Lit2Go

This amazing news had saddened every heart and all were now anxious to return to the Emerald City and share Ozma’s fate. So they started without loss of time, and as the road led past the Scarecrow’s new mansion they determined to make a brief halt there and confer with him.

“The Scarecrow is probably the wisest man in all Oz,” remarked the Tin Woodman, when they had started upon their journey. “His brains are plentiful and of excellent quality, and often he has told me things I might never have thought of myself. I must say I rely a great deal upon the Scarecrow’s brains in this emergency.”

The Tin Woodman rode on the front seat of the wagon, where Dorothy sat between him and the Wizard.

“Has the Scarecrow heard of Ozma’s trouble?” asked the Captain General.

“I do not know, sir,” was the reply.

“When I was a private,” said Omby Amby, “I was an excellent army, as I fully proved in our war against the Nomes. But now there is not a single private left in our army, since Ozma made me the Captain General, so there is no one to fight and defend our lovely Ruler.”

“True,” said the Wizard. “The present army is composed only of officers, and the business of an officer is to order his men to fight. Since there are no men there can be no fighting.”

“Poor Ozma!” whispered Dorothy, with tears in her sweet eyes. “It’s dreadful to think of all her lovely fairy country being destroyed. I wonder if we couldn’t manage to escape and get back to Kansas by means of the Magic Belt? And we might take Ozma with us and all work hard to get money for her, so she wouldn’t be so VERY lonely and unhappy about the loss of her fairyland.”

“Do you think there would be any work for ME in Kansas?” asked the Tin Woodman.

“If you are hollow, they might use you in a canning factory,” suggested Uncle Henry. “But I can’t see the use of your working for a living. You never eat or sleep or need a new suit of clothes.”

“I was not thinking of myself,” replied the Emperor, with dignity. “I merely wondered if I could not help to support Dorothy and Ozma.”

As they indulged in these sad plans for the future they journeyed in sight of the Scarecrow’s new mansion, and even though filled with care and worry over the impending fate of Oz, Dorothy couldn’t help a feeling of wonder at the sight she saw.

The Scarecrow’s new house was shaped like an immense ear of corn. The rows of kernels were made of solid gold, and the green upon which the ear stood upright was a mass of sparkling emeralds. Upon the very top of the structure was perched a figure representing the Scarecrow himself, and upon his extended arms, as well as upon his head, were several crows carved out of ebony and having ruby eyes. You may imagine how big this ear of corn was when I tell you that a single gold kernel formed a window, swinging outward upon hinges, while a row of four kernels opened to make the front entrance. Inside there were five stories, each story being a single room.

The gardens around the mansion consisted of cornfields, and Dorothy acknowledged that the place was in all respects a very appropriate home for her good friend the Scarecrow.

“He would have been very happy here, I’m sure,” she said, “if only the Nome King had left us alone. But if Oz is destroyed of course this place will be destroyed too.”

“Yes,” replied the Tin Woodman, “and also my beautiful tin castle, that has been my joy and pride.”

“Jack Pumpkinhead’s house will go too,” remarked the Wizard, “as well as Professor Wogglebug’s Athletic College, and Ozma’s royal palace, and all our other handsome buildings.”

“Yes, Oz will indeed become a desert when the Nome King gets through with it,” sighed Omby Amby.

The Scarecrow came out to meet them and gave them all a hearty welcome.

“I hear you have decided always to live in the Land of Oz, after this,” he said to Dorothy; “and that will delight my heart, for I have greatly disliked our frequent partings. But why are you all so downcast?”

“Have you heard the news?” asked the Tin Woodman.

“No news to make me sad,” replied the Scarecrow.

Then Nick Chopper told his friend of the Nome King’s tunnel, and how the evil creatures of the North had allied themselves with the underground monarch for the purpose of conquering and destroying Oz. “Well,” said the Scarecrow, “it certainly looks bad for Ozma, and all of us. But I believe it is wrong to worry over anything before it happens. It is surely time enough to be sad when our country is despoiled and our people made slaves. So let us not deprive ourselves of the few happy hours remaining to us.”

“Ah! that is real wisdom,” declared the Shaggy Man, approvingly. “After we become really unhappy we shall regret these few hours that are left to us, unless we enjoy them to the utmost.”

“Nevertheless,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall go with you to the Emerald City and offer Ozma my services.”

“She says we can do nothing to oppose our enemies,” announced the Tin Woodman.

“And doubtless she is right, sir,” answered the Scarecrow. “Still, she will appreciate our sympathy, and it is the duty of Ozma’s friends to stand by her side when the final disaster occurs.”

He then led them into his strange mansion and showed them the beautiful rooms in all the five stories. The lower room was a grand reception hall, with a hand-organ in one corner. This instrument the Scarecrow, when alone, could turn to amuse himself, as he was very fond of music. The walls were hung with white silk, upon which flocks of black crows were embroidered in black diamonds. Some of the chairs were made in the shape of big crows and upholstered with cushions of corn-colored silk.

The second story contained a fine banquet room, where the Scarecrow might entertain his guests, and the three stories above that were bed-chambers exquisitely furnished and decorated.

“From these rooms,” said the Scarecrow, proudly, “one may obtain fine views of the surrounding cornfields. The corn I grow is always husky, and I call the ears my regiments, because they have so many kernels. Of course I cannot ride my cobs, but I really don’t care shucks about that. Taken altogether, my farm will stack up with any in the neighborhood.”

The visitors partook of some light refreshment and then hurried away to resume the road to the Emerald City. The Scarecrow found a seat in the wagon between Omby Amby and the Shaggy Man, and his weight did not add much to the load because he was stuffed with straw.

“You will notice I have one oat-field on my property,” he remarked, as they drove away. “Oat-straw is, I have found, the best of all straws to re-stuff myself with when my interior gets musty or out of shape.”

“Are you able to re-stuff yourself without help?” asked Aunt Em. “I should think that after the straw was taken out of you there wouldn’t be anything left but your clothes.”

“You are almost correct, madam,” he answered. “My servants do the stuffing, under my direction. For my head, in which are my excellent brains, is a bag tied at the bottom. My face is neatly painted upon one side of the bag, as you may see. My head does not need re-stuffing, as my body does, for all that it requires is to have the face touched up with fresh paint occasionally.”

It was not far from the Scarecrow’s mansion to the farm of Jack Pumpkinhead, and when they arrived there both Uncle Henry and Aunt Em were much impressed. The farm was one vast pumpkin field, and some of the pumpkins were of enormous size. In one of them, which had been neatly hollowed out, Jack himself lived, and he declared that it was a very comfortable residence. The reason he grew so many pumpkins was in order that he might change his head as often as it became wrinkled or threatened to spoil.

The pumpkin-headed man welcomed his visitors joyfully and offered them several delicious pumpkin pies to eat.

“I don’t indulge in pumpkin pies myself, for two reasons,” he said. “One reason is that were I to eat pumpkins I would become a cannibal, and the other reason is that I never eat, not being hollow inside.”

“Very good reasons,” agreed the Scarecrow.

They told Jack Pumpkinhead of the dreadful news about the Nome King, and he decided to go with them to the Emerald City and help comfort Ozma.

“I had expected to live here in ease and comfort for many centuries,” said Jack, dolefully; “but of course if the Nome King destroys everything in Oz I shall be destroyed too. Really, it seems too bad, doesn’t it?”

They were soon on their journey again, and so swiftly did the Sawhorse draw the wagon over the smooth roads that before twilight fell they had reached the royal palace in the Emerald City, and were at their journey’s end.