At last the witch seemed to tire of her terrorizing. She made one final swoop at Dorothy -- screaming in her ear, "Well, my little pretty, what say you now? I'll be back presently with my soldiers to take you all to my castle. No use looking for help. There's no one here in Witch Forest except my friends, the trees, and they're certainly not going to help you." She made one final sweep towards the Scarecrow, Lion, and Tin Woodman, screaming with her maniacal laughter. "Well, how's the bag of straw and the tin can?" she cackled. "Not to forget the King of the jungle! A-a-a-a HA HA HA HEE HEE HEEEEEEEEEEE." While she was screaming, the Tin Woodman managed to pull one arm free. As she flew over his head, he grabbed the tail end of her broomstick. It stopped -- but she didn't. She flew head over heels through the air. Over and over she went, landing upside down, her head stuck in the mud. Dorothy ran over to her. By the time she got there, she was already up to her waist, her legs sticking out and flailing around frantically. She obviously could not breathe. Dorothy grabbed her legs and heaved, but she couldn't budge her. "She'll die for sure. Run!" said the Scarecrow to Dorothy. Dorothy hesitated. As much as she had been abused by the witch, she could not bear to leave her to die. "Look!" said the Tin Woodman. One of the witch's legs was waving back and forth, with her long, pointed shoe vigorously jabbing towards a tree stump. "Looks like she's trying to tell us something," shouted the Scarecrow. Dorothy ran over to the tree stump. "I can't see anything unusual about it," she said. Meanwhile, the witch's kicking got weaker and weaker until she was not moving at all. "She's dead," said the Lion. "The wicked witch is dead. She must have suffocated to death." "Well, that's that," said the Scarecrow. "She'll never scare or harm anyone again." "Why aren't we all shouting and dancing for joy?" said the Tin Woodman. "We couldn't very well dance anyhow," said the Lion. "And I don't think anyone feels like singing." "I was hoping that we could change her," said Dorothy. "There'd be so much more satisfaction in that, than seeing her dead. Now, wherever she is, she's the same old wicked person." "What do you mean, wherever she is?" said the Lion. "She's right there! Look at her legs sticking out of the ground." "No. I mean wherever her spirit is. You know that no one can really die." "Oh, I see," said the Lion. "You mean, whichever level of spiritland she's now in, it's probably not a happy one." "Yes," said Dorothy. "She's had a chance to learn here. But she has refused to learn. Now she'll be on a very low level with others of her kind. There's very little likelihood of her advancing much unless someone of a higher level is able to break through the barriers of her negativity." Dorothy sat dejectedly on the tree stump. "Now we've got to find a way to get you all out of here," she said, cupping her face in hands.