“Because if you went west you would soon come to the desert, and also because in this part of the Winkie Country no one steals, so your time here would be wasted. But toward the east, beyond the river, live many strange people whose honesty I would not vouch for. Moreover, if you journey far enough east and cross the river for a second time, you will come to the Emerald City, where there is much magic and sorcery. The Emerald City is ruled by a dear little girl called Ozma, who also rules the Emperor of the Winkies and all the Land of Oz. So, as Ozma is a fairy, she may be able to tell you just who has taken your precious dishpan. Provided, of course, you do not find it before you reach her.”

“This seems to me to be excellent advice,” said the Frogman, and Cayke agreed with him.

“The most sensible thing for you to do,” continued the woman, “would be to return to your home and use another dishpan, learning to cook cookies as other people cook cookies, without the aid of magic. But, if you cannot be happy without the magic dishpan you have lost, you are likely to learn more about it in the Emerald City than at any other place in Oz.”

They thanked the good woman and on leaving her house faced the east and continued in that direction all the way. Toward evening they came to the west branch of the Winkie River and there, on the river bank, found a ferryman who lived all alone in a little yellow house.

This ferryman was a Winkie with a very small head and a very large body. He was sitting in his doorway as the travelers approached him and did not even turn his head to look at them.

“Good evening,” said the Frogman.

The ferryman made no reply.

“We would like some supper and the privilege of sleeping in your house until morning,” continued the Frogman. “At daybreak we would like some breakfast and then we would like to have you row us across the river.”

The ferryman neither moved nor spoke. He sat in his doorway and looked straight ahead.

“I think he must be deaf and dumb,” Cayke whispered to her companion. Then she stood directly in front of the ferryman and putting her mouth close to his ear she yelled as loudly as she could:

“Good evening!”

The ferryman scowled.

“Why do you yell at me, woman?” he asked.

“Can you hear what I say?” she asked in her ordinary tone of voice.

“Of course,” replied the man.

“Then why didn’t you answer the Frogman?”

“Because,” said the ferryman, “I don’t understand the frog language.”

“He speaks the same words that I do and in the same way,” declared Cayke.