"Yes; I can see that," said the boy, nodding. "Was it you who rescued me from the leaf?"
"None other, you may be sure. But take care, or I shall have to rescue you again."
Ojo gave a jump, for he saw several broad leaves leaning toward him; but the Shaggy Man began to whistle again, and at the sound the leaves all straightened up on their stems and kept still.
The man now took Ojo's arm and led him up the road, past the last of the great plants, and not till he was safely beyond their reach did he cease his whistling.
"You see, the music charms 'em," said he. "Singing or whistling—it doesn't matter which—makes 'em behave, and nothing else will. I always whistle as I go by 'em and so they always let me alone. To-day as I went by, whistling, I saw a leaf curled and knew there must be something inside it. I cut down the leaf with my knife and—out you popped. Lucky I passed by, wasn't it?"
"You were very kind," said Ojo, "and I thank you. Will you please rescue my companions, also?"
"What companions?" asked the Shaggy Man.
"The leaves grabbed them all," said the boy. "There's a Patchwork Girl and—"
"A what?"
"A girl made of patchwork, you know. She's alive and her name is Scraps. And there's a Glass Cat—"