The Tin Woodman was usually
a peaceful man, but when occasion
required he could fight as fiercely
as a Roman gladiator. So, when
the Jackdaws nearly
knocked him down in their rush of wings, and their sharp beaks and claws
threatened to damage his brilliant plating, the Woodman picked up his axe
and made it whirl swiftly around his head.
But although many were beaten
off in this way, the birds were
so numerous and so brave that
they continued the attack as
furiously as before. Some of
them pecked at the eyes of the
Gump, which hung over the nest
in a helpless condition; but
the Gump's eyes were of glass
and could not be injured. Others
of the Jackdaws rushed at the
Saw-Horse; but that animal, being
still upon his back, kicked out
so viciously with his wooden
legs that he beat off as many
assailants as did the Woodman's
axe.
Finding themselves thus opposed,
the birds fell upon the Scarecrow's
straw, which lay at the center
of the nest, covering Tip and
the Woggle-Bug and Jack's pumpkin
head, and began tearing it away
and flying off with it, only
to let it drop, straw by straw
into the great gulf beneath.
The Scarecrow's head, noting
with dismay this wanton destruction
of his interior, cried to the
Tin Woodman to save him; and
that good friend responded with
renewed energy. His axe fairly
flashed among the Jackdaws, and
fortunately the Gump began wildly
waving the two wings remaining
on the left side of its body.
The flutter of these great wings
filled the Jackdaws with terror,
and when the Gump by its exertions
freed itself from the peg of
rock on which it hung, and sank
flopping into the nest, the alarm
of the birds knew no bounds and
they fled screaming over the
mountains.
When the last foe had disappeared,
Tip crawled from under the sofas
and assisted the Woggle-Bug to
follow him.
"We are saved!" shouted
the boy, delightedly.
"We are, indeed!" responded
the Educated Insect, fairly hugging
the stiff head of the Gump in
his joy. "and we owe it all to
the flopping of the Thing, and
the good axe of the Woodman!"
"If I am saved, get me out
of here!" called Jack; whose
head was still beneath the sofas;
and Tip managed to roll the pumpkin
out and place it upon its neck
again. He also set the Saw-Horse
upright, and said to it:
"We
owe you many
thanks for
the gallant
fight you made."
"I really think we have escaped
very nicely," remarked the Tin
Woodman, in a tone of pride.
"Not so!" exclaimed
a hollow voice.
At this they all turned in
surprise to look at the Scarecrow's
head, which lay at the back of
the nest.
"I am completely ruined!" declared
the Scarecrow, as he noted their
astonishment. "For where is the
straw that stuffs my body?"
The awful question startled
them all. They gazed around the
nest with horror, for not a vestige
of straw remained. The Jackdaws
had stolen it to the last wisp
and flung it all into the chasm
that yawned for hundreds of feet
beneath the nest.
"My poor, poor friend!" said
the Tin Woodman, taking up the
Scarecrow's head and caressing
it tenderly; "whoever could imagine
you would come to this untimely
end?"
"I did it to save my friends," returned
the head; "and I am glad that
I perished in so noble and unselfish
a manner."
"But why are you all so despondent?" inquired
the Woggle-Bug. "The Scarecrow's
clothing is still safe."
"Yes," answered the Tin Woodman; "but
our friend's clothes are useless
without stuffing."
"Why not stuff him with money?" asked
Tip.
"Money!" they
all cried,
in an amazed
chorus.
"To be sure," said the boy. "In
the bottom of the nest are thousands
of dollar bills -- and two-dollar
bills -- and five-dollar bills
-- and tens, and twenties, and
fifties. There are enough of
them to stuff a dozen Scarecrows.
Why not use the money?"
The Tin Woodman began to turn
over the rubbish with the handle
of his axe; and, sure enough,
what they had first thought only
worthless papers were found to
be all bills of various denominations,
which the mischievous Jackdaws
had for years been engaged in
stealing from the villages and
cities they visited.
There was an immense fortune
lying in that inaccessible nest;
and Tip's suggestion was, with
the Scarecrow's consent, quickly
acted upon.
They selected all the newest
and cleanest bills and assorted
them into various piles. The
Scarecrow's left leg and boot
were stuffed with five- dollar
bills; his right leg was stuffed
with ten-dollar bills, and his
body so closely filled with fifties,
one-hundreds and one-thousands
that he could scarcely button
his jacket with comfort.
"You are now" said the Woggle-Bug,
impressively, when the task had
been completed, "the most valuable
member of our party; and as you
are among faithful friends there
is little danger of your being
spent."
"Thank you," returned the Scarecrow,
gratefully. "I feel like a new
man; and although at first glance
I might be mistaken for a Safety
Deposit Vault, I beg you to remember
that my Brains are still composed
of the same old material. And
these are the possessions that
have always made me a person
to be depended upon in an emergency."
"Well, the emergency is here," observed
Tip; "and unless your brains
help us out of it we shall be
compelled to pass the remainder
of our lives in this nest."
"How about these wishing pills?" enquired
the Scarecrow, taking the box
from his jacket pocket. "Can't
we use them to escape?"
"Not unless we can count seventeen
by twos," answered the Tin Woodman. "But
our friend the Woggle-Bug claims
to be highly educated, so he
ought easily to figure out how
that can be done."
"It isn't a question of education," returned
the Insect; "it's merely a question
of mathematics. I've seen the
professor work lots of sums on
the blackboard, and he claimed
anything could be done with x's
and y's and a's, and such things,
by mixing them up with plenty
of plusses and minuses and equals,
and so forth. But he never said
anything, so far as I can remember,
about counting up to the odd
number of seventeen by the even
numbers of twos."
"Stop! stop!" cried the Pumpkinhead. "You're
making my head ache."
"And mine," added the Scarecrow. "Your
mathematics seem to me very like
a bottle of mixed pickles the
more you fish for what you want
the less chance you have of getting
it. I am certain that if the
thing can be accomplished at
all, it is in a very simple manner."
"Yes," said Tip. "old
Mombi couldn't
use x's and
minuses,
for she never went to school."
"Why not start counting at
a half of one?" asked the Saw-Horse,
abruptly. "Then anyone can count
up to seventeen by twos very
easily."
They looked at each other in
surprise, for the Saw-Horse was
considered the most stupid of
the entire party.
"You make me quite ashamed
of myself," said the Scarecrow,
bowing low to the Saw-Horse.
"Nevertheless, the creature
is right," declared the Woggle-Bug;
for twice one-half is one, and
if you get to one it is easy
to count from one up to seventeen
by twos."
"I wonder I didn't think of
that myself," said the Pumpkinhead.
"I don't," returned the Scarecrow. "You're
no wiser than the rest of us,
are you? But let us make a wish
at once. Who will swallow the
first pill?"
"Suppose you do it," suggested
Tip.
"I can't," said
the Scarecrow.
"Why not? You've a mouth, haven't
you?" asked the boy.
"Yes; but my mouth is painted
on, and there's no swallow connected
with it,' answered the Scarecrow. "In
fact," he continued, looking
from one to another critically, "I
believe the boy and the Woggle-Bug
are the only ones in our party
that are able to swallow."
Observing the truth of this
remark, Tip said:
"Then
I will undertake
to make the
first wish.
Give me one
of
the Silver Pills."
This the Scarecrow tried to
do; but his padded gloves were
too clumsy to clutch so small
an object, and he held the box
toward the boy while Tip selected
one of the pills and swallowed
it.
"Count!" cried
the Scarecrow.
"One-half, one, three, five,
seven, nine, eleven,!" counted
Tip. thirteen, fifteen, seventeen.
"Now wish!" said
the Tin Woodman
anxiously:
But Just then the boy began
to suffer such fearful pains
that he became alarmed.
"The pill has poisoned me!" he
gasped; "O -- h! O-o-o-o-o! Ouch!
Murder! Fire! O-o-h!" and here
he rolled upon the bottom of
the nest in such contortions
that he frightened them all.
"What can we do for you. Speak,
I beg!" entreated the Tin Woodman,
tears of sympathy running down
his nickel cheeks.
"I -- I don't know!" answered
Tip. "O -- h! I wish I'd never
swallowed that pill!"
Then at once the pain stopped,
and the boy rose to his feet
again and found the Scarecrow
looking with amazement at the
end of the pepper-box.
"What's happened?" asked
the boy, a
little ashamed
of his
recent exhibition.
"Why, the three pills are in
the box again!" said the Scarecrow.
"Of course they are," the Woggle-Bug
declared. "Didn't Tip wish that
he'd never swallowed one of them?
Well, the wish came true, and
he didn't swallow one of them.
So of course they are all three
in the box."
"That may be; but the pill
gave me a dreadful pain, just
the same," said the boy.
"Impossible!" declared the
Woggle-Bug. "If you have never
swallowed it, the pill can not
have given you a pain. And as
your wish, being granted, proves
you did not swallow the pill,
it is also plain that you suffered
no pain."
"Then it was a splendid imitation
of a pain," retorted Tip, angrily. "Suppose
you try the next pill yourself.
We've wasted one wish already."
"Oh, no, we haven't!" protested
the Scarecrow. "Here are still
three pills in the box, and each
pill is good for a wish."
"Now you're making my head
ache," said Tip. "I can't understand
the thing at all. But I won't
take another pill, I promise
you!" and with this remark he
retired sulkily to the back of
the nest.
"Well," said the Woggle-Bug, "it
remains for me to save us in
my most Highly Magnified and
Thoroughly Educated manner; for
I seem to be the only one able
and willing to make a wish. Let
me have one of the pills."
He swallowed it without hesitation,
and they all stood admiring his
courage while the Insect counted
seventeen by twos in the same
way that Tip had done. And for
some reason -- perhaps because
Woggle-Bugs have stronger stomachs
than boys -- the silver pellet
caused it no pain whatever.
"I wish the Gump's broken wings
mended, and as good as new!" said
the Woggle-Bug, in a slow; impressive
voice.
All turned to look at the Thing,
and so quickly had the wish been
granted that the Gump lay before
them in perfect repair, and as
well able to fly through the
air as when it had first been
brought to life on the roof of
the palace.
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