The forest, like all the northern lands of Oz, was slightly tinged with purple, the national color of the Gillikens. Pansies and tall purple flags grew around the bases of the giant trees and here and there clusters of violets nodded their pretty little heads in the breeze. Purple birds darted through the leaves overhead and the air was sweet from hidden beds of lavender, so that nothing could have been pleasanter than the first part of the day's journey. But toward noon they reached a portion of the forest so dark and impenetrable that they had to go single file, and even then had great difficulty in forcing their way through the trees and dense underbrush. Growls and roars added still further to their discomforts, until Snip, feeling in his pocket for his trusty pen knife, began to wish himself safely back in the button wood. Pajuka half ran and waddled after him, giving every now and then a great flop of terror as a particularly fierce roar came echoing through the forest. Mombi, alone, seemed perfectly unconcerned and hobbled ahead whacking branches and bushes out of the way with her crooked stick. "Must be lunch time," she called back hoarsely over her shoulder. "Howja guess?" panted Pajuka, keeping as close to Snip as he could, for he was terribly frightened. "Don't you hear the lions?" asked the old witch maliciously. "Merciful feathers!" gasped the goose. "Have I come all this way to be a lion's lunch?" "Here comes one now," shuddered Snip, flattening himself against a tree. But it was not a lion that came hurtling out of the brush. It was a weenix, a wild, bear-like beast with a walrus head. One look at its tusks set Snip's heart beating like a drum. Pajuka flung into the air, flapping his wings and hissing furiously, but the weenix came straight on and Snip, though determined to die with his pen knife in hand, trembled so violently he could scarcely stand up. Even Mombi looked frightened. Grabbing the basket from Snip, she fumbled among its packages and pans and just as the weenix, with outspread paws, leaped upon her, the old witch snatched out the pepper box and shook the entire contents upon its nose. It was purple pepper, fortunately, which is even stronger than red. "Kawoosh!" spluttered the weenix falling backwards. "Kawoosh--Kawush! Kawoo!" With tears streaming down its tusks and trembling whiskers, it dashed into the shadows, where it could still be heard sneezing broken-heartedly. It evidently told its family and friends all about the dangerous travellers, for not another weenix so much as showed a whisker after that. "Humph!" snorted Mombi, settling her hat, which had gone terribly askew. "I may have forgotten my magic, but I still know a few tricks, eh Pajuka?" "Oh, my feathers," panted the goose, leaning up against a tree, "that was worse than roasting."