was quite hot, and there was a smell of gun powder in the air.
Now the Scarecrow had encountered many dangers in Oz and had usually thought his way out of them, but as they came nearer and nearer to the shore and no idea presented itself, he began to feel extremely nervous. A bullet fired from the king’s boat tore through his hat and the smoke made him more anxious than ever about his straw stuffing. He felt hurriedly in his pocket and his clumsy fingers closed over the little fan he had plucked from the bean pole.
Partly from agitation and partly because he did not know what else to do, the Scarecrow flipped the fan open. At that minute a mighty roar went up from the enemy, for at the first motion of the fan they had been jerked fifty feet into the air, and there they hung suspended over their ships, kicking and squealing for dear life. The Scarecrow was as surprised as they, and as for Happy Tokohe fell straightway on his nose!
“Magic!” exclaimed the Scarecrow. “Someone is helping us,” and he began fanning himself gently with the little fan, waiting to see what would happen next. At each wave of the fan the King of the Golden Islands and his men flew higher, until at last not one
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