n he think, and speak, as you do?" asked Ozma, regarding the giant
with wondering eyes.

"No," replied the machine; "he is on-ly made to pound the road, and has
no think-ing or speak-ing at-tach-ment. But he pounds ve-ry well, I
think."

"Too well," observed the Scarecrow. "He is keeping us from going
farther. Is there no way to stop his machinery?"

"On-ly the Nome King, who has the key, can do that," answered Tiktok.

"Then," said Dorothy, anxiously, "what shall we do?"

"Excuse me for a few minutes," said the Scarecrow, "and I will think it
over."

He retired, then, to a position in the rear, where he turned his
painted face to the rocks and began to think.

Meantime the giant continued to raise his iron mallet high in the air
and to strike the path terrific blows that echoed through the mountains
like the roar of a cannon. Each time the mallet lifted, however, there
was a moment when the path beneath the monster was free, and perhaps
the Scarecrow had noticed this, for when he came back to the others he
said:

"The matter is a very simple one, after all. We have but to run under
the hammer, one at a time, when it is lifted, and pass to the other
side before it falls again."

"It will require quick work, if we escape the blow," said the Tin
Woodman, with a shake of his head. "But it really seems the only thing
to be done. Who will make the first attempt?"

They looked at one another hesitatingly for a moment. Then the
Cowardly Lion, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind, said to them:

"I suppose the head of the procession must go first--and that's me.
But I'm terribly afraid of the big hammer!"

"What will become of me?" asked Ozma. "You might rush under the hammer
yourself, but the chariot would surely be crushed."

"We must leave the chariot," said the Scarecrow. "But you two girls
can ride upon the backs of the Lion and the Tiger."

So this was decided upon, and Ozma, as soon as the Lion was unfastened
from the chariot, at once mounted the beast's back and said she was
ready.

"Cling fast to his mane," advised Dorothy. "I used to ride him myself,
and that's the way I held on."

So Ozma clung fast to the mane, and the lion crouched in the path and
eyed the swinging mallet carefully until he knew just the instant it
would begin to rise in the air.

Then, before anyone thought he was ready, he made a sudden leap
straight between the iron giant's legs, and before the mallet struck