Ozoplaning with the Wizard of Oz

"I suppose the Wizard meant them for his Ozoplane passengers to use, instead of parachutes," decided Dorothy, fingering one rather doubtfully. "Well, I should hate to be the first to try one!"

"Oh, I don't know," Jellia, her head on one side, pensively considered the blue pajamas. "I think they're real cute. I think—HARK! What was that?" Dropping the pajamas, she clutched Dorothy as the unmistakable tread of a heavy boot came stamping up the stair.

"Bustabo!" shivered Dorothy. "Oh—he's not going to wait till morning! He's coming for us now! Oh, Jellia, JELLIA—what shall we DO?" Dorothy's voice, rising almost to a shriek, roused the Cowardly Lion. Cocking one ear and arriving at exactly the same conclusion as the little girl, the lion sprang over to waken the Soldier with Green Whiskers. The Scarecrow already was hurrying from window to window, trying the bars with his flimsy, cotton fingers. At the window nearest the fireplace he gave a joyful little grunt, for some former prisoner had managed to saw through three of the iron bars. As the Scarecrow pushed, they moved creakily outward.

"Quick! Come help me!" urged the Scarecrow, dragging the terrified and only half-awake Soldier to the window. "On with those parachute suits, girls! We'll jump before we're tossed out!" Dorothy and Jellia exchanged desperate glances and then—as the steps on the stair thumped louder and nearer—each grabbed a falling-out suit and zipped herself tidily inside.

"Here!" panted Jellia, down on her hands and knees beside the Cowardly Lion, "you can put your front feet in anyway—and anything will be better than nothing, when you fall!" To her relief and surprise, she discovered that the pajamas would stretch! Even the lion could wear them without too much discomfort. Except for a cramp in his tail which was coiled tightly on his back, the lion fitted into his pajamas nicely.

As the Soldier with Green Whiskers was trembling too violently to help himself or anyone else, Jellia jerked and pushed him into one of the falling-out suits. Then, picking up the Wizard's kit-bag and looking solemnly back at her anxious comrades, Jellia climbed to the window sill. "I'll go first," she announced, closing her eyes so she would not see the rocks below, and her mouth, to keep her teeth from chattering.

"No! Let me! I insist on going first," cried the Scarecrow, springing nimbly up beside Jellia. "Falling does not hurt me at all."

"Oh, hurry! Hurry!" begged Dorothy, glancing fearfully over her shoulder. The footsteps were now so loud and near, she expected the door to burst right open and Bustabo's red face to appear.

"Goodbye! I'm off!" Before the Scarecrow could stop her, Jellia was off, indeed! Clutching the kit-bag to her bosom, she squeezed through the opening between the bars and dove headlong into space! Next, the Scarecrow, with a sad little wave to Dorothy, dropped out of sight. "Help me push this so-called Soldier out!" puffed Dorothy, as the Cowardly Lion signalled for her to go next. "If we leave him till last—he'll never jump at all!"

"Halt! About face! Help! Mama! Papa! Help! Help! HELP!" wailed Wantowin Battles. But Dorothy relentlessly forced him to the sill and through the opening. As his wildly thrashing legs disappeared over the edge, whoever was coming up the stairs, broke into a run. Thump, thump, THUMPETY-THUMP! Trembling in every muscle, Dorothy climbed to the sill. Spreading both arms, she launched herself into the air.

She heard the grunt of the Cowardly Lion as he forced his way through the opening. Then the fierce rush of wind past her ears as she pitched downward, drowned out all other sounds. At first she was sure the Wizard's falling-out suits were failures, for the lion plunged past her, falling like a plummet. She, too, was whirling downward so fast she felt sure she would be crushed on the rocks below. Closing her eyes, she tried to resign herself to whatever was coming. Then, suddenly, the pajamas filled with air, ballooning out till she floated lightly as a feather. The question now was—would she ever come down?

There was no moon, and in the faint starlight she could make out three other, bulky shapes spinning through the air just beneath her. By kicking her legs and flapping her arms, Dorothy managed to miss several jutting rocks and tree limbs. As she floated lower, the suit began gradually to deflate, finally letting her down as softly as could be, on a strip of sand at the base of the mountain. A little distance away she could see Jellia, already stepping out of her falling-out suit, and the Cowardly Lion, waiting impatiently for someone to help him out of his. Wantowin Battles, very brave now that the danger was past, already had stripped off his flying suit and was shaking and patting the Scarecrow into shape, for the poor straw man had been completely flattened out by his fall.

"Well, how did you like it?" called Jellia, hurrying over to help the lion untangle himself. "After the first swoop, it wasn't bad at all. Really, I quite enjoyed it!"

"Enjoyed it!" choked the Lion, looking indignantly from Dorothy to Jellia. "I'll never set foot in a plane again as long as I live. Brrrrah! Ever since we left the Emerald City we've been falling—flying and blowing about like yesterday's papers. Now that I'm on solid ground at last, I intend to stay there! The rest of you may do as you please, but I shall walk home if it takes a year!"

"I don't blame you," said Jellia, patting the lion soothingly on the nose. "But we can't start without the Wizard. We'll have to hide here till morning and then try to find him."

"Let him find us," growled the Lion, lashing his tail experimentally to see whether there was any wag left in it after the shameful way it had been cramped in the suit, "The whole trip was his idea—not mine!"

"Oh, hush," warned Dorothy. "Someone will hear you! Ooooh! Someone has!" And sure enough, the faint tinkle of a bell come mysteriously through the gloom.

"Mercy, do you suppose those Red Beards have started after us already?" cried Jellia looking around for the kit-bag. "But how could they have come down the mountain as fast as we fell?"

"They couldn't," whispered the Scarecrow, picking up the bag and handing it to Jellia. "But don't worry, my dears! It's probably a herd of goats or cattle. These mountaineers often put bells on their animals. Just keep still and don't move and they won't notice us at all." Flattening themselves against the rocks at the foot of the mountain, the five adventurers waited tensely. But when a huge, shaggy shape loomed out of the darkness and came charging straight toward them, all five screamed and started to slither sideways.

"Wait! Don't run! Don't be frightened!" begged an agitated voice. "Don't you know me? It's I! It's me! THE WIZARD!"

CHAPTER 16
Escape from Red Top

As the great stag came to a sliding halt, the rays from his silver lantern cast a wavering light over the little group crouched against the rocks.

"Hello! How ever did you escape from the castle?" demanded Ozma's little Magician, sliding recklessly off the high back of his steed and embracing them jubilantly. "We were just coming to help you. Girls, Scarecrow, Soldier, Lion—may I present Azarine, the real Princess of this Mountain, and Shagomar and Dear Deer, her friends!"

Dorothy and Jellia were so stunned by the unexpected appearance of the Wizard, they were able only to manage a couple of breathless bows. And indeed, the lovely picture Azarine made, seated demurely on the huge, red stag, was enough to render anyone speechless. Shaggy himself was breath-taking, too. Not only the lantern and bell hung from his antlers now, but perched unconcernedly on the tallest prong, was a lovely, white pigeon with a key in his bill.

"This pigeon was going to fly up to the tower with the key to the door," explained the Wizard, as his five comrades continued to gaze at him in stupefied silence. "Fortunately Azarine, who was imprisoned there before you, had an extra key. She said Bustabo would lock you up in the tower!" exclaimed the Wizard with a nod at the Princess. "But since you already are out and down, we'll not need the key. Tell me, how did you manage to escape? What did you do? Break down the door?"

"No—we just stepped out the window," the Scarecrow told him with a nonchalant wave upward.

"You mean, you jumped all this distance?" gasped Azarine leaning forward to peer between Shaggy's branching antlers, while Dear Deer trotted closer to nudge Dorothy with her soft, moist nose.

"Well—sort of," explained Jellia, putting an arm around the Cowardly Lion, who still was looking extremely sulky. "But first we put on those falling-out suits, Wiz, and you'll be glad to know they really worked."

"Splendid! Splendid!" beamed the Wizard, with a satisfied shake of his head. "You know—I'd completely forgotten them, but I felt sure you'd find some useful magic in the kit. Did Bustabo keep his promises?"

"Well, he locked us up in the tower, and he gave us a pretty good supper," answered Dorothy. "But we didn't like being prisoners, and we didn't feel safe in that castle. Then, a little while ago when we heard him thumping up the stair—we just decided to leave! And so—we left!"

"So we see! So we see!" The Wizard grinned appreciatively, delighted by the spirit of the two girls. "But perhaps we'd better be off! No knowing when Bustabo and his Bowmen will be coming to look for you. Shagomar and Dear Deer have kindly agreed to carry us to the castle of Glinda the Good. Once there—with Glinda's magic to help me, I'll find some way to deal with Strut, and to force Bustabo to give up Azarine's throne.

"Now suppose you two girls and the Scarecrow mount Dear Deer, and the Soldier and I will ride with the Princess." Dear Deer, at the Wizard's words, moved over to a flat rock. Without any trouble at all, Jellia and Dorothy climbed to places on her back. Then the Scarecrow vaulted up behind, clasping his arms 'round Jellia to keep from slipping off. When Wantowin and the Wizard had mounted behind Azarine, the two Deer swung away from the mountain. With the Cowardly Lion loping easily between, they ran swiftly toward the Southlands.

Their gait was so smooth it seemed to Jellia they were flying like figures in a dream through the shadowy forest, with only the twinkle of the silver lantern to light their way. As they raced along Azarine again told the story of Bustabo's treachery and how Shagomar had brought the Wizard to her hidden cave. Then the two girls amused the little Princess with the story of their experiences in the Strat. They told her all about their life at home in the Emerald City, and of the curious celebrities who lived in the palace with Ozma. Azarine already was charmed with the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion, and kept leaning down to have a better look at the tawny beast trotting so unconcernedly between the two deer.

"I tell you," she proposed generously. "I tell you—if Strut destroys the Emerald City—you all can come back and live with me. That is—if Glinda and the Wizard can make Bustabo give my castle and Kingdom back?"

"But I do hope we'll find some way to stop Strut! How long will it take him to reach the capitol?" Dorothy called across to the Wizard.

"Well, it took us a night, and half a day to fly to Stratovania," calculated the little Magician, wrinkling his forehead. "So I'm afraid if Strut and the Tin Woodman left yesterday, they'll be in the Emerald City tomorrow. That is—today."

"And it's almost morning now," shivered Jellia, glancing off toward the East where the sky already showed the first streaks of lavender and rose.

"Now, don't you worry," begged the Wizard, holding fast to his high hat, "As soon as we reach Glinda's castle and I have some proper magic to work with, I'll find a way to make both Strut and Bustabo behave. The few trifles in this kit-bag are a help, but not nearly powerful enough for rascals like those. Look, girls, isn't that Glinda's castle now?"

"Oh, it is! It is!" cried Dorothy, clasping Dear Deer around the neck she was so relieved and happy. And the silver trimmed towers and spires of Glinda's lovely, red castle, shimmering through the early morning mists, were enough to make anyone happy. Flashing through the beautiful gardens and parks, leaping hedges and flower beds as lightly as swallows, the stag and his mate brought the little band of adventurers to the very door of the castle.

"Goodbye, now," breathed the stag, as the Wizard and Soldier slipped off his back and the Wizard lifted Azarine down. "Take care of my little Princess!"

"Oh, don't go!" cried Dorothy, for Dear Deer seemed on the point of vanishing, too. "Do stay and see how it all turns out. Later on, wouldn't you like to go to the Emerald City and meet the famous animals who live in the capitol?" Shagomar looked questioningly at Dear Deer, and as his pretty little wife seemed interested, he allowed himself to be persuaded.

"We'll wait in the garden," he whistled softly. "Houses and castles are too stuffy and shut in for Deer people. If you need me, Princess, just ring the silver bell." Lowering his head so the Princess could slip the bell from his antlers, the stag stood looking at her solemnly.

"I will," promised Azarine, waving her little red handkerchief as the two deer sprang away. They actually seemed to float off above the flowers, so lightly and easily did they run.

CHAPTER 17
The Wizard Gets to Work

"Please announce us to your Mistress at once!" directed the Wizard to the sleepy little castle-maid who presently came, in answer to his loud knock.

"But Her Highness and Princess Ozma are not here!" stuttered the maid, her eyes popping at sight of visitors so early in the morning. "They left yesterday to visit Prince Tatters and Grampa in Ragbad!"

"Ha, well," the Wizard turned to the others with a little shrug. "Looks as if I shall have to manage alone. A fortunate thing Ozma did not start back to the Emerald City. At least she will not fall into Strut's hands. Here, HERE! Don't shut the door!" The Wizard quickly pushed past the little serving maid. "Glinda will wish us to make ourselves comfortable in her absence. Now then, Miss—Miss—?"

"Greta," mumbled the girl, looking bashfully at her feet.

"Oho—a Greta to greet, eh?" chuckled the Scarecrow, taking off his hat and bowing to the ground. "Well, now, my dear Miss Greta, will you kindly show these young ladies to suitable apartments, and tell the cook to prepare breakfast for six."

"Make it twelve!" growled the Cowardly Lion, with a little bounce toward the maid. "I could eat six all by myself!"

"Yes Sirs! Yes Sirs!" quavered Greta, running off so fast she lost one of her red slippers.

"Never mind," laughed Dorothy. "Jellia and I know this castle as well as our own. We'll show Azarine about and have time for a short nap before breakfast." The hundred pretty girls who acted as Glinda's Maids in Waiting were still asleep. In fact no one was stirring in the castle except a few servants. Waving briskly to the girls as they started up the marble stairway, the Wizard went striding toward the red study where the Sorceress kept all her books on witchcraft, her magic potions, her phials and appliances.

The exquisite palace of Glinda, over which Azarine was exclaiming at every step, was an old story to the Cowardly Lion. Throwing himself down on a huge bearskin, he soon was in a doze and making up the sleep he had lost on the two, previous nights. Wantowin Battles had at once gone off to waken an old Soldier Crony of his who drilled Glinda's Girl Guard, and the Scarecrow, about to follow the Wizard into the study, paused to look at the great record book.

This book, fastened with golden chains to a marble table in the reception room of the castle, records each event as it happens, in the Land of Oz. When Glinda goes on a journey, she usually locks the Record book and takes the key with her. But this time, she had neglected to do so, and sentences were popping up, row after row on the open pages. As he bent over to peruse the latest entry, the Scarecrow's painted blue eyes almost popped from his cotton head.

"Fierce Airlanders from the Upper Strat are descending on the Emerald City of Oz," read the Straw Man, nearly losing his balance. "If measures of defense are not taken at once, the capitol will fall under the fierce attack of the invaders!"

"Wiz! YO, WIZ!" yelled the Scarecrow, taking a furious slide into the study. "Hurry! HURRY! For the love of Oz, hurry—or Strut will blow Ozma's castle into the Strat! The Record Book says so!" he panted, grabbing the Wizard's arm to steady himself. The Wizard, working over the delicate apparatus on a long table, looked up with an anxious frown.

"Now, now, you must be a little patient," he told the Scarecrow, earnestly. "I'm hurrying just as fast as ever I can."

"But what do you propose to do?" demanded the Scarecrow, puckering his forehead into almost forty deep wrinkles. "Can't you whiz these Stratovanians away, or send them back where they came from?"

"Not without Ozma's magic belt," sighed the Wizard. "And you know perfectly well that the belt is back in the Emerald safe in the castle!"

"Then can't you transport the safe here?" asked the Scarecrow, playing a frantic little tune on the edge of the table.

"Just what I'm trying to do!" admitted the Wizard, turning a lever here and a wheel there. "But this triple-edged, zentomatic transporter of Glinda's does not seem to be working as it should. I'll probably be able to fix it in a little while, but meantime—I tell you what you can do. Post yourself beside that record book and the minute it announces Strut's arrival in the Emerald City, rush straight back here to me!"

Before he had finished his sentence the Scarecrow was gone, and for the next two hours the faithful Straw Man, without once lifting his eyes, bent over the great book of records, reading with tense interest and lively apprehension of the progress of the Oztober and the Airlanders toward the Capitol of Oz.

CHAPTER 18
Strut of the Strat Arrives in Oz!

For several hours after leaving Stratovania, Nick followed the Wizard's map implicitly. With Strut leaning over the back of his seat, eyes glued to both map and board, there was nothing else he could do. If he deviated from the course so much as a hair's breadth, the Airlander would tap him on his tin head with his staff. The Tin Woodman had not expected Strut to be so clever about navigating and as time passed, he grew less and less hopeful of outwitting the wily Airman.

If he increased the speed of the Oztober in an effort to outdistance Strut's flying warriors, they also increased their speed. Try as he would it seemed quite impossible to lose them. But Nick Chopper did not despair. He was counting on the night to help him. Never tiring or needing sleep, he would have the advantage of Strut, then. As soon as the Airlander relaxed in his seat, the Tin Woodman meant to fall upon him, hurl him from a window, put all the plane's lights out and speed off in the dark so swiftly the Stratovanians would be unable to follow. That failing, he depended on the difference in altitude to subdue the enemy. Perhaps when they reached the lower areas, Strut and his Airmen would faint, wilt, and become harmless.

So, bolstering his spirits with these heartening hopes, Nick bore as patiently as he could the long afternoon and the unpleasant taunts and company of his captor. Repassing the ice crescent without meeting any Spikers, the Tin Woodman zoomed along, not even bothering to answer Strut's many questions about Oz and its inhabitants.

Night, when it did come, was especially dark and murky. No moon and only a few stars dotted the arching Skyway. The darker the better, rejoiced the Tin Woodman, taking quick little glances over his shoulder to see whether Strut was falling asleep or showing any signs of drowsiness. If it were just dark enough, he'd rid himself of these flying pests in a hurry. But all his plans proved futile. As the Oztober rushed on and on, and the hours dragged slowly by, Strut grew even more alert and watchful. His star-shaped eyes twinkled and glowed with sulphurous lights and he showed no more signs of weariness than the Tin Woodman himself. The endurance of the Airlander and his warriors was positively uncanny, and Nick, maneuvering the buttons and wheel of the plane, grew increasingly discouraged and gloomy. Flying at this rate they would arrive in the Emerald City early in the morning, and to think that he was leading this band of savages upon the defenseless City almost broke Nick Chopper's heart. As it was a red plush heart, it could not really break, but it fluttered up and down in his tin bosom like a bird beating against the bars of a cage. To Nick's suggestion that he rest, Strut gave a contemptuous snort.

"I'll rest in Ohsma's palace," he sneered maliciously. "D'ye think I trust you enough to sleep? Ho no! Just attend to your flying, Mr. Funnel Top, and I'll take care of the rest of this little adventure." After this, Nick made no further remarks, and morning found the Oztober sailing high above the Hammerhead Mountains in the Quadling Country of Oz. All too soon the Tin Woodman made out the glittering green turrets and spires of the Emerald City itself.

"Quite a pretty little town," observed Strut condescendingly, as Nick, his thoughts in a perfect tumult, tried to think of some excuse for not landing.

"Why are you not flying over the castle?" demanded Strut sharply. "It's the castle I am most anxious to reach. There—you can come down right inside the walls. My, My! So this is the wonderful Land of OHS. Well, it owes me its crown jewels and treasure to pay for your insolent invasion of the Strat. Collecting them should prove pleasant! Very pleasant indeed!"

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," snapped Nick, turning his head stiffly. "I suppose you realize you are in great danger? If Ozma sees you before you have time to storm the castle, you and your silly flock of flyers are likely to be turned to crows or sparrows! The chances are, she HAS seen you," concluded Nick, slanting the Oztober sharply downward. At Nick's warning, the few clouds flitting across the Airman's forehead became positively thunderous.

"Pouf!" he sniffed, snapping his fingers scornfully. "Do you suppose a mere girl like this Ohsma of Ohs can frighten me? My Blowmen will soon attend to her and anyone else who stands in our way!"

"That," shouted Nick, raising his voice above the roar of the engine,—"remains to be seen!" As a matter of fact, the Oztober and the swarm of flying Warriors had been sighted almost as soon as they appeared above the green lands edging the capitol. Long before they reached the Emerald City itself, terrified messengers had brought word of the approaching airmen. Ozma being absent, Bettsy and Trot, the two little mortal girls who lived with Dorothy and the Supreme Ruler in the Emerald Palace, were in charge.

After one glance at the flying army, they had called all the celebrities, servants and courtiers together and bade them flee for their lives. Then Bettsy, Trot, and the Patchwork Girl, climbed into the Red Wagon. With the Saw Horse to pull them, they set off at a gallop to hide in the Blue Forests of the Munchkin Country till the invasion was over. Tik Tok, the Machine Man, carrying all of Ozma's loose jewels and valuables, marched rapidly after them. The Medicine Man rode the Hungry Tiger and the rest of the palace inmates ran helter-skelter down the yellow brick highway from the Capitol.

The inhabitants of the Emerald City itself, never having seen the Wizard's Ozoplanes and having no way of knowing that Nick Chopper was inside this one, were almost as afraid of the Oztober as of the Stratovanians. Pelting into their houses and shops, they bolted windows and doors and waited in terror-stricken silence for whatever was to come. Only the Guardian of the Gate stayed bravely at his post, waving his bunch of keys defiantly as the Ozoplane and the Airlanders swooped over the castle wall.

"Ho! No you don't!" cried Strut, as Nick, having brought the plane to a landing, started to run for the door. "You'll stay with me, as a hostage!" he rasped, gripping the Tin Woodman's arm. Furious but helpless in the iron grasp of the Stratovanian, Nick was forced to lead him into Ozma's beautiful castle.

Strut's warriors, after fluttering like curious birds from tree to tree and alighting in chattering groups on the wall, finally furled the wings of their staffs, formed ranks and marched, singing and shouting, up the steps after their jubilant leader.

In vain Nick watched for any signs of weakening among them. The Airmen seemed as comfortable and carefree in this lower altitude as they had been on their own airosphere. The Tin Woodman's only consolation was that he had brought back the Wizard's Ozoplane in as good condition as when it had started away so unexpectedly. It was also a great relief to him to find the castle deserted. Not a courtier, servant or celebrity was in sight—not even the Glass Cat or Dorothy's little kitten Eureka. Strut and his rude army stamped through the first floor from end to end without encountering a single soul.

"Very good," sniffed the Ruler of all the Stratovanians, shooting his eyes sharply to left and right, "so this powerful fairy Ohsma of Ohs has run off and left us her castle, and we win the war without blowing a blow! Ho, Ho! I shall spend my summers in this enchanting palace," he added, with a malicious wink at the Tin Woodman. "But now," his grasp on Nick's arm tightened. "Where are these famous, magic treasures and jewels you were boasting of—this belt and fan and all the other foolishments and fripperies?"

"In a safe in Ozma's own apartment," Nick told him, reluctantly. Now that Strut was in complete possession of the castle, little was to be gained by concealing the location of the treasures.

"Take me there at once," he commanded Nick, and—because the thousand Airlanders were a bit too numerous for comfort—Strut ordered them out to the garden, bidding them man the walls, guard the gates and all entrances, and give the alarm should any of the Ozlanders approach. Then, with lowered head and dragging feet, the Tin Woodman led the way to Ozma's private sitting room. The safe, sparkling with emeralds imbedded in metal more valuable than platinum, stood in an alcove behind a pair of silk curtains. Giving little heed to the elegant appointments of the apartment itself, Strut knelt before the safe, fairly panting with impatience and curiosity.

"How does it open?" he asked, spinning the little knob on the door, round and round without any results whatsoever.

"I am sure I cannot say." Resting one elbow on the golden mantel, the Tin Woodman looked indifferently at the kneeling Airman. "Only Ozma and our Wizard ever open that safe."

"Oh, is that so!" Strut straightened up angrily, "We shall see about that. All I have to do is call one of my Blowmen and BLOW it open."

"Suit yourself," said Nick, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Only if you do, the safe probably will blow away—and all the treasures with it!"

"Then how in the Dix shall I open it?" screamed Strut, giving it a spiteful kick with his silver-shod toe. Worn out by his long vigil of the night and the excitement of taking possession of the castle, he lost his temper completely, and stamped and raged up and down before Ozma's jewelled strong box. But thump and bang at the door as he would, it still remained shut. "Ha!" he puffed at last, "I'll call my Swordsmith! He can hammer it open!" Racing over to the window he yelled loudly for the Swordsmith to come up.

But Strut's Swordsmith had no more success than his Master. Kindling a fire in the grate, he heated a poker red hot and tried to burn a hole in the door, but the poker did not leave even a scratch on the glittering surface. "Stop! Stop! You Witless Woff. I'll do it myself," raged Strut. "I'll blow it open with star powder!"

"Surely you wouldn't do that," protested Nick, who up to this time had been watching the effort of the two airmen with quiet amusement. "If you blow up the safe you might set fire to the castle and destroy all the treasures you have won."

"Oh, hold your tongue!" advised Strut. Dragging two smouldering logs from the grate, he shoved them under the safe. Then, unscrewing the end of his flying stick, he sprinkled a fine, black powder that smelled and looked like gun powder, over the logs. Lighting a twisted paper, he stuck it beneath the logs and jumped back, waiting impatiently for the safe to fly apart.

Nick Chopper waited not a moment longer. Darting into the dressing room he hastily filled a pitcher with water. But before he could return, an ear-splitting explosion rocked the castle and flung him and the pitcher through the doorway of the sitting room.

Without stopping to recover his breath, the Tin Woodman jumped up and hurried across the room. The two airmen, with blackened clothes and faces, stared dazedly at the spot where the safe had been. Where it had been—because it was no longer there! Not a sign, emerald or single splinter of it! There was no hole in the ceiling, so it could not have blown up; there was no hole in the floor, so it could not have blown down. The windows were unbroken, the walls, intact. Only the two logs, smoking sullenly on Ozma's priceless rug, remained of the Airlander's bonfire—unless we count the expression on Strut's face, which simply blazed with wrath, bafflement and unadulterated fury.

CHAPTER 19
The Travellers Return!

"I told you not to do that," said Nick, running over to Strut and the Swordsmith. "I warned you! Now see what you've done!"

"But where is it? Where did it go? Where did it BLOW?" screamed the Airlander, his electric hair standing more on end than ever and crackling like summer lightning.

"Ask Ozma! Ask the Wizard!" suggested Nick, folding his arms and surveying the two quite calmly. "But if you take my advice, you'll hustle right out of this castle before the same thing happens to YOU!"

"Who asked for your advice?" cried Strut, streaking over to the window to see whether the safe had blown into the garden, though how it could have done so without knocking a hole in the wall or ceiling, he could neither imagine nor understand. Drawing aside the curtain he gave a great gasp. Nick, who had hurried after him, uttered a loud shout of joy.

"See! I told you!" cried Nick, and unhooking his oil can the Tin Woodman let four drops of oil slide down his neck. "I told you!" Strut made no reply. He just hung on to the curtain as if he were drowning and the flimsy portiere, a life preserver. "See!" shouted Nick again.

But it was what Strut didn't see that upset the Airman! What he didn't see was his entire army of nine hundred and ninety-nine splendid fighters! The garden below was as empty and quiet as a park on a rainy Sunday. "Calm yourself, Man! Calm yourself!" advised Nick as Strut, turning from the window and noting the disappearance of his Swordsmith, began running in frenzied circles, overturning chairs and tables and tripping over rugs and foot-stools.

"Quick," he hissed, making a dive for the Tin Woodman. "Fly me back to the Strat. At once! At ONCE! Do you hear?"

"Oh, yes! I hear you—quite well!" said Nick, eluding Strut easily. "But I'll never fly you anywhere again! Besides, don't you realize you cannot fly from magic! You'll have to stay, my good man, and face the music!"

Nick's words seemed to bring the Airlander to his senses. Remembering, even in defeat, that he was a powerful King and Ruler, he straightened up proudly and, with one hand resting on an emerald-topped table, stood looking tensely from Nick Chopper to the door. He did not have long to wait, for in less time than it takes to count ten, nine excited Ozians burst into the Royal Sitting room.

"Oh, Nick! Are you really safe? Is everything all right?" Jellia Jam rushed over to the Tin Woodman and took both of his hands in her own.

"So that's the fellow I was supposed to impersonate!" roared the Cowardly Lion, thrusting his head between Dorothy and the Soldier, "Well, Goosengravy, girls—I'm insulted!"

"And is this really Strut—the high and mighty Stratovanian who has come to conquer us?" Ozma, who was just behind the Soldier, gazed so steadily and sorrowfully at the Airman that he uncomfortably averted his gaze. He was, to tell the truth, astonished at the youth, beauty and regal manner of the young Fairy. He cast a questioning look at the others, crowding through the doorway. He already knew the Soldier with Green Whiskers, but the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, the small, High-Hatted gentleman talking earnestly to a cheerful little girl, the little, red-cloaked Princess and the tall, imposing, red-haired Glinda were all new and bewildering strangers. For the first time since they had met, Nick felt sorry for his discomfited foe, and as each of the celebrities approached, he called out the names.

"Our famous live Scarecrow, His Majesty the Cowardly Lion, Glinda the Good Sorceress, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Princess Dorothy of Kansas and the Emerald City and—"

"Azarine, the Red," finished Dorothy, helping him out. For Nick, completely at sea, looked inquiringly at the pretty little Princess in the red cloak. At each introduction Strut bowed stiffly. If he could have reached his flying stick which he had left standing beside the mantel, he would have flown out the window—regardless of the fact that he might never find his way back to the Strat. But as he could not reach the staff, he stood stonily waiting for whatever was to befall.

"How'd you find Jellia and the Soldier? What became of the Ozpril? Where's the Emerald safe?" questioned Nick, leaving Strut's side and hurrying to seize the little Wizard by both lapels, for he could restrain his curiosity no longer.

"Quite a story—quite a story," puffed the Wizard, closing one eye, "Ask me again some long winter evening." Jerking away from Nick, he ran off to fetch his black bag of magic, from which he had been separated far too long.

"I suppose you are quite anxious to return to your own country," said Ozma, addressing herself to the Ruler of the Strat as she seated herself on a small, satin sofa.

"Not without my army," blustered Strut, defiantly. "It is neither fair nor honest for one ruler to destroy by magic the fighting forces of another!"

"Your army is not destroyed," Ozma told him evenly. "It already is in Stratovania, transported there by this magic belt." Lightly, the dark-haired fairy touched the gem-studded girdle she was wearing. "And—speaking of honesty and fairness," she went on seriously, "did you think it honest or fair to come here, take possession of my castle, and try to steal all my treasure and jewels?" Strut had the grace to blush, and as there was no good answer to Ozma's question, he looked haughtily over the heads of the company regarding him so accusingly.

"Well, have you anything to say?" inquired Ozma sternly. "Whether or not you return to your Kingdom depends entirely upon yourself and how you treat Kabebe." At mention of his Queen, Strut started, involuntarily.

"By the way—here's that silly crown you made me wear!" said Jellia, handing over the star-tipped circlet she had been wearing since her visit to the Strat. "Remember me to the Piper when you see him and to Junnenrump and Hippenscop."

"Are you sure you'd rather not live in the Strat as a Starina, than stay here with us?" asked Ozma, smiling mischievously, as Jellia backed away from the frowning airman.

"Never! Never! NEVER!" cried Jellia, taking a long step backward at each word. "I've had enough of Kings to last me the rest of my life!"

A little ripple of laughter followed Jellia's blunt refusal, and taking pity on the mortified Airlander, Ozma touched her belt and whispered the magic word that would transport him to his own country.

"But can you trust him?" worried Nick Chopper, as the Stratovanian vanished before their eyes. "How do you know he won't blow things up as soon as he returns?"

"Because I've removed all power from his Blowmen's horns," Ozma told him quietly. "He'll be all right, and for the kind of people he rules—Strut probably is the best sort of ruler they could have."

"If you ask me," observed the Cowardly Lion, shaking his mane vigorously, "the worst punishment anyone could have would be to live on wind pudding and air-ade. Wooof!"

"Oh, what a shame!" Dorothy ran over to the mantel where the flying stick had been standing. "The winged staff's gone! I rather had hoped we could keep it for Hallow'een or New Year's or something!"

"Haven't you had enough flying?" grinned the Scarecrow, settling on the green sofa beside Ozma. "By the way, where's the tell-all-escope?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Dorothy felt ruefully in the pocket of her coat. "I must have left it in Strut's Royal Pavilion!"

"Never mind! I'll bring it back with the magic belt," smiled Ozma, "and I presume it's all right to bring the safe back, too?" As Glinda nodded in agreement, the Ruler of Oz touched her belt twice, and with two thumps—one louder than the other—the safe and tell-all-escope thumped down on the floor beside the sofa. The tell-all-escope was pointing directly at Ozma, and it immediately began broadcasting her whole history. So the little Fairy, with a chuckle of amusement locked it up in her desk drawer.

While Ozma had been meting out her gentle justice, Jellia had been telling Nick all that had happened since he was forced to fly Strut to Oz. She told him of the arrival of the Ozpril, the escape of the whole party from the angry Kabebe, their fall to Red Top Mountain, their rude treatment by Bustabo, their meeting with Azarine and the red Deer, and their final journey to Glinda's castle.

Spellbound, Nick learned how the Wizard finally had mastered the intricacies of Glinda's zentomatic transporter and brought the safe to her red castle just as Strut was on the point of taking violent measures. With the safe in his possession, it had been an easy matter for the Wizard to open it, take out the magic belt and transport both Glinda and Ozma from Ragbad. After listening to the whole, exciting story Glinda, Ozma and the Wizard had sent the Stratovanian army back to the Strat and returned to the Emerald City to deal with Strut, personally.

"It's certainly handy to have a Fairy around," sighed Dorothy, slipping an arm around Ozma's slim waist. "One little wave of Ozma's wand and we soared right into this castle! Isn't it grand to be home again? Not that I didn't enjoy the trip," she added hastily, as the Wizard came briskly into the room with his black bag. "Oh, Ozma! Just wait till you see the beautiful Ozoplanes our Wizard has built for you!"

"She'll need pretty strong glasses to see the Ozpril," observed the Wizard, looking rather sadly at the ceiling. "I expect it's hanging to the tip of a star by this time! And I suppose Strut made hash of the Oztober!"

"Hash!" sputtered Nick Chopper, indignantly, "I should say NOT. I've taken splendid care of your ship, Wiz, and you'll find the Oztober below in the garden, as bright and beautiful as the night she was launched!"

"Hurray for Nick," shouted Jellia, waving the duster she already was flipping briskly over pictures and books. "He should have a medal, your Majesty! No one could have flown that Plane better than the Tin Woodman!"

"He shall have a medal!" promised Ozma, with a special smile for Nick Chopper who was one of her special favorites. "And when he needs a vacation from the Winkies, he can come here and be our official Pilot answerable only to me and to the Wizard!"

"And I hereby present your Majesty with my two, splendid Ozoplanes—for exploring, for pleasure, or for warfare!" announced the little Wizard, extending both arms, dramatically. "But now you will have to excuse me, as the Tin Woodman and I are leaving at once!"

"Leaving!" wailed Jellia, plumping down on a foot stool. "But you've only just returned!"

"Can't help it," panted the Wizard, who seemed in a perfect phiz to be off, "I'll show you the Ozoplanes later, Ozma, but now—Goodbye! Goodbye, Dorothy! Goodbye Jellia! Take good care of Azarine till I return!"

"But look—where are we going?" demanded Nick Chopper, as the Wizard seized his arm and marched him rapidly toward the door.

"To find the Ozpril, of course!" explained the Wizard impatiently, as if that should have been clear to everybody! "To find the Ozpril and bring her back to the Emerald City!"

"But think how high those Blowmen may have blown it?" worried Dorothy. "They may even have blown it to Bitz!"

"Then we'll bring back the pieces," declared the Wizard, firmly. "How about coming along?" With a wink at Jellia Jam, he paused beside the Lion who was busy licking his front paws.

"WHAT?" roared the Lion, springing up as if someone had shot him. With a thoroughly indignant glance at Ozma's little magician, he bolted through the curtains and was gone.

"Just not a flyer!" mused the Wizard, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, Goodbye, Friends! Farewell—all!" With an energetic nod he stepped through the door, pulling Nick along with him.

"Couldn't you bring the Ozpril back with your magic belt?" questioned Dorothy, hurrying over to the window to watch the plane's take off.

"I suppose so," answered Ozma, thoughtfully. "But they both are so fond of flying, they'd much rather bring it back, themselves! I'm sure of it!"