L. Frank Baum - Oz 38 Read online

  The Shaggy Man Of Oz - Oz 38 L. Frank Baum

  BY JACK SNOW

  REILLY & LEE EDITION, COPYRIGHT 1949 CHAPTER 1

  THE TWINS LOOK IN

  “It just isn’t fair,” declared Tom, staring unhappily through the window at

  the heavy rain pelting the lawn and garden about the house.

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it, so we might as well make the best

  of it,” replied Twink philosophically.

  “But I wanted to go outdoors and play this afternoon. You know we have only

  a few more weeks until school starts. Besides, I’m sick and tired of this

  old house and of every single thing we have to play with.” Almost as if he understood Tom’s words, Twoffle, the children’s wooden

  clown, tumbled over on his head in the corner where he had been standing

  neglected. “Now look what you’ve done! You’ve hurt Twoffle’s feelings,”

  accused Twink reprovingly as she hastened to stand the funny little clown

  erect again in his corner of the room.

  Twink was especially fond of Twoffle. The little wooden clown with his

  hinged joints and gaudily painted features and clothing had been a part of

  their lives almost as long as Twink could remember. He had taken part in

  many of their games, and being constructed of a fine grade of durable wood

  he had outlasted many other more fragile toys that had come and gone. Twink and Tom were twins. They lived in a large, comfortable house in the

  city ofBuffalo,New York, with their Mother and Father and Rosie the cook.

  This afternoon the house was very quiet. Twink’s and Tom’s father,

  Professor Jones, was at work at the University, where he taught young

  people all about electrons, atoms, molecules, and other mysterious matters.

  Mrs. Jones was attending a meeting of her Club of Lady Voters. Rosie, the

  cook, dozed in her warm kitchen, nodding over the latest issue of a fashion

  magazine.

  So it was no wonder the twins were a bit lonesome. The rain streamed down

  the window monotonously, and it seemed the afternoon would drag on forever. Twink glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was a little Dutch cottage clock, and the hands indicated it was almostthree o’clock. Twink was struck with a sudden idea. “Come on, Tom!” she called. “Look at the time. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss Chapter Four of Buffalo Bill Rides Again!”

  Tom came to life immediately, and in an instant both children were dashing down the broad stairway and into the library. Here was the solution to their dull afternoon: a television set that Professor Jones had built himself and installed in the library. It was a very special set with a large “projection screen.” The glass tube of the television set enlarged the picture on the screen. Atthree o’clockeach afternoon Twink and Tom could see another chapter in the exciting moving picture serial of the wild west. The children were sure, of course, that Buffalo Bill had been named after their own city, and this made the picture all the more interesting.

  Tom was busily turning knobs and dials and making adjustments. In a few seconds the big screen lighted up with a bluish-green glare, and a moment later the pictures appeared. Buffalo Bill was ambushed by a wildly howling mob of Redskins who were on the warpath. There was no doubt in Twink’s and Tom’s minds that the famous scout would emerge unharmed, while the Indians would take to noisy flight.

  But just as Buffalo Bill brought his rifle to his shoulder and was sighting the nearest Redskin, something happened. The flickering motion picture vanished from the television screen, and in its place appeared a picture that made the children gasp. It was one of the most beautiful scenes they could imagine: a peaceful, rolling meadowland bright with all kinds of

  wildflowers on which the sun shown down from a blue sky dotted with white, baby clouds. In the distance rose the spires and minarets of a great castle, glittering and glistening in the sun.

  But it was not the castle or the sunny meadowland that held the children’s attention. Twink and Tom stared unbelievingly at a figure that stood in the center of the television picture looking out at them with the most familiar of smiles. It was Twoffle, their wooden clown.

  CHAPTER 2

  ON THE ISLE OF CONJO

  “Good afternoon, children,” said the clown quite clearly and calmly. “G-g-g-good afternoon!” stammered Twink and Tom. The little clown suddenly doubled up with merriment and then gasped, “If you could only see yourselves! You’re all eyes, positively bug-eyed if I ever saw anyone who was!”

  “But what are you doing in the television picture?” asked Twink, regaining a little of her composure.

  The clown disregarded her question and was suddenly serious. “Come on,” he ordered. “Conjo can hold this picture only a few minutes, and you just have time to walk through.”

  “Walk through?” echoed Tom. “What do you mean?”

  “Start walking toward the television screen and you’ll find out,” answered

  the clown. “Or perhaps,” he added, “you would rather stay there where it is

  raining and you can’t go outdoors.”

  “But you’re only a picture,” objected Twink.

  “Will you please do as I tell you and start walking toward the television

  screen?” asked the clown sternly.

  Twink and Tom looked at each other questioningly. Tom smiled and shrugged. “Might as well try it. Can’t do any harm,” he said. “That’s the spirit!” exclaimed the little clown, smiling again. “Just join hands and walk straight toward me.” Tom took Twink’s hand, and the two children slowly advanced toward the television screen. The screen was nearly five feet high C4 several inches taller than the children C4 and almost six feet wide. So vivid and real was the picture that Twink imagined she could really walk right into it. Just as the children were about to take the last step that would bring them directly in front of the television screen, a sudden powerful gust of wind hit their backs and sent them tumbling forward.

  “This is where we’ll catch it,” thought Tom, sure that the wind must have blown them into the screen. He sat up, fully expecting to see the expensive screen torn to shreds. Instead he saw an expanse of rolling meadowland, and he felt the warm sun beating down on his head. Twink was sitting beside him on the green grass, staring about in utter bewilderment. Before them stood the clown, smiling broadly. “It’s magic,” breathed Twink, “pure magic.”

  “Well, it’s magic, all right,” answered the clown, “but I wouldn’t say how pure it is.”

  “But what has become of our library, and how did we get here, and how can this be real, and why is it you’re not upstairs in my room?” The questions tumbled out almost faster than Twink could ask them. “One question at a time, please,” said the clown, “and I’ll try to answer.

  Your library is right where it always is. This can be real because it $$is&& real. And I am not in your room because I belong here.” “But Twoffle,” protested Tom, “we left you in Twink’s room not fifteen minutes ago.”

  “You didn’t leave me there, and don’t call me Twoffle,” objected the clown. By this time Twink and Tom were standing up and brushing off their clothes.

  “But you $$are&& our Twoffle, you know,” stated the girl. “We have had you

  for years and years.”

  “I am not your Twoffle C4 of all the silly names,” said the clown with some irritation. “I am my own Twiffle.”

  “Then how is it you look so much like our Twoffle?” asked Tom, who noted the

  clown was the same size as Twoffle and looked like his double.

  “I was about
to tell you,” exclaimed the clown, “that my name is Twiffle,

  and Twoffle is my third cousin.”

  “Oh, so then you know Twoffle?” asked Twink curiously.

  “Know him?” replied Twiffle. “Of course I know him. And I also know you two

  very well. Many nights Twoffle and I have sat in your rooms with the

  moonlight streaming through the window and talked by the hour while you

  children slept.”

  Twink and Tom said nothing. They were busy thinking. All this was so strange and had happened so unexpectedly and suddenly that they were still bewildered. Tom’s eyes were puzzled as he asked, “Just before we came through the screen, you said something about Conjo being able to ‘hold the picture for only a few minutes.’ Who is Conjo?”

  Twiffle was suddenly alert. “That reminds me,” he said, “that we must be on our way at once. Conjo is expecting you, and we musn’t keep him waiting.”

  Without another word, Twiffle started walking across the grass. The children followed.

  “But who is this Conjo, and where does he live?” asked Twink.

  “And what does he want with us?” added Tom.

  Without pausing to look at the children, Twiffle answered, “Conjo is a

  Wizard, the sole ruler of this island, the Isle of Conjo. He lives in the

  castle you can see in the distance. What he wants with you, he will

  undoubtedly tell you himself.” With this, the little clown flashed Twink

  and Tom a bright smile and then walked steadily on toward the glittering

  castle.

  Twink found that she had no trouble at all in keeping up with Twiffle, because his legs were so short and his stride so small. She had plenty of time to pause occasionally and gather the colorful wildflowers that dotted the green meadowland.

  CHAPTER 3

  OMBY AMBY BEARS BAD NEWS

  “Ozma! Where is Ozma? I must see her at once C4 immediately!” The Soldier with the Green Whiskers had run all the way from the gates of the Emerald City of Oz to the Royal Palace with his whiskers streaming at least six feet behind him. Now that he had arrived at the palace, he was panting and wild-eyed with excitement.

  “Whatever is the matter with you, Omby Amby?” asked Jellia Jamb, Ozma’s dainty little maid, eyeing the distraught Guardian of the Gates with undisguised curiosity.

  Omby Amby groaned. “Something terrible has happened. I must report it to Ozma at once.”

  “Can’t you give me just an inkling of what it is?” coaxed Jellia.

  “No,” replied Omby Amby firmly. The Soldier, who was Ozma’s Royal Army, was

  rapidly regaining his composure C4 and his breath C4 after his wild dash

  through the emerald-studded streets of the city.

  “Well, then come along,”20replied Jellia Jamb with a sigh. “I suppose I

  shall have to wait for Ozma to tell me what has upset you so terribly.” The

  little maid led the way down the corridors of the Royal Palace until she

  came to a large double door. Here she knocked, and a moment later Ozma’s

  voice answered, “Come in.”

  Jellia Jamb opened the door, and the Soldier with the Green Whiskers followed her into the room. This was Ozma’s library, where the shelves that rose from the floor to the ceiling were filled with Magic Books of Records. The little ruler of Oz was seated at a table, deep in the study of one of the books. She looked up questioningly as Omby Amby stood before her. Jellia Jamb silently departed, closing the door behind her. “Your Highness,” began Omby Amby, “it is my painful duty to report a most regrettable misfortune.”

  “What is it, Omby Amby,” asked Ozma with a kindly smile. “What has happened?”

  “It’s the Love Magnet, your Highness,” gulped the Soldier. “It’s been broken!”

  “Broken!” exclaimed Ozma, rising from her chair. “How could that ever have happened?”

  “It was the nail,” exclaimed Omby Amby miserably. “If your Highness will

  recall, the Love Magnet has been hanging from a nail over the Gates of the Emerald City for many years C4 in fact, ever since the Shaggy Man came to live in the Land of Oz.” “Yes, I know,” said Ozma.

  “Well,” went on the Soldier, “the nail must have rusted, and this morning it snapped. The Love Magnet fell to the bricks of the Yellow Road and broke into two pieces.”

  Ozma’s face was grave. “You brought the pieces with you?” she asked. “Yes, your Highness, I did,” replied Omby Amby. Delving into one of his pockets, he handed Ozma the two pieces of the Love Magnet, a small bit of metal shaped like a horseshoe when it was whole.

  Ozma held the broken Love Magnet in her hand, regarding it sadly. “It is too bad,” she said, “that so wonderful a charm should be broken.” “Do you mean it can’t be repaired, your Highness?” asked Omby Amby. “Of that I am not sure,” replied Ozma. “Perhaps the first thing we should do is ask the Shaggy Man to come here and explain to him how the Love Magnet came to be broken, since it does, after all, really belong to him.” “I will go for him immediately,” said the Soldier, turning to the door. “You will find him in the garden with Dorothy and Jack Pumpkinhead, who is trying on a new head,” said Ozma as Omby Amby made a low bow and closed the door behind him.

  By luck, Ozma reflected, the Shaggy Man was in the Emerald City. She knew that Shaggy was fond of making long trips about the Land of Oz, exploring the little-known corners and regions of this most famous of all Fairylands. Now he had just returned from a visit with his brother, who was in the

  Gillikin Country. While she waited, Ozma recalled how the Shaggy Man had befriended Dorothy in the Great Outside World and had found his way to the Land of Oz in the company of little Dorothy. With him he had brought the Love Magnet, a curious magical talisman which caused whoever carried it to be loved by all he met. Shaggy had gratefully accepted Ozma’s invitation to make his home in the Land of Oz, and since he had no further need for the Love Magnet, Ozma had caused it to be hung over the Gates of the Emerald City so that all who entered might be loving and loved. Before she had done this, however, Ozma had wisely altered the powers of the Love Magnet so that the talisman did not automatically cause the person who carried it to be loved by all he met, but must be $$displayed&& by its carrier before the eyes of the person or persons whose love he wished to win. Thus, control of the powers of the Magnet were given to its owner. All this had happened so long ago that it was now duly written down in Professor Wogglebug’s Chronicles of the Land of Oz.

  Ozma’s reflections were ended by the appearance of Omby Amby and the Shaggy Man, who had no idea that anything was the matter. “Dorothy said to tell you, your Highness, that it’s one of the best heads Jack ever had,” the Shaggy Man announced with satisfaction as he entered the room. “Dorothy’s fitting it on Jack’s body now.”

  “Won’t you sit down, please, Shaggy Man?” invited Ozma. The little Ruler’s expression was so serious that the Shaggy Man asked with concern, “What is it, Ozma? What’s wrong?”

  Ozma answered silently by extending her palm in which lay the halves of the broken Love Magnet. The Shaggy Man’s eyes clouded. “Oh, that $$is&& too bad. I was very fond of the Love Magnet. It always made me feel happy

  whenever I entered or left the Emerald City. How did it come to be broken?” Ozma explained in a few words what had happened. “But can’t the Love Magnet be repaired?” asked the Shaggy Man. “I should think it would be an easy matter for you or the Wizard or Glinda to put it together again as good as new.”

  “No,” Ozma shook her head. “It isn’t as simple as that. A long time ago I looked up the history of the Love Magnet in my Magic Record Books, and I found that, if broken, it could be made whole only by one person C4 the person who created it.”

  “And who,” asked the Shaggy Man with deep interest, “is that?”

  “It has been so long ago,” admitted Ozma, “that I have forgotten who it was.

&
nbsp; But I can look it up in a few seconds.”

  Ozma moved to the far side of the library, where she selected one of the Magic Record Books and opened it on a table. After turning the pages until she found the one containing the Love Magnet’s history, Ozma ran her finger down the finely printed column. “Here it is,” she announced. “The man who made the Love Magnet and the only person who can repair it is a Wizard named Conjo, who lives on a tiny island in the middle of the Nonestic Ocean.”

  CHAPTER 4

  OZMA USES THE MAGIC BELT

  Omby Amby had returned to his post at the Gates of the Emerald City, and Ozma and the Shaggy Man had retired to the Chamber of Magic. Here were kept many of the most valuable magical instruments in all the Land of Oz. “There

  is only one thing to be done,” the Shaggy Man was saying. “I must take the broken Love Magnet to this Conjo and ask him to repair it.” “I am not sure at all that Conjo will agree to repair the Love Magnet for you,” Ozma replied with a troubled expression. “You see, we know very little about this Conjo. He lives alone on this tiny island in the middle of the Nonestic Ocean and practices magic. There is no record of his actually misusing his magical powers. Nor, so far as we know, has he caused trouble for anyone. However, we have reason to believe he is rather selfish and thoughtless and that he might cause harm without really meaning to, just to satisfy his vanity. Also, it might not suit his whim to mend the Love Magnet.”

  “What is the name of the island on which Conjo lives?” asked the Shaggy Man musingly.

  “It is called the Isle of Conjo, and since it is many miles from the Land of Oz, I have no power over the Wizard at all. In fact,” concluded Ozma, “that is the reason we here in the Land of Oz know so little about Conjo.” “Nevertheless,” maintained the Shaggy Man, “I think I should go as soon as possible to this island and do everything I can to persuade Conjo to make the Love Magnet whole.”

  “Even after you crossed the Deadly Desert, you would have several days’ journey through the Land of Ev, and then you would only be on the shores of the Nonestic Ocean. So I think it would be best, since you are determined to make the journey, for me to use the Magic Belt to transport you directly to the Isle of Conjo.”