"I am perhaps the strongest man in my country, so I'll undertake to do the throwing.

But I won't promise you will land on your feet." "No matter about that," returned the Scarecrow.

"Just toss me over and I'll be satisfied." So the Champion picked up the Scarecrow and balanced him a moment, to see how much he weighed, and then with all his strength tossed him high into the air.
Perhaps if the Scarecrow had been a trifle heavier he would have been easier to throw and would have gone a greater distance; but, as it was, instead of going over the fence he landed just on top of it, and one of the sharp pickets caught him in the middle of his back and held him fast prisoner.

Had he been face downward the Scarecrow might have managed to free himself, but lying on his back on the picket his hands waved in the air of the Horner Country while his feet kicked the air of the Hopper Country; so there he was.
"Are you hurt ?" called the Patchwork Girl anxiously.
"Course not," said Dorothy.

"But if he wiggles that way he may tear his clothes.