Kabumpo in Oz

This dark, underground retreat suited the former Gnome King exactly and, without stopping to wonder to whom it had belonged, Ruggedo gleefully took possession. For almost two years he had lived here without anyone suspecting it, but so far his kingdom had not progressed very well. Wag had tried to coax some of his rabbit relations to serve the old gnome as subjects, but Ruggedo, besides his terrible temper, had a mean habit of pulling their ears, so that the whole crew had deserted the first week. He had pulled Wag’s ears once, but the rabbit tore out a pawful of his whiskers, and bit him so severely in the leg that Ruggedo had never dared to try it again.

Wag had stayed partly because Ruggedo amused him and partly because of the bribes, for every day, in fear of losing his only retainer, Ruggedo brought Wag something from the Emerald City—something he had stolen! In return, Wag waited on the bad little gnome and listened to his grumblings against everybody in Oz. All the furnishings of this strange cave had been stolen from various houses in the Emerald City. The twenty-seven brocade cushions had been taken, one at a time from the palace; the green emerald lamp also. Every day Ruggedo ran innocently about the city, pretending to visit this one and that, and every day cups, spoons, and candlesticks disappeared.

The doll’s rocker, which Ruggedo insisted upon calling his throne, had been taken from Betsy Bobbin, a little girl who lived with Ozma in the palace. He had lugged it through the secret passage with great difficulty. The wooden doll had been stolen from Trot, another of Ozma’s companions. She was Trot’s favorite doll, for she had been carved out of wood by Captain Bill, an old one-legged sailor, who was one of the most celebrated characters in all Oz. He had carved her for Trot one day when they were on a picnic in the Winkie Country, from the wood of a small yellow tree, and as Captain Bill had old-fashioned notions, Peg was a very old-fashioned doll. But she had splendid joints and could sit down and stand up. Her face was painted and as pleasant as laughing blue eyes, a turned-up nose, and a smiling mouth could make it. Trot had dressed her in a funny, old-fashioned dress, with pantalettes, and then, thinking Peg too short a name, the little girl had added Amy, because she was so amiable, she confided laughingly to the old sailor. Captain Bill had wagged his head understandingly, and Peg Amy had straightway become the most popular doll in the palace; that is, until she disappeared, for Ruggedo had found her one day in the garden and, chuckling wickedly, had carried her off to his cave.

How Trot would have felt if she had seen her poor doll being shaken and scolded by the old Gnome King! But Trot never knew. She hunted and hunted for her doll, and finally gave up in despair. Fortunately, Peg was well made, or she would have been shaken to bits, but her joints held bravely, and nothing—not even the terrible scolding of the bad old gnome—could change her pleasant expression.

Being the sole subject of so wicked a King, however, was wearing even for a wooden doll, and Peg was beginning to show signs of wear. Her nose was badly chipped, one pantalette was missing, and both sleeves had been jerked from her dress by the furious old gnome. If the rabbit was around, Ruggedo did not shake Peg as hard as he wanted to, but when the rabbit was gone, he pretended she was his old steward, Kaliko, and scolded and flung her about to his heart’s content.

When not carving his history or shaking Peg, Ruggedo had spent most of his time digging new tunnels and chambers, so that leading off from the main cavern was a perfect network of underground passages. In the back of Ruggedo’s head was a notion that some day he would conquer the Emerald City, regain his magic powers and then, after changing all the inhabitants to mouldy muffins, return to his dominions and oust Kaliko from his throne. Just how this was to be done, he had not decided, but the secret passages would be useful. So meanwhile he dug secret passages.

Above ground the little rascal went about so meekly and pretended to be so delighted with his life among the inhabitants of the Emerald City, that Ozma really thought he had reformed. Wag, to whom he confided his plans, would shake his head gloomily and often planned to leave the services of the wicked old gnome. There was no real harm in Wag, but the rabbit had a weakness for collecting, and the spoons, cups and odds and ends that Ruggedo brought him from the Emerald City filled him with delight. He felt that they were not gotten honestly, but his work for Ruggedo was honest and hard, “and it’s not my fault if the old scrabble-scratch steals ’em,” Wag would mumble to himself. In his heart he knew that he was doing wrong to stay with Ruggedo, but like all foolish creatures he could not make up his mind to go. So this very night, while the old gnome sat playing the accordion and howling doleful snatches of the Gnome National Air, Wag was gloating over his treasures. They quite filled his little dug-out room. There were two emerald plates, a gold pencil, a dozen china cups and saucers, twenty thimbles stolen from the work baskets of the good dames of Oz, scraps of silk, pictures and almost everything you could imagine.

“I’ll soon have enough to marry and go to house-keeping on,” murmured the rabbit, clasping his paws and twitching his nose very fast. He picked up a pair of purple wool socks that had once belonged to a little girl’s doll and regarded them rapturously. Out of all the articles Ruggedo had given him, Wag considered these purple socks the most valuable, perhaps because they exactly fitted him and were the only things he could really use. The squeaking of the accordion stopped at last and, supposing his wicked little master had retired for the night, Wag prepared to enjoy himself. Draping a green silk scarf over his shoulders, he strutted before the mirror, pretending he was a Courtier of Oz. Then, throwing down the scarf, he sat down on the floor and had just drawn on one of the socks when a loud shrill scream from Ruggedo made his ears stand straight on end in amazement.

“What now?” coughed the rabbit, seizing the candle. Ruggedo was on his knees before the rocking chair.

“As I was sitting here, playing and singing,” spluttered the old gnome, “I noticed a little ring in one of the rocks on the floor!”

“Well, what of it?” sniffed Wag, leaning down to pull up his sock.

“What of it?” shrieked the gnome. “What of it, you poor, puny earth worm! Look!” Leaning over Ruggedo’s shoulder and dropping hot candle grease down the gnome’s neck, Wag peered into a square opening in the floor. There lay a small gold box. Studded in gems on the lid were these words:

“Mixed magic!” stuttered Wag, dropping the candle. “Oh, my socks and soup spoons!”

Ruggedo said nothing, but his little red eyes blazed maliciously. Reaching down, he lifted out the box and, clasping it to his fat little stomach, shook his fist at the high domed ceiling of the cave.

“Now!” hissed Ruggedo triumphantly. “Now we shall see what mixed magic will do to the Emerald City of Oz!”

Chapter 7
Sir Hokus And The Giants

“Oh!” sighed Sir Hokus of Pokes and Oz, stretching his armored legs to the fire. “How I yearn to slay a giant! How it would refresh me! Hast any real giants in Oz, Dorothy?”

“Don’t you remember the candy giant?” laughed the little girl, looking up from the handkerchief she was making for Ozma.

“Not to my taste,” said the Knight, “though his vest buttons were vastly nourishing.”

“Well, there’s Mr. Yoop—he’s a real blood-and-bone giant. There are plenty of giants, I guess, if we knew just where to find them!” said the little girl, biting off her thread.

screamed the Patch Work Girl, bounding out of her chair. “But why can’t you stay peaceably at home, old Iron Sides, and be jolly like the rest of us?”

“You don’t understand, Scraps,” put in Dorothy gravely. “Sir Hokus is a Knight and it is a true Knight’s duty to slay giants and dragons and go on quests!”

“That it is, my Lady Patches!” boomed Sir Hokus, puffing out his chest. “I’ve rusted here in idleness long enough. To-morrow, with Ozma’s permission, I shall start on a giant quest.”

“I’d go with you, only I’ve promised to help Ozma count the royal emeralds,” said the Scarecrow, who had ridden over from his Corn-Ear residence to spend a week with his old friends in the Emerald City.

chuckled the Patch Work Girl, crooking her finger under the Knight’s nose.

“Nonsense!” blustered Sir Hokus, waving Scraps aside. Rising from his green arm chair, he strode up and down the room, his armor clanking at every step. Straightway the company began to tell about wild giants they had read of or known. Trot and Betsy Bobbin held hands as they sat together on the sofa, and Toto, Dorothy’s small dog, crept closer to his little mistress, the bristles on his back rising higher as each story was finished. “Giant stories are all very well, but why tell ’em at night?” shivered Toto, peering nervously at the long shadows in the corners of the room.

It was the evening after Ruggedo’s strange discovery of the mixed magic and in the royal palace Ozma and most of the Courtiers had retired. But a few of Princess Dorothy’s special friends had gathered in the cozy sitting-room of her apartment to talk about old times. They were very unusual and interesting friends, not at all the sort one would expect to find in a royal palace, even in Fairyland. Dorothy, herself, before she had become a Princess of Oz, had been a little girl from Kansas but, after several visits to this delightful country, she had preferred to make Oz her home.

Trot and Betsy Bobbin also had come from the United States by way of shipwrecks, so to speak, and had been invited to remain by Ozma, the little fairy Princess who ruled Oz, and now each of these girls had a cozy little apartment in the royal palace. Toto had come with Dorothy, but the rest of the company were of more or less magic extraction.

The Scarecrow, a stuffed straw person, with a marvelous set of mixed brains given to him by the Wizard of Oz, was Dorothy’s favorite. In fact she had discovered him herself upon a Munchkin farm, lifted him down from his bean pole and brought him to the Emerald City. Tik Tok was a wonderful man made entirely of copper, who could talk, think and act as well as the next fellow when properly wound. You would have been amazed to hear the giant story he was ticking off at this very minute. As for Scraps, she had been made by a magician’s wife out of old pieces of patch-work and magically brought to life. Her bright patches, yarn hair and silver suspender button eyes gave Scraps so comical an expression that just to look at her tickled one’s funny bone. Her head was full of nonsense rhymes and she was so amusing and cheerful that Ozma insisted upon her living with the rest of the celebrities in the Emerald City.

Sir Hokus of Pokes was a comparative new-comer in the capital city of Oz. Yet the Knight was so old that it would give me lumbago just to try to count up his birthdays. He dated back to King Arthur, in fact, and had been wished into the Land of Oz centuries before by an enemy sorcerer. Dorothy had found and rescued him, with the Cowardly Lion’s help, from Pokes, the dullest Kingdom in Oz. As there were no other Knights in the Emerald City, Sir Hokus was much stared at and admired. Even the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, the one and only soldier and entire army of Oz—yes, even the soldier with the Green Whiskers saluted Sir Hokus when he passed. Ozma, herself, felt more secure since the Knight had come to live in the palace. He was well versed in adventure and always courageous and courteous, withal.

But, while I’ve been telling you all this, Tik Tok had finished his story of a three-legged giant who lived in Ev.

“And where is Ev?” puffed Sir Hokus, planting himself before Tik Tok.

“Ev,” began Tik Tok in his precise fashion, “is to the north-west of here on the oth-er side of the im—” There was a whirr and a click and the copper man stood motionless and soundless, his round eyes fixed solemnly on the Knight.

“Pass-able des-ert,” finished the Scarecrow, jumping up and kindly winding all of Tik Tok’s keys as if nothing had happened.

“Pass-able des-ert,” continued the Copper Man.

“That’s where the old Gnome King used to live,” piped Betsy Bobbin, bouncing up and down upon the sofa, “under the mountains of Ev, and he threw us down a tube and tried to melt you in a crucible, didn’t he, Tik Tok?”

“He was a ve-ry bad per-son,” said the Copper Man.

burst out Scraps, who was tired of sitting still listening to giant stories.

But Sir Hokus could not be got off the subject of giants. “To Ev!” thundered the Knight, raising his sword. “To-morrow I’m off to Ev to conquer this terrible monster. Large as a mountain, you say, Tik Tok? Well, what care I for mountains? I, Sir Hokus of Pokes, will slay him!”

“Hurrah for the giant killer!” giggled Scraps, turning a somersault and nearly falling in the fire.

“Let’s go to bed!” said Dorothy uneasily. She had for the last few minutes been hearing strange rumbles. Of course it could not be giants; still the conversation, she concluded, had better be finished by sunlight.

But it never was, for at that moment there was a deafening crash. The lights went out; the whole castle shivered; furniture fell every which way. Down clattered Sir Hokus, falling with a terrible clangor on top of the Copper Man. Down rolled the little girls and the Scarecrow and Scraps. Down tumbled everybody.

“Cyclone!” gasped Dorothy, who had experienced several in Kansas.

“Giants!” stuttered Betsy Bobbin, clutching Trot.

The Wizard of Oz tried to reassure the agitated company. He told them there was no cause for alarm, and that they would soon find out what was the trouble. The soothing words of the Wizard were scarcely heard.

What the others said was lost in the noise that followed. Thumps—bangs—crashes—screams came from every room in the rocking palace.

“We’re flying! The whole castle’s flying up in the air!” screamed Dorothy. Then she subsided, as an emerald clock and three pictures came thumping down on her head.

What had happened? No one could say. Dorothy, Betsy Bobbin and Trot had fainted dead away. The Scarecrow and Sir Hokus were tangled up on the floor, clasped in each other’s arms.

The confusion was terrific. Only the Wizard was still calm and smiling.

Chapter 8
Woe In The Emerald City

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers finished his breakfast slowly, combed his beard, pinned on all of his medals and solemnly issued forth from his little house at the garden gates.

“Forward march!” snapped the soldier. He had to give himself orders, being the only man, general or private in the army. And forward march he did. It was his custom to report to Ozma every morning to receive his orders for the day. When he had gone through the little patch of trees that separated his cottage from the palace, the Soldier with the Green Whiskers gave a great leap.

“Halt! Break ranks!” roared the Grand Army of Oz, clutching his beard in terror. “Great Goloshes!” He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, the gorgeous emerald-studded palace had disappeared, leaving not so much as a gold brick to tell where it had stood. Trembling in every knee, the Grand Army of Oz approached. A great black hole, the exact shape of the palace, yawned at his feet. He took one look down that awful cavity, then shot through the palace gardens like a green comet.

Like Paul Revere he had gone to give the alarm, and Paul Revere himself never made better time. He thumped on windows and banged on doors and dashed through the sleeping city like a whirlwind. In five minutes there was not a man, woman or child who did not know of the terrible calamity. They rushed to the palace gardens in a panic. Some stared up in the air; others peered down the dark hole; still others ran about wildly trying to discover some trace of the missing castle.

“What shall we do?” they wailed dismally. For to have their lovely little Queen and the Wizard and all the most important people in Oz disappear at once was simply terrifying. They were a gentle and kindly folk, used to obeying orders, and now there was no one to tell them what to do.

At last Unk Nunkie, an old Munchkin who had taken up residence in the Emerald City, pushed through the crowd. Unk was a man of few words, but a wise old chap for all that, so they made way for him respectfully. First Unk Nunkie stroked his beard; then pointing with his long lean finger toward the south he snapped out one word—“GLINDA!”

Of course! They must tell Glinda. Why had they not thought of it themselves? Glinda would know just what to do and how to do it. Three cheers for Unk Nunkie! Glinda, you know, is the good Sorceress of Oz, who knows more magic than anyone in the Kingdom, but who only practices it for the people’s good. Indeed, Glinda and the Wizard of Oz are the only ones permitted to practice magic, for so much harm had come of it that Ozma made a law forbidding sorcery in all of its branches. But even in a fairy country people do not always obey the laws and everyone felt that magic was at the bottom of this disaster.

So away to fetch Glinda dashed the Grand Army, his green whiskers streaming behind him. Fortunately the royal stables had not disappeared with the palace, so the gallant army sprang upon the back of the Saw Horse, and without stopping to explain to the other royal beasts, bade it carry him to Glinda as fast as it could gallop. Being made of wood with gold shod feet and magically brought to life, the Saw Horse can run faster than any animal in Oz. It never tired or needed food and when it understood that the palace and its dear little Mistress had disappeared it fairly flew; for the Saw Horse loved Ozma with all its saw dust and was devoted as only a wooden beast can be.

In an hour they had reached Glinda’s shining marble palace in the southern part of the Quadling country, and as soon as the lovely Sorceress had heard the soldier’s story, she hurried to the magic Book of Records. This is the most valuable book in Oz and it is kept padlocked with many golden chains to a gold table, for in this great volume appear all the events happening in and out of the world.

Now, Glinda had been so occupied trying to discover the cause of frowns that she had not referred to the book for several days and naturally there were many pages to go over. There were hundreds of entries concerning automobile accidents in the United States and elsewhere. These Glinda passed over hurriedly, till she came to three sentences printed in red, for Oz news always appeared in the book in red letters. The first sentence did not seem important. It merely stated that the Prince of Pumperdink was journeying toward the Emerald City. The other two entries seemed serious.

“Glegg’s box of Mixed Magic has been discovered,” said the second, and “Ruggedo has something on his mind,” stated the third. Glinda pored over the book for a long time to see whether any more information would be given but not another red sentence appeared. With a sigh, Glinda turned to the Soldier with the Green Whiskers.

“The old Gnome King must be mixed up in this,” she said anxiously, “and as he was last seen in the Emerald City, I will return with you at once.” So Glinda and the Soldier with the Green Whiskers flew back to the Emerald City drawn in Glinda’s chariot by swift flying swans and the little Saw Horse trotted back by himself. When they reached the gardens a great crowd had gathered by the Fountain of Oblivion and a tall green grocer was speaking excitedly.

“What is it?” asked Glinda, shuddering as she passed the dreadful hole where Ozma’s lovely palace had once stood. Everyone started explaining at once so that Glinda was obliged to clap her hands for silence.

“Foot print!” Unk Nunkie stood upon his tip toes and whispered it in Glinda’s ear and when she looked where Unk pointed she saw a huge, shallow cave-in that crushed the flower beds for as far as she could see.

“Foot print!” gasped Glinda in amazement.

“Uh huh!” Unk Nunkie wagged his head determinedly and then, pulling his hat down over his eyes, spoke his last word on the subject: “GIANT!”

“A giant foot print! Why so it is!” cried Glinda.

“What shall we do? What shall we do?” cried the frightened inhabitants of the Emerald City, wringing their hands.

“First, find Ruggedo,” ordered Glinda, suddenly remembering the mysterious entry in the Book of Records. So, away to the little cottage hurried the crowd. They searched it from cellar to garret, but of course found no trace of the wicked little gnome. As no one knew about the secret passage in Ruggedo’s cellar, they never thought of searching underground.

Meanwhile Glinda sank down on one of the golden garden benches and tried to think. The Comfortable Camel stumbled broken-heartedly across the lawn and dropping on its knees begged the Sorceress in a tearful voice to save Sir Hokus of Pokes. The Camel and the Doubtful Dromedary had been discovered by the Knight on his last adventure and were deeply attached to him. Soon all the palace pets came and stood in a dejected row before Glinda—Betsy’s mule, Hank, hee-hawing dismally and the Hungry Tiger threatening to eat everyone in sight if any harm came to the three little girls.

“I doubt if we’ll ever see them again,” groaned the Doubtful Dromedary, leaning up against a tree.

“Oh Doubty—how can you?” wailed the Camel, tears streaming down its nose.

“Please do be quiet,” begged Glinda, “or I’ll forget all the magic I know. Let me see, now—how does one catch a marauding giant who has run off with a castle?”

On her fingers Glinda counted up all the giants in the four countries of Oz. No! It could not be an Oz giant; there was none large enough. It must be a giant from some strange country.

When the crowd returned with the news that Ruggedo had disappeared Glinda felt more uneasy still. But hiding her anxiety she bade the people return to their homes and continue their work and play as usual. Then, promising to return that evening with a plan to save the castle, and charging the Soldier with the Green Whiskers to keep a strict watch in the garden, Glinda stepped into her chariot and flew back to the South. All that day, in her palace in the Quadling country, Glinda bent over her encyclopedia on giants, and far into the night the lights burned from her high turret-chamber, as she consulted book after book of magic.

Chapter 9
Mixed Magic Makes Mischief

The Book of Records had been perfectly correct in stating that Ruggedo had something on his mind. He had! To understand the mysterious disappearance of Ozma’s palace, we must go back to the old Ex-King of the Gnomes. The whole of the night after he had found Glegg’s box of Mixed Magic, Ruggedo had spent trying to open the box. But pry and poke as he would it stubbornly refused to give up its secrets.

“Better come to bed,” advised Wag, twitching his nose nervously. “Mixed Magic isn’t safe, you know. It might explode.”

“Idiot!” grumbled Ruggedo. “I don’t know who Glegg is or was, but I’m going to find out what kind of magic he mixes. I’m going to open this box if it takes me a century.”

“All right,” quavered Wag, retiring backward and holding up his paw. “All right, but remember I warned you! Don’t meddle with magic, that’s my motto!”

“I don’t care a harebell what your motto is,” sneered the gnome, continuing to hammer on the gold lid.

When he reached his room, Wag shut the door and sank dejectedly upon the edge of the bed.

“There’s no manner of use trying to stop him,” sighed the rabbit, “so I’ve got to get out of here before he gets me into trouble. I’ll go to-morrow!” resolved Wag, pulling his long ear nervously. With this good resolution, the little rabbit drooped off asleep.

Very cautiously he opened the door of his little rock-room next morning. Ruggedo was sound asleep on the floor, his head on the magic box, and Peg Amy, with her wooden arms and legs flung out in every direction, lay sprawled in a corner.

“Been shaking you again, the old scrabble-scratch!” whispered the rabbit indignantly, “just ’cause he couldn’t open that box. Well, never mind, Peg, I’m leaving to-day and as surely as I’ve ears and whiskers you shall go too!” Picking up the poor wooden doll Wag tucked her under his arm. Was it imagination, or did the little wooden face break into a sunny smile? It seemed so to Wag and, with a real thrill of pleasure, he tip-toed back to his room and began tossing his treasures into one of the bed sheets. He seated Peg in his own small rocking chair and from time to time he nodded to her reassuringly.

“We’ll soon be out now, my dear,” he chuckled, quite as if Peg had been alive. She often did seem alive to Wag. “Then we’ll see what Ozma has to say to this Mixed Magic,” continued the bunny, wiggling his ears indignantly. And so occupied was he collecting his treasures that he did not hear Ruggedo’s call and next minute the angry gnome himself stood in the doorway.

“What does this mean?” he cried furiously, pointing to the tied up sheet. Then he stamped his foot so hard that Peg Amy fell over sideways in the chair and all the ornaments in the room skipped as if alive.

The rabbit whirled ’round in a hurry.

“It means I’m leaving you for good, you wicked little monster!” shrilled Wag, his whiskers trembling with agitation and his ears sticking straight out behind. “Leaving—do you hear?”

Then he snatched Peg Amy in one paw and his treasures in the other and tried to brush past Ruggedo. But the gnome was too quick for him. Springing out of the room, he slammed the door and locked it. Wag could hear him rolling up rocks for further security.

“Thought you’d steal a march on old Ruggedo; thought you’d tell Ozma all his plans and get a nice little reward! Well, think again!” shouted the gnome through the keyhole.

Wag had plenty of time to think, for Ruggedo never came near the rabbit’s room all day. At every sound poor Wag leaped into the air, for he felt sure each blow could only mean the opening of the dreaded magic box. To reassure himself he held long conversations with the wooden doll and Peg’s calm cheerfulness steadied him a lot.

“I might dig my way out but it would take so long! My ear tips! How provoking it is!” exclaimed Wag. “But perhaps he’ll relent by nightfall!” Slowly the day dragged on but nothing came from the big rock room but thumps, grumbles and bangs.

“It is fortunate that you do not eat, Peg, dear,” sighed the rabbit late in the afternoon, nibbling disconsolately on a stale biscuit he had found under his bureau. “Shall you care very much if I starve? I probably shall, you know. Of course no one in Oz can die, but starving forever is not comfortable either.” At this the wooden doll seemed to shake her head, as much as to say: “You won’t starve, Wag dear; just be patient a little longer.” Not that she really said this, mind you, but Wag knew from her smile that this is what she was thinking.

It was hot and stuffy in the little rock chamber and the faint light that filtered down from the hole in the ceiling was far from cheerful. At last night came, and that was worse. Wag lit his only candle but it was already partly burned down and soon with a dismal sputter it went out and left the two sitting in the dark. Peg Amy stared cheerfully ahead but the rabbit, worn out by his long day of fright and worry, fell into a heavy slumber.

Meanwhile Ruggedo had worked on the magic box and every minute he became more impatient. All his poundings failed to make even a dent on the gold lid and even jumping on it brought no result. The little gnome had eaten nothing since morning and by nightfall he was stamping around the box in a perfect fury. His eyes snapped and twinkled like live coals and his wispy white hair fairly crackled with rage. Hidden in this box were magic secrets that would doubtless enable him to capture the Whole of Oz but, klumping kaloogas, how was he to get at ’em? He finally gave the gold box such a vindictive kick that he almost crushed his curly toes; then holding onto one foot, he hopped about on the other till he fell over exhausted.

For several minutes he lay perfectly still; then jumping up he seized the box and flung it with all his gnome might against the rock wall.

“Take that!” screamed Ruggedo furiously. There was a bright flash; then the box righted itself slowly and sailed straight back into Ruggedo’s hands and, more wonderful still, it was open! With his eyes almost popping from his head, the gnome sat down on the floor, the box in his lap.

In the first tray were four golden flasks and each one was carefully labeled. The first was marked, “Flying Fluid”; “Vanishing Cream” was in the second. The third flask held “Glegg’s Instantaneous Expanding Extract,” and in the fourth was “Spike’s Hair Strengthener.”

Ruggedo rubbed his hands gleefully and lifted out the top tray. In the next compartment was a tiny copper kettle, a lamp and a package marked “Triple Trick Tea.” So anxious was Ruggedo to know what was in the last compartment that he scarcely glanced at Glegg’s tea set. Quickly he peered into the bottom of the casket. There were two boxes. Taking up the first Ruggedo read, “Glegg’s Question Box. Shake three times after each question.”

“Great Grampus!” spluttered the gnome, “this is a find!” He was growing more excited every minute and his hands shook so he could hardly read the label on the last box. Finally he made it out: “Re-animating Rays, guaranteed to reawaken any person who has lost the power of life through sorcery, witchcraft or enchantment,” said the label.

Well, did anyone ever hear anything more magic than that? Ruggedo glanced from one to the other of the little gold flasks and boxes. There were so many he hardly knew which to use first. “Flying Fluid and Vanishing Cream,” mused the gnome. Well, they might help after he had captured Oz, but he felt it would take more powerful magic than Flying Fluid and Vanishing Cream to capture the fairy Kingdom. Next he picked up the bottle labeled “Spike’s Hair Strengthener.” Anything that strengthened would be helpful, so, with one eye on the last bottle, Ruggedo absently rubbed some of the hair strengthener on his head. He stopped rubbing in a hurry and put his finger in his mouth with a howl of pain. Then he jumped up in alarm and ran to a small mirror hanging on the wall. Every hair on his head had become an iron spike and the result was so terrible that it frightened even the old gnome. He flung the bottle angrily on the ground. But stop! He could butt his enemies with the sharp spikes! Comforting himself with this cheerful thought, Ruggedo returned to the magic box.

“Instantaneous Expanding Extract,” muttered the gnome, turning the bottle over carefully. “That ought to make me larger—and if I were larger—if I were larger!” He snapped his fingers and began hopping up and down. He was about to empty the bottle over his head when he suddenly reflected that it might be safer to try this powerful extract on someone else. But on whom?

Ruggedo glanced quickly around the cave and then remembered the wooden doll. He would try a little on Peg Amy and see how it worked. Turning the key he stepped softly into Wag’s room. Without wakening the rabbit, Ruggedo dragged out the wooden doll. Propping her up against the wall, the gnome uncorked the bottle of expanding fluid and dropped two drops on Peg Amy’s head. Peg was about ten inches high, but no sooner had the expanding fluid touched her than she shot up four feet and with such force that she lost her balance and came crashing down on top of Ruggedo, almost crushing him flat.

“Get off, you great log of wood!” screamed the gnome, struggling furiously. But this Peg Amy was powerless to do and it was only after a frightful struggle that Ruggedo managed to drag himself out. He started to shake Peg but as she was now four times his size he soon gave that up.

“Well, anyway it works,” sighed the gnome, rubbing his nose and the middle of his back. “I wonder how it would act on a live person? I’ll try a little on that silly rabbit,” he concluded, tip-toeing back into Wag’s room. Now Wag’s apartment was about seven feet square—plenty large enough for a regular rabbit—but two drops of the expanding fluid—and, stars! Wag was no longer a regular rabbit but a six-foot funny bunny, stretching from one end of the room to the other. He expanded without even waking up. Ruggedo had to squeeze past him in order to get out and, chuckling with satisfaction, the gnome hurried back to his box of magic. His mind was now made up. He would take Glegg’s Mixed Magic under his arm, go above ground and with the Expanding Fluid change himself into a giant. Then conquering Oz would be a simple matter.

It was all going to be so easy and amusing that Ruggedo felt he had plenty of time to examine the rest of the bottles and boxes. He rubbed some of the Vanishing Cream on a sofa cushion and it instantly disappeared. The box of Re-animating Rays, guaranteed to reawaken anyone from enchantment, interested the old gnome immensely, but how could he try them when there was no bewitched person about—at least none that he knew of? Then his eye fell on the Question Box. Why not try that? So, “How shall I use the Re-animating Rays?” asked Ruggedo, shaking the box three times. Nothing happened at first. Then, by the light from his emerald lamp, the gnome saw a sentence forming on the lid.

“Try them on Peg,” said the box shortly. Without thinking of consequences or wondering what the Question Box meant by suggesting Peg, the curious gnome opened the box of rays and held it over the huge wooden doll. For as long as it would take to count ten Peg lay perfectly still. Then, with a creak and jerk, she sprang to her feet.

“How perfectly pomiferous!” cried Peg Amy, with an awkward jump. “I’m alive! Why, I’m alive all over!” She moved one arm, then the other and turned her head stiffly from side to side. “I can walk!” cried Peg. “I can walk; I can skip; I can run!” Here Peg began running around the cave, her joints squeaking merrily at every step.

At Peg’s first move Ruggedo had jumped back of a rock, his every spike standing on end. Too late he realized his mistake. This huge wooden creature clattering around the cave was positively dangerous. Why, she might easily pound him to bits. Why on earth had he meddled with the magic rays and why under the earth should a wooden doll come to life? He waited till Peg had run to the farthest end of the cave; then he dashed to the magic casket and scrambled the bottles, the Trick Tea Set and the flasks back into place and started for the door that led to the secret passage as fast as his crooked little legs would carry him.

But he was not fast enough, for Peg heard and like a flash was after him.

“Stop! Go away!” screamed Ruggedo.

“Why, it’s the old gnome!” cried the Wooden Doll in surprise. “The wicked old gnome who used to shake me all the time. Why, how small he is! I could pick him up with one hand!” She made a snatch at Ruggedo.

“Go away!” shrieked Ruggedo, ducking behind a rock. “Go away—there’s a dear girl,” he added coaxingly. “I didn’t shake you much—not too much, you know!”

Peg Amy put a wooden finger to her forehead and regarded him attentively.

“I remember,” she murmured thoughtfully. “You found a magic box, and you’re going to harm Ozma and try to conquer Oz. I must get that box!”

Reaching around the rock she seized Ruggedo by the arm.

In a panic, he jerked away. “Help! Help!” cried the gnome King, darting off toward the other end of the cave. “Help! Help!”

In his little rock room Wag stirred uneasily. Then, as Ruggedo’s cries grew louder, he bounced erect and almost cracked his skull on the low ceiling. Hardly knowing what he was doing he rushed at the door only to knock himself almost senseless against the top, for of course he did not realize he had expanded into a giant rabbit. But as the cries from the other room became louder and louder he got up and rubbing his head in a dazed fashion he somehow crowded himself through the door and hopped into the cave. When he saw Peg Amy chasing Ruggedo, Wag fell back against the wall.

“My wocks and hoop soons!” stuttered the rabbit. “She is alive! And he’s shrunk!”

Wag’s voice rose triumphantly. “I’m going to pound his curly toes off!” he shouted. With this he joined merrily in the chase.

“I’ll catch him!” he called, “I’ll catch him, Peg, my dear, and make him pay for all the shakings he has given you. I’ll pound his curly toes off!”

“Oh, Wag! Don’t do that,” cried the Wooden Doll, stopping short. “I didn’t mind the shakings and gnomes don’t know any better!”

“Neither do rabbits!” cried Wag stubbornly, bounding after Ruggedo. “I’ll pound his curly toes off, I tell you!”

The old gnome was sputtering like a firecracker. What chance had he now with two after him? Then suddenly he had an idea. Without stopping, he fumbled in the box which he still clutched under one arm and pulled out the bottle of Expanding Fluid. Uncorking the bottle he poured its contents over his head—every single drop!

This is what happened: First he shot out sideways, till Peg and Wag were almost crushed against the wall. With a hoarse scream Wag dragged Peg Amy back into his room, which was now barely large enough to hold them. They were just in time, for Ruggedo was still spreading. Soon there was not an inch of space left to expand in. Then he shot up and grew up and grew and grew and groaned and grew till there wasn’t any more room to grow in. So, he burst through the top of the cave, with a noise like fifty boilers exploding.