Chapter Two

The Crooked Magician

Just at dawn next morning Unc Nunkie laid his hand

tenderly on Ojo’s head and awakened him.

“Come,” he said.

Ojo dressed. He wore blue silk stockings, blue

knee pants with gold buckles, a blue ruffled

waist and a jacket of bright blue braided with

gold. His shoes were of blue leather and turned up

at the toes, which were pointed. His hat had a

peaked crown and a flat brim, and around the brim

was a row of tiny golden bells that tinkled when

he moved. This was the native costume of those

who inhabited the Munchkin Country of the Land of

Oz, so Unc Nunkie’s dress was much like that of

his nephew. Instead of shoes, the old man wore

boots with turnover tops and his blue coat had

wide cuffs of gold braid.

The boy noticed that his uncle had not eaten

the bread, and supposed the old man had not

been hungry. Ojo was hungry, though; so he

divided the piece of bread upon the table and

ate his half for breakfast, washing it down with

fresh, cool water from the brook. Unc put the

other piece of bread in his jacket pocket, after

which he again said, as he walked out through

the doorway: “Come.”

Ojo was well pleased. He was dreadfully

tired of living all alone in the woods and wanted

to travel and see people. For a long time he had

wished to explore the beautiful Land of Oz

in which they lived. When they were outside,

Unc simply latched the door and started up the

path. No one would disturb their little house,

even if anyone came so far into the thick forest

while they were gone.

At the foot of the mountain that separated the

Country of the Munchkins from the Country of the

Gillikins, the path divided. One way led to the

left and the other to the right—straight up the

mountain. Unc Nunkie took this right—hand path and

Ojo followed without asking why. He knew it would

take them to the house of the Crooked Magician,

whom he had never seen but who was their nearest

neighbor.

All the morning they trudged up the mountain path

and at noon Unc and Ojo sat on a fallen tree-trunk

and ate the last of the bread which the old

Munchkin had placed in his pocket. Then they

started on again and two hours later came in sight

of the house of Dr. Pipt.

It was a big house, round, as were all the

Munchkin houses, and painted blue, which is the

distinctive color of the Munchkin Country of Oz.

There was a pretty garden around the house, where

blue trees and blue flowers grew in abundance and

in one place were beds of blue cabbages, blue

carrots and blue lettuce, all of which were

delicious to eat. In Dr. Pipt’s garden grew bun-trees, cake-trees, cream-puff bushes, blue

buttercups which yielded excellent blue butter and

a row of chocolate-caramel plants. Paths of blue

gravel divided the vegetable and flower beds and a

wider path led up to the front door. The place was

in a clearing on the mountain, but a little way

off was the grim forest, which completely

surrounded it.

Unc knocked at the door of the house and

a chubby, pleasant-faced woman, dressed all in

blue, opened it and greeted the visitors with a

smile.

“Ah,” said Ojo; “you must be Dame Margolotte,

the good wife of Dr. Pipt.”

“I am, my dear, and all strangers are welcome

to my home.”

“May we see the famous Magician, Madam?”

“He is very busy just now,” she said, shaking

her head doubtfully. “But come in and let me

give you something to eat, for you must have

traveled far in order to get our lonely place.”

“We have,” replied Ojo, as he and Unc entered

the house. “We have come from a far lonelier place

than this.”

“A lonelier place! And in the Munchkin Country?”

she exclaimed. “Then it must be somewhere in the

Blue Forest.”

“It is, good Dame Margolotte.”

“Dear me!” she said, looking at the man, “you

must be Unc Nunkie, known as the Silent One.” Then

she looked at the boy. “And you must be Ojo the

Unlucky,” she added.

“Yes,” said Unc.

“I never knew I was called the Unlucky,”

said Ojo, soberly; “but it is really a good name

for me.”

“Well,” remarked the woman, as she bustled

around the room and set the table and brought food

from the cupboard, “you were unlucky to live all

alone in that dismal forest, which is much worse

than the forest around here; but perhaps your luck

will change, now you are away from it. If, during

your travels, you can manage to lose that ‘Un’ at

the beginning of your name Unlucky,’ you will

then become Ojo the Lucky, which will be a great

improvement.”

“How can I lose that ‘Un,’ Dame Margolotte?”

“I do not know how, but you must keep the

matter in mind and perhaps the chance will

come to you,” she replied.

Ojo had never eaten such a fine meal in all

his life. There was a savory stew, smoking hot,

a dish of blue peas, a bowl of sweet milk of a

delicate blue tint and a blue pudding with blue

plums in it. When the visitors had eaten heartily

of this fare the woman said to them:

“Do you wish to see Dr. Pipt on business or

for pleasure?”

Unc shook his head.

“We are traveling,” replied Ojo, “and we

stopped at your house just to rest and refresh

ourselves. I do not think Unc Nunkie cares

very much to see the famous Crooked Magician;

but for my part I am curious to look at such

a great man.

The woman seemed thoughtful.

“I remember that Unc Nunkie and my husband used

to be friends, many years ago,” she said, “so

perhaps they will be glad to meet again. The

Magician is very busy, as I said, but if you will

promise not to disturb him you may come into his

workshop and watch him prepare a wonderful charm.”

“Thank you,” replied the boy, much pleased.

“I would like to do that.”

She led the way to a great domed hall at the

back of the house, which was the Magician’s

workshop. There was a row of windows extending

nearly around the sides of the circular room,

which rendered the place very light, and there was

a back door in addition to the one leading to the

front part of the house. Before the row of windows

a broad seat was built and there were some chairs

and benches in the room besides. At one end stood

a great fireplace, in which a blue log was blazing

with a blue flame, and over the fire hung four

kettles in a row, all bubbling and steaming at a

great rate. The Magician was stirring all four of

these kettles at the same time, two with his

hands and two with his feet, to the latter, wooden

ladles being strapped, for this man was so very

crooked that his legs were as handy as his arms.

Unc Nunkie came forward to greet his old

friend, but not being able to shake either his

hands or his feet, which were all occupied in

stirring, he patted the Magician’s bald head and

asked: “What?”

“Ah, it’s the Silent One,” remarked Dr. Pipt,

without looking up, “and he wants to know

what I’m making. Well, when it is quite finished

this compound will be the wonderful Powder

of Life, which no one knows how to make but

myself. Whenever it is sprinkled on anything,

that thing will at once come to life, no matter

what it is. It takes me several years to make this

magic Powder, but at this moment I am pleased

to say it is nearly done. You see, I am making it

for my good wife Margolotte, who wants to use

some of it for a purpose of her own. Sit down

and make yourself comfortable, Unc Nunkie,

and after I’ve finished my task I will talk to

you.

“You must know,” said Margolottte, when they

were all seated together on the broad window-seat,

“that my husband foolishly gave away all the

Powder of Life he first made to old Mombi the

Witch, who used to live in the Country of the

Gillikins, to the north of here. Mombi gave to Dr.

Pipt a Powder of Perpetual Youth in exchange for

his Powder of Life, but she cheated him wickedly,

for the Powder of Youth was no good and could work

no magic at all.”

“Perhaps the Powder of Life couldn’t either,”

said Ojo.

“Yes; it is perfection,” she declared. “The first

lot we tested on our Glass Cat, which not only

began to live but has lived ever since. She’s

somewhere around the house now.”

“A Glass Cat!” exclaimed Ojo, astonished.

“Yes; she makes a very pleasant companion, but

admires herself a little more than is considered

modest, and she positively refuses to catch mice,”

explained Margolotte. “My husband made the cat

some pink brains, but they proved to be too high-bred and particular for a cat, so she thinks it is

undignified in her to catch mice. Also she has a

pretty blood-red heart, but it is made of stone—a

ruby, I think—and so is rather hard and unfeeling.

I think the next Class Cat the Magician makes will

have neither brains nor heart, for then it will

not object to catching mice and may prove of some

use to us.”

“What did old Mombi the Witch do with the

Powder of Life your husband gave her?” asked

the boy.

“She brought Jack Pumpkinhead to life, for

one thing,” was the reply. “I suppose you’ve

heard of jack Pumpkinhead. He is now living

near the Emerald City and is a great favorite

with the Princess Ozma, who rules all the Land

of Oz.”

“No; I’ve never heard of him,” remarked

Ojo. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about the

Land of Oz. You see, I’ve lived all my life with

Unc Nunkie, the Silent One, and there was no

one to tell me anything.”

“That is one reason you are Ojo the Unlucky,”

said the woman, in a sympathetic tone. “The more

one knows, the luckier he is, for knowledge is the

greatest gift in life.”

“But tell me, please, what you intend to do

With this new lot of the Powder of Life, which

Dr. Pipt is making. He said his wife wanted it

for some especial purpose.

“So I do,” she answered. “I want it to bring

my Patchwork Girl to life.”

“Oh! A Patchwork Girl? What is that?” Ojo

asked, for this seemed even more strange and

unusual than a Glass Cat.

“I think I must show you my Patchwork

Girl,” said Margolotte, laughing at the boy’s

astonishment, “for she is rather difficult to

explain. But first I will tell you that for many

years I have longed for a servant to help me with

the housework and to cook the meals and wash the

dishes. No servant will come here because the

place is so lonely and out-of-the-way, so my

clever husband, the Crooked Magician, proposed

that I make a girl out of some sort of material

and he would make her live by sprinkling over her

the Powder of Life. This seemed an excellent

suggestion and at once Dr. Pipt set to work to

make a new batch of his magic powder. He has been

at it a long, long while, and so I have had plenty

of time to make the girl. Yet that task was not so

easy as you may suppose. At first I couldn’t think

what to make her of, but finally in searching

through a chest I came across an old patchwork

quilt, which my grandmother once made when she was

young.

“What is a patchwork quilt?” asked Ojo.

“A bedquilt made of patches of different kinds

and colors of cloth, all neatly sewed together.

The patches are of all shapes and sizes, so a

patchwork quilt is a very pretty and gorgeous

thing to look at. Sometimes it is called a

‘crazyquilt,’ because the patches and colors are

so mixed up. We never have used my grandmother’s

manycolored patchwork quilt, handsome as it is,

for we Munchkins do not care for any color other

than blue, so it has been packed away in the chest

for about a hundred years. When I found it, I said

to myself that it would do nicely for my servant

girl, for when she was brought to life she would

not be proud nor haughty, as the Glass Cat is, for

such a dreadful mixture of colors would discourage

her from trying to, be as dignified as the blue

Munchkins are.

“Is blue the only respectable color, then?”

inquired Ojo.

“Yes, for a Munchkin. All our country is blue,

you know. But in other parts of Oz the people

favor different colors. At the Emerald City,

where our Princess Ozma lives, green is the

popular color. But all Munchkins prefer blue

to anything else and when my housework girl

is brought to life she will find herself to be of

so many unpopular colors that she’ll never dare

be rebellious or impudent, as servants are

sometimes liable to be when they are made the same

way their mistresses are.”

Unc Nunkie nodded approval.

“Good idea,” he said; and that was a long

speech for Unc Nunkie because it was two

words.

“So I cut up the quilt,” continued Margolotte,

“and made from it a very well-shaped girl,

which I stuffed with cotton-wadding. I will

show you what a good job I did,” and she went

to a tall cupboard and threw open the doors.

Then back she came, lugging in her arms the

Patchwork Girl, which she set upon the bench

and propped up so that the figure would not

tumble over.