"I do. An isle is a small body of land entirely surrounded by water," cried Bob, delighted to find that geography was of some use after all.
"Well," said the Featherhead uneasily, "then I guess you'll understand when I tell you that a skyle is a small body of land entirely surrounded by air."
"Air!" spluttered Notta. "I say, how does one get off a skyle?"
"You'll soon find that out!" muttered the Featherhead, and all the others began nodding and clucking for all the world like a company of hens.
"What do you call yourselves?" asked the Cowardly Lion. Now that he knew how to frighten them, he no longer felt afraid.
"We're Uns, we are, and nobody but Uns are allowed on this skyle. We'll have to take you along to the palace and his royal Skyness will decide what's to be done with you."
"Another king," groaned the clown.
"Isn't it time to run?" asked Bob, tugging at Notta's pantaloon, for the Uns were drawing closer this time, paying no attention to the roars of the Cowardly Lion.
"No use running, Bob. We might fall off. Perhaps this King is a better fellow than his subjects.
"Take us to your King!" cried the clown, settling his cap determinedly. Hopping and muttering, the Uns formed two crooked lines, and with the three travelers in the center marched away to the palace. There were many tall trees on the skyle of Un and, more remarkable still, every tree had a rough boxlike structure built in its branches, like enormous bird houses. They were reached by rough ladders and the Uns seemed to be as much at home on the branches as on the ground. Some of the women standing on lower branches were hanging clothes on upper ones as calmly as ordinary folk string the washing up in the yard. But, as Notta whispered to Bob, what could one expect of Featherheads?