Part 7 (1/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration]

But the crows were bent on mischief. They thought it a good joke to bother the two, now that they held them captive.

”Here's where the crows scare the Scarecrow!” chuckled the naughty King Crow, and at his command the birds flew over the forest to where a tall dead tree stood higher than all the other trees. At the very top was a crotch, formed by two dead limbs, and into the crotch the crows dropped the center of the line. Then, letting go their hold, they flew away, chattering with laughter, and left the two friends suspended high in the air--one on each side of the tree.

Now the Tin Woodman was much heavier than the Scarecrow, but the reason they balanced so nicely was because the straw man still clung fast to the iron anchor. There they hung, not ten feet apart, yet unable to reach the bare tree-trunk.

”For goodness sake don't drop that anchor,” said the Tin Woodman anxiously.

”Why not?” inquired the Scarecrow.

”If you did I'd tumble to the ground, where my tin would be badly dented by the fall. Also you would shoot into the air and alight somewhere among the tree-tops.”

”Then,” said the Scarecrow, earnestly, ”I shall hold fast to the anchor.”

For a time they both dangled in silence, the breeze swaying them gently to and fro. Finally the tin man said: ”Here is an emergency, friend, where only brains can help us. We must think of some way to escape.”

”I'll do the thinking,” replied the Scarecrow. ”My brains are the sharpest.”

He thought so long that the tin man grew tired and tried to change his position, but found his joints had already rusted so badly that he could not move them. And his oil-can was back in the boat.