Next morning the Scarecrow said to his friends:
“Congratulate me. I am going to Oz to get my brains at last. When I return I shall be as other men are.”
“I have always liked you as you were,” said Dorothy simply.
“It is kind of you to like a Scarecrow,” he replied. “But surely you will think more of me when you hear the splendid thoughts my new brain is going to turn out.” Then he said good-bye to them all in a cheerful voice and went to the Throne Room.
He knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said Oz.
The Scarecrow went in and found the little man sitting down by the window, engaged in deep thought.
“I have come for my brains,” remarked the Scarecrow..
“Oh, yes; sit down in that chair, please,” replied Oz. “You must excuse me for taking your head off, but I shall have to do it in order to put your brains in their proper place.”
“That’s all right,” said the Scarecrow. “You are quite welcome to take my head off, as long as it will be a better one when you put it on again.”
So the Wizard took his head and emptied out the straw. Then he entered the back room and took up a measure of bran, which he mixed with a great many pins and needles. Having shaken them together thoroughly, he filled the top of the Scarecrow’s head with the mixture and stuffed the rest of the space with straw, to hold it in place.
When he had fastened the Scarecrow’s head on his body again he said to him, “I have given you a lot of brains.”
The Scarecrow was both pleased and proud at the fulfillment of his greatest wish. He thanked Oz warmly and went back to his friends.
Dorothy looked at him curiously. His head was quite bulged out at the top with brains.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“I feel wise indeed,” he answered earnestly. “When I get used to my brains I shall know everything.”
“Why are those needles and pins sticking out of your head?” asked the Tin Woodman.
“That is proof that he is sharp,” remarked the Lion.
“Well, I must go to Oz and get my heart,” said the Woodman. So he walked to the Throne Room and knocked at the door.
“Come in,” called Oz, and the Woodman entered and said, “I have come for my heart.”
“Very well,” answered the little man. “But I shall have to cut a hole in your breast, so I can put your heart in the right place.”
“Oh, no,” answered the Woodman. “I shall not feel it at all.”
So Oz cut a small, square hole in the left side of the Tin Woodman’s breast. Then, going to a chest of drawers, he took out a pretty heart, made entirely of silk and stuffed with sawdust.
“Isn’t it a beauty?” he asked.
“It is, indeed!” replied the Woodman, who was greatly pleased. “But is it a kind heart?”
“Oh, very!” answered Oz. He put the heart in the Woodman’s breast and then replaced the square of tin.
“There,” said he; “now you have a heart that any man might be proud of. I’m sorry I had to put a patch on your breast, but it really couldn’t be helped.”
“Never mind the patch,” exclaimed the happy Woodman. “I am very grateful to you, and shall never forget your kindness.”
“Don’t speak of it,” replied Oz.
Then the Tin Woodman went back to his friends, who wished him every joy on account of his good fortune.
The Lion now walked to the Throne Room and knocked at the door.
“Come in,” said Oz.
“I have come for my courage,” announced the Lion, entering the room.
“Very well,” answered the little man; “I will get it for you.”
He went to a cupboard and reaching up to a high shelf took down a square green bottle, the contents of which he poured into a green-gold dish, beautifully carved. Placing this before the Cowardly Lion, the Wizard said:
“Drink.”
“What is it?” asked the Lion.
“Well,” answered Oz, “if it were inside of you, it would be courage. I advise you to drink it as soon as possible.”
The Lion hesitated no longer, but drank till the dish was empty.
“How do you feel now?” asked Oz.
“Full of courage,” replied the Lion, who went joyfully back to his friends to tell them of his good fortune.
Oz, left to himself, smiled to think of his success. “It was easy to make the Scarecrow and the Lion and the Woodman happy, because they imagined I could do anything. But it will take more than imagination to carry Dorothy back to Kansas, and I’m sure I don’t know how it can be done.”
For three days Dorothy heard nothing from Oz. On the fourth day, to her great joy, Oz sent for her, and when she entered the Throne Room he greeted her pleasantly:
“Sit down, my dear; I think I have found the way to get you out of this country.”
“And back to Kansas?” she asked eagerly.
“Well, I’m not sure about Kansas,” said Oz, “for I haven’t the faintest notion which way it lies. But the first thing to do is to cross the desert, and then it should be easy to find your way home.”
“How can I cross the desert?” she inquired.
“Well, I’ll tell you what I think,” said the little man. “You see, when I came to this country it was in a balloon. You also came through the air, being carried by a cyclone. So I believe the best way to get across the desert will be through the air. Now, it is quite beyond my powers to make a cyclone; but I believe I can make a balloon.”
“How?” asked Dorothy.
“A balloon,” said Oz, “is made of silk, which is coated with glue to keep the gas in it. I have plenty of silk in the Palace, so it will be no trouble to make the balloon. But in all this country there is no gas to fill the balloon with, to make it float.”
“If it won’t float,” remarked Dorothy, “it will be of no use to us.”
“True,” answered Oz. “But there is another way to make it float, which is to fill it with hot air. Hot air isn’t as good as gas, for if the air should get cold the balloon would come down in the desert, and we should be lost.”
“We!” exclaimed the girl. “Are you going with me?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Oz. “I am tired of being such a humbug.”
“I shall be glad to have your company,” said Dorothy.
“Thank you,” he answered. “Now, if you will help me sew the silk together, we will begin to work on our balloon.”
So Dorothy took a needle and thread, and as fast as Oz cut the strips of silk into proper shape the girl sewed them together. First there was a strip of light green silk, then a strip of dark green and then a strip of emerald green; for Oz had a fancy to make the balloon in different shades of the color about them. It took three days to sew all the strips together. When it was finished they had a big bag of green silk more than twenty feet long.
Then Oz painted it on the inside with a coat of thin glue, to make it airtight. After that he announced that the balloon was ready.
“But we must have a basket to ride in,” he said. So he sent the soldier with the green whiskers for a big clothes basket, which he fastened with many ropes to the bottom of the balloon.
When it was all ready, Oz sent word to his people that he was going to make a visit to a great brother Wizard who lived in the clouds.
Oz ordered the balloon carried out in front of the Palace, and the people gazed upon it with much curiosity. The Tin Woodman had chopped a big pile of wood, and now he made a fire of it, and Oz held the bottom of the balloon over the fire so that the hot air that arose from it would be caught in the silken bag. Slowly, the balloon swelled up and rose into the air, until finally the basket just touched the ground.
Then Oz got into the basket and said to all the people in a loud voice:
“I am now going away to make a visit. While I am gone the Scarecrow will rule over you. I command you to obey him as you would me.”
The balloon was by this time tugging hard at the rope that held it to the ground.
“Come, Dorothy!” cried the Wizard. “Hurry up, or the balloon will fly away.”
“I can’t find Toto anywhere,” replied Dorothy, who did not wish to leave her little dog behind.
Toto had run into the crowd to bark at a kitten. It took Dorothy a few minutes to find him. She picked him up and ran towards the balloon.
She was within a few steps of it, when, crack! went the ropes, and the balloon rose into the air without her.
“Come back!” she screamed. “I want to go, too!”
“I can’t come back, my dear,” called Oz from the basket. “Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!” shouted everyone, and all eyes were turned upward to where the Wizard was riding in the basket, rising farther and farther into the sky.
And that was the last any of them ever saw Oz, the Wonderful Wizard.
Dorothy wept bitterly. She lost her hope of getting back to Kansas again; but when she thought it all over she was glad she had not gone up in a balloon. And she also felt sorry at losing Oz, and so did her friends.
The Scarecrow was now the ruler of the Emerald City, and although he was not a Wizard the people were proud of him. “For,” they said, “there is not another city in all the world that is ruled by a stuffed man.” And, so far as they knew, they were quite right.
The morning after the balloon had gone up with Oz, the four travelers met in the Throne Room and talked matters over. The Scarecrow sat in the big throne and the others stood respectfully before him.
“We are not so unlucky,” said the new ruler, “for this Palace and the Emerald City belong to us, and we can do just as we please. I am quite satisfied with my lot.”
“I also,” said the Tin Woodman, “am well-pleased with my new heart; and, really, that was the only thing I wished for.”
“For my part, I am content in knowing I am as brave as any beast that ever lived, if not braver,” said the Lion modestly.
“But I don’t want to live here,” cried Dorothy. “I want to go to Kansas, and live with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.”
“Well, then, what can be done?” inquired the Woodman.
The Scarecrow decided to think, and he thought so hard that the pins and needles began to stick out of his brains. Finally he said:
“Why not call the Winged Monkeys, and ask them to carry you over the desert?”
“I never thought of that!” said Dorothy joyfully. “I’ll go at once for the Golden Cap.”
When she brought it into the Throne Room she spoke the magic words, and soon the band of Winged Monkeys flew in through the open window.
“This is the second time you have called us,” said the Monkey King, bowing before the little girl. “What do you wish?”
“I want you to fly with me to Kansas,” said Dorothy.
But the Monkey King shook his head.
“That cannot be done,” he said. “We belong to this country alone, and cannot leave it. There has never been a Winged Monkey in Kansas yet, and I suppose there never will be, for they don’t belong there. We shall be glad to serve you in any way in our power, but we cannot cross the desert. Good-bye.”
And with another bow, the Monkey King spread his wings and flew away, followed by all his band.
“It is certainly too bad!” said the tender-hearted Woodman.
The Scarecrow was thinking again, and his head bulged out so horribly that Dorothy feared it would burst.
“Let us call in the soldier with the green whiskers,” he said, “and ask his advice.”
So the soldier was summoned and entered the Throne Room timidly, for while Oz was alive he never was allowed to come farther than the door.
“This little girl,” said the Scarecrow to the soldier, “wishes to cross the desert. How can she do so?”
“I cannot tell,” answered the soldier, “for nobody has ever crossed the desert, unless it is Oz himself.”
“Is there no one who can help me?” asked Dorothy earnestly.
“Glinda might,” he suggested.
“Who is Glinda?” inquired the Scarecrow.
“The Witch of the South. She is the most powerful of all the Witches, and rules over the Quadlings. Besides, her castle stands on the edge of the desert, so she may know a way to cross it.”
“Glinda is a Good Witch, isn’t she?” asked the child.
“The Quadlings think she is good,” said the soldier, “and she is kind to everyone.”
“How can I get to her castle?” asked Dorothy.
“The road is straight to the South,” he answered, “but it is said to be full of dangers to travelers. For this reason none of the Quadlings ever come to the Emerald City.”
The soldier then left them and the Scarecrow said:
“It seems that the best thing Dorothy can do is to travel to the Land of the South and ask Glinda to help her. If Dorothy stays here she will never get back to Kansas.”
“I shall go with Dorothy,” declared the Lion, “for I am tired of your city and long for the woods and the country again. I am really a wild beast, you know. Besides, Dorothy will need someone to protect her.”
“That is true,” agreed the Woodman. “My axe may be of service to her; so I also will go with her to the Land of the South.”
“When shall we start?” asked the Scarecrow.
“Are you going?” they asked, in surprise.
“Certainly. If it wasn’t for Dorothy I should never have had brains. I shall never leave her until she starts back to Kansas for good.”
“Thank you,” said Dorothy gratefully. “You are all very kind to me. But I should like to start as soon as possible.”
“We shall go tomorrow morning,” returned the Scarecrow. “So now let us all get ready, for it will be a long journey.”