"Ah--but what of the morning?" The Soldier with Green Whiskers wagged his head, dismally. "That rogue of a Red Beard will pitch us off this mountain quick as _that_!" Wantowin snapped his cold fingers. "One toss from this tower and we're done!" groaned the Army, turning away from one of the barred windows with a positive shudder. Glancing out the window nearest her, Dorothy saw that the tower had been built at the very edge of the mountain. Jagged rocks far below, and long-dead trees jutting out from the sides of the sheer precipice, made it even more formidable. "I'm going to sleep," mumbled the lion, settling himself near the fire. "What I don't see, won't make me feel more cowardly." "How true," thought Dorothy. Backing away from the window and resolutely keeping her mind off the precipice, she began to help Jellia drape the Scarecrow over a bench close to the fire. "Not too close, girls," begged the Straw Man nervously. "Fire's almost as bad for me as water. One little spark and--pouff! Nothing but a bonfire of your old friend and comrade!" At this point a sharp tap on the door made them all jump, but it was only a servant carrying a large tray. At least, Bustabo was keeping his promise about supper. The servant was round and jolly. He looked sympathetically at the little company, but evidently was afraid to speak to them. Placing his tray on a table in the center of the room, he bowed stiffly and withdrew, locking the door carefully behind him. "Not bad," said Jellia, lifting cover after cover from the silver serving dishes. "Not bad at all! Give us a hand, Wanny, and we'll pull the table over to the fire. My gooseness, this is almost as good as a party!" Seating herself next to Dorothy who already was busy, Jellia bit rapturously into a crisp roll. "Mmm--mmm! This is the first food I've tasted since we left the Emerald City. Draw up, Liony! This roast lamb will make you forget that wind pudding. You may have _all_ the roast, and we'll manage with the vegetables, the soup, salad and dessert!" Dusk was falling and the tower room was hardly cheerful, but sitting on their hard benches close to the fire, the prisoners dined almost as well as though they had been in the Emerald City. Now that his hunger was satisfied, even the Soldier with Green Whiskers began to look less desperate. The Scarecrow, now completely dry though a little wrinkled, was his old, witty self again.