- Year Published: 1918
- Language: English
- Country of Origin: United States of America
- Source: Baum, L. F. (1918). The Tin Woodman of Oz. J. R. Neill (Ed.).
- Flesch–Kincaid Level: 7.0
- Word Count: 2,190
Baum, L. (1918). Chapter 10: “Tommy Kwikstep”. The Tin Woodman of Oz (Lit2Go Edition). Retrieved May 27, 2016, from
Baum, L. Frank. "Chapter 10: “Tommy Kwikstep”." The Tin Woodman of Oz. Lit2Go Edition. 1918. Web. <>. May 27, 2016.
L. Frank Baum, "Chapter 10: “Tommy Kwikstep”," The Tin Woodman of Oz, Lit2Go Edition, (1918), accessed May 27, 2016,.
“Our best plan,” said the Scarecrow Bear, when the Green Monkey had related the story of his adventure with the Dragons, “is to get out of this Gillikin Country as soon as we can and try to find our way to the castle of Glinda, the Good Sorceress. There are too many dangers lurking here to suit me, and Glinda may be able to restore us to our proper forms.”
“If we turn south now,” the Tin Owl replied, “we might go straight into the Emerald City. That’s a place I wish to avoid, for I’d hate to have my friends see me in this sad plight,” and he blinked his eyes and fluttered his tin wings mournfully.
“But I am certain we have passed beyond Emerald City,” the Canary assured him, sailing lightly around their heads. “So, should we turn south from here, we would pass into the Munchkin Country, and continuing south we would reach the Quadling Country where Glinda’s castle is located.”
“Well, since you’re sure of that, let’s start right away,” proposed the Bear. “It’s a long journey, at the best, and I’m getting tired of walking on four legs.”
“I thought you never tired, being stuffed with straw,” said Woot.
“I mean that it annoys me, to be obliged to go on all fours, when two legs are my proper walking equipment,” replied the Scarecrow. “I consider it beneath my dignity. In other words, my remarkable brains can tire, through humiliation, although my body cannot tire.”
“That is one of the penalties of having brains,” remarked the Tin Owl with a sigh. “I have had no brains since I was a man of meat, and so I never worry. Nevertheless, I prefer my former manly form to this owl’s shape and would be glad to break Mrs. Yoop’s enchantment as soon as possible. I am so noisy, just now, that I disturb myself,” and he fluttered his wings with a clatter that echoed throughout the forest.
So, being all of one mind, they turned southward, traveling steadily on until the woods were left behind and the landscape turned from purple tints to blue tints, which assured them they had entered the Country of the Munchkins.
“Now I feel myself more safe,” said the Scarecrow Bear. “I know this country pretty well, having been made here by a Munchkin farmer and having wandered over these lovely blue lands many times. Seems to me, indeed, that I even remember that group of three tall trees ahead of us; and, if I do, we are not far from the home of my friend Jinjur.”
“Who is Jinjur?” asked Woot, the Green Monkey.
“Haven’t you heard of Jinjur?” exclaimed the Scarecrow, in surprise.
“No,” said Woot. “Is Jinjur a man, a woman, a beast or a bird?”
“Jinjur is a girl,” explained the Scarecrow Bear. “She’s a fine girl, too, although a bit restless and liable to get excited. Once, a long time ago, she raised an army of girls and called herself ‘General Jinjur.’ With her army she captured the Emerald City, and drove me out of it, because I insisted that an army in Oz was highly improper. But Ozma punished the rash girl, and afterward Jinjur and I became fast friends. Now Jinjur lives peacefully on a farm, near here, and raises fields of cream-puffs, chocolate-caramels and macaroons. They say she’s a pretty good farmer, and in addition to that she’s an artist, and paints pictures so perfect that one can scarcely tell them from nature. She often repaints my face for me, when it gets worn or mussy, and the lovely expression I wore when the Giantess transformed me was painted by Jinjur only a month or so ago.”
“It was certainly a pleasant expression,” agreed Woot.
“Jinjur can paint anything,” continued the Scarecrow Bear, with enthusiasm, as they walked along together. “Once, when I came to her house, my straw was old and crumpled, so that my body sagged dreadfully. I needed new straw to replace the old, but Jinjur had no straw on all her ranch and I was really unable to travel farther until I had been restuffed. When I explained this to Jinjur, the girl at once painted a straw-stack which was so natural that I went to it and secured enough straw to fill all my body. It was a good quality of straw, too, and lasted me a long time.”
This seemed very wonderful to Woot, who knew that such a thing could never happen in any place but a fairy country like Oz.
The Munchkin Country was much nicer than the Gillikin Country, and all the fields were separated by blue fences, with grassy lanes and paths of blue ground, and the land seemed well cultivated. They were on a little hill looking down upon this favored country, but had not quite reached the settled parts, when on turning a bend in the path they were halted by a form that barred their way.
A more curious creature they had seldom seen, even in the Land of Oz, where curious creatures abound. It had the head of a young man—evidently a Munchkin—with a pleasant face and hair neatly combed. But the body was very long, for it had twenty legs—ten legs on each side—and this caused the body to stretch out and lie in a horizontal position, so that all the legs could touch the ground and stand firm. From the shoulders extended two small arms; at least, they seemed small beside so many legs.
This odd creature was dressed in the regulation clothing of the Munchkin people, a dark blue coat neatly fitting the long body and each pair of legs having a pair of sky-blue trousers, with blue-tinted stockings and blue leather shoes turned up at the pointed toes.
“I wonder who you are?” said Polychrome the Canary, fluttering above the strange creature, who had probably been asleep on the path.
“I sometimes wonder, myself, who I am,” replied the many-legged young man; “but, in reality, I am Tommy Kwikstep, and I live in a hollow tree that fell to the ground with age. I have polished the inside of it, and made a door at each end, and that’s a very comfortable residence for me because it just fits my shape.”
“How did you happen to have such a shape?” asked the Scarecrow Bear, sitting on his haunches and regarding Tommy Kwikstep with a serious look. “Is the shape natural?”
“No; it was wished on me,” replied Tommy, with a sigh. “I used to be very active and loved to run errands for anyone who needed my services. That was how I got my name of Tommy Kwikstep. I could run an errand more quickly than any other boy, and so I was very proud of myself. One day, however, I met an old lady who was a fairy, or a witch, or something of the sort, and she said if I would run an errand for her—to carry some magic medicine to another old woman—she would grant me just one Wish, whatever the Wish happened to be. Of course I consented and, taking the medicine, I hurried away. It was a long distance, mostly up hill, and my legs began to grow weary. Without thinking what I was doing I said aloud: ‘Dear me; I wish I had twenty legs!’ and in an instant I became the unusual creature you see beside you. Twenty legs! Twenty on one man! You may count them, if you doubt my word.”
“You’ve got ‘em, all right,” said Woot the Monkey, who had already counted them.
“After I had delivered the magic medicine to the old woman, I returned and tried to find the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, who had given me the unlucky wish, so she could take it away again. I’ve been searching for her ever since, but never can I find her,” continued poor Tommy Kwikstep, sadly. “I suppose, ”said the Tin Owl, blinking at him, “you can travel very fast, with those twenty legs.”
“At first I was able to,” was the reply; “but I traveled so much, searching for the fairy, or witch, or whatever she was, that I soon got corns on my toes. Now, a corn on one toe is not so bad, but when you have a hundred toes—as I have—and get corns on most of them, it is far from pleasant. Instead of running, I now painfully crawl, and although I try not to be discouraged I do hope I shall find that witch or fairy, or whatever she was, before long.”
“I hope so, too,” said the Scarecrow. “But, after all, you have the pleasure of knowing you are unusual, and therefore remarkable among the people of Oz. To be just like other persons is small credit to one, while to be unlike others is a mark of distinction.”
“That sounds very pretty,” returned Tommy Kwikstep, “but if you had to put on ten pair of trousers every morning, and tie up twenty shoes, you would prefer not to be so distinguished.”
“Was the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, an old person, with wrinkled skin and half her teeth gone?” inquired the Tin Owl.
“No,” said Tommy Kwikstep.
“Then she wasn’t Old Mombi,” remarked the transformed Emperor.
“I’m not interested in who it wasn’t, so much as I am in who it was,” said the twenty-legged young man. “And, whatever or whomsoever she was, she has managed to keep out of my way.”
“If you found her, do you suppose she’d change you back into a two-legged boy?” asked Woot.
“Perhaps so, if I could run another errand for her and so earn another wish.”
“Would you really like to be as you were before?” asked Polychrome the Canary, perching upon the Green Monkey’s shoulder to observe Tommy Kwikstep more attentively.
“I would, indeed,” was the earnest reply.
“Then I will see what I can do for you,” promised the Rainbow’s Daughter, and flying to the ground she took a small twig in her bill and with it made several mystic figures on each side of Tommy Kwikstep.
“Are you a witch, or fairy, or something of the sort?” he asked as he watched her wonderingly.
The Canary made no answer, for she was busy, but the Scarecrow Bear replied: “Yes; she’s something of the sort, and a bird of a magician.”
The twenty-legged boy’s transformation happened so queerly that they were all surprised at its method. First, Tommy Kwikstep’s last two legs disappeared; then the next two, and the next, and as each pair of legs vanished his body shortened. All this while Polychrome was running around him and chirping mystical words, and when all the young man’s legs had disappeared but two he noticed that the Canary was still busy and cried out in alarm:
“Stop—stop! Leave me two of my legs, or I shall be worse off than before.”
“I know,” said the Canary. “I’m only removing with my magic the corns from your last ten toes.”
“Thank you for being so thoughtful,” he said gratefully, and now they noticed that Tommy Kwikstep was quite a nice looking young fellow.
“What will you do now?” asked Woot the Monkey.
“First,” he answered, “I must deliver a note which I’ve carried in my pocket ever since the witch, or fairy, or whatever she was, granted my foolish wish. And I am resolved never to speak again without taking time to think carefully on what I am going to say, for I realize that speech without thought is dangerous. And after I’ve delivered the note, I shall run errands again for anyone who needs my services.”
So he thanked Polychrome again and started away in a different direction from their own, and that was the last they saw of Tommy Kwikstep.