by L. Frank Baum

Contents

--Introduction--

1. The Cyclone

2. The Council with the Munchkins

3. How Dorothy Saved the Scarecrow

4. The Road Through the Forest

5. The Rescue of the Tin Woodman

6. The Cowardly Lion

7. The Journey to the Great Oz

8. The Deadly Poppy Field

9. The Queen of the Field Mice

10. The Guardian of the Gates

11. The Emerald City of Oz

12. The Search for the Wicked Witch

13. The Rescue

14. The Winged Monkeys

15. The Discovery of Oz the Terrible

16. The Magic Art of the Great Humbug

17. How the Balloon Was Launched

18. Away to the South

19. Attacked by the Fighting Trees

20. The Dainty China Country

21. The Lion Becomes the King of Beasts

22. The Country of the Quadlings

23. Glinda The Good Witch Grants Dorothy's Wish

24. Home Again

Introduction

Folklore, legends, myths and fairy tales have followed childhood

through the ages, for every healthy youngster has a wholesome and

instinctive love for stories fantastic, marvelous and manifestly unreal.

The winged fairies of Grimm and Andersen have brought more happiness to

childish hearts than all other human creations.

Yet the old time fairy tale, having served for generations,

may now be classed as "historical" in the children's library; for

the time has come for a series of newer "wonder tales" in which

the stereotyped genie, dwarf and fairy are eliminated, together

with all the horrible and blood-curdling incidents devised by

their authors to point a fearsome moral to each tale. Modern

education includes morality; therefore the modern child seeks only

entertainment in its wonder tales and gladly dispenses with all

disagreeable incident.

Having this thought in mind, the story of "The Wonderful

Wizard of Oz" was written solely to please children of today. It

aspires to being a modernized fairy tale, in which the wonderment

and joy are retained and the heartaches and nightmares are left out.

L. Frank Baum

Chicago, April, 1900.

THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ

1. The Cyclone

Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with

Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's

wife. Their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be

carried by wagon many miles. There were four walls, a floor and a

roof, which made one room; and this room contained a rusty looking

cookstove, a cupboard for the dishes, a table, three or four

chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em had a big bed in

one corner, and Dorothy a little bed in another corner. There was

no garret at all, and no cellar--except a small hole dug in the

ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the family could go in case

one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough to crush any

building in its path. It was reached by a trap door in the middle

of the floor, from which a ladder led down into the small, dark hole.

When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could

see nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. Not a tree

nor a house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to

the edge of the sky in all directions. The sun had baked the

plowed land into a gray mass, with little cracks running through it.

Even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of

the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen

everywhere. Once the house had been painted, but the sun

blistered the paint and the rains washed it away, and now the

house was as dull and gray as everything else.

When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife.

The sun and wind had changed her, too. They had taken the sparkle

from her eyes and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red

from her cheeks and lips, and they were gray also. She was thin

and gaunt, and never smiled now. When Dorothy, who was an orphan,

first came to her, Aunt Em had been so startled by the child's

laughter that she would scream and press her hand upon her heart

whenever Dorothy's merry voice reached her ears; and she still

looked at the little girl with wonder that she could find anything

to laugh at.

Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till

night and did not know what joy was. He was gray also, from his

long beard to his rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn,

and rarely spoke.

It was Toto that made Dorothy laugh, and saved her from

growing as gray as her other surroundings. Toto was not gray; he

was a little black dog, with long silky hair and small black eyes

that twinkled merrily on either side of his funny, wee nose. Toto

played all day long, and Dorothy played with him, and loved him dearly.

Today, however, they were not playing. Uncle Henry sat upon

the doorstep and looked anxiously at the sky, which was even

grayer than usual. Dorothy stood in the door with Toto in her

arms, and looked at the sky too. Aunt Em was washing the dishes.

From the far north they heard a low wail of the wind, and

Uncle Henry and Dorothy could see where the long grass bowed in

waves before the coming storm. There now came a sharp whistling

in the air from the south, and as they turned their eyes that way

they saw ripples in the grass coming from that direction also.

Suddenly Uncle Henry stood up.

"There's a cyclone coming, Em," he called to his wife. "I'll

go look after the stock." Then he ran toward the sheds where the

cows and horses were kept.

Aunt Em dropped her work and came to the door. One glance

told her of the danger close at hand.

"Quick, Dorothy!" she screamed. "Run for the cellar!"

Toto jumped out of Dorothy's arms and hid under the bed, and

the girl started to get him. Aunt Em, badly frightened, threw

open the trap door in the floor and climbed down the ladder into

the small, dark hole. Dorothy caught Toto at last and started to

follow her aunt. When she was halfway across the room there came

a great shriek from the wind, and the house shook so hard that she

lost her footing and sat down suddenly upon the floor.

Then a strange thing happened.

The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly

through the air. Dorothy felt as if she were going up in a balloon.

The north and south winds met where the house stood, and made

it the exact center of the cyclone. In the middle of a cyclone

the air is generally still, but the great pressure of the wind on

every side of the house raised it up higher and higher, until it

was at the very top of the cyclone; and there it remained and was

carried miles and miles away as easily as you could carry a feather.

It was very dark, and the wind howled horribly around her,

but Dorothy found she was riding quite easily. After the first

few whirls around, and one other time when the house tipped badly,

she felt as if she were being rocked gently, like a baby in a cradle.

Toto did not like it. He ran about the room, now here, now

there, barking loudly; but Dorothy sat quite still on the floor

and waited to see what would happen.

Once Toto got too near the open trap door, and fell in; and at

first the little girl thought she had lost him. But soon she saw

one of his ears sticking up through the hole, for the strong

pressure of the air was keeping him up so that he could not fall.

She crept to the hole, caught Toto by the ear, and dragged him

into the room again, afterward closing the trap door so that no

more accidents could happen.

Hour after hour passed away, and slowly Dorothy got over her

fright; but she felt quite lonely, and the wind shrieked so loudly

all about her that she nearly became deaf. At first she had

wondered if she would be dashed to pieces when the house fell again;

but as the hours passed and nothing terrible happened, she stopped

worrying and resolved to wait calmly and see what the future would bring.

At last she crawled over the swaying floor to her bed, and lay down upon it;

and Toto followed and lay down beside her.

In spite of the swaying of the house and the wailing of the

wind, Dorothy soon closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

2. The Council with the Munchkins

She was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if

Dorothy had not been lying on the soft bed she might have been hurt.

As it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened;

and Toto put his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally.

Dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was not moving; nor was it dark,

for the bright sunshine came in at the window, flooding the little room.

She sprang from her bed and with Toto at her heels ran and opened the door.

The little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her,

her eyes growing bigger and bigger at the wonderful sights she saw.

The cyclone had set the house down very gently--for a

cyclone--in the midst of a country of marvelous beauty. There

were lovely patches of greensward all about, with stately trees

bearing rich and luscious fruits. Banks of gorgeous flowers were

on every hand, and birds with rare and brilliant plumage sang and

fluttered in the trees and bushes. A little way off was a small

brook, rushing and sparkling along between green banks, and

murmuring in a voice very grateful to a little girl who had lived

so long on the dry, gray prairies.

While she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful

sights, she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest

people she had ever seen. They were not as big as the grown

folk she had always been used to; but neither were they very small.

In fact, they seemed about as tall as Dorothy, who was a well-grown

child for her age, although they were, so far as looks go, many

years older.

Three were men and one a woman, and all were oddly dressed.

They wore round hats that rose to a small point a foot above their

heads, with little bells around the brims that tinkled sweetly as

they moved. The hats of the men were blue; the little woman's hat

was white, and she wore a white gown that hung in pleats from her

shoulders. Over it were sprinkled little stars that glistened in

the sun like diamonds. The men were dressed in blue, of the same

shade as their hats, and wore well-polished boots with a deep roll

of blue at the tops. The men, Dorothy thought, were about as old

as Uncle Henry, for two of them had beards. But the little woman

was doubtless much older. Her face was covered with wrinkles, her

hair was nearly white, and she walked rather stiffly.

When these people drew near the house where Dorothy was

standing in the doorway, they paused and whispered among themselves,

as if afraid to come farther. But the little old woman walked up

to Dorothy, made a low bow and said, in a sweet voice:

"You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins.

We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked Witch of the East,

and for setting our people free from bondage."

Dorothy listened to this speech with wonder. What could the

little woman possibly mean by calling her a sorceress, and saying

she had killed the Wicked Witch of the East? Dorothy was an innocent,

harmless little girl, who had been carried by a cyclone many miles from home;

and she had never killed anything in all her life.

But the little woman evidently expected her to answer; so Dorothy said,

with hesitation, "You are very kind, but there must be some mistake.

I have not killed anything."

"Your house did, anyway," replied the little old woman, with a

laugh, "and that is the same thing. See!" she continued, pointing

to the corner of the house. "There are her two feet, still sticking

out from under a block of wood."

Dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. There, indeed,

just under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two feet

were sticking out, shod in silver shoes with pointed toes.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands together

in dismay. "The house must have fallen on her. Whatever shall we do?"

"There is nothing to be done," said the little woman calmly.

"But who was she?" asked Dorothy.

"She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said," answered

the little woman. "She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for

many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are

all set free, and are grateful to you for the favor."

"Who are the Munchkins?" inquired Dorothy.

"They are the people who live in this land of the East

where the Wicked Witch ruled."

"Are you a Munchkin?" asked Dorothy.

"No, but I am their friend, although I live in the land of the

North. When they saw the Witch of the East was dead the Munchkins

sent a swift messenger to me, and I came at once. I am the Witch

of the North."

"Oh, gracious!" cried Dorothy. "Are you a real witch?"

"Yes, indeed," answered the little woman. "But I am a good witch,

and the people love me. I am not as powerful as the Wicked Witch was

who ruled here, or I should have set the people free myself."

"But I thought all witches were wicked," said the girl, who

was half frightened at facing a real witch. "Oh, no, that is a

great mistake. There were only four witches in all the Land of

Oz, and two of them, those who live in the North and the South,

are good witches. I know this is true, for I am one of them

myself, and cannot be mistaken. Those who dwelt in the East and

the West were, indeed, wicked witches; but now that you have

killed one of them, there is but one Wicked Witch in all the Land

of Oz--the one who lives in the West."

"But," said Dorothy, after a moment's thought, "Aunt Em has

told me that the witches were all dead--years and years ago."

"Who is Aunt Em?" inquired the little old woman.

"She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I came from."

The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her

head bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and

said, "I do not know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that

country mentioned before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?"

"Oh, yes," replied Dorothy.

"Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I

believe there are no witches left, nor wizards, nor sorceresses,

nor magicians. But, you see, the Land of Oz has never been

civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world.

Therefore we still have witches and wizards amongst us."

"Who are the wizards?" asked Dorothy.

"Oz himself is the Great Wizard," answered the Witch, sinking

her voice to a whisper. "He is more powerful than all the rest of

us together. He lives in the City of Emeralds."

Dorothy was going to ask another question, but just then the

Munchkins, who had been standing silently by, gave a loud shout and

pointed to the corner of the house where the Wicked Witch had been lying.

"What is it?" asked the little old woman, and looked, and

began to laugh. The feet of the dead Witch had disappeared

entirely, and nothing was left but the silver shoes.

"She was so old," explained the Witch of the North, that she

dried up quickly in the sun. That is the end of her. But the

silver shoes are yours, and you shall have them to wear."

She reached down and picked up the shoes, and after shaking

the dust out of them handed them to Dorothy.

"The Witch of the East was proud of those silver shoes," said

one of the Munchkins, "and there is some charm connected with them;

but what it is we never knew."

Dorothy carried the shoes into the house and placed them on

the table. Then she came out again to the Munchkins and said:

"I am anxious to get back to my aunt and uncle, for I am sure

they will worry about me. Can you help me find my way?"

The Munchkins and the Witch first looked at one another, and

then at Dorothy, and then shook their heads.

"At the East, not far from here," said one, "there is a great

desert, and none could live to cross it."

"It is the same at the South," said another, "for I have been

there and seen it. The South is the country of the Quadlings."

"I am told," said the third man, "that it is the same at the West.

And that country, where the Winkies live, is ruled by the Wicked Witch

of the West, who would make you her slave if you passed her way."

"The North is my home," said the old lady, "and at its edge is

the same great desert that surrounds this Land of Oz. I'm afraid,

my dear, you will have to live with us."

Dorothy began to sob at this, for she felt lonely among all

these strange people. Her tears seemed to grieve the kind-hearted

Munchkins, for they immediately took out their handkerchiefs and

began to weep also. As for the little old woman, she took off her

cap and balanced the point on the end of her nose, while she

counted "One, two, three" in a solemn voice. At once the cap

changed to a slate, on which was written in big, white chalk marks:

"LET DOROTHY GO TO THE CITY OF EMERALDS"

The little old woman took the slate from her nose, and having

read the words on it, asked, "Is your name Dorothy, my dear?"

"Yes," answered the child, looking up and drying her tears.

"Then you must go to the City of Emeralds. Perhaps Oz will help you."

"Where is this city?" asked Dorothy.

"It is exactly in the center of the country, and is ruled by Oz,

the Great Wizard I told you of."

"Is he a good man?" inquired the girl anxiously.

"He is a good Wizard. Whether he is a man or not I cannot tell,

for I have never seen him."

"How can I get there?" asked Dorothy.

"You must walk. It is a long journey, through a country that

is sometimes pleasant and sometimes dark and terrible. However,

I will use all the magic arts I know of to keep you from harm."

"Won't you go with me?" pleaded the girl, who had begun to

look upon the little old woman as her only friend.

"No, I cannot do that," she replied, "but I will give you my

kiss, and no one will dare injure a person who has been kissed by

the Witch of the North."

She came close to Dorothy and kissed her gently on the

forehead. Where her lips touched the girl they left a round,

shining mark, as Dorothy found out soon after.

"The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick,"

said the Witch, "so you cannot miss it. When you get to Oz do not

be afraid of him, but tell your story and ask him to help you.

Good-bye, my dear."

The three Munchkins bowed low to her and wished her a pleasant

journey, after which they walked away through the trees. The Witch

gave Dorothy a friendly little nod, whirled around on her left heel

three times, and straightway disappeared, much to the surprise of

little Toto, who barked after her loudly enough when she had gone,

because he had been afraid even to growl while she stood by.

But Dorothy, knowing her to be a witch, had expected her to

disappear in just that way, and was not surprised in the least.

3. How Dorothy Saved the Scarecrow

When Dorothy was left alone she began to feel hungry. So she

went to the cupboard and cut herself some bread, which she spread

with butter. She gave some to Toto, and taking a pail from the

shelf she carried it down to the little brook and filled it with

clear, sparkling water. Toto ran over to the trees and began to

bark at the birds sitting there. Dorothy went to get him, and saw

such delicious fruit hanging from the branches that she gathered

some of it, finding it just what she wanted to help out her breakfast.

Then she went back to the house, and having helped herself and

Toto to a good drink of the cool, clear water, she set about

making ready for the journey to the City of Emeralds.

Dorothy had only one other dress, but that happened to be

clean and was hanging on a peg beside her bed. It was gingham,

with checks of white and blue; and although the blue was somewhat

faded with many washings, it was still a pretty frock. The girl

washed herself carefully, dressed herself in the clean gingham,

and tied her pink sunbonnet on her head. She took a little basket

and filled it with bread from the cupboard, laying a white cloth

over the top. Then she looked down at her feet and noticed how

old and worn her shoes were.

"They surely will never do for a long journey, Toto," she said.

And Toto looked up into her face with his little black eyes and wagged

his tail to show he knew what she meant.

At that moment Dorothy saw lying on the table the silver shoes

that had belonged to the Witch of the East.

"I wonder if they will fit me," she said to Toto. "They would be

just the thing to take a long walk in, for they could not wear out."

She took off her old leather shoes and tried on the silver

ones, which fitted her as well as if they had been made for her.

Finally she picked up her basket.

"Come along, Toto," she said. "We will go to the Emerald City

and ask the Great Oz how to get back to Kansas again."

She closed the door, locked it, and put the key carefully in

the pocket of her dress. And so, with Toto trotting along soberly

behind her, she started on her journey.

There were several roads near by, but it did not take her long

to find the one paved with yellow bricks. Within a short time she

was walking briskly toward the Emerald City, her silver shoes

tinkling merrily on the hard, yellow road-bed. The sun shone

bright and the birds sang sweetly, and Dorothy did not feel

nearly so bad as you might think a little girl would who had

been suddenly whisked away from her own country and set down

in the midst of a strange land.

She was surprised, as she walked along, to see how pretty the

country was about her. There were neat fences at the sides of the

road, painted a dainty blue color, and beyond them were fields of

grain and vegetables in abundance. Evidently the Munchkins were

good farmers and able to raise large crops. Once in a while she

would pass a house, and the people came out to look at her and bow

low as she went by; for everyone knew she had been the means of

destroying the Wicked Witch and setting them free from bondage.

The houses of the Munchkins were odd-looking dwellings, for each

was round, with a big dome for a roof. All were painted blue,

for in this country of the East blue was the favorite color.

Toward evening, when Dorothy was tired with her long walk and

began to wonder where she should pass the night, she came to a

house rather larger than the rest. On the green lawn before it

many men and women were dancing. Five little fiddlers played as

loudly as possible, and the people were laughing and singing,

while a big table near by was loaded with delicious fruits and

nuts, pies and cakes, and many other good things to eat.

The people greeted Dorothy kindly, and invited her to supper and

to pass the night with them; for this was the home of one of the

richest Munchkins in the land, and his friends were gathered with

him to celebrate their freedom from the bondage of the Wicked Witch.

Dorothy ate a hearty supper and was waited upon by the rich

Munchkin himself, whose name was Boq. Then she sat upon a settee

and watched the people dance.

When Boq saw her silver shoes he said, "You must be a great sorceress."

"Why?" asked the girl.

"Because you wear silver shoes and have killed the Wicked Witch.

Besides, you have white in your frock, and only witches and sorceresses

wear white."

"My dress is blue and white checked," said Dorothy, smoothing

out the wrinkles in it.

"It is kind of you to wear that," said Boq. "Blue is the

color of the Munchkins, and white is the witch color. So we know

you are a friendly witch."

Dorothy did not know what to say to this, for all the people

seemed to think her a witch, and she knew very well she was only

an ordinary little girl who had come by the chance of a cyclone

into a strange land.

When she had tired watching the dancing, Boq led her into

the house, where he gave her a room with a pretty bed in it.

The sheets were made of blue cloth, and Dorothy slept soundly in

them till morning, with Toto curled up on the blue rug beside her.

She ate a hearty breakfast, and watched a wee Munchkin baby,

who played with Toto and pulled his tail and crowed and laughed in

a way that greatly amused Dorothy. Toto was a fine curiosity to

all the people, for they had never seen a dog before.

"How far is it to the Emerald City?" the girl asked.

"I do not know," answered Boq gravely, "for I have never been

there. It is better for people to keep away from Oz, unless they

have business with him. But it is a long way to the Emerald City,

and it will take you many days. The country here is rich and

pleasant, but you must pass through rough and dangerous places

before you reach the end of your journey."

This worried Dorothy a little, but she knew that only the

Great Oz could help her get to Kansas again, so she bravely

resolved not to turn back.

She bade her friends good-bye, and again started along the road

of yellow brick. When she had gone several miles she thought she

would stop to rest, and so climbed to the top of the fence beside

the road and sat down. There was a great cornfield beyond the fence,

and not far away she saw a Scarecrow, placed high on a pole to keep

the birds from the ripe corn.

Dorothy leaned her chin upon her hand and gazed thoughtfully

at the Scarecrow. Its head was a small sack stuffed with straw,

with eyes, nose, and mouth painted on it to represent a face.

An old, pointed blue hat, that had belonged to some Munchkin,

was perched on his head, and the rest of the figure was a blue suit

of clothes, worn and faded, which had also been stuffed with straw.

On the feet were some old boots with blue tops, such as every man

wore in this country, and the figure was raised above the stalks

of corn by means of the pole stuck up its back.

While Dorothy was looking earnestly into the queer, painted

face of the Scarecrow, she was surprised to see one of the eyes

slowly wink at her. She thought she must have been mistaken at first,

for none of the scarecrows in Kansas ever wink; but presently the

figure nodded its head to her in a friendly way. Then she climbed

down from the fence and walked up to it, while Toto ran around the

pole and barked.

"Good day," said the Scarecrow, in a rather husky voice.

"Did you speak?" asked the girl, in wonder.

"Certainly," answered the Scarecrow. "How do you do?"

"I'm pretty well, thank you," replied Dorothy politely.

"How do you do?"

"I'm not feeling well," said the Scarecrow, with a smile,

"for it is very tedious being perched up here night and day to

scare away crows."

"Can't you get down?" asked Dorothy.

"No, for this pole is stuck up my back. If you will please

take away the pole I shall be greatly obliged to you."

Dorothy reached up both arms and lifted the figure off the pole,

for, being stuffed with straw, it was quite light.

"Thank you very much," said the Scarecrow, when he had been

set down on the ground. "I feel like a new man."

Dorothy was puzzled at this, for it sounded queer to hear a

stuffed man speak, and to see him bow and walk along beside her.

"Who are you?" asked the Scarecrow when he had stretched

himself and yawned. "And where are you going?"

"My name is Dorothy," said the girl, "and I am going to the

Emerald City, to ask the Great Oz to send me back to Kansas."

"Where is the Emerald City?" he inquired. "And who is Oz?"

"Why, don't you know?" she returned, in surprise.

"No, indeed. I don't know anything. You see, I am stuffed,

so I have no brains at all," he answered sadly.

"Oh," said Dorothy, "I'm awfully sorry for you."

"Do you think," he asked, "if I go to the Emerald City with you,

that Oz would give me some brains?"

"I cannot tell," she returned, "but you may come with me,

if you like. If Oz will not give you any brains you will be

no worse off than you are now."

"That is true," said the Scarecrow. "You see," he continued

confidentially, "I don't mind my legs and arms and body being

stuffed, because I cannot get hurt. If anyone treads on my toes

or sticks a pin into me, it doesn't matter, for I can't feel it.

But I do not want people to call me a fool, and if my head stays

stuffed with straw instead of with brains, as yours is, how am I

ever to know anything?"

"I understand how you feel," said the little girl, who was

truly sorry for him. "If you will come with me I'll ask Oz to

do all he can for you."

"Thank you," he answered gratefully.

They walked back to the road. Dorothy helped him over the

fence, and they started along the path of yellow brick for the

Emerald City.

Toto did not like this addition to the party at first.

He smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there

might be a nest of rats in the straw, and he often growled

in an unfriendly way at the Scarecrow.

"Don't mind Toto," said Dorothy to her new friend.

"He never bites."

"Oh, I'm not afraid," replied the Scarecrow. "He can't hurt

the straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind

it, for I can't get tired. I'll tell you a secret," he continued,

as he walked along. "There is only one thing in the world I am

afraid of."

"What is that?" asked Dorothy; "the Munchkin farmer who made you?"

"No," answered the Scarecrow; "it's a lighted match."

4. The Road Through the Forest

After a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking

grew so difficult that the Scarecrow often stumbled over the

yellow bricks, which were here very uneven. Sometimes, indeed,

they were broken or missing altogether, leaving holes that Toto

jumped across and Dorothy walked around. As for the Scarecrow,

having no brains, he walked straight ahead, and so stepped into

the holes and fell at full length on the hard bricks. It never hurt

him, however, and Dorothy would pick him up and set him upon his

feet again, while he joined her in laughing merrily at his own mishap.

The farms were not nearly so well cared for here as they were

farther back. There were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and

the farther they went the more dismal and lonesome the country became.

At noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook,

and Dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread. She offered

a piece to the Scarecrow, but he refused.

"I am never hungry," he said, "and it is a lucky thing I am not,

for my mouth is only painted, and if I should cut a hole in it so

I could eat, the straw I am stuffed with would come out, and that

would spoil the shape of my head."

Dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and

went on eating her bread.

"Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from,"

said the Scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner. So she told him

all about Kansas, and how gray everything was there, and how the cyclone

had carried her to this queer Land of Oz.

The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, "I cannot

understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and

go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas."

"That is because you have no brains" answered the girl.

"No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of

flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country,

be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home."

The Scarecrow sighed.

"Of course I cannot understand it," he said. "If your heads

were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in

the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all.

It is fortunate for Kansas that you have brains."

"Won't you tell me a story, while we are resting?" asked the child.

The Scarecrow looked at her reproachfully, and answered:

"My life has been so short that I really know nothing whatever.

I was only made day before yesterday. What happened in the world

before that time is all unknown to me. Luckily, when the farmer

made my head, one of the first things he did was to paint my ears,

so that I heard what was going on. There was another Munchkin with him,

and the first thing I heard was the farmer saying, `How do you like

those ears?'

"`They aren't straight,'" answered the other.

"`Never mind,'" said the farmer. "`They are ears just the same,'"

which was true enough.

"`Now I'll make the eyes,'" said the farmer. So he painted my

right eye, and as soon as it was finished I found myself looking

at him and at everything around me with a great deal of curiosity,

for this was my first glimpse of the world.

"`That's a rather pretty eye,'" remarked the Munchkin who was

watching the farmer. "`Blue paint is just the color for eyes.'

"`I think I'll make the other a little bigger,'" said the

farmer. And when the second eye was done I could see much better

than before. Then he made my nose and my mouth. But I did not

speak, because at that time I didn't know what a mouth was for.

I had the fun of watching them make my body and my arms and legs;

and when they fastened on my head, at last, I felt very proud,

forI thought I was just as good a man as anyone.

"`This fellow will scare the crows fast enough,' said the

farmer. `He looks just like a man.'

"`Why, he is a man,' said the other, and I quite agreed with him.

The farmer carried me under his arm to the cornfield, and set me up

on a tall stick, where you found me. He and his friend soon after

walked away and left me alone.

"I did not like to be deserted this way. So I tried to walk

after them. But my feet would not touch the ground, and I was

forced to stay on that pole. It was a lonely life to lead, for I

had nothing to think of, having been made such a little while before.

Many crows and other birds flew into the cornfield, but as soon as

they saw me they flew away again, thinking I was a Munchkin; and this

pleased me and made me feel that I was quite an important person.

By and by an old crow flew near me, and after looking at me carefully

he perched upon my shoulder and said:

"`I wonder if that farmer thought to fool me in this clumsy

manner. Any crow of sense could see that you are only stuffed

with straw.' Then he hopped down at my feet and ate all the corn

he wanted. The other birds, seeing he was not harmed by me, came

to eat the corn too, so in a short time there was a great flock of

them about me.

"I felt sad at this, for it showed I was not such a good

Scarecrow after all; but the old crow comforted me, saying,

`If you only had brains in your head you would be as good a man

as any of them, and a better man than some of them. Brains are

the only things worth having in this world, no matter whether one

is a crow or a man.'

"After the crows had gone I thought this over, and decided I

would try hard to get some brains. By good luck you came along

and pulled me off the stake, and from what you say I am sure the

Great Oz will give me brains as soon as we get to the Emerald City."

"I hope so," said Dorothy earnestly, "since you seem anxious

to have them."

"Oh, yes; I am anxious," returned the Scarecrow. "It is such

an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool."

"Well," said the girl, "let us go." And she handed the basket

to the Scarecrow.

There were no fences at all by the roadside now, and the land

was rough and untilled. Toward evening they came to a great

forest, where the trees grew so big and close together that their

branches met over the road of yellow brick. It was almost dark

under the trees, for the branches shut out the daylight; but the

travelers did not stop, and went on into the forest.

"If this road goes in, it must come out," said the Scarecrow,

"and as the Emerald City is at the other end of the road, we must

go wherever it leads us."

"Anyone would know that," said Dorothy.

"Certainly; that is why I know it," returned the Scarecrow.

"If it required brains to figure it out, I never should have said it."

After an hour or so the light faded away, and they found

themselves stumbling along in the darkness. Dorothy could not see

at all, but Toto could, for some dogs see very well in the dark;

and the Scarecrow declared he could see as well as by day. So she

took hold of his arm and managed to get along fairly well.

"If you see any house, or any place where we can pass the

night," she said, "you must tell me; for it is very uncomfortable

walking in the dark."

Soon after the Scarecrow stopped.

"I see a little cottage at the right of us," he said,

"built of logs and branches. Shall we go there?"

"Yes, indeed," answered the child. "I am all tired out."

So the Scarecrow led her through the trees until they reached

the cottage, and Dorothy entered and found a bed of dried leaves

in one corner. She lay down at once, and with Toto beside her

soon fell into a sound sleep. The Scarecrow, who was never tired,

stood up in another corner and waited patiently until morning came.

5. The Rescue of the Tin Woodman

When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and

Toto had long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels.

She sat up and looked around her. Scarecrow, still standing

patiently in his corner, waiting for her.

"We must go and search for water," she said to him.

"Why do you want water?" he asked.

"To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to

drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat."

"It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh," said the

Scarecrow thoughtfully, "for you must sleep, and eat and drink.

However, you have brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be

able to think properly."

They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they

found a little spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and

bathed and ate her breakfast. She saw there was not much bread

left in the basket, and the girl was thankful the Scarecrow did

not have to eat anything, for there was scarcely enough for

herself and Toto for the day.

When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the

road of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan near by.

"What was that?" she asked timidly.

"I cannot imagine," replied the Scarecrow; "but we can go and see."

Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound

seemed to come from behind them. They turned and walked through

the forest a few steps, when Dorothy discovered something shining

in a ray of sunshine that fell between the trees. She ran to the

place and then stopped short, with a little cry of surprise.

One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and

standing beside it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man

made entirely of tin. His head and arms and legs were jointed

upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could

not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow,

while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which

hurt his teeth.

"Did you groan?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes," answered the tin man, "I did. I've been groaning for more

than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me."

"What can I do for you?" she inquired softly, for she was

moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke.

"Get an oil-can and oil my joints," he answered. "They are

rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled

I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a

shelf in my cottage."

Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can,

and then she returned and asked anxiously, "Where are your joints?"

"Oil my neck, first," replied the Tin Woodman. So she oiled it,

and as it was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin

head and moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely,

and then the man could turn it himself.

"Now oil the joints in my arms," he said. And Dorothy oiled

them and the Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite

free from rust and as good as new.

The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his

axe, which he leaned against the tree.

"This is a great comfort," he said. "I have been holding that

axe in the air ever since I rusted, and I'm glad to be able to put

it down at last. Now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, I

shall be all right once more."

So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he

thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very

polite creature, and very grateful.

"I might have stood there always if you had not come along," he said;

"so you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be here?"

"We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,"

she answered, "and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night."

"Why do you wish to see Oz?" he asked.

"I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants

him to put a few brains into his head," she replied.

The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said:

"Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?"

"Why, I guess so," Dorothy answered. "It would be as easy as

to give the Scarecrow brains."

"True," the Tin Woodman returned. "So, if you will allow me

to join your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz

to help me."

"Come along," said the Scarecrow heartily, and Dorothy added

that she would be pleased to have his company. So the Tin Woodman

shouldered his axe and they all passed through the forest until

they came to the road that was paved with yellow brick.

The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket.

"For," he said, "if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again,

I would need the oil-can badly."

It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the

party, for soon after they had begun their journey again they came

to a place where the trees and branches grew so thick over the

road that the travelers could not pass. But the Tin Woodman set

to work with his axe and chopped so well that soon he cleared a

passage for the entire party.

Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that

she did not notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and

rolled over to the side of the road. Indeed he was obliged to

call to her to help him up again.

"Why didn't you walk around the hole?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"I don't know enough," replied the Scarecrow cheerfully.

"My head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am

going to Oz to ask him for some brains."

"Oh, I see," said the Tin Woodman. "But, after all, brains

are not the best things in the world."

"Have you any?" inquired the Scarecrow.

"No, my head is quite empty," answered the Woodman.

"But once I had brains, and a heart also; so, having tried

them both, I should much rather have a heart."

"And why is that?" asked the Scarecrow.

"I will tell you my story, and then you will know."

So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woodman

told the following story:

"I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the

forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I too became

a woodchopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother

as long as she lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living

alone I would marry, so that I might not become lonely.

"There was one of the Munchkin girls who was so beautiful

that I soon grew to love her with all my heart. She, on her part,

promised to marry me as soon as I could earn enough money to

build a better house for her; so I set to work harder than ever.

But the girl lived with an old woman who did not want her to marry

anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to remain with her

and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman went to

the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow

if she would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch

enchanted my axe, and when I was chopping away at my best one day,

for I was anxious to get the new house and my wife as soon as

possible, the axe slipped all at once and cut off my left leg.

"This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a

one-legged man could not do very well as a wood-chopper. So I

went to a tinsmith and had him make me a new leg out of tin. The

leg worked very well, once I was used to it. But my action

angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she had promised the old

woman I should not marry the pretty Munchkin girl. When I began

chopping again, my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. Again I

went to the tinsmith, and again he made me a leg out of tin.

After this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the

other; but, nothing daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones.

The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and

at first I thought that was the end of me. But the tinsmith

happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin.

"I thought I had beaten the Wicked Witch then, and I worked

harder than ever; but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be.

She thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful

Munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip again, so that it cut right

through my body, splitting me into two halves. Once more the

tinsmith came to my help and made me a body of tin, fastening my

tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that I

could move around as well as ever. But, alas! I had now no

heart, so that I lost all my love for the Munchkin girl, and did

not care whether I married her or not. I suppose she is still

living with the old woman, waiting for me to come after her.

"My body shone so brightly in the sun that I felt very proud

of it and it did not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could

not cut me. There was only one danger--that my joints would

rust; but I kept an oil-can in my cottage and took care to oil

myself whenever I needed it. However, there came a day when I

forgot to do this, and, being caught in a rainstorm, before I

thought of the danger my joints had rusted, and I was left to

stand in the woods until you came to help me. It was a terrible

thing to undergo, but during the year I stood there I had time to

think that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my heart.

While I was in love I was the happiest man on earth; but no one

can love who has not a heart, and so I am resolved to ask Oz to

give me one. If he does, I will go back to the Munchkin maiden

and marry her."

Both Dorothy and the Scarecrow had been greatly interested

in the story of the Tin Woodman, and now they knew why he was so

anxious to get a new heart.

"All the same," said the Scarecrow, "I shall ask for brains

instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a

heart if he had one."

"I shall take the heart," returned the Tin Woodman; "for

brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing

in the world."

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know

which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could

only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much

whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart,

or each got what he wanted.

What worried her most was that the bread was nearly gone, and

another meal for herself and Toto would empty the basket. To be sure

neither the Woodman nor the Scarecrow ever ate anything, but she was

not made of tin nor straw, and could not live unless she was fed.

6. The Cowardly Lion

All this time Dorothy and her companions had been walking

through the thick woods. The road was still paved with yellow

brick, but these were much covered by dried branches and dead

leaves from the trees, and the walking was not at all good.

There were few birds in this part of the forest, for birds

love the open country where there is plenty of sunshine. But now

and then there came a deep growl from some wild animal hidden

among the trees. These sounds made the little girl's heart beat

fast, for she did not know what made them; but Toto knew, and he

walked close to Dorothy's side, and did not even bark in return.

"How long will it be," the child asked of the Tin Woodman,

"before we are out of the forest?"

"I cannot tell," was the answer, "for I have never been to the

Emerald City. But my father went there once, when I was a boy,

and he said it was a long journey through a dangerous country,

although nearer to the city where Oz dwells the country is beautiful.

But I am not afraid so long as I have my oil-can, and nothing can hurt

the Scarecrow, while you bear upon your forehead the mark of the

Good Witch's kiss, and that will protect you from harm."

"But Toto!" said the girl anxiously. "What will protect him?"

"We must protect him ourselves if he is in danger," replied

the Tin Woodman.

Just as he spoke there came from the forest a terrible roar,

and the next moment a great Lion bounded into the road. With one

blow of his paw he sent the Scarecrow spinning over and over to

the edge of the road, and then he struck at the Tin Woodman with

his sharp claws. But, to the Lion's surprise, he could make no

impression on the tin, although the Woodman fell over in the road

and lay still.

Little Toto, now that he had an enemy to face, ran barking

toward the Lion, and the great beast had opened his mouth to bite

the dog, when Dorothy, fearing Toto would be killed, and heedless

of danger, rushed forward and slapped the Lion upon his nose as

hard as she could, while she cried out:

"Don't you dare to bite Toto! You ought to be ashamed of

yourself, a big beast like you, to bite a poor little dog!"

"I didn't bite him," said the Lion, as he rubbed his nose with

his paw where Dorothy had hit it.

"No, but you tried to," she retorted. "You are nothing but a

big coward."

"I know it," said the Lion, hanging his head in shame. "I've

always known it. But how can I help it?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. To think of your striking a stuffed

man, like the poor Scarecrow!"

"Is he stuffed?" asked the Lion in surprise, as he watched her

pick up the Scarecrow and set him upon his feet, while she patted

him into shape again.

"Of course he's stuffed," replied Dorothy, who was still angry.

"That's why he went over so easily," remarked the Lion.

"It astonished me to see him whirl around so. Is the other one

stuffed also?"

"No," said Dorothy, "he's made of tin." And she helped the

Woodman up again.

"That's why he nearly blunted my claws," said the Lion.

"When they scratched against the tin it made a cold shiver run

down my back. What is that little animal you are so tender of?"

"He is my dog, Toto," answered Dorothy.

"Is he made of tin, or stuffed?" asked the Lion.

"Neither. He's a--a--a meat dog," said the girl.

"Oh! He's a curious animal and seems remarkably small,

now that I look at him. No one would think of biting such a

little thing, except a coward like me," continued the Lion sadly.

"What makes you a coward?" asked Dorothy, looking at the great

beast in wonder, for he was as big as a small horse.

"It's a mystery," replied the Lion. "I suppose I was born

that way. All the other animals in the forest naturally expect me

to be brave, for the Lion is everywhere thought to be the King of

Beasts. I learned that if I roared very loudly every living thing

was frightened and got out of my way. Whenever I've met a man

I've been awfully scared; but I just roared at him, and he has

always run away as fast as he could go. If the elephants and the

tigers and the bears had ever tried to fight me, I should have run

myself--I'm such a coward; but just as soon as they hear me roar

they all try to get away from me, and of course I let them go."

"But that isn't right. The King of Beasts shouldn't be a coward,"

said the Scarecrow.

"I know it," returned the Lion, wiping a tear from his eye

with the tip of his tail. "It is my great sorrow, and makes my

life very unhappy. But whenever there is danger, my heart begins

to beat fast."

"Perhaps you have heart disease," said the Tin Woodman.

"It may be," said the Lion.

"If you have," continued the Tin Woodman, "you ought to be glad,

for it proves you have a heart. For my part, I have no heart; so I

cannot have heart disease."

"Perhaps," said the Lion thoughtfully, "if I had no heart I should

not be a coward."

"Have you brains?" asked the Scarecrow.

"I suppose so. I've never looked to see," replied the Lion.

"I am going to the Great Oz to ask him to give me some,"

remarked the Scarecrow, "for my head is stuffed with straw."

"And I am going to ask him to give me a heart," said the Woodman.

"And I am going to ask him to send Toto and me back to Kansas,"

added Dorothy.

"Do you think Oz could give me courage?" asked the Cowardly Lion.

"Just as easily as he could give me brains," said the Scarecrow.

"Or give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"Or send me back to Kansas," said Dorothy.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll go with you," said the Lion,

"for my life is simply unbearable without a bit of courage."

"You will be very welcome," answered Dorothy, "for you will help

to keep away the other wild beasts. It seems to me they must be more

cowardly than you are if they allow you to scare them so easily."

"They really are," said the Lion, "but that doesn't make me any braver,

and as long as I know myself to be a coward I shall be unhappy."

So once more the little company set off upon the journey, the

Lion walking with stately strides at Dorothy's side. Toto did not

approve this new comrade at first, for he could not forget how

nearly he had been crushed between the Lion's great jaws. But

after a time he became more at ease, and presently Toto and the

Cowardly Lion had grown to be good friends.

During the rest of that day there was no other adventure to

mar the peace of their journey. Once, indeed, the Tin Woodman

stepped upon a beetle that was crawling along the road, and killed

the poor little thing. This made the Tin Woodman very unhappy,

for he was always careful not to hurt any living creature; and as

he walked along he wept several tears of sorrow and regret. These

tears ran slowly down his face and over the hinges of his jaw, and

there they rusted. When Dorothy presently asked him a question

the Tin Woodman could not open his mouth, for his jaws were

tightly rusted together. He became greatly frightened at this and

made many motions to Dorothy to relieve him, but she could not

understand. The Lion was also puzzled to know what was wrong.

But the Scarecrow seized the oil-can from Dorothy's basket and

oiled the Woodman's jaws, so that after a few moments he could

talk as well as before.

"This will serve me a lesson," said he, "to look where I step.

For if I should kill another bug or beetle I should surely cry again,

and crying rusts my jaws so that I cannot speak."

Thereafter he walked very carefully, with his eyes on the road,

and when he saw a tiny ant toiling by he would step over it, so as

not to harm it. The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and

therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.

"You people with hearts," he said, "have something to guide you, and

need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful.

When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn't mind so much."

7. The Journey to the Great Oz

They were obliged to camp out that night under a large tree in

the forest, for there were no houses near. The tree made a good,

thick covering to protect them from the dew, and the Tin Woodman

chopped a great pile of wood with his axe and Dorothy built a

splendid fire that warmed her and made her feel less lonely. She

and Toto ate the last of their bread, and now she did not know

what they would do for breakfast.

"If you wish," said the Lion, "I will go into the forest and

kill a deer for you. You can roast it by the fire, since your

tastes are so peculiar that you prefer cooked food, and then you

will have a very good breakfast."

"Don't! Please don't," begged the Tin Woodman. "I should

certainly weep if you killed a poor deer, and then my jaws would

rust again."

But the Lion went away into the forest and found his own supper,

and no one ever knew what it was, for he didn't mention it. And the

Scarecrow found a tree full of nuts and filled Dorothy's basket with them,

so that she would not be hungry for a long time. She thought this was

very kind and thoughtful of the Scarecrow, but she laughed heartily at the

awkward way in which the poor creature picked up the nuts. His padded

hands were so clumsy and the nuts were so small that he dropped almost

as many as he put in the basket. But the Scarecrow did not mind how long

it took him to fill the basket, for it enabled him to keep away from the fire,

as he feared a spark might get into his straw and burn him up. So he kept a

good distance away from the flames, and only came near to cover Dorothy with

dry leaves when she lay down to sleep. These kept her very snug and warm,

and she slept soundly until morning.

When it was daylight, the girl bathed her face in a little rippling brook,

and soon after they all started toward the Emerald City.

This was to be an eventful day for the travelers. They had

hardly been walking an hour when they saw before them a great

ditch that crossed the road and divided the forest as far as they

could see on either side. It was a very wide ditch, and when they

crept up to the edge and looked into it they could see it was also

very deep, and there were many big, jagged rocks at the bottom.

The sides were so steep that none of them could climb down, and

for a moment it seemed that their journey must end.

"What shall we do?" asked Dorothy despairingly.

"I haven't the faintest idea," said the Tin Woodman, and the

Lion shook his shaggy mane and looked thoughtful.

But the Scarecrow said, "We cannot fly, that is certain.

Neither can we climb down into this great ditch. Therefore,

if we cannot jump over it, we must stop where we are."

"I think I could jump over it," said the Cowardly Lion, after

measuring the distance carefully in his mind.

"Then we are all right," answered the Scarecrow, "for you can

carry us all over on your back, one at a time."

"Well, I'll try it," said the Lion. "Who will go first?"

"I will," declared the Scarecrow, "for, if you found that you

could not jump over the gulf, Dorothy would be killed, or the Tin

Woodman badly dented on the rocks below. But if I am on your back

it will not matter so much, for the fall would not hurt me at all."

"I am terribly afraid of falling, myself," said the Cowardly

Lion, "but I suppose there is nothing to do but try it. So get on

my back and we will make the attempt."

The Scarecrow sat upon the Lion's back, and the big beast

walked to the edge of the gulf and crouched down.

"Why don't you run and jump?" asked the Scarecrow.

"Because that isn't the way we Lions do these things," he replied.

Then giving a great spring, he shot through the air and landed safely

on the other side. They were all greatly pleased to see how easily

he did it, and after the Scarecrow had got down from his back the Lion

sprang across the ditch again.

Dorothy thought she would go next; so she took Toto in her

arms and climbed on the Lion's back, holding tightly to his mane

with one hand. The next moment it seemed as if she were flying

through the air; and then, before she had time to think about it,

she was safe on the other side. The Lion went back a third time

and got the Tin Woodman, and then they all sat down for a few

moments to give the beast a chance to rest, for his great leaps

had made his breath short, and he panted like a big dog that has

been running too long.

They found the forest very thick on this side, and it looked

dark and gloomy. After the Lion had rested they started along the

road of yellow brick, silently wondering, each in his own mind, if

ever they would come to the end of the woods and reach the bright

sunshine again. To add to their discomfort, they soon heard strange

noises in the depths of the forest, and the Lion whispered to them

that it was in this part of the country that the Kalidahs lived.

"What are the Kalidahs?" asked the girl.

"They are monstrous beasts with bodies like bears and heads

like tigers," replied the Lion, "and with claws so long and sharp

that they could tear me in two as easily as I could kill Toto.

I'm terribly afraid of the Kalidahs."

"I'm not surprised that you are," returned Dorothy.

"They must be dreadful beasts."

The Lion was about to reply when suddenly they came to another

gulf across the road. But this one was so broad and deep that the

Lion knew at once he could not leap across it.

So they sat down to consider what they should do, and after

serious thought the Scarecrow said:

"Here is a great tree, standing close to the ditch. If the

Tin Woodman can chop it down, so that it will fall to the other

side, we can walk across it easily."

"That is a first-rate idea," said the Lion. "One would almost

suspect you had brains in your head, instead of straw."

The Woodman set to work at once, and so sharp was his axe that

the tree was soon chopped nearly through. Then the Lion put his

strong front legs against the tree and pushed with all his might,

and slowly the big tree tipped and fell with a crash across the

ditch, with its top branches on the other side.

They had just started to cross this queer bridge when a sharp growl

made them all look up, and to their horror they saw running toward them

two great beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers.

"They are the Kalidahs!" said the Cowardly Lion, beginning to tremble.

"Quick!" cried the Scarecrow. "Let us cross over."

So Dorothy went first, holding Toto in her arms, the Tin

Woodman followed, and the Scarecrow came next. The Lion, although

he was certainly afraid, turned to face the Kalidahs, and then he

gave so loud and terrible a roar that Dorothy screamed and the

Scarecrow fell over backward, while even the fierce beasts stopped

short and looked at him in surprise.

But, seeing they were bigger than the Lion, and remembering

that there were two of them and only one of him, the Kalidahs

again rushed forward, and the Lion crossed over the tree and

turned to see what they would do next. Without stopping an

instant the fierce beasts also began to cross the tree.

And the Lion said to Dorothy:

"We are lost, for they will surely tear us to pieces with

their sharp claws. But stand close behind me, and I will fight

them as long as I am alive."

"Wait a minute!" called the Scarecrow. He had been thinking

what was best to be done, and now he asked the Woodman to chop

away the end of the tree that rested on their side of the ditch.

The Tin Woodman began to use his axe at once, and, just as the two

Kalidahs were nearly across, the tree fell with a crash into the

gulf, carrying the ugly, snarling brutes with it, and both were

dashed to pieces on the sharp rocks at the bottom.

"Well," said the Cowardly Lion, drawing a long breath of

relief, "I see we are going to live a little while longer, and I

am glad of it, for it must be a very uncomfortable thin