d himself out of the
river, and waving his X Y Z blocks in farewell to the Scarecrow, went
clattering down the road, the little Rattlesnake rattling along
behind him.

As for the Scarecrow, he continued his journey, and the day was so
delightful and the country so pleasant that he almost forgot he had
no family. He was treated everywhere with the greatest courtesy and
had innumerable invitations from the hospitable Munchkins. He was
anxious to reach his destination, however, so he refused them all,
and traveling night and day came without further mishap or adventure
late on the second evening to the little Munchkin farm where Dorothy
had first discovered him. He was curious to know whether the pole on
which he had been hoisted to scare away the crows still stood in the
cornfield and whether the farmer who had made him could tell him
anything further about his history.

"It is a shame to waken him," thought the kind Scarecrow. "I'll just
take a look in the cornfield." The moon shone so brightly that he had
no trouble finding his way about. With a little cry of pleasure, he
pushed his way through the dry cornstalks. There in the center of the
field stood a tall pole--the very identical bean pole from which he
had descended.

"All the family or family tree I've got!" cried the Scarecrow,
running toward it with emotion.

"What's that?" A window in the farmhouse was thrown up, and a sleepy
Munchkin thrust out his head. "What are you doing?" he called
crossly.

"Thinking!" said the Scarecrow, leaning heavily against the bean
pole.

"Well, don't do it out loud," snapped the farmer. Then, catching a
better view of the Scarecrow, he cried in surprise: "Why, it's you!--
Come right in, my dear fellow, and give us the latest news from the
Emerald City. I'll fetch a candle!"

The farmer was very proud of the Scarecrow. He had made him long ago
by stuffing one of his old suits with straw, painting a jolly face on
a sack, stuffing that, and fastening the two together. Red boots, a
hat, and yellow gloves had finished his man--and nothing could have
been jollier than the result. Later on, when the Scarecrow had run
off with Dorothy and got his brains from the Wizard of Oz and become
ruler of the Emerald City, the little farmer had felt highly
gratified.

The Scarecrow, however, was not in a humor for conversation. He
wanted to think in peace. "Don't bother!" he called up. "I'm going to
spend the night here. I'll see you in