The Magic of Oz

A Remarkable Journey

CHAPTER 17

“You see,” explained the Glass Cat, “that Magic Isle where Trot and Cap’n Bill are stuck is also in this Gillikin country – over at the east side of it, and it’s no farther to go across-lots from here than it is from here to the Emerald City. So we’ll save time by cutting across the mountains.”

“Are you sure you know the way?” asked Dorothy.

“I know all the Land of Oz better than any other living creature knows it,” asserted the Glass Cat.

“Go ahead, then, and guide us,” said the Wizard. “We’ve left our poor friends helpless too long already, and the sooner we rescue them the happier they’ll be.”

“Are you sure you can get ’em out of their fix?” the little girl inquired.

“I’ve no doubt of it,” the Wizard assured her. “But I can’t tell what sort of magic I must use until I get to the place and discover just how they are enchanted.”

“I’ve heard of that Magic Isle where the Wonderful Flower grows,” remarked the Cowardly Lion. “Long ago, when I used to live in the forests, the beasts told stories about the Isle and how the Magic Flower was placed there to entrap strangers – men or beasts.”

“Is the Flower really wonderful?” questioned Dorothy.

“I have heard it is the most beautiful plant in the world,” answered the Lion. “I have never seen it myself, but friendly beasts have told me that they have stood on the shore of the river and looked across at the plant in the gold flowerpot and seen hundreds of flowers, of all sorts and sizes, blossom upon it in quick succession. It is said that if one picks the flowers while they are in bloom they will remain perfect for a long time, but if they are not picked they soon disappear and are replaced by other flowers. That, in my opinion, makes the magic plant the most wonderful in existence.”

“But these are only stories,” said the girl. “Has any of your friends ever picked a flower from the wonderful plant?”

“No,” admitted the Cowardly Lion, “for if any living thing ventures upon the Magic Isle, where the golden flowerpot stands, that man or beast takes root in the soil and cannot get away again.”

“What happens to them, then?” asked Dorothy.

“They grow smaller, hour by hour and day by day, and finally disappear entirely.”

“Then,” said the girl anxiously, “we must hurry up, or Cap’n Bill an’ Trot will get too small to be comf’table.”

They were proceeding at a rapid pace during this conversation, for the Hungry Tiger and the Cowardly Lion were obliged to move swiftly in order to keep pace with the Glass Cat. After leaving the Forest of Gugu they crossed a mountain range, and then a broad plain, after which they reached another forest, much smaller than that where Gugu ruled.

“The Magic Isle is in this forest,” said the Glass Cat, “but the river is at the other side of the forest. There is no path through the trees, but if we keep going east, we will find the river, and then it will be easy to find the Magic Isle.”

“Have you ever traveled this way before?” inquired the Wizard.

“Not exactly,” admitted the Cat, “but I know we shall reach the river if we go east through the forest.”

“Lead on, then,” said the Wizard.

The Glass Cat started away, and at first it was easy to pass between the trees; but before long the underbrush and vines became thick and tangled, and after pushing their way through these obstacles for a time, our travelers came to a place where even the Glass Cat could not push through.

“We’d better go back and find a path,” suggested the Hungry Tiger.

“I’m s’prised at you,” said Dorothy, eyeing the Glass Cat severely.

“I’m surprised, myself,” replied the Cat. “But it’s a long way around the forest to where the river enters it, and I thought we could save time by going straight through.”

“No one can blame you,” said the Wizard, “and I think, instead of turning back, I can make a path that will allow us to proceed.”

He opened his black bag and after searching among his magic tools drew out a small axe, made of some metal so highly polished that it glittered brightly even in the dark forest. The Wizard laid the little axe on the ground and said in a commanding voice:

Then the little axe began to move and flashed its bright blade right and left, clearing a way through vine and brush and scattering the tangled barrier so quickly that the Lion and the Tiger, carrying Dorothy and the Wizard and the cage of monkeys on their backs, were able to stride through the forest at a fast walk. The brush seemed to melt away before them and the little axe chopped so fast that their eyes only saw a twinkling of the blade. Then, suddenly, the forest was open again, and the little axe, having obeyed its orders, lay still upon the ground.

The Wizard picked up the magic axe and after carefully wiping it with his silk handkerchief put it away in his black bag. Then they went on and in a short time reached the river.

“Let me see,” said the Glass Cat, looking up and down the stream, “I think we are below the Magic Isle; so we must go up the stream until we come to it.”

So up the stream they traveled, walking comfortably on the river bank, and after a while the water broadened and a sharp bend appeared in the river, hiding all below from their view. They walked briskly along, however, and had nearly reached the bend when a voice cried warningly: “Look out!”

The travelers halted abruptly and the Wizard said: “Look out for what?”

“You almost stepped on my Diamond Palace,” replied the voice, and a duck with gorgeously colored feathers appeared before them. “Beasts and men are terribly clumsy,” continued the Duck in an irritated tone, “and you’ve no business on this side of the river, anyway. What are you doing here?”

“We’ve come to rescue some friends of ours who are stuck fast on the Magic Isle in this river,” explained Dorothy.

“I know ’em,” said the Duck. “I’ve been to see ’em, and they’re stuck fast, all right. You may as well go back home, for no power can save them.”

“This is the Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” said Dorothy, pointing to the little man.

“Well, I’m the Lonesome Duck,” was the reply, as the fowl strutted up and down to show its feathers to best advantage. “I’m the great Forest Magician, as any beast can tell you, but even I have no power to destroy the dreadful charm of the Magic Isle.”

“Are you lonesome because you’re a magician?” inquired Dorothy.

“No; I’m lonesome because I have no family and no friends. But I like to be lonesome, so please don’t offer to be friendly with me. Go away, and try not to step on my Diamond Palace.”

“Where is it?” asked the girl.

“Behind this bush.”

Dorothy hopped off the lion’s back and ran around the bush to see the Diamond Palace of the Lonesome Duck, although the gaudy fowl protested in a series of low quacks. The girl found, indeed, a glistening dome formed of clearest diamonds, neatly cemented together, with a doorway at the side just big enough to admit the duck.

“Where did you find so many diamonds?” asked Dorothy, wonderingly.

“I know a place in the mountains where they are thick as pebbles,” said the Lonesome Duck, “and I brought them here in my bill, one by one and put them in the river and let the water run over them until they were brightly polished. Then I built this palace, and I’m positive it’s the only Diamond Palace in all the world.”

“It’s the only one I know of,” said the little girl; “but if you live in it all alone, I don’t see why it’s any better than a wooden palace, or one of bricks or cobble-stones.”

“You’re not supposed to understand that,” retorted the Lonesome Duck. “But I might tell you, as a matter of education, that a home of any sort should be beautiful to those who live in it, and should not be intended to please strangers. The Diamond Palace is my home, and I like it. So I don’t care a quack whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, but I do!” exclaimed Dorothy. “It’s lovely on the outside, but – ” Then she stopped speaking, for the Lonesome Duck had entered his palace through the little door without even saying good-bye. So Dorothy returned to her friends and they resumed their journey.

“Do you think, Wizard, the Duck was right in saying no magic can rescue Trot and Cap’n Bill?” asked the girl in a worried tone of voice.

“No, I don’t think the Lonesome Duck was right in saying that,” answered the Wizard, gravely, “but it is possible that their enchantment will be harder to overcome than I expected. I’ll do my best, of course, and no one can do more than his best.”

That didn’t entirely relieve Dorothy’s anxiety, but she said nothing more, and soon, on turning the bend in the river, they came in sight of the Magic Isle.

“There they are!” exclaimed Dorothy eagerly.

“Yes, I see them,” replied the Wizard, nodding. “They are sitting on two big toadstools.”

“That’s queer,” remarked the Glass Cat. “There were no toadstools there when I left them.”

“What a lovely flower!” cried Dorothy in rapture, as her gaze fell on the Magic Plant.

“Never mind the Flower, just now,” advised the Wizard. “The most important thing is to rescue our friends.”

By this time they had arrived at a place just opposite the Magic Isle, and now both Trot and Cap’n Bill saw the arrival of their friends and called to them for help.

“How are you?” shouted the Wizard, putting his hands to his mouth so they could hear him better across the water.

“We’re in hard luck,” shouted Cap’n Bill, in reply. “We’re anchored here and can’t move till you find a way to cut the hawser.”

“What does he mean by that?” asked Dorothy.

“We can’t move our feet a bit!” called Trot, speaking as loud as she could.

“Why not?” inquired Dorothy.

“They’ve got roots on ’em,” explained Trot.

It was hard to talk from so great a distance, so the Wizard said to the Glass Cat:

“Go to the island and tell our friends to be patient, for we have come to save them. It may take a little time to release them, for the Magic of the Isle is new to me and I shall have to experiment. But tell them I’ll hurry as fast as I can.”

So the Glass Cat walked across the river under the water to tell Trot and Cap’n Bill not to worry, and the Wizard at once opened his black bag and began to make his preparations.

The Magic of the Wizard

CHAPTER 18

He first set up a small silver tripod and placed a gold basin at the top of it. Into this basin he put two powders – a pink one and a sky-blue one – and poured over them a yellow liquid from a crystal vial. Then he mumbled some magic words, and the powders began to sizzle and burn and send out a cloud of violet smoke that floated across the river and completely enveloped both Trot and Cap’n Bill, as well as the toadstools on which they sat, and even the Magic Plant in the gold flowerpot. Then, after the smoke had disappeared into air, the Wizard called out to the prisoners:

“Are you free?”

Both Trot and Cap’n Bill tried to move their feet and failed.

“No!” they shouted in answer.

The Wizard rubbed his bald head thoughtfully and then took some other magic tools from the bag.

First he placed a little black ball in a silver pistol and shot it toward the Magic Isle. The ball exploded just over the head of Trot and scattered a thousand sparks over the little girl.

“Oh!” said the Wizard, “I guess that will set her free.”

But Trot’s feet were still rooted in the ground of the Magic Isle, and the disappointed Wizard had to try something else.

For almost an hour he worked hard, using almost every magic tool in his black bag, and still Cap’n Bill and Trot were not rescued.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Dorothy, “I’m ’fraid we’ll have to go to Glinda, after all.”

That made the little Wizard blush, for it shamed him to think that his magic was not equal to that of the Magic Isle.

“I won’t give up yet, Dorothy,” he said, “for I know a lot of wizardry that I haven’t yet tried. I don’t know what magician enchanted this little island, or what his powers were, but I do know that I can break any enchantment known to the ordinary witches and magicians that used to inhabit the Land of Oz. It’s like unlocking a door; all you need is to find the right key.”

“But ’spose you haven’t the right key with you,” suggested Dorothy; “what then?”

“Then we’ll have to make the key,” he answered.

The Glass Cat now came back to their side of the river, walking under the water, and said to the Wizard: “They’re getting frightened over there on the island because they’re both growing smaller every minute. Just now, when I left them, both Trot and Cap’n Bill were only about half their natural sizes.”

“I think,” said the Wizard reflectively, “that I’d better go to the shore of the island, where I can talk to them and work to better advantage. How did Trot and Cap’n Bill get to the island?”

“On a raft,” answered the Glass Cat. “It’s over there now on the beach.”

“I suppose you’re not strong enough to bring the raft to this side, are you?”

“No; I couldn’t move it an inch,” said the Cat.

“I’ll try to get it for you,” volunteered the Cowardly Lion. “I’m dreadfully scared for fear the Magic Isle will capture me, too; but I’ll try to get the raft and bring it to this side for you.”

“Thank you, my friend,” said the Wizard.

So the Lion plunged into the river and swam with powerful strokes across to where the raft was beached upon the island. Placing one paw on the raft, he turned and struck out with his other three legs and so strong was the great beast that he managed to drag the raft from off the beach and propel it slowly to where the Wizard stood on the river bank.

“Good!” exclaimed the little man, well pleased.

“May I go across with you?” asked Dorothy.

The Wizard hesitated.

“If you’ll take care not to leave the raft or step foot on the island, you’ll be quite safe,” he decided. So the Wizard told the Hungry Tiger and the Cowardly Lion to guard the cage of monkeys until he returned, and then he and Dorothy got upon the raft. The paddle which Cap’n Bill had made was still there so the little Wizard paddled the clumsy raft across the water and ran it upon the beach of the Magic Isle as close to the place where Cap’n Bill and Trot were rooted as he could.

Dorothy was shocked to see how small the prisoners had become, and Trot said to her friends: “If you can’t save us soon, there’ll be nothing left of us.”

“Be patient, my dear,” counselled the Wizard, and took the little axe from his black bag.

“What are you going to do with that?” asked Cap’n Bill.

“It’s a magic axe,” replied the Wizard, “and when I tell it to chop, it will chop those roots from your feet and you can run to the raft before they grow again.”

“Don’t!” shouted the sailor in alarm. “Don’t do it! Those roots are all flesh roots, and our bodies are feeding ’em while they’re growing into the ground.”

“To cut off the roots,” said Trot, “would be like cutting off our fingers and toes.”

The Wizard put the little axe back in the black bag and took out a pair of silver pincers.

“Grow – grow – grow!” he said to the pincers, and at once they grew and extended until they reached from the raft to the prisoners.

“What are you going to do now?” demanded Cap’n Bill, fearfully eyeing the pincers.

“This magic tool will pull you up, roots and all, and land you on this raft,” declared the Wizard.

“Don’t do it!” pleaded the sailor, with a shudder. “It would hurt us awfully.”

“It would be just like pulling teeth to pull us up by the roots,” explained Trot.