The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Книга для чтения на английском языке

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.