faster than the boy, they often stumbled and fell, or
got in one another's way, so he managed to catch
several and prick them with his thorn.

It astonished him to see how easily the Loons
exploded. When the air was let out of them they were
quite helpless. Til Loon was one of those who ran
against his thorn and many others suffered the same
fate. The creatures could not escape from the
enclosure, but in their fright many bounded upward and
caught branches of the trees, and then climbed out of
reach of the dreaded thorn.

Woot was getting pretty tired chasing them, so he
stopped and came over, panting, to where his friends
were sitting, still bound.

"Very well done, my Wanderer," said the Tin Woodman.
"It is evident that we need fear these puffed-up
creatures no longer, so be kind enough to unfasten our
bonds and we will proceed upon our journey."

Woot untied the bonds of the Scarecrow and helped him
to his feet. Then he freed the Tin Woodman, who got up
without help. Looking around them, they saw that the
only Loon now remaining within reach was Bal Loon, the
King, who had remained seated in his throne, watching
the punishment of his people with a bewildered look in
his purple eyes.