“Why, don’t you know?” she returned, in surprise.
“No, indeed. I don’t know anything. You see, I am stuffed, so I have no brains at all,” he answered sadly.
“Oh,” said Dorothy, “I’m awfully sorry for you.”
“Do you think,” he asked, “if I go to the Emerald City with you, that Oz would give me some brains?”
“I cannot tell,” she returned, “but you may come with me, if you like. If Oz will not give you any brains you will be no worse off |хуже не будет| than you are now.”
“That is true,” said the Scarecrow. “You see,” he continued confidentially, “I don’t mind my legs and arms and body being stuffed, because I cannot get hurt. If anyone treads on my toes or sticks a pin |воткнет булавку| into me, it doesn’t matter, for I can’t feel it. But I do not want people to call me a fool, and if my head stays stuffed with straw instead of with brains, as yours is, how am I ever to know anything?”
“I understand how you feel,” said the little girl, who was truly sorry for him. “If you will come with me I’ll ask Oz to do all he can for you.”
“Thank you,” he answered gratefully.
They walked back to the road. Dorothy helped him over the fence, and they started along the path of yellow brick for the Emerald City.
Toto did not like this addition to the party at first. He smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there might be a nest of rats in the straw, and he often growled in an unfriendly way at the Scarecrow.
“Don’t mind |Не обращай внимания на| Toto,” said Dorothy to her new friend. “He never bites.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid,” replied the Scarecrow. “He can’t hurt the straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind it, for I can’t get tired. I’ll tell you a secret,” he continued, as he walked along. “There is only one thing in the world I am afraid of.”
“What is that?” asked Dorothy; “the Munchkin farmer who made you?”
“No,” answered the Scarecrow; “it’s a lighted match |зажженная спичка|.”
4. The Road Through the Forest
After a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking grew |здесь – стало| so difficult that the Scarecrow often stumbled over the yellow bricks, which were here very uneven |неровные|. Sometimes, indeed, they were broken or missing altogether, leaving holes that Toto jumped across and Dorothy walked around. As for the Scarecrow, having no brains, he walked straight ahead, and so stepped into the holes and fell at full length on the hard bricks. It never hurt him, however, and Dorothy would pick him up and set him upon his feet again, while he joined her in laughing merrily at his own mishap |неудачей|.
The farms were not nearly so well cared for here as they were farther back. There were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and the farther they went the more dismal |становились угрюмее| and lonesome the country became.
At noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook, and Dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread. She offered a piece to the Scarecrow, but he refused.
“I am never hungry,” he said, “and it is a lucky thing I am not, for my mouth is only painted, and if I should cut a hole in it so I could eat, the straw I am stuffed with would come out |выпадет|, and that would spoil the shape of my head.”
Dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and went on eating her bread.
“Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from,” said the Scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner. So she told him all about Kansas, and how gray everything was there, and how the cyclone had carried her to this queer Land of Oz.
The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, “I cannot understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas.”
“That is because you have no brains” answered the girl. “No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like |нет другого такого места как| home.”
The Scarecrow sighed.
“Of course I cannot understand it,” he said. “If your heads were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all. It is fortunate for Kansas that you have brains.”
“Won’t you tell me a story, while we are resting?” asked the child.
The Scarecrow looked at her reproachfully |укоризненно|, and answered:
“My life has been so short that I really know nothing whatever. I was only made day before yesterday. What happened in the world before that time is all unknown to me. Luckily, when the farmer made my head, one of the first things he did was to paint my ears, so that I heard what was going on. There was another Munchkin with him, and the first thing I heard was the farmer saying, `How do you like those ears?’
“`They aren’t straight,’” answered the other.
“`Never mind,’” said the farmer. “`They are ears just the same,’” which was true enough.
“`Now I’ll make the eyes,’” said the farmer. So he painted my right eye, and as soon as it was finished I found myself looking at him and at everything around me with a great deal of curiosity |с огромным любопытством|, for this was my first glimpse of the world.
“`That’s a rather pretty eye,’” remarked the Munchkin who was watching the farmer. “`Blue paint is just the color for eyes.’
“`I think I’ll make the other a little bigger,’” said the farmer. And when the second eye was done I could see much better than before. Then he made my nose and my mouth. But I did not speak, because at that time I didn’t know what a mouth was for. I had the fun of watching them make my body and my arms and legs; and when they fastened |приделали| on my head, at last, I felt very proud, for I thought I was just as good a man as anyone.
“`This fellow will scare the crows fast enough,’ said the farmer. `He looks just like a man.’
“`Why |Чего уж там|, he is a man,’ said the other, and I quite agreed with him. The farmer carried me under his arm to the cornfield, and set me up on a tall stick, where you found me. He and his friend soon after walked away and left me alone.
“I did not like to be deserted |покинутым| this way. So I tried to walk after them. But my feet would not touch the ground, and I was forced to stay on that pole. It was a lonely life to lead, for I had nothing to think of, having been made such a little while before |будучи сделанным так недавно|. Many crows and other birds flew into the cornfield, but as soon as they saw me they flew away again, thinking I was a Munchkin; and this pleased me and made me feel that I was quite an important person. By and by |здесь – как-то раз| an old crow flew near me, and after looking at me carefully he perched |сел| upon my shoulder and said:
“`I wonder if that farmer thought to fool me in this clumsy manner. Any crow of sense could see that you are only stuffed with straw.’ Then he hopped down |спрыгнул| at my feet and ate all the corn he wanted. The other birds, seeing he was not harmed by me, came to eat the corn too, so in a short time there was a great flock |стая| of them about me.
“I felt sad at this, for it showed I was not such a good Scarecrow after all; but the old crow comforted me |успокоила|, saying, `If you only had brains in your head you would be as good a man as any of them, and a better man than some of them. Brains are the only things worth having in this world, no matter whether one is a crow or a man.’
“After the crows had gone I thought this over, and decided I would try hard to get some brains. By good luck you came along and pulled me off the stake, and from what you say I am sure the Great Oz will give me brains as soon as we get to the Emerald City.”
“I hope so,” said Dorothy earnestly, “since you seem anxious |раз уж ты так озадачен| to have them.”
“Oh, yes; I am anxious,” returned the Scarecrow. “It is such an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool.” |знать кого-то, кто – дурак|
“Well,” said the girl, “let us go.” And she handed the basket to the Scarecrow.
There were no fences at all by the roadside now, and the land was rough and untilled |грубая и необработанная|. Toward evening they came to a great forest, where the trees grew so big and close together that their branches met over the road of yellow brick. It was almost dark under the trees, for the branches shut out |закрывали| the daylight; but the travelers did not stop, and went on into the forest.
“If this road goes in, it must come out,” said the Scarecrow, “and as the Emerald City is at the other end of the road, we must go wherever it leads us.”
“Anyone would know that,” said Dorothy.
“Certainly; that is why I know it,” returned the Scarecrow. “If it required brains to figure it out |понять это|, I never should have said |никогда не сказал бы| it.”
After an hour or so the light faded away, and they found themselves stumbling along in the darkness. Dorothy could not see at all, but Toto could, for some dogs see very well in the dark; and the Scarecrow declared he could see as well as by day. So she took hold of his arm and managed to get along fairly well.
“If you see any house, or any place where we can pass the night,” she said, “you must tell me; for it is very uncomfortable walking in the dark.”
Soon after the Scarecrow stopped.
“I see a little cottage at the right of us,” he said, “built of logs and branches. Shall we go there?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered the child. “I am all tired out.”
So the Scarecrow led her through the trees until they reached the cottage, and Dorothy entered and found a bed of dried leaves in one corner. She lay down at once, and with Toto beside her soon fell into a sound sleep. The Scarecrow, who was never tired, stood up in another corner and waited patiently until morning came.
5. The Rescue of the Tin Woodman
When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and Toto had long been out chasing birds |давно уже бегал на улице за птицами| around him and squirrels. She sat up and looked around her. Scarecrow, still standing patiently in his corner, waiting for her.
“We must go and search for water,” she said to him.
“Why do you want water?” he asked.
“To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to drink, so the dry bread will not stick |не застрянет| in my throat.”
“It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh,” said the Scarecrow thoughtfully, “for you must sleep, and eat and drink. However, you have brains, and it is worth a lot of bother |это стоит беспокойства| to be able to think properly.”
They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they found a little spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and bathed and ate her breakfast. She saw there was not much bread left in the basket, and the girl was thankful the Scarecrow did not have to |не надо было| eat anything, for there was scarcely |едва ли| enough for herself and Toto for the day.
When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the road of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan |стон| near by.
“What was that?” she asked timidly.
“I cannot imagine,” replied the Scarecrow; “but we can go and see.”
Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound seemed to come from behind them. They turned and walked through the forest a few steps, when Dorothy discovered something shining in a ray of sunshine that fell between the trees. She ran to the place and then stopped short, with a little cry of surprise.
One of the big trees had been partly chopped through |частично порубленные|, and standing beside it, with an uplifted axe |поднятым топором| in his hands, was a man made entirely of tin |жесть или олово|. His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir |пошевелиться| at all.
Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while Toto barked sharply and made a snap |укусил| at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.
“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”
“What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved |была тронута| by the sad voice in which the man spoke.
“Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered. “They are rusted |заржавели| so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage.”
Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can, and then she returned and asked anxiously, “Where are your joints?”
“Oil my neck, first,” replied the Tin Woodman. So she oiled it, and as it was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin head and moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely, and then the man could turn it himself.
“Now oil the joints in my arms,” he said. And Dorothy oiled them and the Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite free from rust and as good as new.
The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe, which he leaned |опустил… прислонил| against the tree.
“This is a great comfort,” he said. “I have been holding that axe in the air ever since I rusted, and I’m glad to be able to put it down at last |наконец-то|. Now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, I shall be all right once more.”
So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very polite creature, and very grateful.
“I might have stood there always if you had not come along,” he said; “so you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be 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 |Как вы думаете| 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. “So, 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 heartily, and Dorothy added that she would be pleased to have his company. So the Tin Woodman shouldered |положил на плечо| his axe and they all passed through the forest until they came to the road that was paved with yellow brick.
The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket. “For,” he said, “if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again, I would need the oil-can badly.”
It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade |приятеля| join the party, for soon after they had begun their journey again 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 so well that soon he cleared a passage for the entire party.
Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that she did not notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and rolled over |перекатился| to the side of the road. Indeed he was obliged to call to her to help him up 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. “But once I had |однажды у меня были| brains, and a heart also; so, having tried them both, I should much rather have a heart.”