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Updated: May 7, 2025
"I know," agreed the Hip-po-gy-raf. "That's why I want it. If it was old, musty straw, I wouldn't care for it." "Please lift us across," pleaded Polychrome. "No," replied the beast; "since you refuse my generous offer, I can be as stubborn as you are." After that they were all silent for a time, but then the Scarecrow said bravely: "Friends, let us agree to the beast's terms.
So in his fright he let go of Polychrome's hand and put the hand of the Tin Soldier in that of the Rainbow's Daughter. Then he slipped back of the line and went to the other end, where he silently seized the Tin Woodman's hand. Meantime, the beast had smelled the Tin Soldier and found he was the last of the line. "That's funny!" growled the Hip-po-gy-raf; "I can smell straw, but I can't find it.
"Ah, I see you are a philosopher," remarked the Scarecrow. "No, I'm just a Hip-po-gy-raf," was the reply. Polychrome was not afraid of the big beast. She danced close to him and said: "If you can stretch your neck across the ditch, why not help us over? We can sit on your big head, one at a time, and then you can lift us across."
As fast as they did this, the Hip-po-gy-raf ate up the straw, and when all was consumed Polychrome made a neat bundle of the clothes and boots and gloves and hat and said she would carry them, while Woot tucked the Scarecrow's head under his arm and promised to guard its safety. "Now, then," said the Tin Woodman, "keep your promise, Beast, and lift us over the ditch."
On the other side the grass had grown tall, and the sun had dried it, so there was a fine crop of hay that only needed to be cut and stacked. "Why don't you cross over and eat hay?" the boy asked the beast. "I'm not fond of hay," replied the Hip-po-gy-raf; "straw is much more delicious, to my notion, and it's more scarce in this neighborhood, too.
They had not gone far, however, when a terrible growl saluted their ears. The sound seemed to come from a place just in front of them, so they halted abruptly and remained silent, listening with all their ears. "I smell straw!" cried a hoarse, harsh voice, with more growls and snarls. "I smell straw, and I'm a Hip-po-gy-raf who loves straw and eats all he can find. I want to eat this straw!
They had not gone far, however, when a terrible growl saluted their ears. The sound seemed to come from a place just in front of them, so they halted abruptly and remained silent, listening with all their ears. "I smell straw!" cried a hoarse, harsh voice, with more growls and snarls. "I smell straw, and I'm a Hip-po-gy-raf who loves straw and eats all he can find. I want to eat this straw!
"You're a very honest and clever man!" exclaimed the Hip-po-gy-raf, admiringly. "When I have eaten your head, perhaps I also will become clever." "You're not to eat my head, you know," returned the Scarecrow hastily. "My head isn't stuffed with straw and I cannot part with it. When one loses his head he loses his brains." "Very well, then; you may keep your head," said the beast.
"Keep off!" said the Tin Woodman, warningly, "or I'll chop you with my axe." "Keep off!" said the Tin Soldier, "or I'll cut you with my sword." "Would you really do that?" asked the Hip-po-gy-raf, in a disappointed voice. "We would," they both replied, and the Tin Woodman added: "The Scarecrow is our friend, and he would be useless without his straw stuffing.
The head on the top of this neck was broad and flat and the eyes and mouth were very big and the nose and ears very small. When the head was drawn down toward the beast's shoulders, the neck was all wrinkles, but the head could shoot up very high indeed, if the creature wished it to. "Dear me!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, "this must be the Hip-po-gy-raf."
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