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poppies caused her eyes to grow heavy, and she announced that she must lie down. But the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow, who, not being human, were unaffected by the poppies, wouldn’t permit this. They took the somnolent little girl by the arms and goaded her along, lest she succumb once and for all to the insidious spell of the flowers.

With her friends supporting her by the arms, Dorothy somnambulated awhile. But then her lifeless form suddenly collapsed to the ground. “What shall we do?” asked the Tin Woodman, ruefully gazing at the pathetic, prostrate figure at their feet.

The Lion’s energy, too, was now seriously beginning to ebb. At best he would remain ambulatory for only a few minutes more. And poor Toto was already deeply asleep.

“Run fast,” said the Scarecrow to the Lion. “Get out of the poppy field as fast as you can. If you fall asleep here you’ll die. We can carry Dorothy and Toto, but you’re too big to carry.” So with great determination of will, and despite a nearly incapacitating torpor, the great beast somehow managed to shore himself up; he bounded forward and was soon out of sight.

Now the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman picked up Toto and placed him in Dorothy’s lap. They crisscrossed their hands to form a seat, and with a deep sense of purpose, they steadfastly carried the sleeping child between them through the flowers’ sweet but noxious fumes.

They walked on and on, following the river upstream, and it seemed as if the great carpet of poppies would never end. Finally they came upon the Lion, lying asleep among the baneful flowers. He had at last given up, only a short distance from the end of the flowerbed. Beautiful, green meadows loomed just beyond.

The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman looked down at the sleeping beast and knew at once there was nothing they could do for him. With wretched anguish they agreed that they would have to leave him to sleep on forever, for he was much too massive to lift. They both now tried to think of some felicitous, epitaphic remarks to make but were unable to. Dolefully, the bereft but stalwart pair walked on until they reached a pretty spot next to the river, far enough away from the flowerbed to prevent any more of the deleterious vapors from affecting their insensate passenger. Here they lay Dorothy down on the soft grass and patiently waited for the cool, fresh air to revive her.

Chapter 9 “The Mice”

As they waited for Dorothy to awaken, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were suddenly startled by the sound of a low growl. Running toward them at breakneck speed was a large, tawny wildcat. It must be chasing something, reasoned the Tin Woodman, because its ears were flat against its head, its mouth was slavering, and its eyes glowed liked fireballs.

As the cat came near, the Tin Woodman saw that before the feral feline, running for its life, was a tiny mouse. Now,

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