LITMIR.BIZ

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and the Gump is probably carrying us further in the wrong direction with every flop of its wings.”

      “Then the WoggleBug must swallow another pill,” said Tip, decidedly, “and wish us headed in the right direction.”

      “Very well,” returned the Highly Magnified one; “I’m willing.”

      But when the Scarecrow searched in his pocket for the pepperbox containing the two silver Wishing Pills, it was not to be found. Filled with anxiety, the voyagers hunted throughout every inch of the Thing for the precious box; but it had disappeared entirely.

      And still the Gump flew onward, carrying them they knew not where.

      “I must have left the pepperbox in the Jackdaws’ nest,” said the Scarecrow, at length.

      “It is a great misfortune,” the Tin Woodman declared. “But we are no worse off than before we discovered the Wishing Pills.”

      “We are better off,” replied Tip. “for the one pill we used has enabled us to escape from that horrible nest.”

      “Yet the loss of the other two is serious, and I deserve a good scolding for my carelessness,” the Scarecrow rejoined, penitently. “For in such an unusual party as this accidents are liable to happen any moment, and even now we may be approaching a new danger.”

      No one dared contradict this, and a dismal silence ensued.

      The Gump flew steadily on.

      Suddenly Tip uttered an exclamation of surprise. “We must have reached the South Country,” he cried, “for below us everything is red!”

      Immediately they all leaned over the backs of the sofas to look—all except Jack, who was too careful of his pumpkin head to risk its slipping off his neck. Sure enough; the red houses and fences and trees indicated they were within the domain of Glinda the Good; and presently, as they glided rapidly on, the Tin Woodman recognized the roads and buildings they passed, and altered slightly the flight of the Gump so that they might reach the palace of the celebrated Sorceress.

      “Good!” cried the Scarecrow, delightedly. “We do not need the lost Wishing Pills now, for we have arrived at our destination.”

      Gradually the Thing sank lower and nearer to the ground until at length it came to rest within the beautiful gardens of Glinda, settling upon a velvety green lawn close by a fountain which sent sprays of flashing gems, instead of water, high into the air, whence they fell with a soft, tinkling sound into the carved marble basin placed to receive them.

      Everything was very gorgeous in Glinda’s gardens, and while our voyagers gazed about with admiring eyes a company of soldiers silently appeared and surrounded them. But these soldiers of the great Sorceress were entirely different from those of Jinjur’s Army of Revolt, although they were likewise girls. For Glinda’s soldiers wore neat uniforms and bore swords and spears; and they marched with a skill and precision that proved them well trained in the arts of war.

      The Captain commanding this troop—which was Glinda’s private Body Guard—recognized the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman at once, and greeted them with respectful salutations.

      “Good day!” said the Scarecrow, gallantly removing his hat, while the Woodman gave a soldierly salute; “we have come to request an audience with your fair Ruler.”

      “Glinda is now within her palace, awaiting you,” returned the Captain; “for she saw you coming long before you arrived.”

      “That is strange!” said Tip, wondering.

      “Not at all,” answered the Scarecrow, “for Glinda the Good is a mighty Sorceress, and nothing that goes on in the Land of Oz escapes her notice. I suppose she knows why we came as well as we do ourselves.”

      “Then what was the use of our coming?” asked Jack, stupidly.

      “To prove you are a Pumpkinhead!” retorted the Scarecrow. “But, if the Sorceress expects us, we must not keep her waiting.”

      So they all clambered out of the sofas and followed the Captain toward the palace—even the SawHorse taking his place in the queer procession.

      Upon her throne of finely wrought gold sat Glinda, and she could scarcely repress a smile as her peculiar visitors entered and bowed before her. Both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman she knew and liked; but the awkward Pumpkinhead and Highly Magnified WoggleBug were creatures she had never seen before, and they seemed even more curious than the others. As for the SawHorse, he looked to be nothing more than an animated chunk of wood; and he bowed so stiffly that his head bumped against the floor, causing a ripple of laughter among the soldiers, in which Glinda frankly joined.

      “I beg to announce to your glorious highness,” began the Scarecrow, in a solemn voice, “that my Emerald City has been overrun by a crowd of impudent girls with knitting-needles, who have enslaved all the men, robbed the streets and public buildings of all their emerald jewels, and usurped my throne.”

      “I know it,” said Glinda.

      “They also threatened to destroy me, as well as all the good friends and allies you see before you,” continued the Scarecrow. “and had we not managed to escape their clutches our days would long since have ended.”

      “I know it,” repeated Glinda.

      “Therefore I have come to beg your assistance,” resumed the Scarecrow, “for I believe you are always glad to succor the unfortunate and oppressed.”

      “That is true,” replied the Sorceress, slowly. “But the Emerald City is now ruled by General Jinjur, who has caused herself to be proclaimed Queen. What right have I to oppose her?”

      “Why, she stole the throne from me,” said the Scarecrow.

      “And how came you to possess the throne?” asked Glinda.

      “I got it from the Wizard of Oz, and by the choice of the people,” returned the Scarecrow, uneasy at such questioning.

      “And where did the Wizard get it?” she continued gravely.

      “I am told he took it from Pastoria, the former King,” said the Scarecrow, becoming confused under the intent look of the Sorceress.

      “Then,” declared Glinda, “the throne of the Emerald City belongs neither to you nor to Jinjur, but to this Pastoria from whom the Wizard usurped it.”

      “That is true,” acknowledged the Scarecrow, humbly; “but Pastoria is now dead and gone, and some one must rule in his place.”

      “Pastoria had a daughter, who is the rightful heir to the throne of the Emerald City. Did you know that?” questioned the Sorceress.

      “No,” replied the Scarecrow. “But if the girl still lives I will not stand in her way. It will satisfy me as well to have Jinjur turned out, as an impostor, as to regain the throne myself. In fact, it isn’t much fun to be King, especially if one has good brains. I have known for some time that I am fitted to occupy a far more exalted position. But where is the girl who owns the throne, and what is her name?”

      “Her name is Ozma,” answered Glinda. “But where she is I have tried in vain to discover. For the Wizard of Oz, when he stole the throne from Ozma’s father, hid the girl in some secret place; and by means of a magical trick with which I am not familiar he also managed to prevent her being discovered—even by so experienced a Sorceress as myself.”

      “That is strange,” interrupted the WoggleBug, pompously. “I have been informed that the Wonderful Wizard of Oz was nothing more than a humbug!”

      “Nonsense!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, much provoked by this speech. “Didn’t he give me a wonderful set of brains?”

      “There’s no humbug about my heart,” announced the Tin Woodman, glaring indignantly at the WoggleBug.

      “Perhaps I was misinformed,” stammered the Insect, shrinking back; “I never knew the Wizard personally.”

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