"Tied to a tree near the palace. But we'll have to wait till the Uns go to wish," replied Nick, rubbing his head against Notta's knee. And while the three listened in amazement Snorer told them a bit about life on the Isle of Un. No one on Un, explained Nick gravely, ever worked, but each morning they went regularly to wish, and nothing was allowed to interrupt their wishing. For three hours they shouted their wishes as loudly as they could, and I-wish-I-was, because he could wish faster and shout louder than any of the rest, had been made king. "You'll hear them at it soon," said Snorer, adjusting his nose, "and that's the best time for you to leave. Afternoons they fish and evenings they fight. Wish, fish and fight--that's the program here." "But how do they get anything done?" asked Notta, standing on his head to settle his feathers. "They don't," replied Snorer calmly. "Everything is undone; and about your feathers," he pointed his claw at the Cowardly Lion's mane, "every time anything unish happens to you you'll grow another. First you were unwise to come here. That accounts for one; then you were uncomfortable and unsafe." "Unlucky, unhappy and unfed!" spluttered the clown, turning a somersault with each word. "Lead us to the Flyaboutabus, old fellow, or we'll soon be as feathered as geese." "All right," chirped Nickadoodle obligingly, "but step softly and do just as I tell you." "Aren't there any good Uns?" asked Bob with a little sigh. "Well, there was one," Nick paused to adjust his nose, which was continually falling off its hook, "but I've forgotten his name, and the others treated him so unkindly that he's hidden himself in a cave somewhere on the skyle. But they do say if he ever becomes king, the Uns will all have to reform." Bob was hungry and far from rested, but as he stumbled along the rocky beach he fell to thinking about this good Un and wishing he might see him before they left the skyland. But Notta was so cheered at the thought of leaving Un that every few seconds he sprang into the air or somersaulted over the Cowardly Lion. The Cowardly Lion was dreadfully down-hearted. The feathers preyed on his mind, his ears drooped and his tail dragged and nothing Notta could say made him feel any better. "It's all very well for you and Bob. You can wear hats and hide your feathers, but a lion in a hat would look as ridiculous as a lion with feathers. I shall be the laughing stock of Oz," groaned the poor beast. "Well, it's not so bad to make people laugh," comforted Notta. "That is my business, and I know. Come with me to America and your fortune will be made." But the Cowardly Lion only shook his head and padded sadly over the rough stones. "This is a punishment," thought the poor lion, "a punishment for my wickedness in planning to devour a brave man." And perhaps he was right.