Then the end of
the tail he was clutching, being nothing more than a dead branch, suddenly
broke away, and the next minute the boy was rolling in the dust of the road,
while the horse and its pumpkin-headed rider dashed on and quickly
disappeared in the distance.
By the time Tip had picked himself up and cleared the dust from his throat
so he could say "Whoa!" there was no further need of saying it, for the
horse was long since out of sight.
So he did the only sensible thing he could do. He sat down and took a good
rest, and afterward began walking along the road.
"Some time I will surely overtake them," he reflected; "for the road will
end at the gates of the Emerald City, and they can go no further than that."
Meantime Jack was holding fast to the post and the Saw-Horse was tearing
along the road like a racer. Neither of them knew Tip was left behind, for
the Pumpkinhead did not look around and the Saw-Horse couldn't.
As he rode, Jack noticed that the grass and trees
65
had become a bright emerald-green in color, so he guessed they were nearing
the Emerald City even before the tall spires and domes came into sight.
At length a high wall of green stone, studded thick with emeralds, loomed up
before them; and fearing the Saw-Horse would not know enough to stop and so
might smash them both against this wall, Jack ventured to cry "Whoa!" as
loud as he could.
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