hum! What's the use of hurrying?" The fact of the matter was that they couldn't hurry if they tried. Indeed they could hardly lift their feet at all.
"I wish the Scarecrow were with us," sighed the Cowardly Lion, shuffling along unhappily. "He never grows sleepy and he always knows what to do."
"No use wishing," yawned Dorothy. "I only hope he's not as lost as we are."
By struggling hard, they just managed to keep moving, and by the time they came up with the Slow Pokes they were completely worn out. A cross looking Poke held up his arm threateningly, and Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion stopped.
"You—" said the Poke; then closed his mouth and stood staring vacantly for a whole minute.
"Are—" He brought out the word with a perfectly enormous yawn, and Dorothy began fanning the Cowardly Lion with her hat, for he showed signs of falling asleep again.
"What?" she asked crossly.
"Under—" sighed the Poke after a long pause, and Dorothy seeing that there was no hurrying him began counting to herself. Just as she reached sixty the Poke pushed back his red nightcap and shouted:
"Arrest!"
74
