The Cowardly Lion, ashamed of the dreadful purpose that had brought him to the forest, outdid himself to entertain them. And so enchanted were the kindly woodcutters with his conversation that he could not tear himself away until late in the afternoon. "I'll never be able to eat a woodcutter," groaned the Cowardly Lion, trotting slowly along in the gathering dusk. "Never after the way they have treated me. I'll have to find some other sort of brave person to swallow." Scraps' advice was proving difficult right at the start, and very thoughtfully the Cowardly Lion continued his journey. It was night time when he reached the edge of the forest--night time and not a brave man in sight. But in the southern part of the Munchkin Country there are many great mountains and among the sturdy Munchkin mountaineers surely there would be a brave man. So the lion, who did not mind at all traveling in the dark, ran steadily toward the south, through quiet little villages, through fragrant fields and meadows, even swimming the broad and turbulent Munchkin river. It was rather lonely, and he wished Dorothy or Sir Hokus of Pokes were along, but he well knew that neither would approve of his plan for acquiring courage. He was not sure that he approved of it himself, but he kept on arguing in his head and shuddering in his heart, and sighing because he was so great a coward. Just as the sun rose he came upon a brave man, asleep under a blue rose bush. He knew he must be brave, because he was dressed as a huntsman and beside him lay a terrible-looking gun. The Cowardly Lion's heart began to thump like a triphammer, for he was much afraid of guns. But it did not seem at all fair to swallow a man in his sleep and, though he trembled so violently he could scarcely stand, he determined to waken the huntsman and to ascertain at the same time whether he were brave enough for his purpose. Gathering himself together as best he could, he sprang upon the sleeping huntsman. There was a crackle and snap as if he had stepped upon a pillow stuffed with twigs. Then an ear splitting shriek flattened back the Cowardly Lion's ears and fairly curdled his blood. At the same time his tail was seized from behind, and twisted terrifically. "Help! Help!" screamed the huntsman, trying to rise. "Ouch, Stop!" roared the Cowardly Lion, while the person who had hold of his tail screamed in seven different keys. The Cowardly Lion removed his paw from the huntsman's chest. "Are you a brave man?" he asked in a quavering voice. "Not very," chattered the huntsman, jumping up and backing cautiously toward a tree. "Well, you don't sound brave," continued the lion in a relieved voice. "A brave man would not call for help. Let go of my tail, little boy. It's all a mistake. I don't want this huntsman after all." "He's not a huntsman," wailed the little boy, running over and clasping the man around the knees. "Not a huntsman?" roared the Cowardly Lion, waving his tail very fast. "Then what--"