Deeper and deeper the two travelers penetrated into the grim forest. Except for the twitter of birds, and the occasional creaking of a branch, as some animal made its way through the underbrush, there was no sound. Almost holding his breath, Philador trotted after the old Medicine Man, peering nervously to the right and left and half expecting a bear or walapus to spring out of some hollow tree. But as time passed and no wild beasts of any nature did appear, he began to breathe easier and to look around with real interest and delight. The huge gnarled trees were tinged with purple. Wild grape and wistaria vines climbed in riotous profusion up the trunks and out over the limbs, lacing them together and forming fairy-like arbors and leafy lanes. The floor of the forest was thickly strewn with violets and the fragrance of lavender was everywhere. Herby, being a native Gilliken, was accustomed to the grandeur of the forest and pattered along in a business-like manner, giving no attention to the purple pansies, clustered around the great trees, nor the lordly flags, edging each forest stream. "I've heard that the Emerald City is but a day's journey from Mombi's hut," he called over his shoulder, "and with this thinking cap to guide us we'll be there for dinner. Then Ozma can magically transport us to the Ozure Isles and save your father's Kingdom. I trust the Wizard of Oz will give me an audience," he added hopefully. "I'd like to show him my medicine chest and tell him my story." "But I wonder what did become of Tattypoo?" mused Philador, stopping to admire some especially lovely pansies. "Do you suppose we shall ever find out?" "Of course! Of course! With Ozma's famous picture and The Wizard's magic we shall discover everything." Waving his arms happily, Herby quickened his steps. As for Philador, the more he thought about the capital of Oz, the more impatient he became to reach his journey's end. Herby had taken off the thinking cap, and was marching along briskly, the boxes and bottles in his medicine chest rattling and tinkling and his wispy white hair snapping in the morning breeze. The trees were farther apart now, and presently they stepped out of the forest altogether. But only to find themselves on the brink of a rushing torrent. "Now what?" muttered the medicine man gloomily, and while Philador gazed anxiously up and down the bank, he hurriedly opened the chest. "What are you doing?" asked the boy curiously, as Herby poured several pills from a small bottle into his palm. "Keeping myself from getting cross," puffed the medicine man, quickly swallowing the pills. "Have some?" "But we want to get cross this river?" chuckled the little Prince laughing in spite of himself. "Well, I don't see how we are to do it, Phil." Mournfully the little man returned the pill bottle to his chest and slammed the doors. "That's what was making me cross, and I never allow myself to feel cross," he finished placidly.