"Sitting Bull is in charge of that," answered the Elf. "He works with the High teachers. This work keeps him very busy, as you can imagine. Of course, he lives in Americanindianland with all the guides. The guides are made up from every tribe there is. They are wonderful beings and have a great sense of humor. I hope you get to meet Sitting Bull. He is a beautiful illumined soul.
"Well, I really must be going this time," said the Elf. "Good luck to you all," he said as he waved goodbye.
Dorothy said to the others, "I'm looking forward to seeing Americanindianland, but I'm not so sure about Thoughtformland." They all nodded in agreement. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, came a loud scream. As they looked up, a chill ran through them all. It was the Wicked Witch of the Deep South, swooshing down on them on her broomstick.
"So, my pretty," she screamed at Dorothy. "Are you coming to kill me, too? Who's going to do it? Your scraggly stuffed friend?" She pointed her finger at the Scarecrow, and bolts of lightning shot from her fingers to explode around him. "Or maybe your brave little pussy-cat!" she said mockingly, as she did the same thing to the Lion and made him jump. "Or what about your tin-can friend?" she whined, shooting a bolt of lightning above the Tin Woodman's head and creating a miniature cloudburst over him, making him jump clear to escape the water. "I'll be waiting for you, my little pretty," she screamed at Dorothy. "That's if you ever get through Thoughtformland. All my thoughts live there, you know. And they just can't wait for your arrival." She burst into squeals of horrible laughter as she made a final swoop over their heads and disappeared over the treetops. Everyone was shivering with fright.
"Why-why, th-th-that o-old b-b-biddy," stuttered the Tin Woodman. "Who-who does she th-think she is?"
"She called me a pussy-cat!" said the Lion angrily. "I'll show her!" he said, putting up his paw-fists in a mock-fighting stance. He pranced around, shadow-boxing, making Dorothy laugh. Her laughter eased the tension somewhat, although they were all rather apprehensive about continuing their journey toward Thoughtformland.
"If you'd rather not go on, Dorothy," the Tin Woodman said, hesitantly.
"Oh, no!" said Dorothy. "Love is stronger than hate. We will overcome. If we return now, the witch will have won. Evil will have overcome, and fear will be a part of your daily lives again. We must talk to the Wicked Witch. We must reason with her."
"T-t-talk to her?" stammered the Scarecrow.
"Reason with her!" exclaimed the Tin Woodman.