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the Tin Woodman.

      “No news to make me sad,” replied the Scarecrow.

      Then Nick Chopper told his friend of the Nome King’s tunnel, and how the evil creatures of the North had allied themselves with the underground monarch for the purpose of conquering and destroying Oz. “Well,” said the Scarecrow, “it certainly looks bad for Ozma, and all of us. But I believe it is wrong to worry over anything before it happens. It is surely time enough to be sad when our country is despoiled and our people made slaves. So let us not deprive ourselves of the few happy hours remaining to us.”

      “Ah! that is real wisdom,” declared the Shaggy Man, approvingly. “After we become really unhappy we shall regret these few hours that are left to us, unless we enjoy them to the utmost.”

      “Nevertheless,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall go with you to the Emerald City and offer Ozma my services.”

      “She says we can do nothing to oppose our enemies,” announced the Tin Woodman.

      “And doubtless she is right, sir,” answered the Scarecrow. “Still, she will appreciate our sympathy, and it is the duty of Ozma’s friends to stand by her side when the final disaster occurs.”

      He then led them into his queer mansion and showed them the beautiful rooms in all the five stories. The lower room was a grand reception hall, with a hand-organ in one corner. This instrument the Scarecrow, when alone, could turn to amuse himself, as he was very fond of music. The walls were hung with white silk, upon which flocks of black crows were embroidered in black diamonds. Some of the chairs were made in the shape of big crows and upholstered with cushions of corn-colored silk.

      The second story contained a fine banquet room, where the Scarecrow might entertain his guests, and the three stories above that were bedchambers exquisitely furnished and decorated.

      “From these rooms,” said the Scarecrow, proudly, “one may obtain fine views of the surrounding cornfields. The corn I grow is always husky, and I call the ears my regiments, because they have so many kernels. Of course I cannot ride my cobs, but I really don’t care shucks about that. Taken altogether, my farm will stack up with any in the neighborhood.”

      The visitors partook of some light refreshment and then hurried away to resume the road to the Emerald City. The Scarecrow found a seat in the wagon between Omby Amby and the Shaggy Man, and his weight did not add much to the load because he was stuffed with straw.

      “You will notice I have one oat-field on my property,” he remarked, as they drove away. “Oat-straw is, I have found, the best of all straws to restuff myself with when my interior gets musty or out of shape.”

      “Are you able to restuff yourself without help?” asked Aunt Em. “I should think that after the straw was taken out of you there wouldn’t be anything left but your clothes.”

      “You are almost correct, madam,” he answered. “My servants do the stuffing, under my direction. For my head, in which are my excellent brains, is a bag tied at the bottom. My face is neatly painted upon one side of the bag, as you may see. My head does not need restuffing, as my body does, for all that it requires is to have the face touched up with fresh paint occasionally.”

      It was not far from the Scarecrow’s mansion to the farm of Jack Pumpkinhead, and when they arrived there both Uncle Henry and Aunt Em were much impressed. The farm was one vast pumpkin field, and some of the pumpkins were of enormous size. In one of them, which had been neatly hollowed out, Jack himself lived, and he declared that it was a very comfortable residence. The reason he grew so many pumpkins was in order that he might change his head as often as it became wrinkled or threatened to spoil.

      The pumpkinheaded man welcomed his visitors joyfully and offered them several delicious pumpkin pies to eat.

      “I don’t indulge in pumpkin pies myself, for two reasons,” he said. “One reason is that were I to eat pumpkins I would become a cannibal, and the other reason is that I never eat, not being hollow inside.”

      “Very good reasons,” agreed the Scarecrow.

      They told Jack Pumpkinhead of the dreadful news about the Nome King, and he decided to go with them to the Emerald City and help comfort Ozma.

      “I had expected to live here in ease and comfort for many centuries,” said Jack, dolefully; “but of course if the Nome King destroys everything in Oz I shall be destroyed too. Really, it seems too bad, doesn’t it?”

      They were soon on their journey again, and so swiftly did the Sawhorse draw the wagon over the smooth roads that before twilight fell they had reached the royal palace in the Emerald City, and were at their journey’s end.

      26. How Ozma Refused to Fight for Her Kingdom

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      Ozma was in her rose garden picking a bouquet when the party arrived, and she greeted all her old and new friends as smilingly and sweetly as ever.

      Dorothy’s eyes were full of tears as she kissed the lovely Ruler of Oz, and she whispered to her:

      “Oh, Ozma, Ozma! I’m SO sorry!”

      Ozma seemed surprised.

      “Sorry for what, Dorothy?” she asked.

      “For all your trouble about the Nome King,” was the reply.

      Ozma laughed with genuine amusement.

      “Why, that has not troubled me a bit, dear Princess,” she replied. Then, looking around at the sad faces of her friends, she added: “Have you all been worrying about this tunnel?”

      “We have!” they exclaimed in a chorus.

      “Well, perhaps it is more serious than I imagined,” admitted the fair Ruler; “but I haven’t given the matter much thought. After dinner we will all meet together and talk it over.”

      So they went to their rooms and prepared for dinner, and Dorothy dressed herself in her prettiest gown and put on her coronet, for she thought that this might be the last time she would ever appear as a Princess of Oz.

      The Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and Jack Pumpkinhead all sat at the dinner table, although none of them was made so he could eat. Usually they served to enliven the meal with their merry talk, but tonight all seemed strangely silent and uneasy.

      As soon as the dinner was finished Ozma led the company to her own private room in which hung the Magic Picture. When they had seated themselves the Scarecrow was the first to speak.

      “Is the Nome King’s tunnel finished, Ozma?” he asked.

      “It was completed to-day,” she replied. “They have built it right under my palace grounds, and it ends in front of the Forbidden Fountain. Nothing but a crust of earth remains to separate our enemies from us, and when they march here, they will easily break through this crust and rush upon us.”

      “Who will assist the Nome King?” inquired the Scarecrow.

      “The Whimsies, the Growleywogs and the Phanfasms,” she replied. “I watched to-day in my Magic Picture the messengers whom the Nome King sent to all these people to summon them to assemble in his great caverns.”

      “Let us see what they are doing now,” suggested the Tin Woodman.

      So Ozma wished to see the Nome King’s cavern, and at once the landscape faded from the Magic Picture and was replaced by the scene then being enacted in the jeweled cavern of King Roquat.

      A wild and startling scene it was which the Oz people beheld.

      Before the Nome King stood the Chief of the Whimsies and the Grand Gallipoot of the Growleywogs, surrounded by their most skillful generals. Very fierce and powerful they looked, so that even the Nome King and General Guph, who stood beside his master, seemed a bit fearful in the presence of their allies.

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