through them and admire their lovely furniture. But sure-enough castles-the little fellow could not get over it. Sitting cross-legged on the white cloud, which floated close to Ruggedo's head, he stared and stared.
"Well, I never," chuckled the Sand Man, and turned a somersault for very amazement. Then, not knowing what else to do or think, he sensibly decided to hurry home and tell the whole affair to his wife. His empty bag he found on a tall treetop, and without one backward glance he bounded into the air and disappeared. Really, it was quite lucky the little old gentleman spilled his bag of sand where he did, for the only safe giant is a sleeping giant, and while Ozma and her friends lay dreaming they could not worry.
"Will they sleep forever?" sighed Scraps, after she and the Scarecrow had sat silently for an hour.
"Seems likely," said the Scarecrow gloomily. "But even if they do," he plucked three straws from his chest, "we shall stick to our post to the very end."
The Scarecrow regarded the sleeping figures of the little girls affectionately.
"To the end of forever?" gulped Scraps, putting her cotton finger in her mouth. "How long is that?"
"That," said the Scarecrow resignedly and settling himself comfortably, "that is what we shall soon see."
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