The Marvelous Land of Oz

In the Country of the Gillikins, which is at the North of the Land of Oz, lived a youth called Tip. There was more to his name than that, for old Mombi often declared that his whole name was Tippetarius; but no one was expected to say such a long word when “Tip” would do just as well.

This boy remembered nothing of his parents, for he had been brought when quite young to be reared by the old woman known as Mombi, whose reputation, I am sorry to say, was none of the best. For the Gillikin people had reason to suspect her of indulging in magical arts, and therefore hesitated to associate with her.

Mombi was not exactly a Witch, because the Good Witch who ruled that part of the Land of Oz had forbidden any other Witch to exist in her dominions. So Tip’s guardian, however much she might aspire to working magic, realized it was unlawful to be more than a Sorceress, or at most a Wizardess.

After some search the woman drew from her basket an old pepper-box, upon the faded label of which the wizard had written with a lead-pencil: “Powder of Life.”

“Ah⁠—here it is!” she cried, joyfully. “And now let us see if it is potent. The stingy wizard didn’t give me much of it, but I guess there’s enough for two or three doses.”

Tip was much surprised when he overheard this speech. Then he saw old Mombi raise her arm and sprinkle the powder from the box over the pumpkin head of his man Jack. She did this in the same way one would pepper a baked potato, and the powder sifted down from Jack’s head and scattered over the red shirt and pink waistcoat and purple trousers Tip had dressed him in, and a portion even fell upon the patched and worn shoes.

Then, putting the pepper-box back into the basket, Mombi lifted her left hand, with its little finger pointed upward, and said:

“Weaugh!”

Then she lifted her right hand, with the thumb pointed upward, and said:

“Teaugh!”

Then she lifted both hands, with all the fingers and thumbs spread out, and cried:

“Peaugh!”

Jack Pumpkinhead stepped back a pace, at this, and said in a reproachful voice:

“Don’t yell like that! Do you think I’m deaf?”

Old Mombi danced around him, frantic with delight.

“He lives!” she screamed: “he lives! he lives!”

So an hour passed away, during which the silence was only broken by the bubbling of the pot and the hissing of the flames.

Finally, Tip spoke again.

“Have I got to drink that stuff?” he asked, nodding toward the pot.

“Yes,” said Mombi.

“What’ll it do to me?” asked Tip.

“If it’s properly made,” replied Mombi, “it will change or transform you into a marble statue.”

Tip groaned, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.

“I don’t want to be a marble statue!” he protested.

“That doesn’t matter; I want you to be one,” said the old woman, looking at him severely.

“What use’ll I be then?” asked Tip. “There won’t be anyone to work for you.”

“I’ll make the Pumpkinhead work for me,” said Mombi.

Again Tip groaned.

“Why don’t you change me into a goat, or a chicken?” he asked, anxiously. “You can’t do anything with a marble statue.”

“Oh, yes, I can,” returned Mombi. “I’m going to plant a flower garden, next Spring, and I’ll put you in the middle of it, for an ornament. I wonder I haven’t thought of that before; you’ve been a bother to me for years.”

At this terrible speech Tip felt the beads of perspiration starting all over his body, but he sat still and shivered and looked anxiously at the kettle.

“Perhaps it won’t work,” he muttered, in a voice that sounded weak and discouraged.

“Oh, I think it will,” answered Mombi, cheerfully. “I seldom make a mistake.”

Again there was a period of silence⁠—a silence so long and gloomy that when Mombi finally lifted the kettle from the fire it was close to midnight.

“Thank you very much for the sandwiches,” said Tip, as he trotted along. “May I ask your name?”

“I am General Jinjur,” was the brief reply.

“Oh!” said the boy surprised. “What sort of a General?”

“I command the Army of Revolt in this war,” answered the General, with unnecessary sharpness.

“Oh!” he again exclaimed. “I didn’t know there was a war.”

“You were not supposed to know it,” she returned, “for we have kept it a secret; and considering that our army is composed entirely of girls,” she added, with some pride, “it is surely a remarkable thing that our Revolt is not yet discovered.”

“It is, indeed,” acknowledged Tip. “But where is your army?”

“About a mile from here,” said General Jinjur. “The forces have assembled from all parts of the Land of Oz, at my express command. For this is the day we are to conquer His Majesty the Scarecrow, and wrest from him the throne. The Army of Revolt only awaits my coming to march upon the Emerald City.”

“Well!” declared Tip, drawing a long breath, “this is certainly a surprising thing! May I ask why you wish to conquer His Majesty the Scarecrow?”

“Because the Emerald City has been ruled by men long enough, for one reason,” said the girl.

“Moreover, the City glitters with beautiful gems, which might far better be used for rings, bracelets and necklaces; and there is enough money in the King’s treasury to buy every girl in our Army a dozen new gowns. So we intend to conquer the City and run the government to suit ourselves.”

Jinjur spoke these words with an eagerness and decision that proved she was in earnest.

“But war is a terrible thing,” said Tip, thoughtfully.