Chapter V
The Rescue of the Tin Woodman
When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and Toto had
long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels. She sat up and looked
around her. There was the Scarecrow, still standing patiently in his corner,
waiting for her.
“We must go and search for water,” she said to him.
“Why do you want water?” he asked.
“To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to drink, so the dry
bread will not stick in my throat.”
“It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh,” said the Scarecrow
thoughtfully, “for you must sleep, and eat and drink. However, you have
brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be able to think properly.”
They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they found a little
spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and bathed and ate her breakfast.
She saw there was not much bread left in the basket, and the girl was thankful
the Scarecrow did not have to eat anything, for there was scarcely enough for
herself and Toto for the day.
When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the road of
yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan near by.
“What was that?” she asked timidly.
“I cannot imagine,” replied the Scarecrow; “but we can go and see.”
Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound seemed to come
from behind them. They turned and walked through the forest a few steps,
when Dorothy discovered something shining in a ray of sunshine that fell
between the trees. She ran to the place and then stopped short, with a little
cry of surprise.
One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and standing beside
it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man made entirely of tin. His head
and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly
motionless, as if he could not stir at all.
Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while
Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.
“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a
year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”
“What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad
voice in which the man spoke.
“Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered. “They are rusted so badly
that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right
again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage.”
Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can, and then she
returned and asked anxiously, “Where are your joints?”
“Oil my neck, first,” replied the Tin Woodman. So she oiled it, and as it
was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin head and moved it
gently from side to side until it worked freely, and then the man could turn it
himself.
“Now oil the joints in my arms,” he said. And Dorothy oiled them and the
Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite free from rust and as
good as new.
The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe, which
he leaned against the tree.
“This is a great comfort,” he said. “I have been holding that axe in the air
ever since I rusted, and I’m glad to be able to put it down at last. Now, if you
will oil the joints of my legs, I shall be all right once more.”
So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he thanked them
again and again for his release, for he seemed a very polite creature, and
very grateful.
“I might have stood there always if you had not come along,” he said; “so
you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be here?”
“We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,” she
answered, “and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night.”
“Why do you wish to see Oz?” he asked.
“I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants him to
put a few brains into his head,” she replied.
The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said:
“Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?”
“Why, I guess so,” Dorothy answered. “It would be as easy as to give the
Scarecrow brains.”
“True,” the Tin Woodman returned. “So, if you will allow me to join your
party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz to help me.”
“Come along,” said the Scarecrow heartily, and Dorothy added that she
would be pleased to have his company. So the Tin Woodman shouldered his
axe and they all passed through the forest until they came to the road that was
paved with yellow brick.
The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket.
“For,” he said, “if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again, I would need
the oil-can badly.”
It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the party, for soon
after they had begun their journey again they came to a place where the trees
and branches grew so thick over the road that the travelers could not pass.
But the Tin Woodman set to work with his axe and chopped so well that soon
he cleared a passage for the entire party.
Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that she did not
notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and rolled over to the side
of the road. Indeed he was obliged to call to her to help him up again.
“Why didn’t you walk around the hole?” asked the Tin Woodman.
“I don’t know enough,” replied the Scarecrow cheerfully. “My head is
stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him for
some brains.”
“Oh, I see,” said the Tin Woodman. “But, after all, brains are not the best
things in the world.”
“Have you any?” inquired the Scarecrow.
“No, my head is quite empty,” answered the Woodman. “But once I had
brains, and a heart also; so, having tried them both, I should much rather have
a heart.”
“And why is that?” asked the Scarecrow.
“I will tell you my story, and then you will know.”
So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woodman told the
following story:
“I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the forest
and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I too became a wood-
chopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother as long as she
lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living alone I would marry, so
that I might not become lonely.
“There was one of the Munchkin girls who was so beautiful that I soon
grew to love her with all my heart. She, on her part, promised to marry me as
soon as I could earn enough money to build a better house for her; so I set to
work harder than ever. But the girl lived with an old woman who did not
want her to marry anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to remain
with her and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman went to
the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow if she
would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch enchanted my axe,
and when I was chopping away at my best one day, for I was anxious to get
the new house and my wife as soon as possible, the axe slipped all at once
and cut off my left leg.
“This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a one-legged man
could not do very well as a wood-chopper. So I went to a tinsmith and had
him make me a new leg out of tin. The leg worked very well, once I was used
to it. But my action angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she had
promised the old woman I should not marry the pretty Munchkin girl. When I
began chopping again, my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. Again I went
to the tinsmith, and again he made me a leg out of tin. After this the enchanted
axe cut off my arms, one after the other; but, nothing daunted, I had them
replaced with tin ones. The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off
my head, and at first I thought that was the end of me. But the tinsmith
happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin.
“I thought I had beaten the Wicked Witch then, and I worked harder than
ever; but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be. She thought of a new
way to kill my love for the beautiful Munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip
again, so that it cut right through my body, splitting me into two halves. Once
more the tinsmith came to my help and made me a body of tin, fastening my
tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that I could move
around as well as ever. But, alas! I had now no heart, so that I lost all my
love for the Munchkin girl, and did not care whether I married her or not. I
suppose she is still living with the old woman, waiting for me to come after
her.
“My body shone so brightly in the sun that I felt very proud of it and it did
not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could not cut me. There was only one
danger—that my joints would rust; but I kept an oil-can in my cottage and
took care to oil myself whenever I needed it. However, there came a day
when I forgot to do this, and, being caught in a rainstorm, before I thought of
the danger my joints had rusted, and I was left to stand in the woods until you
came to help me. It was a terrible thing to undergo, but during the year I stood
there I had time to think that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my
heart. While I was in love I was the happiest man on earth; but no one can
love who has not a heart, and so I am resolved to ask Oz to give me one. If he
does, I will go back to the Munchkin maiden and marry her.”
Both Dorothy and the Scarecrow had been greatly interested in the story of
the Tin Woodman, and now they knew why he was so anxious to get a new
heart.
“All the same,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall ask for brains instead of a
heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one.”
“I shall take the heart,” returned the Tin Woodman; “for brains do not make
one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world.”
Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of her
two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to Kansas
and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much whether the Woodman had no brains
and the Scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted.
What worried her most was that the bread was nearly gone, and another
meal for herself and Toto would empty the basket. To be sure, neither the
Woodman nor the Scarecrow ever ate anything, but she was not made of tin
nor straw, and could not live unless she was fed.
