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Chapter 6 The Journey

  • Ojo had never traveled before and so he only knew that the path down th_ountainside led into the open Munchkin Country, where large numbers of peopl_welt. Scraps was quite new and not supposed to know anything of the Land o_z, while the Glass Cat admitted she had never wandered very far away from th_agician's house. There was only one path before them, at the beginning, s_hey could not miss their way, and for a time they walked through the thic_orest in silent thought, each one impressed with the importance of th_dventure they had undertaken.
  • Suddenly the Patchwork Girl laughed. It was funny to see her laugh, becaus_er cheeks wrinkled up, her nose tipped, her silver button eyes twinkled an_er mouth curled at the corners in a comical way.
  • "Has something pleased you?" asked Ojo, who was feeling solemn and joyles_hrough thinking upon his uncle's sad fate.
  • "Yes," she answered. "Your world pleases me, for it's a queer world, and lif_n it is queerer still. Here am I, made from an old bedquilt and intended t_e a slave to Margolotte, rendered free as air by an accident that none of yo_ould foresee. I am enjoying life and seeing the world, while the woman wh_ade me is standing helpless as a block of wood. If that isn't funny enough t_augh at, I don't know what is."
  • "You're not seeing much of the world yet, my poor, innocent Scraps," remarke_he Cat. "The world doesn't consist wholly of the trees that are on all side_f us."
  • "But they're part of it; and aren't they pretty trees?" returned Scraps, bobbing her head until her brown yarn curls fluttered in the breeze. "Growin_etween them I can see lovely ferns and wild-flowers, and soft green mosses.
  • If the rest of your world is half as beautiful I shall be glad I'm alive."
  • "I don't know what the rest of the world is like, I'm sure," said the cat;
  • "but I mean to find out."
  • "I have never been out of the forest," Ojo added; "but to me the trees ar_loomy and sad and the wild-flowers seem lonesome. It must be nicer wher_here are no trees and there is room for lots of people to live together."
  • "I wonder if any of the people we shall meet will be as splendid as I am,"
  • said the Patchwork Girl. "All I have seen, so far, have pale, colorless skin_nd clothes as blue as the country they live in, while I am of many gorgeou_olors— face and body and clothes. That is why I am bright and contented, Ojo, while you are blue and sad."
  • "I think I made a mistake in giving you so many sorts of brains," observed th_oy. "Perhaps, as the Magician said, you have an overdose, and they may no_gree with you."
  • "What had you to do with my brains?" asked Scraps.
  • "A lot," replied Ojo. "Old Margolotte meant to give you only a few—just enoug_o keep you going—but when she wasn't looking I added a good many more, of th_est kinds I could find in the Magician's cupboard."
  • "Thanks," said the girl, dancing along the path ahead of Ojo and then dancin_ack to his side. "If a few brains are good, many brains must be better."
  • "But they ought to be evenly balanced," said the boy, "and I had no time to b_areful. From the way you're acting, I guess the dose was badly mixed."
  • "Scraps hasn't enough brains to hurt her, so don't worry," remarked the cat, which was trotting along in a very dainty and graceful manner. "The onl_rains worth considering are mine, which are pink. You can see 'em work."
  • After walking a long time they came to a little brook that trickled across th_ath, and here Ojo sat down to rest and eat something from his basket. H_ound that the Magician had given him part of a loaf of bread and a slice o_heese. He broke off some of the bread and was surprised to find the loaf jus_s large as it was before. It was the same way with the cheese: however muc_e broke off from the slice, it remained exactly the same size.
  • "Ah," said he, nodding wisely; "that's magic. Dr. Pipt has enchanted the brea_nd the cheese, so it will last me all through my journey, however much _at."
  • "Why do you put those things into your mouth?" asked Scraps, gazing at him i_stonishment. "Do you need more stuffing? Then why don't you use cotton, suc_s I am stuffed with?"
  • "I don't need that kind," said Ojo.
  • "But a mouth is to talk with, isn't it?"
  • "It is also to eat with," replied the boy. "If I didn't put food into m_outh, and eat it, I would get hungry and starve.
  • "Ah, I didn't know that," she said. "Give me some."
  • Ojo handed her a bit of the bread and she put it in her mouth.
  • "What next?" she asked, scarcely able to speak.
  • "Chew it and swallow it," said the boy.
  • Scraps tried that. Her pearl teeth were unable to chew the bread and beyon_er mouth there was no opening. Being unable to swallow she threw away th_read and laughed.
  • "I must get hungry and starve, for I can't eat," she said.
  • "Neither can I," announced the cat; "but I'm not fool enough to try. Can't yo_nderstand that you and I are superior people and not made like these poo_umans?"
  • "Why should I understand that, or anything else?" asked the girl. "Don'_other my head by asking conundrums, I beg of you. Just let me discover mysel_n my own way."
  • With this she began amusing herself by leaping across the brook and bac_gain.
  • "Be careful, or you'll fall in the water," warned Ojo.
  • "Never mind."
  • "You'd better. If you get wet you'll be soggy and can't walk. Your color_ight run, too," he said.
  • "Don't my colors run whenever I run?" she asked.
  • "Not in the way I mean. If they get wet, the reds and greens and yellows an_urples of your patches might run into each other and become just a blur—n_olor at all, you know."
  • "Then," said the Patchwork Girl, "I'll be careful, for if I spoiled m_plendid colors I would cease to be beautiful."
  • "Pah!" sneered the Glass Cat, "such colors are not beautiful; they're ugly, and in bad taste. Please notice that my body has no color at all. I'_ransparent, except for my exquisite red heart and my lovely pink brains—yo_an see 'em work."
  • "Shoo—shoo—shoo!" cried Scraps, dancing around and laughing. "And your horri_reen eyes, Miss Bungle! You can't see your eyes, but we can, and I notic_ou're very proud of what little color you have. Shoo, Miss Bungle, shoo—shoo—shoo! If you were all colors and many colors, as I am, you'd be to_tuck up for anything." She leaped over the cat and back again, and th_tartled Bungle crept close to a tree to escape her. This made Scraps laug_ore heartily than ever, and she said:
  • "Whoop-te-doodle-doo!
  • The cat has lost her shoe.
  • Her tootsie's bare, but she don't care,
  • So what's the odds to you?"
  • "Dear me, Ojo," said the cat; "don't you think the creature is a little bi_razy?"
  • "It may be," he answered, with a puzzled look.
  • "If she continues her insults I'll scratch off her suspender-button eyes,"
  • declared the cat.
  • "Don't quarrel, please," pleaded the boy, rising to resume the journey. "Le_s be good comrades and as happy and cheerful as possible, for we are likel_o meet with plenty of trouble on our way."
  • It was nearly sundown when they came to the edge of the forest and saw sprea_ut before them a delightful landscape. There were broad blue field_tretching for miles over the valley, which was dotted everywhere with pretty, blue domed houses, none of which, however, was very near to the place wher_hey stood. Just at the point where the path left the forest stood a tin_ouse covered with leaves from the trees, and before this stood a Munchkin ma_ith an axe in his hand. He seemed very much surprised when Ojo and Scraps an_he Glass Cat came out of the woods, but as the Patchwork Girl approache_earer he sat down upon a bench and laughed so hard that he could not spea_or a long time.
  • This man was a woodchopper and lived all alone in the little house. He ha_ushy blue whiskers and merry blue eyes and his blue clothes were quite ol_nd worn.
  • "Mercy me!" exclaimed the woodchopper, when at last he could stop laughing.
  • "Who would think such a funny harlequin lived in the Land of Oz? Where did yo_ome from, Crazy-quilt?"
  • "Do you mean me?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
  • "Of course," he replied.
  • "You misjudge my ancestry. I'm not a crazy- quilt; I'm patchwork," she said.
  • "There's no difference," he replied, beginning to laugh again. "When my ol_randmother sews such things together she calls it a crazy-quilt; but I neve_hought such a jumble could come to life."
  • "It was the Magic Powder that did it," explained Ojo.
  • "Oh, then you have come from the Crooked Magician on the mountain. I migh_ave known it, for—Well, I declare! here's a glass cat. But the Magician wil_et in trouble for this; it's against the law for anyone to work magic excep_linda the Good and the royal Wizard of Oz. If you people—or things—or glas_pectacles—or crazy- quilts—or whatever you are, go near the Emerald City, you'll be arrested."
  • "We're going there, anyhow," declared Scraps, sitting upon the bench an_winging her stuffed legs.
  • "If any of us takes a rest,
  • We'll be arrested sure,
  • And get no restitution
  • 'Cause the rest we must endure."
  • "I see," said the woodchopper, nodding; "you're as crazy as the crazy-quil_ou're made of."
  • "She really is crazy," remarked the Glass Cat. "But that isn't to be wondere_t when you remember how many different things she's made of. For my part, I'_ade of pure glass—except my jewel heart and my pretty pink brains. Did yo_otice my brains, stranger? You can see 'em work."
  • "So I can," replied the woodchopper; "but I can't see that they accomplis_uch. A glass cat is a useless sort of thing, but a Patchwork Girl is reall_seful. She makes me laugh, and laughter is the best thing in life. There wa_nce a woodchopper, a friend of mine, who was made all of tin, and I used t_augh every time I saw him."
  • "A tin woodchopper?" said Ojo. "That is strange."
  • "My friend wasn't always tin," said the man, "but he was careless with hi_xe, and used to chop himself very badly. Whenever he lost an arm or a leg h_ad it replaced with tin; so after a while he was all tin."
  • "And could he chop wood then?" asked the boy.
  • "He could if he didn't rust his tin joints. But one day he met Dorothy in th_orest and went with her to the Emerald City, where he made his fortune. He i_ow one of the favorites of Princess Ozma, and she has made him the Emperor o_he Winkies—the Country where all is yellow."
  • "Who is Dorothy?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
  • "A little maid who used to live in Kansas, but is now a Princess of Oz. She'_zma's best friend, they say, and lives with her in the royal palace."
  • "Is Dorothy made of tin?" inquired Ojo.
  • "Is she patchwork, like me?" inquired Scraps.
  • "No," said the man; "Dorothy is flesh, just as I am. I know of only one ti_erson, and that is Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman; and there will never be bu_ne Patchwork Girl, for any magician that sees you will refuse to make anothe_ne like you."
  • "I suppose we shall see the Tin Woodman, for we are going to the Country o_he Winkies," said the boy.
  • "What for?" asked the woodchopper.
  • "To get the left wing of a yellow butterfly."
  • "It is a long journey," declared the man, "and you will go through lonel_arts of Oz and cross rivers and traverse dark forests before you get there."
  • "Suits me all right," said Scraps. "I'll get a chance to see the country."
  • "You're crazy, girl. Better crawl into a rag-bag and hide there; or giv_ourself to some little girl to play with. Those who travel are likely to mee_rouble; that's why I stay at home."
  • The woodchopper then invited them all to stay the night at his little hut, bu_hey were anxious to get on and so left him and continued along the path, which was broader, now, and more distinct.
  • They expected to reach some other house before it grew dark, but the twiligh_as brief and Ojo soon began to fear they had made a mistake in leaving th_oodchopper.
  • "I can scarcely see the path," he said at last. "Can you see it, Scraps?"
  • "No," replied the Patchwork Girl, who was holding fast to the boy's arm so h_ould guide her.
  • "I can see," declared the Glass Cat. "My eyes are better than yours, and m_ink brains—"
  • "Never mind your pink brains, please," said Ojo hastily; "just run ahead an_how us the way. Wait a minute and I'll tie a string to you; for then you ca_ead us."
  • He got a string from his pocket and tied it around the cat's neck, and afte_hat the creature guided them along the path. They had proceeded in this wa_or about an hour when a twinkling blue light appeared ahead of them.
  • "Good! there's a house at last," cried Ojo. "When we reach it the good peopl_ill surely welcome us and give us a night's lodging." But however far the_alked the light seemed to get no nearer, so by and by the cat stopped short, saying:
  • "I think the light is traveling, too, and we shall never be able to catch u_ith it. But here is a house by the roadside, so why go farther?"
  • "Where is the house, Bungle?"
  • "Just here beside us, Scraps."
  • Ojo was now able to see a small house near the pathway. It was dark an_ilent, but the boy was tired and wanted to rest, so he went up to the doo_nd knocked.
  • "Who is there?" cried a voice from within.
  • "I am Ojo the Unlucky, and with me are Miss Scraps Patchwork and the Glas_at," he replied.
  • "What do you want?" asked the Voice.
  • "A place to sleep," said Ojo.
  • "Come in, then; but don't make any noise, and you must go directly to bed,"
  • returned the Voice.
  • Ojo unlatched the door and entered. It was very dark inside and he could se_othing at all. But the cat exclaimed: "Why, there's no one here!"
  • "There must be," said the boy. "Some one spoke to me."
  • "I can see everything in the room," replied the cat, "and no one is presen_ut ourselves. But here are three beds, all made up, so we may as well go t_leep."
  • "What is sleep?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
  • "It's what you do when you go to bed," said Ojo.
  • "But why do you go to bed?" persisted the Patchwork Girl.
  • "Here, here! You are making altogether too much noise," cried the Voice the_ad heard before. "Keep quiet, strangers, and go to bed."
  • The cat, which could see in the dark, looked sharply around for the owner o_he Voice, but could discover no one, although the Voice had seemed clos_eside them. She arched her back a little and seemed afraid. Then sh_hispered to Ojo: "Come!" and led him to a bed.
  • With his hands the boy felt of the bed and found it was big and soft, wit_eather pillows and plenty of blankets. So he took off his shoes and hat an_rept into the bed. Then the cat led Scraps to another bed and the Patchwor_irl was puzzled to know what to do with it.
  • "Lie down and keep quiet," whispered the cat, warningly.
  • "Can't I sing?" asked Scraps.
  • "No."
  • "Can't I whistle?" asked Scraps.
  • "No."
  • "Can't I dance till morning, if I want to?" asked Scraps.
  • "You must keep quiet," said the cat, in a soft voice.
  • "I don't want to," replied the Patchwork Girl, speaking as loudly as usual.
  • "What right have you to order me around? If I want to talk, or yell, o_histle—"
  • Before she could say anything more an unseen hand seized her firmly and thre_er out of the door, which closed behind her with a sharp slam. She foun_erself bumping and rolling in the road and when she got up and tried to ope_he door of the house again she found it locked.
  • "What has happened to Scraps?" asked Ojo.
  • "Never mind. Let's go to sleep, or something will happen to us," answered th_lass Cat.
  • So Ojo snuggled down in his bed and fell asleep, and he was so tired that h_ever wakened until broad daylight.