"What did I tell you," clucked Pajuka, preening his feathers. "I shouldn't be surprised if he'd be a great help to us, Mombi!"
"Then let him begin by gathering some wood," grunted Mombi, "and none of your tricks Snip my boy, or I'll turn you to a muffin and eat you for breakfast."
"Is Snip your name?" asked Pajuka, waddling after the little button boy. Snip nodded and began slowly picking up twigs and putting them in a heap.
"A heartless old wretch," wheezed the goose, when they were out of ear shot. "Don't mind her. She can no more turn you to a muffin than I can, but she is the only one who can help me find the King so we must humor her. Stick by me, Snip, and I'll stick by you. Is it a bargain?" In the strange, silent forest, the white goose looked so big and friendly that Snip dropped his twigs and flung both arms around his neck.
"I like you Pajuka," said the little button boy, giving him a quick hug.
"And I like you, Snip," replied the goose, snuggling close to him. Then, as Mombi glanced up suspiciously, they both fell to gathering twigs and in a few moments had enough for a fine fire. Mombi was still poring over the scroll. Looking over her shoulder, Snip saw that it was a map of Oz—such a map as he had often seen in his geoziphy books at home. Mombi held the map close to her nose, for in the failing light it was hard to see anything.
"If I could only remember! If I could only remember!" muttered Mombi, rocking backward and forward on the stump. "What did I do with the King? Where did I put him? What did I use—green magic or blue, word magic or number magic, fire magic or smoke magic? Can't you remember anything?" She whirled in great exasperation upon Pajuka.
