“I don’t see how they know,” remarked little Trot, “if no one has been there.”

“Perhaps the birds who fly over that country brought the news,” suggested Betsy.

“If you escaped those dangers,” continued the shepherd, “you might encounter others, still more serious, before you came to the next branch of the Winkie River. It is true that beyond that river there lies a fine country, inhabited by good people, and if you reached there you would have no further trouble. It is between here and the west branch of the Winkie River that all dangers lie, for that is the unknown territory that is inhabited by terrible, lawless people.”

“It may be, and it may not be,” said the Wizard. “We shall know when we get there.”

“Well,” persisted the shepherd, “in a fairy country such as ours every undiscovered place is likely to harbor wicked creatures. If they were not wicked, they would discover themselves, and by coming among us submit to Ozma’s rule and be good and considerate, as are all the Oz people whom we know.”

“That argument,” stated the little Wizard, “convinces me that it is our duty to go straight to those unknown places, however dangerous they may be; for it is surely some cruel and wicked person who has stolen our Ozma, and we know it would be folly to search among good people for the culprit. Ozma may not be hidden in the secret places of the Winkie Country, it is true, but it is our duty to travel to every spot, however dangerous, where our beloved Ruler is likely to be imprisoned.”

“You’re right about that,” said Button-Bright approvingly. “Dangers don’t hurt us; only things that happen ever hurt anyone, and a danger is a thing that might happen, and might not happen, and sometimes don’t amount to shucks. I vote we go ahead and take our chances.”

They were all of the same opinion, so they packed up and said goodbye to the friendly shepherd and proceeded on their way.

Chapter 7

The Merry-Go-Round Mountains

The Rolling Prairie was not difficult to travel over, although it was all uphill and downhill, so for a while they made good progress. Not even a shepherd was to be met with now and the farther they advanced the more dreary the landscape became. At noon they stopped for a “picnic luncheon,” as Betsy called it, and then they again resumed their journey. All the animals were swift and tireless and even the Cowardly Lion and the Mule found they could keep up with the pace of the Woozy and the Sawhorse.