Tip
was well soaked and dripping
water from every angle of his
body. But he managed to lean
forward and shout in the ear
of the Saw-Horse:
"Keep
still, you
fool! Keep
still!"
The horse at once ceased struggling
and floated calmly upon the surface,
its wooden body being as buoyant
as a raft.
"What does that word 'fool'
mean?" enquired the horse.
"It is a term of reproach," answered
Tip, somewhat ashamed of the
expression. "I only use it when
I am angry."
"Then it pleases me to be able
to call you a fool, in return," said
the horse. "For I did not make
the river, nor put it in our
way; so only a term of, reproach
is fit for one who becomes angry
with me for falling into the
water."
"That is quite evident," replied
Tip; "so I will acknowledge myself
in the wrong." Then he called
out to the Pumpkinhead: "are
you all right, Jack?"
There
was no reply.
So the boy
called to the
King "are
you all right,
your majesty?"
The Scarecrow groaned.
"I'm all wrong, somehow," he
said, in a weak voice. "How very
wet this water is!"
Tip was bound so tightly by
the cord that he could not turn
his head to look at his companions;
so he said to the Saw-Horse:
"Paddle
with your legs
toward the
shore."
The horse obeyed, and although
their progress was slow they
finally reached the opposite
river bank at a place where it
was low enough to enable the
creature to scramble upon dry
land.
With some difficulty the boy
managed to get his knife out
of his pocket and cut the cords
that bound the riders to one
another and to the wooden horse.
He heard the Scarecrow fall to
the ground with a mushy sound,
and then he himself quickly dismounted
and looked at his friend Jack.
The wooden body, with its gorgeous
clothing, still sat upright upon
the horse's back; but the pumpkin
head was gone, and only the sharpened
stick that served for a neck
was visible. As for the Scarecrow,
the straw in his body had shaken
down with the jolting and packed
itself into his legs and the
lower part of his body -- which
appeared very plump and round
while his upper half seemed like
an empty sack. Upon his head
the Scarecrow still wore the
heavy crown, which had been sewed
on to prevent his losing it;
but the head was now so damp
and limp that the weight of the
gold and jewels sagged forward
and crushed the painted face
into a mass of wrinkles that
made him look exactly like a
Japanese pug dog.
Tip would have laughed -- had
he not been so anxious about
his man Jack. But the Scarecrow,
however damaged, was all there,
while the pumpkin head that was
so necessary to Jack's existence
was missing; so the boy seized
a long pole that fortunately
lay near at hand and anxiously
turned again toward the river.
Far out upon the waters he
sighted the golden hue of the
pumpkin, which gently bobbed
up and down with the motion of
the waves. At that moment it
was quite out of Tip's reach,
but after a time it floated nearer
and still nearer until the boy
was able to reach it with his
pole and draw it to the shore.
Then he brought it to the top
of the bank, carefully wiped
the water from its pumpkin face
with his handkerchief, and ran
with it to Jack and replaced
the head upon the man's neck.
"Dear me!" were Jack's first
words. "What a dreadful experience!
I wonder if water is liable to
spoil pumpkins?"
Tip did not think a reply was
necessary, for he knew that the
Scarecrow also stood in need
of his help. So he carefully
removed the straw from the King's
body and legs, and spread it
out in the sun to dry. The wet
clothing he hung over the body
of the Saw-Horse.
"If water spoils pumpkins," observed
Jack, with a deep sigh, "then
my days are numbered."
"I've never noticed that water
spoils pumpkins," returned Tip; "unless
the water happens to be boiling.
If your head isn't cracked, my
friend, you must be in fairly
good condition."
"Oh, my head isn't cracked
in the least," declared Jack,
more cheerfully.
"Then don't worry," retorted
the boy. "Care once killed a
cat."
"Then," said Jack, seriously, "I
am very glad indeed that I am
not a cat."
The sun was fast drying their
clothing, and Tip stirred up
his Majesty's straw so that the
warm rays might absorb the moisture
and make it as crisp and dry
as ever. When this had been accomplished
he stuffed the Scarecrow into
symmetrical shape and smoothed
out his face so that he wore
his usual gay and charming expression.
"Thank you very much," said
the monarch, brightly, as he
walked about and found himself
to be well balanced. "There are
several distinct advantages in
being a Scarecrow. For if one
has friends near at hand to repair
damages, nothing very serious
can happen to you."
"I wonder if hot sunshine is
liable to crack pumpkins," said
Jack, with an anxious ring in
his voice.
"Not at all -- not at all!" replied
the Scarecrow, gaily." All you
need fear, my boy, is old age.
When your golden youth has decayed
we shall quickly part company
-- but you needn't look forward
to it; we'll discover the fact
ourselves, and notify you. But
come! Let us resume our journey.
I am anxious to greet my friend
the Tin Woodman."
So they remounted the Saw-Horse,
Tip holding to the post, the
Pumpkinhead clinging to Tip,
and the Scarecrow with both arms
around the wooden form of Jack.
"Go slowly, for now there is
no danger of pursuit," said Tip
to his steed.
"All right!" responded
the creature,
in a voice
rather gruff.
"Aren't you a little hoarse?" asked
the Pumpkinhead politely.
The Saw-Horse gave an angry
prance and rolled one knotty
eye backward toward Tip.
"See here," he growled, "can't
you protect me from insult?"
"To be sure!" answered Tip,
soothingly. "I am sure Jack meant
no harm. And it will not do for
us to quarrel, you know; we must
all remain good friends."
"I'll have nothing more to
do with that Pumpkinhead," declared
the Saw- Horse, viciously. "he
loses his head too easily to
suit me."
There seemed no fitting reply
to this speech, so for a time
they rode along in silence.
After a while the Scarecrow
remarked:
"This
reminds me
of old times.
It was upon this grassy knoll
that I once saved Dorothy from
the Stinging Bees of the Wicked
Witch of the West."
"Do Stinging Bees injure pumpkins?" asked
Jack, glancing around fearfully.
"They are all dead, so it doesn't
matter," replied the Scarecrow." And
here is where Nick Chopper destroyed
the Wicked Witch's Grey Wolves."
"Who was Nick Chopper?" asked
Tip.
"That is the name of my friend
the Tin Woodman, answered his
Majesty. And here is where the
Winged Monkeys captured and bound
us, and flew away with little
Dorothy," he continued, after
they had traveled a little way
farther.
"Do Winged Monkeys ever eat
pumpkins?" asked Jack, with a
shiver of fear.
"I do not know; but you have
little cause to, worry, for the
Winged Monkeys are now the slaves
of Glinda the Good, who owns
the Golden Cap that commands
their services," said the Scarecrow,
reflectively.
Then the stuffed monarch became
lost in thought recalling the
days of past adventures. And
the Saw-Horse rocked and rolled
over the flower-strewn fields
and carried its riders swiftly
upon their way.
* * * * * * * * *
Twilight fell, bye and bye,
and then the dark shadows of
night. So Tip stopped the horse
and they all proceeded to dismount.
"I'm tired out," said the boy,
yawning wearily; "and the grass
is soft and cool. Let us lie
down here and sleep until morning."
"I can't sleep," said
Jack.
"I never do," said
the Scarecrow.
"I do not even know what sleep
is," said the Saw-Horse.
"Still, we must have consideration
for this poor boy, who is made
of flesh and blood and bone,
and gets tired," suggested the
Scarecrow, in his usual thoughtful
manner. "I remember it was the
same way with little Dorothy.
We always had to sit through
the night while she slept."
"I'm sorry," said Tip, meekly, "but
I can't help it. And I'm dreadfully
hungry, too!"
"Here is a new danger!" remarked
Jack, gloomily. "I hope you are
not fond of eating pumpkins."
"Not unless they're stewed
and made into pies," answered
the boy, laughing. "So have no
fears of me, friend Jack."
"What a coward that Pumpkinhead
is!" said the Saw-Horse, scornfully.
"You might be a coward yourself,
if you knew you were liable to
spoil!" retorted Jack, angrily.
"There! -- there!" interrupted
the Scarecrow; "don't let us
quarrel. We all have our weaknesses,
dear friends; so we must strive
to be considerate of one another.
And since this poor boy is hungry
and has nothing whatever to eat,
let us all remain quiet and allow
him to sleep; for it is said
that in sleep a mortal may forget
even hunger."
"Thank you!" exclaimed Tip,
gratefully. "Your Majesty is
fully as good as you are wise
-- and that is saying a good
deal!"
He then stretched himself upon
the grass and, using the stuffed
form of the Scarecrow for a pillow,
was presently fast asleep.
|