When it reached the Isle, it came ashore and approached
them, waddling slowly and turning its head first to one side and then
to the other, so as to see the girl and the sailor better.
"You're strangers," said the bird, coming to a halt near them, "and
you've been caught by the Magic Isle and made prisoners."
"Yes," returned Trot, with a sigh; "we're rooted. But I hope we
won't grow."
"You'll grow small," said the Bird. "You'll keep growing smaller
every day, until bye and bye there'll be nothing left of you. That's
the usual way, on this Magic Isle."
"How do you know about it, and who are you, anyhow?" asked Cap'n Bill.
"I'm the Lonesome Duck," replied the bird. "I suppose you've heard
of me?"
"No," said Trot, "I can't say I have. What makes you lonesome?"
"Why, I haven't any family or any relations," returned the Duck.
"Haven't you any friends?"
"Not a friend. And I've nothing to do. I've lived a long time, and
I've got to live forever, because I belong in the Land of Oz, where no
living thing dies. Think of existing year after year, with no
friends, no family, and nothing to do! Can you wonder I'm lonesome?"
"Why don't you make a few friends, and find something to do?"
inquired Cap'n Bill.
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