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“Who are they?” inquired the shaggy man.
“One is a Scarecrow who’s stuffed with straw, and the other a Woodman made out of tin. They haven’t any appetites inside of ’em, you see; so they never eat anything at all.”
“Are they alive?” asked Button-Bright.
“Oh yes,” replied Dorothy; “and they’re very clever and very nice, too. If we get to Oz I’ll introduce them to you.”
“Do you really expect to get to Oz?” inquired the shaggy man, taking a drink of cold tea.
“I don’t know just what to ’spect,” answered the child, seriously; “but I’ve noticed if I happen to get lost I’m almost sure to come to the Land of Oz in the end, somehow ’r other; so I may get there this time. But I can’t promise, you know; all I can do is wait and see.”
“Will the Scarecrow scare me?” asked Button-Bright.
“No; ’cause you’re not a crow,” she returned. “He has the loveliest smile you ever saw – only it’s painted on and he can’t help it[18 - he can’t help it – (разг.) с этим ничего не поделаешь].”
Luncheon being over they started again upon their journey, the shaggy man, Dorothy and Button-Bright walking soberly along, side by side, and the Rainbow’s Daughter dancing merrily before them.
Sometimes she darted along the road so swiftly that she was nearly out of sight, then she came tripping back to greet them with her silvery laughter. But once she came back more sedately, to say:
“There’s a city a little way off.”
“I ’spected that,” returned Dorothy; “for the fox-people warned us there was one on this road. It’s filled with stupid beasts of some sort, but we musn’t be afraid of ’em ’cause they won’t hurt us.”
“All right,” said Button-Bright; but Polychrome didn’t know whether it was all right or not.
“It’s a big city,” she said, “and the road runs straight through it.”
“Never mind,” said the shaggy man; “as long as I carry the Love Magnet every living thing will love me, and you may be sure I shan’t allow any of my friends to be harmed in any way.”
This comforted them somewhat, and they moved on again. Pretty soon they came to a signpost that read:
“HAF A MYLE TO DUNKITON[19 - HAF A MYLE TO DUNKITON – (искаж.) half a mile to donkey town].”
“Oh,” said the shaggy man, “if they’re donkeys, we’ve nothing to fear at all.”
“They may kick,” said Dorothy, doubtfully.
“Then we will cut some switches, and make them behave,” he replied. At the first tree he cut himself a long, slender switch from one of the branches, and shorter switches for the others.
“Don’t be afraid to order the beasts around,” he said; “they’re used to it.”
Before long the road brought them to the gates of the city. There was a high wall all around, which had been whitewashed, and the gate just before our travelers was a mere opening in the wall, with no bars across it. No towers or steeples or domes showed above the enclosure, nor was any living thing to be seen as our friends drew near.
Suddenly, as they were about to boldly enter through the opening, there arose a harsh clamor of sound that swelled and echoed on every side, until they were nearly deafened by the racket and had to put their fingers to their ears to keep the noise out.
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