CHAPTER 3
The Blue Forest of Oz

Grampa, said Prince Tatters, after the two adventurers had marched along for a time in silence, Pudge did not tell us where to look for my father’s head, nor where to find the Princess and the fortune.

Trust a wise man for that, replied the old soldier, striking a match on his game leg and lighting his pipe.

Then where are we going Grampa? asked the Prince, shifting his umbrella to his other arm and adjusting his stride to that of the old soldier.

That, puffed Grampa, depends on the four-pence. Stopping short, he took a small coin from his pocket. On one side was the head of King Fumbo and on the other the coat of arms of Ragbad. I may not be a wise man, explained Grampa, tossing the coin in his palm, but I am sure your father’s head can only be restored by magic. There are but two people left in Oz who are permitted to practice magic. One is Glinda, the good sorceress and Queen of our own Quadling country and the other is the Wizard of Oz, who lives in the palace of Princess Ozma, ruler of all Oz.

Tatters nodded impatiently, for he had learned all this in his history book.

So, continued Grampa, we must march either to the East—for Glinda’s castle is in that direction—or to the North to the Emerald City and the palace of Ozma of Oz. Which shall it be? Heads for Ozma, arms for Glinda!

Up flew the four-pence and Prince Tatters, dropping on his knee, gave a little cry of delight—for Fumbo’s head was uppermost.

The King has decided himself, chuckled Grampa, pocketing the coin, so North we go to the Emerald City. We’ll be on our way, my lad, and who knows but on the way we may pick up a fortune or a Princess—and a couple of new pipes and some rare old Oz tobacco, finished the old soldier, half closing his eyes. These last two items did not interest Prince Tatters, but the thought of visiting the Capitol of Oz, of seeing Princess Ozma, the little fairy ruler, and being presented at court, sent the Prince, who had spent his whole life in the shabby little kingdom of Ragbad, marching along the red highway so fast that Grampa had to do double time to keep up with him.

Tatters began rehearsing all Mrs Sew-and-Sew had taught him of court manners and speech and wondering whether he had better speak to Grampa about his bad habits. The old soldier had but two. One was eating with his sword and the other was taking snuff, but after a sidelong glance at Grampa, trudging happily at his side, the Prince decided to wait until they reached the Emerald City before offering any advice on etiquette. Even Tatters did not realize how long a journey this would be. He knew in a general way that Oz is a great oblong kingdom, divided into four large countries and many small ones, and that the Emerald City is in the exact center.

On the maps of Oz in the Prince’s geography the southern Quadling country was marked in red; the country of the West, which was settled by the Munchkins, was marked in blue; the northern Gilliken country in purple; and the land of the Winkies, which lay to the East, was colored yellow—for these were the national colors of the countries represented.

Though Grampa and Tatters had by this time left Ragbad far behind them, they were still in the Quadling country and all the little farms and villages they passed were of cheery red brick or stone and the people themselves dressed in the quaint red costume of the south. Tulips, poppies and red roses nodded over the tall hedges; the fields, rusty with sorrel, had a reddish tinge and all along the highway giant red maples arched their lacy branches. At noon they stopped under one of these maples and had a bite of the lunch Mrs Sew-and-Sew had prepared for them, but their pause was short for both were anxious to reach the Emerald City as soon as possible, to learn from the Wizard of Oz the best way to recover Fumbo’s head. To make the marching easier, the old soldier played a lively rat-tat upon his drum, and as they passed through the quiet Quadling villages many heads were popped out the windows to see what all the racket was about. But soon these villages became farther and farther apart, and the country more wild and unsettled and just as the sun slipped down behind the treetops they came to the edge of a deep blue forest.

A long march, puffed the old soldier, mopping his forehead, but we’re getting along, my lad, for this is the beginning of the Munchkin country.

Do you think it’s safe? asked Prince Tatters, peering anxiously into the gloomy forest.

Safe! cried Grampa scornfully. Well I hope not. Fortunes are never found in safe places my boy. Shouldn’t wonder if there were a bear behind every tree, he continued cheerfully. Shouldn’t wonder if there were a dragon or two lying in wait for us. Come on! Thrusting his drum sticks through his belt and waving his sword, the old soldier plunged recklessly into the blue forest, shouting the national air of Ragbad at the top of his lungs.

Oh, hush, begged Prince Tatters, glancing uneasily from side to side and treading close upon Grampa’s heels, someone might hear you. Oh! What’s that? For with a shrill scream a great bird had risen from the branches of a tree just ahead and flown squawking into the air.

That’s supper! chuckled the old soldier, and raising his gun he took aim and fired. There was a sharp crash as the bullet struck home, then down fell a large reddish fowl.

Well? the fowl rasped sulkily, as Prince Tatters and Grampa ran forward, what am I supposed to do now? I’ve never been shot before.

A bird that’s shot is not supposed to do anything, said the old soldier severely.

Oh, sighed the bird, that’s easy! and putting down its head, it lay quietly on its side.

It’s a rooster! exclaimed the Prince, touching it with one hand, an iron rooster! At this the bird sprang up indignantly.

You may shoot me if you want, but I’ll not lie here and let you call me names, it shrilled angrily. Where are your eyes? Can’t you see I’m a weather cock?

Do you suppose I’d have wasted a good bullet on you if I had? I may have an iron constitution but I don’t eat cast iron birds, sniffed Grampa. What do you mean, flying through this forest deceiving hungry travellers?

I don’t know what I mean, replied the weather cock calmly, for I’ve only been alive since last night. What do you mean yourself, pray? Must everyone have a meaning like a riddle?