Chapter Fourteen

Ojo Breaks the Law

“What a queer man,” remarked the Munchkin boy,

when the party had resumed its journey.

“And so nice and polite,” added Scraps, bobbing

her Lead. “I think he is the handsomest man I’ve

seen since I came to life.”

“Handsome is as handsome does,” quoted the

Shaggy Man; “but we must admit that no living

scarecrow is handsomer. The chief merit of my

friend is that he is a great thinker, and in Oz it

is considered good policy to follow his advice.”

“I didn’t notice any brains in his head,”

observed the Glass Cat.

“You can’t see ‘em work, but they’re there, all

right,” declared the Shaggy Man. “I hadn’t much

confidence in his brains myself, when first I came

to Oz, for a humbug Wizard gave them to him; but I

was soon convinced that the Scarecrow is really

wise; and, unless his brains make him so, such

wisdom is unaccountable.”

“Is the Wizard of Oz a humbug?” asked Ojo.

“Not now. He was once, but he has reformed

and now assists Glinda the Good, who is the

Royal Sorceress of Oz and the only one licensed

to practice magic or sorcery. Glinda has taught

our old Wizard a good many clever things, so

he is no longer a humbug.”

They walked a little while in silence and

then Ojo said:

“If Ozma forbids the Crooked Magician to

restore Unc Nunkie to life, what shall I do?”

The Shaggy Man shook his head.

“In that case you can’t do anything,” he said.

“But don’t be discouraged yet. We will go to

Princess Dorothy and tell her your troubles, and

then we will let her talk to Ozma. Dorothy has the

kindest little heart in the world, and she has

been through so many troubles herself that she is

sure to sympathize with you.”

“Is Dorothy the little girl who came here from

Kansas?” asked the boy.

“Yes. In Kansas she was Dorothy Gale. I used to

know her there, and she brought me to the Land of

Oz. But now Ozma has made her a Princess, and

Dorothy’s Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are here, too.”

Here the Shaggy Man uttered a long sigh, and then

he continued: “It’s a queer country, this Land of

Oz; but I like it, nevertheless.”

“What is queer about it?” asked Scraps.

“You, for instance,” said he.

“Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in

your own country?” she inquired.

“None with the same gorgeous, variegated

beauty,” he confessed. “In America a girl stuffed

with cotton wouldn’t be alive, nor would anyone

think of making a girl out of a patchwork quilt.”

“What a queer country America must be!” she

exclaimed in great surprise. “The Scarecrow, whom

you say is wise, told me I am the most beautiful

creature he has ever seen.”

“I know; and perhaps you are-from a scarecrow

point of view,” replied the Shaggy Man; but why he

smiled as he said it Scraps could not imagine.

As they drew nearer to the Emerald City the

travelers were filled with admiration for the

splendid scenery they beheld. Handsome houses

stood on both sides of the road and each had a

green lawn before it as well as a pretty flower

garden.

“In another hour,” said the Shaggy Man, “we

shall come in sight of the walls of the Royal

City.”

He was walking ahead, with Scraps, and behind

them came the Woozy and the Glass Cat. Ojo had

lagged behind, for in spite of the warnings he

had received the boy’s eyes were fastened on the

clover that bordered the road of yellow bricks and

he was eager to discover if such a thing as a

six-leaved clover really existed.

Suddenly he stopped short and bent over to

examine the ground more closely. Yes; here at last

was a clover with six spreading leaves. He counted

them carefully, to make sure. In an instant his

heart leaped with joy, for this was one of the

important things he had come for—one of the

things that would restore dear Unc Nunkie to life.

He glanced ahead and saw that none of his

companions was looking back. Neither were any

other people about, for it was midway between

two houses. The temptation was too strong to

be resisted.

“I might search for weeks and weeks, and

never find another six-leaved clover,” he told

himself, and quickly plucking the stem from the

plant he placed the prized clover in his basket,

covering it with the other things he carried

there. Then, trying to look as if nothing had

happened, he hurried forward and overtook his

comrades.

The Emerald City, which is the most splendid as

well as the most beautiful city in any fairyland,

is surrounded by a high, thick wall of green

marble, polished smooth and set with glistening

emeralds. There are four gates, one facing the

Munchkin Country, one facing the Country of the

Winkies, one facing the Country of the Quadlings

and one facing the Country of the Gillikins. The

Emerald City lies directly in the center of these

four important countries of Oz. The gates had bars

of pure gold, and on either side of each gateway

were built high towers, from which floated gay

banners. Other towers were set at distances along

the walls, which were broad enough for four people

to walk abreast upon.

This enclosure, all green and gold and

glittering with precious gems, was indeed a

wonderful sight to greet our travelers, who first

observed it from the top of a little hill; but

beyond the wall was the vast city it surrounded,

and hundreds of jeweled spires, domes and

minarets, flaunting flags and banners, reared

their crests far above the towers of the gateways.

In the center of the city our friends could see

the tops of many magnificent trees, some nearly as

tall as the spires of the buildings, and the

Shaggy Man told them that these trees were in the

royal gardens of Princess Ozma.

They stood a long time on the hilltop, feasting

their eyes on the splendor of the Emerald City.

“Whee!” exclaimed Scraps, clasping her padded

hands in ecstacy, “that’ll do for me to live in,

all right. No more of the Munchkin Country for

these patches—and no more of the Crooked

Magician!”

“Why, you belong to Dr. Pipt,” replied Ojo,

looking at her in amazement. “You were made for a

servant, Scraps, so you are personal property and

not your own mistress.”

“Bother Dr. Pipt! If he wants me, let him

come here and get me. I’ll not go back to his

den of my own accord; that’s certain. Only one

place in the Land of Oz is fit to live in, and

that’s the Emerald City. It’s lovely! It’s almost

as beautiful as I am, Ojo.”

“In this country,” remarked the Shaggy Man,

“people live wherever our Ruler tells them to. It

wouldn’t do to have everyone live in the Emerald

City, you know, for some must plow the land and

raise grains and fruits and vegetables, while

others chop wood in the forests, or fish in the

rivers, or herd the sheep and the cattle.”

“Poor things!” said Scraps.

“I’m not sure they are not happier than the city

people,” replied the Shaggy Man. “There’s a

freedom and independence in country life that not

even the Emerald City can give one. I know that

lots of the city people would like to get back to

the land. The Scarecrow lives in the country, and

so do the Tin Woodman and Jack Pumpkinhead; yet

all three would be welcome to live in Ozma’s

palace if they cared to. Too much splendor becomes

tiresome, you know. But, if we’re to reach the

Emerald City before sundown, we must hurry, for it

is yet a long way off.”

The entrancing sight of the city had put new

energy into them all and they hurried forward

with lighter steps than before. There was much

to interest them along the roadway, for the

houses were now set more closely together and

they met a good many people who were coming

or going from one place or another. All these

seemed happy-faced, pleasant people, who

nodded graciously to the strangers as they

Passed, and exchanged words of greeting.

At last they reached the great gateway, just

as the sun was setting and adding its red glow

to the glitter of the emeralds on the green walls

and spires. Somewhere inside the city a band

could be heard playing sweet music; a soft,

subdued hum, as of many voices, reached their

ears; from the neighboring yards came the low

mooing of cows waiting to be milked.

They were almost at the gate when the golden

bars slid back and a tall soldier stepped out and

faced them. Ojo thought he had never seen so

tall a man before. The soldier wore a handsome

green and gold uniform, with a tall hat in which

was a waving plume, and he had a belt thickly

encrusted with jewels. But the most peculiar

thing about him was his long green beard,

which fell far below his waist and perhaps

made him seem taller than he really was.

“Halt!” said the Soldier with the Green

Whiskers, not in a stern voice but rather in a

friendly tone.

They halted before he spoke and stood looking at

him.

“Good evening, Colonel,” said the Shaggy

Man. “What’s the news since I left? Anything

important?”

“Billina has hatched out thirteen new chickens,”

replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, “and

they’re the cutest little fluffy yellow balls you

ever saw. The Yellow Hen is mighty proud of those

children, I can tell you.”

“She has a right to be,” agreed the Shaggy

Man. “Let me see; that’s about seven thousand

chicks she has hatched out; isn’t it, General?”

“That, at least,” was the reply. “You will have

to visit Billina and congratulate her.”

“It will give me pleasure to do that,” said the

Shaggy Man. “But you will observe that I have

brought some strangers home with me. I am

going to take them to see Dorothy.”

“One moment, please,” said the soldier, barring

their way as they started to enter the gate. “I am

on duty, and I have orders to execute. Is anyone

in your party named Ojo the Unlucky?”

“Why, that’s me!” cried Ojo, astonished at

hearing his name on the lips of a stranger.

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers nodded. “I

thought so,” said he, “and I am sorry to announce

that it is my painful duty to arrest you.”

“Arrest me!” exclaimed the boy. “What for?”

“I haven’t looked to see,” answered the soldier.

Then he drew a paper from his breast pocket and

glanced at it. “Oh, yes; you are to be arrested

for willfully breaking one of the Laws of Oz.”

“Breaking a law!” said Scraps. “Nonsense,

Soldier; you’re joking.”

“Not this time,” returned the soldier, with a

sigh. “My dear child what are you, a rummage sale

or a guess-me quick?—in me you be hold the Body

Guard of our gracious Ruler, Princess Ozma, as

well as the Royal Army of Oz and the Police Force

of the Emerald City.”

“And only one man!” exclaimed the Patchwork Girl.

“Only one, and plenty enough. In my official

positions I’ve had nothing to do for a good many

years—so long that I began to fear I was

absolutely useless—until today. An hour ago I was

called to the presence of her Highness, Ozma of

Oz, and told to arrest a boy named Ojo the

Unlucky, who was journeying from the Munchkin

Country to the Emerald City and would arrive in a

short time. This command so astonished me that I

nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone

has merited arrest since I can remember. You are

rightly named Ojo the Unlucky. my poor boy, since

you have broken a Law of Oz.

“But you are wrong,” said Scraps. “Ozma is

wrong—you are all wrong—for Ojo has broken no

Law.”

“Then he will soon be free again,” replied the

Soldier with the Green Whiskers. “Anyone accused

of crime is given a fair trial by our Ruler and

has every chance to prove his innocence. But just

now Ozma’s orders must be obeyed.”

With this he took from his pocket a pair of

handcuffs made of gold and set with rubies and

diamonds, and these he snapped over Ojo’s wrists.