FANTASTICAL ADVENTURES – L. Frank Baum Edition (Childhood Essentials Library). Лаймен Фрэнк Баум

waited in patient silence while the Scarecrow walked to a corner and stood with his face to the wall for a good five minutes. At the end of that time he faced them with a more cheerful expression upon his painted face.

      “Where is the SawHorse you rode here?” he asked the Pumpkinhead.

      “Why, I said he was a jewel, and so your man locked him up in the royal treasury,” said Jack.

      “It was the only place I could think of your Majesty,” added the Soldier, fearing he had made a blunder.

      “It pleases me very much,” said the Scarecrow. “Has the animal been fed?”

      “Oh, yes; I gave him a heaping peck of sawdust.”

      “Excellent!” cried the Scarecrow. “Bring the horse here at once.”

      The Soldier hastened away, and presently they heard the clattering of the horse’s wooden legs upon the pavement as he was led into the courtyard.

      His Majesty regarded the steed critically. “He doesn’t seem especially graceful!” he remarked, musingly. “but I suppose he can run?”

      “He can, indeed,” said Tip, gazing upon the SawHorse admiringly.

      “Then, bearing us upon his back, he must make a dash through the ranks of the rebels and carry us to my friend the Tin Woodman,” announced the Scarecrow.

      “He can’t carry four!” objected Tip.

      “No, but he may be induced to carry three,” said his Majesty. “I shall therefore leave my Royal Army Behind. For, from the ease with which he was conquered, I have little confidence in his powers.”

      “Still, he can run,” declared Tip, laughing.

      “I expected this blow” said the Soldier, sulkily; “but I can bear it. I shall disguise myself by cutting off my lovely green whiskers. And, after all, it is no more dangerous to face those reckless girls than to ride this fiery, untamed wooden horse!”

      “Perhaps you are right,” observed his Majesty. “But, for my part, not being a soldier, I am fond of danger. Now, my boy, you must mount first. And please sit as close to the horse’s neck as possible.”

      Tip climbed quickly to his place, and the Soldier and the Scarecrow managed to hoist the Pumpkinhead to a seat just behind him. There remained so little space for the King that he was liable to fall off as soon as the horse started.

      “Fetch a clothesline,” said the King to his Army, “and tie us all together. Then if one falls off we will all fall off.”

      And while the Soldier was gone for the clothesline his Majesty continued, “it is well for me to be careful, for my very existence is in danger.”

      “I have to be as careful as you do,” said Jack.

      “Not exactly,” replied the Scarecrow. “for if anything happened to me, that would be the end of me. But if anything happened to you, they could use you for seed.”

      The Soldier now returned with a long line and tied all three firmly together, also lashing them to the body of the SawHorse; so there seemed little danger of their tumbling off.

      “Now throw open the gates,” commanded the Scarecrow, “and we will make a dash to liberty or to death.”

      The courtyard in which they were standing was located in the center of the great palace, which surrounded it on all sides. But in one place a passage led to an outer gateway, which the Soldier had barred by order of his sovereign. It was through this gateway his Majesty proposed to escape, and the Royal Army now led the SawHorse along the passage and unbarred the gate, which swung backward with a loud crash.

      “Now,” said Tip to the horse, “you must save us all. Run as fast as you can for the gate of the City, and don’t let anything stop you.”

      “All right!” answered the SawHorse, gruffly, and dashed away so suddenly that Tip had to gasp for breath and hold firmly to the post he had driven into the creature’s neck.

      Several of the girls, who stood outside guarding the palace, were knocked over by the SawHorse’s mad rush. Others ran screaming out of the way, and only one or two jabbed their knitting-needles frantically at the escaping prisoners. Tip got one small prick in his left arm, which smarted for an hour afterward; but the needles had no effect upon the Scarecrow or Jack Pumpkinhead, who never even suspected they were being prodded.

      As for the SawHorse, he made a wonderful record upsetting a fruit cart, overturning several meek looking men, and finally bowling over the new Guardian of the Gate—a fussy little fat woman appointed by General Jinjur.

      Nor did the impetuous charger stop then. Once outside the walls of the Emerald City he dashed along the road to the West with fast and violent leaps that shook the breath out of the boy and filled the Scarecrow with wonder.

      Jack had ridden at this mad rate once before, so he devoted every effort to holding, with both hands, his pumpkin head upon its stick, enduring meantime the dreadful jolting with the courage of a philosopher.

      “Slow him up! Slow him up!” shouted the Scarecrow. “My straw is all shaking down into my legs.”

      But Tip had no breath to speak, so the SawHorse continued his wild career unchecked and with unabated speed.

      Presently they came to the banks of a wide river, and without a pause the wooden steed gave one final leap and launched them all in mid-air.

      A second later they were rolling, splashing and bobbing about in the water, the horse struggling frantically to find a rest for its feet and its riders being first plunged beneath the rapid current and then floating upon the surface like corks.

      10. The Journey to the Tin Woodman

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      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 SawHorse:

      “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 SawHorse:

      “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