y, can you do any magic?"

"No, dear," answered Polychrome, shaking her dainty head.

"You ought to know _some_ magic, being the Rainbow's Daughter,"
continued Dorothy, earnestly.

"But we who live on the rainbow among the fleecy clouds have no use for
magic," replied Polychrome.

"What I'd like," said Dorothy, "is to find some way to cross the desert
to the Land of Oz and its Emerald City. I've crossed it already, you
know, more than once. First a cyclone carried my house over, and some
Silver Shoes brought me back again--in half a second. Then Ozma took me
over on her Magic Carpet, and the Nome King's Magic Belt took me home
that time. You see it was magic that did it every time 'cept the first,
and we can't 'spect a cyclone to happen along and take us to the Emerald
City now."

"No, indeed," returned Polly, with a shudder; "I hate cyclones, anyway."

"That's why I wanted to find out if you could do any magic," said the
little Kansas girl. "I'm sure I can't; and I'm sure Button-Bright can't;
and the only magic the shaggy man has is the Love Magnet, which won't
help us much."

"Don't be too sure of that, my dear," spoke the shaggy man, a smile on
his donkey face. "I may not be able to do magic myself, but I can call
to us a powerful friend who loves me because I own the Love Magnet, and
this friend surely will be able to help us."

"Who is your friend?" asked Dorothy.

"Johnny Dooit."

"What can Johnny do?"

"Anything," answered the shaggy man, with confidence.

"Ask him to come," she exclaimed, eagerly.

The shaggy man took the Love Magnet from his pocket and unwrapped the
paper that surrounded it. Holding the charm in the palm of his hand he
looked at it steadily and said these words:

_"Dear Johnny Dooit, come to me._
_I need you bad as bad can be."_

"Well, here I am," said a cheery little voice; "but you shouldn't say
you need me bad, 'cause I'm always, _always_ good."

At this they quickly whirled around to find a funny little man sitting
on a big copper chest, puffing smoke from a long pipe. His hair was
grey, his whiskers were grey; and these whiskers were so long that he
had wound the ends of them around his waist and tied them in a hard knot
underneath the leather apron that reached from his chin nearly to his
feet, and which was soiled and scratched as if it had been used a long
time. His nose was broad, and stuck up a little; but his eyes were
twinkling and merry. The little man