This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Osma of Oz, a record of her adventures with Dorothy Gale of Kansas, the Yellow Hen, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, Tick Tock, the Cowardly Lion, and the Hungry Tiger. Besides other good people too numerous to mention, faithfully recorded herein by L. Frank Baum, the author of The Wizard of Oz, The Land of Oz, etc. To all the boys and girls who read my stories, and especially to the Dorothy's, this book is lovingly dedicated. Author's note. My friends the children are responsible for this new Oz book, as they were for the last one, which was called The Land of Oz. Their sweet little letters plead to know more about Dorothy, and they ask, what became of the Cowardly Lion, and what did Osma do afterward? Meaning, of course, after she became the ruler of Oz. And some of them suggest thoughts to me, saying, please have Dorothy go to the Land of Oz again, or why don't you make Osma and Dorothy meet, and have a good time together? Indeed, could I do all that my little friends ask, I would be obliged to write dozens of books to satisfy their demands. And I wish I could, for I enjoy writing these stories just as much as the children say they enjoy reading them. Well, here is more about Dorothy, and about our old friends the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, and about the Cowardly Lion and Osma, and all the rest of them, and here likewise is a good deal about some new folks that are queer and unusual. One little friend who read this story before it was printed said to me, Belina is real Ozzy, Mr. Baum, and so are Tiktok and the Hungry Tiger. If this judgment is unbiased and correct, and the little folks find this new story real Ozzy, I shall be very glad indeed that I wrote it. But perhaps I shall get some more of those very welcome letters from my readers, telling me just how they like Osma of Oz. I hope so, anyway. CHAPTER I THE GIRL AND THE CHICKEN COOP The wind blew hard and juggled the water of the ocean, sending ripples across its surface. Then the wind pushed the edges of the ripples until they became waves, and shoved the waves around until they became billows. The billows rolled dreadfully high, higher even than the tops of houses. Some of them indeed rolled as high as the tops of tall trees, and seemed like mountains, and the gulfs between the great billows were like deep valleys. All this mad dashing and splashing of the waters of the big ocean, which the mischievous wind caused without any good reason whatever, resulted in a terrible storm, and a storm on the ocean is liable to cut many queer pranks and do a lot of damage. At the time the wind began to blow, a ship was sailing far out upon the waters. When the waves began to tumble and toss and to grow bigger and bigger, the ship rolled up and down and tipped sideways, first one way and then the other, and was jostled around so roughly that even the sailor men had to hold fast to the ropes and railings to keep themselves from being swept away by the wind or pitched headlong into the sea. And the clouds were so thick in the sky that the sunlight couldn't get through them, so that the day grew dark as night, which added to the terrors of the storm. The captain of the ship was not afraid, because he had seen storms before, and had sailed his ship through them in safety, but he knew that his passengers would be in danger if they tried to stay on deck. So he put them all into the cabin and told them to stay there until the storm was over, and to keep brave hearts and not be scared, and all would be well with them. Now among these passengers was a little Kansas girl named Dorothy Gale, who was going with her Uncle Henry to Australia to visit some relatives they had never before seen. Uncle Henry, you must know, was not very well, because he had been working so hard on his Kansas farm that his health had given way and left him weak and nervous. So he left on M at home to watch after the hired men and to take care of the farm, while he traveled far away to Australia to visit his cousins and have a good rest. Dorothy was eager to go with him on this journey, and Uncle Henry thought she would be good company and help cheer him up, so he decided to take her along. The little girl was quite an experienced traveler, for she had once been carried by a cyclone as far away from home as the marvelous land of Oz, and she had met with a good many adventures in that strange country before she managed to get back to Kansas again. So she wasn't easily frightened whatever happened, and when the wind began to howl and whistle and the waves began to tumble and toss, our little girl didn't mind the uproar the least bit. Of course we'll have to stay in the cabin, she said to Uncle Henry and the other passengers, and keep as quiet as possible until the storm is over. For the captain says, if we go on deck we may be blown overboard. No one wanted to risk such an accident as that, you may be sure, so all the passengers stayed huddled up in the dark cabin, listening to the shrieking of the storm and the creaking of the masts and rigging, and trying to keep from bumping into one another when the ship tipped sideways. Dorothy had almost fallen asleep when she was aroused with a start to find that Uncle Henry was missing. She couldn't imagine where he had gone, and as he was not very strong she began to worry about him, and to fear he might have been careless enough to go on deck. In that case he would be in great danger unless he instantly came down again. The fact was that Uncle Henry had gone to lie down in his little sleeping berth, but Dorothy did not know that. She only remembered that Aunt M had cautioned her to take good care of her uncle, so at once she decided to go on deck and find him, in spite of the fact that the tempest was now worse than ever, and the ship was plunging in a really dreadful manner. Indeed the little girl found it was as much as she could do to mount the stairs to the deck, and as soon as she got there the wind struck her so fiercely that it almost tore away the skirts of her dress. Yet Dorothy felt a sort of joyous excitement in defying the storm, and while she held fast to the railing she peered around through the gloom, and thought she saw the dim form of a man clinging to a mast not far away from her. This might be her uncle, so she called as loudly as she could. Uncle Henry, Uncle Henry! But the wind screeched and howled so madly that she scarce heard her own voice, and the man certainly failed to hear her, for he did not move. Dorothy decided she must go to him, so she made a dash forward during a lull in the storm, to where a big square chicken coop had been lashed to the deck with ropes. She reached this place in safety, but no sooner had she seized fast hold of the slats of the big box in which the chickens were kept, then the wind, as if enraged because the little girl dared to resist its power, suddenly redoubled its fury. With a scream like that of an angry giant it tore away the ropes that held the coop, and lifted it high into the air with Dorothy still clinging to the slats. Around and over it whirled, this way and that, and a few minutes later the chicken coop dropped far away into the sea, where the big waves caught it and slid it uphill to a foaming crest, and then downhill into a deep valley, as if it were nothing more than a plaything to keep them amused. Dorothy had a good ducking, you may be sure, but she didn't lose her presence of mind even for a second. She kept tight hold of the stout slats, and as soon as she could get the water out of her eyes, she saw that the wind had ripped the cover from the coop, and the poor chickens were fluttering away in every direction, being blown by the wind until they looked like feather dusters without handles. The bottom of the coop was made of thick boards, so Dorothy found she was clinging to a sort of raft, with sides of slats which readily bore up her weight. After coughing the water out of her throat and getting her breath again, she managed to climb over the slats and stand upon the firm wooden bottom of the coop, which supported her easily enough. Why, I've got a ship of my own, she thought, more amused than frightened at her sudden change of condition, and then, as the coop climbed up to the top of a big wave, she looked eagerly around for the ship from which she had been blown. It was far, far away by this time. Perhaps no one on board had yet missed her, or knew of her strange adventure. Down into a valley between the waves the coop swept her, and when she climbed another crest the ship looked like a toy boat, it was such a long way off. Soon it had entirely disappeared in the gloom, and then Dorothy gave a sigh of regret at parting with Uncle Henry, and began to wonder what was going to happen to her next. Just now she was tossing on the bosom of a big ocean, with nothing to keep her afloat but a miserable wooden hen coop, that had a plank bottom and slatted sides, through which the water constantly splashed and wetted her through to the skin. And there was nothing to eat when she became hungry, as she was sure to do before long, and no fresh water to drink, and no dry clothes to put on. Well, I declare, she exclaimed with a laugh, you're in a pretty fixed, Dorothy Gale, I can tell you, and I haven't the least idea how you're going to get out of it. As if to add to her troubles the night was now creeping on, and the grey clouds overhead changed to inky blackness. But the wind, as if satisfied at last with its mischievous pranks, stopped blowing this ocean and hurried away to another part of the world to blow something else, so that the waves not being juggled any more began to quiet down and behave themselves. It was lucky for Dorothy, I think, that the storm subsided. Otherwise, brave though she was, I fear she might have perished. Many children in her place would have wept and given way to despair. But because Dorothy had encountered so many adventures and come safely through them, it did not occur to her at this time to be especially afraid. She was wet and uncomfortable, it is true, but after sighing that one sigh I told you of, she managed to recall some of her customary cheerfulness, and decided to patiently await whatever her fate might be. By and by the black clouds rolled away and showed a blue sky overhead, with a silver moon shining sweetly in the middle of it, and little stars winking merrily at Dorothy when she looked their way. The coop did not toss around any more, but rode the waves more gently, almost like a cradle rocking, so that the floor upon which Dorothy stood was no longer swept by water coming through the slats. Seeing this, and being quite exhausted by the excitement of the past few hours, the little girl decided that sleep would be the best thing to restore her strength, and the easiest way in which she could pass the time. The floor was damp, and she was herself ringing wet, but fortunately this was a warm climate, and she did not feel at all cold. So she sat down in a corner of the coop, leaned her back against the slats, nodded at the friendly stars before she closed her eyes, and was asleep in half a minute. End of Chapter 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Osma Vaz by L. Frank Baum. Chapter 2. The Yellow Hen A strange noise awoke Dorothy, who opened her eyes to find that day had dawned, and the sun was shining brightly in a clear sky. She had been dreaming that she was back in Kansas again, and playing in the old barnyard with the calves and pigs and chickens all around her. And at first, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she really imagined she was there. Ah, here again was the strange noise that had awakened her. Surely it was a hen cackling. But her wide open eyes first saw, through the slats of the coop, the blue waves of the ocean, now calm and placid, and her thoughts flew back to the past night, so full of danger and discomfort. Also, she began to remember that she was a wave of the storm, adrift upon a treacherous and unknown sea. Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut! What's that, cried Dorothy, starting to her feet? Why, I've just laid an egg, that's all, replied a small but sharp and distinct voice. And looking around her, the little girl discovered a yellow hen, squatting in the opposite corner of the coop. Dear me, she exclaimed in surprise, have you been here all night, too? Of course, answered the hen, fluttering her wings and yawning. When the coop blew away from the ship, I clung fast to this corner with claws and beak, for I knew if I fell into the water I'd surely be drowned. Indeed, I nearly drowned as it was, with all that water watching over me. I never was so wet before in my life. Yes, agreed, Dorothy, it was pretty wet for a time, I know. But do you feel comfortable now? Not very, the sun has helped to dry my feathers as it has your dress, and I feel better since I laid my morning egg. But what's to become of us? I should like to know afloat on this big pond. I'd like to know that, too, said Dorothy, but tell me, how does it happen that you are able to talk? I thought hens could only cluck and cackle. Why, as for that, answered the yellow hen thoughtfully, I've clucked and cackled all my life, and never spoken a word before this morning that I can remember. But when you asked a question a minute ago, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to answer you. So I spoke, and I seemed to keep on speaking, just as you and other human beings do. Strange, isn't it? Very replied Dorothy, if we were in the land of Oz, I wouldn't think it so queer, because many of the animals can talk in that very country. But out here in the ocean must be a good long way from Oz. How has my grammar asked the yellow hen anxiously? Do I speak quite properly in your judgment? Yes, said Dorothy, you do very well for a beginner. I'm glad to know that, continued the yellow hen in a confidential tone, because if one is going to talk it's best to talk correctly. The red rooster has often said that my cluck and my cackle were quite perfect, and now it's a comfort to know I am talking properly. I'm beginning to get hungry, remarked Dorothy, it's breakfast time, but there's no breakfast. You may have my egg, said the yellow hen. I don't care for it, you know. Don't you want to hatch it? asked the little girl in surprise. No indeed, I never care to hatch eggs unless I have a nice snug nest in some quiet place, with a baker's dozen of eggs under me. That's thirteen, you know, and it's a lucky number for hens, so you may as well eat this egg. Oh, I couldn't possibly eat it unless it was cooked, exclaimed Dorothy, but I much obliged for your kindness just the same. Don't mention it, my dear, answered the hen calmly, and began pruning her feathers. For a moment Dorothy stood looking out over the wide sea. She was still thinking of the egg, though, so presently she asked, Why do you lay eggs when you don't expect to hatch them? It's a habit I have, replied the yellow hen. It has always been my pride to lay a fresh egg every morning, except when I'm molting. I never feel like having my morning cackle till the egg is properly laid, and without the chance to cackle I would not be happy. It's strange, said the girl reflectively, but as I'm not a hen I can't be expected to understand that. Certainly not, my dear. Then Dorothy fell silent again. The yellow hen was some company, and a bit of comfort too, but it was dreadfully lonely out on the big ocean nevertheless. After a time the hen flew up and perched upon the topmost slat of the coop, which was a little above Dorothy's head when she was sitting upon the bottom, as she had been doing for some moments past. Why, we are not far from land, exclaimed the hen. Where, where is it? cried Dorothy, jumping up in great excitement.  We seem to be drifting toward it, so that before noon we ought to find ourselves upon dry land again. I shall like that, said Dorothy, with a little sigh. For her feet and legs were still wedded now and then by the sea water that came through the open slats.  The land, which they seemed to be rapidly approaching, since it grew more distinct every minute, was quite beautiful as viewed by the little girl in the floating hen coop. Next to the water was a broad beach of white sand and gravel, and farther back were several rocky hills, while beyond these appeared a strip of green trees that marked the edge of a forest. But there were no houses to be seen nor any sign of people who might inhabit this unknown land. I hope we shall find something to eat, said Dorothy, looking eagerly at the pretty beach toward which they drifted. It's long past breakfast time now. I'm a trifle hungry myself, declared the yellow hen. Why don't you eat the egg, asked the child? You don't need to have your food cooked, as I do. Do you take me for a cannibal, cried the hen, indignantly? I do not know what I have said or done that leads you to insult me. I beg your pardon, I'm sure, Mrs., Mrs. By the way, may I inquire your name, ma'am, asked the little girl? My name is Bill, said the yellow hen, somewhat gruffly. Bill? Why, that's a boy's name. What difference does that make?  Of course. But when I was first hatched out, no one could tell whether I was going to be a hen or a rooster. So the little boy at the farm where I was born called me Bill, and made a pet of me because I was the only yellow chicken in the whole brood. When I grew up and he found that I didn't crow and fight as all the roosters do, I did not think to change my name, and every creature in the barnyard, as well as the people in the house, knew me as Bill. So Bill I've always been called, and Bill is my name. But it's all wrong you know, declared Dorothy earnestly, and if you don't mind, I shall call you Belina. Putting the ena on the end makes it a girl's name, you see. Oh, I don't mind it in the least, returned the yellow hen. It doesn't matter at all what you call me, so long as I know the name means me. Very well, Belina, my name is Dorothy Gale. Just Dorothy to my friends, and Miss Gale to strangers. You may call me Dorothy if you like. We're getting very near the shore. Do you suppose it is too deep for me to wade the rest of the way? Wait a few minutes longer. The sunshine is warm and pleasant, and we are in no hurry. But my feet are all wet and soggy, said the girl. My dress is dry enough, but I won't feel real comfortable till I get my feet dried. She waited, however, as the hen advised, and before long the big wooden coop grated gently on the sandy beach, and the dangerous voyage was over. It did not take the castaways long to reach the shore, you may be sure. The yellow hen flew to the sands at once, but Dorothy had to climb over the high slats. Still, for a country girl, that was not much of a feat, and as soon as she was safe ashore, Dorothy drew off her wet shoes and stockings, and spread them upon the sun-warmed beach to dry. Then she sat down and watched Belina, who was pick-pecking away with her sharp bill in the sand and gravel, which she scratched up and turned over with her strong claws. What are you doing, asked Dorothy? Getting my breakfast, of course, murmured the hen, busily pecking away. What do you find, inquired the girl curiously?  They are very sweet and nice, I assure you. How dreadful exclaimed Dorothy in a shocked voice! What is dreadful, asked the hen, lifting her head to gaze with one bright eye at her companion?  Goodness me, returned the hen, in a puzzled tone.   We don't, said Dorothy. You do indeed, answered Belina.  But we cook them, said Dorothy triumphantly. What difference does that make? A good deal, said the girl, in a graver tone. I can't just explain the difference, but it's there, and anyhow we never eat such dreadful things as bugs.  This made Dorothy thoughtful. What Belina said was true enough, and it almost took away her appetite for breakfast. As for the yellow hen, she continued to peck away at the sand, busily, and seemed quite content with her bill of fare. Finally, down near the water's edge, Belina struck her bill deep into the sand, and then drew back and shivered. Ow! she cried. I struck metal that time, and it nearly broke my beak. It probably was a rock, said Dorothy carelessly. Nonsense! I know a rock from metal, I guess, said the hen. There's a different feel to it. But there couldn't be any metal on this wild, deserted sea shore, persisted the girl. Where's the place? I'll dig it up, and prove to you I'm right. Belina showed her the place where she had stubbed her bill, as she expressed it, and Dorothy dug away the sand until she felt something hard. Then, thrusting in her hand, she pulled the thing out, and discovered it to be a large-sized golden key, rather old, but still bright, and of perfect shape. What did I tell you, cried the hen, with a cackle of triumph? Can I tell metal when I bump into it, or is the thing a rock? It's metal, sure enough, answered the child, gazing thoughtfully at the curious thing she had found. I think it is pure gold, and it must have lain hidden in the sand for a long time. How do you suppose it came there, Belina? And what do you suppose this mysterious key unlocks? I can't say, replied the hen, you ought to know more about locks and keys than I do. Dorothy glanced around. There was no sign of any house in that part of the country, and she reasoned that every key must fit a lock, and every lock must have a purpose. Perhaps the key had been lost by somebody who lived far away, but had wandered on this very shore. Musing on these things, the girl put the key in the pocket of her dress, and then slowly drew on her shoes and stockings, which the sun had fully dried. I believe, Belina, she said, I'll have a look around, and see if I can find some breakfast. End of Chapter 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Osma of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Chapter 3. Letters in the Sand Walking a little way back from the water's edge toward the grove of trees, Dorothy came to a flat stretch of white sand that seemed to have queer signs marked upon its surface. Just as one would write upon sand with a stick. What does it say, she asked the yellow hen, who trotted along beside her in a rather dignified fashion. How should I know, returned the hen? I cannot read. Oh, can't you? Certainly not. I've never been to school, you know. Well, I have, admitted, Dorothy, but the letters are big and far apart, and it's hard to spell out the words. But she looked at each letter carefully, and finally discovered that these words were written in the sand. Beware the wheelers. That's rather strange, declared the hen, when Dorothy had read aloud the words. What do you suppose the wheelers are? Folks that wheel, I guess, they must have wheelbarrows, or baby cabs, or hand carts, said Dorothy. Perhaps their automobiles suggested the yellow hen. There is no need to beware of baby cabs and wheelbarrows, but automobiles are dangerous things. Several of my friends have been run over by them. It can't be automobiles, replied the girl, for this is a new wild country without even trolley-cars or telephones. The people here haven't been discovered yet, I'm sure. That is, if there are any people. So I don't believe there can be any automobiles, Belina. Perhaps not, admitted the yellow hen, where are you going now? Over to those trees to see if I can find some fruit or nuts, answered Dorothy. She trampled across the sand, skirting the foot of one of the little rocky hills that stood near, and soon reached the edge of the forest. At first she was greatly disappointed because the nearer trees were all punita, or cottonwood, or eucalyptus, and bore no fruit or nuts at all. But by and by, when she was almost in despair, the little girl came upon two trees that promised to furnish her with plenty of food. One was quite full of square paper boxes, which grew in clusters on all the limbs, and upon the biggest and ripest boxes the word lunch could be read in neat raised letters. This tree seemed to bear all the year around, for there were lunchbox blossoms on some of the branches, and on others tiny little lunchboxes that were as yet quite green and evidently not fit to eat until they had grown bigger. The leaves of this tree were all paper napkins, and it presented a very pleasing appearance to the hungry little girl. But the tree next to the lunchbox tree was even more wonderful, for it bore quantities of tin dinner pails, which were so full and heavy that the stout branches bent underneath their weight. Some were small and dark brown in color, those larger were of a dull tin color, but the really ripe ones were pails of bright tin that shone and glistened beautifully in the rays of sunshine that touched them. Dorothy was delighted, and even the yellow hen acknowledged that she was surprised. The little girl stood on tiptoe and picked one of the nicest and biggest lunchboxes, and then she sat down upon the ground and eagerly opened it. Inside she found, nicely wrapped in white papers, a ham sandwich, a piece of sponge cake, a pickle, a slice of new cheese, and an apple. Each thing had a separate stem, and so had to be picked off the side of the box. But Dorothy found them all to be delicious, and she ate every bit of luncheon in the box before she had finished. A lunch isn't exactly breakfast, she said to Belina, who sat beside her curiously watching, but when one is hungry one can eat even supper in the morning and not complain. I hope your lunchbox was perfectly ripe, observed the yellow hen, in an anxious tone, so much sickness is caused by eating green things. Oh, I'm sure it was ripe, declared Dorothy. All that is, except the pickle, and a pickle just has to be green, Belina. But everything tasted perfectly splendid, and I'd rather have it than a church picnic. And now I think I'll pick a dinner pail to have when I get hungry again, and then we'll start out and explore the country and see where we are. Haven't you any idea what country this is, inquired Belina? None at all. But listen, I'm quite sure it's a fairy country, or such things as lunchboxes and dinner pails wouldn't be growing upon trees. Besides Belina being a hen, you wouldn't be able to talk in any civilized country like Kansas, where no fairies live at all. Perhaps we're in the land of Oz, said the hen thoughtfully. No, that can't be, answered the little girl, because I've been to the land of Oz, and it's all surrounded by a horrid desert that no one can cross. Then how did you get away from there again, asked Belina? I had a pair of silver shoes that carried me through the air, but I lost them, said Dorothy. Ah, indeed! remarked the yellow hen, in a tone of unbelief. Anyhow, resumed the girl, there is no seashore near the land of Oz, so this must surely be some other fairy country. While she was speaking, she selected a bright and pretty dinner pail that seemed to have a stout handle, and picked it from its branch. Then, accompanied by the yellow hen, she walked out of the shadow of the trees toward the seashore. They were part way across the sands when Belina suddenly cried, in a voice of terror. What's that? Dorothy turned quickly round, and saw, coming out of a path that led from between the trees, the most peculiar person her eyes had ever beheld. It had the form of a man, except that it walked, or rather rolled, upon all fours, and its legs were the same length as its arms, giving them the appearance of the four legs of a beast. Yet it was no beast that Dorothy had discovered, for the person was clothed most gorgeously in embroidered garments of many colors, and wore a straw hat perched jauntily upon the side of its head. But it differed from human beings in this respect, that instead of hands and feet there grew at the end of its arms and legs round wheels, and by means of these wheels it rolled very swiftly over the level ground. Afterward Dorothy found that these odd wheels were of the same hard substance that our fingernails and toenails are composed of, and she also learned that creatures of this strange race were born in this queer fashion. But when our little girl first caught sight of the first individual of a race that was destined to cause her a lot of trouble, she had an idea that the brilliantly clothed personage was on roller skates, which were attached to his hands as well as to his feet. Run screamed the yellow hen, fluttering away in great fright. It's a wheeler! A wheeler exclaimed Dorothy, what can that be? Don't you remember the warning in the sand, beware the wheelers? Run, I tell you, run! So Dorothy ran, and the wheeler gave a sharp wild cry, and came after her in full chase. Looking over her shoulder as she ran, the girl now saw a great procession of wheelers emerging from the forest, dozens and dozens of them all clad in splendid, tight-fitting garments, and all rolling swiftly toward her and uttering their wild, strange cries. They're sure to catch us, panted the girl, who was still carrying the heavy dinner-pale she had picked. I can't run much farther, Belina. Climb up this hill quick, said the hen, and Dorothy found she was very near to the heap of loose and jagged rocks they had passed on their way to the forest. The yellow hen was even now fluttering among the rocks, and Dorothy followed as best she could, half climbing and half tumbling up the rough and rugged steep. She was none too soon for the foremost wheeler reached the hill a moment after her, but while the girl scrambled up the rocks, the creature stopped short with howls of rage and disappointment. Dorothy now heard the yellow hen laughing in her cackling, henny way. Don't hurry, my dear, cried Belina. They can't follow us among these rocks, so we're safe enough now. Dorothy stopped at once, and sat down upon a broad boulder, for she was all out of breath. The rest of the wheelers had now reached the foot of the hill, but it was evident that their wheels would not roll upon the rough and jagged rocks, and therefore they were helpless to follow Dorothy and the hen to where they had taken refuge. But they circled all around the little hill, so the child and Belina were fast prisoners, and could not come down without being captured. Then the creature shook their front wheels at Dorothy in a threatening manner, and it seemed they were able to speak as well as to make their dreadful outcries, for several of them shouted, We'll get you in time, never fear, and when we do get you, we'll tear you into little bits. Why are you so cruel to me, asked Dorothy? I'm a stranger in your country, and have done you no harm. No harm, cried one, who seemed to be their leader. Did you not pick our lunchboxes and dinner-pales?  I only picked one of each, she answered. I was hungry, and I didn't know the trees were yours. That is no excuse, retorted the leader, who was clothed in a most gorgeous suit.  Don't you believe him, said Belina? I'm sure the trees do not belong to these awful creatures. They are fit for any mischief, and it's my opinion they would try to kill us just the same if you hadn't picked a dinner-pale. I think so too, agreed Dorothy, but what shall we do now? Stay where we are, advised the Yellow Hen. We are safe from the wheelers until we starve to death anyhow, and before that time comes a good many things can happen. Osma of Oz, by L. Frank Baum, Chapter 4. Tick Tock, The Machine Man After an hour or so most of the band of wheelers rolled back into the forest, leaving only three of their number to guard the hill. These curled themselves up like big dogs, and pretended to go to sleep on the sands, but neither Dorothy nor Belina were fooled by this trick, so they remained in security among the rocks, and paid no attention to their cunning enemies. Finally the hen, fluttering over the mound, exclaimed, Why, here's a path! So Dorothy at once clambered to where Belina sat, and there, short enough, was a smooth path cut between the rocks. It seemed to wind around the mound from top to bottom, like a corkscrew, twisting here and there between the rough boulders, but always remaining level and easy to walk upon. Indeed, Dorothy wondered at first why the wheelers did not roll up this path, but when she followed it to the foot of the mound, she found that several big pieces of rock had been placed directly across the end of the way, thus preventing anyone outside from seeing it, and also preventing the wheelers from using it to climb up the mound. Then Dorothy walked back up the path, and followed it until she came to the very top of the hill, where a solitary round rock stood that was bigger than any of the others surrounding it. The path came to an end just beside this great rock, and for a moment it puzzled the girl to know why the path had been made at all. But the hen, who had been gravely following her around, and was now perched upon a point of rock behind Dorothy, suddenly remarked, It looks something like a door, doesn't it? What looks like a door? inquired the child. Why, that crack in the rock just facing you, replied Belina, whose little round eyes were very sharp and seemed to see everything. It runs up one side and down the other, and across the top and the bottom. What does? Why the crack? So I think it must be a door of rock, although I do not see any hinges. Oh yes, said Dorothy, now observing for the first time the crack in the rock. And isn't this a keyhole, Belina, pointing to a round, deep hole at one side of the door? Of course! If we only had the key now, we could unlock it and see what is there, replied the yellow hen. Maybe it's a treasure chamber full of diamonds and rubies, or heaps of shining gold, or... That reminds me, said Dorothy, of the golden key I picked up on the shore. Do you think that it would fit this keyhole, Belina? Try it and see, suggested the hen. So Dorothy searched in the pocket of her dress and found the golden key, and when she had put it into the hole of the rock and turned it, a sudden sharp snap was heard.  Good gracious, cried Dorothy, shrinking back as far as the narrow path would let her. Forstanding within the narrow chamber of rock was the form of a man, or at least it seemed like a man in the dim light. He was only about as tall as Dorothy herself, and his body was round as a ball and made out of burnished copper. Also his head and limbs were copper, and these were jointed or hinged to his body in a peculiar way, with metal caps over the joints, like the armor worn by knights in days of old. He stood perfectly still, and where the light struck upon his form it glittered as if made of pure gold. Don't be frightened, called Belina from her perch, it isn't alive. I see it isn't, replied the girl, drawing a long breath. It is only made out of copper, like the old kettle in the barnyard at home, continued the hen, turning her head first to one side and then to the other, so that both her little round eyes could examine the object. Once, said Dorothy, I knew a man made out of tin who was a woodman named Nick Chopper, but he was as alive as we are, because he was born a real man and got his tin body a little at a time, first a leg, and then a finger, and then an ear, for the reason that he had so many accidents with his axe, and cut himself up in a very careless manner. Oh! said the hen, with a sniff, as if she did not believe the story. But this copper man continued Dorothy, looking at it with big eyes, is not alive at all, and I wonder what it was made for, and why it was locked in this queer place.  Dorothy stepped inside the little room to get a back view of the copper man, and in this way discovered a printed card that hung between his shoulders, it being suspended from a small copper peg at the back of his neck. She unfastened this card and returned to the path where the light was better, and sat herself down upon a slab of rock to read the printing. What does it say? asked the hen curiously. Dorothy read the card aloud, spelling out the big words with some difficulty, and this is what she read. Smith and Tinker's patent double-action, extra responsive, thought-creating, perfect talking, mechanical man, fitted with our special clockwork attachment. Thinks, speaks, acts, and does everything but live, manufactured only at our works at Evna, land of Ev, all infringements will be promptly prosecuted according to law. How queer, said the yellow hen, do you think that is all true, my dear? I don't know, answered Dorothy, who had more to read. Listen to this, Belina. Directions for using. Thinking, wind the clockwork man under his left arm, marked number one. For speaking, wind the clockwork man under his right arm, marked number two. For walking in action, wind clockwork in the middle of his back, marked number three. Enby, this mechanism is guaranteed to work perfectly for a thousand years. Well, I declare, gasped the yellow hen in amazement. If the copper man can do half of these things, he is a very wonderful machine. But I suppose it is all humbug, like so many other patented articles. We might wind him up, suggest to Dorothy, and see what he'll do. Where is the key to the clockwork, asked Belina? Hanging on the peg where I found the card. Then, said the hen, let us try him and find out if he will go. He is warranted for a thousand years, it seems, but we do not know how long he has been standing inside this rock. Dorothy had already taken the clock key from the peg. Which shall I wind up first, she asked, looking again at the directions on the card? Number one, I should think, returned Belina, that makes him think, doesn't it? Yes, said Dorothy, and wound up, number one, under the left arm. He doesn't seem any different, remarked the hen critically. Why, of course not, he is only thinking now, said Dorothy. I wonder what he is thinking about. I'll wind up his talk, and then, perhaps, he can tell us, said the girl. So she wound up, number two, and immediately the clockwork man said, without moving any part of his body except his lips, good morning, little girl, good morning, Mrs. Hen. The words sounded a little hoarse and creaky, and they were uttered all in the same tone, without any change of expression whatever, but both Dorothy and Belina understood them perfectly. Good morning, sir, they answered politely. Thank you for rescuing me, continued the machine, in the same monotonous voice, which seemed to be worked by a bellows inside of him, like the little toy lambs and cats the children squeeze so that they will make a noise. Don't mention it, answered Dorothy, and then, being very curious, she asked, how did you come to be locked up in this place? It is a long story, replied the copper man, but I will tell it to you briefly. I was purchased from Smith and Tinker, my manufacturer's, by a cruel king of Ev, named Evaldo, who used to beat all his servants until they died. However, he was not able to kill me, because I was not alive, and one must first live in order to die, so that all his beating did me no harm, and merely kept my copper body well polished. This cruel king had a lovely wife and ten beautiful children, five boys and five girls, but in a fit of anger he sold them all to the known king, who by means of his magic arts changed them all into other forms, and put them in his underground palace to ornament the rooms. Afterward the king of Ev regretted his wicked action, and tried to get his wife and children away from the known king, but without a veil, so in despair he locked me up in this rock, threw the key into the ocean, and then jumped in after it and was drowned. How very dreadful, exclaimed Dorothy! It is indeed, said the machine, when I found myself imprisoned, I shouted for help until my voice ran down, and then I walked back and forth in this little room until my action ran down, and then I stood still and thought until my thoughts ran down. After that I remember nothing until you wound me up again. It's a very wonderful story, said Dorothy, and proves that the land of Ev is really a fairy land as I thought it was. Of course it is, answered the copper man. I do not suppose such a perfect machine as I am could be made in any place but a fairy land. I've never seen one in Kansas, said Dorothy. But where did you get the key to unlock this door? asked the clockwork voice. I found it on the shore where it was probably washed up by the waves, she answered, and now, sir, if you don't mind, I'll wind up your action. That will please me very much, said the machine. So she wound up number three, and at once the copper man, in a somewhat stiff and jerky fashion, walked out of the rocky cavern, took off his copper hat, and bowed politely, and then kneeled before Dorothy, said he. From this time forth I am your obedient servant.  What is your name, she asked. Tick-tock, he replied. My former master gave me that name because my clockwork always ticks when it is wound up. I can hear it now, said the yellow hen. So can I, said Dorothy. And then she added with some anxiety. You don't strike, do you? No, answered Tick-tock. And there is no alarm connected with my machinery. I can tell the time, though, by speaking, and as I never sleep I can waken you at any hour you wish to get up in the morning. That's nice, said the little girl, only I never wish to get up in the morning. You can sleep until I lay my egg, said the yellow hen. Then when I cackle, Tick-tock will know it is time to waken you. Do you lay your egg very early, asked Dorothy? About eight o'clock, said Belina, and everybody ought to be up by that time, I'm sure. End of Chapter 4 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Osma of Oz by L. Frank Baum Chapter 5 Dorothy Opens the Dinner Pale Now Tick-tock, said Dorothy, the first thing to be done is to find a way for us to escape from these rocks.  There is no reason to be afraid of the wheelers, said Tick-tock. The words coming more slowly than before. Why not, she asked? Because they are gurgle. He gave a sort of gurgle, and stopped short, waving his hands frantically until suddenly he became motionless, with one arm in the air and the other held stiffly before him with all the copper fingers of the hand spread out like a fan. Dear me, said Dorothy, in a frightened tone, what can the matter be? He's run down, I suppose, said the hen calmly. You couldn't have wound him up very tight. I didn't know how much to wind him, replied the girl, but I'll try to do better next time. She ran around the copper man to take the key from the peg at the back of his neck, but it was not there. It's gone, cried Dorothy in dismay. What's gone? asked Belina. The key. It probably fell off when he made that low bow to you, returned the hen. Look around and see if you cannot find it again. Dorothy looked and the hen held her, and by and by the girl discovered the clock key, which had fallen into a crack of the rock. At once she wound up TikTok's voice, taking care to give the key as many turns as it would go around. She found this quite a task, as you may imagine, if you have ever tried to wind a clock, but the machine man's first words were to assure Dorothy that he would now run for at least twenty-four hours. You did not wind me much at first, he calmly said, and I told you that long story about King Evaldo, so it is no wonder that I ran down. She next rewound the action clockwork, and then Belina advised her to carry the key to TikTok in her pocket, so it would not get lost again. And now, said Dorothy, when all this was accomplished, tell me what you were going to say about the wheelers. Why they are nothing to be frightened at, said the machine. They try to make folks believe that they are very terrible, but as a matter of fact the wheelers are harmless enough to anyone that dares to fight them. They might try to hurt a little girl like you, perhaps because they are very mischievous. Yes, but if I had a club they would run away as soon as they saw me. Haven't you a club, asked Dorothy? No, said TikTok. And you won't find such a thing among these rocks either, declared the yellow hen. Then what shall we do, asked the girl. Wind up my thinkworks tightly, and I will try to think of some other plan, said TikTok. So Dorothy rewound his thought machinery, and while he was thinking she decided to eat her dinner. Belina was already pecking away at the cracks in the rocks, to find something to eat, so Dorothy sat down and opened her tin dinner pail.  It was covered by a cup, which might also, when removed, be used to drink the lemonade from. Within the pail were three slices of turkey, two slices of cold tongue, some lobster salad, four slices of bread and butter, a small custard pie, an orange and nine large strawberries, and some nuts and raisins. Singularly enough, the nuts in this dinner pail grew already cracked, so that Dorothy had no trouble in picking out their meats to eat. She spread the feast upon the rock beside her and began her dinner, first offering some of it to TikTok, who declined because, as he said, he was merely a machine. Afterwards she offered to share with Belina, but the hen murmured something about dead things, and said she preferred her bugs and ants. Do the lunchbox trees and the dinner pail trees belong to the wheelers, the girl asked TikTok, while engaged in eating her meal? Of course not, he answered. They belong to the royal family of Ev. Only, of course, there is no royal family just now, because King Evaldo jumped into the sea, and his wife and ten children have been transformed by the known king. So there is no one to rule the land of Ev that I can think of. Perhaps it is for this reason that the wheelers claim the trees for their own, and pick the luncheons and dinners to eat themselves. But they belong to the king, and you will find the royal E stamped upon the bottom of every dinner pail. Dorothy turned the pail over, and at once discovered the royal mark upon it, as TikTok had said. Are the wheelers the only folks living in the land of Ev, inquired the girl? No, they only inhabit a small portion of it just back of the woods, replied the machine. But they have always been mischievous and impertinent, and my old master King Evaldo used to carry a whip with him when he walked out, to keep the creatures in order. When I was first made the wheelers tried to run over me, and butt me with their heads, but they soon found I was built of too solid a material for them to injure. You seem very durable, said Dorothy, who made you. The firm of Smith and Tinker in the town of Evna, where the royal palace stands, answered TikTok. Did they make many of you, asked the child? No, I am the only automatic mechanical man they ever completed, he replied. They were very wonderful inventors were my makers, and quite artistic in all they did. I am sure of that, said Dorothy, do they live in the town of Evna now? They are both gone, replied the machine. Mr. Smith was an artist, as well as an inventor, and he painted a picture of a river, which was so natural that, as he was reaching across it to paint some flowers on the opposite bank, he fell into the water and was drowned. Oh, I'm sorry for that, exclaimed the little girl. Mr. Tinker, continued TikTok, made a ladder so tall that he could rest the end of it against the moon, while he stood on the highest rung and picked the little stars to set in the points of the king's crown. But when he got to the moon, Mr. Tinker found it such a lovely place that he decided to live there, so he pulled up the ladder after him, and we have never seen him since. He must have been a great loss to this country, said Dorothy, who was by this time eating her custard pie. He was, acknowledged TikTok. Also, he is a great loss to me, for if I should get out of order, I do not know of anyone able to repair me, because I am so complicated. You have no idea how full of machinery I am. I can imagine it, said Dorothy readily. And now, continued the machine, I must stop talking and begin thinking again of a way to escape from this rock, so he turned halfway around in order to think without being disturbed. The best thinker I ever knew, said Dorothy to the yellow hen, was a scarecrow. Nonsense, snapped Belina. It is true, declared Dorothy. I met him in the land of Oz, and he traveled with me to the city of the Great Wizard of Oz, so as to get some brains, for his head was only stuffed with straw. But it seemed to me that he thought just as well before he got his brains, as he did afterward.  What rubbish asked the child, who was now finishing her nuts and raisins? Why, your impossible stories about animals that can talk, and a tin woodman who is alive, and a scarecrow who can think? They are all there, said Dorothy, for I have seen them. I don't believe it, cried the hen, with a toss of her head.  In the land of Oz, remarked TikTok, turning toward them, anything is possible, for it is a wonderful, fairy country. There, Belina, what did I say, cried Dorothy, and then she turned to the machine and asked in an eager tone, do you know the land of Oz, TikTok? No, but I have heard about it, said the copper man, for it is only separated from this land of Ev by a broad desert. Dorothy clapped her hands together delightedly. I'm glad of that, she exclaimed, it makes me quite happy to be so near my old friends. The scarecrow I told you of Belina is the king of the land of Oz. Pardon me, he is not the king now, said TikTok. He was when I left there, declared Dorothy. I know, said TikTok. But there was a revolution in the land of Oz, and the scarecrow was deposed by a soldier woman named General Ginger, and then Ginger was deposed by a little girl named Osma, who was the rightful heir to the throne, and now rules the land under the title of Osma of Oz. That is news to me, said Dorothy thoughtfully, but I suppose lots of things have happened since I left the land of Oz. I wonder what has become of the scarecrow and of the tin woodman and the cowardly lion, and I wonder who this girl Osma is, for I never heard of her before. But TikTok did not reply to this, he had turned around again to resume his thinking. Dorothy packed the rest of the food back into the pail, so as not to be wasteful of good things, and the yellow hen forgot her dignity far enough to pick up all of the scattered crumbs, which she ate rather greedily, although she had so lately pretended to despise the things that Dorothy preferred as food. By this time TikTok approached them with his stiff bow. Be kind enough to follow me, he said, and I will lead you away from here to the town of Evna, where you will be more comfortable, and also I will protect you from the wheelers." All right, answered Dorothy promptly, I'm ready. End of Chapter 5 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Osma of Oz by L. Frank Baum, Chapter 6, The Heads of Languidere They walked slowly down the path between the rocks. TikTok going first, Dorothy following him, and the yellow hen trotting along last of all. At the foot of the path, the copper man leaned down and tossed aside with ease the rocks that numbered the way. Then he turned to Dorothy and said, Let me carry your dinner pail. She placed it in his right hand at once, and the copper fingers closed firmly over the stout handle. Then the little procession marched out upon the level sands. As soon as the three wheelers who were guarding the mound saw them, they began to shout their wild cries and rolled swiftly toward the little group, as if to capture them or bar their way.  Perhaps it did not hurt very much, but it made a great noise, and the wheeler uttered a howl and tumbled over upon its side. The next minute it scrambled to its wheels and rolled away as fast as it could go, screeching with fear at the same time. I told you they were harmless, began TikTok, but before he could say more another wheeler was upon them. Crack went the dinner pail against its head, knocking its straw hat a dozen feet away, and that was enough for this wheeler also. It rolled away after the first one, and the third did not wait to be pounded with the pail, but joined its fellows as quickly as its wheels would whirl. The yellow hand gave a cackle of delight, and flying to a perch upon TikTok's shoulder, she said, Bravely done, my copper friend, and wisely thought of, too. Now we are free from those ugly creatures. But just then a large band of wheelers rolled from the forest, and relying upon their numbers to conquer, they advanced fiercely upon TikTok. Dorothy grabbed Belina in her arms and held her tight, and the machine embraced the form of the little girl with his left arm, the better to protect her. Then the wheelers were upon them. Radley Bang Bang went the dinner pail in every direction, and it made so much clatter bumping against the heads of the wheelers that they were much more frightened than hurt, and fled in a great panic. All that is except their leader. This wheeler had stumbled against another and fallen flat upon his back, and before he could get his wheels under him to rise again, TikTok had fastened his copper fingers into the neck of the gorgeous jacket of his foe, and held him fast. Tell your people to go away, commanded the machine. The leader of the wheelers hesitated to give this order, so TikTok shook him as a terrier dog does a rat, until the wheeler's teeth rattled together with a noise like hailstones on a window pane. Then, as soon as the creature could get its breath, it shouted to the others to roll away, which they immediately did. Now, said TikTok, you shall come with us and tell me what I want to know. You'll be sorry for treating me in this way, wind the wheeler. I'm a terribly fierce person. As for that, answered TikTok, I am only a machine and cannot feel sorrow or joy, no matter what happens. But you are wrong to think yourself terrible or fierce. Why so, asked the wheeler? Because no one else thinks as you do. Your wheels make you helpless to injure anyone, for you have no fists and cannot scratch or even pull hair, nor have you any feet to kick with. All you can do is to yell and shout, and that does not hurt anyone at all. The wheeler burst into a flood of tears to Dorothy's great surprise. Now I and my people are ruined forever, he sobbed, for you have discovered our secret. Being so helpless, our only hope is to make people afraid of us by pretending we are very fierce and terrible and writing in the sand warnings to beware the wheelers. Until now we have frightened everyone, but since you have discovered our weakness, our enemies will fall upon us and make us very miserable and unhappy. Oh no, exclaimed Dorothy, who was sorry to see this beautifully dressed wheeler so miserable. TikTok will keep your secret, and so will Belina and I. Only you must promise not to try to frighten children any more if they come near to you. I won't, indeed I won't, promised the wheeler, ceasing to cry and becoming more cheerful. I'm not really bad, you know, but we have to pretend to be terrible in order to prevent others from attacking us. That is not exactly true, said TikTok, starting to walk toward the path through the forest, and still holding fast to his prisoner who rolled slowly along beside him.  But if you will try to cure those faults, I will not tell anyone how helpless you are. I'll try, of course, reply the wheeler eagerly, and thank you, Mr. TikTok, for your kindness. I am only a machine, said TikTok. I cannot be kind any more than I can be sorry or glad. I can only do what I am wound up to do. Are you wound up to keep my secret, asked the wheeler anxiously? Yes, if you behave yourself, but tell me who rules the land of Ev now, asked the machine. There is no ruler, was the answer, because every member of the royal family is imprisoned by the Nome King, but the Princess Languidere, who is a niece of our late King of Aldo, lives in a part of the royal palace and takes as much money out of the royal treasury as she can spend. The Princess Languidere is not exactly a ruler, you see, because she doesn't rule, but she is the nearest approach to a ruler we have at present. I do not remember her, said TikTok. What does she look like? That I cannot say, replied the wheeler, although I have seen her twenty times. The Princess Languidere is a different person every time I see her, and the only way her subjects can recognize her at all is by means of a beautiful ruby key which she always wears on a chain attached to her left wrist. When we see the key, we know we are beholding the princess. That is strange, said Dorothy in astonishment. Do you mean to say that so many different princesses are one and the same person? Answered the wheeler, there is, of course, but one princess, but she appears to us in many forms which are all more or less beautiful. She must be a witch, exclaimed the girl. I do not think so, declared the wheeler, but there is some mystery connected with her nevertheless. She is a very vain creature and lives mostly in a room surrounded by mirrors so that she can admire herself whichever way she looks. No one answered this speech because they had just passed out of the forest and their attention was fixed upon the scene before them, a beautiful veil in which were many fruit trees and green fields with pretty farmhouses scattered here and there and broad smooth roads that led in every direction. In the center of this lovely veil about a mile from where our friends were standing rose the tall spires of the royal palace littered brightly against their background of blue sky. The palace was surrounded by charming grounds full of flowers and shrubbery. Several tinkling fountains could be seen and there were pleasant walks bordered by rows of white marble statuary. All these details Dorothy was, of course, unable to notice or admire until they had advanced along the road to a position quite near to the palace and she was still looking at the pretty sights when her little party entered the grounds and approached the big front door of the king's own apartments. To their disappointment they found the door tightly closed. A sign was tacked to the panel which read as follows, owner absent, please knock at the third door in the left wing. Now, said TikTok to the captive wheeler, you must show us the way to the left wing. Very well, agreed the prisoner, it is around here at the right. How can the left wing be at the right, demanded Dorothy, who feared the wheeler was fooling them? Because there used to be three wings and two were torn down, so the one on the right is the only one left. It is a trick of the princess languidier to prevent visitors from annoying her. Then the captive led them around to the wing, after which the machine man, having no further use for the wheeler, permitted him to depart and rejoin his fellows. He immediately rolled away at a great pace and was soon lost to sight. TikTok now counted the doors in the wing and knocked loudly upon the third one.  Are you the princess languidier? asked Dorothy. No, miss, I am her servant, replied the maid. May I see the princess, please? I will tell her you are here, miss, and ask her to grant you an audience, said the maid. Step in, please, and take a seat in the drawing-room. So Dorothy walked in, followed closely by the machine. But as the yellow hen tried to enter after them, the little maid cried, Shoo! and flapped her apron in Belina's face.  Haven't you any better manners than that? Oh, do you talk, inquired the maid, evidently surprised. Can't you hear me, snapped Belina? Drop that apron and get out of the doorway, so that I may enter with my friends. The princess won't like it, said the maid, hesitating. I don't care whether she likes it or not, replied Belina, and fluttering her wings with a loud noise, she flew straight at the maid's face. The little servant at once ducked her head, and the hen reached Dorothy's side in safety. Very well, sighed the maid, if you are all ruined because of this obstinate hen, don't blame me for it. It isn't safe to annoy the princess languid here. Tell her we are waiting, if you please, Dorothy requested with dignity. Belina is my friend, and must go wherever I go. Without more words, the maid led them to a richly furnished drawing-room, lighted with subdued rainbow tints that came in through beautiful stained glass windows. Remain here, she said, what names shall I give the princess? I am Dorothy Gale of Kansas, replied the child, and this gentleman is a machine named TikTok, and the yellow hen is my friend Belina. The little servant bowed and withdrew, going through several passages and mounting two marble stairways before she came to the apartments occupied by her mistress. Princess Languidir's sitting-room was paneled with great mirrors, which reached from the ceiling to the floor. Also the ceiling was composed of mirrors, and the floor was of polished silver that reflected every object upon it. So when Languidir sat in her easy chair and played soft melodies upon her mandolin, her form was mirrored hundreds of times in walls and ceiling and floor, and whichever way the lady turned her head, she could see and admire her own features.  I must wear it more often than I have done of late, although it may not be the best of my collection. You have company, Your Highness, announced the maid, bowing low. Who is it? asked Languidir, yawning. Dorothy Gale of Kansas, Mr. Tiktok and Belina answered the maid.  What are they like? Is Dorothy Gale of Kansas pretty? She might be called so, the maid replied. And is Mr. Tiktok attractive, continued the princess? That I cannot say, Your Highness, but he seems very bright. Will Your Gracious Highness see them? Oh, I may as well, Nanda, but I am tired admiring this head, and if my visitor has any claim to beauty, I must take care that she does not surpass me. So I will go to my cabinet and change to number seventeen, which I think is my best appearance, don't you? Your number seventeen is exceedingly beautiful, answered Nanda, with another bow. Again the princess yawned, and then she said, Help me to rise. So the maid assisted her to gain her feet, although Languidir was the stronger of the two, and then the princess slowly walked across the silver floor to her cabinet, leaning heavily at every step upon Nanda's arm. Now I must explain to you that the princess Languidir had thirty heads, as many as there are days in the month, and of course she could only wear one of them at a time, because she had but one neck. These heads were kept in what she called her cabinet, which was a beautiful dressing room that lay just between Languidir's sleeping chamber and the mirrored sitting room. Each head was in a separate cupboard lined with velvet. The cupboards ran all around the sides of the dressing room, and had elaborately carved doors with gold numbers on the outside, and mirrors on the inside of them. When the princess got out of her crystal bed in the morning, she went to her cabinet, opened one of the velvet lined cupboards, and took the head it contained from its golden shelf. Then, by the aid of the mirror inside the open door, she put on the head as neat and straight as could be, and afterward called her maids to robe her for the day. She always wore a simple white costume that suited all the heads. Four, being able to change her face whenever she liked, the princess had no interest in wearing a variety of gowns, as have other ladies, who are compelled to wear the same face constantly. Of course, the thirty heads were in great variety, no two formed alike, but all being of exceeding loveliness. There were heads with golden hair, brown hair, rich auburn hair, and black hair, but none with gray hair. The heads had eyes of blue, of gray, of hazel, of brown, and of black, but there were no red eyes among them, and all were bright and handsome. The noses were Grecian, Roman, Retrusae, and Oriental, representing all types of beauty, and the mouths were of assorted sizes and shapes, displaying pearly teeth when the heads smiled. As for dimples, they appeared in cheeks and chins, wherever they might be most charming, and one or two heads had freckles upon the faces to contrast the better with the brilliancy of their complexions. One key unlocked all the velvet cupboards containing these treasures. A curious key carved from a single blood-red ruby, and this was fastened to a strong but slender chain which the princess wore around her left wrist. When Nanda had supported Languidir to a position in front of cupboard number seventeen, the princess unlocked the door with her ruby key, and after handing head number nine, which she had been wearing to the maid, she took number seventeen from its shelf and fitted it to her neck. It had black hair and dark eyes and a lovely pearl and white complexion, and when Languidir wore it, she knew she was remarkably beautiful in appearance. There was only one trouble with number seventeen, the temper that went with it, and which was hidden somewhere under the glossy black hair, was fiery, harsh, and haughty in the extreme, and it often led the princess to do unpleasant things, which she regretted when she came to wear her other heads. But she did not remember this to-day and went to meet her guests in the drawing-room with a feeling of certainty that she would surprise them with her beauty. However, she was greatly disappointed to find that her visitors were merely a small girl in a gingham dress, a copper man that would only go when wound up, and a yellow hen that was sitting contentedly in Languidir's best workbasket, where there was a china egg used for darning stockings. It may surprise you to learn that a princess ever does such a common thing as darning stockings, but if you will stop to think, you will realize that a princess is sure to wear holes in her stockings the same as other people, only it isn't considered quite polite to mention the matter. Oh! said Languidir, slightly lifting the nose of number seventeen, I thought someone of importance had called. Then you were right, declared Dorothy, I'm a good deal of portence myself, and when Belina lays an egg, she has the proudest cackle you ever heard.   Why, you hard thing, said Dorothy, who was not accustomed to being treated so rudely. The princess looked at her more closely. Tell me, she resumed, are you of royal blood? Better than that, ma'am, said Dorothy, I came from Kansas. Huh! cried the princess scornfully.   Dorothy was so indignant that for a moment she could find no words to reply. But she rose from her chair and was about to leave the room, when the princess, who had been scanning the girl's face, stopped her by saying more gently, come nearer to me. Dorothy obeyed without a thought of fear, and stood before the princess, while Languidere examined her face with careful attention. You are rather attractive, said the lady presently. Not at all beautiful, you understand, but you have a certain style of prettiness that is different from that of any of my thirty heads. So I believe I'll take your head, and give you number twenty-six for it. Well, I believe you won't, exclaimed Dorothy.  I never have cared much for number twenty-six, and you will find that it is very little worn. Besides, it will do you just as well as the one you're wearing, for all practical purposes. I don't know anything about your number twenty-six, and I don't want to, said Dorothy firmly. I'm not used to taking casts off things, so I'll just keep my own head. You refuse, cried the princess with a frown? Of course I do, was the reply. Then, said Lengvedere, I shall lock you up in a tower until you decide to obey me. Nanda, turning to her maid, called my army. Nanda rang a silver bell, and at once a big fat colonel in a bright red uniform entered the room, followed by ten lean soldiers who all looked sad and discouraged, and saluted the princess in a very melancholy fashion. Carry that girl to the north tower, and lock her up, cried the princess, pointing to Dorothy. To hear is to obey, answered the big red colonel, and caught the child by her arm. But at that moment, Tiktok raised his dinner-pail and pounded it so forcibly against the colonel's head that the big officer sat down upon the floor with a sudden bump, looking both dazed and very much astonished. Help! he shouted, and the ten lean soldiers sprang to assist their leader. There was great excitement for the next few moments, and Tiktok had knocked down seven of the army, who were sprawling in every direction upon the carpet, when suddenly the machine paused with the dinner-pail raised for another blow, and remained perfectly motionless. My action has run down, he called to Dorothy, me up quick. She tried to obey, but the big colonel had by this time managed to get upon his feet again, so he grabbed fast hold of the girl, and she was helpless to escape. This is too bad, said the machine. I ought to have run six hours longer, at least, but I suppose my long walk and my fight with the wheelers made me run down faster than usual. Well, it can't be helped, said Dorothy with a sigh. Will you exchange heads with me, demanded the princess? No indeed, cried Dorothy. Then lock her up, said Langoudir to her soldiers, and they led Dorothy to a high tower at the north of the palace, and locked her securely within. The soldiers afterward tried to lift Tiktok, but they found the machine so solid and heavy that they could not stir it, so they left him standing in the center of the drawing-room. People will think I have a new statue, said Langoudir, so it won't matter in the least, and Nanda can keep him well polished. What shall we do with the hen? asked the colonel, who had just discovered Bolina in the work-masket. Put her in the chicken-house, answered the princess. Someday I'll have her fried for breakfast. She looks rather tough, Your Highness, said Nanda doubtfully. That is a base-slander, cried Bolina, struggling frantically in the colonel's arms. But the breed of chickens I come from is said to be poisoned to all princesses. Then remarked Langoudir, I will not fry the hen, but keep her till I eggs, and if she doesn't do her duty, I'll have her drowned in the horse-trough. Chapter 7. Osma of Oz to the Rescue Nanda brought Dorothy bread and water for her supper, and she slept upon a hard-stone couch with a single pillow and a silken coverlet. In the morning she leaned out of the window of her prison in the tower to see if there was any way to escape. The room was not so very high up when compared with our modern buildings, but it was far enough above the trees and farmhouses to give her a good view of the surrounding country. To the east she saw the forest with the sands beyond it and the ocean beyond that. There was even a dark speck upon the shore that she thought might be the chicken coop in which she had arrived at this singular country. Then she looked to the north and saw a deep but narrow valley lying between two rocky mountains and a third mountain that shut off the valley at the further end. Westward the fertile land of Ev suddenly ended a little way from the palace and the girl could see miles and miles of sandy desert that stretched further than her eyes could reach. It was this desert she thought with much interest that alone separated her from the wonderful land of Oz, and she remembered sorrowfully that she had been told no one had ever been able to cross this dangerous waste but herself. Once a cyclone had carried her across it and a magical pair of silver shoes had carried her back again, but now she had neither a cyclone nor silver shoes to assist her and her condition was sad indeed. For she had become the prisoner of a disagreeable princess who insisted that she must exchange her head for another one that she was not used to and which might not fit her at all. Really there seemed no hope of help for her from her old friends in the land of Oz. Thoughtfully she gazed from her narrow window. On all the desert not a living thing was stirring. Wait, though! Something surely was stirring on the desert, something her eyes had not observed at first. Now it seemed like a cloud, now it seemed like a spot of silver, now it seemed to be a mass of rainbow colors that moved swiftly toward her. What could it be, she wondered. Then gradually, but in a brief space of time nevertheless, the vision drew near enough to Dorothy to make out what it was. A broad green carpet was unrolling itself upon the desert, while advancing across the carpet was a wonderful procession that made the girl open her eyes in amazement as she gazed. First came a magnificent golden chariot, drawn by a great lion and an immense tiger who stood shoulder to shoulder and trotted along as gracefully as a well-matched team of thoroughbred horses. And standing upright within the chariot was a beautiful girl clothed in flowing robes of silver gauze and wearing a jeweled diadem upon her dainty head. She held in one hand the satin ribbons that guided her astonishing team, and in the other an ivory wand that separated at the top into two prongs, the prongs being tipped by the letters O and Z, made in glistening diamonds set closely together. The girl seemed neither older nor larger than Dorothy herself, and at once the prisoner in the tower guessed that the lovely driver of the chariot must be that osma of Oz of whom she had so lately heard from TikTok. Following close behind the chariot, Dorothy saw her old friend the scarecrow riding calmly astride a wooden saw-horse which pranced and trotted as naturally as any meat-horse could have done. And then came Nick Chopper, the tin woodman, with his funnel-shaped cap tipped carelessly over his left ear, his gleaming axe over his right shoulder, and his whole body sparkling as brightly as it had ever done in the old days when first she knew him. The tin woodman was on foot, marching at the head of a company of twenty-seven soldiers, of whom some were lean and some fat, some short and some tall, but all the twenty-seven were dressed in handsome uniforms of various designs and colors, no two being alike in any respect. Behind the soldiers the green carpet rolled itself up again so that there was always just enough of it for the procession to walk upon in order that their feet might not come in contact with the deadly, life-destroying sands of the desert. Dorothy knew at once it was a magic carpet she beheld, and her heart beat high with hope and joy as she realized she was soon to be rescued and allowed to greet her dearly beloved friends of Oz, the scarecrow, the tin woodman, and the cowardly lion. Indeed the girl felt herself as good as rescued as soon as she recognized those in the procession, for she well knew the courage and loyalty of her old comrades, and also believed that any others who came from their marvelous country would prove to be pleasant and reliable acquaintances. As soon as the last bit of desert was passed and all the procession from the beautiful and dainty Osma to the last soldier had reached the grassy meadows of the land of Ev, the magic carpet rolled itself together and entirely disappeared. Then the chariot driver turned her lion and tiger into a broad roadway leading up to the palace, and the others followed while Dorothy still gazed from her tower window in eager excitement. They came quite close to the front door of the palace and then halted, the scarecrow dismounting from his saw-horse approached the sign fastened to the door that he might read what it said. Dorothy just above him could keep silent no longer. Here I am, she cried, as loudly as she could. Here's Dorothy! Dorothy who? asked the scarecrow, tipping his head to look upward until he nearly lost his balance and tumbled over backward. Dorothy Gale, of course, your friend from Kansas, she answered. Why, hello, Dorothy, said the scarecrow.  Nothing, she called down, because there's nothing to do. Save me, my friend, save me. You seem to be quite safe now, replied the scarecrow. But I'm a prisoner, I'm locked in, so that I can't get out, she pleaded. That's all right, said the scarecrow.  Just consider the matter.  Some folks would think they were lucky to be up there. Well, I don't, declared the girl, and I want to get down immediately and see you and the tin woodman and the cowardly lion. Very well, said the scarecrow nodding, it shall be just as you say, little friend, who locked you up. The princess languid here, who is a horrid creature, she answered. At this, Osma, who had been listening carefully to the conversation, called to Dorothy from her chariot, saying, Why did the princess lock you up, my dear? Because, exclaimed Dorothy, I wouldn't let her have my head for her collection and take an old, cast-off head in exchange for it. I do not blame you, exclaimed Osma promptly. I will see the princess at once and oblige her to liberate you. Oh, thank you, very, very much, cried Dorothy, who, as soon as she heard the sweet voice of the girlish ruler of Oz, she would soon learn to love her dearly. Osma now drove her chariot around to the third door of the wing, upon which the tin woodman boldly proceeded to knock. As soon as the maid opened the door, Osma, bearing in her hand her ivory wand, stepped into the hall and made her way at once to the drawing-room, followed by all her company, except the lion and the tiger. And the twenty-seven soldiers made such a noise that the little maid Nanda ran away screaming to her mistress, whereupon the princess-languidier roused to great anger by this rude invasion of her palace, came running into the drawing-room without any assistance, whatever. There she stood before the slight and delicate form of the little girl from Oz and cried out, How dare you enter my palace unbidden! Leave this room at once, or I will bind you and all your people in chains and throw you into my darkest dungeons. What a dangerous lady murmured the scarecrow in a soft voice. She seems a little nervous, replied the tin woodman. But Osma only smiled at the angry princess. Sit down, please, she said quietly. I have travelled a long way to see you and you must listen to what I have to say.  Must, to me? To be sure, said Osma, I am ruler of the land of Oz, and I am powerful enough to destroy all your kingdom, if I so wish. Yet I did not come here to do harm, but rather to free the royal family of Ev from the thrall of the gnome king, the news having reached me that he is holding the queen and her children prisoners. Hearing these words, Languidir suddenly became quiet. I wish you could indeed free my aunt and her ten royal children, she said eagerly, for if they were restored to their proper forms and station, they could rule the kingdom of Ev themselves, and that would save me a lot of worry and trouble. At present there are at least ten minutes every day that I must devote to affairs of state, and I would like to be able to spend my whole time in admiring my beautiful heads. Then we will presently discuss this matter, said Osma, and try to find a way to liberate your aunt and cousins. But first you must liberate another prisoner, the little girl you have locked up in your tower. Of course, said Languidir readily, I had forgotten all about her. That was yesterday, you know, and a princess cannot be expected to remember today what she did yesterday. Come with me, and I will release the prisoner at once. So Osma followed her, and they passed up the stairs that led to the room in the tower. While they were gone, Osma's followers remained in the drawing room, and the scarecrow was leaning against a form that he had mistaken for a copper statue, when a harsh metallic voice said suddenly in his ear, Get off my foot, please, you are scratching my polish. Oh, excuse me, he replied, hastily drawing back, are you alive? No, said TikTok, I am only a machine, but I can think and speak and act when I am properly wound up. Just now my action is run down, and Dorothy has the key to it. That's all right, replied the scarecrow, Dorothy will soon be free, and then she'll attend to your works. But it must be a great misfortune not to be alive, I'm sorry for you. Why? asked TikTok. Because you have no brains as I have, said the scarecrow. Oh yes I have, returned TikTok. I am fitted with Smith and Tinker's improved combination steel brains. They are what make me think. What sort of brains are you fitted with? I don't know, admitted the scarecrow. They were given to me by the great Wizard of Oz, and I didn't get a chance to examine them before he put them in. But they work splendidly, and my conscience is very active. Have you a conscience? No, said TikTok. And no heart, I suppose, added the Tin Woodman, who had been listening with interest to this conversation. No, said TikTok. Then continued the Tin Woodman, I regret to say that you are greatly inferior to my friend the scarecrow and to myself, for we are both alive, and he has brains which do not need to be wound up, while I have an excellent heart that is continually beating in my bosom. I congratulate you, replied TikTok. I cannot help being your inferior, for I am a mere machine. When I am wound up, I do my duty by going just as my machinery is made to go. You have no idea how full of machinery I am. I can guess, said the scarecrow, looking at the machine man curiously. Someday I'd like to take you apart and see just how you are made. Do not do that I beg of you, said TikTok, for you could not put me together again and my usefulness would be destroyed. Oh, are you useful? Asked the scarecrow, surprised. Very, said TikTok.  Thank you, said TikTok. Just then, Osma re-entered the room, leading Dorothy by the hand and followed closely by the Princess Languidir. End of Chapter 7 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Osma of Oz by L. Frank Baum Chapter 8 The Hungry Tiger The first thing Dorothy did was to rush into the embrace of the scarecrow, whose painted face beamed with delight as he pressed her form to his straw-padded bosom. Then the tin woodman embraced her very gently, for he knew his tin arms might hurt her if he squeezed too roughly. These greetings having been exchanged, Dorothy took the key to TikTok from her pocket and wound up the machine man's action so that he could bow properly when introduced to the rest of the company. While doing this, she told them how useful TikTok had been to her, and both the scarecrow and the tin woodman shook hands with the machine once more and thanked him for protecting their friend. Then Dorothy asked, where is Belina? I don't know, said the scarecrow, who is Belina. She's a yellow hen, who is another friend of mine, answered the girl anxiously. I wonder what has become of her? She is in the chicken house in the backyard, said the princess. My drawing-room is no place for hens. Without waiting to hear more, Dorothy ran to get Belina, and just outside the door she came upon the cowardly lion, still hitched to the chariot beside the great tiger.  In an instant, Dorothy was hugging the huge lion joyfully. I'm so glad to see you again, she cried. I am also glad to see you, Dorothy, said the lion. We've had some fine adventures together, haven't we? Yes, indeed, she replied, how are you?  But let me introduce you to a new friend of mine, the hungry tiger.  Dreadfully hungry answered the tiger, snapping his jaws together with a fierce click.  It's no use, said the tiger sadly. I've tried that, but I always get hungry again. Why, it's the same with me, said Dorothy, yet I keep on eating. But you eat harmless things, so it doesn't matter, replied the tiger.  How dreadful, said Dorothy. Isn't it, though, returned the hungry tiger, licking his lips with his long red tongue. Fat babies, don't they sound delicious? But I've never eaten any because my conscience tells me it is wrong.  No, hungry I was born and hungry I shall die, but I'll not have any cruel deeds on my conscience to be sorry for. I think you are a very good tiger, said Dorothy, patting the huge head of the beast. In that you are mistaken, was the reply. I am a good beast, perhaps, but a disgracefully bad tiger. For it is the nature of tigers to be cruel and ferocious, and in refusing to eat harmless living creatures, I am acting as no good tiger has ever before acted. That is why I left the forest and joined my friend the cowardly lion. But the lion is not really cowardly, said Dorothy. I have seen him act as bravely as can be. All a mistake, my dear, protested the lion gravely. To others I may have seemed brave at times, but I have never been in any danger that I was not afraid. Nor I, said Dorothy truthfully, but I must go and set free Belina, and then I will see you again. She ran around to the backyard of the palace and soon found the chicken-house, being guided to it by a loud cackling and crowing and a distracting hubbub of sounds, such as chickens make when they are excited. Something seemed to be wrong in the chicken-house, and when Dorothy looked through the slats in the door she saw a group of hens and roosters huddled in one corner and watching what appeared to be a whirling ball of feathers. It bounded here and there about the chicken-house, and at first Dorothy could not tell what it was, while the screeching of the chickens nearly deafened her. But suddenly the bunch of feathers stopped whirling, and then, to her amazement, the girl saw Belina crouching upon the prostate form of a speckled rooster. For an instant they both remained motionless, and then the yellow hen shook her wings to settle the feathers and walked toward the door with a strut of proud defiance and a cluck of victory, while the speckled rooster limped away to the group of other chickens, trailing his crumpled plumage in the dust as he went. Why Belina cried Dorothy in a shocked voice. Have you been fighting? I really think I have, retorted Belina. Do you think I'd let that speckled villain of a rooster lord it over me, and claim to run this chicken-house as long as I'm able to peck and scratch? Not if my name is Bill. It isn't Bill, it's Belina, and you're talking slang which is very undignified, said Dorothy reprovingly. Come here, Belina, and I'll let you out. For Osma of Oz is here and has set us free. So the yellow hen came to the door, which Dorothy unlatched for her to pass through, and the other chickens silently watched them from their corner without offering to approach nearer. The girl lifted her friend in her arms and exclaimed, Oh Belina, how dreadful you look. You've lost a lot of feathers, and one of your eyes is nearly pecked out, and your comb is bleeding. That's nothing, said Belina. Just look at the speckled rooster. Didn't I do him up brown? Dorothy shook her head. I don't prove of this at all, she said, carrying Belina away toward the palace. It isn't a good thing for you to associate with those common chickens. They would soon spoil your good manners, and you wouldn't be respectable any more. I didn't ask to associate with them, replied Belina. It is that cross-old princess who is to blame. But I was raised in the United States, and I won't allow any one-horse chicken of the land of Ev to run over me and put on airs, as long as I can lift a claw in self-defense. Very well, Belina, said Dorothy, we won't talk about it any more. Soon they came to the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, to whom the girl introduced the yellow hen. Glad to meet any friend of Dorothy, said the lion politely. To judge by your present appearance you are not a coward as I am. Your present appearance makes my mouth water, said the tiger, looking at Belina greedily. My, my, how good you would taste if I could only crunch you between my jaws. But don't worry, you would only appease my appetite for a moment, so it isn't worthwhile to eat you. Thank you, said the hen, nestling closer in Dorothy's arms. Besides, it wouldn't be right, continued the tiger, looking steadily at Belina and clicking his jaws together. Of course not, cried Dorothy hastily. Belina is my friend, and you mustn't ever eat her under any circumstances. I'll try to remember that, said the tiger, but I'm a little absent-minded at times. Then Dorothy carried her pet into the drawing-room of the palace, where TikTok, being invited to do so by Osma, had seated himself between the scarecrow and the tin woodman. Opposite to them sat Osma herself, and the princess languidier, and beside them there was a vacant chair for Dorothy. Around this important group was ranged the army of Oz, and as Dorothy looked at the handsome uniforms of the twenty-seven, she said, Why, they seem to be all officers. They are, all except one, answered the tin woodman. I have in my army eight generals, six kernels, seven majors, and five captains, besides one private for them to command. I'd like to promote the private, for I believe no private should ever be in public life. And I've also noticed that officers usually fight better and are more reliable than common soldiers. Besides, the officers are more important-looking and lend dignity to our army. No doubt you are right, said Dorothy, seating herself beside Osma. And now, announced the girlish ruler of Oz, we will hold a solemn conference to decide the best manner of liberating the royal family of this fair land of Ev from their long imprisonment.