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So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he thanked them again and again.

“I might have stood there always if you had not come along,” he said; “so you have certainly saved my life. What are you doing here?”

“We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,” she answered, “and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night.”

“Why do you wish to see Oz?” he asked.

“I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants him to put a few brains into his head,” she replied.

The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said:

“Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?”

“Why, I guess so,” Dorothy answered. “It would be as easy as to give the Scarecrow brains.”

“True,” the Tin Woodman returned. “If you will allow me to join your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz to help me.”

“Come along,” said the Scarecrow. So the Tin Woodman took his axe and they all passed through the forest until they came back to the road paved with yellow brick.

The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket, in case he gets caught in the rain again.

It was lucky that he joined them, for soon they came to a place where the trees and branches grew so thick over the road that the travelers could not pass. But the Tin Woodman set to work with his axe and chopped through it.

As they were walking, the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and rolled over to the side of the road again.

“Why didn’t you walk around the hole?” asked the Tin Woodman.

“I don’t know enough,” replied the Scarecrow cheerfully. “My head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him for some brains.”

“Oh, I see,” said the Tin Woodman. “But, after all, brains are not the best things in the world.”

“Have you any?” inquired the Scarecrow.

“No, my head is quite empty,” answered the Woodman.

“And why is that?” asked the Scarecrow.

“I will tell you my story, and then you will know. I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I too became a woodchopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother as long as she lived.