Chapter Twenty-Five

They Bribe the Lazy Quadling

“Now,” said Dorothy, as they stood on the mountain

path, having left behind them the cave in which

dwelt the Hoppers and the Horners, “I think we

must find a road into the Country of the Winkies,

for there is where Ojo wants to go next.”

“Is there such a road?” asked the Scarecrow.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I s’pose we can go

back the way we came, to Jack Pumpkinhead’s house,

and then turn into the Winkie Country; but that

seems like running ‘round a haystack, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” said the Scarecrow. “What is the next

thing Ojo must get?”

“A yellow butterfly,” answered the boy.

“That means the Winkie Country, all right,

for it’s the yellow country of Oz,” remarked

Dorothy. “I think, Scarecrow, we ought to take

him to the Tin Woodman, for he’s the Emp’ror

of the Winkies and will help us to find what

Ojo wants.”

“Of course,” replied the Scarecrow, brightening

at the suggestion. “The Tin Woodman will do

anything we ask him, for he’s one of my dearest

friends. I believe we can take a crosscut into his

country and so get to his castle a day sooner

than if we travel back the way we came.”

“I think so, too,” said the girl; “and that means

we must keep to the left.”

They were obliged to go down the mountain before

they found any path that led in the direction they

wanted to go, but among the tumbled rocks at the

foot of the mountain was a faint trail which they

decided to follow. Two or three hours walk along

this trail brought them to a clear, level country,

where there were a few farms and some scattered

houses. But they knew they were still in the

Country of the Quadlings, because everything had a

bright red color. Not that the trees and grasses

were red, but the fences and houses were painted

that color and all the wild-flowers that bloomed

by the wayside had red blossoms. This part of the

Quadling Country seemed peaceful and prosperous,

if rather lonely, and the road was more distinct

and easier to follow.

But just as they were congratulating themselves

upon the progress they had made they came upon a

broad river which swept along between high banks,

and here the road ended and there was no bridge of

any sort to allow them to cross.

“This is queer,” mused Dorothy, looking at

the water reflectively. “Why should there be

any road, if the river stops everyone walking

along it?”

“Wow!” said Toto, gazing earnestly into her

face.

“That’s the best answer you’ll get,” declared

the Scarecrow, with his comical smile, “for no

one knows any more than Toto about this road.”

Said Scraps:

“Ev’ry time I see a river,

I have chills that make me shiver,

For I never can forget

All the water’s very wet.

If my patches get a soak

It will be a sorry joke;

So to swim I’ll never try

Till I find the water dry.”

“Try to control yourself, Scraps,” said Ojo;

you re getting crazy again. No one intends to swim

that river.”

“No,” decided Dorothy, “we couldn’t swim it

if we tried. It’s too big a river, and the water

moves awful fast.”

“There ought to be a ferryman with a boat,”

said the Scarecrow; “but I don’t see any.”

“Couldn’t we make a raft?” suggested Ojo.

“There’s nothing to make one of,” answered

Dorothy.

“Wow!” said Toto again, and Dorothy saw he

was looking along the bank of the river.

“Why, he sees a house over there!” cried the

little girl. “I wonder we didn’t notice it

ourselves. Let’s go and ask the people how to

get ‘cross the river.”

A quarter of a mile along the bank stood a

small, round house, painted bright red, and as

it was on their side of the river they hurried

toward it. A chubby little man, dressed all in

red, came out to greet them, and with him were

two children, also in red costumes. The man’s

eyes were big and staring as he examined the

Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl, and the

children shyly hid behind him and peeked

timidly at Toto.

“Do you live here, my good man?” asked the

Scarecrow.

“I think I do, Most Mighty Magician,” replied

the Quadling, bowing low; “but whether I’m awake

or dreaming I can’t be positive, so I’m not sure

where I live. If you’ll kindly pinch me I’ll find

out all about it!’

“You’re awake,” said Dorothy, “and this is no

magician, but just the Scarecrow.”

“But he’s alive,” protested the man, “and he

oughtn’t to be, you know. And that other dreadful

person—the girl who is all patches—seems to be

alive, too.”

“Very much so,” declared Scraps, making a

face at him. “But that isn’t your affair, you

know.”

“I’ve a right to be surprised, haven’t I?” asked

the man meekly.

“I’m not sure; but anyhow you’ve no right to say

I’m dreadful. The Scarecrow, who is a gentleman of

great wisdom, thinks I’m beautiful,” retorted

Scraps.

“Never mind all that,” said Dorothy. “Tell us,

good Quadling, how we can get across the river.”

“I don’t know,” replied the Quadling.

“Don’t you ever cross it?” asked the girl.

“Never.”

“Don’t travelers cross it?”

“Not to my knowledge,” said he.

They were much surprised to hear this, and

the man added: “It’s a pretty big river, and the

current is strong. I know a man who lives on

the opposite bank, for I’ve seen him there a good

many years; but we’ve never spoken because

neither of us has ever crossed over.”

“That’s queer,” said the Scarecrow. “Don’t you

own a boat?”

The man shook his head.

“Nor a raft?”

“Where does this river go to?” asked Dorothy.

“That way,” answered the man, pointing with

one hand, “it goes into the Country of the

Winkies, which is ruled by the Tin Emperor,

who must be a mighty magician because he’s

all made of tin, and yet he’s alive. And that

way,” pointing with the other hand, “the river

runs between two mountains where dangerous

people dwell.”

The Scarecrow looked at the water before them.

“The current flows toward the Winkie Country”’

said he; “and so, if we had a boat, or a raft, the

river would float us there more quickly and more

easily than we could walk.”

“That is true,” agreed Dorothy; and then they

all looked thoughtful and wondered what could

be done.

“Why can’t the man make us a raft?” asked Ojo.

“Will you?” inquired Dorothy, turning to the

Quadling.

The chubby man shook his head.

“I’m too lazy,” he said. “My wife says I’m the

laziest man in all Oz, and she is a truthful

woman. I hate work of any kind, and making a raft

is hard work.”

“I’ll give you my em’rald ring,” promised the

girl.

“No; I don’t care for emeralds. If it were a

ruby, which is the color I like best, I might work

a little while.”

“I’ve got some Square Meal Tablets,” said the

Scarecrow. “Each one is the same as a dish of

soup, a fried fish, a mutton pot-pie, lobster

salad, charlotte russe and lemon jelly—all made

into one little tablet that you can swallow

without trouble.”

“Without trouble!” exclaimed the Quadling,

much interested; “then those tablets would be

fine for a lazy man. It’s such hard work to chew

when you eat.”

“I’ll give you six of those tablets if you’ll

help us make a raft,” promised the Scarecrow.

“They’re a combination of food which people who

eat are very fond of. I never eat, you know, being

straw; but some of my friends eat regularly. What

do you say to my offer, Quadling?”

“I’ll do it,” decided the man. “I’ll help, and

you can do most of the work. But my wife has

gone fishing for red eels to-day, so some of you

will have to mind the children.”

Scraps promised to do that, and the children

were not so shy when the Patchwork Girl sat

down to play with them. They grew to like

Toto, too, and the little dog allowed them to

pat him on his head, which gave the little ones

much joy.

There were a number of fallen trees near the

house and the Quadling got his axe and chopped

them into logs of equal length. He took his wife’s

clothesline to bind these logs together, so that

they would form a raft, and Ojo found some strips

of wood and nailed them along the tops of the

logs, to render them more firm. The Scarecrow and

Dorothy helped roll the logs together and carry

the strips of wood, but it took so long to make

the raft that evening came just as it was

finished, and with evening the Quadling’s wife

returned from her fishing.

The woman proved to be cross and bad-tempered,

perhaps because she had only caught one red eel

during all the day. When she found that her

husband had used her clothesline, and the logs she

had wanted for firewood, and the boards she had

intended to mend the shed with, and a lot of gold

nails, she became very angry. Scraps wanted to

shake the woman, to make her behave, but Dorothy

talked to her in a gentle tone and told the

Quadling’s wife she was a Princess of Oz and a

friend of Ozma and that when she got back to the

Emerald City she would send them a lot of things

to repay them for the raft, including a new

clothesline. This promise pleased the woman and

she soon became more pleasant, saying they could

stay the night at her house and begin their voyage

on the river next morning.

This they did, spending a pleasant evening

with the Quadling family and being entertained

with such hospitality as the poor people were

able to offer them. The man groaned a good

deal and said he had overworked himself by

chopping the logs, but the Scarecrow gave him

two more tablets than he had promised, which

seemed to comfort the lazy fellow.