LITMIR.BIZ

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sleep, so they sat up and talked together all night; but they stayed outside the house, under the bright stars, and talked in low tones so as not to disturb the sleepers. During the conversation the Scarecrow explained their quest for a dark well, and asked Jack’s advice where to find it.

      The Pumpkinhead considered the matter gravely.

      “That is going to be a difficult task,” said he, “and if I were you I’d take any ordinary well and enclose it, so as to make it dark.”

      “I fear that wouldn’t do,” replied the Scarecrow. “The well must be naturally dark, and the water must never have seen the light of day, for otherwise the magic charm might not work at all.”

      “How much of the water do you need?” asked Jack.

      “A gill.”

      “How much is a gill?”

      “Why—a gill is a gill, of course,” answered the Scarecrow, who did not wish to display his ignorance.

      “I know!” cried Scraps. “Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch—”

      “No, no; that’s wrong,” interrupted the Scarecrow. “There are two kinds of gills, I think; one is a girl, and the other is—”

      “A gillyflower,” said Jack.

      “No; a measure.”

      “How big a measure?”

      “Well, I’ll ask Dorothy.”

      So next morning they asked Dorothy, and she said:

      “I don’t just know how much a gill is, but I’ve brought along a gold flask that holds a pint. That’s more than a gill, I’m sure, and the Crooked Magician may measure it to suit himself. But the thing that’s bothering us most, Jack, is to find the well.”

      Jack gazed around the landscape, for he was standing in the doorway of his house.

      “This is a flat country, so you won’t find any dark wells here,” said he. “You must go into the mountains, where rocks and caverns are.”

      “And where is that?” asked Ojo.

      “In the Quadling Country, which lies south of here,” replied the Scarecrow. “I’ve known all along that we must go to the mountains.”

      “So have I,” said Dorothy.

      “But—goodness me!—the Quadling Country is full of dangers,” declared Jack. “I’ve never been there myself, but—”

      “I have,” said the Scarecrow. “I’ve faced the dreadful Hammerheads, which have no arms and butt you like a goat; and I’ve faced the Fighting Trees, which bend down their branches to pound and whip you, and had many other adventures there.”

      “It’s a wild country,” remarked Dorothy, soberly, “and if we go there we’re sure to have troubles of our own. But I guess we’ll have to go, if we want that gill of water from the dark well.”

      So they said goodbye to the Pumpkinhead and resumed their travels, heading now directly toward the South Country, where mountains and rocks and caverns and forests of great trees abounded. This part of the Land of Oz, while it belonged to Ozma and owed her allegiance, was so wild and secluded that many queer peoples hid in its jungles and lived in their own way, without even a knowledge that they had a Ruler in the Emerald City. If they were left alone, these creatures never troubled the inhabitants of the rest of Oz, but those who invaded their domains encountered many dangers from them.

      It was a two days journey from Jack Pumkinhead’s house to the edge of the Quadling Country, for neither Dorothy nor Ojo could walk very fast and they often stopped by the wayside to rest. The first night they slept on the broad fields, among the buttercups and daisies, and the Scarecrow covered the children with a gauze blanket taken from his knapsack, so they would not be chilled by the night air. Toward evening of the second day they reached a sandy plain where walking was difficult; but some distance before them they saw a group of palm trees, with many curious black dots under them; so they trudged bravely on to reach that place by dark and spend the night under the shelter of the trees.

      The black dots grew larger as they advanced and although the light was dim Dorothy thought they looked like big kettles turned upside down. Just beyond this place a jumble of huge, jagged rocks lay scattered, rising to the mountains behind them.

      Our travelers preferred to attempt to climb these rocks by daylight, and they realized that for a time this would be their last night on the plains.

      Twilight had fallen by the time they came to the trees, beneath which were the black, circular objects they had marked from a distance. Dozens of them were scattered around and Dorothy bent near to one, which was about as tall as she was, to examine it more closely. As she did so the top flew open and out popped a dusky creature, rising its length into the air and then plumping down upon the ground just beside the little girl. Another and another popped out of the circular, potlike dwelling, while from all the other black objects came popping more creatures—very like jumping-jacks when their boxes are unhooked—until fully a hundred stood gathered around our little group of travelers.

      By this time Dorothy had discovered they were people, tiny and curiously formed, but still people. Their skins were dusky and their hair stood straight up, like wires, and was brilliant scarlet in color. Their bodies were bare except for skins fastened around their waists and they wore bracelets on their ankles and wrists, and necklaces, and great pendant earrings.

      Toto crouched beside his mistress and wailed as if he did not like these strange creatures a bit. Scraps began to mutter something about “hoppity, poppity, jumpity, dump!” but no one paid any attention to her. Ojo kept close to the Scarecrow and the Scarecrow kept close to Dorothy; but the little girl turned to the queer creatures and asked:

      “Who are you?”

      They answered this question all together, in a sort of chanting chorus, the words being as follows:

      “We’re the jolly Tottenhots;

      We do not like the day,

      But in the night ‘tis our delight

      To gambol, skip and play.

      “We hate the sun and from it run,

      The moon is cool and clear,

      So on this spot each Tottenhot

      Waits for it to appear.

      “We’re ev’ry one chock full of fun,

      And full of mischief, too;

      But if you’re gay and with us play

      We’ll do no harm to you.

      “Glad to meet you, Tottenhots,” said the Scarecrow solemnly. “But you mustn’t expect us to play with you all night, for we’ve traveled all day and some of us are tired.”

      “And we never gamble,” added the Patchwork Girl. “It’s against the Law.”

      These remarks were greeted with shouts of laughter by the impish creatures and one seized the Scarecrow’s arm and was astonished to find the straw man whirl around so easily. So the Tottenhot raised the Scarecrow high in the air and tossed him over the heads of the crowd. Some one caught him and tossed him back, and so with shouts of glee they continued throwing the Scarecrow here and there, as if he had been a basketball.

      Presently another imp seized Scraps and began to throw her about, in the same way. They found her a little heavier than the Scarecrow but still light enough to be tossed like a sofa-cushion, and they were enjoying the sport immensely when Dorothy, angry and indignant at the treatment her friends were receiving, rushed among the Tottenhots and began slapping and pushing them until she had rescued the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl and held them close on either side of her. Perhaps she would not have accomplished this victory so easily had not Toto helped her, barking and snapping at the bare legs of the imps until they were glad to flee from his attack. As for Ojo, some

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