Heidi: Chapter 5.

CHAPTER 5:

TWO VISITORS.

Two winters had nearly passed. Heidi was happy, for the spring was
coming again, with the soft delicious wind that made the fir-trees
roar. Soon she would be able to go up to the pasture, where blue and
yellow flowers greeted her at every step. She was nearly eight years
old, and had learned to take care of the goats, who ran after her like
little dogs. Several times the village teacher had sent word by Peter
that the child was wanted in school, but the old man had not paid any
attention to the message and had kept her with him as before. It was a
beautiful morning in March. The snow had melted on the slopes, and was
going fast. Snowdrops were peeping through the ground, which seemed to
be getting ready for spring. Heidi was running to and fro before the
door, when she suddenly saw an old gentleman, dressed in black,
standing beside her. As she appeared frightened, he said kindly: "You
must not be afraid of me, for I love children. Give me your hand,
Heidi, and tell me where your grandfather is."

"He is inside, making round wooden spoons," the child replied, opening
the door while she spoke.

It was the old pastor of the village, who had known the grandfather
years ago. After entering, he approached the old man, saying:
"Good-morning, neighbor."

The old man got up, surprised, and offering a seat to the visitor,
said: "Good-morning, Mr. Parson. Here is a wooden chair, if it is good
enough."

Sitting down, the parson said: "It is long since I have seen you,
neighbor. I have come to-day to talk over a matter with you. I am sure
you can guess what it is about."

The clergyman here looked at Heidi, who was standing near the door.

"Heidi, run out to see the goats," said the grandfather, "and bring
them some salt; you can stay till I come."

Heidi disappeared on the spot. "The child should have come to school a
year ago," the parson went on to say. "Didn't you get the teacher's
warning? What do you intend to do with the child?"

"I do not want her to go to school," said the old man, unrelentingly.

"What do you want the child to be?"

"I want her to be free and happy as a bird!"

"But she is human, and it is high time for her to learn something. I
have come now to tell you about it, so that you can make your plans.
She must come to school next winter; remember that."

"I shan't do it, pastor!" was the reply.

"Do you think there is no way?" the clergyman replied, a little hotly.
"You know the world, for you have travelled far. What little sense you
show!"

"You think I am going to send this delicate child to school in every
storm and weather!" the old man said excitedly. "It is a two hours'
walk, and I shall not let her go; for the wind often howls so that it
chokes me if I venture out. Did you know Adelheid, her mother? She was
a sleep-walker, and had fainting-fits. Nobody shall compel me to let
her go; I will gladly fight it out in court."

"You are perfectly right," said the clergyman kindly. "You could not
send her to school from here. Why don't you come down to live among us
again? You are leading a strange life here; I wonder how you can keep
the child warm in winter."

"She has young blood and a good cover. I know where to find good wood,
and all winter I keep a fire going. I couldn't live in the village,
for the people there and I despise each other; we had better keep
apart."

"You are mistaken, I assure you! Make your peace with God, and then
you'll see how happy you will be."

The clergyman had risen, and holding out his hand, he said cordially:
"I shall count on you next winter, neighbor. We shall receive you
gladly, reconciled with God and man."

But the uncle replied firmly, while he shook his visitor by the hand:
"Thank you for your kindness, but you will have to wait in vain."

"God be with you," said the parson, and left him sadly.

The old man was out of humor that day, and when Heidi begged to go to
the grandmother, he only growled: "Not to-day." Next day they had
hardly finished their dinner, when another visitor arrived. It was
Heidi's aunt Deta; she wore a hat with feathers and a dress with such
a train that it swept up everything that lay on the cottage floor.
While the uncle looked at her silently, Deta began to praise him and
the child's red cheeks. She told him that it had not been her
intention to leave Heidi with him long, for she knew she must be in
his way. She had tried to provide for the child elsewhere, and at
last she had found a splendid chance for her. Very rich relations of
her lady, who owned the largest house in Frankfurt, had a lame
daughter. This poor little girl was confined to her rolling-chair and
needed a companion at her lessons. Deta had heard from her lady that a
sweet, quaint child was wanted as playmate and schoolmate for the
invalid. She had gone to the housekeeper and told her all about Heidi.
The lady, delighted with the idea, had told her to fetch the child at
once. She had come now, and it was a lucky chance for Heidi, "for one
never knew what might happen in such a case, and who could tell--"

"Have you finished?" the old man interrupted her at last.

"Why, one might think I was telling you the silliest things. There is
not a man in Praetiggan who would not thank God for such news."

"Bring them to somebody else, but not to me," said the uncle, coldly.

Deta, flaming up, replied: "Do you want to hear what I think? Don't I
know how old she is; eight years old and ignorant of everything. They
have told me that you refuse to send her to church and to school. She
is my only sister's child, and I shall not bear it, for I am
responsible. You do not care for her, how else could you be
indifferent to such luck. You had better give way or I shall get the
people to back me. If I were you, I would not have it brought to
court; some things might be warmed up that you would not care to hear
about."

"Be quiet!" the uncle thundered with flaming eyes. "Take her and ruin
her, but do not bring her before my sight again. I do not want to see
her with feathers in her hat and wicked words like yours."

With long strides he went out.

"You have made him angry!" said Heidi with a furious look.

"He won't be cross long. But come now, where are your things?" asked
Deta.

"I won't come," Heidi replied.

"What?" Deta said passionately. But changing her tone, she continued
in a more friendly manner: "Come now; you don't understand me. I am
taking you to the most beautiful place you have ever seen." After
packing up Heidi's clothes she said again, "Come, child, and take your
hat. It is not very nice, but we can't help it."

"I shall not come," was the reply.

"Don't be stupid and obstinate, like a goat. Listen to me. Grandfather
is sending us away and we must do what he commands, or he will get
more angry still. You'll see how fine it is in Frankfurt. If you do
not like it, you can come home again and by that time grandfather will
have forgiven us."

"Can I come home again to-night?" asked Heidi.

"Come now, I told you you could come back. If we get to Mayenfeld
today, we can take the train to-morrow. That will make you fly home
again in the shortest time!"

Holding the bundle, Deta led the child down the mountain. On their
way they met Peter, who had not gone to school that day. The boy
thought it was a more useful occupation to look for hazel-rods than to
learn to read, for he always needed the rods. He had had a most
successful day, for he carried an enormous bundle on his shoulder.
When he caught sight of Heidi and Deta, he asked them where they were
going.

"I am going to Frankfurt with Aunt Deta," Heidi replied; "but first I
must see grandmother, for she is waiting."

"Oh no, it is too late. You can see her when you come back, but not
now," said Deta, pulling Heidi along with her, for she was afraid that
the old woman might detain the child.

Peter ran into the cottage and hit the table with his rods. The
grandmother jumped up in her fright and asked him what that meant.

"They have taken Heidi away," Peter said with a groan.

"Who has, Peter? Where has she gone?" the unhappy grandmother asked.
Brigida had seen Deta walking up the footpath a short while ago and
soon they guessed what had happened. With a trembling hand the old
woman opened a window and called out as loudly as she could: "Deta,
Deta, don't take the child away. Don't take her from us."

When Heidi heard that she struggled to get free, and said: "I must go
to grandmother; she is calling me."

But Deta would not let her go. She urged her on by saying that she
might return soon again. She also suggested that Heidi might bring a
lovely present to the grandmother when she came back.

Heidi liked this prospect and followed Deta without more ado. After a
while she asked: "What shall I bring to the grandmother?"

"You might bring her some soft white rolls, Heidi. I think the black
bread is too hard for poor grandmother to eat."

"Yes, I know, aunt, she always gives it to Peter," Heidi confirmed
her. "We must go quickly now; we might get to Frankfurt today and
then I can be back tomorrow with the rolls."

[Illustration: WHEN HEIDI HEARD THAT SHE STRUGGLED TO GET FREE]

Heidi was running now, and Deta had to follow. She was glad enough to
escape the questions that people might ask her in the village. People
could see that Heidi was pulling her along, so she said: "I can't
stop. Don't you see how the child is hurrying? We have still far to
go," whenever she heard from all sides: "Are you taking her with you?"
"Is she running away from the uncle?" "What a wonder she is still
alive!" "What red cheeks she has," and so on. Soon they had escaped
and had left the village far behind them.

From that time on the uncle looked more angry than ever when he came
to the village. Everybody was afraid of him, and the women would warn
their children to keep out of his sight.

He came down but seldom, and then only to sell his cheese and buy his
provisions. Often people remarked how lucky it was that Heidi had left
him. They had seen her hurrying away, so they thought that she had
been glad to go.

The old grandmother alone stuck to him faithfully. Whenever anybody
came up to her, she would tell them what good care the old man had
taken of Heidi. She also told them that he had mended her little
house. These reports reached the village, of course, but people only
half believed them, for the grandmother was infirm and old. She began
her days with sighing again. "All happiness has left us with the
child. The days are so long and dreary, and I have no joy left. If
only I could hear Heidi's voice before I die," the poor old woman
would exclaim, day after day.

Talking Books: Heidi, Chapter Four, Part 3

Heidi

Chapter Four,

Part 3

Heidi could hardly wait before they reached the cottage. She had tried
to talk on the way, but no sound could be heard through the heavy
cover. As soon as they were inside the hut she began: "Grandfather, we
must take some nails and a hammer down tomorrow; a shutter is loose in
grandmother's house and many other places shake. Everything rattles in
her house."

"Is that so? Who says we must?"

"Nobody told me, but I know," Heidi replied. "Everything is loose in
the house, and poor grandmother told me she was afraid that the house
might tumble down. And grandfather, she cannot see the light. Can you
help her and make it light for her? How terrible it must be to be
afraid in the dark and nobody there to help you! Oh, please,
grandfather, do something to help her! I know you can."

Heidi had been clinging to her grandfather and looking up to him with
trusting eyes. At last he said, glancing down: "All right, child,
we'll see that it won't rattle any more. We can do it tomorrow."

Heidi was so overjoyed at these words that she danced around the room
shouting: "We'll do it tomorrow! We can do it tomorrow!"

The grandfather, keeping his word, took Heidi down the following day
with the same instructions as before. After Heidi had disappeared, he
went around the house inspecting it.

The grandmother, in her joy at seeing the child again, had stopped the
wheel and called: "Here is the child again! She has come again!"
Heidi, grasping her outstretched hands, sat herself on a low stool at
the old woman's feet and began to chat. Suddenly violent blows were
heard outside; the grandmother in her fright nearly upset the
spinning-wheel and screamed: "Oh, God, it has come at last. The hut is
tumbling down!"

"Grandmother, don't be frightened," said the child, while she put her
arms around her. "Grandfather is just fastening the shutter and fixing
everything for you."

"Is it possible? Has God not forgotten us after all? Brigida, have you
heard it? Surely that is a hammer. Ask him to come in a moment, if it
is he, for I must thank him."

When Brigida went out, she found the old man busy with putting a new
beam along the wall. Approaching him, she said: "Mother and I wish you
a good-afternoon. We are very much obliged to you for doing us such a
service, and mother would like to see you. There are few that would
have done it, uncle, and how can we thank you?"

"That will do," he interrupted. "I know what your opinion about me is.
Go in, for I can find what needs mending myself."

Brigida obeyed, for the uncle had a way that nobody could oppose. All
afternoon the uncle hammered around; he even climbed up on the roof,
where much was missing. At last he had to stop, for the last nail was
gone from his pocket. The darkness had come in the meantime, and
Heidi was ready to go up with him, packed warmly in his arms.

Thus the winter passed. Sunshine had come again into the blind woman's
life, and made her days less dark and dreary. Early every morning she
would begin to listen for Heidi's footsteps, and when the door was
opened and the child ran in, the grandmother exclaimed every time more
joyfully: "Thank God, she has come again!"

Heidi would talk about her life, and make the grandmother smile and
laugh, and in that way the hours flew by. In former times the old
woman had always sighed: "Brigida, is the day not over yet?" but now
she always exclaimed after Heidi's departure: "How quickly the
afternoon has gone by. Don't you think so, too, Brigida?" Her daughter
had to assent, for Heidi had long ago won her heart. "If only God will
spare us the child!" the grandmother would often say. "I hope the
uncle will always be kind, as he is now."--"Does Heidi look well,
Brigida?" was a frequent question, which always got a reassuring
answer.

Heidi also became very fond of the old grandmother, and when the
weather was fair, she visited her every day that winter. Whenever the
child remembered that the grandmother was blind, she would get very
sad; her only comfort was that her coming brought such happiness. The
grandfather soon had mended the cottage; often he would take down big
loads of timber, which he used to good purpose. The grandmother vowed
that no rattling could be heard any more, and that, thanks to the
uncle's kindness, she slept better that winter than she had done for
many a year.

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 14.

Chapter 14, The Winged Monkeys.

You will remember there was no road--not even a pathway--
between the castle of the Wicked Witch and the Emerald City.
When the four travelers went in search of the Witch she had seen
them coming, and so sent the Winged Monkeys to bring them to her.
It was much harder to find their way back through the big fields
of buttercups and yellow daisies than it was being carried.
They knew, of course, they must go straight east, toward the rising
sun; and they started off in the right way. But at noon, when the
sun was over their heads, they did not know which was east and
which was west, and that was the reason they were lost in the
great fields. They kept on walking, however, and at night the
moon came out and shone brightly. So they lay down among the
sweet smelling yellow flowers and slept soundly until morning--
all but the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman.

The next morning the sun was behind a cloud, but they started
on, as if they were quite sure which way they were going.

"If we walk far enough," said Dorothy, "I am sure we shall
sometime come to some place."

But day by day passed away, and they still saw nothing before
them but the scarlet fields. The Scarecrow began to grumble a bit.

"We have surely lost our way," he said, "and unless we find it
again in time to reach the Emerald City, I shall never get my brains."

"Nor I my heart," declared the Tin Woodman. "It seems to me I
can scarcely wait till I get to Oz, and you must admit this is a
very long journey."

"You see," said the Cowardly Lion, with a whimper, "I haven't the
courage to keep tramping forever, without getting anywhere at all."

Then Dorothy lost heart. She sat down on the grass and looked
at her companions, and they sat down and looked at her, and Toto
found that for the first time in his life he was too tired to
chase a butterfly that flew past his head. So he put out his
tongue and panted and looked at Dorothy as if to ask what they
should do next.

"Suppose we call the field mice," she suggested. "They could
probably tell us the way to the Emerald City."

"To be sure they could," cried the Scarecrow. "Why didn't we
think of that before?"

Dorothy blew the little whistle she had always carried about
her neck since the Queen of the Mice had given it to her. In a
few minutes they heard the pattering of tiny feet, and many of the
small gray mice came running up to her. Among them was the Queen
herself, who asked, in her squeaky little voice:

"What can I do for my friends?"

"We have lost our way," said Dorothy. "Can you tell us where
the Emerald City is?"

"Certainly," answered the Queen; "but it is a great way off,
for you have had it at your backs all this time." Then she
noticed Dorothy's Golden Cap, and said, "Why don't you use the
charm of the Cap, and call the Winged Monkeys to you? They will
carry you to the City of Oz in less than an hour."

"I didn't know there was a charm," answered Dorothy, in
surprise. "What is it?"

"It is written inside the Golden Cap," replied the Queen of
the Mice. "But if you are going to call the Winged Monkeys we
must run away, for they are full of mischief and think it great
fun to plague us."

"Won't they hurt me?" asked the girl anxiously.

"Oh, no. They must obey the wearer of the Cap. Good-bye!"
And she scampered out of sight, with all the mice hurrying after her.

Dorothy looked inside the Golden Cap and saw some words written
upon the lining. These, she thought, must be the charm, so she read
the directions carefully and put the Cap upon her head.

"Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!" she said, standing on her left foot.

"What did you say?" asked the Scarecrow, who did not know what
she was doing.

"Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!" Dorothy went on, standing this time
on her right foot.

"Hello!" replied the Tin Woodman calmly.

"Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!" said Dorothy, who was now standing on
both feet. This ended the saying of the charm, and they heard a
great chattering and flapping of wings, as the band of Winged
Monkeys flew up to them.

The King bowed low before Dorothy, and asked, "What is your command?"

"We wish to go to the Emerald City," said the child, "and we have
lost our way."

"We will carry you," replied the King, and no sooner had he
spoken than two of the Monkeys caught Dorothy in their arms and
flew away with her. Others took the Scarecrow and the Woodman and
the Lion, and one little Monkey seized Toto and flew after them,
although the dog tried hard to bite him.

The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were rather frightened at
first, for they remembered how badly the Winged Monkeys had
treated them before; but they saw that no harm was intended, so
they rode through the air quite cheerfully, and had a fine time
looking at the pretty gardens and woods far below them.

Dorothy found herself riding easily between two of the biggest
Monkeys, one of them the King himself. They had made a chair of
their hands and were careful not to hurt her.

"Why do you have to obey the charm of the Golden Cap?" she asked.

"That is a long story," answered the King, with a Winged laugh;
"but as we have a long journey before us, I will pass the time by
telling you about it, if you wish."

"I shall be glad to hear it," she replied.

"Once," began the leader, "we were a free people, living happily
in the great forest, flying from tree to tree, eating nuts and fruit,
and doing just as we pleased without calling anybody master. Perhaps
some of us were rather too full of mischief at times, flying down to
pull the tails of the animals that had no wings, chasing birds, and
throwing nuts at the people who walked in the forest. But we were
careless and happy and full of fun, and enjoyed every minute of the day.
This was many years ago, long before Oz came out of the clouds to rule
over this land.

"There lived here then, away at the North, a beautiful princess,
who was also a powerful sorceress. All her magic was used to help
the people, and she was never known to hurt anyone who was good.
Her name was Gayelette, and she lived in a handsome palace built
from great blocks of ruby. Everyone loved her, but her greatest
sorrow was that she could find no one to love in return, since all
the men were much too stupid and ugly to mate with one so beautiful
and wise. At last, however, she found a boy who was handsome and
manly and wise beyond his years. Gayelette made up her mind that
when he grew to be a man she would make him her husband, so she
took him to her ruby palace and used all her magic powers to
make him as strong and good and lovely as any woman could wish.
When he grew to manhood, Quelala, as he was called, was said to
be the best and wisest man in all the land, while his manly beauty
was so great that Gayelette loved him dearly, and hastened to make
everything ready for the wedding.

"My grandfather was at that time the King of the Winged Monkeys
which lived in the forest near Gayelette's palace, and the old fellow
loved a joke better than a good dinner. One day, just before the wedding,
my grandfather was flying out with his band when he saw Quelala walking
beside the river. He was dressed in a rich costume of pink silk and
purple velvet, and my grandfather thought he would see what he could do.
At his word the band flew down and seized Quelala, carried him in their
arms until they were over the middle of the river, and then dropped him
into the water.

"`Swim out, my fine fellow,' cried my grandfather, `and see if
the water has spotted your clothes.' Quelala was much too wise
not to swim, and he was not in the least spoiled by all his good
fortune. He laughed, when he came to the top of the water, and
swam in to shore. But when Gayelette came running out to him she
found his silks and velvet all ruined by the river.

"The princess was angry, and she knew, of course, who did it.
She had all the Winged Monkeys brought before her, and she said at
first that their wings should be tied and they should be treated
as they had treated Quelala, and dropped in the river. But my
grandfather pleaded hard, for he knew the Monkeys would drown in
the river with their wings tied, and Quelala said a kind word for
them also; so that Gayelette finally spared them, on condition
that the Winged Monkeys should ever after do three times the
bidding of the owner of the Golden Cap. This Cap had been made
for a wedding present to Quelala, and it is said to have cost the
princess half her kingdom. Of course my grandfather and all the
other Monkeys at once agreed to the condition, and that is how it
happens that we are three times the slaves of the owner of the
Golden Cap, whosoever he may be."

"And what became of them?" asked Dorothy, who had been greatly
interested in the story.

"Quelala being the first owner of the Golden Cap," replied
the Monkey, "he was the first to lay his wishes upon us. As his
bride could not bear the sight of us, he called us all to him in
the forest after he had married her and ordered us always to keep
where she could never again set eyes on a Winged Monkey, which we
were glad to do, for we were all afraid of her.

"This was all we ever had to do until the Golden Cap fell into
the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West, who made us enslave the
Winkies, and afterward drive Oz himself out of the Land of the
West. Now the Golden Cap is yours, and three times you have the
right to lay your wishes upon us."

As the Monkey King finished his story Dorothy looked down
and saw the green, shining walls of the Emerald City before them.
She wondered at the rapid flight of the Monkeys, but was glad the
journey was over. The strange creatures set the travelers down
carefully before the gate of the City, the King bowed low to
Dorothy, and then flew swiftly away, followed by all his band.

"That was a good ride," said the little girl.

"Yes, and a quick way out of our troubles," replied the Lion.
"How lucky it was you brought away that wonderful Cap!"

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 13

The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 13. The Rescue.

The Cowardly Lion was much pleased to hear that the Wicked Witch had been melted by a bucket of water, and Dorothy at once unlocked the gate of his prison and set him free. They went in together to the castle, where Dorothy's first act was to call all the Winkies together and tell them that they were no longer slaves.

There was great rejoicing among the yellow Winkies, for they had been made to work hard during many years for the Wicked Witch, who had always treated them with great cruelty. They kept this day as a holiday, then and ever after, and spent the time in feasting and dancing.

"If our friends, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, were only
with us," said the Lion, "I should be quite happy."

"Don't you suppose we could rescue them?" asked the girl anxiously.

"We can try," answered the Lion.

So they called the yellow Winkies and asked them if they would
help to rescue their friends, and the Winkies said that they would
be delighted to do all in their power for Dorothy, who had set them
free from bondage. So she chose a number of the Winkies who looked
as if they knew the most, and they all started away. They traveled
that day and part of the next until they came to the rocky plain
where the Tin Woodman lay, all battered and bent. His axe was near him,
but the blade was rusted and the handle broken off short.

The Winkies lifted him tenderly in their arms, and carried him
back to the Yellow Castle again, Dorothy shedding a few tears by
the way at the sad plight of her old friend, and the Lion looking
sober and sorry. When they reached the castle Dorothy said to the
Winkies:

"Are any of your people tinsmiths?"

"Oh, yes. Some of us are very good tinsmiths," they told her.

"Then bring them to me," she said. And when the tinsmiths came,
bringing with them all their tools in baskets, she inquired,
"Can you straighten out those dents in the Tin Woodman, and bend him
back into shape again, and solder him together where he is broken?"

The tinsmiths looked the Woodman over carefully and then
answered that they thought they could mend him so he would be as
good as ever. So they set to work in one of the big yellow rooms
of the castle and worked for three days and four nights, hammering
and twisting and bending and soldering and polishing and pounding
at the legs and body and head of the Tin Woodman, until at last he
was straightened out into his old form, and his joints worked as
well as ever. To be sure, there were several patches on him, but
the tinsmiths did a good job, and as the Woodman was not a vain
man he did not mind the patches at all.

When, at last, he walked into Dorothy's room and thanked her
for rescuing him, he was so pleased that he wept tears of joy,
and Dorothy had to wipe every tear carefully from his face with
her apron, so his joints would not be rusted. At the same time
her own tears fell thick and fast at the joy of meeting her old
friend again, and these tears did not need to be wiped away. As
for the Lion, he wiped his eyes so often with the tip of his tail
that it became quite wet, and he was obliged to go out into the
courtyard and hold it in the sun till it dried.

"If we only had the Scarecrow with us again," said the
Tin Woodman, when Dorothy had finished telling him everything
that had happened, "I should be quite happy."

"We must try to find him," said the girl.

So she called the Winkies to help her, and they walked all that day
and part of the next until they came to the tall tree in the branches of
which the Winged Monkeys had tossed the Scarecrow's clothes.

It was a very tall tree, and the trunk was so smooth that no
one could climb it; but the Woodman said at once, "I'll chop it
down, and then we can get the Scarecrow's clothes."

Now while the tinsmiths had been at work mending the Woodman
himself, another of the Winkies, who was a goldsmith, had made an
axe-handle of solid gold and fitted it to the Woodman's axe,
instead of the old broken handle. Others polished the blade until
all the rust was removed and it glistened like burnished silver.

As soon as he had spoken, the Tin Woodman began to chop, and in a
short time the tree fell over with a crash, whereupon the Scarecrow's
clothes fell out of the branches and rolled off on the ground.

Dorothy picked them up and had the Winkies carry them back to
the castle, where they were stuffed with nice, clean straw; and
behold! here was the Scarecrow, as good as ever, thanking them
over and over again for saving him.

Now that they were reunited, Dorothy and her friends spent a
few happy days at the Yellow Castle, where they found everything
they needed to make them comfortable.

But one day the girl thought of Aunt Em, and said, "We must go
back to Oz, and claim his promise."

"Yes," said the Woodman, "at last I shall get my heart."

"And I shall get my brains," added the Scarecrow joyfully.

"And I shall get my courage," said the Lion thoughtfully.

"And I shall get back to Kansas," cried Dorothy, clapping her hands.
"Oh, let us start for the Emerald City tomorrow!"

This they decided to do. The next day they called the Winkies
together and bade them good-bye. The Winkies were sorry to have
them go, and they had grown so fond of the Tin Woodman that they
begged him to stay and rule over them and the Yellow Land of the West.
Finding they were determined to go, the Winkies gave Toto and the Lion
each a golden collar; and to Dorothy they presented a beautiful bracelet
studded with diamonds; and to the Scarecrow they gave a gold-headed
walking stick, to keep him from stumbling; and to the Tin Woodman they
offered a silver oil-can, inlaid with gold and set with precious jewels.

Every one of the travelers made the Winkies a pretty speech in
return, and all shook hands with them until their arms ached.

Dorothy went to the Witch's cupboard to fill her basket with
food for the journey, and there she saw the Golden Cap. She tried
it on her own head and found that it fitted her exactly. She did
not know anything about the charm of the Golden Cap, but she saw
that it was pretty, so she made up her mind to wear it and carry
her sunbonnet in the basket.

Then, being prepared for the journey, they all started for the
Emerald City; and the Winkies gave them three cheers and many good
wishes to carry with them.

Talking Books: Heid Chapter Four; Part 1

Heidi.
Chapter 4,
Part One.

IN THE GRANDMOTHER'S HUT.

Next morning Peter came again with his goats, and Heidi went up to the
pasture with them. This happened day after day, and in this healthy
life Heidi grew stronger, and more sunburnt every day. Soon the autumn
came and when the wind was blowing across the mountainside, the
grandfather would say: "You must stay home to-day, Heidi; for the wind
can blow such a little thing as you down into the valley with a single
gust."
It always made Peter unhappy when Heidi did not come along, for he saw
nothing but misfortunes ahead of him; he hardly knew how to pass his
time, and besides, he was deprived of his abundant dinner. The goats
were so accustomed to Heidi by this time, that they did not follow
Peter when she was not with him.

Heidi herself did not mind staying at home, for she loved nothing
better than to watch her grandfather with his saw and hammer.
Sometimes the grandfather would make small round cheeses on those
days, and there was no greater pleasure for Heidi than to see him stir
the butter with his bare arms. When the wind would howl through the
fir-trees on those stormy days, Heidi would run out to the grove,
thrilled and happy by the wondrous roaring in the branches. The sun
had lost its vigor, and the child had to put on her shoes and
stockings and her little dress.

The weather got colder and colder, and when Peter came up in the
morning, he would blow into his hands, he was so frozen. At last even
Peter could not come any more, for a deep snow had fallen over night.
Heidi stood at the window, watching the snow falling down. It kept on
snowing till it reached the windows; still it did not stop, and soon
the windows could not be opened, and they were all shut in. When it
had lasted for several days, Heidi thought that it would soon cover
up the cottage. It finally stopped, and the grandfather went out to
shovel the snow away from the door and windows, piling it up high here
and there. In the afternoon the two were sitting near the fire when
noisy steps were heard outside and the door was pushed open. It was
Peter, who had come up to see Heidi. Muttering, "Good-evening," he
went up to the fire. His face was beaming, and Heidi had to laugh when
she saw little waterfalls trickling down from his person, for all the
ice and snow had melted in the great heat.

The grandfather now asked Peter how he got along in school. Heidi was
so interested that she asked him a hundred questions. Poor Peter, who
was not an easy talker, found himself in great difficulty answering
the little girl's inquiries, but at least it gave him leisure to dry
his clothes.

During this conversation the grandfather's eyes had been twinkling,
and at last he said to the boy: "Now that you have been under fire,
general, you need some strengthening. Come and join us at supper."

With that the old man prepared a meal which amply satisfied Peter's
appetite. It had begun to get dark, and Peter knew that it was time to
go. He had said good-bye and thank you, when turning to Heidi he
remarked:

"I'll come next Sunday, if I may. By the way, Heidi, grandmother asked
me to tell you that she would love to see you."

Heidi immediately approved of this idea, and her first word next
morning was: "Grandfather, I must go down to grandmother. She is
expecting me."

Four days later the sun was shining and the tight-packed frozen snow
was crackling under every step. Heidi was sitting at the dinner-table,
imploring the old man to let her make the visit then, when he got up,
and fetching down her heavy cover, told her to follow him. They went
out into the glistening snow; no sound was heard and the snow-laden
fir-trees shone and glittered in the sun. Heidi in her transport was
running to and fro: "Grandfather, come out! Oh, look at the trees!
They are all covered with silver and gold," she called to the
grandfather, who had just come out of his workshop with a wide sled.
Wrapping the child up in her cover, he put her on the sled, holding
her fast. Off they started at such a pace that Heidi shouted for joy,
for she seemed to be flying like a bird. The sled had stopped in front
of Peter's hut, and grandfather said: "Go in. When it gets dark, start
on your way home." When he had unwrapped her, he turned homewards with
his sled.

Heidi: Chapter Three, Part 2

Heidi.
Chapter 3: Part 2

The boy could tell them all to her, for their names were about the
only thing he had to carry in his head. She soon knew them, too, for
she had listened attentively. One of them was the Big Turk, who tried
to stick his big horns into all the others. Most of the goats ran away
from their rough comrade. The bold Thistlefinch alone was not afraid,
and running his horns three or four times into the other, so
astonished the Turk with his great daring that he stood still and gave
up fighting, for the Thistlefinch had sharp horns and met him in the
most warlike attitude. A small, white goat, called Snowhopper, kept up
bleating in the most piteous way, which induced Heidi to console it
several times. Heidi at last went to the little thing again, and
throwing her arms around its head, she asked, "What is the matter with
you, Snowhopper? Why do you always cry for help?" The little goat
pressed close to Heidi's side and became perfectly quiet. Peter was
still eating, but between the swallows he called to Heidi: "She is so
unhappy, because the old goat has left us. She was sold to somebody in
Mayenfeld two days ago."

"Who was the old goat?"

"Her mother, of course."

"Where is her grandmother?"

"She hasn't any."

"And her grandfather?"

"Hasn't any either."

"Poor little Snowhopper!" said Heidi, drawing the little creature
tenderly to her. "Don't grieve any more; see, I am coming up with you
every day now, and if there is anything the matter, you can come to
me."

Snowhopper rubbed her head against Heidi's shoulder and stopped
bleating. When Peter had finally finished his dinner, he joined Heidi.

The little girl had just been observing that Schwaenli and Baerli were
by far the cleanest and prettiest of the goats. They evaded the
obtrusive Turk with a sort of contempt and always managed to find the
greenest bushes for themselves. She mentioned it to Peter, who
replied: "I know! Of course they are the prettiest, because the uncle
washes them and gives them salt. He has the best stable by far."

All of a sudden Peter, who had been lying on the ground, jumped up and
bounded after the goats. Heidi, knowing that something must have
happened, followed him. She saw him running to a dangerous abyss on
the side. Peter had noticed how the rash Thistlefinch had gone nearer
and nearer to the dangerous spot. Peter only just came in time to
prevent the goat from falling down over the very edge. Unfortunately
Peter had stumbled over a stone in his hurry and was only able to
catch the goat by one leg. The Thistlefinch, being enraged to find
himself stopped in his charming ramble, bleated furiously. Not being
able to get up, Peter loudly called for help. Heidi immediately saw
that Peter was nearly pulling off the animal's leg. She quickly picked
some fragrant herbs and holding them under the animal's nose, she said
soothingly: "Come, come, Thistlefinch, and be sensible. You might fall
down there and break your leg. That would hurt you horribly."

The goat turned about and devoured the herbs Heidi held in her hand.
When Peter got to his feet, he led back the runaway with Heidi's help.
When he had the goat in safety, he raised his rod to beat it for
punishment. The goat retreated shyly, for it knew what was coming.
Heidi screamed loudly: "Peter, no, do not beat him! look how scared he
is."

"He well deserves it," snarled Peter, ready to strike. But Heidi,
seizing his arm, shouted, full of indignation: "You mustn't hurt him!
Let him go!"

Heidi's eyes were sparkling, and when he saw her with her commanding
mien, he desisted and dropped his rope. "I'll let him go, if you give
me a piece of your cheese again to-morrow," he said, for he wanted a
compensation for his fright.

"You may have it all to-morrow and every day, because I don't need
it," Heidi assured him. "I shall also give you a big piece of bread,
if you promise never to beat any of the goats."

"I don't care," growled Peter, and in that way he gave his promise.

Thus the day had passed, and the sun was already sinking down behind
the mountains. Sitting on the grass, Heidi looked at the bluebells and
the wild roses that were shining in the last rays of the sun. The
peaks also started to glow, and Heidi suddenly called to the boy: "Oh,
Peter, look! everything is on fire. The mountains are burning and the
sky, too. Oh, look! the moon over there is on fire, too. Do you see
the mountains all in a glow? Oh, how beautiful the snow looks! Peter,
the eagle's nest is surely on fire, too. Oh, look at the fir-trees
over there!"

Peter was quietly peeling his rod, and looking up, said to Heidi:
"This is no fire; it always looks like that."

"But what is it then?" asked Heidi eagerly, gazing about her
everywhere.

"It gets that way of itself," explained Peter.

"Oh look! Everything is all rosy now! Oh, look at this mountain over
there with the snow and the sharp peaks. What is its name?"

"Mountains have no names," he answered.

"Oh, see, how beautiful! It looks as if many, many roses were growing
on those cliffs. Oh, now they are getting grey. Oh dear! the fire has
gone out and it is all over. What a terrible shame!" said Heidi quite
despondently.

"It will be the same again tomorrow," Peter reassured her. "Come now,
we have to go home."

When Peter had called the goats together, they started downwards.

"Will it be like that every day when we are up?" asked Heidi, eagerly.

"It usually is," was the reply.

"What about tomorrow?" she inquired.

"Tomorrow it will be like that, I am sure," Peter affirmed.

That made Heidi feel happy again. She walked quietly by Peter's side,
thinking over all the new things she had seen. At last, reaching the
hut, they found the grandfather waiting for them on a bench under the
fir-trees. Heidi ran up to him and the two goats followed, for they
knew their master. Peter called to her: "Come again tomorrow!
Good-night!"

Heidi gave him her hand, assuring him that she would come, and finding
herself surrounded by the goats, she hugged Snowhopper a last time.

When Peter had disappeared, Heidi returned to her grandfather. "Oh
grandfather! it was so beautiful! I saw the fire and the roses on the
rocks! And see the many, many flowers I am bringing you!" With that
Heidi shook them out of her apron. But oh, how miserable they looked!
Heidi did not even know them any more.

"What is the matter with them, grandfather? They looked so different!"
Heidi exclaimed in her fright.

"They are made to bloom in the sun and not to be shut up in an apron,"
said the grandfather.

"Then I shall never pick them any more! Please, grandfather, tell me
why the eagle screeches so loudly," asked Heidi.

"First go and take a bath, while I go into the shed to get your milk.
Afterwards we'll go inside together and I'll tell you all about it
during supper-time."

They did as was proposed, and when Heidi sat on her high chair before
her milk, she asked the same question as before.

"Because he is sneering at the people down below, who sit in the
villages and make each other angry. He calls down to them:--'If you
would go apart to live up on the heights like me, you would feel much
better!'" The grandfather said these last words with such a wild
voice, that it reminded Heidi of the eagle's screech.

"Why do the mountains have no names, grandfather?" asked Heidi.

"They all have names, and if you tell me their shape I can name them
for you."

Heidi described several and the old man could name them all. The child
told him now about all the happenings of the day, and especially about
the wonderful fire. She asked how it came about.

"The sun does it," he exclaimed. "Saying good-night to the mountains,
he throws his most beautiful rays to them, that they may not forget
him till the morning."

Heidi was so much pleased with this explanation, that she could hardly
wait to see the sun's good-night greetings repeated. It was time now
to go to bed, and Heidi slept soundly all night. She dreamt that the
little Snowhopper was bounding happily about on the glowing mountains
with many glistening roses blooming round her.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 8

The Wizard of Oz: Chapter 8.

The Deadly Poppy Field.

Our little party of travelers awakened the next morning
refreshed and full of hope, and Dorothy breakfasted like a
princess off peaches and plums from the trees beside the river.
Behind them was the dark forest they had passed safely through,
although they had suffered many discouragements; but before them was a lovely, sunny country that seemed to beckon them on to the Emerald City.

To be sure, the broad river now cut them off from this beautiful land. But the raft was nearly done, and after the Tin Woodman had cut a few more logs and fastened them together with wooden pins, they were ready to start. Dorothy sat down in the
middle of the raft and held Toto in her arms. When the Cowardly Lion stepped upon the raft it tipped badly, for he was big and heavy; but the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman stood upon the other end to steady it, and they had long poles in their hands to push the raft through the water.

They got along quite well at first, but when they reached the
middle of the river the swift current swept the raft downstream,
farther and farther away from the road of yellow brick. And the
water grew so deep that the long poles would not touch the bottom.

"This is bad," said the Tin Woodman, "for if we cannot get to
the land we shall be carried into the country of the Wicked Witch
of the West, and she will enchant us and make us her slaves."

"And then I should get no brains," said the Scarecrow.

"And I should get no courage," said the Cowardly Lion.

"And I should get no heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"And I should never get back to Kansas," said Dorothy.

"We must certainly get to the Emerald City if we can,"
the Scarecrow continued, and he pushed so hard on his long pole
that it stuck fast in the mud at the bottom of the river. Then,
before he could pull it out again--or let go--the raft was swept
away, and the poor Scarecrow left clinging to the pole in the
middle of the river.

"Good-bye!" he called after them, and they were very sorry to leave him.
Indeed, the Tin Woodman began to cry, but fortunately remembered that he
might rust, and so dried his tears on Dorothy's apron.

Of course this was a bad thing for the Scarecrow.

"I am now worse off than when I first met Dorothy," he
thought. "Then, I was stuck on a pole in a cornfield, where I
could make-believe scare the crows, at any rate. But surely there
is no use for a Scarecrow stuck on a pole in the middle of a
river. I am afraid I shall never have any brains, after all!"

Down the stream the raft floated, and the poor Scarecrow was
left far behind. Then the Lion said:

"Something must be done to save us. I think I can swim to the
shore and pull the raft after me, if you will only hold fast to
the tip of my tail."

So he sprang into the water, and the Tin Woodman caught fast
hold of his tail. Then the Lion began to swim with all his might
toward the shore. It was hard work, although he was so big; but
by and by they were drawn out of the current, and then Dorothy took
the Tin Woodman's long pole and helped push the raft to the land.

They were all tired out when they reached the shore at last
and stepped off upon the pretty green grass, and they also knew
that the stream had carried them a long way past the road of
yellow brick that led to the Emerald City.

"What shall we do now?" asked the Tin Woodman, as the Lion lay
down on the grass to let the sun dry him.

"We must get back to the road, in some way," said Dorothy.

"The best plan will be to walk along the riverbank until we
come to the road again," remarked the Lion.

So, when they were rested, Dorothy picked up her basket and
they started along the grassy bank, to the road from which the
river had carried them. It was a lovely country, with plenty of
flowers and fruit trees and sunshine to cheer them, and had they
not felt so sorry for the poor Scarecrow, they could have been
very happy.

They walked along as fast as they could, Dorothy only stopping
once to pick a beautiful flower; and after a time the Tin Woodman
cried out: "Look!"

Then they all looked at the river and saw the Scarecrow perched
upon his pole in the middle of the water, looking very lonely and sad.

"What can we do to save him?" asked Dorothy.

The Lion and the Woodman both shook their heads, for they did
not know. So they sat down upon the bank and gazed wistfully at
the Scarecrow until a Stork flew by, who, upon seeing them,
stopped to rest at the water's edge.

"Who are you and where are you going?" asked the Stork.

"I am Dorothy," answered the girl, "and these are my friends,
the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion; and we are going to the
Emerald City."

"This isn't the road," said the Stork, as she twisted her long
neck and looked sharply at the queer party.

"I know it," returned Dorothy, "but we have lost the
Scarecrow, and are wondering how we shall get him again."

"Where is he?" asked the Stork.

"Over there in the river," answered the little girl.

"If he wasn't so big and heavy I would get him for you,"
remarked the Stork.

"He isn't heavy a bit," said Dorothy eagerly, "for he is
stuffed with straw; and if you will bring him back to us, we shall
thank you ever and ever so much."

"Well, I'll try," said the Stork, "but if I find he is too
heavy to carry I shall have to drop him in the river again."

So the big bird flew into the air and over the water till she
came to where the Scarecrow was perched upon his pole. Then the
Stork with her great claws grabbed the Scarecrow by the arm and
carried him up into the air and back to the bank, where Dorothy
and the Lion and the Tin Woodman and Toto were sitting.

When the Scarecrow found himself among his friends again, he
was so happy that he hugged them all, even the Lion and Toto; and
as they walked along he sang "Tol-de-ri-de-oh!" at every step, he
felt so gay.

"I was afraid I should have to stay in the river forever,"
he said, "but the kind Stork saved me, and if I ever get any brains
I shall find the Stork again and do her some kindness in return."

"That's all right," said the Stork, who was flying along
beside them. "I always like to help anyone in trouble. But I
must go now, for my babies are waiting in the nest for me. I hope
you will find the Emerald City and that Oz will help you."

"Thank you," replied Dorothy, and then the kind Stork flew
into the air and was soon out of sight.

They walked along listening to the singing of the brightly
colored birds and looking at the lovely flowers which now became
so thick that the ground was carpeted with them. There were big
yellow and white and blue and purple blossoms, besides great
clusters of scarlet poppies, which were so brilliant in color they
almost dazzled Dorothy's eyes.

"Aren't they beautiful?" the girl asked, as she breathed in
the spicy scent of the bright flowers.

"I suppose so," answered the Scarecrow. "When I have brains,
I shall probably like them better."

"If I only had a heart, I should love them," added the Tin Woodman.

"I always did like flowers," said the Lion. "They of seem so
helpless and frail. But there are none in the forest so bright as these."

They now came upon more and more of the big scarlet poppies,
and fewer and fewer of the other flowers; and soon they found
themselves in the midst of a great meadow of poppies. Now it is
well known that when there are many of these flowers together
their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls
asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of
the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever. But Dorothy did not
know this, nor could she get away from the bright red flowers that
were everywhere about; so presently her eyes grew heavy and she
felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep.

But the Tin Woodman would not let her do this.

"We must hurry and get back to the road of yellow brick before dark,"
he said; and the Scarecrow agreed with him. So they kept walking until
Dorothy could stand no longer. Her eyes closed in spite of herself and
she forgot where she was and fell among the poppies, fast asleep.

"What shall we do?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"If we leave her here she will die," said the Lion. "The smell of
the flowers is killing us all. I myself can scarcely keep my eyes open,
and the dog is asleep already."

It was true; Toto had fallen down beside his little mistress.
But the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, not being made of flesh,
were not troubled by the scent of the flowers.

"Run fast," said the Scarecrow to the Lion, "and get out of
this deadly flower bed as soon as you can. We will bring the
little girl with us, but if you should fall asleep you are too big
to be carried."

So the Lion aroused himself and bounded forward as fast as he
could go. In a moment he was out of sight.

"Let us make a chair with our hands and carry her," said the
Scarecrow. So they picked up Toto and put the dog in Dorothy's
lap, and then they made a chair with their hands for the seat and
their arms for the arms and carried the sleeping girl between them
through the flowers.

On and on they walked, and it seemed that the great carpet of
deadly flowers that surrounded them would never end. They followed
the bend of the river, and at last came upon their friend the Lion,
lying fast asleep among the poppies. The flowers had been too strong
for the huge beast and he had given up at last, and fallen only a short
distance from the end of the poppy bed, where the sweet grass spread in
beautiful green fields before them.

"We can do nothing for him," said the Tin Woodman, sadly; "for
he is much too heavy to lift. We must leave him here to sleep on
forever, and perhaps he will dream that he has found courage at last."

"I'm sorry," said the Scarecrow. "The Lion was a very good
comrade for one so cowardly. But let us go on."

They carried the sleeping girl to a pretty spot beside the river,
far enough from the poppy field to prevent her breathing any more of
the poison of the flowers, and here they laid her gently on the soft
grass and waited for the fresh breeze to waken her.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 7

7. The Journey to the Great Oz

They were obliged to camp out that night under a large tree in
the forest, for there were no houses near. The tree made a good,
thick covering to protect them from the dew, and the Tin Woodman
chopped a great pile of wood with his axe and Dorothy built a
splendid fire that warmed her and made her feel less lonely. She
and Toto ate the last of their bread, and now she did not know
what they would do for breakfast.

"If you wish," said the Lion, "I will go into the forest and
kill a deer for you. You can roast it by the fire, since your
tastes are so peculiar that you prefer cooked food, and then you
will have a very good breakfast."

"Don't! Please don't," begged the Tin Woodman. "I should
certainly weep if you killed a poor deer, and then my jaws would
rust again."

But the Lion went away into the forest and found his own supper,
and no one ever knew what it was, for he didn't mention it. And the
Scarecrow found a tree full of nuts and filled Dorothy's basket with them,
so that she would not be hungry for a long time. She thought this was
very kind and thoughtful of the Scarecrow, but she laughed heartily at the
awkward way in which the poor creature picked up the nuts. His padded
hands were so clumsy and the nuts were so small that he dropped almost
as many as he put in the basket. But the Scarecrow did not mind how long
it took him to fill the basket, for it enabled him to keep away from the fire,
as he feared a spark might get into his straw and burn him up. So he kept a
good distance away from the flames, and only came near to cover Dorothy with
dry leaves when she lay down to sleep. These kept her very snug and warm,
and she slept soundly until morning.

When it was daylight, the girl bathed her face in a little rippling brook,
and soon after they all started toward the Emerald City.

This was to be an eventful day for the travelers. They had
hardly been walking an hour when they saw before them a great
ditch that crossed the road and divided the forest as far as they
could see on either side. It was a very wide ditch, and when they
crept up to the edge and looked into it they could see it was also
very deep, and there were many big, jagged rocks at the bottom.
The sides were so steep that none of them could climb down, and
for a moment it seemed that their journey must end.

"What shall we do?" asked Dorothy despairingly.

"I haven't the faintest idea," said the Tin Woodman, and the
Lion shook his shaggy mane and looked thoughtful.

But the Scarecrow said, "We cannot fly, that is certain.
Neither can we climb down into this great ditch. Therefore,
if we cannot jump over it, we must stop where we are."

"I think I could jump over it," said the Cowardly Lion, after
measuring the distance carefully in his mind.

"Then we are all right," answered the Scarecrow, "for you can
carry us all over on your back, one at a time."

"Well, I'll try it," said the Lion. "Who will go first?"

"I will," declared the Scarecrow, "for, if you found that you
could not jump over the gulf, Dorothy would be killed, or the Tin
Woodman badly dented on the rocks below. But if I am on your back
it will not matter so much, for the fall would not hurt me at all."

"I am terribly afraid of falling, myself," said the Cowardly
Lion, "but I suppose there is nothing to do but try it. So get on
my back and we will make the attempt."

The Scarecrow sat upon the Lion's back, and the big beast
walked to the edge of the gulf and crouched down.

"Why don't you run and jump?" asked the Scarecrow.

"Because that isn't the way we Lions do these things," he replied.
Then giving a great spring, he shot through the air and landed safely
on the other side. They were all greatly pleased to see how easily
he did it, and after the Scarecrow had got down from his back the Lion
sprang across the ditch again.

Dorothy thought she would go next; so she took Toto in her
arms and climbed on the Lion's back, holding tightly to his mane
with one hand. The next moment it seemed as if she were flying
through the air; and then, before she had time to think about it,
she was safe on the other side. The Lion went back a third time
and got the Tin Woodman, and then they all sat down for a few
moments to give the beast a chance to rest, for his great leaps
had made his breath short, and he panted like a big dog that has
been running too long.

They found the forest very thick on this side, and it looked
dark and gloomy. After the Lion had rested they started along the
road of yellow brick, silently wondering, each in his own mind, if
ever they would come to the end of the woods and reach the bright
sunshine again. To add to their discomfort, they soon heard strange
noises in the depths of the forest, and the Lion whispered to them
that it was in this part of the country that the Kalidahs lived.

"What are the Kalidahs?" asked the girl.

"They are monstrous beasts with bodies like bears and heads
like tigers," replied the Lion, "and with claws so long and sharp
that they could tear me in two as easily as I could kill Toto.
I'm terribly afraid of the Kalidahs."

"I'm not surprised that you are," returned Dorothy.
"They must be dreadful beasts."

The Lion was about to reply when suddenly they came to another
gulf across the road. But this one was so broad and deep that the
Lion knew at once he could not leap across it.

So they sat down to consider what they should do, and after
serious thought the Scarecrow said:

"Here is a great tree, standing close to the ditch. If the
Tin Woodman can chop it down, so that it will fall to the other
side, we can walk across it easily."

"That is a first-rate idea," said the Lion. "One would almost
suspect you had brains in your head, instead of straw."

The Woodman set to work at once, and so sharp was his axe that
the tree was soon chopped nearly through. Then the Lion put his
strong front legs against the tree and pushed with all his might,
and slowly the big tree tipped and fell with a crash across the
ditch, with its top branches on the other side.

They had just started to cross this queer bridge when a sharp growl
made them all look up, and to their horror they saw running toward them
two great beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers.

"They are the Kalidahs!" said the Cowardly Lion, beginning to tremble.

"Quick!" cried the Scarecrow. "Let us cross over."

So Dorothy went first, holding Toto in her arms, the Tin
Woodman followed, and the Scarecrow came next. The Lion, although
he was certainly afraid, turned to face the Kalidahs, and then he
gave so loud and terrible a roar that Dorothy screamed and the
Scarecrow fell over backward, while even the fierce beasts stopped
short and looked at him in surprise.

But, seeing they were bigger than the Lion, and remembering
that there were two of them and only one of him, the Kalidahs
again rushed forward, and the Lion crossed over the tree and
turned to see what they would do next. Without stopping an
instant the fierce beasts also began to cross the tree.
And the Lion said to Dorothy:

"We are lost, for they will surely tear us to pieces with
their sharp claws. But stand close behind me, and I will fight
them as long as I am alive."

"Wait a minute!" called the Scarecrow. He had been thinking
what was best to be done, and now he asked the Woodman to chop
away the end of the tree that rested on their side of the ditch.
The Tin Woodman began to use his axe at once, and, just as the two
Kalidahs were nearly across, the tree fell with a crash into the
gulf, carrying the ugly, snarling brutes with it, and both were
dashed to pieces on the sharp rocks at the bottom.

"Well," said the Cowardly Lion, drawing a long breath of
relief, "I see we are going to live a little while longer, and I
am glad of it, for it must be a very uncomfortable thing not to be
alive. Those creatures frightened me so badly that my heart is
beating yet."

"Ah," said the Tin Woodman sadly, "I wish I had a heart to beat."

This adventure made the travelers more anxious than ever to
get out of the forest, and they walked so fast that Dorothy became
tired, and had to ride on the Lion's back. To their great joy the
trees became thinner the farther they advanced, and in the
afternoon they suddenly came upon a broad river, flowing swiftly
just before them. On the other side of the water they could see
the road of yellow brick running through a beautiful country, with
green meadows dotted with bright flowers and all the road bordered
with trees hanging full of delicious fruits. They were greatly
pleased to see this delightful country before them.

"How shall we cross the river?" asked Dorothy.

"That is easily done," replied the Scarecrow. "The Tin Woodman
must build us a raft, so we can float to the other side."

So the Woodman took his axe and began to chop down small trees
to make a raft, and while he was busy at this the Scarecrow found
on the riverbank a tree full of fine fruit. This pleased Dorothy,
who had eaten nothing but nuts all day, and she made a hearty meal
of the ripe fruit.

But it takes time to make a raft, even when one is as industrious
and untiring as the Tin Woodman, and when night came the work was not done.
So they found a cozy place under the trees where they slept well until the
morning; and Dorothy dreamed of the Emerald City, and of the good Wizard Oz,
who would soon send her back to her own home again.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 6

6. The Cowardly Lion.

All this time Dorothy and her companions had been walking
through the thick woods. The road was still paved with yellow
brick, but these were much covered by dried branches and dead
leaves from the trees, and the walking was not at all good.

There were few birds in this part of the forest, for birds
love the open country where there is plenty of sunshine. But now
and then there came a deep growl from some wild animal hidden
among the trees. These sounds made the little girl's heart beat
fast, for she did not know what made them; but Toto knew, and he
walked close to Dorothy's side, and did not even bark in return.

"How long will it be," the child asked of the Tin Woodman,
"before we are out of the forest?"

"I cannot tell," was the answer, "for I have never been to the
Emerald City. But my father went there once, when I was a boy,
and he said it was a long journey through a dangerous country,
although nearer to the city where Oz dwells the country is beautiful.
But I am not afraid so long as I have my oil-can, and nothing can hurt
the Scarecrow, while you bear upon your forehead the mark of the
Good Witch's kiss, and that will protect you from harm."

"But Toto!" said the girl anxiously. "What will protect him?"

"We must protect him ourselves if he is in danger," replied
the Tin Woodman.

Just as he spoke there came from the forest a terrible roar,
and the next moment a great Lion bounded into the road. With one
blow of his paw he sent the Scarecrow spinning over and over to
the edge of the road, and then he struck at the Tin Woodman with
his sharp claws. But, to the Lion's surprise, he could make no
impression on the tin, although the Woodman fell over in the road
and lay still.

Little Toto, now that he had an enemy to face, ran barking
toward the Lion, and the great beast had opened his mouth to bite
the dog, when Dorothy, fearing Toto would be killed, and heedless
of danger, rushed forward and slapped the Lion upon his nose as
hard as she could, while she cried out:

"Don't you dare to bite Toto! You ought to be ashamed of
yourself, a big beast like you, to bite a poor little dog!"

"I didn't bite him," said the Lion, as he rubbed his nose with
his paw where Dorothy had hit it.

"No, but you tried to," she retorted. "You are nothing but a
big coward."

"I know it," said the Lion, hanging his head in shame. "I've
always known it. But how can I help it?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. To think of your striking a stuffed
man, like the poor Scarecrow!"

"Is he stuffed?" asked the Lion in surprise, as he watched her
pick up the Scarecrow and set him upon his feet, while she patted
him into shape again.

"Of course he's stuffed," replied Dorothy, who was still angry.

"That's why he went over so easily," remarked the Lion.
"It astonished me to see him whirl around so. Is the other one
stuffed also?"

"No," said Dorothy, "he's made of tin." And she helped the
Woodman up again.

"That's why he nearly blunted my claws," said the Lion.
"When they scratched against the tin it made a cold shiver run
down my back. What is that little animal you are so tender of?"

"He is my dog, Toto," answered Dorothy.

"Is he made of tin, or stuffed?" asked the Lion.

"Neither. He's a--a--a meat dog," said the girl.

"Oh! He's a curious animal and seems remarkably small,
now that I look at him. No one would think of biting such a
little thing, except a coward like me," continued the Lion sadly.

"What makes you a coward?" asked Dorothy, looking at the great
beast in wonder, for he was as big as a small horse.

"It's a mystery," replied the Lion. "I suppose I was born
that way. All the other animals in the forest naturally expect me
to be brave, for the Lion is everywhere thought to be the King of
Beasts. I learned that if I roared very loudly every living thing
was frightened and got out of my way. Whenever I've met a man
I've been awfully scared; but I just roared at him, and he has
always run away as fast as he could go. If the elephants and the
tigers and the bears had ever tried to fight me, I should have run
myself--I'm such a coward; but just as soon as they hear me roar
they all try to get away from me, and of course I let them go."

"But that isn't right. The King of Beasts shouldn't be a coward,"
said the Scarecrow.

"I know it," returned the Lion, wiping a tear from his eye
with the tip of his tail. "It is my great sorrow, and makes my
life very unhappy. But whenever there is danger, my heart begins
to beat fast."

"Perhaps you have heart disease," said the Tin Woodman.

"It may be," said the Lion.

"If you have," continued the Tin Woodman, "you ought to be glad,
for it proves you have a heart. For my part, I have no heart; so I
cannot have heart disease."

"Perhaps," said the Lion thoughtfully, "if I had no heart I should
not be a coward."

"Have you brains?" asked the Scarecrow.

"I suppose so. I've never looked to see," replied the Lion.

"I am going to the Great Oz to ask him to give me some,"
remarked the Scarecrow, "for my head is stuffed with straw."

"And I am going to ask him to give me a heart," said the Woodman.

"And I am going to ask him to send Toto and me back to Kansas,"
added Dorothy.

"Do you think Oz could give me courage?" asked the Cowardly Lion.

"Just as easily as he could give me brains," said the Scarecrow.

"Or give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman.

"Or send me back to Kansas," said Dorothy.

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll go with you," said the Lion,
"for my life is simply unbearable without a bit of courage."

"You will be very welcome," answered Dorothy, "for you will help
to keep away the other wild beasts. It seems to me they must be more
cowardly than you are if they allow you to scare them so easily."

"They really are," said the Lion, "but that doesn't make me any braver,
and as long as I know myself to be a coward I shall be unhappy."

So once more the little company set off upon the journey, the
Lion walking with stately strides at Dorothy's side. Toto did not
approve this new comrade at first, for he could not forget how
nearly he had been crushed between the Lion's great jaws. But
after a time he became more at ease, and presently Toto and the
Cowardly Lion had grown to be good friends.

During the rest of that day there was no other adventure to
mar the peace of their journey. Once, indeed, the Tin Woodman
stepped upon a beetle that was crawling along the road, and killed
the poor little thing. This made the Tin Woodman very unhappy,
for he was always careful not to hurt any living creature; and as
he walked along he wept several tears of sorrow and regret. These
tears ran slowly down his face and over the hinges of his jaw, and
there they rusted. When Dorothy presently asked him a question
the Tin Woodman could not open his mouth, for his jaws were
tightly rusted together. He became greatly frightened at this and
made many motions to Dorothy to relieve him, but she could not
understand. The Lion was also puzzled to know what was wrong.
But the Scarecrow seized the oil-can from Dorothy's basket and
oiled the Woodman's jaws, so that after a few moments he could
talk as well as before.

"This will serve me a lesson," said he, "to look where I step.
For if I should kill another bug or beetle I should surely cry again,
and crying rusts my jaws so that I cannot speak."

Thereafter he walked very carefully, with his eyes on the road,
and when he saw a tiny ant toiling by he would step over it, so as
not to harm it. The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and
therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.

"You people with hearts," he said, "have something to guide you, and
need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful.
When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn't mind so much."

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 5.

5. The Rescue of the Tin Woodman.

When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and
Toto had long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels.
She sat up and looked around her. Scarecrow, still standing
patiently in his corner, waiting for her.

"We must go and search for water," she said to him.

"Why do you want water?" he asked.

"To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to
drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat."

"It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh," said the
Scarecrow thoughtfully, "for you must sleep, and eat and drink.
However, you have brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be
able to think properly."

They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they
found a little spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and
bathed and ate her breakfast. She saw there was not much bread
left in the basket, and the girl was thankful the Scarecrow did
not have to eat anything, for there was scarcely enough for
herself and Toto for the day.

When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the
road of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan near by.

"What was that?" she asked timidly.

"I cannot imagine," replied the Scarecrow; "but we can go and see."

Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound
seemed to come from behind them. They turned and walked through
the forest a few steps, when Dorothy discovered something shining
in a ray of sunshine that fell between the trees. She ran to the
place and then stopped short, with a little cry of surprise.

One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and
standing beside it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man
made entirely of tin. His head and arms and legs were jointed
upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could
not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow,
while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which
hurt his teeth.

"Did you groan?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes," answered the tin man, "I did. I've been groaning for more
than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me."

"What can I do for you?" she inquired softly, for she was
moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke.

"Get an oil-can and oil my joints," he answered. "They are
rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled
I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a
shelf in my cottage."

Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can,
and then she returned and asked anxiously, "Where are your joints?"

"Oil my neck, first," replied the Tin Woodman. So she oiled it,
and as it was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin
head and moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely,
and then the man could turn it himself.

"Now oil the joints in my arms," he said. And Dorothy oiled
them and the Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite
free from rust and as good as new.

The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his
axe, which he leaned against the tree.

"This is a great comfort," he said. "I have been holding that
axe in the air ever since I rusted, and I'm glad to be able to put
it down at last. Now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, I
shall be all right once more."

So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he
thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very
polite creature, and very grateful.

"I might have stood there always if you had not come along," he said;
"so you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be here?"

"We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,"
she answered, "and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night."

"Why do you wish to see Oz?" he asked.

"I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants
him to put a few brains into his head," she replied.

The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said:

"Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?"

"Why, I guess so," Dorothy answered. "It would be as easy as
to give the Scarecrow brains."

"True," the Tin Woodman returned. "So, if you will allow me
to join your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz
to help me."

"Come along," said the Scarecrow heartily, and Dorothy added
that she would be pleased to have his company. So the Tin Woodman
shouldered his axe and they all passed through the forest until
they came to the road that was paved with yellow brick.

The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket.
"For," he said, "if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again,
I would need the oil-can badly."

It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the
party, for soon after they had begun their journey again they came
to a place where the trees and branches grew so thick over the
road that the travelers could not pass. But the Tin Woodman set
to work with his axe and chopped so well that soon he cleared a
passage for the entire party.

Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that
she did not notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and
rolled over to the side of the road. Indeed he was obliged to
call to her to help him up again.

"Why didn't you walk around the hole?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"I don't know enough," replied the Scarecrow cheerfully.
"My head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am
going to Oz to ask him for some brains."

"Oh, I see," said the Tin Woodman. "But, after all, brains
are not the best things in the world."

"Have you any?" inquired the Scarecrow.

"No, my head is quite empty," answered the Woodman.
"But once I had brains, and a heart also; so, having tried
them both, I should much rather have a heart."

"And why is that?" asked the Scarecrow.

"I will tell you my story, and then you will know."

So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woodman
told the following story:

"I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the
forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I too became
a woodchopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother
as long as she lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living
alone I would marry, so that I might not become lonely.

"There was one of the Munchkin girls who was so beautiful
that I soon grew to love her with all my heart. She, on her part,
promised to marry me as soon as I could earn enough money to
build a better house for her; so I set to work harder than ever.
But the girl lived with an old woman who did not want her to marry
anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to remain with her
and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman went to
the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow
if she would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch
enchanted my axe, and when I was chopping away at my best one day,
for I was anxious to get the new house and my wife as soon as
possible, the axe slipped all at once and cut off my left leg.

"This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a
one-legged man could not do very well as a wood-chopper. So I
went to a tinsmith and had him make me a new leg out of tin. The
leg worked very well, once I was used to it. But my action
angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she had promised the old
woman I should not marry the pretty Munchkin girl. When I began
chopping again, my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. Again I
went to the tinsmith, and again he made me a leg out of tin.
After this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the
other; but, nothing daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones.
The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and
at first I thought that was the end of me. But the tinsmith
happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin.

"I thought I had beaten the Wicked Witch then, and I worked
harder than ever; but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be.
She thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful
Munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip again, so that it cut right
through my body, splitting me into two halves. Once more the
tinsmith came to my help and made me a body of tin, fastening my
tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that I
could move around as well as ever. But, alas! I had now no
heart, so that I lost all my love for the Munchkin girl, and did
not care whether I married her or not. I suppose she is still
living with the old woman, waiting for me to come after her.

"My body shone so brightly in the sun that I felt very proud
of it and it did not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could
not cut me. There was only one danger--that my joints would
rust; but I kept an oil-can in my cottage and took care to oil
myself whenever I needed it. However, there came a day when I
forgot to do this, and, being caught in a rainstorm, before I
thought of the danger my joints had rusted, and I was left to
stand in the woods until you came to help me. It was a terrible
thing to undergo, but during the year I stood there I had time to
think that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my heart.
While I was in love I was the happiest man on earth; but no one
can love who has not a heart, and so I am resolved to ask Oz to
give me one. If he does, I will go back to the Munchkin maiden
and marry her."

Both Dorothy and the Scarecrow had been greatly interested
in the story of the Tin Woodman, and now they knew why he was so
anxious to get a new heart.

"All the same," said the Scarecrow, "I shall ask for brains
instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a
heart if he had one."

"I shall take the heart," returned the Tin Woodman; "for
brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing
in the world."

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know
which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could
only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much
whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart,
or each got what he wanted.

What worried her most was that the bread was nearly gone, and
another meal for herself and Toto would empty the basket. To be sure
neither the Woodman nor the Scarecrow ever ate anything, but she was
not made of tin nor straw, and could not live unless she was fed.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter One, Part 3:

Heidi: Chapter One, Part 3.

Deta waited about ten minutes to see if the children were coming up
behind with the goats. As she could not find them anywhere, she
climbed up a little higher to get a better view down the valley from
there, and peered from side to side with marks of great impatience on
her countenance.

The children in the meantime were ascending slowly in a zigzag way,
Peter always knowing where to find all sorts of good grazing places
for his goats where they could nibble. Thus they strayed from side to
side. The poor little girl had followed the boy only with the greatest
effort and she was panting in her heavy clothes. She was so hot and
uncomfortable that she only climbed by exerting all her strength. She
did not say anything but looked enviously at Peter, who jumped about
so easily in his light trousers and bare feet. She envied even more
the goats that climbed over bushes, stones, and steep inclines with
their slender legs. Suddenly sitting down on the ground the child
swiftly took off her shoes and stockings. Getting up she undid the
heavy shawl and the two little dresses. Out she slipped without more
ado and stood up in only a light petticoat. In sheer delight at the
relief, she threw up her dimpled arms, that were bare up to her short
sleeves. To save the trouble of carrying them, her aunt had dressed
her in her Sunday clothes over her workday garments. Heidi arranged
her dresses neatly in a heap and joined Peter and the goats. She was
now as light-footed as any of them. When Peter, who had not paid much
attention, saw her suddenly in her light attire, he grinned. Looking
back, he saw the little heap of dresses on the ground and then he
grinned yet more, till his mouth seemed to reach from ear to ear; but
he said never a word.

The child, feeling free and comfortable, started to converse with
Peter, and he had to answer many questions. She asked him how many
goats he had, and where he led them, what he did with them when he got
there, and so forth.

At last the children reached the summit in front of the hut. When Deta
saw the little party of climbers she cried out shrilly: "Heidi, what
have you done? What a sight you are! Where are your dresses and your
shawl? Are the new shoes gone that I just bought for you, and the new
stockings that I made myself? Where are they all, Heidi?"

The child quietly pointed down and said "There."

The aunt followed the direction of her finger and descried a little
heap with a small red dot in the middle, which she recognized as the
shawl.

"Unlucky child!" Deta said excitedly. "What does all this mean? Why
have you taken your things all off?"

"Because I do not need them," said the child, not seeming in the least
repentant of her deed.

"How can you be so stupid, Heidi? Have you lost your senses?" the aunt
went on, in a tone of mingled vexation and reproach. "Who do you think
will go way down there to fetch those things up again? It is
half-an-hour's walk. Please, Peter, run down and get them. Do not
stand and stare at me as if you were glued to the spot."

"I am late already," replied Peter, and stood without moving from the
place where, with his hands in his trousers' pockets, he had witnessed
the violent outbreak of Heidi's aunt.

"There you are, standing and staring, but that won't get you further,"
said Deta. "I'll give you this if you go down." With that she held a
five-penny-piece under his eyes. That made Peter start and in a great
hurry he ran down the straightest path. He arrived again in so short a
time that Deta had to praise him and gave him her little coin without
delay. He did not often get such a treasure, and therefore his face
was beaming and he laughingly dropped the money deep into his pocket.

"If you are going up to the uncle, as we are, you can carry the pack
till we get there," said Deta. They still had to climb a steep ascent
that lay behind Peter's hut. The boy readily took the things and
followed Deta, his left arm holding the bundle and his right swinging
the stick. Heidi jumped along gaily by his side with the goats.

After three quarters of an hour they reached the height where the hut
of the old man stood on a prominent rock, exposed to every wind, but
bathed in the full sunlight. From there you could gaze far down into
the valley. Behind the hut stood three old fir-trees with great shaggy
branches. Further back the old grey rocks rose high and sheer. Above
them you could see green and fertile pastures, till at last the stony
boulders reached the bare, steep cliffs.

Overlooking the valley the uncle had made himself a bench, by the side
of the hut. Here he sat, with his pipe between his teeth and both
hands resting on his knees. He quietly watched the children climbing
up with the goats and Aunt Deta behind them, for the children had
caught up to her long ago. Heidi reached the top first, and
approaching the old man she held out her hand to him and said: "Good
evening, grandfather!"

"Well, well, what does that mean?" replied the old man in a rough
voice. Giving her his hand for only a moment, he watched her with a
long and penetrating look from under his bushy brows. Heidi gazed back
at him with an unwinking glance and examined him with much curiosity,
for he was strange to look at, with his thick, grey beard and shaggy
eyebrows, that met in the middle like a thicket.

Heidi's aunt had arrived in the meantime with Peter, who was eager to
see what was going to happen.

"Good-day to you, uncle," said Deta as she approached. "This is
Tobias's and Adelheid's child. You won't be able to remember her,
because last time you saw her she was scarcely a year old."

"Why do you bring her here?" asked the uncle, and turning to Peter he
said: "Get away and bring my goats. How late you are already!"

Peter obeyed and disappeared on the spot; the uncle had looked at him
in such a manner that he was glad to go.

"Uncle, I have brought the little girl for you to keep," said Deta. "I
have done my share these last four years and now it is your turn to
provide for her."

The old man's eyes flamed with anger. "Indeed!" he said. "What on
earth shall I do, when she begins to whine and cry for you? Small
children always do, and then I'll be helpless."

"You'll have to look out for that!" Deta retorted. "When the little
baby was left in my hands a few years ago, I had to find out how to
care for the little innocent myself and nobody told me anything. I
already had mother on my hands and there was plenty for me to do. You
can't blame me if I want to earn some money now. If you can't keep the
child, you can do with her whatever you please. If she comes to harm
you are responsible and I am sure you do not want to burden your
conscience any further."

Deta had said more in her excitement than she had intended, just
because her conscience was not quite clear. The uncle had risen during
her last words and now he gave her such a look that she retreated a
few steps. Stretching out his arm in a commanding gesture, he said to
her: "Away with you! Begone! Stay wherever you came from and don't
venture soon again into my sight!"

Deta did not have to be told twice. She said "Good-bye" to Heidi and
"Farewell" to the uncle, and started down the mountain. Like steam her
excitement seemed to drive her forward, and she ran down at a
tremendous rate. The people in the village called to her now more than
they had on her way up, because they all were wondering where she had
left the child. They were well acquainted with both and knew their
history. When she heard from door and windows: "Where is the child?"
"Where have you left her, Deta?" and so forth, she answered more and
more reluctantly: "Up with the Alm-Uncle,--with the Alm-Uncle!" She
became much provoked because the women called to her from every side:
"How could you do it?" "The poor little creature!" "The idea of
leaving such a helpless child up there!" and, over and over again:
"The poor little dear!" Deta ran as quickly as she could and was glad
when she heard no more calls, because, to tell the truth, she herself
was uneasy. Her mother had asked her on her deathbed to care for
Heidi. But she consoled herself with the thought that she would be
able to do more for the child if she could earn some money. She was
very glad to go away from people who interfered in her affairs, and
looked forward with great delight to her new place.
(End of Chapter 1)