"Well, this is the Wizard of Oz," explained Dorothy, as the Lion stalked grimly out of the bushes, "Chief Magician for Ozma of Oz. This--" Dorothy, with a wave of her hand, indicated the trembling soldier, "This is Wantowin Battles, the Grand Army of Oz. Beside him is our famous, live Scarecrow. I am Princess Dorothy of Oz and this is Jellia Jam, First Lady in Waiting to Ozma. Coming toward you is the Cowardly Lion of Oz." "He doesn't look very cowardly to me," muttered Bustabo, putting the camp chair between himself and the approaching beast. "Oh, but I am cowardly," growled the lion growlishly, "and when I'm frightened I never know what I'll do. I might even chew up the King of this Mountain! Whoever heard of a King pointing his beard at harmless travellers! Whoever heard of a King with a beard as hard and red as yours, anyway! It's hard as iron from the looks of it." "Harder!" agreed the King, evidently considering the lion's remark a compliment. "All we Kudgers have red beards--not of soft hair like his--" The Red King gazed contemplatively at the Soldier with Green Whiskers, "but of hard hair like mine. I don't suppose yew've ever seen a beard like this before. The point's sharp as a dagger, too," he warned, as the lion sprang a pace closer. "Oh, I'm sure it is," said Dorothy nervously. "And it's dreadfully handsome, too. But could your Majesty please let us dry out in your castle and then could you show us the quickest route to the Emerald City? If you don't," finished Dorothy, clasping her hands anxiously, "the ruler of this whole country of Oz may be captured and carried to the Strat." "What do I care about the Ruler of Oz?" sniffed Bustabo, scratching his head in a most unkingly manner. "Ozma never does anything for me! Even if she were conquered I'd still have my Mountain. Why should I help yew or her or them?" His scornful wave included the whole little group. "What can yew dew for me?" he asked sullenly. "Can yew sing?" His dull eye brightened momentarily as it rested inquiringly on Dorothy. "Well, a little," confessed Dorothy, smoothing down her damp dress. Clearing her throat and fixing her eye on the top of a red pine, she started in rather a choked voice: "Oh, Bright and gay is the Land of Oz We love its lakes and hills becoz--" "There, there! That will dew!" Bustabo snapped his fingers impatiently, and taking out a little book scribbled hastily: "Can't sing." "Can yew dance?" he demanded, addressing himself to Jellia. "We are short of good dancers on this mountain." Jellia by this time was in such a state of cold and temper, she stamped her foot and turned her back on the unmannerly monarch. "Can't dance," wrote Bustabo under the first entry. "Well, then--what _dew_ yew dew?" he asked, turning in exasperation to the Wizard.