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Chapter 7 – Ozma of Oz to the Rescue

L. Frank BaumJul 19, 2016'Command+D' Bookmark this page

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Nanda brought Dorothy bread and water for her supper, and she slept
upon a hard stone couch with a single pillow and a silken coverlet.

In the morning she leaned out of the window of her prison in the tower
to see if there was any way to escape. The room was not so very high
up, when compared with our modern buildings, but it was far enough
above the trees and farm houses to give her a good view of the
surrounding country.

To the east she saw the forest, with the sands beyond it and the ocean
beyond that. There was even a dark speck upon the shore that she
thought might be the chicken-coop in which she had arrived at this
singular country.

Then she looked to the north, and saw a deep but narrow valley lying
between two rocky mountains, and a third mountain that shut off the
valley at the further end.

Westward the fertile Land of Ev suddenly ended a little way from the
palace, and the girl could see miles and miles of sandy desert that
stretched further than her eyes could reach. It was this desert, she
thought, with much interest, that alone separated her from the
wonderful Land of Oz, and she remembered sorrowfully that she had been
told no one had ever been able to cross this dangerous waste but
herself. Once a cyclone had carried her across it, and a magical pair
of silver shoes had carried her back again. But now she had neither a
cyclone nor silver shoes to assist her, and her condition was sad
indeed. For she had become the prisoner of a disagreeable princess
who insisted that she must exchange her head for another one that she
was not used to, and which might not fit her at all.

Really, there seemed no hope of help for her from her old friends in
the Land of Oz. Thoughtfully she gazed from her narrow window. On
all the desert not a living thing was stirring.

Wait, though! Something surely WAS stirring on the desert–something
her eyes had not observed at first. Now it seemed like a cloud; now
it seemed like a spot of silver; now it seemed to be a mass of rainbow
colors that moved swiftly toward her.

What COULD it be, she wondered?

Then, gradually, but in a brief space of time nevertheless, the vision
drew near enough to Dorothy to make out what it was.

A broad green carpet was unrolling itself upon the desert, while
advancing across the carpet was a wonderful procession that made the
girl open her eyes in amazement as she gazed.

First came a magnificent golden chariot, drawn by a great Lion and an
immense Tiger, who stood shoulder to shoulder and trotted along as
gracefully as a well-matched team of thoroughbred horses. And
standing upright within the chariot was a beautiful girl clothed in
flowing robes of silver gauze and wearing a jeweled diadem upon her
dainty head. She held in one hand the satin ribbons that guided her
astonishing team, and in the other an ivory wand that separated at the
top into two prongs, the prongs being tipped by the letters “O” and
“Z”, made of glistening diamonds set closely together.

The girl seemed neither older nor larger than Dorothy herself, and at once
the prisoner in the tower guessed that the lovely driver of the chariot
must be that Ozma of Oz of whom she had so lately heard from Tiktok.

Following close behind the chariot Dorothy saw her old friend the
Scarecrow, riding calmly astride a wooden Saw-Horse, which pranced and
trotted as naturally as any meat horse could have done.

And then came Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman, with his funnel-shaped
cap tipped carelessly over his left ear, his gleaming axe over his
right shoulder, and his whole body sparkling as brightly as it had
ever done in the old days when first she knew him.

The Tin Woodman was on foot, marching at the head of a company of
twenty-seven soldiers, of whom some were lean and some fat, some short
and some tall; but all the twenty-seven were dressed in handsome
uniforms of various designs and colors, no two being alike
in any respect.

Behind the soldiers the green carpet rolled itself up again, so that
there was always just enough of it for the procession to walk upon, in
order that their feet might not come in contact with the deadly,
life-destroying sands of the desert.

Dorothy knew at once it was a magic carpet she beheld, and her heart
beat high with hope and joy as she realized she was soon to be rescued
and allowed to greet her dearly beloved friends of Oz–the Scarecrow,
the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion.

Indeed, the girl felt herself as good as rescued as soon as she
recognized those in the procession, for she well knew the courage and
loyalty of her old comrades, and also believed that any others who
came from their marvelous country would prove to be pleasant and
reliable acquaintances.

As soon as the last bit of desert was passed and all the procession,
from the beautiful and dainty Ozma to the last soldier, had reached
the grassy meadows of the Land of Ev, the magic carpet rolled itself
together and entirely disappeared.

Then the chariot driver turned her Lion and Tiger into a broad roadway
leading up to the palace, and the others followed, while Dorothy still
gazed from her tower window in eager excitement.

They came quite close to the front door of the palace and then halted,
the Scarecrow dismounting from his Saw-Horse to approach the sign
fastened to the door, that he might read what it said.

Dorothy, just above him, could keep silent no longer.

“Here I am!” she shouted, as loudly as she could. “Here’s Dorothy!”

“Dorothy who?” asked the Scarecrow, tipping his head to look upward
until he nearly lost his balance and tumbled over backward.

“Dorothy Gale, of course. Your friend from Kansas,” she answered.

“Why, hello, Dorothy!” said the Scarecrow. “What in the world are you
doing up there?”

“Nothing,” she called down, “because there’s nothing to do. Save me,
my friend–save me!”

“You seem to be quite safe now,” replied the Scarecrow.

“But I’m a prisoner. I’m locked in, so that I can’t get out,”
she pleaded.

“That’s all right,” said the Scarecrow. “You might be worse off,
little Dorothy. Just consider the matter. You can’t get drowned, or
be run over by a Wheeler, or fall out of an apple-tree. Some folks
would think they were lucky to be up there.”

“Well, I don’t,” declared the girl, “and I want to get down
immed’i’tly and see you and the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion.”

“Very well,” said the Scarecrow, nodding. “It shall be just as you
say, little friend. Who locked you up?”

“The princess Langwidere, who is a horrid creature,” she answered.

At this Ozma, who had been listening carefully to the conversation,
called to Dorothy from her chariot, asking:

“Why did the Princess lock you up, my dear?”

“Because,” exclaimed Dorothy, “I wouldn’t let her have my head for her
collection, and take an old, cast-off head in exchange for it.”

“I do not blame you,” exclaimed Ozma, promptly. “I will see the
Princess at once, and oblige her to liberate you.”

“Oh, thank you very, very much!” cried Dorothy, who as soon as she
heard the sweet voice of the girlish Ruler of Oz knew that she would
soon learn to love her dearly.

Ozma now drove her chariot around to the third door of the wing, upon
which the Tin Woodman boldly proceeded to knock.

As soon as the maid opened the door Ozma, bearing in her hand her
ivory wand, stepped into the hall and made her way at once to the
drawing-room, followed by all her company, except the Lion and the
Tiger. And the twenty-seven soldiers made such a noise and a clatter
that the little maid Nanda ran away screaming to her mistress,
whereupon the Princess Langwidere, roused to great anger by this rude
invasion of her palace, came running into the drawing-room without any
assistance whatever.

There she stood before the slight and delicate form of the little girl
from Oz and cried out;–

“How dare you enter my palace unbidden? Leave this room at once, or I
will bind you and all your people in chains, and throw you into my
darkest dungeons!”

“What a dangerous lady!” murmured the Scarecrow, in a soft voice.

“She seems a little nervous,” replied the Tin Woodman.

But Ozma only smiled at the angry Princess.

“Sit down, please,” she said, quietly. “I have traveled a long way to
see you, and you must listen to what I have to say.”

“Must!” screamed the Princess, her black eyes flashing with fury–for
she still wore her No. 17 head. “Must, to ME!”

“To be sure,” said Ozma. “I am Ruler of the Land of Oz, and I am
powerful enough to destroy all your kingdom, if I so wish. Yet I did
not come here to do harm, but rather to free the royal family of Ev
from the thrall of the Nome King, the news having reached me that he
is holding the Queen and her children prisoners.”

Hearing these words, Langwidere suddenly became quiet.

“I wish you could, indeed, free my aunt and her ten royal children,”
said she, eagerly. “For if they were restored to their proper forms
and station they could rule the Kingdom of Ev themselves, and that
would save me a lot of worry and trouble. At present there are at
least ten minutes every day that I must devote to affairs of state,
and I would like to be able to spend my whole time in admiring my
beautiful heads.”

“Then we will presently discuss this matter,” said Ozma, “and try to find
a way to liberate your aunt and cousins. But first you must liberate
another prisoner–the little girl you have locked up in your tower.”

“Of course,” said Langwidere, readily. “I had forgotten all about
her. That was yesterday, you know, and a Princess cannot be expected
to remember today what she did yesterday. Come with me, and I will
release the prisoner at once.”

So Ozma followed her, and they passed up the stairs that led to the
room in the tower.

While they were gone Ozma’s followers remained in the drawing-room,
and the Scarecrow was leaning against a form that he had mistaken for
a copper statue when a harsh, metallic voice said suddenly in his ear:

“Get off my foot, please. You are scratch-ing my pol-ish.”

“Oh, excuse me!” he replied, hastily drawing back. “Are you alive?”

“No,” said Tiktok, “I am on-ly a ma-chine. But I can think and speak
and act, when I am pro-per-ly wound up. Just now my ac-tion is run
down, and Dor-o-thy has the key to it.”

“That’s all right,” replied the Scarecrow. Dorothy will soon be free,
and then she’ll attend to your works. But it must be a great
misfortune not to be alive. I’m sorry for you.”

“Why?” asked Tiktok.

“Because you have no brains, as I have,” said the Scarecrow.

“Oh, yes, I have,” returned Tiktok. “I am fit-ted with Smith &
Tin-ker’s Im-proved Com-bi-na-tion Steel Brains. They are what make
me think. What sort of brains are you fit-ted with?”

“I don’t know,” admitted the Scarecrow. “They were given to me by the
great Wizard of Oz, and I didn’t get a chance to examine them before
he put them in. But they work splendidly and my conscience is very
active. Have you a conscience?”

“No,” said Tiktok.

“And no heart, I suppose?” added the Tin Woodman, who had been
listening with interest to this conversation.

“No,” said Tiktok.

“Then,” continued the Tin Woodman, “I regret to say that you are
greatly inferior to my friend the Scarecrow, and to myself. For we
are both alive, and he has brains which do not need to be wound up,
while I have an excellent heart that is continually beating in my bosom.”

“I con-grat-u-late you,” replied Tiktok. “I can-not help be-ing your
in-fer-i-or for I am a mere ma-chine. When I am wound up I do my
du-ty by go-ing just as my ma-chin-er-y is made to go. You have no
i-de-a how full of ma-chin-er-y I am.”

“I can guess,” said the Scarecrow, looking at the machine man
curiously. “Some day I’d like to take you apart and see just how you
are made.”

“Do not do that, I beg of you,” said Tiktok; “for you could not put me
to-geth-er a-gain, and my use-ful-ness would be de-stroyed.”

“Oh! are you useful?” asked the Scarecrow, surprised.

“Ve-ry,” said Tiktok.

“In that case,” the Scarecrow kindly promised, “I won’t fool with your
interior at all. For I am a poor mechanic, and might mix you up.”

“Thank you,” said Tiktok.

Just then Ozma re-entered the room, leading Dorothy by the hand and
followed closely by the Princess Langwidere.

 

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