Little Wizard Stories of Oz, VOL I.
Date: 1913-01-01T05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Imaginary Lands; Juvenile fiction
Description: These six short tales were published in separate small booklets, “Oz books in miniature,” in 1913, and then in a collected edition in 1914 with color illustrations by John R. Neill. The stories were issued to promote the new Oz novel, “The Patchwork Girl of Oz.” This collection effectively constitutes a fifteenth Oz book by Baum. For over a century, readers of all ages have loved the Oz stories; and many of the Oz characters and situations have become a part of popular culture. Author L. Frank Baum, “the Royal Historian of Oz”, is best known for creating the imaginary land of Oz, and especiall
Publisher: MobileRead.com
Rights: This book is in public domain where copyright is “Life+80” or less, and in the USA.

ABOUT THIS EBOOK

LITTLE WIZARD STORIES OF OZ

BY
L. FRANK BAUM
(“The Royal Historian of Oz”)
(1856–1919)

ILLUSTRATED BY
JOHN R. NEILL
(“The Imperial Illustrator of Oz”)
(1877–1943)

With 42 color illustrations, illustrated chapter heads, end-paper images, and replicas of covers of the first editon booklets.

These six short tales were published in separate small booklets, “Oz books in miniature,” in 1913, and then in a collected edition in 1914 with color illustrations by John R. Neill. The stories were issued to promote the new Oz novel, The Patchwork Girl of Oz (1913). This collection effectively constitutes a fifteenth Oz book by Baum.

For over a century, readers of all ages have loved the Oz stories; and many of the Oz characters and situations have become a part of popular culture.

CONTENTS

VOLUME I:

CLICK ARROWS BELOW TO ACCESS STORIES

The Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger

>>   (cover)

>>   story

Little Dorothy and Toto

>>  (cover)

>>   story

Tiktok and the Nome King

>>   (cover)

>>   story

VOLUME II:

Ozma and the Little Wizard

Jack Pumpkinhead and the Sawhorse

The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman

Lyman Frank Baum (May 15, 1856 – May 6, 1919) was an American author chiefly famous for his children’s books, particularly The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and its sequels. He wrote 14 novels in the Oz series, plus 41 other novels, as well as many short stories, poems, and plays. He made numerous attempts to bring his works to the stage and the nascent medium of film; the 1939 adaptation of the first Oz book would become a landmark of 20th-century cinema. His works anticipated such century-later commonplaces as television, augmented reality, laptop computers (The Master Key), wireless telephones (Tik-Tok of Oz), women in high-risk and action-heavy occupations (Mary Louise in the Country), and the ubiquity of advertising on clothing (Aunt Jane’s Nieces at Work).

Even while he was alive, Baum was styled as “the Royal Historian of Oz” to emphasize the concept that Oz is an actual place. The illusion created was that characters such as Dorothy and Princess Ozma related their adventures in Oz to Baum themselves, by means of wireless telegraph.

•    •    •    •    •

The book is lavishly illustrated by John R. Neill, “The Imperial Illustrator of Oz”, known for illustrating more than forty books set in the land of Oz, including those by Baum, by Ruth Plumly Thompson, and three of his own.

Text was obtained from gutenberg.org (ebook 25519); images from archive.org (littlewizardstor00baum). Illustrations have been manually cleaned, repaired, and enhanced. (A number of illustrations have been rebuilt by combining several images in one; several of the booklet “back-covers” are my own invention.)

First published in 1913. The text is in the public domain worldwide. Illustrations are in the public domain in countries where copyright is “Life+80” or less, and in the USA.

This ebook was created by ECM for MobileRead.com, August 2025, and may be freely distributed for non-commercial purposes.

THE COWARDLY LION
AND THE HUNGRY TIGER

In the splendid palace of the Emerald City, which is in the center of the fairy Land of Oz, is a great Throne Room, where Princess Ozma, the Ruler, for an hour each day sits in a throne of glistening emeralds and listens to all the troubles of her people, which they are sure to tell her about. Around Ozma’s throne, on such occasions, are grouped all the important personages of Oz, such as the Scarecrow, Jack Pumpkinhead, Tiktok the Clockwork Man, the Tin Woodman, the Wizard of Oz, the Shaggy Man and other famous fairy people. Little Dorothy usually has a seat at Ozma’s feet, and crouched on either side the throne are two enormous beasts known as the Hungry Tiger and the Cowardly Lion.

These two beasts are Ozma’s chief guardians, but as everyone loves the beautiful girl Princess there has never been any disturbance in the great Throne Room, or anything for the guardians to do but look fierce and solemn and keep quiet until the Royal Audience is over and the people go away to their homes.

Of course no one would dare be naughty while the huge Lion and Tiger crouched beside the throne; but the fact is, the people of Oz are very seldom naughty. So Ozma’s big guards are more ornamental than useful, and no one realizes that better than the beasts themselves.

One day, after everybody had left the Throne Room except the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger, the Lion yawned and said to his friend:

“I’m getting tired of this job. No one is afraid of us and no one pays any attention to us.”

“That is true,” replied the big Tiger, purring softly. “We might as well be in the thick jungles where we were born, as trying to protect Ozma when she needs no protection. And I’m dreadfully hungry all the time.”

“You have enough to eat, I’m sure,” said the Lion, swaying his tail slowly back and forth.

“Enough, perhaps; but not the kind of food I long for,” answered the Tiger. “What I’m hungry for is fat babies. I have a great desire to eat a few fat babies. Then, perhaps, the people of Oz would fear me and I’d become more important.”

“True,” agreed the Lion. “It would stir up quite a rumpus if you ate but one fat baby. As for myself; my claws are sharp as needles and strong as crowbars, while my teeth are powerful enough to tear a person to pieces in a few seconds. If I should spring upon a man and make chop suey of him, there would be wild excitement in the Emerald City and the people would fall upon their knees and beg me for mercy. That, in my opinion, would render me of considerable importance.”

“After you had torn the person to pieces, what would you do next?” asked the Tiger sleepily.

“Then I would roar so loudly it would shake the earth and stalk away to the jungle to hide myself, before anyone could attack me or kill me for what I had done.”

“I see,” nodded the Tiger. “You are really cowardly.”

“To be sure. That is why I am named the Cowardly Lion. That is why I have always been so tame and peaceable. But I’m awfully tired of being tame,” added the Lion, with a sigh, “and it would be fun to raise a row and show people what a terrible beast I really am.”

The Tiger remained silent for several minutes, thinking deeply as he slowly washed his face with his left paw. Then he said:

“I’m getting old, and it would please me to eat at least one fat baby before I die. Suppose we surprise these people of Oz and prove our power. What do you say? We will walk out of here just as usual and the first baby we meet I’ll eat in a jiffy, and the first man or woman you meet you will tear to pieces. Then we will both run out of the city gates and gallop across the country and hide in the jungle before anyone can stop us.”

“All right; I’m game,” said the Lion, yawning again so that he showed two rows of dreadfully sharp teeth.

The Tiger got up and stretched his great, sleek body.

“Come on,” he said. The Lion stood up and proved he was the larger of the two, for he was almost as big as a small horse.

Out of the palace they walked, and met no one. They passed through the beautiful grounds, past fountains and beds of lovely flowers, and met no one. Then they unlatched a gate and entered a street of the city, and met no one.

“I wonder how a fat baby will taste,” remarked the Tiger, as they stalked majestically along, side by side.

“I imagine it will taste like nutmegs,” said the Lion.

“No,” said the Tiger, “I’ve an idea it will taste like gumdrops.”

They turned a corner, but met no one, for the people of the Emerald City were accustomed to take their naps at this hour of the afternoon.

“I wonder how many pieces I ought to tear a person into,” said the Lion, in a thoughtful voice.

“Sixty would be about right,” suggested the Tiger.

“Would that hurt any more than to tear one into about a dozen pieces?” inquired the Lion, with a little shudder.

“Who cares whether it hurts or not?” growled the Tiger.

The Lion did not reply. They entered a side street, but met no one.

Suddenly they heard a child crying.

“Aha!” exclaimed the Tiger. “There is my meat.”

He rushed around a corner, the Lion following, and came upon a nice fat baby sitting in the middle of the street and crying as if in great distress.

“What’s the matter?” asked the Tiger, crouching before the baby.

“I—I—I-lost my m-m-mamma!” wailed the baby.

“Why, you poor little thing,” said the great beast, softly stroking the child’s head with its paw. “Don’t cry, my dear, for mamma can’t be far away and I’ll help you to find her.”

“Go on,” said the Lion, who stood by.

“Go on where?” asked the Tiger, looking up.

“Go on and eat your fat baby.”

“Why, you dreadful creature!” said the Tiger reproachfully; “would you want me to eat a poor little lost baby, that doesn’t know where its mother is?” And the beast gathered the little one into its strong, hairy arms and tried to comfort it by rocking it gently back and forth.

The Lion growled low in his throat and seemed very much disappointed; but at that moment a scream reached their ears and a woman came bounding out of a house and into the street. Seeing her baby in the embrace of the monster Tiger the woman screamed again and rushed forward to rescue it, but in her haste she caught her foot in her skirt and tumbled head over heels and heels over head, stopping with such a bump that she saw many stars in the heavens, although it was broad daylight. And there she lay, in a helpless manner, all tangled up and unable to stir.

With one bound and a roar like thunder the huge Lion was beside her. With his strong jaws he grasped her dress and raised her into an upright position.

“Poor thing! Are you hurt?” he gently asked.

Gasping for breath the woman struggled to free herself and tried to walk, but she limped badly and tumbled down again.

“My baby!” she said pleadingly.

“The baby is all right; don’t worry,” replied the Lion; and then he added: “Keep quiet, now, and I’ll carry you back to your house, and the Hungry Tiger will carry your baby.”

The Tiger, who had approached the place with the child in its arms, asked in astonishment:

“Aren’t you going to tear her into sixty pieces?”

“No, nor into six pieces,” answered the Lion indignantly. “I’m not such a brute as to destroy a poor woman who has hurt herself trying to save her lost baby. If you are so ferocious and cruel and bloodthirsty, you may leave me and go away, for I do not care to associate with you.”

“That’s all right,” answered the Tiger. “I’m not cruel—not in the least—I’m only hungry. But I thought you were cruel.”

“Thank heaven I’m respectable,” said the Lion, with dignity. He then raised the woman and with much gentleness carried her into her house, where he laid her upon a sofa.

The Tiger followed with the baby, which he safely deposited beside its mother. The little one liked the Hungry Tiger and grasping the enormous beast by both ears the baby kissed the beast’s nose to show he was grateful and happy.

“Thank you very much,” said the woman. “I’ve often heard what good beasts you are, in spite of your power to do mischief to mankind, and now I know that the stories are true. I do not think either of you have ever had an evil thought.”

The Hungry Tiger and the Cowardly Lion hung their heads and did not look into each other’s eyes, for both were shamed and humbled. They crept away and stalked back through the streets until they again entered the palace grounds, where they retreated to the pretty, comfortable rooms they occupied at the back of the palace. There they silently crouched in their usual corners to think over their adventure.

After a while the Tiger said sleepily:

“I don’t believe fat babies taste like gumdrops. I’m quite sure they have the flavor of raspberry tarts. My, how hungry I am for fat babies!”

The Lion grunted disdainfully.

“You’re a humbug,” said he.

“Am I?” retorted the Tiger, with a sneer. “Tell me, then, into how many pieces you usually tear your victims, my bold Lion?”

The Lion impatiently thumped the floor with his tail.

“To tear anyone into pieces would soil my claws and blunt my teeth,” he said. “I’m glad I didn’t muss myself up this afternoon by hurting that poor mother.”

The Tiger looked at him steadily and then yawned a wide, wide yawn.

“You’re a coward,” he remarked.

“Well,” said the Lion, “it’s better to be a coward than to do wrong.”

“To be sure,” answered the other. “And that reminds me that I nearly lost my own reputation. For, had I eaten that fat baby I would not now be the Hungry Tiger. It’s better to go hungry, seems to me, than to be cruel to a little child.”

And then they dropped their heads on their paws and went to sleep.

LITTLE DOROTHY
AND TOTO

Dorothy was a little Kansas girl who once accidentally found the beautiful Land of Oz and was invited to live there always. Toto was Dorothy’s small black dog, with fuzzy, curly hair and bright black eyes. Together, when they tired of the grandeur of the Emerald City of Oz, they would wander out into the country and all through the land, peering into queer nooks and corners and having a good time in their own simple way. There was a little Wizard living in Oz who was a faithful friend of Dorothy and did not approve of her traveling alone in this way, but the girl always laughed at the little man’s fears for her and said she was not afraid of anything that might happen.

One day while on such a journey, Dorothy and Toto found themselves among the wild wooded hills at the southeast of Oz—a place usually avoided by travelers because so many magical things abounded there. And, as they entered a forest path, the little girl noticed a sign tacked to a tree, which said: “Look out for Crinklink.”

Toto could not talk, as many of the animals of Oz can, for he was just a common Kansas dog; but he looked at the sign so seriously that Dorothy almost believed he could read it, and she knew quite well that Toto understood every word she said to him.

“Never mind Crinklink,” said she. “I don’t believe anything in Oz will try to hurt us, Toto, and if I get into trouble you must take care of me.”

“Bow-wow!” said Toto, and Dorothy knew that meant a promise.

The path was narrow and wound here and there between the trees, but they could not lose their way, because thick vines and creepers shut them in on both sides. They had walked a long time when, suddenly turning a curve of the pathway, they came upon a lake of black water, so big and so deep that they were forced to stop.

“Well, Toto,” said Dorothy, looking at the lake, “we must turn back, I guess, for there is neither a bridge nor a boat to take us across the black water.”

“Here’s the ferryman, though,” cried a tiny voice beside them, and the girl gave a start and looked down at her feet, where a man no taller than three inches sat at the edge of the path with his legs dangling over the lake.

“Oh!” said Dorothy; “I didn’t see you before.”

Toto growled fiercely and made his ears stand up straight, but the little man did not seem in the least afraid of the dog. He merely repeated: “I’m the ferryman, and it’s my business to carry people across the lake.”

Dorothy couldn’t help feeling surprised, for she could have picked the little man up with one hand, and the lake was big and broad. Looking at the ferryman more closely she saw that he had small eyes, a big nose, and a sharp chin. His hair was blue and his clothes scarlet, and Dorothy noticed that every button on his jacket was the head of some animal. The top button was a bear’s head and the next button a wolf’s head; the next was a cat’s head and the next a weasel’s head, while the last button of all was the head of a field-mouse. When Dorothy looked into the eyes of these animals’ heads, they all nodded and said in a chorus: “Don’t believe all you hear, little girl!”

“Silence!” said the small ferryman, slapping each button head in turn, but not hard enough to hurt them. Then he turned to Dorothy and asked: “Do you wish to cross over the lake?”

“Why, I’d like to,” she answered, hesitating; “but I can’t see how you will manage to carry us, without any boat.”

“If you can’t see, you mustn’t see,” he answered with a laugh. “All you need do is shut your eyes, say the word, and—over you go!”

Dorothy wanted to get across, in order that she might continue her journey.

“All right,” she said, closing her eyes; “I’m ready.”

Instantly she was seized in a pair of strong arms—arms so big and powerful that she was startled and cried out in fear.

“Silence!” roared a great voice, and the girl opened her eyes to find that the tiny man had suddenly grown to a giant and was holding both her and Toto in a tight embrace while in one step he spanned the lake and reached the other shore.

Dorothy became frightened, then, especially as the giant did not stop but continued tramping in great steps over the wooded hills, crushing bushes and trees beneath his broad feet. She struggled in vain to free herself, while Toto whined and trembled beside her, for the little dog was frightened, too.

“Stop!” screamed the girl. “Let me down!” But the giant paid no attention. “Who are you, and where are you taking me?” she continued; but the giant said not a word. Close to Dorothy’s ear, however, a voice answered her, saying: “This is the terrible Crinklink, and he has you in his power.”

Dorothy managed to twist her head around and found it was the second button on the jacket—the wolf’s head—which had spoken to her.

“What will Crinklink do with me?” she asked anxiously.

“No one knows. You must wait and see,” replied the wolf.

“Some of his captives he whips,” squeaked the weasel’s head.

“Some he transforms into bugs and other things,” growled the bear’s head.

“Some he enchants, so that they become doorknobs,” sighed the cat’s head.

“Some he makes his slaves—even as we are—and that is the most dreadful fate of all,” added the field-mouse. “As long as Crinklink exists we shall remain buttons, but as there are no more buttonholes on his jacket he will probably make you a slave.”

Dorothy began to wish she had not met Crinklink. Meantime, the giant took such big steps that he soon reached the heart of the hills, where, perched upon the highest peak, stood a log castle. Before this castle he paused to set down Dorothy and Toto, for Crinklink was at present far too large to enter his own doorway. So he made himself grow smaller, until he was about the size of an ordinary man. Then he said to Dorothy, in stern, commanding tones:

“Enter, girl!”

Dorothy obeyed and entered the castle, with Toto at her heels. She found the place to be merely one big room. There was a table and chair of ordinary size near the center, and at one side a wee bed that seemed scarcely big enough for a doll. Everywhere else were dishes—dishes—dishes! They were all soiled, and were piled upon the floor, in all the corners and upon every shelf. Evidently Crinklink had not washed a dish for years, but had cast them aside as he used them.

Dorothy’s captor sat down in the chair and frowned at her.

“You are young and strong, and will make a good dishwasher,” said he.

“Do you mean me to wash all those dishes?” she asked, feeling both indignant and fearful, for such a task would take weeks to accomplish.

“That’s just what I mean,” he retorted. “I need clean dishes, for all I have are soiled, and you’re going to make ‘em clean or get trounced. So get to work and be careful not to break anything. If you smash a dish, the penalty is one lash from my dreadful cat-o’-nine-tails for every piece the dish breaks into,” and here Crinklink displayed a terrible whip that made the little girl shudder.

Dorothy knew how to wash dishes, but she remembered that often she carelessly broke one. In this case, however, a good deal depended on being careful, so she handled the dishes very cautiously.

While she worked, Toto sat by the hearth and growled low at Crinklink, and Crinklink sat in his chair and growled at Dorothy because she moved so slowly. He expected her to break a dish any minute, but as the hours passed away and this did not happen Crinklink began to grow sleepy. It was tiresome watching the girl wash dishes and often he glanced longingly at the tiny bed. Now he began to yawn, and he yawned and yawned until finally he said:

“I’m going to take a nap. But the buttons on my jacket will be wide awake and whenever you break a dish the crash will waken me. As I’m rather sleepy I hope you won’t interrupt my nap by breaking anything for a long time.”

Then Crinklink made himself grow smaller and smaller until he was three inches high and of a size to fit the tiny bed. At once he lay down and fell fast asleep.

Dorothy came close to the buttons and whispered: “Would you really warn Crinklink if I tried to escape?”

“You can’t escape,” growled the bear. “Crinklink would become a giant, and soon overtake you.”

“But you might kill him while he sleeps,” suggested the cat, in a soft voice.

“Oh!” cried Dorothy, drawing back; “I couldn’t poss’bly kill anything—even to save my life.”

But Toto had heard this conversation and was not so particular about killing monsters. Also the little dog knew he must try to save his mistress. In an instant he sprang upon the wee bed and was about to seize the sleeping Crinklink in his jaws when Dorothy heard a loud crash and a heap of dishes fell from the table to the floor. Then the girl saw Toto and the little man rolling on the floor together, like a fuzzy ball, and when the ball stopped rolling, behold! there was Toto wagging his tail joyfully and there sat the little Wizard of Oz, laughing merrily at the expression of surprise on Dorothy’s face.

“Yes, my dear, it’s me,” said he, “and I’ve been playing tricks on you—for your own good. I wanted to prove to you that it is really dangerous for a little girl to wander alone in a fairy country; so I took the form of Crinklink to teach you a lesson. There isn’t any Crinklink, to be sure; but if there had been you’d be severely whipped for breaking all those dishes.”

The Wizard now rose, took off the coat with the button heads, and spread it on the floor, wrong side up. At once there crept from beneath it a bear, a wolf, a cat, a weasel, and a field-mouse, who all rushed from the room and escaped into the mountains.

“Come on, Toto,” said Dorothy; “let’s go back to the Emerald City. You’ve given me a good scare, Wizard,” she added, with dignity, “and p’raps I’ll forgive you, by’n’by; but just now I’m mad to think how easily you fooled me.”

TIKTOK
AND THE NOME KING

The Nome King was unpleasantly angry. He had carelessly bitten his tongue at breakfast and it still hurt; so he roared and raved and stamped around in his underground palace in a way that rendered him very disagreeable.

It so happened that on this unfortunate day Tiktok, the Clockwork Man, visited the Nome King to ask a favor. Tiktok lived in the Land of Oz, and although he was an active and important person, he was made entirely of metal. Machinery within him, something like the works of a clock, made him move; other machinery made him talk; still other machinery made him think.

Although so cleverly constructed, the Clockwork Man was far from perfect. Three separate keys wound up his motion machinery, his speech works, and his thoughts. One or more of these contrivances was likely to run down at a critical moment, leaving poor Tiktok helpless. Also some of his parts were wearing out, through much use, and just now his thought machinery needed repair. The skillful little Wizard of Oz had tinkered with Tiktok’s thoughts without being able to get them properly regulated, so he had advised the Clockwork Man to go to the Nome King and secure a new set of springs, which would render his thoughts more elastic and responsive.

“Be careful what you say to the Nome King,” warned the Wizard. “He has a bad temper and the least little thing makes him angry.”

Tiktok promised, and the Wizard wound his machinery and set him walking in the direction of the Nome King’s dominions, just across the desert from the Land of Oz. He ran down just as he reached the entrance to the underground palace, and there Kaliko, the Nome King’s Chief Steward, found him and wound him up again.

“I want to see the King,” said Tiktok, in his jerky voice.

“Well,” remarked Kaliko, “it may be safe for a cast-iron person like you to face his Majesty this morning; but you must announce yourself, for should I show my face inside the jewel-studded cavern where the King is now raving, I’d soon look like a dish of mashed potatoes, and be of no further use to anyone.”

“I’m not a-fraid,” said Tiktok.

“Then walk in and make yourself at home,” answered Kaliko, and threw open the door of the King’s cavern.

Tiktok promptly walked in and faced the astonished Nome King, to whom he said: “Good morn-ing. I want two new steel springs for my thought-works and a new cog-wheel for my speech-pro-du-cer. How a-bout it, your Maj-es-ty?”

The Nome King growled a menacing growl and his eyes were red with rage.

“How dare you enter my presence?” he shouted.

“I dare an-y-thing,” said Tiktok. “I’m not a-fraid of a fat Nome.”

This was true, yet an unwise speech. Had Tiktok’s thoughts been in good working order he would have said something else. The angry Nome King quickly caught up his heavy mace and hurled it straight at Tiktok.

When it struck the metal man’s breast, the force of the blow burst the bolts which held the plates of his body together and they clattered to the floor in a score of pieces. Hundreds and hundreds of wheels, pins, cogs and springs filled the air like a cloud and then rattled like hail upon the floor.

Where Tiktok had stood was now only a scrap-heap and the Nome King was so amazed by the terrible effect of his blow that he stared in wonder.

His Majesty’s anger quickly cooled. He remembered that the Clockwork Man was a favorite subject of the powerful Princess, Ozma of Oz, who would be sure to resent Tiktok’s ruin.

“Too bad! too bad!” he muttered, regretfully. “I’m really sorry I made junk of the fellow. I didn’t know he’d break.”

“You’d better be,” remarked Kaliko, who now ventured to enter the room. “You’ll have a war on your hands when Ozma hears of this, and the chances are you will lose your throne and your kingdom.”

The Nome King turned pale, for he loved to rule the Nomes and did not know of any other way to earn a living in case Ozma fought and conquered him.

“Do—do you think Ozma will be angry?” he asked anxiously.

“I’m sure of it,” said Kaliko. “And she has the right to be. You’ve made scrap-iron of her favorite.”

The King groaned.

“Sweep him up and throw the rubbish into the black pit,” he commanded; and then he shut himself up in his private den and for days would see no one, because he was so ashamed of his unreasoning anger and so feared the results of his rash act.

Kaliko swept up the pieces, but he did not throw them into the black pit. Being a clever and skillful mechanic he determined to fit the pieces together again.

No man ever faced a greater puzzle; but it was interesting work and Kaliko succeeded. When he found a spring or wheel worn or imperfect, he made a new one.

Within two weeks, by working steadily night and day, the Chief Steward completed his task and put the three sets of clockworks and the last rivet into Tiktok’s body. He then wound up the motion machinery, and the Clockwork Man walked up and down the room as naturally as ever. Then Kaliko wound up the thought works and the speech regulator and said to Tiktok:

“How do you feel now?”

“Fine,” said the Clockwork Man. “You have done a ve-ry good job, Kal-i-ko, and saved me from de-struc-tion. Much o-bliged.”

“Don’t mention it,” replied the Chief Steward. “I quite enjoyed the work.”

Just then the Nome King’s gong sounded, and Kaliko rushed away through the jewel-studded cavern and into the den where the King had hidden, leaving the doors ajar.

“Kaliko,” said the King, in a meek voice, “I’ve been shut up here long enough to repent bitterly the destruction of Tiktok. Of course Ozma will have revenge, and send an army to fight us, but we must take our medicine. One thing comforts me: Tiktok wasn’t really a live person; he was only a machine man, and so it wasn’t very wicked to stop his clockworks. I couldn’t sleep nights, at first, for worry; but there’s no more harm in smashing a machine man than in breaking a wax doll. Don’t you think so?”

“I am too humble to think in the presence of your Majesty,” said Kaliko.

“Then get me something to eat,” commanded the King, “for I’m nearly starved. Two roasted goats, a barrel of cakes and nine mince pies will do me until dinnertime.”

Kaliko bowed and hurried away to the royal kitchen, forgetting Tiktok, who was wandering around in the outer cavern. Suddenly the Nome King looked up and saw the Clockwork Man standing before him, and at the sight the monarch’s eyes grew big and round and he fell a-trembling in every limb.

“Away, grim Shadow!” he cried. “You’re not here, you know; you’re only a hash of cogwheels and springs, lying at the bottom of the black pit. Vanish, thou Vision of the demolished Tiktok, and leave me in peace—for I have bitterly repented!”

“Then beg my pardon,” said Tiktok in a gruff voice, for Kaliko had forgotten to oil the speech works.

But the sound of a voice coming from what he thought a mere vision was too much for the Nome King’s shaken nerves. He gave a yell of fear and rushed from the room. Tiktok followed, so the King bolted through the corridors on a swift run and bumped against Kaliko, who was returning with a tray of things to eat.

The sound of the breaking dishes, as they struck the floor, added to the King’s terror and he yelled again and dashed into a great cavern where a thousand Nomes were at work hammering metal.

“Look out! Here comes a phantom clockwork man!” screamed the terrified monarch, and every Nome dropped his tools and made a rush from the cavern, knocking over their King in their mad flight and recklessly trampling upon his prostrate fat body. So, when Tiktok came into the cavern, there was only the Nome King left, and he was rolling upon the rocky floor and howling for mercy, with his eyes fast shut so that he could not see what he was sure was a dreadful phantom that was coming straight toward him.

“It oc-curs to me,” said Tiktok calmly, “that your Maj-es-ty is act-ing like a ba-by I am not a phan-tom. A phan-tom is unreal, while I am the real thing.”

The King rolled over, sat up and opened his eyes.

“Didn’t I smash you to pieces?” he asked in trembling tones.

“Yes,” said Tiktok.

“Then you are nothing but a junk-heap, and this form in which you now appear cannot be real.”

“It is, though,” declared Tiktok. “Kal-i-ko picked up my piec-es and put me to-geth-er a-gain. I’m as good as new, and perhaps bet-ter.”

“That is true, your Majesty,” added Kaliko, who now made his appearance, “and I hope you will forgive me for mending Tiktok. He was quite broken up, after you smashed him, and I found it almost as hard a job to match his pieces as to pick turnips from gooseberry bushes. But I did it,” he added proudly.

“You are forgiven,” announced the Nome King, rising to his feet and drawing a long breath. “I will raise your wages one specto a year, and Tiktok shall return to the Land of Oz loaded with jewels for the Princess Ozma.”

“That is all right,” said Tiktok. “But what I want to know is, why did you hit me with your mace?”

“Because I was angry,” admitted the King. “When I am angry I always do something that I am sorry for afterward. So I have firmly resolved never to get angry again; unless—unless—”

“Unless what, your Majesty?” inquired Kaliko.

“Unless something annoys me,” said the Nome King. And then he went to his treasure-chamber to get the jewels for Princess Ozma of Oz.