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personal maid. The other was Betsy Bobbin, who had
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been invited to the palace for the day.
Betsy was shipwrecked with Hank the Mule long
years ago. After many strange adventures, Betsy and
Hank had arrived in Oz, where they were soon made
to feel at home.
"Well, look who's here!" cried Jellia, running to the
Sawhorse to stroke its smooth wooden back.
Betsy went around to the side of the wagon and
exclaimed,
"What ails the Tin Woodman? He looks petrified."
"Cake's sake!" said Jellia, seeing Nick's condition.
"I'd say he looks ozzified."
"He certainly is ozzified," said Betsy. "Is there
anything we can do, Scarecrow?"
"Get an oilcan," the Scarecrow said promptly.
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry! Only this morning we were
searching for an oilcan to oil a sewing machine. But
we couldn't find one anywhere."
"Of course there must be many oilcans in the tower,
in the Wizard's workroom. But no one is allowed in
there," said Jellia.
"That's right," added Betsy. "Number Nine and a
big clock flew away from there a while ago."
"Foiled, instead of oiled!" said the Scraecrow. "Poor
Nick. He must be getting tired of stooping over like
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that."
The Scarecrow put his arm around his friend the
Woodman.
"Oh, the poor thing!" cried the kind-hearted Jellia,
bursting into tears. "We must do something! How I
wish dear Ozma were here. She'd produce an oilcan
by magic."
"Then we must go to Ozma," spoke Betsy decidedly.
"Right straight to Glinda's, where our queen now is."
"That's right," Jellia said, nodding her head so that
her tears sprinkled the head of the Scarecrow.
"Careful, please," warned the Scarecrow. "I'm not
much of a thinker when my brains get soaked.
Betsy climbed into the red wagon. "Come on, Jel-
lia," she said. "We'll all go to Glinda's and see Ozma."
"I've been wanting to do that all day," confessed
Jellia, her tears changing to a smile.
When the two girls were seated in the red wagon,
the Sawhorse started out of the palace. This time he
ran sensibly through the streets, not alarming anyone.
At the gate of the city, they met an obstacle. It
was the Guardian, who said,
"Ah hoz, there you are! Stop, villain! What have
you done with my friend, the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers? His marbles are waiting for him."
"I don't know anything about any soldier," the Saw-
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horse said with dignity. "Kindly let me pass."
"No, indeed. You made the animals run away. The
Soldier will put you in the Dungeon of Oblivion for
that!"
Jellia leaned forward and said coaxingly, "If you
let us out, we'll find the animals and tell them to come
back."
Just then the Soldier with the Green Whiskers came
running, pointing his blunt musket at the Sawhorse.
"Stop, in the name of the Army of Oz!" cried the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers. "You have caused
a riot, disturbed the peace, and made the animals es-
cape."
"What do you mean to do to me?" asked the Saw-
horse.
The Soldier appeared to think for some moments.
Then he said, "I know a fitting punishment. You will
let me defeat you at a game of marbles."
"Marbles!" snorted the Sawhorse. "Are you trying
to insult me? I'll never play marbles as long as I live!"
"Do you prefer the dungeon?" thundered the Sol-
dier.
"I'd prefer that you mind your own business," cried
the Sawhorse. Then, before anyone could say OZ! he
dashed away, carrying the red wagon through the city
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gate.
Down the road he ran, faster than he had ever run
before. As he ran he thought indignantly,
"Arrest me, indeed! What had I done? I was only
trying to save Jenny. JENNY! I ALMOST FORGOT
HER!"
And with that, the animal doubled its speed, flying
so that it scarcely touched the ground.
It was not long before it overtook the other animals,
lumbering along the road.
As the flying Sawhorse came near, the animals shied
and reared, then broke and ran.
The entire herd was heading toward the red country
of the Quadlings. Seeing this, the Scarecrow said with
satisfaction, "That's fine! We'll soon all be at the pal-
ace of Glinda the Good."
CHAPTER 13
Save the Scalawagons"
JENNY said cheerfully, "Even if you can't fly
through the air, I think it can be done."
"What can be done?" inquired Number Nine.
"You can fly through the air."
"You mean, even if we can't?" asked the clock.
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"Yes. We must get away from this Lolly-Pop vil-
lage, over to the Sandy Waste. That's our best chance
to rescue the scalawagons," said Jenny.
"But you haven't explained where our wings are
coming from," grumbled the clock. There was a look
of mistrust on its face. It was scowling so fiercely that
its hands were crossed.
Jenny said, "Once I jumped in the Winkie Woods
holding the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman by the
hand. This time we have more in the party. For we
can't leave Tik-Tok behind."
"Oh-no,-please-don't," said Tik-Tok anxiously.
"Well, I'm sure if anyone is to be left, it can't be I.
I am much too important," said the clock, drawing it-
self up and scowling at Tik-Tok.
Jenny burst out laughing. "Can you reach out one
of those hands and hold mine? Then give your other
hand to Tik-Tok. And you, Number Nine, hold my
other hand."
The boy and the clock each took hold of one of
Jenny's hands. And the clock gave its other hand to
Tik-Tok, who stood swinging his rubber hammer.
"Now, then, hold on for your life!" exclaimed Jenny
and she stamped her fairy foot against the ground.
The next moment all four were sailing upward,
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borne on Jenny's magical foot.
"Whee-ee-ee!" cried the clock, its wheels whirring
around dizzily. "Even the ambassa-door wasn't so
abrupt. This upward movement is quite different from
the clockwise motion."
"You'll be a wise clock if you keep silent and just
hold on," cautioned Number Nine.
They were traveling so fast that the wind began to
whistle through the boy's breeches.
Jenny laughed, "That reminds me of those whistle-
breeches we made for you last year, when you helped
me in my style shop."
"They were supposed to make me hurry," said Num-
ber Nine, smiling at himself.
"Well, you're hurrying now," said the clock. "Good-
ness me! I wish I were standing peacefully in the hall
of the tower."
"What good is a clock that stands still?" said Jenny.
"We aren't any good if we're too fast, either," said
the clock. "Who ever heard of time flying?"
"Your hands aren't where they should be, so you're
speaking quite pointlessly," said Jenny.
"Furthermore," put in Number Nine, "One can't
tell time by you. I wonder how far that desert is?"
"Time will tell," said the clock impertinently.
Tik-Tok, who had been silent all this while, suddenly
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tocked, "Some-thing-down-be-low !"
All three looked downward, and saw that they were [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]