Besides the celebrities in the garden, there are numerous other important people at Ozma's court. For instance, there is Herby, the Medicine Man, whose chest is really a medicine chest full of pills, cures and ointments. Then there is Scraps, a lively girl made from a patchwork quilt by a wizard's wife, and brought to life by the wizard; and there's Pigasus, a flying pig. There's a doubtful dromedary, a cowardly lion, a hungry tiger, and Dorothy's little dog Toto; a glass cat belonging to Scraps, a wooden saw horse belonging to Ozma, an Iffin whom Jack Pumpkinhead discovered near the Land of Barons, and a dozen more unique and unusual characters.
The old pilgrim seemed to find the group in the garden surprising enough, for he watched them closely and silently for almost ten minutes, cupping his hand behind his ear in an endeavor to catch what the Wizard was saying.
"It is just as I have told you," the little Wizard was remarking earnestly to Tik Tok. "The great record book of Glinda has vanished from her castle without trace or reason and even with my powerful searchlight and looking glasses I have been unable to discover any signs of it. Word of the theft came yesterday by pigeon post."
"Some-one has sto-len it for no good pur-pose," answered the Metal Man solemnly. But the old man leaning over the hedge heard none of this, for the two were conversing in low and guarded tones. So after a long puzzled look at the Scarecrow the pilgrim took up his staff and shuffled along the gold pebbled path to the palace itself. A pompous footman in gold and green came to answer his timid knock at the door.
"What name, please, what business, and why in the wood does a fellow like you come begging at the door of a castle?" inquired the footman in a loud displeased voice.
"There, there, Puffup," admonished a rosy-cheeked maid in a ribboned cap and apron, peering around the wide shoulders of the footman. "Don't be so shouting proud. You've frightened the old gentleman half out of his wits. Can't you see he is tired and hungry and probably in need of a lunch?" At the little maid's kind speech, the pilgrim bowed at least a dozen times, nodding his head energetically to show that she was perfectly right in her conjecture. "Come along with you," urged Jellia Jamb, giving him a friendly wink.
Edging nervously past the muttering footman, the old beggar followed Jellia into the castle's spacious and splendid dining hall. "Wait right here and I'll bring you some cake and apple sauce, an omelette and a pot of tea," promised the obliging girl. "How will that be?" Jellia Jamb, who was Ozma's own personal maid and a privileged character around the castle, grinned cheerfully at her ancient visitor, and though the old monk pretended not to understand a word that she said, he nevertheless seated himself at the table and with round eyes watched her skip through the swinging door into the pantry.
No sooner had Jellia disappeared, than the old rascal sprang nimbly to his feet and began to peer eagerly all around him. Passing hurriedly over a rich gold service on the sideboard, he pounced upon an earthen jug on a crystal stand and tucking it under his robe, slipped silently as a shadow out of the dining hall, up the green carpeted stairs and straight into the private sitting room of Ozma of Oz. Once there, and without losing a moment, he walked to the west wall, took down a large gold framed picture, blew upon it with a small glass tube, till it was no larger than a cake of chocolate—and thrust it into an inner pocket. Then, holding his robe high above his skinny shins and with the jug clasped tightly in his arms, he galloped down the stairs and out an open window into the garden, reaching a large clump of snowball bushes without encountering anyone. Hiding himself well in the bushes, he tore off the monk's robe, turned it inside out, dragged a white wig from his sock and presently emerged as dignified and plausible an old grandmother as any one would wish to see. The other side of his monk's robe was green and made up in a style much affected by old ladies in the capital, so that now he attracted no attention whatever. The jug in a large string bag dangled carelessly from his wrist, and smiling and nodding amiably he hurried through the garden, passed rapidly down one street and another, through the high city gates, on and on, till he was far out in the country walking faster and faster and less like a monk or an old lady at every step.
"Prunes and peppermints!" ejaculated the Scarecrow, springing up from his bench as Jellia Jamb, with streaming eyes and cap ribbons, came flying across the garden.
"Peanuts and pretzels!" Dorothy, about to hit the pole and win the game, dropped her mallet at Jellia's fire siren screeches, while Ozma and the others swung round in amazement as the little waiting maid, sobbing and panting, rushed into their midst.
"Oh, that beggar! Oh, that pilgrim! That old Monk, or whatever he was!" wailed Jellia, wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. "He's gone and stolen the jug, I mean Rug, and Oz knows what will become of us!"
"There, there, my girl. Stop crying! Begin at the beginning and tell us just what happened," begged the Scarecrow, patting Jellia clumsily on the shoulder.
"But this is serious, very serious," muttered the Wizard, who had at once realized the importance of the little maid's news. "If Ruggedo is released from that jug and enchantment, he'll be up to his old tricks in no time and doing anything in his power to hurt and destroy us."
"But who could have known we turned Ruggedo into a jug, or where the jug was kept? And why would anyone steal an old earthenware pitcher when there are so many other rare and beautiful objects in the palace?" Ozma, looking anxious and troubled, seated herself on the bench beside the Scarecrow.
"The same person who knew the value of Glinda's record book and stole that," answered the Wizard gloomily. "Dark forces are at work in Oz, my dear, dark forces. Just how did this rascal look, Jellia?"
"Like an old monk with a beggar's cup," said the little maid with a sorrowful sniff. "He seemed so poor and hungry I went off to get him something to eat and no sooner was my back turned than he grabbed the jug and ran off—though he shuffled slowly enough when he came into the palace."
"Disguised, of course," observed the Scarecrow, raising one eyebrow, "and no more a monk than I am. But what was he monkeying round here for? And what could he want with that jug, even if he knew it was the old Gnome King? Really, you know, you shouldn't let perfect strangers into the palace, Jellia."
"Just what I was telling her," wheezed Puffup, breathlessly adding himself to the group on the lawn, "and I hopes this will be a lesson to you, Miss."
"If we just knew where the old villain came from," worried the Wizard, tapping his fingers absently on Tik Tok's copper arm.
"Or where he was going," finished Dorothy, pushing back her crown.
"Why not look in the ma-gic pic-ture?" proposed the Machine Man calmly. "The pic-ture would show us where he is now."
"Of course it would!" Ozma rewarded Tik Tok with a bright smile, and jumping up, the little Fairy hurried across the garden and into the palace with the others just a few steps behind her. But when they reached the small sitting room where the magic picture was hung, of course it was not there, and now in real distress and consternation they all sat down to discuss the mysterious forces working against them.
"I thought Ruggedo was the only enemy I had left," sighed Ozma, leaning wearily back in her satin tufted arm chair. "I thought when we turned the Gnome King to a jug, all our troubles would be over."
"Who-ev-er stole the jug knows that Rug-ge-do was once the pow-er-ful me-tal mon-arch who tried a-gain and a-gain to con-quer Oz," rasped Tik Tok in his slow and precise fashion.
"Right!" agreed the Wizard, striding up and down with his hands clasped behind his back. "And whoever stole that jug and the magic picture plans to disenchant the Gnome King and learn from him the best way to destroy us. But that will be pretty difficult," asserted the little Wizard, thrusting out his chin. "That transformation was one of the best you ever made, my dear Ozma, one of the best. It will take a pretty smart wizard to turn that jug back to Rug again."
"Whoever stole the jug and Ozma's magic picture WAS pretty smart," Betsy Bobbin reminded him seriously. "And without the picture how're we going to find out who it is? Can't you do something, Wiz dear, or do we just have to sit around and wait to be conquered?"
"I shall go to my laboratory at once," decided the Wizard importantly, "and there by some magic means I'll try to discover who is at the bottom of all this wretched plotting and thievery. Lock up the magic treasures in your safe, Ozma, especially the Gnome King's magic belt, and have them guarded day and night." Briskly the little Wizard rushed out of the room, returning in a moment to repeat gloomily, "DAY and NIGHT!"
"And I'll go and drill the army," declared the Scarecrow, stepping recklessly out an open French window and falling flat, but undaunted, in a flower bed below.
"And I'd better call Tige and the Cowardly Lion," said Dorothy, who had always found the lion a splendid fighter in spite of his cowardice, and the Hungry Tiger, ready at the drop of a handkerchief to protect his royal patrons with tooth and claw. "They can sit right here beside the safe and I'd just like to see anyone get by them!"
"Maybe it will be someone they cannot see," shivered Betsy, peering out into the darkening garden.
"Oh, my, isn't it too exciting!" Trot, bouncing up and down on a small sofa, leaned over to touch Ozma on the knee. "It reminds me of the time Ugu the Shoemaker stole all the magic treasures in Oz. Remember?"
Ozma, looking at the space where her magic picture had hung, nodded her head sorrowfully, saddened and sobered by the thought that she still had dangerous and unscrupulous enemies in Oz.
Travelling northward by foot and as quickly as he could, Number Five had come to the Silver King's Mountain just a few moments after Nox and Handy Mandy. Now, dressed in the silver armor and helmet worn by all the Wizard's M-Men, he waited in great agitation for the wizard to appear. Nifflepok had at once taken Five to the den where Wutz carried on all his magic experiments and kept his valuable treasures, and quite sure none of the other agents had been as successful as he, Five paced impatiently up and down, fancying himself already co-ruler with the wizard in Oz.
"So, there you are at last!" Entering from an invisible door in the back of his work shop, Wutz stared coldly at Five. "Well, what trash is that you have stolen?" was asked, finally. The wizard always pretended the discoveries of his agents were of little use and importance. And when Five, completely taken aback and crestfallen, began to explain the wonderful properties of the magic picture and the fact that the old jug had once been the powerful King of the Gnomes, the Silver Monarch cut him short. "Yes, yes, but just see what Seven has brought," he told him gloatingly. "Seven, by a trick known only to himself, has stolen and transported to our mountain the great record book of Glinda the Good Sorceress!" Following the direction of the King's imperious finger, Five gazed jealously at a huge volume chained with golden chains to its marble stand. "In that book," went on the wizard quickly, "everything that ever happened in Oz is recorded, not only everything that has happened, but everything that is happening. You can see the entries appearing at this very minute on the open page."
"I see, I see!" Five scarcely glanced at the record book. "But this magic picture shows you any person you desire to look at. With this picture and the help of the powerful Gnome King, now disguised as a jug, we can soon make ourselves rulers of Oz. All we need to do is release Ruggedo from his enchantment. I have been told by people in the Emerald City that Ruggedo is familiar with all the magic secrets of Ozma and the Wizard of Oz, and is, besides, a skilful magician himself. Once we have disenchanted him, everything will be easy."
"We? We?" sneered Wutz, who secretly agreed with Five, but would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. "Well, put the picture there on that stand so I can examine it. Show us this silly ruler of Oz who sets herself above all other rulers," he ordered sharply. "Where is she now and what is she doing?" Then, though the wizard and Five and Nifflepok, who had come noiselessly into the workshop, gazed into the canvas till their eyes stung and watered, not a single figure appeared to enlighten them. "HAH! A hoax!" raged the Silver King, rushing at Five and shaking him till his armor rattled. "How dare you fool me in this dangerous manner?"
"But it's not a hoax," screamed Five as soon as he could speak. "It worked perfectly well in the castle."
"Perhaps it was hurt when you reduced it to carry it here," put in Nifflepok nervously. He was always trying to keep peace between the cruel King and his subjects. "Perhaps it only obeys the commands of Ozma, its rightful owner. And remember, you still have the jug and the magic record book. The record book might even explain about the picture," he suggested hopefully. "I thought so, it says here: 'The magic picture and Rug, the jug, have been stolen from the castle of Ozma of Oz by an agent of the Silver King.'"
"There!" exclaimed Five, brushing himself off indignantly. "I told you it was the one and only picture."
"Yes, but what good is it to me if it doesn't work?" scoffed the wizard. "I'll not have you potted this time, Five, but next time don't bring me damaged goods and old jugs, bring something of real value." As Five, red faced and furious, jerked himself out of the King's presence, Wutz turned joyfully to Nifflepok. "Getting on, old Tubbykins, we're getting on! Without that magic picture Ozma will not be able to trace her stolen property, and without the record book, Glinda will not be able to help her. So who's to stop us from stealing everything? Everything!" exulted Wutz, picking up the earthen jug and waving it over his head.
"But do you think it wise to treat our agents so shabbily?" sighed Nifflepok. "They might betray us, you know."
"Oh, no, they won't," sniffed the wizard, grinning broadly at his anxious little assistant. "The way I treat them is perfectly all right, keeps them on their toes, and with each trying to outdo the other we get the best results."
"Well, I hope you're right," Nifflepok still looked unconvinced. "But I cannot help thinking—"
"Out of your line, Niffy; just leave the thinking to me. Now fetch me my magic blower, there's a good fellow, till I see what can be done with this jug. It may take some time and doing to release this ugly little gnome. By the way, did you pulverize those meddling Munchkins?"
"Oh, yes!" Nifflepok nodded his head with a little shudder of distaste. "I shot them down into the prisoner's pit just as your Majesty commanded."
"That's strange." The wizard in crossing the den to fetch a glass test tube had paused for a moment beside the book of records. "It says here, 'The Goat Girl from Mern and the Royal Ox are in the Silver King's Mountain planning to release the little King of Keretaria.' So that's what brought them here?" mused the wizard softly. "Now, then, Nifflepok, something must have slipped up instead of down. If your prisoners were powdered or pulverized, how could they be planning and plotting?"
"They must have some powerful magic to help them," muttered Nifflepok, "or how could they have survived that fall?"
"Better find out, my dear fellow. Go spy on those Munchkins, and if their magic is important or worth while, come back and tell me. And in the future be more careful how you carry out my orders and instructions!" The wizard's voice was still low and pleasant, but his eyes flashed so threateningly, Nifflepok rushed out of the royal work den, flung himself in the silver car and went speeding down to the prison pits at the bottom of the mountain.
While Nifflepok had been interviewing Five, Handy and Nox had been having a troublesome conference of their own. Each plan they devised for finding the little King and escaping from the Silver King's Mountain proved impractical. To summon the hammer elf to release them from the prison pit would probably rouse the underground guards and minions of the wizard, and give Wutz himself an opportunity to steal the hammer. To tap the hammer lightly and ask the advice of Himself had next seemed a good idea, but as Nox quickly pointed out, that, too, was dangerous.
"In a wizard's den like this, anything can happen," groaned the Ox, looking around with a gloomy eye. "How do we know we are not being watched at this very moment? If you so much as show that hammer, somebody may pounce in here and snatch it away, which will leave us with nothing to protect ourselves with in a last emergency—except that blue flower, my horns and your hands."
Handy did not like the sound of "last emergency," but even Handy realized they would not escape from the mountain without some sort of battle. To the free and sun-loving mountain girl every minute underground was sheer torture. She longed for a breath of the pure upper air, and the unreal light and pale faces of Wutz's underground citizens and workers filled her with pity and loathing. "Of course, no matter how long they leave us here, your horn of plenty will keep us from starving, but if we don't soon find some way out, I believe I'll explode!" she choked in a desperate voice.
"Let's look at the message in that silver ball again," suggested Nox unexpectedly. "Are you sure you read it all, m'lass? There might have been directions on the other side."
"I don't think so," said Handy, shaking her head. Then, because action of any sort was a relief, she deftly twisted off Nox's left horn and tilted the silver balls into one of her always handy palms. The first ball when she opened it contained nothing further than the silver key. In the center of the second lay the same folded paper, but this time when Handy unfolded the paper there was a new message inside.
"Wait!" cautioned the little slip of paper in small blue letters. "Do nothing until the wizard appears."
"Oh," breathed the Royal Ox, touching the paper gently with his nose. "Someone is helping us."
"Then I'd better keep this silver ball in my pocket," decided the Goat Girl, "where I can easily get it. In a tight corner I might not have a chance to unscrew your horn. Dear—ear, how puzzling it all grows! So we're to hear from the wizard again. Whist! What was that?" As Handy, with her wooden hand, slipped the first ball back into the horn, with her leather hand screwed the horn back on Nox's head and with one of her best white hands stuffed the second ball and message into her pocket, they heard agitated footsteps pattering along the outside corridor. After a tense moment, however, they died away, and exchanging a relieved glance, Nox and Handy settled down to wait for the wizard.
The footsteps, as you have already guessed, belonged to Nifflepok. Peering in at them through an invisible window, the King's messenger had been just in time to see Handy shaking the silver balls from the golden horn. Without waiting to see what use they would make of this curious magic, Nifflepok rushed back to inform his master.
"They are wizards!" he panted, bursting unceremoniously into the Silver King's den. "The magic is in the ox's horn. With my own eyes I saw the seven-armed maiden shaking silver balls from his horn."
"What do I care about silver balls?" snarled Wutz, who was in a terrible temper. "If I had them here I'd bounce you over the head with them." The den was full of sulphurous smoke, but the earthenware jug still stood unchanged on the table before him. "The magic in the Emerald City is still better than mine," hissed the Silver Monarch, his voice quivering with anger and disappointment. "I've tried every single formula in my book of incantations, every straight and crooked pass in the magician's manual, every powder and potion on my shelves, and this ugly jug is still a jug and nothing but a jug! What are we going to do?" he yelled furiously. "Think of something, you noddle-headed pig! I must have the help of this little Gnome King, but how'm I going to get him out of the jug?"
"Perhaps, with a little more time," faltered Nifflepok, twisting his high hat nervously in his hands.
"Time! TIME!" exploded the wizard. "When did time ever break an enchantment?" Snatching up a pair of silver pliers he flung them wrathfully at his assistant. Nifflepok, fortunately for his head, caught the dangerous missile in his hat, and darting behind a tall cabinet, looked pleadingly out at his unreasonable Master. "Wait! Wait!" he begged earnestly as Wutz with a menacing frown took up his silver bubble pipe. "I HAVE thought of something. Make these Munchkins break the Gnome King's enchantment. They have passed all the hazards of our mountain unharmed. Undoubtedly the girl is a sorceress and the Ox a powerful magician in disguise. Let them do this trifling service for your Majesty in return for the useless captive we are holding for Number Nine."
"Hm—mmmm!" Deliberately the Silver Monarch put down his pipe. "That's not a bad idea, Niffle, not a bad idea at all." Picking up the jug, Wutz brushed rudely by his trembling little Minister and hurried out of his workshop. A few minutes later, he stood bowing and smiling before the two travelers in the prisoner's pit. But warned by the message in the silver ball, his entrance through the invisible door neither frightened nor impressed Handy Mandy or the Royal Ox.
"So here you are at last," exclaimed the Goat Girl, looking the Silver Monarch sternly in the eye. "And about time, too. How dare you imprison us in this miserable pit for no reason at all?"
"Oh, yes, there is a reason," stated Wutz a little surprised at Handy's defiance. "You broke into my mountain without invitation or permission and as you are nothing but a pair of trespassers, you certainly deserve imprisonment and even destruction."
"Nonsense," snorted the Royal Ox, lurching forward heavily. "We came here seeking a lost boy whom you are unlawfully holding captive. As soon as you release the little King of Keretaria, we will take him and leave this mountain!"
"And the sooner you tell us where he is, the better!" added Handy, snapping her thirty-five fingers under the Silver King's nose.
"Ah, you think so?" sneered Wutz. "Well, nothing is ever given for nothing in this mountain, but I may give you a chance to earn the boy's release. Here in my hand is a jug, an ordinary enough looking jug. With the magic you have in your possession, you must transform this jug to its proper shape. If you succeed, you and the Ox and the Boy King of Keretaria may leave my mountain unharmed. If you fail, ha ha!" The heartless wizard threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "If you fail, the walls of this pit will contract until you are—well, shall we say—obliterated? To keep your part of the bargain and perform this slight service I will give you one half hour. Here is the jug, and in case you fail, GOOD-BYE!"
"Good Gillikins!" whistled Nox, as the wizard strode through the invisible door and left them alone. "What does that fool think we are, wizards—magicians—necromancers?" Groaning and snorting, he began to gallop round and round the hot little pit.
"Look out! Look out! You'll break the jug," warned Handy, snatching it up in her arms. "And for goat's sake stop that galloping! I'm dizzy enough as it is."
"But you heard what he said?" lowed the Ox, coming to a trembling stop beside her. "What are we to do? We know nothing of magic or magic transformations!" In their distress and excitement, they both forgot there might be a message to help them in the silver ball, and Handy, taking the jug in one of her white hands, surveyed it with horror and curiosity.
"It's so old and ugly now," said the Goat Girl slowly, "I'll bet it was something old and ugly to begin with. Didn't Nifflepok mention something about a jug that was a rug? Maybe it's a rug, though more likely a rogue. Say, I wonder if I broke the jug whether that would not break the enchantment?"
"Oh, no, no, no! Don't do that!" begged Nox, rolling his eyes in terror. "If you break the jug, the wizard will be furious, and how do you know what will break the spell? Here, let me look at it." Passing the jug rapidly from one hand to another, Handy started to place it on the floor under Nox's nose with her seventh and last hand, when a sudden and unexpected scream from the interior, made her drop it with a loud crash to the silver stones.
"Ouch! Oh, stop! How dare you bang me around in this hateful manner?" Up from the flying fragments of earthenware at Handy's feet sprang a fierce little gnome with a long ragged beard, shaking his fists and howling like a child.
"Oh, my—y! I've actually done it!" quavered the Goat Girl, falling over against Nox. "Look! Look! Didn't I tell you it would be old and ugly?" The gnome, at Handy's words suddenly stopped howling.
"Where am I? Where am I? WHO am I?" he mumbled in a frightened voice.
"Well, I don't know who you are, but I'm afraid you're in a pretty bad place," said Handy, straightening up to have a better look at her handiwork. "You're in the underground caverns of the King of the Silver Mountain, if you must know."
"Caverns!" beamed the gnome, his face breaking into a wide smile. "What's the matter with caverns? I LOVE caverns, why I used to live in one myself. And who did you say I was?"
"We don't know who you are," explained Nox, in a cautious voice. "A moment ago and before Handy took you in hand, you were nothing but a jug."
"A jug?" pondered the gnome pulling his beard thoughtfully. "You mean to say I was a JUG?"
"Maybe 'Was-a-jug's' your name," volunteered the Goat Girl, now quite interested in her transformation.
"No, not 'Was-a-jug' but something like a jug. Let me think—Bug, hug, chug, mug, pug, rug-RUG? That's it, THAT'S my name, Ruggedo!" shrieked the little gnome joyfully, "and now I know who I am!"
"Well, who are you?" inquired the Ox, stretching his royal nose down toward the whirling gnome.
"I, why, I am the most important King on the other side of the desert!" shouted Ruggedo exultantly. "I am the one and only Metal Monarch and Ruler of all the Gnomes! My caves and caverns under the mountains of Ev sparkle with jewels and precious stones, mined by my faithful workers, and my grand army of gnomes outnumbers any army in OZ." Proudly the ragged little King thumped himself upon the chest.
"Oh, my! Oh, me! Oh, mercy—ercy! If you're as powerful as all that, maybe you'll help us!" cried the Goat Girl, clasping her hands eagerly.
"Help you? Why should I help you?" The little Gnome stared scornfully at the two occupants of the cave.
"Because she broke your jug and enchantment, you ungrateful little wretch!" snorted Nox, lowering his horns. "And you don't look like a king to me, you just look like a plain ordinary wicked little ragamuffin, a RUGAMUFFIN!" he bellowed angrily.
Nox's angry words had a strange effect on the boastful Gnome King. Leaning dejectedly against the side of the pit, he drew his hand wearily across his forehead.
"I remember now," he told them hoarsely. "I once was the Powerful Metal Monarch, but that was before I fell into the hands of Ozma and that wicked Wizard of Oz."
"So it was Ozma who turned you to a jug!" exclaimed Handy with all her hands on her hips.
"Yes, and before that she deprived me of my Kingdom, ducked me in a Truth Pond, marooned me for years on a desert island, struck me dumb, and then, when she could think of nothing worse, turned me to this jug!" screamed Ruggedo, kicking at the fragments of broken china at his feet.
"You and Ozma have been enemies for a long time, then?" observed the Ox, looking at the Gnome with great disfavor.
"Yes, yes, ever since that girl Dorothy stole my magic belt and gave it to Ozma," raged Ruggedo, stamping furiously up and down. "And every time I try to recover my own property, or capture those wretched girls and the Emerald City, something goes wrong and they conquer ME! The last time Ozma turned me to a jug!" cried Ruggedo, his voice rising to a shrill whistle.
"Well, what did you expect?" inquired Handy Mandy sharply. "That Ozma would sit calmly on her throne and allow you to conquer her? My—y such goings on!"
"Oh, then you are friends of Ozma?" said the Gnome King suspiciously. "But no, you could not be her friends or you would not have broken the jug. Who ARE you? The Ox is usual enough, except for his golden horns, but you"—Ruggedo's eyes grew round and anxious as he looked at the seven-armed Goat Girl, "YOU are odd, aren't you?"
"No, she's not odd!" snapped the Royal Ox severely. He had been through so much with the sturdy mountain lass, he felt almost as if they were related. "Handy is just seven times as smart and seven times as handy as most people, that's all. And since her seven hands have served you pretty well, try to keep a civil tongue in your head, will you?"
"Oh, all right!" Ruggedo scuffing his foot, looked sulkily from one to the other. "Much obliged, I'm sure. But what in rockets are we doing in this miserable hole and what are we waiting for?"
"For a fellow Metal Monarch and Wizard," answered a smooth voice, and appearing as quietly as he had vanished, Wutz stood calmly before them. "Come with me, Ruggedo, I have surprising news for you, comrade!" And without so much as a nod or "thank you" to Nox and Handy Mandy, he linked his arm through the Gnome's and drew him through the invisible door, slamming it viciously behind him.
"Hi—yi!" yelled Handy Mandy indignantly. "Come back here! Come back here! A bargain's a bargain, you old cheat and villain! We've kept our part and you shall keep yours! Where have you hidden the little King of Keretaria? Let us out! Let us out, you false faced rascal!"
Nox, as angry as Handy, charged forward, butting his head against the exact spot where the wizard had disappeared. To his astonishment and joy the whole section of wall swung outward and he and the Goat Girl, rushing through, found themselves in a narrow dimly lit silver tunnel.
"To think, to think we could have got out any time!" gulped the Royal Ox in a vexed voice. "The door was invisible but not locked. Imagine that, m'lass!"
"Oh, I've other things to do," puffed Handy, peering down the long passageway to see whether she could catch a glimpse of the two Kings. "No use trying to imagine anything about this mountain, it's just plain bewitched and goblinish. But that wizard made us a promise and I'm going to see that he keeps it. Come on!"
"No! No!" said the Royal Ox, leaning weakly against the side of the tunnel. "I couldn't bear to look at him again, at least, not just yet. Wait! I may think of something else! WAIT!" bellowed Nox, as Handy, in spite of his pleas, started off on a run. "There now, you've dropped something out of your pocket."
"That silver ball," muttered Handy, scooping it up without slackening her pace.
"The ball! The BALL?" exclaimed Nox, galloping breathlessly to catch up with her. "Oh, what muddle heads, WHAT muddle heads! It told us to wait for the wizard. Quick, see what it says now?"
"Well, a lot of good it did waiting for that wizard," grumbled the Goat Girl; but nevertheless, she stopped and opened the silver ball. Taking out the folded paper, she held it up toward an amethyst gleaming dully in the side of the tunnel.
"Follow me."
directed the paper rather mysteriously.
"But who does 'me' mean?" asked Handy, as Nox, still breathing heavily, read the message over her shoulder. "I don't see any me, do you? Beans and butternuts! If you hadn't stopped me I'd have caught those villains by this time!"
"And what good would that have done?" sniffed the Ox impatiently. "Remember there are two of them now, and that little gnome is worse than Wutz and twice as dangerous." Closing his eyes in an effort to concentrate, Nox repeated over the message, "Follow me! Follow me! Follow ME! Why of course, it's as plain as oats!" he snorted joyfully. "'Me' means that ball. Put the message back in the ball, set the ball down and then see what happens." And what happened, was amazing enough, for the silver ball, once it was on the floor of the tunnel began to roll rapidly along ahead of them, faster and faster and faster, till Handy and Nox had all they could do to keep it in sight.
"Where do you suppose it's taking us?" gasped the Goat Girl, thankful that so far the tunnel had been more or less straight and fairly well lighted.
"To Kerry," said the Royal Ox positively. "Now watch that turn, m'lass. What's ahead? It's growing so dark I can't even see my own shadow!"
"It's a flight of steps," whispered Handy, gazing fearfully into the deep well of a circular stairway winding down into the darkness. They could hear the chink of the silver ball as it rolled from step to step, so, taking her courage in all hands, the Goat Girl, herself, began to descend. Nox, grunting and muttering lugubriously, came just behind her. Steps were difficult enough for the Ox at any time, but negotiating a flight of circular steps in pitch darkness was terrifying and dangerous in the extreme.
"Be careful!" warned Handy, looking up anxiously. "Don't slip, or you'll break my heart."
"More than that, I'm afraid," quavered the Royal Ox, setting his front feet cautiously on the step below while he balanced his hind quarters perilously on the one above.
Meanwhile, Wutz and Ruggedo had shot up in the wizard's silver car and were now in earnest conversation together.
"How in suds did that girl break your enchantment?" asked Wutz, dropping irritably to his silver workbench. "I was watching her every minute through an invisible window and I didn't see her do a thing but break the jug. Now why couldn't I have thought of that?"
"Oh, what does it matter?" Ruggedo settled himself with a joyful little wriggle beside the Silver Monarch. "What does it matter so long as I am free and able to help you? So you really think you can make yourself Ruler of Oz?" he went on, glancing enviously round the wizard's well stocked den, with its tables full of magic apparatus and its shelves and shelves of dusty volumes of wizard and witch works. Wutz had confided his plans and intentions to Ruggedo on the ride up. "Say!" exclaimed the Gnome King suddenly, "How did you get Glinda's record book? That's the most important treasure in her castle!"
"Of course!" Lazily the wizard reached for his silver pipe. "Well, it's a long story, Rug, but I don't mind telling you that I have agents working in every Kingdom of the country. Seven, who was assigned to the Quadling Country, brought in the record book, smallifying it in order to steal and carry it here, and restoring it to proper size when it arrived. Six and Eleven have brought me useful magic from the Winkies and Gillikins, but Five managed to steal Ozma's own magic picture, and ha ha! since he couldn't find the Gnome King's belt, he brought me the Gnome King himself! Pretty clever of him to discover you were a jug, eh?"
"Re-markable!" sighed Ruggedo, as Wutz paused to blow a silver bubble which floated out of the work den, breaking somewhere outside with a tinkling bell-like explosion.
"Two glasses of melted silver," snapped the wizard to a smart looking bell boy who came in answer to this singular summons. "Now," continued Wutz, looking at the Gnome King through half closed eyes, "before I attempt to capture the Emerald City, I must have one of two things; either the silver hammer belonging to a witch of the West or the magic belt that once belonged to you. So far, none of my agents has been able to find the witch, locate the hammer, or discover where Ozma now keeps your magic belt. But you, its rightful owner, must know exactly where it is hidden?"
Ruggedo, without saying anything, nodded briefly.
"Well then," said Wutz, "if you will help me steal the magic belt, which I understand is the most potent and powerful magic in Ev or Oz, I will kick Kaliko off your throne, restore your own Kingdom and give you besides any one of the four Oz Kingdoms you may fancy."
"Oh, don't bother me with any of the Oz Kingdoms. I'm sick of the place!" frowned the Gnome, wagging his beard vindictively. "All I want is my own old Kingdom and my own magic belt! But I tell you what I will do. I'll help you steal this belt, for I know exactly where it is hidden, show you how it works so you can transform Ozma and all her friends and counselors to rocks and rubble. BUT, when you are safely established as supreme Wizard of Oz, you must return the belt to me."
"Oh, naturally!" promised the wizard, chuckling to himself as he thought how quickly he would turn Ruggedo to a rock once he was wearing the famous belt. Taking a glass of melted silver from the tray the boy had just set down, Wutz lifted it to his lips, and Ruggedo, his eyes glittering with all their old spitefulness, raised his own glass to drink to the wicked bargain.
"Come," he sputtered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "When do we start? What magic have you to carry us to the capital and open the emerald safe where the magic belt and other important treasures of Ozma are hidden? But wait, perhaps we had better look in the magic picture and see where Ozma and the Wizard of Oz are now?"
"I am afraid we cannot do that," Wutz explained regretfully. "Seven spoiled the canvas in some way when he reduced it to carry it here. It doesn't show anything now and I've not had time to repair the damage."
"Pshaw, that's too bad," said Ruggedo, going over to touch the picture, now hanging on the wizard's wall. "But the record book's still working, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes," said the wizard, stepping up to the marble table and glancing down at the open page. "And listen to this. It says," roared the Silver King, holding his sides and simply rocking with wicked merriment, "it says: 'The two metal monarchs are plotting the downfall of the present ruler of Oz.'"
"What else does it say?" inquired the Gnome King, who had had more experience than his companion in dealing with the magicians of the Emerald City.
"It says, 'Ozma and her counselors have gone to the castle of Glinda the Good,'" Wutz told him complacently closing and padlocking the big volume.
"Then we'd better start at once and before they return," declared Ruggedo. "For as soon as we have my belt we can change them to rocks, wherever they are. The most important thing is to get that belt before they know we are after it. But how are we going to get to the Emerald City and how're we going to open that safe?"
"My silver blowpipe will reduce the safe to a heap of ashes without injuring the contents," answered the wizard, "and reaching the capital will be the simplest part of all!"
Taking a silver tube from a high shelf, Wutz put it in his pocket and reaching for his bubble pipe, he began to blow an enormous quicksilver bubble round himself and the Gnome King. Slowly and with both Kings inside, the bubble rose, passed in a silver mist out of the wizard's den, up through the honeycomb of caves, caverns and grottos, on up—and up, till it floated right out of the top of the Silver King's Mountain.
At the same moment the silver bubble carrying Wutz and Ruggedo burst out of the top of the mountain, Handy Mandy and Nox reached the bottom, arriving at last at the end of the winding stair. One amethyst burned dimly on the small landing, and crowded uncomfortably together the two prisoners found themselves facing a heavily barred door.
Private Lower of the Wizard of Wutz.
Keep Out!
announced a surly sign. But Handy and Nox, their legs still quivering from the long downward climb, were in no humor to be stopped by a sign.
"Lower!" sniffed Handy Mandy disgustedly. "I should think it was, we must be at the very bottom of this miserable mountain. Lower—indeed! Well, I expect a lower is the opposite of a tower, come on!" Picking up the silver ball, Handy squinted sharply at the door, giving it a quick shove to see whether it was locked or fitted with an invisible moving panel. But there was nothing remarkable about this door, and nothing on it except a very small silver keyhole, which at once recalled to the Goat Girl the key she had been carrying around ever since she left Keretaria.
"Oh, Nox, I believe the key in your horn will fit!" she cried excitedly, and deftly removing the left prong of Nox's headgear she shook out the ball. Then, while Nox fairly panting with impatience looked on, Handy took the key from the ball and inserted it in the silver lock. When it turned easily and smoothly she was almost afraid to open the door. What would they find on the other side? What had the wizard done to his helpless young captive? As Handy hesitated, Nox rushed forward, banging the door open with his great shoulder.