't think of it, and no one else thinks of it, it just _can't_ happen.
Do you see?"

"No," answered Woot. "I won't be able to see much of anything until we
escape from this enchantment."

But they got out of the invisible strip of country as suddenly as they
had entered it, and the instant they got out they stopped short, for
just before them was a deep ditch, running at right angles as far as
their eyes could see and stopping all further progress toward Mount
Munch.

"It's not so very wide," said Woot, "but I'm sure none of us can jump
across it."

Polychrome began to laugh, and the Scarecrow said: "What's the matter?"

"Look at the tin men!" she said, with another burst of merry laughter.

Woot and the Scarecrow looked, and the tin men looked at themselves.

"It was the collision," said the Tin Woodman regretfully. "I knew
something was wrong with me, and now I can see that my side is dented in
so that I lean over toward the left. It was the Soldier's fault; he
shouldn't have been so careless."

"It is your fault that my right leg is bent, making it shorter than the
other, so that I limp badly," retorted the Soldier. "You shouldn't have
stood where I was walking."

"You shouldn't have walked where I was standing," replied the Tin
Woodman.

It was almost a quarrel, so Polychrome said soothingly:

"Never mind, friends; as soon as we have time I am sure we can
straighten the Soldier's leg and get the dent out of the Woodman's body.
The Scarecrow needs patting into shape, too, for he had a bad tumble,
but our first task is to get over this ditch."

"Yes, the ditch is the most important thing, just now," added Woot.

They were standing in a row, looking hard at the unexpected barrier,
when a fierce growl from behind them made them all turn quickly. Out of
the invisible country marched a huge beast with a thick, leathery skin
and a surprisingly long neck. The head on the top of this neck was broad
and flat and the eyes and mouth were very big and the nose and ears very
small. When the head was drawn down toward the beast's shoulders, the
neck was all wrinkles, but the head could shoot up very high indeed, if
the creature wished it to.

"Dear me!" exclaimed the Scarecrow, "this must be the Hip-po-gy-raf."

"Quite right," said the beast; "and you're the straw which I'm to eat
for my dinner. Oh, how I love straw! I hope you don't resent my
affectionate appetite?"

With its four great legs it advanced straigh