“What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke.
“Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered. “They are rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage.”
Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can, and then she returned and asked anxiously, “Where are your joints?” Continue reading The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe