upon the other end to steady it, and they had long poles in their hands
to push the raft through the water.
They got along quite well at first, but when they reached the middle of
the river the swift current swept the raft downstream, farther and
farther away from the road of yellow brick. And the water grew so deep
that the long poles would not touch the bottom.
This is bad, said the Tin Woodman, for if we cannot get to the land
we shall be carried into the country of the Wicked Witch of the West,
and she will enchant us and make us her slaves.
And then I should get no brains, said the Scarecrow.
And I should get no courage, said the Cowardly Lion.
And I should get no heart, said the Tin Woodman.
And I should never get back to Kansas, said Dorothy.
We must certainly get to the Emerald City if we can, the Scarecrow
continued, and he pushed so hard on his long pole that it stuck fast in
the mud at the bottom of the river. Then, before he could pull it out
again or let go the raft was swept away, and the poor Scarecrow was
left clinging to the pole in the middle of the river.
Good-bye! he called after them, and they were very sorry to leave
him. Indeed, the Tin Woodman began to cry, but fortunately remembered
that he might rust, and so dried his tears on Dorothy s apron.
Of course this was a bad thing for the Scarecrow.
I am now worse off than when I first met Dorothy, he thought. Then,
I was stuck on a pole in a cornfield, where I could make-believe scare
the crows, at any rate. But surely there is no use for a Scarecrow
stuck on a pole in the middle of a river. I am afraid I shall never
have any brains, after all!
Down the stream the raft floated, and the poor Scarecrow was left far
behind. Then the Lion said:
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