The Collected Works of L. Frank Baum (Illustrated). L. Frank Baum

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СКАЧАТЬ Woozy ate that, too, and smacked its long, thin lips.

      “That’s mighty good!” it exclaimed. “Any more?”

      “Plenty,” replied Ojo. So he sat down on a Stump and fed the Woozy bread and cheese for a long time; for, no matter how much the boy broke off, the loaf and the slice remained just as big.

      “That’ll do,” said the Woozy, at last; “I’m quite full. I hope the strange food won’t give me indigestion.”

      “I hope not,” said Ojo. “It’s what I eat.”

      “Well, I must say I’m much obliged, and I’m glad you came,” announced the beast. “Is there anything I can do in return for your kindness?”

      “Yes,” said Ojo earnestly, “you have it in your power to do me a great favor, if you will.”

      “What is it?” asked the Woozy. “Name the favor and I will grant it.”

      “I—I want three hairs from the tip of your tail,” said Ojo, with some hesitation.

      “Three hairs! Why, that’s all I have—on my tail or anywhere else,” exclaimed the beast.

      “I know; but I want them very much.”

      “They are my sole ornaments, my prettiest feature,” said the Woozy, uneasily. “If I give up those three hairs I—I’m just a blockhead.”

      “Yet I must have them,” insisted the boy, firmly, and he then told the Woozy all about the accident to Unc Nunkie and Margolotte, and how the three hairs were to be a part of the magic charm that would restore them to life. The beast listened with attention and when Ojo had finished the recital it said, with a sigh:

      “I always keep my word, for I pride myself on being square. So you may have the three hairs, and welcome. I think, under such circumstances, it would be selfish in me to refuse you.”

      “Thank you! Thank you very much,” cried the boy, joyfully. “May I pull out the hairs now?”

      “Any time you like,” answered the Woozy.

      So Ojo went up to the queer creature and taking hold of one of the hairs began to pull. He pulled harder. He pulled with all his might; but the hair remained fast.

      “What’s the trouble?” asked the Woozy, which Ojo had dragged here and there all around the clearing in his endeavor to pull out the hair.

      “It won’t come,” said the boy, panting.

      “I was afraid of that,” declared the beast. “You’ll have to pull harder.”

      “I’ll help you,” exclaimed Scraps, coming to the boy’s side. “You pull the hair, and I’ll pull you, and together we ought to get it out easily.”

      “Wait a jiffy,” called the Woozy, and then it went to a tree and hugged it with its front paws, so that its body couldn’t be dragged around by the pull. “All ready, now. Go ahead!”

      Ojo grasped the hair with both hands and pulled with all his strength, while Scraps seized the boy around his waist and added her strength to his. But the hair wouldn’t budge. Instead, it slipped out of Ojo’s hands and he and Scraps both rolled upon the ground in a heap and never stopped until they bumped against the rocky cave.

      “Give it up,” advised the Glass Cat, as the boy arose and assisted the Patchwork Girl to her feet. “A dozen strong men couldn’t pull out those hairs. I believe they’re clinched on the under side of the Woozy’s thick skin.”

      “Then what shall I do?” asked the boy, despairingly. “If on our return I fail to take these three hairs to the Crooked Magician, the other things I have come to seek will be of no use at all, and we cannot restore Unc Nunkie and Margolotte to life.”

      “They’re goners, I guess,” said the Patchwork Girl.

      “Never mind,” added the cat. “I can’t see that old Unc and Margolotte are worth all this trouble, anyhow.”

      But Ojo did not feel that way. He was so disheartened that he sat down upon a stump and began to cry.

      The Woozy looked at the boy thoughtfully.

      “Why don’t you take me with you?” asked the beast. “Then, when at last you get to the Magician’s house, he can surely find some way to pull out those three hairs.”

      Ojo was overjoyed at this suggestion.

      “That’s it!” he cried, wiping away the tears and springing to his feet with a smile. “If I take the three hairs to the Magician, it won’t matter if they are still in your body.”

      “It can’t matter in the least,” agreed the Woozy.

      “Come on, then,” said the boy, picking up his basket; “let us start at once. I have several other things to find, you know.”

      But the Glass Cat gave a little laugh and inquired in her scornful way:

      “How do you intend to get the beast out of this forest?”

      That puzzled them all for a time.

      “Let us go to the fence, and then we may find a way,” suggested Scraps. So they walked through the forest to the fence, reaching it at a point exactly opposite that where they had entered the enclosure.

      “How did you get in?” asked the Woozy.

      “We climbed over,” answered Ojo.

      “I can’t do that,” said the beast. “I’m a very swift runner, for I can overtake a honey-bee as it flies; and I can jump very high, which is the reason they made such a tall fence to keep me in. But I can’t climb at all, and I’m too big to squeeze between the bars of the fence.”

      Ojo tried to think what to do.

      “Can you dig?” he asked.

      “No,” answered the Woozy, “for I have no claws. My feet are quite flat on the bottom of them. Nor can I gnaw away the boards, as I have no teeth.”

      “You’re not such a terrible creature, after all,” remarked Scraps.

      “You haven’t heard me growl, or you wouldn’t say that,” declared the Woozy. “When I growl, the sound echoes like thunder all through the valleys and woodlands, and children tremble with fear, and women cover their heads with their aprons, and big men run and hide. I suppose there is nothing in the world so terrible to listen to as the growl of a Woozy.”

      “Please don’t growl, then,” begged Ojo, earnestly.

      “There is no danger of my growling, for I am not angry. Only when angry do I utter my fearful, ear-splitting, soul-shuddering growl. Also, when I am angry, my eyes flash fire, whether I growl or not.”

      “Real fire?” asked Ojo.

      “Of course, real fire. Do you suppose they’d flash imitation fire?” inquired the Woozy, in an injured СКАЧАТЬ