dly together, but the Scarecrow made no reply, for
looking over their shoulder he glimpsed a dark, forbidding cavern
lighted only by the flashing red eyes of thousands of Middlings. They
appeared to be digging, and above the rattle of the shovels and picks
came the hoarse voice of one of them singing the Middling National
Air. Or so the Scarecrow gathered from the words:

"Oh, chop the brown clods as they fall with a thud!
Three croaks for the Middlings, who stick in the Mud.
Oh, mud, rich and wormy! Oh, mud, sweet and squirmy!
Oh what is so lovely as Mud! Oh what is so lovely as Mud!
Three croaks for the Middlings, who delve all the day
In their beautiful Kingdom of soft mud and clay!"

The croaks that came at the end of the song were so terrifying that
the Scarecrow shivered in spite of himself.

"Ugh! Hardly a place for a pleasant visit!" he gasped, flattening
himself against the wall of the passage. Feeling that matters had
gone far enough, he repeated in a loud voice:

"I am the Scarecrow of Oz and desire to continue my fall. I have paid
my toll and unless your Royal Middleness release me--"

"Might as well drop him--a useless creature!" whispered Muddle, and
before the King had time to object, he jerked the board back. "Fall
on!" he screeched maliciously, and the Scarecrow shot down into the
darkness, the hoarse screams of the two Middlings echoing after him
through the gloom.

No use trying to think! The poor Scarecrow bumped and banged from
side to side of the passage. It was all he could do to keep hold of
the bean pole, so swiftly was he falling.

"A good thing I'm not made of meat like little Dorothy," he wheezed
breathlessly. His gloves were getting worn through from friction with
the pole, and the rush of air past his ears was so confusing that he
gave up all idea of thinking. Even magic brains refuse to work under
such conditions. Down--down--down he plunged till he lost all count
of time. Down--down--down--hours and hours! Would he never stop?
Then suddenly it grew quite light, and he flashed through what
appeared to be a hole in the roof of a huge silver palace, whirled
down several stories and landed in a heap on the floor of a great
hall. In one hand he clutched a small fan, and in the other a parasol
that had snapped off the beanstalk just before he reached the palace
roof.

Shaken and bent over double though he was, the Scarecrow could see
that he had fa