CHAPTER X They had not gone very far before Bungle, who had run on ahead, came bounding back to say that the road of yellow bricks was just before them, at once they hurried forward to see what this famous road looked like. It was a broad road, but not straight, for it wandered over hill and dale, and picked out the easiest places to go. All its length and breadth was paved with smooth bricks of a bright yellow color. So it was smooth and level, except in a few places where the bricks had crumbled or been removed, leaving holes that might cause the unwary to stumble. "'I wonder,' said O. Joe, looking up and down the road, which way to go?' "'What are you bound for?' asked the woozy. "'The Emerald City,' he replied. "'Then go west,' said the woozy. "'I know this road pretty well, for I've chased many a honeybee over it.' "'Have you ever been to the Emerald City?' asked Grapps. "'No, I am very shy by nature, as you may have noticed, so I haven't mingled much in society.' "'Are you afraid of men?' inquired the patchwork girl. "'Me? With my heart-rending growl, my horrible, shudderful growl, I should say not. I am not afraid of anything,' declared the woozy. "'I wish I could say the same,' sighed O. Joe. "'I don't think we need to be afraid when we get to the Emerald City, for Uncle Nunky has told me that Osma, our girl-ruler, is very lovely and kind, and tries to help everyone who is in trouble. But they say there are many dangers lurking on the road to the great Bear City, and so we must be very careful.' "'I hope nothing will break me,' said the glass cat in a nervous voice. "'I'm a little brittle, you know, and can't stand many heart-and-hawks. "'If anything should fade the colors of my lovely patches, it would break my heart,' said the patchwork girl. "'I'm not sure you have a heart,' O. Joe reminded her. "'Then it would break my cotton,' persisted Grapps. "'Do you think they are all fast colors, O. Joe?' she asked anxiously. "'They seem fast enough when you run,' he replied, and then, looking ahead of them, he exclaimed. "'Oh, what lovely trees!' They were certainly pretty to look upon, and the travellers hurried forward to observe them more closely. "'Why, they're not trees at all,' said Grapps. "'They're just monstrous plants!' That is what they really were—masses of great broad leaves which rose from the ground far into the air, until they towered twice as high as the top of the patchwork girl's head, who was a little taller than O. Joe. The plants formed rows on both sides of the road, and from each plant rose a dozen or more of the big broad leaves, which swayed continually from side to side—although no wind was blowing—but the most curious thing about the swaying leaves was their color. They seemed to have a general groundwork of blue, but here and there other colors glinted at times through the blue, gorgeous yellows turning to pink, purple, orange, and scarlet, mingled with more silver, browns, and grays, each appearing as a blotch or stripe anywhere on a leaf and then disappearing, to be replaced by some other color of a different shape. The changeful coloring of the great leaves was very beautiful, but it was bewildering as well, and the novelty of the scene drew our travellers close to the line of plants where they stood watching them with rapt interest. Suddenly a leaf bent lower than usual, and touched the patchwork girl, swiftly it enveloped her in its embrace, covering her completely in its thick folds and in its sway back upon its stem. Why, she's gone! gasped O. Joe, in amazement and listening carefully. He thought he could hear the muffled screams of scraps coming from the center of the folded leaf, but before he could think what he ought to do to save her, another leaf bent down and captured the glass cat, rolling around the little creature until she was completely hidden, and then straightening up again upon its stem. Look out! Quite the woozy. Run! Run fast or you are lost! O. Joe turned and saw the woozy running swiftly up the road, but the last leaf of the row of plants seized the beast even as he ran, and instantly he disappeared from sight. The boy had no chance to escape. Half a dozen of the great leaves were bending toward him from different directions, and as he stood hesitating, one of them clutched him in its embrace. In a flash he was in the dark. Then he felt himself gently lifted until he was swaying in the air, with the folds of the leaf hugging him on all sides. At first he struggled hard to escape, crying out in anger, Let me go! Let me go! But neither struggles nor protests had any effect whatever. The leaf held him firmly and he was a prisoner. Then O. Joe quieted himself and tried to think. Despair fell upon him when he remembered that all his little party had been captured, even as he was, and there was none to save them. I might have expected it! He sobbed miserably, I'm O. Joe the Unlucky, and something dreadful was sure to happen to me. He pushed against the leaf that held him and found it to be soft but thick and firm. It was like a great bandage all around him, and he found it difficult to move his body or limbs in order to change their position. The minutes passed and became hours. O. Joe wondered how long one could live in such a condition, and if the leaf would gradually sap his strength and even his life in order to feed itself. The little Munchkin boy had never heard of any person dying in the land of Oz, but he knew one could suffer a great deal of pain. His greatest fear at this time was that he would always remain imprisoned in the beautiful leaf and never see the light of day again. No sound came to him through the leaf. All around was intense silence. O. Joe wondered if scraps had stopped screaming, or if the folds of the leaf prevented his hearing her. By and by he thought he heard a whistle, as if someone whistling a tune. Yes, it really must be someone whistling! He decided, for he could follow the strains of a pretty Munchkin melody that Uncle Nunky used to sing to him. The sounds were low and sweet, and although they reached O. Joe's ears very faintly, they were clear and harmonious. Could the leaf whistle, O. Joe wondered? Nearer and nearer came the sounds, and then they seemed to be just the other side of the leaf that was hugging him. Suddenly the whole leaf toppled and fell, carrying the boy with it, and while he sprawled at full length, the folds slowly relaxed and set him free. He scrambled quickly to his feet, and found that a strange man was standing before him. A man so curious in appearance, that the boy stared with round eyes. He was a big man, with shaggy whiskers, shaggy eyebrows, shaggy hair, but kindly blue eyes that were gentle as those of a cow. On his head was a green velvet hat, with the jeweled band, which was all shaggy around the brim. Such but shaggy laces were at his throat. A coat with shaggy edges was decorated with diamond buttons. The velvet breeches had jeweled buckles at the knees, and shags all around the bottoms. On his breast hung a medallion bearing a picture of Princess Dorothy of Oz, and in his hand, as he stood looking at O. Joe, was a sharp knife shaped like a dagger. Oh! exclaimed O. Joe, greatly astonished at the sight of this stranger, and then he added, "'Who has saved me, sir?' "'Can't you see?' replied the other with a smile. "'I'm the shaggy man!' "'Yes, I can see that,' said the boy nodding.  You may be sure. But take care, or I shall have to rescue you again.' O. Joe gave a jump, for he saw several broad leaves leaning toward him, but the shaggy man began to whistle again. He had at the sound the leaves all straightened up on their stems and kept still. The man took O. Joe's arm and led him up the road, past the last of the great plants, and not till he was safely beyond their reach did he cease his whistling. "'You see! The music charms him,' he said. "'Singing or whistling? It doesn't matter which. Make some behave, and nothing else will. I always whistle as I go by him, and so they always look me alone. Today as I went by whistling, I saw a leaf curled, and knew there must be something inside it. I cut down the leaf with my knife, and out you popped! Lucky I passed by, wasn't it?' "'You were very kind,' said O. Joe, and I thank you. "'Will you please rescue my companions also?' "'What companions?' asked the shaggy man. "'The leaves grab them all,' said the boy. "'There's a patchwork girl in—' "'A what?' "'A girl made a patchwork. You know, she's alive, and her name is Scraps. And there's a glass—' "'Glass?' asked the shaggy man. "'All glass and alive?' "'Yes,' said O. Joe. She has pink brains, and there's a woozy—' "'What's a woozy?' inquired the shaggy man. "'Why, I can't describe it,' answered the boy greatly perplexed. But it's a queer animal, with three hairs on the tip of its tail that won't come out, and—' "'What won't come out?' asked the shaggy man. "'The tail?' "'The hairs won't come out. But you'll see the woozy, if you'll please rescue it, and then you'll know just what it is.' "'Of course,' said the shaggy man, nodding his shaggy head. And then he walked back among the plants, still whistling, and found the three leaves which were curled around O. Joe's traveling companions. The first leaf he cut down released scraps, and on seeing her the shaggy man threw back his shaggy head, opened wide his mouth, and laughed so shaggily, and yet so merrily, that scraps liked him at once.  I must introduce you to my friend the scarecrow.' When he cut down the second leaf he rescued the glass cat, and bungle was so frightened that she scampered away like a streak, and soon had joined O. Joe, when she sat beside him panting and trembling. The last plant of all the row had captured the woozy, and a big bunch in the center of the curled leaf showed plainly where he was. With his sharp knife the shaggy man sliced off the stem of the leaf, and as it fell and unfolded out trotted the woozy, and escaped beyond the reach of any more of the dangerous plants. CHAPTER XI. OF THE PATTWORK GIRL OF OZ. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Recording by Inga Parsons, Marblehead, Massachusetts. The Patchwork Girl of Oz by Al Frank Baum. CHAPTER XI. A GOOD FRIEND. Soon the entire party was gathered on the road of yellow bricks, quite beyond the reach of the beautiful but treacherous plants. The shaggy man, staring first at one, and then at the other, seemed greatly pleased and interested. CHAPTER XI. I've seen queer things since I came to the land of Oz, said he, but never anything queer than this band of adventurers. Let us sit down a while and have a talk and get acquainted. CHAPTER XI. Haven't you always lived in the land of Oz? asked the munchkin boy. CHAPTER XI. No, I used to live in the big outside world, but I came here once with Dorothy, and Osma let me stay. CHAPTER XI. How do you like Oz? asked Grapps. Isn't that country and the climate grand? CHAPTER XI. It's the finest country in all the world, even if it is a fairy land, and I'm happy every minute I live in it, said the shaggy man. But tell me something about yourselves. CHAPTER XI. So Ojo related the story of his visit to the house of the crooked magician, and how he met there the glass cat, and how the patchwork girl was brought to life, and of the terrible accident to Unk Nunky and Margolot. Then he told how he had set out to find the five different things, which the magician needed to make a charm, that would restore the marble figures to life, one requirement being three hairs from a woozy's tail. CHAPTER XI. We found the woozy, explained the boy, and he agreed to give us the three hairs, but we couldn't pull them out, so he had to bring the woozy along with us. CHAPTER XI. I see. returned the shaggy man, who had listened with interest to the story. CHAPTER XI. But perhaps I, who am big and strong, can pull those three hairs from the woozy's tail. CHAPTER XI. Try it, if you like, said the woozy. CHAPTER XI. So the shaggy man tried it, but pulled as hard as he could, he failed to get the hairs out of the woozy's tail. So he sat down again, and wiped his shaggy face with the shaggy silk handkerchief, and said, CHAPTER XI. It doesn't matter. You can keep the woozy until you get the rest of the things you need. You can take the beast and his three hairs to the crooked magician, and let him find a way to extract them. What are the other things you are to find? CHAPTER XI. One, said Ojo, is a six-leaf clover. CHAPTER XI. You ought to find that in the fields around the Emerald City. said the shaggy man. CHAPTER XI. There is law against picking six-leaf clovers, but I think I can get Osma to let you have one. CHAPTER XI. Thank you, replied Ojo. The next thing is the left wing of a yellow butterfly. OJ. For that you must go to the winky country, the shaggy man declared. CHAPTER XI. I've never noticed any butterflies there, but that is the yellow country of balls, and it's ruled by a good friend of mine, the Tin Woodman. OJ. Oh, I've heard of him, exclaimed Ojo. He must be a wonderful man. OJ. So he is, and his heart is wonderfully kind. I'm sure the Tin Woodman will do all in his power to help you to save your uncle-unkey and poor Margolot. OJ. The next thing I must find, said the munchkin boy, is a gill of water from a dark well. OJ. Indeed. Well, that is more difficult, said the shaggy man, scratching his left ear in a puzzled way. OJ. I've never heard of a dark well, have you? OJ. No, said Ojo. OJ. Do you know where one may be found? inquired the shaggy man. OJ. I can't imagine, said Ojo. OJ. Then we must ask the scarecrow. OJ. The scarecrow? But surely, sir, a scarecrow can't know anything. OJ. Most scarecrow's don't, I admit, answered the shaggy man. OJ. But this scarecrow of whom I speak is very intelligent. He claims to possess the best brains in all laws. OJ. Better than mine? asked Grapps. OJ. Better than mine? asked Grapps. OJ. Echoed the glass cat. OJ. Mine are pink, and you can see them. OJ. Well, you can't see the scarecrow's brains' work, but they do a lot of clever thinking, asserted the shaggy man. OJ. If anyone knows where a dark well is, it's my friend the scarecrow. OJ. Where does he live? inquired Ojo. OJ. He has a splendid castle in the Winky Country, nearer to the palace of his friend the Tin Woodman, and he is often to be found in the Emerald City where he visits Dorothy at the Royal Palace. OJ. Then we will ask him about the dark well. said Ojo. OJ. But what else does this crooked magician want? asked the shaggy man. OJ. A drop of oil from a live man's body. OJ. Oh, but there isn't such a thing. OJ. That is what I thought, replied Ojo. But the crooked magician said it wouldn't be called for by the recipe if it couldn't be found, and therefore I must search until I find it. OJ. I wish you good luck, said the shaggy man, shaking his head doubtfully, but I imagine you'll have a hard job getting a drop of oil from a live man's body. There's blood in a body, but no oil. OJ. There's cotton in mine, said Scraps, dancing a little jig. OJ. I don't doubt it, returned the shaggy man admiringly.  OJ.  Scraps kicking a pebble high in the air, and then trying to catch it as it fell. OJ. Half the fools and all the wise folks are dignified, and I'm neither with the one nor the other. OJ. She's just crazy, explained the glass-cat. The shaggy man laughed. OJ. Ha! Ha! She's delightful in her way, he said. OJ. I'm sure Dorothy will be pleased with her, and the scarecrow will do it on her. OJ. Did you say you were traveling toward the Emerald City? OJ. Reply, Dojo. I thought that the best place to go at first, because the six-leaf clover may be found there. OJ. I'll go with you, said the shaggy man, and show you the way. OJ. Thank you, exclaimed Dojo. I hope it won't put you out any. OJ. No. said the other. OJ. I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I've been a rover all my life, and although Osma has given me a suite of beautiful rooms in her palace, I still get the wandering fever once in a while, and start out to roam the country over. I'm away from the Emerald City several weeks this time, and now I've met you and your friends, I'm sure it will interest me to accompany you to the great city of Oz, and introduce you to my friends. OJ. That would be very nice, said the boy, gratefully. OJ. I hope your friends are not dignified, observed scraps. OJ. Some are, and some are not, he answered. OJ. These are my friends. If they are really true friends, they may be anything they like for all of me. OJ.  Come on, and let's go to the Emerald City as soon as possible. With this she ran up the path, skipping and dancing, and then turned to await them. OJ. It is quite a distance from here to the Emerald City, remarked the shaggy man. OJ. So we shall not get there to-day nor to-morrow. Therefore, let us take that John in an easy manner. I'm an old traveller, and have found that I never gain anything by being in a hurry. OJ. Take it easy as my motto, if you can't take it easy, take it as easy as you can. OJ. After walking some distance over the road of yellow bricks, O Jo said he was hungry, and would stop to eat some bread and cheese. He offered a portion of the food to the shaggy man, who thanked him, but refused it. OJ. You start on my travels, said he. I carry long enough square meals to last me several weeks. Think I'll indulge in one now, as long as we're stopping anyway. Saying this, he took a bottle from his pocket, and shook from it a tablet about the size of one of Ojo's fingernails. OJ. That, announced the shaggy man, is a square meal in condensed form, invention of the great Professor Wogglebug of the Royal College of Athletics. It contains soup, fish, roast meat, salad, apple, dumplings, ice cream, and chocolate drops, all boiled down to this small size, so it can be conveniently carried, and swallowed when you are hungry and need a square meal. OJ. I'm square. OJ. Said the woozy. Give me one, please. So the shaggy man gave the woozy a tablet from his bottle, and the beast ate it in a twinkling. OJ. You have now had a six-course dinner. declared the shaggy man. OJ. Said the woozy ungrateful. OJ. I want to taste something. There's no fun in that sort of eating. OJ. One should only eat to sustain life. replied the shaggy man. OJ. And that tablet is equal to a peck of other food. OJ. I don't care for it. I want something I can chew and taste. grumbled the woozy. OJ.  OJ. Chewing his entire sum, it's fun, maintained the woozy. OJ. Always chew the honeybees when I catch them. OJ. Give me some bread and cheese, OJ. OJ. No, no. You've already eaten a big dinner. OJ. Protested the shaggy man. OJ. Me be. answered the woozy. OJ. But I guess I'll fool myself by munching some bread and cheese. OJ. I may not be hungry having eaten all those things you gave me, but I consider this eating business a matter of taste, and all I like to realize what's going into me. OJ. OJ. Gave the beast what he wanted. But the shaggy man shook his shaggy head reproachfully and said there was no animal so obstinate or hard to convince as a woozy. At this moment a patter of footsteps was heard, and looking up they saw the live phonograph standing before them. It seemed to have passed through many adventures since OJ and his comrades last saw the machine. For the varnish of its wooden case was all marred and dented and scratched in a way that gave it an aged and disreputable appearance. OJ. Dear me! exclaimed OJ staring hard. What has happened to you? OJ. Nothing much. replied the phonograph in a sad and depressed voice. OJ. I've had enough things thrown at me since I left you to stock up a department store and furnish half a dozen bargain counters. OJ. Are you so broken up that you can't play? asked Grapps. OJ. No, I'm still able to grind out delicious music. Just now I have a record on tap that is really superb. said the phonograph, growing more cheerful. OJ. That is too bad, remarked OJ. We've no objection to you as a machine, you know.  Then why was I ever invented? the machine in a tone of indignant protest. They looked at one another inquiringly, but no one could answer such a puzzling question. Finally the shaggy man said, OJ. I'd like to hear the phonograph play. OJ. We've been very happy since we met you, sir. he said. OJ. I know, but a little misery at times makes one appreciate happiness more. Tell me, phony, what is the record like? What you say you have on tap? OJ. It's a popular song, sir. In all civilized lands the common people have gone wild over it. OJ. Make civilized folks wild, folks, ay. Then it's dangerous. OJ. Wild with joy, I mean, explained the phonograph. OJ. Listen, this song will prove a rare treat to you. OJ. I know. It made the author rich. OJ. For an author. OJ. Then the phonograph began to play. A strain of odd, jerky sounds was followed by these words, sung by a man through his nose with great figure of expression. OJ.   What do you mean by such impertnence? OJ. It's the latest popular song. OJ. Declared the phonograph speaking in a sulky tone of voice. OJ. A popular song? OJ. Yes. One that the feeble-minded can remember the words of, and those ignorant of music can whistle or sing. OJ. That makes a popular song popular. OJ. And the time is coming when it will take the place of all other songs. OJ. That time won't come to us just yet. OJ. Said the shaggy man sternly. OJ. I'm something of a singer myself, and I don't intend to be throttled by any lulus like your cold black one. OJ. I shall take you apart, Mr. phony, and scatter your pieces far and wide over the country, as a matter of kindness to the people you might meet if allowed to run loose, have and perform this painful duty, I shall. OJ. But before he could say more, the phonograph turned and dashed up the road as fast as its four table-legs could carry it, and soon it had entirely disappeared from their view. The shaggy man sat down again and seemed well pleased. OJ. Someone will save me the trouble of scattering that phonograph. OJ. Said he. OJ. For it is not possible that such a music-maker can last long in the land of Oz. When you arrested friends, let us go on our way. OJ. During the afternoon the travelers found themselves in a lonely and uninhabited part of the country. Even the fields were no longer cultivated, and the country began to resemble a wilderness. The road of yellow bricks seemed to have been neglected, and became uneven and more difficult to walk upon. Scrubby underbrush grew on either side of the way, while huge rocks were scattered around in abundance. But this did not deter OJ and his friends from trudging on, and they beguiled the journey with jokes and cheerful conversation. That evening they reached a crystal spring which gushed from a tall rock by the roadside, and near this spring stood a deserted cabin. OJ. Said the shaggy man, halting here. OJ. We may as well pass the night here, where there is shelter for our heads, and good water to drink. Road beyond here is pretty bad, worst we shall have to travel. So let's wait until morning before we tackle it. OJ. They agreed to this, and OJ found some brushwood in the cabin, and made a fire on the hearth.  After that the patchwork girl kept a respectful distance from the darting flames, but the woozy lay down before the fire like a big dog, and seemed to enjoy its warmth. For supper the shaggy man ate one of his tablets, but OJ stuck to his bread and cheese as the most satisfying food. He also gave a portion to the woozy. The darkness came on, and they sat in a circle on the cabin floor, facing the fire-light. There being no furniture of any sort in the place, OJ said to the shaggy man, OJ. Won't you tell us a story? OJ. I'm not good at stories. OJ. What's the reply? OJ. But I sing like a bird. OJ. Raven or crow? OJ. Ask the glass cat. OJ. Like a songbird. OJ. I'll prove it. OJ. I'll sing a song I can pose myself. OJ. But they might want me to write a book. OJ. Don't tell them I can sing, or they'll want me to make records for that awful phonograph. OJ. Having time to be a public benefactor. OJ. So I'll just sing you this little song for your own amusement. OJ. They were glad enough to be entertained and listened with interest, while the shaggy man chanted the following verses to a tune that was not unpleasant. OJ. I'll sing a song of Vosland, where wondrous creatures dwell, and fruits and flowers and shady bowers abound in every dill, where magic is a science and where no one shows surprise, if some amazing thing takes place before his very eyes. OJ. Our ruler's up a witch and girl whom fairies love to please. She's always kept her magic separate to enforce decrees. To make her people happy, for her heart is kind and true, and aid the needy and distressed is what she longs to do. And then there's Princess Dorothy as sweet as any rose, a laugh from Kansas where they don't grow fairies, I suppose. And there's the brainy scarecrow, with the body stuffed with straw, who utters words of wisdom rare that fills us all with awe. OJ.  Jack Pumpkin heads a dear old chump who might be called a chump, but unrenowned by riding round upon a magic gump. The saw-horse is a splendid steed, and though he's made of wood, he does as many thrilling stunts as any meat-horse could. And now I'll introduce a beast that everyone adores, the cowardly lion shakes with fear most every time he roars, and yet he does the bravest things that any lion might, because he knows that cowardice is not considered right. There's TikTok, he's a clockwork man and quite a funny sight. He talks and walks mechanically when he's wound up tight, and weave a hungry tiger who would babies love to eat, but never does because we feed him other kinds of meat. It's hard to name all of the freaks this noble land's acquired, who'd make my songs so very long that you would soon be tired, but give attention while I mention one wise yellow hen, and nine five tiny picklets living in a golden pen. Search the whole world over, sail the seas from coast to coast, no other nation in creation queer folk can boast, and now our rare museum will include a cat of glass, a woozy and, last but not least, a crazy patchwork lass. Ojo was so pleased with this song that he applauded the singer by clapping his hands, and scraps followed suit by clapping her padded fingers together, although they made no noise. The cat pounded on the floor with her glass paws, gently so as not to break them, and the woozy, which had been asleep, woke up to ask what the row was about. I seldom sing in public for fear they may want me to start an opera company, remarked the shaggy man who was pleased to know his effort was appreciated. Boyce just now is a little out of training, rusty, perhaps. Tell me, said the patchwork girl earnestly, do all those queer people you mentioned really live in the land of Oz? Every one of them. I even forgot one thing, Dorothy's pink kitten. For goodness sakes, exclaimed Bungle, sitting up and looking interested. A pink kitten, how absurd! Is it glass? No, just ordinary kitten. Then it can't amount to much. I have pink brains, and you can see him work.  Name's Eureka, great favorite at the Royal Palace, said the shaggy man yawning. The glass cat seemed annoyed. Do you think a pink kitten, common meat, is as pretty as I am? She asked. Can't say, taste it for you know. Replied the shaggy man yawning again. But here's a pointer that may be of service to you. Make friends with Eureka, and you'll be solid at the palace. I'm solid now. Solid glass. You don't understand, rejoined the shaggy man sleepily. Anyhow, make friends with the pink kitten, and you'll be all right. If the pink kitten despises you, look out for breakers. Would anyone at the Royal Palace break a glass cat? Might. You never can tell. Invite you to purse soft and look humble, if you can. And now I'm going to bed. Bungle considered the shaggy man's advice so carefully that her pink brains were busy long after the others of the party were fast asleep. End of CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. OF THE PATCHWORK GIRL OF OZ. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Eric Leach. The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum. CHAPTER XII. THE GIANT PORKYPINE. Next morning they started out bright and early to follow the road of yellow bricks toward the Emerald City. The little Munchkin boy was beginning to feel tired from the long walk, and he had a great many things to think of and consider besides the events of the journey. At the wonderful Emerald City, which he would presently reach, were so many strange and curious people that he was half afraid of meeting them and wondered if they would prove friendly and kind. Above all else, he could not drive from his mind the important errand on which he had come, and he was determined to devote every energy to finding the things that were necessary to prepare the magic recipe. He believed that until Dear Unknunki was restored to life he could feel no joy in anything and often he wished that Unk would be with him, to see all of the astonishing things Ojo was seeing. But alas Unknunki was now a marble statue in the house of the crooked magician and Ojo must not falter in his efforts to save him. The country through which they were passing was still rocky and deserted, with here and there a bush or a tree to break the dreary landscape. Ojo noticed one tree especially because it had such long silky leaves and was so beautiful in shape. As he approached it he studied the tree earnestly, wondering if any fruit grew on it or if it bore pretty flowers. Suddenly he became aware that he had been looking at that tree for a long time, at least for five minutes, and it had remained in the same position although the boy had continued to walk steadily on. So he stopped short and when he stopped the tree and all the landscape as well as his companions moved on before him and left him far behind. Ojo uttered such a cry of astonishment that it aroused the shaggy man who had halted. The others then stopped too and walked back to the boy. What's wrong asked the shaggy man, why we're not moving forward a bit no matter how fast we walked to clear to Ojo. Now that we have stopped we're moving backward. Can't you see? Just notice that rock. Scraps looked down at her feet and said the yellow bricks are not moving. But the whole road is answered Ojo. True, quite true, agreed the shaggy man. I know all about the tricks of this road but I have been thinking of something else and didn't realize where we were. It will carry us back to where we started from predicted Ojo beginning to be nervous. No, replied the shaggy man. It won't do that for I know a trick to beat this tricky road. I've traveled this way before you know. Turn around all of you and walk backward. What good will that do, asked the cat? You'll find out if you obey me said the shaggy man. So they all turned their backs to the direction in which they wished to go and began walking backward. In an instant Ojo noticed they were gaining ground and as they proceeded in this curious way they soon passed the tree which had first attracted his attention to their difficulty. How long must we keep this up Shaggs asked Scraps, who was constantly tripping and tumbling down only to get up again with a laugh at her mishap. Just a little way farther replied the shaggy man. A few minutes later he called to them to turn about quickly and stepped forward and as they obeyed the order they found themselves treading solid ground. And that task is well over observed the shaggy man. It's a little tiresome to walk backward but that is the only way to pass this part of the road which has a trick of sliding back and carrying with it anyone who's walking upon it. With new courage and energy they now trudged forward and after a time came to a place where the road cut through a low hill leaving high banks on either side of it. They were traveling along this cut talking together when the shaggy man seized Scraps with one arm and Ojo with another and shouted stop. What's wrong now asked the patchwork girl. See there answered the shaggy man pointing with his finger. Directly in the centre of the road lay a motionless object that bristled all over with sharp quills which resembled arrows. The body was as big as a ten-bushel basket but the projecting quills made it appear to be four times bigger. Well, what of it asked Scraps. That is Chis who causes a lot of trouble along this road was the reply. Chis, what is Chis? I think it is merely an overgrown porcupine but here in Oz they consider Chis an evil spirit. He's different from a regular porcupine because he can throw his quills in any direction which an American porcupine cannot do. That's what makes old Chis so dangerous. If we get too near he'll fire those quills at us and hurt us badly. Then we would be foolish to get too near said Scraps. I'm not afraid to clear the woozy. For Chis is cowardly I'm sure and if it ever heard my awful terrible frightful growl it would be scared stiff. Oh, can you growl? Ask the shaggy man. That is the only ferocious thing about me, asserted the woozy with evident pride. My growl makes an earthquake blush and the thunder ashamed of itself. If I growled at that creature you call Chis it would immediately think the world has cracked into and bumped against the sun and moon and that would cause the monster to run as far and as fast as its legs could carry it. In that case said the shaggy man, you are now able to do us all a great favor please growl. But you forget returned the woozy my tremendous growl would also frighten you and if you happen to have heart disease you might expire. True, but we must take that risk, decided the shaggy man bravely. Being warned of what is to occur we must try to bear the terrific noise of your growl, but Chis won't expect it and it will scare him away. The woozy hesitated.  Never mind, said Ojo. You may be made deaf, if so we'll forgive you. Very well then, said the woozy in a determined voice and advanced a few steps toward the giant porcupine. Pausing to look back it asked, already? Already they answered. Then cover up your ears and brace yourselves firmly. Now then, look out. The woozy turned toward Chis, opened wide its mouth and said, go ahead and growl, said scraps. Why, I did growl, retorted the woozy who seemed much astonished. What, that little squeak she cried? It is the most awful growl that ever was heard, on land or sea, in caverns or in the sky, protested the woozy. I wonder you stood the shock so well. Didn't you feel the ground tremble? I suppose Chis is now quite dead with fright. The shaggy man laughed merrily. Poor wooz, said he, your growl wouldn't scare a fly. The woozy seemed to be humiliated and surprised. It hung its head a moment as if in shame or sorrow, but then it said with renewed confidence, anyhow, my eyes can flash fire and good fire too, good enough to set fire to a fence. That is true, declared scraps. I saw it done myself, but your ferocious growl isn't as loud as the tick of a beetle, or one of Ojo's snores when he's fast asleep. Perhaps, said the woozy humbly, I have been mistaken about my growl. It has always sounded very fearful to me, but that may have been because it was so close to my ears. Never mind, Ojo said soothingly, it is a great talent to be able to flash fire from your eyes, no one else can do that. As they stood hesitating what to do, Chis stirred and suddenly a shower of quills came flying toward them, almost filling the air. They were so many. Scraps realized in an instant that they had gone too near to Chis for safety, so she sprang in front of Ojo and shielded him from the darts, which stuck their points into her own body until she resembled one of those targets they shoot arrows at in archery games. The shaggy man dropped flat on his face to avoid the shower, but one quill stuck him in the leg and went far in. As for the glass cat, the quills rattled off her body without making even a scratch, and the skin of the woozy was so thick and tough that he was not hurt at all. When the attack was over, they all ran to the shaggy man who was moaning and groaning and Scraps promptly pulled the quill out of his leg. Then up he jumped and ran over to Chis, putting his foot on the monster's neck and holding it a prisoner. The body of the great porcupine was now as smooth as leather, except for the holes where the quills had been, for it had shot every single quill in that one wicked shower. Let me go, it shouted angrily.  I'm going to do worse than that old boy, replied the shaggy man. You have annoyed travelers on this road long enough and now I shall put an end to you. You can't return Chis. Nothing can kill me as you know perfectly well. Perhaps that is true, said the shaggy man in a tone of disappointment. Seems to me I've been told before that you can't be killed, but if I let you go, what will you do? Pick up my quills again, said Chis in a sulky voice. And then shoot them at more travelers? No, that won't do. You must promise me to stop throwing quills at people. I won't promise anything of their sort, declared Chis. Why not? Because it is my nature to throw quills and every animal must do what nature intends it to do. It isn't fair for you to blame me. If it were wrong for me to throw quills then I wouldn't be made with quills to throw. The proper thing for you to do is to keep out of my way. Why, there's some sense in that argument, admitted the shaggy man thoughtfully. But people who are strangers and don't know you're here won't be able to keep out of your way.  Let's gather up all the quills and take them away with us. Then old Chis won't have any left to throw at people. Ah, that's a clever idea. You and Ojo must gather up the quills while I hold Chis a prisoner, for if I let him go he will get some of his quills and be able to throw them again. So Scraps and Ojo picked up all the quills and tied them in a bundle so they might easily be carried. After this, the shaggy man released Chis and let him go, knowing that he was harmless to injure anyone. It's the meanest trick I ever heard of, muttered the porcupine gloomily. How would you like it, shaggy man, if I took all your shags away from you? If I threw my shags and hurt people you would be welcome to capture them, was the reply. Then they walked on and left Chis standing in the road sullen and disconsolate. The shaggy man limped as he walked for his wounds still hurt him, and Scraps was much annoyed because the quills had left a number of small holes in her patches. When they came to a flat stone by the roadside, the shaggy man sat down to rest and then Ojo opened his basket and took out the bundle of charms the crooked magician had given him. I am Ojo the unlucky, he said, or we would never have met that dreadful porcupine. But I will see if I can find anything among these charms which will cure your leg. Soon he discovered that one of the charms was labeled for flesh wounds and this the boy separated from the others. It was only a bit of dried root taken from some unknown shrub but the boy rubbed it upon the wound made by the quill and in a few moments the place was healed entirely and the shaggy man's leg was as good as ever. Rub it on the holes of my patches, suggested Scraps, and Ojo tried it but without any effect. The charm you need is a needle and thread, said the shaggy man. But do not worry my dear, those holes do not look badly at all.  You were certainly stuck up until we pulled out those quills, observed Ojo with a laugh. So now they went on again and coming presently to a pond of muddy water they tied a heavy stone to the bundle of quills and sunk it to the bottom of the pond to avoid carrying it farther. End of Chapter 12 Recording by Eric Leach, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Chapter 13 of The Patchwork Girl of Oz. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Eric Leach. The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Chapter 13, Scraps and the Scarecrow. From here on, the country improved and the desert places began to give way to fertile spots. Still no houses were yet to be seen near the road. There were some hills with valleys between them and on reaching the top of one of these hills, the travellers found before them a high wall, running to the right and left as far as their eyes could reach. Immediately in front of them, there the wall crossed the roadway, stood a gate having stout iron bars that extended from top to bottom. They found on coming nearer that this gate was locked with a great padlock, rusty through lack of use. Well said Scraps, I guess we'll stop here. It's a good guess, replied Ojo, our ways barred by this great wall and gate. It looks as if no one has passed through in many years. Luxor deceiving declared the shaggy man laughing at their disappointed faces and this barrier is the most deceiving thing in all Oz. It prevents our going any further anyhow, said Scraps. There's no one to mind the gate and let people through and we've no key to the padlock. True replied Ojo, going a little nearer to peep through the bars of the gate. What shall we do, shaggy man? If we had wings, we might fly over the wall but we cannot climb it and unless we get to the Emerald City, I won't be able to find the things to restore Uncanunkey to life. All very true, answered the shaggy man quietly but I know this gate having passed through it many times. How, they all eagerly inquired. I'll show you how, said he. He stood Ojo in the middle of the road and placed Scraps just behind him with her padded hands on his shoulders. After the patchwork girl came the woozy who held a part of her skirt in his mouth, then last of all was the glass cat holding fast to the woozy's tail with her glass jaws.  I can't, objected, Scraps.   What's the game anyhow? Blind man's bluff, asked Scraps. Keep quiet, commanded the shaggy man sternly. All ready? Then follow me. He took Ojo's hand and led him forward over the road of yellow bricks toward the gate, holding fast to one another, they all followed in a row expecting every minute to bump against the iron bars. The shaggy man also had his eyes closed but marched straight ahead nevertheless and after he had taken 100 steps by actual count, he stopped and said, now you may open your eyes. They did so and to their astonishment found the wall and the gateway far behind them while in front the former blue country of the Munchkins had given way to green fields with pretty farmhouses scattered among them. That wall, explained the shaggy man, is what is called an optical illusion. It is quite real while you have your eyes open but if you are not looking at it, the barrier doesn't exist at all. It's the same way with many other evils in life. They seem to exist and yet it's all seeming and not true. You will notice that the wall or what we thought was a wall separates the Munchkin country from the green country that surrounds the Emerald City which lies exactly in the center of Oz. There are two roads of yellow bricks through the Munchkin country but the one we followed is the best of the two. Dorothy once traveled the other way and met with more dangers than we did but all our troubles are over for the present as another day's journey will bring us to the great Emerald City. They were delighted to know this and proceeded with new courage. In a couple of hours, they stopped at a farmhouse where the people were very hospitable and invited them to dinner. The farm folk regarded scraps with much curiosity but no great astonishment for they were accustomed to seeing extraordinary people in the land of Oz. The woman of this house got her needle and thread and sewed up the holes made by the porcupine quills in the patchwork girl's body after which scraps was assured she looked as beautiful as ever. You ought to have a hat to wear, remarked the woman for that would keep the sun from fading the colors of your face. I have some patches and scraps put away and if you will wait two or three days I'll make you a lovely hat that will match the rest of you. Nevermind the hat said scraps shaking her yarn braids. It's a kind offer but we can't stop. I can't see that my colors have faded a particle as yet can you? Not much, replied the woman. You are still very gorgeous in spite of your long journey. The children of the house wanted to keep the glass cat to play with so Bungle was offered a good home if she would remain but the cat was too much interested in Ojo's adventures and refused to stop. Children are rough playmates, she remarked to the shaggy man and although this home is more pleasant than that of the crooked magician I fear I would soon be smashed to pieces by the boys and girls. After they had rested themselves they renewed their journey finding the road now smooth and pleasant to walk upon and the country growing more beautiful the nearer they drew to the emerald city. By and by Ojo began to walk on the green grass looking carefully around him. What are you trying to find? asked scraps. A six-leaved clover said he. Don't do that exclaimed the shaggy man earnestly. It's against the law to pick a six-leaved clover. You must wait until you get Osma's consent. She wouldn't know it, declared the boy. Osma knows many things, said the shaggy man. In her room is a magic picture that shows any scene in the land of Oz where strangers or travelers happen to be. She may be watching the picture of us even now and noticing everything that we do. Does she always watch the magic picture, asked Ojo? Not always, for she has many other things to do but as I said, she may be watching us this very minute. I don't care, said Ojo in an obstinate tone of voice. Osma's only a girl. The shaggy man looked at him in surprise.  For if you displease our powerful ruler your journey will surely prove a failure whereas if you make a friend of Osma she will gladly assist you. As for her being a girl that is another reason why you should obey her laws if you are courteous and polite. Everyone in Oz loves Osma and hates her enemies for she is as just as she is powerful. Ojo sulked a while but finally returned to the road and kept away from the green clover. The boy was moody and bad tempered for an hour or two afterward because he could really see no harm in picking a six-leafed clover if he found one and in spite of what the shaggy man had said he considered Osma's law to be unjust. They presently came to a beautiful grove of tall and stately trees through which the road wound in sharp curves. First one way and then another. As they were walking through this grove they heard someone in the distance singing and the sounds grew nearer and nearer until they could distinguish the words although the bend in the road still hid the singer. The song was something like this. Here's to the hail old bale of straw that's cut from the waving grain. The sweetest sight man ever saw in forest Della plain. It fills me with a crumpling joy, a straw stacked to behold for then I pad this lucky boy with strands of yellow gold. Ah exclaimed the shaggy man. Here comes my friend the scarecrow. What, a live scarecrow, asked Ojo? Yes, the one I told you of. He's a splendid fellow and very intelligent. You'll like him, I'm sure. Just then the famous scarecrow of Oz came around the bend in the road riding astride a wooden saw horse which was so small that its rider's legs nearly touched the ground. The scarecrow wore the blue dress of the munchkins in which country he was made and on his head was set a peaked hat with a flat brim trimmed with tinkling bells. A rope was tied around his waist to hold him in shape for he was stuffed with straw in every part of him except the top of his head where at one time the Wizard of Oz had placed sawdust mixed with needles and pins to sharpen his wits.  The scarecrow's face was very interesting for it bore a comical and yet winning expression although one eye was a bit larger than the other and the ears were not mates. The munchkin farmer who had made the scarecrow had neglected to sew him together with close stitches and therefore some of the straw with which he was stuffed was inclined to stick out between the seams. His hands consisted of padded white gloves with the fingers long and rather limp and on his feet he wore munchkin boots of blue leather with broad turns at the tops of them. The saw horse was almost as curious as its rider. It had been rudely made in the beginning to saw logs upon so that its body was a short length of a log and its legs were stop branches fitted into four holes made in the body. The tail was formed by a small branch that had been left on the log while the head was a gnarled bump on one end of the body. Two knots of wood formed the eyes and the mouth was a gash chopped in the log. When the saw horse first came to life it had no ears at all and so could not hear but the boy who then owned him had whittled two ears out of bark and stuck them in the head after which the saw horse heard very distinctly. This queer wooden horse was a great favorite of the Princess Osma who had caused the bottoms of its legs to be shot with plates of gold so the wood would not wear away. Its saddle was made of cloth of gold richly encrusted with precious gems. It had never worn a bridle. As the scarecrow came in sight of the party of travelers he reigned in his wooden steed and dismounted greeting the shaggy man with a smiling nod. Then he turned to stare at the patchwork girl in wonder while she in turn stared at him. Shags he whispered, drawing the shaggy man aside. Pat me into shape, there's a good fellow. While his friend punched and patted the scarecrow's body to smooth out the humps scraps turned to Ojo and whispered roll me out please I've sagged down dreadfully from walking so much and men like to see a stately figure. She then fell upon the ground and the boy rolled her back and forth like a rolling pin until the cotton had filled all the spaces in her patchwork covering and the body had lengthened to its fullest extent. Scraps and the scarecrow both finished their hasty toilets at the same time and again they faced each other. Allow me Ms. Patchwork said the shaggy man to present my friend the right royal scarecrow of Oz. The scarecrow, this is Ms. Scraps patches. Scraps, this is the scarecrow. Scarecrow, scraps, scraps, scarecrow. They both bowed with much dignity.  That is a high compliment from one who is himself so beautiful murmured scraps casting down her suspender button eyes by lowering her head. But tell me good sir are you not a trifle lumpy? Yes of course that's my straw you know. It bunches up sometimes in spite of all my efforts to keep it even. Doesn't your straw ever bunch? Oh I'm stuffed with cotton said scraps. It never bunches but it's inclined to pack down and make me sag. But cotton is a high grade stuffing. I may say it is even more stylish not to say aristocratic than straw said the scarecrow politely. Still it is but proper that one so entrancingly lovely should have the best stuffing there is going. I err, I'm so glad I've met you Ms. Scraps. Introduce us again shaggy. Once is enough replied the shaggy man laughing at his friend's enthusiasm.  What are you made of gelatin? Pure glass answered the cat proud to have attracted the scarecrow's attention. I am much more beautiful than the patchwork girl. I'm transparent and scraps isn't. I have pink brains you can see in work and I have a ruby heart finely polished while scraps hasn't any heart at all. No more have I said the scarecrow shaking hands with scraps as if to congratulate her on the fact. I have a friend the tin woodman who has a heart but I find I get along pretty well without one. And so, well well, here's a little munchkin boy too. Shake hands my little man, how are you? Ojo placed his hand in the flabby stuffed glove that served the scarecrow for a hand and the scarecrow pressed it so cordially that the straw in his glove crackled. Meantime the woozy had approached the saw horse and begun to sniff at it. The saw horse resented this familiarity and with a sudden kick pounded the woozy squarely on its head with one gold shod foot. Take that, you monster, it cried angrily. The woozy never even winked.  The saw horse rolled its not eyes wickedly and kicked again but the woozy trotted away and said to the scarecrow, what a sweet disposition that creature has. I advise you to chop it up for kindling wood and use me to ride upon.   The saw horse is the favorite steed of Princess Osmo, the ruler of the land of Oz and he lives in a stable decorated with pearls and emeralds at the rear of the royal palace. He's swift as the wind, untiring and is kind to his friends. All the people of Oz respect the saw horse highly and when I visit Osmo, she sometimes allows me to ride him as I am doing today. Now you know what an important personage the saw horse is and if someone, perhaps yourself, will tell me your name, your rank and station and your history, it will give me pleasure to relate them to the saw horse. This will lead to mutual respect and friendship. The woozy was somewhat abashed by this speech and did not know how to reply, but Ojo said, this square beast is called the woozy and he isn't of much importance except that he has three hairs growing on the tip of his tail. The scarecrow looked and saw that this was true but said he in a puzzled way, what makes those three hairs important? The shaggy man has thousands of hairs but no one has ever accused him of being important. So Ojo related the sad story of Ankh-Nanke's transformation into a marble statue and told how he had set out to find the things the crooked magician wanted in order to make a charm that would restore his uncle to life. One of the requirements was three hairs from a woozy's tail but not being able to pull out the hairs they had been obliged to take the woozy with them. The scarecrow looked grave as he listened and he shook his head several times as if in disapproval. We must see Osmo about this matter he said, that crooked magician is breaking the law by practicing magic without a license and I'm not sure Osmo will allow him to restore your uncle to life. I already have warned the boy of that, declared the shaggy man. At this, Ojo began to cry. I want my Ankh-Nanke, he explained. I know how he can be restored to life and I'm going to do it, Osmo or no Osmo. What right has this girl ruler to keep my Ankh-Nanke a statue forever? Don't worry about that just now, advised the scarecrow. Go on to Emerald City and when you reach it, have the shaggy man take you to see Dorothy. Tell her your story and I'm sure she will help you. Dorothy is Osmo's best friend and if you can win her to your side, your uncle is pretty safe to live again. Then he turned to the woozy and said, I'm afraid you're not important enough to be introduced to the saw horse after all. I'm a better beast than he is, retorted the woozy indignantly. My eyes can flash fire and his can't. Is this true, inquired the scarecrow, turning to the munchkin boy. Yes, said Ojo and told how the woozy had set fire to the fence. Have you any other accomplishments, asked the scarecrow? I have a most terrible growl, that is, sometimes, said the woozy. As scraps laughed merrily and the shaggy man smiled, but the patchwork girl's laugh made the scarecrow forget all about the woozy. He said to her, what an admirable young lady you are and what jolly good company. We must be better acquainted, for never before have I met a girl with such exquisite coloring or such natural artless manners.  When you arrive at the Emerald City, I'll see you again, continued the scarecrow. Just now I'm going to call upon an old friend, an ordinary young lady named Ginger, who has promised to repaint my left ear for me. You may have noticed that the paint on the left ear has peeled off and faded, which affects my hearing on that side. Ginger always fixes me up when I get weather-worn. When do you expect to return to the Emerald City, asked the shaggy man? I'll be there this evening, for I'm anxious to have a long talk with Miss Scraps. How is it, saw-horse? Are you equal to a swift run? Anything that suits you suits me, returned the wooden horse. So the scarecrow mounted to the jeweled saddle and waved his hat, when the saw-horse darted away so swiftly that they were out of sight in an instant. End of Chapter 13, recording by Eric Leach, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Chapter 14 of the Petra Girl of Oz. This is a lipovox recording. All lipovox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit lipovox.org. Recording by Ellie, the Petra Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Chapter 14, Ocho Bricks the Law.  In so nice and polite, I did Scraps bobbing her head. I think he's the handsomest man I've seen since I came to life. Handsome is as handsome as does, what did the shaggy man, but we must admit that no living scarecrow is handsomer. The chief merit of my friend is that he's a great thinker, and in Oz it is considered good policy to follow his advice. I didn't notice any brains in his head, observed the glass-cat. You can't see him work, but they are all right, declared the shaggy man. I hadn't much confidence in his brains myself when I first came to Oz, for a humbug wizard gave them to him. But I was so convinced that this scarecrow is really wise, and unless his brains make him so, such wisdom is unaccountable. Is the wizard of Oz a humbug? Asked Ocho. Not now, he was once, but he was reformed and now assists Glinda the good, who is the royal sorceress of Oz, and the only one licensed to practice magical sorcery. Glinda has taught our old wizard a good many clever things, so he's no longer a humbug. They walked a little while in silence, and then Ocho said, if Osmo forbids the crooked magician to restore Anknumki to life, what shall I do? The shaggy man shook his head. In that case, you can't do anything, he said. But don't be discouraged yet. We will go to Princess Dorosy and tell her we are troubles, and then we will let her talk to Osmo. Dorosy has the kindest little heart in the world, and she has been through so many troubles herself that she is sure to sympathize with you. Is Dorosy the little girl who came here from Kansas? Asked the boy. Yes, in Kansas, she was Dorosy Gale. I used to know her there, and she brought me to the land of Oz. But now Osmo has made her a princess, and Dorosy's aunt Em and Uncle Henry are here too.  What is queer about it? Asked scraps. You, for instance, said he. Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in your own country? She inquired. None with the same gorgeous, variegated beauty. He confessed, in America a girl stuffed with cotton wouldn't be alive. Nor would anyone think of making a girl out of a patriarch's world. For the queer country America must be, she exclaimed in great surprise. This scarecrow whom you say is wise told me, I am the most beautiful creature he has ever seen. I know, and perhaps you are, from his scarecrow point of view, replied the shaggy man. But while he smiled as he said it, scraps could not imagine. Is the drone nearer to the Emerald City, the travelers fulfilled with admiration for the splendid scenery they beheld, handsome houses stood on both sides of the road, and each had a green lawn before it as well as a pretty flower garden. In another hour said the shaggy man, we shall come inside of the walls of the royal city. He was walking ahead with scraps, and behind him came the wussy and the glass cat. Ocho had leg behind. For in spite of the warning she had received, the boys' eyes were fastened on the clover. They bothered the road of yellow bricks, and he was eager to discover if such a thing as a six-leaf clover really existed. Suddenly he stopped short and bent over the X-Mine the ground more closely. Yes, he had last was a clover with six spreading leaves. He counted them carefully to make sure. In an instant his heart leapt to his joy. For this was one of the important things he had come for, one of the things that would restore the unknown kid to life. He glanced ahead, and saw that none of his companions was looking back. Neither were any other people about, for it was midway between two houses. The temptation was too strong to be resisted. I met Serge for weeks and weeks, and never find a six-leaf clover. He told himself, and quickly plucking the stem from the plant, he placed the price clover in his basket, covering it with the other things he carried there. Then, trying to look as if nothing had happened, he hurried forward and overtook his comrades. The Emerald City, which is the most splendid as well as the most beautiful city in any fairyland, is surrounded by a high-sick wall of green marble, polished smooth and set with glistening emeralds. There were four gates, one facing the Manchkin Country, one facing the Country of the Winkies, one facing the Country of the Gwedlings, and one facing the Country of the Gillykins. The Emerald City lies directly in the centre of these four important countries of ours. The gates are bars of pure gold, and on either side of each gateway were birthed high towers, from which floated gay banners. Other towers were set distances along the walls, which were broad enough for four people to walk oppressed upon. This enclosure, all green and gold and glittering with precious gems, was indeed a wonderful sight to greet our travellers, who first observed it from the top of a little hill. But beyond the wall was the vast city surrounded, and hundreds of jeweled spires, domes and minarets, flaunting flecks and banners, read the crests far above the towers of the gateways. In the centre of the city, our friends could see the tops of many magnificent trees, some nearly as tallest spires of the buildings, and the shaggy men told them these trees were in the royal gardens of the Princess Osma. They stood a long time on the hilltop, feasting their eyes on the splendour of the Emerald City. Wee! exclaimed scraps, clasping her petted hands in ecstasy, that will do for me to live in all right. No more of the Munchkin country for these patches, no more of the crooked magician. Why, you belong to Dr. Piped, replied Odjo, looking at her in amazement. You were made for a servant's scraps, so you are a personal property and not your own mistress. If you want me, let him come here and get me. I will not go back to his den of my own accord. That's certain. Only one place in the land of Oz is fit to live in, and that's the Emerald City. It's lovely. It's almost as beautiful as I am, Odjo. In this country, remarked the shaggy men, people live wherever our hula tells them to. It wouldn't do to have everyone live in the Emerald City, you know, for some must blow the land and raise grains and fruits and vegetables, while others chop wood in the forests, or fish in the rivers, or herd the sheep and the cattle. Poor things, said scraps. I am sure they are not happier than the city people, replied the shaggy men. There is a freedom and independence in country life that not even the Emerald City can give one. I know that lots of city people would like to get back to the land. This care-crow lives in the country, and so do the Tinwoodmen and Jack Pumpkinhead. Yet all three would be welcome to live in Osmos Palace if they cared to. Too much splendor becomes tiresome, you know. But if we are to reach the Emerald City before sundown, we must hurry, for it is yet a long way off. The entrancing side of the city put new energy into them all, and they hurried forward with lighter steps than before. There was much to interest them along the roadway, for the houses were now set more closely together, and they met a good many people who were coming or going from one place or another. All these seemed happy-faced, pleasant people who nod graciously to the strangers as they passed, or exchanged words of greeting. At last they reached the great gateway just as the sun was setting and adding its red glow to the glitter of the Emeralds on the green walls and spires. Somewhere inside the city a band could be heard playing sweet music. A soft subdued hum, as of many voices, reached their ears. From the neighboring yards came a low mooing of cows waiting to be merked. They were almost at the gate when the golden bars slid back and the tall soldiers stepped out and faced them. Ucho thought he had never seen such a tall man before. The soldier wore a handsome green and gold uniform with a tall head in which was a waving plume, and he had a belt sickly encrusted with jewels. But the most peculiar thing about him was his long green beard, which fell far below his waist and perhaps made him seem taller than he really was. Holt said the soldier with the green viscous, not in a stern voice, but rather in a friendly tone. The holder, before he spoke, instead looking at him. Good evening, Colonel, said the shaggy man. What's the news since I left? Anything important?  The yellow hen is mighty proud of those children, I can tell you. She is a right-to-be, great the shaggy man. Let me see, that's about 7,000 chicks she has hatched out, isn't it, General? That at least, was the reply, you will have to visit Belina and congratulate her. It will give me pleasure to do that, said the shaggy man, but you will observe that I have brought some strangers home with me. I am going to take them to see Dorosy. One moment, please, said the soldier, barring their way as they started to enter the gate. I am on duty, and I have orders to execute. Is anyone in your party, named Ocho their lucky? Why, that's me, great Ocho, astonished hearing his name on the lips of a stranger. The soldier with the green viscous nodded, I saw so, said he, and I am sorry to announce that it is my painful duty to arrest you. Arrest me, exclaimed the boy, what for? I haven't looked to see, answered the soldier. Then he drew a paper from his pressed pocket and glanced at it. Oh yes, you are to be arrested for willfully breaking one of the laws of Oz.  Not this time, returned the soldier with a sigh. My dear child, what are you? The rummage sale or a guess me quick. In me you behold the bodyguard of our gracious ruler, Princess Osma, as well as the Royal Army of Oz and the police force of the Emerald City. And only one man, exclaimed the patchwork girl. Only one, and plenty enough. In my official positions, I have had nothing to do for many good years. So long that I began to fear I was absolutely useless, until today. An hour ago, I was called to the presence of a highness, Osma of Oz, and told to arrest the boy named Ocho de Anlaki, who was churning from the Manchken country to the Emerald City, and would arrive in a short time. This command so astonished me that I nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone has merited the rest since I can remember. You are rightly named Ocho de Anlaki, my poor boy, since you have broken the law of Oz. But you are wrong, Setscrabs. Osma is wrong. You are all wrong, for Ocho has broken no law. Then he will soon be free again, replied the soldier with the green viscous. Anyone accused of crime is given a fair trial by our ruler, and has every chance to prove his innocence. But just now Osma's order must be obeyed. With this he took from his pocket a pair of handcuffs, made of gold and set with rubies and diamonds, and these he snapped over Ocho's wrists. End of Chapter 14, Recording by Ellie, March 2010 Chapter 15 of The Patchwork Girl of Oz This is a LibraVox recording. Only LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Recording by Ellie, The Patchwork Girl of Oz, by L. Frank Baum Chapter 15, Osma's prisoner The boy was so bewildered by this calamity that he made no resistance at all. He knew very well he was guilty, but it surprised him that Osma also knew it. He wondered how she had found out so soon that he had picked a six-lift clover. He handed his basket of scraps and said, Keep that until you get out of prison. If you never get out, take it to the crooked magician, to whom it belongs. The shaky men had been gazing earnestly in the boy's face, uncertain whether to defend him or not. But something he writing Ocho's expression made him draw back and refuse to intervene to save him. The shaky man was greatly surprised and grieved, but he knew that Osma never made mistakes and so Ocho must really have broken the law of Oz. The soldier with the green viscous now led them all through the gate and into a little room built in the wall. He has had a jolly little man, richly dressed in green and having around his neck a heavy gold chain to which a number of great golden keys were attached. This was the guardian of the gate and at the moment he entered his room he was playing a tune upon a mouse organ. Listen, he said, holding up his hand for silence. I've just composed a tune called The Speckled Alligator. It's in patch time, which is much superior to ragtime and I've composed it in honor of the patchwork girl who has just arrived. How did you know I had arrived? Asked scraps, much interested. It's my business to know who's coming, for I'm the guardian of the gate. Keep quiet while I play your The Speckled Alligator. It wasn't a very bad tune, nor a very good one, but they all listened respectfully while he shut his eyes and swayed his head from side to side and blew his notes from the little instrument. When it was all over, the soldier with the green viscous said, Guardian, I have here a prisoner. Good gracious, a prisoner, cried the little man jumping up from his chair. Which one? Not the shaggy man. No, this boy. Ah, I hope his fault is as small as himself, said the guardian of the gate. But what can he have done, and what made him do it? Can't say, replied the soldier. All I know is that he has broken the law. But no one ever does that. Then he must be innocent and soon will be released. I hope you are right, Guardian. Just now I am ordered to take him to prison. Get me a prisoner's robe from your official wardrobe. The guardian unlocked the closet and took from it the white robe, which the soldier threw over Ocho. It covered him from head to foot, but had two holes just in front of his eyes, so he could see where to go. In this attire the boy presented a very quaint appearance. As the guardian unlocked the gate leading from his room into the streets of the Emerald City, the shaggy man said to Scripps, I think I shall take you directly to Dorosy, as the scarecrow advised, and the glass cat and the woozy may come with us. Ocho must go to prison with the soldier with the green viscous, but he will be well treated and you need not worry about him. What will you do with him, asked Scripps. That I cannot tell, since I came to the land of Oz, no one has ever been arrested or imprisoned, until Ocho broke the law.  I don't know what Ocho has done, but it couldn't be anything very bad for you and I were with him all the time. The shaggy man made no reply to this speech, and presently the patched-up girl forgot all about Ocho and had narration of the wonderful city she had entered. This soon separated from the manchken boy who was led by the soldier with the green viscous down a side street toward the prison. Ocho felt very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but he was beginning to grow angry because he was treated in such a disgraceful manner. Instead of entering the splendid Emerald City as a respectable traveler who was entitled to a welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought in as a criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that hold all he met of his deep disgrace. Ocho was by nature gentle and affectionate, and if he had disobeyed the law of us, it was to restore his dear unclean kid to life. His fault was more sad less than wicked, but that did not alter the fact that he committed a fault. At first he had felt sorrow and remorse, but the more he saw about the unjust treatment he had received, and just merely because he considered it so, the more he resented his arrest, blaming Osma for making foolish laws and them punishing folk so broke them. Only a six-lift clover, a tiny green plant growing neglected and trampled underfoot, what harm could there be in picking it? Ocho began to think Osma must be a very bad and oppressive ruler for such a lovely fair land as Os. The shaggy man said people loved her, but how could they? The little munchkin boy was so busy thinking these things, which many guilty prisoners have sought before him, that his carefully noticed oldest blend of the city streets which he passed. Whenever they met any of the happy-smiling people, the boy turned his head away in shame, all torn and new, and was beneath the robe. By and by they reached the house built just beside the great city wall, but in a quiet, retired place. It was a pretty house, neatly painted and with many windows. Before it was a garden filled with blooming flowers. The soldier with the green whiskers let Ocho up the gravel path to the front door in which he knocked. A woman opened the door and, seeing Ocho in his white robe exclaimed, goodness me, a prisoner at last, but the very small one soldier. The size doesn't matter, Tolly-deagle, my dear. The fact remains that he is a prisoner, said the soldier.  True, come in then, and I'll give you a receipt for him. They entered the house and passed through a hall to a large circular room where the woman pulled the robe off from Ocho and looked at him with kindly interest. The boy on his part was gazing around him in amazement. For never had he dreamed of such a magnificent apartment as this in which he stood. The room with the dome was of color glass, worked with beautiful designs. The walls were paneled with plates of gold decorated with gems of great size and many colors, and upon the tilted floor were soft-drags delightful to walk upon. The furniture was framed in gold and a porcelain set in brocade, and it consisted of easy chairs, demons, and stools in great variety. Also, there were several tables with mirror tops and cabinets filled with rare and curious things. In one place a case filled with books stood against the wall and elsewhere Ocho saw a cupboard containing all sorts of games. May I stay here a little while before I go to prison? Asked the boy, bleedingly. Why, this is your prison, replied Tolly Dickle. And in me behold your jailer, take off those handcuffs, soldier, for it is impossible for anyone to escape from this house. I know that very well, replied the soldier, and at once unlocked the handcuffs and released the prisoner. The woman touched the button on the wall and lighted a big chandelier that hung suspended from the ceiling for it was growing darker tight. Then she seated herself at the desk and asked, What name? Ocho, they are lucky, answered the soldier with the green viscous. Unlucky? Ah, that accounts for it. Said she, what crime? Breaking the law of oath. All right, here's your recipe, soldier. And now I'm responsible for the prisoner. I'm glad of it, for this is the first time I've ever had anything to do in my official capacity. I marked the chalice in a pleased tone. But my task is finished, and I must go and report to Osma that I've done my duty like a faithful police force, a loyal army, and honest bodyguard, as I hope I am. Seeing this, he nodded farewell to Tolly Diggler and Ocho and went away. Now then, said the woman briskly, I must get you some supper for your doubtless hungry. What would you prefer? Blanked white fish, omelet-wish jelly, or mutton chops with gravy? Ocho thought about it. Then he said, I'll take the chops if you please. Very well, amuse yourself while I'm gone. I won't belong, and then she went out by door and left the prisoner alone. Ocho was much astonished, for not only was this unlike any prisoner had ever heard of, but he was being treated more as a guest than a criminal. There were many windows, but they had no locks. There was three doors to the room and none were bolted. He cautiously opened one of the doors and found it led him to a hallway. But he had no intention of trying to escape. If his chalice was willing to trust him in this way, he would not betray her trust, and moreover had supper was being prepared for him, and his present was very pleasant and comfortable. So he took a book from the case and set down in a big chair to look at the pictures. This amused him until the woman came in with a large tray and spread a glass on one of the tables. Then she arranged the supper, which proved the most varied and delicious meal Ocho had ever eaten in his life. Tolly tickles at near him while he ate, so in our fancy worksheet held in her lap. When he finished, he cleared the table and then read him a story from one of the books. "'Is this really a prison?' he asked, when she had finished reading. "'Indeed it is,' she replied, "'it is the only prison in the land of Oz.' "'In the my prisoner?' "'Bless the child, of course. "'Then why is the prison so fine, and why are you so kind to me?' he earnestly asked. Tolly tickles him to a price by the question, but she presently answered. "'We consider a prisoner unfortunate. He is unfortunate in two ways, "'because he has done something wrong, "'and because he is deprived of his liberty. "'Therefore we should treat him kindly, "'because of his misfortune, "'for otherwise he would become hard and bitter "'and would not be sorry he had done wrong. "'Osma thinks that one who has committed a fault did so "'because he was not strong and brave. "'Therefore she puts him in prison "'to make him strong and brave. "'When that is accomplished, he is no longer a prisoner, "'but a good and loyal citizen, "'and everyone is glad that he is now strong enough "'to resist doing wrong. "'You see, it is kindness that makes one strong and brave, "'and so we are kind to our prisoners.' "'Ocho thought this over very carefully. "'I had an idea,' said he. "'The prisoners were always treated harshly to punish them. "'That would be dreadful,' cried Tolly tickle. "'Isn't one punished enough "'in knowing that he is done wrong? "'Don't you wish, Ocho, with all your heart, "'that you had not been disobedient "'and broken the law of Oz? "'I hate to be different from other people,' he admitted. "'Yes, one likes to be respected as highly as his neighbors are,' said the woman. "'When you are tried and found guilty, "'you will be obliged to make amends in some way. "'I don't know just what Osma will do to you, "'because this is the first time "'one of us has broken a law, "'but you may be sure that you will be just and merciful. "'Here in the Emerald City, "'people are too happy and contented ever to do wrong. "'But perhaps you came from some far away corner of our land "'and having no love for Osma "'kindlessly broke one of her laws.' "'Yes,' said Ocho, "'I have lived all my life in the heart of a lonely forest, "'where there is so no one but your Ankh-Nunki. "'Best also,' said Tolly-Diggle. "'But now we have talked enough, "'so let us play a game until bedtime.'" End of chapter 15, recording by Ellie, March 2010. Chapter 16 of The Petra Girl of Oz This is a lip-revox recording. Only lip-revox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit liprevox.org. Recording by Ellie, The Petra Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum.  She was a plain white frog without any jewels or other ornaments, except an emerald-green hair-ribbon. For Dorosy was a simple little girl and had not been in the least spoiled by the magnificent surrounding her. Once the child had lived in the Kansas Priories, but she seemed marked for adventure, for she had made several trips to the land of Oz before she came to live there for good. Her very best friend was the beautiful Ozma of Oz, who loved Dorosy so well that she kept her in her own palace, so as to be near her. The girls' Uncle Henry and Aunt M, the only relative she had in the world, had also been brought here by Ozma given a pleasant home. Dorosy knew almost everybody in Oz, and it was she who had discovered this character. The tin-wopman and the cowardly lion, as well as tiktok the clockwork man. Her life was very pleasant now, and although she had been made a princess of Oz by her friend Ozma, she did not care much to be a princess and remained as sweet as when she had been playing Dorosy Gale of Kansas. Dorosy was reading a book this evening when Celia Champ, her favorite servant made of the palace, came to say that the Shaggyman wanted to see her. All right, said Dorosy, tell him to come right up.  Some of the queerest I've ever laid eyes on, reported Celia. Never mind, let them all come up, replied Dorosy. But when the door opened to admit not only the Shaggyman, but Scribes to Woosie and the glass cat, Dorosy jumped up and looked at her strange visitors in amazement. The petrol girl was the most curious of all, and Dorosy was uncertain at first whether Scribes was really alive or only a dream or a nightmare. Toto, her dog, slowly uncalled himself and going to the petrol girl, sniffed at her inquiringly. But soon he lay down again, as if to say he had no interest in such an irregular creation.  Dorosy said reflectively, addressing the petrol girl, I can't imagine where you've come from. Who, me, asked Scribes, looking around the pretty room instead of at the girl. Oh, it came from bad quilt, I guess. That's what they say anyhow. Some call it a crazy quilt, and some a petrified quilt, but my name is Scribes, and now you know all about me. Not quite all returned Dorosy with a smile. I wish you'd tell me how you came to be alive. That's an easy job, said Scribes, sitting upon a bigger poolster chair, making the springs bounce her up and down. Margulot wanted a slave, so she made me out of an old bed quilt she didn't use. Cotton stuffing, suspender-button eyes, red velvet tongue, pearl beads for teeth. The crooked magician made a powder of life, sprinkled me with it, and here I am. Perhaps you have noticed my different colors. A very refined and educated gentleman named the Scarecrow, whom I met, told me I'm the most beautiful creature in all ores, and I believe it. Oh, have you met our Scarecrow then? Ask Dorosy a little puzzle to understand the brief history related. Yes, isn't it, Charlie? The Scarecrow has many good qualities, replied Dorosy, but I am sorry to hear all this about the crooked magician. Osma will be as mad as Hobbes when she hears he's been doing magic again. She told him not to.  Dear me, said Dorosy, I hadn't noticed you before. Are you class or what? I am class and transparent too, which is more than can be said of some folks, answered the cat. Also, I have some lovely pink prints. You can see them work. Is that so? Come over here and let me see. The class cat hesitated, eyeing the dog. Sent the beast away in the well, she said. Beast? Why, that's my dog, Toto, and he's the kindest dog in all the world. Toto knows a good many things too, most as much as I do, I guess. Why doesn't he say anything, asked Bungle.  He is just a common United States dog, but that's a good deal, and I understand him and he understands me, just as well as if he could talk. Toto at this got up and rubbed his head softly against Dorosy's hand, which held her down to him, and he looked up into her face as if he had understood every word she had said. This cat, Toto, she said to him, is made of glass, so you mustn't bother it or chase it any more than you do with pink kitten. It's probably brittle and might break if it bumped against anything. Woof, said Toto, that meant he understood. The class cat was so proud of her pink brains that she went to come close to Dorosy in order that the girl might see him work. This was really interesting, but when Dorosy petted the cat, she found the class cold and hard and unresponsive, so she decided at once that Bungle would never do for a pet. What do you know about the crooked magician who lives in the mountain? asked Dorosy. He made me, replied the cat, so I know all about him. The pet-work girl is new, three or four days old, but I've lived with Dr. Piper for years, and though I don't care much for him, I will say that he has always refused to work magic for any of the people who came to his house. He thinks there's no harm in doing magic things for his own family, and he made me out of glass because the meat-cats drink too much milk. He also made scribes come to life so she could do the housework for his wife Margulot. Then why did you both leave him? asked Dorosy. I think you'd better let me explain that, interrupted the shaggy man, and then he told Dorosy all of Ocho's story, and how Anknuki and Margulot had accidentally been turned to marble by the liquid of petrification. Then he related how the boy had started out in search of the things needed to make the magic charm, which would restore the unfortunate to life, and how he had found the woozy and taken him along because he could not pull the three hairs out of its tail. Dorosy listened to all this with much interest, and thought that so far Ocho had acted very well. But when the shaggy man told of the mansion boy's arrest by the soldier with the green viscous, because he'd been accused of willfully breaking the law of us, the girl was greatly shocked. What do you suppose he's done? she asked. I fear he has picked a six-lift clover, answered the shaggy man sadly. I did not see him do it, and warned him that to do so was against the law, but perhaps that is what he did nevertheless. I'm sorry about that, said Dorosy gravely. For now there will be no one to help his poor uncle and Margulot, except his petrified girl, the woozy and the glass cat. Don't mention it, said Scripps. That's no affair of mine. Margulot and Anknuki are perfect strangers to me. For the moment they came to life, they came to marble. I see, remarked Dorosy with a sigh of regret. The woman forgot to give you a heart. I'm glad she did, retorted the petrified girl. A heart must be a great annoyance to one. It makes a person feel sad or sorry or devoted or sympathetic. All of which sensations interfere with one's happiness. I have a heart, where I'm at the glass cat. It's made of a ruby, but I don't imagine I shall let the bottom be about helping Anknuki and Margulot. That's a pretty hard heart of yours, said Dorosy and the woozy, of course. Why, as for me, observed the woozy, who was reclining on the floor with his four legs doubled under him, so that he looked much like his queer box. I've never seen those unfortunate people you are speaking of, and yet I'm sorry for them, having at times been unfortunate myself. When I was shut up in that forest, I longed for someone to help me, and by and by Ocho came and helped me, so I'm willing to help his uncle.  Dorosy walked over and patted the woozy on his square head. You're not pretty, she said, but I like you. What are you able to do, anything special? I can make my eyes flash fire, real fire, when I'm angry. When anyone says, please look good for me, I get angry, and then my eyes flash fire. I don't see if fireworks could help Ocho's uncle, remark Dorosy, can you do anything else? I thought I had a very terrifying role, said the woozy with hesitation, but perhaps I was mistaken. Yes, said the shaggy man, you were certainly wrong about that. Then he turned to Dorosy and added, what will become of the Munchkin boy? I don't know, she said, shaking her head softly. Osma will see about him, of course, and then she'll punish him. But how, I don't know, cause no one has ever been punished in ours, since I knew anything about the place. Too bad, shaggy man, isn't it? While they were talking, scraps had been roaming about the room and looking at all the pretty things it contained. She had carried Ocho's basket in her hand until now, when she decided to see what was inside it. She found the bread and cheese, which she had no use for, and the bundle of charms, which were curious, but quite a mystery to her. Then, turning this over, she came upon the six-lift clover, which the boy had plucked. Scraps was quick-witted, and although she had no hard, she recognized the fact that Ocho was her first friend. She knew at once that because the boy had taken the clover, he had been imprisoned. And she understood that Ocho had given her the basket, so they would not find the clover in his possession, and have proof of his crime. So, turning her head to see if no one noticed her, she took the clover from the basket, and dropped it into a golden vase that stood on Dorosy's table. Then she came forward and said to Dorosy, I wouldn't care to help Ocho's uncle, but I will help Ocho. He did not break the law, no one can prove he did, and that green viscous soldier had no right to arrest him. Osmo uttered the boy's arrest, said Dorosy, and of course she knew what he was doing, but if you can prove Ocho is innocent, they will set him free at once. They will have to prove him guilty, won't they? asked Scraps. I suppose so. Well, they come to that, declared the Petra-girl. As it was nearly time for Dorosy to die in this Osmo, which she did every evening, she rang for a servant, and ordered the Woosy taken to a nice room, and given plenty of such food as he liked best. That's honey-bees, said the Woosy. You can't eat honey-bees, but you'll be given something just as nice, Dorosy told him. Then she had the glass-cat taken to another room for the night, and the Petra-girl she kept in one of her own rooms. For she was much interested in the strange creature, and wanted to talk with her again, and try to understand her better. End of Chapter 16, Recording by Ellie, March 2010 Chapter 17 of The Petra-Girl of Oz This is Ily provokes recording. Only provokes recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit lilyprovokes.org. Recording by Ellie The Petra-Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum Chapter 17, Osma and Her Friends The Shaggy man had a room of his own in the Royal Palace, so there he went to change his Shaggy's youth of clothes for another just as Shaggy, but not so dusty from travel. He selected a costume of pea-green and pink satin and velvet, with embroidered checks on all the edges and iridescent pearls for ornaments. Then he based in an alabaster pool and brushed his Shaggy hair and whiskers the wrong way, to make them still more Shaggy. This accomplished, and the raid in his splendid Shaggy garments, he went to Osma's banquet hall and found this cargo the wizard and Dorosy already assembled there. This cargo had made a quick trip and returned to the Emerald City, with his left ear freshly painted. A moment later, while all stood in waiting, a servants' room opened a door, the orchestra's tracker betune, and the Osma of Oz entered. March has been told and written concerning the beauty of person and character of the sweet girl role of the land of Oz. The richest, the happiest, the most delightful fair land of which you have any knowledge. Yet with all her queenly qualities, Osma was a real girl, and enjoyed the things in life that other real girls enjoyed. When she sat on his splendid Emerald throne in the great throne room of her palace, and made laws and settled disputes, and tried to keep all her subjects happy and contented, she was as dignified and demure as any queen might be. But when she had thrown aside her jeweled robe of state and terseptor, and had retired to her own private rooms, the girl, joyous lighthearted and free, replaced as a date ruler. In the banquet hall tonight were gathered only old and trusted friends, so here Osma was herself, a mere girl. She greeted Dorosy with a kiss, the shaky man with a smile, the little old wizard with a friendly handshake, and then she pressed his care-grossed staffed arm and cried merrily. What a lovely ear! Why, it is a hundred times better than the old one. I am glad you like it, replied the care-gross well-pleased. Ginger did a neat job, didn't she? And my hearing is now perfect. Isn't it wonderful what a little paint will do, if it's properly applied? It rarely is wonderful, she agreed, as they all took their seats. But the saw-horse must have made his legs twinkle to have carried you so fine one day. It didn't expect you back before tomorrow, at the earliest. Well, said this care-gross, I met a charming girl on the road and wanted to see more of her, so I hurried back. Osma laughed. I know she returned, it's the petrified girl. She is certainly bewildering, if not strictly beautiful. Have you seen her then? The strawman eagerly asked. Only in my magic picture it shows me all the scenes of interest in the land of Oz. I fear the picture didn't do her justice, said this care-gross. It seemed to me that nothing could be more gorgeous. Declared Osma, whoever made the petrified girl from which scraps was formed, must have selected the gayest and brightest bits of glass that they ever were woven. I'm glad you like her, said this care-gross in a satisfied tone. Although the strawman did not eat, not being made so he could, he often dined with Osma and her companions. Merely for the pleasure of talking with them. He sat at the table and had a napkin and plate, but the servants knew better than to offer him food. After a little while he asked. Where's the petrified girl now? In my room replied Dorosy, I've taken a fancy to her. She's so queer and... and uncommon. She's half-crazy, I think, edit the shaggy man. But she's so beautiful, exclaimed this care-gross, as if the fact is under all criticism. They all laughed at his enthusiasm, but this care-gross was quite serious. Seeing that he was interested in scraps, they forbore to say anything against her. The little band of friends Osma gathered around her was so greatly assorted that much care must be exercised to avoid hurting their feelings or making any one of them unhappy. It was this considerate kindness that held them close friends and enabled them to enjoy one another's society. Another thing they avoided was conversing on unpleasant subjects, and for that reason old friends' troubles were not mentioned during the dinner. The shaggy man, however, related his adventures with the monstrous plants, which had ceased and enfolded the travellers, and told her it robbed Chis, the great park-cubine, of the girls, which it was accustomed to throw at people. Both Dorosy and Osma were pleased with this exploit, and so they served Chis right. Then they talked of the woozy, which was the most remarkable animal any of them had ever seen before, except perhaps the life-star-horse. Osma had never known that her dominions contained such a thing as a woozy, there being but one in existence, and this being confided in his forest for many years. Dorosy said she believed the woozy was a good beast, honest and faithful, but she added that she didn't care much for the glass cat. Still, said the shaggy man, the glass cat is very pretty, and if she were not so conceited over her pink brains, no one would object to her as a companion. The wizard had been eating silently until now, when he looked up and remarked, That powder of life, which is made by the crooked magician, is really a wonderful thing, but Dr. Pipe does not know its true value, and he uses it for the most foolish ways. I must see about that, said Osma gravely, then she smiled again and continued in a lighter tone. It was Dr. Pip's famous powder of life that enabled me to become the ruler of Oz. I've never heard that story, said the shaggy man, looking at Osma questioningly. Well, when I was a baby girl, I was stolen by an old witch, named Mumbai, and transformed into a boy, began the girl-holer. I did not know who it was, and when I grew big enough to work, the witch made me wait upon her and carry wood for the fire and hoe in the garden. One day she came back from a journey, bringing some of the powder of life, which Dr. Pip took given her. I had made a pumpkin-headed man and set it up in her past to frighten her, for I was fond of fun and hated the witch, but she knew what the figure was, and to test the powder of life, she sprinkled some of it on the man I had made. It came to life, and is now our dear friend, Jack Pumpkinhead. That night I ran away with Jack to escape punishment, and I took Old Mumbai's powder of life with me. During our journey, we came upon the wooden saw-horse, standing by the road, and they used the magic powder to bring it to life. The saw-horse has been with me ever since. When I got to the Emerald City, the good sorceress, Glinda, knew who I was and restored me to my proper person, when I became the rightful ruler of this land. So you see, had not Old Mumbai brought home the powder of life, I might never have run away from her and became awesome of us, nor would we have had Jack Pumpkinhead and the saw-horse to comfort and amuse us. That story interested the shaggy man very much, as well as the others, who had often heard it before. The dinner being now concluded, they all went to Osma's drawing room, but they passed the pleasant evening before it came time to retire. End of Chapter 17, Recording by Ellie, April 2010 The next morning, the soldier with the green whiskers went to the prison and took Ojo away to the royal palace, where he was summoned to appear before the girl ruler for judgment. Again the soldier put up on the boy the jeweled handcuffs and white prisoner's robe with the peaked top and holes for the eyes. Ojo was so ashamed, both of his disgrace and the fault he had committed, that he was glad to be covered up in this way, so that people could not see him or know who he was. He followed the soldier with the green whiskers very willingly, anxious that his fate might be decided as soon as possible. The inhabitants of the emerald city were polite people and never jeered at the unfortunate, but it was so long since they had seen a prisoner that they cast many curious looks towards the boy and many of them hurried away to the royal palace to be present during the trial. When Ojo was escorted into a great throne room of the palace, he found hundreds of people assembled there. In the magnificent emerald throne, which sparkled with countless jewels, sat Osma of Oz in her robe of state, which was embroidered with emeralds and pearls. On her right, but little lower, was Dorothy, and on her left the scarecrow. Still lower, but nearly in front of Osma, sat the wonderful wizard of Oz. At a small table beside him was the golden vase from Dorothy's room, into which scraps had dropped the stolen clover. At Osma's feet crouched two enormous beasts, each the largest and most powerful of its kind. Although these beasts were quite free, no one present was alarmed by them, for the cow, the lion, and the hungry tiger were well known and respected in the emerald city, and they always guarded the ruler when she held high court in the throne room. There was still another beast present, but this one Dorothy held in her arms, for it was her constant companion, the little dog, Toto. Toto knew the cowardly lion and the hungry tiger, and often played and romped with them, for they were good friends. Seated on ivory chairs before Osma, with a clear space between them and the throne, were many of the nobility of the emerald city, lords and ladies in beautiful costumes, and officials of the kingdom in the royal uniforms of Oz. Behind these couriers were others of less importance, filling the great hall to the very doors. At the same moment that the soldier with the green whiskers arrived with Ojo, the shaggy man entered from a side door, escorting the patchwork girl, the woozy, and the glass cat. All these came to the vacant space before the throne, and stood facing the ruler. Hello, Ojo, said scraps, how are you? All right, he replied, but the scene awed the boy, and his voice trembled a little with fear. Nothing could awe the patchwork girl, and although the woozy was somewhat uneasy in these blended surroundings, the glass cat was delighted with the sumptuousness of the court, and the impressiveness of the occasion. Pretty big words, but quite expressive.  He saw at a glance how lovely and sweet she was, and his heart gave a bound of joy, for he hoped she would be merciful. Osma sat looking at the prisoner a long time. Then she said gently, One of the laws of Oz forbids anyone to pick a six-leaved clover. You are accused of having broken this law, even after you have been warned not to do so. Ojo hung his head, and while he hesitated how to reply, the patchwork girl stepped forward and spoke for him. All this fuss is about nothing at all, she said, facing Osma unabashed. You can't prove he picked the six-leaved clover, so you've no right to accuse him of it. Search him if you like, but you won't find the clover. Look in his basket, and you'll find it's not there. He hasn't got it, so I demand that you set this poor munchkin boy free. The people of Oz listened to this defiance and amazement, and wondered at the queer patchwork girl who dad talked so boldly to their ruler. But Osma sat silent and motionless, and it was the little wizard who answered scraps. So the clover hasn't been picked, eh? he said. I think it has. I think the boy hid it in his basket, and then gave the basket to you. I also think he dropped the clover into this phase, which stood in Princess Dorothy's room, hoping to get rid of it, so it would not prove the boy guilty. You're a stranger here, Miss Patches, and so you don't know that nothing can be hidden from our powerful ruler's magic picture, nor from the watchful eyes of the humble Wizard of Oz. Look, all of you. With these words he waved his hands towards the vase on the table, which scraps now noticed for the first time. From the mouth of the vase are plants sprouted, slowly growing before their eyes until it became a beautiful bush, and on the topmost branch appeared the six-leaved clover which Ojo had unfortunately picked. The patchwork girl looked at the clover and said, Oh, so you've found it. Very well. Prove he picked it, if you can. Osma turned to Ojo. Did you pick the six-leaved clover? She asked. Yes, he replied. I knew it was against the law, but I wanted to save Uncle Nunky, and I was afraid if I asked your consent to pick it, you would refuse me. What caused you to think that? asked the ruler. Why, it seemed to me a foolish law, unjust and unreasonable. Even now I can see no harm in picking a six-leaved clover. And I. I had not seen the Emerald City then, nor you, and I thought a girl who would make such a silly law would not be likely to help anyone in trouble. Osma regarded him musingly, her chin resting upon her hand, but she was not angry. On the contrary, she smiled a little at her thoughts and then grew sober again. I suppose a good many laws seem foolish to those people who do not understand them, she said, but no law is ever made without some purpose, and that purpose is usually to protect all the people and guard their welfare. As you are a stranger, I will explain this law which to you seems so foolish. Years ago, there were many witches and magicians in the land of Oz, and some of the things they often used in making their magic charms and transformations was a six-leaved clover. These witches and magicians caused so much trouble among my people, often using their powers for evil rather than good, that I decided to forbid anyone to practice magic or sorcery, except Glinda the Good and her assistant, the Wizard of Oz, both of whom I can trust to use their arts only to benefit my people and to make them happier. Since I issued that law, the land of Oz has been far more peaceful and quiet, but I learned that some of the witches and magicians were still practicing magic on the sly and using the six-leaved clover to make their potions and charms. Therefore I made another law forbidding anyone from plucking a six-leaved clover or from gathering other plants and herbs which the witches boil in their kettles to work magic with. That has almost put an end to wicked sorcery in our land, so you see, the law was not a foolish one, but wise and just, and in any event, it is wrong to disobey a law. Odor knew she was right and felt greatly mortified to realise he had acted and spoken so ridiculously, but he raised his head and looked Osma in the face saying, I'm sorry I have acted wrongly and broken your law. I did it to save Uncle Nunky and thought I would not be found out, but I'm guilty of this act and whatever punishment you think I deserve, I will suffer willingly. Osma smiled more brightly than and nodded graciously. You are forgiven, she said, for although you have committed a serious fault, you are now penitent and I think you have been punished enough. Soldier, release Ojo the lucky end. I beg your pardon, I'm Ojo the unlucky, said the boy. At this moment you are lucky, she said, release him soldier and let him go free. The people were glad to hear Osma's decree and murmured their approval. As the royal audience was now over, they began to leave the throne room and soon there were none remaining except Ojo and his friends and Osma and her favourites. The girl ruler now asked Ojo to sit down and tell her all his story, which he did beginning at the time he had left his home in the forest and ending with his arrival at the emerald city and his arrest. Osma listened attentively and was thoughtful for some moments after the boy had finished speaking. Then she said, the crooked magician was wrong to make the glass cat and the patchwork girl for it was against the law and if he had not unlawfully kept the bottle of liquid of petrification standing on his shelf, the accident to his wife Magalot and to Aunt Nunky could not have occurred. I can understand however that Ojo, who loves his uncle, will be unhappy unless he can save him. Also I feel it is wrong to leave those two victims standing as marble statues when they ought to be alive. So I propose we allow Dr Pippt to make the magic charm which will save them and that we assist Ojo to find the things he is seeking. What do you think, wizard? Those perhaps the best thing to do replied the wizard, but after the crooked magician has restored those poor people to life you must take away his magic powers. I will, promised Osma. Now tell me please, what magic things must you find? continued the wizard addressing Ojo. The three hairs from the Woozie's tail I have, said the boy. That is, I have the Woozie and the hairs are in his tail. The six-leaved clover I, I. You may take it and keep it, said Osma. That will not be breaking the law for it is already picked and the crime of picking it is forgiven. Thank you, cried Ojo gratefully. Then he continued, the next thing I must find is a gill of water from a dark well. The wizard shook his head. That, he said, will be a hard task, but if you travel far enough you may discover it. I am willing to travel for years if it will save Uncle Nunky, declared Ojo earnestly. Then you'd better begin your journey at once, advised the wizard. Dorothy had been listening with interest to this conversation. Now she turned to Osma and asked, may I go with Ojo to help him? Would you like to, returned Osma? Yes, I know Os pretty well, but Ojo doesn't know it at all. I'm sorry for his uncle and poor Magalot and I'd like to help save them. May I go? If you wish, replied Osma. If Dorothy goes then I must go to take care of her, said the scarecrow decidedly. A dark well can only be discovered in some out-of-the-way place and there may be dangers there. You have my permission to accompany Dorothy, said Osma, and while you are gone I will take care of the patchwork cult. I'll take care of myself, announced Scrups, for I'm going with the scarecrow and Dorothy. I promised Ojo to help him find the things he wants and I'll stick to my promise. Very well, replied Osma, but I see no reason for Ojo to take the glass cat and the woosie. I prefer to remain here, said the cat. I have nearly been nicked half a dozen times already, and if they're going into dangers it's best for me to keep away from them. Let Gilead Jam keep her till Ojo returns, suggested Dorothy. We won't need to take the woosie either, but he ought to be saved because of the three hairs in his tail. Better take me along, said the woosie. My eyes can flash fire, you know, and I can growl, a little. I'm sure you'll be safer here, Osma decided, and the woosie made no further objection to the plan. After consulting together they decided that Ojo and his party should leave the very next day to search for the gill of water from a dark well, so they now separated to make preparations for the journey. Osma gave the muntkin boy a room in the palace for that night, and the afternoon he passed with Dorothy, getting acquainted, as she said, and receiving advice from the shaggy man as to where they must go. The shaggy man had wandered in many parts of Os, and so had Dorothy for that matter, yet neither of them knew where a dark well was to be found. If such a thing is anywhere in the settled parts of Os, said Dorothy, we'd probably have heard of it long ago. If it's in the wild parts of the country, no one there would need a dark well. Perhaps there isn't such a thing. Oh, there must be, returned Ojo positively, or else the recipe of Dr. Pippt wouldn't call for it. That's true, agreed Dorothy, and if it's anywhere in the land of Os, we're bound to find it. Well, we're bound to search for it anyhow, said the scarecrow, as for finding it, we must trust to luck. Don't do that, begged Ojo earnestly. I'm called Ojo the Unlucky Uner. End of Chapter 18