Chapter Fifteen

Ozma’s Prisoner

The boy was so bewildered by this calamity that he

made no resistance at all. He knew very well he

was guilty, but it surprised him that Ozma also

knew it. He wondered how she had found out so soon

that he had picked the six-leaved clover. He

handed his basket to Scraps and said:

“Keep that, until I get out of prison. If I

never get out, take it to the Crooked Magician, to

whom it belongs.”

The Shaggy Man had been gazing earnestly in the

boy’s face, uncertain whether to defend him or

not; but something he read in Ojo’s expression

made him draw back and refuse to interfere to save

him. The Shaggy Man was greatly surprised and

grieved, but he knew that Ozma never made mistakes

and so Ojo must really have broken the Law of Oz.

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers now led them

all through the gate and into a little room built

in the wall. Here sat a jolly little man, richly

dressed in green and having around his neck a

heavy gold chain to which a number of great golden

keys were attached. This was the Guardian of the

Gate and at the moment they entered his room he

was playing a tune upon a mouth-organ.

“Listen!” he said, holding up his hand for

silence. “I’ve just composed a tune called ‘The

Speckled Alligator.’ It’s in patch-time, which is

much superior to rag-time, and I’ve composed it in

honor of the Patchwork Girl, who has just

arrived.”

“How did you know I had arrived?” asked Scraps,

much interested.

“It’s my business to know who’s coming, for I’m

the Guardian of the Gate. Keep quiet while I play

you ‘The Speckled Alligator.’”

It wasn’t a very bad tune, nor a very good one,

but all listened respectfully while he shut his

eyes and swayed his head from side to side and

blew the notes from the little instrument. When it

was all over the Soldier with the Green Whiskers

said:

“Guardian, I have here a prisoner.”

“Good gracious! A prisoner?” cried the little

man, jumping up from his chair. “Which one? Not

the Shaggy Man?”

“No; this boy.”

“Ah; I hope his fault is as small as himself,”

said the Guardian of the Gate. “But what can he

have done, and what made him do it?”

“Can’t say,” replied the soldier. “All I know

is that he has broken the Law.”

“But no one ever does that!”

“Then he must be innocent, and soon will be

released. I hope you are right, Guardian. Just now

I am ordered to take him to prison. Get me a

prisoner’s robe from your Official Wardrobe.”

The Guardian unlocked a closet and took

from it a white robe, which the soldier threw

over Ojo. It covered him from head to foot, but

had two holes just in front of his eyes, so he

could see where to go. In this attire the boy

presented a very quaint appearance.

As the Guardian unlocked a gate leading

from his room into the streets of the Emerald

City, the Shaggy Man said to Scraps:

“I think I shall take you directly to Dorothy,

as the Scarecrow advised, and the Glass Cat

and the Woozy may come with us. Ojo must

go to prison with the Soldier with the Green

Whiskers, but he will he well treated and you

need not worry about him.”

“What will they do with him?” asked Scraps.

“That I cannot tell. Since I came to the Land of

Oz no one has ever been arrested or imprisoned—

until Ojo broke the Law.”

“Seems to me that girl Ruler of yours is making

a big fuss over nothing,” remarked Scraps, tossing

her yarn hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her

patched head. “I don’t know what Ojo has done, but

it couldn’t be anything very, bad, for you and I

were with him all the time.”

The Shaggy Man made no reply to this speech and

presently the Patchwork Girl forgot all about Ojo

in her admiration of the wonderful city she had

entered.

They soon separated from the Munchkin boy, who

was led by the Soldier with the Green Whiskers

down a side street toward the prison. Ojo felt

very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but

he was beginning to grow angry because he was

treated in such a disgraceful manner. Instead of

entering the splendid Emerald City as a

respectable traveler who was entitled to a

welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought

in as a criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that

told all he met of his deep disgrace.

Ojo was by nature gentle and affectionate and if

he had disobeyed the Law of Oz it was to restore

his dear Unc Nunkie to life. His fault was more

thoughtless than wicked, but that did not alter

the fact that he had committed a fault. At first

he had felt sorrow and remorse, but the more he

thought about the unjust treatment he had

received—unjust merely because he considered it

so—the more he resented his arrest, blaming Ozma

for making foolish laws and then punishing folks

who broke them. Only a six-leaved clover! A tiny

green plant growing neglected and trampled under

foot. What harm could there be in picking it? Ojo

began to think Ozma must be a very bad and

oppressive Ruler for such a lovely fairyland as

Oz. The Shaggy Man said the people loved her; but

how could they?

The little Munchkin boy was so busy thinking

these things—which many guilty prisoners have

thought before him—that he scarcely noticed all

the splendor of the city streets through which

they passed. Whenever they met any of the happy,

smiling people, the boy turned his head away in

shame, although none knew who was beneath the

robe.

By and by they reached a house built just beside

the great city wall, but in a quiet, retired

place. It was a pretty house, neatly painted and

with many windows. Before it was a garden filled

with blooming flowers. The Soldier with the Green

Whiskers led Ojo up the gravel path to the front

door, on which he knocked.

A woman opened the door and, seeing Ojo

in his white robe, exclaimed:

“Goodness me! A prisoner at last. But what a

small one, Soldier.”

“The size doesn’t matter, Tollydiggle, my

dear. The fact remains that he is a prisoner,”

said the soldier. “And, this being the prison,

and you the jailer, it is my duty to place the

prisoner in your charge.”

“True. Come in, then, and I’ll give you a

receipt for him.”

They entered the house and passed through a hall

to a large circular room, where the woman pulled

the robe off from Ojo and looked at him with

kindly interest. The boy, on his part, was gazing

around him in amazement, for never had he dreamed

of such a magnificent apartment as this in which

he stood. The roof of the dome was of colored

glass, worked into beautiful designs. The walls

were paneled with plates of

gold decorated with gems of great size and many

colors, and upon the tiled floor were soft rags

delightful to walk upon. The furniture was framed

in gold and upholstered in satin brocade and it

consisted of easy chairs, divans and stools in

great variety. Also there were several tables with

mirror tops and cabinets filled with rare and

curious things. In one place a case filled with

books stood against the wall, and elsewhere Ojo

saw a cupboard containing all sorts of games.

“May I stay here a little while before I go to

prison?” asked the boy, pleadingly.

“Why, this is your prison,” replied Tollydiggle,

“and in me behold your jailor. Take off those

handcuffs, Soldier, for it is impossible for

anyone to escape from this house.”

“I know that very well,” replied the soldier and

at once unlocked the handcuffs and released the

prisoner.

The woman touched a button on the wall and

lighted a big chandelier that hung suspended from

the ceiling, for it was growing dark outside. Then

she seated herself at a desk and asked:

“What name?”

“Ojo the Unlucky,” answered the Soldier

with the Green Whiskers.

“Unlucky? Ah, that accounts for it,” said she.

“What crime?”

“Breaking a Law of Oz.”

“All right. There’s your receipt, Soldier; and

now I’m responsible for the prisoner. I’m glad

of it, for this is the first time I’ve ever had

anything to do, in my official capacity,” remarked

the jailer, in a pleased tone.

“It’s the same with me, Tollydiggle,” laughed

the soldier. “But my task is finished and I must

go and report to Ozma that I’ve done my duty

like a faithful Police Force, a loyal Army and

an honest Body-Guard—as I hope I am.”

Saying this, be nodded farewell to Tollydiggle

and Ojo and went away.

“Now, then,” said the woman briskly, “I must get

you some supper, for you are doubtless hungry.

What would you prefer: planked whitefish, omelet

with jelly or mutton-chops with gravy?”

Ojo thought about it. Then he said: “I’ll take

the chops, if you please.”

“Very well; amuse yourself while I’m gone;

I won’t be long,” and then she went out by a

door and left the prisoner alone.

Ojo was much astonished, for not only was this

unlike any prison he had ever heard of, but he was

being treated more as a guest than a criminal.

There were many windows and they bad no locks.

There were three doors to the room and none were

bolted. He cautiously opened one of the doors and

found it led into a hallway. But he had no

intention of trying to escape. If his jailor was

willing to trust him in this way he would not

betray her trust, and moreover a hot supper was

being prepared for him and his prison was very

pleasant and comfortable. So he took a book from

the case and sat down in a big chair to look at

the pictures.

This amused him until the woman came in with a

large tray and spread a cloth on one of the

tables. Then she arranged his supper, which proved

the most varied and delicious meal Ojo had ever

eaten in his life.

Tollydiggle sat near him while he ate, sewing

on some fancy work she held in her lap. When

he had finished she cleared the table and then

read to him a story from one of the books.

“Is this really a prison?” he asked, when she

had finished reading.

“Indeed it is,” she replied. “It is the only

prison in the Land of Oz.”

“And am I a prisoner?”

“Bless the child! Of course.”

“Then why is the prison so fine, and why

are you so kind to me?” he earnestly asked.

Tollydiggle seemed surprised by the question,

but she presently answered:

“We consider a prisoner unfortunate. He is

unfortunate in two ways—because he has done

something wrong and because he is deprived of his

liberty. Therefore we should treat him kindly,

because of his misfortune, for otherwise he would

become hard and bitter and would not be sorry he

had done wrong. Ozma thinks that one who has

committed a fault did so because he was not strong

and brave; therefore she puts him in prison to

make him strong and brave. When that is

accomplished he is no longer a prisoner, but a

good and loyal citizen and everyone is glad that

he is now strong enough to resist doing wrong. You

see, it is kindness that makes one strong and

brave; and so we are kind to our prisoners.”

Ojo thought this over very carefully. “I had

an idea,” said he, “that prisoners were always

treated harshly, to punish them.”

“That would be dreadful!” cried Tollydiggle.

“Isn’t one punished enough in knowing he has

done wrong? Don’t you wish, Ojo, with all your

heart, that you had not been disobedient and

broken a Law of Oz?”

“I—I hate to be different from other people,”

he admitted.

“Yes; one likes to be respected as highly as his

neighbors are,” said the woman. “When you are

tried and found guilty, you will be obliged to

make amends, in some way. I don’t know just

what Ozma will do to you, because this is the

first time one of us has broken a Law; but you

may be sure she will be just and merciful. Here

in the Emerald City people are too happy and

contented ever to do wrong; but perhaps you

came from some faraway corner of our land, and

having no love for Ozma carelessly broke one

of her Laws.”

“Yes,” said Ojo, “I’ve lived all my life in the

heart of a lonely forest, where I saw no one but

dear Unc Nunkie.”

“I thought so,” said Tollydiggle. “But now

we have talked enough, so let us play a game

until bedtime.”