The
neat yellow houses of the Winkies
were now to be seen standing
here and there along the roadway,
giving the country a more cheerful
and civilized look. They were
farm-houses, though, and set
far apart; for in the Land
of Oz there were no towns or
villages except the magnificent
Emerald City in its center.
Hedges of evergreen or of
yellow roses bordered the broad
highway and the farms showed
the care of their industrious
inhabitants. The nearer the
travelers came to the great
city the more prosperous the
country became, and they crossed
many bridges over the sparkling
streams and rivulets that watered
the lands.
As they walked leisurely
along the shaggy man said to
the Tin Woodman:
"What
sort of
a Magic
Powder
was it
that made
your friend
the Pumpkinhead live?"
"It was called the Powder
of Life," was the answer; "and
it was invented by a crooked
Sorcerer who lived in the mountains
of the North Country. A Witch
named Mombi got some of this
powder from the crooked Sorcerer
and took it home with her.
Ozma lived with the Witch then,
for it was before she became
our Princess, while Mombi had
transformed her into the shape
of a boy. Well, while Mombi
was gone to the crooked Sorcerer's,
the boy made this pumpkin-headed
man to amuse himself, and also
with the hope of frightening
the Witch with it when she
returned. But Mombi was not
scared, and she sprinkled the
Pumpkinhead with her Magic
Powder of Life, to see if the
Powder would work. Ozma was
watching, and saw the Pumpkinhead
come to life; so that night
she took the pepper-box containing
the Powder and ran away with
it and with Jack, in search
of adventures.
"Next
day they
found a
wooden
Saw-Horse
standing
by the
roadside,
and sprinkled it with the Powder.
It came to life at once, and
Jack Pumpkinhead rode the Saw-Horse
to the Emerald City."
"What became of the Saw-Horse,
afterward?" asked the shaggy
man, much interested in this
story.
"Oh,
it's alive
yet, and
you will probably meet it presently
in the Emerald City. Afterward,
Ozma used the last of the Powder
to bring the Flying Gump to
life; but as soon as it had
carried her away from her enemies
the Gump was taken apart, so
it doesn't exist any more."
"It's too bad the Powder
of Life was all used up," remarked
the shaggy man; "it would be
a handy thing to have around."
"I am not so sure of that,
sir," answered the Tin Woodman. "A
while ago the crooked Sorcerer
who invented the Magic Powder
fell down a precipice and was
killed. All his possessions
went to a relative--an old
woman named Dyna, who lives
in the Emerald City. She went
to the mountains where the
Sorcerer had lived and brought
away everything she thought
of value. Among them was a
small bottle of the Powder
of Life; but of course Dyna
didn't know it was a Magic
Powder, at all. It happened
she had once had a big blue
bear for a pet; but the bear
choked to death on a fishbone
one day, and she loved it so
dearly that Dyna made a rug
of its skin, leaving the head
and four paws on the hide.
She kept the rug on the floor
of her front parlor."
"I've seen rugs like that," said
the shaggy man, nodding, "but
never one made from a blue
bear."
"Well," continued the Tin
Woodman, "the old woman had
an idea that the Powder in
the bottle must be moth-powder,
because it smelled something
like moth-powder; so one day
she sprinkled it on her bear
rug to keep the moths out of
it. She said, looking lovingly
at the skin: 'I wish my dear
bear were alive again!' To
her horror, the bear rug at
once came to life, having been
sprinkled with the Magic Powder;
and now this live bear rug
is a great trial to her, and
makes her a lot of trouble."
"Why?" asked
the shaggy
man.
"Well,
it stands
up on its
four feet and walks all around,
and gets in the way; and that
spoils it for a rug. It can't
speak, although it is alive;
for, while its head might say
words, it has no breath in
a solid body to push the words
out of its mouth. It's a very
slimpsy affair altogether,
that bear rug, and the old
woman is sorry it came to life.
Every day she has to scold
it, and make it lie down flat
on the parlor floor to be walked
upon; but sometimes when she
goes to market the rug will
hump up its back skin, and
stand on its four feet, and
trot along after her."
"I should think Dyna would
like that," said Dorothy.
"Well, she doesn't; because
every one knows it isn't a
real bear, but just a hollow
skin, and so of no actual use
in the world except for a rug," answered
the Tin Woodman. "Therefore
I believe it is a good thing
that all the Magic Powder of
Life is now used up, as it
can not cause any more trouble."
"Perhaps you're right," said
the shaggy man, thoughtfully.
At noon they stopped at a
farmhouse, where it delighted
the farmer and his wife to
be able to give them a good
luncheon. The farm people knew
Dorothy, having seen her when
she was in the country before,
and they treated the little
girl with as much respect as
they did the Emperor, because
she was a friend of the powerful
Princess Ozma.
They had not proceeded far
after leaving this farm-house
before coming to a high bridge
over a broad river. This river,
the Tin Woodman informed them,
was the boundary between the
Country of the Winkies and
the territory of the Emerald
City. The city itself was still
a long way off, but all around
it was a green meadow as pretty
as a well-kept lawn, and in
this were neither houses nor
farms to spoil the beauty of
the scene.
From the top of the high
bridge they could see far away
the magnificent spires and
splendid domes of the superb
city, sparkling like brilliant
jewels as they towered above
the emerald walls. The shaggy
man drew a deep breath of awe
and amazement, for never had
he dreamed that such a grand
and beautiful place could exist--even
in the fairyland of Oz.
Polly was so pleased that
her violet eyes sparkled like
amethysts, and she danced away
from her companions across
the bridge and into a group
of feathery trees lining both
the roadsides. These trees
she stopped to look at with
pleasure and surprise, for
their leaves were shaped like
ostrich plumes, their feather
edges beautifully curled; and
all the plumes were tinted
in the same dainty rainbow
hues that appeared in Polychrome's
own pretty gauze gown.
"Father ought to see these
trees," she murmured; "they
are almost as lovely as his
own rainbows."
Then she gave a start of
terror, for beneath the trees
came stalking two great beasts,
either one big enough to crush
the little Daughter of the
Rainbow with one blow of his
paws, or to eat her up with
one snap of his enormous jaws.
One was a tawny lion, as tall
as a horse, nearly; the other
a striped tiger almost the
same size.
Polly was too frightened
to scream or to stir; she stood
still with a wildly beating
heart until Dorothy rushed
past her and with a glad cry
threw her arms around the huge
lion's neck, hugging and kissing
the beast with evident joy.
"Oh, I'm SO glad to see you
again!" cried the little Kansas
girl. "And the Hungry Tiger,
too! How fine you're both looking.
Are you well and happy?"
"We certainly are, Dorothy," answered
the Lion, in a deep voice that
sounded pleasant and kind; "and
we are greatly pleased that
you have come to Ozma's party.
It's going to be a grand affair,
I promise you."
"There will be lots of fat
babies at the celebration,
I hear," remarked the Hungry
Tiger, yawning so that his
mouth opened dreadfully wide
and showed all his big, sharp
teeth; "but of course I can't
eat any of 'em."
"Is your Conscience still
in good order?" asked Dorothy,
anxiously.
"Yes; it rules me like a
tyrant," answered the Tiger,
sorrowfully. "I can imagine
nothing more unpleasant than
to own a Conscience," and he
winked slyly at his friend
the Lion.
"You're fooling me!" said
Dorothy, with a laugh. "I don't
b'lieve you'd eat a baby if
you lost your Conscience. Come
here, Polly," she called, "and
be introduced to my friends."
Polly advanced rather shyly.
"You have some queer friends,
Dorothy," she said.
"The queerness doesn't matter
so long as they're friends," was
the answer. "This is the Cowardly
Lion, who isn't a coward at
all, but just thinks he is.
The Wizard gave him some courage
once, and he has part of it
left."
The Lion bowed with great
dignity to Polly.
"You are very lovely, my
dear," said he. "I hope we
shall be friends when we are
better acquainted."
"And this is the Hungry Tiger," continued
Dorothy. "He says he longs
to eat fat babies; but the
truth is he is never hungry
at all, 'cause he gets plenty
to eat; and I don't s'pose
he'd hurt anybody even if he
WAS hungry."
"Hush, Dorothy," whispered
the Tiger; "you'll ruin my
reputation if you are not more
discreet. It isn't what we
are, but what folks think we
are, that counts in this world.
And come to think of it Miss
Polly would make a fine variegated
breakfast, I'm sure."
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