Of course this was a bad thing for the Scarecrow.

"I am now worse off than when I first met Dorothy," he
thought. "Then, I was stuck on a pole in a cornfield, where I
could make-believe scare the crows, at any rate. But surely there
is no use for a Scarecrow stuck on a pole in the middle of a
river. I am afraid I shall never have any brains, after all!"

Down the stream the raft floated, and the poor Scarecrow was
left far behind. Then the Lion said:

"Something must be done to save us. I think I can swim to the
shore and pull the raft after me, if you will only hold fast to
the tip of my tail."

So he sprang into the water, and the Tin Woodman caught fast
hold of his tail. Then the Lion began to swim with all his might
toward the shore. It was hard work, although he was so big; but
by and by they were drawn out of the current, and then Dorothy took
the Tin Woodman's long pole and helped push the raft to the land.

They were all tired out when they reached the shore at last
and stepped off upon the pretty green grass, and they also knew
that the stream had carried them a long way past the road of
yellow brick that led to the Emerald City.

"What shall we do now?" asked the Tin Woodman, as the Lion lay
down on the grass to let the sun dry him.