The Patchwork Girl of Oz by Lyman Frank Baum (classic romance novels .txt) 📖
- Author: Lyman Frank Baum
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“A ladder’s the thing.”
“Have you one?” asked Dorothy.
“To be sure. We use ladders in our mines,” said he. Then he ran away to get the ladder, and while he was gone the Horners gathered around and welcomed the strangers to their country, for through them a great war had been avoided.
In a little while Diksey came back with a tall ladder which he placed against the fence. Ojo at once climbed to the top of the ladder and Dorothy went about halfway up and Scraps stood at the foot of it. Toto ran around it and barked. Then Ojo pulled the Scarecrow away from the picket and passed him down to Dorothy, who in turn lowered him to the Patchwork Girl.
As soon as he was on his feet and standing on solid ground the Scarecrow said:
“Much obliged. I feel much better. I’m not stuck on that picket any more.”
The Horners began to laugh, thinking this was a joke, but the Scarecrow shook himself and patted his straw a little and said to Dorothy: “Is there much of a hole in my back?”
The little girl examined him carefully.
“There’s quite a hole,” she said. “But I’ve got a needle and thread in the knapsack and I’ll sew you up again.”
“Do so,” he begged earnestly, and again the Hoppers laughed, to the Scarecrow’s great annoyance.
While Dorothy was sewing up the hole in the straw man’s back Scraps examined the other parts of him.
“One of his legs is ripped, too!” she exclaimed.
“Oho!” cried little Diksey; “that’s bad. Give him the needle and thread and let him mend his ways.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the Chief, and the other Horners at once roared with laughter.
“What’s funny?” inquired the Scarecrow sternly.
“Don’t you see?” asked Diksey, who had laughed even harder than the others. “That’s a joke. It’s by odds the best joke I ever made. You walk with your legs, and so that’s the way you walk, and your legs are the ways. See? So, when you mend your legs, you mend your ways. Ho, ho, ho! hee, hee! I’d no idea I could make such a fine joke!”
“Just wonderful!” echoed the Chief. “How do you manage to do it, Diksey?”
“I don’t know,” said Diksey modestly. “Perhaps it’s the radium, but I rather think it’s my splendid intellect.”
“If you don’t quit it,” the Scarecrow told him, “there’ll be a worse war than the one you’ve escaped from.”
Ojo had been deep in thought, and now he asked the Chief: “Is there a dark well in any part of your country?”
“A dark well? None that ever I heard of,” was the answer.
“Oh, yes,” said Diksey, who overheard the boy’s question. “There’s a very dark well down in my radium mine.”
“Is there any water in it?” Ojo eagerly asked.
“Can’t say; I’ve never looked to see. But we can find out.”
So, as soon as the Scarecrow was mended, they decided to go with Diksey to the mine. When Dorothy had patted the straw man into shape again he declared he felt as good as new and equal to further adventures.
“Still,” said he, “I prefer not to do picket duty again. High life doesn’t seem to agree with my constitution.” And then they hurried away to escape the laughter of the Horners, who thought this was another joke.
They now followed Diksey to the farther end of the great cave, beyond the Horner city, where there were several round, dark holes leading into the ground in a slanting direction. Diksey went to one of these holes and said:
“Here is the mine in which lies the dark well you are seeking. Follow me and step carefully and I’ll lead you to the place.”
He went in first and after him came Ojo, and then Dorothy, with the Scarecrow behind her. The Patchwork Girl entered last of all, for Toto kept close beside his little mistress.
A few steps beyond the mouth of the opening it was pitch dark. “You won’t lose your way, though,” said the Horner, “for there’s only one way to go. The mine’s mine and I know every step of the way. How’s that for a joke, eh? The mine’s mine.” Then he chuckled gleefully as they followed him silently down the steep slant. The hole was just big enough to permit them to walk upright, although the Scarecrow, being much the taller of the party, often had to bend his head to keep from hitting the top.
The floor of the tunnel was difficult to walk upon because it had been worn smooth as glass, and pretty soon Scraps, who was some distance behind the others, slipped and fell head foremost. At once she began to slide downward, so swiftly that when she came to the Scarecrow she knocked him off his feet and sent him tumbling against Dorothy, who tripped up Ojo. The boy fell against the Horner, so that all went tumbling down the slide in a regular mix-up, unable to see where they were going because of the darkness.
Fortunately, when they reached the bottom the Scarecrow and Scraps were in front, and the others bumped against them, so that no one was hurt. They found themselves in a vast cave which was dimly lighted by the tiny grains of radium that lay scattered among the loose rocks.
“Now,” said Diksey, when they had all regained their feet, “I will show you where the dark well is. This is a big place, but if we hold fast to each other we won’t get lost.”
They took hold of hands and the Horner led them into a dark corner, where he halted.
“Be careful,” said he warningly. “The well is at your feet.”
“All right,” replied Ojo, and kneeling down he felt in the well with his hand and found that it contained a quantity of water. “Where’s the gold flask, Dorothy?” he asked, and the little girl handed him the flask, which she had brought with her.
Ojo knelt again and by feeling carefully in the dark managed to fill the flask with the unseen water that was in the well. Then he screwed the top of the flask firmly in place and put the precious water in his pocket.
“All right!” he said again, in a glad voice; “now we can go back.”
They returned to the mouth of the tunnel and began to creep cautiously up the incline. This time they made Scraps stay behind, for fear she would slip again; but they all managed to get up in safety and the Munchkin boy was very happy when he stood in the Horner city and realized that the water from the dark well, which he and his friends had traveled so far to secure, was safe in his jacket pocket.
“Now,” said Dorothy, as they stood on the mountain path, having left behind them the cave in which dwelt the Hoppers and the Horners, “I think we must find a road into the Country of the Winkies, for there is where Ojo wants to go next.”
“Is there such a road?” asked the Scarecrow.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I s’pose we can go back the way we came, to Jack Pumpkinhead’s house, and then turn into the Winkie Country; but that seems like running ‘round a haystack, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” said the Scarecrow. “What is the next thing Ojo must get?”
“A yellow butterfly,” answered the boy.
“That means the Winkie Country, all right, for it’s the yellow country of Oz,” remarked Dorothy. “I think, Scarecrow, we ought to take him to the Tin Woodman, for he’s the Emp’ror of the Winkies and will help us to find what Ojo wants.”
“Of course,” replied the Scarecrow, brightening at the suggestion. “The Tin Woodman will do anything we ask him, for he’s one of my dearest friends. I believe we can take a crosscut into his country and so get to his castle a day sooner than if we travel back the way we came.”
“I think so, too,” said the girl; “and that means we must keep to the left.”
They were obliged to go down the mountain before they found any path that led in the direction they wanted to go, but among the tumbled rocks at the foot of the mountain was a faint trail which they decided to follow. Two or three hours walk along this trail brought them to a clear, level country, where there were a few farms and some scattered houses. But they knew they were still in the Country of the Quadlings, because everything had a bright red color. Not that the trees and grasses were red, but the fences and houses were painted that color and all the wild-flowers that bloomed by the wayside had red blossoms. This part of the Quadling Country seemed peaceful and prosperous, if rather lonely, and the road was more distinct and easier to follow.
But just as they were congratulating themselves upon the progress they had made they came upon a broad river which swept along between high banks, and here the road ended and there was no bridge of any sort to allow them to cross.
“This is queer,” mused Dorothy, looking at the water reflectively. “Why should there be any road, if the river stops everyone walking along it?”
“Wow!” said Toto, gazing earnestly into her face.
“That’s the best answer you’ll get,” declared the Scarecrow, with his comical smile, “for no one knows any more than Toto about this road.”
Said Scraps:
“Ev’ry time I see a river, I have chills that make me shiver, For I never can forget All the water’s very wet. If my patches get a soak It will be a sorry joke; So to swim I’ll never try Till I find the water dry.”
“Try to control yourself, Scraps,” said Ojo; “you’re getting crazy again. No one intends to swim that river.”
“No,” decided Dorothy, “we couldn’t swim it if we tried. It’s too big a river, and the water moves awful fast.”
“There ought to be a ferryman with a boat,” said the Scarecrow; “but I don’t see any.”
“Couldn’t we make a raft?” suggested Ojo.
“There’s nothing to make one of,” answered Dorothy.
“Wow!” said Toto again, and Dorothy saw he was looking along the bank of the river.
“Why, he sees a house over there!” cried the little girl. “I wonder we didn’t notice it ourselves. Let’s go and ask the people how to get ‘cross the river.”
A quarter of a mile along the bank stood a small, round house, painted bright red, and as it was on their side of the river they hurried toward it. A chubby little man, dressed all in red, came out to greet them, and with him were two children, also in red costumes. The man’s eyes were big and staring as he examined the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl, and the children shyly hid behind him and peeked timidly at Toto.
“Do you live here, my good man?” asked the Scarecrow.
“I think I do, Most Mighty Magician,” replied the Quadling, bowing low; “but whether I’m awake or dreaming I can’t be positive, so I’m not sure where I live. If you’ll kindly pinch me I’ll find out all about it!”
“You’re awake,” said Dorothy, “and this is no magician, but just the Scarecrow.”
“But he’s alive,” protested the man, “and he oughtn’t to be, you know. And that other dreadful person—the girl who is all patches—seems to be alive, too.”
“Very much so,” declared Scraps, making a face at him. “But that isn’t your affair, you know.”
“I’ve a
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