three wide yawns to prove he was fully awake.
'A Sign,' said the Tin Woodman. 'A Sign, and another path.'
'What does the Sign say?' inquired the boy.
'It says that 'All Strangers are Warned not to Follow this Path to Loonville,'' answered the Scarecrow, who could read very well when his eyes had been freshly painted.
'In that case,' said the boy, opening his knapsack to get some breakfast, 'let us travel in some other direction.'
But this did not seem to please either of his companions.
'I'd like to see what Loonville looks like,' remarked the Tin Woodman.
'When one travels, it is foolish to miss any interesting sight,' added the Scarecrow.
'But a warning means danger,' protested Woot the Wanderer, 'and I believe it sensible to keep out of danger whenever we can.'
They made no reply to
this speech for a while. Then said the Scarecrow:
'I have escaped so many dangers, during my lifetime, that I am not much afraid of anything that can happen.'
'Nor am I!' exclaimed the Tin Woodman, swinging his glittering axe around his tin head, in a series of circles. 'Few things can injure tin, and my axe is a powerful weapon to use against a foe. But our boy friend,' he continued, looking solemnly at Woot, 'might perhaps be injured if the people of Loonville are really dangerous; so I propose he waits here while you and I, Friend Scarecrow, visit the forbidden City of Loonville.'
'Don't worry about me,' advised Woot, calmly. 'Wherever you wish to go, I will go, and share your dangers. During my wanderings I have found it more wise to keep out of danger than to venture in, but at that time I was alone, and now I have two powerful friends to protect me.'
So, when he had finished his breakfast, they all set out along the path that led to Loonville.
'It is a place I have never heard of before,' remarked the Scarecrow, as they approached a dense forest. 'The inhabitants may be people, of some sort, or they may be animals, but whatever they prove to be, we will have an interesting story to relate to Dorothy and Ozma on our return.'
The path led into the forest, but the big trees grew so closely together and the vines and underbrush were so thick and matted that they had to clear a path at each step in order to proceed. In one or two places the Tin Man, who went first to clear the way, cut the branches with a blow of his axe. Woot followed next, and last of the three came the Scarecrow, who could not have kept the path at all had not his comrades broken the way for his straw-stuffed body.
Presently the Tin Woodman pushed his way through some heavy underbrush, and almost tumbled headlong into a vast cleared space in the forest. The clearing was circular, big and roomy, yet the top branches of the tall trees reached over and formed a complete dome or roof for it. Strangely enough, it was not dark in this immense natural chamber in the woodland, for the place glowed with a soft, white light that seemed to come from some unseen source.
In the chamber were grouped dozens of queer creatures, and these so astonished the Tin Man that Woot had to push his metal body aside, that he might see, too. And the Scarecrow pushed Woot aside, so that the three travelers stood in a row, staring with all their eyes.
The creatures they beheld were round and ball-like; round in body, round in legs and arms, round in hands and feet and round of head. The only exception to the roundness was a slight hollow on the top of each head, making it saucer-shaped instead of dome-shaped. They wore no clothes on their puffy bodies, nor had they any hair. Their skins were all of a light gray color, and their eyes were mere purple spots. Their noses were as puffy as the rest of them.
'Are they rubber, do you think?' asked the Scarecrow, who noticed that the creatures bounded, as they moved, and seemed almost as light as air.
'It is difficult to tell what they are,' answered Woot, 'they seem to be covered with warts.'
The Loons – for so these folks were called – had been doing many things, some playing together, some working at tasks and some gathered in groups to talk; but at the sound of strange voices, which echoed rather loudly through the clearing, all turned in the direction of the intruders. Then, in a body, they all rushed forward, running and bounding with tremendous speed.
The Tin Woodman was so surprised by this sudden dash that he had no time to raise his axe before the Loons were on them. The creatures swung their puffy hands, which looked like boxing-gloves, and pounded the three travelers as hard as they could, on all sides. The blows were quite soft and did not hurt our friends at all, but the onslaught quite bewildered them, so that in a brief period all three were knocked over and fell flat upon the ground. Once down, many of the Loons held them, to prevent their getting up again, while others wound long tendrils of vines about them, binding their arms and legs to their bodies and so rendering them helpless.
'Aha!' cried the biggest Loon of all; 'we've got 'em safe; so let's carry 'em to King Bal and have 'em tried, and condemned and perforated!' They had to drag their captives to the center of the domed chamber, for their weight, as compared with that of the Loons, prevented their being carried. Even the Scarecrow was much heavier than the puffy Loons. But finally the party halted before a raised platform, on which stood a sort of throne, consisting of a big, wide chair with a string tied to one arm of it. This string led upward to the roof of the dome.
Arranged before the platform, the prisoners were allowed to sit up, facing the empty throne.
'Good!' said the big Loon who had commanded the party. 'Now to get King Bal to judge these terrible creatures we have so bravely captured.'
As he spoke he took hold of the string and began to pull as hard as he could. One or two of the others helped him and pretty soon, as they drew in the cord, the leaves above them parted and a Loon appeared at the other end of the string. It didn't take long to draw him down to the throne, where he seated himself and was tied in, so he wouldn't float upward again.
'Hello,' said the King, blinking his purple eyes at his followers; 'what's up now!'
'Strangers, your Majesty – strangers and captives,' replied the big Loon, pompously
'Dear me! I see 'em. I see 'em very plainly,' exclaimed the King, his purple eyes bulging out as he looked at the three prisoners. 'What curious animals! Are they dangerous, do you think, my good Panta?'
'I'm 'fraid so, your Majesty. Of course, they may not be dangerous, but we mustn't take chances. Enough accidents happen to us poor Loons as it is, and my advice is to condemn and perforate 'em as quickly as possible.'
'Keep your advice to yourself,' said the monarch, in a peeved tone. 'Who's King here, anyhow? You or Me?'
'We made you our King because you have less common sense than the rest of us,' answered Panta Loon, indignantly. 'I could have been King myself, had I wanted to, but I didn't care for the hard work and responsibility.'
As he said this, the big Loon strutted back and forth in the space between the throne of King Bal and the prisoners, and the other Loons seemed much impressed by his defiance. But suddenly there came a sharp report and Panta Loon instantly disappeared, to the great astonishment of the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and Woot the Wanderer, who saw on the spot where the big fellow had stood a little heap of flabby, wrinkled skin that looked like a collapsed rubber balloon.
'There!' exclaimed the King; 'I expected that would happen. The conceited rascal wanted to puff himself up until he was bigger than the rest of you, and this is the result of his folly. Get the pump working, some of you, and blow him up again.'
'We will have to mend the puncture first, your Majesty,' suggested one of the Loons, and the prisoners noticed that none of them seemed surprised or shocked at the sad accident to Panta.
'All right,' grumbled the King. 'Fetch Til to mend him.'
One or two ran away and presently returned, followed by a lady Loon wearing huge, puffed-up rubber skirts. Also she had a purple feather fastened to a wart on the top of her head, and around her waist was a sash of fibre-like vines, dried and tough, that looked like strings.
'Get to work, Til,' commanded King Bal. 'Panta has just exploded.'
The lady Loon picked up the bunch of skin and examined it carefully until she discovered a hole in one foot.
