Next morning they started out
bright and early to follow the
road of yellow bricks toward
the Emerald City. The little
Munchkin boy was beginning to
feel tired from the long walk,
and he had a great many things
to think of and consider besides
the events of the journey. At
the wonderful Emerald City, which
he would presently reach, were
so many strange and curious people
that he was half afraid of meeting
them and wondered if they would
prove friendly and kind. Above
all else, he could not drive
from his mind the important errand
on which he had come, and he
was determined to devote every
energy to finding the things
that were necessary to prepare
the magic recipe. He believed
that until dear Unc Nunkie was
restored to life he could feel
no joy in anything, and often
he wished that Unc could be with
him, to see all the astonishing
things Ojo was seeing. But alas
Unc Nunkie was now a marble statue
in the house of the Crooked Magician
and Ojo must not falter in his
efforts to
save him.
The country through which they
were passing was still rocky
and deserted, with here and there
a bush or a tree to break the
dreary landscape. Ojo noticed
one tree, especially, because
it had such long, silky leaves
and was so beautiful in shape.
As he approached it he studied
the tree earnestly, wondering
if any fruit grew on it or if
it bore pretty flowers.
Suddenly he became aware that
he had been looking at that tree
a long time--at least for five
minutes--and it had remained
in the same position, although
the boy had continued to walk
steadily on. So he stopped short.
and when he stopped, the tree
and all the landscape, as well
as his companions, moved on before
him and left him far behind.
Ojo uttered such a cry of astonishment
that it aroused the Shaggy Man,
who also halted. The others then
stopped, too, and walked back
to the boy.
"What's wrong?" asked
the Shaggy Man.
"Why, we're not moving forward
a bit, no matter how fast we
walk," declared Ojo. "Now that
we have stopped, we are moving
backward! Can't you see? Just
notice that rock."
Scraps looked
down at her feet and said: "The
yellow bricks are not moving."
"But the whole road is," answered
Ojo.
"True; quite true," agreed
the Shaggy Man. "I know all about
the tricks of this road, but
I have been thinking of something
else and didn't realize where
we were."
"It will carry us back to where
we started from," predicted Ojo,
beginning to be nervous.
"No," replied the Shaggy Man; "it
won't do that, for I know a trick
to beat this tricky road. I've
traveled this way before, you
know. Turn around, all of you,
and walk backward."
"What good will that do?" asked
the cat.
"You'll find out, if you obey
me," said the Shaggy Man.
So they all turned their backs
to the direction in which they
wished to go and began walking
backward. In an instant Ojo noticed
they were gaining ground and
as they proceeded in this curious
way they soon passed the tree
which had first attracted his
attention to their difficulty.
"How long must we keep this
up, Shags?" asked Scraps, who
was constantly tripping and tumbling
down, only to get up again with
a laugh at her mishap.
"Just a little way farther," replied
the Shaggy Man.
A few minutes later he called
to them to turn about quickly
and step forward, and as they
obeyed the order they found themselves
treading solid ground.
"That task is well over," observed
the Shaggy Man. "It's a little
tiresome to walk backward, but
that is the only way to pass
this part of the road, which
has a trick of sliding back and
carrying with it anyone who is
walking upon it."
With new courage
and energy they now trudged
forward and
after a time came to a place
where the road cut through a
low hill, leaving high banks
on either side of it. They were
traveling along this cut, talking
together, when the Shaggy Man
seized Scraps with one arm and
Ojo with another and shouted: "Stop!"
"What's wrong now?" asked
the Patchwork Girl.
"See there!" answered
the Shaggy Man, pointing with
his finger.
Directly in the center of the
road lay a motionless object
that bristled all over with sharp
quills, which resembled arrows.
The body was as big as a ten-bushel
basket, but the projecting quills
made it appear to be four times
bigger.
"Well, what of it?" asked
Scraps.
"That is Chiss, who causes
a lot of trouble along this road," was
the reply.
"Chiss! What
is Chiss?
"I think it
is merely an overgrown porcupine,
but here in Oz they
consider Chiss an evil spirit.
He's different from a reg'lar
porcupine, because he can throw
his quills in any direction,
which an American porcupine cannot
do. That's what makes old Chiss
so dangerous. If we get too near,
he'll fire those quills at us
and hurt us badly."
"Then we will
be foolish to get too near,
said Scraps.
"I'm not afraid," declared
the Woozy. "The Chiss is cowardly,
I'm sure, and if it ever heard
my awful, terrible, frightful
growl, it would be scared stiff."
"Oh; can you growl?" asked
the Shaggy Man.
"That is the only ferocious
thing about me," asserted the
Woozy with evident pride. "My
growl makes an earthquake blush
and the thunder ashamed of itself.
If I growled at that creature
you call Chiss, it would immediately
think the world had cracked in
two and bumped against the sun
and moon, and that would cause
the monster to run as far and
as fast as its legs could carry
it."
"In that case," said the Shaggy
Man, "you are now able to do
us all a great favor. Please
growl."
"But you forget," returned
the Woozy; "my tremendous growl
would also frighten you, and
if you happen to have heart disease
you might expire."
"True; but we must take that
risk," decided the Shaggy Man,
bravely. "Being warned of what
is to occur we must try to bear
the terrific noise of your growl;
but Chiss won't expect it, and
it will scare him away."
The Woozy hesitated.
"I'm fond of you all, and I
hate to shock you," it said.
"Never mind," said
Ojo.
"You may be
made deaf."
"If so, we
will forgive you.
"Very well, then," said the
Woozy in a determined voice,
and advanced a few steps toward
the giant porcupine. Pausing
to look back, it asked: "All
ready?"
"All ready!" they
answered.
"Then cover
up your ears and brace yourselves
firmly. Now,
then--look out!"
The Woozy turned toward Chiss,
opened wide its mouth and said:
"Quee-ee-ee-eek."
"Go ahead and growl," said
Scraps.
"Why, I--I did growl!" retorted
the Woozy, who seemed much astonished.
"What, that little squeak?" she
cried.
"It is the most awful growl
that ever was heard, on land
or sea, in caverns or in the
sky," protested the Woozy. "I
wonder you stood the shock so
well. Didn't you feel the ground
tremble? I suppose Chiss is now
quite dead with fright."
The Shaggy Man laughed merrily.
"Poor Wooz!" said he; "your
growl wouldn't scare a fly."
The Woozy seemed
to be humiliated and surprised.
It hung its head
a moment, as if in shame or sorrow,
but then it said with renewed
confidence: "Anyhow, my eyes
can flash fire; and good fire,
too; good enough to set fire
to a fence!"
"That is true," declared Scraps; "I
saw it done myself. But your
ferocious growl isn't as loud
as the tick of a beetle--or one
of Ojo's snores when he's fast
asleep."
"Perhaps," said the Woozy,
humbly, "I have been mistaken
about my growl. It has always
sounded very fearful to me, but
that may, have been because it
was so close to my ears."
"Never mind," Ojo said soothingly; "it
is a great talent to be able
to flash fire from your eyes.
No one else can do that."
As they stood hesitating what
to do Chiss stirred and suddenly
a shower of quills came flying
toward them, almost filling the
air, they were so many. Scraps
realized in an instant that they
had gone too near to Chiss for
safety, so she sprang in front
of Ojo and shielded him from
the darts, which stuck their
points into her own body until
she resembled one of those targets
they shoot arrows at in archery
games. The Shaggy Man dropped
flat on his face to avoid the
shower, but one quill struck
him in the leg and went far in.
As for the Glass Cat, the quills
rattled off her body without
making even a scratch, and the
skin of the Woozy was so thick
and tough that he was not hurt
at all.
When the attack was over they
all ran to the Shaggy Man, who
was moaning and groaning, and
Scraps promptly pulled the quill
out of his leg. Then up he jumped
and ran over to Chiss, putting
his foot on the monster's neck
and holding it a prisoner. The
body of the great porcupine was
now as smooth as leather, except
for the holes where the quills
had been, for it had shot every
single quill in that one wicked
shower.
"Let me go!" it shouted angrily. "How
dare you put your foot on Chiss?"
"I'm going to do worse than
that, old boy," replied the Shaggy
Man. "You have annoyed travelers
on this road long enough, and
now I shall put an end to you."
"You can't!" returned Chiss. "Nothing
can kill me, as you know perfectly
well."
"Perhaps that is true," said
the Shaggy Man in a tone of disappointment. "Seems
to me I've been told before that
you can't be killed. But if I
let you go, what will you do?"
"Pick up my quills again," said
Chiss in a sulky voice.
"And then shoot
them at more travelers? No;
that won't do.
You must promise me to stop throwing
quills at people."
"I won't promise anything of
the sort," declared Chiss.
"Why not?"
"Because it
is my nature to throw quills,
and every animal
must do what Nature intends it
to do. It isn't fair for you
to blame me. If it were wrong
for me to throw quills, then
I wouldn't be made with quills
to throw. The proper thing for
you to do is to keep out of my
way.
"Why, there's some sense in
that argument, admitted the Shaggy
Man, thoughtfully; "but people
who are strangers, and don't
know you are here, won't be able
to keep out of your way."
"Tell you what," said Scraps,
who was trying to pull the quills
out of her own body, "let's gather
up all the quills and take them
away with us; then old Chiss
won't have any left to throw
at people."
"Ah, that's
a clever idea. You and Ojo
must gather up the
quills while I hold Chiss a prisoner;
for, if I let him go he will
get some of his quills and be
able to throw them again."
So Scraps and Ojo picked up
all the quills and tied them
in a bundle so they might easily
be carried. After this the Shaggy
Man released Chiss and let him
go, knowing that he was harmless
to injure anyone.
"It's the meanest trick I ever
heard of," muttered the porcupine
gloomily. "How would you like
it, Shaggy Man, if I took all
your shags away from you?"
"If I threw my shags and hurt
people, you would be welcome
to capture them," was the reply.
Then they walked on and left
Chiss standing in the road sullen
and disconsolate. The Shaggy
Man limped as he walked, for
his wound still hurt him, and
Scraps was much annoyed be cause
the quills had left a number
of small holes in her patches.
When they came to a flat stone
by the roadside the Shaggy Man
sat down to rest, and then Ojo
opened his basket and took out
the bundle of charms the Crooked
Magician had given him.
"I am Ojo the Unlucky," he
said, "or we would never have
met that dreadful porcupine.
But I will see if I can find
anything among these charms which
will cure your leg."
Soon he discovered
that one of the charms was
labelled: "For
flesh wounds," and this the boy
separated from the others. It
was only a bit of dried root,
taken from some unknown shrub,
but the boy rubbed it upon the
wound made by the quill and in
a few moments the place was healed
entirely and the Shaggy Man's
leg was as good as ever.
"Rub it on the holes in my
patches," suggested Scraps, and
Ojo tried it, but without any
effect.
"The charm you need is a needle
and thread," said the Shaggy
Man. "But do not worry, my dear;
those holes do not look badly,
at all."
"They'll let in the air, and
I don't want people to think
I'm airy, or that I've been stuck
up," said the Patchwork Girl.
"You were certainly stuck up
until we pulled Out those quills," observed
Ojo, with a laugh.
So now they went on again and
coming presently to a pond of
muddy water they tied a heavy
stone to the bundle of quills
and sunk it to the bottom of
the pond, to avoid carrying it
farther.
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