The Patchwork Girl of Oz - Lyman Frank Baum (best young adult book series .txt) 📗

class="calibre1">“There are worse colors than yellow in this country,” asserted the Glass Cat, in a spiteful tone.

“Oh; do you mean the pink pebbles you call your brains, and your red heart and green eyes?” asked the Patchwork Girl.

“No; I mean you, if you must know it,” growled the cat.

“You’re jealous!” laughed Scraps. “You’d give your whiskers for a lovely variegated complexion like mine.”

“I wouldn’t!” retorted the cat. “I’ve the clearest complexion in the world, and I don’t employ a beauty-doctor, either.”

“I see you don’t,” said Scraps.

“Please don’t quarrel,” begged Ojo. “This is an important journey, and quarreling makes me discouraged. To be brave, one must be cheerful, so I hope you will be as good-tempered as possible.”

They had traveled some distance when suddenly they faced a high fence which barred any further progress straight ahead. It ran directly across the road and enclosed a small forest of tall trees, set close together. When the group of adventurers peered through the bars of the fence they thought this forest looked more gloomy and forbidding than any they had ever seen before.

They soon discovered that the path they had been following now made a bend and passed around the enclosure, but what made Ojo stop and look thoughtful was a sign painted on the fence which read:

 

“BEWARE OF THE WOOZY!”

 

“That means,” he said, “that there’s a Woozy inside that fence, and the Woozy must be a dangerous animal or they wouldn’t tell people to beware of it.”

“Let’s keep out, then,” replied Scraps. “That path is outside the fence, and Mr. Woozy may have all his little forest to himself, for all we care.”

“But one of our errands is to find a Woozy,” Ojo explained. “The Magician wants me to get three hairs from the end of a Woozy’s tail.”

“Let’s go on and find some other Woozy,” suggested the cat. “This one is ugly and dangerous, or they wouldn’t cage him up. Maybe we shall find another that is tame and gentle.”

“Perhaps there isn’t any other, at all,” answered Ojo. “The sign doesn’t say: ‘Beware a Woozy’; it says: ‘Beware the Woozy,’ which may mean there’s only one in all the Land of Oz.”

“Then,” said Scraps, “suppose we go in and find him? Very likely if we ask him politely to let us pull three hairs out of the tip of his tail he won’t hurt us.”

“It would hurt him, I’m sure, and that would make him cross,” said the cat.

“You needn’t worry, Bungle,” remarked the Patchwork Girl; “for if there is danger you can climb a tree. Ojo and I are not afraid; are we, Ojo?”

“I am, a little,” the boy admitted; “but this danger must be faced, if we intend to save poor Unc Nunkie. How shall we get over the fence?”

“Climb,” answered Scraps, and at once she began climbing up the rows of bars. Ojo followed and found it more easy than he had expected. When they got to the top of the fence they began to get down on the other side and soon were in the forest. The Glass Cat, being small, crept between the lower bars and joined them.

Here there was no path of any sort, so they entered the woods, the boy leading the way, and wandered through the trees until they were nearly in the center of the forest. They now came upon a clear space in which stood a rocky cave.

So far they had met no living creature, but when Ojo saw the cave he knew it must be the den of the Woozy.

It is hard to face any savage beast without a sinking of the heart, but still more terrifying is it to face an unknown beast, which you have never seen even a picture of. So there is little wonder that the pulses of the Munchkin boy beat fast as he and his companions stood facing the cave. The opening was perfectly square, and about big enough to admit a goat.

“I guess the Woozy is asleep,” said Scraps. “Shall I throw in a stone, to waken him?”

“No; please don’t,” answered Ojo, his voice trembling a little. “I’m in no hurry.”

But he had not long to wait, for the Woozy heard the sound of voices and came trotting out of his cave. As this is the only Woozy that has ever lived, either in the Land of Oz or out of it, I must describe it to you.

The creature was all squares and flat surfaces and edges. Its head was an exact square, like one of the building-blocks a child plays with; therefore it had no ears, but heard sounds through two openings in the upper corners. Its nose, being in the center of a square surface, was flat, while the mouth was formed by the opening of the lower edge of the block. The body of the Woozy was much larger than its head, but was likewise block-shaped—being twice as long as it was wide and high. The tail was square and stubby and perfectly straight, and the four legs were made in the same way, each being four-sided. The animal was covered with a thick, smooth skin and had no hair at all except at the extreme end of its tail, where there grew exactly three stiff, stubby hairs. The beast was dark blue in color and his face was not fierce nor ferocious in expression, but rather good-humored and droll.

Seeing the strangers, the Woozy folded his hind legs as if they had been hinged and sat down to look his visitors over.

“Well, well,” he exclaimed; “what a queer lot you are! At first I thought some of those miserable Munchkin farmers had come to annoy me, but I am relieved to find you in their stead. It is plain to me that you are a remarkable group—as remarkable in your way as I am in mine—and so you are welcome to my domain. Nice place, isn’t it? But lonesome—dreadfully lonesome.”

“Why did they shut you up here?” asked Scraps, who was regarding the queer, square creature with much curiosity.

“Because I eat up all the honey-bees which the Munchkin farmers who live around here keep to make them honey.”

“Are you fond of eating honey-bees?” inquired the boy.

“Very. They are really delicious. But the farmers did not like to lose their bees and so they tried to destroy me. Of course they couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“My skin is so thick and tough that nothing can get through it to hurt me. So, finding they could not destroy me, they drove me into this forest and built a fence around me. Unkind, wasn’t it?”

“But what do you eat now?” asked Ojo.

“Nothing at all. I’ve tried the leaves from the trees and the mosses and creeping vines, but they don’t seem to suit my taste. So, there being no honey-bees here, I’ve eaten nothing for years.

“You must be awfully hungry,” said the boy. “I’ve got some bread and cheese in my basket. Would you like that kind of food?”

“Give me a nibble and I will try it; then I can tell you better whether it is grateful to my appetite,” returned the Woozy.

So the boy opened his basket and broke a piece off the loaf of bread. He tossed it toward the Woozy, who cleverly caught it in his mouth and ate it in a twinkling.

“That’s rather good,” declared the animal. “Any more?”

“Try some cheese,” said Ojo, and threw down a piece.

The Woozy ate that, too, and smacked its long, thin lips.

“That’s mighty good!” it exclaimed. “Any more?”

“Plenty,” replied Ojo. So he sat down on a Stump and fed the Woozy bread and cheese for a long time; for, no matter how much the boy broke off, the loaf and the slice remained just as big.

“That’ll do,” said the Woozy, at last; “I’m quite full. I hope the strange food won’t give me indigestion.”

“I hope not,” said Ojo. “It’s what I eat.”

“Well, I must say I’m much obliged, and I’m glad you came,” announced the beast. “Is there anything I can do in return for your kindness?”

“Yes,” said Ojo earnestly, “you have it in your power to do me a great favor, if you will.”

“What is it?” asked the Woozy. “Name the favor and I will grant it.”

“I—I want three hairs from the tip of your tail,” said Ojo, with some hesitation.

“Three hairs! Why, that’s all I have—on my tail or anywhere else,” exclaimed the beast.

“I know; but I want them very much.”

“They are my sole ornaments, my prettiest feature,” said the Woozy, uneasily. “If I give up those three hairs I—I’m just a blockhead.”

“Yet I must have them,” insisted the boy, firmly, and he then told the Woozy all about the accident to Unc Nunkie and Margolotte, and how the three hairs were to be a part of the magic charm that would restore them to life. The beast listened with attention and when Ojo had finished the recital it said, with a sigh:

“I always keep my word, for I pride myself on being square. So you may have the three hairs, and welcome. I think, under such circumstances, it would be selfish in me to refuse you.”

“Thank you! Thank you very much,” cried the boy, joyfully. “May I pull out the hairs now?”

“Any time you like,” answered the Woozy.

So Ojo went up to the queer creature and taking hold of one of the hairs began to pull. He pulled harder. He pulled with all his might; but the hair remained fast.

“What’s the trouble?” asked the Woozy, which Ojo had dragged here and there all around the clearing in his endeavor to pull out the hair.

“It won’t come,” said the boy, panting.

“I was afraid of that,” declared the beast. “You’ll have to pull harder.”

“I’ll help you,” exclaimed Scraps, coming to the boy’s side. “You pull the hair, and I’ll pull you, and together we ought to get it out easily.”

“Wait a jiffy,” called the Woozy, and then it went to a tree and hugged it with its front paws, so that its body couldn’t be dragged around by the pull. “All ready, now. Go ahead!”

Ojo grasped the hair with both hands and pulled with all his strength, while Scraps seized the boy around his waist and added her strength to his. But the hair wouldn’t budge. Instead, it slipped out of Ojo’s hands and he and Scraps both rolled upon the ground in a heap and never stopped until they bumped against the rocky cave.

“Give it up,” advised the Glass Cat, as the boy arose and assisted the Patchwork Girl to her feet. “A dozen strong men couldn’t pull out those hairs. I believe they’re clinched on the under side of the Woozy’s thick skin.”

“Then what shall I do?” asked the boy, despairingly. “If on our return I fail to take these three hairs to the Crooked Magician, the other things I have come to seek will be of no use at all, and we cannot restore Unc Nunkie and Margolotte to life.”

“They’re goners, I guess,” said the Patchwork Girl.

“Never mind,” added the cat. “I can’t see that old Unc and Margolotte are worth all this trouble, anyhow.”

But Ojo did not feel that way. He was so disheartened that he sat down upon a stump and began to cry.

The Woozy looked at the boy thoughtfully.

“Why don’t you take me with you?” asked the beast. “Then, when at last you get to the Magician’s house, he can surely find some way to pull out those three hairs.”

Ojo was overjoyed at this suggestion.

“That’s it!” he cried, wiping away the tears and