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As for the Scarecrow, he continued his journey, and the day was so

delightful and the country so pleasant that he almost forgot he had no

family. He was treated everywhere with the greatest courtesy and had

innumerable invitations from the hospitable Munchkins. He was anxious to

reach his destination, however, so he refused them all, and traveling night

and day came without further mishap or adventure late on the second

evening to the little Munchkin farm where Dorothy had first discovered him.

He was curious to know whether the pole on which he had been hoisted to

scare away the crows still stood in the cornfield and whether the farmer who

had made him could tell him anything further about his history.

"It is a shame to waken him," thought the kind Scarecrow. "I'll just take a

look in the cornfield." The moon shone so brightly that he had no trouble

finding his way about. With a little cry of pleasure, he pushed his way

through the dry cornstalks. There in the center of the field stood a tall pole--

the very identical bean pole from which he had descended.

"All the family or family tree I've got!" cried the Scarecrow, running toward it

with emotion.

What's that?" A window in the farmhouse was thrown up, and a sleepy

Munchkin thrust out his head. "What are you doing?" he called crossly.

Thinking!" said the Scarecrow, leaning heavily against the bean pole.

Well, don't do it out loud," snapped the farmer. Then, catching a better view

of the Scarecrow, he cried in surprise: "Why, it's you!-- Come right in, my

dear fellow, and give us the latest news from the Emerald City. I'll fetch a

candle!"

The farmer was very proud of the Scarecrow. He had made him long ago by

stuffing one of his old suits with straw, painting a jolly face on a sack,

stuffing that, and fastening the two together. Red boots, a hat, and yellow

gloves had finished his man--and nothing could have been jollier than the

result. Later on, when the Scarecrow had run off with Dorothy and got his

brains from the Wizard of Oz and become ruler of the Emerald City, the little

farmer had felt highly gratified.

The Scarecrow, however, was not in a humor for conversation. He wanted to

think in peace. "Don't bother!" he called up. "I'm going to spend the night

here. I'll see you in the morning."

All right! Take care of yourself," yawned the farmer, and drew in his head.

The Royal Book of Oz