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 Sa-wHorse, 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.
Next chapter...
( A Nickel-Plated Emperor )
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