Tip would have laughed - had he not been so anxious about his man Jack. But the 
Scarecrow, however damaged, was all there, while the pumpkin head that was so necessary 
to Jack's existence was missing; so the boy seized a long pole that fortunately lay near 
at hand and anxiously turned again toward the river.
    Far out upon the waters he sighted the golden hue of the pumpkin, which gently bobbed 
up and down with the motion of the waves. At that moment it was quite out of Tip's reach, 
but after a time it floated nearer and still nearer until the boy was able to reach it 
with his pole and draw it to the shore. Then he brought it to the top of the bank, 
carefully wiped the water from its pumpkin face with his handkerchief, and ran with it to 
Jack and replaced the head upon the man's neck.
    "Dear me!" were Jack's first words. "What a dreadful experience! I wonder if water is 
liable to spoil pumpkins?" Tip did not think a reply was necessary, for he knew that the 
Scarecrow also stood in need of his help. So he carefully removed the straw from the 
King's body and legs, and spread it out in the sun to dry. The wet clothing he hung over 
the body of the Saw-Horse.
    "If water spoils pumpkins," observed Jack, with a deep sigh, "then my days are 
numbered."
    "I've never noticed that water spoils pumpkins," returned Tip; "unless the water 
happens to be boiling. If your head isn't cracked, my friend, you must be in fairly good 
condition."
    "Oh, my head isn't cracked in the least," declared Jack, more cheerfully.
    "Then don't worry," retorted the boy. "Care once killed a cat."
    "Then," said Jack, seriously, "I am very glad indeed that I am not a cat." The sun 
was fast drying their clothing, and Tip stirred up his Majesty's straw so that the warm 
rays might absorb the moisture and make it as crisp and dry as ever. When this had been 
accomplished he stuffed the Scarecrow into symmetrical shape and smoothed out his face so 
that he wore his usual gay and charming expression.
    "Thank you very much," said the monarch, brightly, as he walked about and found 
himself to be well balanced. "There are several distinct advantages in being a Scarecrow. 
For if one has friends near at hand to repair damages, nothing very serious can happen to 
you."
    "I wonder if hot sunshine is liable to crack pumpkins," said Jack, with an anxious 
ring in his voice.
    "Not at all - not at all!" replied the Scarecrow, gaily." All you need fear, my boy, 
is old age. When your golden youth has decayed we shall quickly part company - but you 
needn't look forward to it; we'll discover the fact ourselves, and notify you. But come! 
Let us resume our journey. I am anxious to greet my friend the Tin Woodman." So they 
remounted the Saw-Horse, Tip holding to the post, the Pumpkinhead clinging to Tip, and 
the Scarecrow with both arms around the wooden form of Jack.
    "Go slowly, for now there is no danger of pursuit," said Tip to his steed.
    "All right!" responded the creature, in a voice rather gruff.
    "Aren't you a little hoarse?" asked the Pumpkinhead politely.
    The Saw-Horse gave an angry prance and rolled one knotty eye backward toward Tip.
    "See here," he growled, "can't you protect me from insult?"
    "To be sure!" answered Tip, soothingly. "I am sure Jack meant no harm. And it will 
not do for us to quarrel, you know; we must all remain good friends."
    "I'll have nothing more to do with that Pumpkinhead," declared the Saw- Horse, 
viciously. "he loses his head too easily to suit me." There seemed no fitting reply to 
this speech, so for a time they rode along in silence.
    After a while the Scarecrow remarked: "This reminds me of old times. It was upon this 
grassy knoll that I once saved Dorothy from the Stinging Bees of the Wicked Witch of the 
West."
    "Do Stinging Bees injure pumpkins?" asked Jack, glancing around fearfully.
    "They are all dead, so it doesn't matter," replied the Scarecrow." And here is where 
Nick Chopper destroyed the Wicked Witch's Grey Wolves."
    "Who was Nick Chopper?" asked Tip.
    "That is the name of my friend the Tin Woodman, answered his Majesty. And here is 
where the Winged Monkeys captured and bound us, and flew away with little Dorothy," he 
continued, after they had traveled a little way farther.
    "Do Winged Monkeys ever eat pumpkins?" asked Jack, with a shiver of fear.
    "I do not know; but you have little cause to, worry, for the Winged Monkeys are now 
the slaves of Glinda the Good, who owns the Golden Cap that commands their services," 
said the Scarecrow, reflectively.
    Then the stuffed monarch became lost in thought recalling the days of past 
adventures. And the Saw-Horse rocked and rolled over the flower-strewn fields and carried 
its riders swiftly upon their way.
    * * * * * * * * * Twilight fell, bye and bye, and then the dark shadows of night. So 
Tip stopped the horse and they all proceeded to dismount.
    "I'm tired out," said the boy, yawning wearily; "and the grass is soft and cool. Let 
us lie down here and sleep until morning."
    "I can't sleep," said Jack.
    "I never do," said the Scarecrow.
    "I do not even know what sleep is," said the Saw-Horse.
    "Still, we must have consideration for this poor boy, who is made of flesh and blood 
and bone, and gets tired," suggested the Scarecrow, in his usual thoughtful manner. "I 
remember it was the same way with little Dorothy. We always had to sit through the night 
while she slept."
    "I'm sorry," said Tip, meekly, "but I can't help it. And I'm dreadfully hungry, too!"
    "Here is a new danger!" remarked Jack, gloomily. "I hope you are not fond of eating 
pumpkins."
    "Not unless they're stewed and made into pies," answered the boy, laughing. "So have 
no fears of me, friend Jack."
    "What a coward that Pumpkinhead is!" said the Saw-Horse, scornfully.
    "You might be a coward yourself, if you knew you were liable to spoil!" retorted 
Jack, angrily.
    "There! - there!" interrupted the Scarecrow; "don't let us quarrel. We all have our 
weaknesses, dear friends; so we must strive to be considerate of one another. And since 
this poor boy is hungry and has nothing whatever to eat, let us all remain quiet and 
allow him to sleep; for it is said that in sleep a mortal may forget even hunger."
    "Thank you!" exclaimed Tip, gratefully. "Your Majesty is fully as good as you are 
wise - and that is saying a good deal!" He then stretched himself upon the grass and, 
using the stuffed form of the Scarecrow for a pillow, was presently fast asleep.
    
    .
    A Nickel-Plated Emperor
    
    Tip awoke soon after dawn, but the Scarecrow had already risen and plucked, with his 
clumsy fingers, a double-handful of ripe berries from some bushes near by. These the boy 
ate greedily, finding them an ample breakfast, and afterward the little party resumed its 
Journey.