"Come on," whispered Notta and, tucking the rods under his arm, ran toward the door. The Cowardly Lion, in his haste to follow, fell all the way down the ladder, but at a quick word from Notta jumped up, and as Bob joined them they all started on a run for a little clump of trees. "I tell you," puffed the clown, pausing at length to mop his brow, "they are bad Uns, sure enough. They mean to push us off the skyle. That's why they sent us fishing."
"Just let 'em try it!" roared the Cowardly Lion, shaking his mane. He had skinned his knees in his fall down the ladder and was feeling quite ready for a battle.
"But shall we go fishing or not?" asked the clown uncertainly. Bob Up said nothing, but he looked wistfully at the fishing rods. Bob had never been fishing in his life, and even the thought of being pushed off the skyle did not seem as dreadful as being deprived of this pleasure. Notta saw the look.
"I'm hungry as a lion," said the clown suddenly, "and we've lost Mustafa's packets somewhere between Oz and Un."
"Well, you're not as hungry as this lion," rumbled the Cowardly Lion, with a wink at Bob. "It must be long past noon. Let's risk it. You fish and I'll watch, and if any of these Uns start pushing us—." The Cowardly Lion gave a roar and shook his paw threateningly at the palace of I-wish-I-was.