"I remember that head used to
be very particular about its clothes."
"As an assistant," the old tinsmith continued,
"Chopfyt was not a success. He was awkward with tools
and was always hungry. He demanded something to eat six
or eight times a day, so I wondered if I had fitted his
insides properly. Indeed, Chopfyt ate so much that
little food was left for myself; so, when he proposed,
one day, to go out into the world and seek adventures,
I was delighted to be rid of him. I even made him a tin
arm to take the place of the missing one, and that
pleased him very much, so that we parted good friends."
"What became of Chopfyt after that?" the Scarecrow
inquired.
"I never heard. He started off toward the east, into
the plains of the Munchkin Country, and that was the
last I ever saw of him."
"It seems to me," said the Tin Woodman reflectively,
"that you did wrong in making a man out of our cast-off
parts. It is evident that Chopfyt could, with justice,
claim relationship with both of us."
"Don't worry about that," advised Ku-Klip cheerfully;
"it is not likely that you will ever meet the fellow.
And, if you should meet him, he doesn't know who he is
made of, for I never told him the secret of his
manufacture. Indeed, you are the only ones who know of
it, and you may keep the secret to yourselves, if you
wish to."
"Never mind Chopfyt," said the Scarecrow. "Our
business now is to find poor Nimmie Amee and let her
choose her tin husband.
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