“Only one, and plenty enough. In my official positions I’ve had nothing to do for a good many years—so long that I began to fear I was absolutely useless—until to-day. An hour ago I was called to the presence of her Highness, Ozma of Oz, and told to arrest a boy named Ojo the Unlucky, who was journeying from the Munchkin Country to the Emerald City and would arrive in a short time. This command so astonished me that I nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone has merited arrest since I can remember. You are rightly named Ojo the Unlucky, my poor boy, since you have broken a Law of Oz.
“But you are wrong,” said Scraps. “Ozma is wrong—you are all wrong—for Ojo has broken no Law.”
“Then he will soon be free again,” replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. “Anyone accused of crime is given a fair trial by our Ruler and has every chance to prove his innocence. But just now Ozma’s orders must be obeyed.”
With this he took from his pocket a pair of handcuffs made of gold and set with rubies and diamonds, and these he snapped over Ojo’s wrists.
15. Ozma’s Prisoner
The boy was so bewildered by this calamity that he made no resistance at all. He knew very well he was guilty, but it surprised him that Ozma also knew it. He wondered how she had found out so soon that he had picked the six-leaved clover. He handed his basket to Scraps and said:
“Keep that, until I get out of prison. If I never get out, take it to the Crooked Magician, to whom it belongs.”
The Shaggy Man had been gazing earnestly in the boy’s face, uncertain whether to defend him or not; but something he read in Ojo’s expression made him draw back and refuse to interfere to save him. The Shaggy Man was greatly surprised and grieved, but he knew that Ozma never made mistakes and so Ojo must really have broken the Law of Oz.
The Soldier with the Green Whiskers now led them all through the gate and into a little room built in the wall. Here sat a jolly little man, richly dressed in green and having around his neck a heavy gold chain to which a number of great golden keys were attached. This was the Guardian of the Gate and at the moment they entered his room he was playing a tune upon a mouth-organ.
“Listen!” he said, holding up his hand for silence. “I’ve just composed a tune called ‘The Speckled Alligator.’ It’s in patch-time, which is much superior to rag-time, and I’ve composed it in honor of the Patchwork Girl, who has just arrived.”
“How did you know I had arrived?” asked Scraps, much interested.
“It’s my business to know who’s coming, for I’m the Guardian of the Gate. Keep quiet while I play you ‘The Speckled Alligator.’”
It wasn’t a very bad tune, nor a very good one, but all listened respectfully while he shut his eyes and swayed his head from side to side and blew the notes from the little instrument. When it was all over the Soldier with the Green Whiskers said:
“Guardian, I have here a prisoner.”
“Good gracious! A prisoner?” cried the little man, jumping up from his chair. “Which one? Not the Shaggy Man?”
“No; this boy.”
“Ah; I hope his fault is as small as himself,” said the Guardian of the Gate. “But what can he have done, and what made him do it?”
“Can’t say,” replied the soldier. “All I know is that he has broken the Law.”
“But no one ever does that!”
“Then he must be innocent, and soon will be released. I hope you are right, Guardian. Just now I am ordered to take him to prison. Get me a prisoner’s robe from your Official Wardrobe.”
The Guardian unlocked a closet and took from it a white robe, which the soldier threw over Ojo. It covered him from head to foot, but had two holes just in front of his eyes, so he could see where to go. In this attire the boy presented a very quaint appearance.
As the Guardian unlocked a gate leading from his room into the streets of the Emerald City, the Shaggy Man said to Scraps:
“I think I shall take you directly to Dorothy, as the Scarecrow advised, and the Glass Cat and the Woozy may come with us. Ojo must go to prison with the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, but he will be well treated and you need not worry about him.”
“What will they do with him?” asked Scraps.
“That I cannot tell. Since I came to the Land of Oz no one has ever been arrested or imprisoned—until Ojo broke the Law.”
“Seems to me that girl Ruler of yours is making a big fuss over nothing,” remarked Scraps, tossing her yarn hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her patched head. “I don’t know what Ojo has done, but it couldn’t be anything very bad, for you and I were with him all the time.”
The Shaggy Man made no reply to this speech and presently the Patchwork Girl forgot all about Ojo in her admiration of the wonderful city she had entered.
They soon separated from the Munchkin boy, who was led by the Soldier with the Green Whiskers down a side street toward the prison. Ojo felt very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but he was beginning to grow angry because he was treated in such a disgraceful manner. Instead of entering the splendid Emerald City as a respectable traveler who was entitled to a welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought in as a criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that told all he met of his deep disgrace.
Ojo was by nature gentle and affectionate and if he had disobeyed the Law of Oz it was to restore his dear Unc Nunkie to life. His fault was more thoughtless than wicked, but that did not alter the fact that he had committed a fault. At first he had felt sorrow and remorse, but the more he thought about the unjust treatment he had received—unjust merely because he considered it so—the more he resented his arrest, blaming Ozma for making foolish laws and then punishing folks who broke them. Only a six-leaved clover! A tiny green plant growing neglected and trampled under foot. What harm could there be in picking it? Ojo began to think Ozma must be a very bad and oppressive Ruler for such a lovely fairyland as Oz. The Shaggy Man said the people loved her; but how could they?
The little Munchkin boy was so busy thinking these things—which many guilty prisoners have thought before him—that he scarcely noticed all the splendor of the city streets through which they passed. Whenever they met any of the happy, smiling people, the boy turned his head away in shame, although none knew who was beneath the robe.
By and by they reached a house built just beside the great city wall, but in a quiet, retired place. It was a pretty house, neatly painted and with many windows. Before it was a garden filled with blooming flowers. The Soldier with the Green Whiskers led Ojo up the gravel path to the front door, on which he knocked.
A woman opened the door and, seeing Ojo in his white robe, exclaimed:
“Goodness me! A prisoner at last. But what a small one, Soldier.”
“The size doesn’t matter, Tollydiggle, my dear. The fact remains that he is a prisoner,” said the soldier. “And, this being the prison, and you the jailer, it is my duty to place the
