"That will be a hard climb," said the Scarecrow, "but we must
get over the hill, nevertheless."
So he led the way and the others followed. They had nearly
reached the first rock when they heard a rough voice cry out,
"Keep back!"
"Who are you?" asked the Scarecrow.
Then a head showed itself over the rock and the same voice said,
"This hill belongs to us, and we don't allow anyone to cross it."
"But we must cross it," said the Scarecrow. "We're going to
the country of the Quadlings."
"But you shall not!" replied the voice, and there stepped from
behind the rock the strangest man the travelers had ever seen.
He was quite short and stout and had a big head, which was
flat at the top and supported by a thick neck full of wrinkles.
But he had no arms at all, and, seeing this, the Scarecrow did not
fear that so helpless a creature could prevent them from climbing
the hill. So he said, "I'm sorry not to do as you wish, but we
must pass over your hill whether you like it or not," and he
walked boldly forward.
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