, who was obliged to talk because his uncle would
not, "no one starves in the Land of Oz, either. There is plenty for
everyone, you know; only, if it isn't just where you happen to be, you
must go where it is."

The aged Munchkin wriggled again and stared at his small nephew as if
disturbed by his argument.

"By to-morrow morning," the boy went on, "we must go where there is
something to eat, or we shall grow very hungry and become very unhappy."

"Where?" asked Unc.

"Where shall we go? I don't know, I'm sure," replied Ojo. "But _you_
must know, Unc. You must have traveled, in your time, because you're so
old. I don't remember it, because ever since I could remember anything
we've lived right here in this lonesome, round house, with a little
garden back of it and the thick woods all around. All I've ever seen of
the great Land of Oz, Unc dear, is the view of that mountain over at the
south, where they say the Hammerheads live--who won't let anybody go by
them--and that mountain at the north, where they say nobody lives."

"One," declared Unc, correcting him.

"Oh, yes; one family lives there, I've heard. That's the Crooked
Magician, who is named Dr. Pipt, and his wife Margolotte. One year you
told me about them; I think it took you a whole year, Unc, to say as
much as I've just said about the Crooked Magician and his wife. They
live high up on the mountain, and the good Munchkin Country, where the
fruits and flowers grow, is just the other side. It's funny you and I
should live here all alone, in the middle of the forest, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Unc.

"Then let's go away and visit the Munchkin Country and its jolly,
good-natured people. I'd love to get a sight of something besides woods,
Unc Nunkie."

"Too little," said Unc.

"Why, I'm not so little as I used to be," answered the boy earnestly. "I
think I can walk as far and as fast through the woods as you can, Unc.
And now that nothing grows in our back yard that is good to eat, we must
go where there is food."

Unc Nunkie made no reply for a time. Then he shut down the window and
turned his chair to face the room, for the sun was sinking behind the
tree-tops and it was growing cool.

By and by Ojo lighted the fire and the logs blazed freely in the broad
fireplace. The two sat in the firelight a long time--the old,
white-bearded Munchkin and the little boy. Both were thinking. When it
grew quite dark outside, Ojo said:

"Eat your bread, Unc, and then