Kabumpo in Oz

“Then,” said the Scarecrow, “let us arm ourselves and prepare to withstand any attack.” He snatched up a pair of fire tongs and Scraps grasped the poker. Falling into step, the two marched from the top to the bottom of the palace. Everywhere the same sight met their gaze; rooms turned topsy turvy, and spread over floors and sofas and chairs the sleeping figures of Ozma’s once lively Courtiers and servants. The effect was so distressing that Scraps and the Scarecrow found themselves whispering and treading about on tip-toe. After inspecting the whole palace they returned to Dorothy’s room and placed themselves disconsolately in the doorway.

“Anyway, Ruggedo is quiet,” sighed the Scarecrow, “and that is something.”

Scraps started to make a verse, but the silence and the ghostlike atmosphere of the sleeping palace had dashed even the spirits of the Patch Work Girl and she subsided with an indistinct mumble.

Ruggedo was silent for a very good reason. Ruggedo was asleep, too—asleep sitting up as stiff as a stone image, for even in his sleep he dreamed of the dreaded bombardment of eggs.

All this had happened because the little man in gray had taken Ozma’s palace for an air castle, and who could blame him for that? Even the Sand Man would not expect to find a regular palace set among the clouds. There are plenty of dream castles, to be sure, and one of the Sand Man’s chief delights is to jump through them and admire their lovely furniture. But sure-enough castles—the little fellow could not get over it. Sitting cross-legged on the white cloud, which floated close to Ruggedo’s head, he stared and stared.

“Well, I never,” chuckled the Sand Man, and turned a somersault for very amazement. Then, not knowing what else to do or think, he sensibly decided to hurry home and tell the whole affair to his wife. His empty bag he found on a tall treetop, and without one backward glance he bounded into the air and disappeared. Really, it was quite lucky the little old gentleman spilled his bag of sand where he did, for the only safe giant is a sleeping giant, and while Ozma and her friends lay dreaming they could not worry.

“Will they sleep forever?” sighed Scraps, after she and the Scarecrow had sat silently for an hour.

“Seems likely,” said the Scarecrow gloomily. “But even if they do,” he plucked three straws from his chest, “we shall stick to our post to the very end.”

The Scarecrow regarded the sleeping figures of the little girls affectionately.

“To the end of forever?” gulped Scraps, putting her cotton finger in her mouth. “How long is that?”

“That,” said the Scarecrow resignedly and settling himself comfortably, “that is what we shall soon see.”

Chapter 16
Kabumpo Vanquishes The Twigs

“Do you think you were alive before?” asked Kabumpo, squinting down his long trunk at Peg Amy. She had begged him to take off his plush robe and, spreading it on the grass, was beating it briskly with the branch of a tree.

“Yes,” sighed the Wooden Doll, pausing with uplifted stick and regarding Kabumpo solemnly, “I must have been alive before ’cause I keep remembering things.”

“What kind of things?” asked the Elegant Elephant, rubbing himself lazily against a tree.

“Well, this for instance,” said Peg, holding up a corner of the purple plush robe. “I once had a dress of it. I’m sure I had a dress of this stuff.”

“When you were a little doll?” asked Kabumpo curiously.

“No,” said Peg, giving the robe a few little shakes, “before that. And I remember this country, too, and the sun and the wind and the sky. If I’d only been alive one day I wouldn’t remember them, would I?”

“Queer things happen in Oz,” said Kabumpo comfortably. “But why bother? You are alive and very jolly. You are traveling with the most Elegant Elephant in Oz and in the company of a Prince. Isn’t that enough?”

Peg Amy did not reply but kept on beating the plush robe with determined little thumps and staring off through the trees with a very puzzled expression in her painted blue eyes. They had traveled swiftly all morning through the fertile farmlands of the Winkies and had paused for lunch in this little grove. Peg, not needing food, and Kabumpo, finding plenty of tender branches handy, had remained together while Wag and the Prince sought more nourishing fare.

Many a little Winkie farmer had stared in amazement as Peg and Pompa passed that morning but so fast did Kabumpo and Wag travel that before the Winkies were half sure of what they had seen there was nothing but a cloud of dust to wonder over and exclaim about.

“If you had a pair of scissors, I could cut off the burned part of your robe and make it more tidy,” said Peg, when she had finished beating the dust out of Kabumpo’s gorgeous blanket.

“There might be a pair in my pocket,” said the Elegant Elephant. “Here, let me get them,” he added hastily. “For suppose she should look into the Magic Mirror,” he thought suddenly. “It might tell her something terrible!”

Even in this short time Kabumpo had grown fond of queer wooden Peg and careless as he was somehow he did not want to hurt her feelings again. Sure enough, there was a pair of silver scissors in with the jewels he had tumbled into his pocket before leaving Pumperdink. So Peg carefully cut away all the scorched part of Kabumpo’s robe and pinned under the rough edges with three beautiful pearl pins.

“Now lift me up into that small tree and I’ll drop it over you,” she laughed gaily. This Kabumpo did quite easily and after Peg Amy had smoothed and adjusted the robe, she crept out on the end of the branch and straightened the Elegant Elephant’s pearl head dress and brushed all the dust from his forehead with a handful of damp leaves.

“You’re a good girl, Peg,” said Kabumpo, sighing with contentment. “I don’t care whether you never were alive before or not, you’ve more sense than some people who’ve lived for centuries. I’m going to give that gnome something on my own account. Dared to shake you, did he? Well, wait till I get through shaking him!”

“It didn’t hurt,” said Peg reflectively, “but it ruined all my clothes. Do you think Prince Pompadore minds having me look so shabby?”

Kabumpo shifted about uneasily. “Will this help?” he asked sheepishly, pulling a lovely pearl necklace from his pocket. “Ozma doesn’t need everything,” he muttered to himself.

“Oh! How perfectly pomiferous!” cried Peg. “Lift me down so I can try it on.” In a trice Kabumpo swung her down from the tree and awkwardly Peg Amy clasped the chain about her wooden neck. Then she flung both arms round Kabumpo’s trunk. “You’re the biggest darling old elephant in Oz!” cried Peg happily.

Kabumpo blinked. He was accustomed to being called elegant and magnificent but no one—not even Pompa—had ever called him an old darling before and he found he liked it immensely.

While Peg ran to look at her reflection in a small pool he resolved to get the Wooden Doll a position at Court, for, in spite of her stiff fingers, Peg was very deft and clever. “And she shall have a purple plush dress too,” said Kabumpo grandly.

Just then Pompa and Wag returned in a high good humor. The Prince had tapped on the door of a small farm house and the little Winkie lady had been most hospitable. Not only had she given the Prince all he could eat, but she had allowed Wag to go into the garden and pick two dozen of her best cabbages. His size had greatly astonished her and she had insisted upon measuring him twice with her yellow tape measure but finally, without revealing the purpose of their journey, the two managed to get away. As all were now refreshed and rested, they decided to start on again.

“We ought to reach Ev by evening,” puffed Wag, between hops.

“But I wish we could open the Magic Box,” sighed Peg, holding on to Wag’s ear, “for in that box there’s Flying Fluid!”

“We’d make a remarkably nice lot of birds,” chuckled Kabumpo, looking over his shoulder, “now wouldn’t we?”

“You would,” laughed Pompa. “What else was in the box, Peg?”

It was hard to talk while they were being jolted along, but Peg, being of wood, did not feel the bumps and Pompa, being a Prince, pretended not to, so that they continued their conversation in jerky sentences.

“There’s Vanishing Cream, a little tea kettle and some kind of rays and a Question Box,” said Peg, holding up her wooden hand. “A Question Box that answers any question you ask it.”

“There is!” exclaimed Kabumpo, stopping short. “Well, I wish we could ask it whether Pumperdink has disappeared.”

“And how to rescue Ozma, and who sent the scroll!” cried Pompa. “Oh, do let me try to open it, Peg!”

So Peg handed over Glegg’s Magic Box and as they pounded along the Prince tried to pry it open with his pearl pen knife. “It would save us such a lot of trouble,” he murmured, holding it up and screwing his eye to the keyhole.

“Better let it alone,” advised Wag, wiggling his ears nervously. “Suppose you should grow as big for you as I am for me. Suppose you should explode or vanish!”

“Vanish!” coughed Kabumpo. “Great Grump! Put it away, Pompa. Wait till we reach Ev and make that wicked little Ruggedo open it for us. Who is this Glegg, anyway?”

“A lawless magician, I guess,” said Wag, “or he wouldn’t have owned a box of Mixed Magic. Ozma doesn’t allow anyone to practice magic, you know.”

“Why, I’ll bet he was the person who sent the scroll!” exclaimed the Prince suddenly. “Don’t you remember, Kabumpo, it was signed J. G.?”

“Not a doubt in the world,” rumbled Kabumpo. “I’ll throw him up a tree when I catch him and Ruggedo, too!”

“Oh, please don’t,” begged Peg Amy. “Perhaps they are sorry.”

“Not half as sorry as they will be,” wheezed Kabumpo, plowing ahead through the long grass like a big ferryboat under full steam.

Wag hopped close behind and Peg kept her eyes fixed upon Pompa’s back. In spite of his scorched head, he seemed to Peg the most delightful Prince imaginable.

“I’ll brush off his cloak and cut his hair all evenly,” thought Peg. “Then, perhaps Ozma will say yes when he tells her his story and asks for her hand. But I wonder what will become of me,” Peg sighed ever so softly and looked down with distaste at her wooden hands and torn old dress. Nothing very exciting could happen to a shabby Wooden Doll.

“Why, I haven’t even any right to be alive,” she reflected sadly. “I’m only meant to be funny. Well, never mind! Perhaps I can help Pompa and maybe that’s why I was brought to life.”

This thought, and the gleam of the lovely pearls Kabumpo had given her, so cheered Peg that she began to hum a queer, squeaky little song. The country was growing rougher and more hilly every minute. The sunny farmlands lay far behind them now and as Peg finished her song they came to the edge of a queer, dead-looking forest. The trees were dry and without leaves and there were quantities of stiff bushes and short stunted little trees standing under the taller ones.

Peg had an odd feeling that hundreds of eyes were staring out at them but the forest was so dim that she couldn’t be sure. There was not a sound but the crackling of the dead branches under Wag’s and Kabumpo’s feet.

“I don’t like this,” choked Wag. “My wocks and hoop soons! What a pleerful chase!”

“It isn’t very cheerful,” shivered Peg. “Oh, look, Wag! That big tree has eyes!” At Peg’s remark the tree doubled up its branches into fists and stepped right out in front of them. At the same instant all the other trees and bushes moved closer, with dry crackling steps.

“Now we have you!” snapped the tallest tree in a dreadful voice.

“Now we have you!” crackled all the other skitter-witchy creatures, crowding closer.

they shouted all together. One taller than the rest leaned over and seized Wag by the ear with its twisted fingers.

“Help!” screamed Wag, kicking out with his hind legs. Immediately Kabumpo began laying about with his trunk.

“Stand back!” he trumpeted angrily, “or I’ll trample you to splinters.”

Pompa stood up on Kabumpo’s back and began to wave his sword threateningly. At this the ugly creatures grew simply furious. They snatched at the Prince with their long, claw-like branches, tearing at his sadly scorched hair and almost upsetting him.

“Stop! Stop!” cried Peg Amy, waving her wooden arms frantically. “Don’t hit him. He’s going to be married. Hit me, I’m only made of wood!”

“Don’t you dare hit her!” shrilled Pompa, slicing off the branch head of the nearest Twig. “I am a Prince and she is under my protection. Don’t touch her!”

By this time Kabumpo had cleared himself a space ahead and Wag a space behind. Every time Kabumpo’s trunk flew out, a dozen of the queer crackly Bushmen tumbled over forward and every time Wag’s heels flew out a dozen crumpled over backward. Pompa kept his sword whirling and, after several had lost top branches, the whole crowd fell back and began grumbling together.

“Now then!” puffed Kabumpo angrily, “let’s make a dash for it, Wag. Come on; we’ll smash them to kindling wood!”

“What’s all this commotion?” cried a loud voice. The Twigs fell back immediately and a bent and twisted old tree hobbled forward.

“Strangers, your Woodjesty,” whispered a tall Twig, waving a branch at Kabumpo.

“Well, have you pinched them?” asked the King in a bored voice.

“A little,” admitted the tall Twig nervously, “but they object to it, your Woodjesty.”

“Well, what if they do?” rasped the King tartly. “Don’t be gormish Faggots. You know I detest gormishness. It seems to me you might allow my people a little innocent diversion,” he grumbled, turning to Pompa, “they don’t get much pleasure!”

“Pleasure!” gasped the Prince, while Kabumpo and Wag were so astonished that they forgot to fight.

“What does he mean by gormish?” whispered Peg uneasily to Wag. Before he could answer, the Twigs, who evidently had decided not to be gormish, made a rush upon the travelers. But Kabumpo was ready for them with uplifted trunk. With a furious trumpet he charged straight into the middle, Wag at his heels, with the result that the Twigs went crackling and snapping to the ground in heaps.

“All we need is a match,” grunted Kabumpo, pounding along unmindful of the scratching and clawing. “They’re good for nothing but kindling wood.”

“Don’t be gormish,” he screeched scornfully, as he flung the last Twig out of his way and Wag and he never stopped till they had put a good mile between themselves and the disagreeable pinchers.

“Are you hurt?” asked Kabumpo, stopping at last and looking around at Pompa. “If we keep on this way you won’t be fit to be seen—much less to marry. Let’s have a look at you.” He lifted the Prince down carefully and eyed him with consternation. The Prince had seven long scratches on his cheek and his velvet cloak was torn to ribbons.

“I declare,” spluttered the Elegant Elephant explosively, “you’re a perfect fright. I declare, it’s a grumpy shame!”

“Well, don’t be gormish,” said the Prince, smiling faintly and wiping his cheek with his handkerchief.

“Let me help,” begged Peg Amy, falling off Wag’s back. “Ozma won’t mind a few scratches and what do clothes matter? Anyone would know he was a Prince,” she added, taking Pompa’s cloak and regarding it ruefully.

Pompa smiled at Peg’s earnestness and made her his best bow but Kabumpo still looked anxious. “Everyone’s not so smart as you, Peg,” he sighed gloomily. “But come along. The main thing is to rescue Ozma and after that perhaps she won’t notice your scratches and torn cloak. She’ll think you got them fighting the giant,” he finished more hopefully.

With a few more of Kabumpo’s jeweled pins Peg repaired Pompa’s cloak. Then, after tying up Wag’s ear, which was badly torn, they started off again.

“What worries me,” said Wag, twitching his nose very fast, “what worries me is crossing the Deadly Desert. We’re almost to it, you know.”

“Never cross deserts till you come to ’em,” grunted Kabumpo, with a wink at Peg Amy.

“Oh, all right,” sniffed Wag, “but don’t be gormish. You know how I detest gormishness!”

While Pompa and Peg were laughing over these last remarks a most terrible rumble sounded behind them.

“Now what?” trumpeted Kabumpo, turning about.

“Sheverything’s mixed hup!” gulped Wag, putting back his ears. “Hold on to me, Peg!”

Chapter 17
Meeting The Runaway Country

Everything was mixed up, indeed. Moving toward the little party of rescuers was a huge jagged piece of land, running along on ten tremendous feet and feeling its way with its long wiggly peninsula. The feet raised it several yards above the ground.

“If we crouch down maybe it will run over us,” panted Pompa, sliding down Kabumpo’s trunk.

“I don’t want to be run over,” shrilled Wag, beginning to hop in a frenzied circle.

“Stop!” cried the Land in a loud voice, as Wag and Kabumpo started to run.

“Better stop,” puffed Kabumpo, his eyes rolling wildly, “or it’ll probably fall on us.” Trembling in spite of themselves, they stood still and waited for the Land to approach.

“I’ve often heard of sailors hailing land with joy,” gulped Wag, “but this—well, how did it get this way?”

As the Runaway Country drew nearer, its peninsula fairly quivered with excitement and as it reached them it pulled up its front feet and tilted forward to get a better view. Its eyes were two small blue lakes and its mouth a broad bubbling river.

“I claim you by right of discovery,” cried the Land in its loud, river voice and before they could make any objection it scooped them up neatly and tossed them on a little hill.

“This is outrageous,” spluttered the Elegant Elephant, picking Peg out of some bushes. “We’ve been kidnapped!”

“Let’s jump off!” cried Wag, beginning to hop toward the edge.

“I wouldn’t do that,” said the Land calmly, “because I’d only run after you again. You might as well settle down and grow up with me. I’m not such a bad little Country,” it added quietly, “just a bit rough and uncultivated.”

“Well, what’s that got to do with us,” demanded Kabumpo, staring the Country right in its lake-eyes. “We’re on an important mission and we haven’t time for this sort of thing at all.”

“It’s a matter of saving a Princess,” cried Pompa impulsively. “Couldn’t you, please—”

“Let someone else save her,” said the Country indifferently, beginning to move off sideways like a crab. “You’re the first savages I’ve found and I’m going to keep you. Not that you’re what I’d pick out,” it continued ungraciously. “That wooden girl looks uncommonly odd and you two beasts are even queerer. But I’m liberal, I am, and the boy looks all right so far as I can see.”

“But, look here,” panted Wag, twitching his nose very fast, “this is all wrong. Land is supposed to stand still, isn’t it? You’ve no right to discover us. We don’t want to be discovered. Put us off at once—do you hear?”

“Yes, I hear,” said the Runaway Country gruffly. “And I’ve heard about enough. Don’t anger me,” it shrilled warningly. “Remember, I’m a wild, rough Country.”

“You’re the wildest Country I ever saw,” groaned the Elegant Elephant, falling up against a tree. “And of all ridiculous happenings this is the worst!”

“Never mind,” whispered Peg Amy, standing on her tip toes to whisper in Kabumpo’s huge ear, “it’s taking us in the right direction, and maybe, if we were very polite—?”

“Go ahead and try it,” wheezed Kabumpo, rolling his eyes. “I’m too upset.” He hugged the tree again.

So Peg climbed to the top of the little hill and, waving her wooden arms to attract the Country’s attention, called cheerfully:

“Yoho, Mr. Land! Where are you going?”

At first the Land only blinked his blue lake-eyes sulkily but, as Peg paid no attention to his ill temper and began making him pretty compliments on his mountains and trees, he gradually cheered up.

“I’m going to be an island,” he announced finally. “That’s where I’m going. I’m tired of being a hot, dry old undiscovered plateau and I don’t intend to stop till I come to the Nonestic Ocean.”

“Oh!” groaned Wag, falling over backwards. “We’re going to be cast away on a desert island.”

Peg held up a warning finger. “What made you want to run away and be an island?” she asked faintly for, even to Peg, things looked serious.

“Well,” began the Land, giving itself a hitch, “I lay patiently for years and years waiting to be discovered. Nobody came—not even one little missionary. I kept getting lonelier and lonelier. You see how broken up I am!”

“Yes, we can see that, all right,” sniffed Kabumpo.

“And I’m ambitious,” continued the Country huskily. “I want to be cultivated and built up like other Kingdoms. So, one day I made up my mind I wouldn’t wait any longer but would run off myself and discover some settlers. As I have ten mountains and each has a foot there seemed to be no reason why I shouldn’t run away, so I did—and I have!”

The Country rolled its lakes triumphantly at the little party on the hill. “I have found some settlers and I’m looking to you to develop me into a good, modern, up-to-Oz Kingdom. I’m a progressive Country and I expect you to improve and make something out of me,” it continued earnestly. “There’s gold to be dug out of my mountains, plenty of good farm land to be planted and cities to be built, and—”

“What do you think we are?” exploded Kabumpo indignantly. “Slaves?”

“He’ll get used to it in time,” said the Runaway Country, paying no attention to Kabumpo, “and he’ll be useful for drawing logs. Now you,” he turned his watery eyes full on Peg Amy, “you seem to be the most sensible one in the party, so I think I shall bestow myself upon you. Of course you’re not at all handsome nor regular, but from now on you may consider yourself a Princess and me as your Kingdom.”

“Thank you! Thank you very much!” said Peg Amy, hardly knowing what else to say.

“Hurrah for the Princess of Runaway Island!” cried Wag, standing on his head. “I always knew you were a Princess, Peg my dear.”

“Oh, hush!” whispered Pompa. “Can’t you see it’s getting more reasonable? Maybe Peg can persuade it to stop.”

“If it doesn’t stop soon I’ll tear all its trees out by the roots,” grumbled Kabumpo under his breath. “Logging, indeed! Great Grump! Here’s the Deadly Desert!”

The air was now so hot and choking that Pompa flung himself face down on the cool grass. The Runaway Country did not seem to notice the burning sands and pattered smoothly along on its ten mountain feet.

“Something has to be done, quick,” breathed Peg, clasping her hands, “for soon we’ll be in Ev.”

Pompa, holding his silk handkerchief before his face, had come up beside her and they both looked anxiously for the first signs of the country that held Ruggedo and the giant who had run off with Ozma’s palace.

“Oh, Mr. Land,” called Peg suddenly.

“Yes, Princess,” answered the Country, without slackening its speed.

“Have you thought about feeding us?” asked the Wooden Doll gently. “I don’t see any fruit trees or vegetables or chickens and settlers must eat, you know. We ought to have some seeds to plant and some building materials, oughtn’t we, if we’re going to make you into an up-to-Oz Country?”

“Pshaw!” said the Runaway Country, stopping with a jolt, “I never thought of that. Can’t you eat grass and fish? There’s fine fish in my lakes.”

“Well, I don’t eat at all,” explained Peg pleasantly, “but Pompa is a Prince and a Prince has to have meat and vegetables and puddings on Sunday—”

“And I have to have lettuce and carrots and cabbages, or I won’t work!” cried Wag, thumping with his hind feet and winking at Kabumpo. “I’ll not dig a single mountain!”

“And I’ve got to have my ton of hay a day, too!” trumpeted the Elegant Elephant, “or I’ll not lug a single log. Pretty poor sort of a Country you are, expecting us to live on grass as if we were donkeys and goats.”

The Runaway Country rolled its lakes helplessly from one to the other. “I thought settlers always managed to get a living off the land,” it murmured in a troubled voice.

“Not us!” rumbled Kabumpo. “Not enough pie in pioneer to suit this party!”

“Has your Highness anything to suggest?” asked the Country, looking anxiously at Peg.

“Well,” said the Wooden Doll slowly, “suppose we stop at the first country we come to and stock up. We could get a few chickens and seeds and saws and hammers and things.”

“You’d run away,” said the Runaway Country suspiciously. “Not but what I trust you, Princess,” he added hastily, “but them.” He scowled darkly at Kabumpo and Wag. “I’ll not let them out of my sight.”

“How our little floating island loves us,” chuckled Wag, nudging the Elegant Elephant.

“They won’t run away,” said Peg softly. “And if they did you could easily catch them again.”

“That’s so; I’ll stop wherever you say,” sighed the Country, starting on again.

“What are you going to do?” whispered Pompa, catching Peg’s arm.

“I don’t know,” said Peg honestly, “but perhaps if we can make it stop something will turn up. We’re almost across the desert now and that’s a big help.”

“You’re wonderful!” cried Pompa, eying Peg gratefully. “How can I ever thank you?”

“Better get your sword ready,” said Peg practically, “for we may run into that giant any minute now.” Even Kabumpo and Wag had stopped making jokes and were straining their eyes toward Ev.

“Let’s all stand together!” gasped Wag breathlessly. Before Peg or Pompa had time to plan, or Kabumpo to reply, the Runaway Country stepped off the desert and swept over the border and into the Kingdom of Ev, making straight for a tall purple mountain.

“Do you see anything that looks like a giant, or a palace?” asked Peg, leaning forward.

“Oh, help!” screamed Wag just then, while Kabumpo gave an earsplitting trumpet. Peg grasped Pompa and Pompa clutched Peg and no wonder! Directly in front of them were the legs and feet of the most terrible and tremendous giant they had ever imagined. He was sitting on the mountain itself and only a part of him was visible, for his head and shoulders were lost in the clouds.

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” rumbled the Runaway Country, tilting forward slightly so it could see. One look was enough. With a frightened jump, that sent the four travelers hurtling through the air, it began running backwards and in a moment was out of sight.

Peg was the first to recover her senses. Being wood, bumps didn’t bother her. She rose stiffly and gazed around her. Pompa’s feet were waving feebly from a small clump of bushes. Kabumpo stood swaying near by, while Wag lay over on his side with closed eyes.

“Oh, you poor dears!” murmured Peg, and running over to the bushes she pulled out the Prince of Pumperdink and settled him with his back against a tree. He was much shaken by his high dive from the island, but pulled himself together and patted Peg’s wooden hand kindly. By this time Kabumpo had gotten his bearings and came wabbling over.

“You’ve got a black eye, I see,” wheezed the Elegant Elephant bitterly.

“Not so very black,” said Peg cheerfully. “Are you hurt, Kabumpo?”

The Elegant Elephant felt himself all over with his trunk. “Well, I’m not used to being flung about like a bean bag,” he said irritably. Then he lowered his voice hastily, as he caught another glimpse of those dreadful giant feet. “I’ll go help Wag,” he whispered, backing away quickly.

It took some time to rouse the giant rabbit, but finally he opened his eyes. “I shought I thaw a giant,” he muttered thickly. “Hush!” warned Kabumpo. “He’s over there.” He waved his trunk in the direction of the mountain and began dragging Wag firmly away.

“C’mon over here,” he called in a loud whisper to Peg and Pompa. Leaning heavily on Peg Amy the Prince came. Then he gave a cry of distress. “My sword!” he gasped, staring around a bit wildly.

“I’ll find it,” said Peg obligingly. “You sit still and rest.”

“Where’s the Magic Box?” coughed Kabumpo, with an uneasy glance in the giant’s direction.

Now that they were actually in Ev, the Elegant Elephant began to doubt the wisdom of his plan for killing the monster.

“Gone!” wailed Pompa, feeling in his pocket. “I dropped it when I fell off the Land. What shall we do, Kabumpo?”

“Don’t be a Gooch,” gulped the Elegant Elephant, but he said it without spirit.

“It’s probably around here somewhere.” Moving quietly, Kabumpo began to poke about with his trunk.

Just then Peg Amy came flying toward them, her ragged dress fluttering in the breeze.

“Look!” whispered the Wooden Doll, dropping on her knees before them.

In her hands was Glegg’s Box of Mixed Magic and it was open!

Chapter 18
Prince Pompadore Proposes

While Peg and Pompa and the Elegant Elephant eyed the box, Wag, twitching his nose and mumbling very fast under his breath, backed rapidly away. He was not going to run the risk of any more explosions. So anxious was the big rabbit to put a good distance between himself and Glegg’s Mixed Magic, that he never realized that he was backing toward the giant till a sharp thump on the back of the head brought him up short.

Trembling in every hair, Wag looked over his shoulder. Stars! He had run into the terrible, five-toed foot of the giant himself. At first Wag was too terrified to move. But suddenly the hair on the back of his neck bristled erect. He peered at the giant’s foot more attentively. His eyes snapped and, seizing a stout stick that lay near by, he brought it down with all his might on the giant’s toes.

“It’s Ruggedo!” screamed Wag, hopping up and down with rage. “And I’ll pound his curly toes off. I don’t care if he is a giant! I’ll pound his curly toes off!”

The stick whistled through the air and whacked the giant’s toes again.

Now of course we have known all along that the giant was Ruggedo, but it was a great surprise for the rescuers. Ruggedo was bad enough to deal with as a gnome—but a giant Ruggedo! Horrors!

“Stop him! Stop him!” cried Peg Amy, throwing up her hands and scattering the contents of the box of magic in every direction.

“What are you trying to do?” roared Kabumpo, plunging forward. “Get us all trampled on?”

A muffled cry came down from the clouds and, as Kabumpo dragged Wag back by the ear, something flashed through the air and bounced upon the Elegant Elephant’s head.

“It’s the Scarecrow!” chattered Wag, wriggling from beneath Kabumpo’s trunk. Kabumpo opened his eyes and peered down at the limp bundle at his feet. As he looked the bundle began to pull itself together. It sat up awkwardly and began clutching itself into shape.

“Where’d you come from?” gasped the Elegant Elephant. Without speaking, the Scarecrow waved his hand upward and rose unsteadily to his feet. Then, catching sight of Peg Amy and Pompadore, the Straw Man bowed politely. Meanwhile Wag, seeing that Kabumpo’s attention was diverted, began to sidle back toward Ruggedo.

“Stop!” cried the Scarecrow, running after him. “Are you crazy? Don’t you know Ozma’s palace is on his head? Every time he moves everyone in the palace tumbles about. Was it you who stirred him up and made him spill me out of the window?”

“I’ll wake him up some more, the wicked old scrabble-scratch,” muttered Wag, but Kabumpo jerked him back roughly.

“Great Grump!” choked the Elegant Elephant, shaking Wag in his exasperation. “Here we’ve come all this way to save Princess Ozma and now you want to upset everything.”

“That’s the way to do it,” said the Scarecrow, rolling his eyes wildly.

“Please stop it, Wag,” begged Peg Amy, throwing her wooden arms around the big rabbit’s neck, and as Pompa added his voice to Peg’s, Wag finally threw down his stick.

“Who is that beautiful girl?” asked the Scarecrow of Kabumpo. The Elegant Elephant looked at the Straw Man sharply, to see that he was not poking fun at the Wooden Doll. Finding he was quite serious, he said proudly, “That’s Peg Amy, the best little body in Oz. She’s under my protection,” he added grandly.

Just then Pompa and Peg came over and Wag, who had often seen the Scarecrow in the Emerald City, introduced them all.

“Did I understand you to say you had come to rescue Ozma?” asked the Scarecrow, who could not keep his eyes off the Elegant Elephant.

“Did I understand you to say Ozma’s palace was on Ruggedo’s head?” shuddered Kabumpo, glancing fearfully in the direction of the mountain.

The Scarecrow nodded vigorously and told in a few words of their terrible journey to Ev and their present perilous position. How the palace had gotten on Ruggedo’s head, he admitted was a puzzle to him. Kabumpo and Pompadore listened with amazement, especially to the part where they had threatened Ruggedo with eggs.

“And he’s kept still for two days just on account of eggs?” gasped the Elegant Elephant incredulously.

“Well, no,” admitted the Scarecrow, wrinkling up his forehead. “A little man came flying through the air the first morning and bumped into the palace and instantly everyone except Scraps and me fell asleep. Ruggedo was put to sleep, too; we could hear him snoring.”

“Why, it must have been the Sand Man,” breathed Peg Amy. “I have heard he lived near here.”

“Are they asleep now?” asked Pompa, clutching the Scarecrow’s arm. How romantic—thought the Prince of Pumperdink—to rescue and waken a sleeping Princess!

But the Scarecrow shook his head. “A few minutes before I fell out they began to wake up and I’d just gone to the window to look for Glinda when Ruggedo gave a howl and ducked his head and here I fell.” The Scarecrow spread his hands eloquently and smiled at Peg.

“Has Glinda been here?” asked Kabumpo jealously.

“Yes,” said the Scarecrow. “She came this morning and she’s been trying all sorts of magic to reduce Ruggedo without harm to the palace.”

“Great Grump! Do you hear that?” Kabumpo rolled his eyes anxiously toward the Prince. “If Glinda’s magic takes effect before ours then where’ll we be? Peg! Peg! Where’s the box of Mixed Magic?”

“Would you mind telling me,” burst out the Scarecrow, who had been examining one after another in the party with a puzzled expression, “would you mind telling me how you happened to know about the palace disappearing; how you got across the sandy desert; how you expect to help us; how he (with a jerk at Wag) came to be too large; how she (with a jerk of his thumb at Peg) came to be alive; and—”

“All in good time; all in good time!” trumpeted Kabumpo testily. “You sound like the Curious Cottabus! The principal thing to do now is to save Ozma. Will Ruggedo stay quiet a little longer?”

“If he’s not disturbed,” said the Scarecrow, with a meaning glance at Wag.

“Well, my hocks and woop soons!” cried the rabbit indignantly. “Isn’t anyone going to punish him? He shook and shook Peg and he meddled with magic and blew up into a giant. He’s run off with the palace. Doesn’t he deserve a pounding?”

“Friend,” said the Scarecrow, “I admire your spirit but my excellent brains tell me that this is a case where an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. But have we the ounce of prevention?”

“Here’s the Question Box,” announced Peg, who had run off at Kabumpo’s first call. “What shall we ask it first?”

“How to save the lovely Princess of Oz,” spoke up Pompa, running his hand over his scorched locks. “Where’s my crown, Kabumpo?”

Kabumpo fished the crown from his pocket and Pompa set it gravely upon his head as Peg asked the Question Box:

“How shall we save the lovely Princess of Oz?”

These maneuvers so astonished the Scarecrow that he lost his balance and fell flat on his nose. When he recovered Peg was clapping her wooden hands and Kabumpo was dancing on three legs.

“You’re as good as married, my boy!” cried Kabumpo, thumping the Prince upon the back.