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Go home sharp and tell your wife to keep the khichri hot; I'll be with you in a trice. Away went the woodman in great glee to tell his wife how the bear had agreed to bring half a ton of wood in return for a share of the khichri.
It was a big beast and it smelled of the Tin Woodman and grated two rows of enormous teeth against the Emperor's tin body. "Bah! that's not straw," said the harsh voice, and the beast advanced along the line to Woot. "Meat! Pooh, you're no good! I can't eat meat," grumbled the beast, and passed on to Polychrome. "Sweetmeats and perfume cobwebs and dew!
"I know the Nine Tiny Piglets," said the Tin Woodman. "So do I," said the Scarecrow. "They still live in the Emerald City, and the Wizard takes good care of them and teaches them to do all sorts of tricks." "Did they ever grow up?" inquired Mrs. Squealina Swyne, in an anxious voice.
He conceives the delusion that beneath the bark lives a wood nymph, and he would feel with his hands the palpitant flesh of the goddess, he would trucidate the Dryad, violate her in a place unknown to the follies of men. "He is jealous of the woodman who can murder, can massacre, the trees, and he raves. Tensely he listens and hears in the soughing wind a response to his cries of desire.
"Item, when Master Fisher shall go to his execution, and the other." It is indeed this utter absence of all passion, of all personal feeling, that makes the figure of Cromwell the most terrible in our history. He has an absolute faith in the end he is pursuing, and he simply hews his way to it as a woodman hews his way through the forest, axe in hand.
"Yes, where's the Scarecrow?" inquired Uncle Henry. "Why, he's just now away on a visit to the Tin Woodman, who is Emp'ror of the Winkie Country," answered the little girl. "You'll see him when he comes back, and you're sure to like him." "And where's the Wonderful Wizard?" asked Aunt Em. "You'll see him at Ozma's luncheon, for he lives here in this palace," was the reply. "And Jack Pumpkinhead?"
No man ever saw more instant wreck and ruin fall lightning-like on a fair thing. The mass was crushed flat and shapeless by its own vast weight, and the larger boughs, which did not touch the earth, were snapped short off by the concussion of their fall. Billy Jago held his back and whined while Barron spoke, as much to himself as the woodman.
Nothing, perhaps, could better show the confidence in himself and weapon than the inattention which the native-born woodman usually exhibits to these points. Let his weapon be such as he can rely upon, and his cause of quarrel such as can justify his anger, and the rest seems easy, and gives him little annoyance. This was now the case with our rustic. He never, for a moment, thought of practising.
All was still, except for the roar of the tiny river and the occasional sound of timber sliding from some mountain slope into the valley below. The timber is thus transported in these parts, the woodman cutting the planks on some convenient ledge of rock, then letting it find its way to the bottom as best it can.
"If you desire it," promised the Tin Woodman, leaning back in his tin throne and crossing his tin legs. "I haven't related my history in a long while, because everyone here knows it nearly as well as I do. But you, being a stranger, are no doubt curious to learn how I became so beautiful and prosperous, so I will recite for your benefit my strange adventures."
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