“Let me see,” said the Glass Cat, looking up and down the stream, “I think we are below the Magic Isle; so we must go up the stream until we come to it.”

  So up the stream they traveled, walking comfortably on the river bank, and after a while the water broadened and a sharp bend appeared in the river, hiding all below from their view. They walked briskly along, however, and had nearly reached the bend when a voice cried warningly: “Look out!”

  The travelers halted abruptly and the Wizard said: “Look out for what?”

  “You almost stepped on my Diamond Palace,” replied the voice, and a duck with gorgeously colored feathers appeared before them. “Beasts and men are terribly clumsy,” continued the Duck in an irritated tone, “and you’ve no business on this side of the River, anyway. What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve come to rescue some friends of ours who are stuck fast on the Magic Isle in this river,” explained Dorothy.

  “I know ‘em,” said the Duck. “I’ve been to see ‘em, and they’re stuck fast, all right. You may as well go back home, for no power can save them.”

  “This is the Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” said Dorothy, pointing to the little man.

  “Well, I’m the Lonesome Duck,” was the reply, as the fowl strutted up and down to show its feathers to best advantage. “I’m the great Forest Magician, as any beast can tell you, but even I have no power to destroy the dreadful charm of the Magic Isle.”

  “Are you lonesome because you’re a magician?” inquired Dorothy.

  “No; I’m lonesome because I have no family and no friends. But I like to be lonesome, so please don’t offer to be friendly with me. Go away, and try not to step on my Diamond Palace.”

  “Where is it?” asked the girl.

  “Behind this bush.”

  Dorothy hopped off the lion’s back and ran around the bush to see the Diamond Palace of the Lonesome Duck, although the gaudy fowl protested in a series of low quacks. The girl found, indeed, a glistening dome formed of clearest diamonds, neatly cemented together, with a doorway at the side just big enough to admit the duck.

  “Where did you find so many diamonds?” asked Dorothy, wonderingly.

  “I know a place in the mountains where they are thick as pebbles,” said the Lonesome Duck, “and I brought them here in my bill, one by one and put them in the river and let the water run over them until they were brightly polished. Then I built this palace, and I’m positive it’s the only Diamond Palace in all the world.”

  “It’s the only one I know of,” said the little girl; “but if you live in it all alone, I don’t see why it’s any better than a wooden palace, or one of bricks or cobble-stones.”

  “You’re not supposed to understand that,” retorted the Lonesome Duck. “But I might tell you, as a matter of education, that a home of any sort should be beautiful to those who live in it, and should not be intended to please strangers. The Diamond Palace is my home, and I like it. So I don’t care a quack whether YOU like it or not.”

  “Oh, but I do!” exclaimed Dorothy. “It’s lovely on the outside, but—” Then she stopped speaking, for the Lonesome Duck had entered his palace through the little door without even saying good-bye. So Dorothy returned to her friends and they resumed their journey.

  “Do you think, Wizard, the Duck was right in saying no magic can rescue Trot and Cap’n Bill?” asked the girl in a worried tone of voice.

  “No, I don’t think the Lonesome Duck was right in saying that,” answered the Wizard, gravely, “but it is possible that their enchantment will be harder to overcome than I expected. I’ll do my best, of course, and no one can do more than his best.”

  That didn’t entirely relieve Dorothy’s anxiety, but she said nothing more, and soon, on turning the bend in the river, they came in sight of the Magic Isle.

  “There they are!” exclaimed Dorothy eagerly.

  “Yes, I see them,” replied the Wizard, nodding. “They are sitting on two big toadstools.”

  “That’s queer,” remarked the Glass Cat. “There were no toadstools there when I left them.”

  “What a lovely flower!” cried Dorothy in rapture, as her gaze fell on the Magic Plant.

  “Never mind the Flower, just now,” advised the Wizard. “The most important thing is to rescue our friends.”

  By this time they had arrived at a place just opposite the Magic Isle, and now both Trot and Cap’n Bill saw the arrival of their friends and called to them for help.

  “How are you?” shouted the Wizard, putting his hands to his mouth so they could hear him better across the water.

  “We’re in hard luck,” shouted Cap’n Bill, in reply. “We’re anchored here and can’t move till you find a way to cut the hawser.”

  “What does he mean by that?” asked Dorothy.

  “We can’t move our feet a bit!” called Trot, speaking as loud as she could.

  “Why not?” inquired Dorothy.

  “They’ve got roots on ‘em,” explained Trot.

  It was hard to talk from so great a distance, so the Wizard said to the Glass Cat:

  “Go to the island and tell our friends to be patient, for we have come to save them. It may take a little time to release them, for the Magic of the Isle is new to me and I shall have to experiment. But tell them I’ll hurry as fast as I can.”

  So the Glass Cat walked across the river under the water to tell Trot and Cap’n Bill not to worry, and the Wizard at once opened his black bag and began to make his preparations.

  18. The Magic of the Wizard

  He first set up a small silver tripod and placed a gold basin at the top of it. Into this basin he put two powders—a pink one and a sky-blue one—and poured over them a yellow liquid from a crystal vial. Then he mumbled some magic words, and the powders began to sizzle and burn and send out a cloud of violet smoke that floated across the river and completely enveloped both Trot and Cap’n Bill, as well as the toadstools on which they sat, and even the Magic Plant in the gold flower-pot. Then, after the smoke had disappeared into air, the Wizard called out to the prisoners:

  “Are you free?”

  Both Trot and Cap’n Bill tried to move their feet and failed.

  “No!” they shouted in answer.

  The Wizard rubbed his bald head thoughtfully and then took some other magic tools from the bag.

  First he placed a little black ball in a silver pistol and shot it toward the Magic Isle. The ball exploded just over the head of Trot and scattered a thousand sparks over the little girl.

  “Oh!” said the Wizard, “I guess that will set her free.”

  But Trot’s feet were still rooted in the ground of the Magic Isle, and the disappointed Wizard had to try something else.

  For almost an hour he worked hard, using almost every magic tool in his black bag, and still Cap’n Bill and Trot were not rescued.

  “Dear me!” exclaimed Dorothy, “I’m ‘fraid we’ll have to go to Glinda, after all.”

  That made the little Wizard blush, for it shamed him to think that his magic was not equal to that of the Magic Isle.

  “I won’t give up yet, Dorothy,” he said, “for I know a lot of wizardry that I haven’t yet tried. I don’t know what magician enchanted this little island, or what his powers were, but I DO know that I can break any enchantment known to the ordinary witches and magicians that used to inhabit the Land of Oz. It’s like unlocking a door; all you need is to find the right key.”

  “But ‘spose you haven’t the right key with you.” suggested Dorothy; “what then?”

  “Then we’ll have to make the key,” he answered.

  The Glass Cat now came back to their side of the river, walking under the water, and said to the Wizard: “They’re getting frightened over there on the island because they’re both growing smaller every minute. Just now, when I left them, both Trot and Cap’n Bill were only about half their natural sizes.”

  “I think,” said the Wizard reflectively, “that I’d better go to the shore of the island, where I can talk to them and work to better advantage. How did Trot and Cap’n Bill get to the island?”

  “On a raft,” answered the Glass Cat. “It’s over there now on the beach.”

  “I suppose you’re not strong enough to bring the raft to this side, are you?”

  “No; I couldn’t move it an inch,” said the Cat.

  “I’ll try to get it for you,” volunteered the Cowardly Lion. “I’m dreadfully scared for fear the Magic Isle will capture me, too; but I’ll try to get the raft and bring it to this side for you.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” said the Wizard.

  So the Lion plunged into the river and swam with powerful strokes across to where the raft was beached upon the island. Placing one paw on the raft, he turned and struck out with his other three legs and so strong was the great beast that he managed to drag the raft from off the beach and propel it slowly to where the Wizard stood on the river bank.

  “Good!” exclaimed the little man, well pleased.

  “May I go across with you?” asked Dorothy.

  The Wizard hesitated.

  “If you’ll take care not to leave the raft or step foot on the island, you’ll be quite safe,” he decided. So the Wizard told the Hungry Tiger and the Cowardly Lion to guard the cage of monkeys until he returned, and then he and Dorothy got upon the raft. The paddle which Cap’n Bill had made was still there, so the little Wizard paddled the clumsy raft across the water and ran it upon the beach of the Magic Isle as close to the place where Cap’n Bill and Trot were rooted as he could.

  Dorothy was shocked to see how small the prisoners had become, and Trot said to her friends: “If you can’t save us soon, there’ll be nothing left of us.”

  “Be patient, my dear,” counseled the Wizard, and took the little axe from his black bag.

  “What are you going to do with that?” asked Cap’n Bill.

  “It’s a magic axe,” replied the Wizard, “and when I tell it to chop, it will chop those roots from your feet and you can run to the raft before they grow again.”

  “Don’t!” shouted the sailor in alarm. “Don’t do it! Those roots are all flesh roots, and our bodies are feeding ‘em while they’re growing into the ground.”

  “To cut off the roots,” said Trot, “would be like cutting off our fingers and toes.”

  The Wizard put the little axe back in the black bag and took out a pair of silver pincers.

  “Grow—grow—grow!” he said to the pincers, and at once they grew and extended until they reached from the raft to the prisoners.

  “What are you going to do now?” demanded Cap’n Bill, fearfully eyeing the pincers.

  “This magic tool will pull you up, roots and all, and land you on this raft,” declared the Wizard.

  “Don’t do it!” pleaded the sailor, with a shudder. “It would hurt us awfully.”

  “It would be just like pulling teeth to pull us up by the roots,” explained Trot.

  “Grow small!” said the Wizard to the pincers, and at once they became small and he threw them into the black bag.

  “I guess, friends, it’s all up with us, this time,” remarked Cap’n Bill, with a dismal sigh.

  “Please tell Ozma, Dorothy,” said Trot, “that we got into trouble trying to get her a nice birthday present. Then she’ll forgive us. The Magic Flower is lovely and wonderful, but it’s just a lure to catch folks on this dreadful island and then destroy them. You’ll have a nice birthday party, without us, I’m sure; and I hope, Dorothy, that none of you in the Emerald City will forget me—or dear ol’ Cap’n Bill.”

  19. Dorothy and the Bumble Bees

  Dorothy was greatly distressed and had hard work to keep the tears from her eyes.

  “Is that all you can do, Wizard?” she asked the little man.

  “It’s all I can think of just now,” he replied sadly. “But I intend to keep on thinking as long—as long—well, as long as thinking will do any good.”

  They were all silent for a time, Dorothy and the Wizard sitting thoughtfully on the raft, and Trot and Cap’n Bill sitting thoughtfully on the toadstools and growing gradually smaller and smaller in size.

  Suddenly Dorothy said: “Wizard, I’ve thought of something!”

  “What have you thought of?” he asked, looking at the little girl with interest.

  “Can you remember the Magic Word that transforms people?” she asked.

  “Of course,” said he.

  “Then you can transform Trot and Cap’n Bill into birds or bumblebees, and they can fly away to the other shore. When they’re there, you can transform ‘em into their reg’lar shapes again!”

  “Can you do that, Wizard?” asked Cap’n Bill, eagerly.

  “I think so.”

  “Roots an’ all?” inquired Trot.

  “Why, the roots are now a part of you, and if you were transformed to a bumblebee the whole of you would be transformed, of course, and you’d be free of this awful island.”

  “All right; do it!” cried the sailor-man.

  So the Wizard said slowly and distinctly:

  “I want Trot and Cap’n Bill to become bumblebees—Pyrzqxgl!”

  Fortunately, he pronounced the Magic Word in the right way, and instantly Trot and Cap’n Bill vanished from view, and up from the places where they had been flew two bumblebees.

  “Hooray!” shouted Dorothy in delight; “they’re saved!”

  “I guess they are,” agreed the Wizard, equally delighted.

  The bees hovered over the raft an instant and then flew across the river to where the Lion and the Tiger waited. The Wizard picked up the paddle and paddled the raft across as fast as he could. When it reached the river bank, both Dorothy and the Wizard leaped ashore and the little man asked excitedly:

  “Where are the bees?”

  “The bees?” inquired the Lion, who was half asleep and did not know what had happened on the Magic Isle.

  “Yes; there were two of them.”

  “Two bees?” said the Hungry Tiger, yawning. “Why, I ate one of them and the Cowardly Lion ate the other.”

  “Goodness gracious!” cried Dorothy horrified.

  “It was little enough for our lunch,” remarked the Tiger, “but the bees were the only things we could find.”

  “How dreadful!” wailed Dorothy, wringing her hands in despair. “You’ve eaten Trot and Cap’n Bill.”

  But just then she heard a buzzing overhead and two bees alighted on her shoulder.

  “Here we are,” said a small voice in her ear. “I’m Trot, Dorothy.”

  “And I’m Cap’n Bill,” said the other bee.

  Dorothy almost fainted, with relief, and the Wizard, who was close by and had heard the tiny voices, gave a laugh and said:

  “You are not the only two bees in the forest, it seems, but I advise you to keep away from the Lion and the Tiger until you regain your proper forms.”

  “Do it now, Wizard!” advised Dorothy. “They’re so small that you never can tell what might happen to ‘em.”

  So the Wizard gave the command and pronounced the Magic Word, and in the instant Trot and Cap’n Bill stood beside them as natural as before they had met their fearful adventure. For they were no longer small in size, because the Wizard had transformed them from bumblebees into the shapes and sizes that nature had formerly given them. The ugly roots on their feet had disappeared with the transformation.

  While Dorothy was hugging Trot, and Trot was softly crying because she was so happy, the Wizard shook hands with Cap’n Bill and congratulated him on his escape. The old sailor-man was so pleased that he also shook the Lion’s paw and took off his hat and bowed politely to the cage of monkeys.

  Then Cap’n Bill did a curious thing. He went to a big tree and, taking out his knife, cut away a big, broad piece of thick bark. Then he sat down on the ground and after taking a roll of stout cord from his pocket—which seemed to be full of all sorts of things—he proceeded to bind the flat piece of bark to the bottom of his good foot, over the leather sole.

  “What’s that for?” inquired the Wizard.

  “I hate to be stumped,” replied the sailor-man; “so I’m goin’ back to that island.”

  “And get enchanted again?” exclaimed Trot, with evident disapproval.

  “No; this time I’ll dodge the magic of the island. I noticed that my wooden leg didn’t get stuck, or take root, an’ neither did the glass feet of the Glass Cat. It’s only a thing that’s made of meat—like man an’ beasts—that the magic can hold an’ root to the ground. Our shoes are leather, an’ leather comes from a beast’s hide. Our stockin’s are wool, an’ wool comes from a sheep’s back. So, when we walked on the Magic Isle, our feet took root there an’ held us fast. But not my wooden leg. So now I’ll put a wooden bottom on my other foot an’ the magic can’t stop me.”

  “But why do you wish to go back to the island?” asked Dorothy.

  “Didn’t you see the Magic Flower in the gold flower-pot?” returned Cap’n Bill.

  “Of course I saw it, and it’s lovely and wonderful.”

  “Well, Trot an’ I set out to get the magic plant for a present to Ozma on her birthday, and I mean to get it an’ take it back with us to the Emerald City.”

  “That would be fine,” cried Trot eagerly, “if you think you can do it, and it would be safe to try!”

  “I’m pretty sure it is safe, the way I’ve fixed my foot,” said the sailor, “an’ if I SHOULD happen to get caught, I s’pose the Wizard could save me again.”

  “I suppose I could,” agreed the Wizard. “Anyhow, if you wish to try it, Cap’n Bill, go ahead and we’ll stand by and watch what happens.”

  So the sailor-man got upon the raft again and paddled over to the Magic Isle, landing as close to the golden flower-pot as he could. They watched him walk across the land, put both arms around the flower-pot and lift it easily from its place. Then he carried it to the raft and set it down very gently. The removal did not seem to affect the Magic Flower in any way, for it was growing daffodils when Cap’n Bill picked it up and on the way to the raft it grew tulips and gladioli. During the time the sailor was paddling across the river to where his friends awaited him, seven different varieties of flowers bloomed in succession on the plant.