First he cooked himself some breakfast. There were bread and coffee in the cupboard, and eggs and milk in the chest and after he had eaten, Philador's spirits rose considerably. Putting a loaf of bread, a square of butter, some cheese and a jar of honey into a small basket, he was about to step out into the forest, when a really splendid idea occurred to him. Perhaps there might be some magic contrivance in the good witch's hut to help him on his journey. Setting down the basket, Philador searched carefully through the whole cottage and in a small shed at the back found Tattypoo's witch work-shop. A huge cauldron hanging on a crane was set in the large fire place. The walls were lined with shelves and the shelves covered with curious boxes and bottles. With both hands in his pockets and his crown on the back of his head, the little Prince tried to decide which to take. The labels were mostly in magic, a language Philador had unfortunately never studied. Taking down a blue box he started to open it. Now this box had an eyelid and it winked at Philador so knowingly that he gave a jump and knocked a simply enormous bottle from the shelf over his head. The bottle fell to the floor with a loud crash, breaking into three separate pieces and a thick brown liquid began to ooze out upon the floor. As Philador, dropping the blue box, looked down in fright and dismay, the liquid began to run into the shape of a man. Backing into a corner the little Prince watched the queer figure forming on the floor. It grew more and more distinct, thickening through the middle and finally as Philador, with both hands before his face, backed as far into the corner as he could, the man out of the bottle curled upward and made him a deep bow. "I thank you," he began in a husky voice. "I've been shut up in that bottle for thirty years and thought I was shelved for life." "Who--what are you?" stuttered Philador in an unsteady voice. "And how did you get into the bottle?" He half expected the man to melt and run away, but the liquid from which he was formed seemed to have hardened perfectly and, except for his strange eyes and powdered hair, the old fellow looked almost natural. He sighed deeply at the little Prince's question and seating himself on a low bench, motioned for the Prince to sit beside him. Rather nervously Philador seated himself on the other end of the bench. "I am a medicine man, and a Gilliken," began the old gentleman solemnly. "Of course!" thought Philador with a little chuckle. "Who but a medicine man would come out of a bottle!" "I spent my whole life studying cures and remedies, but though I hung out my sign, and had office hours every day, no one ever came to consult me," said the medicine man sorrowfully. "But this was not strange when you stop to consider that no one in Oz is ever ill; however, it was very dull for me."