"I only see you are a dunce;You haven't made us laugh, not once!"
"I only see you are a dunce;You haven't made us laugh, not once!"
"I only see you are a dunce;
You haven't made us laugh, not once!"
The Queen nodded emphatically at this and, glaring scornfully at the two intruders, swept out of the throne room.
"Last rule," whispered Notta, winking at Bob—for out of the tail of his eye, he could see the King signaling Slammer. Rushing forward impetuously he flung up his hand. "Could your Majesty tell me a word to rhyme with toboggan?" he asked pleadingly. Immediately King Theodore's face lit up with pleasure. He closed his eyes and began to drum with one hand on the arm of his throne. If there was one thing he adored it was rhyming.
He forgot to finish his directions to Slammer and instead mumbled hurriedly under his breath, "Choggin, foggin, doggon, noggin, loggin, joggin. Ah, I have it—joggin!" He opened his eyes and looked around triumphantly, but the clown and Bob Up were nowhere to be seen. In fact they had run as soon as the King's eyes closed. For Notta, while endeavoring to make their Majesties laugh, had discovered that one of the doors said "Out." And out they went, bowling over doormen like ten pins in their headlong flight. As the door slammed they slid down a steep dark passageway and in about two minutes shot out into the middle of a dusty road. Above them on a high hill rose the grey walls of the singular Kingdom of Doorways.
"Toboggan was right," muttered the clown, rising stiffly. "This country grows odder and odder, Bob. What do they call it now—Oz? But never mind, we shall have lots to tell each other on stormy nights when we reach the states. Lots and lots!"
Bob did not answer. Instead he clutched Notta's wide pantaloon and pointed toward a large clump of bushes. Looking out from the leaves was the head of a huge, shaggy lion. A shudder ran down the clown's back. He tried to remember the procedure of Bill, the old lion tamer in the circus. "Subdue the creature with your eye," Bill said. Yes, that was what he had said. Notta's knees rattled like castanets, but with a frightened gulp he stared the lion straight in the eye. For a moment nothing happened, then with a gusty sigh the lion began to speak.
"What have they done with the rest of me?" it roared mournfully.
"Who?" stuttered Notta, getting a good hold on Bob and making ready to run at the lion's first move.
"The Mudgers," wheezed the lion, two tears rolling down its nose. With many gulps and sighs it told them how Tazzywaller had cut it in two and imprisoned its back half in the lion enclosure.
"You mean to say that you were cut in half and still live to tell the tale?" gasped Notta in astonishment.
"I don't know what you mean by telling the tail. How can I tell the tail anything when all my connections with it are cut off? Oh, my poor tail, how it must miss me!" moaned the half lion.
"Then you only have two legs," said Bob in a relieved tone and coming out from behind Notta. The lion nodded gloomily. "If I had four, do you think I'd be standing propped up against these bushes. I'd have eaten you long ago."
"What a blessing," murmured the clown under his breath, "that it's only half a lion."
"I'd like a little sympathy," continued the lion in its mournful voice. "If the little fellow would pat me on the head I think, it would ease me a bit."
"Shall I?" asked Bob Up doubtfully.
"How do we know you won't bite him?" asked Notta cautiously.
"I haven't the courage," replied the lion dolefully. "Besides my stomach is gone and that rather takes the appetite away, you know. Oh, my poor little empty stomach, how dreadfully it must feel! Then, to bite a person I should have to work myself up into a rage, and that I cannot do without a tail to lash. And half my heart is missing so I—"
"Do everything half-heartedly," finished Notta, with a wink at Bob.
"Exactly," blubbered the half lion. Two more tears rolled down its nose, and these so affected Bob Up that he stepped bravely over and patted its mane.
"Harder!" cried the half lion, closing its eyes. "Harder! Harder!" Notta seized a stick and fell to patting the lion's head with this, but it kept roaring harder until Bob Up and Notta were perfectly breathless.
"Sorry," puffed the clown at last, "but we'll have to say good-bye now. We're on our way to the Emerald City."
"Are you?" The half lion opened its eyes and regarded them with new interest. "There's a wonderful wizard in the Emerald City," it began in a more cheerful roar. "Could you, would you, tell him about my sad separation? Tell him I am pining for my better half and perhaps he would put me together again. Promise to tell him." The poor beast was so earnest that he almost lost his balance.
"Why, certainly we will tell him," said Notta, who was the most obliging soul imaginable. "We'll be glad to, old fellow, but I didn't think there were any more wizards."
"No wizards?" coughed the lion, surveying the clown in amazement. "Why, Oz is full of wizards. Just keep going north and you'll soon find that out. I would go along with you, but I haven't quite learned to travel on two legs, and I'm so tired of standing."
"Why don't you sit down," asked Bob thoughtlessly. The lion groaned and looked at him reproachfully, and seeing it was going to cry again Notta began to move off.
"By the way," he asked, pausing suddenly, "did you come through Doorways?"
"Yes!" sobbed the lion, sniffing with each word, "through the right door."
"Which door was that?"
"I don't remember," sighed the half lion drearily. "I remember nothing nowadays. When I used to forget a fact all I had to do was to scratch my head with my hind leg and instantly it came back, but now—." The lion began to sob heavily.
"Well, good-bye!" said Notta uneasily, taking Bob's hand. "If we see this wizard you've mentioned we'll tell him your sad story."
"Good-bye," choked the lion, waving his paw feebly.
"I'd like to see a real wizard, Notta," said Bob Up, as they trudged down the dusty road.
"Odder and odder!" murmured the clown, shaking his head in bewilderment. "I declare, Bob, if you weren't along I should think I were asleep and dreaming all this."
"Here's another sign," whispered Bob Up in a low voice so the sign would not hear him. "Wonder if it talks too."
"I dare say they all can if they want to," replied Notta. "At any rate a sort of sign language."
"North Road to U," said this sign, in large blue letters.
"D stood for doorways. I wonder what U stands for?" mused the little boy, staring up at the sign with both hands in his pockets.
"Maybe it stands for us?" chuckled the clown, turning a handspring.
"You!" sneered the sign, giving itself a little shake. "Why, I wouldn't stand for you a single minute. I'd rather—." What it would rather Notta and Bob did not wait to hear. Seizing hands, they ran gaily down the road toward the unknown and curious country of U.
The Cowardly Lion's Quest
Quite unconscious of Mustafa's evil plans for his capture, the Cowardly Lion of Oz paced to and fro on the wide veranda of the loveliest palace in Oz. It was early morning in the Emerald City, and Ozma and her court had not yet risen, but many of the palace pets were abroad and talking sociably together in the garden. Ozma's Saw Horse was running races with Hank, Betsy Bobbin's small mule, the Comfortable Camel and Doubtful Dromedary were ambling down the paths in their wobbly-kneed fashion, while Dorothy's little dog, Toto, and the Glass Cat were arguing over the Patchwork Girl's last verses. They all seemed happy and contented and the Cowardly Lion, noting this, sighed heavily. "Not one of them is ever afraid," he murmured sorrowfully. "I, of all creatures in Oz, am the only cowardly one."
"What say?" The Cowardly Lion jumped, as he always did at an unexpected sound, then gave a little roar of relief as the Soldier with the Green Whiskers stepped out from behind a pillar.
"What say?" repeated the Soldier, putting down his gun which was never loaded, and regarding the Cowardly Lion inquiringly.
"I was saying that I am the only cowardly person in Oz."
"Well, you can fight, can't you?" The Soldier tugged his green whiskers thoughtfully as he asked this question. "Now, I am a very brave man, but I can never fight, so there you are." This was perfectly true. The Soldier with the Green Whiskers, who was Ozma's entire army, never was afraid, but he always ran at the first sign of danger. While the Cowardly Lion trembled terribly as enemies approached, he always fought until he overcame them.
"So what's the difference," said the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, shouldering his gun and marching down the steps. "You feel cowardly and act bravely. I feel brave and act cowardly."
"It makes a great difference to me," mumbled the Cowardly Lion. "I want to feel brave. Oh, if only once I could feel brave!" Shaking his mane mournfully, he padded down the steps after the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, and soon came upon the Comfortable Camel and Doubtful Dromedary, who were swaying idly under a tall breakfast tree.
"Morning," wheezed the Comfortable Camel, twitching his crooked nose. "Handsome as ever, I see."
"I doubt that, Camy," said the Doubtful Dromedary, eying the Cowardly Lion solemnly.
"He's always doubting things," smiled the Comfortable Camel, rolling his large, limpid eyes. "Now, I never do."
"He's right this time. I'm not handsome at all; no coward could be handsome," said the lion gruffly, flinging himself on the ground beside the strange pair. "Ah, if I could only feel courageous!"
"You're nice as you are, you dear cowardly old thing," snorted the camel, wagging his head affectionately. "Why, if you were brave, you would be just like any other lion. It's being cowardly that makes you so interesting."
"I'd rather be brave than interesting," rumbled the lion sadly. "You know perfectly well that courage is the finest thing in the world."
"I doubt that," put in the dromedary, shifting a mouthful of grass from one cheek to the other, "I doubt that very much."
"What's the matter?" cried the Patchwork Girl, bouncing out merrily from the other side of the tree. "You all sound as solemn as Pokes!"
The Patchwork Girl is a great favorite in the Emerald City. She was made long ago by a magician's wife and brought to life by the powder of life. But Ojo, a little Munchkin boy, who happened to be present while the magician was mixing Scrap's brains, put in a large portion of cleverness and curiosity while the old wizard's back was turned, so that instead of being a good and obedient servant as the wizard had intended her to be, the Patchwork Girl was full of fun and mischief. Indeed, she refused to be a servant at all, and ran off to the Emerald City, where Ozma has allowed her to live ever since. The Emerald City is the capital of Oz and located in the exact center of that great and magic wonderland. Its palace of green marble and emeralds, its flowering gardens and quaint green cottages make it the loveliest of all fairy cities, and so many strange and delightful people live there it is the most interesting place you could imagine.
First in interest is Ozma, the fairy ruler of Oz. No one could help loving her. Then there is Dorothy, who has had more adventures than any little girl you have ever heard of and who prefers to be a Princess in Oz to returning to her old home in Kansas. There is Tik Tok, a marvelous machine man who is bright as the copper that he is made of, and who can think, walk and work when properly wound. And there's the Scarecrow, as lively and accomplished a gentleman as ever advised a Queen. Oh, think of a live Scarecrow! There's Jack Pumpkinhead, made entirely of wood, excepting his pumpkin head, and there's Sir Hokus of Pokes, a knight so many centuries old that only in Oz could he be alive at all. There's the Tin Woodman, Emperor of the Winkies, who comes often to the capital to visit his old friends.
There are hundreds of the gentle Oz folk, who live in the little green cottages and bow politely when friends pass. There are the magnificent courtiers and palace servants, ready at a moment's notice to pass round lemonade, while the Scarecrow dishes out Oz-cream and cake. And last but not least there are the amusing animals who have come to live in the royal stables. No wonder everyone is anxious to visit the Emerald City. If I could just find a magic umbrella or a handy cyclone I would go myself. Why, it would be worth the journey just to hear the Cowardly Lion and Comfortable Camel talking together like old cronies. The Comfortable Camel and the Doubtful Dromedary were recently discovered by Sir Hokus of Pokes and Dorothy, and are comparative new comers in the Emerald City, but the Cowardly Lion was one of the very first of the Oz creatures to arrive at the capital and is a prime favorite with everyone from Princess Dorothy to the royal cook.
In the palace the Scarecrow dishes out the Oz-cream and cake
In the palace the Scarecrow dishes out the Oz-cream and cake
In the palace the Scarecrow dishes out the Oz-cream and cake
But all the time I've been telling you this, the conversation under the breakfast tree has been growing more interesting.
"I thought the Wizard of Oz gave you a large dose of courage when you first came here," drawled the camel, looking anxiously up at the Patchwork Girl, who was swinging head down from the breakfast tree.
"He did," mourned the Cowardly Lion dreamily, "but it has worn off and, though he has tried and tried, he can't seem to mix up any more."
"What is courage? Does it growLike potatoes in a row?Don't ask me for I don't know!"
"What is courage? Does it growLike potatoes in a row?Don't ask me for I don't know!"
"What is courage? Does it grow
Like potatoes in a row?
Don't ask me for I don't know!"
shouted Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, diving suddenly from the tree top and bouncing upon the Doubtful Dromedary. Being stuffed with cotton made Scraps very daring.
"I've a hunch," began the Comfortable Camel, very much relieved that the Patchwork Girl had fallen on his friend.
"Where? On your back?" screamed Scraps, flinging her arms about his neck.
"I've a hunch," continued the camel calmly, paying no attention at all to the Patchwork Girl, "that courage isn't the way you feel, but the way you act. As you always act bravely, why worry about the way you feel?"
"But you never felt as frightened as I feel," objected the Cowardly Lion.
"His knees do quake,His teeth do chatter,His big old heart goes pitter patter!But what's the odds—Though stiff with frightHe still can fight with mane and might!"
"His knees do quake,His teeth do chatter,His big old heart goes pitter patter!But what's the odds—Though stiff with frightHe still can fight with mane and might!"
"His knees do quake,
His teeth do chatter,
His big old heart goes pitter patter!
But what's the odds—
Though stiff with fright
He still can fight with mane and might!"
cried Scraps, sitting down with a thud. "The more mane the more might," she finished brilliantly.
"So rub some tonic on your brainAnd just increase your might and mane!"
"So rub some tonic on your brainAnd just increase your might and mane!"
"So rub some tonic on your brain
And just increase your might and mane!"
"I doubt that," mumbled the Doubtful Dromedary, looking at Scraps reprovingly.
"There might be something in it," said the camel, chewing a wisp of grass in his slow precise fashion.
"My maneisa little thin," mused the Cowardly Lion, rubbing it thoughtfully with his paw.
"If I were you," said the Patchwork Girl, rising unsteadily, "I should find a very brave person and then eat him up. That ought to give you a big dose of courage."
"I doubt that," said the Doubtful Dromedary sharply.
"Think how uncomfortable it would be for the poor brave person," sighed the camel. "My dear, I am afraid you have no heart."
"Of course I have no heart," cried Scraps, starting to run down the path, "but I have a marvelous head."
The Comfortable Camel sighed and glanced uneasily at the Cowardly Lion. The Cowardly Lion had a far-away look in his eye, as if Scraps' naughty suggestion had given him an idea, and it was not long before he made some excuse to get away from the two gentle creatures. He wanted to think. After all, why should he, the most famous lion in all Oz, forever be called cowardly? He would tell no one, but he would go off on a long journey and perhaps—even to himself the Cowardly Lion did not say it, but the idea of swallowing a brave person did seem a reasonable way to acquire courage. "I need never tell little Dorothy," muttered the great beast uncomfortably, "but how proud she will be when I return full of courage!"
He slipped noiselessly out of the quiet, lovely garden and, avoiding the yellow brick road, struck off through a deep forest toward the Munchkin Country to the south. Many brave woodcutters live in the Munchkin forests, and the Cowardly Lion was resolved darkly to swallow the bravest of them, ax and all. "If only my cowardly heart does not fail me at the last moment," he groaned nervously, as he went crackling through the heavy underbrush. "I could swallow one whole, and that oughtn't to hurt much." Already his kind, cowardly, comfortable old heart was beginning to quake at the thought of swallowing a woodcutter. But, arguing and rumbling to himself, he continued his race toward the south. By the time the castle clocks chimed eight, he was miles and miles away from the safe and delightful Emerald City of Oz.
In Search of a Brave Man
The Cowardly Lion was familiar with all the forests in Oz, and though the one through which he was passing was so dense that, even in the morning, only a dim light filtered through the trees, he had no difficulty finding his way. In the center of this forest lived a small colony of woodcutters, and the Cowardly Lion was heading straight for this colony, roaring and growling to keep up his courage. The more he thought about devouring a brave man, the faster he ran. The thing would have to be done quickly or not at all—quickly before his heart failed him entirely. As the hollow blows of an ax came echoing through the stillness, a shiver ran down his back and, when a sudden leap brought him almost upon a tall Munchkin forester, he stopped altogether.
At the sound of the crackling branches, the man turned, but when he saw the new comer was a lion, he calmly went on with his work.
"There's bravery for you," gulped the Cowardly Lion to himself. Now was his chance, for the man's back was turned. But it was no use; he simply could not spring on a man brave enough to turn his back, so instead he sighed heavily and sat down.
"How's the hunting?" asked the woodcutter gruffly, after he had brought down his tree.
"Why, not very good, thank you," replied the lion pensively. This was worse still. Could one eat up a man in the middle of a conversation?
"Well, now that's too bad." The woodcutter mopped his brow and turned 'round slowly.
"Tell me," asked the lion, blinking his eyes unhappily, "are you a brave man?"
"Well, that," pondered the woodcutter, sitting down on a stump and wiping off his ax with a bunch of leaves, "that I hardly know."
"Don't you think talking to a lion is pretty brave?" asked the great beast hopefully. He gathered himself for a spring. If the man said yes, he would certainly eat him up and have an end to this disagreeable business. But instead, the woodcutter regarded him closely.
"Say!" he burst out, hopping to his feet and giving the Cowardly Lion a resounding whack on the back, "say, this is an honor. Sorry I didn't recognize you at once. Boys!" He raised his voice joyfully, "Boys, here's the good old Cowardly Lion, the Cowardly Lion himself. Come on out. We've often heard about you," explained the big man, fairly beaming upon the embarrassed lion, "but as none of us ever go to the Emerald City this is the first we've seen of you. How is the Scarecrow and Ozma, and how's Princess Dorothy? You see, even though we live in the woods, we know all about you famous folks."
The Cowardly Lion put his paw to his head and tried to think. It was upsetting to have a man you intended to devour so frightfully polite. "How did you know I was the Cowardly Lion?" he asked in a husky voice.
"Why, first I thought you were like any other lion, then I saw you were all of a tremble, and I says to myself, says I, 'Wilby, my lad, you're looking straight at this famous Cowardly Lion of Oz.' I tell you it's a proud day for me. To think I'm talking face to face with a lion who has saved his country as many times as you have. I declare now, it's a pleasure."
Before the Cowardly Lion could answer, a dozen more woodcutters came running toward them and when he had been introduced by Wilby Whut to each woodcutter in turn, and to the wives and children of each woodcutter, he had neither the breath nor the inclination to devour anybody. The children hastily wove him a flower chain and crowed with delight when he trotted them about on his back. The women brought out their choicest meats and dishes of honey to refresh him, while the men sat around and listened solemnly to all he had to say of doings in the Emerald City. Why, there had not been such a holiday in the forest since the wicked Witch of the West had been destroyed by little Dorothy.
The Cowardly Lion, ashamed of the dreadful purpose that had brought him to the forest, outdid himself to entertain them. And so enchanted were the kindly woodcutters with his conversation that he could not tear himself away until late in the afternoon.
"I'll never be able to eat a woodcutter," groaned the Cowardly Lion, trotting slowly along in the gathering dusk. "Never after the way they have treated me. I'll have to find some other sort of brave person to swallow." Scraps' advice was proving difficult right at the start, and very thoughtfully the Cowardly Lion continued his journey.
It was night time when he reached the edge of the forest—night time and not a brave man in sight. But in the southern part of the Munchkin Country there are many great mountains and among the sturdy Munchkin mountaineers surely there would be a brave man. So the lion, who did not mind at all traveling in the dark, ran steadily toward the south, through quiet little villages, through fragrant fields and meadows, even swimming the broad and turbulent Munchkin river. It was rather lonely, and he wished Dorothy or Sir Hokus of Pokes were along, but he well knew that neither would approve of his plan for acquiring courage. He was not sure that he approved of it himself, but he kept on arguing in his head and shuddering in his heart, and sighing because he was so great a coward. Just as the sun rose he came upon a brave man, asleep under a blue rose bush. He knew he must be brave, because he was dressed as a huntsman and beside him lay a terrible-looking gun.
The Cowardly Lion's heart began to thump like a triphammer, for he was much afraid of guns. But it did not seem at all fair to swallow a man in his sleep and, though he trembled so violently he could scarcely stand, he determined to waken the huntsman and to ascertain at the same time whether he were brave enough for his purpose. Gathering himself together as best he could, he sprang upon the sleeping huntsman. There was a crackle and snap as if he had stepped upon a pillow stuffed with twigs. Then an ear splitting shriek flattened back the Cowardly Lion's ears and fairly curdled his blood. At the same time his tail was seized from behind, and twisted terrifically.
"Help! Help!" screamed the huntsman, trying to rise.
"Ouch, Stop!" roared the Cowardly Lion, while the person who had hold of his tail screamed in seven different keys. The Cowardly Lion removed his paw from the huntsman's chest. "Are you a brave man?" he asked in a quavering voice.
"Not very," chattered the huntsman, jumping up and backing cautiously toward a tree.
"Well, you don't sound brave," continued the lion in a relieved voice. "A brave man would not call for help. Let go of my tail, little boy. It's all a mistake. I don't want this huntsman after all."
"He's not a huntsman," wailed the little boy, running over and clasping the man around the knees.
"Not a huntsman?" roared the Cowardly Lion, waving his tail very fast. "Then what—"
"I'm a clown, you rude monster," spluttered the man indignantly.
A clown! Well, I should say—and none other than our old friend Notta Bit More. Snatching off his hat and false whiskers, he swung Bob Up into a tree and nimbly followed himself. When they were both seated on a branch, far above the ground, he looked anxiously through the leaves to see what the lion would do next. "Never saw such a country for lions!" he puffed resentfully.
The lion, with one paw shading his eyes, was looking up at them. "Are you afraid?" he called pleasantly. "Are you afraid? Well, don't be, for being a coward myself makes me very sympathetic." At the word coward Notta almost fell from the tree.
"Bob," whispered the clown hoarsely, "it's the Cowardly Lion himself! Now we mustn't let him know we're going to capture him."
"He's a very bad lion," interrupted Bob Up tearfully. "He tried to bite you!"
"What say?" called the lion, who could only hear an indistinct muttering.
"He says you are a very bad lion," repeated Notta, looking seriously at the great creature below.
"He's right," sighed the lion dolefully. "I am a bad lion. A good lion would have eaten you up by this time, but a bad lion often makes a good friend. Come on down. It was all a mistake."
"Are you a friend of Dorothy's?" asked Bob, leaning far out over the branch. At mention of Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion gave a guilty little jump.
"Well, I should say so. Are you friends of Dorothy's?"
"No, but we're from the same country," said the clown, "and if you're quite sure you don't want to eat me up, we'd like to ask you a few questions."
"I've never eaten a man in my life," roared the Cowardly Lion, rolling his eyes sadly.
"Then why start on me?" asked Notta, scratching his ear and winking at Bob Up. Now that the incident was over it struck him as terribly funny to be perched in a tree conversing with the Cowardly Lion. He wished some of his old pals in the circus could see him. He'd never expect them to believe it otherwise. So Notta and Bob climbed down and the three regarded each other with frank interest.
The Cowardly Lion had never seen a clown and the clown had never seen a Cowardly Lion, so there was much to be explained and accounted for. First, Notta told of their sudden transportation to Mudge, of Doorways, and everything else except Mustafa's determination to have them capture the Cowardly Lion himself. They were on their way, explained the clown, to the Emerald City to see whether or not Dorothy could find a way to send them back to the United States.
"Ozma can do that very easily with her magic belt," said the lion, "but I will go with you, for Oz is full of dangers for mortal folks like you, and Dorothy would not want anything to happen to anyone from her country, I am very sure." He then told them a lot about the marvelous land of Oz, with its four big countries and its many little ones.
"This," roared the Cowardly Lion with a sweep of his paw, "is the Munchkin Country. To the north is the Kingdom of the Gillikens, to the west is the Winkie Country and to the south the Quadling Country, ruled over by the good sorceress, Glinda. But all of Oz is under the rule of Ozma."
Bob's eyes grew rounder and rounder as he told them how Dorothy was first blown to Oz by a cyclone, of her discovery of the Scarecrow, how she had lifted him down his pole and, with the Cowardly Lion and Tin Woodman, traveled to the Emerald City, then ruled over by the Wizard of Oz. Then he told how Ozma, the little fairy ruler, who was the real Queen of Oz, had been found and placed upon the throne. Then came the story of Scraps and Sir Hokus and of Tik Tok, and of every other amazing person living in the amazing Emerald City.
When the Cowardly Lion paused for breath Bob was jumping up and down with excitement. "Oh, I do want to see Dorothy and the Scarecrow! Let's hurry," cried the little orphan, throwing his arms 'round the Cowardly Lion's neck. The kind old Cowardly Lion blinked with pleasure.
"I'm glad you did that," he rumbled in a husky voice, "for now I know that you trust me, and have forgotten all about that unfortunate mistake!"
"But why did you ask if I was brave?" mused the clown, who could scarcely believe that this merry little boy hugging the Cowardly Lion was the same Bobbie Downs who had fallen into Mudge.
"Because," the lion swallowed self-consciously, "because I am looking for the bravest man in Oz."
"What will you do when you find him?" asked Notta, carefully folding up his huntsman suit and powdering his nose with another marshmallow.
"Now, don't ask me that, please." The Cowardly Lion raised his paw pleadingly and looked so uncomfortable Notta dropped the subject at once. He felt a little uncomfortable himself, for he had determined, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, to tie up the great creature and somehow or other deliver him to Mustafa. What else could he do? The clown sighed regretfully, for already he had taken a great fancy to the Cowardly Lion. But fancy or not, one could not risk turning blue, and he had Bob Up to think of. To gain the lion's confidence he decided to travel with him for a while toward the Emerald City and, so long as they did that with the fixed purpose of capturing the Cowardly Lion, Mustafa's ring could not turn black.
Notta said nothing of his plans to Bob, for the boy was so happy at the thought of visiting the Emerald City, and so delighted with this new and interesting friend, he hated to spoil a bit of his pleasure. So he merely opened another pack of Mustafa's sandwiches and they all had a cheerful breakfast together. Then, with Bob proudly riding the lion, they started off once again toward the north.
"Would you mind telling me why you pretended to be a huntsman?" asked the Cowardly Lion. He had been looking sideways at Notta for some time, trying to puzzle the thing out for himself.
"Not at all," chuckled the clown, chinning himself on the branch of a tree. "I disguised myself as a huntsman to frighten off any wild animals while we were asleep. I always disguise myself when there is danger in the wind—don't I, Bobbie?" The little boy nodded his head solemnly.
"Does it help?" asked the Cowardly Lion in an interested voice. Bob Up looked thoughtful, but as the clown nodded emphatically, he said nothing. It seemed to Bob that Notta always picked the wrong disguise, but the clown was so confident and cheerful about it he could not bear to discourage him. So he listened politely while Notta explained his rules of disguise, politeness, joke and run. When he had finished the Cowardly Lion shook his head.
"I suppose," said he, half closing his eyes, "that you cannot help your disguises any more than I can help my cowardice."
"It isn't that I am afraid," explained Notta hastily, "but I can fight better when I'm not looking like myself. When I look like myself I feel funny and when I feel funny, I can't fight."
"Well, with me," said the Cowardly Lion, who like most of us enjoyed talking about himself, "the funnier I look, the harder I fight. So don't frighten me, I beg of you, for when I'm frightened I fight terrifically."
"I'll remember what you say," said Notta, turning a somersault, and wondering uneasily what the Cowardly Lion would do when he tried to capture him. But the thought of being captured never entered the lion's head. He was rather glad to have the two strangers turn up this way. It postponed that disagreeable business of eating a brave man. Of course, if they should run across one on the journey, well enough, but first it was his plain duty to conduct this clown and little boy safely to the Emerald City.
Notta was so cheerful and jolly and made so much fun out of everything that the Cowardly Lion felt repaid for any trouble he was taking and Bob Up had not been so happy since they had fallen into this bewildering country. Toward noon, as the sun grew rather hot, the Cowardly Lion turned into a small inviting wood which he felt was a short cut to the yellow brick road. But on the very first tree, a large sign made them pause. The sign said, "Twenty trees to U."
"I never heard of any country called U," mumbled the Cowardly Lion, blinking up at the sign in surprise.
"There was one just like this on the road we came down yesterday," said Notta. "Bob and I wondered what it stood for."
"Well, I don't know," mused the lion. "That's the queer thing about Oz. Even old residents like myself are often amazed to find new countries and peoples where we never expected to find them. According to the maps there are only scattered farms between here and the Emerald City. But so long as we have to go through this wood, we might as well see what U stands for."
Bob was the first to discover that every now and then the trees were numbered and, following them in the order of their numbers, took them deeper and deeper into the forest. When they reached the tree numbered nineteen, they were alarmed to note that all the other numbers that had guided them had disappeared. The wood had meanwhile grown so dense that they could hardly push on and, when Notta suggested that they go back, they found they had lost the way entirely. The Cowardly Lion was full of stickers and thorns and, while Bob picked them out of his woolly mane, the clown climbed the nineteenth tree to make a little survey of the country.
With a shout he came scrambling down. "There's a clearing just beyond, and I think I made out twenty on the tree in the center," puffed Notta. "Come on!" The clown was growing more interested in this strange country every minute. He could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next.
"Let me go first. My hide doesn't tear as easily as yours," said the Cowardly Lion, and he began pushing through the heavy thicket in the direction pointed out by Notta. Holding up their arms to protect their faces, the others followed and in almost no time had come out on a small clearing.
As they looked the clown clutched Bob, while the Cowardly Lion blinked with astonishment. The twentieth tree was knitting furiously, holding in its long fingers nearly a hundred gleaming needles, and bending its witchy head every once in a while to examine the great, cloudy net that flowed all around it. For some moments they watched in puzzled silence. Then Bob screamed, the Cowardly Lion roared and Notta gasped with alarm. For the net suddenly swooped down and scooped them up like a school of fish. The tree gave a disagreeable little laugh, quickly knitted the top of the net together and, lifting all its branches at once, tossed the luckless travelers high over its head.
Miraculously, as it struck the air, the big porous bag filled out like a balloon and went sailing upward at a terrible rate—the Cowardly Lion, Bob Up and Notta rolling over and over in the bottom and bumping and banging together in a most painful and unpleasant fashion.
On the Isle of Un
"If you could just stop trembling," puffed the clown, trying to keep out of the Cowardly Lion's way, "I think it would help."
"But how can I stop trembling when I am so frightened," complained the lion, clutching the swaying net with all four paws.
"I'm frightened too!" wailed Bob, who was rolling and bouncing first against one, then against the other.
"It seems to me you're shaking about a lot yourself," said the Cowardly Lion reproachfully, as Notta dove suddenly into his ribs. "What are you trying to do?"
"My disguise!" panted the clown, clutching at his chest. "If I could only put on my disguise."
"Aho!" mumbled the Cowardly Lion, and stopped trembling long enough to grin. But just then the balloon calmed down, and changing its course sailed gently and levelly through the sky, so that the three huddled together in the bottom were fairly comfortable.
"I guess U stands for Up. You surely bobbed up this time, didn't you?" Notta winked merrily at the little orphan, and then peered curiously through the holes in the net. "This reminds me of a balloon trip I once made for the circus. Wonder where we'll land?"
"Are we to land at all?" sighed the Cowardly Lion unhappily. Two of his legs had slipped through holes in the net and he was feeling uneasy and uncomfortable. "Climb on me, Bob, my boy. It will be a little softer. When you've been in Oz as long as I have, you'll take nothing for granted." He looked mournfully at the clown who was that moment below him.
"Then I'll just take it Oz is," laughed Notta. "Why, here's land now! And we're slowing down." So they were, down—down—down, until they were over a rocky island. When the net was almost resting on a little green hill, it turned completely and suddenly upside down, and shook them out with such violence that they rolled all the way to the bottom. The Cowardly Lion jumped up first and hurriedly placed himself in front of Bob. Though he was trembling even more than usual, he knew that he was a better fighter than these helpless mortals. And that there would be fighting he felt reasonably sure, for a great crowd was coming noisily toward them.
Notta nervously jerked Bob to his feet and stood beside the Cowardly Lion. There was no time for disguising. "We'll just start with rule two," panted the clown, running his finger hurriedly 'round his collar. "Let's be ex-tre-eemly polite. That's the way to meet strangers."
"All right," agreed the Cowardly Lion in a rather choked voice, "you meet 'em with politeness, and if that fails, I'll meet 'em with something else." He gnashed his teeth to keep them from chattering. As the first of the company reached the foot of the hill Bob gave a little scream, but Notta calmly stepped forward.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" began the clown in his best circus manner, "Let me introduce you to the most famous lion in the world, the Cowardly Lion of Oz, as brave as he is cowardly; allow me to present Bob Up, the brightest little boy in the United States, and myself, a harmless clown whose tricks have astonished the crowned heads of two continents. Ladies and gentlemen, let—"
"Two creatures and a beast," called the leader of the company, interrupting Notta in the middle of a sentence. "Two creatures and a beast," repeated the others, staring dully at the newcomers. The Cowardly Lion growled threateningly at this and Notta began running over all the jokes that he knew. As for Bob, he was too amazed to do anything but stare, for these were certainly the most curious beings he had ever seen in his life.
To begin with, they had feathers instead of hair. These feathers were small and fine and grew smoothly back from their foreheads, becoming longer at the back and curling softly behind the ears. Their eyes were perfectly round and their noses almost like bird beaks. Otherwise they were the same as regular folks, except in their manner of walking, for their feet turned in so much that they had to hop, putting one foot down and then hopping over it. Before Notta could start a joke, the leader of these singular creatures motioned to two behind him. They immediately stepped forward, unfurling as they did so a large banner.
The Featherheads of Un
The Featherheads of Un
The Featherheads of Un
"Unwelcome to Un," said the banner in crooked yellow letters.
"No use being polite then," rumbled the Cowardly Lion and, taking matters into his own paws, he gave such a thundering roar that the very ground trembled.
"Ginger poppa!" gasped the clown, almost as frightened as the Featherheads. The effect on the crowd was simply breath-taking. Beginning at the back of their necks, their feathers slowly rose straight on end until each head looked like a huge and quivering feather duster. The Cowardly Lion tried to roar again, but the best that he could manage was a chuckle. Notta took one look, then fell up against a tree and laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. Even Bob giggled.
"Try 'em again," wheezed the Cowardly Lion. "I think they'll listen to you now. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Notta stepped forward and addressed the leader.
"Could you tell us a little about this interesting country of yours, and the quickest way out of it?" he inquired politely. Slowly the feathers on the heads of the crowd began to settle.
"'Taint a country, it's a skyle," answered the Featherhead, blinking rapidly.
"A skyle?" repeated the clown, glancing doubtfully at the Cowardly Lion, who appeared to be as puzzled as he was. "What is a skyle?" asked Notta curiously.
"This is," snapped the leader disagreeably. "You're as ignorant as a fish, aren't you?" Then as the Cowardly Lion gave a threatening growl he continued grudgingly, "A skyle is an isle in the sky, and anyone who has studied skyography ought to know that. I suppose you don't even know what an isle is?" He looked contemptuously at the three strangers.
"I do. An isle is a small body of land entirely surrounded by water," cried Bob, delighted to find that geography was of some use after all.
"Well," said the Featherhead uneasily, "then I guess you'll understand when I tell you that a skyle is a small body of land entirely surrounded by air."
"Air!" spluttered Notta. "I say, how does one get off a skyle?"
"You'll soon find that out!" muttered the Featherhead, and all the others began nodding and clucking for all the world like a company of hens.
"What do you call yourselves?" asked the Cowardly Lion. Now that he knew how to frighten them, he no longer felt afraid.
"We're Uns, we are, and nobody but Uns are allowed on this skyle. We'll have to take you along to the palace and his royal Skyness will decide what's to be done with you."
"Another king," groaned the clown.
"Isn't it time to run?" asked Bob, tugging at Notta's pantaloon, for the Uns were drawing closer this time, paying no attention to the roars of the Cowardly Lion.
"No use running, Bob. We might fall off. Perhaps this King is a better fellow than his subjects.
"Take us to your King!" cried the clown, settling his cap determinedly. Hopping and muttering, the Uns formed two crooked lines, and with the three travelers in the center marched away to the palace. There were many tall trees on the skyle of Un and, more remarkable still, every tree had a rough boxlike structure built in its branches, like enormous bird houses. They were reached by rough ladders and the Uns seemed to be as much at home on the branches as on the ground. Some of the women standing on lower branches were hanging clothes on upper ones as calmly as ordinary folk string the washing up in the yard. But, as Notta whispered to Bob, what could one expect of Featherheads?