The road led for a time through a pretty farm country, and then past a
picnic grove that was very inviting. But the procession continued to
steadily advance until Billina cried in an abrupt and commanding manner:
Ozma stopped her chariot so suddenly that the Scarecrow’s Sawhorse
nearly ran into it, and the ranks of the army tumbled over one another
before they could come to a halt. Immediately the yellow hen struggled
from Dorothy’s arms and flew into a clump of bushes by the roadside.
“What’s the matter?” called the Tin Woodman, anxiously.
“Why, Billina wants to lay her egg, that’s all,” said Dorothy.
“Lay her egg!” repeated the Tin Woodman, in astonishment.
“Yes; she lays one every morning, about this time; and it’s quite
fresh,” said the girl.
“But does your foolish old hen suppose that this entire cavalcade,
which is bound on an important adventure, is going to stand still
while she lays her egg?” enquired the Tin Woodman, earnestly.
“What else can we do?” asked the girl. “It’s a habit of Billina’s and
she can’t break herself of it.”
“Then she must hurry up,” said the Tin Woodman, impatiently.
“No, no!” exclaimed the Scarecrow. “If she hurries she may lay
“That’s nonsense,” said Dorothy. “But Billina won’t be long, I’m sure.”
So they stood and waited, although all were restless and anxious to
proceed. And by and by the yellow hen came from the bushes saying:
“Kut-kut, kut, ka-daw-kutt! Kut, kut, kut–ka-daw-kut!”
“What is she doing–singing her lay?” asked the Scarecrow.
“For-ward–march!” shouted the Tin Woodman, waving his axe, and the
procession started just as Dorothy had once more grabbed Billina in
“Isn’t anyone going to get my egg?” cried the hen, in great excitement.
“I’ll get it,” said the Scarecrow; and at his command the Sawhorse
pranced into the bushes. The straw man soon found the egg, which he
placed in his jacket pocket. The cavalcade, having moved rapidly on,
was even then far in advance; but it did not take the Sawhorse long to
catch up with it, and presently the Scarecrow was riding in his
accustomed place behind Ozma’s chariot.
“What shall I do with the egg?” he asked Dorothy.
“I do not know,” the girl answered. “Perhaps the Hungry Tiger would
“It would not be enough to fill one of my back teeth,” remarked the
Tiger. “A bushel of them, hard boiled, might take a little of the
edge off my appetite; but one egg isn’t good for anything at all, that
I know of.”
“No; it wouldn’t even make a sponge cake,” said the Scarecrow,
thoughtfully. “The Tin Woodman might carry it with his axe and hatch
it; but after all I may as well keep it myself for a souvenir.” So he
left it in his pocket.
They had now reached that part of the valley that lay between the two
high mountains which Dorothy had seen from her tower window. At the
far end was the third great mountain, which blocked the valley and was
the northern edge of the Land of Ev. It was underneath this mountain
that the Nome King’s palace was said to be; but it would be some time
before they reached that place.
The path was becoming rocky and difficult for the wheels of the
chariot to pass over, and presently a deep gulf appeared at their feet
which was too wide for them to leap. So Ozma took a small square of
green cloth from her pocket and threw it upon the ground. At once it
became the magic carpet, and unrolled itself far enough for all the
cavalcade to walk upon. The chariot now advanced, and the green
carpet unrolled before it, crossing the gulf on a level with its
banks, so that all passed over in safety.
“That’s easy enough,” said the Scarecrow. “I wonder what will
He was not long in making the discovery, for the sides of the mountain
came closer together until finally there was but a narrow path between
them, along which Ozma and her party were forced to pass in single file.
They now heard a low and deep “thump!– thump!–thump!” which echoed
throughout the valley and seemed to grow louder as they advanced.
Then, turning a corner of rock, they saw before them a huge form,
which towered above the path for more than a hundred feet. The form
was that of a gigantic man built out of plates of cast iron, and it
stood with one foot on either side of the narrow road and swung over
its right shoulder an immense iron mallet, with which it constantly
pounded the earth. These resounding blows explained the thumping
sounds they had heard, for the mallet was much bigger than a barrel,
and where it struck the path between the rocky sides of the mountain
it filled all the space through which our travelers would be obliged
Of course they at once halted, a safe distance away from the terrible
iron mallet. The magic carpet would do them no good in this case, for
it was only meant to protect them from any dangers upon the ground
beneath their feet, and not from dangers that appeared in the air
“Wow!” said the Cowardly Lion, with a shudder. “It makes me
dreadfully nervous to see that big hammer pounding so near my head.
One blow would crush me into a door-mat.”
“The ir-on gi-ant is a fine fel-low,” said Tiktok, “and works as
stead-i-ly as a clock. He was made for the Nome King by Smith &
Tin-ker, who made me, and his du-ty is to keep folks from find-ing the
un-der-ground pal-ace. Is he not a great work of art?”
“Can he think, and speak, as you do?” asked Ozma, regarding the giant
with wondering eyes.
“No,” replied the machine; “he is on-ly made to pound the road, and
has no think-ing or speak-ing at-tach-ment. But he pounds ve-ry well,
“Too well,” observed the Scarecrow. “He is keeping us from going
farther. Is there no way to stop his machinery?”
“On-ly the Nome King, who has the key, can do that,” answered Tiktok.
“Then,” said Dorothy, anxiously, “what shall we do?”
“Excuse me for a few minutes,” said the Scarecrow, “and I will think
He retired, then, to a position in the rear, where he turned his
painted face to the rocks and began to think.
Meantime the giant continued to raise his iron mallet high in the air
and to strike the path terrific blows that echoed through the
mountains like the roar of a cannon. Each time the mallet lifted,
however, there was a moment when the path beneath the monster was
free, and perhaps the Scarecrow had noticed this, for when he came
back to the others he said:
“The matter is a very simple one, after all. We have but to run under
the hammer, one at a time, when it is lifted, and pass to the other
side before it falls again.”
“It will require quick work, if we escape the blow,” said the Tin
Woodman, with a shake of his head. “But it really seems the only
thing to be done. Who will make the first attempt?”
They looked at one another hesitatingly for a moment. Then the
Cowardly Lion, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind, said to them:
“I suppose the head of the procession must go first–and that’s me.
But I’m terribly afraid of the big hammer!”
“What will become of me?” asked Ozma. “You might rush under the
hammer yourself, but the chariot would surely be crushed.”
“We must leave the chariot,” said the Scarecrow. “But you two girls
can ride upon the backs of the Lion and the Tiger.”
So this was decided upon, and Ozma, as soon as the Lion was unfastened
from the chariot, at once mounted the beast’s back and said she was ready.
“Cling fast to his mane,” advised Dorothy. “I used to ride him
myself, and that’s the way I held on.”
So Ozma clung fast to the mane, and the lion crouched in the path and
eyed the swinging mallet carefully until he knew just the instant it
would begin to rise in the air.
Then, before anyone thought he was ready, he made a sudden leap
straight between the iron giant’s legs, and before the mallet struck
the ground again the Lion and Ozma were safe on the other side.
The Tiger went next. Dorothy sat upon his back and locked her arms
around his striped neck, for he had no mane to cling to. He made the
leap straight and true as an arrow from a bow, and ere Dorothy
realized it she was out of danger and standing by Ozma’s side.
Now came the Scarecrow on the Sawhorse, and while they made the dash
in safety they were within a hair’s breadth of being caught by the
Tiktok walked up to the very edge of the spot the hammer struck, and
as it was raised for the next blow he calmly stepped forward and
escaped its descent. That was an idea for the Tin Woodman to follow,
and he also crossed in safety while the great hammer was in the air.
But when it came to the twenty-six officers and the private, their
knees were so weak that they could not walk a step.
“In battle we are wonderfully courageous,” said one of the generals,
“and our foes find us very terrible to face. But war is one thing and
this is another. When it comes to being pounded upon the head by an
iron hammer, and smashed into pancakes, we naturally object.”
“Make a run for it,” urged the Scarecrow.
“Our knees shake so that we cannot run,” answered a captain. “If we
should try it we would all certainly be pounded to a jelly.”
“Well, well,” sighed the Cowardly Lion, “I see, friend Tiger, that we
must place ourselves in great danger to rescue this bold army. Come
with me, and we will do the best we can.”
So, Ozma and Dorothy having already dismounted from their backs, the
Lion and the Tiger leaped back again under the awful hammer and
returned with two generals clinging to their necks. They repeated
this daring passage twelve times, when all the officers had been
carried beneath the giant’s legs and landed safely on the further
side. By that time the beasts were very tired, and panted so hard
that their tongues hung out of their great mouths.
“But what is to become of the private?” asked Ozma.
“Oh, leave him there to guard the chariot,” said the Lion. “I’m tired
out, and won’t pass under that mallet again.”
The officers at once protested that they must have the private with them,
else there would be no one for them to command. But neither the Lion or
the Tiger would go after him, and so the Scarecrow sent the Sawhorse.
Either the wooden horse was careless, or it failed to properly time
the descent of the hammer, for the mighty weapon caught it squarely
upon its head, and thumped it against the ground so powerfully that
the private flew off its back high into the air, and landed upon one
of the giant’s cast-iron arms. Here he clung desperately while the
arm rose and fell with each one of the rapid strokes.
The Scarecrow dashed in to rescue his Sawhorse, and had his left foot
smashed by the hammer before he could pull the creature out of danger.
They then found that the Sawhorse had been badly dazed by the blow;
for while the hard wooden knot of which his head was formed could not
be crushed by the hammer, both his ears were broken off and he would
be unable to hear a sound until some new ones were made for him. Also
his left knee was cracked, and had to be bound up with a string.
Billina having fluttered under the hammer, it now remained only to
rescue the private who was riding upon the iron giant’s arm, high in
The Scarecrow lay flat upon the ground and called to the man to jump
down upon his body, which was soft because it was stuffed with straw.
This the private managed to do, waiting until a time when he was
nearest the ground and then letting himself drop upon the Scarecrow.
He accomplished the feat without breaking any bones, and the Scarecrow
declared he was not injured in the least.
Therefore, the Tin Woodman having by this time fitted new ears to the
Sawhorse, the entire party proceeded upon its way, leaving the giant
to pound the path behind them.