The straw man's appearance on the water was so sudden that it startled
Trot, but Cap'n Bill had the presence of mind to stick his wooden leg
out over the water and the Scarecrow made a desperate clutch and
grabbed the leg with both hands. He managed to hold on until Trot and
Button-Bright knelt down and seized his clothing, but the children
would have been powerless to drag the soaked Scarecrow ashore had not
Cap'n Bill now assisted them. When they laid him on the ledge of rubies
he was the most useless looking Scarecrow you can imagine--his straw
sodden and dripping with water, his clothing wet and crumpled, while
even the sack upon which his face was painted had become so wrinkled
that the old jolly expression of their stuffed friend's features was
entirely gone. But he could still speak, and when Trot bent down her
ear she heard him say:
"Get me out of here as soon as you can."
That seemed a wise thing to do, so Cap'n Bill lifted his head and
shoulders, and Trot and Button-Bright each took a leg; among them they
partly carried and partly dragged the damp Scarecrow out of the Ruby
Cavern, along the tunnel, and up the flight of rock steps. It was
somewhat difficult to get him past the edge of the waterfall, but they
succeeded, after much effort, and a few minutes later laid their poor
comrade on a grassy bank where the sun shone upon him freely and he was
beyond the reach of the spray.
Cap'n Bill now knelt down and examined the straw that the Scarecrow was
stuffed with.
"I don't believe it'll be of much use to him, any more," said he, "for
it's full of polliwogs an' fish eggs, an' the water has took all the
crinkle out o' the straw an ruined it. I guess, Trot, that the best
thing for us to do is to empty out all his body an' carry his head an'
clothes along the road till we come to a field or a house where we can
get some fresh straw."
"Yes, Cap'n," she agreed, "there's nothing else to be done. But how
shall we ever find the road to Glinda's palace, without the Scarecrow
to guide us?"
"That's easy," said the Scarecrow, speaking in a rather feeble but
distinct voice. "If Cap'n Bill will carry my head on his shoulders,
eyes front, I can tell him which way to go."
So they followed that plan and emptied all the old, wet straw out of
the Scarecrow's body. Then the sailor-man wrung out the clothes and
laid them in the sun till they were quite dry. Trot took charge of the
head and pressed the wrinkles out of the face as it dried, so that
after a while the Scarecrow's expression became natural again, and as
jolly as before.
This work consumed some time, but when it was completed they again
started upon their journey, Button-Bright carrying the boots and hat,
Trot the bundle of clothes, and Cap'n Bill the head. The Scarecrow,
having regained his composure and being now in a good humor, despite
his recent mishaps, beguiled their way with stories of the Land of Oz.
It was not until the next morning, however, that they found straw with
which to restuff the Scarecrow. That evening they came to the same
little house they had slept in before, only now it was magically
transferred to a new place. The same bountiful supper as before was
found smoking hot upon the table and the same cosy beds were ready for
them to sleep in.
They rose early and after breakfast went out of doors, and there, lying
just beside the house, was a heap of clean, crisp straw. Ozma had
noticed the Scarecrow's accident in her Magic Picture and had notified
the Wizard to provide the straw, for she knew the adventurers were not
likely to find straw in the country through which they were now
traveling.
They lost no time in stuffing the Scarecrow anew, and he was greatly
delighted at being able to walk around again and to assume the
leadership of the little party.
"Really," said Trot, "I think you're better than you were before, for
you are fresh and sweet all through and rustle beautifully when you
move."
"Thank you, my dear," he replied gratefully. "I always feel like a new
man when I'm freshly stuffed. No one likes to get musty, you know, and
even good straw may be spoiled by age."
"It was water that spoiled you, the last time," remarked Button-Bright,
"which proves that too much bathing is as bad as too little. But, after
all, Scarecrow, water is not as dangerous for you as fire."
"All things are good in moderation," declared the Scarecrow. "But now,
let us hurry on, or we shall not reach Glinda's palace by nightfall."