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wore her No. 17 head. “Must, to ME!”

      “To be sure,” said Ozma. “I am Ruler of the Land of Oz, and I am powerful enough to destroy all your kingdom, if I so wish. Yet I did not come here to do harm, but rather to free the royal family of Ev from the thrall of the Nome King, the news having reached me that he is holding the Queen and her children prisoners.”

      Hearing these words, Langwidere suddenly became quiet.

      “I wish you could, indeed, free my aunt and her ten royal children,” said she, eagerly. “For if they were restored to their proper forms and station they could rule the Kingdom of Ev themselves, and that would save me a lot of worry and trouble. At present there are at least ten minutes every day that I must devote to affairs of state, and I would like to be able to spend my whole time in admiring my beautiful heads.”

      “Then we will presently discuss this matter,” said Ozma, “and try to find a way to liberate your aunt and cousins. But first you must liberate another prisoner—the little girl you have locked up in your tower.”

      “Of course,” said Langwidere, readily. “I had forgotten all about her. That was yesterday, you know, and a Princess cannot be expected to remember today what she did yesterday. Come with me, and I will release the prisoner at once.”

      So Ozma followed her, and they passed up the stairs that led to the room in the tower.

      While they were gone Ozma’s followers remained in the drawing-room, and the Scarecrow was leaning against a form that he had mistaken for a copper statue when a harsh, metallic voice said suddenly in his ear:

      “Get off my foot, please. You are scratching my pol-ish.”

      “Oh, excuse me!” he replied, hastily drawing back. “Are you alive?”

      “No,” said Tiktok, “I am on-ly a machine. But I can think and speak and act, when I am pro-per-ly wound up. Just now my ac-tion is run down, and Dor-o-thy has the key to it.”

      “That’s all right,” replied the Scarecrow. “Dorothy will soon be free, and then she’ll attend to your works. But it must be a great misfortune not to be alive. I’m sorry for you.”

      “Why?” asked Tiktok.

      “Because you have no brains, as I have,” said the Scarecrow.

      “Oh, yes, I have,” returned Tiktok. “I am fit-ted with Smith & Tin-ker’s Improved Com-bi-na-tion Steel Brains. They are what make me think. What sort of brains are you fit-ted with?”

      “I don’t know,” admitted the Scarecrow. “They were given to me by the great Wizard of Oz, and I didn’t get a chance to examine them before he put them in. But they work splendidly and my conscience is very active. Have you a conscience?”

      “No,” said Tiktok.

      “And no heart, I suppose?” added the Tin Woodman, who had been listening with interest to this conversation.

      “No,” said Tiktok.

      “Then,” continued the Tin Woodman, “I regret to say that you are greatly inferior to my friend the Scarecrow, and to myself. For we are both alive, and he has brains which do not need to be wound up, while I have an excellent heart that is continually beating in my bosom.”

      “I congratu-late you,” replied Tiktok. “I can-not help be-ing your in-fer-i-or for I am a mere machine. When I am wound up I do my du-ty by go-ing just as my ma-chin-er-y is made to go. You have no i-de-a how full of ma-chin-er-y I am.”

      “I can guess,” said the Scarecrow, looking at the machine man curiously. “Some day I’d like to take you apart and see just how you are made.”

      “Do not do that, I beg of you,” said Tiktok; “for you could not put me to-geth-er a-gain, and my use-ful-ness would be destroyed.”

      “Oh! are you useful?” asked the Scarecrow, surprised.

      “Ve-ry,” said Tiktok.

      “In that case,” the Scarecrow kindly promised, “I won’t fool with your interior at all. For I am a poor mechanic, and might mix you up.”

      “Thank you,” said Tiktok.

      Just then Ozma reentered the room, leading Dorothy by the hand and followed closely by the Princess Langwidere.

      8. The Hungry Tiger

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      The first thing Dorothy did was to rush into the embrace of the Scarecrow, whose painted face beamed with delight as he pressed her form to his straw-padded bosom. Then the Tin Woodman embraced her—very gently, for he knew his tin arms might hurt her if he squeezed too roughly.

      These greetings having been exchanged, Dorothy took the key to Tiktok from her pocket and wound up the machine man’s action, so that he could bow properly when introduced to the rest of the company. While doing this she told them how useful Tiktok had been to her, and both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman shook hands with the machine once more and thanked him for protecting their friend.

      Then Dorothy asked: “Where is Billina?”

      “I don’t know,” said the Scarecrow. “Who is Billina?”

      “She’s a yellow hen who is another friend of mine,” answered the girl, anxiously. “I wonder what has become of her?”

      “She is in the chicken house, in the back yard,” said the Princess. “My drawing-room is no place for hens.”

      Without waiting to hear more Dorothy ran to get Billina, and just outside the door she came upon the Cowardly Lion, still hitched to the chariot beside the great Tiger. The Cowardly Lion had a big bow of blue ribbon fastened to the long hair between his ears, and the Tiger wore a bow of red ribbon on his tail, just in front of the bushy end.

      In an instant Dorothy was hugging the huge Lion joyfully.

      “I’m SO glad to see you again!” she cried.

      “I am also glad to see you, Dorothy,” said the Lion. “We’ve had some fine adventures together, haven’t we?”

      “Yes, indeed,” she replied. “How are you?”

      “As cowardly as ever,” the beast answered in a meek voice. “Every little thing scares me and makes my heart beat fast. But let me introduce to you a new friend of mine, the Hungry Tiger.”

      “Oh! Are you hungry?” she asked, turning to the other beast, who was just then yawning so widely that he displayed two rows of terrible teeth and a mouth big enough to startle anyone.

      “Dreadfully hungry,” answered the Tiger, snapping his jaws together with a fierce click.

      “Then why don’t you eat something?” she asked.

      “It’s no use,” said the Tiger sadly. “I’ve tried that, but I always get hungry again.”

      “Why, it is the same with me,” said Dorothy. “Yet I keep on eating.”

      “But you eat harmless things, so it doesn’t matter,” replied the Tiger. “For my part, I’m a savage beast, and have an appetite for all sorts of poor little living creatures, from a chipmunk to fat babies.”

      “How dreadful!” said Dorothy.

      “Isn’t it, though?” returned the Hungry Tiger, licking his lips with his long red tongue. “Fat babies! Don’t they sound delicious? But I’ve never eaten any, because my conscience tells me it is wrong. If I had no conscience I would probably eat the babies and then get hungry again, which would mean that I had sacrificed the poor babies for nothing. No; hungry I was born, and hungry I shall die. But I’ll not have any cruel deeds on my conscience to be sorry for.”

      “I

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