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Путешествие в страну Оз

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Предлагаем вниманию читателей продолжение знаменитой сказки Лаймена Фрэнка Баума (1856-1919) «Волшебник из страны Оз», знакомой читателям во всем мире. Книга адресована всем любителям англоязычной литературы.
Баум, Л.Ф. Путешествие в Страну Оз : книга для чтения на английском языке : худож. литература / Л. Ф. Баум. - Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2016. - 224 с. - (Classical Literature). - ISBN 978-5-9925-1118-5. - Текст : электронный. - URL: https://znanium.com/catalog/product/1046771 (дата обращения: 27.04.2024). – Режим доступа: по подписке.
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УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
 
Б29

ISBN 978-5-9925-1118-5

 
Баум, Лаймен Фрэнк.
Б29 
Путешествие в Страну Оз : книга для чтения на английском языке. — Санкт-Петербург : 
КАРО, 2016. — 224 с. — (Classical Literature).

ISBN 978-5-9925-1118-5.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей продолжение знаменитой сказки Лаймена Фрэнка Баума (1856–1919) «Волшебник из страны Оз», знакомой читателям во всем мире.
Книга адресована всем любителям англоязычной литературы.

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2016

To My Readers

Well, my dears, here is what you have asked for: 
another “Oz Book” about Dorothy’s strange adventures. 
Toto is in this story, because you wanted him to be there, 
and many other characters which you will recognize 
are in the story, too. Indeed, the wishes of my little 
correspondents have been considered as carefully as 
possible, and if the story is not exactly as you would have 
written it yourselves, you must remember that a story has 
to be a story before it can be written down, and the writer 
cannot change it much without spoil ing it.
In the preface to “Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz” I 
said I would like to write some stories that were not “Oz” 
stories, because I thought I had written about Oz long 
enough; but since that volume was published I have been 
fairly deluged with letters1 from children imploring me 
to “write more about Dorothy,” and “more about Oz,” 
and since I write only to please the children I shall try to 
respect their wishes.

1 I have been fairly deluged with letters — (разг.) 
меня просто забросали письмами

Th ere are some new characters in this book that ought 
to win your live. I’m very fond of the shaggy man myself, 
and I think you will like him, too. As for Polychrome — 
the Rainbow’s Daughter — and stupid little ButtonBright, they seem to have brought a new element of fun 
into these Oz stories, and I am glad I discovered them. 
Yet I am anxious to have you write and tell me how you 
like them.
Since this book was written I have received some 
very remarkable News from Th e Land of Oz, which has 
greatly astonished me. I believe it will astonish you, too, 
my dears, when you hear it. But it is such a long and 
exciting story that it must be saved for another book — 
and perhaps that book will be the last story that will ever 
be told about the Land of Oz.

L. FRANK BAUM
Coronado, 1909.

1

The Way to Butterfield

 “Please, miss,” said the shaggy man, “can you 
tell me the road to Butterfi eld?”
Dorothy looked him over. Yes, he was shaggy, 
all right, but there was a twinkle in his eye that 
seemed pleasant.
“Oh yes,” she replied; “I can tell you. But it isn’t 
this road at all.”
“No?”
“You cross the ten-acre lot, follow the lane to the 
highway, go north to the fi ve branches, and take — 
let me see —”
“To be sure, miss; see as far as Butterfi eld, if you 
like,” said the shaggy man.
“You take the branch next the willow stump, I 
b’lieve; or else the branch by the gopher holes; or 
else —”
“Won’t any of ’em do, miss?”
“’course not, Shaggy Man. You must take the 
right road to get to Butterfi eld.”
“And is that the one by the gopher stump, or —”

“Dear me!” cried Dorothy. “I shall have to show 
you the way, you’re so stupid. Wait a minute till I 
run in the house and get my sun-bonnet.”
Th e shaggy man waited. He had an oat-straw 
in his mouth, which he chewed slowly as if it 
tasted good; but it didn’t. Th ere was an apple-tree 
beside the house, and some apples had fallen to 
the ground. Th e shaggy man thought they would 
taste better than the oat-straw, so he walked over 
to get some. A little black dog with bright brown 
eyes dashed out of the farm-house and ran madly 
toward the shaggy man, who had already picked 
up three apples and put them in one of the big wide 
pockets of his shaggy coat. Th e little dog barked 
and made a dive for the shaggy man’s leg; but he 
grabbed the dog by the neck and put it in his big 
pocket along with the apples. He took more apples, 
aft erward, for many were on the ground; and each 
one that he tossed into his pocket hit the little dog 
somewhere upon the head or back, and made him 
growl. Th e little dog’s name was Toto, and he was 
sorry he had been put in the shaggy man’s pocket.
Pretty soon Dorothy came out of the house with 
her sun-bonnet, and she called out:
“Come on, Shaggy Man, if you want me to show 
you the road to Butterfi eld.” She climbed the fence 

into the ten-acre lot and he followed her, walking 
slowly and stumbling over the little hillocks in the 
pasture as if he was thinking of something else and 
did not notice them.
“My, but you’re clumsy!” said the little girl. “Are 
your feet tired?”
“No, miss; it’s my whiskers; they tire very easily 
in this warm weather,” said he. “I wish it would 
snow, don’t you?”
“’course not, Shaggy Man,” replied Dorothy, 
giving him a severe look. “If it snowed in August 
it would spoil the corn and the oats and the wheat; 
and then Uncle Henry wouldn’t have any crops; 
and that would make him poor; and —”
“Never mind,” said the shaggy man. “It won’t 
snow, I guess. Is this the lane?”
“Yes,” replied Dorothy, climbing another fence; 
“I’ll go as far as the highway with you.”
“Th ankee, miss; you’re very kind for your size, 
I’m sure,” said he gratefully.
“It isn’t everyone who knows the road to Butterfi eld,” Dorothy remarked as she tripped along the 
lane; “but I’ve driven there many a time with Uncle 
Henry, and so I b’lieve I could fi nd it blind folded1.”

1 I could fi nd it blindfolded — (разг.) я могу найти 
дорогу с закрытыми глазами

“Don’t do that, miss,” said the shaggy man 
earnestly; “you might make a mistake.”
“I won’t,” she answered, laughing. “Here’s the 
highway. Now it’s the second — no, the third turn 
to the left  — or else it’s the fourth. Let’s see. Th e 
fi rst one is by the elm tree, and the second is by the 
gopher holes; and then —”
“Th en what?” he inquired, putting his hands in 
his coat pockets. Toto grabbed a fi nger and bit it; 
the shaggy man took his hand out of that pocket 
quickly, and said “Oh!”
Dorothy did not notice. She was shading her 
eyes from the sun with her arm, looking anxiously 
down the road.
“Come on,” she commanded. “It’s only a little 
way farther, so I may as well show you.”
Aft er a while, they came to the place where fi ve 
roads branched in diff erent directions; Dorothy 
pointed to one, and said:
“Th at’s it, Shaggy Man.”
“I’m much obliged, miss,” he said, and started 
along another road.
“Not that one!” she cried; “you’re going wrong1.”
He stopped.

1 you’re going wrong — (разг.) вы идете не туда

“I thought you said that other was the road to 
Butterfi eld,” said he, running his fi ngers through 
his shaggy whiskers in a puzzled way.
“So it is.”
“But I don’t want to go to Butterfi eld, miss.”
“You don’t?”
“Of course not. I wanted you to show me the 
road, so I shouldn’t go there by mistake.”
“Oh! Where DO you want to go, then?”
“I’m not particular1, miss.”
Th is answer astonished the little girl; and it 
made her provoked, too, to think she had taken all 
this trouble for nothing.
“Th ere are a good many roads here,” observed 
the shaggy man, turning slowly around, like a 
human windmill. “Seems to me a person could go 
’most anywhere, from this place.”
Dorothy turned around too, and gazed in 
surprise. Th ere WERE a good many roads; more 
than she had ever seen before. She tried to count 
them, knowing there ought to be fi ve, but when she 
had counted seventeen she grew bewildered and 
stopped, for the roads were as many as the spokes 
of a wheel and ran in every direction from the place 

1 I’m not particular — (уст.) Я точно не знаю

where they stood; so if she kept on counting she 
was likely to count some of the roads twice.
“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “Th ere used to be 
only fi ve roads, highway and all. And now — why, 
where’s the highway, Shaggy Man?”
“Can’t say, miss,” he responded, sitting down 
upon the ground as if tired with standing. “Wasn’t 
it here a minute ago?”
“I thought so,” she answered, greatly perplexed. 
“And I saw the gopher holes, too, and the dead 
stump; but they’re not here now. Th ese roads are all 
strange — and what a lot of them there are! Where 
do you suppose they all go to?”
“Roads,” observed the shaggy man, “don’t go 
anywhere. Th ey stay in one place, so folks can walk 
on them.”
He put his hand in his side-pocket and drew 
out an apple — quick, before Toto could bite him 
again. Th e little dog got his head out this time and 
said “Bow-wow!” so loudly that it made Dorothy 
jump.
“O, Toto!” she cried; “where did you come from?”
“I brought him along,” said the shaggy man.
“What for?” she asked.
“To guard these apples in my pocket, miss, so 
no one would steal them.”

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