n.

"We have met with no enemy," answered Poly-chrome, "so it must be that
this part of the country has the magic quality of making people
invisible--even fairies falling under the charm. We can see the grass,
and the flowers, and the stretch of plain before us, and we can still
see Mount Munch in the distance; but we cannot see ourselves or one
another."

"Well, what are we to do about it?" demanded Woot.

"I think this magic affects only a small part of the plain," replied
Polychrome; "perhaps there is only a streak of the country where an
enchantment makes people become invisible. So, if we get together and
hold hands, we can travel toward Mount Munch until the enchanted streak
is passed."

"All right," said Woot, jumping up, "give me your hand, Polychrome.
Where are you?"

"Here," she answered. "Whistle, Woot, and keep whistling until I come
to you."

So Woot whistled, and presently Polychrome found him and grasped his
hand.

"Someone must help me up," said the Scarecrow, lying near them; so they
found the straw man and sat him upon his feet, after which he held fast
to Polychrome's other hand.

Nick Chopper and the Tin Soldier had managed to scramble up without
assistance, but it was awkward for them and the Tin Woodman said:

"I don't seem to stand straight, somehow. But my joints all work, so I
guess I can walk."

Guided by his voice, they reached his side, where Woot grasped his tin
fingers so they might keep together.

The Tin Soldier was standing near by and the Scarecrow soon touched him
and took hold of his arm.

"I hope you're not wobbly," said the straw man, "for if two of us walk
unsteadily we will be sure to fall."

"I'm not wobbly," the Tin Soldier assured him, "but I'm certain that
one of my legs is shorter than the other. I can't see it, to tell
what's gone wrong, but I'll limp on with the rest of you until we are
out of this enchanted territory."

They now formed a line, holding hands, and turning their faces toward
Mount Munch resumed their journey. They had not gone far, however, when
a terrible growl saluted their ears. The sound seemed to come from a
place just in front of them, so they halted abruptly and remained
silent, listening with all their ears.

"I smell straw!" cried a hoarse, harsh voice, with more growls and
snarls. "I smell straw, and I'm a Hip-po-gy-raf who loves straw and
eats all he can find. I want to eat this straw! Where is it? Where is
it?"

The Scarecr