In a
flash he was in the dark. Then he felt himself
gently lifted until he was swaying in the air,
with the folds of the leaf hugging him on all
sides.
At first he struggled hard to escape, crying
out in anger: "Let me go! Let me go!" But
neither struggles nor protests had any effect
whatever. The leaf held him firmly and he was
a prisoner.
Then Ojo quieted himself and tried to think.
Despair fell upon him when he remembered that all
his little party had been captured, even as he
was, and there was none to save them.
"I might have expected it," he sobbed,
miserably. "I'm Ojo the Unlucky, and something
dreadful was sure to happen to me."
He pushed against the leaf that held him and
found it to be soft, but thick and firm. It was
like a great bandage all around him and he
found it difficult to move his body or limbs in
order to change their position.
The minutes passed and became hours. Ojo
wondered how long one could live in such a
condition and if the leaf would gradually sap
his strength and even his life, in order to feed
itself. The little Munchkin boy had never heard
of any person dying in the Land of Oz, but he
knew one could suffer a great deal of pain. His
greatest fear at this time was that he would
always remain imprisoned in the beautiful leaf
and never see the light of day again.
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