OZOPLANING WITH THE WIZARD OF OZ

By
RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON
Founded on and continuing the Famous Oz Stories

By
L. FRANK BAUM
"Royal Historian of Oz"

Illustrated by
JOHN R. NEILL

OZOPLANING WITH THE WIZARD OF OZ
Copyright 1939
By
Reilly & Lee
Printed in the U. S. A.

Dear Boys and Girls:

I often have wondered about the Strat, have not you? Bet a bushel of peanuts you have! Well, while we've been wondering the Wizard of Oz has been inventing an Ozoplane to go Strato-sphering! Oh, there's some pretty high sky-riding in this adventure, I can tell you! And with Dot, Jellia Jam, the Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion and Tin Woodman along, you can imagine the thrills and excitement. And the Soldier with Green Whiskers hopes you'll give him credit for the part he played in the affair!

You know—it's grand to get together over a book once a year and have a good laugh, isn't it? I'd like to know what makes you laugh loudest and longest.... I think I laughed most at the Cowardly Lion!

Yours for fun—now, and OZ always!

RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON

54 S. Farragut Terrace,
West Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

This book is dedicated to

JOHN R. NEILL

Whose drawings have added much to
the merriment and gaiety of all my
IMAGI-NATIONS!

So—

From the "Royal Historian of Oz,"
To its "Imperial Illustrator—"
Bows, cheers and heartfelt appreciation!

RUTH PLUMLY THOMPSON

CHAPTERS

[CHAPTER 1]
At Home with the Wizard of Oz

In his big brightly lighted laboratory back of the throne room, the Wizard of Oz paced impatiently forth and back, his hands clasped tightly behind him. Every minute or two he would glance at the clock or dart over to peer out to the already darkening garden.

"Are you sure you told them all, Jellia? Are you sure you told them tonight?" he asked, turning to the pretty little serving maid who was setting a table near the fire, for the fall evening was quite cool and frosty.

"Four—five—six—seven—." Jellia, counting places, nodded her head firmly to answer the Wizard's question, then stepped back to regard her handiwork with complete satisfaction. "Oh, doesn't that tiny house in the center look too cute and cunningish? Real smoke coming out of the chimney, too. How ever did you manage it, Wiz? And having those silver slippers at each place for nuts and candies is just, plain beautiful."

"Do you really think so?" The little Wizard positively blushed with pleasure. "Well, ye see, Jellia, this party is to celebrate Dorothy's first trip to the Emerald City. That is an exact model of the house in which she blew from Kansas to Oz in a cyclone, the house that fell on the wicked witch of the West and destroyed her—all but her silver slippers. Remember?"

"Ho, everybody remembers that," said Jellia with a toss of her head that set all her green cap ribbons fluttering. "If I live to be a million, I'll never forget the day she came to this castle with the Cowardly Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. Not if I live to be a million! Will I light the candles now, Wiz dear, or wait until they arrive?"

"Oh, wait till they arrive, by all means. But see here," the Wizard taking a last look at the party table was plainly distressed. "You've only seven places, Jellia, and there are eight of us. My idea was to have everyone immediately associated with Dorothy's first visit, and that would be, one—Dorothy herself; two—myself; three—yourself; four—the Cowardly Lion; five—the Scarecrow; six—the Tin Woodman; seven—the Soldier with Green Whiskers, and eight—the Guardian of the Gate. Quick, my dear! Another plate for the Guardian of the Gate."

"He's not coming," announced Jellia primly. "He says he has not deserted his post for forty years and does not intend to desert it now. But if you'll send his refreshments to the Guard House, he'll take it very kindly. I've already fixed him a basket," said Jellia, smoothing her apron.

"Good old Guardy!" The Wizard absently brushed back the hair he no longer had, then, hearing voices and steps in the corridor, bounced over to open the door while Jellia tripped joyously about, lighting the candles set everywhere in the big work shop. Candle and fire light are much cozier for parties, and it all looked so cheery and gay that Dorothy, who was first, stopped short in the doorway with an exclamation of delight.

"Oh, Wizard! How beautiful! Oh, how I do wish Ozma could see it all!"

"Tut tut!" chuckled the Wizard, leading her into the room. "Ozma is having a fine time in Glinda's palace, by now. To tell the truth, Dorothy, this party is just for YOU and to remind us all of the old Oz days when—"

"—You were nothing but a humbug," snorted the Scarecrow, laughing so hard he had to lean against the door jam.

"Don't forget he gave you your famous brains, friend." The Tin Woodman spoke reprovingly, for Nick Chopper did not like anyone's feelings to be hurt, even in fun. "And don't forget he gave me my splendid heart!"

"And me, my grade A, double distilled, instant acting courage," purred the Cowardly Lion. Moving over to the fire, the big beast stretched himself luxuriously on the hearth rug.

"And don't forget our little Wiz was once Supreme Ruler of Oz!" boomed the Soldier with Green Whiskers. Marching three times round the party table the thin, immensely tall soldier brought up with a smart salute before their embarrassed little host.

"Three cheers for the Wizard of Oz!" cried Jellia Jam. Seizing a silver bell with an emerald clapper, she rang it so hard the Cowardly Lion's mane blew straight back and even the candles flickered.

"Thank you! Thank you very much!" The Wizard bowed and rubbed his ear which still tingled from the cheers and bell ringing. "But where is Toto, Dorothy? I thought of course you'd bring your little dog."

"Oh, Toto's with Ozma," explained Dorothy, drawn in spite of herself to the brightly decorated party table. "You know how he dotes on travelling, so Ozma took him along for company."

"Then of course he cannot be here?" sighed the Wizard regretfully. "Now Jellia, off with that cap and apron. Tonight you are my guest and not a maid in waiting to Ozma or anyone else. Besides, I've asked Fredjon to serve the supper. Dorothy, suppose you sit at the head. I'll sit at the foot and the others may find their own places."

"My place will always be next to little Dorothy," rumbled the Cowardly Lion, hoisting himself sleepily to the chair beside the little girl.

"Mine will be next to the pickles. MM-mmmm! I LOVE pickles," said the soldier, slipping into the seat next to the lion, while Jellia, with a purposeful bounce, settled near a plate of green cookies. There was no doubt where the Tin Woodman and Scarecrow would sit, for at one plate the Wizard had put a silver box of metal polish and an emerald bottle containing purest oil. Then, instead of a chair, he had provided a bale of freshly packed straw for the Scarecrow.

"Well, well, here we all are!" Rubbing his hands briskly the Wizard beamed on his guests as Fredjon, wearing his best suit of green and silver, bustled in with the first course.

"And isn't it fun to be here?" Dorothy took a long, satisfying sip of her Ozade. "I'm awfully glad I came back to live in the Land of Oz. Aren't you, Wizard?"

"A country where a body grows no older, where animals talk as easily as men and where the practice of magic is not only possible but practical—a country like that has many advantages," admitted the Wizard, winking at the Cowardly Lion who was drinking his fruit juice in a refined way from a huge, green aquarium. "I, myself, never have regretted the years spent in this marvelous fairy land. Sometimes I hardly can believe I ever did live in Omaha, or travel through the West with a circus."

"I know," agreed Dorothy, nodding her head slowly. "Kansas, when I think of it, seems very far away—as much like a dream, I suppose, as Oz seems like a dream to boys and girls in Kansas who read Oz history."

"Oh, why think of Kansas?" Jellia spoke scornfully. "In Kansas you were only an ordinary little girl, while here you are a Princess and second in importance to our Ruler, Ozma herself."

"And in Kansas," observed the Scarecrow, as Dorothy rather self-consciously straightened her crown, "I'll bet you never had as much fun nor as many adventures as we have here." The Scarecrow, being well stuffed with straw, never indulged in any refreshments. In fact, he just came to parties for the conversation, and to be sure of a good time he tried to do all the talking himself.

"That's right," said Dorothy thoughtfully, "That cyclone was about the only thing that ever happened in Kansas."

"A great blow to you, my dear, but a fortunate thing for Nick and me." The Scarecrow patted the Tin Woodman affectionately on the funnel he wore for a hat. "If you had not blown to Oz, I'd probably still be hanging on a pole in that cornfield and Nick would be rusting away his life in the greenwood."

"And in some ways," mused Dorothy, looking dreamily at the model of her small Kansas house, "in some ways that first adventure always will seem best. Just imagine how surprised I was to blow all those miles and find myself in a strange, wonderful country like Oz. The Munchkins thought I was a sorceress because my house had killed the wicked witch of the East. Then, the Good Witch of the North told me to put on her silver shoes and go to the Emerald City to ask the great OZ to send me home. And on the way I discovered you, and do you remember how astonished I was when I lifted you down from your pole and found you really were alive and could talk?"

The Scarecrow nodded cheerfully.

"And remember how we travelled on together till we found the Tin Woodman?" went on Dorothy. "And Nick told us about the witch who had enchanted his axe so that it chopped off a leg here, and an arm there, and finally his head and body, too. And after each accident he'd go to a tinsmith who made him new tin arms and legs and finally even a body and a head. You didn't mind being Tin at all, did you, Nick? Except that day you went out to chop wood and left your oil can at home. Then that storm came up, your joints rusted and you couldn't move, and there you had been—rusting and helpless for months!"

"But we hustled back to your hut, fetched the oil can and fixed you up in fine shape, didn't we, old fellow?" The Scarecrow flung his flimsy arm around Nick Chopper's shoulder and the Tin Woodman, at the mere mention of rust, uncorked the emerald bottle and let three drops of oil slide down his neck.

"I never shall forget your kindness," he told them earnestly, turning his head first to look at Dorothy and then at the Scarecrow.

"And after that, you came along so the Wizard could give you a new heart," Dorothy reminded him gaily. "And right afterwards, we met the Cowardly Lion."

"And he was more afraid of us than we were of him," teased the Scarecrow, leaning across the table to give the lion a poke.

"Yes, I was just a big coward in those days," admitted the lion, blinking approvingly at the rare roast Fredjon had brought him instead of the chicken he was serving the others. "Just a great, big coward! Ho hum!"

"But not too cowardly to fight for us," said Dorothy, taking quick little bites of her biscuit, "and to come with us to the Emerald City."

"Oh, that was because I wanted the Wizard to give me some courage," roared the lion. "And weren't we surprised when we did reach the Emerald City to find it all built of green marble, studded with real emeralds! And remember how the Guardian of the Gate gave us all green specs, even me, and then led us up to the palace?"

"You looked awfully funny in those specs!" laughed Dorothy. "I'll never forget how funny!"

"But remember, it was I who carried your messages to Oz," put in the Soldier with Green Whiskers.

"Of course it was," said Dorothy nodding her head quickly. "You gave us some splendid advice, Soldier, and Jellia showed us to the grandest rooms in the castle and loaned me the loveliest dresses to wear."

"I liked you from the very first!" declared Jellia, choking a bit on her seventh cooky.

"But Old Man Wizzy wouldn't give us a thing!" said the Scarecrow, waving his napkin toward the head of the table. "He told us we'd have to kill the Witch of the West before he'd send Dorothy home or grant any of our requests."

"But, you see—I didn't know any real magic then." The Wizard looked quite unhappy for he did not like to remember the time before he was a real Wizard. "And besides, I needed more time."

"Ho ho! You were doing very well for yourself!" chuckled the Scarecrow, "living in a splendid castle and having the whole country eating out of your hand. As it happened, we did kill the witch of the West, or at least Dorothy melted her with a bucket of water and the Winkies were so tickled they gave us all presents and made Nick their Emperor. So when we got back at last, you did give me some brand new brains, and Nick a red plush heart—"

"And me some real red, true-blue courage," grinned the Cowardly Lion, wiping his mouth delicately with the tip of his tail.

"And you made me Ruler of OZ! Ah!—My Majesty the Scarecrow, Hah—those were the days!" The Scarecrow thumped his pudgy chest and fairly glowed, at the memory.

"You would have taken me back to Kansas, too, only your balloon flew away too fast, didn't it?" Dorothy leaned all the way across the table to pat the Wizard's arm.

"But don't forget it was I, who told you to go to the palace of Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South," interrupted the Soldier with Green Whiskers again.

"So we all went to Glinda's," rumbled the Cowardly Lion, half closing his eyes. "And Glinda told Dorothy the Witch's silver shoes would carry her home and—they did!" There was a little silence following the lion's last sentence, as if all of Dorothy's friends were recalling their sorrow at that first parting from their cheerful little comrade.

"But you soon came back," declared the Scarecrow, balancing a fork on the edge of his tumbler. "And so did our little Wizard."

"Well, to tell the truth, Omaha seemed rather dull after the Emerald City," admitted the Wizard, motioning for Fredjon to bring on the dessert. This caused many admiring "Oh's" and "Ah's" when it arrived, for it was ice cream moulded into small Tin Woodmen, Scarecrows, Lions and all the other guests. Then, out of a huge, frosted cake the footman set down before Dorothy, flew four little witches riding green broom sticks, straight into the fire.

"I tell you it takes a real Wizard to perform a trick like that." Nick Chopper wagged his head solemnly. "You certainly have made progress since Ozma made you Chief Magician of the Realm."

"Well—" drawled the Wizard, pushing the pickle dish away from the Soldier with Green Whiskers who already had eaten twenty-seven and was looking rather dill. "Magic is like any other science—it takes practice. Of course, if you are a born fairy like Ozma and the former rulers of Oz, working spells and charms just comes natural—like playing the piano by ear. But if you are not a Fairy, you must study witchcraft and sorcery as I have done with Glinda the Good. It only has been by continuous study and research that I have managed to perfect myself in the arts of wizardry."

"Well, how is wizness lately?" inquired the Scarecrow, wrinkling his cotton forehead at all the big words.

"Fine, just fine!" The Wizard assured him brightly. Marching over to his desk, he returned with a long, tube-like object resembling a seaman's spy glass. "This is one of my latest inventions," he confessed modestly. "Here, take a look." Beaming with anticipation, he pressed the spy glass into Dorothy's hands.

[CHAPTER 2]
The Wizard's Spy Glass

With the Wizard's latest invention clapped to one eye and pointed straight at the Wizard himself, Dorothy peered through the green glass hardly knowing what to expect. Certainly not what happened, for, from the other end of the instrument, a composed voice began making announcements proudly and impressively as a radio speaker.

"You are now looking at Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmanuel Ambroise Diggs," it informed them crisply. "Calls himself Oz after the first letters of his first two names, as his other initials spell Pinhead. Born in Omaha, Diggs ran away as a young man to join a circus where he made balloon ascensions to amuse the crowds, his balloon bearing his initials O. Z.

"One day in a storm, Oscar's balloon was carried to our wonderful Land of Oz. At that time, the rightful King of the Country and his son had been destroyed by Mombi the Witch, who also had enchanted and hidden away Ozma, the little Granddaughter of this unfortunate monarch. And four witches had divided the country between them. When the balloon bearing the name OZ on its side sailed out of the clouds, the inhabitants instantly hailed the traveller from America as their ruler, supposing him to be another member of the famous fairy family of Oz. Unable to return to America, Oz accepted the people's decision with good grace and ruled the realm for many years. Under his wise direction the people built this castle and the famous city of Emeralds; and the four witches, thinking Oz more powerful than they, did not question his rule or authority.

"Later, when little Dorothy from Kansas arrived in Oz, the Wizard decided to return with her to the United States, leaving the Scarecrow to rule in his place. The Scarecrow was deposed by Jinjur and her Army of Girls. Jinjur, in turn was conquered by Glinda, the Good Witch of the South, who also forced Mombi to disenchant Ozma, the young and rightful girl ruler of the realm. Ozma has ruled over Oz ever since. Not long after Ozma was restored to her throne, the Wizard returned to Oz and our clever girl ruler made him Chief Magician of the realm. In this ancient and honorable capacity he has served ever since, period—stop—drop or point elsewhere!" These last words were uttered so rudely, Dorothy almost did drop the spy glass.

"My! MY GOODNESS!" gasped the little girl.

"It always says that, when it has told all it knows. You see, it is a 'tell-all-escope.'" explained the Wizard, reaching out for his spy glass with an embarrassed cough.

"And it certainly tells ALL, all right!" roared the Scarecrow, pushing back his chair. "Congratulations, my dear Mr. Diggs!"

"Look out! Be careful! Don't you point that thing at me! Please don't!" The big lion simply cowered in his chair, and no wonder he felt nervous. There had been some pretty savage incidents in that old lion's life before he met Dorothy and came to live in the Emerald City as a civilized citizen of Oz. And the thought of the tell-all-escope telling all it knew about him made the Cowardly Lion positively shudder. But the others were so busy examining the Wizard's spy glass, they did not even notice the lion's terrific agitation.

"You know, a thing like that would be of great value to a traveller," remarked Nick Chopper, tapping the tell-all-escope thoughtfully with his tin fingers.

"That's just what I figured," grinned the Wizard, thrusting the instrument into his pocket. "And, speaking of travelling, I have something else to show you!"

Clapping on his high hat, Ozma's Chief Magician hastened over to the door that opened on the garden, signalling for the others to come along.

Having had experience with inventors before, Dorothy and Jellia snatched up coats, Dorothy, her own, and Jellia, one of the Wizard's. Then, followed by the rest of the party, they stepped out into the sparkling, starlit evening. The Soldier with Green Whiskers, who had stopped to eat the last pickle in the dish and stuff an extra piece of cake in his pocket, came last of all. At each step he gave a little groan, for—all by himself—the soldier had eaten enough for a whole army. But then, he was a whole army; he was every single man, private, corporal, captain, major, colonel and general in the entire fighting force of Oz.

Anxious to exhibit his latest treasure, the Wizard walked rapidly along, leading the little party across the park, through the Emerald City, out of the Gates and into the thick woodland beyond.

"Where do you suppose he is taking us?" shivered Jellia, thinking longingly of the cozy fire back in the laboratory.

"No knowing," giggled the Scarecrow. "But a-hunting we shall go! A-hunting we shall go! Ta-Ta-Ta-Ta-Ta-Ta-Ta-TAH!" Blowing an imaginary horn, the Scarecrow pretended to gallop and fell flat on his face, his legs never being what you really could call reliable.

"Sh—hh!" whispered the Wizard, looking back warningly as the Tin Woodman jerked the straw man to his feet. "What I am about to show you has been seen by no one in Oz except my faithful assistants! So please be more quiet!"

"You mean it's a secret?" whispered Dorothy, skipping forward to catch up with the Wizard and linking her arm through his.

"Two secrets!" confided Ozma's Chief Magician mysteriously. Pushing impatiently through the last fringe of trees, the group stepped into a moonlit clearing.

[CHAPTER 3]
Latest Invention of the Wizard of Oz

"Ooooooh! A conservatory!" murmured Jellia, blinking at the shining glass structure that occupied the entire treeless space.

"A barn, if you ask me!" guessed the Scarecrow. "But why build it of glass, Mr. Wiz?"

"Because glass is the latest and lightest building material known. But this is no barn, as you'll soon discover." Handing his flashlight to Dorothy, the Wizard slid back the vast doors, switched on the lights and stood back, his hands in his pockets, as the little group in silence and astonishment viewed the two shining planes housed as snugly as giant butterflys in a glass cocoon.

"Airplanes!" exclaimed Dorothy, when she found her voice at last.

"No, Ozoplanes," corrected the Wizard, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "Somewhat like the planes in America, but more powerful, for remember, my dear, I had not only the scientific knowledge of aeronautics available to mortals, but the scientific knowledge of magic to help me as well!"

"Well!" echoed the Tin Woodman, gazing approvingly at the Wizard's planes, which, except for their silver wings, might have been huge, silver-and-glass torpedoes.

"Not for the army, I hope," exclaimed the Soldier, clutching his whiskers nervously. Being the entire army himself, and quite old-fashioned and set in his ways, the Soldier felt sure he never could pilot these gleaming airplanes.

"Oh, No! No! NO!" The Wizard frowned at the mere thought of war. "These are pleasure planes for travelling and exploring the unknown regions of the upper air. As soon as Ozma returns from the South, I plan to present them both to our illustrious young Ruler and arrange for her to make the first triumphant flight."

"But there are two," said Dorothy a little wistfully. She had hoped to make the first flight with the Wizard, herself.

"Of course, of course!" he answered in a matter-of-fact way. "Most experimental flights fail because they depend on one ship. We shall have two!"

"We?" Dorothy brightened up considerably at the Wizard's plural.

"Yes, we," repeated the Wizard, turning round to smile at the little girl. "Counting Ozma and those of us here, there will be eight passengers—four for each plane."

"Now please don't bother about me!" begged the Cowardly Lion, his tail dragging on the ground at the very thought of flying. "I'd not think of troubling you. Besides, I'm much too heavy for flying."

"Not at all, not at all," the Wizard reassured him with a wink. "I have made exact calculations about weight, old fellow, and you and the Scarecrow balance each other nicely. So don't worry about that."

"Oh, I'm not worrying about that!" rumbled the lion, rearing up on his hind legs to read the names outlined in emeralds on the luminous sides of the Wizard's ships.

"Ozpril and Oztober!" The lion spoke in a slightly trembling roar. "Mmmn! Mmmnnnnmn! Kerumph!"

"Why, those are beautiful names," exclaimed Dorothy, tilting back her head to spell them out for herself.

"I thought they were rather neat," said the Wizard complacently. "Suitable too, one to rise and one to fall!" Expressively he lifted an arm and let it fall limply to his side.

"To—to fall?" quavered the lion, dropping to all fours.

"Oh, just in a figurative way, of course." The Wizard shrugged his shoulders. "You will observe," he went on enthusiastically, "that these planes need no runway or special track to take off. They really are balloonaplanes. Note those round packets on the top of the fusilage." The lion blinked rapidly, for he had no idea that fusilage meant the body of the plane, but the others nodded quite knowingly. "Well those," declared the inventor proudly "are my own, patented, balloon attachments. At the touch of a button, the wings are depressed and the balloon inflated with a magic gas, lighter than helium, that carries the ship as high and as far as desired. Then the balloon can be deflated and the Ozoplane can continue under its own power. But you will readily see how my ship, with its balloon attachment, has twice the altitude possibilities of an ordinary airplane. Hah! We shall fly higher than higher!" boasted the little Wizard, happily.

"Oh, quite!" agreed the Tin Woodman, mounting the ladder of the Oztober, the Soldier with Green Whiskers pressing nervously at his heels.

"But how will you move them out of here?" inquired the Scarecrow, taking off his hat and scratching his cotton head.

"Oh, as to that—" The Wizard pulled a switch just behind him, whereupon the top of the glass airdrome lifted, like the lid of an enormous jewel box.

"Hmmmmn! I see!" The Scarecrow slapped his knee and grinned with appreciation. "Off with the roof! Up with the planes!"

"Exactly!" Seizing the Straw Man's arm, the Wizard urged him toward the ladder of the Ozpril, Dorothy skipping cheerfully behind them. After Dorothy plodded the Cowardly Lion, talking to himself in anxious whispers and growls.

"Be sure not to touch anything over there," called the Wizard, as Nick and the Soldier with Green Whiskers disappeared into the cabin of the other plane.

"I'll keep an eye on them," promised Jellia, tripping up the ladder as lightly as a feather. "Don't give us a thought, Wiz, dear."

"Jellia's so funny!" laughed Dorothy.

"Sensible, too," added the Wizard, helping the little girl over the high door sill and into the plane. While he and the Scarecrow went forward to examine the steering gear, Dorothy looked delightedly 'round the snug little cabin. There were four seats upholstered in pale, green leather, along one side. The whole top was of thick glass, through which she could distinctly see the moon and stars winking down at her. The side walls of the Ozpril were of a silvery grey, with all trimmings in green. At the back was a small dinette, with chairs and table locked to the floors as they are on sea-going vessels. A cabinet full of china, a wall full of charts, a book case full of books and a tiny kitchen and dressing room, completed the equipment.

"It's just as cozy as a little house," sighed Dorothy contentedly, as the Cowardly Lion, having glanced round in a discouraged way, seated himself in one of the green chairs and pressed his nose against the round window pane. "Won't we have fun, Liony, when we really get off?"

"Getting off will be the best fun of all," sniffed the lion, glancing briefly at the door. The Lion, as you probably have guessed, felt no enthusiasm for the trip. Once, much against his will, he had been carried to an island in the sky, and that experience had been more than enough. In his own mind he already had decided not to accompany the Wizard on his proposed flight. Yessir, when the party assembled for the trip he would just turn up missing and manage to stay behind. Immensely relieved by this secret decision, he ambled forward.

"You will notice," the Wizard was pointing out briskly, "that I have done away with all controls and levers. On this board are all the buttons necessary to operate the ship."

"Looks like an organ," observed Dorothy, squinting at the bright array of buttons set in the top of the table within easy reach of the first seat. "Must you play all those stops and starters to guide the plane?"

"Not quite all," smiled the Wizard, "but if we wished to start, I'd first press this green button to depress the wings and inflate our balloon. Next, I'd push the button marked 'up' and, if I decided to go North, this 'North' button, as well. Then I'd use the wheel to hold her steady, and if I preferred to go up in a gradual way, I'd push this button marked 'zig.'"

"And I suppose if you saw something interesting, or wished to dodge a mountain, you'd 'zag,'" suggested the Scarecrow, indicating the "zag" button with his pudgy finger. "Or you could 'spin,' 'spiral' or 'level-off'—"

"Stop! Stop!" panted the Cowardly Lion, clapping his paw to one eye, "all this up-zig and down-zig makes me positively giddy!"

"It does seem a little complicated," said Dorothy, looking dubiously at the Wizard's button-board.

"Why, it's perfectly simple!" the Wizard assured her brightly. "All you have to do is touch the right buttons at the right time!"

"But—"

The Scarecrow, who had been about to ask another question, whirled round on one heel, and flopped on his back in the aisle. The Cowardly Lion skidded rapidly past, to wedge under the little dining table while Dorothy and the Wizard clung to the steering board to keep from falling. For—a terrific roar like the tearing of a gigantic sheet had made the Ozpril tremble like a leaf. There came a sudden flash of silver smoke, and the gradual dying away of all sound. Then—a complete and ominous silence.

"WHAT? WHAT!!! Why, it's gone!" shouted the Wizard, racing over to the door and staring amazedly at the empty space occupied a moment before by the Oztober. Then he glanced up into the starlit expanse of sky.

"Gone?" Creeping on hands and knees, the Scarecrow peered out to see for himself. "Why, what right have they to go off like that?" he demanded, pulling himself up by the door jam. "April comes before October and goes before October, too. Fall before spring—why, that's ridiculous! The Ozpril should have led off!"

"Oh, what will become of them?" cried Dorothy in distress, clasping her hands anxiously. "I'm sure it was a dreadful mistake."

"Mistake!" moaned the Wizard, pushing back his high hat. "Worse than that, Dorothy! Why, everything is ruined! Here they've gone off before I even had a chance to show the plane to Ozma. They have no directions, no supplies; they'll crash, smash or wreck themselves. I intended to teach Nick Chopper to navigate the plane before we started!"

"But can't we stop them? Can't we go after them?" exclaimed Dorothy, clutching the Wizard's coat tails.

"Go after them?—Yes! that's the idea, go after them! Of course!" panted the Wizard, falling over the Cowardly Lion who was making a stream-lion for the door.

"I was just going back for my over-shoes," wheezed the lion, slinking rather guiltily into his seat at the Wizard's reproachful glance.

"Stay where you are!" the Wizard directed sharply. "Now then, steady—everybody steady! Shut that door, Scarecrow, we are about to ascend." The Wizard bent over the steering board to touch the green button that would inflate the Ozpril's balloon. "But I never expected to go without my black bag of magic, an extra vest, or even my bottle of hair tonic."

"Haven't you any magic at all?" called Dorothy, as the Ozpril began to vibrate and tremble from the rush of gas into its balloon.

"A little, a little," confessed the Wizard, pressing the buttons marked "Up" and "South". "Here, Dorothy, take the tell-all-escope and see if you can catch a glimpse of the Oztober when we are aloft." Grasping the wheel, the Wizard settled grimly into the pilot's seat. Dorothy had just time to clutch the tell-all-escope before the Ozpril rose straight into the air. Lifted and borne by its buoyant gas bag, the graceful ship pointed toward the stars.

[CHAPTER 4]
First Flight of the Oztober

Now the start of the Oztober had been nothing like the orderly take-off of the Ozpril. The first hint Jellia had of their departure was when a china coffee pot from the open china closet into which she was looking with great interest, hit her a sharp clip on the chin. Next moment she was rolling round on the floor of the cabin, dodging all the rest of the green dishes.

"Oh! Oh! Dishes awful!" choked poor Jellia Jam, not even realizing she was making a pun.

"Stop!" yelled the Tin Woodman, turning a complete somersault and coming down on his funnel with one leg hooked through the luggage rack. "Stop! Who did that?"

"Pickles!" moaned a faint voice from the forward end of the cabin, "Oh, those pickles!" And that was probably as correct an answer as any to Nick's indignant question. Even upside down as he was, and subject to the fierce rocketing of the plane, the Tin Woodman could see a tall, green figure sprawled across the navigator's table. As he had bent over to examine the Oztober's steering apparatus, the Soldier with Green Whiskers had been taken with a violent cramp from the twenty-nine pickles he had eaten at the party. Falling heavily on the board he had pushed down ten of the Wizard's bright colored buttons. Following the directions of all ten, one after the other, the Oztober had exploded into the air and now, whistling and whirling like a comet bound for Mars, was charging into the Heavens.

Jellia Jam was too bruised and shaken to do anything but cling to the side of one of the seats. The Soldier, after his head had been whacked down three times on the board had lapsed into complete and utter silence. Only Nick managed to preserve a semblance of his usual calm and composure. Though severely dented by the plane's take-off, the Tin Woodman, being of metal, felt no pain. Nor was he subject to the giddiness that assailed ordinary flesh and bone bodies under such trying conditions. Even standing on his head did not greatly inconvenience him, and after the first dreadful shock, he began to perceive a certain order and rhythm in their flight. This was not strange.

The Soldier's fall had pressed down the button to inflate the Oztober's balloon, the "Up" and the "South" buttons, the "fast," "spin," "spiral," "zig," "zag," "slow" and "circle" buttons as well. So first, the Oztober would shoot up, then it would go into a fast spin, and spiral. The zigs and zags were a little less terrible, and on one of the slow circles, the Tin Woodman managed to extricate his foot from the luggage rack. Clattering full length in the aisle, he lay still, till the next slow circle. Then, leaping to his feet, he rushed forward and pulled the soldier off the steering board. He had just time to prop the unconscious army into the third chair, and fall into the pilot's seat himself, when the Oztober went into another fast spin and spiral. This rather upset Nick.

He had taken a hasty look at the navigator's table when he entered the ship and then, more interested in the metal of which the plane was constructed, had gone tapping about, testing it with his tin knuckles—intending to return to the steering gear later. He naturally had supposed that when he pulled the soldier off the board the plane would slow down or change its course. But nothing of the kind happened. All the buttons the soldier had fallen on stayed down. Grasping the wheel, Nick was relieved to find he could steady the Oztober a bit in this way. Holding to it with one hand, he tried to pull out the "spin" and "spiral" buttons with the other. But even his strong tin fingers could not budge them. Next, he glanced frantically over the board for a "stop" or a "down" button, but the "down" button when he found it, filled him with apprehension. If they shot down at the speed they were hurling upward, the plane most certainly would be wrecked. No, decided Nick, drawing his fingers hastily back from the "down" button—they were much safer in the air until he learned a little more about flying, and he'd just have to hang on till he discovered how the Ozoplane worked.

Grasping the wheel resignedly in both hands, he glanced back to see how Jellia was faring. Jellia was sitting dizzily in the middle of the aisle. But she was so encouraged to see Nick actually at the wheel, that she made her way to him and hung firmly to the arm of his chair. Just then, the Oztober whirled into its twentieth spin and spiral, and Jellia—dislodged from the chair—caught at the steering table to save herself from falling.

"Oh, now you've done it!" gasped Nick, as the Oztober gave a wicked lurch. "Oh, now—" His voice trailed off into a hoarse squeak, for, as abruptly as it had started, the plane stopped, and, held aloft by its still buoyant balloon, swung easily to and fro in the faint wind that stirred above the clouds. "Say! how did you do it?" Letting go the wheel, the Tin Woodman seized Jellia by the shoulders.

"What?" panted Jellia. "What did I do?"

"Why, you saved the ship. You stopped her. See, all the buttons are up again!" Removing Jellia's clutching fingers gently from the table top, Nick discovered a flat bar on the under side of the board. As soon as Jellia pressed the bar, all the buttons had popped back to their normal position. "So THAT'S it!" exclaimed Nick, rubbing his tin forehead anxiously. "Each time you want to change the course, you press this bar and then begin all over again."

"But now we're sinking," groaned Jellia. And sinking herself, into the seat back of Nick, she stared at him with round, desperate eyes.

"Sinking, are we? Well, I'll soon put a stop to that!" Pouncing on the green button to inflate the Oztober's gas bag, Nick pressed it quickly, for of course, as soon as Jellia had touched the bar, the buttons all had sprung up and the magic gas had begun to seep out of the plane's balloon attachment. As it again filled and became taut, the slow downward drift of the ship ceased, and again it hung motionless between a cloud and a star. "Now!" breathed the Tin Woodman eyeing the button board with grim purpose and determination, "Now we can take our time and start off right."

"Oh, Nick! Must we go through all that again?" Jellia began to cry softly, drying her eyes on the sash of her party dress. "Oh, Nick, I never thought flying would be like this. Please can't we just stay as we are?"

"Certainly not," said the Tin Woodman briskly. "Hanging 'round the sky is dangerous. We might be hit by a shooting star or even by a meteor. Now, just trust yourself to me, my dear Jellia. Remember I am the Emperor of the East!" Nick smote his tin chest a resounding blow. "And after ruling the Winkies all these years, I surely can handle one small plane!"

Reassuring himself, if not Jellia, the Tin Woodman searched the array of buttons for one marked "slow." After he had found it, he slowly began to map his course. He would continue to fly up, for a time. Next he would take a horizontal direction until he grew more accustomed to piloting the Ozoplane. Then, as night passed and the sun rose, he would zig and zag slowly downward and make a safe landing near the Emerald City.

The Soldier with Green Whiskers had regained consciousness, only to fall at once into a heavy slumber. His snores blended nicely with Jellia's sobs, as Nick Chopper pushed the "up," the "South" and the "slow" buttons. Braced for a new shock, Jellia grasped the arms of her seat. But this time the Oztober soared gently and gracefully aloft, the motion of the plane so smooth and pleasant, Ozma's little Maid in Waiting soon forgot all her fears. Relaxing against the soft green cushions, she, too, fell asleep. This left only Nick awake and alert. But if the Wizard had searched all over Oz, he could not have found a better pilot than the Tin Woodman. Being practically tireless and requiring neither food nor rest, he could keep his place at the wheel for days if necessary. Delighted at the way the Oztober responded to his clever manipulation of the wheel and buttons, he flew up and up and on and on, scarcely realizing the distance he was putting between himself and Oz. Glancing out the round window beside him, Nick viewed the starry expanse of the upper air with growing interest and enthusiasm. Sometimes he was almost tempted to waken Jellia to point out the splendid cloud mountains and cities they were passing. As he swept along, the sky turned from deep blue to grey and was now suffused with the rainbow tints of early morning. Switching off the lights, the Tin Woodman slightly changed his course.

"I really need a lot more practice before I go back or try to make a safe landing," he observed softly to himself. "It never would do to crack up a valuable ship like this." But the truth of the matter was, the Tin Woodman did not wish to turn back. And after all—who was to insist? The Soldier and Jellia still slept on, and far ahead, between a bank of fog and an arch of platinum sun rays, loomed a long, lavender crescent. Nick even fancied he could see people moving about its glittering surface.

"A new world!" gloated the Tin Woodman, setting his funnel at a more daring angle. If this were so, he would be its discoverer. Not only that, but he could claim it for Ozma and win for himself as much honor and renown as Samuel Salt, the Royal Explorer of Oz. "Even if it's not inhabited, it would be a good place to practice landing," reflected Nick happily. So again he pressed the black bar, touched the button to deflate the Oztober's balloon and raise the wings. For now he wished to fly horizontally, and the wings would be faster than the gas bag. Next, touching the "straight-on" and "faster" buttons, and twirling the wheel expertly, he headed the ship straight for the tip of the lavender island.

[CHAPTER 5]
The Spikers

Nick waited until he was well over the crescent before he attempted to land. As he flew along he planned exactly how he would go about it and everything worked out as planned, except for one thing. The "slow," the "zig" and the "down" buttons brought the Oztober within a foot of the glittering air Isle, but the "stop" button functioned a bit late. Instead of stopping on the surface, the plane dropped clear through with a crash like the smashing of a thousand thin tumblers. Peering up through a spray of splinters, the Tin Woodman found he had knocked a jagged hole in the Crescent.

"Attention! Shoulder arms! Company, fall in!" yelled the Soldier with Green Whiskers. Jolted completely awake, he sprang up in the aisle, aiming his gun at the ceiling.

"Yes? Yes! Coming, your Majesty!" Jellia, mistaking the musical crash for the ringing of Ozma's morning bell, rolled sleepily out of her seat and started down the aisle after the Soldier.

"Now, now—don't be alarmed," remarked Nick Chopper. "I was just trying to land."

"Land? Where is it? Quick! Let me out of here!" panted Jellia Jam, remembering all in a rush where she was, and the dreadful experiences of the night before.

"I see no land," said the Soldier pressing his nose against one of the windows.

"Well, it certainly looked like land!" The Tin Woodman spoke in a slightly exasperated voice. The Oztober, still quivering from its impact with the island, was hanging motionless about ten feet below the Crescent. "Can't tell about these Sky Countries till you try them."

"I'll bet it's nothing but a cake of ice," shivered Jellia, hugging herself to keep warm. "Being of tin, I don't suppose you'd notice it was freezing! I wonder if that stove lights?"

"Ice?" meditated Nick, as Jellia hurried toward the back of the cabin. "Why, I do believe you are right, my dear. In the upper stratas the air does become colder. We probably cracked through a frozen cloud!"

Jellia, turning all the switches on the stove, paid little attention to Nick's scientific discourse. She was too busy warming herself over the glowing burners.

"If we just had something to cook," sighed the little Oz maid, staring wistfully into the cupboard beside the stove. But the shelves were perfectly empty. Reflecting that the Wizard had not had time to stock up for the flight, Jellia, who was an orderly little soul, began picking up the china that had broken when it fell from the cabinet the night before. Rather pompously, the Soldier with Green Whiskers began to help her.

"Will someone kindly explain what we are doing, flying around in this dangerous and haphazard manner?" he inquired loftily. "I understood we were to wait for Ozma's return before we made a trial flight! And really, you know, I'm needed at home to guard the castle."

"Oh, indeed!" sniffed Jellia. "And who do you suppose started us off, Mr. Whiskers. Nobody but yourself. A fine pickle you put us in when you fell on that steering board."

"I?" The Soldier straightened up, aghast.

"Yes, YOU!" declared Jellia. "You and your pickles." Sweeping the rest of the broken plates into her skirt, she marched to the end of the cabin and dumped them into the big basket beside the water cooler. "Goodness knows whether we shall ever get back," she sighed, sinking despondently into the last seat and staring out the window.

"But we're backing now," muttered the Soldier. This was quite true, for Nick, to avoid hitting the crescent of ice again, was maneuvering the plane from beneath; then, feeling it might be dangerous to go any higher, he began slowly and cautiously to descend. Neither he nor Jellia paid any more attention to the Soldier with Green Whiskers, who glanced uncomfortably from one to the other. After a little silence he remarked in a hollow voice: "I shall consider myself under arrest. I shall walk guard for two hours without a pause for rest or rations!"

"Oh, don't be a goose!" giggled Jellia. "You'll probably go without rations because there aren't any. But what good will walking guard do?"

"As Commander-in-Chief, I have sentenced myself to walk guard. As a first class Private in the Army of Oz, I shall carry out this sentence," insisted the Soldier. "Discipline must be maintained!" Hoisting his old fashioned blunder-buss to his shoulder, he began tramping stiffly up and down the short aisle of the cabin.

Born in a small Munchkin village to a family named Battles who had promptly christened him Wantowin, he had applied as soon as he was grown for a position in the army of Oz. The Wizard, then Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom, impressed by the Soldier's height and long green whiskers, had immediately hired him. Later he had been promoted by Ozma to fill the position of the entire staff and army of Oz. Wantowin had never been much of a fighter, but as war in Oz is practically outlawed, and victories usually won by magic, he had got on very well. At his tenth about-face, Wantowin suddenly recalled the piece of cake he had stuffed into his pocket the night before, and generously offered it to Jellia.

"Oh, Wanny, how wonderful!" To the famished girl, the cake tasted even better than it had at the Wizard's party. Breaking it in half, she tried to force the soldier to eat a piece, but raising his hand sternly, Wantowin continued his self-imposed sentence. Seeing argument was useless, Jellia ate her own share and put the other half in the cupboard for the soldier's supper.

The plane still was slanting smoothly downward. After oiling all of Nick's joints and thinking how fortunate it was they had brought along the oil can, Jellia began marching up and down behind the Soldier, examining the pictures and charts on the wall as she went along. The cake and a long drink of water from the cooler had done much to restore her courage and cheerfulness, and an occasional glance out the window was both pleasant and reassuring. The Oztober was dropping through fluffs and puffs of creamy cloud. "Just like whipped cream on strawberries—if we had any strawberries!" mused Jellia, withdrawing her gaze reluctantly from the window and resuming her march. "Oh, Nick, here are some directions!" she cried suddenly, stopping before a finely printed notice beside the water cooler.

"Directions?" The Tin Woodman looked round rather annoyed. He felt he had almost mastered the mechanism of the Ozoplane and did not care to start a new system. But the directions that Jellia read off had nothing to do with the navigation of the plane. They were rules for the behavior of passengers in the strat. "The air in this cabin has been magically treated," stated the notice. "So long as the windows and doors are closed, riders may safely pass through the highest stratas. On debarking, however, it would be well to don my patent protective air helmets, see chest beneath second seat, or to take one, for each mile up, of my elutherated altitude pills, from the recess in the table leg."

Jellia, whose bump of curiosity was larger than most, lost no time hunting for the helmets. Dragging the chest from beneath the second seat and paying no attention to the marching soldier, who stepped over her each time he passed, she impatiently lifted the lid. The four helmets in the chest were of some pliant, glassy material resembling cellophane. They belted in at the waist and after holding one up for Nick's inspection, Jellia put them back and returned the chest to its place.

"Now which leg of which table?" pondered the little Maid in Waiting, her mind turning to the altitude pills.

"Oh, what does it matter?" grinned the Tin Woodman as Jellia crawled under the navigator's table and began tapping its legs one after the other. "You'll soon be on solid earth and won't need altitude pills." Nick had made up his mind to bring the Oztober down to a landing wherever they happened to be. But Jellia scarcely heard him for at that moment she had discovered a small hook on one of the front legs of the table. Pulling it down, she disclosed a tall, triangular bottle in the hollow center. The pills were triangular too, and of every color in the rainbow.

"Take one after each mile," read Jellia, uncorking the bottle and taking a good sniff. The pills smelled as good as they looked and she was about to sample one, when the Soldier with Green Whiskers gave a hoarse scream and such a leap that his head hit the ceiling.

"Now what's the matter?" demanded Nick Chopper, turning around stiffly, while Jellia hastily corked the bottle, shoved it back into the tableleg and crawled into the aisle.

"NICK!" shrieked poor Jellia. "What is it? What are they? Oh, Ozma! Oh, Wizard! Oh, help! HELP!"

And well might Jellia scream, for swarming round the tail of the Oztober came a perfect horde of iridescent monsters. In shape each resembled an octopus, but instead of arms, they had long, horny spikes and spines. Pressing close to the plane they ogled at the shivering passengers as if they were fish in some strange aquarium. Then, evidently angered at what they saw, they began hurling and banging themselves against the sides of the Oztober till it sounded like the rattle of machine guns. At this juncture, I am sorry to report, Wantowin Battles, after sounding a shrill retreat on the bugle attached to his belt, rushed into the dressing room and wrapped himself in the shower curtain.

Nick Chopper, who already loved the Wizard's ship as if it were his own, shuddered as each spike struck the shining metal. Then, deciding that flight was the better part of valor, he hastily changed course, zooming up and up, faster and faster and FASTER! For perhaps a thousand feet the goggle-eyed monsters pursued them, but at last, the air grew too thin and rare for the spikers and one by one they fell away. Their horrid squeals and screeches still came faintly to the three voyagers, and Jellia ran quickly to the back window to stare down after them.

"Why, I never knew there were wild animals in the air," stuttered Jellia, blinking her eyes rapidly.

"Now, I wouldn't exactly call them wild animals," said Nick argumentatively, twisting his neck from side to side to be sure he was not rusting.

"Well, they certainly weren't birds!" declared Jellia indignantly. "And how did they fly without wings? Come on out, Soldier, they're gone."

"Ah, so we have won?" Jauntily the Soldier stepped out of the dressing room and resumed his marching. "Give me credit for sounding the retreat, comrades," he observed cheerfully. Jellia sniffed, and Nick Chopper said nothing.

"What are we going to do now?" inquired the little Oz Maid, going over to stand by the wheel. "How can we ever fly down with those awful creatures below?"

"We'll just travel horizontally till we are out of their area," Nick told her, complacently. "But for a while, anyway, we'll go up. After all, one has to go up to come down, you know. And when we do come down—" Nick gave a satisfied little nod, "it will be in a safe spot and far from those spiky airimals."

"So that's what they are! But how did you know?" Jellia looked admiringly at the Tin Woodman.

"Oh, it just came to me," admitted Nick, with a modest cough. "Beasts of the air must have names, I suppose. Make a note of those monsters, will you Wantowin?"

"I'm writing them up in my little green book now," mumbled the Soldier, who was, in fact, scribbling away hastily as he tramped up and down. "I've made a sketch of one, too."

"Good!—although I didn't suppose you'd looked at them long enough for that!" said Nick, a bit sarcastically. He glanced hastily at the page the soldier held before his nose. Then, deciding they had flown high enough, he pointed the Oztober toward the east and after an hour's leisurely flying, again began a slow and cautious descent.

"I do wonder where we'll land?" mused Jellia, trying to pierce with her bright eyes the bank of fog that lay beneath.

"Somewhere in the Quadling Country, I should judge," answered Nick, twirling the wheel deftly to the right. "And when we do—" At that instant, the Soldier with Green Whiskers let out another panicky squawk.

"Climb! Climb!" he panted, running up and down the aisle so fast he almost ran himself down on the about-faces. "We're ambushed, comrades! Fire in the fog! Land on the stern!"

"Oh, tin cups and canyons!" rasped Nick Chopper, losing his temper at last. "If this keeps up, how are we ever to get down? Hammer and tong it! Something's always getting in the way. WILL you stop that silly marching?" he yelled, snatching at the Soldier's sleeve as he raced by.

"HALT!" quavered Wantowin. Instantly obeying his own command, he stood trembling beside the navigator's table as Nick peered desperately down through the fog.

[CHAPTER 6]
Strut of the Strat

"What is it, Hippenscop?" Strutoovious the Seventh looked up impatiently as his first and fastest messenger came to a panting halt under the Imperial Canopy. Instead of answering, Hippenscop, his chest heaving and his eyes bulging, made a wordless gesture over his shoulder. Then, catching his foot in the royal boot-scraper, he fell violently up the steps of the dais. This was not unusual, for anyone who falls in Stratovania, falls up instead of down. Rather relieved to find himself before the throne at last, Hippenscop scrambled to his feet. Sucking in his breath he announced hoarsely:

"I beg to report a strange and sonorbious monster falling through the fog over Half Moon Lake."

"Are you sure it is not a Zoomer?" Throwing down the morning star which he had been reading, Strutoovious stared coldly at the messenger.

"Ho, no! Ho, NO!" Hippenscop shook his head positively. "It has wings and a tail, your Strajesty. Wings, a tail and seven eyes! But HARK!!" The menacing whirr and sputter following the messenger's speech made even the Ruler of all the Stratovanians leap off his throne. Striding rapidly after the terrified servitor, Strut, followed by half the inhabitants of his irradiant Tip-toposphere, reached the shores of Half Moon Lake.

"Skydragon!" he announced, after a brief glance at the gleaming shape drifting down through the fog. "Quick Hippen! Summon the Royal Blowmen! Back, stand back, you witless woffs! Do you wish to be crushed and eaten? Yon monster will alight on the North shore any moonite now!" At Strut's loud warning, half of his subjects took to their heels while the rest scurried round to the South side of the lake, every head turned up toward the mysterious dragon.

Only, of course, it was not a dragon. It was the silver-bodied Oztober—inside of which the agitation was almost as great as the alarm of the Airlanders below.

"How long have we? How long'll it be before we land?" gulped Jellia. Remembering the Wizard's instructions, she jerked out the box of air helmets and next made a dive under the navigator's table. "Here, take one—two—three. Oh, how many shall we take?" groaned the little Oz Maid, holding up the bottle of altitude pills. "'One, after each mile up,' but how many miles have we come?"

"One hundred and one thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven feet!" mumbled the Soldier with Green Whiskers, reading the figures from a shining metal hypsometer clamped to the navigator's table. "All we have to do is figure how many feet in a mile."

"Fifty-two hundred and some," puffed Nick, working away desperately at his wheel and buttons to bring the Oztober down without crashing. "Oh, take twenty!" he directed sharply, as Jellia and the Soldier stood regarding him with open mouths. It was no time, as Jellia later told Ozma, to be doing long divisions. With trembling fingers she counted out twenty pills for the Soldier with Green Whiskers. Then, popping twenty into her own mouth and crunching them desperately between her teeth, she handed the bottle to Nick Chopper.

"No, No! None for me!" The Tin Woodman waved the bottle impatiently aside. "High altitude won't injure my metal, but keep this oil can handy, Jellia, and whatever happens, don't let me rust!" Choking on the pills which were dry and rather bitter, Jellia nodded earnestly. Tucking the oil can into the little bag that hung from her wrist, she began nervously dragging on her air helmet. Wantowin Battles already had adjusted his, and swallowed his pills. Now, peering out one of the round windows, he trembled so violently all his weapons rattled and clanked to the dismal tune of his fright.

"Th—thousands of them!" quavered the Soldier. "What kind of place is this, anyway! It's so bright it hurts my eyes. Oh, I just know there'll be fighting! Look, I'd far better stay in the cabin, as someone must guard the plane!"

"But not YOU!" Nick Chopper spoke with great firmness. Then, spinning the wheel rapidly and gauging to a nicety the distance between the ship and the sparkling airosphere, he touched the "down" and "stop" buttons simultaneously. Coasting down the last little hill of wind, the Oztober came to a gentle and complete stop on the shore of a rainbow-hued body of water.

"Now, now! Take your time," cautioned the Tin Woodman, as Jellia started impulsively toward the door. Pulling off one of the cushion covers Nick began polishing himself vigorously. As the discoverer of this new and astonishing airland, he wished to make a good impression. From what he had seen, it was a country well worth claiming for Ozma of Oz. "Here, let me go first," he said, tossing aside the cushion cover. "Keep close to me, Jellia, and Soldier—under no circumstances are you to retreat unless I give the signal. Great Tinhoppers, what was that?" A long wail rather like the squall of a cat suddenly had rent the quiet air of the cabin.

"Stowaway!" cried Jellia, as another unmistakable meough followed the first. "Sounds like Dorothy's cat." But it was not Eureka that Jellia pulled from behind the second seat cushion. It was a small, black kit-bag. The green eyes turned off and on like electric lights, and the tail curved over the back to form a handle. Round its neck hung a green placard:

"This Kit-Bag of Magic to be used
Only in cases of extreme emergency.
To open pull the tail.—WIZ."

"Well, Geewhiz—is this an emergency?" Jellia held the bag out, nervously.

"Er—YES!" declared Nick Chopper after a second glance out of the window. "Bring it along! And remember—you have nothing to fear! I, the Emperor of all the Winkies, am with you. With kind words and courteous gestures we will win the friendship and allegiance of these strange airlanders for Ozma of Oz."

Jellia knew Nick's red plush heart, given him by the Wizard, was the kindest in all Oz. Nevertheless she took a firmer hold on the kit bag, and only after assuring herself that Wantowin had his saber and blunder-buss did she follow the Tin Woodman down the Oztober's ladder.

There was a complete and astonished silence as the three Ozians stepped from the plane. And it must be confessed, Jellia and the Soldier in their transparent helmets, and the Tin Woodman without a helmet, were strange enough to startle any airbody. So it's no wonder the Stratovanians were as amazed at the appearance of the travellers, as the travellers were amazed at the Stratovanians. Separated only by the waters of Half Moon Lake, they confronted each other with growing alarm. Strut, who had expected this dragon to roar, spurt flames and then rush forward to attack them, hardly knew what to do when these three curious beings stepped from the monster's interior. Noting with alarm that his Blowmen had not yet arrived, he determined to hold the invaders in conversation, if possible.

So, with his head and chest high, and walking with the queer, strutting gait that characterized all of the dwellers in Stratovania, he advanced slowly around the edge of Half Moon Lake. A few paces behind strutted the rest of his retainers. Just as slowly, Nick Chopper and his two companions advanced to meet them.

The Airlanders were a head taller than even the Tin Woodman. Their hair grew straight up on end, sparkling and crackling with electricity in a really terrifying manner. Their eyes were star shaped and shaded by long, silver lashes, the noses and mouths were straight and firm, the foreheads transparent. Some shone as from a hidden sun, while across the brows of others tiny black clouds chased one another in rapid succession. Watching their foreheads would be a good way, decided Jellia Jam, to find out whether they were pleased or angry. Strut and his subjects wore belted tunics of some iridescent, rainbow-hued material, and silver sandals laced to the knee.

From the ears of the men hung huge, crescent pendants, while from those of the women, star earrings danced and dangled. Each Stratovanian carried a tall staff, tipped with wings. Beyond, Jellia saw a country of such dazzling beauty—she was almost afraid to breathe lest it vanish before her eyes. The trees were tall and numerous, with gleaming, prism-shaped trunks and a mass of cloud-like foliage. Some bore fruit that actually seemed to be illuminated—oranges, pears, and peaches glowing like decorated electric light bulbs! Moon and star flowers grew in great profusion, and in the distance, caves and grottoes of purest crystal scintillated in the high noon sun. So far as Jellia could see, there were no houses or castles, but there were hundreds of gay canopies held up by crystal poles. Jellia was just standing on tip-toe to glimpse the furnishings of the nearest Canopy when Nick Chopper, feeling the time had come to speak, raised his tin arm and called out imperiously:

"I, Emperor of the East and the Winkies, hereby claim this new and beautiful airosphere for Ozma of Oz, and bid you, its illustrious inhabitants, pledge to her your allegiance! At the same time, I bestow upon all of you Upper Airians, free citizenship in the glorious Land of Oz!"

At this bold speech Strut stopped and stood as if rooted to the spot. Not only was he dumbfounded to discover he could understand the language of these curious beings, but if what he heard were correct, they actually were claiming his Kingdom for their own.

"Well, how was that?" whispered Nick, looking down sideways at Jellia.

"Terrible! Terrible!" moaned the little Oz Maid. "Oh, my! We'd better look out!" Catching hold of Wantowin's hand, for he already showed signs of retreating, she looked anxiously at the approaching Airman. Black clouds were simply racing across his imperial brow; his eyes flashed red and blue lights and his hair positively crackled with indignation and fury.