anomaly of shiny metal in a pristine forest. As Dorothy and the Scarecrow moved closer, they were amazed to see a man made entirely of tin standing perfectly still, like a statue!

“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.

“I did,” answered the Tin Woodman. “I’ve been standing here groaning like this for over a year, but until now, no one has come to help me.”

Dorothy and the Scarecrow were moved by the melancholy tone of the Tin Woodman’s voice, so they wanted to help him in any way they could.

“How can we help you?” asked Dorothy.

Now, oil was an anodyne that never failed to allay the Tin Woodman’s discomfort. He asked Dorothy, “Can you please pick up the oilcan on the ground and oil my joints, starting with my neck?” Dorothy applied the balm at once, and as the neck joint was badly rusted, the Scarecrow gently moved the tin head from side to side until the Tin Woodman could do this on his own.

Next Dorothy oiled the arms and legs, which the Tin Woodman, sighing with relief, slowly bent and unbent. The salutary effect of the efficacious treatment was immediately apparent as the Tin Woodman, now in much higher spirits, repeatedly thanked Dorothy and the Scarecrow, who were touched by his politeness and gratitude.

“How did you happen to be here?” asked the Tin Woodman.

Dorothy explained all about how she and the Scarecrow were on their way to see the Great Oz to ask him to send her back to Kansas and to give him some brains. The Tin Woodman seemed to cogitate deeply for a while, then said suddenly, “Because I’m made of tin, I have no heart. But I want one ever so badly. Do you suppose Oz could give me one?”

“I don’t see why not,” answered Dorothy. “It would be just as easy as to give the Scarecrow brains.”

“That’s true,” said the Tin Woodman. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll join you on your trip to the Emerald City.”

Dorothy and the Scarecrow heartily welcomed the amiable Tin Woodman to join them on their pilgrimage. As the Tin Woodman shouldered his axe, a prescient Dorothy took a quick look at the oilcan and prudently placed the panacea in her basket. Then they all walked merrily through the woods until they were back on the yellow brick road headed for Oz.

If not for their serendipitous encounter with the Tin Woodman, the travelers would have soon been at a standstill, for they were now standing at a place where a thick overgrowth of trees and long branches made the road impassable. But the Tin Woodman tirelessly worked his axe, truncating limb after limb, until a passage was finally cleared.

As they walked along again, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, espousing opposite points of view, debated the relative importance of brains and hearts. Meanwhile, Dorothy, noticing that there was enough bread left in her basket for only one more meal, and anxiously envisioning abstemious days ahead, pragmatically propounded the theory that access to food was