"If they capture you before you reach the well, be sure not to let them wash your face," warned Tora earnestly, "for if they wash your face, it will disappear. Remember don't wash your face, whatever happens." This was an easy promise for a little boy to make and, following the direction of Tora's long finger, Snip saw a stone well in the small park at the corner of the street. "Good-bye!" sighed the old man, giving him a wistful pat on the shoulder. "If you ever find this King or reach the Emerald City, tell someone about old Tora, will you?" "I'll tell Ozma; I'll tell everybody!" promised the little button boy, settling his cap determinedly. Then, because he hated to leave Tora looking so sad, he seized him suddenly by the hand. "Why don't you try to get through the gate now?" urged Snip. "Come on, I'll help you!" As he spoke, he kicked open the gate with his heel, stepped out and began to tug at the tailor's coat. "No use," began the old man. "No use for me to try to get away--" Before he could finish the sentence Snip had dragged him entirely through. For an instant he stood staring back uncertainly at his little shop with its shabby sign, "The Tired Tailor of Oz." He had printed it to amuse himself one stormy evening. Snatching a piece of chalk from his pocket, while Snip danced up and down with anxiety and impatience, Tora dashed back and scribbled two letters before the second word. "The Re-Tired Tailor of Oz," said the sign now, and with a long, gusty chuckle, the old man grasped Snip by the hand and ran with all his might toward the Fare-well. The Blanks were evidently still at breakfast, and Tora and Snip made their way through the deserted streets of Blankenburg without meeting a soul. In a jiffy they came to the Fare-well, both out of breath but happy to be near to freedom. CHAPTER 14 The Old Tailor's Story Snip was just gathering his courage for a jump down the well when Tora lifted him up and dropped him gently over the edge. Again that terrifying swoop into the darkness. "After this," gulped Snip dizzily, as he turned over and over, "I shall think nothing of falling out of a button tree, or down a flight of steps. Perhaps I'll try a fall every day just to keep in practice." With a breathless bump, Snip landed in the padded bucket, putting an end to these curious thoughts. Before he had time for any others, he had shot through another underground passage and up and out of the well with such force that he rolled like a ball on the soft green moss. When he stopped rolling he saw Tora sitting beside him, smoothing down his long silver locks and untangling his whiskers. "Are your ears on tight?" asked Snip anxiously, for it would certainly be a dreadful thing if the tailor's ears had been left behind. Tora put up his hand quickly to touch them and then, with a pleased nod, arose to his feet.