow. "kansas is a very good country. i've been there," said the shaggy man. "that seems to me an excellent plan," approved the tin woodman. "no!" said ozma, decidedly. "never will i desert my people and leave them to so cruel a fate. i will use the magic belt to send the rest of you to kansas, if you wish, but if my beloved country must be destroyed and my people enslaved i will remain and share their fate." "quite right," asserted the scarecrow, sighing. "i will remain with you." "and so will i," declared the tin woodman and the shaggy man and jack pumpkinhead, in turn. tiktok, the machine man, also said he intended to stand by ozma. "for," said he, "i should be of no use at all in kan-sas." "for my part," announced dorothy, gravely, "if the ruler of oz must not desert her people, a princess of oz has no right to run away, either. i'm willing to become a slave with the rest of you; so all we can do with the magic belt is to use it to send uncle henry and aunt em back to kansas." "i've been a slave all my life," aunt em replied, with considerable cheerfulness, "and so has henry. i guess we won't go back to kansas, anyway. i'd rather take my chances with the rest of you." ozma smiled upon them all gratefully. "there is no need to despair just yet," she said. "i'll get up early to-morrow morning and be at the forbidden fountain when the fierce warriors break through the crust of the earth. i will speak to them pleasantly and perhaps they won't be so very bad, after all." "why do they call it the forbidden fountain?" asked dorothy, thoughtfully. "don't you know, dear?" returned ozma, surprised. "no," said dorothy. "of course i've seen the fountain in the palace grounds, ever since i first came to oz; and i've read the sign which says: 'all persons are forbidden to drink at this fountain.' but i never knew why they were forbidden. the water seems clear and sparkling and it bubbles up in a golden basin all the time." "that water," declared ozma, gravely, "is the most dangerous thing in all the land of oz. it is the water of oblivion." "what does that mean?" asked dorothy. "whoever drinks at the forbidden fountain at once forgets everything he has ever known," ozma asserted. "it wouldn't be a bad way to forget our troubles," suggested uncle henry. "that is true; but you would forget everything else, and become as ignorant as a baby," returned ozma. "does it make one crazy?" asked dorothy. "no; it only makes one forget," replied the girl ruler. "it is said that once--long, long ago--a wicked king ruled oz, and made himself and all his people very miserable and unhappy. so glinda, the good sorceress, placed this fountain here, and the king drank of its water and forgot all his wickedness. his mind became innocent and vacant, and when he learned the things of life again they were all good things. but the people remembered how wicked their king had been, and were still afraid of him. therefore, he made them all drink of the water of oblivion and forget everything they had known, so that they became as simple and innocent as their king. after that, they all grew wise together, and their wisdom was good, so that peace and happiness reigned in the land. but for fear some one might drink of the water again, and in an instant forget all he had learned, the king put that sign upon the fountain, where it has remained for many centuries up to this very day." they had all listened intently to ozma's story, and when she finished speaking there was a long period of silence while all thought upon the curious magical power of the water of oblivion. finally the scarecrow's painted face took on a broad smile that stretched the cloth as far as it would go. "how thankful i am," he said, "that i have such an excellent assortment of brains!" "i gave you the best brains i ever mixed," declared the wizard, with an air of pride. "you did, indeed!" agreed the scarecrow, "and they work so splendidly that they have found a way to save oz--to save us all!" "i'm glad to hear that," said the wizard. "we never needed saving more than we do just now." "do you mean to say you can save us from those awful phanfasms, and growleywogs and whimsies?" asked dorothy eagerly. "i'm sure of it, my dear," asserted the scarecrow, still smiling genially. "tell us how!" cried the tin woodman. "not now," said the scarecrow. "you may all go to bed, and i advise you to forget your worries just as completely as if you had drunk of the water of oblivion in the forbidden fountain. i'm going to stay here and tell my plan to ozma alone, but if you will all be at the forbidden fountain at daybreak, you'll see how easily we will save the kingdom when our enemies break through the crust of earth and come from the tunnel." so they went away and let the scarecrow and ozma alone; but dorothy could not sleep a wink all night. "he is only a scarecrow," she said to herself, "and i'm not sure that his mixed brains are as clever as he thinks they are." but she knew that if the scarecrow's plan failed they were all lost; so she tried to have faith in him. . how the fierce warriors invaded oz the nome king and his terrible allies sat at the banquet table until midnight. there was much quarreling between the growleywogs and phanfasms, and one of the wee-headed whimsies got angry at general guph and choked him until he nearly stopped breathing. yet no one was seriously hurt, and the nome king felt much relieved when the clock struck twelve and they all sprang up and seized their weapons. "aha!" shouted the first and foremost. "now to conquer the land of oz!" he marshaled his phanfasms in battle array and at his word of command they marched into the tunnel and began the long journey through it to the emerald city. the first and foremost intended to take all the treasures of oz for himself; to kill all who could be killed and enslave the rest; to destroy and lay waste the whole country, and afterward to conquer and enslave the nomes, the growleywogs and the whimsies. and he knew his power was sufficient to enable him to do all these things easily. next marched into the tunnel the army of gigantic growleywogs, with their grand gallipoot at their head. they were dreadful beings, indeed, and longed to get to oz that they might begin to pilfer and destroy. the grand gallipoot was a little afraid of the first and foremost, but had a cunning plan to murder or destroy that powerful being and secure the wealth of oz for himself. mighty little of the plunder would the nome king get, thought the grand gallipoot. the chief of the whimsies now marched his false-headed forces into the tunnel. in his wicked little head was a plot to destroy both the first and foremost and the grand gallipoot. he intended to let them conquer oz, since they insisted on going first; but he would afterward treacherously destroy them, as well as king roquat, and keep all the slaves and treasure of ozma's kingdom for himself. after all his dangerous allies had marched into the tunnel the nome king and general guph started to follow them, at the head of fifty thousand nomes, all fully armed. "guph," said the king, "those creatures ahead of us mean mischief. they intend to get everything for themselves and leave us nothing." "i know," replied the general; "but they are not as clever as they think they are. when you get the magic belt you must at once wish the whimsies and growleywogs and phanfasms all back into their own countries--and the belt will surely take them there." "good!" cried the king. "an excellent plan, guph. i'll do it. while they are conquering oz i'll get the magic belt, and then only the nomes will remain to ravage the country." so you see there was only one thing that all were agreed upon--that oz should be destroyed. on, on, on the vast ranks of invaders marched, filling the tunnel from side to side. with a steady tramp, tramp, they advanced, every step taking them nearer to the beautiful emerald city. "nothing can save the land of oz!" thought the first and foremost, scowling until his bear face was as black as the tunnel. "the emerald city is as good as destroyed already!" muttered the grand gallipoot, shaking his war club fiercely. "in a few hours oz will be a desert!" said the chief of the whimsies, with an evil laugh. "my dear guph," remarked the nome king to his general, "at last my vengeance upon ozma of oz and her people is about to be accomplished." "you are right!" declared the general. "ozma is surely lost." and now the first and foremost, who was in advance and nearing the emerald city, began to cough and to sneeze. "this tunnel is terribly dusty," he growled, angrily. "i'll punish that nome king for not having it swept clean. my throat and eyes are getting full of dust and i'm as thirsty as a fish!" the grand gallipoot was coughing too, and his throat was parched and dry. "what a dusty place!" he cried. "i'll be glad when we reach oz, where we can get a drink." "who has any water?" asked the whimsie chief, gasping and choking. but none of his followers carried a drop of water, so he hastened on to get through the dusty tunnel to the land of oz. "where did all this dust come from?" demanded general guph, trying hard to swallow but finding his throat so dry he couldn't. "i don't know," answered the nome king. "i've been in the tunnel every day while it was being built, but i never noticed any dust before." "let's hurry!" cried the general. "i'd give half the gold in oz for a drink of water." the dust grew thicker and thicker, and the throats and eyes and noses of the invaders were filled with it. but not one halted or turned back. they hurried forward more fierce and vengeful than ever. . how they drank at the forbidden fountain the scarecrow had no need to sleep; neither had the tin woodman or tiktok or jack pumpkinhead. so they all wandered out into the palace grounds and stood beside the sparkling water of the forbidden fountain until daybreak. during this time they indulged in occasional conversation. "nothing could make me forget what i know," remarked the scarecrow, gazing into the fountain, "for i cannot drink the water of oblivion or water of any kind. and i am glad that this is so, for i consider my wisdom unexcelled." "you are cer-tain-ly ve-ry wise," agreed tiktok. "for my part, i can on-ly think by ma-chin-er-y, so i do not pre-tend to know as much as you do." "my tin brains are very bright, but that is all i claim for them," said nick chopper, modestly. "yet i do not aspire to being very wise, for i have noticed that the happiest people are those who do not let their brains oppress them." "mine never worry me," jack pumpkinhead acknowledged. "there are many seeds of thought in my head, but they do not sprout easily. i am glad that it is so, for if i occupied my days in thinking i should have no time for anything else." in this cheery mood they passed the hours until the first golden streaks of dawn appeared in the sky. then ozma joined them, as fresh and lovely as ever and robed in one of her prettiest gowns. "our enemies have not yet arrived," said the scarecrow, after greeting affectionately the sweet and girlish ruler. "they will soon be here," she said, "for i have just glanced at my magic picture, and have seen them coughing and choking with the dust in the tunnel." "oh, is there dust in the tunnel?" asked the tin woodman. "yes; ozma placed it there by means of the magic belt," explained the scarecrow, with one of his broad smiles. then dorothy came to them, uncle henry and aunt em following close after her. the little girl's eyes were heavy because she had had a sleepless and anxious night. toto walked by her side, but the little dog's spirits were very much subdued. billina, who was always up by daybreak, was not long in joining the group by the fountain. the wizard and the shaggy man next arrived, and soon after appeared omby amby, dressed in his best uniform. "there lies the tunnel," said ozma, pointing to a part of the ground just before the forbidden fountain, "and in a few moments the dreadful invaders will break through the earth and swarm over the land. let us all stand on the other side of the fountain and watch to see what happens." at once they followed her suggestion and moved around the fountain of the water of oblivion. there they stood silent and expectant until the earth beyond gave way with a sudden crash and up leaped the powerful form of the first and foremost, followed by all his grim warriors. as the leader sprang forward his gleaming eyes caught the play of the fountain and he rushed toward it and drank eagerly of the sparkling water. many of the other phanfasms drank, too, in order to clear their dry and dusty throats. then they stood around and looked at one another with simple, wondering smiles. the first and foremost saw ozma and her companions beyond the fountain, but instead of making an effort to capture her he merely stared at her in pleased admiration of her beauty--for he had forgotten where he was and why he had come there. but now the grand gallipoot arrived, rushing from the tunnel with a hoarse cry of mingled rage and thirst. he too saw the fountain and hastened to drink of its forbidden waters. the other growleywogs were not slow to follow suit, and even before they had finished drinking the chief of the whimsies and his people came to push them away, while they one and all cast off their false heads that they might slake their thirst at the fountain. when the nome king and general guph arrived they both made a dash to drink, but the general was so mad with thirst that he knocked his king over, and while roquat lay sprawling upon the ground the general drank heartily of the water of oblivion. this rude act of his general made the nome king so angry that for a moment he forgot he was thirsty and rose to his feet to glare upon the group of terrible warriors he had brought here to assist him. he saw ozma and her people, too, and yelled out: "why don't you capture them? why don't you conquer oz, you idiots? why do you stand there like a lot of dummies?" but the great warriors had become like little children. they had forgotten all their enmity against ozma and against oz. they had even forgotten who they themselves were, or why they were in this strange and beautiful country. as for the nome king, they did not recognize him, and wondered who he was. the sun came up and sent its flood of silver rays to light the faces of the invaders. the frowns and scowls and evil looks were all gone. even the most monstrous of the creatures there assembled smiled innocently and seemed light-hearted and content merely to be alive. not so with roquat, the nome king. he had not drunk from the forbidden fountain and all his former rage against ozma and dorothy now inflamed him as fiercely as ever. the sight of general guph babbling like a happy child and playing with his hands in the cool waters of the fountain astonished and maddened red roquat. seeing that his terrible allies and his own general refused to act, the nome king turned to order his great army of nomes to advance from the tunnel and seize the helpless oz people. but the scarecrow suspected what was in the king's mind and spoke a word to the tin woodman. together they ran at roquat and grabbing him up tossed him into the great basin of the fountain. the nome king's body was round as a ball, and it bobbed up and down in the water of oblivion while he spluttered and screamed with fear lest he should drown. and when he cried out, his mouth filled with water, which ran down his throat, so that straightway he forgot all he had formerly known just as completely as had all the other invaders. ozma and dorothy could not refrain from laughing to see their dreaded enemies become as harmless as babies. there was no danger now that oz would be destroyed. the only question remaining to solve was how to get rid of this horde of intruders. the shaggy man kindly pulled the nome king out of the fountain and set him upon his thin legs. roquat was dripping wet, but he chattered and laughed and wanted to drink more of the water. no thought of injuring any person was now in his mind. before he left the tunnel he had commanded his fifty thousand nomes to remain there until he ordered them to advance, as he wished to give his allies time to conquer oz before he appeared with his own army. ozma did not wish all these nomes to overrun her land, so she advanced to king roquat and taking his hand in her own said gently: "who are you? what is your name?" "i don't know," he replied, smiling at her. "who are you, my dear?" "my name is ozma," she said; "and your name is roquat." "oh, is it?" he replied, seeming pleased. "yes; you are king of the nomes," she said. "ah; i wonder what the nomes are!" returned the king, as if puzzled. "they are underground elves, and that tunnel over there is full of them," she answered. "you have a beautiful cavern at the other end of the tunnel, so you must go to your nomes and say: 'march home!' then follow after them and in time you will reach the pretty cavern where you live." the nome king was much pleased to learn this, for he had forgotten he had a cavern. so he went to the tunnel and said to his army: 'march home!' at once the nomes turned and marched back through the tunnel, and the king followed after them, laughing with delight to find his orders so readily obeyed. the wizard went to general guph, who was trying to count his fingers, and told him to follow the nome king, who was his master. guph meekly obeyed, and so all the nomes quitted the land of oz forever. but there were still the phanfasms and whimsies and growleywogs standing around in groups, and they were so many that they filled the gardens and trampled upon the flowers and grass because they did not know that the tender plants would be injured by their clumsy feet. but in all other respects they were perfectly harmless and played together like children or gazed with pleasure upon the pretty sights of the royal gardens. after counseling with the scarecrow ozma sent omby amby to the palace for the magic belt, and when the captain general returned with it the ruler of oz at once clasped the precious belt around her waist. "i wish all these strange people--the whimsies and the growleywogs and the phanfasms--safe back in their own homes!" she said. it all happened in a twinkling, for of course the wish was no sooner spoken than it was granted. all the hosts of the invaders were gone, and only the trampled grass showed that they had ever been in the land of oz. . how glinda worked a magic spell "that was better than fighting," said ozma, when all our friends were assembled in the palace after the exciting events of the morning; and each and every one agreed with her. "no one was hurt," said the wizard, delightedly. "and no one hurt us," added aunt em. "but, best of all," said dorothy, "the wicked people have all forgotten their wickedness, and will not wish to hurt any one after this." "true, princess," declared the shaggy man. "it seems to me that to have reformed all those evil characters is more important than to have saved oz." "nevertheless," remarked the scarecrow, "i am glad oz is saved. i can now go back to my new mansion and live happily." "and i am glad and grateful that my pumpkin farm is saved," said jack. "for my part," added the tin woodman, "i cannot express my joy that my lovely tin castle is not to be demolished by wicked enemies." "still," said tiktok, "o-ther en-e-mies may come to oz some day." "why do you allow your clock-work brains to interrupt our joy?" asked omby amby, frowning at the machine man. "i say what i am wound up to say," answered tiktok. "and you are right," declared ozma. "i myself have been thinking of this very idea, and it seems to me there are entirely too many ways for people to get to the land of oz. we used to think the deadly desert that surrounds us was enough protection; but that is no longer the case. the wizard and dorothy have both come here through the air, and i am told the earth people have invented airships that can fly anywhere they wish them to go." "why, sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't," asserted dorothy. "but in time the airships may cause us trouble," continued ozma, "for if the earth folk learn how to manage them we would be overrun with visitors who would ruin our lovely, secluded fairyland." "that is true enough," agreed the wizard. "also the desert fails to protect us in other ways," ozma went on, thoughtfully. "johnny dooit once made a sand-boat that sailed across it, and the nome king made a tunnel under it. so i believe something ought to be done to cut us off from the rest of the world entirely, so that no one in the future will ever be able to intrude upon us." "how will you do that?" asked the scarecrow. "i do not know; but in some way i am sure it can be accomplished. to-morrow i will make a journey to the castle of glinda the good, and ask her advice." "may i go with you?" asked dorothy, eagerly. "of course, my dear princess; and i also invite any of our friends here who would like to undertake the journey." they all declared they wished to accompany their girl ruler, for this was indeed an important mission, since the future of the land of oz to a great extent depended upon it. so ozma gave orders to her servants to prepare for the journey on the morrow. that day she watched her magic picture, and when it showed her that all the nomes had returned through the tunnel to their underground caverns, ozma used the magic belt to close up the tunnel, so that the earth underneath the desert sands became as solid as it was before the nomes began to dig. early the following morning a gay cavalcade set out to visit the famous sorceress, glinda the good. ozma and dorothy rode in a chariot drawn by the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, while the sawhorse drew the red wagon in which rode the rest of the party. with hearts light and free from care they traveled merrily along through the lovely and fascinating land of oz, and in good season reached the stately castle in which resided the sorceress. glinda knew that they were coming. "i have been reading about you in my magic book," she said, as she greeted them in her gracious way. "what is your magic book like?" inquired aunt em, curiously. "it is a record of everything that happens," replied the sorceress. "as soon as an event takes place, anywhere in the world, it is immediately found printed in my magic book. so when i read its pages i am well informed." "did it tell you how our enemies drank the water of 'blivion?" asked dorothy. "yes, my dear; it told all about it. and also it told me you were all coming to my castle, and why." "then," said ozma, "i suppose you know what is in my mind, and that i am seeking a way to prevent any one in the future from discovering the land of oz." "yes; i know that. and while you were on your journey i have thought of a way to accomplish your desire. for it seems to me unwise to allow too many outside people to come here. dorothy, with her uncle and aunt, has now returned to oz to live always, and there is no reason why we should leave any way open for others to travel uninvited to our fairyland. let us make it impossible for any one ever to communicate with us in any way, after this. then we may live peacefully and contentedly." "your advice is wise," returned ozma. "i thank you, glinda, for your promise to assist me." "but how can you do it?" asked dorothy. "how can you keep every one from ever finding oz?" "by making our country invisible to all eyes but our own," replied the sorceress, smiling. "i have a magic charm powerful enough to accomplish that wonderful feat, and now that we have been warned of our danger by the nome king's invasion, i believe we must not hesitate to separate ourselves forever from all the rest of the world." "i agree with you," said the ruler of oz. "won't it make any difference to us?" asked dorothy, doubtfully. "no, my dear," glinda answered, assuringly. "we shall still be able to see each other and everything in the land of oz. it won't affect us at all; but those who fly through the air over our country will look down and see nothing at all. those who come to the edge of the desert, or try to cross it, will catch no glimpse of oz, or know in what direction it lies. no one will try to tunnel to us again because we cannot be seen and therefore cannot be found. in other words, the land of oz will entirely disappear from the knowledge of the rest of the world." "that's all right," said dorothy, cheerfully. "you may make oz invis'ble as soon as you please, for all i care." "it is already invisible," glinda stated. "i knew ozma's wishes, and performed the magic spell before you arrived." ozma seized the hand of the sorceress and pressed it gratefully. "thank you!" she said. . how the story of oz came to an end the writer of these oz stories has received a little note from princess dorothy of oz which, for a time, has made him feel rather disconcerted. the note was written on a broad, white feather from a stork's wing, and it said: "you will never hear anything more about oz, because we are now cut off forever from all the rest of the world. but toto and i will always love you and all the other children who love us. "dorothy gale." this seemed to me too bad, at first, for oz is a very interesting fairyland. still, we have no right to feel grieved, for we have had enough of the history of the land of oz to fill six story books, and from its quaint people and their strange adventures we have been able to learn many useful and amusing things. so good luck to little dorothy and her companions. may they live long in their invisible country and be very happy! online distributed proofreading canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) the everlasting arms by joseph hocking author of "all for a scrap of paper," "the trampled cross," etc., etc. hodder and stoughton london new york toronto contents page prologue chapter i a woman's face chapter ii the marconigram chapter iii the shipwreck chapter iv "the enemy of your soul" part i.--the first temptation chapter v the only surviving relative chapter vi wendover park chapter vii lady blanche makes her appearance chapter viii count romanoff's gospel chapter ix beatrice stanmore chapter x uncertainty chapter xi the real heir chapter xii the day of destiny chapter xiii the invisible hand chapter xiv a scrap of paper chapter xv count romanoff's departure chapter xvi riggleton's homecoming chapter xvii faversham's resolution part ii.--the second temptation chapter xviii mr. brown's prophecy chapter xix an amazing proposal chapter xx "the country for the people" chapter xxi the midnight meeting chapter xxii "you and i together" chapter xxiii the so-called dead chapter xxiv visions of another world chapter xxv romanoff's philosophy chapter xxvi a voice from another world chapter xxvii olga makes love part iii.--the third temptation chapter xxviii the count's confederate chapter xxix in quest of a soul chapter xxx voices in the night chapter xxxi dick hears strange news chapter xxxii beatrice confesses chapter xxxiii sir george's love affair chapter xxxiv the dawn of love chapter xxxv the eternal struggle chapter xxxvi his guardian angel chapter xxxvii at the cafÉ moscow chapter xxxviii the shadow of a great terror chapter xxxix the triumph of good chapter xl the ministering angel prologue chapter i a woman's face "there may be a great deal in it." "undoubtedly there is. imagination, superstition, credulity," said dick faversham a little cynically. "well, i can't dismiss it in that fashion," replied the other. "where there's smoke there's fire, and you can't get men from various parts of the world testifying that they saw the angels at mons unless there is some foundation of truth in it." "again i say imagination. imagination can do a great deal. imagination can people a churchyard with ghosts; it can make dreams come true, and it can also make clever men foolish." "admit that. you still haven't got to the bottom of it. there's more than mere imagination in the stories of the angels at mons, and at other places. less than three weeks ago i was at a hospital in london. i was talking with a wounded sergeant, and this man told me in so many words that he saw the angels. he said there were three of them, and that they remained visible for more than an hour. not only did he see them, but others saw them. he also said that what appeared like a great calamity was averted by their appearance." there was a silence after this somewhat lengthy speech, and something like an uncanny feeling possessed the listeners. the conversation took place in the smoke-room of a steamship bound for australia, and at least a dozen men were taking part in it. the subject of the discussion was the alleged appearance of the angels at mons, and at other places in france and belgium, and although at least half of the little party was not convinced that those who accepted the stories had a good case, they could not help being affected by the numerous instances that were adduced of the actual appearance of spiritual visitants. the subject, as all the world knows, had been much discussed in england and elsewhere, and so it was not unnatural that it should form the topic of conversation in the smoke-room of the outgoing vessel. one of the strongest opponents to the supernatural theory was a young man of perhaps twenty-seven years of age. from the first he had taken up an antagonistic attitude, and would not admit that the cases given proved anything. "excuse me," he urged, "but, really, it won't do. you see, the whole thing, if it is true, is miraculous, and miracles, according to matthew arnold, don't happen." "and who is matthew arnold, or any other man, to say that what we called miracles don't happen?" urged mr. bennett, the clergyman, warmly. "in spite of matthew arnold and men of his school, the world still believes in the miracles of our lord; why, then, should miracles happen in palestine and not in france?" "if they did happen," interpolated faversham. "either they happened, or the greatest movement, the mightiest and noblest enthusiasms the world has ever known, were founded on a lie," said the clergyman solemnly. "that may be," retorted faversham, "but don't you see where you are leading us? if, as you say, we accept the new testament stories, there is no reason why we may not accept the angels at mons and elsewhere. but that opens up all sorts of questions. the new testament tells of people being possessed by devils; it tells of one at least being tempted by a personal devil. would you assert that a personal devil tempts men to-day?" "i believe that either the devil or his agents tempt men to-day," replied the clergyman. "then you would, i suppose, also assert that the old myth of guardian angels is also true." "accepting the new testament, i do," replied mr. bennett. dick faversham laughed rather uneasily. "think," went on the clergyman; "suppose someone who loved you very dearly in life died, and went into the great spirit world. do you not think it natural that that person should seek to watch over you? is it not natural that he or she who loved you in life should love you after what we call death? a mother will give her life for her child in life. why should she not seek to guard that same child even although she has gone to the world of spirits?" "but the whole thing seems so unreal, so unnatural," urged faversham. "that is because we live in a materialistic age. the truth is, in giving up the idea of guardian angels and similar beliefs we have given up some of the greatest comforts in life. because we have become so materialistic, we have lost that grand triumphant conviction that there is no death. why--why--"--and mr. bennett rose to his feet excitedly--"there is not one of those splendid lads who has fallen in battle, who is dead. god still cares for them all, and not one is outside his protection. i can't explain it, but i _know_." "you know?" "yes, i know. and i'll tell you why i know. my son jack was killed at mons, but he's near me even now. say it's unreal if you like, say it's unnatural if you will, but it's one of the great glories of life to me." "i don't like to cast a doubt upon a sacred conviction," ventured faversham after a silence that was almost painful, "but is not this clearly a case of imagination? mr. bennett has lost a son in the war. we are all very sorry for him, and we are all glad that he gets comfort from the feeling that his son is near him. but even admitting the truth of this, admitting the doctrine that a man's spirit does not die because of the death of the body, you have proved nothing. the appearance of the angels in france and belgium means something more than this. it declares that these spirits appear in visible, tangible forms; that they take an interest in our mundane doings; that they take sides; that they help some and hinder others." "exactly," assented mr. bennett. "you believe that?" "i believe it most fervently," was the clergyman's solemn answer. "i am anything but a spiritualist, as the word is usually understood; but i see no reason why my boy may not communicate with me, why he may not help me. i, of course, do not understand the mysterious ways of the almighty, but i believe in the words of holy writ. 'are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?' says the writer of the epistle to the hebrews. while our lord himself, when speaking of little children, said, 'i say unto you that their angels do always behold the face of my father who is in heaven.'" again there was a silence which was again broken by dick faversham turning and speaking to a man who had not spoken during the whole discussion, but who, with a sardonic, cynical smile upon his face, had been listening intently. "what is your opinion, count romanoff?" asked faversham. "i am afraid i must be ruled out of court," he replied. "these stories smack too much of the nursery." "you believe that they are worn-out superstitions?" "i should shock you all if i told you what i believe." "shock us by all means." "no, i will spare you. i remember that we have a clergyman present." "pray do not mind me," urged mr. bennett eagerly. "then surely you do not accept the fables recorded in the new testament?" "i do not admit your description. what you call fables are the greatest power for righteousness the world has ever known. they have stood the test of ages, they have comforted and inspired millions of lives, they stand upon eternal truth." count romanoff shrugged his shoulders, and a smile of derision and contempt passed over his features. "all right," he replied, and again lapsed into silence. the man had spoken only a very few commonplace words, and yet he had changed the atmosphere of the room. perhaps this was because all felt him utterly antagonistic to the subject of discussion. he was different from dick faversham, who in a frank, schoolboy way had declared his scepticism. he had been a marked man ever since the boat had left england. there were several reasons for this. one was his personal appearance. he was an exceedingly handsome man of perhaps forty years of age, and yet there was something repellent in his features. he was greatly admired for his fine physique and courtly bearing, and yet but few sought his acquaintance. he looked as though he were the repository of dark secrets. his smile was cynical, and suggested a kind of contemptuous pity for the person to whom he spoke. his eyes were deeply set, his mouth suggested cruelty. and yet he could be fascinating. dick faversham, who had struck up an acquaintance with him, had found him vastly entertaining. he held unconventional ideas, and was widely read in the literature of more than one country. moreover, he held strong views on men and movements, and his criticisms told of a man of more than ordinary intellectual acumen. "you refuse to discuss the matter?" "there is but little use for an astronomer to discuss the stars with an astrologer. a chemist would regard it as waste of time to discuss his science with an alchemist. the two live in different worlds, speak a different language, belong to different times." "of course, you will call me a fanatic," cried the clergyman; "but i believe. i believe in god, and in his son jesus christ who died for our sins, and who rose from the dead. on that foundation i build all the rest." a change passed over the count's face. it might be a spasm of pain, and his somewhat pale face became paler; but he did not speak. for some seconds he seemed fighting with a strong emotion; then, conquering himself, his face resumed its former aspect, and a cynical smile again passed over his features. "the gentleman is too earnest for me," he remarked, taking another cigar from his case. dick faversham did not see the change that passed over the count's face. indeed, he had ceased to take interest in the discussion. the truth was that the young man was startled by what was an unusual occurrence. the room, as may be imagined, bearing in mind that for a long time a number of men had been burning incense to my lady nicotine, was in a haze of tobacco smoke, and objects were not altogether clearly visible; but not far from the door he saw a woman standing. this would not have been remarkable had not the lady passengers, for some reason known to themselves, up to the present altogether avoided the smoke-room. more than this, dick did not recognise her. he had met, or thought he had met during the voyage, every lady passenger on the boat; but certainly he had never seen this one before. he was perfectly sure of that, for her face was so remarkable that he knew he could not have forgotten her. she was young, perhaps twenty-four. at first dick thought of her as only a girl in her teens, but as, through the thick smoky haze he watched her face, he felt that she had passed her early girlhood. what struck him most forcibly were her wonderful eyes. it seemed to him as though, while they were large and piercing, they were at the same time melting with an infinite tenderness and pity. dick faversham looked at her like a man entranced. in his interest in her he forgot the other occupants of the room, forgot the discussion, forgot everything. the yearning solicitude in the woman's eyes, the infinite pity on her face, chained him and drove all other thoughts away. "i say, faversham." he came to himself at the mention of his name and turned to the speaker. "are you good for a stroll on deck for half an hour before turning in?" it was the count who spoke, and dick noticed that nearly all the occupants of the room seemed on the point of leaving. "thank you," he replied, "but i think i'll turn in." he looked again towards the door where he had seen the woman, but she was gone. "by the way," and he touched the sleeve of a man's coat as he spoke, "who was that woman?" "what woman?" "the woman standing by the door." "i saw no woman. there was none there." "but there was, i tell you. i saw her plainly." "you were wool-gathering, old man. i was sitting near the door and saw no one." dick was puzzled. he was certain as to what he had seen. the smoke-room steward appeared at that moment, to whom he propounded the same question. "there was no lady, sir." "but--are you sure?" "certainly, sir. i've been here all the evening, and saw everyone who came in." dick made his way to his berth like a man in a dream. he was puzzled, bewildered. "i am sure i saw a woman," he said to himself. chapter ii the marconigram he had barely reached his room when he heard a knock at the door. "yes; what is it?" "you are mr. faversham, aren't you?" "yes; what do you want?" "wireless for you, sir. just come through." a few seconds later dick was reading a message which promised to alter the whole course of his life: "_your uncle, charles faversham, wendover park, surrey, just died. your immediate return essential. report to us on arrival._ bidlake & bilton, _lincoln's inn_." the words seemed to swim before his eyes. his uncle, charles faversham, dead! there was nothing wonderful about that, for dick had heard quite recently that he was an ailing man, and not likely to live long. he was old, too, and in the course of nature could not live long. but what had charles faversham's death to do with him? it was true the deceased man was his father's stepbrother, but the two families had no associations, simply because no friendship existed between them. dick knew none of the other favershams personally. his own father, who had died a few years before, had left him practically penniless. his mother, whose memory his father adored, had died at his, dick's, birth, and thus when he was a little over twenty he found himself alone in the world. up to that time he had spent his life at school and at college. his father, who was a man of scholarly instincts, had made up his mind that his son should adopt one of the learned professions, although dick's desires did not lean in that direction. at his father's death, therefore, he set to work to carve out a career for himself. he had good abilities, a determined nature, and great ambitions, but his training, which utterly unfitted him for the battle of life, handicapped him sorely. for three years nothing went well with him. he obtained situation after situation only to lose it. he was impatient of control, he lacked patience, and although he had boundless energies, he never found a true outlet for them. at length fortune favoured him. he got a post under a company who did a large business in austria and in the balkan states, and he made himself so useful to his firm that his progress was phenomenal. it was then that dick began to think seriously of a great career. it was true he had only climbed a few steps on fortune's ladder, but his prospects for the future were alluring. he pictured himself becoming a power in the commercial world, and then, with larger wealth at his command, he saw himself entering parliament and becoming a great figure in the life of the nation. he had social ambitions too. although he had had no serious love affairs, he dreamed of himself marrying into an old family, by which means the doors of the greatest houses in the land would be open to him. "nothing shall stop me," he said to himself again and again; and the heads of his firm, realising his value to them, gave him more and more responsibility, and also pointed hints about his prospects. at the end of , however, dick had a serious disagreement with his chiefs. he had given considerable attention to continental politics, and he believed that germany would force war. because of this he advocated a certain policy with regard to their business. to this his chiefs gave a deaf ear, and laughed at the idea of england being embroiled in any trouble with either austria or the balkan states. of course, dick was powerless. he had no capital in the firm, and as his schemes were rather revolutionary he was not in a position to press them. on the outbreak of war in dick's firm was ruined. what he had predicted had come to pass. because they had not prepared for this possible contingency, and because large sums of money were owing them in austria and serbia, which they could not recover, all their energies were paralysed. thus at twenty-seven years of age, with only a few hundreds of pounds in his possession, dick had to begin at the bottom again. at length a firm who knew something of his associations with his previous employers offered to send him to australia to attend to matters in which they believed he could render valuable service, but payment for which would depend entirely on his own success. dick accepted this offer with avidity. this in bare outline was his story up to the commencement of the history which finds him on his way to australia with the momentous marconigram in his hands. again and again he read the wireless message which had been handed to him. it was so strange, so unexpected, so bewildering. he had never seen or spoken to his uncle, never expected to. he was further removed from this representative of his family than the jews from the samaritans. it is true he had seen wendover park from the distance. he remembered passing the lodge gates some year or two before when cycling through surrey. from a neighbouring hill he had caught sight of the old house standing in its broad park-lands, and a pang of envy had shot through his heart as he reflected that although its owner and his father were stepbrothers he would never be admitted within its walls. but this message had altered everything: "_your uncle, charles faversham, wendover park, just died. your immediate return essential. report to us on arrival._" the words burnt like fire into his brain. a wireless message, sent to him in mid-ocean, must be of more than common purport. men of bidlake & bilton's standing did not send such messages as a pastime. they would not urge his immediate return without serious reasons. it must mean--it could only mean--one thing. he must in some way be interested in the huge fortune which charles faversham had left behind him. perhaps, perhaps--and again he considered the probable outcome of it all. hour after hour he sat thinking. was his future, after all, to become great, not simply by his own energies, but because of a stroke of good fortune? or, better still, was his uncle's death to be the means whereby he could climb to greatness and renown? after all he had not longed so much for money for its own sake, but as a means whereby he could get power, distinction, high position. with great wealth at his command he could--and again a fascinating future spread before him. he could not sleep; of course, he couldn't! how could he sleep when his brain was on fire with wild imaginings and unknown possibilities? he reflected on the course of his voyage, and considered where the vessel would first stop. yes, he knew they were to call at bombay, which was a great harbour from which ships were frequently returning to england. in three days they would be there, and then---- should he take anyone into his confidence? should he give reasons for leaving the ship? oh, the wonder, the excitement of it all! the discussion about the angels at mons, and the talk about visitants from the spirit world caring for the people who lived on earth, scarcely entered his mind. what need had he for such things? but who was that woman? for he was sure he had seen her. tyler, to whom he had spoken, and the smoke-room steward might say that no woman was there, but he knew better. he could believe his own eyes anyhow, and the wonderful yearning look in her eyes still haunted him in spite of the disturbing message. it was not until towards morning that sleep came to him, and then he was haunted by dreams. strange as it may seem, he did not dream of bidlake & bilton's message nor of his late uncle's mansion. he dreamt of his father and mother. he had never seen his mother; she had died at his birth. he had never seen a picture of her, indeed. he believed that his father possessed her portrait, but he had never shown it to him. his father seldom spoke of his mother, but when he did it was in tones of awe, almost of worship. she was like no other woman, he said--a woman with all the possible beauty and glory of womanhood stored in her heart. and she was with his father in his dream. they stood by his bedside watching over him. his father's face he remembered perfectly. it was just as he had seen it when he was alive, except that there was an added something which he could not describe. his mother's face was strange to him. yet not altogether so. he knew instinctively that she was his mother--knew it by the look on her almost luminous face, by the yearning tenderness of her eyes. neither of them spoke to him. they simply stood side by side and watched him. he wished they would speak; he felt as though he wanted guidance, advice, and each looked at him with infinite love in their eyes. where had he seen eyes like those of his mother before? where had he seen a face like the face in his dream? he remembered asking himself, but could recall no one. "mother, mother," he tried to say, but he could not speak. then his mother placed her hand on his forehead, and her touch was like a benediction. when he woke he wondered where he was; but as through the porthole he saw the sheen of the sea he remembered everything. oh, the wonder of it all! a knock came to the door. "your bath is ready, sir," said a steward, and a minute later he felt the welcome sting of the cold salt water. he scarcely spoke throughout breakfast; he did not feel like talking. he determined to find some lonely spot and reflect on what had taken place. when he reached the deck, however, the longing for loneliness left him. the sky was cloudless, and the sun poured its warm rays on the spotless boards. under the awning, passengers had ensconced themselves in their chairs, and smoked, or talked, or read just as their fancy led them. in spite of the heat the morning was pleasant. a fresh breeze swept across the sea, and the air was pure and sweet. acquaintances spoke to him pleasantly, for he had become fairly popular during the voyage. "i wonder if they have heard of that wireless message?" he reflected. "do they know i have received news of charles faversham's death, and that i am probably a rich man?" "holloa, faversham." he turned and saw count romanoff. "you look rather pale this morning," went on the count; "did you sleep well?" "not very well," replied dick. "your mind exercised about the discussion, eh?" "that and other things." "it's the 'other things' that make the great interest of life," remarked the count, looking at him intently. "yes, i suppose they do," was dick's reply. he was thinking about the wireless message. "still," and the count laughed, "the discussion got rather warm, didn't it? i'm afraid i offended our clerical friend. his nod was very cool just now. of course, it's all rubbish. years ago i was interested in such things. i took the trouble to inform myself of the best literature we have on the whole matter. as a youth i knew madame blavatsky. i have been to seances galore, but i cease to trouble now." "yes?" queried dick. "i found that the bottom was knocked out of all these so-called discoveries by the first touch of serious investigation and criticism. nothing stood searching tests. everything shrivelled at the first touch of the fire." "this talk about angels, about a hereafter, is so much empty wind," went on the count. "there is no hereafter. when we die there is a great black blank. that's all." "then life is a mockery." "is it? it all depends how you look at it. personally i find it all right." dick faversham looked at his companion's face intently. yes, it was a handsome face--strong, determined, forceful. but it was not pleasant. every movement of his features suggested mockery, cynicism, cruelty. and yet it was fascinating. count romanoff was not a man who could be passed by without a thought. there was a tremendous individuality behind his deep-set, dark eyes--a personality of great force suggested by the masterful, mobile features. "you have nerves this morning, faversham," went on the count. "something more than ordinary has happened to you." "how do you know?" "i feel it. i see it. no, i am not asking you to make a confidant of me. but you want a friend." "yes," cried dick, speaking on impulse; "i do." the other did not speak. he simply fixed his eyes on faversham's face and waited. chapter iii the shipwreck for a moment dick was strongly tempted to tell his companion about the wireless he had received. but something, he could not tell what, seemed to forbid him. in spite of the fact that he had spent a good deal of time with count romanoff he had given him no confidences. there was something in his presence, in spite of his fascination, that did not inspire confidence. "by the way," ventured dick, after an awkward silence, "i have often been on the point of asking you, but it felt like a liberty. are you in any way connected with the great russian family of your name?" the count hesitated before replying. "i do not often speak of it," he told him presently, "but i come of a royal family." "the romanoffs of russia?" the count smiled. "i do not imagine that they would admit me into their family circle," he replied. "i make no claims to it, but i have the right." dick was duly impressed. "then, of course, you are a russian. you were born there?" "a russian!" sneered the other. "a vast conglomeration of savagery, superstition, and ignorance! i do not claim to be a russian. i have estates there, but i am a citizen of the world. my sympathies are not national, insular, bounded by race, paltry landmarks, languages. i live in a bigger world, my friend. yes, i am a romanoff, if you like, and i claim kinship with the greatest families of the russian empire--but la la, what is it? thistledown, my friend, thistledown." "but you were educated in russia?" persisted dick. "educated! what is it to be educated? from childhood i have been a wanderer. i have taken my degrees in the university of the world. i have travelled in china, japan, egypt, america, the antipodes. in a few days we shall call at bombay. if you will accompany me i will take you to people in that city, old indian families whose language i know, whose so-called mysteries i have penetrated, and who call me friend. ecco! i owe my education to all countries, all peoples." he did not speak boastfully; there was no suggestion of the boaster, the braggadocio, in his tones; rather he spoke quietly, thoughtfully, almost sadly. "tell me this," asked dick: "you, who i judge to be a rich man, do you find that riches bring happiness?" "yes--and no. with wealth you can buy all that this world can give you." dick wondered at the strange intonation of his voice. "it is the only thing that can bring happiness," added romanoff. "i fancy our friend mr. bennett would not agree with you," laughed dick. "he would say that a clear conscience meant happiness. he would tell you that a good life, a clean mind, and a faith in god were the secrets of happiness." romanoff laughed. "what makes a clear conscience? it is a feeling that you have done what is right. but what is right? what is right in china is wrong in england. what makes the chinaman happy makes the englishman miserable. but why should the englishman be miserable because he does the thing that makes the chinaman happy? no, no, it won't do. there is no right; there is no wrong. the germans are wise there. what the world calls morality is a bogy to frighten foolish people. 'it is always right to do the thing you _can_ do,' says brother fritz. personally i believe it to be right to do what satisfies my desires. it is right because it brings happiness. after all, you haven't long to live. a few years and it is all over. a shot from a pistol and _voilà!_ your brains are blown out--you are dead! therefore, take all that life can give you--there is nothing else." "i wonder?" said dick. "that is why money is all-powerful. first of all, get rid of conventional morality, rid your mind of all religious twaddle about another life, and then suck the orange of this life dry. you, now, you are keen, ardent, ambitious; you love beautiful things; you can enjoy to the full all that life can give you. nature has endowed you with a healthy body, ardent desires, boundless ambitions--well, satisfy them all. you can buy them all." "but i am not rich," interposed dick. "aren't you?" queried the other. "who knows? anyhow, you are young--make money. 'money talks,' as the americans say." again dick was on the point of telling him about the wireless message, but again he refrained. "by the way, count romanoff," he said, "did you see that woman in the smoke-room last night?" "woman! what woman?" "i don't know. i never saw her before. but while you were talking i saw a woman's face through the haze of tobacco smoke. she was standing near the door. it was a wonderful face--and her eyes were beyond description. great, pure, yearning, loving eyes they were, and they lit up the face which might have been--the face of an angel." "you were dreaming, my friend. i have seen every woman on board, and not one of them possesses a face worth looking at twice." "i asked another man," admitted dick, "and he told me i was dreaming. he had been sitting near the door, he assured me, and he had seen no woman, while the smoke-room steward was just as certain." "of course there was no woman." "and yet i saw a woman, unless----" he stopped suddenly. "unless what, my friend?" "unless it was a kind of rebuke to my scepticism last night; unless it was the face of an angel." "an angel in mid-ocean!" romanoff laughed. "an angel in the smoke-room of a p. & o. steamer! faversham, you are an example of your own arguments. imagination can do anything." "but it would be beautiful if it were so. do you know, i'm only half a sceptic after all. i only half believe in what i said in the smoke-room last night." "perhaps i can say the same thing," said romanoff, watching his face keenly. "i say!" and dick laughed. "yes, laugh if you will; but i told you just now that the world contained no mystery. i was wrong; it does. my residence in india has told me that. do you know, faversham, what has attracted me to you?--for i have been attracted, i can assure you." "flattered, i'm sure," murmured dick. "i was attracted, because the moment i saw your face i felt that your career would be out of the ordinary. i may be wrong, but i believe that great things are going to happen to you, that you are going to have a wonderful career. i felt it when i saw you come on deck a little while ago. if you are wise you are going to have a great future--a _great_ future." "now you are laughing." "no, i'm not. i'm in deadly earnest. i have something of the power of divination in me. i feel the future. something's going to happen to you. i think great wealth's coming to you." dick was silent, and a far-away look came into his eyes. he was thinking of the wireless message, thinking whether he should tell romanoff about it. "i started out on this voyage--in the hope that--that i should make money," he stammered. "where?" "in australia." "you'll not go to australia." "no? why?" "i don't know--something's going to happen to you. i feel it." dick was again on the point of taking him into his confidence when two acquaintances came up and the conversation ended. but dick felt that romanoff knew his secret all the time. the day passed away without further incident, but towards afternoon there was a distinct change in the weather. the sky became overclouded, and the gentle breeze which had blown in the morning strengthened into a strong, boisterous wind. the smooth sea roughened, and the passengers no longer sat on deck. the smoke-room was filled with bridge players, while other public rooms became the scenes of other amusements. but dick preferred being alone. he was still hugging his news to his heart, still reflecting on the appearance of the strange woman's face in the smoke-room, and all the time he was under the influence of count romanoff's conversation. perhaps the great, dark, heaving waste of waters excited his nerves and made him feel something of the mysterious and resistless forces around him. after all, he asked himself, how small the life of a man, or a hundred men, appeared to be amidst what seemed infinite wastes of ocean. after dinner, in spite of the fact that the weather remained boisterous, he again went on deck. the sky had somewhat cleared now, and although there were still great black angry clouds, spaces of blue could be seen between them. here the stars appeared, and shone with great brilliancy. then the moon rose serene, majestic. now it was hidden by a great storm cloud, and again it showed its silvery face in the clear spaces. "great heavens!" cried dick, "how little a man knows of the world in which he lives, and what rot we often talk. the air all around me may be crowded with visitants from the unseen world! my dream last night may have an objective reality. perhaps my father and my mother were there watching over me! why not?" it is said that atheists are bred in slums, and amidst brick walls and unlovely surroundings. it is also said that there are few sailors but who are believers--that the grandeur of the seas, that the wonder of great star spaces create a kind of spiritual atmosphere which makes it impossible for them to be materialists. whether that is so i will not argue. this i know: dick faversham felt very near the unseen world as he leaned over the deck railings that night and gazed across the turbulent waters. but this also must be said. the unseen world seemed to him not good, but evil. he felt as though there were dark, sinister forces around him--forces which were inimical to what he conceived to be best in him. before midnight he turned in, and no sooner did he lay his head on his pillow than he felt himself falling asleep. how long he slept he did not know. as far as he remembered afterwards, his sleep was dreamless. he only knew that he was awakened by a tremendous noise, and that the ship seemed to be crashing to pieces. before he realised what had taken place he found himself thrown on the floor, while strange grating noises reached his ears. after that he heard wild shouts and despairing screams. hastily putting on a coat over his night clothes, he rushed out to see what had happened; but all seemed darkness and confusion. "what's the matter?" he cried, but received no answer. stumblingly he struggled towards the companion-way, where he saw a dark moving object. "what's happened?" he gasped again. "god only knows, except the vessel going down!" "vessel going down?" "yes; struck a mine or something!" even as the man spoke the ship seemed to be splitting asunder. harsh, grating, bewildering noises were heard everywhere, while above the noises of timber and steel were to be faintly heard the cries of frantic women and excited men. then something struck him. he did not know what it was, but he felt a heavy blow on his head, and after that a great darkness fell upon him. how long the darkness lasted he could not tell. it might have been minutes, it might have been hours; but he knew that he suddenly came to consciousness through the touch of icy-cold water. the cold seemed to pierce his very marrow, to sting him with exquisite pain. then he was conscious that he was struggling in the open sea. he had been a strong swimmer from early boyhood, and he struck out now. he had no idea which way to swim, but swim he did, heedless of direction or purpose. a kind of instinct forced him to get as far away as possible from the spot where he came to consciousness. there was still a heavy sea running. he found himself lifted on the crest of huge waves, and again sinking in the depths. but he held on. he had a kind of instinct that he was doing something to save his life. presently his mind became clear. the past came vividly before him--the talk in the smoke-room, the wireless message---- yes, he must live! life held out so much to him. his immediate return to england was essential. bidlake & bilton had told him so. where were the other passengers? he had heard women's cries, the wild shouts of men, the creaking of timbers, the grating of steel; he had felt that the great steamship was being torn to pieces. but now there was nothing of this. there was nothing but the roar of waters--great, heaving, turbulent waters. he still struggled on, but he knew that his strength was going. it seemed to him, too, as though some power was paralysing his limbs, sapping his strength. he still had the desire to save himself, to live; but his will power was not equal to his desire. oh, the sea was cruel, cruel! why could not the waves cease roaring and rolling if only for five minutes? he would have time to rest then, to rest and regain his strength. still he struggled on. again he felt himself carried on the crest of waves, and again almost submerged in the great troughs which seemed to be everywhere. "o god, help me!" he thought at length. "my strength is nearly gone. i'm going to be drowned!" a sinister power seemed to surround him--a power which took away hope, purpose, life. he thought of count romanoff, who had said there was nothing after death--that death was just a great black blank. the thought was ghastly! to cease to be, to die there amidst the wild waste of the sea, on that lonely night! he could not bear the thought of it. but his strength was ebbing away; his breath came in panting sobs; his heart found it difficult to beat. he was going to die. oh, if only something, someone would drive away the hateful presence which was following him, surrounding him! he could still struggle on then; he could live then. but no, a great black shadow was surrounding him, swallowing him up. yes, and the ghastly thing was taking shape. he saw a face, something like the face of--no, he could liken it to no one he knew. the waves still rolled on; but now he heard what seemed like wild, demoniacal laughter. once, when a boy, he had seen henry irving in _faust_; he saw the devils on the haunted mountain; he heard their hideous cries. and there was a ghastly, evil influence with him now. did it mean that devils were there waiting to snatch his soul directly it left his body? then he felt a change. yes, it was distinct, definite. there was a light, too--a pale, indistinct light, but still real, and as his tired eyes lifted he saw what seemed to be a cross of light shining down upon him from the clouds. what could it mean? it seemed to him that the sinister presence was somehow losing power, that there was something, someone in the light which grew stronger. then a face appeared above him. at first it was unreal, intangible, shadowy; but it grew clearer, clearer. where had he seen it before? those great, tender, yearning eyes--where had he seen them? then the form of a woman became outlined--a woman with arms outstretched. her face, her lips, her eyes seemed to bid him hope, and it felt to him as though arms were placed beneath him--arms which bore him up. it was all unreal, as unreal as the baseless fabric of a dream; and yet it was real, wondrously real. "help me! save me!" he tried to say, but whether he uttered the words he did not know. he felt that his grip on life became weaker and weaker--then a still, small voice seemed to whisper, "the eternal god is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." the roar of the waves grew less, and he knew no more. chapter iv "the enemy of your soul" when again dick faversham regained something like consciousness he had a sensation of choking, of a hard struggle to breathe, which ended in partial failure. he did not know where he was, but he had a sense of warmth, of restfulness. he thought he heard the ripple of waves on a sunlit shore, and of wide-spreading trees which grew close to the edge of the sea. but it was all indistinct, unreal, and he did not care very much. he was trying to breathe, trying to overcome the awful sense of choking, and after a while, dazed, bewildered though he was, he felt his breath come easier and the weight on his chest grow lighter. but he was terribly tired--so tired that he had no desire to struggle, so languid that his very efforts to breathe were the result not of his own will, but of some claims of nature over which he had no control. he was just a piece of machinery, and that was all. he felt himself going to sleep, and he was glad. he had no curiosity as to where he was, no desire to know how he came to be there, no remembrance of the past; he only knew that warm air wrapped him like a garment, and that he was deliciously tired and sleepy. how long he slept he did not know, but presently when he woke he saw the sun setting in a blaze of glory. scarcely a breath of wind stirred the warm, fragrant air, and all was silent save the lapping of the waves and the screaming of birds in the distance. he sat up and looked around him. great tropical trees grew in wild profusion, while gorgeous vegetation abounded. it was like some land of dreams. then suddenly memory asserted itself, and the past flashed before his mind. everything became clear, vivid. "i am saved! i am alive!" he exclaimed aloud. again he saw the wild upheaving sea; he felt himself struggling in the deep, while his strength, strength of body, of mind, and will were failing him. he recalled the dark, fearful presence that surrounded him, and then the coming of the light, and in the light the outline of a woman's form. nothing would ever destroy that memory! the face, the lips, the eyes! no, he should never forget! and he had seen her arms outstretched, felt her arms placed beneath him--the arms that bore him up, brought him to safety. "i was saved," he murmured--"saved by an angel!" he was startled by the sound of a footstep, and, turning, he saw romanoff, and with him came back something of the feeling that some evil presence surrounded him. "that's right, faversham. i was afraid, hours ago, that i should never bring you round, but at length you made good, and then, like a sensible fellow, went to sleep." romanoff spoke in the most matter-of-fact way possible, banishing the mere thought of angels or devils. "where are we? how did we get here?" gasped faversham. up to now he had not given a thought to the other passengers. "where are we? on an island in the pacific, my dear fellow. how did we get here? after the accident--or whatever it was--the boats were lowered, and all hands were got away. i looked out for you, but could not find you. there was a great commotion, and it was easy to miss anyone in the darkness. i was among the last to leave the sinking vessel, and the boat was pretty full. we had got perhaps half a mile away from the scene of the wreck, when i saw someone struggling in the sea. it was by the purest chance possible that i saw. however, i managed to get hold of--what turned out to be you. you were nearly gone--i never thought you'd--live." "but how did i get here?" asked dick, "and--and where are the others?" "it was this way," and romanoff still continued to speak in the same matter-of-fact tones. "as i told you, the boat was jammed full--overweighted, in fact--so full that your weight was a bit of a danger. more than one said you were dead, and suggested that--that it was no use endangering the safety of the others. but i felt sure you were alive, so i held out against them." "and then?" asked dick. he was only giving half his mind to romanoff's story; he was thinking of what he saw when he felt his strength leaving him. "you see the bar out yonder?" and romanoff pointed towards a ridge of foam some distance out at sea. "it's mighty rough there--dangerous to cross even when the sea is smooth; when it is rough--you can guess. i was holding you in my arms in order to--give room. the oarsmen were making for land, of course; you see, we had been many hours in a mere cockleshell, and this island promised safety. but in crossing the bar we were nearly upset, and i suddenly found myself in the sea with you in my arms. it was fairly dark, and i could not see the boat, but i was fortunate in getting you here. that's all." "that's all?" "yes; what should there be else?" "but the others?" "oh, i expect they've landed somewhere else on the island--sure to, in fact. but i've not looked them up. you see, i did not want to leave you." "then you--you've saved me?" "oh, that's all right, my dear fellow. you are here, and you are looking better every minute; that's the great thing. see, i've brought you some food--fruit. delicious stuff. i've tried it. lucky for us we got to this place." dick ate almost mechanically. he was still wondering and trying to square romanoff's story with his own experiences. meanwhile, romanoff sat near him and watched him as he ate. "how long have we been here?" "ten hours at least. look, my clothes are quite dry. by jove, i was thankful for the hot sun." "you saved me!" repeated dick. "i owe my life to you, and yet even now----" "what, my dear fellow?" "i thought i was saved in another way." "another way? how?" dick hesitated a few seconds, and then told him, while romanoff listened with a mocking smile on his lips. "of course, you were delirious; it was pure hallucination." "was it? it was very real to me." "such things don't happen, my friend. after all, it was a very matter-of-fact, mundane affair. you were lucky, and i happened to see you--that's all--and if there was an angel--i'm it." the laugh that followed was anything but angelic! "i suppose that's it," and with a sigh dick assented to romanoff's explanation. indeed, with this strange, matter-of-fact man by his side, he could not believe in anything miraculous. that smile on his face made it impossible. "i don't know how to thank you," he said fervently. "you've done me the greatest service one man can do for another. i can't thank you enough, and i can never repay you, but if we ever get away from here, and i have an opportunity to serve you--all that i have shall be yours." "i'll remember that," replied romanoff quietly, "and i accept what you offer, my friend. perhaps the time will come when i can take advantage of it." "i hope you will--you must!"--dick's mind had become excited--"and i want to tell you something," he continued, for he was strangely drawn towards his deliverer. "i want to live. i want to get back to england," he went on. "i have not told you before, but i feel i must now." whereupon he told him the story of the wireless message and what it possibly might mean. romanoff listened gravely, and dick once again experienced that uncanny feeling that he was telling the other a story he already knew. "didn't i tell you on the boat that something big was in store for you?" he said, after many questions were asked and answered. "i shall certainly look you up when i go to england again, and it may be i shall be able to render you some--further service." night came on, and dick slept. he was calm now and hopeful for the future. romanoff had told him that as the island was on the great trade route it was impossible for them to be left there long. vessels were always passing. and dick trusted romanoff. he felt he could do no other. he was so strong, so wise, so confident. for hours he slept dreamlessly, but towards morning he had a vivid dream, and in his dream he again saw the face of the angel, just as he had seen on the wild, heaving sea. "listen to me," she said to him. "that man romanoff is your enemy--the enemy of your soul. do you realise it?--your soul. he is an emissary of the evil one, and you must fight him. you must not yield to him. you will be tempted, but you must fight. he will be constantly near you, tempting you. he is your enemy, working for your downfall. if you give way to him you will be for ever lost!" dick heard her words quite plainly. he watched her face as she spoke, wondered at the yearning tenderness in her eyes. "how can he be my enemy?" he asked. "he risked his life to save mine; he brought me to safety." "no," she replied; "it was the arms of another that were placed beneath you, and bore you up. don't you know whose arms? don't you remember my face?" "who are you?" asked dick. then, as it seemed to him in his dream, romanoff came, and there was a battle between him and the angel, and he knew that they were fighting for him, for the possession of his soul. he could see them plainly, and presently he saw the face of romanoff gloat with a look of unholy joy. his form became more and more clearly outlined, while that of the angel became dimmer and dimmer. the evil power was triumphant. then a change came. above their heads he saw a luminous cross outlined, and he thought romanoff's face and form became less and less distinct. but he was not sure, for they were drifting away from him farther and farther---- again he saw the angel's face, and again she spoke. "you will be tempted--tempted," she said, "in many ways you will be tempted. but you will not be alone, for the angel of the lord encampeth around them that fear him. you will know me by the same sign. always obey the angel." he awoke. he was lying where he had gone to sleep hours before. he started to his feet and looked around him. near him, passing under the shadows of the great trees, he thought he saw a woman's face. it was the face he had seen on the outgoing vessel, the face he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters, the face that had come to him in his dreams. he was about to speak to her, to follow her, when he heard someone shouting. "faversham! faversham!" it was romanoff's voice. "come quickly. we've hailed a vessel; our signal has been seen. come to the other side of the island." part i.--the first temptation chapter v the only surviving relative dick faversham made his way to the offices of messrs. bidlake & bilton, solicitors, lincoln's inn fields, with a fast-beating heart. he felt like a man whose fortune depended on the turn of a die. if the lawyers had sent him a message for the purpose he hoped, all was well; if not----and for the hundredth time he considered the pros and cons of the matter. his rescue from the island had turned out to be one of the prosiest matters imaginable. the captain of an english-bound steamer had seen the signals made from the island, and had sent boats. thus dick was saved without difficulty. there were others who had a similar fortune, but dick had no chance to speak with them. no sooner did he reach the steamer than he was taken ill, and remained ill during the whole of the homeward voyage. after he reached plymouth he began to recover rapidly, but he found on making inquiries that all who were rescued from the island had disembarked at the western seaport. this was very disappointing to him, as he wanted to make inquiries concerning the manner of their escape. of romanoff he neither heard nor saw anything. no one knew anything of him on the steamer, neither was he known to board it. dick was both glad and sorry because of this. glad because, although romanoff possessed a strange fascination for him, he had never been altogether comfortable in his presence. the man repelled him even while he fascinated him, and he felt relieved that he was not on board. on the other hand, he was sorry, because he had a feeling that this strange, saturnine man might have been a great help to him in his peculiar circumstances. "it may be all a will-o'-the-wisp fancy," he reflected as he walked along fleet street towards the law courts, "and yet it must mean something." his mind was in a whirl of bewilderment, for in spite of romanoff's explanation he could not drive from his mind the belief that his experiences after the vessel was wrecked had been real. indeed, there were times when he was _sure_ that he had seen an angel's form hovering while he was struggling in the sea, sure that he felt strong arms upholding him. "at any rate, this is real," he said to himself as he turned into lincoln's inn fields. "i am here on dry land. i wear a suit of clothes which captain fraser gave me, and i have twenty-four shillings in my pocket. whatever happens, i will at the first opportunity pay the captain for his kindness." he entered the office and gave his name. "do you wish to see mr. bidlake or mr. bilton?" asked the clerk. "either, or both," replied dick. "would you state your business, please?" the clerk did not seem to be sure of him. "i will state my business to your principals," replied dick. "please take in my name." when the clerk returned his demeanour was changed. he was obsequious and anxious to serve. "will you come this way, please, sir?" he said. "mr. bilton is in mr. bidlake's room, and----" he did not finish the sentence, for the door of an office opened and a man of about fifty years of age appeared. "come in, mr. faversham," he invited. "do you know, i've been on tenterhooks for days about you." "i landed at tilbury only a few hours ago." "is that so? but it was this way: we, of course, heard that your boat had been mined, and we also heard that a number of the passengers and crew were rescued; but news about you was contradictory. in one list of the saved your name appeared, while in another you were not mentioned. tell us all about it." "another time," replied dick. he was in a fever to know why this very respectable firm of lawyers should have sent a wireless to him. "yes, yes, of course," assented mr. bidlake, leading the way to an inner room. "bilton, you may as well come too. my word, mr. faversham, i _am_ glad to see you." dick felt light-hearted. mr. bidlake would not receive him in this fashion had there not been important reasons for doing so. "well now, to come to business right away," said mr. bidlake the moment they were seated--"you got my message?" "twenty-four hours before i was wrecked," replied dick. "just so. you'll tell us all about that presently. my word, you must have had a terrible time! but that's by the way. you got my message, and therefore you know that your uncle, mr. charles faversham, is dead?" dick nodded. he tried to appear calm, but his heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer. "of course, you know that mr. charles faversham was a bachelor, and--by the way, mr. bilton, will you find the faversham papers? you've had them in hand." "yes, my uncle was a bachelor," repeated dick as mr. bidlake hesitated. "you've never had any communications with him?" "never." "a peculiar man. a genius for business, but, all the same, a peculiar man. however, i think it's all plain enough." "what is plain enough?" "have you the papers, bilton? that's good. yes, i have everything here. this is the last will of mr. faversham--a plain, straightforward will in many ways, although slightly involved in others. however----" the lawyer untied some tape, and began scanning some documents. "however what?" asked dick, who by this time was almost beside himself with impatience. "by the way, you can easily put your hand on your birth certificate, as well as the death certificate of your father, i suppose?" "quite easily." "of course you can. the fact that i have known you for some time makes things far easier, far less--complicated. otherwise a great many formalities would have to be gone into before--in short, mr. richard faversham, i have great pleasure in congratulating you on being the heir to a fine fortune--a _very_ fine fortune." mr. bidlake smiled benignly. "my uncle's fortune?" "your uncle's estate--yes. he was a very rich man." "but--but----" stammered dick. "yes, yes, of course, you wish for some details. this is the position. your uncle made a will--a rather peculiar will in some ways." "a peculiar will?" queried dick. "yes--as you know, i did a great deal of work for him; but there were others. triggs and wilcox attended to some things, while mortlake and stenson also did odd jobs; but i have made all inquiries, and this is the last will he made. he wrote it himself, and it was duly witnessed. i myself have interviewed the witnesses, and there is no flaw anywhere, although, of course, this document is by no means orthodox." "orthodox? i don't understand." "i mean that it is not in legal form. as a matter of fact, it is utterly informal." "you mean that there is some doubt about it?" "on no, by no means. it would stand good in any court of law, but, of course, all such documents are loosely worded. in case of a lawsuit it would offer occasion for many wordy battles," and mr. bidlake smacked his lips as though he would enjoy such an experience. "but here is the will in a nutshell," he went on. "you see, his own brother died many years ago, while your father, his stepbrother, died--let me see--how long ago? but you know. i need not go into that. as you may have heard, his sister helen married and had children; she was left a widow, and during her widowhood she kept house for your uncle; so far so good. this is the will: all his property, excepting some small sums which are plainly stated, was left equally to his sister helen's children, and to their heirs on their decease." "but where do i come in?" gasped dick. "here, my dear sir. there is a clause in the will, which i'll read: 'should not my sister helen's children be alive at the time of my decease, all my property is to be equally divided between my nearest surviving relatives.' now, here," went on the lawyer, "we see the foolishness of a man making his own will, especially a man with such vast properties as mr. charles faversham had. first of all, suppose his sister helen's children married and had children who were alive at the time of mr. charles faversham's death. these children might not inherit a penny if his sister's children had been dead. again, take the term 'equally divided.' don't you see what a bill of costs might be run up in settling that? what is an equal division? who is to assess values on an estate that consists of shipping interests, lands, mines, and a host of other things? still, we need not trouble about this as it happens. we have inquired into the matter, and we find that your aunt helen's children are dead, and that none of them was married." "then--then----" "you are the nearest surviving relative, my dear sir, and not only that--you are the only surviving relative of the late mr. charles faversham of wendover park, surrey." dick faversham still appeared outwardly calm, although his brain was whirling with excitement. the words, 'shipping interests, lands, mines, and a host of other things,' were singing in his ears. and he--_he_ was heir to it all! but was there some doubt about it? was everything so definite as the lawyer had stated? "i believe my aunt helen had three children," dick said after a silence--"two girls and a boy, or two boys and a girl, i have forgotten which. do you mean to say they are all dead?" "certain. directly on mr. faversham's death i went into the matter. two of the children died in england. the third, a son, died in australia. i was very anxious about that, and spent quite a little fortune in cablegrams. still, i got everything cleared up satisfactorily." "tell me how." dick was very anxious about this. it seemed to him as the crux of the whole question. "it was naturally a little difficult," and mr. bidlake smiled complacently. "australia is some little distance away, eh? but i managed it. for one thing, an old articled clerk of mine went to melbourne some years ago, and succeeded in getting a practice there. he was very anxious to oblige me, and got on the track almost immediately. fortunately for us, the death of mr. anthony riggleton was somewhat notorious." "and mr. anthony riggleton was my aunt helen's son?" asked dick. "exactly. he was not a young man of high character, and i am given to understand that mr. charles faversham threatened more than once, when he was in england, never to leave him a penny. however, he paid his debts, gave him a sum of money, and told him to go away and never to return again during his life. it seems, too, that mr. anthony faversham riggleton considerably reformed himself during the time he was in australia, so much so that favourable reports were sent to his uncle concerning his conduct. that, i imagine, accounts for his inclusion in the will. whether he went wild again, i don't know, but it is certain that he met his death in a very suspicious way. it seems that he and some other men met in a house of bad repute not far from melbourne, and in a brawl of some sort he came to an untimely end. his body was found more than twenty-four hours after his death, in the harbour at melbourne. evidently the affair was most unsavoury. his face was much bashed. a pistol-shot had passed through his brain, and there were some knife-stabs in his body." "and his companions?" asked dick. "they had cleared out, and left no traces behind. you see, they had plenty of time to do so before the police were able to get to work. according to the latest reports i have heard, there is not the slightest chance of finding them." "but the body--was it identified?" "it was. letters were found on the body addressed to mr. anthony faversham riggleton, and there were also private papers on his person which left no doubt. added to this, the evidence of the cashier and of a clerk of the bank of australia was most explicit. you see, he had called at the bank on the morning of the night of the brawl, and drew what little money he had. when the body was brought to the mortuary, both the cashier and the clerk swore it was that of the man who had called for the money." "that was settled definitely, then?" "just so. oh, you can make your mind quite easy. directly i got news of mr. charles faversham's death i naturally took steps to deal with his estate, and i assured myself of your interest in the matter before seeking to communicate with you. i would not have sent you that wireless without practical certainty. since then i have received newspapers from melbourne giving details of the whole business." "and my aunt helen?" asked dick. "she died before the will was made. i gather that her death caused him to make the new will--the one we are discussing--in a hurry." "and my two other cousins?" dick persisted. he wanted to assure himself that there could be no shadow of doubt. the lawyer smiled. "things do happen strangely sometimes," he said. "if anyone had told me at the time this will was made that you would come in for the whole estate, i should have laughed. there were three healthy people in your way. and yet, so it is. they are dead. there is not a shadow of doubt about it." "but didn't my uncle know of their decease?" "i can't tell you that. he was a strange man. as i have said, he had a regular genius for making money, and he lived for his business. he simply revelled in it; not because he cared about money as such, but because the accumulation of wealth fascinated him. he was, as you know, unmarried, and up to the time of his making this will, his sister, of whom he seemed to have been fond, kept house for him. but he would not have her children around him. he gave them large sums of money, but he had no personal knowledge of them. it is quite probable, therefore, that he, being in failing health for more than a year before his death, would have no knowledge that they died some time before he did. you would understand if you had known him. a most eccentric man." dick reflected a few seconds. the way seemed perfectly plain, and yet everything seemed intangible, unreal. "in proof of that," went on the lawyer, "he did not tell either mr. bilton or myself that he had made this will. he simply gave a letter to the housekeeper he had secured after his sister's death, and told her that this letter was to be given to me at his decease. that letter," went on mr. bidlake, "contained the key of a safe and instructions to me to deal with the contents of the safe immediately after his death. of course, i opened the safe, and among the first things i found was this will. the rest i have explained to you." "and you say i am very wealthy?" asked dick almost fearfully. even yet it seemed too good to be true. "wealthy!" and the lawyer smiled. "wealthy, my dear sir! i cannot yet tell you _how_ wealthy. but if a controlling interest in one of the most prosperous shipping companies in the world, if the principal holding in one of our great banks, if landed estates in more than three counties, if important mining interests, if hundreds of houses in london and hosts of other things mean great wealth--then i can truly say that you are a very wealthy man. of course, i cannot as yet estimate the value of the whole estate, but the death duties will make a nice fortune--a _very_ nice fortune. still, if you decide to entrust your legal business to us, as we hope you will, we shall be able in a few weeks to give you an approximate idea of what you are worth." "of course i will do that," replied dirk hastily; "naturally there is no question about the matter. that must be settled here and now." "thank you," said mr. bidlake. "naturally mr. bilton and myself appreciate this mark of your confidence. you may depend that neither of us will spare himself in order to serve you. eh, mr. bilton?" "exactly," replied mr. bilton. it was the only word he had as yet spoken throughout the interview. "and now," said dick, "i want your advice." "our advice? certainly. what about?" "well, owing to the wreck, i am at this moment in borrowed clothes. i have only a few shillings in my pocket----" "my dear sir," interrupted the lawyer, "that presents no difficulties. let me give you an open cheque for two hundred--five hundred--pounds right away. naturally, too, you will want to get clothes. you lost everything in the--the wreck; naturally you did. i had almost forgotten such things in the--the bigger matter. but that's all right. i have a private sitting-room here, and my tailor would be only too glad to come here right away. a most capable man. he would rig you out, temporarily, in a few hours, and afterwards----" "that's all right," interrupted dick; "but what next?" "take possession at once, my dear sir--at once." "but i don't want anything to get into the papers." "certainly not--if we can help it. and i think we can. shall i ring up my tailors? yes?" and mr. bidlake took a telephone receiver into his hand. "that's all right," he added two minutes later. "hucknell will be here in less than half an hour, and you can trust him to fix you up and tide you over the next few days. yes, he will be glad to do so--very glad. terrible business this industrial unrest, isn't it? i'm afraid it's going to take some settling. of course, it's world wide, but i say, thank goodness our people have got more sense and more balance than those poor russians." the words were simple enough, and the expression was almost a commonplace, but dick faversham felt a sudden pain at his heart. he thought of the dark, mysterious man who claimed kinship with the great russian house of romanoff, and in a way he could not understand; the thought seemed to take away from the joyous excitement which filled his being at that moment. he wished he had never seen, never heard of count romanoff. with an effort he shook off the cloud. "you suggest that i go to wendover park at once?" "yes, say to-morrow morning. it is your right; in a way, it's your duty. the property is undeniably yours." "would--would you--could you go with me?" stammered dick. "i was on the point of suggesting it myself, my dear sir. yes, i could go to-morrow morning." "are there any servants there, or is the house empty?" asked dick. again he had a sense of unreality. "most of the servants are there," replied the lawyer. "i thought it best to keep them. i am not sure about a chauffeur, though. i have an idea i discharged him. but it can easily be managed. the housekeeper whom your uncle engaged on your aunt's death is there, and she, it appears, has a husband. rather a capable man. he can get a chauffeur. i'll ring up right away, and give instructions. you don't mind, do you?" "it's awfully good of you," dick assured him. "i shall feel lost without you." at half-past one dick accompanied mr. bidlake to his club for lunch, attired in a not at all badly fitting ready-made suit of clothes, which mr. hucknell had secured for him, and spent the afternoon with the lawyer discussing the new situation. "nine-thirty-five victoria," said mr. bidlake to him as he left him that night. "i'll be there." dick went to his hotel like a man in a dream. even yet everything was unreal to him. he had received assurances from one of the most trustworthy and respectable lawyers in london that his position was absolutely safe, and yet he felt no firm foundation under his feet. "i expect it's because i've seen nothing yet," he reflected. "when i go down to-morrow and get installed as the owner of everything, i shall see things in a new light." chapter vi wendover park the end of april had now come, and a tinge of green had crept over what in many respects is one of the loveliest counties in england. the train in which mr. bidlake and dick faversham sat had left redhill and was passing through a rich, undulating countryside. "you feel a bit excited, i expect?" and mr. bidlake looked up from his copy of _the times_. "just a bit." "you'll soon get over your excitement, although, of course, you'll find the change very great. a rich man has many responsibilities." "if i remember aright, there are several other big houses within a few miles of wendover park? was my uncle on good terms with his neighbours?" the lawyer coughed. "he did not go much into society. as i told you, he was a very eccentric man." dick was quick to notice the tone in which the other spoke. "you mean that he was not well received?" "i mean that he lived his own life. mr. faversham was essentially a business man, and--and perhaps he could not understand the attitude of the old county families. besides, feeling against him was rather strong when he bought wendover park." "why?" "i daresay you'll learn all about it in time. enough to say now that sir guy wendover, the previous owner, was in money difficulties, and the feeling was that your uncle took advantage of them in order to get hold of the place. personally i don't pay much attention to such stories; but undoubtedly they affected your uncle's position. possibly they may affect yours--for a time." the lawyer appeared to utter the last sentence as an afterthought. presently the train stopped at a wayside station, where the two alighted. the sun was now high in the heavens, and the birds were singing gaily. wooded hills sloped up from the station, while westward was a vast panorama of hill and dale. "i don't think you could find a fairer sight in all england," remarked mr. bidlake. "ah, that's right. i see a motor-car is waiting for us." dick felt as thought a weight rolled from his shoulders the moment he stood beneath the open sky. yes, this was glorious! the air was laden with the perfume of bursting life. the chorus of the birds exhilarated him; the sight of the rich loamy meadows, where lambkins sported and cows fed lazily, made him feel that he was not following some chimera of the mind, but tangible realities. a chauffeur touched his cap. "mr. faversham and mr. bidlake, sir?" he inquired. a few minutes later the car was moving swiftly along beautiful country lanes, the like of which only a few english counties can show. yes, dick had to admit it. beautiful as he thought the whole district to be when cycling through it years before, he had no idea it was like this. every corner they turned revealed new loveliness. all nature seemed bent on giving him a great welcome to his new home. they had covered perhaps half the journey between the station and the house when the chauffeur jammed his foot on the brake suddenly and brought the car to a standstill. in front of them stood a small two-seater, by the open bonnet of which stood a young lady with hand uplifted. evidently something had gone wrong with her machine, and the lane at this point was not wide enough for them to pass. dick immediately alighted. "i am awfully sorry to inconvenience you," protested the girl, "but my engine has stopped, and, try as i may, i can't get it to start again." her face was slightly flushed, partly with her endeavours to start the engine and partly with impatience; but this did not detract from her more than usually handsome appearance. for she was handsome; indeed, dick thought he had never seen such a striking girl. and this was no wonder. it is only rare that nature produces such a perfect specimen of young womanhood as he saw that morning--perfect, that is, in face and form, perfect in colouring, in stature, in bearing. she was a brunette--great black flashing eyes, full red lips, raven-black hair, skin suffused with the glow of buoyant health. more than ordinarily tall, she was shaped like a juno, and moved with all the grace and freedom of an athlete. "help the lady, my man," said mr. bidlake to the chauffeur. "sorry, sir," replied the man, "but i don't know anything about engines. i've only just learnt to drive. you see, sir, mrs. winkley didn't quite know what to do when----" "all right," interrupted dick, with a laugh; "perhaps i can help you." "if you only could," laughed the girl. "i haven't had the thing long, but it never went wrong until to-day. i know how to drive pretty well, but as for understanding the engine, i'm a mere baby." she had a frank, pleasant voice, and laughed as she spoke, revealing perfect teeth. dick, who had quite a gift for mechanism, quickly found some tools, and commenced testing the sparking-plugs like a man conversant with his work. "i'll have to take off my coat if you'll excuse me," he said presently. "i see you start the thing on a battery, and have no magneto. i'm sorry i don't know this class of car well, but i think i can see what's the matter." "what is it? do tell me," she cried, with an eager laugh. "i've been studying motor manuals and all that sort of thing ever since i commenced to drive, but diagrams always confuse me." "the distributor seems to be wrong, and some wires have become disconnected. have you been held up long?" "oh, a quarter of an hour--more." "and running the battery all the time?" "i'm afraid so." "you must be careful or your battery'll run out of electricity; that would mean your being hung up for two days." "they told me that at the garage a little time ago. but what must i do?" and she laughed at him pleasantly. "if she doesn't start at once, get someone to adjust the parts. there, i wonder if she'll go now." he touched a switch, and the engine began to run. "she seems all right," he said, after watching the moving mass of machinery for some seconds. "oh, you are good--and--thank you ever so much." "it's been quite a pleasure," replied dick, putting on his coat. "it was lucky i came by." "it was indeed; but look at your hands. they are covered with oil. i _am_ sorry." "nothing to be sorry for. oil breaks no bones. besides, i shall be able to wash them in a few minutes." "you are not going far, then?" "only to wendover park. do you know it?" "know it! why----" she checked herself suddenly, and dick thought she seemed a little confused. "but i must be going now. thank you again." she got into the car, and in a few seconds was out of sight. "remarkably handsome young lady, isn't she?" remarked mr. bidlake. "do you know who she is?" he asked the chauffeur. "lady blanche huntingford, sir," replied the chauffeur. "whew!" whistled mr. bidlake. "anybody special?" asked dick. the lawyer smiled. "the incident is decidedly interesting," he replied. "first, she is cousin to sir guy wendover who used to own wendover park, and second, she is the daughter of lord huntingford, the proudest and most exclusive aristocrat in surrey." "no? by jove, she is handsome!" "it is said that the huntingfords rule social surrey. if they take you up, your social status is assured; if they boycott you----" and the lawyer shrugged his shoulders. dick was silent a few seconds. evidently he was thinking deeply. "isn't she glorious?" he cried presently. "i never saw such a dazzling girl. did you notice her eyes--her complexion? i--i wouldn't have missed it for anything." the lawyer did not reply. perhaps he had reasons for his silence. the car dashed on for another mile, and then dick gave a cry of delight. "that's it, isn't it?" "yes; that's it." they were looking at a lovely old mansion which stood on the slope of a hill. stretching away from it were fine park-lands, and beyond these were wide-stretching woods. looked at on that fair spring day, it was indeed a place to be proud of, to rejoice in. "i never dreamt it was so fine!" gasped dick. "one of the finest places in england," was the lawyer's complacent reply. dick looked like one fascinated. it appealed to and satisfied him altogether. "it's old, isn't it?" "three hundred years. it is said that the gardens are a wonder." the car passed through some heavily wrought gates, and then rolled under an avenue of old trees. dick could not speak; the thought of possessing such a place made him dumb. a few minutes later they drew up before the main entrance. dick was the first to leap out. he was eager to enter, to claim possession, to examine every nook and corner of his new home. he put his foot on the bottom step leading to the door, and then stopped suddenly. he felt himself rooted to the ground, felt afraid to move. "i congratulate you again," said the lawyer. "i feel proud that i have the privilege to----" "don't you see? there! don't you see?" gasped dick. "see?" repeated the lawyer. "of course i see one of the most beautiful houses in england." "yes, but nothing else?" he asked excitedly. "what do you mean?" queried the lawyer. but dick did not reply. although the lawyer had seen nothing, he saw in dim outline the face and form which had appeared to him when he was sinking in the turbulent waters of the indian ocean. was this a warning that trouble was to overwhelm him again? dick faversham had no doubts. whatever he might think later, he was at that time certain of what he saw. the sun was shining brightly, and there was nothing in the various objects by which he was surrounded to suggest the supernatural, and yet he saw the face of the angel. she seemed to be hovering over the steps which led to the main entrance of the house, and for the moment she looked as though she would forbid his entrance. but only for the moment. slowly she faded away, slowly he lost sight of her, and by the time the servant, who had evidently seen the approach of the car, had reached the door she had gone. but he was sure he had seen her. the form he had seen hovering over him on the wild, turbulent sea was plainly visible to him at the door of this old surrey mansion. the face, too, could not be mistaken. the same calm, benign expression, the same tender mouth. goodness, purity, guardianship, all found their expression in those features. but there was something more. the eyes which had riveted his attention and haunted his memory for months seemed to convey something different to him now from what they had then. there was still the same yearning gaze, the same melting tenderness, but there was something more. they seemed to suggest fear, warning. dick faversham felt as though she wanted to tell him something, to warn him against some unknown danger. it is true the feeling was indefinite and difficult to put into words; but it was there. she might, while not forbidding him to enter the house which had so unexpectedly come into his possession, be trying to tell him of dangers, of possible calamity. "and do you say that you can see--that--that you saw nothing?" he almost gasped. "i can see a great deal," replied mr. bidlake. "i can see one of the loveliest scenes in england. i can see you standing at the entrance of--but what do you mean? you look pale--frightened. aren't you well?" dick opened his mouth to tell what he had seen, but he checked himself. somehow the thought of opening his heart to this matter-of-fact lawyer seemed like sacrilege. he would not understand. he would tell him, just as romanoff had told him weeks before, that his mind was unbalanced by the experiences through which he had passed, that the natural excitement caused by the news he had heard were too much for him, and caused him to lose his mental balance. "yes, i am quite well, thank you." "well, what do you mean? what do you think you saw?" at that moment the door opened, and the housekeeper, who had hurried to meet them, appeared, and the lawyer did not listen to his stammering reply. "good-day, mr. bidlake," smiled the housekeeper. "i am glad you got here all right. winkley had quite a difficulty in getting a chauffeur. i hope the one provided was satisfactory?" "it's all right, mrs. winkley," and the lawyer was very patronising as he spoke; "the man brought us here safely. this," and he turned towards dick, "is mr. richard faversham, the new owner of--hem--wendover park, and your new--master." "indeed, sir," and mrs. winkley turned and looked nervously towards dick, "i hope you'll be very--happy here, sir. i bid you welcome, sir." dick smiled with frank pleasure and shook hands--a familiarity which pleased the housekeeper, but not the lawyer. "you got my letter, mrs. winkley?" mr. bidlake said hurriedly. "yes, sir, also your telephone message yesterday. wendover park is a lovely place, mr. faversham." "it is, indeed, mrs. winkley. this surrey air has given me an appetite, too." dick was so nervous that he hardly knew what he was saying. as he glanced around the spacious hall and tried to realise that it was his own, and as he called to mind that for the last mile he had been passing through his own property, it seemed to be too wonderful to be true. "yes, the air is very good, and i am glad you are hungry. lunch will be ready in half an hour. i have prepared a bedroom for you, mr. faversham. i have assumed you are--staying here?" "rather!" and dick laughed as he spoke. "you must excuse me if i'm a little abrupt, mrs. winkley. you see, i imagine it will take me some little time to settle down to the new order of things." "i think i understand; it must be a wonderful experience for you. but i think you'll find everything all right. i have taken great care of everything since the late mr. faversham died. it's all just as he left it. no doubt you'll want to look over the house?" "presently, mrs. winkley; but, first of all, i want to come to an understanding with you. i am a bachelor, and i don't think i have a relation in the world, so, for a time, i--shall make no changes in the place at all. what i mean to say is, that i hope you'll continue to be my housekeeper, and--and look after me generally. mr. bidlake has said all sorts of good things about you, so much so that i shall regard myself very fortunate if--if you'll remain in your present position." dick didn't know at all why he said this, except that he had a feeling that something of the sort was expected from him. "i'm sure it's very kind of you to say so, sir," and mrs. winkley smiled radiantly. "of course i've been a little bit anxious, not knowing what kind of--of gentleman the new owner would be, or what plans he might have. but, if you think i'll suit you, sir, i'll do my utmost to make you comfortable and look after your interests. i was housekeeper to dr. bell of guildford when the late mr. faversham's sister died, and----" "yes, i've heard about that," interrupted dick. "i'm sure he was lucky to get you." "i did my best for him, sir, and he never grumbled. i lived in these parts as a girl, so i can get you plenty of references as to the respectability of my family." "i'm sure you can," dick assented. he was glad that mrs. winkley was of the superior servant order rather than some superior person who had pretensions to being a fine lady. "by the way, of course you know the house well?" "know the house well?" repeated mrs. winkley. she was not quite sure that she understood him. "yes; know all the rooms?" laughed dick nervously. "why, certainly, sir. i know every room from the garret to the cellar," replied mrs. winkley wonderingly. "and there are no ghosts, are there?" "ghosts, sir? not that i ever heard of." "i was only wondering. it's an old house, and i was thinking that there might be a family ghost." mrs. winkley shook her head. "nothing of the sort, sir, to my knowledge. wait a minute, though; i did hear when i was a girl that the elm grove was haunted. there's a lake down there, and there was a story years ago that a servant who had drowned herself there used to wander up and down the grove wringing her hands on michaelmas eve." "and where is the elm grove?" "it's away towards the north lodge. you wouldn't see it the way you came, and it's hidden from here." "but the house? there's no legend that that has ever been haunted?" "no, sir. i suppose some of the wendovers were very wild generations ago, but i never heard that any of their spirits ever came back again." mrs. winkley was pleased that her new master kept talking so long, although she came to the conclusion that he was somewhat eccentric. "of course, it was foolish of me to ask," dick said somewhat awkwardly; "but the thought struck me. by the way, how long did you say it was to lunch-time?" "not quite half an hour, sir," replied mrs. winkley, looking at an old eight-day clock. "i'll speak to the cook and get it pushed forward as fast as possible. perhaps you'd like a wash, sir? i'll show you to your room, if you would." "thank you. after that i--i think, mr. bidlake, i'd like to go into the gardens." he was afraid he was making a bad impression upon his housekeeper, and he was angry with himself for not acting in a more natural manner. but he seemed to be under a strange influence. although the thought of the supernatural had left him, his experience of a few minutes before doubtless coloured his mind. a few minutes later they were out in the sunlight again, and they had scarcely reached the gardens when a man of about fifty years of age made his way towards them. "good morning, sir," he said, with a strong scotch accent. "have i the honour to speak to the new master?" "yes; my name is faversham." "i'm m'neal, your second gardener, sir. i thought when i saw you i'd make bold to speak, sir. i've been here for thirty years, sir, and have always borne a good character." "i've no doubt you have," laughed dick. "you look it." "thank you, sir. i gave satisfaction to the late mr. faversham, and to sir guy wendover before him, and i hope----" "that we shall get on well together. of course we shall. i like the look of you." he felt better now. the sight of the broad expanse of the park and the smell of the sweet, pure air made him light-hearted again. "indeed," he continued, "i may as well tell you right away that i intend to keep everybody that was here in my uncle's days. you can tell the others that." "thank you, sir. but i'd like to remark that this war has made food dear." "i'll bear that in mind; you'll not find me unjust. all who serve me shall be well paid." "we've all done our best, sir," persisted m'neal, who was somewhat of a character, "but i'll not deny that we shall all be the better for a master. personally i'm not satisfied with the way things are looking." "no? i thought they looked beautiful." "ah, but nothing to what they can look. we are, as you may say, in a kind of between time now. we've not planted out the beds, although we've prepared them. if you'll----" "of course i will," dick interrupted him, with a laugh, "but you must give me time before making definite promises." "if i might show you around," suggested m'neal, "i think i could explain----" "later, later," laughed dick, moving away. "mr. bidlake, will you come over here with me? i want to speak to you privately." "do you know," mr. bidlake told him, "that your uncle discharged m'neal several times during the time he lived here?" "why?" "because he followed him like a dog whenever he came into the grounds, and insisted on talking to him. he said the fellow gave him no rest." "but why did he take him on again?" "he didn't. but m'neal took no notice of the discharges. he always turned up on the following morning, and went on with his work as though nothing had happened." "and my uncle paid him his wages?" "yes. you see, the fellow is as faithful as a dog, although he's a nuisance. my word, what a view!" the lawyer made this exclamation as a turn in the path revealed a landscape they had not hitherto seen. it was one of those stretches of country peculiar to that part of surrey, and as dick looked he did not wonder at the lawyer's enthusiasm. beyond the park, which was studded with giant oaks, he saw a rich, undulating country. here and there were farmsteads nestling among the trees; again he saw stretches of woodland, while in the distance rose fine commanding hills. the foliage had far from reached its glory, but the tinge of green which was creeping over every hedgerow and tree contained a promise, and a charm that no poet could describe. and the whole scene was all bathed in spring sunlight, which the birds, delighting in, made into a vast concert hall. "my word, it is ripping!" cried dick. "it's glorious! it's sublime!" cried the lawyer. "you are a fortunate man, mr. richard faversham. do you know, sir, that all you can see is yours?" "all mine?" dick almost gasped. "yes, all this and much more." for the first time dick had a real feeling of possession, and something to which he had hitherto been a stranger entered his life. up to now he had been poor. his life, ever since his father died, had been a struggle. he had dreamed dreams and seen visions, only to be disappointed. in spite of ambition, endeavour, determination, everything to which he had set his hand had failed him. but now, as if some fabled genii had come to his aid, fortune had suddenly poured her favours into his lap. and here was the earnest of it! this glorious countryside, containing farms, houses, villages, and wide-spreading lands, was his. all his! gratified desire made his heart beat wildly. at last life was smiling and joyous. what a future he would have! with wealth like his, nothing would be impossible! "yes, and much more," repeated the lawyer. "on what chances a man's fortunes turn." "what do you mean?" asked dick, who scarce knew what he was saying. "only this," said mr. bidlake. "if that fellow had not been killed in a drunken brawl, none of this would be yours. as it is, you are one of the most fortunate men in england." "yes, by jove, i am." the lawyer looked at his watch. "excuse me, mr. faversham, but it is lunch-time, and i must leave you at five o'clock." "i'm sorry you can't stay a few days." "impossible, my dear sir, much as i'd like to. but i've made a little programme for you this afternoon, if it is quite convenient to you." "yes?" queried dick. "yes; i've arranged for your steward, your head gamekeeper, and the other principal men on the estate to call here. i thought you might like to see them. there, i hear the lunch-gong." dick went back to the house like a man in a dream. chapter vii lady blanche makes her appearance at six o'clock that evening dick faversham was alone. he had had interviews with his steward, his bailiff, his gamekeeper, his forester, his head gardener, and his head stableman, and now he was left to himself. mr. bidlake, after promising to come again in three days, had gone back to london, while the others had each gone to their respective homes to discuss the new master of wendover park and the changes which would probably take place. dick had also gone over the house, and had taken note of the many features of his new dwelling-place. he had examined the library, the billiard-room, the dancing-room, the minstrels' gallery, the banqueting hall, and the many other apartments belonging to this fine old mansion. evidently many of the rooms had for years been unused, but, as mrs. winkley had said, everything was "in perfect condition." his uncle belonged to that order of men who could not bear to let anything deteriorate for lack of attention, and he had spent his money freely. in a way, too, charles faversham had a sense of fitness. in all the improvements he had made, he saw to it that the character and spirit of the old place should in no way be disturbed. thus, while every room was hygienic, and every fireplace fitted according to the most modern ideas, the true character of everything was maintained. electric light was installed, but not a single fitting was out of accord with the age of the building. modern science had in everything been perfectly blended with the spirit of the men who had erected this grand old pile centuries before. and dick felt it all. he was enough of an artist to realise that nothing was out of place, that it was a home to rejoice in, to be proud of. if john ruskin had been alive, and had accompanied him on his tour of inspection, there was little that the author of _the seven lamps of architecture_ would have found fault with. most of the furniture, too, was old, and had belonged to the wendovers. when mr. charles faversham had bought the estate, he had taken over everything practically as it stood. pictures, tapestry, antique articles of furniture which had been in the house for centuries still remained. "everything has such a homely, cosy feeling!" he exclaimed to himself, again and again. "the place is not one of those great, giant, homeless barracks; it's just an ideal home. it's perfect!" and it was all his! that was the thought that constantly came to his mind. this fact was especially made real to him during his interview with mr. boase, the steward. that worthy gentleman, a lawyer who lived in a little town, most of which belonged to the wendover estate, made this abundantly plain by every word he spoke, by every intonation of his voice. mr. boase unrolled maps and plans in abundance. he placed before him lists of tenants, with nature and condition of their tenancy. he told him how much each farmer paid in rent, how much the house property was worth, what amount was spent each year in repairs, and finally the net amount of his rent-roll. and this was all apart from his investments elsewhere. it was simply fabulous. he who had always been poor, and had often been hard put to it to pay for food and clothes, found himself ridiculously wealthy. he had money to burn. aladdin of romantic renown was not so much filled with wonder when the slave of the lamp appeared, ready to do his bidding, as was dick as he realised his position. and he revelled in thought of it all. he was not of a miserly nature, but he gloried in the influence of the power of wealth, and he painted glowing pictures of his future. he saw the doors of the rich and the great open to him; he saw himself courted by people possessing old names and a great ancestry; he fancied himself occupying positions of eminence in the life of the nation; he saw proud beauties smiling on him. nothing was impossible! he knew he had more than an average share of brains; his late employers had admitted as much to him. he also had the gift of oratory. on the few occasions he had attempted to address his fellows this had been abundantly proved. in the past he had been handicapped, but now---- after dinner that night he walked out alone. he wanted to see his possessions, to feel his own earth beneath his feet, to feast his eyes on the glorious countryside. "it will take me a week," he reflected, "to get used to it all, to fully realise that it is all mine. i want to feel my feet, to formulate my plans, to sketch my future. of course, i shall be alone for a time, but in a few days the neighbours will be sure to call on me. after that i must give a ball. of course, it is a bad time just now, and it is a nuisance that so many of the young fellows have been called into the army; but i'll be able to manage it," and then he pictured the great ballroom filled with laughter and gaiety. then the memory of lady blanche huntingford came to him. he saw her as she had appeared to him that morning. what a glorious creature she was! what great flashing eyes, what a complexion, what a figure! and she belonged to one of the oldest families in england. the huntingfords were a great people before half the titled nobility of the present day were ever heard of. he called to mind what mr. bidlake had told him. if the huntingfords recognised him, his social position was assured, for lord huntingford was the social magnate of the county. he was almost half in love with her already. he remembered her silvery laugh, the gleaming whiteness of her teeth. what a mistress she would make for wendover park! and he could win her love! he was sure he could, and when he did---- he blessed the failure of her car to run that morning; blessed the knowledge he possessed whereby he had been able to render her a service. of course, she would find out who he was, and then--yes, he would find the open sesame for every door. for the next few days things happened as dick expected. he was given time to view his possessions, to take stock of his new position, and then the neighbours began to call. by this time dick knew full particulars of all the old families in surrey, and he was gratified at their appearance. evidently he suffered from none of the antipathy which had been felt towards his uncle. he was young, he was good looking, he had the education and appearance of a gentleman, and people accepted him at his face value. one day his heart gave a great bound, for a servant told him that lord and lady huntingford, accompanied by lady blanche huntingford, were in the drawing-room. he knew then that his position in the society of the county would be assured. it was true that lord huntingford was poor--true, too, that his uncle had practically ejected sir guy wendover from his old home, and that sir guy was a relative of the huntingfords. but that would count for nothing, and the huntingfords were the huntingfords! "this is good of you, lord huntingford!" he cried, as he entered the room. "i came to give you a welcome," said lord huntingford somewhat pompously. "i trust you will be very happy here." "i'm sure i shall!" cried dick, with the laugh of a boy. "wendover park feels like paradise to me." "i know the place well," said the peer. "my cousin guy, as you may have heard, used to live here." "yes, i have heard of it, and i'm afraid you must feel rather bitterly towards me as a consequence." "not at all," replied huntingford. "of course, it is all ancient history now. we _did_ feel cut up about it at the time, but--but i congratulate you on possessing such a fine old place." "but for the fact that i so love it already," said dick, "i should wish my uncle had secured some other place; but, for the life of me, i can't. it's too lovely. anyhow, i'll try to be not an unworthy successor of sir guy. i hope you'll help me, lord huntingford, and you, lady huntingford and lady blanche. you see, i'm handicapped. i'm a bachelor, and i'm entirely ignorant of my duties. i shall look to you for help." this was sound policy on dick's part. lord huntingford was a vain man, and loved to patronise. "you began all right," laughed lady blanche. "you helped a poor, forlorn, helpless motorist out of a difficulty." "you recognise me, then?" "of course i do. i positively envied the way you tackled that engine of mine and put it right. of course, i felt angry when i knew who you were. no, no, there was nothing personal about it. i only hated the thought that anyone other than a wendover should live here. a family feeling, you know." "all that wendover park has is yours to command!" and dick looked very earnest as he spoke. "now, that's good of you. but don't be too liberal with your promises. i may take you at your word." "try me!" cried dick. "i should like to do something to atone. not that i can give it up," he added, with a laugh. "i simply couldn't, you know. but--but----" "and how are you going to spend your time?" asked lord huntingford. "we are living in a critical age." "i shall make something turn up!" dick cried heartily, "as soon as i know where i am." "and, meanwhile, i suppose you motor, ride, shoot, golf, and all the rest of it?" asked lady blanche. "i have all the vices," dick told her. "you say you golf?" "yes, a little. would you give me a match?" he ventured. "i'd love to," and her eyes flashed into his. the next afternoon dick met lady blanche on the golf links, and before the match was over he believed that he was in love with her. never before had he met such a glorious specimen of physical womanhood. to him her every movement was poetry, her lithe, graceful body a thing in which to rejoice. after the match dick motored her back to her home. he was in arcadia as she sat by his side. the charm of her presence was to him like some fabled elixir. on their way they caught a glimpse of wendover park. the old house stood out boldly on the hillside, while the wide-stretching park-lands were plainly to be seen. "it's a perfect place," said the girl. "it just wants nothing." "oh yes, it does," laughed dick. "what?" she asked. "can't you think? if you were a bachelor you would," and he watched her face closely as he spoke. he was afraid lest he might offend her, and he wondered if she saw his meaning. he thought he saw a flush surmount her face, but he was not sure. they were passing a cart just then, and he had to fix his attention on the steering-wheel. "do you know," he went on, "it's a bit lonely there. i haven't many friends. and then, being a bachelor, i find it difficult to entertain. not but what i shall make a start soon," he added. "i think you are to be envied," she remarked. "of course i am. i'm one of the luckiest fellows in the world. by the way, i want to give a dance or something of that sort as a kind of house-warming." "how delightful." "is it? but then, you see, i'm so ignorant that i don't know how to start about it." "don't you? that's a pity. you must get help." "i must. i say, will you help me? there is no one i'd so soon have." he was sure this time. he saw the rosy tint on her face deepen. perhaps she heard the tremor in his voice. but she did not answer him; instead, she looked away towards the distant landscape. "will you?" he persisted. "what could i do?" "everything. you know the people, know who i should invite, and what i should do. you are accustomed to that kind of thing. i am not." still she was silent. "will you?" he asked again. "perhaps. if you really wish me to." she almost whispered the words, but he heard her, and to him there was something caressing in her tone. they passed up a long avenue of trees leading to her home, and a few seconds later the car stood at the door. "you'll come in and have some tea, won't you?" "may i?" he asked eagerly. "of course you may. mother will be expecting you." as he rode back to wendover park that evening dick was in paradise. nothing but the most commonplace things had been said, but the girl had fascinated him. she had appealed to his ambition, to his pride, to his admiration for perfect, physical womanhood. she was not very clever, but she was handsome. she was instinct with redundant health; she was glorious in her youth and vitality. "i'm in love," he said to himself more than once. "and she's wonderful--simply, gloriously wonderful. what eyes, what a complexion, what a magnificent figure! i wonder if----" i am dwelling somewhat on this part of dick faversham's life because i wish the reader to understand the condition of his mind, to understand the forces at work. uninteresting as it may be, it is still important. for dick passed through some wonderful experiences soon after--experiences which shook the foundations of his life, and which will be more truly understood as we realise the thoughts and feelings which possessed him. as i have said, he was in a state of bliss as he drove back to wendover park that evening, but as he neared his lodge gates a curious feeling of depression possessed him. his heart became heavy, forebodings filled his mind. it seemed to him that he was on the edge of a dreadful calamity. "what's the matter with me?" he asked himself again and again. "the sun is shining, the world is lovely, and i have all that heart can wish for." still the feeling possessed him. something was going to happen--something awful. he could not explain it, or give any reason for it, but it was there. then suddenly his heart stood still. as the car drew up to his own door he again saw the face of the angel. she was hovering over the entrance just as he had seen her on the day he came to take possession. she seemed to dread something; there was pain almost amounting to agony in the look she gave him. he had alighted from the car, and he had a dim idea that a man was approaching to take it to the garage, but he paid no attention to him; he stood like one transfixed, looking at the apparition. he was aware that the car had gone, and that he was alone. in a vague way he supposed that the chauffeur, like the lawyer, had seen nothing. "who are you? what do you want?" the words escaped him almost in spite of himself. but he heard no voice in reply. he thought he saw her lips trying to formulate words, but were not able. "tell me," he persisted--"tell me who you are, why you appear to me. what do you want?" again the apparition seemed to be trying to become audible, only to fail. then, although he could hear no distinct voice, her answer seemed to come to him. "fight, fight; pray, pray," she seemed to be saying. "beware of the tempter. fight, fight; pray, pray. promise me." he was not afraid, but it seemed to him that he was face to face with eternal realities. he knew then that there were depths of life and experience of which he was ignorant. he heard steps in the hall, and then someone opened the door. there stood, smiling, debonair, sardonic, and--yes--wicked, count romanoff. chapter viii count romanoff's gospel count romanoff! a weight seemed to settle on dick faversham's heart as he saw the sinister face of his visitor. during the excitement of the last few days he had scarcely given him a thought. the dark, saturnine stranger had shrunk away into the background of his life, and no longer seemed of importance to him. it is true he had now and then wondered whether he should ever see him again, but as there seemed no present likelihood of his doing so, he had practically dismissed him from his mind. his sudden appearance came to him like a shock. besides, he was nervous, excited at what he had just experienced. every nerve was tingling, every sense preternaturally awake. what did this apparition mean? why should the same face and form appear to him again and again?--first in the smoke-room of the ship, then on the island, then as he first put foot into the new inheritance, and now again. what did it mean? then during that awful struggle in the stormy sea. "ha, faversham. you see, i have taken you at your word." dick's thoughts came to earth as the count's voice reached him. "i'm glad to see you," he said cordially, and as he led the way to the library he was all that a host should be. "you see, i was in england, and, having a little spare time, i thought i would look you up. i hope i'm not taking too great a liberty?" "liberty, my dear fellow! i should be annoyed beyond words if you had not come to see me. i have hosts of things to discuss with you. besides," and dick spoke like one deeply moved, "i cannot help remembering that but for you it is not likely i should be here. i should have been lying somewhere at the bottom of the indian ocean." "oh, come now; let's have no more of that. of course, i had the good luck to be of service to you, and jolly glad i am; no decent fellow could have done less than i did." "all the same, i cannot forget that i owe my life to you," cried dick fervently. "do you know, i wondered no end what happened to you; tell me about it." "not until i hear about you. of course, i can guess a great deal. the fact that you are here tells me that the wireless you got on the ship was not only _bona fide_ but important. you are master here, eh?" dick nodded. "i've been told that your uncle was a very rich man. is that so?" "yes." "and you are his heir?" "yes." "i congratulate you. by jove, it's a lovely place. i didn't know when i've seen anything i like so much. and i've seen a few houses, i can tell you. but really, now, and i hope i'm not impertinent, do you mean to tell me that you have entered into all old charles faversham's wealth?" "i suppose so." "shake hands on it. i can think of no one more fitted to own 'big money,' as the americans say. i'm glad of the privilege of seeing you in possession." it seemed to dick that it was a new romanoff that he saw. he was no longer pessimistic, cynical, saturnine. he looked younger, too, and no one could help admitting that he had that grand air that denotes birth and breeding. "i only arrived in london last night," went on romanoff. "i got into tilbury late in the afternoon, and after i got fixed up at my hotel i began to wonder about you. presently i called to mind what you told me, and--here i am." "of course you'll stay with me a bit?" "may i?" "may you? why, of course you must, if you can. that goes without saying." "i say, you are awfully good. i should love to stay a bit. this is one of the loveliest corners in the world at the loveliest time of the year. surrey in may! what can be more attractive!" "i'll have your room prepared at once, and, by the way, i'll send a man to london for your luggage." "that is good of you, faversham. i may as well confess it now. i did bring a suit-case with me in the hope that you could put me up for the night, but of course----" "you might have known that i'd want you for a long time," dick interrupted. a servant entered, and dick gave his instructions. "now tell me," he went on; "what did you do on leaving the island? i know practically nothing about anything. i was very ill, and got no better till the boat landed at plymouth." romanoff hesitated for a few seconds, then he replied: "oh, i caught a boat bound for australia." "australia, eh?" "yes. our signals were seen by two vessels, one returning to england, and the other going to australia, which, as luck would have it, stopped at bombay for a few hours. so i took that." "and you didn't stay long in the antipodes?" "no, i did not like the country, and i found it necessary to return to england." "i'm jolly glad." "well, here i am anyhow. isn't life a topsy-turvy business? who would have thought when we exchanged commonplaces on that boat a short time ago we should forgather like this in a lovely old surrey house? facts beat fiction all to bits. fiction is commonplace, tame, prosy; but facts--real life--are interesting. now, tell me about your experiences." "not yet. it's nearly dinner-time. i suppose you brought no evening clothes?" romanoff laughed. "as a matter of fact, i did. of course, i was not sure you were here; but i thought you might be, so i took the liberty of----" "splendid," interrupted dick. "there, the dressing-bell is ringing. i'll show you your room. my word, i'm awfully glad you've come. to tell you the truth, i was feeling a bit depressed." "you depressed! i say! fancy the heir of all this being depressed." "but i was. the idea of spending the evening alone dismayed me. you see, a fellow can't be out every night, and--and there you are. but you've come." "and no one will call to-night?" "i don't expect so. young clavering, who is home on leave, might come over for a game of billiards, but i can't think of anyone else likely to turn up." "clavering--clavering. i don't think i know the name." "oh, it is a good name in surrey, i can assure you. it's a very old family, although i suppose it is frightfully poor. i've only met young clavering once, but i liked him very much. most of the young fellows around here are in the army, and the older men are frightful old fossils. here's your room. i hope you'll be comfortable." romanoff looked around the room with evident pleasure. he walked to the window and gazed steadily at the landscape; then he turned to dick and gave him a keen, searching glance. "you are a fortunate man, faversham. speaking as a russian and also as one who has travelled all over the world, i say, commend me to england for comfort. yes, i'll be all right, my friend." when dick had gone romanoff threw himself in a chair and gazed into vacancy. a change passed over his face. he was no longer cheerful and pleasant; the old sinister, threatening look had come into his eyes, while his mouth was cruel. once an expression swept over his features which suggested a kind of mocking pity, but it was only for a moment. during dinner he was in a gay humour. evidently he had thrown care to the winds, and lived for the pleasure of the moment. dick found him fascinating. he talked pleasantly--at times brilliantly. his conversation scintillated with sardonic humour. he told stories about many countries. he related anecdotes about the imperial house of the romanoffs, and described the influence which rasputin had on the tzar and the tzarina. "i cannot understand it," remarked dick after one of these stories. "understand what?" "how a man like the tzar could allow a dirty charlatan like rasputin to have such influence. after all, nicholas was an educated man, and a gentleman." romanoff laughed. "as well rasputin as the others," he replied. "what others?" "the priests of the holy orthodox church. let me give you a bit of advice, faversham; keep clear of all this religious rot. it's true that you in england pretend to be more advanced than the poor russians, but at bottom there's no difference. wherever religion creeps in, it's the same story. religion means credulity, and credulity means lies, oppression, cant, corruption." "did you meet rasputin?" "oh yes," replied romanoff, with a sigh of resignation. "on the whole, i admired him." "i say, that's a bit too thick." "anyhow, the fellow was interesting. he had a philosophy of his own. he recognised the fact that the world was populated by fools, and he determined to make the most of his chances. he interpreted religion in a way that would give the greatest possible gratification to his senses. his policy was to suck the orange of the world dry. 'salvation through sin,' eh?" and romanoff laughed as he spoke. "well, it's about the most sensible religion i ever heard of." "it seems to me devilish and dirty," dick spoke warmly. "nonsense, my dear fellow. of course, all religion is foolishness--that is, religion as is usually understood. but if there is to be a religion at all, rasputin got hold of the true one." "you don't mean that?" romanoff looked at dick steadily for a few seconds. he seemed to be thinking deeply as though he were trying to understand his man. "perhaps i don't," he admitted presently. "sometimes one exaggerates in order to convey what is actually true. still, there is a substratum of truth in the dirty monk's philosophy, as you'll find out before you are much older. by the way, the evening has turned cold, hasn't it?" "do you find it so? the air of a night is often cold in the early summer. have you finished? then we'll go into my little den where i always have a fire of an evening." a few minutes later romanoff was sprawling in a large easy-chair with his feet close to the fire. "how long have you been here?" he asked. "not quite a month." "been well received by your neighbours?" "on the whole, yes." again romanoff looked steadily at his companion. "will you forgive me if i ask you a few questions?" "certainly. go ahead." "first, then, how do you like being a rich man?" dick glanced around the room, and then gave a look towards the wide-spreading park-lands. "how can one help liking it?" he asked. "exactly. you do not find money to be the root of all evil, then?" "heavens, no!" "you would not like to be a poor man again?" "what in the world are you driving at? of course, the very thought of it is horrible." "just so. i am in my way a student of human nature, and i was a bit curious. now for a second question. who is she?" "oh, i say." "of course she exists." "how do you know?" "in my way i have the power of divination. when i look at a man i know something, not much perhaps, but something of his hopes. i felt sure before i spoke that you were in love. you've been quick about it, my young friend." "i don't know that i am in love." "of course you are. who is she?" "there's no one. at least not yet. i don't suppose she's given me a second's thought." "but you do. is she young, beautiful? is she rich, well connected?" "young! beautiful!" laughed dick. "ah, i see. not a rustic beauty, by any chance?" "rustic beauty, eh? there's nothing rustic about lady blanche huntingford." "huntingford! that's one of the best known names in england." "do you know it?" "who doesn't? it's the biggest name in debrett. but the huntingfords are as poor as church mice." "what does that matter?" "you have enough for both, eh? of course, that's your hope." "why?" and dick turned rather sharply on his interlocutor. "oh, nothing personal, my friend. i'm only speaking from a long experience. the huntingfords are poor and proud. i do not know of a more unpleasant combination. i've heard of lady blanche--she is about twenty-four, a great beauty, and so far has not succeeded in the marriage market. she's had several seasons in london, but the rich aristocrat has not turned up. that's why she may smile on a commoner--a newcomer--providing he's rich enough." "if you'd seen her, spoken with her, you would not talk like that." "shouldn't i? who knows? but it's nothing to worry about, my dear fellow. all talk about the love of women goes for nothing. it doesn't exist. of course, there is such a thing as sexual attraction, but nothing else." "you are a terrible cynic, romanoff." "i'm a citizen of the world, and i've gone around the world with my eyes open. but, as i said, you can have an easy mind. the ball is at your feet, my dear fellow. whatever you want you can have." "do be serious." dick spoke lightly; all the same, he felt uneasy. "i _am_ serious," replied romanoff. "with wealth like yours, you are master of the world; you can get all the world has to give." "i wish i could." "i tell you you can. money is all-powerful. just think, if you were poor, not a hope, not an ambition could be realised." "that won't do. hosts of poor fellows have----" "risen to position and power. just so; but it's been a terrible struggle, a ghastly grind. in most cases, too, men don't get money until they are too old to enjoy it. but you are young, and the world's at your feet. do you want titles? you can buy them. power? fame? again you can get them. beautiful women? love? yes, even love of a sort you can buy, if you have money. poverty is hell; but what heaven there is in this world can be bought." "then you think the poor can't be happy?" "let me be careful in answering that. if a man has no ambitions, if he has no desire for power, then, in a negative way, he may be happy although he's poor. but to you, who are ambitious through and through--you, who see visions and dream dreams--poverty would be hell. that's why i congratulate you on all this. and my advice to you is, make the most of it. live to enjoy, my dear fellow. whatever your eyes desire, take it." dick realised that romanoff was talking cheap cynicism, that, to use a journalistic term, it was "piffle" from thread to needle, and yet he was impressed. again he felt the man's ascendancy over him, knew that he was swayed and moulded by a personality stronger than his own. dick did not try to answer him, for at that moment there was a knock at the door and a servant entered. "mr. and miss stanmore have called, sir." "i do not think i know them, do i?" asked dick. "i don't know, sir. they live not far from the south park gates. they are old residents, sir." whether there was something in the tone of the man's voice, or whether he desired company other than romanoff's, i cannot tell. certain it is that, acting on impulse and scarcely realising what he was doing, he said: "show them in here, jenkins, will you?" chapter ix beatrice stanmore "you don't mind, do you?" asked dick, turning to romanoff when the man had left the room. "not at all, my dear fellow. why should i?" again the servant returned and ushered in an old man and a young girl. the former was a striking-looking figure, and would be noticed in any crowd. although old, he stood perfectly upright, and was evidently healthy and vigorous. his face was ruddy and almost unlined. his white beard and moustache were allowed to grow long, while his almost massive head was covered with a wealth of wavy white hair. perhaps, too, his attire helped to make his appearance attractive, and his velvet dinner-jacket suggested the artist or the poet. "i hope you'll forgive me calling, mr. faversham," he said, taking dick's outstretched hand, "but i'm an old man, as well as a man of moods. i've thought several times of dropping in to see you, but refrained. i was afraid you would have no use for an old buffer such as i. but to-night i felt i must, and here i am. this is my granddaughter, beatrice." "it's awfully good of you to call, mr. stanmore, and you, too, miss stanmore." dick looked at the girl full in the face as he spoke, and then all further words were frozen on his lips. the sight of beatrice stanmore caused his heart to beat wildly, and made him feel that a new influence had entered the room. and yet, at first sight, there was nothing remarkable in her presence. picture a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl of eighteen--a girl with a sweet, winsome, yet mischievous smile, and a perfect complexion; a girl with well-formed features and an evident sense of humour--and you see beatrice stanmore. and yet your picture would be incomplete. what i have said suggests a somewhat commonplace girl, such as can be seen by the score in any country town. but she was not commonplace. her blue eyes were large and haunting; sometimes they were sad, and yet there was a world of mirth and gladness stored in their liquid depths. she was only eighteen or nineteen years of age, and she did not look older than her years; but, if you took a second look at her, you would know that her thoughts were not always a child's thoughts--that she had longings too deep for words. she was dressed very simply. i cannot describe her apparel, but to dick it was something light and diaphanous, which set oft a figure which was at once girlish and yet perfect in its proportions. i do not suppose that a connoisseur would call her beautiful, but she suggested health--health of body, of mind, of soul. it would be impossible to associate her with anything impure, rather a flash from her mirth-loving eyes would destroy all thought of such a thing. "i've seen her before," thought dick, "but where?" no, it was only fancy. she was an utter stranger to him, and yet he was haunted with the thought that somewhere, at some time, they had met and known each other, that she had been with him in some crisis. "please forgive us, mr. faversham," she said, with a laugh; "it's not my fault. i should never have had the courage to beard the lion in his den." "what lion? what den?" asked dick, as he looked into the girl's sunny face. "of course, you are the lion. you've been the talk of the countryside for weeks; and--and isn't this your den?" she spoke with all the simplicity and frankness of a child, and seemed to be perfectly unimpressed by the fact that she was talking with one who was spoken of as one of the richest young men in england. "it's i who am the culprit, mr. faversham," broke in the old man. "the impulse came upon me suddenly. i said to beatrice, 'i am going to call on young faversham,' and she jumped at the idea of a walk through the park, and that's why she's here with me. please tell me if we are in the way." "in the way? i'm just delighted. and--but let me introduce you to count romanoff." both hugh stanmore and his granddaughter looked towards count romanoff, who had risen to his feet. the light was shining fully upon his face, and dick could not help feeling what a striking appearance he had. he half held out his hand to the newcomers and then suddenly withdrew it. old hugh stanmore looked at the count steadily for a few seconds, and then bowed in silence. it might seem as though something had frozen his urbanity and cheerfulness. he did not appear to notice the half-outstretched hand, and dick felt as though there was an instinctive antipathy between them. as for beatrice, she gave the count a cold nod, and then, with a perfunctory, "how d'ye do?" turned to dick again. "i'm so glad you've come here to live, mr. faversham," she said, with girlish enthusiasm. "you can't be gladder than i," replied dick; "but, is there a special reason for your gladness?" "of course there is. i've wanted for years to see the inside of this house, but i was frightfully afraid of your--your uncle. he always looked so stern, and so--so forbidding that i hadn't the courage to ask him. but you are different." "then why haven't you called before?" asked dick. "i've been here nearly a month, and yet i've never seen you before." "of course, you must understand," and it was old hugh stanmore who replied, "that we are quite unimportant people. we live in that cottage not far from your south lodge, and, not knowing you, we felt rather sensitive about calling." "but your name seems familiar. i'm sure i've heard it somewhere." "not among the people around here, i imagine?" "no, i think not; but i seem to have heard of it, or seen it, years ago." "i fancy you are mistaken, although what you say is just possible. when i was at cambridge i had tremendous ambitions, and, like thousands of other callow youths, i made up my mind to win fame. i was something of a linguist, and had a great longing to win renown as an egyptologist and as an assyrian scholar. however, i had no money to indulge in such luxuries, so on leaving cambridge i looked to journalism for a living. i even wrote a novel," and he laughed merrily. "splendid!" cried dick. "what was the title of the novel?" "i won't tell you that," replied the old man. "i've drawn a very thick curtain over that effort. however, i might have done something if i'd persevered; but, luckily or unluckily for me, i had some money left to me. not much, but enough to enable me to travel in the east." "yes, and then?" "oh, i'm afraid i did not shine as an egyptologist, although i had some wonderful experiences and made some interesting acquaintances. i also contributed to that phase of literature." "i never saw your name in that connection," dick confessed. "i expect not. you see, that was many years ago. still, although my health would not stand the eastern climate, i've kept up my interest in my early love. but i've been somewhat of a butterfly. on my return to england i conceived a passion for throwing paint in the eyes of the public, to quote john ruskin. i even went so far as to get a few pictures hung in the academy. but, in spite of that, i achieved no fame. since then i've contributed occasional articles to the reviews, while such papers as _the spectator_ and _the times_ have printed some effusions of mine which i in my vanity have called poetry. please forgive me for talking about myself in this way. i know it is frightful egotism on my part, but, as i'm one of your nearest neighbours, i'm in a way introducing myself." "it's awfully good of you," replied dick. "i hope we shall see a good deal of each other." "i hope we shall," replied hugh stanmore. "i may as well confess it, mr. faversham, that although i am an old man, i am a creature of impulses. i do things without being able to give a reason for them. i talk without knowing why. do you know that i've never spoken so much about myself to anyone in this district as i have to-night, and i've lived here for eighteen years?" "what--at the cottage you spoke of?" "yes, at the cottage. i took up my residence there when my son died. he was an artist who would have won fame if he had lived; but it pleased the good god to take him away. i determined that i would try to bring what comfort i could into the life of his young wife. but i was not with her long. she died at the birth of this little girl here, three months later." a silence fell upon the little company. "there, there," laughed hugh stanmore, "there's nothing to be sad about. this life is only a beginning. actual life comes next, as browning says. besides, i've been very happy looking after my little maid here. it's rather hard on her, having to see so much of an old man like myself. all the same, we've had a jolly time." "old man!" cried beatrice indignantly. "i assure you, mr. faversham, he's the youngest man in surrey. sometimes i am quite ashamed of his frivolity. i'm quite a staid, elderly person compared to him." "anyhow," said the old man, rising, "we must be going now. but be assured of this, mr. faversham: no one wishes you joy in your new home more than i. we give you a glad welcome to the district, and if an old man's prayer and an old man's blessing are worth anything, you have them." "but please don't go yet," cried dick. "it's only a little after nine o'clock, and--and i'm so glad to have you here. you see, you've only just come." "no, no, i know. but we'll be going now. some other time, when you happen to be alone, i'll be glad to come and smoke a pipe with you--if i may?" "may! of course. besides, miss stanmore said she wanted to look over the house. when will you come, miss stanmore?" "i think it must be when you can let granddad know that you are alone and have nothing to do," was the girl's reply. "i shall look forward to it tremendously." "so shall i," cried dick. then, forgetful of romanoff, he added, "and i can assure you, you won't have long to wait." throughout their conversation, only a part of which i have recorded, romanoff had not spoken a word. had dick been watching him he would have seen that he was not at all pleased at the presence of the visitors. there was a dark, lowering look in his eyes, and almost a scowl on his face. it was evident that a strong feeling of antagonism existed. "good-night, mr. faversham," said old hugh stanmore, holding out his hand; then, bowing gravely to romanoff, he passed out of the room. "oh, but i'll see you to the door, if you _will_ go," insisted dick, as for a moment he held beatrice stanmore's hand in his. "allow me." he passed through the hall by her side and opened the door. as he did so, he could barely repress an exclamation of wonder and delight, while both the old man and the young girl stood as if spellbound. it was one of those rare nights which constantly recur to one's remembrance in after days. it was now the end of may, and while the summer had not reached its full glory, the fullness of spring made the earth like a paradise. the sky was cloudless and the silver rays of a nearly full moon lit up the scene with an unearthly beauty. all around giant trees stood, while the flowers, which grew in rich profusion, were plainly to be seen. away through the leafy trees could be seen the outline of the country. here and there the birds, which had barely gone to rest, were chirping, while away in the distance a cuckoo proclaimed the advent of summer. for a few seconds they stood in silence, then hugh stanmore said quietly, "one can understand charles kingsley's dying words on such a night, mr. faversham." "what did he say?" asked dick. "'how beautiful god must be,'" quoted hugh stanmore. just then a bird burst forth into song--rich-noted, mellow, triumphant. "a nightingale!" cried the girl. "look, granddad, it is over on that tree." she went down the drive under the long avenue of trees as she spoke, leaving hugh stanmore and dick together. "they can't be far away on such a night as this," murmured the old man. "who can't be far away?" "the angels. the heavens are full of them. ah, if we could only see!" "do you believe in angels?" "do i believe in them? how can i help believing? it is nearly nineteen years ago since my boy and his wife died. but they didn't leave me altogether. they come to me." "have you seen them?" and dick's eager question was uttered almost unconsciously. "no, not with my natural eyes. why? i wonder. but i have felt them near me. i know they are watching over me. you see, they did not cease to love us when god took them away for some higher service. naturally, too, they watch over beatrice. they could not help it." he spoke quietly, and in an almost matter-of-fact way, yet with a suggestion of reverence in his tones. "who knows who is watching over us now?" continued the old man. "ah, if we could only see! 'are they not all ministering spirits sent to minister to those who are heirs of salvation?'" dick felt a shiver pass through him. he reflected that on that very spot, only a few hours before, he had seen something, _something_--a luminous figure, a pale, sad face--sad almost to agony! "mr. faversham," asked hugh stanmore suddenly, "who is count romanoff?" "i don't know much about him," replied dick. "he was a fellow-passenger on board the boat on which i was bound for australia some time ago. why do you ask?" "you know nothing else? excuse me." "only that he saved my life." "ah!" "why do you ask?" "nothing. only he will have a great influence on your life." "how do you know?" dick was greatly excited. "i have no reason to give you. i only know." "good or bad?" asked the young man eagerly. "i don't know. but did you notice that beatrice didn't like him? and i've never once known her wrong in her estimate of people. there, look at her now, amongst the moon's rays under the trees. doesn't she look like an angel? yes, and she _is_ an angel--one of god's sweetest and purest and best. but as human as every woman ought to be. good-night, mr. faversham. yes, my darling, i'm coming," and the old man went down the drive with the activity of a boy. dick watched them until they were out of sight. he was influenced more than he knew by their visit. their presence, after count romanoff's cynicism, was like some sweet-scented balm; like a breeze from the mountains after the fetid atmosphere of a cavern. "well, what did you think of them?" he asked of romanoff on his return. the count shrugged his shoulders. "there's not much to think, is there?" he asked. "i think there is a great deal. i found the old man more interesting than almost any caller i have had." "a dull, prosy, platitudinous old polonius; as for the girl, she's just a badly behaved, unformed, bread-and-butter miss." dick did not speak. the count's words grated on him. "by the way," went on romanoff, "i should like to meet lady blanche huntingford. i think i knew the old lord." "i promised to call to-morrow afternoon," replied dick. "i'll take you over." but he was not so enthusiastic as the count expected. after they had retired to their rooms that night, the count sat long in soliloquy. of what he was thinking it would be difficult to say. his face was like a mask. when he rose from his chair, however, there was a look of decision in his eyes. "the time has come sooner than i thought," he said aloud. "i must bring the matter to a head at once. otherwise i shall lose him." and then he laughed in his grim, sardonic way, as if something had made him merry. chapter x uncertainty dick rose early the following morning, and went for a walk in the park. when he returned he found the count in the breakfast-room. "quite a pattern young countryman," he laughed. "i saw you reflecting on the beauties of your own domains. did you sleep well?" "like a healthy dog. and you?" "i never sleep. i dream sometimes--that's all." "still play-acting," laughed dick. "no, there's not a more serious man in england than i, as a rule; but i'm not going to be serious to-day while the sun shines. when the sun goes down i shall be tragic. there, richard is himself again!" he threw back his shoulders as he spoke, as though he would shift a weight from them. "i am hungry, faversham," he laughed. "let us eat. after breakfast i would love a ride. have you a horse in your stables that you could lend me?" "of course i have." "good. then we'll have a gallop till lunch. after that a-wooing we will go. i'm feverish to see the glorious lady blanche, the flower of the age, the beauty of the county. i say, faversham, prepare to be jealous. i can be a most dangerous rival." "i can't think of you as a marrying man, count. domesticity and you are oceans apart." the count laughed. "no, a man such as i never marries," he said. "marriage! what an idiotic arrangement. but such things always follow religion. but for religion, humanity would be natural, happy." "come, now. that won't do." "it is true, my friend. ever and always the result of religion has been to raise unnatural barriers, to create sin. the man who founds a religion is an enemy to the race. the greatest enemy to the world's happiness was the founder of christianity." "in heaven's name, why?" "because he labelled natural actions as sins, because he was for ever emphasising a distinction between right and wrong. when there is no right, no wrong. the evolution of religion, and of so-called morality, is a crime, because it strikes at the root of human enjoyment. but, there, i'm getting serious, and i won't be serious. this is a day to laugh, to rejoice in, and i've an appetite like a hunter." throughout the morning they carried out the programme romanoff had suggested. two of the best horses in the stables were saddled, and they rode till noon. during all this time the count was in high spirits, and seemed to revel in the brightness of the day and the glory of the scenery. "after all, give me a living thing to deal with," he cried. "this craze for motor-cars is a sign of decadence. 'enjoyment by machinery' should be the motto of every motorist. but a horse is different. a horse is sentient, intelligent. he feels what his rider feels; he enters into the spirit of whatever is going on." "but motoring can be jolly good sport," dick rejoined. "of course it can. but a motor is impersonal; it is a thing, not a being. you cannot make it your slave. it is just a matter of steel, and petrol, and oil. it never becomes afraid of you." "what of that?" asked dick. "without fear there is no real mastery," replied romanoff. "but surely the mastery which is obtained through fear is an unsatisfactory sort of thing." romanoff looked at dick as though on the point of replying, but he was silent. "anyhow, i love a horse," he ventured presently. "i love to feel his body alive beneath me, love to feel him spurn the ground beneath his feet." "yes; i, too, love a horse," replied dick, "and do you know, although i've only been here a month, this chap loves me. he whines a welcome when i go to the stable, and he kind of cries when i leave." "and he isn't afraid of you?" asked romanoff. "afraid!" cried dick. "i hope not. i should hate to feel that a thing i loved was afraid of me." "wait till you are married," laughed romanoff. "i don't see what that has to do with it." "but it has everything to do with it. a wife should obey, and no woman obeys unless she fears. the one thing man has to do when he marries is to demand obedience, and until he has mastered the woman he gets none." "from the little experience i have, a woman is a difficult thing to master." "everything can be mastered," replied romanoff. "it sometimes requires patience, i'll admit, but it can always be done. besides, a woman never respects her husband until he's mastered her. find me a man who has not mastered his wife, and i'll show you a man whose wife despises him. of course, every woman strives for mastery, but in her heart of hearts she's sorry if she gets it. if i ever married----" he ceased speaking. "yes; if you married?" "i'd have obedience, obedience, obedience," and romanoff repeated the word with increasing emphasis. "as you say, it might be difficult, but it can always be obtained." "how?" "of course, if you go among the lower orders of people, the man obtains his wife's obedience by brute force. if she opposes him he knocks her down, thrashes her. but as you rise in the scale of humanity, the methods are different. the educated, cultured man never loses his temper, seldom utters an angry word. he may be a little sarcastic, perhaps, but nothing more. but he never yields. the wife cries, pleads, protests, goes into hysterics perhaps, threatens, but he never yields. he is polite, cold, cruel if you like, but he never shows a sign of weakness, and in the end he's master. and mastery is one of the great joys of life." "you think so?" "i'm sure of it." dick felt slightly uncomfortable. "you said you wouldn't be serious to-day, romanoff," he laughed nervously, "and yet you talk as though something tragic were in the air." "i can assure you i'm in one of my light moods," replied the count. "after all, of what account is a woman in a man's life? a diversion if you like--a creature necessary to his pleasure, but nothing more. when a man regards a woman as indispensable to his happiness, he's lost. always look on a woman, whoever she may be, as a diversion, my friend," and romanoff laughed quietly. after lunch, however, romanoff's mood seemed changed. he spoke of his early days, and of his experiences in st. petersburg and moscow. "people talk about paris being the great centre of pleasure," he said a little indignantly, "but it is nothing compared with st. petersburg, or petrograd, as it is called now. some day, my friend, i must take you there; i must show you the sights; i must take you behind the scenes. oh, i envy you!" "why should you?" asked dick. "because you are young, because you have the world at your feet." "and haven't you?" "yes, i suppose so. but, then, you go to everything fresh. you will drink the cup of life for the first time; you will drink deep and enjoy. but i can never again drink for the first time--there lies the difference." "but if the cup of life is good and sweet, why may not one drink it again, and again, and still find enjoyment?" romanoff did not reply. he sat for a few seconds in silence, and then started up almost feverishly. "let us away, my friend," he cried. "i am longing to see lady blanche huntingford. how did you describe her? velvety black eyes, rosy lips, hair as black as the raven's wing, tall, stately, shaped like a juno and a venus combined--was that it? please don't let's waste any time. i'm anxious to be off." "even although we are going in a motor." "motors are useful, my friend. i may not like them, but i use them. for the matter of that, i use everything. i discard nothing." "except religion," laughed dick. "oh, i have my religion," replied romanoff. "some time i'll tell you about it, but not now. the sunlight is the time for adventure, for love, for happiness. let us be off." evidently the count was impressed by lady blanche. directly he entered her presence he seemed to forget his cynicism, and to become light-hearted and gay. "do you know, lady blanche," he said, "that i had an idea i had seen you somewhere. your name was familiar, and when faversham spoke of you, i felt i should be renewing an old acquaintance. of course, i was mistaken." "why 'of course'?" "the true reply would be too obvious, wouldn't it? besides, it would be as trite and as clumsy as the repartee of an oxford undergraduate." "you are beyond me," she sighed. romanoff smiled. "of course, you are laughing at me; all the same. i'll say this: i shall have no doubt from this time on as to whether i've met you. do you know who i regard as the most favoured man in england?" she shook her head. "my friend faversham, of course," and romanoff glanced towards dick, who sat listening and looking with a kind of wonder at the face of the girl. "of course, wendover is just lovely," she replied. "and only a very short motor-run from here," remarked romanoff. the girl pouted as though she were vexed at his words, but it was easy to see she was not. there could be little doubt that she loved flattery, and although she felt slightly uncomfortable under the count's ardent gaze, she was pleased at his admiration. she was also bent on being agreeable, and dick felt that surely no handsomer woman ever lived than this glorious creature with whom he chatted and laughed. more than once he felt his heart beating wildly as her eyes caught his, and while he wished that romanoff was not there, he felt it to be one of the happiest days of his life. "if romanoff were not here i'd ask her to-day," he reflected. "it's true she's almost a stranger to me; but, after all, what does it matter? love does not depend on a long acquaintance." for dick felt sure he was in love. it is true there seemed a kind of barrier between them, a certain something that kept them apart. but that he put down to their different upbringing. she was a patrician, the child of long generations of aristocratic associations, while he, although his father and mother were gentlefolk, was a commoner. all his life, too, he had been poor, while during the last few years he had had to struggle constantly with poverty. it was no wonder, therefore, that there should be a kind of barrier between them. but that would break down. already he was feeling more as if "he belonged" to his new surroundings, while his neighbours had received him with the utmost kindness. it was only a matter of time before he would feel at one with them all. meanwhile, lady blanche charmed him, fascinated him. she appealed to him as a glorious woman, regal in her carriage, wondrous in her youth and beauty. once during the afternoon they were alone together, and he was almost on the point of declaring his love. but something kept him back. what it was he could not tell. she was alluring, gracious, and seemed to offer him opportunities for telling her what was in his heart. and yet he did not speak. perhaps he was afraid, although he could not have told what he feared. "when are you going to give me another game of golf?" he asked, as they parted. "i don't like threesomes," she laughed, looking towards romanoff. "i share your antipathy," said romanoff, "but could you not suggest someone who might bear with me while you and faversham break the record?" "please manage it," pleaded dick. "there's a telephone at wendover, isn't there?" "of course there is. you'll ring me up and let me know, won't you?" "perhaps." her smile was bewildering, and as he felt the warm pressure of her hand he was in arcadia. "i congratulate you, faversham," remarked romanoff, as they neared wendover park. "she's a glorious creature, simply glorious. cleopatra was plain compared with her. my word, what a mistress for your new home. such eyes, such hair, such a complexion--and what a magnificent figure. yes, faversham, you are a lucky man." "if i get her," sighed dick. "get her! of course you'll get her. unless----" "unless what?" asked dick as the other hesitated. romanoff looked at him for some seconds very searchingly; then he sighed. "yes, what is it?" persisted dick, who felt uncomfortable under romanoff's look. "i'm wondering." "why and at what?" "if you are a wise man or a fool." "i'm afraid i don't understand." "no, but you will presently." there seemed to be something so ominous in his words that a feeling like fear possessed dick's heart. he had always felt somewhat uncomfortable in romanoff's presence, but now the feeling was so intensified that he dreaded what he might mean. "the sun is still shining," went on the count, "and i told you that i should be in a festive mood until dark. in another hour the king of day will have disappeared; then i shall have some serious things to say to you." "let's have no more play-acting," and dick laughed nervously. "i can assure you, there'll be no play-acting. everything will be real--desperately real. but i'm going to say no more now. after dinner i am going to be serious. but not until. see! aren't you proud of it all? don't you revel in it? was there ever such a lovely old house, standing amidst such gorgeous surroundings? look at those giant trees, man! see the glorious landscape! was there ever such a lucky man! what a mistress lady blanche will make!" they were now passing up the long avenue which led to the house. away in the distance they could see the mansion nestling amidst giant trees centuries old. from the house stretched the gardens, which were glorious in the beauty of early summer. and dick saw it all, gloried in it all; but fear haunted him, all the same. "what is the meaning of this strange mood of yours, romanoff?" he asked. "after dinner, my friend," laughed the other. "i'll tell you after dinner." throughout dinner the count was apparently light-hearted, almost to flippancy, but directly the servants had left them to their coffee and cigars his mood changed. "i told you i was going to be serious, didn't i?" he said slowly. "the time for laughter has ceased, faversham. the next hour will be critical to you--ay, and more than critical; it will be heavy with destiny." "what in heaven's name do you mean?" "have you ever considered," and romanoff enunciated every word with peculiar distinctness, "whether you are _really_ the owner of all this?" chapter xi the real heir dick faversham could not repress a shudder as the other spoke. the count's words were so ominous, so full of sinister meaning that for the moment he felt like crying out with fear. he mastered himself after a few seconds, however, and his reply was calm. "i see what you mean," he said quietly. "a few weeks ago i was poor, and without great expectation. now----naturally you wonder whether it is real to me, whether i can believe in my good fortune." "it goes deeper than that, faversham," was the count's rejoinder--"very much deeper than that." "what do you mean?" "you believe that you are the owner of all this. you regard yourself as the lawful possessor of the wendover park estate, with all its farms, cottages, and villages; you also think of yourself as the owner of mining rights, shipping interests, and a host of other things, added to a very magnificent credit balance at your bankers'. isn't that so?" "of course i do. what have you to say against it?" dick spoke almost angrily. he was greatly excited, not only by the count's words, but by his manner of speech. "on the strength of it you have cast eyes of love on one of the most beautiful women in england; you have dreamed of marrying lady blanche huntingford, who bears one of the oldest names in the land?" "and if i have, what then?" "has it ever occurred to you that your fortune rests on a very slender, a very unsafe, foundation?" "i say, count romanoff----" "don't be angry, my friend, and, above all, look at everything calmly." "really, this is a trifle thick, isn't it? i'm afraid i must ask for an explanation of this peculiar manner of speech." "i deeply regret that i shall have to give an explanation," and there was curious vibration in romanoff's voice. "but please, _please_, faversham, don't think unkindly of me because of what i have to tell you. perhaps i have been very clumsy, but i have been trying all day to prepare you for--for what you will regard as bad news." "trying to prepare me? bad news?" "yes, my friend. i told you this morning that i was not going to be serious while the sun shone, but that after the sun went down i was going to be tragically in earnest. the time has come." "you spoke of my having no right here!" and a gleam of anger shot from dick's eyes. "might i suggest, count, that it is a little out of the common for a guest to tell his host that he has no right to give him hospitality?" "i was afraid you might take it like that," and romanoff spoke almost gently. "doubtless i have been very clumsy, very gauche; all the same, i have come only in kindness." "am i to understand, then, that you came here for the purpose of telling me that i am an impostor, an interloper? that, indeed, is interesting." "i came as a friend, a well-wisher--as one deeply, very deeply, interested in your welfare. i came as one who wants you to enjoy what you believe is your good fortune, and to marry the most beautiful woman in england. if, after you have heard me, you wish me to leave you, i will do so--sadly, i will admit, but i will leave you." "at least, do not deal in hints, in innuendoes. tell me exactly what you mean, and perhaps you will also tell me what particular interest you have in the matter, and by what right you--you--talk in this way." "faversham, let me first of all admit frankly that i took a great liking to you during the voyage that ended so--tragically. i am no longer a boy, and i do not take to people easily; but i felt an unaccountable interest in you. there were traits in your character that attracted me. i said to myself, 'i should like to know that young fellow, to cultivate his acquaintance.' that must be my reason for taking what interest i have in you. it would have been easy to let you drown, to--to listen to the appeal of the other occupants of the boat, and----" "pardon me," interrupted dick impulsively, "i have behaved like a cad. i forgot that i owed my life to you. but i was excited--angry. you see, the suggestion that i am here under false pretences naturally upsets me. but tell me what you mean. i do not understand you--i am bewildered by your hints." "of course, i understand your feelings, and am not in the least offended. i think i know you too well not to take offence easily; besides, my desire, and my only desire, being to help you makes me impervious to ordinary emotions." "still," cried dick, "tell me what you mean. you say my position as owner of my uncle faversham's estates rests on a very slender, a very unsafe foundation. that is surely a serious statement to make. how do you know?" "your uncle's will--yes, i will admit i went to somerset house and paid a shilling for the right of reading it--states that he gave his fortune to his sister's sons, and after them to the next-of-kin." "exactly." "presently it came to pass that only one person stood between you and possession." "that is so. i did not know it at the time, but such, i am informed, was the case." "this person's name was mr. anthony riggleton, at that time the only surviving son of your uncle's sister!" "that is so." romanoff lay back in his chair and quietly smoked his cigar. "but why these questions?" persisted dick. "i was only thinking, my friend, on what small issues fortune or poverty may rest." "but--but really----" "here is the case as i understand it. your lawyer told you that mr. anthony riggleton, the only man who stood between you and all your uncle's possessions, was killed in a drunken brawl in melbourne, and that on his death you became heir. that was why he sent you that wireless; that was why he summoned you back to england." "exactly." "but what if mr. anthony riggleton is not dead?" "there is no doubt about that," replied dick, in tones of relief. "mr. bidlake realised the importance of this, and sent to a lawyer in melbourne to make investigations. every care was taken, every possible loophole of mistake was investigated. i saw all the documents, all the newspaper reports." "has it ever struck you that mistakes might be made about this?" "of course. as a consequence i questioned bidlake closely, and he told me that doubt was impossible." "let me understand," and romanoff continued to speak quietly. "your position is that anthony riggleton, the then heir to all your uncle faversham's fortune, was living in australia; that he was known in melbourne; that he went to a house near melbourne with some boon companions; that there was a night of orgy; that afterwards there was a quarrel; and that mr. anthony riggleton was killed." "evidently you've worked up the case," and there was a sneer in dick's voice. "but i'm right, am i not?" "as far as you've gone, you are roughly right. of course, his body was afterwards identified by----" "by the cashier of the bank from which he had drawn money, and by others," interrupted romanoff. "but what if that cashier made a mistake? what if it paid him to make it? what if the others who identified the body were paid to do so? what if mr. anthony riggleton is still alive?" "what if a hundred things are true?" cried dick angrily. "one can ask such questions for ever. of course, if mr. anthony riggleton is still alive, i have no right here. if he is alive, i clear out." "and does the prospect please you?" and the count looked at dick like one anxious. "of course, it doesn't please me. if it's true, i'm a pauper, or next door to one. if it's true, i should have to leave everything and go out into the world to begin again." "and give up all thought of lady blanche huntingford," added the count. "i say, romanoff, if you've anything definite to tell me, tell it. i tell you honestly, i don't enjoy all this." "of course you don't. the thought of giving up all this is like thinking of having your eyes pulled out, isn't it?" "but of course it's all rubbish. of course you are imagining an ugly bogey man," and dick laughed nervously. "i'm imagining nothing, faversham." "then you mean to tell me----" "that mr. anthony riggleton is alive? yes, i do." dick gave the count an angry look, then started to his feet and began to pace the room. "of course it's all nonsense," he cried after a few seconds. "please don't imagine that i'm going to accept a cock-and-bull sort of story like that. do you think that bidlake would be deceived? do you imagine that the man he employed in melbourne would be duped? no, no, i'm not such a fool as to accept that. besides, what have you to do with it? why did you come here in such a fashion, and with such a story? it does not look very friendly, does it?" "why i came here, and why i have told you the truth, will leak out presently. you will see then that i came not as an enemy, but as a friend." "as a friend!" and there was an angry sneer in dick's voice. "as a friend," repeated romanoff. "of course," he went on quietly, "i expected that you would take it in this way; but you will soon see that my motives are--not unworthy of a friend." "tell me then how you came to know of this. perhaps you will also give me some proofs that mr. anthony riggleton, who was found dead, whose body was identified by responsible witnesses, has so miraculously come to life again. believe me, this hearsay, this wonderful story does not appeal to me. do you come to me with this--this farrago of nonsense with the belief that i am going to give up all this?" and he looked out of the window towards the far-spreading parks as he spoke, "without the most absolute and conclusive proof? if mr. anthony riggleton is alive, where is he? why does he not show himself? why does he not come here and claim his own?" "because i have stopped him from coming," replied romanoff. "you have stopped him from coming?" cried dick excitedly. "exactly." "then you have seen him?" "i have seen him." "but how do you know it was he? are mr. bidlake's inquiries to go for nothing? no, no, it won't do. i can't be deceived like that." "i know it was he because i have the most absolute proofs--proofs which i am going to submit to you." "you saw him, you say?" "i saw him." "but where?" "in australia. i told you, didn't i, that--after leaving you i went to australia? i told you, too, that i left australia quickly because i did not like the country. that was false. i came because i wanted to warn you, to help you. you asked me just now why, if mr. anthony riggleton was alive, he did not show himself. i will tell you why. if i had allowed him to do so, if he knew that he was heir to all you now possess, you would be a poor man. and i did not want you to be a poor man. i did not want your life to be ruined, your future sacrificed, your hopes destroyed. that's why, faversham. that's why i left australia and came here without wasting an hour. that's why i examined your uncle's will; that's why i came to warn you." "to warn me?" "to warn you." "against what?" "against dangers--against the dangers which might engulf you--ruin you for ever." "you speak in a tragic tone of voice." "i speak of tragic things. i told you that this was your hour of destiny. i told you the truth. this night will decide your future. you are a young fellow with your life all before you. you were born for enjoyment, for pleasure, for ease. you, unlike your uncle, who made all the wealth we are thinking of, are not a business genius; you are not a great master personality who can forge your way through difficult circumstances. you are not cast in that mould. but you can enjoy. you have barely felt your feet since you came into possession of great wealth, but already you have dreamt dreams, and seen visions. you have already made plans as to how you can suck the orange of the world dry. and to-night will be the time of decision." dick laughed uneasily. "how?" he asked, and his face was pale to the lips. "is there a photograph of mr. anthony riggleton in the house?" asked romanoff. "yes, i came across one the other day. would you like to see it?" he went to a drawer as he spoke and took a packet from it. "here is the thing," he added. "just so," replied romanoff; "now look at this," and he took a photograph from his pocket. "it's the same face, isn't it? the same man. well, my friend, that is the photograph of a man i saw in australia, weeks after you got your wireless from mr. bidlake--months after the news came that mr. anthony riggleton was dead. i saw him; i talked with him. he told me a good deal about himself, told me of some of his experiences in this house. there are a number of people in this neighbourhood who knew him, and who could identify him." "you are sure of this?" gasped dick. "absolutely." "and does he know--that--that his uncle is dead?" "not yet. that's why i hurried here to see you. but he has made up his mind to come to england, and of course he intends coming here." "he told you this, did he?" "yes. i came across him in a little town about five hundred miles from melbourne, and when i found out who he was i thought of you." "but how do you explain the news of his death, the inquest, and the other things?" "i'll come to that presently. it's easily explained. oh, there's no doubt about it, faversham. i have seen the real heir to all the wealth you thought your own." "but what do you mean by saying that you stopped him from coming here?" and dick's voice was husky. "i'm going to tell you why i stopped him. i'm going to tell you how you can keep everything, enjoy everything. yes, and how you can still marry the woman you are dreaming of." "but if the real heir is alive--i--i can't," stammered dick. "i'm here to show you how you can," persisted romanoff. "did i not tell you that this was the hour of destiny?" chapter xii the day of destiny dick faversham wiped away the beads of perspiration that stood thick upon his forehead. it seemed to him that he was surrounded by peculiar influences, that forces were at work which he could not understand. in one sense he did not at all believe in the story that count romanoff had told him. it appeared to him chimerical, unconvincing. it did not seem at all likely that a man of mr. bidlake's experience and mental acumen could have been so deceived. this subtle-minded lawyer, who had lived in london for so many years and had been spoken of as one of the most astute and level-headed men in the profession, would not be likely to communicate news of such great importance to him without being absolutely certain of his ground. he had shown him details of everything, too, and mr. bidlake was absolutely certain that mr. anthony riggleton was dead, that he was murdered near melbourne. the proofs of this were demonstrated in a hundred ways. no, he did not believe in romanoff's story. besides, it was absurd, on the face of it. who was this count romanoff? he knew little or nothing of him. though he owed his life to him, he knew nothing of his history or antecedents. he was afraid of him, too. he did not like his cynical way of looking at things, nor understand his mockery of current morality. and should he believe the bare word of such a man? and yet he did believe him. at the back of his mind he felt sure that he had spoken the truth. it came to him with ghastly force that he was not the owner of this fine old house, and of all the wealth that during the last few weeks he had almost gloated over. there was something in the tones of romanoff's voice--something in his mocking yet intense way of speaking that convinced him in spite of himself. and the fact maddened him. to be poor now after these few brief weeks of riches would drive him mad. he had not begun to enjoy yet. he had not carried out the plans which had been born in his mind. he had only just entered into possession, and had been living the life of a pattern young man. but he had meant to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to the very dregs. his mind swept like lightning over the conversation which had taken place, and every word of it was burnt into his brain. what did the count mean by telling him that he could retain everything? why did he persist in urging that he had hurried from australia to england to save him from losing everything? what did he mean by telling him that this was his hour of destiny--that on his decision would depend the future of his life? "you mean--to say then, that--that----" he stammered, after a long, painful silence. "that anthony riggleton, the legal heir of old charles faversham, is alive," interrupted romanoff. "i myself have seen him, have talked with him." "does he know that he is--is the rightful heir?" "not yet," and romanoff smiled. "i took good care of that." "you mean----" "i mean that i did not save your life for nothing. when i had fully convinced myself that he was--who he said he was--i of course reflected on what it meant. i called to mind what you had told me on that island, and i saw how his being alive would affect you." "how did you know? i did not tell you the terms of the will. i did not know them myself." "does it matter how i knew? anyhow, he--riggleton--would guess." "how did he know?" romanoff shrugged his shoulders. "how should i know, my dear fellow? but one can easily guess. he knew he was next-of-kin to old charles faversham, and would naturally think he would inherit his wealth. but that is not all. australia, although a long way from england, is not away from the lines of communication. melbourne is quite a considerable city. it has newspapers, telephones, cablegrams, and a host of other things. but one thing anthony riggleton did not know: he did not know that the terms of the will were published in the melbourne newspapers. he was afraid to go near melbourne, in fact. he thought it best for the world to think of him as dead. indeed, he paid a man to personate him in melbourne, and that man paid the penalty of his deceit by his life." "it's anything but clear to me." "then i'll make it clear. riggleton had enemies in melbourne whom it was necessary for him to see, but whom he was personally afraid to meet. he had served them very shabbily, and they had threatened him with unpleasant things. he had as a friend a man who resembled him very closely, and he offered this friend a sum of money if he would go to melbourne and personate him. this man, ignorant of his danger, accepted the offer--now, do you see?" after he had asked many questions about this--questions which romanoff answered freely--dick looked long and steadily at a picture of old charles faversham which hung on the wall. he was trying to co-ordinate the story--trying to understand it. "and where is anthony riggleton now?" "he is in england." "in england! then--then----" "exactly," interrupted romanoff. "you see what i meant when i said that the foundations of your position were very insecure. i do not imagine that lady blanche huntingford would think very seriously about dick faversham if she knew the whole truth." "but--but--in england?" "exactly. in england." "but you say he does not know--the truth?" "no. he may guess it, though. who knows?" "but why did you not tell me this last night? why wait till now before letting me know?" again romanoff smiled; he might be enjoying himself. "because i like you, my friend. because i wanted to see the state of your mind, and to know whether it was possible to help you." "to help me?" "to help you. i saw the kind of man you were. i saw what such wealth as you thought you possessed would mean to you. i saw, too, to what uses you could turn the power that riches would give you. so i made my plans." "but you say he is in england. if so, he will know--all!" "no, he does not. i took good care of that." "but he will find out." romanoff laughed. "no, my friend, i have taken care of everything. as i told you, i like you, and i want you to be a great figure in the life of your country. that is why you are safe--for the present." again dick wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. it seemed to him as though he were standing on a precipice, while beneath him were yawning depths of darkness. all he had hoped for was mocking him, and he saw himself sinking under the stress of circumstances, just as on that terrible night he felt himself sinking in the deep waters. but there were no arms outstretched to save him, nor friendly help near him. he looked around the room, noble in its proportions, and handsomely appointed, and thought of all it suggested. he remembered his last interview with mr. bidlake, when that gentleman gave him an account of his possessions, and told him of the approximate amount of his fortune. and now it would all go to this man who was not even aware of the truth. it was all bewildering, maddening. before he had properly begun to taste of the sweets of fortune they were being dashed from his lips. he felt as though he were losing his senses, that his brain was giving way under the stress of the news he had heard. then his innate manhood began to assert itself. if what romanoff had said were true, he must bear it. but, of course, he would not yield without a struggle. he would take nothing on the bare word of a man who, after all, was a stranger. everything should be proved up to the hilt before he relinquished possession. "safe for the present!" dick repeated, and there was a note of angry scorn in his voice. "of course, if--if you are not mistaken, there is no question of safety." "no question of safety?" "certainly not. if anthony riggleton is alive, and if he is the true heir to old charles faversham, he must make his claim, as i assume he will." "then you will yield without a struggle?" and there was a peculiar intonation in romanoff's voice. "no," cried dick, "i shall not yield without a struggle. i shall place the whole matter in bidlake's hands, and--and if i'm a pauper, i am--that's all." "i know a better way than that." "i don't understand you." "no, but you will in a minute. faversham, there's no need for you to fix up anything, no need for anyone to know what only you and i know." "look here," and dick's voice trembled. "are you sure that this fellow you talk about is anthony riggleton--and that he is the lawful heir?" romanoff gave dick a quick, searching glance; then he gave a peculiar laugh. "am i sure that the man is anthony riggleton? here's the photograph he gave me of himself. i compared the photograph with the man, and i'm not likely to be mistaken. the photograph is the exact representation of the man. you have photographs of riggleton in this house; compare them. besides, he's been here repeatedly; he's known, i imagine, to the servants, to the neighbours. if he is allowed to make a claim, it will not be a question of roger tichborne and arthur orton over again, my friend. he will be able to prove his rights." "what do you mean by saying, 'if he is allowed to make his claim'?" asked dick hoarsely. "of course he'll be allowed." "why of course? "naturally he will." "that depends on you. did i not tell you that this was your hour of destiny?" "then the matter is settled. i will not usurp another man's rights. if he's the lawful owner, he shall have his own. of course, he will have to prove it." "you don't mean that?" "of course i do. why not?" "because it would be criminal madness--the act of a fool!" "it is the only attitude for a decent fellow." again romanoff let his piercing eyes fall on dick's face. he seemed to be studying him afresh, as though he were trying to read his innermost thoughts. "listen, my dear fellow," and the count calmly cut the end of a fresh cigar. "i want to discuss this matter with you calmly, and i want our discussion to be entirely free from sentimental rubbish. to begin with, there is no doubt that the man anthony riggleton is alive, and that he is the legal owner of all charles faversham's fabulous fortune. of that i've no doubt. if he came here everyone would recognise him, while there is not a lawyer, not a judge or jury in the land, who would not acclaim him the owner of all which you thought yours. but, as i said, i like you. you were meant to be a rich man; you were meant to enjoy what riches can give you. and of this i am sure, faversham: poverty after this would mean hell to you. why, man, think what you can have--titles, position, power, the love of beautiful women, and a thousand things more. if you want to enter public life the door is open to you. with wealth like yours a peerage is only a matter of arrangement. as for lady blanche huntingford----" and the count laughed meaningly. "but what is the use of talking like that if nothing really belongs to me?" cried dick. "first of all, faversham," went on the count, as though dick had not spoken, "get rid of all nonsense." "nonsense? i don't understand." "i mean all nonsense about right and wrong, about so-called points of honour and that sort of thing. there is no right, and no wrong in the conventional sense of the word. right! wrong! pooh, they are only bogys invented by priests in days of darkness, in order to obtain power. it is always right to do the thing that pays---the thing that gives you happiness--power. the german philosophy is right there. do the thing you can do. that's common sense." "it's devilish!" exclaimed dick. "your mind's unhinged, excited, or you wouldn't say so," replied romanoff. "now, look at me," and he fastened dick's eyes by his intense gaze. "do i look like a fanatic, a fool? don't i speak with the knowledge of the world's wisdom in my mind? i've travelled in all the countries in the world, my friend, and i've riddled all their philosophies, and i tell you this: there is no right, no wrong. life is given to us to enjoy, to drink the cup of pleasure to its depths, to press from the winepress all its sweets, and to be happy." he spoke in low, earnest tones, and as he did so, dick felt as though his moral manhood were being sapped. the glitter of the count's eyes fascinated him, and while under their spell he saw as the count saw, felt as he felt. and yet he was afraid. there was something awesome in all this--something unholy. "look here!" and dick started to his feet. "what do you mean by coming to me in this way? why should you so coolly assert that the moralities of the centuries are nonsense? who are you? what are you?" again the count laughed. "who am i? what am i?" he repeated. "you remember napoleon bonaparte's famous words: 'i am not a man. i am a thing. i am a force. right and wrong do not exist for me. i make my own laws, my own morals.' perhaps i could say the same, faversham." "napoleon found out his mistake, though," protested dick. "did he? who knows? besides, better taste the sweets of power, if only for a few years, than be a drudge, a nonentity, a poor, struggling worm all your days." "but what do you want? what have you in your mind?" "this, faversham. if you will listen to me you will treat anthony riggleton as non-existent----" "as non-existent?" "yes, you can with safety--absolute safety; and then, if you agree to my proposal, all you hope for, all you dream of, shall be yours. you shall remain here as absolute owner without a shadow of doubt or a shadow of suspicion, and--enjoy. you shall have happiness, my friend--happiness. did i not tell you that this was your day of destiny?" chapter xiii the invisible hand again dick felt as though he were gripped by an irresistible power, and that this power was evil. it was true that the count sat in the chair near him, faultlessly dressed, urbane, smiling, with all the outward appearance of a polished man of the world; all the same, dick felt that an evil influence dominated the room. the picture which romanoff made him see was beautiful beyond words, and he beheld a future of sensuous ease, of satisfied ambition, of indescribable delights. and what he saw seemed to dull his moral sense, to undermine his moral strength. moreover, the man had by his news undermined the foundations of life, shattered the hopes he had nourished, and thus left him unable to fight. "tell me that this is a--a joke on your part," dick said at length. "of course it's not true." "of course it is true." "well, i'll have it proved, anyhow. everything shall be sifted to the bottom." "how?" "i'll go and see bidlake to-morrow. i'll tell him what you've said." "you will do no such thing." the count spoke in the most nonchalant manner. "why not? indeed, i shall." "you will not. i'll tell you why. first, because it would be criminally insane, and second, because you would be cutting your own throat." "please explain." "understand," replied romanoff, "that this is really nothing to me after all. i do not benefit by your riches, or lose by your poverty. why, i wonder, am i taking an interest in the matter?" and for the moment he seemed to be reflecting. "i suppose it is because i like you--of course that is it. besides, i saved your life, and naturally one has an interest in the life one has saved. but to explain: accept for the moment the conventional standards of right and wrong, good and evil, and what is the result? suppose you give up everything to riggleton--what follows? you give up all this to an unclean beast. you put power in the hands of a man who hasn't an elevated thought or desire. you, now--if you are wise, and retain what you have--can do some good with your money. you can bring comfort to the people on your estates; you can help what you believe worthy causes. you, faversham, are a gentleman at heart, and would always act like one. mind, i _don't_ accept conventional morality; it is no more to me than so much sawdust. but i do respect the decencies of life. my education has thrown me among people who have a sense of what's fit and proper. anyhow, judging from your own standards, you would be doing an _immoral_ thing by handing this great fortune to riggleton." "tell me about him," and dick felt a tightening at the throat. "tell you about him! an unsavoury subject, my friend. a fellow with the mind of a pig, the tastes of a pig. what are his enjoyments? his true place is in a low-class brothel. if he inherited wendover park, he would fill these beautiful rooms with creatures of his own class--men and women." the count did not raise his voice, but dick realised its intensity; and again he felt his influence--felt that he was being dominated by a personality stronger than his own. "no, no," he continued, and he laughed quietly as he spoke; "copy-book morality has no weight with me. but i trust i am a gentleman. if, to use your own term, i sin, i will sin like a gentleman; i will enjoy myself like a gentleman. but this man is dirty. he wallows in filth--wallows in it, and rejoices in it. that is anthony riggleton. morality! i scorn it. but decency, the behaviour of a gentleman, to act as a gentleman under every circumstance--that is a kind of religion with me! now, then, faversham, would it not be criminal madness to place all this in the hands of such a loathsome creature when you can so easily prevent it?" of course, the argument was commonplace enough. it was a device by which thousands have tried to salve their consciences, and to try to find an excuse for wrong-doing. had some men spoken the same words, dick might not have been affected, but uttered by romanoff they seemed to undermine the foundations of his reasoning power. "but if he is in england?" he protested weakly. "he is, but what then?" "he must know; he must. he is not an idiot, i suppose?" "no; he is cunning with a low kind of cunning--the cunning of a sensual beast. some would say he is clever." "then he must find out the truth." "not if you say he must not." "what have i to do with it?" "everything," and romanoff's eyes seemed to be searching into dick's innermost soul. "but how? i do not understand," and he nervously wiped his moist hands. "say so, and he must be got rid of." "how?" romanoff laughed quietly. "these are good cigars, faversham," he said, like one who was vastly enjoying himself. "oh, you can do that easily enough," he continued. "how?" asked dick. he felt his eyes were hot as he turned them towards the other. "i said treat him as though he were non-existent. well, let him _be_ non-existent." "you mean--you mean----" and dick's voice could scarcely be recognised. "why not?" asked the count carelessly. "the fellow is vermin--just dirty vermin. but he is a danger--a danger to the community, a danger to you. why, then, if it can be done easily, secretly, and without anyone having the slightest chance of knowing, should you not rid the world of such a creature? especially when you could save all this," and he looked around the room, "as well as marry that divine creature, and live the life you long to live." "never!" cried dick. "what?--murder! not for all the wealth ever known. no, no--my god, no!" "if there are good deeds in the world, that would be a good deed," persisted romanoff. "you would be a benefactor to your race, your country," and there was a touch of pleading in his voice. "why, man, think; i have him safe--safe! no one could know, and it would be a praiseworthy deed." "then why not do it yourself?" cried dick. there was a sneer as well as anger in his voice. "i am not the next heir to the faversham estates," replied romanoff. "what does it matter to me who owns all that old charles faversham gained during his life?" "then why suggest such a thing? why, it's devilish!" "don't--please, don't be melodramatic," the count drawled. "would you not kill a rat that ate your corn? would you not shoot any kind of vermin that infested your house? well, riggleton is vermin, human vermin if you like, but still vermin, and he is not fit to live. if i, romanoff, were in your position, i would have no more hesitation in putting him out of existence than your gamekeeper would have in shooting a dog with rabies. but, then, i am not in your position. i have nothing to gain. i only take a friendly interest in you. i have hurried to you with all speed the moment i knew of your danger, and i have told you how you can rid the world of a coarse, dirty-minded animal, and at the same time save for yourself the thing nearest your heart." "did he come in the same vessel with you?" "suffice to say that i know he is in england, and in safe keeping." "where? how? england has laws to protect everyone." "that does not matter. i will tell you if you like; but you would be none the wiser." "then you have arranged this?" "if you like--yes." "but why?" "still the same silly question. have you no sense of proportion, faversham? haven't i told you again and again?" dick was almost gasping for breath, and as he buried his head in his hands, he tried to understand, to realise. in calmer moments his mind would doubtless have pierced the cheap sophistry of the count, and discarded it. but, as i have said, he was greatly excited, bewildered. never as now did he desire wealth. never as now had the thought of winning lady blanche seemed the great thing in life to be hoped for. and he knew the count was right--knew that without his money she would no more think of marrying him than of marrying the utmost stranger. and yet his heart craved after her. he longed to possess her--to call her his own. he saw her as he had never seen her before, a splendid creature whose beauty outshone that of any woman he had ever seen, as the sun outshone the moon. and this anthony riggleton, whom the count described as vermin, stood in his way. because of a quibble on his part this loathsome thing would ruin his future, dash his hopes to the ground, blacken his life. but the alternative! "no, of course not!" he cried. "you refuse?" "certainly i do. i'm not a murderer." "very well, go your own way. go to your mr. bidlake, see him shrug his shoulders and laugh, and then watch while your cousin--your _cousin_!--turns this glorious old place into a cesspool." "yes; rather than stain my hands in----i say, romanoff," and the words passed his lips almost in spite of himself, "there must be some deep reason why you--you say and do all this. do you expect to gain anything, in any way, because of my--retaining possession of my uncle's wealth?" for the first time the count seemed to lose possession over himself. he rose to his feet, his eyes flashing. "what!" he cried; "do you mean that i, romanoff, would profit by your poor little riches? what is all this to me? why, rich as you thought you were, i could buy up all the faversham estates--all--all, and then not know that my banking account was affected. i, romanoff, seek to help a man whom i had thought of as my friend for some paltry gain! good-night, mr. richard faversham, you may go your own way." "stop!" cried dick, almost carried away by the vehemence of the other; "of course, i did not mean----" "enough," and the count interrupted him by a word and a laugh. "besides, you do not, cannot, understand. but to rid your mind of all possible doubt i will show you something. here is my account with your bank of england. this is for pocket-money, pin-money, petty cash as your business men call it. there was my credit yesterday. in the light of that, do you think that i need to participate in your fortune, huge as you regard it?" dick was startled as he saw the amount. there could be no doubt about it. the imprimatur of the bank of england was plainly to be seen, and the huge figures stood out boldly. "i'm sure i apologise," stammered dick. "i only thought that--that--you see----" "all right," laughed the count, "let it be forgotten. besides, have i not told you more than once that i am interested in you? i have shown you my interest, and----" "of course you have," cried dick. "i owe you my life; but for you i should not be alive to-day." "just so. i want to see you happy, faversham. i want you to enjoy life's sweetness. i want you to be for ever free from the haunting fear that this anthony riggleton shall ever cross your path. that is why----" he hesitated, as though he did not know what to say next. "yes," asked dick, "why what?" "that is why i want to serve you further." "serve me further? how?" "suppose i get rid of riggleton for you?" "i do not understand." "suppose i offer to get rid of riggleton for you? suppose without your having anything to do with him, without knowing where he is, i offer to remove him for ever from your path--would you consent?" "i consent?" "yes; i must have that. would you give it?" "you--you--that is, you ask me if i will consent to--to his--his murder?" "just that, my friend. that must be--else why should i do it? but--but i love you, faversham--as if you were my son, and i would do it for your happiness. of course, it's an unpleasant thing to do, even although i have no moral scruples, but i'll do it for you." again dick felt as though the ground were slipping from under his feet. never before was he tempted as he was tempted now, never did it seem so easy to consent to wrong. and he would not be responsible. he had suggested nothing, pleaded nothing. his part would be simply to be blindly quiescent. his mind was confused to every issue save one. he had only to consent, and this man riggleton, the true owner of everything, would be removed for ever. "and if i do not?" he asked. "then nothing more need be said. but look at me, faversham, and tell me if you will be such a fool. if there is any guilt, i bear it; if there is any danger, i face it; do you refuse, faversham? i only make the offer for your sake." again dick felt the awful eyes of the count piercing him; it was as though all his power of judgment, all his volition were ebbing away. at that moment he felt incapable of resistance. "and if i consent?" he asked weakly. "of course you will, you _will_, you will," and the words were repeated with peculiar intensity, while the eyes of the two met. "i only make one stipulation, and i must make it because you need a friend. i must make it binding for your sake." he took a piece of paper from a desk and scribbled a few words. "there, read," he said. dick read: "i promise to put myself completely under the guidance of count romanoff with regard to the future of my life." "there, sign that, faversham," and the count placed the pen in his hand. without will, and almost without knowledge, dick took the pen. "what do you want me to do?" asked dick dully. "sign that paper. just put 'richard faversham' and the date. i will do the rest." "but--but if i do this, i shall be signing away my liberty. i shall make myself a slave to you." "nonsense, my dear fellow. why should i interfere with your liberty?" "i don't know; but this paper means that." he was still able to think consecutively, although his thoughts were cloudy and but dimly realised. "think, faversham. i am undertaking a dirty piece of work for your sake. why? i am doing it because i want you to be free from anthony riggleton, and i am doing it because i take a deep interest in you." "but why should i sign this?" in spite of the count's influence over him, he had a dull feeling that there was no need for such a thing. even although he had tacitly consented to romanoff's proposal he saw no necessity for binding himself. "i'll tell you why. it's because i know you--because i read your mind like a book. i want to make you my protégé, and i want you to cut a figure in the life of the world. after all, in spite of charles faversham's wealth, you are a nobody. you are a commoner all compact. but i can make you really great. i am romanoff. you asked me once if i were of the great russian family, and i answered yes. do you know what that means? it means that no door is closed to me--that i can go where i will, do what i will. it means that if i desire a man's aggrandisement, it is an accomplished fact. not only are the delights of this country mine for the asking, but my name is an _open sesame_ in every land. my name and my influence are a key to unlock every door; my hand can draw aside the curtain of every delight. and there are delights in the world that you know nothing of, never dreamt of. as my protégé i want them to be yours. a great name, great power, glorious pleasures, the smile of beautiful women, delights such as the author of _the arabian nights_ only dimly dreamt of--it is my will that you shall have them all. charles faversham's money and my influence shall give you all this and more. but i am not going to have a fretful, puling boy objecting all the time; i am not going to have my plans for your happiness frustrated by conscience and petty quibbles about what is good and evil. that is why i insist on your signing that paper." romanoff spoke in low tones, but every word seemed to be laden with meanings hitherto unknown to dick. he saw pictures of exquisite delights, of earthly paradises, of joys that made life an ecstasy. and still something kept his hand still. he felt rather than reasoned that something was wrong--that all was wrong. he was in an abnormal state of mind; he knew that the influences by which he was surrounded were blinding him to truth, and giving him distorted fancies about life's values. "no," he said doggedly; "i won't sign, and i won't consent to this devilish deed." again romanoff laughed. "look at me, dick, my boy," he said. "you are not a milksop; you were made to live your whole life. fancy you being a clerk in an office, a store--a poor little manikin keeping body and soul together in order to do the will of some snivelling tradesman! think of it! think of anthony riggleton living here, or in london, in paris, in india--or wherever he pleases--squandering his money, and satiated with pleasure, while you--you----pooh! i know you. i see you holding lady blanche in your arms. i see you basking in the smiles of beautiful women all over the world. i see the name of faversham world-wide in its power. i see----" and the count laughed again. all the while, too, he kept dick's eyes riveted on his own--eyes which told him of a world of sensuous delights, and which robbed him of his manhood. no, he could not bear to become poor again, and he would not give up the delights he had dreamt of. right! wrong! good! evil! they were only words. the count was right. it was his right to enjoy. "all right, i'll sign," he said. he dipped the pen into the ink, and prepared to inscribe his name, but the moment he placed his hand on the paper it felt as though it were paralysed. "there is something here!" he gasped. "something here? nonsense." "but there is. look!" it seemed to him that a ray of light, brighter than that of the electric current that burnt in the room, streamed towards him. above him, too, he saw the face that was now becoming familiar to him. strange that he had forgotten it during the long conversation, strange that no memory of the evening before, when over the doorway he had seen an angel's face beaming upon him and warning him, had come to him. but he remembered now. the night on the heaving sea, the vision on the island, the luminous form over the doorway of the house, all flashed before him, and in a way he could not understand romanoff's influence over him lessened--weakened. "sign--sign there!" urged the count, pointing towards the paper. "what is the matter with your eyes?" gasped dick. "they burn with the light of hell fire." "you are dreaming, boy. sign, and let's have a bottle of wine to seal the bargain." "i must be dreaming," thought dick. "an angel's face! what mad, idiotic nonsense!" he still held the pen in his hand, and it seemed to him that strength was again returning to his fingers. "where must i sign?" he muttered. "i can't see plainly." "there--right at the point of your pen," was the count's reply. but dick did not sign, for suddenly he saw a white, shadowy hand appear, which with irresistible strength gripped his wrist. chapter xiv a scrap of paper suddenly the spell, or whatever had enchained him, was broken. there was a noise of wheels on the gravel outside, and the sound of footsteps in the hall. he heard the count mutter a savage oath, and a moment later the door opened and he heard a happy, clear, girlish voice: "oh, mr. faversham, forgive me for coming; but i really couldn't help myself." it was beatrice stanmore who, unheralded and unaccompanied, stood by his side. he muttered something, he knew not what, although he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and strength came back to his being. "i really couldn't," the girl went on. "granddad left me just after a very early dinner, and then i felt awfully miserable and depressed. i didn't know why. it was just ghastly. nothing had happened, and yet i knew--why, i couldn't tell--that something was terribly wrong. then something told me that you were in danger, that unless i came to help you, you would be--oh, i can't put it into words! you are not in danger, are you?" "it was very kind of you to come," muttered dick. "i'm no end glad to see you." "but--but i'm afraid!" she said in her childish way. "i don't know what granddad will say to me. you see, you are a stranger to me, and i had no right to come. but i couldn't help it--i really couldn't. someone seemed to be saying to me all the time, 'mr. faversham is in deadly peril; go to him--go to him quick! quick!' and i couldn't help myself. i kept telling myself that i was very silly, and all that sort of thing, but all the time i heard the voice saying, 'quick, quick, or you'll be too late!' but i'm afraid it's all wrong. you are all right. you are in no danger, are you?" "i'm no end glad to see you," he repeated. "and it is awfully good of you to come." he still seemed to be under strange influences, but he no longer felt as though his strength was gone. his heart was strangely light, too. the presence of the girl by his side gave him comfort. "you are not angry with me, then? i've not done wrong, have i?" "wrong? no! you have done quite right--quite. thank you very, very much." "i'm glad of that. when i had left our house i wanted to run to you. then i thought of the car. i've learnt to drive, and granddad thinks i'm very clever at it. i simply flew through the park. but i'm glad you are in no danger. i must go now." she had not once looked at romanoff; she simply stood gazing at dick with wide-open, childish-looking eyes, and her words came from her almost pantingly, as though she spoke under the stress of great excitement. then she looked at the paper before him. "you are not going to write your name on that, are you?" she asked. "no," he replied; "i'm not." "you must not," she said simply. "it would be wrong. when i heard the words telling me to come to you i--i saw--but no, i can't recall it. but you must not sign that. i'll go now. good-night, and please forgive me for coming." "please don't go yet." "but i must. i could not stay here. there's something wrong, something evil. i'm sure there is." she glanced nervously towards romanoff, and shivered. "good-night," she said, holding out her hand. "i really must go now. i think the danger is over--i feel sure it is; and granddad will be anxious if he comes back and does not find me." "i'll see you to the door," said dick. "i shall never cease to thank you for coming." leaving the paper on the table, and without looking at romanoff, he opened the door to her, and passed into the hall. "yes; i shall never cease to thank you," he repeated--"never. you have saved me." "what from?" and she looked at him with a strangely wistful smile. "i don't know," he replied--"i don't know." when they stood together on the gravel outside the door, he gave a deep sigh. it seemed to him as though the pure, sweet air enabled him to lift every weight from himself. he was free--wonderfully, miraculously free. "oh, it is heavenly, just heavenly here!" and she laughed gaily. "i think this is the most beautiful place in the world, and this is the most beautiful night that ever was. isn't the avenue just lovely? the trees are becoming greener and greener every day. it is just as though the angels were here, hanging their festoons. do you like my car? isn't it a little beauty?" "yes," replied dick. "may--may i drive you back?" "will you? then you can explain to granddad. but no, you mustn't. you must go back to your friend." "he isn't my friend," replied dick almost involuntarily; "he's just--but perhaps you wouldn't understand." "he isn't a good man," she cried impulsively. "i don't like him. i know i ought not to say this. granddad often tells me that i let my tongue run away with me. but he's not a good man, and--and i think he's your enemy." dick was silent. "is he staying with you long?" she went on. "no, not long." "i'm glad of that. he isn't nice. he's--he's--i don't know what. i shall tell granddad i've been here." "he won't be angry, will he?" "no; he's never angry. besides, i think he'll understand. you'll come and see us soon, won't you?" "i'm afraid i shall not be able to. i'm going away." "going away?" "yes; i'm leaving wendover park. at least, i expect so." "you don't mean for always?" "yes; for always. to-night has decided it." she looked at him wistfully, questioningly. "has that man anything to do with it? is he driving you away?" "no; he wants me to stay." she again scanned his features in a puzzled, childish way. "of course, i don't understand," she said. "no; i hardly understand myself," and he spoke almost involuntarily. "thank you very much for coming." she clasped his hand eagerly. "i shall be very sorry if you go," she said, "but please don't do anything that man asks you. please don't." "i won't," replied dick. he started the car for her, and then watched her while she drove down the avenue. then he stood for a few seconds looking at the great doorway. he might have been expecting to see there what had been so plainly visible before, but there was nothing. the grey old mansion was simply bathed in the light of the dying day, while the silvery moon, which was just rising behind the tree-tops, sent its rays through the fast-growing leaves. but as beatrice stanmore had said, it was a most wondrous night. all nature was glorying in life, while the light breezes seemed to bring him distant messages. the birds, too, even although the sun had set, perhaps an hour before, sent their messages one to another, and twittered their love-songs as they settled to their rest. he waited on the steps for perhaps five minutes, then he found his way back to romanoff. for some seconds neither said anything; each seemed to have a weight upon his lips. then romanoff spoke. "you refuse, then?" "yes; i refuse." "what do you refuse?" "everything. i refuse to allow you to do that devilish deed. i refuse to obey you." romanoff laughed as his eyes rested on dick's face. "you know what this means, of course?" "yes, i know." "then--then i interfere no further." "thank you." romanoff waited a few seconds before he spoke again. "of course, you are very silly, faversham," he said. "soon you'll be sorry for this, and some time you'll need my help. meanwhile i'm tired, and will go to bed." he passed out of the room as he spoke, and dick noticed that the scrap of paper was gone. chapter xv count romanoff's departure the next morning when dick came downstairs he found romanoff evidently prepared for a journey. his luggage had been brought into the hall, and he was looking at a time-table. "faversham, i am sorry that we part in this way," he said. "are you going?" asked dick. the count looked at him steadily, as if trying to divine his state of mind--to know if he had changed his purposes since the previous evening. "naturally," he replied. "you have settled on your train?" "yes; i go by the . ." "then i will see that a car is in readiness." as may be imagined, dick had spent a well-nigh sleepless flight, and he was in a nervous condition; but upon one thing he had decided. he would be studiously polite to the count, and would in no way refer to the happenings of the previous night. even yet he had not made up his mind about his visitor, except that he agreed with beatrice stanmore. the man still fascinated him; but he repelled him also. there was something mysterious, evil, about him; but the evil was alluring; it was made to seem as though it were not evil. "should you alter your mind," said the count on leaving, "this address will find me. after to-night at ten o'clock, it will be useless to try to find me." dick looked at the card he had placed in his hand, and found the name of one of the best hotels in london. when he had gone, the young man felt strangely lonely and fearfully depressed. the air seemed full of foreboding; everything seemed to tell him of calamity. as the morning passed away, too, he, more than once, found himself questioning his wisdom. after all, the count had asked nothing unreasonable. why should he not promise to be guided by a man who was so much older and wiser than himself? one, too, who could so greatly help him in the future. again and again he wandered around the house, and through the gardens. again and again he feasted his eyes upon the beauty of the park and the glory of the district. and it was his no longer! could he not even now---- no; he could not! if anthony riggleton were alive, and was the true heir to old charles faversham's wealth, he should have it. the thought of doing what romanoff had proposed made him shudder. but he would not give up without a struggle. after all, he was in possession, and he was accepted as the owner of wendover park as well as heir to enormous wealth. why, then, should he give it up? no; he would fight for what he held. the day passed slowly away. he ate his lonely lunch in silence, and then, taking a two-seater car, ran it in the direction of lord huntingford's house. just as he was passing the gates lady blanche appeared, accompanied by a girl of about her own age. almost unconsciously he lifted his foot from the accelerator and pressed down the brake. "alone, mr. faversham?" she asked, with a radiant smile. "quite alone, lady blanche." "your guest is gone, then?" "he left this morning." "then--then please excuse the informality--but then we are neighbours; won't you come to dinner _en famille_ on thursday night? father will be delighted to see you. and, oh, i want to introduce you to my friend here." he did not catch the girl's name, but it did not matter. he had only eyes and ears for this glorious woman. her face was wreathed with smiles, while her eyes shone brightly. surely such a woman was never known before. in a moment he had forgotten the previous night--forgotten the great crisis in his life. "thursday! i shall be delighted!" he cried, lifting his cap. the two passed on, and he resumed his drive. why did he not ask them to accompany him? why? why? his mind was in a turmoil. the sight of lady blanche had set his nerves tingling, and caused his blood to course madly through his veins. her smile, her look, her attitude could only mean one thing: she thought kindly of him--she thought more than kindly of him. then he remembered. wendover park was not his--nothing was his. if romanoff told him truly, he was a pauper. all--all would have to be sacrificed. where he went that afternoon he had no recollection. he only knew that he drove the car at its utmost speed, and that the country through which he was passing was strange to him. he wanted to get away from himself, from his thoughts, from everything that reminded him of the truth. he returned to wendover park in time for dinner, and from eight to ten o'clock he sat alone. on his arrival he had asked whether there had been any callers, any message, and on receiving an answer in the negative, he had heaved a sigh of relief. in the library after dinner, however, the whole ghastly position had to be faced, and for two hours his mind was torn first this way and then that. but he did nothing. he could not do anything. how could he? the evening--the night passed, and there was no happening. everything was orderly, quiet, commonplace. he might never have seen the luminous figure at the doorway, never felt that awesome gripping of his wrist; indeed, the whole experience might have been a dream, so unreal was it. the next day passed, and still nothing happened. more than once he was on the point of ringing up mr. bidlake, but he refrained. what could he say to the keen old lawyer? he did not leave the house during the whole day. almost feverishly he listened to every sound. no footstep passed unnoticed, no caller but was anxiously scanned. every time the telephone bell rang, he rushed to it with fast-beating heart, only to heave a sigh of relief when he discovered that there was no message concerning the things which haunted his mind. still another night passed, and still nothing happened. he was beginning to hope that romanoff had been playing a practical joke on him, and that all his fears were groundless. then just before noon the blow came. the telephone bell tinkled innocently near him, and on putting the instrument to his ear he heard mr. bidlake's voice. "is that you, mr. faversham? "mr. faversham speaking. you are mr. bidlake, aren't you?" "yes." this was followed by a cough; then the lawyer spoke again. "will you be home this afternoon?" "yes." "i want to see you very particularly. a strange thing has happened. grotesque, in fact, and i want you to be prepared for--for anything." "what?" "i don't like telling you over the telephone. i'm tremendously upset. i can hardly speak collectedly." "i think i know. it has to do with anthony riggleton and the faversham estates, hasn't it?" "how did you know? yes; it has. it's terribly serious, i'm afraid. i'd better see you at once. some arrangement, some compromise might be made." "you mean that riggleton is not dead? that you've seen him?" he spoke quite calmly and naturally. indeed, he was surprised at his command over himself. "yes; he's just left me. he's been here for two hours. of course, i tried at first to take his visit as a joke, but----" "you are convinced that it _was_ riggleton?" "i can have no doubt about it--no possible doubt. he's deadly in earnest too, and his case is overwhelming--simply overwhelming. never, outside the realms of the wildest romance, did i ever come across a case where a lawyer could be so completely mistaken. but i can't help it, and i'm afraid that--that your prospects for the future are materially altered. of course you might----" "you are coming down here, you say. there's a good train from victoria at . . can you catch it?" "ye--s. i think so." "then i'll send a car to meet you at this end." he rang the bell, altered the time of lunch, and then sat down to think. but not for long. calmly as he had talked to the lawyer, his every nerve was quivering with excitement, every faculty was in tension. he went to the window and looked out. all he saw was his no longer. he had no doubt about it, and it seemed to him that an icy hand was placed upon his heart as he realised it. and he might have retained it! was he glad or sorry because of what he had done? every particle of his being was crying out for the life he longed to live, and yet----as he thought of the price he would have to pay, as he remembered romanoff's words, he did not repent. he calmly waited for the lawyer's arrival. by four o'clock mr. bidlake was on his way back to london again, and dick knew that his own fate was sealed. the lawyer had proved to him that he had no right to be there, and while he advised him to put on a bold face, and in the last extremity to try and compromise with anthony riggleton, he held out no hope. anthony riggleton was beyond doubt the true heir of old charles faversham, and he had undisputable proofs of the fact. "i am more upset than i can say, faversham," said the lawyer, when he had described riggleton's visit, "but we can't help ourselves. he is perfectly sure of his ground, and he has reason to be." "he convinced you entirely, then?" "absolutely--absolutely." dick was still calm. perhaps the experiences of the last few days left him almost incapable of feeling. "what sort of fellow is he?" the lawyer puckered up his face, and shook his head dismally. "he will not be a society favourite," was all he said. "but he has no doubts as to his plans?" "he says he's going to take possession immediately. if you offer any opposition, he will apply for an injunction." "has he any money?" "he appeared to be quite well off. his clothes are quite new," added the lawyer, "and he sported some very flashy jewellery. i was impressed by the thought that he had someone behind him." "did he say so?" "no, not definitely, but i formed that impression. anyhow, you can be certain of this. he will lose no time in making his claim. indeed, i should not be at all surprised if the papers don't contain some notice of his advent and his claims to-morrow morning." "you said something about a compromise." "yes, you see"--and the lawyer coughed almost nervously--"this will be very awkward for you. you've no right here; you've been spending money which has not been your own. still, your case is not without its good points. you are in possession, you have been accepted as the owner of--all this, and even although he has the prior claim, you would have great sympathy from a jury--should it come to that. i told him so. i don't promise anything, but it might be that he might be disposed to--do something considerable to persuade you to leave him in possession quietly." "as a kind of salve for my disappointment?" and there was an angry light in dick's eyes. "if you like to put it that way, yes. but, bless my soul, it is close on four o'clock, and i must be going. i can't say how sorry i am, and--and if i can do anything----" "is the fellow married?" interrupted dick. "no--nothing of that sort. after all, no one but he stands in the way of possession." "what shall i do?" dick asked himself. "i'm worse off than i was before. at any rate i was in the way of earning a few hundred pounds when that wireless came. but now everything is altered, and i don't know where to turn. still----" and there was a grim, hard look in his eyes. slowly he walked down the avenue towards the lodge gates. away in the distance, as though coming towards him, he saw a young girl. it was beatrice stanmore. he took a few steps towards her, and then turned back. something forbade his speaking to her; somehow she seemed closely connected with the black calamity which had fallen on him. he had barely returned to the house when he heard the tooting of a motor horn, and, looking out, he saw a large, powerful motor-car coming rapidly up the avenue. a minute later he heard voices in the hall--voices which suggested recognition. then the door opened. "mr. anthony riggleton!" said the servant excitedly. chapter xvi riggleton's homecoming a young fellow about twenty-eight years of age entered the room. he was a round-faced, thickly built man, and he carried himself with a swagger. evidently it had been his desire to get himself up for the occasion. his clothes were new, and shouted aloud of his tastes. they suggested a bookmaker. he smoked a large cigar, and wore an aggressive buttonhole. he did not take off his hat on entering, but, having advanced a couple of steps, took a survey of the room. "yes," he said, and his voice was somewhat thick; "i remember the old place well. it's as natural as life." then, coming up to where dick was, he continued, "of course you know who i am?" dick, who had difficulty in repressing his excitement, mentioned something about never having seen him before. "oh, stow that!" said the newcomer. "i'm tony riggleton, i am. you know that well enough." "i don't see why i should," and dick's voice was a little angry. he instinctively disliked tony riggleton. "i do, though. why, bidlake hasn't been gone half an hour. hopper has just told me." dick was silent. he did not see at the moment what there was for him to say. "you guess why i'm here?" he went on. "i'm not good at guessing." dick felt that riggleton had the whip hand of him, and while he did not intend to make any concessions to his whilom cousin, he felt sure what the upshot of their meeting would be. "oh, i say, faversham," and riggleton moved farther into the room, "it's no use taking the high hand with me. of course i don't blame you, and naturally you're cut up. anyone would be in your place. but there's nothing green about me. all this show belongs to me, and i mean to finger the coin. that's straight. mind, i've come down here in a friendly way, and i don't want to be unreasonable. see? i'm old faversham's heir. old bidlake was obliged to own it, although he wriggled like a ferret in a hole. i can see, too, that you're a bit of a swell, and would suit his book better than i can; but i can make the money go. don't you make any mistake." he laughed as he spoke, and made a pretence of re-lighting his cigar. "come now," he went on, "let's have a bottle of champagne, and then we can talk over things quietly." "there's nothing to talk over as far as i can see," interposed dick. "what do you mean by that?" in spite of his assertive attitude, he did not appear at ease, and was constantly casting furtive and suspicious glances towards dick. "i mean," replied dick, "that if you are old charles faversham's heir, and if you can prove it, there's nothing more to be said." "you mean that you'll clear out quietly?" there was evident astonishment in his voice. apparently he had expected bluster, and perhaps a scene. "of course i shall clear out quietly. naturally there are formalities with which you'll have to comply; but, if you are the true owner, you are, and there's no more to be said." riggleton looked at him with open-mouthed wonder, evidently staggered that faversham was taking the matter so calmly. dick was silent. the fellow was getting on his nerves, and he had difficulty in keeping calm. "then you don't mean to fight it out?" he continued. "why should i?" asked dick quietly. "you have placed your papers in mr. bidlake's hands, and left everything for his examination. your identity will have to be proved, and all that sort of thing; but i hope i've too much self-respect to try to hold anything that isn't mine." "put it there!" cried anthony riggleton, holding out his hand. "that's what i call acting like a gentleman, that is. i sort of thought you'd get your monkey up, and--but there. it's all right. there's nothing fishy about me. i don't pretend to be a saint, i don't. in fact, i don't believe old uncle charlie ever meant me to come in for all his wad. s'welp me bob, i don't. i was never his sort, and i don't mind telling you that he as good as kicked me out from here. you see, i was always fond of a bit of life, and i've gone the whole hog in my time. but that's all over now." "you mean that you're going to reform?" "reform! not 'alf. no, faversham; i'm going to have the time of my life. i'm going to--but--i say, have you been here ever since you thought you came in for the old man's whack?" "yes; why?" "you _are_ a plaster saint. by gosh, you are! but you don't see me burying myself in this hole. of course it's very grand, and all that sort of thing; but, no, thank you! tony riggleton is going the whole hog. what's the use of money else? of course i shall use the place now and then. when i feel my feet a bit i shall get some music-hall people down here for week-ends, and all that sort of thing. but, as for living here like bidlake says you have!--no, thank you. london's my mark! i tell you, i mean to paint the town red. and then, if i can get passports and that sort of tommy-rot, i'll do paris and madrid and rome. you don't catch me burying myself like a hermit. not a little bit. now i've got the money, i mean to make it fly. i _should_ be a fool if i didn't!" the man was revealing himself by every word he spoke. his tastes and desires were manifested by his sensual lips, his small, dull eyes and throaty voice. "now, look here, faversham," he went on, "i'll admit you are different from what i expected you to be. i was prepared for a bit of a shindy, and that's straight. but you've taken a knock-down blow in a sporting way, and i want to do the thing handsome. of course i own this show just as i own all the rest of the old man's estates; but there's nothing mean about me. live and let live is my motto. you can stay on here for a week or a fortnight if you like. i don't want to be hard. for that matter, although i'm going back to town to-night, i'll come back on saturday and bring some bits of fluff from the friv, and we'll make a week-end of it. i expect you've plenty of fizz in the house, haven't you?" dick was silent. the conversation, only a part of which i have recorded, so disgusted him that, although he was not a puritan by nature, he felt almost polluted by the man's presence. it seemed like sacrilege, too, that this fellow should turn wendover park into a sty, as he evidently meant to do, and he found himself wondering whether, after all, he would not have been justified in accepting romanoff's offer. "come, what do you say?" went on riggleton. "i tell you----" and then he went on to give details of his programme. "there's no need for you to be so down in the mouth," he concluded. "there's plenty of money, as you know, and i'll not be hard on you." the fellow was so coarsely patronising that dick with difficulty kept himself from starting up and rushing from the room. at that moment, however, a servant entered and brought him a telegram, and a moment later his brain seemed on fire as he read: "riggleton's claim undoubtedly valid, but can still save situation if you accept my terms.--romanoff, hotel cosmopolitan." the words burnt into his brain; he felt as he had felt a few nights before when romanoff had placed the paper before him to sign. "any answer, sir?" he looked towards a pen which lay on the table before him. why should he not send back an acceptance? "i say," said riggleton, "is that about the estate? because if it is, i demand to see it." his tone was loud and arrogant. the sight of the telegram had evidently aroused his suspicions and his desire to assert his mastery. "oh, i mean it," he went on. "i'm an easy chap to get on with, but i'm master here. i tell you that straight." dick felt as though his nerves were raw; the man's presence was maddening. and he had to give up everything to him! "it's a purely personal telegram," he replied. "i'm only considering how i shall answer it." he seized a telegraph form, and dipped a pen into an inkstand, but he did not write a word. his mind again flew back to the night when romanoff tempted him, and when he had felt a hand grip his wrist. "let's get out," he said, cramming the telegram into his pocket. "yes; let's," assented riggleton; "but let's have a drink before we go. i say, my man," and he turned to the servant, who still waited, "bring a bottle of fizz. yes; do as you're told. i'm your new master. everything belongs to me. see?" the servant turned to dick. doubtless there had been a great deal of excited conversation in the servants' quarters, and he awaited confirmation of what he had heard. "do as he tells you," assented dick, and then he left the room. but he could not help hearing what took place between riggleton and the servant. "what do you mean by looking to him?" asked riggleton angrily. "any of your nonsense and it'll be right about face with you. i'm master here and no error. it was all a mistake about faversham. everything belongs to me. see? and look here, there's going to be a change here. i ain't no milksop, i can tell you, and the whole lot of you'll have to get a move on, or out you go. it isn't much time that i shall spend in this gloomy hole, but when i am here there'll be something doing. i shall get the place full of a jolly lot of girls, and wendover park won't be no mouldy church, nor no bloomin' nunnery. you can bet your life on that. there'll be plenty of booze, and plenty of fun. now then, get that fizz, and be quick about it." the man's raucous, throaty voice reached him plainly, and every word seemed to scrape his bare nerves. he left the hall, and went out on the lawn where the sun shone, and where the pure spring air came to him like some healing balm. this, then, was his cousin! this was the man who was the heir of old charles faversham's great wealth! the whole situation mocked him. he believed he had done the thing that was right, and this was the result of it. like lightning his mind swept over his experiences, and again he wondered at all that had taken place. he tried to understand his strange experiences, but he could not. his thoughts were too confused; his brain refused to grasp and to co-ordinate what he could not help feeling were wonderful events. he looked towards the great doorway, where, on the day of his coming to wendover park, he had seen that luminous figure which had so startled him. but there was nothing to be seen now. he wondered, as he had wondered a hundred times since, whether it was an objective reality, or only the result of a disordered imagination. there, in the bright sunlight, with anthony riggleton's raucous voice still grating on his ears, he could not believe it was the former. but if it were pure imagination, why--why----and again his mind fastened on the things which in spite of everything were beginning to revolutionise his life. then a thought startled him. he realised that a change had come over him. if he had met tony riggleton a few months before, neither the man's presence nor his language would have so disgusted him. he had writhed with anger when riggleton had unfolded his plans to him, and yet a little while before he himself had contemplated a future which was not, in essence, so far removed from what his cousin had so coarsely expressed. yes; he could not blind himself to the fact that since--since----but no, nothing was clear to him. "i say, faversham." he turned and saw that riggleton had joined him. "show me around a bit, will you? you see, the old man wouldn't have me here much, and--i should like to talk things over." "i think, when mr. bidlake has got everything in order----" "oh, hang bidlake! besides, it's no use your talking about bidlake. i've settled with him. you don't feel like talking, eh? very well, let's go for a walk." almost instinctively dick turned down the drive which led to the cottage where beatrice stanmore lived. "yes," reflected riggleton, after they had walked some time in silence; "i suppose this kind of thing appeals to a poetical bloke like you seem to be. but it doesn't do for tony r. i love a bit of life, i do. i always did. did you ever hear that i ran away from school, and went off on my own when i was fifteen? went to sea, i did, and knocked about the world. i had a rough time, too; that's why i've no polish now. but i know the value of money, i do, and you may bet your bottom dollar that i'll make things hum. ah, here we are at the lodge gates." dick looked across a meadow, and saw old hugh stanmore's cottage. even although it was some little distance away he could see the gaily coloured flowers in the garden and the pleasant quaintness of the cottage. but it was no longer his. in future it would belong to this clown by his side, and---- his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a motor, and a few seconds later he caught sight of lady blanche huntingford in her two-seater car. his heart gave a leap as he saw her put her foot on the clutch, while the car slowed down by his side. the girl smiled into his face. "you've not forgotten your promise for to-morrow night, mr. faversham?" she said, and then, stopping the engine, she stepped lightly into the lane. chapter xvii faversham's resolution it seemed to dick that nothing could have happened more unfortunately. painfully aware as he was that anthony riggleton was standing by his side, and devouring every detail of the girl's appearance, he felt ashamed that she should see him. he wanted to run away, longed to disown all knowledge of the vulgar creature who accompanied him. "no, i've not forgotten, lady blanche," he managed to say. "and we may expect you?" there was eagerness in her voice, expectancy in the gladness of her bright eyes. "i--i'm afraid not," he stammered. the girl flashed a quick look upon him--a look partly of questioning, partly of disappointment. "really, mr. faversham----" she protested, and then stopped. perhaps she felt that something untoward had taken place. "you see," he went on confusedly, "while i'd just love to come, things have happened since i saw you. i did not know----" and almost unconsciously he glanced towards riggleton. "i say, faversham," and riggleton put on his most fascinating smile, "introduce me to your lady friend, won't you? i don't think, when i've been in the neighbourhood before, that i've had the pleasure of meeting the young lady." but dick was silent. he simply could not speak of the fellow as his cousin. evidently, too, riggleton felt something of what was passing in dick's mind; perhaps, too, he noticed the haughty glance which the girl gave him, for an angry flush mounted his cheeks, and his small eyes burnt with anger. "oh, you don't feel like it!" he exclaimed aloud. "and no wonder. well, miss, i'll tell you who i am. i'm the owner of this place, that's what i am. my name's anthony riggleton, and i'm what the lawyers call next-of-kin to old charles faversham. that's why i'm boss here. there's been a big mistake, that's what there's been, and dick faversham got here, not under false pretences--i don't say that--but because people thought i was dead. but i ain't dead by a long chalk. i'm jolly well alive, and i'm the heir. that's the situation, miss. i thought i'd tell you straight, seeing we may be neighbours. as for dick here, of course he's jolly well disappointed. not that i mayn't do the handsome thing by him, seeing he means to be reasonable. i may make him my steward, or i might make him an allowance. see?" the girl made no response whatever. she listened in deadly silence to riggleton, although the flush on her cheek showed that the man's words had excited her. also she looked at dick questioningly. she seemed to be demanding from him either an affirmation or a denial of what the man said. but dick remained silent. somehow he felt he could not speak. "you don't seem to take me, miss," went on riggleton, who might have been under the influence of the champagne he had been drinking, "but what i'm telling you is gospel truth. and it may interest you to know that i mean to paint this part of the country red. oh, i'll shake things up, never fear. might you be fond of hunting, and that kind of thing, miss? because after the war i mean to go in for it strong." still lady blanche did not speak to him. the only reply she made was to get into her car and turn on the engine. "good afternoon, mr. faversham," she said. "then must i tell my father that you'll not be able to come to-morrow?" "perhaps you'd better," replied dick, "but--i'll explain later." almost unconsciously he lifted his hat, while the car passed out of sight. "by gosh!" exclaimed riggleton, "she's a stunner, she is!--a regular stunner. who is she?" but dick turned and hurried up the drive towards the house. he felt that he could no longer bear to be near the creature who had robbed him of everything worth living for. "i say, you needn't be so huffy," cried riggleton, who again joined him. "why didn't you introduce me? i don't know when i've seen such a stunning bit of fluff. she looks regular top-hole stuff too! and hasn't she got a figure? and i say, faversham, seeing that i said i was prepared to do the handsome by you, you might have done the correct thing. what! oh, i suppose you were riled because i told her how things are. but the truth was bound to come out, man! do you think i would be such a ninny as not to let her know i was the bloomin' owner of this show? tell me, who is she?" "lady blanche huntingford." he uttered the name curtly, savagely. he was angry with himself for having spoken at all. "whew! she's lord huntingford's daughter, is she?" and he gave a hoarse laugh. "well, she's a beauty, she is--just a beauty!" he laughed again in high good-humour, indeed, he seemed to be enjoying himself vastly. "you are a deep one, faversham, you are," he shouted, as he slapped dick on the back. "here was i calling you a fool for staying in this hole instead of going to london and gay paree. but i see the reason now. dining with her to-morrow night, were you? and it seems that i've spoilt your little game. well, she's a bit of all right, that's what she is. a regular bit of all right. i don't know but after all i shall do the country squire touch, and make up to her. what are you looking like that for?" for dick's face was crimson with rage. the fellow's coarse vulgarity was driving him mad. "are you in love with her?" persisted riggleton. "is that it?" still dick did not speak. he was walking rapidly towards the house--so rapidly that riggleton had difficulty in keeping up with him. "i say, don't be huffy," went on tony. "i'm sorry if i didn't do the correct thing. i didn't mean anything wrong, and i'm not up to the ways of the swells. as i told you, i ran away from school, and got in with a rough set. that was why, when i came back here, uncle charlie cleared me out. but i don't believe in grudges, i don't, and i'm sorry if i've put your nose out. i can't say fairer than that, can i?" dick felt slightly ashamed of himself. he was beginning to understand riggleton better now, and to appreciate his coarse kindness. "it's all right, riggleton," he said, "and no doubt you've done the natural thing. but--but i don't feel like talking." "of course you don't," said tony, "and of course my coming is a regular knock-out blow to you. if it was me, i'd have--well, i don't know what i wouldn't have done. but i'm not such a bad chap after all. and look here, i meant what i said, and i'm prepared to do the handsome thing. you play fair with me, and i'll play fair with you. see? i shall make an unholy mess of things if i'm left alone, and if you like i'll keep you on here. you shall be my steward, and i'll make you a good allowance. then you can stay here, and i'll give you my word of honour that i'll not try to cut you out with lady blanche, although she takes the fancy of yours truly more than any bit of fluff i've seen for years." "for heaven's sake, drop it!" cried dick, exasperated. "all right," laughed tony. "i don't mind. there's plenty of girls to be had. besides, she's not my sort. she's too high and mighty for me. besides," and he laughed raucously, "it all comes back to me now. once when i was here before, i nearly got into trouble with her. i was trespassing on her father's grounds, and she came along and saw me. she told me to clear out or she'd set the dogs on me. good lord! i'd forgotten all about it, and i never thought i'd see her again. so if you're gone on her, i'll give you a clear field, my boy. i can't say fairer than that, now can i?" they had reached the house, and dick again, almost unconsciously, looked at the great doorway. he dreaded, yet he almost longed to see the great haunting eyes of the figure which, whether imaginary or real, had become such a factor in his existence. but there was nothing. no suggestion of the luminous form appeared. of course it was all a mad fancy--all the result of exciting and disturbing experiences. "riggleton," he said, when they had reached the library, "i want to be quiet; i want to think. you don't mind, do you? i'll explain presently." "as you like, my boy. think as much as you bloomin' well want to. i see the servant hasn't taken away the fizz, so i'll have another drink." dick threw himself on a chair and covered his face with his hands. he tried to think, tried to co-ordinate events, tried to understand the true bearings of the situation. but he could not. his mind was either a blank or it was filled with mad, confusing thoughts. what should he do? he thought he had decided on his course of action before riggleton's advent, but now everything was a wild chaos; he seemed to be in a maelstrom. should he accept riggleton's offer? the fellow was a fool; there could be no doubt about that--a coarse-minded, vulgar, gullible fool. with careful treatment, he, dick, could still remain master of wendover park; he could have all the money he wanted; he could--and a vista of probabilities opened up before him. he was sure he could play with his cousin as a cat plays with a mouse. he could get him in his power, and then he could do what he liked with him. and why not? perhaps, perhaps----he turned towards riggleton, who was pouring out a glass of champagne and humming a popular music-hall song. yes; he could mould the fellow like clay; he could make him do anything--_anything_! he was on the point of speaking, of starting a conversation which would naturally lead to the thing he had in his mind, but no words passed his lips. it seemed to him as though two distinct, two antagonistic forces were in the room. almost unconsciously he took romanoff's telegram from his pocket, and as he did so, he felt as though the sender was by his side; but even while he thought of the man he remembered something else. he remembered the night when he had unfolded his plans to him, and when he had pointed to the paper which he had prepared for him. again he felt the grip of the hand upon his wrist, again he felt a presence which he could not explain--a presence which forbade him to sign away his liberty--his soul. he thought, too, how immediately afterwards that guileless child beatrice stanmore had rushed into the room, and had told him that she had been impelled to come to him. suddenly a prayer came to his lips: "o god, help me! for christ's sake, help me!" it was strange, bewildering. he was not a praying man. he had not prayed for years, and yet the prayer, unbidden, almost unthought of, had come into his heart. "well, have you made up your mind?" it was tony riggleton's voice, and he felt like a man wakened out of a trance. "yes." "good. you take me on, eh? we'll be pals, and you'll stay on here as my steward?" "no." "what are you going to do, then?" "i'm going to london." "to london, eh? but when?" "to-night." "to-night! well, i'm----but--but, all right. i'll drive you there in my car, and we'll make a night of it." "no, thank you. look here, riggleton, i'm very much obliged to you, and i appreciate all you have said; but our paths must lie apart." "lie apart?" tony's mind was a little confused. "you mean to say that you don't accept the allowance i'm willing to make you?" "i mean that. i thank you very much, but i don't accept." "but--but what are you going to do?" "i don't know." "have you any money?" "no. yes, i have, though. i've a few pounds which i saved before i thought i--i was----" "old uncle charlie's heir," concluded tony as dick hesitated. "but what about the estate?" "the lawyer must settle all that. i'm sorry i'm intruding here. i'll go and pack my things right away. some day i'll repay you for the money i've spent while i've been here." "look here," and tony came to dick's side, "don't you be a fool. you just take things sensibly. pay me money! money, be blowed! you just----" "no, thank you. i'll go now if you don't mind." he left the room as he spoke, and a few minutes later he had packed a small suit-case. he returned to the room where tony still remained. "good-bye, riggleton; i'm off." "but you--you're mad." "i think i am. good-bye." "but where are you going?" "to the station. if i make haste i shall catch the next train to london." riggleton looked at him in open-mouthed wonder. "well, you _are_ a fool!" he gasped. dick rushed out of the house without a word to the servants. he felt as though he dared not speak to them. something in his heart--something which he could not explain--was telling him to fly, and to fly quickly. when he reached the doorway he turned and looked. he wanted to see if--if----but there was nothing. the westering sun shed its bright rays not only on the house, but on the flowers which bloomed in glorious profusion; but there was no suggestion of anything beyond the ordinary to be seen. "of course i _am_ a fool," he reflected; "perhaps i am mad," and then he again tried to understand the experiences which had so bewildered him. but he could not. all was confusion. he hurried along the drive which led to the lodge near which beatrice stanmore lived. he had a strange longing to see once more the home of the child who had come to him in the hour of his dire temptation. when he had gone some distance he turned to have a last look at the house. never had it seemed so fair; never as now did he realise what he was leaving. what a future he was giving up! what a life he was discarding! yes; he had been a fool--an egregious fool! oh, the folly of his actions!--the mad folly! "holloa, mr. faversham!" he turned and saw beatrice stanmore. "you are going away?" "yes; i'm going to london." "and walking to the station? why?" "because i've no conveyance." the girl looked at him wonderingly. questions seemed to hang upon her lips--questions which she dared not ask. "i'm going away," he went on, "because nothing is mine. there's been a great mistake--and so i'm going away. do you understand?" she looked at him with childlike wonder. in years she was nearly a woman, but she was only a child in spirit. "but surely you need not go and leave everything?" she queried. "no; i need not go." he hardly knew what he was saying. he seemed like a man under a spell. "then what makes you go?" "you," he replied. "don't you remember? good-bye." he hurried on without another word. he felt he was going mad, even if he were not mad already. and yet he had a kind of consciousness that he was doing right. "but i will come back some day," he said between his set teeth. "i'll not be beaten! somehow--somehow i'll make my way. i'll conquer--yes, i'll conquer! at all hazards, i'll conquer!" there was a grim determination in his heart as he set his face towards the unknown. part ii.--the second temptation chapter xviii mr. brown's prophecy "yes, mr. faversham; i see such a future before you as was never possible to any other englishman." the speaker was a man about fifty years of age, short, stout, well fed, seemingly prosperous. a smile played around his lips---a smile which to a casual observer suggested a kindly, almost a childlike, innocence. he might have been interested in orphan schools, charity organisations, or any other philanthropic movement. his voice, too, was sympathetic and somewhat caressing, and his whole appearance spoke of a nature full of the milk of human kindness. the two men were sitting in the corner of a smoking-room in a london club. a most respectable club it was, whose members were in the main comprised of financiers, prosperous merchants, and men of the upper middle classes. money was writ large everywhere, while comfort, solid comfort, was proclaimed by the huge, softly cushioned chairs, the thickly piled carpets, and the glowing fires. any stranger entering the club would have said that its members were composed of men who, having plenty of this world's goods, meant to enjoy the comforts which their gains justly entitled them to. dick faversham, to whom the words were spoken, smiled, and the smile was not without incredulity and a sense of wonder. "yes," went on the speaker, "you smile; you say in your heart that i am a bad example of my theories; but one mustn't be deceived by appearances. you think, because i am fat and prosperous, that i take no interest in my fellow-creatures, that i do not dream dreams, see visions, eh? is not that so?" "not at all," replied dick; "but your views are so out of accord with all this," and he looked around the room as he spoke, "that i am naturally a bit puzzled." "it is because i have accustomed myself to this, because i have seen inside the minds of rich men, and thus understand their prejudices and points of view, that i also see the other things. you have seen me in places different from this, my friend." "yes," replied dick; "i have." "little as you have realised it," went on the other, "i have watched you for years. i have followed you in your career; i have seen your sympathies expand; i have been thrilled with your passion too. you did not suspect, my friend, three years ago, that you would be where you are to-day, eh?" "no," assented dick; "i didn't." "you have thought much, learnt much, suffered much, seen much." "yes; i suppose so," and a wistful look came into his eyes, while his face suggested pain. "it is said," went on the stout man, "that there is no missioner so ardent, so enthusiastic, as the new convert; but, as i have told you, you do not go far enough." dick was silent. "you are spoken of by many as a man with advanced ideas, as one who has an intense passion for justice, as one, too, who has advanced daring plans for the world's betterment; but i, the fat old englishman, the respectable millionaire, the man whom governments have to consider--mark that--the man whom governments have to consider and consult, tell you that your scheme, your plans are mere palliatives, mere surface things, mere sticking-plasters on the great, gaping sores of our times. that if all your ideas were carried out--yes, carried out to the full--you would not advance the cause of humanity one iota. in a few months the old anachronisms, the old abuses, would again prevail, while you would be a back number, a byword, a fellow who played at reform because you neither had the vision to see the world's real needs nor the courage to attempt real reform. a back number, my dear sir, and a mere play-actor to boot." the fat man watched the flush on dick's face as he spoke, and was apparently gratified. "you see," he went on, still watching dick's face closely, "i am getting on in life, and i have shed my illusions. i have my own philosophy of life, too. i do not believe that the reformer, that the man who lives to relieve the woes of others must of necessity be a monk, a peter the hermit, a francis of assisi. the labourer is worthy his hire; the great worker should have a great reward. why should honour, riches, fall into the lap of kings who do nothing, of an aristocracy which is no aristocracy? youth is ambitious as well as altruistic. thus ambitions should be ministered unto, realised. shakespeare was only a shallow parrot, when he wrote the words, 'cromwell, i charge thee, fling away ambition.' the man who flings away ambition becomes a pulpy reed. he lacks driving force, lacks elemental passions. if one opposes primitive instincts, one is doomed to failure." "pardon me if i fail to see what you are driving at," interposed dick. "you'll see in a minute," asserted the other. "what i urge is this: the man who sets up a new kingdom should be a king. it is his right. the man who sees a new earth, a more glorious earth, an earth where justice and right abound, and where neither poverty nor discontent is known--i say the man who sees that new earth and brings it to pass should rule over it as king. he should have, not the pomp and empty pageantry of a paltry hereditary king, but the honour, the power, the riches of the true king." the man paused as if he expected dick to reply, but no reply was forthcoming. still, the stout man was evidently satisfied by his survey of dick's face, and he noted the flash of his eyes. "that is why, to come back to where we were a few minutes ago," he went on, "i see such a future for you as was never possible to any other englishman. i see you, not only as the man who will revolutionise the life of this starved and corrupt country, not only as the man who will bring in a new era of prosperity and happiness for all who are citizens of the british empire, but as the man who can enjoy such a position, such honours, such riches as no man ever enjoyed before. do you follow me? the people who are redeemed will make haste to heap glory and honour upon their redeemer." "history does not bear that out," was dick's reply. "no, and why, my friend? i will tell you. it is because the men who have aimed to be saviours have been fools. it is because they have been blind to the elemental facts of life. the first business of the saviour is not self-interest--i do not say that--but to regard his own welfare as essential to the welfare of others. the man who allows himself to be crucified is no true saviour, because by allowing it he renders himself powerless to save. no, no, i see you, not only as one who can be a great reformer, and as one who can strike death-blows at the hoary head of abuse, but as one who can lift himself into such fame and power as was never known before. the plaudits of the multitudes, the most glorious gifts of the world, the love of the loveliest women--all, all, and a thousand times more, can be yours. that is your future as i see it, my friend." "do you know what i think of you?" asked dick, with a nervous laugh. "it would be interesting to know," was the reply. "that your imaginative gifts are greater than your logical powers." the stout man laughed heartily. "i suppose i puzzle you," he replied. "you think it strange that i, the financier, the millionaire if you like, who eats well, drinks good wine, smokes good cigars, and who is a member of the most expensive clubs in london, should talk like this, eh? you think it strange that i, who two hours hence will be hobnobbing with financiers and cabinet ministers, should be talking what some would call rank treason with an advanced labour leader, eh? but do not judge by outward appearances, my friend; do not be misled by the world's opinions. it is not always the ascetic who feels most acutely or sympathises most intensely. "as i told you, i have watched you for months--years. for a long time i did not trust you; i did not believe you were the man who could do what i saw needed doing. even when i heard you talking to the masses of the people--yes, carrying them away with the passion of your words--i did not altogether believe in you. but at length i have come to see that you are the man for my money, and for the money of others." again he looked at dick keenly. "ah, i astonish you, don't i? you have looked upon such as i as enemies to the race. you have not realised that there are dozens of millionaires in this city of millionaires who almost hate the money they have made, because they see no means whereby it can be used for the uplifting and salvation of the oppressed and downtrodden. they do not talk about it, yet so it is. i tell you frankly, i would at this moment give half--two-thirds--of all i possess if thereby i could carry out the dream of my life!" the man spoke with passion and evident conviction. there was a tremor in his voice, and his form became almost rigid. his eyes, too, flashed with a strange light--a light that spoke almost of fanaticism. "you already have in your mind what burns in mine like a raging furnace," he went on. "you see from afar what has become a fixed, settled conviction with me. you behold as a hazy vision what i have contemplated for a long time, until it is clearly outlined, thoroughly thought out. i will tell you what it is directly. and if that great heart of yours, if that fine quick mind of yours does not grasp it, assimilate it, and translate it into actuality, it will be one of the greatest disappointments of my life. i shall for evermore put myself down as a blind fool, and my faith in human nature will be lost for ever." "tell me what it is," and dick's voice was tense with eagerness. months, years had passed since dick had left wendover park, and both his life and thoughts had become revolutionised. perhaps this was not altogether strange. his manner of life had been altered, his outlook altogether new. even now as he looked back over those fateful days he could not understand them. they seemed to him rather as some wild fantastic series of dreams than as sane and sober realities. yet realities they were, even although they were a mystery to him. often in his quiet hours he caught himself thinking of the figure of the woman in the smoke-room of the outward-bound ship, which no one but himself could see, while again and again he almost shivered as he felt himself sinking in the black, turbulent sea, while conflicting powers seemed to be struggling to possess him. indeed, the wonder of that night never left him. the light which shone in the darkness, the luminous form above him, the great, yearning, pitying eyes which shone into his, and the arms outstretched to save. sometimes it was all visionary and unreal--so visionary was it that he could not believe in its reality, but at other times he could not doubt. it was all real--tremendously real. especially was it so as he thought of those after days when he had fought the greatest battles of his life. again and again he had seen himself in the library at wendover while romanoff stood beside him and told him of his plans; again and again had he recalled the moment when he took the pen in his hand to sign the paper, and had felt the grip on his wrist which had paralysed his hand. was it real, or was it imaginary? "suppose i had signed it?" he had often asked himself; "where should i be now? i should be a rich man--the owner of old charles faversham's huge fortune. possibly i should have married lady blanche huntingford and acted the part of the rich squire. but what would romanoff have exacted of me? what would be my thoughts about tony riggleton?" yes; those were wonderful days, whether they were a dream or a reality, and sometimes he called himself a fool for not following the count's advice, while at others he shuddered to think of the dangers from which he had escaped. he had never seen nor heard of lady blanche since. on his arrival in london he had written an explanatory letter, and had expressed the hope that she would not lose interest in him. but he had received no reply. evidently she regarded him as a kind of an impostor, with whom she could no further associate herself. neither had he ever seen or heard of romanoff. this dark, sinister man had passed away into the shadows, and only remained a strange memory, a peculiar influence in his life. of tony riggleton he had heard various stories, all of which were of the same nature. tony had been true to the programme he had marked out. he had filled wendover park with a motley crowd of men and women, and the orgies there were the talk of the neighbourhood. he had also a flat in london where he had indulged in his peculiar tastes. it was on hearing these stories that dick had felt that he had acted the fool. he had become cynical, too, and laughed at the idea that virtue and honour were wise. "if i had followed romanoff's advice," he had said to himself, "i might have----" and repeatedly he had recounted what he might have done with the wealth which he had thought was his. for many months dick had a hard struggle to live. his few weeks of riches had unfitted him for the battle of life. society was shaken to its foundations; the world was a maddening maze. again and again he had offered himself for the army--only to be rejected. he was conscious of no illness, but the doctors persistently turned him down. presently he drifted towards the industrial north of england and became employed in a huge factory where thousands of people worked. it was here that dick's life underwent a great change. for the first time he found himself the daily, hourly companion of grimy-handed toilers. this gave him a new vision of life; it placed new meanings on great problems; he was made to look at life from new angles. for the first time he felt the squalor, the ugliness of life. he lived in a grimy street, amidst grimy surroundings. he saw things as the working classes saw them, saw them with all their grey unloveliness, their numbing monotony. still ambitious, still determined to carve out a career, he felt oppressed by the ghastly atmosphere in which he found himself. he was now fast approaching thirty, and he found himself unable to adapt himself to his new conditions. he thought of all he had hoped to do and be, and now by some sport of fate he had become engulfed in this maelstrom of life. little by little the inwardness of it all appealed to him. he had to do with men and women who were drunken, foul-mouthed, depraved. what wonder that he himself was becoming coarsened every day! things at which he would once have shuddered he now passed by with a shrug of his shoulders. how could the working classes be refined, how could they have exalted ideas amidst such surroundings? he noticed the tremendous disparity between the moneyed and the working classes. the former were deliberately exploiting the great world convulsion, and the peculiar conditions caused thereby, to make huge profits. it was all wrong--utterly wrong. what was the worker, on whose labour everything depended? mere means for swelling the capitalists' profits. who cared about them? politicians talked glibly about what they meant to do; but they did nothing. newspapers shrieked, and capitalists talked about the disloyalty of the working classes. how could men go on strike while the very existence of empire, civilisation, humanity hung in the balance? they asked. but what of their own disloyalty? what of those who held a pistol at the head of the government, and threatened to disorganise the trade of the country and paralyse output, if they could not stuff their money-bags still fuller? and so on, and on. his new environment changed him--changed his sympathies, his thoughts, his outlook. he thought of tony riggleton spending the money these people were making for him in wild orgies among loose men and women, and he became angry and bitter. little by little his superior education asserted itself. he found, too, that he had a remarkable aptitude for public speech. he discovered that he could sway huge multitudes by the burning fervour of his words. he was able to put into language what the people felt, and before long became a popular hero. the world was in a state of flux; old ideas, old conceptions were swept aside as worn-out fallacies. what ten years before were regarded as madmen's dreams no longer appeared either unreasonable or quixotic. the forces of life had become fluid, and it was the toiler of the nation who was to decide into what channels the new movements were to flow. and dick became a doctrinaire, as well as a dreamer of a new heaven and a new earth. he became an ardent reader, too. he was surprised at the ease with which his mind grasped theories hitherto unknown to him, how he absorbed the spirit of unrest, and how he flung himself into the world's great fray. "faversham's our man," people said on every side. "he's got eddication, he's got a fair grip on things, and he can knock the masters to smithereens when it comes to argument and the gilt o' th' gab." "but who is he?" asked others. "he's noan our sort. he was noan brought up a workin' man." "nay, but he's a workin' man naa. he's worked side by side with the best on us, and he knows how to put things. i tell thee, he mun go into parlyment. he'll mak 'em sit up. he mun be our member." this feeling became so strong that dick was on two occasions selected to be one of deputations to the prime minister, and more than that, he was chosen to be the chief spokesman to state the workers' claims. in all this, not only were his sympathies aroused, but his vanity was appealed to. it was very pleasant to feel himself emerging from obscurity; the roar of cheering which the mention of his name elicited became as sweet as the nectar of the gods to him. again he saw visions, and dreamt dreams. they were different from those of the old days, but they did a great deal to satisfy him. they told him of position, of power, of a place among the great ones of the world. sometimes he was almost glad that tony riggleton inherited charles faversham's huge fortune. if he had retained it, and gained high position, that position would have been through the toil and brain of another. now he would do everything by himself--unaided and alone. more than once during the many stormy and excited meetings dick had attended, he had seen a kindly, benevolent-looking man, whose face suggested the milk of human kindness. dick rather wondered how he came there, and on asking his name was told that he was called john brown, and that, although he did not directly belong to the working classes, he was in deep sympathy with them, and had more than once subscribed to their funds. presently dick became acquainted with mr. brown, and something like intimacy sprang up between them. he found that mr. brown was a great admirer of his speeches, and more than once that gentleman had hinted that if he found any money difficulty in entering parliament, he, john brown, would see that the difficulty should be removed. "i am almost ashamed of being something of a capitalist," he confided to dick, "but, at any rate, i can use what money i have for the advance of the cause which is so dear to me." just before dick was going to london the next time, he received a letter from mr. brown asking him to meet him at a well-known club. "i have certain things to say to you," he said, "certain propositions to make which i think will be worthy of your consideration." on dick's arrival in london he made certain inquiries about mr. brown, which, however, did not help him much. he was by no means a prominent character, he learnt, but he was believed by many to be a man of enormous wealth. he was told, moreover, that he was somewhat eccentric, and loved doing good by stealth. it was therefore with aroused curiosity that dick made his way to the club in question. he was not yet quite sure of his man, and so he determined to listen carefully to what mr. brown had to say without committing himself. before long he found himself deeply interested. the stout, benevolent-looking man was revealing himself in a new light, and dick found himself listening with fast-beating heart. "yes; i will tell you what it is," said mr. brown. "i will make plain to you what i meant when i said that i see such a future before you as was never possible to any other englishman." chapter xix an amazing proposal dick unconsciously drew his chair nearer the fire, while every nerve in his body became tense. he felt that the millionaire had not brought him here for mere pastime. "tell me," said mr. brown, "what your plans for the future are." "too hazy to outline," was dick's reply. "that's truer than you think, my friend--far truer than you think; that's why your position is so absurd. and yet you answer me falsely." dick gave the other a look that was almost angry. "no, no, my friend," went on mr. brown; "do not mistake me. i do not accuse you of falsehood. you think you are speaking the truth. but you are not. in a way, your plans are defined. you mean to be member of parliament for eastroyd. you mean to be the first labour member for that great working-class constituency. already you have been approached by the various unions of the town, and you have been assured that you will be returned by a triumphant majority. and you've practically accepted, although you have persuaded yourself that you've not yet made up your mind. so far so good--or bad; but you are unsettled. there is something at the back of your mind that you can't explain. it doesn't satisfy you. am i not speaking the truth?" "perhaps," assented dick. "and naturally, too. oh, my young friend, i know--i know. i have been through it all. what is a labour member after all? just one of a few others, who is submerged by the great so-called liberal and conservative parties. what can he do? speak now and then when he's allowed to, beat the air, be listened to by a handful of his own supporters, and then forgotten. consider the history of the labour party. what influence has it really had on the life of the nation? my friend, the government of the country is still in the hands of the upper and middle classes in spite of all you do and say." "pardon me," interrupted dick, "but what are you driving at? what you say may be partly true, but at least the hope of the working classes, politically speaking, lies in the labour party." "moonshine, my friend--mere moonshine. the atmosphere of the british house of commons stifles the aspiration of the labour members. one by one they are absorbed into the old orthodox parties, and nothing is done. you know it, too. that's why the thought of becoming a labour member is unsatisfying to you. you would never be a real power, and you would always be regarded as an outsider, and you would never touch the helm of affairs." dick was silent. after all, he was not a working man. he had social ambitions. he desired not only to be a prominent figure among the working classes; he wanted to be an equal of, a peer amongst the dominant forces of the world. he still remembered lady blanche huntingford--as a labour member he would be outside her sphere. "you see it, don't you?" persisted mr. brown. "and if i do? what then?" "everything then, my friend. your present plans would end in nothing. not only would you fail to do anything real for the people, but you yourself would be stultified. a labour member! what is he?--a man who, socially, is patronised; who is recognised only on sufferance; who, if he marries, must marry a commoner, a woman of the people, with all her limitations. oh, i know, i know. and meanwhile the working people still continue to be trodden underfoot, and who toil for what they can squeeze out of their employers--their social superiors. yes, yes, you are impatient with me. you say i am a long time in getting to my point. but be patient, my friend; i will get there. i only want you to realise the truth." "then please get to your point," urged dick a little impatiently. "i will," replied mr. john brown, and he placed his chubby hand on dick's knee. "here is the fact, my friend: we live in a time when nothing is impossible. the world is in travail, in wild convulsions. the new channels of life are not made. all the forces of life are in a state of flux. now is the time for the real leader, the strong man. the great proletariat is waiting for that leader, longing for him. the people are tired of the old worn pathways; they are waiting for the new kingdom, the new deliverer." "you are still in the clouds," cried dick. "come down to the solid earth." "i will, my friend. england is ripe for real reform, ripe for the new order. the open sores of the country cannot be healed by sticking-plasters. they must be cauterised; the cancers must be cut out. in one word--revolution!" dick started to his feet, and took a hasty glance around the room. for a wonder, it was empty. they were alone. "you are mad!" he cried. "of course i am," laughed mr. brown. "every man is called mad who sees a new heaven and a new earth. but, my friend, i speak as an englishman, as one who loves his country. i am a patriot, and i want to see a greater, grander england. i want to see a britain that shall be happy, prosperous, contented. i want to destroy poverty, to smash up the old order of things--an order which has dragged squalor, misery, poverty, injustice, inequality at its heels. i am tired--_tired_ of seeing criminal wealth and mad luxury and waste on the one hand, and abject grinding poverty on the other. and to cure it all you must go to the roots of things; there must be great upheavals, revolutions. the land must be the people's, the mineral must be the people's, the water, the food, the wealth, the army, the navy, the _everything_ must belong to the people." "bolshevism!" the word came from him abruptly--angrily. "yes, bolshevism," replied the other; "and what then?" "russia!" and there was a sneer in dick's voice as he uttered the word. "yes, russia if you like. and still, what then? would you have russia go on century by century as it had been going? would you have scores upon scores of millions of men and women go on existing as they were existing? you know the history of russia for ten centuries past. what has it been?--a criminal, bloated, corrupt, cruel, overbearing, persecuting aristocracy and bureaucracy on the one hand, and a welter of poor, suffering, starving, outraged, diseased, dying people on the other. that was russia. and desperate diseases need desperate remedies, my friend. of course, the very name of russia is being shuddered at just now. but think, my friend. birth is always a matter of travail, and russia is being re-born. but wait. in ten years russia will be regarded as the pioneer of civilisation--as the herald of a new age. russia is taking the only step possible that will lead to justice, and to peace, and prosperity for all." "you don't mean that!" dick scarcely knew that he spoke. "i am as certain of it as that i sit here. i swear it by whatever gods there be!" plain, stout mr. john brown was changed. dick forgot his fat, chubby hands, his round, benevolent, kindly, but commonplace face. it was a new mr. john brown that he saw. a new light shone in his eyes, a new tone had come to his voice, a seemingly new spirit inspired him. "i go further," cried mr. brown, "and i say this: england--the british isles need the same remedy. all that you have been thinking about are sticking-plasters--palliatives, and not cures. what england needs is a revolution. all the old corrupt, crushing forces must be destroyed, the old gods overthrown, and a new evangelist must proclaim a new gospel." "a madman's dream," protested dick. "let's talk of something else." "not yet," replied mr. john brown. "tell me this, you who long for a new heaven and a new earth--you who plead for justice, for fraternity, for brotherhood: do you believe that the programme--i mean the organised programme--of the labour party or the socialist party will ever bring about what you desire?" dick was silent. "ah, you are honest. you know it will not. in your heart of hearts you know, too, that nothing but a thorough upheaval, a complete revolution of the bad old order of things can bring about what you desire. patching up an old building whose walls are cracked, whose drains are corrupt, whose foundations are insecure, is waste of time and energy. if you want a new sanitary house the old place has to be demolished and the rubbish _cleared away_! that's it, my friend. that's what's needed in this country. the rubbish must be cleared away. that's what the people want. for the moment they are crying out for something, they hardly know what, but they will have a revolution, and they are longing for a leader to lead them, a prophet to interpret their needs." "but for england to become another russia!" dick's response was that of a man who had not yet grasped all that was in the other's mind. "there is no need of that. because england has not sunk to the depths of russia, her revolution would be less violent. there would be no need for excesses, for violence. but here is the fact, my friend: three-fourths of our population belong to the wage-earning classes; they are the toilers and the moilers; let the true gospel be preached to them, let the true prophet and leader appear, and they would follow him." "and who is to be the prophet, the leader?" "you, my friend." "i!" gasped dick. "you. richard faversham. you who have tasted the sweets of wealth. you who have toiled and sweated with the workers. you who have eyes to see, ears to hear. you who have the power to interpret the people's longings. you who have the qualities of the leader, who can take them to the promised land. you!" "madness!" "you say that now. you will not say it in a few hours from now. you can understand now what i meant when i startled you an hour ago by saying that i see such a future before you as was never possible to any englishman. you are young; you are ambitious. it is right you should be. no man who is not ambitious is worth a rotten stick to his age. here is such a career as was never known before. never, i say! man, it's glorious! you can become the greatest man of the age--of all the ages!" mr. brown looked at dick intently for a few seconds, and then went on, speaking every word distinctly. "a labour member, indeed! a voting machine at four hundred a year! the hack of his party organisation! is that a career for a man like you? heavens, such a thought is sacrilege! but this, my friend, is the opportunity of a life--of all time." "stop!" cried dick. "i want to grasp it--to think!" chapter xx "the country for the people" "but you _are_ mad," said the young man at length. "even if you are right in your diagnosis of the disease from which the country is suffering, if the remedy you suggest is the only one, i am not the man you need. and even if i were, the remedy is impossible. england is not where france was a hundred years ago; she is not where russia is to-day." "and you are not a lenin, a trotsky, eh?" and mr. john brown laughed like a man who had made a joke. "no, thank heaven, i am not," and dick spoke quickly. "i do not believe in the nationalisation of women, neither do i believe in the destruction of the most sacred institutions of life." "of course you don't," replied mr. john brown, "and i am glad of it. russia has gone to many excesses which we must avoid. but what can you expect, my friend? after centuries of oppression and persecution, is it any wonder that there has been a swing of the pendulum? the same thing was true of france a hundred years ago. france went wild, france lost her head, and neither danton nor robespierre checked the extravagances of the people. but, answer me this. is not france a thousand times better to-day than when under the bourbons and the church? is not such a republic as france has, infinitely better than the reign of a corrupt throne, a rotten aristocracy, and a rottener church? besides, did not a great part of those who were guillotined deserve their doom?" "perhaps they did; but--but the thing is impossible, all the same." "why impossible?" "for one thing, lenin and trotsky are in a country without order and law. they murdered the tzar and his family, and they seized the money of the government and of the banks. such a thing as you suggest would need millions, and you could not get any body of englishmen to follow on the russian lines. besides--no, the thing is impossible!" "money!" repeated mr. john brown, like a man reflecting. "i myself would place in your hands all the money you need for organisation and propaganda." "in _my_ hands!" "in your hands, my friend. yes, in your hands. but we have talked enough now. you want time to think over what has been said. but will you do something, my friend?" "i don't know. i suspect not." "i think you will. to-night i want you to accompany me to a place where your eyes will be opened. i want you to see how deep are the feelings of millions, how strong is the longing for a leader, a guide. you, who have felt the pulses of the millions who live and act in the open, have no idea of what is felt by the millions who act in the dark." "i do not understand." "of course you don't. you and other so-called labour leaders, because you mingle with a class which you call the people, think you know everything. you believe you know the thought, the spirit of the age. come with me to-night and i will show you a phase of life hitherto unknown to you. you will come? yes?" "oh yes, i will come," replied dick, with a laugh. the conversation had excited him beyond measure, and he was eager for adventure. "good. be at the entrance to the blackfriars underground station to-night at eleven o'clock." "at eleven; all right." mr. john brown looked at his watch, and then gave a hasty glance round the room. he saw two portly looking men coming in their direction. "i am sure you will excuse me, mr. faversham. it is later than i thought, and i find i have appointments. but it has been very interesting to know your point of view. good evening. ah, sir felix, i thought you might drop in to-night," and leaving dick as though their talk had been of the most commonplace nature, he shook hands with the newcomers. dick, feeling himself dismissed, left the club, and a minute later found himself in the thronging crowd of piccadilly. taxicabs, buses, richly upholstered motor-cars were passing, but he did not heed them. people jostled him as he made his way towards hyde park gates, but he was unaware of it. his head was in a whirl; he was living in a maze of conflicting thoughts. of course old john brown was a madman! nothing but a madman would advance such a quixotic programme! he pictured the club he had just left--quiet, orderly, circumspect--the natural rendezvous for city and west end magnates, the very genius of social order and moneyed respectability. how, then, could a respected member of such a place advance such a mad-brained scheme? but he had. not that he--dick faversham--could regard it seriously. of course he had during the last two years been drawn into a new world, and had been led to accept socialistic ideas. some, even among the socialists, called them advanced. but this! of course it was impossible. all the same, there was a great deal in what john brown had said. a labour member. a paid voting machine at £ a year! the words rankled in his mind. and this scheme was alluring. the country for the people!... he made his way along the causeway, thinking of it. a revolution! the old bad, mad order of things ended by one mighty upheaval! a new england, with a new outlook, a new government!... a mighty movement which might grip the world. a new earth.... and he--dick faversham? here was scope for new enterprises! here was a career! on the one hand, a paid working man member at £ a year, regarded with a supercilious smile by the class to which he really belonged; and, on the other, a force which shook society to its foundations--a leader whose name would be on all lips.... of course it was all nonsense, and he would drive it from his mind. and he would not meet mr. john brown that night. what a madcap idea to go to some midnight gathering--where, heaven only knew! and for what? he had reached park lane, and almost unconsciously he turned eastward. he could not remember a single thing that had happened during his walk from park lane to piccadilly circus. the great tide of human life surged to and fro, but he was oblivious of the fact. he was thinking--wildly thinking. then suddenly he gave a start. just as he reached the circus he saw a face which set his heart beating wildly. "ah, faversham, is that you?" "count romanoff!" dick almost gasped. "yes; who would have thought of seeing you? still, the world is small." the count was not changed. he still carried himself proudly, and was dressed to perfection. also, he still seemed to regard others with a degree of indifference. he was the same contemptuous, cynical man of the world. "what are you doing, eh? still living at wendover park?" "no. you know i am not." "no? ah, i remember now. i have been knocking around the world ever since, and had almost forgotten. but your quondam cousin entered possession, didn't he? but you, what did you do?" "oh, i--i drifted." "drifted--where?--to what? you look changed. things are not going well with you, eh?" "yes--quite well, thank you." "yes? you married lady blanche? but no, i should have heard of it." "no; i did not marry. i am living in eastroyd." "eastroyd! where's that?" "don't you know?" "never heard of it before. is it in england?" dick was growing angry; there was a sneer in every tone of the man's voice. he felt a mad desire to make the count see that he had become a man of importance. "yes; it's in the north," he replied. "it's a huge town of a quarter of a million people. a great industrial centre." "and what are you doing there?" "i'm contemplating an invitation to become a member of parliament for the town. i'm assured that, if i accept, my return to the house of commons is certain." "ah, that's interesting. and which side will you take--conservative or liberal? conservative, i suppose?" "no; i should stand as a labour candidate." "as a----surely i didn't hear you aright?" "quite right. my sympathies have come to lie in that direction." "but--but--a labour member! i thought you had some pretensions to be a gentleman." dick felt as though he had received the lash of a whip. he wanted to lash back, to make romanoff feel what he felt. but no words came. "you have no sympathy with the working classes?" he asked feebly. "sympathy! what gentleman could? see what they've done in my own country. i had little sympathy with nicky; but great heavens, think! of course i'm angry. i had estates in russia; they had been in the families for centuries--and now! but the thing is a nightmare! working classes, eh! i'd take every mal-content in europe and shoot him. what are the working classes but lazy, drunken swine that should be bludgeoned into obedience?" "i don't think you understand the british working classes," was dick's response. "no? i'm sure i don't want to. i prefer my own class. but pray don't let me keep you from them. good evening." without another word, without holding out his hand, the count turned on his heel and walked away. the incident affected dick in two ways. first of all, it made his experiences three years before in the wendover park very shadowy and unreal. in spite of everything, he had not been able to think of the count save as an evil influence in his life, as one who desired to get him into his power for his own undoing. he had had a vague belief that in some way unknown to him, romanoff desired to hold him in his grip for sinister purposes, and that he had been saved by an opposing power. had he been asked to assert this he would have hesitated, and perhaps been silent. still, at the back of his doubt the feeling existed. but now, with the memory of the count's contemptuous words and looks in his mind, it all appeared as groundless and as unreal as the fabric of a dream. if he had been right, he would not have treated him in such a fashion. the other way in which the incident affected him was to arouse an angry determination to win a position equal to and superior to that which would be his as charles faversham's heir. he would by his own endeavours rise to such heights that even the count's own position would pale into insignificance. after all, what were kings and princes? their day was over. soon, soon thrones all over the world would topple like ninepins; soon the power of the world would be in new hands. a labour member, indeed! working people swine, were they? soon the working people of the world would be masters! then woe be to a useless, corrupt aristocracy! as for the leaders of the toilers... "i'll meet mr. john brown again to-night," he reflected. "i'll go to this, this!... i wonder what he has in his mind?" meanwhile count romanoff wandered along piccadilly till he came to st. james's street. he was smiling as though something pleasant had happened to him. his eyes, too, shone with a strange light, and he walked like a victor. he walked past the devonshire club, and then turned into a street almost opposite st. james's square. here he looked at his watch and walked more slowly. evidently he knew his way well, for he took several turnings without the slightest hesitation, till at length he reached a house at the corner of a street. he selected a key from a bunch, opened the door of the house, and entered. for a moment he stood still and listened; then, walking noiselessly along a thick carpet, he opened the door of a room and entered. "sitting in the dark, eh? reflecting on the destiny of nations, i suppose?" the count's manner was light and pleasant. he was in a good humour. he switched on the light and saw mr. john brown. it would seem that they had met by appointment. "yes," replied mr. brown; "i was reflecting on the destiny of nations--reflecting, too, on the fact that the greatest victories of the world are won not by armies who fight in the open, but by brains that act in the dark." "you have seen him. i know that." "how do you know?" "i know everything, my friend. you met him about an hour ago. you had a long talk with him. you have baited your hook, and thrown it. before you could tell whether the fish would rise, you thought it better to wait. you decided to make further preparations." "romanoff, i believe you are the devil." "many a true word is spoken in jest, my friend. but, devil or not, am i not right?" "you have seen him? he has told you?" "he has told me nothing. yes, he has, though. he has told me he had ambitions to be a labour member of parliament." "but nothing more?" "nothing more. i was passing along the street and spoke to him." the two were looking at each other eagerly, questioningly. mr. john brown's face had become flabby; the flesh around his eyes was baggy. the eyes had a furtive look, as though he stood in awe of his companion. romanoff, too, in spite of his claim to omniscience, might be a little anxious. "the fellow's career is a miracle," remarked mr. john brown at length. "a millionaire one day, a pauper the next. and then to settle down as a toiler among toilers--to become the popular hero, the socialist leader, the rebel, the seer of visions, the daring reformer! a miracle, i say! but with proper guidance, he is the man we need. he can do much!" count romanoff laughed like one amused. "germany is in a bad way, eh? poor wilhelm, what a fool! oh, what a fool!" "be quiet!" cried the other hoarsely. "even here the walls may have ears, and if it were suspected that----" "exactly, my friend," sneered the count. "but tell me how you stand." for some time they talked quietly, earnestly, the count asking questions and raising objections, while mr. john brown explained what he had in his mind. "germany is never beaten," he said--"never. when arms fail, brains come in. russia has become what russia is, not by force of arms, but by brains. whose? and germany will triumph. this fellow is only one of many who are being used. a network of agencies are constantly at work." "and to-night you are going to introduce him to olga?" and the count laughed. "the most fascinating woman in europe, my friend. yes; to-night i am going to open his eyes. to-night he will fall in love. to-night will be the beginning of the end of britain's greatness!" chapter xxi the midnight meeting dick faversham stood at the entrance of the underground station at blackfriars bridge. it was now five minutes before eleven, and the traffic along the embankment was beginning to thin. new bridge street was almost deserted, for the tide of theatre-goers did not go that way. dick was keenly on the look out for mr. john brown, and wondered what kind of a place he was going to visit that night. he felt a slight touch upon his shoulder, and, turning, he saw mr. brown go to the ticket office. "third single for mark lane," he said, carelessly throwing down two coppers, yet so clearly that dick could not help hearing him. without hesitation dick also went to the office and booked for the same place. mr. brown took no apparent notice of him, and when the train came in squeezed himself into a third-class compartment. having secured a seat, he lit a cheap black cigar. dick noticed that he wore a somewhat shabby over-coat and a hat to match. apparently mr. brown had not a thought in his mind beyond that of smoking his cigar and reading a soiled copy of an evening paper. arrived at mark lane, mr. brown alighted and, still without taking notice of dick, found his way to the street. for some time he walked eastward, and then, having reached a dark alley, turned suddenly and waited for dick to come up. "keep me in sight for the next half-mile," he said quickly. "when i stop next, you will come close to me, and i will give you necessary instructions." they were now in a part of london which was wholly strange to the young man. there were only few passers-by. it was now nearly midnight, and that part of london was going to sleep. now and then a belated traveller shuffled furtively along as though anxious not to be seen. they were in a neighbourhood where dark things happen. evidently mr. john brown knew his way well. he threaded narrow streets and dark alleys without the slightest hesitation; neither did he seem to have any apprehension of danger. when stragglers stopped and gave him suspicious glances, he went straight on, unheeding. dick on the other hand, was far from happy. he did not like his midnight journey; he did not like the grim, forbidding neighbourhood through which they were passing. he reflected that he was utterly ignorant where he was, and, but for a hazy idea that he was somewhere near the river, would not know which way to turn if by any chance he missed his guide. presently, however, mr. brown stopped and gave a hasty look around. everywhere were dark, forbidding-looking buildings which looked like warehouses. not a ray of light was to be seen anywhere. even although vast hordes of people were all around the spot where he stood, the very genius of loneliness reigned. he beckoned dick to him, and spoke in low tones. "be surprised at nothing you see or hear," he advised in a whisper. "there is no danger for either you or me. this is london, eh? and yet those who love england, and are thinking and working for her welfare, are obliged to meet in secret." "still, i'd like to know where we are going," protested dick. "i don't like this." "wait, my young friend. wait just five minutes. now, follow me in silence." had not the spirit of adventure been strong upon the young fellow, he would have refused. there was something sinister in the adventure. he could not at all reconcile mr. john brown's membership of the club he had visited that afternoon with this egyptian darkness in a london slum. "follow without remark, and without noise," commanded the older man, and then, having led the way a few yards farther, he flashed a light upon some narrow stone steps. dick was sure he heard the movement of a large body of water. he was more than ever convinced that they were close to the thames. mr. brown descended the steps, while dick followed. his heart was beating rapidly, but he had no fear. a sense of curiosity had mastered every other feeling. at the bottom of the steps mr. brown stopped and listened, but although dick strained his powers of hearing, he could detect no sound. the place might have been exactly what it appeared in the darkness--a deserted warehouse. "now, then," whispered mr. brown, and there was excitement in his voice. a second later he tapped with his stick on what appeared to be the door of the warehouse. dick, whose senses were keenly alert, counted the taps. three soft, two loud, and again two soft ones. the door opened as if by magic. there was no noise, and dick would not have known it was opened save for the dim light which was revealed. a second later he had entered, and the door closed. in the dim light dick saw that he was following two dark forms. evidently the person who had opened the door was leading the way. but he could discern nothing clearly; he thought they were passing through some kind of lumber room, but he could have sworn to nothing. after that there was a passage of some sort, and again they descended some more steps, at the bottom of which dick heard what seemed the confused murmur of voices.... dick found himself standing in a kind of vestibule, and there was a sudden glare of light. both he and mr. john brown were in a well-lit room, in which some two hundred people had gathered. when dick's eyes had become accustomed to the light, he saw that he was in the midst of one of the most curious crowds he had ever seen. the people seemed of many nationalities, and the sexes appeared equally divided. very few old people were present. in the main they were well dressed, and might have been comfortably situated. nevertheless, it was a motley crowd--motley not so much because of any peculiarity in their attire as because of their personalities. what impressed dick more than anything else was the look of fierce intelligence on their faces, and the nervous eagerness which characterised their every movement. every look, every action spoke of intensity, and as dick swept a hasty glance around the room, he felt that he was breathing an atmosphere which was altogether new to him--an atmosphere which was electric. the room was evidently arranged for a meeting. at one end was a platform on which was placed a table and half a dozen chairs, while the people who formed the audience were waiting for the speakers to appear. then dick realised that all eyes were turned towards himself and that a sudden silence prevailed. this was followed by what dick judged to be a question of some sort, although he could not tell what it was, as it was asked in a language unknown to him. "it is all right. i, john brown, vouch for everything." "but who is he?" this time the question was in english, and dick understood that it referred to himself. "it is all right, i repeat," replied mr. brown. "my companion is a comrade, a friend, whom you will be glad to hear. who is he? he is a labour leader, and is chosen by the working people of eastroyd to represent them in the british parliament." a great deal of scornful laughter followed this. it might have been that mr. brown were trying to play a practical joke upon them. "listen," said mr. brown. "i am not unknown to you, and i think i have proved to you more than once that i am in sympathy with your aims. let me ask you this: have i ever introduced anyone who was not worthy and whose help you have not gladly welcomed?" there was some slight cheering at this, and mr. brown went on: "i need not assure you that i have taken every precaution--_every_ precaution--or tell you that, if good does not come of my being here, harm will surely not come of it. this, my friends, is mr. richard faversham of eastroyd, whose fiery zeal on behalf of the world's toilers cannot be unknown to you." again there was some cheering, and dick noted that the glances cast towards him were less hostile, less suspicious. mr. brown seemed on the point of speaking further, but did not. at that moment a curtain at the back of the platform was drawn aside, and three men accompanied by two women appeared. it would seem that the time for the commencement of the meeting had come. dick had some remembrance afterwards that one of the men addressed the meeting, and that he spoke about the opportunities which the times offered to the struggling millions who had been crushed through the centuries, but nothing distinct remained in his mind. every faculty he possessed was devoted to one of the two women who sat on the platform. he did not know who she was; he had never seen her before, and yet his eyes never left her face. never before had he seen such a woman; never had he dreamed that there could be anyone like her. years before he had seen, and fancied himself in love with, lady blanche huntingford. he had been captivated by her glorious young womanhood, her abundant vitality, her queenly beauty. but, compared with the woman on the platform, blanche huntingford was as firelight to sunlight. even as he sat there he compared them--contrasted them. he remembered what he had thought of the proud surrey beauty; how he had raved about her eyes, her hair, her figure; but here was a beauty of another and a higher order. even in his most enthusiastic moments, lady blanche's intellectuality, her spirituality, had never appealed to him. but this woman's beauty was glorified by eyes that spoke of exalted thoughts, passionate longings, lofty emotions. her face, too, was constantly changing. poetry, humour, passion, pity, tenderness, scorn were expressed on her features as she looked at the speaker. this woman was poetry incarnate! she was pity incarnate! she was passion incarnate! dick forgot where he was. he was altogether unconscious of the fact that he was in a meeting somewhere in the east end of london, and that things were being said which, if known to the police, would place the speaker, and perhaps the listeners, in prison. all that seemed as nothing; he was chained, fascinated by the almost unearthly beauty of the woman who sat on the little shabby-looking platform. then slowly the incongruity of the situation came to him. the audience, although warmly dressed and apparently comfortably conditioned, belonged in the main to the working classes. they were toilers. most of them were malcontents--people who under almost any conditions would be opposed to law and order. but this woman was an aristocrat of aristocrats. no one could doubt it any more than he could doubt the sunlight. her dress, too, was rich and beautiful. on her fingers costly rings sparkled; around her neck diamonds hung. and yet she was here in a cellar warehouse, in a district where squalor abounded. the speaker finished; evidently he was the chairman of the meeting, and after having finished his harangue turned to the others on the platform. dick heard the word "olga," and immediately after the room was full of deafening cheers. the woman he had been watching rose to her feet and waited while the people continued to cheer. fascinated, he gazed at her as her eyes swept over the gathering. then his heart stood still. she looked towards him, and their eyes met. there might have been recognition, so brightly did her eyes flash, and so tender was the smile which came to her lips. she seemed to be saying to him, "wait, we shall have much to say to each other presently." the air of mystery, which seemed to envelop her, enveloped him also. the hard barriers of materialism seemed to melt away, and he had somehow entered the realm of romance and wonder. then her voice rang out over the audience--a voice that was rich in music. he did not understand a word she said, for she spoke in a language unknown to him. and yet her message reached him. indeed, she seemed to be speaking only to him, only for him. and her every word thrilled him. as she spoke, he saw oppressed peoples. he saw men in chains, women crushed, trodden on, little children diseased, neglected, cursed. the picture of gay throngs, revelling in all the world could give them in pleasure, in music, in song, and wine, passed before his mind side by side with harrowing, numbing want and misery. then she struck a new note--vibrant and triumphant. it thrilled him, made his heart beat madly, caused a riot of blood in his veins. suddenly he realised that she was speaking in english, that she was calling to him in his own language. she was telling of a new age, a new era. she described how old things had passed away, and that all things had become new; that old barriers had been broken down; that old precedents, old prejudices which for centuries had crushed the world, were no longer potent. new thoughts had entered men's minds; new hopes stirred the world's heart. in the great cataclysm through which we had passed, nations had been re-born, and the old bad, mad world had passed away in the convulsions of the world's upheaval. "and now," she concluded, "what wait we for? we await the prophet, the leader, the messiah. who is he? how shall he come? is he here? is the man who is able to do what the world needs brave enough, great enough to say, like the old hebrew prophet, 'here am i, send me'?" and even as she spoke dick felt that her eyes were fastened upon him, even as her words thrilled his heart. something, he knew not what it was, formed a link between them--gave this woman power over him. there was no applause as she sat down. the feeling of the people was too intense, the magnetic charm of the speaker too great. still with her eyes fixed upon dick, she made her way towards him. he saw her coming towards him, saw her dark, flashing eyes, her white, gleaming teeth, felt the increasing charm of her wondrous face. then there was a change in the atmosphere--a change indefinable, indescribable. just above the woman's head dick saw in dim outline what years before had become such a potent factor in his life. it was the face of the angel he had seen when he was sinking in the deep waters, and which appeared to him at wendover park. "mr. richard faversham," said the woman who had so thrilled him that night, "i have long been waiting for this hour." chapter xxii "you and i together" for some time dick faversham was oblivious to the fact that the woman who had so fascinated him a few minutes before stood near him with hands outstretched and a smile of gladness in her eyes. again he was under the spell of what, in his heart of hearts, he called "the angel." even yet he had no definite idea as to who or what this angel was, but there was a dim consciousness at the back of his mind that she had again visited him for an important reason. he was certain that her purposes towards him were beneficent, that in some way she had crossed the pathway of his life to help him and to save him. like lightning the memory of that fearful night when he was sinking in the stormy sea came surging back into his mind. he remembered how he had felt his strength leaving him, while the cold, black waters were dragging him into their horrible depths. then he had seen a ray of light streaming to him across the raging sea; he had seen the shadowy figure above him with outstretched arms, and even while he had felt himself up-borne by some power other than his own, the words had come to him--"underneath are the everlasting arms." it was all shadowy and unreal--so much so that in later days he had doubted its objective reality, and yet there had been times when it had been the most potent force in his life. it had become such a great and glorious fact that everything else had sunk into insignificance. then there was that scene in the library at wendover. he had been on the point of signing the paper which count romanoff had prepared for him. under this man's influence, right and wrong had appeared to him but a chimera of the imagination. the alternative which had appeared before him stood out in ghastly clearness. he had only to sign the paper, and all the riches which he thought were his would remain in his possession. but he had not signed it. again that luminous form had appeared, while a hand, light as a feather, but irresistible in its power, had been laid upon his wrist, and the pen had dropped from his fingers. and now the angel had come to him again. even as he looked, he could see her plainly, while the same yearning eyes looked into his. "mr. faversham!" he started, like a man suddenly wakened from a dream, and again he saw the woman who had been spoken of as olga, and who had thrilled him by her presence and by the magic of her voice, standing by his side. "forgive me," he said, "but tell me, do you see anyone on the platform?" the girl, for she appeared to be only two or three and twenty, looked at him in a puzzled kind of way. "no," she replied, casting her eyes in that direction; "i see no one. there is no one there." "not a beautiful woman? she is rather shadowy, but she has wonderful eyes." "no," she replied wonderingly. "then i suppose i was mistaken. you are olga, aren't you?" "yes; i am olga." "and you made that wonderful speech?" "was it wonderful?" and she laughed half sadly, half gaily. suddenly the spell, or whatever it was, left him. he was dick faversham again--keen, alert, critical. he realised where he was, too. he had accompanied mr. john brown to this place, and he had listened to words which were revolutionary. if they were translated into action, all law and order as he now understood them would cease to be. around him, too, chattering incessantly, was a number of long-haired, wild-eyed men. they were discussing the speech to which they had just listened; they were debating the new opportunities which the times had created. "ah, you two have met!" it was mr. john brown who spoke. "i am glad of that. this is olga. she is a princess in russia, but because she loved the poor, and sought to help them, she was seized by the russian officials and sent to siberia. that was two years ago. she escaped and came to england. since then she has lived and worked for a new russia, for a new and better life in the world. you heard her speak to-night. did you understand her?" "only in part," replied dick. "she spoke in a language that was strange to me." "yes, yes, i know. but, as you see, she speaks english perfectly. we must get away from here. we must go to a place where we can talk quietly, and where, you two can compare ideas. but meanwhile i want you to understand, mr. faversham, that the people you see here are typical of millions all over europe who are hoping and praying for the dawn of a new day. of course there are only a few thousands here in london, but they represent ideas that are seething in the minds of hundreds of millions." "mr. brown has told me about you," said olga. "i recognised you from his description the moment i saw you. i felt instinctively what you had thought, what you had suffered, what you had seen in visions, and what you had dreamed. i knew then that you were the prophet--the leader that we needed." dick gave her a quick glance, and again felt the spell of her beauty. she was like no woman he had ever seen before. her eyes shone like stars, and they told him that this was a woman in a million. the quickly changing expressions on her face, the wondrous quality of her presence, fascinated him. "i shall be delighted to discuss matters with you," replied dick. "that part of your speech which i understood made me realise that we are one in aim and sympathy. if you will come to my hotel to-morrow, we can speak freely." olga laughed merrily. "i am afraid you do not understand, mr. faversham," she said. "i am a suspect; i am proscribed by your government. a price has been placed on my head." dick looked at her questioningly. "no; i am afraid i don't understand," was his reply. "don't you see?" and again she laughed merrily. "i am looked upon as a dangerous person. news has come to your authorities that i am a menace to society, that i am a creator of strife. first of all, i am an alien, and as an alien i am supposed to subscribe to certain regulations and laws. but i do not subscribe to them. as a consequence i am wanted by the police. if you did your duty, you would try to hand me over to the authorities; you would place me under arrest." "are--are you a spy, then?" dick asked. "of a sort, yes." "a german?" a look of mad passion swept over her face. "a german!" she cried. "heaven forbid. no, no. i hate germany. i hate the accursed war that germany caused. and yet, no. the war was a necessity. the destruction of the old bad past was a necessity. and we must use the mad chaos the war has created to build a new heaven and create a new earth. what are nationalities, peoples, country boundaries, man-made laws, but the instruments of the devil to perpetuate crime, brutality, misery, devilry?" dick shook his head. "you go beyond me," he said. "what you say has no appeal for me." "ah, but it has," she cried; "that is why i want to talk with you. that is why i hail you as a comrade--yes, and more than a comrade. i have followed your career; i have read your speeches. ah, you did not think, did you, when you spoke to the people in the grimy north of this country about better laws, better conditions--ay, and when you made them feel that all the people of _every_ country should be one vast brotherhood--that your words were followed, eagerly followed, by a russian girl whose heart thrilled as she read, and who longed to meet you face to face?" "you read my speeches? you longed to see me?" gasped dick. "every word i read, mr. faversham; but i saw, too, that you were chained by cruel tradition, that you were afraid of the natural and logical outcome of your own words. but see, we cannot talk here!" and she glanced towards the people who had come up to them, and were listening eagerly. "come, my friend," whispered mr. brown, "you are honoured beyond all other men. i never knew her speak to any man as she speaks to you. let us go to a place where i will take you, where we can be alone. is she not a magnificent creature, eh? did you ever see such a divine woman?" "i'm perfectly willing," was dick's reply, as he watched olga move towards the man who had acted as chairman. truly he had never seen such a woman. hitherto he had been struck by her intellectual powers, and by what had seemed to him the spiritual qualities of her presence. but now he felt the charm of her womanhood. she was shaped like a goddess, and carried herself with queenly grace. every curve of her body was perfect; her every movement was instinct with a glowing, abundant life. her complexion, too, was simply dazzling, and every feature was perfect. a sculptor would have raved about her; an artist would have given years of his life to paint her. her eyes, too, shone like stars, and her smile was bewildering. a few minutes later they were in the street, dick almost like a man in a dream, mr. john brown plodding stolidly and steadily along, while olga, her face almost covered, moved by his side. dick was too excited to heed whither they were going; neither did he notice that they were being followed. they had just turned into a narrow alley when there was a quick step behind them, and a man in a police officer's uniform laid his hand on olga's arm and said: "you go with me, please, miss." the girl turned towards him with flashing eyes. "take your hand from me," she said; "i have nothing to do with you." "but i have something to do with you. come, now, it's no use putting on airs. you come with me. i've been on the look out for you for a long while." "help her! get rid of the man!" whispered mr. brown to dick. "for god's sake do something. i've a weak heart and can do nothing." "now, then," persisted the policeman. "it's no use resisting, you know. if you won't come quiet, i may have to be a bit rough. and i _can_ be rough, i can assure you!" "help! help!" she said hoarsely. she did not speak aloud, but the word appealed to dick strongly. it was sacrilege for the police officer to place his hands on her; he remembered what she had told him, and dreaded the idea of her being arrested and thrown into prison. "you won't, eh?" grumbled the policeman. "we'll soon settle that." dick saw him put his whistle to his lips, but before a sound was made, the young fellow rushed forward and instantly there was a hand-to-hand struggle. a minute later the police constable lay on the pavement, evidently stunned and unconscious, while dick stood over him. "now is our chance! come!" cried mr. brown, and with a speed of which dick thought him incapable, he led the way through a network of narrow streets and alleys, while he and the girl followed. a little later they had entered a house by a back way, and the door closed behind them. "thank you, faversham," panted mr. brown. "that was a narrow squeak, eh?" he switched on a light as he spoke, and dick, as soon as his eyes had become accustomed to the light, found himself in a handsomely, even luxuriously, appointed room. "sit down, won't you?" said olga. "oh, you need not fear. you are safe here. i will defy all the police officers in london to trace me now. ah! thank you, mr. faversham! but for you i might have been in an awkward position. it would have been horrible to have been arrested--more horrible still to be tried in one of your law courts." "that was nothing," protested dick. "of course i could not stand by and see the fellow----" "ah, but don't you see?" she interrupted merrily. "you have placed yourself in opposition to the law? i am afraid you would be found equally guilty with me, if we were tried together. did i not tell you? there is a price on my head. i am spoken of as the most dangerous person in london. and you have helped me to escape; you have defeated the ends of justice." "but that is nothing," cried mr. john brown. "of course, mr. faversham is with us now. it could not be otherwise." every event of the night had been somewhat unreal to dick, but the reality of his position was by no means obscure at that moment. he, dick faversham, who, when he had advocated his most advanced theories, had still prided himself on being guided by constitutional methods, knew that he had placed himself in a most awkward position by what he had done. doubtless, efforts would be made to find him, and if he were discovered and recognised, he would have a very lame defence. in spite of the honeyed way in which mr. brown had spoken, too, he felt there was something like a threat in his words. but he cast everything like fear from his mind, and turned to the young girl, who had thrown off her cloak, and stood there in the brilliant light like the very incarnation of splendid beauty. "i would risk more than that for this opportunity of talking with you," he could not help saying. "would you?" and her glorious eyes flashed into his. "i am so glad of that. do you know why? directly i saw you to-night, i felt that we should be together in the greatest cause the world has ever known. do you think you will like me as a co-worker? do you believe our hearts will beat in unison?" again she had cast a spell upon him. he felt that with such a woman he could do anything--dare anything. still, he kept a cool head. his experiences of the last few years had made him wary, critical, suspicious. "i am going to be frank," she went on. "i am going to lay bare my heart to you. the cause i have at heart is the world's redemption; that, too, is the cause i believe you, too, have at heart. i want to destroy poverty, crime, misery; i want a new earth. so do you. but the way is dangerous, stormy, and hard. there will be bleeding footsteps all along the track. but you and i together!--ah, don't you see?" "i am afraid i don't," replied dick. "tell me, will you?" she drew her chair closer to him. "yes; i will tell you," she said in a whisper. chapter xxiii the so-called dead "don't be frightened at a word," she laughed. "i shall explain that word in a few minutes. but it will not need much explanation. at heart you and i are one." dick waited in silence. "you do not help me," and her laugh was almost nervous. "and yet--oh, i mean so much. but i am afraid to put it into a word, because that word has been so misunderstood, so maligned. it is the greatest word in the world. it sweeps down unnatural barriers, petty creeds, distinctions, man-made laws, criminal usages. it is the dawn of a new day. it is the sunrise. it is universal liberty, universal right. it is the divine right of the people!" still dick was silent, and as she watched him she started to her feet. "who have held the destinies of the great unnumbered millions in the hollow of their hands?" she cried passionately. "the few. the emperors, the kings, the bureaucrats. and they have sucked the life blood of these dumb, suffering millions. they have crushed them, persecuted them, made them hewers of wood and drawers of water. why have the poor lived? that they might minister to the rich. just that and nothing more. whether the millions have been called slaves, serfs, working classes--whatever you like--the result has been the same. they have existed that the few might have what they desired. but at last the world has revolted. the great war has made everything possible. the world is fluid, and the events of life will be turned into new channels. now is the opportunity of the people. whatever god there is, he made the world and all that is in it for the people. in the past it has been robbed from them, but now it is going to be theirs! don't you see?" dick nodded his head slowly. this, making allowance for the extravagance of her words, was what he had been feeling for a long time. "yes," he said presently; "but how are they to get it?" "ah!" she laughed. "i brought you here to-night to tell you. you are going to give it them, my friend. with me to help you, perhaps, if you will have me. will you? look into my eyes and tell me that you see--that you understand?" her eyes were as the eyes of a siren, but still dick did not lose his head. "i see no other way of giving the people justice than by working on the lines i have been trying to work for years," he said. "yes, you do," she cried triumphantly. "you are a labour man--a socialist if you like. you have a vision of better conditions for the working classes in england--the british isles. but what is that? what does it all amount to? sticking-plasters, _mon ami_--sticking-plasters." "still, i do not understand," replied dick. "but you do," she persisted, still with her great, lustrous eyes laughing into his, in spite of a certain seriousness shining from them. "think a minute. here we are at a crisis in the world's history. unless a mighty effort is made now, power, property, everything will drift back to the old ruling classes, and that will mean what it has always meant. still the same accursed anomalies; still the same blinding, numbing, crushing poverty on the one hand; still the same pampered luxury and criminal waste on the other. all things must be new, my friend--new!" "but how?" "in one word--bolshevism. no; don't be startled. not the miserable caricature, the horrible nightmare which has frightened the dull-minded british but a glorious thing! justice for humanity, the world for the people! that's what it means. not for one country, but for all the countries--for the wide world. don't you see? the world must become one, because humanity is one. it must be. disease in any part of the organism hurts the whole body. if wrong is done in russia, england has to pay; therefore, all reform must be world wide; right must be done everywhere." "words, words, words," quoted dick. "and more than words, my friend. the most glorious ideal the world has ever known. and every ideal is an unborn event." "beautiful as a dream, but, still, words," persisted dick. "and why, my friend?" "because power cannot be wrested from the hands in which it is now vested----" "that is where you are mistaken. think of russia." "yes; think of russia," replied dick--"a nightmare, a ghastly crime, hell upon earth." "and i reply in your own language, 'words, words, words.' my friend, you cannot wash away abuses hoary with age with rose water. stern work needs stern methods. our russian comrades are taking the only way which will lead to the promised land. do not judge russia by what it seems to-day, but by what it will be when you and i are old. already there are patches of blue in the sky. in a few years from now things will have settled down, and russia, with all its wealth and all its possibilities, will belong to the people--the great people of russia. that is what must be true of every nation. you talk of the great wealth of european countries, and of america. who holds that wealth? just a few thousands--whereas it should be in the hands of all--all." "and how will you do this mighty thing?" laughed dick. "by the people not simply demanding, but taking their rights--taking it, my friend." "by force?" "certainly by force. it is their right." "but how?" "think, my friend. do you believe the people will ever get their rights by what is called constitutional means? do you think the landed proprietors will give up their lands? that the capitalists will disgorge their millions? that the bourgeoisie will let go what they have squeezed from the sweat and toil of the millions? you know they will not. there is but one way all over the world. it is for the people everywhere to claim, to _force_, their rights." "revolution!" "yes, revolution. do not be afraid of the word." "crime, anarchy, blood, ruin, the abolition of all law and order!" "what is called crime and anarchy to-day will be hailed a few years hence as the gospel which has saved the world." dick could not help being influenced by her words. there was an intellectual quality in her presence which broke down his prejudices, a spiritual dynamic in her beauty and her earnestness which half convinced him. "admitting what you say," he replied presently, "you only proclaim a will-o'-the-wisp. before such a movement could be set on foot, you must have the whole people with you. you must have a great consensus of opinion. to do this you must educate the people. then you must have a tremendous organisation. you would have to arm the people. and you would need leaders." she laughed gaily. "now we are getting near it," she cried. "you've seen the vision. you've been seeing it, proclaiming it, unknowingly, for years, but you've not dared to be obedient to your vision. but you will, my friend. you will." she placed her hand on his arm, and looked half beseechingly, half coyly, into his face. "do you not see with me?" she cried. "could you not join with me in a great crusade for the salvation of the world? for i can be a faithful comrade--faithful to death. look into my eyes and tell me." again he looked into her eyes, and he saw as she saw, felt as she felt. his past life, his past work, seemed but as a mockery, while the vision she caused him to see was like a glimpse of paradise. even yet, however, a kind of hard, saxon, common sense remained with him; and she appeared to realise it, for, still keeping her hand upon his arm, she continued her appeal. she told him what she had seen and heard, and tried to prove to him how impossible it was for the poor to have their rights save by rising in their millions, seizing the helm of power, and claiming, taking, their own. still he was not altogether convinced. "you describe a beautiful dream," he said, "but, like all beautiful dreams, it vanishes when brought into contact with hard realities. what you speak of is only mob rule, and mob rule is chaos. to achieve anything you must have leaders, and when you get your leaders, you simply replace one set of rulers by another." "of course we do," was her answer. "but with this difference. the present leaders are the result of an old bad system of selfish greed. they think and act for themselves instead of for the good of the people. but, with you as a leader, we should have a man who thinks only of leading the children of the world into light." "i?--i?" stammered dick. "of course, you, my friend. else why should i long to see you, speak with you, know you?" "of course it's madness," he protested. "all great enterprises are madness," was her reply; "but it is divine madness. you were born from the foundation of the world for this work. you have vision, you have daring, you have the essential qualities of the leader, for you have the master mind." it is easy for a young man to be flattered by a beautiful woman, especially when that woman is endowed with all charms, physical, intellectual, personal. her hand was still on his arm; her eyes were still burning into his. "of course it is impossible," he still persisted. "why?" she asked. "a huge organisation which is international requires the most careful arrangement--secret but potent." "the organisation exists in outline." "propaganda work." "it has been going on for years. even such work as you have been doing has been preparing the way for greater things." "money--millions of money!" he cried. "don't you see? it's easy to talk of leading the people, but difficult to accomplish--impossible, in fact, in a highly organised country like this." "give me your consent--tell me you will consent to lead us, and i will show you that this is already done. even now a million british soldiers are ready--ready with arms and accoutrements!" again she pleaded, again she fired his imagination! fact after fact she related of what had been done, and of what could be done. it needed, she said, but the strong man to appear, and the poor, the suffering from every byway, would flock to his standard. "but don't you see?" cried dick, half bewildered and altogether dazzled by the witchery of her words. "if i were to respond to your call, you would be placing not only an awful responsibility upon me, but a terrible power in my hands?" "yes, i do see!" she cried; "and i glory in the thought. look here, my friend, i have been pleading with you not for your own sake, but for the sake of others--for the redemption of the world. but all along i have thought of you--_you_. it is right that you should think of yourself. every man should be anxious about his own career. this is right. we cannot go against the elementary truths of life. there must be the leaders as well as the led. and leadership means power, fame! every strong man longs for power, fame, position. you do, my friend. for years you have been craving after it, and it is your right, your eternal right. and here is the other ground of my appeal, my friend. such a position, such fame, such power is offered you as was never offered to any man before. to be a leader of the world! to focus, to make real the visions, longings, hopes of unnumbered millions. to make vocal, to translate into reality all the world has been sighing for--striving after. great god! what a career! what a position!" "ah--h!" and mr. john brown, who had been silent during the whole conversation, almost sobbed out the exclamation, "that is it! that is it! what a career! what a position to struggle after, to fight for! power! power! the kings and emperors of the world become as nothing compared with what you may be, my friend." dick's heart gave a wild leap. power! place! greatness! yes; this was what he had always longed for. as the thought gripped him, mastered him, impossibilities became easy, difficulties but as thistledown. and yet he was afraid. something, he knew not what, rose up and forbade him to do things he longed to do. he felt that every weakness of his life had been appealed to--his vanity, his selfishness, his desire for greatness, as well as his natural longing for the betterment of the world. and all the time the beautiful woman kept her hand on his arm. and her touch was caressing, alluring, bewildering. her eyes, wondrous in their brilliance, fascinating, suggesting all the heart of man could long for, were burning into his. he rose to his feet. "i must go," he said. "i will consider what you have said." the woman rose too. she was nearly as tall as he, and she stood by his side, a queen among women. "and you will think kindly, won't you?" she pleaded. "you will remember that it is the dearest hope of my life to stand by your side, to share your greatness." dick was silent as he made his way through the dark and silent streets with mr. brown by his side. he was still under the influences of the night through which he had passed; his mind was still bewildered. just before he reached his hotel, he and mr. brown parted--the latter to turn down piccadilly, dick to make his way towards bloomsbury. when mr. brown had gone, dick stood and watched him. was he mistaken, or did he see the figure of a man like count romanoff move from the doorstep of a large building and join him? was it count romanoff's voice he heard? he was not sure. the night porter of his hotel spoke to him sleepily as he entered. "no zepps to-night, sir," he said. "no; i think not. i fancy the huns have given up that game." "think so, sir? well, there's no devilish thing they won't think of. i hear they're going to try a new dodge on us." "oh, what?" "i don't know. but if it isn't one thing it's another. nothing's too dirty for 'em. good night--or, rather, good morning, sir." "good morning." dick went to bed, but not to sleep. again and again his mind rehearsed the scenes through which he had passed. it all seemed like a dream, a phantasmagoria, and yet it was very wonderful. when daylight came he plunged into a bath, and as he felt the sting of the cold water on his body, he felt his own man again. his mind was clear; his senses were alert. after breakfast he went for a walk towards hyde park. the air was clear and exhilarating; the great tide of human life stirred his pulses and caused his blood to course freely through his veins. his mind was saner, more composed. he turned into the park at the marble arch, and he watched the crowds of gaily dressed women and swiftly moving motor-cars. presently his heart gave a wild leap. coming towards him he saw lady blanche huntingford. he thought he saw her smile at his approach, and with eager footsteps he moved towards her. he held out his hand. "this is indeed a pleasure, lady blanche," he said. she gave him a quick, haughty stare, and passed on. he was sure she recognised him, but she acted as though he did not exist. she had cut him dead; she had refused to know him. the woman's action maddened him. yet why should she not refuse to recognise him? he was a nobody, whom she remembered as a kind of roger tichborne--an impostor. but she should know him! again the memory of his recent experiences came surging back into his mind. he could reach a position where such as she would be as nothing, and like lightning his mind fastened upon olga's proposal. yes; he would accept. he would throw himself heart and soul into this great work. he would become great--yes, the greatest man in england--in the world! he would go back to his hotel and write to her. a little later he sat at a table in the writing-room of the hotel, but just as he commenced to write the pen dropped from his hand. again he thought he felt that light yet irresistible hand upon his wrist--the same hand that he had felt in the library at wendover park. he gave a quick, searching glance around the room, and he saw that he was alone. "who are you? what do you want?" he asked aloud. again he looked around him. did he see that luminous form, those yearning, searching eyes, the memory of which had been haunting him for years? he was not sure. but of this he was sure. the place seemed filled with a holy influence, and he thought he heard the words, "watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation." "speak, speak, tell me who you are," he again spoke aloud. but no further answer came to him. bewildered, wondering, he rose to his feet and sauntered around the room. his attention was drawn to a number of papers that were scattered on a table. a minute later he was reading an article entitled "do the so-called dead speak to us?" the paper containing the article was a periodical which existed for the purpose of advocating spiritualism. it announced that a renowned medium would take part in a séance that very afternoon in a building not far away, and that all earnest and reverent seekers after truth were invited to be present. "i'll go," determined dick as he read. chapter xxiv visions of another world after dick had decided to attend the séance he read the article more carefully. it purported to be written by a man who had given up all faith in religion and all forms of spiritual life. he had tried to find satisfaction in the pleasures and occupations of his daily existence, and had treated everything else as a played-out fallacy. then two of his sons had been killed in the war, and life had become a painful, hollow mockery. by and by he became impressed by the thought that his sons were alive and wanted to speak to him. sometimes, too, he had felt as though presences were near him, but who they were or what they meant he could not tell. after this he had by pure accident heard two people talking about their experiences at a séance, and one had distinctly stated that he had seen and spoken to a dear dead friend. this caused the writer to turn his attention to spiritualism. the result was that he remained no longer a materialist, but was an ardent believer in the spiritual world. he distinctly stated that he had had irrefutable assurance that his sons were alive, that they had spoken to him, and had brought him messages from the spirit world. things which before had been bewildering and cruel now became plain and full of comfort. life was larger, grander, and full of a great hope. dick's heart warmed as he read. surely here was light. surely, too, he would be able to find an explanation to what for years had been a mystery to him. he thought of the conversations he had heard in eastroyd, in relation to this, to which he had paid but little attention because his mind had been too full of other matters, but which were now full of significance. his mind again reverted to the discussion on the angels at mons. if there were no truth in the stories, how could so many have believed in them? how could there be such clear and definite testimonies from men who had actually seen? and had not he, dick faversham, both seen and heard? what was the meaning of the repeated appearances of that beautiful, luminous figure with great, yearning eyes and arms outstretched to save? yes; he would go to this séance. he would inquire, and he would learn. he felt he had need of guidance. he knew he had come to another crisis in his life. the proposal which had been made to him was alluring; it appealed to the very depths of his being. power, position, fame! that was what it meant. to take a leading part in the great drama of life, to be a principal factor in the emancipation of the world! but there was another side. if this movement was spreading with such gigantic strides--were to spread to england and dominate the thoughts and actions of the toiling millions of the country--what might it not mean? he was sure of nothing. he could not grasp the issues clearly; he could not see his way to the end. but it was grand; it was stupendous! besides, to come into daily, hourly, contact with that sublime woman--to constantly feel the magnetic charm of her presence! the thought stirred his pulses, fired his imagination! how great she was, too. how she had swept aside the world's conventions and man-made moralities. she seemed like a warm breath from the lands of sunshine and song. and yet he was not sure. for hours he sat thinking, weighing pros and cons, trying to mark out the course of his life. yes; he had done well. since he had left wendover park he had become an influence in the industrial life of the north; he had become proclaimed a leader among the working classes; in all probability he would soon be able to voice their cause in the mother of parliaments. but what did it all amount to after all? a labour member of parliament! the tool of the unwashed, uneducated masses! a voting machine at £ a year! besides, what could he do? what could the labour party do? when their programme was realised, if ever it was realised, what did it all amount to? the wealth, the power, would still be in the hands of the ruling, educated classes, while he would be a mere nobody. "sticking-plasters." the term stuck to him--mocked him. he was only playing at reform. but the dream of olga--the emancipation of the race! the dethronement of the parasites--the bloodsuckers of the world!--a new heaven and a new earth!--while he, dick faversham, would be hailed as the prophet, the leader of this mighty movement, with infinite wealth at his command and power unlimited. power! men professed to sneer at trotsky; they called him a criminal, an outrage to humanity. but what a position he held! he was more feared, more discussed, than any man in the world--he who a few months before was unknown, unheard of. and he defied kings and potentates, for kings and potentates were powerless before him. while behind him was a new russia, a new world. to be such a man in england! to make vocal and real the longings of the greatest democracy in the world, and to lead it. that would mean the premier place in the world, and---- so he weighed the position, so he thought of this call which had come to him. during the afternoon he left his hotel and made his way towards the house where the spiritualistic séance was to be held. in spite of all his dreams of social reforms, and the appeal made to his own ambitions, his mind constantly reverted to the vision which had again come to him--to the influences he could not understand. he found the house, and was admitted without difficulty. it was in a commonplace, shabby-looking street not far from tottenham court road. on his arrival he was admitted into a room, where an absurd attempt had been made to give it an oriental appearance. an old woman occupied the only arm-chair in the room. she looked up at his entrance, stared at him for a few seconds, and then muttered indistinctly. he was followed by half a dozen others who might have been habitués of the place. presently a man entered, who glanced inquiringly around the room. he appeared to be about fifty years of age, and had light watery-looking eyes. he made his way to dick. "you desire to be present at the séance?" he asked of dick. "if i may?" was dick's reply. "you come as a sincere, earnest, reverent inquirer?" "i hope so." "is there any friend you have lost, any message you want to receive?" and he scrutinised dick closely. "at a time like this, we have all lost friends," dick replied. "ah, then you come as an inquirer?" "that is true. i have come to learn." "certainly. but of course there are certain expenses. would it be convenient for you to give me ten shillings?" dick gave him a ten-shilling note, whereupon the man turned to another visitor. "a great medium, but keen on business," dick heard someone say. "yes, but why not? mediums must live the same as other people." another man entered. he was much younger than the other. he looked very unhealthy, and his hands twitched nervously. "the room is ready," he said, and his voice was toneless. "perhaps you would like to see it and examine it before the light is excluded, so that you may be sure there is no deception." dick with two others accepted the man's invitation. the room into which he was led was carpetless and completely unfurnished save for a number of uncushioned chairs and a plain deal table. nothing else was visible. there was not a picture on the walls, not a sign of decoration. dick and the others professed satisfaction with what they had seen. a few minutes later the others joined them, accompanied by the man who had been spoken of as a "great medium," also the man with the nervous, twitching hands, who dick afterwards learned was the leader of the two mediums. "my friends," he said, "will you seat yourselves around the table? we promise you nothing. the spirits may come, and they may not. i, personally, am a medium of the old order. i do not pretend to tell you what spirits say; i make no claim to be a clairvoyant. if the spirits come they will speak for themselves--if they wish to speak. if there are persons here who desire a message from the spirit world they will, if they receive such a message at all, receive it direct from the spirits. i pretend to explain nothing, just as i promise nothing. but in the past spirits have come to such gatherings as this, and many comforting messages have been given. that is all." the party then sat down at the table, placed their hands upon it in such a way that the fingers of one person joined those of the persons sitting next, and thus formed a circle. all light was excluded. for three minutes there was silence. no sound was heard; no light was seen. all was darkness and silence. then suddenly there was a faint voice--a child's voice. it sounded as though it came from the ceiling. "i am come," wailed the voice. "yes, and i am come." this time the voice seemed to come from the direction of the window. it was hoarse, and coarse. "who are you? "i am jim barkum. i was killed at mons." "anything to tell us?" "no; nothin' except i'm all right. i come fro' sheffield. if you could tell my mother, emily barkum, that i'm very happy i'd be very thankful." "what's your mother's address?" "number tinkers street." after this a number of other spirits purported to come, one of whom said he was the son of a sitter in the circle, and that he had been killed in the war. "will you reveal yourself?" said the medium. some phosphorous light shone in the darkness, in the radiance of which was the outline of a face. "do you recognise it?" asked the medium. "it might be jack," dick heard a voice say. after this there seemed to be a quarrel among the spirits. there was a good deal of confused talk and a certain amount of anger expressed. also a number of feeble jokes were passed and far-away laughter heard. evidently the spirits were in a frolicsome humour. dick, whose purpose in coming to the séance was not to take part in a fiasco, grew impatient. in his state of mind he felt he had wasted both money and time. it was true he had seen and heard what he could not explain, but it amounted to nothing. everything seemed silly beyond words. there was nothing convincing in anything, and it was all artificial. "i should like to ask a question," he ventured at length. "go ahead," said a voice, which seemed to come from the ceiling. "i should like to ask this: why is it that you, who have solved the great secret of death, should, now you are permitted to come back and speak to those of us who haven't, talk such horrible drivel?" "hear! hear!" assented a member of the circle. "oh, it's this way," answered the spirit: "every one of you sitting here have your attendant spirits. if you are intellectual, intellectual spirits attend you and come to talk to you, but as you are not they just crack silly jokes." there was laughter at this, not only from the sitters, but among the spirits, of which the room, by this time, seemed to be full. "that's not bad," replied dick. "one might think you'd said that before, but as it happens we are not all fools, and i personally would like something more sensible. this is a time when thousands of hearts are breaking," he added. "what would you like to know?" it was another voice that spoke now--a sweeter and more refined voice, and might have belonged to a woman. "i would like to know if it is true that each of us have attendant spirits, as one of you said just now?" "yes; that is true." "you mean guardian angels?" "yes; if you like to call them that. but they are not all guardian angels. there are spirits who try to do harm, as well as those who try to guard and to save." "are they here now?" "yes; they are here now. i can see one behind you at this moment." the atmosphere of the room had suddenly changed. it seemed as though something solemn and elevating had entered and driven away the frivolous, chattering presences which had filled the room. a hush had fallen upon the sitters too, and all ears seemed to be listening eagerly. "you say you can see a spirit behind me now?" "yes." "tell me, is it a good spirit or a bad one?" "i do not know. the face is hidden." "but surely you can cause the face to be seen. i am anxious to learn--to know." "i think i can tell directly. wait." there was a silence for perhaps ten seconds; then the voice spoke again. "the spirit will not show its face," it said, "but it is always with you. it never leaves you night nor day." "why does it not leave me?" "i cannot tell; i do not know." "tell me," persisted dick, "you do not seem like the other spirits who have been here--if they are spirits," he added in an undertone. "can you not find out if i am watched over for any particular purpose?" "yes, yes, i can. i can see now. it is a guardian angel, and she loves you." "she loves me--why does she love me?" "when she was alive she loved you. i think you were engaged. but she died, and you never married her. but she is always watching over you--trying to help you. were you ever engaged to anyone who died?" "that is surely a leading question," was dick's retort. "is that all you can tell me?" "that is all, except that you have enemies, one in particular, who is trying to do you harm, and your guardian angel is always near you, seeking to protect you. have you an enemy?" "possibly--i don't know. is that enemy a man or a woman?" "i cannot tell. everything is becoming hazy and dim. i am not a spirit of the highest order. there, everything is blank to me now." after this the séance continued for some time, but as far as dick was concerned, it had but little definite interest. many things took place which he could not explain, but to him they meant nothing. they might have been caused by spirits, but then again they might have been the result of trickery. nothing was clear to him except the one outstanding fact that no light had been thrown on the problem of his life. he wanted some explanation of the wonderful apparition which had so affected his life, and he found none. for that matter, although the spirit world had been demonstrated to him, he had no more conviction about the spirit world after the séance than he had before. all the same, he could not help believing, not because of the séance, but almost in spite of it, that a presence was constantly near him, and that this presence had a beneficent purpose in his life. "you were not convinced?" asked a man of him as presently he left the house. dick was silent. "sometimes i think i am, and sometimes i think i am not," went on the man. "it's all a mystery. but i know one thing." "what?" asked dick. "my old mother, who held fast to the old simple faith in christ, had no doubts nor fears," was the man's reply. "i was with her when she was dying, and she told me that angels were beckoning to her. she said she saw the face of her lord, and that he was waiting to welcome her on the other side. i wish i could see as she saw." "did she believe in angels?" asked dick. "she had no doubt," replied the man. "she said that god sent his angels to guard those they loved, and that those angels helped them to fight evil spirits." "accepting the idea of a spirit world, it seems reasonable," and dick spoke like one thinking aloud rather than to be answering the man. "did not angels minister to christ after he was tempted of the devil?" persisted the man. "did not angels help the apostles? i don't think i'll bother about spiritualism any more. there may be truth in it; there may not; but i'd rather get hold of the faith my mother had." "i wonder?" mused dick, as he went away alone. "i wonder? but i'll have to send an answer to olga. my word, what a glorious woman, and what a career! but i don't see my way clear." he made his way back to his hotel, thinking and wondering. he felt he had come to a crisis in his life, but his way was not plain, and he did not know where to look for light. chapter xxv romanoff's philosophy count romanoff sat in a handsomely furnished room. it formed a part of a suite he had taken in a fashionable london hotel. he was smoking a cigar, while at his side was a tray with several decanters containing spirits. he seemed to be puzzled, and often there was an angry gleam in his eyes, a cruel smile on his lips. "i am not sure of him," he muttered, "and so far i've failed altogether. more than once i was certain that i had him--certain that he was bound to me hand and foot, and then----" he started to his feet and strode impatiently across the room. he appeared angry. looking out of the window, he could see the tide of human beings which swept hither and thither in the london street. "good and evil," he said aloud--"good and evil. those people are all the time tempted, and yet--and yet----but i'll have him. it's only a matter of time now." he heard a knock at the door, and started violently. for a self-contained, strong man, he seemed at times to be peculiarly apprehensive. "yes; come in. ah, it's you, is it? i was expecting you." "count romanoff, are you ever surprised?" it was mr. john brown who spoke, and who quietly came into the room. "rarely," replied the count. "why should i? after all, the events of life are a matter of calculation. certain forces, certain powers of resistance--and there you are." "it takes a clever man to calculate the forces or the powers of resistance," replied mr. brown. "just so. well, i am clever." mr. brown looked at him curiously, and there was an expression almost of fear in his eyes. "count romanoff," he said, "i wonder sometimes if you are not the devil--if there is a devil," he added as if in afterthought. "why, do you doubt it?" "i don't know. it would be difficult to explain some things and some people unless you postulate a devil." the count laughed almost merrily. "then why not accept the fact?" he asked. "do you?" asked mr. brown. "i have no doubt of it. i--but wait. you must clear the ground. the existence of a devil presupposes evil--and good. if what the world calls evil is evil--there is a devil." "you speak like one who knows." "i do know." "how do you know?" "because----but look here, my friend, you did not come here to discuss _that_ problem." "no; i did not. i came because i wanted to discuss----" "a young man called richard faversham. very well, let's discuss him," and the count took a fresh cigar and lit it. "i've been thinking a good deal since i saw you last," said mr. brown--"thinking pretty deeply." the count for reply looked at mr. brown steadily, but spoke no word. "i have been wondering at your interest in him," said mr. brown. "he's not your sort." "perhaps that's a reason," he suggested. "still i do not understand you." "but i understand you. i know you through and through. you, although you are a member of the best london clubs, although you pass as a britisher of britishers, and although you bear a good old commonplace english name, hate britain, and especially do you hate england. shall i tell you why?" "not aloud, my friend--not aloud; there may be servants outside--people listening," and mr. brown spoke in a whisper. "i _shall_ speak aloud," replied the count, "and there is no one listening. i feel in a communicative, garrulous mood to-night, and it's no use mincing words. you hate england, because you are german at heart, and a german by birth, although no one knows it--but me. i also hate england." "why?" asked mr. brown. "because it stands for those things i abominate. because, in spite of its so-called materialism, it still holds fast to the old standards of religion, and all that religion means. it stands for what the world calls progress, for civilisation, and democracy. and i hate democracy." "you are a russian," commented mr. brown--"a russian aristocrat, therefore you would naturally hate democracy." "am i?" and the count laughed. "well, call me that if you like." "you told me so when we first met." "did i? i know you came to me in a sad way. you began to doubt your country, and your country's victory. you saw that it would never gain what it desired and hoped on the battlefield. you realised that this england--this britain that you had scorned--was mightier than you thought. you saw that john bull, whom i hate as much as you, was practically invincible." "yes; i could not help realising that. i admitted it to you, and you told me to----" "take special note of faversham. i told you his story." "yes, you did, and i accepted your advice. i went to eastroyd; i made his acquaintance." "and were impressed by the power he had obtained over the working classes, the democracy, that we hear so much about. as you told me, he had taken up their cause, and that he had developed the gift of public oratory so assiduously that his power over working-class audiences was almost magnetic." "but look here, count, i----" "pardon me a moment. i had studied faversham for years. for reasons of my own, i wanted him to do certain things." mr. brown sat quietly, watching the count, who ceased speaking suddenly, and seemed to be staring into vacancy. "did you ever read a book by a man named john bunyan, called _the holy war_?" he asked, with seeming irrelevance. mr. brown laughed. "years ago, when i was a boy," he replied. "a wonderful book, my friend. i have read it many times." "_you_ read it many times! why, what interest could such a book have for you?" "a very deep interest," and there was a curious intonation in his voice. "what interest?" asked mr. brown. the count rose to his feet and knocked some ash from the end of his cigar. "corpo di bacco!" he cried. "did not the man get deep? the city of mansoul! and the devil wanted to get it. so he studied the fortifications. eyegate, nosegate, touchgate, eargate he saw, he understood!" "what on earth are you talking about?" asked mr. brown in astonishment. "there is one passage which goes deep," went on the count as though mr. brown had not spoken. "it contained some of the deepest philosophy of life; it went to the roots of the whole situation. i had it in my mind when i advised you to make faversham's acquaintance." "what passage?" asked mr. brown, still failing to catch the drift of the other's words. "it is this," and the count spoke very quietly. "_for here lay the excellent wisdom of him who built mansoul, that the walls could never be broken down, nor hurt by the most mighty adverse potentate, unless the townsmen gave consent thereto._" mr. brown looked puzzled. "i don't follow you," he said. "don't you? bunyan wrote in parable, but his meaning is plain. he said that diabolus could never conquer mansoul except by the consent of mansoul. well, i saw this: england--britain--could never be conquered except by the consent of the people of england. united, britain is unconquerable." "well?" "therefore, i made you see that if your country, which stands for force, and militarism, and barbarism, was to conquer england you must get england divided; you must get her own forces in a state of disunity. a country at war with itself is powerless. set class against class, interest against interest, party against party, and you produce chaos. that is the only hope of your country, my friend. the thing was to get a man who could do this for you." "and you thought of faversham?" "i told you to make his acquaintance." "which i have done. the results you know." "are you satisfied with the results?" mr. john brown was silent a few seconds. evidently he was thinking deeply. "he is no bolshevist at heart," he said. "are you?" "i? great heavens, no! i hate it, except for my enemies. but it has served our purpose so far. russia is in a state of chaos; it is powerless--bleeding at our feet. if russia had remained united, we, the germans, would have been crushed, beaten, ruined. as it is----" "i love the condition of russia," and romanoff spoke almost exultantly. "i love it! it is what i hoped for, strove for, prayed for!" "you--a russian--say that! and _you_ pray?" "yes; i pray. what then?" "but you did not pray to god?" and there was a note of fear in mr. brown's voice. "i prayed to my own god," replied romanoff, "who is a very good counterpart of the god of your kaiser. the good old german god, eh?" and he laughed ruthlessly. "and what is he, my friend? a god of force, a god of cruelty. ruthlessness, mercilessness, anything to win. that's the german god. i prayed to that." mr. brown almost shuddered. "yes; the condition of russia is one of the great joys of my life. it means victory--victory for me, for you--if we can only get england to follow russia's example." "if we only could," assented mr. brown. "and there are elements at work which, properly used, will bring this about," went on the count. "i, romanoff, tell you so. and faversham is your man." "he is no bolshevist," again urged mr. brown. "at heart he knows what it means. that's why i am nearly hopeless about him. give him time to think, and he will see that it will mean chaos--ruin to the things he has been taught to love." "before adam ate the forbidden fruit two things happened," remarked romanoff. "what?" "first the serpent worked. then the woman." "the woman! yes; the woman!" "human nature is a curious business," went on the count. "there are several points at which it is vulnerable. i have made a special point of studying human nature, and this i have seen." "i don't quite follow you." "i don't speak in riddles, my friend. take a strong character like faversham, and consider it. what is likely to appeal to it? as i understand the case, there are three main channels of appeal. first, money, and all that money means. next there is ambition, greed for power, place, position, dominance. then there is the eternal thing--the senses. drink, gluttony, drugs, women. generally any one of these things will master a man, but bring them altogether and it is certain he will succumb." "yes, yes, i see." "money, and all that money brings, is not enough in faversham's case. that i know. but he is intensely ambitious--and--and he is young." "that is why you told me to introduce him to olga?" "a woman can make a man do what, under ordinary circumstances, he would scorn to do. if you advocated bolshevism to him, even although you convinced him that he could be lenin and trotsky rolled into one, and that he could carry the democracy of britain with him, he would laugh at you. i saw that yesterday after your conversation with him. he was attracted for an hour, but i saw that he laughed at your proposals. that was why i told you to let him see and hear olga. now, tell me of their meeting." mr. brown described in correct detail dick's experiences in the east of london. "never did i believe a woman could be such a siren," mr. brown concluded. "she charmed, she magnetised, she fascinated." "is he in love with her?" asked the count. "if he is not he must be a stone," said mr. brown. "yes, but is he? i told you to watch him--to report to me." "i do not know. he did not consent readily; he must have time to think, he said. but, man, he cannot resist her!" "i do not know." "but have you ever heard of any man who could resist her blandishments? has she not been called a sorceress?" "yes, yes, i know--but he promised her nothing?" "he said he would let her know later." "then he has resisted. my friend, i do not understand him. but--but--let me think." "he was greatly impressed not only by her, but by her arguments," went on mr. brown presently. "i tell you, the woman is a sibyl, a witch. she was wonderful--wonderful. while i listened, i--even i--almost believed in her description of bolshevism. a new heaven, and a new earth! i tell you, i almost believed in it. she pictured a paradise, an el dorado, an elysium, and she made faversham see, understand. i tell you, he cannot resist her, and if he promises her, as he will, i can see england in a state of chaos in six months. then--then----" but the count did not seem to be listening. his eyes were turned towards the streets, but he saw nothing. "he went to a spiritualistic séance this afternoon," he said presently. "what?--faversham?" "yes, faversham. what do you think it means?" "i cannot think. he has never struck me as that sort of fellow." "look here, brown, have you had many intimate talks with him?" "intimate? yes, i think so." "what have you talked about?" "always about the condition of the people, politics, and things of that nature." "have you ever discussed religion with him?" "i don't believe he has any religion." "i wonder?" "what do you wonder?" "i say, during your conversations with him--during your visits to eastroyd--have you ever heard, have you ever discovered, that he is in love with anyone?" "never. he has taken no notice of women since i have known him. he seems to have been engrossed in his socialistic work. mind, i doubt whether, at heart, he is even a socialist, much less a bolshevist." "that does not matter if we can get him to enlist in olga's crusade. he has enough influence among, not only the working classes of the country, but among the leaders of the working classes all over the land, to create disturbances. he can inspire strikes; he can cause anarchy among the people. he can imbue them with bolshevist ideals; he can make great promises. that done, the british army is powerless. without coals, and without the means of transport--don't you see?" "of course i see. that's what i've had in my mind from the first. if that can be done, germany will be master of the world!" "and more than that," and the count spoke exultantly, "i shall have him, body and soul." "but we must be very careful. if our plans leak out, my life will not be worth a row of pins." again the count paced the room. he did not seem to be heeding mr. brown. his face worked convulsively, his eyes burned red, his hands clenched and unclenched themselves. "i vowed i'd have him," he reflected--"vowed he should be mine. left by himself he will do great things for what is called the good of the world. he will work for sobriety, purity, british national life. the man has powers, qualities which mean great things for what pietists call the world's betterment. but he is an aristocrat at heart; he loves money, and, more, he loves position, fame. he is as ambitious as napoleon. he longs for power. but he has a conscience; he has a strong sense of what he calls right and wrong. i thought i had him down at wendover. but i failed. why, i wonder? but i will not fail this time. olga will dull his conscience. she has charmed, fascinated him. she will make him her slave. then--then----" "yes, yes," broke in mr. brown, who had only half understood the count's monologue; "then he will cause a revolution here in england, and britain as a fighting power will be paralysed. but i am not sure of him. he loves his country, and unless olga gets hold of him, and that soon, he will see what our plans mean, and he will refuse to move hand or foot. you see, we've got no hold on him." "we've every hold on him," almost snapped the count. "we've appealed to his every weakness, and olga will do the rest. i select my tools carefully, my friend." a knock was heard at the door, and the count impatiently opened it. "i am engaged; i cannot be disturbed," he said. "the lady said she must see you," protested the servant, "so i--i thought i'd better come." the count looked beyond the man, and saw a woman closely veiled. "show the lady in," and a few seconds later she threw off her wraps and revealed her face. "olga?" cried both men together. "yes; i thought i'd better brave all danger. i've heard from him." "from faversham?" "yes; a long telegram." "what does he say?" gasped mr. brown. "i have it here," replied olga breathlessly. chapter xxvi a voice from another world dick faversham walked along oxford street thinking deeply. although he had been by no means convinced by what he had seen and heard, he could not help being impressed. the whole of the proceedings might be accounted for by jugglery and clever trickery, or, on the other hand, influences might have been at work which he could not understand--influences which came from the unseen world. but nothing satisfied him. everything he had experienced lacked dignity. it was poor; it was sordid. he could not help comparing the outstanding features of the séance with the events which had so affected him. the face of the woman in the smoking-room of the steamer, the sublime figure which had upheld him when he was sinking in the wild, stormy sea, was utterly removed from the so-called spirits who had obeyed the summons of the mediums, and acted through them. how tawdry, too, were the so-called messages compared with the sublime words which had come to him almost like a whisper, and yet so plainly that he could hear it above the roar of the ocean: "the eternal god is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." this was sublime--sublime in the great comfort it gave him, sublimer still in what it signified to the life of the world. "it's true, too!" he exclaimed aloud, as he threaded his way along the crowded thoroughfare. "true!" he stopped as the meaning of the words came to him: "the eternal god is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." and because that was true, everything was possible! as he thought of it, his materialism melted like snow in a tropical sun, and he realised how superficial and how silly his past scepticism had been. god was behind all, underneath all, in all, through all. and if that was true, he had a thousand agents working to do his will, an infinite variety of means whereby his purposes were carried out. he, dick faversham, could not understand them; but what of that? god was greater than the thoughts of the creatures he had made. but what of his own immediate actions? he had promised olga that he would that very day send her a telegram where and when he could meet her, and that this telegram would signify his intention to fall in with her plans. she had given him directions where this telegram was to be sent, and he had to confess that he had looked forward to meeting her again with no ordinary pleasure. the memory of their strange conversation on the previous night, and the picture of her glorious womanhood came to him with a strange vividness. well, why should he not send the telegram? he passed a post office just then, and turned as though he would enter. but he did not pass through the doorway. something, he could not tell what, seemed to hold him back. he thought little of it, however, and still made his way along oxford street, towards high holborn. again the problem of the future faced him, and he wondered what to do. somehow, he could not tell why, but the thought of meeting the beautiful russian did not seem to be in accord with the sublime words which were surging through his brain: "the eternal god is thy refuge." he found himself thinking of the wondrous face which had appeared to him as he stood at the door of wendover park, and he remembered the words that came to him. "pray, pray!" the voice had said. "watch and pray!" "god help me!" he cried almost involuntarily. "great god help me!" he still threaded his way through the crowd in the great thoroughfare, almost unconscious of what he did. he was scarcely aware that he had uttered a cry to heaven for help. he passed the end of chancery lane and then came to the old timbered houses which stand opposite gray's inn road. but this ancient part of london did not appeal to him. he did not notice that the houses were different from others. he was almost like a man in a dream. then suddenly he found himself in staple inn. how he had come there he did not know. he had no remembrance of passing through the old doorway, but he was there, and the change from the roar of the great thoroughfare outside and the silence of this little sequestered nook impressed him. there was not a soul visible in the little square. as all londoners know, staple inn is one of the smallest and quietest in the metropolis. the houses which form it are mostly occupied by professional men, and there is scarcely ever anything like traffic there. but this afternoon there was no one to be seen, and the change from the crowded highway was pleasant. "what in the world am i doing here?" he asked himself. but before he had time to answer the question he had propounded he realised a strange sensation. although he could see nothing, he felt that some presence was near him. "listen." the word was scarcely above a whisper, but he heard it plainly. he looked around him, his senses alert, but nothing was to be seen. "can you hear me?" "yes." he spoke the word almost involuntarily, and his voice seemed strange to his own ears. "do you know drury lane?" "yes," and he looked around wonderingly, trying to locate the voice. "to-night, at nine o'clock, you must go to drury lane. you must walk westward until you come to blot street. turn up at blot street, and keep along the right side. you must turn at the third street. you are sure you are following my instructions?" "yes, yes," he answered excitedly. "who are you? where are you?" "you must walk along the third street for about twenty steps, stopping at the door marked a. you will knock five times in quick succession. you will wait five seconds, then you will give two more knocks louder than the first. the door will be opened, and you will be asked your business. your reply will be two words, 'victory,' 'dominion.' you will be admitted without further questions. after that use your own judgment." suddenly there was a change as if in the whole atmosphere. he had, as it seemed to him, been in a kind of trance, but now he was more than ordinarily awake. and he was alone. whatever had been near him was gone. the voice had ceased speaking.[ ] [footnote : in view of the fact that the above incident may be regarded as utterly unbelievable, i may say that an experience of the same nature was related to me only a few weeks ago, far more wonderful than the one i have recorded. concerning the good faith of those who told the incident, it is above all suspicion, and of its authenticity there seems no room for doubt. i cannot further enter into details for obvious reasons.--the author.] for some time dick faversham stood alone in the square without moving hand or foot. he was in a state of astonishment which was beyond the power of words to describe. but he had no doubt that he had heard the voice; he was as certain that some presence which he could not see had been near him as that he was certain he stood there at that moment. outside the square in holborn the tide of traffic rolled on. conveyances filled with human life rushed eastward and westward; men and women, oblivious to the fact of any world save their own, made their way to their destinations; but inside the square a man felt he had been in touch with mystery, eternity. he moved into high holborn like a man in a dream, and stood for a few seconds watching the faces of the passers-by. "and not one of them seems to realise that the spirit world is all around them," he reflected. he never thought of disobeying the commands he had received. the voice had come to him with a note of authority; the message was one which must be obeyed. slowly he made his way westward again, and presently came to a post office. he entered without hesitation, wrote a telegram, gave it to the clerk, and, having paid for its dispatch, again made his way along the street. "there, that's done with," he said, with a sigh of relief. at nine o'clock that night he found himself in drury lane following the instructions he had received. he was quite calm, although his heart throbbed with expectancy. he had little or no thought of what he was going to see or hear; enough for him that he was obeying instructions, that he was acting upon the commands which had come to him for his good. for he had no doubt that these commands were somehow for his benefit. almost unconsciously he associated the presence near him with the one who had hovered over him with arms outstretched when he had been sinking in the stormy sea. he had no difficulty in finding blot street, and quickly found himself at the third turning of that shabby-looking thoroughfare. "chainley alley," he read in the dim light of the darkened street lamp at the corner. the place was very quiet. he was now away from the traffic of the broad streets, and ordinary business had ceased for the day. there was nothing to mark chainley alley from a hundred others which may still be found in the centre of london. it was simply a dark, grimy little opening which, to the ordinary passer-by, presented no interest whatever. a minute later he stood at a. all was dark here, and it was with difficulty that he discerned the number. he listened intently, but heard no sound, and then, with a fast-beating heart, he knocked five times in quick succession. then, waiting five seconds, he knocked again according to instructions. the door opened as if by magic. it might seem that he was expected. but the passage into which he looked was as black as ink; neither could he hear anything. then suddenly the silence was broken. "who are you? what do you want?" asked someone unseen. "'victory,' 'dominion,'" he whispered. a dim light shone, and he saw what looked like a woman of the caretaker order. evidently the house was bigger than he imagined, for the woman led him down a long corridor which suggested that it was a way to another and a larger block of buildings in the rear. she opened a door and told him to go in. "you will wait there till i call you," she whispered, and then closed the door behind him. there was a thick rug on the floor, which muffled the sound of his footsteps, but there was no furniture in the room save a deal table and one straight-backed chair. a tiny gas-jet burnt on the wall, which, however, was extinguished a few seconds after the door had closed. "this is darkness with a vengeance," reflected dick, but the fact did not trouble him so much because he had brought a small electric lamp with him. he switched on this light and saw that the room had no outlet at all, save the door. there was neither window nor fireplace, and, in fact, was little more than a large cupboard. before he had time to realise what this might mean, he heard the sound of footsteps, which seemed to be close by; this was followed by murmuring voices. then there were more footsteps, and the voices became clearer. "is he come?" he heard one man say. "not yet. but he'll soon be here. he did not promise to get here till half-past nine." from that time there was a general hum of conversation, which was intermingled by the clinking of glasses. it might be that he was close to a kind of club-room, and that the members were arriving and ordering refreshments. the conversation continued, now indistinct, and again more clear. dick caught snatches of it, but it was not connected, and conveyed but little meaning to him. suddenly he heard everything plainly, and a sentence struck him. "i hope he'll be careful," he heard someone say. "the whole lot of us would swing if we were found here together." the man spoke in german, and dick's interest became tense. "more likely be shot," someone retorted, with a laugh. "but we're safe enough. this is the first time we've been here, and every care has been taken." "i know," said someone, who appeared doubtful, "but if the british secret service people have been fools in the past, they are sharp enough now. schleswig thought he was as safe as houses, but he was cleverly nabbed, and now he's cold meat." "never mind," said another voice, "our turn is coming. gott in himmel, won't we let them know when we are masters of london! even now the english don't know that their country is a powder magazine. they little think that, in spite of their alien acts and the rest of it, the country is still riddled with friends of the fatherland. hark, he's coming!" this was followed by a general shuffling of feet, and dick instinctively felt that something of importance was about to happen. he wondered at the ease with which he could now hear. evidently the partition which hid him from the room in which the conspirators had met (for evidently they were conspirators) was thin, or else there must have been some secret channel by which the sounds reached him. he realised, too, that these people had not entered by way of chainley alley, but that their room must have an outlet somewhere else. possibly, probably too, as they had used this meeting-place for the first time that night, these people would be ignorant of the closet where he was hidden. dick heard a new voice, and he detected in a moment that it was a voice of authority. i will not attempt to relate all he heard, or attempt to give a detailed description of all that took place. i will only briefly indicate what took place. the newcomer, who was evidently the person for whom the others had waited, seemed to regard those to whom he spoke as his subordinates. he was apparently the leader of a movement, who reported to his workers what progress had been made, and who gave them instructions as to the future. he began by telling them that things were not going altogether well for the fatherland, although he had no doubt of final victory. but england--great britain--was their great enemy, and, unless she were conquered, germany could never again attempt to be master of the world. but this could never be done altogether by force of arms. "russia is conquered!" he declared; "it lies bleeding, helpless, at our feet, but it was not conquered on the battlefield. by means of a thousand secret agencies, by careful and skilful propaganda, by huge bribes, and by playing on the ignorance of the foolish, we set the bolshevist movement on foot, and it has done our work. of course it has meant hell in russia, but what of that? it was necessary for the fatherland, and we did our work. what, although the ghastliest outrages are committed, and millions killed, if germany gains her ends!" what was done in russia was also being done in great britain, he assured them. of course, our task was harder because the people had, on the whole, been well conditioned and had the justest government in the world. but he had not been dismayed. thousands of agencies existed, and even among the english the germans had many friends. the seeds which had been sown were bringing forth their harvest. they had fermented strikes, and the english people hadn't known that they had done it. if some of the key industries, such as coal and transport, could be captured, england was doomed. this could be done by bolshevism; and it was being done. "but what real progress has been made?" someone dared to ask presently. "we have workers, agents in all these industries," replied the man, "and i'm glad to tell you that we have won a new recruit, who, although he is a patriotic englishman, will help our cause mightily. our trusted friend, mr. john brown, has got hold of a man who has a tremendous influence among not only the working-class people in various unions, but among the leaders of those unions, and who will be of vast help in our cause, and of making great britain another russia; that done, victory is ours." "who is he?" "a young man named faversham. john brown has had him in hand for months, and has now fairly made him his tool. even to-night, comrades, we shall get him into our net." "tell us more about him," cried someone; but before the speaker could reply, some sort of signal was evidently given, for there was a general stampede, and in an incredibly short time silence reigned. almost unconsciously dick switched on his electric lamp and looked at his watch. it was eleven o'clock. although he had not realised it, he had been in the little cupboard of a room more than an hour and a half, while these men had been plotting the ruin and the destruction of the country he loved. for some time he could not grasp all he had heard, but the meaning of it was presently clear to him. the thought almost overwhelmed him. he had unwittingly been again and again playing into the hands of the enemy. "i must get out of this," he reflected after a few seconds. "i must get back to the hotel and think it all out." "you can go now." it was the woman who showed him there who spoke. a few seconds later he was in the open air, making his way towards drury lane. "thank god!" the words passed his lips involuntarily. it seemed the natural expression of his heart. almost unconsciously he found his way back to his hotel. he had no remembrance afterwards of the streets he had traversed, or of the turnings he had taken. his mind was too full of the thought that but for his wonderful experience in staple inn the facts he had learnt that night would not have been made known to him. on reaching his hotel he made his way to his sitting-room, and on opening the door he saw a letter lying on the table, which on examination he found to be signed "olga." chapter xxvii olga makes love in order to relate this story in a connected manner it is necessary to return to count romanoff's rooms, where, a few hours earlier, both the count and mr. john brown were startled by the sudden entrance of olga. "let me see the telegram," the count said, holding out his hand. his voice was somewhat hoarse, and his eyes had a peculiar glitter in them. the girl handed it to him without a word. "_impossible for me to come. am leaving london almost immediately._--faversham." "what time did you get this?" he asked. "i scarcely know. almost directly i got it i came to you. i thought it best. do you think it is true? do you believe he will leave london?" the count was silent for a few seconds. "it would seem so, wouldn't it?" he answered grimly. "but he must _not_ leave london. at all hazards, he must be kept here." "but it means that olga has failed," cried mr. john brown. "it means that we have lost him!" "we have not lost him. i'll see to that," and there was a snarl in romanoff's voice. "olga petrovic, all now depends on you. at your peril you must keep him here; you must win him over. if you fail, so much the worse for you." evidently the girl was angered. "do you threaten me?" she said, with flashing eyes. "and if i do, what then?" "simply that i will not be threatened. if you speak to me in that fashion, i refuse to move another finger." "i am not in the habit of having my plans destroyed by the whims of a petulant woman," said the count very quietly. "i tell you that if you fail to keep him in london, and if you fail to make him your slave, ready to obey your every bidding, you pay the penalty." "what penalty?" "what penalty?" and the count laughed. "need you ask that? you are in my power, countess olga petrovic. i know every detail of your history--every detail, mind you--from the time you were waiting-maid to the czarina. yours is a curious history, countess. how much would your life be worth if it were known to the british authorities that you were in london? what would our german friends do to you if they knew the part you played at warsaw?" "you know of that?" she gasped. "i know everything, countess. but i wish you no harm. all i demand is that you gain and keep faversham in your power." "why are you so anxious for him to be in my power?" "because then he will be in my power." "your power? why do you wish him in your power? do you want to do him harm?" "harm!" then romanoff laughed. "and if i do, what then?" "that i refuse to serve you. carry out your threats; tell the british authorities who i am. tell the germans what i did at warsaw. i do not care. i defy you. unless you promise me that you will not do faversham harm, i will do nothing." "why are you interested as to whether i will do faversham harm?" "i am--that's all." the count was silent for a few seconds. evidently his mind was working rapidly. "look at me!" he cried suddenly, and, as if by some power she could not resist, she raised her eyes to his. the count laughed like one amused. "you have fallen in love with him, eh?" the girl was silent, but a flush mounted her cheeks. "this is interesting," he sneered. "i did not think that olga petrovic, who has regarded men as so many dogs of the fetch-and-carry order, and who has scorned the thought of love, should have fallen a victim to the malady. and to a thick-headed englishman, too! surely it is very sudden." "you sneer," she cried, "but if i want to be a good woman; what then?" the count waved his hand airily. "set's the wind in that quarter, eh? well, well. but it is very interesting. i see; you love him--you, olga petrovic." "and if i do," she cried defiantly, "what then?" "only that you will obey me the more implicitly." "i will not obey you," she cried passionately. "and remember this, i am not a woman to be played with. there have been many who have tried to get the better of olga petrovic, and--and you know the result." "la, la!" laughed the count, "and so my lady threatens, does she? and do you know, if i were susceptible to a woman's beauty, i should rejoice to see you angry. anger makes you even more beautiful than ever. for you are beautiful, olga." "leave my beauty alone," she said sullenly. "it is not for you anyhow." "i see, i see. now listen to me. if you do not obey me in everything, i go to richard faversham, and i tell him who and what you are. i give him your history for the last ten years. yes, for the last ten years. you began your career at eighteen and now you are twenty-eight. yes, you look a young girl of twenty-two, and pride yourself upon it. now then, countess, which is it to be? am i to help you to win the love of faversham--yes and i can promise you that you shall win his love if you obey my bidding--or am i to go to him and tell him who olga petrovic really is?" the girl looked at him angrily, yet piteously. for the first time she seemed afraid of him. her eyes burnt with fury, and yet were full of pleading at the same time. haughty defiance was on her face, while her lips trembled. "but if you tell him, you destroy my plans. you cannot do that, count!" it was mr. john brown who spoke, and there was a note of terror in his voice. "_your_ plans! what do i care for your plans?" cried the count. "it is of my own plans i am thinking." "but i thought, and as you know we agreed----" "it is not for you to think, or to question my thoughts," interrupted the count. "i allow no man to interpret my plans, or to criticise the way in which i work them out. but rest contented, my dear friend, john brown," he added banteringly, "the success of your plans rests upon the success of my own." while they were speaking olga petrovic gazed towards the window with unseeing eyes. she looked quite her age now: all suggestion of the young girl had gone, she was a stern, hard-featured woman. beautiful she was, it is true, but with a beauty marked by bitter experience, and not the beauty of blushing girlhood. "well, countess olga, which is it to be?" asked romanoff, who had been watching her while he had been speaking to mr. brown. "what do you want me to do?" "do! keep him in london. enlist his sympathies. make him your slave as you have made other men your slaves. bind him to you hand and foot. make him love you." a strange light burned in the girl's eyes, for at the count's last words she had seemingly thrown off years of her life. she had become young and eager again. "swear to me that you mean him no harm, and i will do it," was her reply. "if i can," she added, as an afterthought. "do you doubt it?" asked romanoff. "have you ever failed when you have made up your mind?" "no, but i do not feel certain of him. he is not like those others. besides, i failed last night. in his heart he has refused me already. he said he was leaving london almost immediately, which means that he does not intend to see me again." "and you want to see him again?" "yes," she replied defiantly; "i do." "good." he seized a telephone receiver as he spoke and asked for a certain number. shortly after he was connected with dick's hotel. "mr. richard faversham of eastroyd is staying with you, isn't he?" "mr. richard faversham? yes, sir." "is he in?" "no, sir, he went out a few minutes ago." "did he say when he was likely to return?" "no, sir, he said nothing." "but you expect him back to-night?" "as far as i know, sir." "thank you. either i, or a lady friend, will call to see him to-morrow morning at ten o'clock on a very important matter. tell him that, will you?" "certainly, sir. what name?" but the count did not reply. he hung up the telephone receiver instead. "why did you say that?" asked olga. "how dare i go to his hotel in broad daylight?" "you dare do anything, countess," replied the count. "besides, you need not fear. although you are wanted by the british authorities, you are so clever at disguise that no detective in scotland yard would be able to see through it." he hesitated a moment, and then went on: "if we were in paris i would insist on your going to see him to-night, but mrs. grundy is so much in evidence in england that we must not risk it." "but if they fail to give him your message?" she asked. "suppose he leaves to-morrow morning before i can get there?" evidently she was eager to carry out this part of his plans. "he will not leave," replied romanoff; "still, we must be on the safe side. you must write and tell him you are coming. there is ink and paper on yonder desk." "what shall i write?" she asked. "fancy olga petrovic asking such a question," laughed the count. "word your letter as only you can word it, and he will spend a sleepless night in anticipation of the joy of seeing you." she hesitated for a few seconds, and then rushing to the desk began to write rapidly. "and now," said romanoff, when she had finished, "to avoid all danger we must send this by a special messenger." thus it was, when dick faversham returned from chainley alley that night that he found the letter signed "olga" awaiting him. it was no ordinary letter that he read. a stranger on perusing it would have said that it was simply a request for an interview, but to dick it was couched in such a fashion that it was impossible for him to leave london before seeing her. for this is what he had intended to do. when he had sent the telegram a few hours earlier his mind was fully made up never to see her again. why he could not tell, but the effect of his strange experience in staple inn was to make him believe that it would be best for him to wipe this fascinating woman from the book of his life. her influence over him was so great that he felt afraid. while in her presence, even while she fascinated him, he could not help thinking of the fateful hours in wendover park, when romanoff stood by his side, and paralysed his manhood. but as he read her letter, he felt he could do no other than remain. indeed he found himself anticipating the hour of her arrival, and wondering why she wished to see him. he had come to london ostensibly on business connected with his probable candidature in eastroyd, and as he had to see many people, he had engaged a private sitting-room in the hotel. to this room he hurried eagerly after breakfast the following morning, and although he made pretensions of reading the morning newspaper, scarcely a line of news fixed itself on his memory. on every page he saw the glorious face of this woman, and as he saw, he almost forgot what he had determined as he left chainley alley. precisely at ten o'clock she was shown into the room, and dick almost gave a gasp as he saw her. she was like no woman he had ever seen before. if he had thought her beautiful amidst the sordid surroundings of the warehouse in the east end of london, she seemed ten-fold more so now, as slightly flushed with exercise, and arrayed in such a fashion that her glorious figure was set off to perfection, she appeared before him. she was different too. then she was, in spite of her pleading tones, somewhat masterful, and assertive. now she seemed timid and shrinking, as though she would throw herself on his protection. "are you sure you are safe in coming here?" he asked awkwardly. "you remember what you told me?" "you care then?" she flashed back. then she added quickly, "yes, i do not think anyone here will recognise me. besides, i had to take the risk." "why?" he questioned. "because your telegram frightened me." "frightened you? how?" "because--oh, you will not fail me, will you? i have been building on you--and you said you were leaving london. surely that does not mean that all my hopes are dashed to the ground? tell me they are not." her great dark eyes flashed dangerously into his as she spoke, while her presence almost intoxicated him. but he mastered himself. what he had heard the previous night came surging back to his memory. "if your hopes in any way depend on me, i am afraid you had better forget them," he said. "no, no, i can never forget them. did you not inspire them? when i saw you did i not feel that you were the leader we needed? ah no, you cannot fail me." "i cannot do what you ask." "but why? only the night before last you were convinced. you saw the vision, and you had made up your mind to be faithful to it. and oh, you could become so great, so glorious!" he felt the woman's magnetic power over him; but he shook his head stubbornly. "but why?" she pleaded. "because i have learned what your proposal really means," he replied, steeling himself against her. "i was carried away by your pleading, but i have since seen that by doing what you ask i should be playing into the hands of the enemies of my country, the enemies of everything worth living for." "you mean the germans; but i hate germany. i want to destroy all militarism, all force. i want the world to live in peace, in prosperity, and love." "i cannot argue with you," replied dick; "but my determination is fixed. i have learnt that mr. john brown is a german, and that he wants to do in england what has been done in russia, so that germany may rule the world." "mr. john brown a german!" she cried like one horror-stricken. "you cannot mean that?" "did you not know it?" "i? oh no, no, no! you cannot mean it! it would be terrible!" she spoke with such passion that he could not doubt her, but he still persisted in his refusal. "i have seen that what you dream of doing would turn europe, the world, into a hell. if i were to try to persuade the people of this country to follow in the lines of russia, i should be acting the part of a criminal madman. not that i could have a tithe of the influence you suggested, but even to use what influence i have towards such a purpose would be to sell my soul, and to curse thousands of people." she protested against his statement, declaring that her purposes were only beneficent. she was shocked at the idea that mr. john brown was a german, but if it were true, then it only showed how evil men would pervert the noblest things to the basest uses. she pleaded for poor humanity; she begged him to reconsider his position, and to remember what he could do for the betterment of the life of the world. but although she fascinated him by the magic of her words, and the witchery of her presence, dick was obdurate. what she advocated he declared meant the destruction of law and order, and the destruction of law and order meant the end of everything sacred and holy. then she changed her ground. she was no longer a reformer, pleading for the good of humanity, but a weak woman seeking his strength and guidance, yet glorious in her matchless beauty. "if i am wrong," she pleaded, "stay with me, and teach me. i am lonely too, so lonely in this strange land, and i do so need a friend like you, strong, and brave, and wise. and oh, i will be such an obedient pupil! ah, you will not leave london, will you? say you will not--not yet." again she almost mastered him, but still he remained obdurate. "i must return to my work, miss----you did not tell me your name." and she thought she detected weakness in his tones. "my name is olga petrovic," she replied. "in my own country, when i had a country, i was countess olga petrovic, and i suppose that i have still large estates there; but please do not call me by your cold english term 'miss.' let me be olga to you, and you will be dick to me, won't you?" "i--i don't understand," he stammered. "but you do, surely you do. can you look into my eyes, and say you do not? there, look at me. yes, let me tell you i believe in the sacredness of love, the sacredness of marriage. now you understand, don't you? you will stay in london, won't you, and will teach a poor, ignorant girl wherein she is in error." he understood her now. understood that she was making love to him, asking him to marry her, but still he shook his head. "i must return to my work," he said. "but not yet--tell me not yet. forgive me if i do not understand english ways and customs. when i love, and i never loved before, i cannot help declaring it. now promise me." a knock came to the door, and a servant came bearing cards on a tray. "mr. hugh edgeware," "miss beatrice edgeware," he read. he held the cards in his hands for a second, then turned to the woman, "i must ask you to excuse me," he said. "i have friends who have come to see me." olga petrovic gave him a look which he could not understand, then without a word left the room, while he stood still like a man bewildered. "show them up," he said to the servant. part iii.--the third temptation chapter xxviii the count's confederate count romanoff sat alone in his room. on one side the window of his room faced piccadilly with its great seething tide of human traffic, from another st. james's park was visible. but the count was not looking at either; he was evidently deep in his own thoughts, and it would appear that those thoughts were not agreeable. he was not a pleasant-looking man as he sat there that day. he was carefully dressed, and had the appearance of a polished man of the world. no stranger would have passed him by without being impressed by his personality--a dark and sinister personality possibly, but still striking, and distinguished. no one doubted his claim to the title of count, no one imagined him to be other than a great personage. but he was not pleasant to look at. his eyes burnt with a savage glare, his mouth, his whole expression, was cruel. it might seem as though he had been balked in his desire, as though some cruel disappointment had made him angry. more than once his hands clenched and unclenched themselves as he muttered angrily, savagely, while again and again a laugh of vindictive triumph passed his lips. and yet even in his laugh of triumph there was something of doubt. he was perturbed, he was furious. "but he shall be mine," he said at length, "mine! and then----" but his tone lacked certainty; his eyes burnt with anger because he had not been able to accomplish his designs. "it might be that he was especially watched over," he reflected, as though some beneficent providence were fighting for him. "providence! providence! as though----!" he started to his feet and began to pace the room. his stride was angry, his whole appearance suggested defeat--a defeat which he had determined to transform to triumph. "good! evil!" he cried. "yes, that is it. good! evil! and i have given myself over to evil, and i have sworn that evil could be made stronger than good! i have sworn to exemplify it, in the case of that young fool, dick faversham. i thought i should have accomplished it long ago but i have so far failed, failed!" he still continued to pace the room, although apparently he was unconscious of the fact. there was a far-off look in his eyes, a look that almost suggested despair. "does it mean after all that right is stronger than wrong, that right is more eternally established in the world than wrong? that in the sweep of events the power of right is slowly but surely conquering and crushing the evil, that the story of what is called evolution is the story of the angel in man overcoming the beast?" again he laughed, and the laugh had a cruel ring in it. "no, no; evil is triumphant. nearly two thousand years have passed since the man of nazareth was crucified, and yet for years the devil has been triumphant. europe has been deluged in blood, world hatreds have been created, murder has been the order of the day, and the earth has been soaked in blood. no, no; evil is triumphant. the cross has been a failure, and him who died on it defeated!" he paused in his angry march around the room, and again he looked doubtful. "no, no," he cried; "cruelty, lies, treason, have not triumphed. germany is beaten; her doctrine that might was right--a doctrine born in hell--has been made false. after all this sword-clanging, all the vauntings about an invincible army, materialism, devilry, have failed. germany is being humbled to the dust, and her militarism defeated and disgraced." the thought was evidently wormwood to him, for his features worked convulsively, his eyes were bloodshot. it might seem that the triumph of right filled him with torture. presently he shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and lifted his hands above his head as though he would throw a burden from him. "but that is not my affair," he cried. "it was for me to conquer that man, to make him my slave. i swore to do it. i had every chance, and i thought that he, young, ambitious, and subject to all human passions, would be an easy victim. he was no dreamer, he had none of the makings of an ascetic, much less a saint, and yet so far he has beaten me. he still lives what is called the clean, healthy life. he still mocks me. it might be that he is specially guarded, that some angel of good were constantly fighting against me, constantly defeating me." the thought seemed to disconcert romanoff. a look almost like fear swept over his features, and again something like despair came into his eyes. "but no, i have other weapons in my armoury yet," he reflected. "he is no religious fanatic, no pious prig with ideals, he is still ambitious, still craves for all the things that humanity longs for." a clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of six. "he should soon be here," he reflected. "i told him not to waste a second." at that moment there was a knock at the door, and a second later a man entered who gave the appearance of having come from a distance. he was a mild, placid-looking creature whose very walk suggested that he was constantly making an apology for his existence. a creature not of highways, but of byways, a humble uriah heep sort of fellow who could act like a whipped cur in his desire to curry favour, but who in his hour of triumph would show his fangs, and rend his victim without mercy. "you are back to time, slyme. well, what news?" by this time romanoff was the great gentleman again--haughty, patronising, calm, and collected. "of course your honour has heard that he's in? i wired the moment i knew." "yes, i knew that before i got your wire. a servant in the hotel here told me the moment it was ticked off on the tape. of course i expected that. naturally it was uncertain, as all such things are. one can calculate on the actions of the few; but not on those of the many. human nature is a funny business." "isn't it, your excellency? it's a remark i've often dared to make; one can never tell what'll happen. but he's in; he's the member for eastroyd." "with over a thousand majority." "i've discovered that he's coming up to town by the midnight train from eastroyd." "ah!" the count's eyes flashed with interest. "yes, he seemed very much delighted at his victory, and is coming up i suppose to consult with other members of his party." "of course he's delighted with his victory. for heaven's sake refrain from remarking on the obvious. tell me about the election." "what does your honour, that is, your lordship, want to hear about? what phase of the election, i mean?" "you had your instructions. report on them." "well, if i may say so," remarked slyme apologetically, "although he has over a thousand majority, he has very much disappointed the people." "why? in what way?" "he isn't so much of a firebrand as he was. the people complain that he is too mealy-mouthed." "less of a people's man, do you mean?" "i don't say that quite. but he's more moderate. he talks like a man trying to see all sides of a question." the count reflected a few seconds, and then snapped his fingers. "and his private life?" the count questioned. "as far as i could find out, blameless." "have the wealthier classes taken up with him at all?" "no, not actively. but they are far less bitter towards him. they are saying that he's an honest man. i do not say that for myself. i'm only quoting," added the little man. romanoff asked many questions on this head, which the little man answered apologetically, as if with a desire to know his employer's views before making direct statements. "there are generally a lot of scandals at a political election," went on the count. "i suppose that of eastroyd was no exception?" he said this meaningly, as though there were an understanding between them. little polonius slyme laughed in a sniggering way. "polonius" was the name by which he was known among his friends, and more than once the count used it when addressing him. "i made many inquiries in that direction," he replied; "i even went so far as to insinuate certain things," he added with a covert look towards the count. "i had some success, but not much." but the count's face was like a mask. polonius slyme could tell nothing of his thoughts. "i did not think your lordship would be offended?" he queried with a cunning look in his eyes. "go on." "i had some success, but not much." "what were your insinuations about? drink, drug-taking, debt, unfaithfulness to his class?--what?" "oh, there was no possibility of doing anything on those lines, although, as i said, there was some disappointment on the last head. but that's nothing. i reflected that he was a young man, and a bachelor--a good-looking bachelor." he added the last words with a suggestive giggle. "i see. well?" "of course he is a great favourite with the fair sex. by dint of very careful but persistent investigation i discovered that two ladies are deeply in love with him." romanoff waited in silence. "one is the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer, quite the belle of the town among the moneyed classes. i inquired about her. there is no doubt that she's greatly interested in him." "and he?" "he's been seen in her company." "what do you mean by that?" "oh, nothing. she would be a good match for him, that's all. there was a rumour that she had visited his lodgings late at night." "which rumour you started?" "i thought it might be useful some day. as for the other woman, she's a mill girl. a girl who could be made very useful, i should think." "yes, how?" "she's undoubtedly very much in love with him--after her own fashion. she possesses a kind of gipsy beauty, has boundless ambitions, is of a jealous disposition, and would stop at nothing to gain her desires." "and is faversham friendly with her?" "just friendly enough for one to start a scandal in case of necessity. and the girl, as you may say, not being overburdened with conscientious scruples, could be made very useful." romanoff reflected for some time, then he turned to slyme again. "slyme," he said, "i don't think you need go any further in that direction. faversham is scarcely the man to deal with in the way you suggest. still you can keep them in mind. one never knows what may happen." polonius slyme was evidently puzzled. he looked cautiously, suspiciously, at the face of the other, as if trying to understand him. "i have tried to do your lordship's will," he ventured. "yes, and on the whole i'm satisfied with what you've done. yes, what is it?" "if your lordship would deign to trust me," he said. "trust you? in what way?" "if you would tell me what is in your mind, i could serve you better," he asserted, with a nervous laugh. "all the time i have been acting in the dark. i don't understand your lordship." the count smiled as though he were pleased. "what do you want to know?" he asked. "i am very bold, i know, and doubtless i am not worthy to have the confidence of one so great and so wise as your lordship. but i have tried to be worthy, i have worked night and day for you--not for the wages, liberal though they are, but solely for the purpose of being useful to you. and i could, i am sure, be more useful if i knew your mind, if i knew exactly what you wanted. i am sure of this: if i knew your purposes in relation to faversham, if i knew what you wanted to do with him, i could serve you better." the count looked at slyme steadily for some seconds. "i allow no man to understand my mind, my purposes," the count answered. "certainly, your lordship," assented the little man meekly; "only your lordship doubtless sees that--that i am handicapped. i don't think i'm a fool," he added; "i am as faithful as a dog, and as secret as the grave." "you want to know more than that," replied romanoff harshly. polonius slyme was silent. "you want to know who i am," continued the count. "you have been puzzled because i, who am known as a russian, should interest myself in this man faversham, and up to now you, in spite of the fact that you've hunted like a ferret, have found out nothing. more than that, you cannot think why i fastened on you to help me, and, cunning little vermin that you are, you stopped at nothing to discover it." "but only in your interest," assented the little man eagerly; "only because i wanted to deserve the honour you have bestowed upon me." "i am disposed to be communicative," went on the count; "disposed to make something of a confidante of you. of my secret mind, you, nor no man, shall know anything, but i will let you know something." polonius slyme drew nearer his master and listened like a fox. "yes, your lordship," he whispered. "look here, polonius, you have just told me that you are a man of brains: suppose that you wanted to get a strong man in your power, to make him your slave, body and soul, what would you do? suppose also that you had great, but still limited power, that your knowledge was wide, but with marked boundaries, how would you set to work?" "every man has his weaknesses," replied polonius. "i should discover them, fasten upon them, and make my plans accordingly." "yes, that's right. now we'll suppose that faversham is the man, what would you regard as his weaknesses?" "pride, ambition, a love, almost amounting to a passion, for power," answered the little man quickly. "that would mean a longing for wealth, a craving for fame." "and conscience?" queried the count. "he has a conscience," replied the little man; "a conscience which may be called healthily normal." "just so. now i'll tell you something. i've placed wealth in his way, and he has rejected it for conscience sake. i've tempted him with power and fame, almost unlimited power and fame, and although he's seen the bait, he has not risen to it." polonius was silent for some time. evidently he was thinking deeply; evidently, too, he saw something of what lay behind the count's words, for he nodded his head sagely, and into his cunning eyes came a look of understanding. "of course you do not care to tell me why you want to make him your slave, body and soul?" he whispered. "no!" the count almost snarled. "no man may know that." "you ask what i would do next?" "yes, i ask that." "no man is invulnerable," said the little man, as though he were talking to himself. "no man ever was, no man ever will be. every man has his price, and if one can pay it----" "there is no question of price," said the count eagerly; "nothing need stand in the way, any price can be paid." "i see, i see," and the little man's foxy eyes flashed. "you want to work the man's moral downfall," he added. "you want to make him a slave to your will--_not_ to make him a saint?" the count was silent. "if i wanted to make such a man a slave to my will, and i had such means as you suggest, i should find a woman to help me. a woman beautiful, fascinating, unscrupulous. i would instruct her to be an angel of light. i would make her be the medium whereby he could obtain all that such as he desires, and i would make him believe that in getting her he would find the greatest and best gift in life, a gift whereby all that was highest and best in this life, and in the life to come, could be got. at the same time she must be a _woman_, a woman that should appeal to his desires, and make his pulses throb at the thought of possessing her." for some time they spoke eagerly together, the count raising point after point, which the little man was not slow to answer. "polonius, did i not know otherwise, i should say you were the devil," laughed romanoff. "i know you are," replied the little man in great glee. "what do you mean?" and there was a kind of fear in the russian's voice. "only that your cleverness is beyond that of ordinary mankind. you have thought of all this long before you asked me." "have i? perhaps i have; but i wanted your opinion." "the difficulty is to find the woman." "in two minutes she will be here. go into the next room and watch, and listen. after she has gone, you shall tell me what you think of her." a minute later the door opened, and olga petrovic entered the room. chapter xxix in quest of a soul "good evening, countess. thank you for coming so promptly. be seated, won't you?" olga petrovic looked at the count eagerly, and accepted the chair he indicated. she looked older than when she left dick faversham after the interview i have described, and there were indications on her face that she had suffered anxious thoughts, and perhaps keen disappointment. but she was a strikingly beautiful woman still. tall, magnificently proportioned; and almost regal in her carriage. she was fast approaching thirty, but to a casual observer she appeared only two- or three-and-twenty. she had the air of a grand lady, too, proud and haughty, but a woman still. a woman in a million, somewhat captivating, seductive; a woman to turn the head of any ordinary man, and make him her slave. one felt instinctively that she could play on a man's heart and senses as a skilful musician plays on an instrument. but not a good woman. she had a world of experience in her eyes. she suggested mystery, mystery which would appear to the unwary as romance. because of this she could impress youth and inexperience by her loveliness, she could appear as an angel of light. she was magnificently dressed, too. every detail of her glorious figure was set off to the full by her _costumier_, and her attire spoke of wealth, even while this fact was not ostentatious or even intended. in short, her _costumier_ was an artist who knew her business. evidently, if ever she had been in danger by appearing in public, that danger was over. there was no suggestion of fear or apprehension in her demeanour. "why do you wish to see me?" she asked abruptly. "i am quite aware," said romanoff, without taking any apparent notice of her question, "that i took a liberty in asking you to come here. i should have asked you when it would have been convenient for you to graciously receive me at your flat. for this i must crave your pardon." there was something mocking in his voice, a subtle insinuation of power which the woman was not slow to see. "you asked me to come here because you wanted me, and because you knew i should come," she replied. "you knew, too, that i could not afford to disobey you." "we will let that drop," replied the count suavely. "i count myself honoured by your visit. how could it be otherwise?" and he cast an admiring glance towards her. the woman watched him closely. it seemed as though, in spite of their acquaintance, she did not understand him. "you see," went on romanoff, "our bolshevism is a thing of the past. the proletariat of england will have none of it. a few malcontents may have a hankering after it; but as a class the people of england see through it. they see what it has done for russia, and they know that under a bolshevist régime all liberty, all safety, all prosperity would be gone for ever." the woman nodded. "besides," went on the count, "you are in a far more becoming position as the countess petrovic, with estates in russia and elsewhere, than as olga, the high priestess of a wild and irresponsible set of fanatics." "you have changed your views about those same fanatics," responded the woman rather sullenly. "have i? who knows?" was the count's smiling and enigmatical reply. "but i did think they might have served my purpose." "what purpose?" "dear lady, even to you i cannot disclose that. besides, what does it matter?" "because i would like to know. because--because----" there she broke off suddenly. "because through it the man faversham crossed your path, eh?" and the smile did not leave his face. "you knew that bolshevism would fail in england," cried the woman. "you knew that the whole genius of the race was against it. why then did you try to drag--faversham into it? why did you tell me to dazzle him with its possibilities, to get him involved in it to such a degree that he would be compromised?" "ah, why?" "but he would have none of it," retorted the woman. "he saw through it all, saw that it was an impossible dream, because in reality it was, and is, a wild delusion and a nightmare." "perhaps that was your fault," replied romanoff. "perhaps your powers of fascination were not as great as i thought. anyhow----" "have you seen him lately?" she interrupted. "you know where he is? what he is doing?" her voice vibrated with eagerness; she looked towards romanoff with a flash of pleading in her great lustrous eyes. "don't you read the newspapers?" "not the english. why should i? what is there in them for me? of course i get the polish and the russian news." "if you read the english newspapers you would have no need to ask where he is," replied romanoff. "why, has he become famous?" as if in answer to her question there was a knock at the door, and a servant entered bringing three london evening papers. "there," said the count, pointing to some bold headlines--"there is the answer to your question." "great labour victory in eastroyd," she read. "triumphant return of mr. richard faversham." her eyes were riveted on the paper, and almost unheeding the count's presence she read an article devoted to the election. especially was her attention drawn to the career of the successful candidate. "although mr. faversham, because of his deep sympathy with the aims of the working classes, has been returned to parliament by them," she read, "he is not a typical labour member. as the son of a scholar, and the product of one of our best public schools, he has naturally been associated with a class different from that which has just given him its confidence. years ago he was regarded as the heir of one of our great commercial magnates, and for some time was in possession of a great country house. his association with the middle classes, however, has not lessened his passionate interest in the welfare of the poor, and although he has of late become less advanced in his views, there can be no doubt that he will be a strong tower to the party with which he has identified himself." "he will be in london to-morrow," remarked romanoff, when presently the woman lifted her head. "in london? to-morrow!" the count noted the eagerness with which she spoke. "yes," he said; "to-morrow." "and he will be a great man?" "not necessarily so," answered romanoff. "he will be a labour member at four hundred pounds a year. he will have to be obedient to the orders of his party." "he never will! he is not a man of that sort!" her voice was almost passionate. evidently her interest in him was deep. "won't he? we shall see. but he will find it hard to live in london on four hundred pounds a year. london is not a cheap city in these days. you see he has all the instincts of his class." "will he be one of the working men? will he live as they live? will he be of their order?" asked olga. "you seem greatly interested, countess." "naturally. i--i----" "yes, i remember your last interview." the woman's eyes flashed with anger. she suggested the "woman scorned." "you made love to him, didn't you, countess? and he--he politely declined your advances?" romanoff laughed as he spoke. the woman started to her feet. "did you get me here to taunt me with that?" she cried. "besides, did i not obey your bidding? was it not at your command that i----" "yes, but not against your will, countess. you had what our french neighbours call the _grand passion_ for faversham, eh?" "why do you taunt me with that?" "because the game is not played out. i do not break my promise, and i promised you that he should be yours--yours. well, the time has come when my promise may be fulfilled." "what do you mean?" "countess, are you still in love with faversham?" "i don't know. sometimes i think i hate him. tell me, why have you brought me here to-day?" "to give you your opportunity. to tell you how, if you still love faversham, you can win him; and how, if you hate him, you can have your revenge. surely, olga petrovic, you are not the kind of woman who sits down meekly to a snub. to offer your love to a man, and then accept a cold rebuff. i thought i knew you better." deeply as his words wounded her, she did not forget her caution. "what interest have you in him?" she asked. "i have never been able to understand you." "no, i am not easily understood, and i do not make my motives public property. but faversham will in future live in london. he, although he is a labour member, will have but little sympathy, little in common with his confrères. he will be lonely; he will long for the society of women, especially for those who are educated, fascinating, beautiful. olga, are you the woman to be beaten? listen, he with his tastes, will need money. you can give it to him. he will be lonely; he will need companionship. you have a beautiful flat in mayfair, and you can be as fascinating as an angel." she listened to every word he said, but her mind might be far away. "why do i care for him?" she cried passionately. "what is he to me? a middle-class englishman, with an englishman's tastes and desires, an englishman with the morality of his class. just a plain, stupid, uninteresting bourgeois, a specimen of the self-satisfied puritan." "you found him vastly interesting though." "yes, but why should i? why do i care what becomes of him? he is nothing to me." "he can be something to you though, countess; you are a beautiful, fascinating woman. you can appeal to every man's weaknesses, no matter what they are. with time and opportunity no man can resist you. say the word, and i will give you these opportunities." "you mean----?" "that i want him to be yours. you want him, and i owe you at least this." "you have some other purpose." "and if i have, what then? he will be yours, body and soul. tell me, are you still in love with him?" the woman walked to the window, and looked out on the tide of human traffic in piccadilly. for some time she seemed to be lost in thought, then she burst out passionately. "i am angry whenever i think of him. he was as cold as an icicle; i was like a woman pleading with a stone. something seemed to stand between us--something--i don't know what." "what, you?" and there was a taunt in the count's voice. "you, olga petrovic, said to be the most beautiful, the most dangerous woman in europe, you whom no man has been able to resist, but who have fascinated them as serpents fascinate birds? are you going to be beaten by this middle-class englishman, this labour member of parliament with £ a year? will you have him boast that countess olga petrovic threw herself at him, and that he declined her without thanks?" "has he boasted that?" she cried hoarsely. "what do you think?" laughed the count. "is he not that kind of man?" "no," the word came from her involuntarily. "only----" "only he is much in favour with the ladies at eastroyd. i have just been told that." "i hate him!" she said, and her voice was hoarse. "i wonder?" queried the count mockingly. "do you know, have you found out who his visitors were that day, that morning when i saw him last?" "an old man and a chit of a girl." "yes, i know that; i saw them as i left the room. the man might have been a poet, an artist, and the girl was an unformed, commonplace miss. but he did not regard them as commonplace. his eyes burnt with a new light as he read their cards. i saw it. i believe i should have had him but for that. i had conquered him; he was ready to fall at my feet; but when he read their names, i knew i had lost. who were they?" "i have not discovered. they could have been only casual acquaintances. i have had him watched ever since he left london that day, and he has never seen them since. of course he may be in love with her. it may be that he prefers an english wayside flower to such a tropical plant as yourself. that he would rather have youth and innocence than a woman twenty-eight years of age, who--who has had a past." "he never shall! never!" her eyes flashed dangerously. she had evidently decided on her course. "you may have to play a bold, daring game," insinuated the count. "i will play any game. i'll not be beaten." "you love him still--you who never loved any man for more than a month! and faversham----" "you must find out where he lives, you must let me know." "and then?" "you may leave everything to me." "mind, olga, you may have to appear an angel of light in order to win him. in fact i think that will have to be your plan. he has all the old-fashioned morality of the middle-classes." "we shall see!" cried the woman triumphantly. "i may trust you then?" "tell me why you wish this? suppose i--i love him really, suppose i am willing to become his slave? suppose i want to settle down to--to quiet domestic happiness, to loving motherhood? suppose i want to be good--and to pray?" the count's eyes burnt red with anger as she spoke, while his features were contorted as if with pain. "stop that," he almost snarled. "i know you, olga petrovic, i know too much about you. besides, the bolshevists have taken your estates, and--but why argue? you love luxury, don't you? love beautiful dresses, love your life of ease, love what money can buy, money that you can't get without me?" "you must tell me all i need to know," she answered with sullen submissiveness. "yes." "then i will go." "and you will not fail?" "no, i will not fail." she left the room without another word, while romanoff returned to his chair, and sat for some time immovable. his face was like a mask. his deep impenetrable eyes were fixed on vacancy. "yes, polonius, you can come in. i can see that you are almost tired of watching me. but my face tells you nothing, my little man." polonius slyme slinked into the room like a whipped cur. "look here, little man," went on the count, "i pay you to watch others, not me. the moment you begin to spy on me, that moment you cease to be my servant. do you understand?" "but, indeed, your lordship----" "do not try to deny. i know everything. i forgive you for this once; but never again. obey me blindly, unquestioningly, and all will be well with you, but try to spy upon me, to discover anything about me, and the lost souls in hell may pity you. ah, i see yow understand." "forgive me, my lord. i will obey you like a slave." "what do you think of her?" "she is magnificent, glorious! she can turn any man's brain. she is a circe, a sybil, a venus--no man with blood in his veins can resist her!" "that is your opinion, eh?" "i never saw such a creature before. and--and she has no conscience!" the count laughed. "now, slyme, i have some more work for you." "to watch her!" he cried eagerly, rubbing his hands. "no, not yet. that may be necessary some time, but not now. i have other work for you." "yes, my lord." "to-morrow morning you will go to surrey. i will give you all particulars about the trains and the stations presently. you will go to a place known as wendover park. near one of the lodge gates of this house is a pretty cottage. it was occupied, and probably still is, by a man called hugh stanmore and his granddaughter. you must find out whether he is still there, and learn all you can about them. report all to me. you understand?" "perfectly, your highness," replied polonius, whose terminology in relation to the count was uncertain. "you will report to me." "yes, certainly, my lord, everything." "very well, now go." the night came on, and the room grew dark, but count romanoff did not switch on the light. he sat alone in the dark thinking, thinking. "i have him now," he muttered presently. "master, you shall have richard faversham's soul." chapter xxx voices in the night dick faversham was on his way to london. he was going there as the member for eastroyd, and he was somewhat excited. he was excited for several reasons. naturally he was elated at being a member of parliament, and he looked forward with pleasant anticipation to his political life in the metropolis, and to his experiences in the house of commons. but that was not all. this was his first visit to london since he had experienced those strange happenings which we described some time ago. as the train rushed on through the night he became oblivious to the presence of his fellow-passengers in the recollection of the events which were a mystery to him then, even as they were a mystery now. especially did his mind revert to that wonderful experience in staple inn. he had heard a voice although he saw nothing, and that voice had meant a great deal to him. more than once he had wondered if he had done right in being silent about what had taken place afterwards. ought he not to have gone to the police and told them what he had heard? but he had not been able to make up his mind to do this. somehow everything had been associated with what had come to him in staple inn, and of that he could not speak. it would be sacrilege to do so. besides, it might not have been necessary. from the fact that the traitors had left the house so suddenly, he concluded that the police were cognizant of their existence. but his eyes had been opened. that was why, when olga petrovic visited him, he was unresponsive. and yet he was not sure. should he ever see this beautiful woman again, he wondered? he was afraid of her even while he longed to see her. even then he recalled the tones of her voice, and the look in her eyes as she had pleaded with him. he had felt himself yielding to her pleading, all the barriers of his being seemed to be breaking down before the power of her glorious womanhood. then there was the coming of hugh stanmore and his granddaughter. they were the last persons he had expected to see, and yet the sight of their names seemed to break the spell which olga petrovic had cast over him. there seemed no reason why they should come, and their interview, considering the circumstances under which he had seen them last was of a very prosy nature. hugh stanmore had happened to meet with a man who was a government official, and who had told him of one richard faversham who was one of a deputation to his department, and who had pleaded passionately for certain things which the working-classes desired. this led to his learning the name of his hotel, and to the visit which had followed. hugh stanmore had scarcely referred to his life at wendover, and seemed to be in ignorance of tony riggleton's whereabouts. dick wondered at this after the interview, and reproached himself with not asking many questions. at the time, however, he seemed to be indifferent. to beatrice he spoke only a few words. she appeared to be shy and diffident. if the truth must be told, she seemed ill at ease, and not at all pleased that her grandfather had brought her there. she was far less a child than when he had seen her at wendover, and he had reflected that she was neither so interesting nor so good-looking as she had been two or three years before. still, he was glad to see her, and he remembered the pleasant smile she had given him when she had left the room. his conversation with hugh stanmore had been almost entirely about his life at eastroyd, and the conditions which obtained there. he realised, too, that a subtle change had come over his opinions on his return to eastroyd. not that he had less interest in the class whose cause he had espoused; but he knew that he had been led to take larger views. that was why some discontent had been felt among his most ardent supporters. even those who had worked hardest for him during the election felt it incumbent upon them to raise a note of warning as they accompanied him to the station that night. "it's all very well, dick, lad," said one advanced socialist, "but we mun make a bold front. i don't hold with bolshevism, or owt of that sort; but the capitalist is the enemy of the working man, and we mun put those money-bags in their right place." it was a cold, dark, wintry morning when he arrived in london. the station and the streets were almost empty, the vehicles were few, and he felt cold and lonely. he had made no arrangements for his stay in the metropolis, but he felt sure that the manager of the hotel where he had previously made his home would find him temporary accommodation. as it was impossible to get a taxi, he left his luggage at the station, and determined to walk. he knew the way well, and as the distance was only about a mile, he started with comparative cheerfulness. as i have said, the streets were well-nigh deserted, and not a single soul passed him as he made his way up euston road. nevertheless he had the feeling that he was being followed. more than once he looked around, but could see no one. several times, too, he felt sure he heard following footsteps, but when he stopped there was silence. when he turned at st. pancras church he looked up and down the street, but nothing suspicious met his gaze. a milkman's cart, a drayman's waggon, and that was all. the street lamps threw a sickly light on the cold wet road, and the houses were dark. london looked asleep. for some time after he had passed st. pancras church he heard nothing; but, as he neared woburn square, he again heard footsteps. it seemed to him, too, that he was surrounded by dark influences. something sinister and evil seemed to be surrounding him. he was not afraid, and his nerves were steady, but his brain was filled with strange fancies. almost unconsciously his mind reverted to count romanoff. he had seen him only once since he had left wendover park, and the man was still an enigma to him. he had a thousand times reflected on the strange happening in the library there, but although he felt he had been saved from something terrible, he had not definitely associated the count with anything supernatural. for dick was not cast in a superstitious mould. the footsteps drew nearer, and again he looked around. was it a fact, or was it fancy that he saw a dark form which hurriedly passed from his sight? he was aware a few seconds later that he was walking more rapidly, and that something like fear was in his heart. "listen." he heard the word plainly, and stopped. all was silent here. he saw that he was in one of the several squares which exist in the neighbourhood, but he was not sure which. he did not think it was woburn square, but it might be taviton square. he was not intimately acquainted with that part of london. "yes, what is it? who are you?" he spoke aloud, spoke almost unconsciously, but there were no answering words. he was the only person there. he moved to a lamp and looked at his watch; he had a vague idea that he wanted to know the time. the watch pointed to half-past one. evidently he had forgotten to wind it, for he knew his train was due to arrive something after three, and that it was late. he was about to start again when he thought he heard the words: "go to wendover." but there was nothing distinct. no voice reached him, and no one was in sight. at that moment the wind wailed across the open space, and moaned as it passed through the leafless branches of the trees. the wind seemed to formulate the same words. "go to wendover." "of course it's all fancy," he reflected. "i expect my nerves are playing me tricks. i never knew i had any nerves; but i've been through an exciting time. i've been making speeches, meeting committees, and replying to deputations for the last fortnight, and i expect i'm about done up. after all, fighting an election is no make-believe." a shiver passed through him. to say the least of it, even although it might be pure fancy, there was something uncanny about it all, and he could not help reflecting on his past experience. he did not move, but stood like one spellbound, listening to the wind as it soughed its way through the shrubs and trees which grew in the centre of the square. "who are you?" he asked again. "what do you want?" he was sure there was a voice this time. it rose above the wailing wind, but he could see no one. "you are in danger--great danger!" "what danger? who are you?" "'watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.'" he recognised the words. they were spoken by one whose name he always held in reverence, spoken to his disciples in a far back age, before the knowledge of science and critical investigation had emerged from its swaddling clothes. but they were spoken in a woman's voice, spoken in almost wailing accents. his whole being was filled with a great awe. the voice, the words coming to him, at such a time and in such a way, filled him with a great wonder, solemnised him to the centre of his being. "if it were not a woman's voice, i might think it was he himself who spoke," he said in a hoarse whisper. then he thought of the footsteps, thought of the ominous, sinister influences which had surrounded him a few minutes before. "lord, lord jesus christ, help me!" he said the words involuntarily. they had passed his lips before he knew he had spoken. was there any answer to his prayer? he only knew that he did not feel any fear, that a great peace came into his heart. he felt as he had never felt before, that god was a great reality. perhaps that was why he was no longer lonely. there in the heart of the greatest city of the world, there in the darkness of a winter night, he was filled with a kind of consciousness that god was, that god cared, that he was not an orphan for whom no one cared, but a child of the universal father. he looked up and saw the clouds swept across the sky. here and there was a break through which a star shone. eyes of heaven, they seemed to him. yes, the spirit world was very near to him. perhaps, perhaps--who knew?--there were messengers of the unseen all around him. "earth is crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with god." where had he heard those words? ah yes, was it not elizabeth barrett browning who wrote them, wrote them while in italy, where she sojourned with her husband, the greatest poet of his time? again he looked around him, but nothing could be seen by his natural eyes. the houses, the trees, the gardens all lay wrapped in the gloom of the cold and darkness of that wintry morning, there in the heart of london. all the same it seemed that something had been born within him, something which he could not define, and again he seemed to hear, as he had heard years before, the glorious words which turned to naught the ribald and trifling scepticism of men: "the eternal god is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." the sublimity of the message appealed to him. surely no greater words were ever spoken. they peopled the dark wintry heavens with angels, they made everything possible. "lord, tell me what to do." the prayer came naturally to his lips. it seemed to him that there was nothing else for him to say. but there were no answering words. all was silent, save for the soughing of the wind across the square. and yet i am wrong. he did hear words; they might be born of his own consciousness, and have no objective reality whatever, but again the wind seemed to speak to him. "go to wendover." why should he go to wendover? he had no right to be there, and from the rumours that he had heard, tony riggleton had turned the old house into a scene of drunken and sensual orgies. but in answer to his question the wailing wind seemed to reiterate, as if in a kind of dreary monotony, the same words, "go to wendover, go to wendover." then suddenly everything became mundane. "good-night, or good morning rather." it was a policeman who spoke, and who looked rather suspiciously at the lonely looking young man. "good morning," replied dick; "it's not long to daylight is it?" "another hour or two yet. lost your way?" "i've come from king's cross. i travelled by the midnight train, and there were no conveyances to be got." "ah, petrol's a bit scarce yet; but i hear we shall have more soon. anywhere you want to get?" "yes, i'm going to jones' hotel." "that's close to the british museum; and only a few minutes away. i suppose your room's booked all right. the hotels are very crowded in london just now." "that'll be all right. good morning, and thank you!" "that's all right, sir. go to the end of the square, turn to the right, then take the second street to the left and you are there." a few minutes later dick was at the hotel. the night porter knew him well, and showed him into the smoke-room, where there was a good fire, and comfortable arm-chairs. "you'll be all right here till breakfast, sir, won't you? after that you can see the manager." five minutes later dick was asleep. a few hours later he met some of his political confrères, two of whom begged him to lodge with them. it was not much of a place they assured him, but the best their money would run to. "four hundred a year's very little in london, and that you'll find out before long," one of them assured him. "every penny has to be looked after, and by living two or three together we can do things cheaper." after seeing their lodgings, however, dick determined to look around for himself. he did not relish the idea of sharing apartments with others. he wanted privacy, and he felt, although, like himself, these men were "labour members," that he had little in common with them. "i thought of trying to get a small, cheap flat," he said. "not to be thought of with our pay," was the laughing response. "of course you being a bachelor may have saved up a bit, or it may be that you think you'll be able to make a few pounds by journalism." "some do it, don't they?" he asked. "they all want to do it, that's why there's so little chance. but i hear you are a bit of a swell, been to a public school and all that kind of thing, so you may have friends at court. done anything that way?" dick shook his head. "never," he replied; "but no one knows what he can do till he tries." after considerable difficulty dick happened upon a service flat which, although it cost more than he had calculated upon, was so convenient, and appealed to him so strongly, that he took it there and then. indeed he felt a pleasant sense of proprietorship, as he sat alone in his new home that night. the room was very small, but it was cosy. a cheerful fire burnt in the grate, and the reading-lamp threw a grateful light upon the paper he held in his hand. "i must get a writing-desk and some book-cases, and i shall be as right as rain," he reflected. "this is princely as a sitting-room, and although the bedroom is only a box, it's quite big enough for me." he closed his eyes with lazy contentment, and then began to dream of his future. yes, ambition was still strong within him, and the longing to make a material, yes, an international, reputation was never so insistent as now. he wondered if he could do it, wondered whether being a labour member would ever lead to anything. "a voting machine at four hundred a year." he started up as though something had strung him. he remembered who had said those words to him, remembered how they had wounded him at the time they were spoken. was that all he was after his hopes and dreams? he had been a big man at eastroyd. people had stopped in the streets to point him out; but in london he was nobody. "a voting machine at four hundred a year!" yes, but he would be more. he had proved that he had brains, and that he could appeal to the multitude. he had his feet on the ladder now, and---- his mind suddenly switched off. he was no longer in his newly acquired flat, he was walking from king's cross to jones' hotel, he was passing through a lonely square. "go to wendover." how the words haunted him. every time the wind blew he had heard them, and---- he started to his feet. "well, why not? i have nothing to do to-morrow, and i can get there in a couple of hours." the next morning he eagerly made his way to victoria station. chapter xxxi dick hears strange news "good mornin', sir." the porter touched his cap and looked at dick curiously. "good morning, wheelright. you are here still?" "yes, sir. they took the other chap, and left no one in his place, so to speak. so me and the stationmaster have had to do everything. i was sort of superannuated, so to speak, when you was 'ere, so i had to take on my old job when ritter went. however, i'd 'ear that he'll soon be back." "yes, the boys are coming home now." "and a good job, too. not but what me and the stationmaster have carried on, so to speak, and i'm as good a man as ever i was." dick remembered old wheelright well. he did odd jobs at the station during his short stay at wendover park, and was known among the people in the neighbourhood as "old so-to-speak." he was also noted as an inveterate gossip. "comin' down to live 'ere again, so to speak?" he queried, looking at dick curiously. "no," replied dick. "just paying a short visit. i shall be returning by the . at the latest." wheelright shuffled on at dick's side. he was much tempted to ask him further questions, but seemed afraid. "you don't know where--where squire riggleton is, i suppose, sir? "why do you ask that?" "i was wondering, that's all. there's been a good deal of talk about him, so to speak. some say he was took for the army just the same as if he hadn't sixpence. i have heard he was took prisoner by the germans, too. but some people _will_ talk. have you heard 'bout his being killed, sir?" "no, i never heard that." "ah." he looked at dick questioningly, and then ventured further. "he didn't do hisself much credit as a squire," he added. "indeed." "no, there was nice carryings on, so i've heard. but then some people will talk. however, there's no doubt that mrs. lawson, who had her two daughters as servants there in your day, took them both away. it was no place for respectable christians to live, she said." dick made no reply. he had just come by train, and was the only passenger who alighted. old wheelright immediately recognised him. he did not feel altogether at ease in listening to him while he discussed his cousin, but was so interested that he let him go on talking. the truth was that dick did not know why he was there, except that he had obeyed the command he had heard when walking from king's cross. as he stood there that day he was not sure whether he had heard a voice or whether it was only an impression. but the words haunted him, and he felt he could do no other than obey. now he was here, however, he did not know where to go, or what to do. he felt sensitive about going to the house which he had thought was his, and asking for admission. the action would call up too many painful memories. and yet he did not like going back without once again seeing the home that had meant so much to him. "you know that people have talked a lot about _you_, sir?" "i dare say." "and everybody was sorry when you left. it was all so funny. young riggleton he came to the hare and hounds, and told the landlord all about it." "indeed." "yes. i did hear that the london lawyers called him over the coals for talking so much, so to speak. but some people will talk. however, as i'd say, 'twasn't the lawyer's business. if riggleton liked to talk, that's his business. still i s'pose he had a drop of drink in him, or p'r'aps he mightn't a' done it. he told the landlord that he'd offered you a good job if you'd stay, but as the landlord said, 'how could you expect a gentleman like mr. faversham to stay as a servant where he'd been master?' i suppose he did make the offer, sir?" "is the same housekeeper at wendover?" asked dick, not noticing wheelright's questions. "oh yes, bless you, sir, yes. i've been told she gave notice to leave like the other servants; but riggleton went away instead. he said he couldn't stand living in a cemetery. that's what he called wendover, sir. he came back a few times, but only for a day or two. from what i hear he hasn't showed his face there for years. all the same, it's kept in good repair. i suppose the london lawyer do see to that." the old man went on retailing the gossip of the neighbourhood, but beyond what i have recorded he said little that interested dick. after all, why should he care about stories concerning anthony riggleton, or pay attention to the scandalous tales which had been afloat? he had no doubt but that mr. bidlake would have given him all information about his cousin, if he had called and asked him; but he had not gone. he made his way along the country lanes, scarcely seeing a single soul. he was angry with himself for coming, and yet he knew that he had not been able to help himself. he was there because he had been drawn there by an irresistible impulse, or because he was under the power of something, or someone whom he dared not disobey. the day was dark and cloudy, and the air was dank and cold. the trees were leafless, not a flower appeared, and the whole countryside, which had once appeared to him so glorious, now seemed grim and depressing. "of course, i'm a fool," he muttered savagely, but still he trudged along until he came to the lodge gates. how proud he had been when he had first seen them! how his heart had thrilled at the thought that all he saw was his own, his very own! but now he had no right there. he might have been the veriest stranger. he had carefully avoided the entrance near which old hugh stanmore lived. he did not want the old man to know of his visit. he was altogether unnoticed by the people who lived in the lodge, and a few seconds later was hurrying up the drive. yes, in spite of the winter, in spite of the leafless trees, the place was very beautiful. the noble avenue under which he was walking was very imposing, the rhododendron, and a dozen other kinds of shrubs relieved the wintry aspect. besides, the woods were so restful, the fine park lands were the finest he had ever seen. and he had thought they were all his. he for a short time had been master of everything! suddenly the house burst on his view, and with a cry, almost like a cry of pain, he stood still, and looked long and yearningly. no wonder he had loved it. it was all a country home should be. and it might have been his! if he had obeyed romanoff; but no; even then he felt thankful that he had not yielded to the man who tempted him. for a moment he thought of turning back. it would be too painful to go and ask for permission to go in. but he did not turn back. as if urged on by some unseen power he made his way towards the entrance. he had an eerie feeling in his heart as he approached the steps. he called to mind his first visit there, when he had asked the lawyer if he saw anything. for a moment he fancied he saw the outline of a shadowy form as he saw it then. but there was nothing. the grey stone walls, half hidden by ivy, stood before him as they stood then, but that wondrous face, with pitiful pleading eyes, was not to be seen. he felt half disappointed at this. he could understand nothing, but he had a feeling that it was the form of someone who loved him, someone sent to protect him. at first he had fought the idea. he had told himself that he was too matter-of-fact, that he had too much common sense to think of an optical illusion as something supernatural; but as event after event took place he could not help being possessed by the thought that he was under the guardianship of something, someone who watched over him, helped him. he never spoke about it to anyone; it was too sacred for discussion. but there was nothing. he heard no voice, saw no form, and a feeling like disappointment crept into his heart. dick faversham was not a morbid fellow, and he had a feeling of dislike for anything like occultism. as for spiritualism, in the ordinary sense of the word, it made no appeal to him. but this was different. somehow he had a kind of consciousness that the spirit world was all around him, and that the almighty beneficence used the inhabitants of that spirit world to help his children. no, there was nothing. his visit had been purposeless and vain, and he would find his way back to the station. then suddenly the door opened, and the old housekeeper appeared. "it is, it _is_ mr. faversham!" but he did not speak. a weight seemed on his lips. "come in, sir, come in." before he realised what had taken place he stood in the entrance hall, and the door closed behind him. "are you come for good?" the housekeeper's voice was tremulous with excitement, and her eyes were eagerly fastened on his face. dick shook his head. "no, i'm only here for a few minutes." "but he's dead." "who's dead?" "that man. the man riggleton. haven't you heard about it?" "no, i've not heard." "but there were rumours, and i thought you'd come to tell me they were true. oh, i am sorry, so sorry. i should love to have you here as master again. it was such a joy to serve you. and that man, he nearly drove me mad. he brought bad people here. he filled the house with a lot of low men and women. and there were such goings on. i stood it as long as i could, and then i told him i must leave the house at once. so did several of the servants. he begged me to stop, he offered to double my wages, but i told him i must go, that i was a respectable woman, and had served only gentry who knew how to behave themselves. then he said he would leave himself, and he persuaded me to stay on. didn't you hear, sir?" "no, i did not hear. i went away to the north of england." "oh, there were such stories. i suppose he threw away a fortune in london." "is he there now?" asked dick. "i don't know. i asked mr. bidlake, but he would tell me nothing. the last i heard was that he was forced into the army, and was killed." "how long was that ago?" "several months now." "and you've heard nothing since?" "no, sir; nothing." "well, i will go now." "but you'll stay for lunch? i'm not stinted in any way, and mr. bidlake sends me a liberal allowance for the expenses of the house. i can easily manage lunch, sir, and it would be such a joy to me." "you are very kind, and i appreciate it very much; but i really couldn't--after what took place. i'll go to the hare and hounds and have some bread and cheese." "couldn't you, sir? i'm so sorry, and it's a long way to lord huntingford's." "yes, of course, that's out of the question." "but you must have lunch somewhere, and you couldn't go to the hare and hounds." "oh yes, i could. i dare say blacketter would give me some bread and cheese. that will be all i shall need." the housekeeper began to rub her eyes. "it's just awful," she sobbed. "to think that you who were master here, and whom we all liked so much, should have to go to a place like that. but i know. mr. stanmore is at home; he'll be glad to welcome you there." "mr. stanmore is at home, is he?" "yes, sir. he called here yesterday, and miss beatrice is at home too. they were both here. mr. stanmore brought sir george weston over to see the house." "sir george weston?" and dick felt a strange sinking at his heart as he heard the words. "i don't seem to remember the name." "he's from the west, sir, from devonshire, i think. it has been said that he came to see miss beatrice," and the housekeeper smiled significantly. "you mean----" "i don't know anything, sir; it may be only servants' gossip. he's said to be a very rich man, and has been serving in egypt. some say that he came to discuss something about egypt with mr. stanmore; but it was noticed that he was very attentive to miss beatrice." "he's been staying at the cottage, then?" "for nearly a week, sir." "is he there now?" "i don't know, sir. all i know is that he was here with them yesterday. mr. stanmore brought a letter from mr. bidlake authorising me to show them over the house." "is sir george a young man? you said he was in the army, didn't you?" dick could not understand why his heart was so heavy. "about thirty, i should think, sir. yes, i believe he had a high command in our egyptian army. he's a great scholar too, and mr. stanmore said that this house was the finest specimen of an elizabethan house that he knew of. a very pleasant gentleman too. it's not my business, but he'd be a good match for miss beatrice, wouldn't he? of course mr. stanmore belongs to a very good family, but i suppose he's very poor, and miss beatrice has hardly a chance of meeting anyone. you remember her, sir, don't you? she was little more than a child when you were here, but she's a very beautiful young lady now." the housekeeper was fairly launched now, and was prepared to discuss the stanmores at length, but dick hurried away. he would have loved to have gone over the house, but he dared not; besides, in a way he could not understand, he longed to get into the open air, longed to be alone. "i hope, oh, i do hope that something'll happen," said the housekeeper as he left the house; but what she did not tell him. a little later dick found himself on the drive leading to hugh stanmore's cottage. he had not intended to take this road, but when he realised that he was in it, he did not turn back. rather he hurried on with almost feverish footsteps. sir george weston had been spending a week at the cottage, had he? why? was it because he was an egyptologist, and interested in hugh stanmore's previous researches, or was he there because of beatrice, as the servants' gossip said? it was nothing to him, but he had an overwhelming desire to know. was beatrice stanmore a beautiful girl? she had not appealed to him in this light when her grandfather brought her to see him months before; but girls often blossomed into beauty suddenly. still, wasn't it strange that weston should stay at the cottage a week? of course he would not call. he was simply taking the longer road to the station. yes, he could plainly see the house through the trees, and---- "is that mr. faversham? well, this is a surprise; but i _am_ glad to see you." it was old hugh stanmore who spoke, while dick in a strangely nervous way took the proffered hand. "come to look at your old house, eh? i see you've come from that direction." "yes, i have been--talking with my old housekeeper," he stammered. "and you've never been here before since--you left?" dick shook his head. "well, well, life's a strange business, isn't it? but come in, my dear fellow. you're just in time for lunch." dick began to make excuses, but the other refused to listen, and they entered the cottage together. "i'm afraid i couldn't presume upon your kindness so far." "kindness! nonsense. of course you must. besides, i see that you are a member of parliament, and a labour member too. i must talk with you about it. lunch will be on the table in five minutes." "you are sure i shouldn't be bothering you?" he had an overwhelming desire to stay. "bother! what bother can there be? i'm only too delighted to see you. come in." they entered the cottage together. "oh, by the way," went on hugh stanmore, as they entered a cosy sitting-room, "let me introduce you to sir george weston." a strikingly handsome man of about thirty rose from an arm-chair and held out his hand. he was in mufti; but it was impossible to mistake him for anything but a soldier. head erect, shoulders squared, and a military bearing proclaimed him to be what he was. "glad to see you, mr. faversham," said sir george heartily "i suppose you've come down to see----" he stopped abruptly. he felt he had made a _faux pas_. "it's all right," said dick with a laugh. he felt perfectly at ease now. "yes, i came to see the old place which years ago i thought was mine. you've heard all about it, i've no doubt?" "jolly hard luck," sympathised sir george. "but anyhow you----" "ah, here's beatrice," broke in hugh stanmore. "beatrice, my dear, here's an old friend dropped in to lunch with us. you remember mr. faversham, don't you?" the eyes of the two met, and then as their hands met dick's friendly feeling towards sir george weston left him. he could not tell why. chapter xxxii beatrice confesses dick faversham saw at a glance that beatrice stanmore had ceased being a child. she was barely twenty. she was girlish in appearance, and her grandfather seemed to still regard her as a child. but her childhood had gone, and her womanhood had come. rather tall, and with a lissom form, she had all a girl's movements, all a girl's sweetness, but the flash of her eyes, the compression of her lips, the tones of her voice, all told that she had left her childhood behind. but the first blush of her womanhood still remained. she retained her child's naturalness and winsomeness, even while she looked at the world through the eyes of a woman. dick was struck by her beauty too. when years before she had rushed into the library at wendover, almost breathless in her excitement, she had something of the angularity, almost awkwardness, of half-development. that had all gone. every movement was graceful, natural. perfect health, health of body, health of mind had stamped itself upon her. she had no suggestion of the cigarette-smoking, slang-talking miss who boasts of her freedom from old-time conventions. you could not think of beatrice stanmore sitting with men, smoking, sipping liqueurs, and laughing at their jokes. she retained the virginal simplicity of childlikeness. all the same she was a woman. but not a woman old beyond her years. not a woman who makes men give up their thoughts of the sacredness of womanhood. no one could any more think of beatrice stanmore being advanced, or "fast," than one could think of a rosebud just opening its petals to the sun being "fast." she had none of the ripe beauty of lady blanche huntingford, much less the bold splendour of olga petrovic. she was too much the child of nature for that. she was too sensitive, too maidenly in her thoughts and actions. and yet she was a woman, with all a woman's charm. here lay her power. she was neither insipid nor a prude. she dared to think for herself, she loved beautiful dresses, she enjoyed pleasure and gaiety; but all without losing the essential quality of womanhood--purity and modesty. she reminded one of russell lowell's lines: "a dog rose blushing to a brook ain't modester, nor sweeter." that was why no man, however blasé, however cynical about women, could ever associate her with anything loud or vulgar. she was not neurotic; her healthy mind revolted against prurient suggestion either in conversation or in novels. she was not the kind of girl who ogled men, or practised unwomanly arts to attract their attention. no man, however bold, would dream of taking liberties with her. but she was as gay as a lark, her laughter was infectious, the flash of her eyes suggested all kinds of innocent mischief and fun. she could hold her own at golf, was one of the best tennis players in the district, and could ride with gracefulness and fearlessness. does someone say i am describing an impossible prodigy? no, i am trying to describe a sweet, healthy, natural girl. i am trying to tell of her as she appeared to me when i saw her first, a woman such as i believe god intended all women to be, womanly, pure, modest. she was fair to look on too; fair with health and youth and purity. a girl with laughing eyes, light brown hair, inclined to curl. a sweet face she had, a face which glowed with health, and was unspoilt by cosmetics. a tender, sensitive mouth, but which told of character, of resolution and daring. a chin firm and determined, and yet delicate in outline. this was beatrice stanmore, who, reared among the sweet surrey hills and valleys, was unsmirched by the world's traffic, and who recoiled from the pollution of life which she knew existed. a girl modern in many respects, but not too modern to love old-fashioned courtesies, not too modern to keep holy the sabbath day, and love god with simple faith. a religious girl, who never paraded religion, and whose religion never made her monkish and unlovely, but was the joy and inspiration of her life. "i'm so glad to see you, mr. faversham," she said. "i've often wondered why you never came to wendover." "in a way it was very hard to keep away," was dick's reply. "on the other hand, i had a kind of dread of seeing it again. you see, i had learnt to love it." "i don't wonder. it's the dearest old house in the world. i should have gone mad, i think, if i'd been in your place. it was just splendid of you to take your reverse so bravely." "i had only one course before me, hadn't i?" "hadn't you? i've often wondered." she gave him a quick, searching glance as she spoke. "are you staying here long?" "no, only a few hours. i return to london this afternoon. i came down to-day just on impulse. i had no reason for coming." "hadn't you? i'm glad you came." "so am i." there was a strange intensity in his tones, but he did not know why he spoke with so much feeling. "of course granddad and i have often talked of you," she went on. "do you know when we called on you that day in london, i was disappointed in you. i don't know why. you had altered so much. you did not seem at all like you were when we saw you down here. i told granddad so. but i'm so glad you are member of parliament for eastroyd, and so glad you've called. there, the lunch is ready. please remember, mr. faversham, that i'm housekeeper, and am responsible for lunch. if you don't like it, i shall be offended." she spoke with all the freedom and frankness of a child, but dick was not slow to recognise the fact that the child who had come to wendover when romanoff was weaving a web of temptation around him, had become a woman who could no longer be treated as a child. "are you hungry, sir george?" she went on, turning to her other visitor. "do you know, mr. faversham, that these two men have neglected me shamefully? they have been so interested in rubbings of ancient inscriptions, and writings on the tombs of egyptian kings, that they've forgotten that i've had to cudgel my poor little brains about what they should eat. housekeeping's no easy matter in these days." "that's not fair," replied sir george. "it was mr. stanmore here, who was so interested that he forgot all about meal-times." the soldier was so earnest that he angered dick. "why couldn't the fool take what she said in the spirit of raillery?" he asked himself. "adam over again," laughed beatrice. "'the woman tempted me and i did eat.' it's always somebody else's fault. now then, granddad, serve the fish." it was a merry little party that sat down to lunch, even although dick did not seem inclined for much talk. old hugh stanmore was in great good-humour, while beatrice had all the high spirits of a happy, healthy girl. "you must stay a few hours now you are here, mr. faversham," urged the old man presently. "there's not the slightest reason why you should go back to town by that four something train. it's true, sir george and i are going over to pitlock rectory for a couple of hours, but we shall be back for tea, and you and beatrice can get on all right while we are away." sir george did not look at all delighted at the suggestion, but beatrice was warm in her support of it. "you really must, mr. faversham," she said. "i shall be alone all the afternoon otherwise, for really i can't bear the idea of listening to mr. stanhope, the rector of pitlock, prose about mummies and fossils and inscriptions." "you know i offered to stay here," pleaded sir george. "as though i would have kept you and granddad away from your fossils," she laughed. "mr. stanhope is a great scholar, a great egyptologist, and a great antiquary, and you said it would be your only chance of seeing him, as you had to go to the war office to-morrow. so you see, mr. faversham, that you'll be doing a real act of charity by staying with me. besides, there's something i want to talk with you about. there is really." sir george did not look at all happy as, after coffee, he took his seat beside old hugh stanmore, in the little motor-car, but dick faversham's every nerve tingled with pleasure at the thought of spending two or three hours alone with beatrice. her transparent frankness and naturalness charmed him, the whole atmosphere of the cottage was so different from that to which for years he had been accustomed. "mr. faversham," she said, when they had gone, "i want you to walk with me to the great house, will you?" "certainly," he said, wondering all the time why she wanted to go there. "you don't mind, do you? i know it must be painful to you, but--but i want you to." "of course i will. it's no longer mine--it never was mine, but it attracts me like a magnet." five minutes later they were walking up the drive together. dick was supremely happy, yet not knowing why he was happy. everything he saw was laden with poignant memories, while the thought of returning to the house cut him like a knife. yet he longed to go. for some little distance they walked in silence, then she burst out suddenly. "mr. faversham, do you believe in premonitions?" "yes." "so do i. it is that i wanted to talk with you about." he did not reply, but his mind flashed back to the night when he had sat alone with count romanoff, and beatrice stanmore had suddenly and without warning rushed into the room. "do you believe in angels?" she went on. "i--i think so." "i do. granddad is not sure about it. that is, he isn't sure that they appear. sir george is altogether sceptical. he pooh-poohs the whole idea. he says there was a mistake about the angels at mons. he says it was imagination, and all that sort of thing; but he isn't a bit convincing. but i believe." "yes." he spoke almost unconsciously. he had never uttered a word about his own experiences to anyone, and he wondered if he should tell her what he had seen and heard. "it was a kind of premonition which made me go to see you years ago," she said quietly. "do you remember?" "i shall never forget, and i'm very glad." "why are you very glad?" "because--because i'm sure your coming helped me!" "how did it help you?" "it helped me to see, to feel; i--i can't quite explain." "that man--count romanoff--is evil," and she shuddered as she spoke. "why do you say so?" "i felt it. i feel it now. he was your enemy. have you seen him since?" "only once. i was walking through oxford circus. i only spoke a few words to him; i have not seen him since." "mr. faversham, did anything important happen that night?" "yes, that night--and the next." "did that man, count romanoff, want you to do something which--which was wrong? forgive me for asking, won't you? but i have felt ever since that it was so." "yes." he said the word slowly, doubtfully. at that moment the old house burst upon his view, and he longed with a great longing to possess it. he felt hard and bitter that a man like tony riggleton should first have made it a scene of obscene debauchery and then have left it. it seemed like sacrilege that such a man should be associated with it. at that moment, too, it seemed such a little thing that romanoff had asked him to do. "if i had done what he asked me, i might have been the owner of wendover park now," he added. "but how could that be, if that man riggleton was the true heir?" she asked. "at that time there seemed--doubt. he made me feel that riggleton had no right to be there, and if i had promised the count something, i might have kept it." "and that something was wrong?" "yes, it was wrong. of course i am speaking to you in absolute confidence," he added. "when you came you made me see things as they really were." "i was sent," she said simply. "by whom?" "i don't know. and do you remember when i came the second time?" "yes, i remember. i shall never forget." "i never felt like it before or since. something seemed to compel me to hasten to you. i got out the car in a few seconds, and i simply flew to you. i have thought since that you must have been angry, that you must have looked upon me as a mad girl to rush in on you the way i did. but i could not help myself. that evil man, romanoff, was angry with me too; he would have killed me if he had dared. do you remember that we talked about angels afterwards?" "i remember." "they were all around us. i felt sure of it. i seemed to see them. afterwards, while i was sorry for you, i felt glad you had left wendover, glad that you were no longer its owner. i had a kind of impression that while you were losing the world, you were saving your soul." she spoke with all a child's simplicity, yet with a woman's earnestness. she asked no questions as to what romanoff had asked him to do in order to keep his wealth; that did not seem to come within her scope of things. her thought was that romanoff was evil, and she felt glad that dick had resisted the evil. "do you believe in angels?" she asked again. "sometimes," replied dick. "do you?" "i have no doubt about them. i know my mother often came to me." "how? i don't quite understand. you never saw her--in this world i mean--did you?" "no. but she has come to me. for years i saw her in dreams. more than once, years ago, when i woke up in the night, i saw her hovering over me." "that must have been fancy." "no, it was not." she spoke with calm assurance, and with no suggestion of morbidness or fear. "why should i not see her?" she went on. "i am her child, and if she had lived she would have cared for me, fended for me, because she loved me. why should what we call death keep her from doing that still, only in a different way?" dick was silent a few seconds. it did not seem at all strange. "no; there seems no real reason why, always assuming that there are angels, and that they have the power to speak to us. but there is something i would like to ask you. you said just now, 'i know that my mother often came to me.' has she ceased coming?" beatrice stanmore's eyes seemed filled with a great wonder, but she still spoke in the same calm assured tones. "i have not seen her for three years," she said; "not since the day after you left wendover. she told me then that she was going farther away for a time, and would not be able to speak to me, although she would allow no harm to happen to me. since that time i have never seen her. but i know she loves me still. it may be that i shall not see her again in this life, but sometime, in god's own good time, we shall meet." "are you a spiritualist?" asked dick, and even as he spoke he felt that he had struck a false note. she shook her head decidedly. "no, i should hate the thought of using mediums and that sort of thing to talk to my mother. there may be truth in it, or there may not; but to me it seems tawdry, sordid. but i've no doubt about the angels. i think there are angels watching over you. it's a beautiful thought, isn't it?" "isn't it rather morbid?" asked dick. "why should it be morbid? is the thought that god is all around us morbid? why then should it be morbid to think of the spirits of those he has called home being near to help us, to watch over us?" "no," replied dick; "but if there are good angels why may there not be evil ones?" "i believe there are," replied the girl. "i am very ignorant and simple, but i believe there are. did not satan tempt our lord in the wilderness? and after the temptation was over, did not angels minister to him?" "so the new testament says." "do you not believe it to be true?" chapter xxxiii sir george's love affair the great house stood out boldly against the wintry sky, and dick faversham could plainly see the window of the room where, years before, he had taken the pen to sign the paper which would have placed him in count romanoff's power. like lightning his mind flashed back to the fateful hour. he saw himself holding the pen, saw the words which romanoff had written standing clearly out on the white surface, saw himself trying to trace the letters of his name, and then he felt the hand on his wrist. it was only a light touch, but he no longer had the power to write. was it a moral impulse which had come to him, or was it some force which paralysed his senses, and made him incapable of holding the pen? it seemed to be both. he remembered having a loathing for the thing romanoff wanted him to do. even then he felt like shuddering at the dark influences which sapped his will-power, and made wrong seem like right. but there was more than that. some force _outside_ himself kept him from writing. and he was glad. true, he was a poor man, and instead of owning the stately mansion before him, he would presently return to his tiny flat, where he would have to calculate about every sixpence he spent. but he was free; he was master of his soul. he was a man of some importance too. he was the labour member for eastroyd; he had secured the confidence of many thousands of working people, and his voice was listened to with much respect by labour leaders, and in labour conferences. but he was not quite satisfied. he did not want to be the representative of one class only, but of all classes. he remembered that he had been lately spoken of as being "too mealy-mouthed," and as "having too much sympathy with the employers." "a voting machine at four hundred a year!" romanoff's words still stung him, wounded him. he longed for a larger life, longed to speak for all classes, longed to mingle with those of his own upbringing and education. "what are you thinking of?" for the moment he had forgotten the girl at his side, almost forgotten the subject they had been discussing. "of many things," he replied. "you were thinking of that man, count romanoff." "was i? yes, i suppose i was. how did you know?" "telepathy," she replied. "shall we go back?" "if you will. did you not say you wanted to go to the house?" "i don't think i do now. i'm afraid it would be painful to you. but, mr. faversham, i'm glad i helped you; glad you do not own wendover park." "so am i," he replied; "the price would have been too terrible." she looked at him questioningly. she did not quite understand his words. "i wonder if you would think it an impertinence if i asked you to promise me something," she said. "nothing you could ask would be an impertinence," he responded eagerly; "nothing." "that count romanoff is evil," she said, "evil; i am sure he is. i know nothing about him, but i am sure of what i say. will you promise to have nothing to do with him? i think you will meet him again. i don't know why, but i have a feeling that you will. that is why i wanted to say this, and i wanted to say it in sight of the house which you love." "i promise," replied dick. "it is very good of you to have so much interest in me." "in a way, i don't know that i have very much interest," she said simply; "and i'm afraid i'm acting on impulse. granddad says that that is my weakness." "i don't think it is a weakness. i'm not likely to see count romanoff again; but i promise, gladly promise, that if i do i'll yield to him in nothing. is that what you mean?" "yes, that's what i mean." her humour suddenly changed. she seemed to have no further interest in wendover park, or its possessor, whoever it might be, and their conversation became of the most commonplace nature. they chatted about the possibilities of peace, the future of germany, and the tremendous problems britain would have to face, but all interest in the question which had engrossed her mind seemed to have left her. dick was to her only an ordinary acquaintance who had casually crossed the pathway of her life, and who might never do so again. indeed, as presently they reached the highroad, he thought she became cold and reserved, it might seem, too, that he somewhat bored her. presently they heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming toward them, and they saw a lady on horseback. "that's lady blanche huntingford," she said; "do you know her?" "i did know her slightly," replied dick, who felt no excitement whatever on seeing her. "oh yes, of course you did. she's a great beauty, isn't she?" "i suppose so." dick remembered how, in london months before, she had refused to recognise him. for a moment lady blanche seemed surprised at seeing dick. she scrutinised him closely, as if she was not quite sure it was he. then her colour heightened somewhat, and with a nod which might have embraced them both, she passed on. "we must get back to the house," beatrice said; "granddad and sir george will have returned by this time, and they will want their tea." "sir george is leaving you to-morrow, isn't he?" asked dick. "yes," she replied, and dick's heart grew heavy as he saw the look in her eyes. he did not know why. "he's a great soldier, i suppose? i think i've been told so." "the greatest and bravest man in the army," she replied eagerly. "he's simply splendid. it's not often that a soldier is a scholar, but granddad says there are few men alive who are greater authorities on egyptian questions." a feeling of antagonism rose in dick's heart against sir george weston, he felt angry that beatrice should think so highly of him. "he's a devonshire man, isn't he?" he asked. "yes; he has a lovely old place down there. the house is built of grey granite. it is very, very old, and it looks as though it would last for hundreds and hundreds of years. it is situated on a wooded hillside, and at the back, above the woods, is a vast stretch of moorland. in front is a lovely park studded with old oaks." "you describe the place with great enthusiasm." there was envy in his tones, and something more than envy. "do i? i love devonshire. love its granite tors, its glorious hills and valleys. no wonder it is called 'glorious devon.'" by the time they reached the cottage sir george weston and hugh stanmore had returned, and tea was on the table. sir george seemed somewhat excited, while old hugh stanmore was anything but talkative. it might seem as though, during the afternoon, the two had talked on matters of greater interest than the tombs of egyptian kings. when the time came for dick to depart, hugh stanmore said he would walk a little way with him. for a happy, and singularly contented man, he appeared much disturbed. "i am so glad you came, mr. faversham," said beatrice as she bade him good-bye. "we had a lovely walk, hadn't we?" "wonderful," replied dick. "i shall never forget it." "and you'll not forget your promise, will you?" "no, i shall not forget it." "you will let us know, won't you, when you are going to speak in the house of commons? i shall insist on granddad taking me to hear you." sir george weston looked from one to the other suspiciously. he could not understand her interest in him. "what do you think of weston?" asked hugh stanmore, when they had walked some distance together. "i suppose he's a very fine soldier," evaded dick. "oh yes, there's no doubt about that. but how did he strike you--personally?" "i'm afraid i didn't pay much attention to him. he seemed a pleasant kind of man." dick felt very non-committal. "do you know him well?" "yes; fairly well. i met him before the war. he and i were interested in the same subjects. he has travelled a great deal in the east. of course i've known of his family all my life. a very old family which has lived in the same house for generations. i think he is the eighth baronet. but i was not thinking of that. i was thinking of him as a man. you'll forgive my asking you, won't you, but do you think he could make my little girl happy?" dick felt a strange weight on his heart. he felt bitter too. "i am afraid my opinion would be of little value," he replied. "you see i know nothing of him, neither for that matter am i well acquainted with miss stanmore." "no, i suppose that's true, and perhaps i ought not to have asked you. i often scold beatrice for acting so much on impulse, while i am constantly guilty of the same offence. but i don't look on you as a stranger. somehow i seem to know you well, and i wanted your opinion. i can speak freely to you, can't i?" "certainly." "he has asked me this afternoon if i'll consent to beatrice becoming his wife." dick was silent. he felt he could not speak. "of course, from a worldly standpoint it would be a good match," went on hugh stanmore. "sir george is a rich man, and has a fine reputation, not only as a scholar and a soldier, but as a man. there has never been a blemish on his reputation. he stands high in the county, and could give my little girl a fine position." "doubtless," and dick hardly knew that he spoke. "i don't think i am a snob," went on the old man; "but such things must weigh somewhat. i am not a pauper, but, as wealth is counted to-day, i am a poor man. i am also old, and in the course of nature can't be here long. that is why i am naturally anxious about my little beatrice's future. and yet i am in doubt." "about what?" "whether he could make her happy. and that is everything as far as i am concerned. beatrice, as you must have seen, is just a happy child of nature, and is as sensitive as a lily. to be wedded to a man who is not--how shall i put it?--her affinity, her soul comrade, would be lifelong misery to her. and unless i were sure that sir george is that, i would not think of giving my consent." "aren't you forgetful of a very important factor?" asked dick. "what is that?" "miss stanmore herself. in these days girls seem to take such matters largely into their own hands. the consent of relations is regarded as a very formal thing." "i don't think you understand, faversham. beatrice is not like the common run of girls, and she and i are so much to each other that i don't think for a moment that she would marry any man if i did not give my sanction. in fact, i'm sure she wouldn't. she's only my granddaughter, but she's all the world to me, while--yes, i am everything to her. no father loved a child more than i love her. i've had her since she was a little mite, and i've been father, mother, and grandfather all combined. and i'd do anything, everything in my power for her welfare. i know her--know her, faversham; she's as pure and unsullied as a flower." "but, of course, sir george weston has spoken to her?" "no, he hasn't. for one thing, he has very strict ideas about old-fashioned courtesies, and, for another, he knows our relations to each other." "do you know her mind?--know whether she cares for him--in that way?" asked dick. "no, i don't. i do know that, a week ago, she had no thought of love for any man. but, of course, i couldn't help seeing that during the past week he has paid her marked attention. whether she's been aware of it, i haven't troubled to ascertain." in some ways this old man was almost as much a child as his granddaughter, in spite of his long life, and dick could hardly help smiling at his simplicity. "of course, i imagine she'll marry sometime," and dick's voice was a trifle hoarse as he spoke. "yes," replied hugh stanmore. "that is natural and right. god intended men and women to marry, i know that. but if they do not find their true mate, then it's either sacrilege or hell--especially to the woman. marriage is a ghastly thing unless it's a sacrament--unless the man and the woman feel that their unity is of god. marriage ceremonies, and the blessing of the church, or whatever it is called, is so much mockery unless they feel that their souls are as one. don't you agree with me?" "yes, i do. i suppose," he added, "you stipulate that whoever marries her--shall--shall be a man of wealth?" "no, i shouldn't, except in this way. no man should marry a woman unless he has the wherewithal to keep her. he would be a mean sort of fellow who would drag a woman into want and poverty. but, of course, that does not obtain in this case." "i'm afraid i can't help, or advise you," said dick. "i'm afraid i'm a bit of an outsider," and he spoke bitterly. "neither do i think you will need advice. miss stanmore has such a fine intuition that----" "ah, you feel that!" broke in hugh stanmore almost excitedly. "yes, yes, you are right! i can trust her judgment rather than my own. young as she is, she'll choose right. yes, she'll choose right! i think i'll go back now. yes, i'll go back at once. our conversation has done me good, and cleared my way, although i've done most of the talking. good-night, faversham. i wish you well. i think you can do big things as a politician; but i don't agree with you." "don't agree with me? why?" "i don't believe in these party labels. you are a party man, a labour man. i have the deepest sympathy with the toilers of the world. i have been working for them for fifty years. perhaps, too, the labour party is the outcome of the injustice of the past. but all such parties have a tendency to put class against class, to see things in a one-sided way, to foster bitterness and strife. take my advice and give up being a politician." "give up being a politician! i don't understand." "a politician in the ordinary sense is a party man; too often a party hack, a party voting machine. be more than a politician, be a statesman. all classes of society are interdependent. we can none of us do without the other. capital and labour, the employer and the employee, all depend on each other. all men should be brothers and work for the common interest. don't seek to represent a class, or to legislate for a class, faversham. work for all the classes, work for the community as a whole. and remember that utopia is not created in a day. good-night. come and see us again soon." hugh stanmore turned back, and left dick alone. the young man felt strangely depressed, strangely lonely. he pictured hugh stanmore going back to the brightness and refinement of his little house, to be met with the bright smiles and loving words of his grandchild, while he plodded his way through the darkness. he thought, too, of sir george weston, who, even then, was with beatrice stanmore. perhaps, most likely too, he was telling her that he loved her. he stopped suddenly in the road, his brain on fire, his heart beating madly. a thousand wild fancies flashed through his brain, a thousand undefinable hopes filled his heart. "no, it's impossible, blankly impossible!" he cried at length. "a will-o'-the-wisp, the dream of a madman--a madman! why, even now she may be in his arms!" the thought was agony to him. even yet he did not know the whole secret of his heart, but he knew that he hated sir george weston, that he wished he had urged upon old hugh stanmore the utter unfitness of the great soldier as a husband for his grandchild. but how could he? what right had he? besides, according to all common-sense standards nothing could be more suitable. she was his equal in social status, and every way fitted to be his wife, while he would be regarded as the most eligible suitor possible. "a voting machine at four hundred a year!" again those stinging words of count romanoff. and old hugh stanmore had spoken in the same vein. "a party hack, a party voting machine!" and he could not help himself. he was dependent on that four hundred a year. he dared ask no woman to be his wife. he had no right. he would only drag her into poverty and want. all the way back to town his mind was filled with the hopelessness of his situation. the fact that he had won a great victory at eastroyd and was a newly returned member of parliament brought him no pleasure. he was a party hack, and he saw no brightness in the future. presently parliament assembled, and dick threw himself with eagerness into the excitement which followed. every day brought new experiences, every day brought new interests. but he felt himself hampered. if he only had a few hundreds a year of his own. if only he could be free to live his own life, think his own thoughts. not that he did not agree with many of the ideas of his party. he did. but he wanted a broader world, a greater freedom. he wanted to love, and to be loved. then a change came. on returning to his flat late one night he found a letter awaiting him. on the envelope was a coroneted crest, and on opening it he saw the name of olga petrovic. chapter xxxiv the dawn of love the letter from olga ran as follows: "dear mr. faversham,--i have just discovered your address, and i am writing to congratulate you on the fine position you have won. it must be glorious to be a member of the mother of parliaments, to be a legislator in this great free country. i rejoice, too, that you have espoused the cause of the toilers, the poor. it is just what i hoped and expected of you. you will become great, my friend; my heart tells me so. your country will be proud of you. "i wonder whether, if in spite of your many interests and duties, you will have time to visit a lonely woman? there are so many things i would like to discuss with you. do come if you can. i shall be home to-morrow afternoon, and again on friday. will you not have pity on me?--yours, olga petrovic." dick saw that her address was a fashionable street in mayfair, and almost unconsciously he pictured her in her new surroundings. she was no longer among a wild-eyed, long-haired crew in the east end, but in the centre of fashion and wealth. he wondered what it meant. he read the letter a second time, and in a way he could not understand, he was fascinated. there was subtle flattery in every line, a kind of clinging tenderness in every sentence. no mention was made of their last meeting, but dick remembered. she had come to him after that wonderful experience in staple inn--on the morning after his eyes had been opened to the facts about what a number of bolshevists wanted to do in england. his mind had been bewildered, and he was altogether unsettled. he was afraid he had acted rudely to her. he had thought of her as being associated with these people. if he had yielded to her entreaties, and thrown himself into the plans she had made, might he not have become an enemy to his country, to humanity? but what a glorious creature she was! what eyes, what hair, what a complexion! he had never seen any woman so physically perfect. and, added to all this, she possessed a kind of charm that held him, fascinated him, made him think of her whether he would or not. and yet her letter did not bring him unmixed pleasure. in a way he could not understand he was slightly afraid of her, afraid of the influence she had over him. he could not mistake the meaning of her words at their last meeting. she had made love to him, she had asked him to marry her. it is true he had acted as though he misunderstood her, but what would have happened if old hugh stanmore and beatrice had not come? the very mystery which surrounded her added to her charm. who _was_ she? why did she go to the east end to live, and how did she possess the means to live in mayfair? he walked around his little room, thinking hard. for the last few days his parliamentary duties had excited him, kept him from brooding; but now in the quietness of the night he felt his loneliness, realised his longing for society. his position as a labour member was perfectly plain. his confrères were good fellows. most of them were hard-headed, thoughtful men who took a real interest in their work. but socially they were not of his class. they had few interests in common, and he realised it, even as they did. that was why they looked on him with a certain amount of suspicion. what was to be his future then? a social gulf was fixed between him and others whose equal he was, and whatever he did he would be outside the circle of men and women whose tastes were similar to his own. no, that was not altogether true. hugh stanmore and beatrice treated him as a friend. beatrice! the very thought of her conjured up all sorts of fancies. he had not heard from her, or of her since his visit to wendover. was she engaged to sir george weston, he wondered? he knew now that he had never loved lady blanche huntingford. he had been attracted to her simply because of her looks, and her social position. at the time she had appealed to him strongly, but that was because he had regarded her as a means whereby he could attain to his social ambitions. but a change had come over him since then--a subtle, almost indescribable change. the strange events of his life had led him to see deeper. and he knew he had no love for this patrician woman. when he had seen her last she had not caused one heart-throb, he was almost indifferent to her. but beatrice! why did the thought of her haunt him? why was he angry with sir george weston, and bitter at the idea of his marrying this simple country girl? as for himself he could never marry. the following morning he wrote to countess olga petrovic. it was a courteous note saying that at present he was too engaged to call on her, but he hoped that later he might have that pleasure. then he plunged into his work again. about a fortnight after his visit to hugh stanmore, a letter came to him from the housekeeper at wendover. he had told her his london address, and she had taken advantage of her knowledge by writing. "there are all sorts of rumours here about mr. anthony riggleton," she wrote; "and we have all been greatly excited. some soldiers have been in the neighbourhood who declare that they know of a certainty that he is dead. i thought it my duty to tell you this, sir, and that is my excuse for the liberty i take in writing. "perhaps, sir, you may also be interested to learn that sir george weston and miss beatrice stanmore are engaged to be married. as you may remember, i told you when you were here that i thought they would make a match of it. of course she has done very well, for although the stanmores are a great family, mr. stanmore is a poor man, and miss beatrice has nothing but what he can give her. it is said that the wedding will take place in june." the letter made him angry. of course he understood the old lady's purpose in writing. she thought that if anthony riggleton died, the estate might again revert to him, and she hoped he would find out and let her know. she had grown very fond of him during his short sojourn there, and longed to see him there as master again. but the letter made him angry nevertheless. then as he read it a second time he knew that his anger was not caused by her interest in his future, but because of her news about beatrice stanmore. the knowledge that she had accepted this devonshire squire made his heart sink like lead. it seemed to him that the sky of his life had suddenly become black. then he knew his secret; knew that he loved this simple country girl with a consuming but hopeless love. he realised, too, that no one save she had ever really touched his heart. that this was why lady blanche huntingford had passed out of his life without leaving even a ripple of disappointment or sorrow. oh, if he had only known before! for he had loved her as he had walked by her side through wendover park; loved her when he had almost calmly discussed her possible marriage with sir george weston. even then he had hated the thought of it, now he knew why his own heart was aching for her all the time. but what would have been the use even if he had known? he was a homeless, penniless man. he could have done nothing. he was not in a position to ask any woman to be his wife. his mood became reckless, desperate. what mattered whatever he did? were not all his dreams and hopes so much madness? had he not been altogether silly about questions of right and wrong? had he not been quixotic in not fighting for wendover? supposing he had signed that paper, what could romanoff have done? he almost wished--no, he didn't; but after all, who could pass a final judgment as to what was right and wrong? while he was in this state of mind another letter came from olga petrovic. "why have you not visited me, my friend?" she wrote. "i have been expecting you. surely you could have found time to drop in for half an hour. besides, i think i could help you. lord knerdon was here yesterday with one or two other members of the government. he expressed great interest in you, and said he would like to meet you. has he not great influence? i shall be here between half-past three and six to-morrow, and some people are calling whom i think you would like to know." lord knerdon, eh? lord knerdon was one of the most respected peers in the country, and a man of far-reaching power. he would never call at the house of an adventuress. yes, he would go. the street in which olga petrovic had taken up her abode was made up of great houses. only a person of considerable wealth could live there. this he saw at a glance. also three handsome motor-cars stood at her door. he almost felt nervous as his finger touched the bell. she received him with a smile of welcome, and yet there was a suggestion of aloofness in her demeanour. she was not the woman he had seen at jones' hotel long months before, when she had almost knelt suppliant at his feet. "ah, mr. faversham," she cried, and there was a suggestion of a foreign accent in her tones, "i am pleased to see you. it is good of such a busy man to spare a few minutes." a little later she had introduced him to her other visitors--men and women about whose position there could not be a suggestion of doubt. at least, such was his impression. she made a perfect hostess, too, and seemed to be a part of her surroundings. she was a great lady, who met on equal terms some of the best-known people in london. and she was queen of them all. even as she reigned over the motley crew in that queer gathering in the east of london, so she reigned here in the fashionable west. in a few minutes he found himself talking with people of whom he had hitherto known nothing except their names, while olga petrovic watched him curiously. her demeanour to him was perfectly friendly, and yet he had the feeling that she regarded him as a social inferior. he was there, not because he stood on the same footing as these people, but on sufferance. after all, he was a labour member. socially he was an outsider, while she was the grand lady. people condoled with her because her russian estates had been stolen from her by the bolshevists, but she was still the countess olga petrovic, bearing one of the greatest names in europe. she was still rich enough to maintain her position in the wealthiest city in the world. she was still a mystery. dick remained for more than an hour. although he would not admit it to himself, he hoped that he might be able to have a few minutes alone with her. but as some visitors went, others came. she still remained kind to him; indeed, he thought she conveyed an interest in him which she did not show to others. but he was not sure. there was a suggestion of reserve in her friendliness; sometimes, indeed, he thought she was cold and aloof. there were people there who were a hundred times more important than he--people with historic names; and he was a nobody. perhaps that was why a barrier stood between them. and yet there were times when she dazzled him by a smile, or the turn of a sentence. in spite of himself, she made him feel that it was a privilege of no ordinary nature to be the friend of the countess olga petrovic. when at length he rose to go she made not the slightest effort to detain him. she was courteously polite, and that was all. he might have been the most casual stranger, to whom she used the most commonplace forms of speech. any onlooker must have felt that this polish or russian countess, whatever she might be, had simply a passing interest in this labour member, that she had invited him to tea out of pure whim or fancy, and that she would forget him directly he had passed the doorstep. and yet there was a subtle something in her manner as she held out her hand to him. her words said nothing, but her eyes told him to come again. "must you go, mr. faversham? so pleased you were able to call. i am nearly always home on thursdays." that was all she said. but the pressure of her hand, the pleading of her eyes, the smile that made her face radiant--these somehow atoned for the coldness of her words. "well, i've called," thought dick as he left the house, "and i don't intend to call again. i don't understand her; she's out of my world, and we have nothing in common." but these were only his surface thoughts. at the back of his mind was the conviction that olga petrovic had an interest in him beyond the ordinary, that she thought of him as she thought of no other man. else why that confession months before? why did she ask him to call? she was a wonderful creature, too. how tame and uninteresting the other women were compared with her! her personality dominated everything, made everyone else seem commonplace. she captivated him and fascinated him even while something told him that it was best for him that he should see nothing more of her. the mystery that surrounded her had a twofold effect on him: it made him long to know more about her even while he felt that such knowledge could bring him no joy. but this she did. she kept him from brooding about beatrice stanmore, for the vision of this unsophisticated english girl was constantly haunting him, and the knowledge that his love for her was hopeless made him almost desperate. he was a young man, only just over thirty, with life all before him. must he for ever and ever be denied of love, and the joys it might bring to his life? if she had not promised herself to sir george weston, all might be different. yes, with her to help him and inspire him, he would make a position for her; he would earn enough to make a home for her. but she was not for him. she would soon be the wife of another. why, then, should he not crush all thoughts of her, and think of this glorious woman, compared with whom beatrice stanmore was only as a june rosebud to a tropical flower? a few days later he called on olga petrovic again. this time he spent a few minutes alone with her. only the most commonplace things were said, and yet she puzzled him, bewildered him. one minute she was all smiles and full of subtle charm, another he felt that an unfathomable gulf lay between them. in their conversation, while he did not speak in so many words of the time she had visited him at his hotel, he let her know that he remembered it, and he quickly realised that the passionate woman who had pleaded with him then was not the stately lady who spoke to him now. "every woman is foolish at times," she said. "in hours of loneliness and memory we are the creatures of passing fancies; but they are only passing. i have always to remember that, in spite of the tragic condition of my country, i have my duty to my race and my position." later she said: "i wonder if i shall ever wed? wonder whether duty will clash with my heart to such a degree that i shall go back to my own sphere, or stay here and only remember that i am a woman?" he wondered what she meant, wondered whether she wished to convey to him that it might be possible for her to forsake all for love. but something, he could not tell what, made him keep a strong hold upon himself. it had become a settled thought in his mind by this time that at all hazards he must fight against his love for beatrice stanmore. to love her would be disloyal to her; it would be wrong. he had no right to think thoughts of love about one who had promised to be the wife of another man. yet his heart ached for her. all that was best in him longed for her. whenever his love for her was strongest, he longed only for the highest in life, even while his conscience condemned him for thinking of her. dick paid olga petrovic several visits. nearly always others were there, but he generally managed to be alone with her for a few minutes, and at every visit he knew that she was filling a larger place in his life. his fear of her was passing away, too, for she was not long in showing an interest in things that lay dear to his heart. she evidenced a great desire to help him in his work; she spoke sympathetically about the conditions under which the toilers of the world laboured. she revealed fine intuitions, too. "oh yes," she said on one occasion, "i love your country. it is home--home! i am mad, too, when i think of my insane fancies of a year ago. i can see that i was wrong, wrong, all wrong! lawlessness, force, anarchy can never bring in the new day of life and love. that can only come by mutual forbearance, by just order, and by righteous discipline. i was mad for a time, i think; but i was mad with a desire to help. do you know who opened my eyes, mr. faversham?" "your own heart--your own keen mind," replied dick. "no, my friend--no. it was you. you did not say much, but you made me see. i believe in telepathy, and i saw with your eyes, thought with your mind. your eyes pierced the darkness, you saw the foolishness of my dreams. and yet i would give my last penny to help the poor." "i'm sure you would," assented dick. "still, we must be governed by reason. and that makes me think, my friend. do you ever contemplate your own future?" "naturally." "and are you always going to remain what you are now?" "i do not follow you." "i have thought much about you, and i have been puzzled. you are a man with great ambitions--high, holy ambitions--but if you are not careful, your life will be fruitless." dick was silent. "don't mistake me. i only mean fruitless comparatively. but you are handicapped, my friend." "sadly handicapped," confessed dick. "ah, you feel it. you are like a bird with one wing trying to fly. forgive me, but the best houses in london are closed to you; you are a paid labour member of parliament, and thus you represent only a class--the least influential class. you are shut out from many of the delights of life. channels of usefulness and power are closed to you. oh, i know it is great to be a labour member, but it is greater to be independent of all classes--to live for your ideals, to have enough money to be independent of the world, to hold up your head as an equal among the greatest and highest." "you diagnose a disease," said dick sadly, "but you do not tell me the remedy." "don't i?" and dick felt the glamour of her presence. "doesn't your own heart tell you that, my friend?" dick felt a wild beating of his heart, but he did not reply. there was a weight upon his tongue. a minute later she was the great lady again--far removed from him. he left the house dazzled, almost in love with her in spite of beatrice stanmore, and largely under her influence. he had been gone only a few minutes when a servant brought a card. "count romanoff," she read. "show him here," she added, and there was a look in her eyes that was difficult to understand. chapter xxxv the eternal struggle count romanoff was faultlessly dressed, and looked calm and smiling. "ah, countess," he said, "i am fortunate in finding you alone. but you have had visitors, or, to be more exact, a visitor." "yes; i have had visitors. i often have of an afternoon." "but he has been here." "well, and what then?" the count gazed at her steadily, and his eyes had a sinister gleam in them. "i have come to have a quiet chat with you," he said--"come to know how matters stand." "you want to know more than i can tell you." again the count scrutinised her closely. he seemed to be trying to read her mind. "olga," he said, "you don't mean to say that you have failed? he has been in london some time now, and as i happen to know, he has been here often. has not the fish leaped to the bait? if not, what is amiss? what?--olga petrovic, who has turned the heads of men in half the capitals of europe, and who has never failed to make them her slaves, fail to captivate this yokel! i can't believe it." there was sullen anger in her eyes, and at that moment years seemed to have been added to her life. "beaten!" went on the count, with a laugh--"olga petrovic beaten! that is news indeed." "i don't understand," said the woman. "something always seems to stand between us. he seems to fear me--seems to be fighting against me." "and you have tried all your wiles?" "listen, count romanoff, or whatever your name may be," and olga petrovic's voice was hoarse. "tell me what you want me to do with that man." "do? make him your slave. make him grovel at your feet as you have made others. make him willing to sell his soul to possess you. weave your net around him. glamour him with your fiendish beauty. play upon his hopes and desires until he is yours." "why should i?" "because it is my will--because i command you." "and what if i have done all that and failed?" "you fail! i can't believe it. you have not tried. you have not practised all your arts." "you do not understand," replied the woman. "you think you understand that man; you don't." the count laughed. "there was never a man yet, but who had his price," he said. "with some it is one thing, with some it is another, but all--all can be bought. there is no man but whose soul is for sale; that i know." "and you have tried to buy faversham's soul, and failed." "because i mistook the thing he wanted most." "you thought he could be bought by wealth, position, and you arranged your plans. but he was not to be bought. why? you dangled riches, position, and a beautiful woman before his eyes; but he would not pay the price." "i chose the wrong woman," said the count, looking steadily at olga, "and i did not reckon sufficiently on his old-fashioned ideas of morality. besides, i had no control over the woman." "and you think you have control over me, eh? well, let that pass. i have asked you to tell me why you wish to get this man in your power, and you will not tell me. but let me tell you this: there is a strange power overshadowing him. you say i must practise my arts. what if i tell you that i can't?" "i should say you lie," replied the count coolly. "i don't understand," she said, as if talking to herself. "all the time when he is with me, i seem to be dealing with unseen forces--forces which make me afraid, which sap my power." the count looked thoughtful. "i thought i had captivated him when that german man brought him to the east end of london," she went on. "i saw that i bewildered him--dazzled him. he seemed fascinated by my picture of what he could become. his imagination was on fire, and i could see that he was almost held in thrall by the thought that he could be a kind of uncrowned king, while i would be his queen. he promised to come to me again, but he didn't. then i went to see him at his hotel, and if ever a woman tempted a man, i tempted him. i know i am beautiful--know that men are willing to become slaves to me. and i pleaded with him. i offered to be his wife, and i almost got him. i saw him yielding to me. then suddenly he turned from me. a servant brought him a card, and he almost told me to go." "you saw who these visitors were?" "yes; an old man and a slip of a girl. i do not know who they were. since he has been living in london, i have watched my opportunities, and he has been here. i have flattered him; i have piqued his curiosity. i have been coy and reserved, and i have tried to dazzle him by smiles, by hand pressures, and by shy suggestions of love. but i cannot pierce his armour." "and you will give up? you will confess defeat?" the woman's eyes flashed with a new light. "you little know me if you think that," she cried angrily. "at one time i--yes, i, olga petrovic--thought i loved him. i confessed it to you, but now--now----" "yes, now?" questioned the count eagerly. "now that thought is not to be considered. i will conquer him; i will make him my slave. he shall be willing to sacrifice name, position, future, anything, everything for me--_everything_." "only, up to now, you've failed." "because, because--oh, romanoff, i don't understand. what is he? only just a commonplace sort of man--a man vulnerable at a hundred points--and yet i cannot reach him." "shall i tell you why?" asked the count. "tell me, tell me!" she cried. "oh, i've thought, and thought. i've tried in a hundred ways. i've been the grand lady with a great position. i've been an angel of light who cares only for the beautiful and the pure. i've appealed to his ambition--to his love for beautiful things. i've tried to make him jealous, and i've nearly succeeded; but never altogether. yes; he is just a clever man, and very little more; but i can't reach him. he baffles me. he does not drink, and so i cannot appeal to that weakness. neither is he the fast man about town that can be caught in my toils. he honours, almost venerates, pure womanhood, and----" "tah!" interrupted the count scornfully. "you do not believe it?" "woman is always man's weak point--always!" "but not his--not in the way you think. i tell you, he venerates ideal womanhood. he scorns the loud-talking, free-spoken women. he told me his thought of woman was like what wordsworth painted. at heart i think he is a religious man." "listen," said the count, "i want to tell you something before i go. sit here; that's it," and he drew a chair close to his side. he spoke to her half earnestly, half cynically, watching her steadily all the time. he noted the heaving of her bosom, the tremor of her lips, the almost haunted look in her eyes, the smile of satisfied desire on her face. "that is your plan of action," he concluded. "remember, you play for great stakes, and you must play boldly. you must play to win. there are times when right and wrong are nothing to a man, and you must be willing to risk everything. as for the rest, i will do it." her face was suffused half with the flush of shame, half with excited determination. "very well," she said; "you shall be obeyed." "and i will keep my compact," said the count. he left her without another word, and no sign of friendship passed between them. when he reached the street, however, there was a look of doubt in his eyes. he might have been afraid, for there was a kind of baffled rage on his face. he stopped a passing taxi, and drove straight to his hotel. "is he here?" he asked his valet as he entered his own room. "he is waiting, my lord." a minute later the little man who had visited him on the day after dick faversham's return to parliament appeared. "what report, polonius?" asked romanoff. "nothing of great importance, i am afraid, my lord, but something." "yes, what?" "he went to wendover on the day i was unable to account for his whereabouts." "ah, you have discovered that, have you?" "yes; i regret i missed him that day, but i trust i have gained your lordship's confidence again." the count reflected a few seconds. "tell me what you know," he said peremptorily. "he went down early, and had a talk with an old man at the station. then he walked to the house, and had a conversation with his old housekeeper." "do you know what was said?" "there was not much said. she told him there were rumours that anthony riggleton was dead." the count started as though a new thought had entered his mind; then he turned towards his spy again. "he did not pay much attention to it," added polonius, "neither did he pay much attention to what she told him about riggleton's doings at wendover." "did he go through the house?" "no; he only stayed a few minutes, but he was seen looking very hard at the front door, as though something attracted him. then he returned by another route, and had lunch with that old man who has a cottage near one of the lodge gates." "hugh stanmore--yes, i remember." "after lunch he went through the park with the old man's granddaughter. they were talking very earnestly." the count leapt to his feet. "you saw this girl?" he asked. "yes. a girl about twenty, i should think. very pretty in a simple, countrified way. she is very much loved among the cottage people. i should say she's a very religious girl. i'm told that she has since become engaged to be married to a sir george weston, who was a soldier in egypt." "sir george weston. let me think. yes; i remember. ah, she is engaged to be married to him, is she?" "that is the rumour. sir george was staying at stanmore's cottage at the time of faversham's visit. he left the day after." "and faversham has not been there since?" "no, my lord." "well, go on." "that is all i know." "then you can go; you know my instructions. remember, they must be obeyed to the very letter." "they shall be--to the very letter." the count entered another room, and opened a safe. from it he took some papers, and read carefully. then he sat thinking for a long time. presently he looked at his watch. daylight had now gone, early as it was, for winter still gripped the land. some days there were suggestions of spring in the air, but they were very few. the night was cold. the count went to the window, and looked out over st. james's park. great, black ominous-looking clouds rolled across the sky, but here and there were patches of blue where stars could plainly be seen. he had evidently made up his mind about something. his servant knocked at the door. "what time will your lordship dine?" "i shall not dine." "very good, my lord." count romanoff passed into the street. for some time he walked, and then, hailing a taxi-cab, drove to london bridge. he did not drive across the bridge, but stopped at the cannon street end. having paid the driver, he walked slowly towards the southern bank of the river. once he stood for more than a minute watching while the dark waters rolled towards the sea. "what secrets the old river could tell if it could speak," he muttered; "but all dark secrets--all dark." he found his way to the station, and mingled with the crowd there. hours later he was nearly twenty miles from london, and he was alone on a wide heath. here and there dotted around the outskirts of the heath he saw lights twinkling. the sky was brighter here; the clouds did not hang so heavily as in the city, while between them he occasionally saw the pale crescent of a waxing moon. all around him was the heath. he paid no heed to the biting cold, but walked rapidly along one of the straight-cut roads through the heather and bushes. it was now getting late, and no one was to be seen. there were only a few houses in the district, and the inhabitants of these were doubtless ensconced before cosy fires or playing games with their families. it was not a night to be out. "what a mockery, what a miserable, dirty little mockery life is!" he said aloud as he tramped along. "and what pigmies men are; what paltry, useless things make up their lives! this is walton heath, and here i suppose the legislators of the british empire come to find their amusement in knocking a golf-ball around. and men are applauded because they can knock that ball a little straighter and a little farther than someone else. but--but--and there comes the rub--these same men can think--think right and wrong, do right and wrong. that fellow faversham--yes; what is it that makes him beat me?" mile after mile he tramped, sometimes stopping to look at the sullen, angry-looking clouds that swept across the sky, and again looking around the heath as if trying to locate some object in which he was interested. presently he reached a spot where the road cut through some woodland. dark pine trees waved their branches to the skies. in the near distance the heath stretched away for miles, and although it was piercingly cold, the scene was almost attractive. but here it was dark, gloomy, forbidding. for some time he stood looking at the waving pine trees; it might have been that he saw more than was plainly visible. "what fools, what blind fools men are!" he said aloud. "their lives are bounded by what they see, and they laugh at the spiritual world; they scorn the suggestion that belting the earth are untold millions of spirits of the dead. here they are all around me. i can see them. i can see them!" his eyes burnt red; his features were contorted as if by pain. "an eternal struggle," he cried--"just an eternal struggle between right and wrong, good and evil--yes, good and evil! "and the good is slowly gaining the victory! out of all the wild, mad convulsions of the world, right is slowly emerging triumphant, the savage is being subdued, and the human, the divine, is triumphing." he lifted his right hand, and shook his fist to the heavens as if defiantly. "i had great hopes of the war," he went on. "i saw hell let loose; i saw the world mad for blood. everywhere was the lust for blood; everywhere men cried, 'kill! kill!' and now it is over, and wrong is being defeated--defeated!" he seemed to be in a mad frenzy, his voice shook with rage. "dark spirits of hell!" he cried. "you have been beaten, beaten! why, even in this ghastly war, the cross has been triumphant! those thousands, those millions of men who went out from this land, went out for an ideal. they did not understand it, but it was so. they felt dimly and indistinctly that they were fighting, dying, that others might live! and some of the most heroic deeds ever known in the history of the world were done. men died for others, died for comradeship, died for duty, died for country. everywhere the cross was seen! "and those fellows are not dead! they are alive! they have entered into a greater life! "why, even the ghastly tragedy of russia, on which we built so much, will only be the birth-pains which precede a new life! "everywhere, everywhere the right, the good, is emerging triumphant!" he laughed aloud, a laugh of almost insane mockery. "but men are blind, blind! they do not realise the world of spirits that is all around them, struggling, struggling. but through the ages the spirits of the good are prevailing! "that is my punishment, my punishment spirits of hell, my punishment! day by day i see the final destruction of evil!" his voice was hoarse with agony. he might have been mad--mad with the torture of despair. "all around me, all around me they live," he went on. "but i am not powerless. i can still work my will. and faversham shall be mine. i swore it on the day he was born, swore it when his mother passed into the world of spirits, swore it when his father joined her. what though all creation is moving upwards, i can still drag him down, down into hell! yes, and she shall see him going down, she shall know, and then she shall suffer as i have suffered. her very heaven shall be made hell to her, because she shall see her son become even what i have become!" he left the main road, and followed a disused drive through the wood. before long he came to a lonely house, almost hidden by the trees. a dark gloomy place it was, dilapidated and desolate. years before it had perchance been the dwelling-place of some inoffensive respectable householder who loved the quietness of the country. for years it was for sale, and then it was bought by a stranger who never lived in it, but let it fall into decay. romanoff found his way to the main entrance of the house, and entered. he ascended a stairway, and at length found his way to a room which was furnished. here he lit a curiously-shaped lamp. in half an hour the place was warm, and suggested comfort. romanoff sat like one deep in thought. presently he began to pace the room, uttering strange words as he walked. he might have been repeating incantations, or weaving some mystic charms. then he turned out the lamp, and only the fire threw a flickering light around the room. "my vital forces seem to fail me," he muttered; "even here it seems as though there is good." perspiration oozed from his forehead, and his face was as pale as death. again he uttered wild cries; he might have been summoning unseen powers to his aid. "they are here!" he shouted, and there was an evil joy in his face. then there was a change, fear came into his eyes. looking across the room, he saw two streaks of light in the form of a cross, while out of the silence a voice came. "cease!" said the voice. chapter xxxvi his guardian angel romanoff ceased speaking, and his eyes were fixed on the two streaks of light. "who are you? what do you want?" he asked. "i am here to bid you desist." "and who are you?" slowly, between him and the light, a shadowy figure emerged. second after second its shape became more clearly outlined, until the form of a woman appeared. but the face was obscure; it was dim and shadowy. romanoff's eyes were fixed on the figure; but he uttered no sound. his tongue was dry, and cleaved to the roof of his mouth. his lips were parched. the face became plainer. its lineaments were more clearly outlined. he could see waves of light brown hair, eyes that were large and yearning with a great tenderness and pity, yet lit up with joy and holy resolve. a mouth tender as that of a child, but with all the firmness of mature years. a haunting face it was, haunting because of its spiritual beauty, its tenderness, its ineffable joy; and yet it was stern and strong. it was the face of the woman whom dick faversham had seen in the smoke-room of the outward-bound vessel years before, the face that had appeared to him at the doorway of the great house at wendover. "you, you!" cried romanoff at length. "you! madaline?" "yes!" "why are you here?" "to plead with you, to beseech you to let my son alone." a change came over romanoff's face as he heard the words. a new strength seemed to have come to him. confidence shone in his eyes, his every feature spoke of triumph. "your son! his son!" he cried harshly. "the son of the man for whom you cast me into the outer darkness. but for him you might have been the mother of _my_ son, and i--i should not have been what i am." "you are what you are because you have always yielded to the promptings of evil," replied the woman. "that was why i never loved you--never could love you." "but you looked at me with eyes of love until he came." "as you know, i was but a child, and when you came with your great name, your great riches, you for a time fascinated me; but i never loved you. i told you so before he came." "but i loved you," said romanoff hoarsely. "you, the simple country girl, fascinated me, the russian noble. and i would have withheld nothing from you. houses, lands, position, a great name, all--all were yours if you would have been my wife. but you rejected me." "i did not love you. i felt you were evil. i told you so." "what of that? i loved you. i swore i would win you. but you--you--a simple country girl, poor, ignorant of the world's ways, resisted me, me--romanoff. and you married that insipid scholar fellow, leaving me scorned, rejected. and i swore i would be revenged, living or dead. then your child was born and you died. i could not harm you, you were beyond me, but your son lived. and i swore again. if i could not harm you, i could harm him, i could destroy him. i gave myself over to evil for that. i, too, have passed through the doorway which the world calls death; but powers have been given me, powers to carry out my oath. while his father was alive, i could do nothing, but since then my work has been going forward. and i shall conquer, i shall triumph." "and i have come here to-night to plead with you on my son's behalf. he has resisted wrong for a long time. leave him in peace." "never," cried romanoff. "you passed into heaven, but your heaven shall be hell, for your son shall go there. he shall become even as i am. his joy shall be in evil." "have you no pity, no mercy?" "none," replied romanoff. "neither pity nor mercy have a place in me. you drove me to hell, and it is my punishment that the only joy which may be mine is the joy of what you call evil." "then have pity, have mercy on yourself." "pity on myself? mercy on myself? you talk in black ignorance." "no, i speak in light. every evil you do only sinks you deeper in mire, deeper in hell." "i cannot help that. it is my doom." "it is not your doom if you repent. if you turn your face, your spirit to the light." "i cannot repent. i am of those who love evil. i hate mercy. i despise pity." "then i must seek to save him in spite of you." "you cannot," and a laugh of savage triumph accompanied his words. "i have made my plans. nothing which you can do will save him. he has been given to me." for a few seconds there was tense unnatural silence. the room was full of strange influences, as though conflicting forces were in opposition, as though light and darkness, good and evil, were struggling together. "no, no, madaline," went on romanoff. "now is my hour of triumph. the son you love shall be mine." "love is stronger than hate, good is stronger than evil," she replied. "you are fighting against the eternal spirit of good; you are fighting against the supreme manifestation of that goodness, which was seen two thousand years ago on the cross of calvary." "the cross of calvary!" replied romanoff, and his voice was hoarse; "it is the symbol of defeat, of degradation, of despair. for two thousand years it has been uplifted, but always to fail." "always to conquer," was the calm reply. "slowly but surely, age after age, it has been subduing kingdoms, working righteousness, lifting man up to the eternal goodness. it has through all the ages been overcoming evil with good, and bringing the harmonies of holiness out of the discord of sin." "think of this war!" snarled romanoff. "think of germany, think of russia! what is the world but a mad hell?" "out of it all will goodness shine. i cannot understand all, for full understanding only belongs to the supreme father of lights. but i am sure of the end. already the morning is breaking, already light is shining out of the darkness. men's eyes are being opened, they are seeing visions and dreaming dreams. they are seeing the end of war, and talking of leagues of nations, of the brotherhood of the world." "but that does not do away with the millions who have died in battle. it does not atone for blighted and ruined homes, and the darkness of the world." "not one of those who fell in battle is dead. they are all alive. i have seen them, spoken to them. and the eternal goodness is ever with them, ever bearing them up. they have done what they knew to be their duty, and they have entered into their reward." "what, the evil and the good together?" sneered romanoff. "that were strange justice surely." "shall not the judge of all the earth do right? they are all in his care, and his pity and his love are infinite. that is why i plead with you." "what, to spare your son? if what you say is true i am powerless. but i am not. wrong is stronger than right. i defy you." "then is it to be a fight between us?" "if you will. he must be mine." "and what then?" there was ineffable sorrow in the woman's voice. "would you drag him into æons of pain and anguish to satisfy your revenge?" "i would, and i will. what if right is stronger than wrong, as you say? what if in the end right shall drag him through hell to heaven? i shall still know that he has lived in hell, and thus shall i have my revenge." "and i, who am his mother, am also his ministering angel, and it is my work to save him from you." "and you are powerless--powerless, i tell you?" "all power is not given to us, but god has given his angels power to help and save." "if you have such power, why am i not vanquished?" "have you not been vanquished many times?" "not once!" cried romanoff. "little by little i have been enveloping him in my toils." "think," replied the other. "when he was tossing on the angry sea, whose arms bore him up? think again, why was it when you and he were in the library together at wendover, and you tempted him to sell his soul for gain;--whose hand was placed on his, and stopped him from signing the paper which would have made him your slave?" "was it you?" gasped romanoff. "think again. when the woman you selected sought to dazzle him with wild dreams of power and ambition, and who almost blinded him to the truth, what led him to discard the picture that came to him as inventions of evil? who helped to open his eyes?" "then you--you," gasped romanoff--"you have been fighting against me all the time! it was you, was it?" "i was his mother, i am his mother; and i, who never intentionally did you harm, plead with you again. i love him, even as all true mothers, whether on earth or in the land of spirits, love their children. and i am allowed to watch over him, to protect him, to help him. it is my joy to be his guardian angel, and i plead with you to let him be free from your designs." "and if i will--what reward will you give me?" "i will seek to help you from your doom--the doom which must be the lot of those who persist in evil." "that is not enough. no, i will carry out my plans; i will drag him to hell." "and i, if need be, will descend into hell to save him." "you cannot, you cannot!" and triumph rang in his voice. "i swore to drag him to hell, swore that his soul should be given over to evil." the woman's face seemed to be drawn with pain, her eyes were filled with infinite yearning and tenderness. she moved her lips as if in speech, but romanoff could distinguish no words. then her form grew dimmer and dimmer until there was only a shadowy outline of what had been clear and distinct. "what do you say? i cannot hear!" and his voice was mocking. the man continued to look at the place where he had seen her, but, as her form disappeared, the two shafts of light grew more and more luminous. he saw the bright shining cross distinctly outlined, and his eyes burnt with a great terror. then out of the silence, out of the wide spaces which surrounded the house, out of the broad expanse of the heavens, words came to him: "underneath, _underneath_, underneath are the everlasting arms." fascinated, romanoff gazed, seeing nothing but the shining outline of the cross, while the air seemed to pulsate with the great words i have set down. then slowly the cross became more and more dim, until at length it became invisible. the corner of the room which had been illumined by its radiance became full of dark shadows. silence became profound. "what does it mean?" he gasped. "she left me foiled, defeated, in despair. but the cross shone. the words filled everything." for more than a minute he stood like one transfixed, thinking, thinking. "it means this," he said presently, and the words came from him in hoarse gasps, "it means that i am to have my way; it means that i shall conquer him--drag him to hell; but that underneath hell are the everlasting arms. well, let it be so. i shall have had my revenge. the son shall suffer what the mother made me suffer, and she shall suffer hell, too, because she shall see her son in hell." he turned and placed more wood on the fire, then throwing himself in an arm-chair he sat for hours, brooding, thinking. "yes, olga will do it," he concluded after a long silence. "the story of the garden of eden is an eternal principle. 'the woman tempted me and i did eat,' is the story of the world's sin. he is a man, with all a man's passions, and she is a venus, a circe--a woman--and all men fall when a woman tempts." all through the night he kept his dark vigils; there in the dark house, with only flickering lights from the fire, he worked out his plans, and schemed for the destruction of a man's soul. in the grey dawn of the wintry morning he was back in london again; but although the servants looked at him questioningly when he entered his hotel, as if wondering where he had been, he told no man of his doings. all his experiences were secret to himself. during the next few days the little man polonius seemed exceptionally busy; three times he went to wendover, where there seemed to be many matters that interested him. several times he made his way to the war office, where he appeared to have acquaintances, and where he asked many questions. he also found his way to the block of buildings where dick faversham's flat was situated, and although dick never saw him, he appeared to be greatly interested in the young man's goings out and his comings in. he also went to the house of commons, and made the acquaintance of many labour members. altogether polonius's time was much engaged. he went to count romanoff's hotel, too, but always late at night, and he had several interviews with that personage, whom he evidently held in great awe. more than a week after romanoff's experiences at walton heath, olga petrovic received a letter which made her very thoughtful. there was a look of fear in her eyes as she read, as though it contained disturbing news. and yet it appeared commonplace and innocent enough, and it contained only a few lines. perhaps it was the signature which caused her cheeks to blanch, and her lips to quiver. this was how it ran: "dear olga,--you must get f. to take you to dinner on friday night next. you must go to the moscow restaurant, and be there by . prompt. please look your handsomest, and spare no pains to be agreeable. when the waiter brings you liqueurs be especially fascinating. act on the berlin plan. this is very important, as a danger has arisen which i had not calculated upon. the time for action has now come, and i need not remind you how much success means to you. "romanoff. "p.s.--destroy this as you have destroyed all other correspondence from me. i shall know whether this is done.--r." this was the note which had caused olga petrovic's cheeks to pale. after reading it again, she sat thinking for a long time, while more than once her face was drawn as if by spasms of pain. presently she went to her desk, and taking some scented notepaper, she wrote a letter. she was evidently very particular about the wording, for she tore up several sheets before she had satisfied herself. there was the look of an evil woman in her eyes as she sealed it, but there was something else, too; there was an expression of indescribable longing. the next afternoon dick faversham came to her flat and found olga petrovic alone. he had come in answer to her letter. "have i done anything to offend you, mr. faversham?" she asked, as she poured out tea. "offend me, countess? i never thought of such a thing. why do you ask?" "you were so cold, so distant when you were here last--and that was several days ago." "i have been very busy," replied dick. "while i have been very lonely." "lonely! you lonely, countess?" "yes, very lonely. how little men know women. because a number of silly, chattering people have been here when you have called, you have imagined that my life has been full of pleasure, that i have been content. but i haven't a friend in the world, unless----" she lifted her great languishing eyes to his for a moment, and sighed. "unless what?" asked dick. "nothing, nothing. why should you care about the loneliness of a woman?" "i care a great deal," replied dick. "you have been very kind to me--a lonely man." from that moment she became very charming. his words gave her the opening she sought, and a few minutes later she had led him to the channel of conversation which she desired. "you do not mind?" she said presently. "i know you are the kind of man who finds it a bore to take a woman out to dinner. but there will be a wonderful band at the moscow, and i love music." "it will be a pleasure, a very great pleasure," replied dick. "and you will not miss being away from the house of commons for a few hours, will you? i will try to be very nice." "as though you needed to try," cried dick. "as though you could be anything else." she looked half coyly, half boldly into his eyes. "to-morrow night then?" she said. "yes, to-morrow night. at half-past seven i will be here." chapter xxxvii at the cafÉ moscow during the few days which had preceded dick's visit to the countess olga's house, he had been very depressed. the excitement which he had at first felt in going to the house of commons as the member for eastroyd had gone. he found, too, that the "mother of parliaments" was different from what he had expected. the thing that impressed him most was the difficulty in getting anything done. the atmosphere of the place was in the main lethargic. men came there for the first time, enthusiastic and buoyant, determined to do great things; but weeks, months, years passed by, and they had done nothing. in their constituencies crowds flocked to hear them, and applauded them to the echo; but in the house of commons they had to speak to empty benches, and the few who remained to hear them, yawned while they were speaking, and only waited because they wanted to catch the speaker's eye. dick had felt all this, and much more. it seemed to him that as a legislator he was a failure, and that the house of commons was the most disappointing place in the world. added to this he was heart-sore and despondent. his love for beatrice stanmore was hopeless. news of her engagement to sir george weston had been confirmed, and thus joy had gone out of his life. why it was, dick did not know; but he knew now that he had loved beatrice stanmore from the first time he had seen her. he was constantly recalling the hour when she first came into his life. she and her grandfather had come to wendover when he was sitting talking, with romanoff, and he remembered how the atmosphere of the room changed the moment she entered. his will-power was being sapped, his sense of right and wrong was dulled; yet no sooner did she appear than his will-power came back, his moral perceptions became keen. it was the same at her second visit. he had been like a man under a spell; he had become almost paralysed by romanoff's philosophy of life, helpless to withstand the picture he held before his eyes; yet on the sudden coming of this bright-eyed girl everything had changed. she made him live in a new world. he remembered going outside with her, and they had talked about angels. how vivid it all was to him! everything was sweeter, brighter, purer, because of her. her simple, childish faith, her keen intuition had made his materialism seem so much foolishness. her eyes pierced the dark clouds; she was an angel of god, pointing upward. he knew the meaning of it now. his soul had found a kindred soul, even although he had not known it; he had loved her then, although he was unaware of the fact. but ever since he had learnt the secret of his heart he had understood. but it was too late. he was helpless, hopeless. she had given her heart to this soldier, this man of riches and position. oh, what a mockery life was! he had seen the gates of heaven, he had caught a glimpse of what lay beyond, but he could not enter, and in his disappointment and hopelessness, despair gnawed at his heart like a canker. thus dick faversham was in a dangerous mood. that was why the siren-like presence of olga petrovic acted upon his senses like an evil charm. oh, if he had only known! at half-past seven on the friday night he called at her flat, and he had barely entered the room before she came to him. evidently she regarded it as a great occasion, for she was resplendently attired. yet not too much so. either she, or her maid, instinctively knew what exactly suited her kind of beauty; for not even the most critical could have found fault with her. what a glorious creature she was! shaped like a goddess, her clothes accentuated her charms. evidently, too, she was intent on pleasing him. her face was wreathed in smiles, her eyes shone with dangerous brightness. there was witchery, allurement in her presence--she was a siren. dick almost gave a gasp as he saw her. a girl in appearance, a girl with all the winsomeness and attractiveness of youth, yet a woman with all a woman's knowledge of man's weakness--a woman bent on being captivating. "do i please your majesty?" and her eyes flashed as the words passed her lips. "please me!" he gasped. "you are wonderful, simply wonderful." "i want you to be pleased," she whispered, and dick thought he saw her blush. they entered the motor-car together, and as she sat by his side he felt as though he were in dreamland. a delicate perfume filled the air, and the knowledge that he was going to dine with her, amidst brightness and gaiety, made him forgetful of all else. they were not long in reaching the moscow, one of the most popular and fashionable restaurants in london. he saw at a glance, as he looked around him, that the wealth, the beauty, the fashion of london were there. the waiter led them to a table from which they could command practically the whole room, and where they could be seen by all. but he took no notice of this. he was almost intoxicated by the brilliance of the scene, by the fascination of the woman who sat near him. "for once," she said, "let us forget dull care, let us be happy." he laughed gaily. "why not?" he cried. "all the same, i wonder what my constituents at eastroyd would say if they saw me here?" she gave a slight shrug, and threw off the light gossamer shawl which had somewhat hidden her neck and shoulders. her jewels flashed back the light which shone overhead, her eyes sparkled like stars. "let us forget eastroyd," she cried; "let us forget everything sordid and sorrowing. surely there are times when one should live only for gladness, for joy. is not the music divine? there, listen! did i not tell you that some of the most wonderful artists in london play here? do you know what it makes me think of?" "i would love to know," he responded, yielding to her humour. "but i must not tell you--i dare not. i am going to ask a favour of you, my friend. will you grant it, without asking me what it is?" "of course i will grant it." "oh, it is little, nothing after all. only let me choose the wine to-night." "why not? i am no wine drinker, and am no judge of vintages." "ah, but you must drink with me to-night. to-night i am queen, and you are----" "yes, what am i?" asked dick with a laugh, as she stopped. "you are willing to obey your queen, aren't you?" "who would not be willing to obey such a queen?" was his reply. the waiter hovered around them, attending to their slightest wants. not only was the restaurant noted as being a rendezvous for the beauty and fashion of london, but it boasted the best _chef_ in england. every dish was more exquisite than the last, and everything was served in a way to please the most captious. the dinner proceeded. course followed course, while sweet music was discoursed, and dick felt in a land of enchantment. for once he gave himself over to enjoyment--he banished all saddening thoughts. he was in a world of brightness and song; every sight, every sound drove away dull care. to-morrow he would have to go back to the grim realities of life; but now he allowed himself to be swept along by the tide of laughter and gaiety. "you seem happy, my friend," said the woman presently. "never before did i see you so free from dull care, never did i see you so full of the joy of life. well, why not? life was given to us to be happy. yes, yes, i know. you have your work to do; but not now. i should feel miserable for days if i thought i could not charm away sadness from you--especially to-night." "why to-night?" "because it is the first time we have ever dined together. i should pay you a poor compliment, shouldn't i, if when you took me to a place where laughter abounded i did not bring laughter to your lips and joy to your heart. let us hope that this is the first of the many times we may dine together. yes; what are you thinking about?" "that you are a witch, a wonder, a miracle of beauty and of charm. there, i know i speak too freely." he ceased speaking suddenly. "i love to hear you speak so. i would rather--but what is the matter?" dick did not reply. his eyes were riveted on another part of the room, and he had forgotten that she was speaking. seated at a table not far away were three people, two men and a woman. the men were sir george weston and hugh stanmore. the woman was beatrice stanmore. evidently the lover had brought his fiancée and her grandfather there that night. it seemed to dick that weston had an air of proprietorship, as he acted the part of host. he watched while the baronet smiled on her and spoke to her. it would seem, too, that he said something pleasant, for the girl laughed gaily, and her eyes sparkled with delight. "you see someone you know?" and olga petrovic's eyes followed his gaze. "ah, you are looking at the table where that pretty but rather countrified girl is sitting with the old man with the white hair, and the other who looks like a soldier. ah yes, you know them, my friend?" "i have seen them--met them," he stammered. "ah, then you know who they are? i do not know them, they are strangers to me; but i can tell you about them. shall i?" "yes." his eyes were still riveted on them, and he did not know he had spoken. "the girl is the younger man's fiancée. they have lately become engaged. don't you see how he smiles on her? and look how she smiles back. she is deeply in love with him, that is plain. there, don't you see--she has a ring on her engagement finger. they are very happy. i think the man has brought the girl and the old man here as a kind of celebration dinner. presently they will go to some place of amusement. she seems a poor simpering thing; but they are evidently deeply in love with each other. tell me, am i not right?" dick did not reply. what he had seen stung him into a kind of madness. he was filled with reckless despair. what matter what he did, what happened to him? of course he knew of the engagement, but the sight of them together unhinged his mind, kept him from thinking coherently. "you seem much interested in them, my friend; do you know them well? ah, they have finished dinner, i think. there, they are looking at us; the girl is asking who we are, or, perhaps, she has recognised you." for a moment dick felt his heart stop beating; yes, she was coming his way. she must pass his table in order to get out. with a kind of despairing recklessness he seized the wineglass by his side and drained it. he was hardly master of himself; he talked rapidly, loudly. the waiter appeared with liqueurs. "yes," cried the countess, with a laugh; "i chose the wine--i must choose the liqueurs also. it is my privilege." the waiter poured out the spirits with a deft hand, while the woman laughed. her eyes sparkled more brightly then ever; her face had a look of set purpose. "this is the only place in london where one can get this liqueur," she cried. "what is it? i don't know. but i am told it is exquisite. there! i drink to you!" she lifted the tiny glass to her lips, while her eyes, large, black, bold, seductive, dangerous, flashed into his. "drink, my friend," she said, and her voice reached some distance around her; "it is the drink of love, of _love_, the only thing worth living for. drain it to the bottom, and let us be happy." he lifted the glass, but ere it reached his lips he saw that beatrice stanmore and her companions were close to him, and that she must have heard what olga petrovic had said. in spite of the fact that he had drunk of rich, strong wine, and that it tingled through his veins like some fabled elixir, he felt his heart grow cold. he saw a look on the girl's face which startled him--frightened him. but she was not looking at him; her eyes were fixed on his companion. and he saw the expression of terror, of loathing, of horror. it made him think of an angel gazing into the pit of hell. but olga petrovic seemed unconscious of her presence. her eyes were fixed on dick's face. she seemed to be pleading with him, fascinating him, compelling him to think only of her. meanwhile hugh stanmore and sir george weston hesitated, as if doubtful whether they should speak. dick half rose. he wanted to speak to beatrice. to tell her--what, he did not know. but he was not master of himself. he was dizzy and bewildered. perhaps it was because he was unaccustomed to drink wine, and the rich vintage had flown to his head--perhaps because of influences which he could not understand. "beatrice--miss stanmore," he stammered in a hoarse, unnatural voice, so hoarse and unnatural that the words were scarcely articulated, "this--this _is_ a surprise." he felt how inane he was. he might have been intoxicated. what must beatrice think of him? but still she did not look at him. her eyes were still fixed on olga's face. she seemed to be trying to read her, to pierce her very soul. then suddenly she turned towards dick, who had dropped into his chair again, and was still holding the tiny glass in his hand. "you do not drink, dick," said olga petrovic, and her voice, though low and caressing, was plainly to be heard. "you must drink, because i chose it, and it is the drink of love--the only thing worth living for," and all the time her eyes were fixed on his face. almost unconsciously he turned towards her, and his blood seemed turned to fire. madness possessed him; he felt a slave to the charms of this bewitching woman, even while the maiden for whom his heart longed with an unutterable longing was only two or three yards from him. he lifted the glass again, and the fiery liquid passed his lips. again he looked at beatrice, and it seemed to him that he saw horror and disgust in her face. something terrible had happened; it seemed to him that he was enveloped in some form of black magic from which he could not escape. then rage filled his heart. the party passed on without further notice of him, and he saw beatrice speak to sir george weston. what she said to him he did not know, but he caught a part of his reply. "i heard of her in vienna. she had a curious reputation. her _salon_ was the centre of attraction to a peculiar class of men. magnificent, but----" that was all he heard. he was not sure he heard even that. there was a hum of voices, and the sound of laughter everywhere, and so it was difficult for him to be sure of what any particular person said. neither might the words apply to the woman at his side. bewildered, he turned towards olga again, caught the flash of her eyes' wild fire, and was again fascinated by the bewildering seductiveness of her charms. what was the matter with him? he did not seem master of himself. everything was strange--bewildering. perhaps it was because of the wine he had drunk, perhaps because that fiery liquid had inflamed his imagination; but it seemed to him that nothing mattered. right! wrong! what were they? mere abstractions, the fancies of a diseased mind. wild recklessness filled his heart. he had seen beatrice stanmore smile on sir george weston, and he had heard the woman at his side say that she, beatrice, wore this devonshire squire's ring. well, what then? why should he care? and all the time olga petrovic was by his side. she had seemed unconscious of beatrice's presence; she had not noticed the look of horror and loathing in the girl's eyes. she was only casting a spell on him--a spell he could not understand. then he had a peculiar sensation. this mysterious woman was bewitching him. she was sapping his will even as romanoff had sapped it years before. why did he connect them? "countess," he said, "do you know count romanoff?" the woman hesitated a second before replying. "dick," she said, "you must not call me countess. you know my name, don't you? count romanoff? no, i never heard of him." "let us get away from here," he cried. "i feel as though i can't breathe." "i'm so sorry. let us go back home and spend the evening quietly. oh, i forgot. sir felix and lady fordham are calling at ten o'clock. you don't mind, do you?" "no, no. i shall be glad to meet them." a few minutes later they were moving rapidly towards olga petrovic's flat, dick still excited, and almost irresponsible, the woman with a look of exultant triumph on her face. chapter xxxviii the shadow of a great terror "sit down, my friend. sir felix and lady fordham have not come; but what matter? there, take this chair. ah, you look like yourself again. has it ever struck you that you are a handsome man? no; i do not flatter. i looked around the moscow to-night, and there was not a man in the room to compare with you--not one who looked so distinguished, so much--a man. i felt so glad--so proud." he felt himself sink in the luxuriously upholstered chair, while she sat at his feet and looked up into his face. "now, then, you are king; you are seated on your throne, while i, your slave, am at your feet, ready to obey your will. is not that the story of man and woman?" he did not answer he was struggling, struggling and fighting, and yet he did not know against what he was fighting. besides, he had no heart in the battle. his will-power was gone; his vitality was lowered; he felt as though some powerful narcotic were in his blood, deadening his manhood, dulling all moral purpose. he was intoxicated by the influences of the hour, careless as to what might happen to him, and yet by some strange contradiction he was afraid. the shadow of a great terror rested on him. and olga petrovic seemed to know--to understand. she started to her feet. "you have never heard me sing, have you? ah no, of course you have not. and has it not ever been in song and story that the slave of her lord's will discoursed sweet music to him? is there not some old story about a shepherd boy who charmed away the evil spirits of the king by music?" she sat at a piano, and began to play soft, dreamy music. her fingers scarcely touched the keys, and yet the room was filled with peculiar harmonies. "you understand french, do you not, my friend? yes; i know you do." she began to sing. what the words were he never remembered afterwards, but he knew they possessed a strange power over him. they dulled his fears; they charmed his senses; they seemed to open up long vistas of beauty and delight. he seemed to be in a kind of mohammedan paradise, where all was sunshine and song. how long she sung he could not tell; what she said to him he hardly knew. he only knew that he sat in a luxuriously appointed room, while this wonder of womanhood charmed him. presently he knew that she was making love to him, and that he was listening with eager ears. not only did he seem to have no power to resist her--he had no desire to do so. he did not ask whether she was good or evil; he ceased to care what the future might bring forth. and yet he had a kind of feeling that something was wrong, hellish--only it did not matter to him. this woman loved him, while all other love was impossible to him. beatrice! ah, but beatrice had looked at him with horror; all her smiles were given to another man--the man to whom she had promised to give herself as his wife. what mattered, then? but there was a new influence in the room! it seemed to him as if a breath of sweet mountain air had been wafted to him--air full of the strength of life, sweet, pure life. the scales fell from his eyes and he saw. the woman again sat at his feet, looking up at him with love-compelling eyes, and he saw her plainly. but he saw more: the wrappings were torn from her soul, and he beheld her naked spirit. he shuddered. what he saw was evil--evil. instead of the glorious face of olga petrovic, he saw a grinning skull; instead of the dulcet tones of her siren-like voice, he heard the hiss of snakes, the croaking of a raven. he was standing on the brink of a horrible precipice, while beneath him was black, unfathomable darkness, filled with strange, noisome sounds. what did it mean? he still beheld the beauty--the somewhat oriental beauty of the room; he was still aware of the delicate odours that pervaded it, while this woman, glorious in her queenly splendour, was at his feet, charming him with words of love, with promises of delight; but it seemed to him that other eyes, other powers of vision, were given to him, and he saw beyond. was that romanoff's cynical, evil face? were not his eyes watching them with devilish expectancy? was he not even then gloating over the loss of his manhood, the pollution of his soul? "hark, what is that?" "what, my friend? nothing, nothing." "but i heard something--something far away." she laughed with apparent gaiety, yet there was uneasiness in her voice. "you heard nothing but my foolish confession, dick. i love you, love you! do you hear? i love you. i tried to kill it--in vain. but what matter? love is everything--there is nothing else to live for. and you and i are all the world. your love is mine. tell me, is it not so? and i am yours, my beloved, yours for ever." but he only half heard her; forces were at work in his life which he could not comprehend. a new longing came to him--the longing for a strong, clean manhood. "do you believe in angels?" he asked suddenly. why the question passed his lips he did not know, but it sprung to his lips without thought or effort on his part. then he remembered. beatrice stanmore had asked him that question weeks before down at wendover park. angels! his mind became preternaturally awake; his memory flashed back across the chasm of years. "are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?" yes; he remembered the words. the old clergyman had repeated them years before, when he had seen the face of the woman which no other man could see. like lightning his mind swept down the years, and he remembered the wonderful experiences which had had such a marked influence on his life. "angels!" laughed the woman. "there are no angels save those on earth, my friend. there is no life other than this, so let us be happy." "look, look!" he cried, pointing to a part of the room which was only dimly lit. "she is there, there! don't you see? her hand is pointing upward!" slowly the vision faded, and he saw nothing. then came the great temptation of dick faversham's life. his will-power, his manhood, had come back to him again, but he felt that he had to fight his battle alone. his eyes were open, but because at his heart was a gnawing despair, he believed there was nothing to live for save what his temptress promised. she pleaded as only a woman jealous for her love, determined to triumph, can plead. and she was beautiful, passionate, dangerous. again he felt his strength leaving him, his will-power being sapped, his horror of wrong dulled. still something struggled within him--something holy urged him to fight on. his manhood was precious; the spark of the divine fire which still burnt refused to be extinguished. "lord, have mercy upon me! christ, have mercy upon me!" it was a part of the service he had so often repeated in the old school chapel, and it came back to him like the memory of a dream. "countess," he said, "i must go." "no, no, dick," cried the woman, with a laugh. "why, it is scarcely ten o'clock." "i must go," he repeated weakly. "not for another half an hour. i am so lonely." he was hesitating whether he should stay, when they both heard the sound of voices outside--voices that might have been angry. a moment later the door opened, and beatrice stanmore came in, accompanied by her grandfather. "forgive me," panted the girl, "but i could not help coming. something told me you were in great danger--ill--dying, and i have come." she had come to him just as she had come to him that night at wendover park, and at her coming the power of romanoff was gone. it was the same now. as if by magic, he felt free from the charm of olga petrovic. the woman was evil, and he hated evil. again the eyes of beatrice stanmore were fixed on the face of olga petrovic. she did not speak, but her look was expressive of a great loathing. "surely this is a strange manner to disturb one's privacy," said the countess. "i am at a loss to know to what i am indebted for this peculiar attention. i must speak to my servants." but beatrice spoke no word in reply to her. turning towards dick again, she looked at him for a few seconds. "i am sorry i have disturbed you," she said. "something, i do not know what, told me you were in some terrible danger, and i went back to the restaurant. a man there told us you had come here. i am glad i was mistaken. forgive me, i will go now." "i am thankful you came," said dick. "i--i am going." "good-night, countess," he added, turning to olga, and without another word turned to leave the room. but olga petrovic was not in the humour to be baffled. she rushed towards him and caught his arm. "you cannot go yet," she cried. "you must not go like this, dick; i cannot allow you. besides, i want an explanation. these people, who are they? dick, why are they here?" "i must go," replied dick sullenly. "i have work to do." "work!" she cried. "this is not the time for work, but love--our love, dick. ah, i remember now. this girl was at the moscow with that soldier man. they love each other. why may we not love each other too? stay, dick." but she pleaded in vain. the power of her spell had gone. something strong, virile, vital, stirred within him, and he was master of himself. "good-night, countess," he replied. "thank you for your kind invitation, but i must go." he scarcely knew where he was going, and he had only a dim remembrance of refusing to take the lift and of stumbling down the stairs. he thought he heard old hugh stanmore talking with beatrice, but he was not sure; he fancied, too, that they were close behind him, but he was too bewildered to be certain of anything. a few minutes later he was tramping towards his own humble flat, and as he walked he was trying to understand the meaning of what had taken place. * * * * * olga petrovic had been alone only a few seconds, when count romanoff entered the room. evidently he had been in close proximity all the time. in his eyes was the look of an angry beast at bay; his face was distorted, his voice hoarse. "and you have allowed yourself to be beaten--beaten!" he taunted. but the woman did not speak. her hands were clenched, her lips tremulous, while in her eyes was a look of unutterable sorrow. "but we have not come to the end of our little comedy yet, olga," went on romanoff. "you have still your chance of victory." "comedy!" she repeated; "it is the blackest tragedy." "tragedy, eh? yes; it will be tragedy if you fail." "and i must fail," she cried. "i am powerless to reach him, and yet i would give my heart's blood to win his love. but go, go! let me never see your face again." "you will not get rid of me so easily," mocked the count. "we made our pact. i will keep my side of it, and you must keep yours." "i cannot, i tell you. something, something i cannot understand, mocks me." "you love the fellow still," said romanoff. "fancy, olga petrovic is weak enough for that." "yes, i love him," cried the woman--"i admit it--love him with every fibre of my being. but not as you would have me love him. i have tried to obey you; but i am baffled. the man's clean, healthy soul makes me ashamed. god alone knows how ashamed i am! and it is his healthiness of soul that baffles me." "no, it is not," snarled romanoff. "it is because i have been opposed by one of whom i was ignorant. that chit of a girl, that wayside flower, whom i would love to see polluted by the filth of the world, has been used to beat me. don't you see? the fellow is in love with her. he has been made to love her. that is why you have failed." mad jealousy flashed into the woman's eyes. "he loves her?" she asked, and her voice was hoarse. "of course he does. will you let him have her?" "he cannot. is she not betrothed to that soldier fellow?" "what if she is? was there not love in her eyes as she came here to-night? would she have come merely for platonic friendship? olga, if you do not act quickly, you will have lost him--lost him for ever." "but i have lost him!" she almost wailed. "you have not, i tell you. go to her to-night. tell her that faversham is not the man she thinks he is. tell her--but i need not instruct you as to that. you know what to say. then when he goes to her to explain, as he will go, she will drive him from her, puritan fool as she is, with loathing and scorn! after that your turn will come again." for some time they talked, she protesting, he explaining, threatening, cajoling, promising, and at length he overcame. with a look of determination in her eyes, she left her flat, and drove to the hotel where romanoff told her that hugh stanmore and beatrice were staying. was miss beatrice stanmore in the hotel? she asked when she entered the vestibule. yes, she was informed, miss stanmore had returned with her grandfather only half an hour before. she took one of her visiting cards and wrote on it hastily. "will you take it to her at once," she commanded the servant, and she handed him the card. "tell her that it is extremely urgent." "but it is late, your ladyship," protested the man; "and i expect she has retired." nevertheless he went. a look from the woman compelled obedience. a few minutes later he returned. "will you be pleased to follow me, your ladyship?" he said. "miss stanmore will see you." olga petrovic followed him with a steady step, but in her eyes was a look of fear. chapter xxxix the triumph of good beatrice stanmore was sitting in a tiny room as the countess olga petrovic entered. it was little more than a dressing-room, and adjoined her bedroom. she rose at olga's entrance, and looked at the woman intently. she was perfectly calm, and was far more at ease than her visitor. "i hope you will pardon the liberty i have taken," and olga spoke in sweet, low tones; "but i came to plead for your forgiveness. i was unutterably rude to you to-night, and i felt i could not sleep until i was assured of your pardon." "won't you sit down?" and beatrice pointed to a chair as she spoke. "i will ask my grandfather to come here." "but, pardon me," cried olga eagerly, "could we not remain alone? i have much to say to you--things which i can say to you only." "then it was not simply to ask my pardon that you came?" retorted beatrice. "very well, i will hear you." she was utterly different from the sensitive, almost timid girl whom dick faversham had spoken to at wendover. it was evident that she had no fear of her visitor. she spoke in plain matter-of-fact terms. for a few seconds the older woman seemed to be at a loss what to say. the young inexperienced girl disturbed her confidence, her self-assurance. "i came to speak to you about mr. faversham," she began, after an awkward silence. beatrice stanmore made no remark, but sat quietly as if waiting for her to continue. "you know mr. faversham?" continued the woman. "yes, i know him." "forgive me for speaking so plainly; but you have an interest in him which is more than--ordinary?" the words were half a question, half an assertion. "i am greatly interested in mr. faversham--yes," she replied quietly. "even though, acting on the advice of your grandfather, you have become engaged to sir george weston? forgive my speaking plainly, but i felt i must come to you to-night, felt i must tell you the truth." olga petrovic paused as if waiting for beatrice to say something, but the girl was silent. she fixed her eyes steadily on the other's face, and waited. "mr. faversham is not the kind of man you think he is." olga petrovic spoke hurriedly and awkwardly, as though she found the words difficult to say. still beatrice remained silent; but she kept her eyes steadily on the other's face. "i thought i ought to tell you. you are young and innocent; you do not know the ways of men. mr. faversham is not fit for you to associate with." "and yet you dined with him to-night. you took him to your flat afterwards." "but i am different from you. i am a woman of the world, and your puritan standard of morals has no weight or authority with me. of course," and again she spoke awkwardly, "i have no right to speak to you, your world is different from mine, and you are a stranger to me; but i have heard of you." "how? through whom?" "need you ask?" "i suppose you mean mr. faversham. why should he speak to you about me?" "some men are like that. they boast of their conquests, they glory in--in----; but i need not say more. will you take advice from a woman who--who has suffered, and who, through suffering, has learnt to know the world? it is this. think no more of richard faversham. he--he is not a good man; he is not fit to associate with a pure child like you." beatrice stanmore looked at the other with wonder in her eyes. there was more than wonder, there was terror. it might be that the older woman had frightened her. "forgive me speaking like this," went on olga, "but i cannot help myself. drive him from your mind. perhaps there is not much romance in the thought of marrying sir george weston, but i beseech you to do so. he, at least, will shield you from the temptations, the evil of the world. as for faversham, if he ever tries to see you again, remember that his very presence is pollution for such as you. yes, yes, i know what you are thinking of--but i don't matter. i live in a world of which i hope you may always remain ignorant; but in which faversham finds his joy. you--you saw us together----" in spite of her self-control beatrice was much moved. the crimson flushes on her cheeks were followed by deathly pallor. her lips quivered, her bosom heaved as if she found it difficult to breathe. but she did not speak. perhaps she was too horrified by the other's words. "i know i have taken a fearful liberty with you," went on olga; "but i could not help myself. my life, whatever else it has done has made me quick to understand, and when i watched you, i saw that that man had cast an evil spell upon you. at first i felt careless, but as i watched your face, i felt a great pity for you. i shuddered at the thought of your life being blackened by your knowledge of such a man." "does he profess love to you?" asked beatrice quietly. olga petrovic gave a hard laugh. "surely you saw," she said. "and you would warn me against him?" "yes; i would save you from misery." for some seconds the girl looked at the woman's face steadily, then she said, simply and quietly: "and are you, who seek to save me, content to be the woman you say you are? you are very, very beautiful--are you content to be evil?" she spoke just as a child might speak; but there was something in the tones of her voice which caused the other to be afraid. "you seem to have a kind heart," went on beatrice; "you would save me from pain, and--and evil. have you no thought for yourself?" "i do not matter," replied the woman sullenly. "you think only of me?" "i think only of you." "then look at me," and the eyes of the two met. "is what you have told me true?" "true!" "yes, true. you were innocent once, you had a mother who loved you, and i suppose you once had a religion. will you tell me, thinking of the mother who loved you, of christ who died for you, whether what you say about mr. faversham is true?" a change came over olga petrovic's face; her eyes were wide open with terror and shame. for some seconds she seemed fighting with a great temptation, then she rose to her feet. "no," she almost gasped; "it is not true!" she simply could not persist in a lie while the pure, lustrous eyes of the girl were upon her. "then why did you tell me?" "because, oh, because i am mad! because i am a slave, and because i am jealous, jealous for his love, because, oh----!" she flung herself into the chair again, and burst into an agony of tears. "oh, forgive me, forgive me for deceiving you!" she sobbed presently. "you did not deceive me at all. i knew you were lying." "but--but you seemed--horrified at what i told you!" "i was horrified to think that one so young and beautiful like you could--could sink so low." "then you do not know what love is!" she cried. "do you understand? i love him--love him! i would do anything, anything to win him." "and if you did, could you make him happy?" "i make him happy! oh, but you do not know." "tell me," said beatrice, "are you not the tool, the slave of someone else? has not mr. faversham an enemy, and are you not working for that enemy?" her clear, childlike eyes were fixed on the other's face; she seemed trying to understand her real motives. olga petrovic, on the other hand, regarded the look with horror. "no, no," she cried, "do not think that of me! i would have saved dick from him. i--i would have shielded him with my life." "you would have shielded him from count romanoff?" "do not tell me you know him?" "i only know of him. he is evil, evil. ah yes, i understand now. he sent you here. he is waiting for you now." "but how do you know?" "listen," said beatrice, without heeding her question, "you can be a happy woman, a good woman. go back and tell that man that you have failed, and that he has failed; then go back to your own country, and be the woman god meant you to be, the woman your mother prayed you might be." "i--i a happy woman--a good woman!" "yes--i tell you, yes." "oh, tell me so again, tell me--o great god, help me!" "sit down," said beatrice quietly; "let us talk. i want to help you." for a long time they sat and talked, while old hugh stanmore, who was close by, wondered who his grandchild's visitor could be, and why they talked so long. it was after midnight when olga petrovic returned to her flat, and no sooner did she enter than count romanoff met her. "well, olga," he asked eagerly, "what news?" "i go back to poland to-morrow, to my old home, to my own people." she spoke slowly, deliberately; her voice was hard and cold. he did not seem to understand. he looked at her questioningly for some seconds without speaking. "you are mad, olga," he said presently. "i am not mad." "this means then that you have failed. you understand the consequences of failure?" "it means--oh, i don't know what it means. but i do know that that child had made me long to be a good woman." "a good woman? olga petrovic a good woman!" he sneered. "yes, a good woman. i am not come to argue with you. i only tell you that you are powerless to hinder me." "and faversham? does olga petrovic mean that she confesses herself beaten? that she will have her love thrown in her face, and not be avenged?" "it means that if you like, and it means something more. isaac romanoff, or whatever your real name may be, why you have sought to ruin that man i don't know; but i know this: i have been powerless to harm him, and so have you." "it means that you have failed--_you_!" he snarled. "yes, and why? there has been a power mightier than yours against which you have fought. good, good, has been working on his side, that is why you have failed, why i have failed. o god of goodness, help me!" "stop that, stop that, i say!" his voice was hoarse, and his face was livid with rage. "i will not stop," she cried. "i want to be a good woman--i will be a good woman. that child whom i laughed at has seen a thousand times farther into the heart of truth than i, and she is happy, happy in her innocence, in her spotless purity, and in her faith in god. and i promised her i would be a new woman, live a new life." "you cannot, you dare not," cried the count. "but i will. i will leave the old bad past behind me." "and i will dog your every footstep. i will make such madness impossible." "but you cannot. good is stronger than evil. god is almighty." "i hold you, body and soul, remember that." the woman seemed possessed of a new power, and she turned to the count with a look of triumph in her eyes. "go," she cried, "in the name of that christ who was the joy of my mother's life, and who died that i might live--i bid you go. from to-night i cease to be your slave." the count lifted his hand as if to strike her, but she stood before him fearless. "you cannot harm me," she cried. "see, see, god's angels are all around me now! they stretch out their arms to help me." he seemed to be suffering agonies; his face was contorted, his eyes were lurid, and he appeared to be struggling with unseen powers. "i will not yield," he cried; "not one iota will i yield. you are mine, you swore to serve me--i claim my own." "the oath i took was evil, evil, and i break it. o eternal god, help me, help me. save me, save me, for christ's sake." romanoff seemed to hesitate what to do, then he made a movement as if to move towards her, but was powerless to do so. the hand which he had uplifted dropped to his side as if paralysed; he was in the presence of a power greater than his own. he passed out of the room without another word. the next day the flat of countess olga petrovic was empty, but no one knew whither she had gone. * * * * * for more than a month after the scenes i have described, dick faversham was confined to his room. he suffered no pain, but he was languid, weak, and terribly depressed. an acquaintance who called to see him, shocked by his appearance, insisted on sending for a doctor, and this gentleman, after a careful examination, declared that while he was organically sound, he was in a low condition, and utterly unfit for work. "you remind me of a man suffering from shell-shock," he said. "have you had any sudden sorrow, or anything of that sort?" dick shook his head. "anyhow, you are utterly unfit for work, that is certain," went on the doctor. "what you need is absolute rest, cheerful companionship, and a warm, sunny climate." "there's not much suggestion of a warm, sunny climate here," dick said, looking out of the window. "but i daresay it would be possible to arrange for a passport, so that you might get to the south of france, or to egypt," persisted the doctor. "yes; i might get a passport, but i've no money to get there." so dick stayed on at his flat, and passed the time as best he could. by and by the weather improved, and presently dick was well enough to get out. but he had no interest in anything, and he quickly grew tired. then a sudden, an almost overmastering desire came to him to go to wendover. there seemed no reason why he should go there, but his heart ached for a sight of the old house. he pictured it as it was during the time he spent there. he saw the giant trees in the park, the gay flowers in the gardens, the stateliness and restfulness of the old mansion. the thought of it warmed his heart, and gave him new hope. "oh, if it were only mine again!" he reflected. he had heard that the rumours of tony riggleton's death were false, and he was also told that although he had been kept out of england for some time he would shortly return; but concerning that he could gather nothing definite. of beatrice stanmore he had heard nothing, and he had no heart to make inquiries concerning her. he had many times reflected on her sudden appearance at olga petrovic's flat, and had he been well enough he would have tried to see her. more than once he had taken a pen in hand to write to her, but he had never done so. what was the use? in spite of her coming, he felt that she must regard him with scorn. he remembered what olga petrovic had said in her presence. besides, he was too weak, too ill to make any effort whatever. but with the sudden desire to go to wendover came also the longing to see her--to explain. of course she was the affianced wife of sir george weston, but he wanted to stand well in her eyes; he wanted her to know the truth. it was a bright, balmy morning when he started for surrey, and presently, when the train had left croydon behind, a strange joy filled his heart. after all, life was not without hope. he was a young man, and in spite of everything he had kept his manhood. he was poor, and as yet unknown, but he had obtained a certain position. love was not for him, nor riches, but he could work for the benefit of others. when the train stopped at wendover station, he again found himself to be the only passenger who alighted. as he breathed the pure, balmy air, and saw the countryside beginning to clothe itself in its mantle of living green, it seemed to him that new life, new energy, entered his being. after all, it was good to be alive. half an hour later he was nearing the park gates--not those which he had entered on his first visit, but those near which hugh stanmore's cottage was situated. he had taken this road without thinking. well, it did not matter. as he saw the cottage nestling among the trees, he felt his heart beating wildly. he wondered if beatrice was at home, wondered--a thousand things. he longed to call and make inquiries, but of course he would not. he would enter the park gates unseen, and make his way to the great house. but he did not pass the cottage gate. before he could do so the door opened, and beatrice appeared. evidently she had seen him coming, for she ran down the steps with outstretched hand. "i felt sure it was you," she said, "and--but you look pale--ill; are you?" "i'm ever so much better, thank you," he replied. "so much so that i could not refrain from coming to see wendover again." "but you must come in and rest," she cried anxiously. "i insist on it. why did you not tell us you were ill?" before he could reply he found himself within the cottage. chapter xl the ministering angel "are you alone?" he managed to ask. "yes; granddad went out early. he'll be back in an hour or so. he has been expecting to hear from you." how sweet and fair she looked! there was no suggestion of the exotic beauty of olga petrovic; she adopted no artificial aids to enhance her appearance. sweet, pure air and exercise had tinted her cheeks; the beauty of her soul shone from her eyes. she was just a child of nature, and to dick she was the most beautiful thing on god's earth. for a moment their eyes met, and then the love which dick faversham had been fighting against for weeks surged like a mighty flood through his whole being. "i must go--i must not stay here," he stammered. "but why? granddad will be back soon." "because----" again he caught the flash of her eyes, and felt that the whole world without her was haggard hopelessness. before he knew what he was saying he had made his confession. "because i have no right to be here," he said almost angrily--"because it is dishonourable; it is madness for me to stay." "but why?" she persisted. he could not check the words that passed his lips; he had lost control over himself. "don't you understand?" he replied passionately. "i have no right to be here because i love you--love you more than my own life. because you are everything to me--_everything_--and you have promised to marry sir george weston." "but i've not." she laughed gaily as she uttered the words. "you've not promised to----but--but----" "no, of course not. how could i? i do not love him. he is awfully nice, and i'm very fond of him; but i don't love him. i could never think of such a thing." she spoke quite naturally, and in an almost matter-of-fact way. she did not seem to realise that her words caused dick faversham's brain to reel, and his blood to rush madly through his veins. rather she seemed like one anxious to correct a mistake, but to have no idea of what the correction meant to him. for a few seconds dick did not speak. "she is only a child," he reflected. "she does not understand what i have said to her. she does not realise what my love for her means." but he was not sure of this. something, he knew not what, told him she _did_ know. perhaps it was the flush on her cheeks, the quiver on her lips, the strange light in her eyes. "you have not promised to marry sir george weston?" he asked hoarsely. "no, of course not." "but--he asked you?" "that is scarcely a fair question, is it?" "no, no, forgive me; it is not. but do you understand--what your words mean to me?" she was silent at this. "i love you--love you," he went on. "i want you to be my wife." "i'm so glad," she said simply. "but do you understand?" cried dick. he could not believe in his own happiness, could not help thinking there must be some mistake. "this means everything to me." "of course i understand. i've known it for a long time, that is, i've felt it must be so. and i've wondered why you did not come and tell me." "and you love me?" his voice was hoarse and tremulous. "love you? why--why do you think i--could be here like this--if i didn't?" still she spoke almost as a child might speak. there was no suggestion of coquetry, no trying to appear surprised at his avowal. but there was something more, something in the tone of her voice, in the light of her eyes, in her very presence, that told dick that deep was calling unto deep, that this maiden, whose heart was the heart of a child, had entered into womanhood, and knew its glory. "aren't you glad, too?" she asked. "glad! it seems so wonderful that i can't believe it! half an hour ago the world was black, hopeless, while now----; but there are things i must tell you, things i've wanted to tell you ever since i saw you last." "is it about that woman?" "yes, i wanted to tell you why i was with her; i wanted you to know that she was nothing to me." "i knew all the time. but you were in danger--that was why i could not help coming to you. you understand, don't you? i had the same kind of feeling when that evil man was staying with you at the big house. he was trying to harm you, and i came. and he was still trying to ruin you, why i don't know, but he was using that woman to work his will. i felt it, and i came to you." "how did you know?" asked dick. he was awed by her words, solemnised by the wondrous intuition which made her realise his danger. "i didn't know--i only felt. you see, i loved you, and i couldn't help coming." another time he would have asked her many questions about this, but now they did not seem to matter. he loved, and was loved, and the fact filled the world. "thank god you came," he said reverently. "and, beatrice, you will let me call you beatrice, won't you?" "why, of course, you must, dick." "may i kiss you?" he asked, and held out his arms. she came to him in all the sweet freshness of her young life and offered him her pure young lips. never had he known what joy meant as he knew it then, never had he felt so thankful that in spite of dire temptation he had kept his manhood clean. closer and closer he strained her to his heart, while words of love and of thankfulness struggled for expression. for as she laid her head on his shoulder, and he felt the beating of her heart, his mind swept like lightning over the past years, and he knew that angels of god had ministered to him, that they had shielded him from danger, and helped him in temptation. and this he knew also: while he had been on the brink of ruin through a woman, it was also by a woman that he had been saved. the thought of beatrice stanmore had been a power which had defied the powers of evil, and enabled him to keep his manhood clean. even yet the wonder of it all was beyond words, for he had come there that morning believing that beatrice was the promised wife of sir george weston, and now, as if by the wave of some magician's wand, his beliefs had been dispelled, and he had found her free. an hour before, he dared not imagine that this unspoilt child of nature could ever think of him with love, and yet her face was pressed against his, and she was telling him the simple story of her love--a love unsullied by the world, a love unselfish as that of a mother, and as strong as death. "but i am so poor," he stammered at length; "just a voting machine at four hundred a year." "as though you could ever be that," she laughed. "you are going to do great things, my love. you are going to live and work for the betterment of the world. and i--i shall be with you all the time." he had much to tell her--a story so wonderful that it was difficult to believe. but beatrice believed it. the thought of an angel who had come to him, warned him, guided him, and strengthened him, was not strange to her. for her pure young eyes had pierced the barriers of materialism, just as the light of the stars pierces the darkness of night. because her soul was pure, she knew that the angels of god were never far away, and that the eternal goodness used them to minister to those who would listen to their voices. dick did not go to the great house that day. there seemed no reason why he should. by lunch time old hugh stanmore returned and was met by the two lovers. of all they said to each other, and of the explanations that were made, there is no need that i should write. suffice to say that hugh stanmore was satisfied. it is true he liked sir george weston, while the thought that beatrice might be mistress of his house was pleasant to him; true, too, that dick faversham was poor. but he had no fears. he knew that this young man's love was pure and strong, that he would never rest until he had provided a home worthy of her, and that his grandchild's future would be safe in his hands. when dick left the cottage that night, it was on the understanding that he would come back as soon as possible. beatrice pleaded hard with him not to go to london, but to stay at the cottage and be nursed back to health and strength. but dick had to make arrangements for a lengthened stay away from his work, and to see some of his confrères, so, while his heart yearned to remain near her, he looked joyfully forward to his return. "and you go away happy, my love?" "the happiest man on earth. and you, my little maid?" "oh, dick, everything is as i hoped and prayed for." "and you loved me all the time?" "all the time; but i did not know it until----" "until when?" "until another man told me he wanted me." dick was in dreamland as he returned to london. no sooner had he boarded the train at wendover than, as it seemed to him, he had arrived at victoria. as for the journey between that station and his flat he has no remembrance to this day. "oh, the wonder of it, the glad wonder of it!" he repeated again and again. "thank god--thank god!" then, as if in fulfilment of an old adage, no sooner had he entered his flat than another surprise awaited him. on his writing-table lay a long blue envelope, which had been brought by hand that afternoon. dick broke the seal almost indifferently. what did he care about letters? then he saw the name of bidlake, and his attention was riveted. this is what he read: "my dear faversham,--forgive this unceremonious manner of writing, but i fancy i am a little excited. riggleton is dead, and thus it comes about that the faversham estates--or what is left of them--revert to you. how it was possible for a man to squander so much money and leave things in such a terrible mess in such a short time it is difficult to say. but there it is. still, a good deal is left. wendover park, and all the lands attached remain untouched, and a good deal of money can be scraped up. will you call as soon as possible on receipt of this, and i'll explain everything to you, as far as i can.--with heartiest congratulations, yours faithfully, "john bidlake." again and again dick read this letter. he felt something like the lad of the eastern story must have felt as he read. he would not have been surprised if the slave of the lamp appeared, asking what his desires were, so that they might be performed without delay. december had changed into june in a single day. his joy can be better imagined than described. to know that this old homestead was his again, to realise that he was no longer homeless and poor was a gladness beyond words. but he no longer felt as he had felt when he first saw wendover. then his thought had been of his own aggrandisement, and the satisfaction of his ambitions. now he rejoiced because he could offer a home to the maiden he loved, and because he could do for the world what for years he had dreamt of doing. but he was early at mr. bidlake's office the following morning. "no, no, there's no mistake this time," mr. bidlake assured him. "you can enter into possession with a confident mind. money! yes, the fellow wasted it like water, but you need not fear. you'll have more than you need, in spite of increased income-tax and super-tax. talk about romance though, if ever there was a romance this is one." after spending two hours with the lawyer dick went to the house of commons, where he made the necessary arrangements for a couple of weeks' further absence. "yes, we can manage all right," assented the labour member with whom he spoke. "not but what we shall be glad to have you back. there are big things brewing. the working people must no longer be hewers of wood and drawers of water. we must see to that." "yes, we _will_ see to that," cried dick. "but we must be careful." "careful of what?" "careful that we don't drift to bolshevism, careful that we don't abuse our power. we must show that we who represent the democracy understand our work. we must not think of one class only, but all the classes. we must think of the empire, the good of humanity." the other shook his head, "no mercy on capitalists," he cried. "on the other hand we must make capitalists do their duty," dick replied. "we must see to it that capital and labour work together for the good of the whole community. there lies the secret of stable government and a prosperous nation." it was late in the evening when dick arrived at hugh stanmore's cottage, so late indeed that the old man had given up hope of his coming; but beatrice rushed to him with a glad laugh. "i knew you would come," she said. "and now i am going to begin my work as nurse right away. you must have a light supper and go to bed at once, and to-morrow you must stay in bed all day." dick shook his head. "and i am going to rebel," was his reply. "i am going to sit up for at least two hours, while first thing to-morrow morning i am going to take you to a house i have in my mind." "what house?" "a house i've settled on for our future home." "dick, don't be foolish. you know we must not think of that for months--years." "mustn't we?" laughed dick. "there, read that," and he handed her mr. bidlake's letter. "but, dick!" she cried as she read, "this, this is----" "beautiful, isn't it?" dick replied joyously. "will you read it, sir?" and he placed it in old hugh stanmore's hands. after that beatrice no longer insisted that her lover must be treated as an invalid. hour after hour they sat talking, while the wonder of it all never left them. the next morning broke bright and clear. spring had indeed come, gladsome joyous spring, heralded by the song of birds, by the resurrection of a new life everywhere. "will you go with us, granddad?" asked beatrice, as they prepared for their visit. "no," said hugh stanmore; "i'll come across alone in a couple of hours." he was a wise man. neither of them spoke a word as they walked up the avenue towards the great house. perhaps their minds were both filled by the same thoughts--thoughts too great for utterance. above them the sun shone in a great dome of cloudless blue, while around them all nature was putting on her beautiful garments. presently the old house burst upon their view. there it stood on a slight eminence, while behind it great trees rose. away from the front of the building stretched grassy lawns and flower gardens, while beyond was parkland, studded by giant trees. and still neither spoke. hand in hand they walked towards the entrance door, dick gazing at it earnestly, as if looking for something. when they had come within a dozen yards of it both, as if by mutual consent, stood still. was it fancy or was it real? was it because expectancy was in both their hearts, and their imagination on fire, or did they really see? this is what both of them told me they saw. standing in the doorway, with hands outstretched as if in the attitude of welcoming them, was the luminous figure of a woman. her face was lit up with holy joy, while in her eyes was no sorrow, no doubt, but a look of ineffable happiness. for a few seconds she stood gazing on them, and dick saw the look of love in her eyes, saw the rapture that seemed to pervade her being. it was the same face he had seen there before, the same love-lit eyes. she lifted her hands as if in benediction, and then slowly the figure faded away. "it is my mother," whispered dick. he had no remembrance of his mother, but he knew it was she. he felt no fear, there was nothing to be fearful about, rather a great joy filled his life. god had sent his angel to tell him that all was well. the door stood open, and they entered the great silent hall together. no one was in sight. he opened his arms, and she came to him. "welcome home, my wife," he said. the end printed by morrison and gibb limited, edinburgh * * * * * _joseph hocking's great war stories_ all for a scrap of paper the curtain of fire dearer than life the path of glory "the pomp of yesterday" tommy tommy and the maid of athens the price of a throne _other stories by joseph hocking_ facing fearful odds o'er moor and fen the wilderness rosaleen o'hara the soul of dominic wildthorne follow the gleam david baring the trampled cross the man who rose again hodder and stoughton warwick square, london, e.c.