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"It was a shame that I broke my
other leg!" it growled. "On the contrary," airily
remarked the Woggle-Bug, who was walking alongside, "you should
consider
the accident most fortunate. For a horse is never of much use until he
has been
broken." "I beg your pardon," said Tip,
rather provoked, for he felt a warm interest in both the Saw-Horse and
his man
Jack; "but permit me to say that your joke is a poor one, and as old as
it
is poor." "Still, it is a Joke," declared
the Woggle-Bug; firmly, "and a Joke derived from a play upon words is
considered among educated people to be eminently proper." "What does that mean?" enquired
the Pumpkinhead, stupidly. "It means, my dear friend,"
explained the Woggle-Bug, "that our language contains many words having
a
double meaning; and that to pronounce a joke that allows both meanings
of a
certain word, proves the joker a person of culture and refinement, who
has,
moreover, a thorough command of the language." "I don't believe that," said
Tip, plainly; "anybody can make a pun." "Not so," rejoined the
Woggle-Bug, stiffly. "It requires education of a high order. Are you
educated, young sir?" "Not especially," admitted Tip. "Then you cannot judge the matter. I
myself am Thoroughly Educated, and I say that puns display genius. For
instance, were I to ride upon this Saw- Horse, he would not only be an
animal
he would become an equipage. For he would then be a horse-and-buggy." At this the Scarecrow gave a gasp and the
Tin Woodman stopped short and looked reproachfully at the Woggle-Bug.
At the
same time the Saw-Horse loudly snorted his derision; and even the
Pumpkinhead
put up his hand to hide the smile which, because it was carved upon his
face,
he could not change to a frown. But the Woggle-Bug strutted along as if
he had made some brilliant remark, and the Scarecrow was obliged to
say: "I have heard, my dear friend, that
a person can become over-educated; and although I have a high respect
for
brains, no matter how they may be arranged or classified, I begin to
suspect
that yours are slightly tangled. In any event, I must beg you to
restrain your
superior education while in our society." "We are not very particular,"
added the Tin Woodman; "and we are exceedingly kind hearted. But if
your
superior culture gets leaky again — " He did not complete the sentence,
but he twirled his gleaming axe so carelessly that the Woggle-Bug
looked
frightened, and shrank away to a safe distance. The others marched on in silence, and the
Highly Magnified one, after a period of deep thought, said in an humble
voice: "I will endeavor to restrain myself." "That is all we can expect,"
returned the Scarecrow pleasantly; and good nature being thus happily
restored
to the party, they proceeded upon their way. When they again stopped to allow Tip to
rest — the boy being the only one that seemed to tire — the Tin Woodman
noticed
many small, round holes in the grassy meadow. "This must be a village of the Field
Mice," he said to the Scarecrow." I wonder if my old friend, the
Queen of the Mice, is in this neighborhood." "If she is, she may be of great
service to us," answered the Scarecrow, who was impressed by a sudden
thought. "See if you can call her, my dear Nick." So the Tin Woodman blew a shrill note
upon a silver whistle that hung around his neck, and presently a tiny
grey
mouse popped from a near-by hole and advanced fearlessly toward them.
For the
Tin Woodman had once saved her life, and the Queen of the Field Mice
knew he
was to be trusted." "Good day, your Majesty, said Nick,
politely addressing the mouse; "I trust you are enjoying good
health?" "Thank you, I am quite well,"
answered the Queen, demurely, as she sat up and displayed the tiny
golden crown
upon her head. "Can I do anything to assist my old friends?" "You can, indeed," replied the
Scarecrow, eagerly. "Let me, I intreat you, take a dozen of your
subjects
with me to the Emerald City." "Will they be injured in any
way?" asked the Queen, doubtfully. "I think not," replied the
Scarecrow. "I will carry them hidden in the straw which stuffs my body,
and when I give them the signal by unbuttoning my jacket, they have
only to
rush out and scamper home again as fast as they can. By doing this they
will
assist me to regain my throne, which the Army of Revolt has taken from
me." "In that case," said the Queen,
"I will not refuse your request. Whenever you are ready, I will call
twelve of my most intelligent subjects." "I am ready now" returned the
Scarecrow. Then he lay flat upon the ground and unbuttoned his jacket,
displaying the mass of straw with which he was stuffed. The mice hide themselves in the straw of his breast. What the Queen said to them none of our
travelers could understand, for it was in the mouse language; but the
field
mice obeyed without hesitation, running one after the other to the
Scarecrow
and hiding themselves in the straw of his breast. When all of the twelve mice had thus
concealed themselves, the Scarecrow buttoned his Jacket securely and
then arose
and thanked the Queen for her kindness. "One thing more you might do to
serve us," suggested the Tin Woodman; "and that is to run ahead and
show us the way to the Emerald City. For some enemy is evidently trying
to
prevent us from reaching it." "I will do that gladly,"
returned the Queen. "Are you ready?" The Tin Woodman looked at Tip. "I'm rested," said the boy.
"Let us start." Then they resumed their journey, the
little grey Queen of the Field Mice
running
swiftly ahead and then pausing until the travelers drew near, when away
she
would dart again. Without this unerring guide the Scarecrow
and his comrades might never have gained the Emerald City; for many
were the
obstacles thrown in their way by the arts of old Mombi. Yet not one of
the
obstacles really existed — all were cleverly contrived deceptions. For
when
they came to the banks of a rushing river that threatened to bar their
way the
little Queen kept steadily on, passing through the seeming flood in
safety; and
our travelers followed her without encountering a single drop of water.
Again, a high wall of granite towered
high above their heads and opposed their advance. But the grey Field
Mouse
walked straight through it, and the others did the same, the wall
melting into
mist as they passed it. Afterward, when they had stopped for a
moment to allow Tip to rest, they saw forty roads branching off from
their feet
in forty different directions; and soon these forty roads began
whirling around
like a mighty wheel, first in one direction and then in the other,
completely
bewildering their vision. But the Queen called for them to follow
her and darted off in a straight line; and when they had gone a few
paces the
whirling pathways vanished and were seen no more. Mombi's last trick was the most fearful
of all. She sent a sheet of crackling flame rushing over the meadow to
consume
them; and for the first time the Scarecrow became afraid and turned to
fly. "If that fire reaches me I will be
gone in no time!" said he, trembling until his straw rattled. "It's
the most dangerous thing I ever encountered." "I'm off, too!" cried the
Saw-Horse, turning and prancing with agitation; "for my wood is so dry
it
would burn like kindlings." "Is fire dangerous to pumpkins?"
asked Jack, fearfully. "You'll be baked like a tart — and
so will I!" answered the Woggle-Bug, getting down on all fours so he
could
run the faster. But the Tin Woodman, having no fear of
fire, averted the stampede by a few sensible words. "Look at the Field Mouse!" he
shouted. "The fire does not burn her in the least. In fact, it is no
fire
at all, but only a deception." Indeed, to watch the little Queen march
calmly through the advancing flames restored courage to every member of
the
party, and they followed her without being even scorched. "This is surely a most extraordinary
adventure," said the Woggle-Bug, who was greatly amazed; "for it
upsets all the Natural Laws that I heard Professor Nowitall teach in
the
school-house." "Of course it does," said the
Scarecrow, wisely. "All magic is unnatural, and for that reason is to
be
feared and avoided. But I see before us the gates of the Emerald City,
so I
imagine we have now overcome all the magical obstacles that seemed to
oppose us." Indeed, the walls of the City were
plainly visible, and the Queen of the Field Mice, who had guided them
so
faithfully, came near to bid them good- bye. "We are very grateful to your
Majesty for your kind assistance," said the Tin Woodman, bowing before
the
pretty creature. "I am always pleased to be of
service to my friends," answered the Queen, and in a flash she had
darted
away upon her journey home. |