The Shaggy Man of Oz

by JACK SNOW, founded on and continuing
the famous OZ STORIES by L. FRANK BAUM

ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK KRAMER

THE REILLY & LEE CO.
CHICAGO

THE SHAGGY MAN
OF OZ

COPYRIGHT 1949 BY
THE REILLY & LEE CO.

PRINTED IN
THE
U. S. A.

During the past few years, several readers have written me asking: "What ever happened to the Nome King's tunnel under the Deadly Desert?" The answer will be found in this book.

Everyone who has read the Oz books knows and loves Shaggy. He first met Dorothy in "The Road To Oz," and from that time on had a number of adventures in which he discovered such famous Oz personages as the Patchwork Girl, Ojo, Unk Nunkie, the Glass Cat, Betsy Bobbin and her Mule Hank, and many others.

So, it is about time that the Shaggy Man had an Oz book all his own—and here it is—faithfully recorded from the latest messages received from the Land of Oz.

Incidentally, you will recall that after Glinda laid down her Barrier of Invisibility, the only manner of communication between Oz and the Great Outside World was by radio. Well, now, your author of the Oz books has succeeded in tuning in the Emerald City on a specially built television set—his "magic picture." This has helped a great deal in the writing of this book—but not nearly so much as your own letters. So don't forget to write and tell me all your thoughts about the Land of Oz and the equally interesting countries surrounding it. Just now, important things are happening there which I hope to tell you about in another Oz book.

This book is dedicated to my Father John Alonzo Snow

Santa Claus was good to me—

Gave me lots of things

Wrapped in dainty parcels

And tied with ribbon-strings.

I can't recall what lovely gifts

Within there chanced to be—

The wrappers and the ribbons

Were what are dear to me.

They breathe of sweet remembrance,

Of Love and Kindly Thought—

The things about my presents

That never could be bought.

And so, although I'm far away,

Love's message spans the space

And our two hearts are linked anew

Through dear old Santa's grace.

by L. Frank Baum a hitherto unpublished poem written to his Sister, Mary Louise Brewster

The Shaggy Man of Oz

CHAPTER 1
The Twins Look In

"It just isn't fair," declared Tom, staring unhappily through the window at the heavy rain pelting the lawn and garden about the house.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it so we might as well make the best of it," replied Twink philosophically.

"But I wanted to go outdoors and play this afternoon—you know we have only a few more weeks until school starts. Besides, I'm sick and tired of this old house and of every single thing we have to play with."

Almost as if he understood Tom's words, Twoffle, the children's wooden clown, tumbled over on his face in the corner where he had been standing neglected.

"Now look what you've done! You've hurt Twoffle's feelings," accused Twink reprovingly as she hastened to stand the funny little clown erect again in his corner of the room.

Twink was especially fond of Twoffle. The little wooden clown, with his hinged joints and gaudily painted features and clothing, had been a part of their lives almost as long as Twink could remember. He had taken part in many of their games, and being constructed of a fine grade of durable wood, he had outlasted many other more fragile toys that had come and gone.

Twink and Tom were twins. They lived in a large, comfortable house in the city of Buffalo, New York, with their Mother and Father and Rosie the cook.

This afternoon the house was very quiet. Twink's and Tom's father, Professor Jones, was at work at the University, where he taught young people all about electrons, atoms, molecules, and other mysterious matters. Mrs. Jones was attending a meeting of her Club of Lady Voters. Rosie, the cook, dozed in her warm kitchen, nodding over the latest issue of a fashion magazine.

So it was no wonder the twins were a bit lonesome. The rain streamed down the window monotonously and it seemed the afternoon would drag on forever.

Twink glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was a little Dutch cottage clock and the hands indicated it was almost three o'clock. Twink was struck with a sudden idea.

"Come on, Tom!" she called. "Look at the time. If we don't hurry we'll miss Chapter Four of Buffalo Bill Rides Again!"

Tom came to life immediately, and in an instant both children were dashing down the broad stairway and into the library.

Here was the solution to their dull afternoon—a television set that Professor Jones had built himself and installed in the library. It was a very special set with a large "projection screen." The glass tube of the television set enlarged the picture on the screen. At three o'clock each afternoon Twink and Tom could see another chapter in the exciting moving picture serial of the wild west. The children were sure, of course, that Buffalo Bill had been named after their own city, and this made the picture all the more interesting.

Tom was busily turning knobs and dials and making adjustments. In a few seconds the big screen lighted up with a bluish-green glare and a moment later the pictures appeared. Buffalo Bill was ambushed by a wildly howling mob of Redskins who were on the war-path. There was no doubt in Twink's and Tom's minds that the famous scout would emerge unharmed while the Indians would take to noisy flight.

But just as Buffalo Bill brought his rifle to his shoulder and was sighting the nearest Redskin, something happened.

The flickering motion picture vanished from the television screen, and in its place appeared a picture that made the children gasp. It was one of the most beautiful scenes they could imagine: a peaceful, rolling meadowland, bright with all kinds of wild-flowers on which the sun shown down from a blue sky dotted with white, baby clouds. In the distance rose the spires and minarets of a great castle, glittering and glistening in the sunlight.

But it was not the castle or the sunny meadowland that held the children's attention.

Twink and Tom stared unbelievingly at a figure that stood in the center of the television picture looking out at them with the most familiar of smiles.

It was Twoffle, their wooden clown.

CHAPTER 2
On the Isle of Conjo

"Good afternoon, children," said the clown quite clearly and calmly.

"G-g-g-good afternoon!" stammered Twink and Tom.

The little clown suddenly doubled up with merriment and then gasped: "If you could only see yourselves! You're all eyes—positively bug-eyed if I ever saw anyone who was!"

"But what are you doing in the television picture?" asked Twink, regaining a little of her composure.

The clown disregarded her question and was suddenly serious. "Come on," he ordered. "Conjo can hold this picture only a few minutes and you just have time to walk through."

"Walk through?" echoed Tom. "What do you mean?"

"Start walking toward the television screen and you'll find out," answered the clown. "Or perhaps," he added, "you would rather stay there where it is raining and you can't go outdoors."

"But you're only a picture," objected Twink.

"Will you please do as I tell you and start walking toward the television screen?" asked the clown sternly.

Twink and Tom looked at each other questioningly. Tom smiled and shrugged. "Might as well try it—can't do any harm," he said.

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed the little clown, smiling again. "Just join hands and walk straight toward me."

Tom took Twink's hand and the two children slowly advanced toward the television screen. The screen was nearly five feet high—several inches taller than the children—and almost six feet wide. So vivid and real was the picture that Twink imagined she could really walk right into it.

Just as the children were about to take the last step that would bring them directly in front of the television screen, a sudden powerful gust of wind hit their backs and sent them tumbling forward.

"This is where we'll catch it," thought Tom, sure that the wind must have blown them into the screen. He sat up, fully expecting to see the expensive screen torn to shreds.

Instead he saw an expanse of rolling meadowland, and he felt the warm sun beating down on his head. Twink was sitting beside him on the green grass, staring about in utter bewilderment. Before them stood the clown, smiling broadly.

"It's magic," breathed Twink, "pure magic."

"Well, it's magic, all right," answered the clown, "but I wouldn't say how pure it is."

"But what has become of our library, and how did we get here, and how can this be real, and why is it you're not upstairs in my room?" The questions tumbled out almost faster than Twink could ask them.

"One question at a time, please," said the clown, "and I'll try to answer. Your library is right where it always is. This can be real because it is real. And I am not in your room because I belong here."

"But, Twoffle," protested Tom, "we left you in Twink's room not fifteen minutes ago."

"You didn't leave me there, and don't call me Twoffle," objected the clown.

By this time Twink and Tom were standing up and brushing off their clothes. "But you are our Twoffle, you know," stated the girl. "We have had you for years and years."

"I am not your Twoffle—of all the silly names," said the clown with some irritation. "I am my own Twiffle."

"Then how is it you look so much like our Twoffle?" asked Tom, who noted the clown was the same size as Twoffle and looked like his double.

"I was about to tell you," explained the clown, "that my name is Twiffle, and Twoffle is my third cousin."

"Oh, so then you know Twoffle?" asked Twink curiously.

"Know him?" replied Twiffle. "Of course I know him. And I also know you two very well. Many nights Twoffle and I have sat in your rooms with the moonlight streaming through the window and talked by the hour while you children slept."

Twink and Tom said nothing. They were busy thinking. All this was so strange and had happened so unexpectedly and suddenly that they were still bewildered. Tom's eyes were puzzled as he asked: "Just before we came through the screen, you said something about Conjo being able to 'hold the picture for only a few minutes.' Who is Conjo?"

Twiffle was suddenly alert. "That reminds me," he said, "that we must be on our way at once. Conjo is expecting you and we mustn't keep him waiting."

Without another word, Twiffle started walking across the grass. The children followed.

"But who is this Conjo, and where does he live?" asked Twink.

"And what does he want with us?" added Tom.

Without pausing to look at the children, Twiffle answered: "Conjo is a Wizard—the sole ruler of this island, the Isle of Conjo. He lives in the castle you can see in the distance. What he wants with you, he will undoubtedly tell you himself." With this, the little clown flashed Twink and Tom a bright smile and then walked steadily on toward the glittering castle.

Twink found that she had no trouble at all in keeping up with Twiffle, because his legs were so short and his stride so small. She had plenty of time to pause occasionally and gather the colorful wild flowers that dotted the green meadowland.

CHAPTER 3
Omby Amby Bears Bad News

"Ozma! Where is Ozma? I must see her at once—immediately!"

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers had run all the way from the gates of the Emerald City of Oz to the Royal Palace with his whiskers streaming at least six feet behind him. Now that he had arrived at the palace, he was panting and wild-eyed with excitement.

"Whatever is the matter with you, Omby Amby?" asked Jellia Jamb, Ozma's dainty little maid, eyeing the distraught Guardian of the Gates with undisguised curiosity.

Omby Amby groaned. "Something terrible has happened. I must report it to Ozma at once."

"Can't you give me just an inkling of what it is?" coaxed Jellia.

"No," replied Omby Amby firmly. The Soldier, who was Ozma's Royal Army, was rapidly regaining his composure—and his breath—after his wild dash through the emerald-studded streets of the city.

"Well, then come along," replied Jellia Jamb with a sigh. "I suppose I shall have to wait for Ozma to tell me what has upset you so terribly."

The little maid led the way down the corridors of the Royal Palace until she came to a large double door. Here she knocked and a moment later Ozma's voice answered: "Come in."

Jellia Jamb opened the door and the Soldier with the Green Whiskers followed her into the room. This was Ozma's library, where the shelves that rose from the floor to the ceiling were filled with Magic Books of Records. The little ruler of Oz was seated at a table, deep in the study of one of the books. She looked up questioningly as Omby Amby stood before her. Jellia Jamb silently departed, closing the door behind her.

"Your Highness," began Omby Amby, "it is my painful duty to report a most regrettable misfortune."

"What is it, Omby Amby," asked Ozma with a kindly smile. "What has happened?"

"It's the Love Magnet, your Highness," gulped the Soldier. "It's been broken!"

"Broken!" exclaimed Ozma, rising from her chair. "How could that ever have happened?"

"It was the nail," explained Omby Amby miserably. "If your highness will recall the Love Magnet has been hanging from a nail over the Gates of the Emerald City for many years—in fact, ever since the Shaggy Man came to live in the Land of Oz."

"Yes, I know," said Ozma.

"Well," went on the Soldier, "the nail must have rusted and this morning it snapped. The Love Magnet fell to the bricks of the Yellow Road and broke into two pieces."

Ozma's face was grave. "You brought the pieces with you?" she asked.

"Yes, your Highness, I did," replied Omby Amby. Delving into one of his pockets, he handed Ozma the two pieces of the Love Magnet, a small bit of metal, shaped like a horseshoe when it was whole.

Ozma held the broken Love Magnet in her hand, regarding it sadly. "It is too bad," she said, "that so wonderful a charm should be broken."

"Do you mean it can't be repaired, your Highness?" asked Omby Amby.

"Of that I am not sure," replied Ozma. "Perhaps the first thing we should do is ask the Shaggy Man to come here and explain to him how the Love Magnet came to be broken, since it does, after all, really belong to him."

"I will go for him immediately," said the Soldier, turning to the door.

"You will find him in the garden with Dorothy and Jack Pumpkinhead, who is trying on a new head," said Ozma, as Omby Amby made a low bow and closed the door behind him.

By luck, Ozma reflected, the Shaggy Man was in the Emerald City. She knew that Shaggy was fond of making long trips about the Land of Oz, exploring the little-known corners and regions of this most famous of all Fairylands. Now he had just returned from a visit with his brother who was in the Gillikin Country. While she waited, Ozma recalled how the Shaggy Man had befriended Dorothy in the Great Outside World and had found his way to the Land of Oz in the company of little Dorothy. With him he had brought the Love Magnet, a curious magical talisman, which caused whoever carried it to be loved by all he met. Shaggy had gratefully accepted Ozma's invitation to make his home in the Land of Oz, and since he had no further need for the Love Magnet, Ozma had caused it to be hung over the Gates of the Emerald City so that all who entered might be loving and loved. Before she had done this, however, Ozma had wisely altered the powers of the Love Magnet so that the talisman did not automatically cause the person who carried it to be loved by all he met, but must be displayed by its carrier before the eyes of the person or persons whose love he wished to win. Thus, control of the powers of the Magnet were given to its owner. All this had happened so long ago that it was now duly written down in Professor Wogglebug's Chronicles of the Land of Oz.

Ozma's reflections were ended by the appearance of Omby Amby and the Shaggy Man who had no idea that anything was the matter.

"Dorothy said to tell you, your Highness, that it's one of the best heads Jack ever had," the Shaggy Man announced with satisfaction, as he entered the room. "Dorothy's fitting it on Jack's body now."

"Won't you sit down, please, Shaggy Man?" invited Ozma.

The little Ruler's expression was so serious that the Shaggy Man asked with concern, "What is it, Ozma? What's wrong?"

Ozma answered silently by extending her palm on which lay the halves of the broken Love Magnet.

The Shaggy Man's eyes clouded. "Oh, that is too bad. I was very fond of the Love Magnet. It always made me feel happy whenever I entered or left the Emerald City. How did it come to be broken?"

Ozma explained in a few words what had happened.

"But can't the Love Magnet be repaired?" asked the Shaggy Man. "I should think it would be an easy matter for you or the Wizard or Glinda to put it together again as good as new."

"No," Ozma shook her head. "It isn't as simple as that. A long time ago I looked up the history of the Love Magnet in my Magic Record Books and I found that, if broken, it could be made whole only by one person—the person who created it."

"And who," asked the Shaggy Man with deep interest, "is that?"

"It has been so long ago," admitted Ozma, "that I have forgotten who it was. But I can look it up in a few seconds."

Ozma moved to the far side of the library, where she selected one of the Magic Record Books and opened it on a table. After turning the pages until she found the one containing the Love Magnet's history, Ozma ran her finger down the finely printed column.

"Here it is," she announced. "The man who made the Love Magnet, and the only person who can repair it, is a Wizard named Conjo, who lives on a tiny island in the middle of the Nonestic Ocean."

CHAPTER 4
Ozma Uses the Magic Belt

Omby Amby had returned to his post at the Gates of the Emerald City and Ozma and the Shaggy Man had retired to the Chamber of Magic. Here were kept many of the most valuable magical instruments in all the Land of Oz.

"There is only one thing to be done," the Shaggy Man was saying. "I must take the broken Love Magnet to this Conjo and ask him to repair it."

"I am not sure at all that Conjo will agree to repair the Love Magnet for you," Ozma replied with a troubled expression. "You see, we know very little about this Conjo. He lives alone on this tiny island in the middle of the Nonestic Ocean and practices magic. There is no record of his actually misusing his magical powers. Nor, so far as we know, has he caused trouble for anyone. However, we have reason to believe he is rather selfish and thoughtless and that he might cause harm, without really meaning to, just to satisfy his vanity. Also, it might not suit his whim to mend the Love Magnet."

"What is the name of the island on which Conjo lives?" asked the Shaggy Man musingly.

"It is called the Isle of Conjo, and since it is many miles from the Land of Oz, I have no power over the Wizard at all. In fact," concluded Ozma, "that is the reason we here in the Land of Oz know so little about Conjo."

"Nevertheless," maintained the Shaggy Man, "I think I should go as soon as possible to this island and do everything I can to persuade Conjo to make the Love Magnet whole."

"Even after you crossed the Deadly Desert, you would have several days' journey through the Land of Ev, and then you would only be on the shores of the Nonestic Ocean. So, I think it would be best, since you are determined to make the journey, for me to use the Magic Belt to transport you directly to the Isle of Conjo."

The Shaggy Man willingly agreed to this plan, stating that he was ready to leave at once.

"First," said Ozma, "let us have a look at the Isle of Conjo in the Magic Picture."

The girl Ruler swept aside the velvet curtain that hung over the Magic Picture when it was not in use. The picture appeared to be a peaceful, country farmland scene with purple hills rising in the distance. "Show us the Isle of Conjo in the Nonestic Ocean," said Ozma.

Immediately the picture shifted and changed. It now reflected a gently rolling meadowland with a great castle in the distance. Approaching the castle were a young girl and a boy, accompanied by the figure of a little wooden clown.

Ozma gasped in surprise. "Those are human children, Shaggy Man! What can they be doing there when my Magic Record Books state that Conjo is the only human being on the island? We can see that the clown accompanying them is a puppet, evidently brought to life by Conjo."

"Perhaps they are lost," ventured the Shaggy Man.

"But how would they get to the island? It is surrounded by miles and miles of ocean."

"I don't know," admitted the Shaggy Man, "but it is one more good reason for me to go there as quickly as possible—those children may be in need of help."

"I agree with you," said Ozma quickly. "You must find out what the children are doing on the island and see that they are returned to their homes. If you cannot do that, then you must bring them with you to the Land of Oz."

"Will you use the Magic Belt to transport us back to the Land of Oz?" asked the Shaggy Man.

"That will be impossible," stated Ozma, "since I must leave this afternoon to visit Glinda the Good. We are working on some extremely important magic charms in which the powers of the Magic Belt are needed. I am not sure how long I will be gone—perhaps for several weeks.

"However," Ozma went on, as she stepped to a heavy wooden chest, opened one of its drawers, and withdrew a small object, "I want you to take this with you. It will enable you to return to the Land of Oz anytime you wish."

"What is it?" asked the Shaggy Man curiously.

"It is a Magic Compass," explained Ozma. "You will notice that it is not round in shape like ordinary compasses, but is formed like a rectangle, as is the Land of Oz."

Shaggy looked at the Magic Compass and found that instead of being marked, North, South, East, and West as is the usual compass, it bore the words, Gillikin, Quadling, Winkie, and Munchkin, which are the four countries making up the Land of Oz.

"Should you wish to return to any one of the four countries," Ozma went on, "just set the compass needle to the one to which you wish to journey. If you want to come directly to the Emerald City, you have only to spin the needle of the compass, and you will be here as quickly as the Magic Belt could bring you."

The Shaggy Man inspected the Magic Compass more closely and found that the pivot on which the needle rested, rose from a spot of green in the very center of the compass. This green spot, he knew, represented the Emerald City.

"But what about the children?" the Shaggy Man asked. "If I can find no way to send them home, I cannot simply leave them on the island."

"Of course not," replied Ozma. "If you think it necessary to bring them to Oz with you, just have them put their arms in yours; then spin the compass needle, and all three of you will be transported to the Emerald City."

The Shaggy Man placed the Magic Compass carefully in his pocket and said: "Perhaps it would be well for me to be on my way. There's no telling what will happen on that island and those two children may need help."

Ozma slipped on the Magic Belt. "Goodbye, dear friend," she said, smiling fondly at the Shaggy Man. "Return as quickly as you can." Then she made the magic signal, and the Shaggy Man was no longer in the Chamber of Magic.

CHAPTER 5
The Castle of Conjo

"Hello!"

Twink, Tom, and Twiffle stopped in their tracks. From out of nowhere had suddenly appeared a man of medium height with rosy cheeks, twinkling blue eyes, shaggy hair and clothing that, while it was composed of the finest silks and satins, was nevertheless a mass of shags and bobtails.

Twiffle was so surprised he found it impossible to speak. Twink was regarding the stranger seriously. Suddenly recognition lighted up her eyes. "Oh, it can't be!" the little girl cried. "You just can't be the famous Shaggy Man of Oz!"

The Shaggy Man smiled. "Don't know about the famous part, but I am known as the Shaggy Man, and until a few seconds ago I was in the Land of Oz."

"Oh! Seeing you here made me think maybe this was a part of the Land of Oz," said Twink, who had begun to hope since the moment she had recognized the Shaggy Man.

Tom was regarding the new arrival curiously. "Yes," he said, "you certainly do look just like your pictures in the books. How did you get here so fast?—magic? I suppose the Land of Oz is quite a distance."

"Right, both times!" replied the Shaggy Man. "Ozma sent me here with her Magic Belt, and the Land of Oz is many miles away from here."

"Why did Ozma send you?" asked Twink.

"Oh, I have a little business with this Conjo fellow," answered the Shaggy Man.

"You have business with Conjo?" Twiffle had recovered from his astonishment. "Then you must forgive me for not greeting you more properly. It is so seldom that we have visitors on the island."

"Looks like you already have two visitors," observed the Shaggy Man, staring at Twink and Tom.

"Yes, but they were expected—and invited," pointed out Twiffle primly. "However, since you have business with Conjo, and we are on our way to see him, there is no reason you should not accompany us."

"No reason whatever," agreed the Shaggy Man. "I hope this Conjo has plenty of big red apples."

"Why?" asked Tom.

"They happen to be my favorite food, that's all," explained the Shaggy Man.

Led by Twiffle, the Shaggy Man and the two children were advancing over the meadow toward the Castle of Conjo. The sun was now setting, burnishing the spires and turrets of the castle with rich hues of gold and copper. The Shaggy Man judged they had less than a half a mile to travel to the castle doors.

"Don't you children think introductions are in order?" asked the Shaggy Man, "since you seem to know me already."

"Well," Twink began, "this is Twiffle who is a third cousin of Twoffle."

Twiffle bowed briefly and the Shaggy Man nodded.

"And this is Tom, and I am Twink. We live in Buffalo."

"Wait a minute," interrupted the Shaggy Man. "How did you happen to get a name like Twink?"

"Twink and Tom are not our real names," explained Tom. "Our parents named us Abbadiah and Zebbidiah."

"Why did they do that?" asked the Shaggy Man indignantly.

"Well," Tom went on, "they didn't expect twins—we are twins, you know—and they couldn't make up their minds what to name us. So they just picked names at the beginning and end of the alphabet. That's how we came to be named from A to Z."

The Shaggy Man sighed.

"And then," Twink carried on, "I began to toddle when I was supposed to be still crawling, and everyone called me Twink, because I got from one place to another in a twinkle. Tom got his nickname in a funny way, too."

"I have always been interested in everything mechanical and electrical," explained Tom, "so when I was only two years old and took my toy phonograph apart to see where the little men and women who made the talking and music were, my Father said: 'Why, you're a regular little Tom Edison.' And so ever since then I have been Tom."

"At least they are better than those other names," said the Shaggy Man.

Conjo's castle loomed even larger, casting lengthening shadows, as the sun lowered behind it. In a few more minutes Twiffle had led them to a large door that was evidently the entrance of the castle. Hanging on the door was a sign which Twink, Tom, and the Shaggy Man read.

Castle of Conjo
Working Wizard

"This way, please," said Twiffle. The door opened at his touch, and they entered.

All they could see was a vast corridor with doors on each side. At the end of the corridor was a handsome marble staircase that wound to the upper floors.

Twiffle's little wooden feet pattered busily down the polished marble floor of the corridor, until he came to an arch-shaped doorway upon which hung the sign:

QUIET!
Wizard at Work

As they paused before this door with its strange admonition, the Shaggy Man and his friends heard a sound that reminded them of a buzz-saw.

"I wonder," ventured Twink, "if Conjo is building some new magical machine?"

Twiffle disregarded the little girl's question and proceeded to push the door which opened as easily as had the door of the castle.

Inside they found a vast, domed room. All around the sides of the room was a series of tables, work-benches, and tall cabinets. The tables and benches were filled with every kind of chemical instrument imaginable—beakers, retorts, test tubes, hundreds of bottles of different kinds of colored liquids, crucibles, and a series of burners over which simmered vials and pots of chemical mixtures. From these rose vari-colored vapors, filling the room with a pungent haze. The cabinet shelves were crowded and jumbled with thousands of containers of various powders, ointments, and mixtures used by wizards in working their magic spells. One cabinet contained nothing but books of magic recipes and formulas—everything from changing people into door-knobs to curing headaches.

The Shaggy Man and the children had scarcely glanced at all this array of tools and materials for working magic, when their attention was drawn to a huge divan that rested in the very middle of the marble floor of the great chamber. This luxurious divan was covered with the softest and most expensive of rich velvet robes and comforts. Curled up in a ball in the midst of the blankets and downy, satin-covered cushions was a little man. He was snoring.

Twink almost laughed aloud. So this was Conjo, the working Wizard! She realized now it was Conjo's snoring they had mistaken for the sound of a buzz-saw.

Twiffle seemed neither surprised nor disturbed to find his master sound asleep. The little clown trotted over to the handsome divan and, seizing Conjo by the shoulders, shook him vigorously.

The Shaggy Man was grinning broadly, and Tom was holding a hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter.

Sputtering and yawning, Conjo sat up on the divan. Since he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his knuckles, he did not see his guests for several seconds. Then he blinked, yawned widely, and smiling a little foolishly said: "Well, wiz my wand if it isn't Twink and Tom."

"You already know us?" asked Twink.

"Oh, goodness yes," replied Conjo, stretching lazily. "Twiffle has been telling me about you for years—ever since you were mere babies. I let Twiffle visit your friend Twoffle in your home, you know. Send him there by my magic," explained Conjo proudly.

Conjo was coming more awake every minute. "Jumping June Bugs!" he exclaimed as his eyes fell on the Shaggy Man. "I didn't tell Twiffle to bring your Father along—or is this person your Grandfather?"

"Neither one," said the Shaggy Man with an amused smile. "Your magic had nothing to do with my coming here, Conjo. I came of my own accord."

"Came from where?" demanded Conjo, and then went on before the Shaggy Man had a chance to answer: "You were shipwrecked—that must be it, of course—you are a poor, forlorn castaway—a helpless victim of the deep and mighty ocean."

"No," contradicted the Shaggy Man, "I was not shipwrecked. I came here from the Land of Oz."

Conjo started. "The Land of Oz!" he exclaimed incredulously. "You mean the Emerald City—Ozma—Dorothy—the Scarecrow—the Tin Woodman—Scraps—Toto——" and then because he was out of breath the Wizard concluded weakly "and all of that?"

"I see you have heard of the Land of Oz," said the Shaggy Man, "so perhaps you will know why I am here."

Conjo, who was a fat, bald little man, not much taller than Twink or Tom, with a fringe of white hair about his pink head, closed his little eyes, placed a forefinger on his cherry-like nose, and thought hard.

"You will just have to tell me," he said, opening his eyes and staring appealingly at the Shaggy Man. "I don't have a single idea. It usually takes several hours after I wake up before I get any ideas—and it is so seldom that we have shipwrecks."

"I told you," the Shaggy Man reminded Conjo patiently, "that I was not shipwrecked. I came here from the Land of Oz to ask you to do me a favor."

"A favor?" said Conjo, thinking hard. "Why, that is strange indeed! The last shipwrecked person who was here wanted me to do him a favor, too. He stayed several months and then wanted to return to his home. He asked me to make a boat for him. That was an easy trick. And because the fellow wasn't a bad sort at all, I made him a present—I gave him one of my newest creations—the Love Magnet."

"The Love Magnet," gasped the Shaggy Man.

"Don't interrupt, please," went on Conjo. "Not polite, you know. This shipwrecked person tied the Love Magnet onto the mast of his boat and set sail. Last I ever saw of him. Understand he encountered a whale, who, upon seeing the man and the Love Magnet, became so fond of the fellow that he ate him."

Conjo wiped a tear from his eye.

The Shaggy Man wasn't sure whether the Wizard was serious or was poking fun at him. He decided to pretend, at any rate, that he accepted Conjo's absurd story, saying, "Well, apparently the unfortunate man's boat was blown ashore and an Eskimo found the Love Magnet, for it was an Eskimo who gave it to me, and I took it to the Land of Oz."

"My Love Magnet in the Land of Oz!" exclaimed Conjo.

"No," replied the Shaggy Man, "not your Love Magnet, since you gave it away. It now belongs to all the people of the Land of Oz. That is why I am here now. The Love Magnet has been broken. The favor I ask you is to repair it, since you, its creator, are the only person who can do that."

Twink and Tom had been listening with deep interest to this conversation. They had read about the Love Magnet and they were surprised to learn that it had been broken.

"Of course, of course, my dear Shaggy Man, for I perceive that is indeed who you are—a quite famous personage of the Land of Oz," Conjo was wide awake now. "I shall be most happy to mend the Love Magnet if it can be mended. But surely you don't expect me to do so important and difficult a feat of magic without—a—er—let us say—a reward?"

CHAPTER 6
The Magic Airmobile

"Yes, that's it," said Conjo, nodding his round head so violently that his three chins rippled like the steps of an escalator. "You have asked me to do you a favor—a very great favor—so it is only just that I should claim a reward. That's fair, isn't it?"

Conjo was regarding the Shaggy Man with eyes from which was gone the somewhat foolish innocence.

The Shaggy Man considered uneasily. He was beginning to remember Ozma's warning that Conjo was not to be trusted entirely. "What kind of a reward could I give you?" the Shaggy Man asked.

Conjo's finger shot out, pointing toward the Shaggy Man. "That," he said. "That in your pocket will be my reward!"

Involuntarily the Shaggy Man's hand went to his pocket in which rested the Magic Compass Ozma had given him.

"You must be joking," said the Shaggy Man incredulously. "The Magic Compass belongs to Ozma. And if I did give it to you how would I return to the Land of Oz? No, what you ask is impossible."

Conjo's voice was wheedling. "Surely you don't think Ozma expected me to repair the Love Magnet for nothing, do you? I can assure you that Ozma will regard the trading of the Magic Compass for the repair of the Love Magnet an excellent bargain. Actually the Magic Compass is, by Ozma's standards, a minor bit of magic."