This book is affectionately dedicated to my aunt Joe.

Ruth Plumly Thompson

Jack Pumpkinhead of Oz

List of Chapters
Chapter
	1	Peter and the Pirate's Sack
	2	The Chimney Villains
	3	What the Green Tree Said
	4	Scary Times in Scare City
	5	Peter Meets the Iffin
	6	The Bearded Baron Appears
	7	Belfaygor's Strange Story
	8	A Way to Cross the Chasm
	9	The Forbidden Flagon
	10	The City of Baffleburg
	11	In the Castle of Mogodore
	12	The Escape from Baffleburg
	13	The Enchanted Cavern
	14	High Times in Swing City
	15	Peter Opens the Pirate's Sack
	16	In the Palace of the Red Jinn
	17	The Capture of the Emerald City
	18	Mogodore Meets More Magic
	19	The Forbidden Flagon Acts
	20	The Wedding Feast
	21	Peter's Return to Philadelphia


CHAPTER 1
	Peter and the Pirate's Sack

	THE RAIN beat heavily on the roof, swirled down the side walks and made tumbling torrents of the gutters. Turning from the window in disgust, Peter dropped his baseball mitt on the library sofa and started glumly toward the stair. No practice today, doggone it! Why couldn't it rain on Mondays and be clear on Saturdays for a change? How was he to have the team in trim for the big match if this sort of thing kept up?
	Kicking crossly at each step, Peter progressed toward the attic. Not to waste the day, he resolved to have a look at his fishing tackle. The thought of the fishing trip he was soon to take with his grandfather cheered him considerably and by the time he had switched on the attic light and dragged out the old chest where he kept his treasures, he was whistling softly to himself. On top of the chest lay two coarse sacks. They were neatly folded in half and as Peter lifted them off he gave an amused little chuckle.
	"I wonder what's happened in Oz lately," mused Peter, sitting down in front of the chest with the sacks on his lap. "I wonder whether Ozma knows what I did with the pirate's gold pieces and whether the Gnome King has got into any more mischief." And thinking of that enchanting and enchanted Kingdom, Peter forgot all about his fishing tackle.
	Now many of you may have read or heard of the marvelous Land of Oz, but Peter had really been there; had met the Scarecrow and the wonderful Wizard; had kept the Gnome King from conquering the Emerald City and even discovered a pirate ship full of treasure. The pirate who owned the ship had once been a real pirate, so when Ozma, the little girl ruler of Oz, transported Peter and the treasure back to Philadelphia, two of the bags of gold had been real gold and these bags had come with him. These very sacks that Peter held across his knees had once bulged with gold pieces. And those of Peter's friends and relations who had sniffed at the story of his amazing journey to Oz never had been able to explain them away.
	Peter's grandfather, with whom the little boy lived, had not tried to explain them, for Peter's grandfather was old enough to believe almost anything. So he and Peter had spent one bag of gold very gaily on a trip to the coast, on motorcycles for Peter and his best friends, on a club house for the team, on canoes and some more things, too. The other bag they had changed into United States dollars and put into the bank, so that Peter might go to college and other important places when he was grown. And now, with the rain drumming steadily on the roof, Peter fell to dreaming again of Oz, of its curious Kings and castles, its wizards and witches and magic transformations. Could it have been two years ago that he and the Gnome King escaped from Runaway Island?
	"I wish," sighed Peter, giving the top sack a little shake, "I wish I could go back to Oz sometime. Hello! What's this?" In the corner of the top sack he felt something hard and round and thrusting in his hand drew out a thin shiny piece of gold. "Why, here's one we didn't find," chuckled Peter, holding it up to the light. "It's not so large as the others. I believe I'll keep it for a lucky piece." Resting his head against a small trunk, Peter sank back and was soon lost in pleasant reveries. "Gee whiz!" he breathed at last, flipping the pirate's coin into the air. "It certainly would be great to go to Oz again. I wish I were there right now!" As the gold piece dropped into Peter's palm, Peter himself dropped Out of sight. At least, he was no longer in the attic, or in Philadelphia either, for that matter. He was, to be perfectly truthful, standing before a small yellow cottage in the middle of a pumpkin field, and the whole trip, reflected Peter, staring around a bit wildly, had taken no longer than one puff and swallow. A drop such as this was enough to make a body puff and swallow several times, so he did. Then, having regained a little of his composure, he looked uncertainly at the yellow house.
	It was shaped like an enormous hollowed out pumpkin, but had several windows and a front door, so Peter walked boldly up the steps and knocked twice. He could hear footsteps running about inside and presently a head was thrust out the second story window.
	"Who's there?" asked the owner of the house, staring down curiously.
	"It's me, er~r it's I!" Peter, remembering his grammar corrected himself quickly.
	At this, the owner of the house, in order to have a better look at his visitor, leaned so far out the window that Peter gave a sharp cry.
	"Oh look out!" he called warningly, for the man's head seemed ready to fall off, was falling off, in fact.
	"I am looking out," it called cheerfully, as it turned over and over in the air. "That's just the trouble! Catch my head will you?" And next minute Peter found himself clasping a large pumpkin head in both arms.
	"Did you say your name was Cy?" asked the head, staring up inquiringly. "Well carry me indoors, Cy. You'll find my body around somewheres."
	"This must be Oz," choked Peter, with an excited little gasp and, kicking open the door, he hurried into the cottage. A tall awkward body sprawled on the floor and there was certainly something familiar about the hollow eyes staring so pleasantly into his own.
	"My body has fallen down the stairs," observed the pumpkin head calmly. "It should have waited for me, for nobody should be without a head." Peter agreed heartily with this last statement and, setting the head on the table, he pulled the awkward figure to its feet and then, standing on a chair, pressed the head carefully on the wooden peg that served for a neck.
	"Why it's Jack Pumpkinhead!" he cried delightedly. "Didn't I meet you in Ozma's palace two years ago? Don't you remember me?"
	Jack looked doubtfully down at the little boy. "I'm afraid that I don't," he answered seriously. "You see, I have had several new heads since then, and am not very good at remembering."
	"Never mind. I remember you!" Peter smiled kindly at the awkward fellow and, squeezing his wooden fingers, went on. "My name is Peter and~"
	"I thought you said your name was Cy," objected Jack in a puzzled voice.
	"Oh no I didn't," explained Peter, a little vexed at the pumpkin head's stupidity. "I said it's I at the door."
	"Cy at the door and Peter in the house. How dreadfully confusing," mumbled Jack, putting one hand to his head to see if it was on straight. "Have you a different name for every place you go?"
	"Oh call me Peter!" exclaimed the little boy impatiently, "and if you'll just tell me the way to the Emerald City I'll not bother you any more. I'm anxious to see Ozma and Dorothy again."
	"Are you a friend of Ozma's?" interrupted Jack in high excitement. "Well, I'll do anything for a friend of Ozma's. Ozma is my father!" Running to the door Jack clattered down the steps, beckoning for Peter to follow him.
	"Father!" cried Peter, with a little burst of laughter, and then realizing one could not expect too much sense from a pumpkin head, he hurried out of the cottage. The pirate's sack still hung over his arm and, tossing it gaily over one shoulder, Peter stepped quickly after Jack, and clapped him on his shoulder.
	"By the way, how did you reach Oz?" Picking his way carefully between the rows of pumpkins, Jack paused and turned his head with both hands so he could look back at Peter. Briefly Peter told him of finding the last coin in the pirate's sack, how he had wished to be in Oz and suddenly found himself standing before the yellow cottage. "It must have been a magic coin," muttered Jack Pumpkinhead, starting on again. "I tell you," he gave an excited skip, "that gold coin was a piece of change. You wished to come to Oz for a change and here you are!"
	"Yes," agreed Peter slowly. "But where is the gold piece?"
	"You can't have the change and the gold piece too," reproved Jack, wagging his wooden finger, "and you'd rather have the change, now wouldn't you?" Peter nodded and glanced sharply at Jack. His head seemed to be working better. Jack returned Peter's look with a long, steady stare. "Do you know," he said, stepping deliberately over a high fence onto a gold paved highway, "You remind me more and more of my dear father."
	"Your dear father," exploded Peter, sitting down on the top rail of the fence. "I thought a while ago you told me that Princess Ozma was your father."
	"She is," answered Jack, marching calmly along the highway.
	"But Ozma's a girl," shouted Peter indignantly, catching up with Jack. "How could a girl be your father and how could I remind you of Ozma?"
	"Ozma was not always a girl," explained Jack mysteriously. "Once Ozma was a boy like you. I see you have never heard my strange story," finished Jack in a hurt voice-looking reproachfully down at Peter. Though Peter had met Jack Pumpkinhead at Ozma's palace he had to admit that he knew nothing of his interesting history. So, as they sauntered slowly along the highway, Jack told how Ozma, as a baby had been stolen by Mombi, the witch and transformed into a boy named Tip. For nearly nine years, Tip had lived in Mombi's hut, entirely ignorant of the fact that he was the real ruler of Oz. It was to scare Mombi that Tip had first manufactured the Pumpkinhead Man. Jack's wooden arms and legs had been skillfully carved from strong saplings. His body, made of a tough piece of bark, was pinned together with wooden pegs. A larger peg served Jack for a neck and a carved pumpkin made his head. With some old clothes he found in Mombi's attic, Tip had dressed the queer figure and stood him in the bend of the road to scare the old witch on her return from a visit to the crooked wizard's.
	"Well, was Mombi scared?" inquired Peter, looking admiringly at Jack's jointed wrists and ankles and thinking what a smart boy Ozma must have been.
	"At first," admitted Jack slowly. "At first! Then, wishing to try out some of the magic she had traded with the wizard she sprinkled me with the powder of life and immediately I came to life and have been alive ever since," he finished modestly.
	"But what happened to Tip?" begged Peter, for he felt that the most exciting part of the story was to come.
	"Well," continued Jack with a solemn shake of his head, "as Mombi threatened to turn Tip to a marble statue, we both ran away that night, taking the powder of life with us. Next morning Tip found a sawhorse standing in a wood and, sprinkling it with some of the powder, brought it to life as Mombi had done me. On this strange steed we reached the Emerald City and helped the Scarecrow, who was then Emperor, escape from Jinjur's army of girls, who had captured the capitol. After many curious adventures we reached the palace of Glinda, the Good Sorceress
of the South. We begged her to help us restore the Scarecrow to his throne, but Glinda, by referring to her magic records, discovered that Ozma was the rightful ruler of the Kingdom. Returning to the Emerald City, Glinda forced Mombi to disenchant Tip, Tip became Ozma and Ozma, as you well know, has been our gracious little sovereign ever since."
	"What a shame," breathed Peter kicking at a stone, 'I should think she'd much rather have stayed a boy."
	"So should I," agreed Jack, "but as I am only a pumpkin head my opinion is probably of no value. I certainly have no reason to complain," he went on cheerfully. "Ozma gave me the fine cottage which you saw this morning and I spend all my time growing new heads. Before one pumpkin spoils, I quickly carve myself another and have had dozens of heads in my day, which makes me a personage, even in Oz. This head I'm now wearing will last quite a long time for it's still a bit green.
	"Well, it looks all right," said Peter, smiling up at Jack.
	"Do you think so?" Jack's carved grin seemed to grow even broader at Peter's polite remark. "If it were not for my joints, I'd be as good as anyone," he confided, tapping his chest proudly. "But walking wears out my joints so I never walk far at a time."
	"Is it far to the Emerald City?" Shading his eyes Peter blinked down the gay gold highway and then turned rather anxiously to his cheerful companion. He certainly did not want good natured Jack to wear Out any joints on his account.
	"No distance at all," retorted Jack, with a stiff wave ahead. "Around that bend the houses and trees will be green, for we will be on the outskirts of the capitol, and from there it is but a step to the palace." At Jack's word Peter gave a satisfied little sigh. It was all coming back-his geozify. Oz! How well he remembered that great oblong Kingdom, divided into four smaller kingdoms, with the Emerald City in the exact center. In the Eastern Winkie Country of Oz, the houses, fences, fruit and flowers were all yellow; in the Southern Quadling Country they were red. In the Northlands of the Gillikens they were purple and in the Western Kingdom of the Munchkins they were blue. From the daffodils in all the fields and the round yellow farm houses, Peter knew they were in the Winkie Country, but at the next turning they should find the green trees and parks surrounding the loveliest city in Oz.
	Thinking of this enchanting spot, its gay and jolly inhabitants and the welcome he was sure to find in the palace, Peter quickened his steps, reaching the bend of the road far ahead of Jack. But instead of flowering gardens and green parkways the highway ended abruptly in a high red brick wall. There was a small black door in the wall. In red letters on this door were two words-"Enter Here." Peter was staring uncertainly at these directions when Jack caught up with him.
	"Well Cy! What now?" he demanded merrily. "See, I remembered you were Cy, at the door. Ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!"
	"Oh do try to be sensible," begged Peter in an annoyed voice. "Can't you see that this wall is red? We must be in the Quadling Country, Jack. You've come the wrong way and we're lost! Now, the question is whether to go back the way we came or go through this door and try to find a short cut to the Emerald City."
	"I was afraid this head was not quite ripe enough," mumbled Jack in a worried voice. "Perhaps if we go through this door and turn straight North we'll find the Emerald City just as quickly as if we turn back."
	"Perhaps," echoed Peter doubtfully. Then, as he was beginning to feel an overpowering curiosity as to what might be on the other side of the wall, he opened the black door and stepped through.

CHAPTER 2
	The Chimney Villains

	NOW I'm Santy Claus," mumbled Jack, feeling around for his head. Both he and Peter had stepped off into space and tumbled together down a long dark passageway. "We've fallen down a chimney," continued Jack, finding his head and settling it firmly on his shoulders. "I must say this is a great way to enter a city."
	"It is a grate," said Peter, with a little groan, for he was sitting astride a pair of iron fire dogs, "but how do you know it's a city?" Fortunately there was no fire burning in the grate and, picking up the pirate's sack, Peter stepped out into a large red square. Jack had to bend almost double to get out at all and as he straightened up a sign hanging on the outside of the chimney caught his attention.
	"Please shut the grate after you," directed the sign. Being an obliging fellow, Jack pulled the handle at the right and a sliding black screen completely closed off the opening. Dusting the soot from his frayed coat, Jack joined Peter.
	"Nothing but chimneys," marvelled the little boy with a low whistle. "I've often seen houses without chimneys but never chimneys without houses." The square was simply bristling with chimneys, all red and of every shape, size and description. They seemed to sprout like queer flowers from the red flags that paved the square. Chimneys! Chimneys! Chimneys! So close together there was scarcely space to walk. "Who could possibly live here?" said Peter, with a scornful sniff.
	"Whee! Whee-ee! We do!" A hundred high voices answered his question. They seemed to issue from the chimneys themselves, and as Jack and Peter peered anxiously upward strange smoky figures began to spiral out of the chimney tops and float in a dark mass over their heads. They looked like evil genii or goblins who had long been imprisoned in magic bottles. Their shapes and faces changed constantly and as a whole horde of them dropped downward, Peter stepped closer to Jack. "They're only smoke," he explained reassuringly.
	"Yes, dear Peter," quavered Jack, "but smoke is most injurious to pumpkins! Oh my head! My poor poor head!" Peter had no time to sympathize with Jack, for at that moment a crowd of Smokies surrounded them. Their eyes were spitered sparks and, snatching at Peter and Jack with their long shadowy arms, they began to hiss and puff threateningly.
	"Can you curl?" demanded one, snapping his eyes close to Peter. "Can you curl, and do a double spiral? Can you make soot and smoulder?"
	"No! No! No!" coughed Peter, snatching out his handkerchief and waving it wildly about his head. "Go away! Go away. You're making me all black."
	"Ha, Ha, Ha!" shrieked a great smoky giant. "That's the color you should be. This is Chimneyville, but wait till you see our Soot Sooty down below. Come to our Sooty and see how black and beautiful you will become."
	"We won't," cried Jack Pumpkinhead defiantly, "we won't come or become. If this is Chimneyville, then you are Chimney-villains. Go away you black monsters. We refuse to visit your old Sooty. Go away, go away. You're smoking my beautiful head." Trying to cover his head with his arms, Jack backed against a chimney, but his words only seemed to infuriate the Smokies. Swelling with rage, they surged forward.
	"Smoke 'em up! Smoke 'em out! Throw 'em down the chimneys!" they sputtered. "Now then, boys, all together!" While Peter and Jack struck out left and right, the grim gray specters tried to lift them into the air. But there was no strength in their vapory arms and with little shrieks and hisses they pressed closer and closer.
	"Run!" panted Peter, who was almost suffocated. The smoke did not affect Jack and, taking Peter's hand, he tried to pull the little boy along. But the air was now so thick with their pursuers they could hardly see at all and bumped and crashed into chimneys at every turn. The last bump flung them headlong, and for a moment they lay perfectly still, while the Chimney-villains swept screaming overhead. It was dark as midnight, for the Smokies had all run together into a great suffocating cloud. Even the tiny sparks that were their eyes had gone out, and in utter and awful darkness Peter finally stumbled to his feet. Coughing and sputtering and with tears pouring down both cheeks, he felt in his pocket for another handkerchief, and as he did his fingers closed over a small candle end. Immediately a bright idea struck Peter, and with a gasp he felt around for Jack's head. Pulling the stout stem in the top he lifted out the piece Jack had cut when he hollowed out the pumpkin. Striking a match he lit the candle end, spilled in a few drops of candle grease and set the candle erect. Then replacing the top of Jack's head he jerked him to his feet.
	"What have you done?" faltered the Pumpkinhead in a faint voice. "My head feels very light, dear Peter, but I seem to see much better."
	"So do I," choked the little boy, muffling his nose in his coat sleeve, "we can both see better. Come on, you're lit up and my Jack O' Lantern now!" The bobbing light in the pumpkin's head seemed to puzzle their enemies, but Peter, guided by the cheery glow, pushed bravely through the clouds and crowds of them. The smoke still stung his eyes and throat, but he kept dodging chimney after chimney, and finally pausing to rest against an especially broad one, discovered a slide like the one they had come through in the first place. Jerking it open Peter pulled Jack into the grate and closed the slide. There was another slide at the back of the chimney place and as the Smokies poured against the first slide Peter opened the second and stepped out into a quiet little wood.
	"A great way in and a great way out," observed Jack, following Peter quickly and slamming the slide after him.
	"And a great way from everywhere," puffed Peter, dropping down on the nearest tree stump and staring resentfully up at the red wall. It looked the same from this side as from the other. Not a chimney showed, nor one puff of smoke, to warn luckless travellers of the disagreeable citizens of Soot City. It was so great a relief to breathe pure air again and find himself in real daylight that Peter sat for several minutes drinking in the fresh forest breezes and freeing his lungs from the bitter smoke. Then, standing up on the stump, he called Jack and blew out the candle in his pumpkin head. "You certainly saved my life that time," said Peter feelingly. "If you had not lighted me out of there I'd have been a smoked herring by this time. How do you feel yourself, dear Jack?"
	"A little light headed," confessed Jack earnestly, "but on the whole, I rather liked it. It seems to me I felt brighter."
	"You mean you could think better?" asked Peter, staring hard at Jack, and trying not to laugh.
	"Yes ," Jack nodded gravely, "so please light me up again dear Peter."
	"It might not be good for you," said the little boy doubtfully. "It might make you light headed and giddy. Besides, pumpkins are only lit at night or in the dark and it's quite light out here."
	"Oh are they?" Jack looked terribly disappointed. "Well any time you need a lantern, just light me up. Shall we go on to the Emerald City now?"
	"Well, we might try to," answered Peter looking around with lively interest. "Can you walk a little farther? Do your joints feel all right?" Although Jack was much taller than he, Peter felt somehow responsible for the flimsy fellow. It rather flattered him to have Jack so obedient to his wishes and so dependent upon his advice. After examining his joints carefully, Jack decided he might go a bit further, so Peter washed his face in a little Stream and at the same time removed the soot from Jack's, and they prepared to continue their journey to the capitol. Taking his direction from the sun, Peter started North through the little wood. From the cardinals and robins, from the red beech and holly trees, he knew he must still be in the Quadling Country and when he saw a small red cottage in a clearing just ahead, he was sure of it.
	Goody Shop, announced a sign, swinging from the crooked roof. "Hurrah!" shouted Peter, breaking into a run. "Maybe I can buy something to eat here. It must be nearly lunch time and I'm starved."
	"Oh do be careful," warned Jack, holding to his head with both hands as he dashed hurriedly after Peter, "they may not be the kind of goodies you expect." The shop was dim and dark and behind the red counter sat a prim little old lady in a ruffled gown.
	"Good morning!" puffed Peter with a polite bow.
	"Our good morning is all gone," said the old lady, rising stiffly from her tall stool, "but we have a very good afternoon, would you care for that?" She squinted anxiously at Peter. "And will you take it with you or have it sent?"
	"Have it sent," advised Jack in a hollow voice for he did not relish the old lady's expression.
	"I wanted to buy something good, explained Peter hastily.
	"Well why didn't you say so in the beginning," snapped the shop keeper testily. "One minute it's good morning and now it's goodbye. What kind of a goodbye do you want, long, short, fond or sorrowful?" At this strange question, Jack turned his head with both hands and simply stared at the old lady, and Peter himself began to feel terribly confused.
	"What kind of goods do you sell here?" he demanded anxiously.
	"All the goods;" answered the old lady proudly, "but dry goods mostly. Waving toward the shelves, she folded her arms and looked suspiciously at her two customers, while Jack and Peter curiously surveyed her wares.
	"Good news! Good advice! Good Intentions! Good Days! Good Night! Good Excuses! Good Riddance!" cried Peter, reading out the labels on the bottles and boxes. "How odd! Good Ideas! Good Tempers! Good Notions! Good Times!"
	"Come, come," muttered the old lady, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor, "make up your minds. You may each choose one," she decided finally, as neither Peter nor Jack seemed able to decide. "Why don't you take a good excuse?" she suggested, turning to Peter. "Boys are always needing good excuses, and a fresh batch has just come in~good ones too!"
	"I think I'll take some good advice," announced Jack in a timid voice. "I'm not very bright and it might be useful."
	"But haven't you anything good to eat?" sighed Peter. "A good lunch or dinner, even a breakfast would do." With an impatient flounce the old lady reached up on a top shelf and handed Peter a small red box. Then giving Jack a red envelope, she shooed them out of her goody shop.
	"I wish I'd taken some good excuses, murmured Peter, as they walked slowly down the crooked path. "This box is too small to hold a good meal of any kind."
	"What does it say?" asked Jack inquisitively.
	"A good breakfast," answered Peter reading the red label. "Well, even if it's only a biscuit or just one sausage, I'll eat it." Eagerly Peter raised the lid. "Why it's bird seed," he exclaimed angrily, flinging the box with all his force into a redberry bush. "What a cheat! I've a good notion to go right back and tell her what I think of her."
	"But she didn't charge you anything," observed Jack mildly, "and you'll have to admit it is a good breakfast!"
	"A good breakfast," roared Peter, glaring indignantly at his loose-jointed companion.
	"Well, it is a good breakfast," finished Jack Pumpkinhead apologetically, "for a bird." Peter looked closely at Jack to see whether he was poking fun at him, but quite soberly, Jack was opening his good advice.
	"What does yours say?" Crowding closer, Peter read the words on the thin slip of paper and then began to hop up and down with glee.
	"Keep your mouth shut," advised the red paper briefly.
	"Call that good advice?" sputtered Jack Pumpkinhead, tearing the paper into tiny pieces. "How can I keep my mouth shut when it's carved open? Of all the silly nonsense!"
	"But you'll have to admit that keeping your mouth shut is good advice," teased Peter, completely restored to good humor by this joke on Jack.
	"Then why don't you take it?" asked Jack stalking stiffly ahead. "Take it and welcome!" Smothering another chuckle, Peter hurried after Jack, reflecting to himself that this Pumpkinhead Man was not nearly so foolish as he appeared to be.

CHAPTER 3
	What the Green Tree Said

	WON'T Dorothy and Ozma be surprised when we turn up at the palace?" Taking a running jump, Peter cleared a tree and then hurried back to help Jack Pumpkinhead across.
	"I'll be surprised myself," said Jack, stepping solemnly over the log. "Here we are at the end of this wood and no signs of the Emerald City at all. Do you see anything green, Peter?" Peter shook his head, for as far as the eye could reach there was nothing but rocks and sand, tinged with the rusty red of the Quadling Country.
	"I see red, nothing but red," sighed the little boy in a depressed voice. "Wait, there's one green tree, though-a fir tree. Why, it's running straight for us. Hey! Look what you're doing! Get off my foot!" Giving the tree a quick shove, Peter sprang backward. But the tree leaned a little further over, and resting its lower branches on his shoulders began to sob heavily.
	"I'm very tired," it panted in a weak whisper, "very tired!" It spoke through a hollow in the center of its trunk and its knot eyes stared mournfully into Peter's own.
	"Well, you can't lean on me," exclaimed Peter crossly, giving it another push. "I'm tired too! Why I never heard of such a thing," he continued in an indignant voice. "What are you doing, where are you going, why don't you act like a regular tree?" Wrenching the branches from his shoulders, Peter stepped off and eyed it angrily.
	"You don't belong in this country anyway, put in Jack accusingly. "You're green and you know it!"
	"Hush," muttered the tree, putting a lower branch over its mouth. "I'm a Christmas Tree, looking for last year's ornaments." There were a few gay colored balls still clinging to the top and as Peter, too astonished to make any reply continued to stare, the tree drew closer.
	"Are you a Christmas present?" it asked hoarsely. "Are you an ornament?"
	"Oh go away!" laughed the little boy, giving it another shove. "Do I look like a Christmas present? And can't you see we're not ornaments?" With a little chuckle, he waved at his companion.
	"I could use his head, "murmured the tree, squinting through its branches at Jack. "It's not at all pretty, but it would light up and look real merry. Here you!" With a sudden pounce the tree made for Jack. "Give me your pumpkin head and no nonsense either!" As Jack and Peter both jumped back together, a simply astonishing thing happened. From the end of each branch on the Christmas tree. a hand shot out, and with each hand extended it dashed after them.
	"See! I trim myself!" it yelled, snapping its fingers hilariously. "Come here you provoking boy. I'll wager you have plenty of stuff in your pockets I could use for presents. Have you a watch or a gold pen knife?" At each question, it made greedy snatches at Peter. "Let me pick your pockets! Give me your head you great jumping-jack!" Ten of its hands just grazed Jack's coat tails.
	At first Peter had been rather amused by the Christmas tree, but now, thoroughly alarmed, he clutched Jack's hand and ran so fast that Jack had all he could do to hold on to his head and keep from stumbling. As they continued to elude it, the determined little tree grew very angry. Hopping up and down on its roots, it seized the ornamentsfrom its top branches and hurled them one after another at the fleeing pair. Three balls and a candy cane crashed to bits on Peter's head, and as he dodged in between two big boulders a silver dinner bell tied with red ribbon hit him sharply between the eyes.
	"Gee-whiz!" spluttered the little boy, clapping his hand to his forehead, "this is no fun!" Pulling Jack after him, he squeezed into a narrow crevice between the rocks, but before he did Jack leaned down, picked up the bell and slipped it into his pocket. As the Christmas tree attempted to push its way between the rocks, Peter and Jack pressed against a rough wall at the back. Now it happened that in this wall there was a swinging rock door, and as they both leaned hard against it, the door swung inward and spilled them abruptly into a narrow stone corridor. Next instant the door slammed to, leaving them sitting in surprise and consternation on the rocky floor. They could hear the tree pounding with all its fists against the panels, but a bolt had dropped into place as the door closed, so there seemed little danger of further pursuit.
	"I wish we'd stop this falling about," complained Peter, picking himself up a bit wearily. "We're always doing something we don't expect."
	"That's because we're in Oz," answered Jack cheerfully, "and at any rate, we have saved my head from the Christmas tree.
	Peter felt inclined to remark that saving Jack's head was not so very important, but thinking better of it, he went on in an exasperated tone: "Christmas trees in our country don't chase people nor throw things at them. They stay where they're put."
	"Yes," said Jack Pumpkinhead blandly, "I suppose they do, but Oz Christmas trees are more progressive, more up-and-coming." Taking out the silver bell the Christmas Tree had thrown at Peter, Jack held it close to his ear and then swung it slowly to and fro. At its first silver ring Peter, thinking it would rouse the owner of the cave, rushed over to stop Jack, only to collide violently with a tiny black slave who had apparently sprung up from nowhere. He wore a simply enormous turban and carried an immense silver tray. Regaining his balance with great composure, the little black slave set the tray on the floor, folded his arms and with a deep bow melted into thin air.
	"It's a dinner!" shouted Peter, dropping on the floor and hungrily snatching off the white napkin that covered the tray. "Well, of all things!"
	"Unexpected things, you mean," corrected Jack slyly, "and I notice you don't object to this one.
	"Let me see that bell," puffed Peter, reaching across the tray. It was not very light in the cavern, but even so he could read the inscription on the shining silver surface. "The Red Jinn's dinner bell," said the carved letters mysteriously. "A magic dinner bell," exclaimed Peter delightedly. "This certainly makes up for the bird seed. And did you see that boy dissolve into nothing right before our eyes?" Jack nodded.
	"Better eat that dinner before it does the same thing," he advised calmly. As this seemed not at all improbable, Peter made short work of the roast duck, mashed potatoes, hot rolls and apple sauce. He had just finished the last roll, when tray, dishes and silverware vanished suddenly.
	"Shall I ring the bell again?" inquired Jack, as Peter stared dazedly at the spot where the tray had been. Although Jack was not constructed for eating, he had thoroughly enjoyed watching Peter.
	"No," decided the little boy with a satisfied nod, "I've had enough, and it was good. But I wonder how that Christmas tree got hold of the Red Jinn's dinner bell?"
	"Stole it probably," answered Jack, rubbing the bell on his sleeve. "Maybe the old Jinn didn't run fast enough. Anyway it's a regular Christmas present for you, Peter. Whenever you're hungry we'll just ring it." With a pleased chuckle, Jack slipped the bell back into his pocket.
	"It certainly will be useful," sighed Peter, patting his stomach with a contented little sigh. Now that his hunger was satisfied, he felt quite cheerful and adventurous again. "Let's see where this passageway leads," he added, peering round the dark corner at the end of the little corridor.
	"Why don't you throw that old sack away?" inquired Jack Pumpkinhead, as they walked slowly along the strange hallway. "What good is it?"
	"I don't know," answered Peter, swinging the pirate's sack carelessly to and fro. "I had it when I landed here and it might come in handy to carry things in."
	"What kind of things?" asked Jack stupidly. Peter did not bother to answer for they had come suddenly upon a great scowling goblin-head lantern. Under the lantern hung a flashing red sign.
	"Tremble!"directed the sign in big red letters.
	"I don't see why we should tremble," said Peter, squinting defiantly up at the goblin lantern. At Peter's words the lantern went out, and whistling through the dark windy corridor came such a succession of wails, sighs and horrid screeches that Peter's heart stood still.
	"Are you trembling?" quavered Jack, as the hair raising noise died away. "Not exactly," stuttered Peter, leaning against the wall to steady himself. As the lantern flashed on again, he peered anxiously all around. But there was no one in sight, so putting back his shoulders and taking a deep breath Peter marched bravely forward. "There's nothing to be frightened about, he called reassuringly over his shoulder.
	"Well, nothing certainly made enough noise," murmured Jack, straightening his head which had spun round and round at the horrible outcrys. "I wish we were safely out of this, dear Peter." Peter did not say so, but he heartily echoed Jack's wish.. As they progressed along the strange corridor the goblin lanterns became more numerous and ugly, and the last turn brought them to a high, red, spiked gate. On every spike there was a frowning scare head, and as the two travellers paused uncertainly, each head stuck out its tongue.
	"Boo~OO!" shrieked the heads altogether, so loud and so shrilly that Peter almost took to his heels and Jack, without meaning to at all, sat down. As the little boy hurriedly tugged him to his feet, the red gates swung open.
	"Welcome to Scare City!" boomed a horrid voice. "Quake! Shake! Pale and tremble!"

CHAPTER 4
	Scary Times in Scare City

	ON THE other side of the spiked gate rose a curious cliff city. There was a great court in the center surrounded by a mass of jagged rocks and from the rocks narrow cliff dwellings had been crudely hewn and cut. Crooked, carved steps led down into the courtyard and every rock and inch of wall space was covered with roughly drawn heads and frowning faces, while set on stone poles at regular intervals were hundreds of goblin lanterns. A bluish green smoke hung in the air and every minute or so it would rise and form into the words "Scare City! Scare City! Scare City!" so that altogether the whole effect was exceedingly grim and unpleasant. So much so, in fact that Peter and Jack turned to flee. But the arm that had pulled them through the gate, held them fast.
	"Pause!" commanded a harsh voice. "Pause! Pale and behold the Chief Scarer!" Swallowing hard, Peter took an unwilling look at the gate keeper. He was about six feet tall and his head seemed to be face all round, with eyes on every side and noses that stuck out like spikes in every direction. As Peter, with a little shiver, turned away, he began to speak again. ''You!'' rumbled the Chief Scarer, pointing a skinny finger at Jack, "are a perfect fright! But you," contemptuously he looked Peter up and down, you would not even scare a baby. How dare you come here with that soft white pudding face?" Now Peter, as you can well imagine was thoroughly frightened, but the words of the gate keeper made him angry and anger made him bold. Stamping his foot and drawing his face into a terrible scowl, Peter stuck out his tongue.
	"Is this better?" he demanded furiously.
	"A little! A little!" sighed the Chief Scarer, leaning thoughtfully on his staff. "Could you cross your eyes?"
	"Don't you do it Peter!" begged Jack. "They might stay that way."
	"Well, suit yourself," yawned the Scarer indifferently. "I doubt whether either of you will pass the tests anyway, and if you don't you'll be turned into Fraid Cats, or scared stiff. You're supposed to tremble in the presence of the King, you know, and if you run you'll turn to Fraid Cats and if you scream you'll be scared stiff. Remember, now, I warned you." Lifting a red whistle to his lips, the Chief Scarer blew three sharp blasts and then stepped back into his niche in the rocks.
	"Who's afraid?" muttered Peter in a defiant voice. "They can't scare us, can they Jack?" Before Jack could answer, a perfect horde of Scares rushed out of the rock dwellings and began to tumble and leap down the steps into the court. Halfway down, they paused and one with a particularly frightful face bawled impressively; "Tuh-remble, for you are in the presence of the King!" Jack and Peter had no trouble at all in trembling. Jack's knees knocked together so hard that one of the pegs fell out of his joints and his pumpkin head bounced up and down upon its peg. Peter twisted his hands behind him and gritted his teeth to keep from screaming. He felt exactly as he had when he was a small boy and a rough crowd of Hallow'een ghosts and goblins pounced suddenly upon him in his own front yard.
	"They're no worse than masqueraders," said Peter pluckily. "Don't run! Don't scream, Jack, no matter what happens."
	"What I don't see, won't frighten me, answered Jack, and reaching up with both hands he turned his head so that the back was toward the Scares. Each Scare was different but each one was dreadful. Some had blue faces, some red faces and others green faces but they all had dozens of noses and the result was more than terrifying. Scurrying here and there in between the feet of the Scares, were the Fraid Cats meowing piteously when anyone trod on them. Instead of tails these singular beasts had two heads, one at each end so that it was impossible to tell whether they were coming or going. Swallowing nervously, Peter resolved that whatever happened he would not run and turn into one of these two headed tom cats. When the Scares almost reached the spot where the two travellers stood trembling, the one they called King stepped out on a high flat rock. He had a horn for a nose, a lion's mane, pig eyes, donkey ears and billy goat whiskers.
	"Three groans for Harum Scarum the Seventh," shouted his subjects and proceeded to groan most lustily, while Harum Scarum, waving both arms, addressed Peter and Jack in words so long and frightening that the air fairly quivered, and bits of rock, loosened from the walls, rattled down like hail stones.
	"What is he saying?" panted Jack, who still had his head turned.
	"They're trying to scare us with big words," shouted Peter above the awful din. "Don't move, Jack; whatever you do, don't move.
	"But suppose they run over us?" wailed Jack Pumpkinhead dolefully. Peter had thought of this himself and as the Scares, evidently disappointed at not making them run, stopped shouting and prepared to attack, he seized Jack's hand and whispered frantically. "Here they come! Here they come! What shall we do? What shall we do?" How Jack, with only a pumpkin head, ever thought of the magic dinner bell Peter often wondered afterward. But he did think of it, and before the Scares had advanced a foot he snatched out the bell and shook it furiously. Instantly the little slave appeared, set a tray before Peter and vanished. And Peter, without delay, seized the silver dishes full of food and hurled them at the oncoming foe.
	The astonishment of Harum Scarum and his band was comical to behold. Hit by flying forks, spoons, tumblers, bowls of chicken and mashed potatoes and finally by the silver tray itself, they paused in utmost confusion. Before they could pick up the flying missiles they had disappeared and when, with yells and shouts they started forward again, Jack rang the Jinn's bell a second time and a third time and a fourth time and with never a pause Peter flung dinners and dishes at their heads. But when Jack rang the bell a fifth time, the little slave appeared and, looking reproachfully at Peter, set down only one small bowl of soup. Five dinners in less than five minutes was too much for even a magic dinner bell.
	With a gasp of dismay, Peter flung the bowl at Harum Scarum and then snatching the pirate sack from his shoulder swung it defiantly round his head. Nothing could save them now, but at least, decided Peter, he would go down fighting. Jack, too, seemed to realize the hopelessness of their situation and, turning his head, boldly confronted the Scares, doubling up his wooden fists prepared to struggle till he fell. With noodle soup in his goat's beard and fury in his pig eyes, Harum Scarum rushed at Peter. As he did, the pirate sack jerked out of the little boy's hand. The strings had been loosened by Peter's wild swings and now the mouth was open wide. Sailing through the air like a small Zeppelin, it scooped up Harum Scarum, then the ten Scares behind him, then the ten Scares behind them, snapping and swallowing, snapping and swallowing till not a Scare nor a Fraid Cat remained in the courtyard. Then swiftly the sack returned to Peter and quietly collapsed at his feet. There was not a sound in that whole strange city, nor a single Scare in the sack.
	"Why didn't you tell me you had a grab bag?" stuttered Jack. "Tie it up quick; do you want it to grab us?" With trembling hands and stiff fingers Peter pulled the cords in the top of the sack, and sinking down in a tired heap leaned his head against the stones. The battle with the Scares and the strange behaviour of the pirate's sack had almost been too much for him. Where in Pete had the Scares gone and how could the sack be empty? Jack equally agitated took several jerky steps up and down and then paused in front of Peter.
	"What now?" asked Jack Pumpkinhead inquiringly. "What now?"
	"Let's get out of here!" exclaimed Peter, and taking a long breath he jumped to his feet.
	"Are we going to take that?" Fearfully Jack pointed to the pirate's sack.
	"Of course!" said Peter, trying to speak in a matter of fact voice. "It might help us out again."
	"Do you wish to be helped out of sight?" wheezed Jack sarcastically. "Why, it may swallow us any minute that our backs are turned."
	"Not if we keep it tied," answered Peter with more confidence than he felt. "We really ought to take it to the Emerald City to show the Wizard. I don't believe even the Wizard has seen a sack like this. It's a trained sack, I suppose. That pirate taught it to swallow his enemies and now it will swallow ours.
	"All right, bring it if you must, but don't swing it near me.  Straightening his head resignedly, Jack began looking around for the peg that had fallen out of his knee joint. When Peter had found and replaced the little wooden piece, they hurried quickly to the entrance of the city. The gate keeper had been swallowed with the rest of the Scares and though Jack and Peter pulled and pushed and tugged they could not budge the iron bolts.
	"Maybe there's another way," puffed Peter, finally giving up the attempt. Turning from the entrance, they walked round and round the courtyard and climbed wearily up and down the rocks, but could find no break in the wall, nor any way out of the grim City.
	The dead silence, now that the Scares were gone, was dreadfully depressing. Thoroughly discouraged, Peter and Jack sat down on a block of granite. Leaning his head against a red pillar, Peter took a last despairing look around. As his eye travelled slowly over the court, a red stone griffin, or what Peter had supposed to be a red stone griffin, rose majestically from the base of a pillar. With a terrific stretch and yawn it opened its eyes, blinked in surprise at Peter and Jack, then raising one claw called gently, "Who? What? Whither? Why?"

CHAPTER 5
	Peter Meets the Iffin

	"BOY! Pumpkin! Emerald City! Because!" answered Jack who was extremely literal.
	"If everyone would answer me as sensibly as he does," said the griffin, "I'd talk all day. So you say you're leaving this place because-"
	"Because we hate it," said Peter, looking steadily at the strange speaker. So many things had happened in the last hour that Peter felt only a slight twinge of surprise at the creature's curious appearance and conversation. "Are you a griffin?" Peter asked, rubbing his forehead wearily. It looked not unlike pictures he had seen of this rare and fabulous monster-being sandy red in color, with a huge lion's body and dragon's claws. Its head, instead of being the usual eagle head, was of rather a doggish nature with a stand-up mane and inquisitive, pointed ears.
	"You must be a griffin," repeated Peter, noting the powerful wings starting from the monster's shoulders.
	"I am a griffin without the gr-rr," answered the animal, sitting dolefully back on its haunches. "I used to be a real griffin, but since my capture and imprisonment here I've completely lost my gr-rr, which makes me by the process of simple subtraction an Iffin. To while away the hours of my captivity,  it went on patiently, "I acquired the habit of thought. I thought and I thought and thinking brought on iffing. I began to if about this and that till I became a philosopher."
	"What is a philosopher?" asked Jack suspiciously.
	"A philosopher is an Iffin too," rumbled the singular beast, scratching his ear reflectively. "He thinks practically all the time and he says to himself:
	"If this and that are really so, then so are that and this; That being so, 'tis best to go so far, then one can't miss!
	"Everything hinges on the if," he finished brightly. "See?"
	"I'm afraid I don't," said Jack, shaking his head stupidly. "Do you, Peter?"
	"Well, I understand about the if," answered the little boy, who could not help grinning at Jack's puzzled expression. "If the Iffin will just show us the way out of Scare City, we'll go and not miss a single thing."
	"If it were not for the Scares, I would," wheezed the big beast, peering nervously up at the rocks. "But it's no use; they'll only turn you to Fraid Cats or statues. Besides I'm chained." He lifted one paw to which a heavy chain and padlock were attached. The other end of the chain was fastened to the base of the pillar.
	"Say, you must be a sound sleeper," marvelled Jack. "Didn't you hear the big battle? This boy and I have conquered the whole city and Harum Scarum and the Scares are gone-vanished, done for."
	"Gone!" cried the Iffin, lashing its tail in astonishment. "How? When? Where?" Jack pointed silently to the sack which Peter still had over one shoulder, and Peter quickly told of their exciting encounter with the citizens of Scare City, of the great usefulness of the Red Jinn's dinner bell and the way the pirate sack had finally swallowed down the whole company of horrors. At Peter's recital, the Iffin's eyes grew rounder and rounder and as he finished it put up both wings and with short agitated jumps shrieked:
	"The Scares are gone, then what scare we! The Scares are gone, we're free, we're free!

	"Loose this chain," it panted, tugging impatiently away from the post. As Peter, now as excited as the Iffin, looked hurriedly around for a bar or stone to break the padlock, Jack stepped forward and warningly held up his hand.
	"Just what do you eat?" asked Jack Pumpkin-head in an anxious voice. "Are you carnivorous?"
	"If an Iffin were carnivorous, would he relish red geraniums? I live on flowers, solely, so please get that through your craniums.

	"What did you think I ate, little boys?" finished the Iffin sulkily.
	"Well, you never can tell," murmured Jack, with a worried glance at Peter. "I just wanted to be sure." Peter chuckled to himself, and while looking for a spike discovered a gold key suspended from a nail on one of the red pillars. Taking the key, he fitted it into the rusty padlock and after several unsuccessful attempts it turned and the heavy chain fell with a loud clank to the red paving stones.
	"Do you really eat geraniums?" asked Peter, as the Iffin sprang away from the post and rushed in crazy circles around the court yard.
	"Of course," it snorted boisterously. "Of course!" Then spreading its wide red wings it soared majestically into the air-up, up and out of sight.
	"Why it's gone!" shouted Jack Pumpkinhead indignandy. "There's gratitude for you! Gone and left us without even a claw shake or thank you.
	"Maybe it will come back." Kicking aside the chain, Peter strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying monster, but not one speck showed in the murky sky overhead. If Jack and Peter had been blue before, they were navy blue now. With their only means of escape removed they looked blankly at one another, while the goblin lanterns glowed and smoked and the sulphurous air of the cliff city grew more dry and unbearable.
	"If I'd only made it promise to help us before I turned the key," sighed Peter regretfully.
	"Hah! So you're an Iffin, too." Peering around a pillar, the bright red eyes of the sandy colored beast winked merrily into Peter's. "Just trying out my wings," it explained gruffly, "and they're wonderful!
	"If you don't think so, listen to them swirl and whirl and swish; Climb on my back, I'll carry you to any place you wish."

	"Will you really," cried Peter, falling joyfully on the Iffin's neck. "Can you take us to the Emerald City?"
	"If you want me to," answered the Iffin, wagging its tail bashfully.
	"Have you a name," inquired Jack Pumpkinhead, getting stiffly off the granite block.
	"Well," said the Iffin slowly, "I've been here so long I forgot my real name but the Scares called me Snif. I'm not sure I know the way to the Emerald City, but I will fly over the wall into the Land of the Barons and there we can surely find someone to direct us. Since you have freed me from my captors I will serve you faithfully for seven years.
	"Hurrah!" shouted Peter, hugging Jack. "I'm not sure I can stay in Oz that long, but I'm certainly glad we fell into this city. Meeting you was worth all the trouble." In reply the Iffin chortled:
	"If you hadn't come, I'd be here yet, So I'm glad as a Gluckbird that we met."

	"What's a Gluckbird?" asked Jack, straightening his head and looking rather severely at the irrepressible monster.
	"If I knew I'd tell you," confided the Iffin, coming close to whisper in Jack's ear. "Let's make ourselves scarce around here," he called boisterously in the next breath.
	"Oh let's," agreed Peter, swinging up the pirate's sack. "You mount first Jack and be sure to hold fast to your head."
	"And be sure that bag's shut," added the Iffin, wiggling his nose rapidly. "I've never travelled with a magic sack and though I fly I'm no swallow!"
	"Is the dinner bell all right?" asked Peter, tightening the cord of the pirate's sack and helping Jack climb on Snif's back. There was just room for the Pumpkinhead to sit astride in front of the Iffin's wings and Peter settled himself comfortably back of Jack between the mighty pinions. With one last scornful look at the red city, the Iffin rose into air, mounting higher till the goblin lights of Scare City were no larger than fire flys twinkling below.
	"Were you a prisoner long?" asked Peter, as Snif flew swiftly over a bright red forest.
	"Five years," bellowed the big beast, looking over its shoulder. Flying seemed no effort at all and it talked quite easily as it flew. "The first year," it explained sadly, "I struggled and growled so hard in my efforts to escape that I completely lost my gu-r-r-r. See!" Clearing its throat, the Iffin attempted a growl but succeeded in producing only a faint squeak. "After I lost my gu-rr," it went on in a melancholy voice, "I amused myself making up iffish verses, a habit I fear I shall never recover from."
	"I like it," said Peter after a short pause. "It reminds me of Scraps. She's a live Patchwork Girl who lives in the Emerald City. Scraps talks in verses all the time."
	"If the Patchwork Girl can talk in rhyme She must be 'most as smart as I'm."
	smiled Snif, with a wink at Jack Pumpkinhead.
	"She is," laughed Peter with a reminiscent chuckle. "I say, there must have been a lot of travellers from the number of Fraid Cats in Scare City. Why did they have two heads?"
	"So they'd be forced to look at Scares which ever way they turned," sighed the Iffin. "Every Scare had his cave full of statues of people who had come to Scare City by mistake and been frightened stiff. You were lucky to escape.
	"Well," admitted Peter with pardonable pride, "it's pretty hard to scare the Captain of a baseball team and Jack is not easily frightened either."
	"So I see, er-saw," observed the Iffin politely.
	"When we reach the Emerald City, Ozma will find a way to release all of these prisoners wherever they are,  said Peter confidently. "But how did they capture you?"
	"I dropped into the city at night," said the Iffin, "and before I saw how bad it was they overpowered and chained me up. They wanted me to stay and devour all travellers and even when I refused they kept me as a curiosity. And that's all I'll be from now on," it wheezed heavily. "I'll never get the taste of sulphur out of my throat, the picture of the Scares out of my mind or be able to growl again. I'm quite all wrong.
	"You seem all right to me," said Peter, with a little sigh of content. "Wait till you see the Emerald City. You'll forget all about the Scares and never ever want to leave again, will he Jack?"
	"Never," answered Jack, with a solemn nod.
	"I have heard the capitol is very lovely," mused the Iffin, "but my home is beautiful, too."
	"Where do you live?" inquired Peter. Jack was too busy holding on his head to join in the conversation.
	"In the Land of the Barons, among these hills." Pausing in mid air, the Iffin pointed with its claw to the rolling hillside below. Here and there above the trees and on the hill tops lordly castles reared their round, red towers. Flags fluttered from every turret and Peter had to admit that the Land of the Barons looked extremely interesting and gay.
	"Are these barons pleasant fellows?" he asked, putting a steadying arm around Jack Pumpkinhead. The Iffin answered in verse:
	"If they're good, they're good as pie, But some are bad and make things fly~even me.
	"You mean there are all kinds," mused Peter.
	"Yes," said the Iffin. "And they're always fighting, but I don't mind battles. I just fly around till they're over and they're quite interesting to watch."
	"I hope we don't land in the middle of a battle," sighed Peter. "And I hope the first Baron we meet is a good fellow and knows the way to the Emerald City."
	"If he is, and if he does, we'll be as gay as never was; And if he's not and if he don't, we'll find a way, swumped if we won't!"

	"You use such funny words," sniffed Peter, as the monster circled lower and lower. But the Iffin made no answer this time, for he was looking for a good place to land. Presently he found one, and next instant they dropped gently down into a peaceful valley. As Peter and Jack tumbled off in great excitement, Snif folded his wings and blinking self-consciously murmured, "Well, here we are. Do you like it?"

Chapter 6
	The Bearded Baron Appears

	AFTER Scare City almost any place would have looked beautiful to Jack and Peter, and this quiet valley overgrown with vines and sweet smelling flowers, seemed lovely indeed.
	"You're a whiz, Snif," exclaimed the little boy, looking around appreciatively. "Why, you travel faster than an aeroplane. You're even better than one, for you can walk and talk as well as fly."
	"Swim, too," grunted the Iffin, panting a little from the exertion of the journey. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll run along and find some geraniums. They grow wild around here and I'm wild about 'em."
	"Don't get lost," begged Jack Pumpkinhead, for this accommodating new steed seemed almost too precious to let out of their sight. "Shall I go with him?" he whispered hurriedly to Peter.
	"It might hurt his feelings," said Peter, dropping luxuriously into the long fine grass. "Let's rest till he comes back and then we can hunt up one of these barons and inquire the way to the Emerald City." Rolling over on his back and looking up at the drifting summer clouds, Peter gave a long sigh of content. "Why, this is almost as interesting as my last trip to Oz, Jack-travelling around with you this way and meeting an Iffin, and everything. No matter what happens we're not so badly off for we have a sack to swallow our enemies, a magic dinner bell to supply us with food and an enchanted steed to carry us wherever we wish to go. Gee, I wish some of the fellows were along! I wish my Grandfather had been with us in Scare City. You were great, Jack, to think of that dinner bell!"
	"Was I?" Leaning against a tall young beech, Jack beamed down at Peter. "You were great, too," he insisted generously. "I never saw anyone throw so straight and so hard."
	"Playing baseball does that," explained Peter, clasping his arms behind his head. "We'll have to have a game when we reach the capitol. Say look! Here are some wild strawberries." Scooping them up by the handful, Peter began to eat hungrily. "Did you ever see such large ones?"
	"The Quadling Country is noted for its red fruits," answered Jack proudly, "its strawberries, apples, cherries and red bananas. Sometimes I wish I were made to enjoy eating," he finished, looking rather wistfully at Peter.
	"You do miss a lot," agreed the little boy sympathetically, "but then on the other hand, you never suffer from hunger and could never starve to death. But here comes Snif." Swallowing the last of the strawberries Peter ran to meet the Iffin. Several geraniums still drooped from the corners of his mouth and he was loping along humming cheerfully to himself.
	"All aboard for the Emerald City," he called merrily, as he came closer. "That ought to please your long-legged friend, there. He's all board from his neck down, anyway." Smiling at Snif's little joke, Peter picked up the pirate's sack, helped Jack to mount and sprang nimbly up behind him.
	Are we going to fly or walk," he asked curiously.
	"Waddle," puffed the Iffin with a droll wink. "I'm so full of geraniums I'd simply sink if I tried to fly, so if you're all ready we'll waddle along."
	"I'm afraid waddling won't be at all good for my head," objected Jack, as the Iffin started off with swinging, uneven strides. Peter laughed as Jack continued to protest against waddling, but the Iffin was too busy practising gu-rrs to pay any attention to the Pumpkinhead.
	"It's funny," it muttered between its teeth. "I can say gu-rr but I can't growl it, and until I can growl, I'm no griffin."
	"Oh, what do you care," said Peter. "Any old grouch can growl, but not many can fly, swim, waddle and make verses like you do. I'd rather be an Iffin than a griffin, any day."
	"That's because you never were either," sighed the big monster with a little shake of his head, and quickening his pace he galloped along so swiftly that Peter and Jack had all they could do to hang on. Once out of the valley, the country spread before them, like a gay and enchanting map. Little patches of shadow lay on the velvety hills, small wooded parks dotted the hollows and many castles were visible in the distance. Beyond, a huge range of red mountains lifted their craggy heads to the sky.
	"We'll stop at the first castle," decided the Iffin, jumping without effort a tall timber fence that enclosed one of the parks. Red deer scattered right and left, as the huge monster rushed by and they were progressing finely when, from the center of the park where the trees were thickest, came a sharp, shrill wail. "Perhaps we'd better try the second castle," panted the Iffin, flattening back his ears:
	"If that looks like it sounds, I prefer not to look; It's either a Snort or a sort of Gazook."
	Before Jack could inquire what a Snort or Gazook might be, before the Iffin could even turn, steps came pattering toward them, and out through the trees rushed a tall, trembling old man in a red cloak.
	"I am a mess! I am a mess! I am a mess!" he croaked, flinging out both arms desperately.
	"Tut! Tut!" reproved the Iffin, putting up his ears. If you don't shout it so loud, maybe no one will find you out. Keep it quiet, I beg of you."
	"I am a mess, I am a mess, a miserable mesmerizer," insisted the old man, drawing his hand wearily across his brow and leaning heavily against a tree.
	"It's against the law to mes, to mes-I mean to mesmerize," said Jack, staring severely at the strange apparition. "Ozma has forbidden the practise of magic in Oz. Don't you know that?"
	"I know no law but the law of Belfaygor of Bourne," said the old man haughtily.
	"And who is Belfaygor," inquired Peter, standing up on the Iffin's back to get a better view of this curious person.
	"Lord of these Lands, and my illustrious Master. Alas! Alas! What have I done! Unhappy him! Unhappy I! Unhappy us. I am a mess! I am a mess! A most mis-er-able mesmerizer. Burying his face in his hands, the old man rushed blindly past them, and long after he had gone his piercing groans came echoing back to them.
	"Now what do you suppose he did do?" asked Peter, settling himself thoughtfully between the Iffin's wings.
	"Belfaygor, Belfaygor," mused Snif, repeating the name over several times. "I remember now-he's one of the good barons. Let's go on to his castle and see what has happened to him." But they did not have to wait till they reached the castle to find out, for halfway through the park, they came upon the baron himself. His ruby crown, magnificent red boots, richly embroidered cape, proclaimed his rank at once, but it was his beard that Peter saw first and never forgot afterward-a red beard that flashed and flowed down his breast and swirled around his feet in an angry red tide. With his head thrown back, a pair of shears in each hand, Belfaygor was clipping desperately at the shining waves that seemed to pour in a steady torrent from his chin. At each clip he groaned and at each groan he clipped.
	"My beard!" choked the baron. "My bride and my beard!" My bride and my beard!" And so engrossed and distressed was the unhappy gentleman that he neither saw nor heard the Iffin's approach.
	"So this is what comes of mesmerizing," snorted Snif, stopping so suddenly he almost unseated his riders. "His beard is running away with him. What can we do about it?"
	"Can we be of any help?" called Peter, more practically. "Is there anything we can do Mr. Baron?" At Peter's question, Belfaygor gave a great start; then blinking up half-seeingly at the strange company, gloomily shook his head.
	"Nothing can help me," moaned the baron, clipping furiously, "for nothing can stop this beard from growing. And that's not the worst, Mogodore the Mighty has stolen the Princess I was to marry and each time I try to run to rescue her my beard trips me up. Woe, woe, woe! Was ever a man so unhappy-so unlucky as I?"
	"Where are your men," asked Snif, wrinkling up his nose anxiously.
	"Gone," said the Baron dully. "Frightened off by my beard, they have deserted me down to the smallest train bearer."
	"You don't need a train bearer. What you need is a beard bearer," puffed Jack Pumpkinhead, dismounting stiffly and stepped as close as he dared to the baron. "If you throw your beard over your shoulder, it will grow the other way," he suggested amiably. For a moment Belfaygor stared slowly at Jack, then flinging the red beard over one shoulder he extended both arms.
	"That's the only sensible thing I've heard since I was mesmerized," he shouted hoarsely. "I hereby appoint you Royal Bearer of the beard."
	"Thanks," murmured Jack, looking doubtfully at Peter.
	"Who are you?" demanded the baron in growing excitement and appreciation. "This Griffin I have seen before, but you, my good fellow are most odd and curious.
	"He is a Pumpkinhead, magically brought to life," volunteered Peter. "And some pumpkins," he finished, with a wink at the Iffin.
	"No, only one," corrected Jack modestly. "I am a subject of Ozma of Oz and this boy is from America. As we are all on our way to the Emerald City, I cannot bear your beard."
	"Neither can I," mourned the Baron, dropping his arms wearily. "Oh! Oh! Who will save poor little Shirley Sunshine?" The Baron looked so tired and dejected that Peter felt sorry for him.
	"Is Shirley Sunshine the Princess you are to marry?" he asked curiously. "Who is this Mogodore? Why not tell us the whole story, maybe we can help you?"
	"If wings will help and a magic sack, You'll soon have your little Princess back,"
	promised the Iffin, sitting on his haunches beside Peter. "Speak," he urged, raising his claw imperiously. "Speak, for we are all attention."

CHAPTER 7
	Belfaygor's Strange Story

	WITH a gusty sigh, the red baron looked from one to another and then, fixing his eyes sadly on Peter, he began to speak. Since the extremely sensible suggestion of Jack Pumpkinhead, his beard no longer poured round his ankles but, sweeping over his shoulder, disappeared in a red streak between the trees. Every little while he would cut it off, and the steady snip-snip of the shears ran like a sharp punctuation all through the strange story of his misfortune.
	"This morning," confided Belfaygor in a mournful voice, "this morning I was the happiest Lord in the Land, for my marriage with Shirley Sunshine, whose father lives on the next hillside, had been satisfactorily arranged. My palace had been redecorated to please the Princess and all my retainers newly outfitted for the wedding. Everything, in fact, was in readiness to receive her, and I myself was about to start for her father's castle, when I became suddenly dissatisfied with my appearance." Overcome by his feelings the baron paused for a full moment, and Peter stood up on Snif's back to see how far the red beard had grown since the last clip. With a little gasp he saw it shoot through the branches of a tall tulip tree, and as he sat down Belfaygor tearfully continued his recital.
	"So I sent for my chief mesmerizer," he said sorrowfully, "a good old man and exceedingly well versed in necromancy. I asked him if it would be possible to grow a beard, as I felt that a fine long beard would greatly improve my appearance. There was not time to grow one naturally, so this mesmerizer"
	"This miserable mesmerizer," corrected the Iffin, switching his tail furiously.
	"Miserable mesmerizer," repeated the baron dully, "caused a long red beard to grow upon my chin." Snipping off a silky length of the offending whiskers, he tossed the ends over one shoulder and with a deep sigh proceeded. "When the beard had grown to my waist I bade the mesmerizer stop it, but in spite of all his incantations and magic powders, it continued to grow. It grew and grew till it filled the throne room, ran down the stairs into the pantry, shot up the stairs into the bed rooms and finally filled every room in the palace. In real danger of suffocation, my knights and servants took to their heels, and my mesmerizer, after forcing these shears upon me and bidding me cut for dear life, ran off and left me, also."
	"Then how did you get out of the castle," asked Peter, lurching forward, while Jack leaned over so far his head fell off and had to be replaced by the Iffin.
	"Jumped out a window," explained the Baron with a little shudder. "The beard kept me from breaking any bones. Cutting myself loose from the terrible tangle, I ran into the middle of the road and called loudly for help. As I did, a commotion on the next hillside attracted my attention. A band of armed riders were galloping toward me. As they drew nearer, I recognized the plumed hats and golden spears of Mogodore's retainers, and as they came nearer still I saw that Mogodore himself was carrying off my bride, who lay unconscious across his saddle bow. I tried to scream, but the red beard enveloped me. I tried to run; it tripped me at every step. Without even seeing me, the calvacade thundered by. As they disappeared, I heard two of the riders boasting that Mogodore would marry Shirley Sunshine tomorrow morning."
	"When was that? Where did he take her?" gasped Peter. "How long ago was it?"
	"This morning," choked Belfaygor. "He has carried her to his castle in Baffleburg."
	"You mean to say all of your men ran off and never came back?" exclaimed Peter, springing up indignantly. "Well, don't you care. We're here now and I'm sure Ozma would want us to help you. We'll just fly on Snif's back to Baffleburg and snatch her away from this bandit."
	"I'm afraid you have never heard of Mogodore," interrupted the baron, shaking his head despairingly. "No one has ever entered the City of Baffleburg or returned alive from Mogodore's mountain."
	"If that is so, we'll be the first; To tame this wretch or know the worst,"
	roared the Iffin, coming to his feet with a bound.
	"I guess you never heard of Peter," said Jack Pumpkinhead, rising with great dignity. "This boy"-he waved impressively in Peter's direction-"has just conquered the entire City of Scares and the last time he was in Oz he saved the Emerald City from the Gnome King."
	While Belfaygor looked incredulously at the little boy, Jack told of their morning's experiences in Chimneyville and Scare City.
	"Have you still got the pirate's sack?" asked Belfaygor, forgetting to clip his beard in his extreme interest and astonishment. "That magic dinner bell-what is it? Do you suppose you could carry us all to Baffleburg?" Eagerly he turned to Snif. The Iffin raised both of his powerful wings and shook his head confidently, while Jack held up the dinner bell and Peter showed the famous sack.
	"We'll be there in no time," cried Peter, "and with all this magic I don't see how Mogodore can conquer us, do you?"
	Belfaygor was so cheered and encouraged by this little speech that he dropped both pairs of shears and embraced Peter upon the spot.
	"You shall be knighted for this, my boy," he promised. "You, too," he added, pressing Jack's wooden fingers earnestly.
	"What about me?" inquired Snif, raising a claw solemnly.
	"If this keeps up we'll all be knighted; Sir Jack! Sir Pete, why am I slighted?"
	"You're not," promised Belfaygor, picking up his shears and beginning furiously. "You'll be knighted, too."
	"Well, if you insist," murmured the a mollified tone, "but I won't wear armor. Come on knights," he called gaily, "for night is coming on and if we're to reach Baffleburg before dark we'd better start now.
	The very name of Baffleburg gave Peter a thrill. More interested and excited than he had been since his arrival in Oz, he helped Jack to mount the Iffin's back and hurriedly seated himself behind him. Belfaygor came next with his back to Peter, so his beard would not blow in the little boy's face, and after a glance back to see that his riders were safe and comfortable, Snif spread his great wings and soared aloft, flying straight toward the red mountains Peter had seen in the distance. As they rose higher and higher Belfaygor found it no longer necessary to ply his shears, and his bright red beard streamed like a waving banner behind them. The poor baron was glad indeed for this rest, for he had been clipping steadily since early morning and already had blisters on both thumbs. Now and then, when his beard seemed in danger of catching in a tree or winding about a castle tower, he would snip it off short again and Peter and Jack would watch it float away, like some strange red cloud.
	Flying was such an exhilarating experience that Peter forgot all about the dangerous adventure that lay ahead and the forbidding aspect of Mogodore's mountain did not trouble him at all. As they drew closer, he could see the City of Baffleburg, its turreted forts, and its castle and strong houses seeming to spring from the rock itself. Stretching round the mountain there was a yawning chasm and at the foot was a towered fortress and drawbridge over which Mogodore and his men crossed the chasm when they made war on the barons below. Red capped warriors stood in each embrasure of the fort and guards marched stiffly to and fro upon the city walls. The grim red castle clung to the rocks, halfway up the mountain and gave Mogodore a splendid view of the whole valley beneath.
	"If I fly too near, a golden spear may interrupt our flight; So let's descend and mix a little stratagem with might."
	muttered the Iffin, coasting cautiously downward.
	"Stratagem's a big word," sighed Jack Pumpkinhead. "What does it mean?"
	"A plan to confuse the enemy," explained Peter as the Iffin's feet touched the rocky ground on the other side of the chasm. "We must find the best place to drop into the city, the best way to use the pirate's sack and the quickest plan for finding the Princess."
	Belfaygor was the first to dismount. Throwing his beard impatiently over his shoulder, he frowned gloomily up at the Mogodore's mountain. Now that they were really before the City of Baffleburg, the cheerful plans and hopes of Peter and the Iffin seemed wild and impractical. The longer he looked the more impossible they seemed, and resting his hand heavily on Peter's shoulder he begged the little boy to continue his journey to the Emerald City and leave him to deal with the wicked mountain chief.
	"The Iffin can carry me into the city," sighed Belfaygor, "but I cannot let you share in the awful perils of this undertaking. " If Peter had not been in Oz, or addressing a baron, he might have answered, "Applesauce." But feeling that such a word would only puzzle this dignified nobleman, he seated himself on the nearest rock and looked curiously across the chasm.
	"I should think," mused Peter, "that the best plan would be to fly into the city under cover of darkness and drop into the castle courtyard. Once inside, I will open the pirate's sack and when it has swallowed Mogodore and all the fighting men we can safely search for the Princess and escape.
	"How do you know the sack won't swallow her too?" questioned Belfaygor uneasily.
	"Because," said Peter looking up at the tallest tower in the castle, "I believe she's locked up there. They always lock the Princess up in the tower," he finished confidently.
	"You think of everything. " Jack Pumpkinhead stared down at the little boy admiringly and Snif, who had been scouting around for a stray geranium, waved an approving claw at Peter.
	"If that's the plan, let's have a bite; And quietly stay here till night!"

	"But what shall we eat?" said Belfaygor, clipping at his whiskers despondently. Jack chuckled at this, and drawing out the Red Jinn's bell rang it imperiously. At once the little black slave, bearing his silver tray, appeared before them. Placing the tray on Peter's knees he faded out of sight so suddenly that Belfaygor dropped his shears with a clatter. Though he had heard about the magic dinner bell the unexpected appearance of the dinner quite upset him.
	"You take this one," said Peter generously, "and if you sit with your back to the chasm and throw your beard over your shoulder it will grow down into the opening and let you eat in peace.
	"How can I ever thank you?" exclaimed the baron, seating himself as the little boy suggested. "Odds pasties, this looks most tempting!" With a long, tremulous sigh, Belfaygor fell upon the appetizing repast of roast beef and plum pudding. Then Jack rang the bell again and the slave appeared with a tray for Peter. He was about to ring up another dinner for Snif but the Iffin shook his head.
	"I've had enough for one day," he told them firmly, "and if Peter will give me that bunch of violets, everything will be perfectly perk!" As an extra touch a small bunch of violets had been placed beside Peter's dinner plate. Tossing them gaily to the Iffin and thinking as he did so how curious it was here for so huge a beast to dine upon flowers, Peter started in on his own dinner. With both hands clasped behind him, Jack watched the sun sink down behind the grim red mountain, and Peter and Belfaygor were so hungry that neither spoke till all the plates on their trays were empty. Then, with a satisfied sigh, Peter stood up and as the trays disappeared began looking around for Snif. But there was no sign of the Iffin anywhere!
	"Oh!" gasped Peter anxiously, forgetting for the moment that Snif could fly, "he must have fallen into the chasm." Calling to Jack and the baron, he started to run along the edge of the ravine, striking impatiently at a small creature that kept beating its wings in his face. He thought he had brushed it aside when, with an angry screech, it fastened its claws in his shoulder.
	"If you hit me again, I'll bite your ear; Attention! Pause! Stop! Look and hear!"
	At the familiar verses, Peter did stop, and glancing down he saw a creature no bigger than a squirrel perched on his shoulder.
	"It's me," wailed a desperate voice, as the tiny beast leaned over and rubbed its head against his cheek.
	"Those violets," it choked bitterly, "those violets were shrinking violets, Peter. Look at me! I've shrunk! I might just as well throw myself away.
	"Don't," gulped Peter, as the Iffin started to hurl itself from his shoulder. "I like you little~"
	"Well I like him big," announced Jack unfeelingly. "And who's to carry us over the chasm now, may I ask?"
	"Oh!" groaned Belfaygor, tripping over his whiskers after one horrified look at the little monster, "everything is over! Everything is over now!"
	"So's your old beard," mumbled Jack in an annoyed voice. Picking up the shears Belfaygor had dropped he cut length after length from the enchanted red beard, while the baron continued to wring his hands and groan and Peter tried in vain to comfort the Iffin.

CHAPTER 8
	A Way to Cross the Chasm

	I'LL WAGER that old Jinn did this on purpose," declared Jack indignantly. "I'll ring that dumbbell again and the boy's neck, tool"
	"It wasn't his fault," put in Peter, lifting Snif from his shoulder and thoughtfully stroking the small red head. "I don't suppose those violets were meant to be eaten."
	"If I only hadn't eaten them," wailed the Iffin, as two tears rolled down his cheeks. "You've no idea how it feels to shrink, boys.
	"Why did I eat those violets. I feel so silly and small! I'm just an elf, I'm not myself, I'm just no one at all!"
	"Oh, yes you are," Peter reassured him hastily. "Why look, you'll fit right in my pocket and I'll carry you for a change and when we reach the Emerald City the Wizard of Oz will soon make you large again."
	"Are we to reach the Emerald City?" inquired Jack, looking up from snipping Belfaygor's beard. "And how do you know you won't shrink yourself?"
	Peter turned a little pale at Jack's question.
	"The baron and I didn't eat any violets," he answered, swallowing hastily.
	"Yes, but how are we to cross the chasm?" Belfaygor, taking the shears from Jack, rolled his eyes sadly at Peter.
	"We'll just have to think of some other way, said Peter, staring off at Mogodore's mountain. "Let's all think."
	"I can only think of poor little Shirley Sunshine, locked up in that dismal tower," retorted Belfaygor despondently.
	"I can only think how far it must be to the bottom of this crevice," muttered Jack, looking sadly down into the ravine.
	"It looks to me as if we'd have to do all the thinking for this party," murmured Snif, flying up on Peter's shoulder. "Never mind, I still can think, even if I am little.
	"If I do a little thinking and I think a little bit, If there's any way to cross it, why I'll surely think of it!"
	"I'm glad you can still make verses," said Peter with a sigh. "It helps, and makes things seem a little less awful."
	"Yes," said the Iffin, resting his cheek against Peter's. The sun had dropped down behind the red castle and in the gray light of early evening the grim city on the rocks looked more forbidding than ever. Great black crows circled about the towers and turrets and their hoarse crys drifted like threatening jeers across the chasm.
	"If we had an ax," said Peter gloomily, "we might chop down a tree on the edge of the chasm so it would fall across." He was just wondering whether the ravine was narrow enough to jump at any point, when Snif gave a little bounce and, flying off his shoulder, announced shrilly: "I have thought of a way! We'll cross on the baron's beard!"
	"You mean grow across?" asked Jack Pumpkinhead doubtfully.
	"Impossible!" roared Belfaygor, throwing up his shears and hands indignantly. "Wouldst jerk out my whiskers? Besides they grow down and not up."
	"Pause!" Holding up one claw, the Iffin looked solemnly from one to the other. "First," explained Snif quietly, "Belfaygor must walk three times around a tree. That will make his beard fast and keep it from pulling. Then I will take the end of the beard in my claws, fly across the chasm and fasten it to a tree on the other side. Then when Peter and Jack have crossed, the Baron can snip off the beard close to his chin and cross himself in safety. What think you of that, my brave comrades?"
	"Why, that's a perfectly splendid idea!" cried Peter, jumping up enthusiastically. "How ever did you think of it?"
	"Well," Snif reminded him gaily, "for five years I did nothing but think-so thinking comes easy to me. How about it Baron, will you lend us your beard?"
	"Yes," answered Belfaygor readily enough, now that he had heard the Iffin's plan, "even if it hurts I will do it. I'll do anything to save Shirley Sunshine from that villainous bandit."
	"Then everything's settled!" cried Peter, who hated delay or inactivity of any kind. "Let's start!"
	"Not now," said the Iffin, shaking his little head seriously. "We must wait till morning Peter. As I cannot carry you all up to the castle itself, you will have to climb over the rocks and cliffs to the city gates. This will be bad enough by daylight, but impossible at night."
	"That's so," agreed Peter regretfully.
	"And what's to become of us when we reach the city gates?" quavered Jack in a hollow voice. "Will not these Baffleburghers impale us upon their spears?"
	"Oh, I hope not," muttered the Iffin, settling down on Peter's shoulder, "but we'll have to take a chance on it. My guess is that the guards will seize and carry you to Mogodore. Once in Mogodore's presence, Peter can open the sack, and after the sack swallows everyone, we'll find the Princess and return to the capitol on foot."
	"What about my beard?" asked Belfaygor nervously. "If they make us prisoners and take away my shears, we'll all be smothered."
	"Well, so will they," Snif reminded him philosophically, "and that will be some comfort." Already Snif seemed to have forgotten his dreadful mishap and to have recovered his former good spirits, and under the influence of the merry little monster the whole party grew quite cheerful and gay.
	"Come along," he called, flying on ahead, "Let's find some place to sleep. Is that a cave I see over there?"
	Back among the rocks at the foot of a tall cliff there was a cave, sure enough, and Peter, after a little exploring, decided it would be just the place in which to spend the night. Lengths cut from Belfaygor's beard and piled on the floor made splendid mattresses and, as Jack Pumpkinhead required no rest, he offered to stand guard at the entrance. The baron himself lay with his head just outside the cave, and the obliging Pumpkinhead promised to cut his beard from time to time and see that it did not choke up the opening, nor suffocate the sleepers. So much had happened since Peter fell into the pumpkin field, he was weary as a walrus and glad enough to rest. By the time the moon had climbed to the top of Mogodore's mountain, he was fast asleep, the Iffin curled cozily in the bend of his arm, and soon only the snores of Belfaygor and the snip of Jack's shears broke the deep dark silence of the night.

CHAPTER 9
	The Forbidden Flagon

	WHILE Peter and his friends rested in their hidden cave, the lights in the castle across the chasm burned far into the night, as the Baron of Baffleburg sat in converse with Wagarag, his chief steward and Major Domo. Biggen and Little, the baron's body guards, dozed stiffly at their posts behind his chair, while the huge hunting dogs snored upon the hearthstones. Flaring torches, set in stone holders in the wall, flung a flickering light into the dim corners of the great stone hall. Bear rugs were strewn about the flagged floor; swords, daggers and glittering armor hung upon the walls and the furniture, the carved chests, tables and chairs were big and clumsy, like the owner of the castle himself.
	With his chin resting in the palm of his hand, Mogodore stared moodily into the fire, but Wagarag, a thin anxious little Baffleburgher, moved about restlessly, straightening a tapestry here, a table cover there, and never still for a moment.
	"If I only I knew what was in that miserable flagon," muttered the baron for about the fiftieth time. "If I only knew! Why must it be hidden? Why is it forbidden? What would happen if I broke the seal?"
	"Buttered billygoats," spluttered Wagarag impatiently. "On the very eve of your wedding must you still worry about that wretched flask? Can you think of nothing but that miserable flagon?"
	Flicking at a bit of gold dust on the mantel, Wagarag paused in exasperation before his master.
	"If your father and grandfather before you were able to guard and keep it safely why cannot you let it rest where no one will discover its secret? Is it not written in the Book of Baffleburg that if aught disturbs the seal on the forbidden flagon, or one drop of the contents spills, a dreadful disaster will befall? Are you not Mogodore the Mighty, slayer of an hundred bears, subduer of an hundred barons and Lord of this mountain? Have you not stolen for your bride the loveliest Princess in the valley? Pray dismiss this mischievous flagon from your mind. Think of something else," begged Wagarag earnestly.
	"Something pleasant, this Princess for instance."
	Wagarag clasped his hands and rolled his eyes upward. "A beauteous damsel, if I may be permitted to say so!"
	"But she refuses to marry me," growled Mogodore, crossing his legs irritably.
	"What difference does that make," sniffed Wagarag, poking the fire energetically. "Your word is law in Baffleburg. Marry her anyway!"
	"But I can't understand it," breathed Mogodore, taking up a mirror that lay on the arm of his chair and surveying himself long and earnestly. The reflection in the mirror stared as earnestly back, but Mogodore could see nothing amiss with the red face, bristling black whiskers and hair, small blue eyes, great nose and crooked mouth that confronted him. "No, it cannot be my looks," grunted the baron, setting down the mirror. "What does this precious Princess want?" he demanded fretfully.
	"Why not ask her?" suggested Wagarag, prodding Biggen and Little vigorously in the ribs. "Here, you lazy rogues, fetch down the Princess from the tower!"
	"Mayhap the Princess sleepeth," mumbled Biggen, rubbing his eyes and yawning terrifically.
	"Then wakeneth her and bringeneth her thither," commanded Wagarag, giving Biggen a push and Little a poke.
	But the Princess, as you may well imagine, was far from sleeping. Pacing restlessly up and down the small tower room, she was trying to think of some way to escape, and when Biggen and Little thumped on the door and explained that her presence was desired below, she went readily enough, hoping it might give her another chance to plead with the baron for her liberty, or wheedle the guards into releasing her. But Biggen and Little paid small attention to her entreaties. Roughly thrusting back the ruby necklace she offered if they would help her slip out of the castle, they picked her up bodily and carried her down to their master.
	"Well!" exclaimed Mogodore, as Shirley Sunshine drew herself up proudly against one of the great stone pillars, "do you still refuse to marry me.
	"Of course," answered the little Princess haughtily. "Release me at once or my father and Belfaygor will come and destroy you utterly."
	"Destroy me!" roared the Baron, with an evil wink at Wagarag. "Do you not know that I am Mogodore the Mighty, boldest of all the barons and Lord of this mountain?"
	"Only one mountain," said the Princess shaking back her long brown curls scornfully. "If you are as mighty as you pretend, I should think you'd conquer several."
	"There are no more mountains worth conquering," stormed Mogodore, thumping the arm of his chair with his fist, "and you know that well enough."
	"Yes, but there are other countries," said the Princess haughtily. Seeing the baron give a surprised start, and realizing that he was as vain as he was cruel, Shirley decided to flatter her villainous conqueror and delay the wedding by any trick or plan she could manage. "If I had your strength and fighting ability, I'd conquer and keep on conquering until I was a King," said the Princess, with an imperious gesture.
	"Would you like me better if I were a King?" asked Mogodore, leaning forward eagerly. The Princess nodded so emphatically that her curls danced briskly to and fro and with a cry that shook the very rafters Mogodore leaped out of his chair.
	"Then I'll be a King!" he shouted exuberantly. "I'll march across the Red Mountains, capture the Emerald City, depose this foolish little fairy Ozma and proclaim myself King of
	"Better let well enough alone," cautioned Wagarag, running anxiously after his master, who was striding excitedly up and down the hearth. "There is a Wizard in the Emerald City who is exceedingly powerful and Ozma herself is a practiced magician."
	"Puff on their magic," cried Mogodore, snapping his fingers contemptuously. "How can Ozma, who is small and weak, overcome a big fellow like me? Nay-argue not. I'll conquer the Emerald City and be a King, King Mogodore the First of Oz. I wonder I never thought of it myself. You're going to be a great help to me, my dear!"
	Pausing before the Princess, Mogodore patted her clumsily on the head. "And what's more, you shall accompany me to the capitol, see this capturing done, be married in the Emerald City and crowned with Ozma's crown," he promised recklessly. "But now you must have some rest, for we'll start tomorrow morning.
	"See that I'm called early," he blustered, shaking his finger at Wagarag. "See that my fighting men are roused at daybreak," he roared, knocking the heads of Biggen and Little smartly together. "When I'm King of Oz I can open that forbidden flagon," he confided hoarsely, leaning down to whisper in Wagarag's ear.
	"No more of this wretched wondering. What will Baffleburg matter when I'm King of the realm? I'll put an end to this unbearable mystery. This Princess has brought me luck. Come kiss me, little onel"
	But Shirley Sunshine, with a horrified glance at the boisterous Baron, picked up her skirts and fled from the room.
	"See that she does not escape," rumbled Mogodore indulgently, and Biggen and Little, clattering after the Princess, locked her securely in the tower. Alone in the comfortless room, the captive Princess leaned against the barred windows and, fixing her eyes upon one steadfast star, wondered how long it would be before Belfaygor or her father came to rescue her. Her heart sank at the thought of this cruel baron marching upon the Emerald City, laying waste its parks and palaces and enslaving all of its gay and gentle inhabitants. Terrified by the frightful forces she had sets in motion, the tired little Princess threw herself upon the hard bed and cried herself to sleep.
	Below in the castle hall, Wagarag endeavored to turn the baron from his audacious purpose. "Listen not to this mischievous maiden," begged the steward. "Stay here where you are known and powerful. It is better to be a ruler among fools than a fool among rulers. Many have attempted to conquer the Kingdom of Oz-not one has succeeded."
	"Then I will be the first," boasted Mogodore and, snatching a broad sword from the wall, he swung it expertly round his head. "Shine up your shin guards, Waggy old lad, for you're going with me and I hereby appoint you Royal Chancellor of Oz! Keeper of the King's Custard and Imperial Purveyor of Puddings!"
	Laughing uproariously, Mogodore brought the flat of his sword down with a resounding thwack upon the thin shoulders of his disapproving steward.
	"Come to bed, Dunce!" he cried good naturedly. "You mean well, but know nothing."
	"At least I know my place," muttered Wagarag, shaking his head gloomily. "We both belong on this mountain and no good will come of this expedition."
	"You forget the flagon," exulted Mogodore. "I shall at last know the secret of the forbidden flagon."
	"Have it your own way," sighed Wagarag,with a resigned shrug. "But don't blame me if we're all turned to sticks by the Wizard of Oz and thrown into the fire."
	"Ha! Ha!" shouted Mogodore, more amused than frightened by this terrible threat. "You'll make a splendid stick, old fellow." Laughing noisely, the bad, bold baron tramped cheerfully off to bed.

CHAPTER 10
	The City of Baffleburg

	A STRANGE, shrill squeaking wakened Peter next morning, and starting up he saw that it was the Iffin. Sitting on a flat stone, the tiny monster was practising his gr-rrs. "If I could only growl again, I wouldn't mind my size," mourned Snif, looking sadly up at Peter. "Can't fight! Can't growl! A fine fix for a fabulous monster!"
	"But you can think," answered Peter cheerfully. "And you're free. Just wait till we've conquered this silly old baron and come to the Emerald City. You'll be a sure-enough griffin then. But I kinda like you little," he added loyally, "and I should think it would be rather an interesting experience.
	"Well," acknowledged the Iffin, scratching his ear reflectively with his third hind claw, "at least it will be something to tell my grandchildren, if I ever have any grandchildren." Raising his voice to a tiny roar he rushed to the front of the cave calling loudly, "What ho without!"
	"I do not see a hoe of any kind," answered Jack Pumpkinhead blandly. "But the sun is up and the wind is changing and unless we move away from here we'll be buried in whiskers."
	Stepping outside Peter saw a red mound as huge as ten hay stacks rolled into one. All night Jack had faithfully cut Belfaygor's beard and raked the cut lengths neatly together, but now the wind was whirling the top off the stack and filling the air with a blinding tangle of red strands. Hastily waking the Baron, the four adventurers hurried to the other side of the cliff and watched the great red cloud sweep into the chasm.
	"And now to beard this baron in his den," proposed Snif, swinging himself gaily back and forward on the branches of a small tree.
	"Yes, let us be off at once," sighed Belfaygor, taking the shears from Jack and starting in on his weary work of clipping.
	"Let's have breakfast," suggested Peter, who was always hungriest in the morning. "Ring the old bell Jack."
	"Then goodbye," quavered Snif, flying into the air. "I'll be back when those trays have disappeared and not before. No more magic repasts for me!"
	While Peter and Belfaygor breakfasted royally on beef steak and fried potatoes, Snif nibbled daintily at the red honeysuckle that clung to the rocks and muttered little iffish verses to himself.
	"Have you ever been to Baffleburg," asked Peter, after the trays had vanished and Snif came back to perch upon his shoulder. "Is it so very dangerous?"
	"I have flown over Mogodore's mountain many times," said Snif thoughtfully, "and from what I have seen, it must be pretty bad.
	"But if we stick together and most bravely persevere, This mountain's dangers we'll surmount and tweak yon bandit's ears!"
	"No tweaking," advised Jack Pumpkinhead nervously. "Let us just sack the city and leave."
	"All right," agreed Snif good naturedly, but we can't leave till we start, so let's get started." He looked inquiringly at Belfaygor and Belfaygor, after a nervous glance across the chasm, stepped to a tree on the edge of the ravine and walked solemnly three times round, till his beard was securely fastened. Now that the time for action had come, the adventurers said little. Belfaygor stood proudly erect, waiting for his beard to grow long enough to stretch across the chasm and soon it did, and Snif, taking the ends in his claws, flew over the deep ravine and fastened the beard tightly to a tree on the other side. Now, all was ready and Peter, dropping boldly over the edge, swung himself skillfully across on the swinging red cable. He dared not look down and once safely over watched uneasily while Jack pulled himself across.
	"Whatever you do, don't lose your head," breathed Peter, leaning forward nervously. Halfway over, Jack's wooden fingers almost lost their hold, and his pumpkin head spun about upon its peg, but Snif, flying valiantly to the rescue, held it in place and, when at last Jack came near enough for Peter to reach, he clutched both wooden arms and dragged Jack thankfully to safety. Belfaygor now clipped off his beard close to the chin and crossed himself without mishap or difficulty.
	The first step of the dangerous undertaking had been made in safety but straight ahead was a steep wall of rock. If it had not been for Belfaygor's beard they would never have been able to scale this dreadful precipice. But Snif, taking the beard in his claws, flew up till he found a boulder or sturdy sapling. Then, winding the beard several times round, he would signal to Belfaygor who would immediately snip off his end of the beard and climb expertly up the swinging rope. Peter, hoisting himself up after him, could not help but think what a splendid Alpine guide the baron would make. But Jack, tremblingly following Peter, resolved that if ever he reached the Emerald City again he would stay peaceably at home for the rest of his unnatural life.
	In this interesting but perilous fashion they finally reached the top of the cliff, only to find the gates of the city still farther up. A rocky opening into a narrow tunnel apparently led directly to Baffleburg and, with many misgivings, the travellers entered the tunnel. Although it was dark and clammy inside and exceedingly rough underfoot, they reached the end without trouble. In the dim murky light Peter saw a wooden door with an iron ring in the center. He was about to grasp the ring, when the tunnel, without any warning, tipped downward and shot them headlong from the opening. Snatching at a tree just in time, Peter saved himself from pitching over the precipice. Belfaygor's beard, catching on a jagged rock saved him and fortunately the baron had hold of Jack. His head did bounce off, but by some miracle rolled into a hollow in the rocks. Snif went over the edge of the cliff, but spreading his wings flew back to safety.
	"Something else to tell my grandchildren, grumbled the Iffin, shaking himself angrily, while Peter hastily recovered Jack's pumpkin head and put it back where it belonged. "I'll pay him up for that slide. Come on boys, let's try it again. Can a trick tunnel hold us back now?"
	Peter looked inquiringly at Belfaygor and Belfaygor clipping a length from his beard looked doubtfully at Peter but Jack, holding his head with both hands, expressed in no uncertain terms his complete unwillingness to ever enter the treacherous tunnel again.
	"But we must go on," said Snif stubbornly:
	"If we will just consider, we'll find some simple way To tread this tipsy tunnel, and we'll try it, come what may!"
	"Well I'm not May, and I think the way we came was simple enough," complained Jack. "I never felt more simple in my life, and look at the dent in my head!"
	"Maybe if we run through as fast as we can and get hold of the iron ring in the door before the tunnel tilts we won't spill out," suggested Peter, examining a long scratch on his knee. "I'll go first," he volunteered gamely, "and all of you can hold on to me." Snif and Belfaygor immediately approved of this plan and Jack finally, not desiring to be left, consented to go. First Peter put Snif in his pocket, then Belfaygor caught hold of Peter's coat tails and Jack caught hold of Belfaygor's. Taking a long breath, Peter dashed into the tunnel and never, even when he was making a home run, had he sprinted along any faster, Jack and the Baron clattering along as best they could behind him.
	Just as Peter reached the tunnel end and grasped the iron ring, the tunnel tipped a second time. But Peter hung on to the ring and others hung on to Peter. Several coat seams ripped, but when the tunnel finally righted itself they were still inside. Before it could tilt again, Peter turned the ring, opened the wooden door and stepped into a large cobble-stone courtyard.
	Straight ahead rose the grim gray walls and buttressed towers of Baffleburg. As they tiptoed nearer, they could hear the sharp ring of horses' hoofs on the other side of the wall.
	"Shall I fly over and see what's going on?" asked Snif, fluttering excitedly out of Peter's pocket.
	"No! No!" begged the little boy hurriedly. "Let's all stay together. I'll ring that bell over the city gates and when the guards carry us to Mogodore we'll open the sack as we planned!" Running forward, Peter seized the chain attached to a huge bell over the gates and gave it a tremendous pull. It was impossible to see into Baffleburg, as the gates were backed with panels of wood and the walls themselves were high as sky scrapers. As the wild clanging of the bell died away, the four adventurers drew closer together. But nothing at all happened. -Again Peter jerked the iron chain but still no one came to open the gates.
	"They refuse to admit us," puffed Belfaygor, with a furious clip at his whiskers. "What now?" Before they had time to decide upon any plan, four towers rising from the city's walls suddenly tilted downward, and shooting from their tops came a perfect shower of golden spears. Throwing themselves flat upon the cobbles, Peter and his companions managed to escape injury. Time and again the tilting towers rose and fell, spraying the courtyard with spears. By crawling close to the walls and lying perfectly flat, the four adventurers were able to keep out of their way, but as Peter reflected gloomily, they could not lie under the wall forever. He was considering whether or not to open the pirate's sack and see if it would swallow the spears, when Belfaygor touched him on the shoulder.
	"When the tower nearest me tilts again, I shall jump in the window," whispered the baron. "You and Jack must follow. By keeping directly under the tower you will avoid the spears.
	"Wait!" gasped Peter, horrified at Belfaygor's daring scheme. But Belfaygor, shaking his head determinedly, leaped to his feet, and as the tower came tilting down he plunged headfirst into the window nearest to the ground.
	"Hooka-ma-roosters!" choked the Iffin. "How did he do that?"
	"How are we to do it?" panted Peter, as all four towers shot up into place again. Motionless and terrified they waited for them to descend, but the Baffleburghers, evidently deciding that their visitors were utterly routed, had turned off the machinery and all four towers stopped tilting. There was no possible way into the city now, and completely baffled Peter stared angrily up at the thick gray walls.
	"Now I'll have to fly over," muttered Snif nervously. "Maybe I can open the gates."
	"A signal!" called Jack suddenly. "A signal! Squash and turnip tops! It's Belfaygor's beard!" Looking where Jack pointed, Peter and the Iffin saw Belfaygor himself outlined in the window of the nearest tower. And pouring over the sill and growing steadily downward were the wonderful and ever dependable red whiskers.
	"We can climb his beard," cried Peter excitedly. "Come on, it's almost long enough!" This was evidently what Belfaygor intended, for when they looked again, they could see him twining his beard round a huge spike on the sill. Then he waved his hand, and Peter, tightening his belt, climbed boldly aloft, looking back now and then to call encouragement to Jack Pumpkinhead. In less than a minute they were all safely inside the tower, for the Iffin had flown up with no trouble at all. The tower room was cheerless and without furniture. A spiral stairway in the center led downward. At the thought of conquering another city, Peter's impatience and excitement grew. If only some of the boys could be along, or his grandfather! He tried to picture Belfaygor's amazement when the pirate's sack should come into action, and seizing the baron's arm fairly dragged him to the stair.
	"I suppose if we go down these steps we'll come out in the courtyard, for this certainly is the fort," puffed Peter, clattering ahead.
	"All we do is climb up and down," groaned Jack Pumpkinhead. "I'll bet it's a million steps to the bottom."
	"Oh, not that many," grinned Peter, looking down at Snif, who was comfortably seated on his shoulder. Quietly cutting his beard Belfaygor stepped after Peter and Jack resignedly brought up at the end of the procession.

CHAPTER 11
	In the Castle of Mogodore

	NOW to get ourselves captured," whispered Peter eagerly, as they finally reached the bottom of the stair.
	"It should not be difficult," answered Snif, who had flown ahead and now came back to rest on Peter's shoulder. "Behold! Be bold! Look! Gaze and tremble!" Stepping out of the dim tower into the courtyard of the fort, Peter gave a little whistle of consternation and surprise. Drawn up in glittering rows were a thousand mounted men in armor, each holding a golden spear.
	"Something's afoot here," muttered Belfaygor behind his waving whiskers.
	"You mean a horse, don't you?" corrected Jack, straightening his head and dusting a cobweb off his chin. "Is that sack quite ready Peter?" Peter nodded and as one of the armored riders caught sight of the intruders and galloped furiously forward, he called boldly, "Conduct us to your chief. We have important tidings to impart."
	"Impart them to me," ordered the horseman, lifting his visor and frowning down at the little boy. "Impart them to me, or I'll prick ye over yon wall."
	"If you so much as raise your spear. I'll bite your nose, I'll chew your ear! You'll vanish, melt and disappear. We're all magicians, do you hear?"
	shrieked the Iffin, flying in dizzy circles about the rider's head.
	"Avaunt varlet," rasped Belfaygor, tossing his beard over his shoulder with a lordly gesture, "our business is with your Master!" The circling little Iffin, the strange appearance of Jack Pumpkinhead and the wildly waving whiskers of Belfaygor all tended to bewilder the horseman. For a moment he hesitated, then galloping back, conferred anxiously with one of his companions. After much head shaking and arm waving, they both rode forward, and beckoning - for the travellers to follow them, trotted briskly under a stone archway that led up to the town itself.
	"That was easy," chuckled Peter, trudging gaily after the mailed riders. "They think we're magicians, Snif."
	"We'll have to be to get out of here," muttered the little monster uneasily. "Be careful, boy, be carefuller than careful!"
	"Every step brings us nearer to the Princess," said Belfaygor, tripping over his beard and fixing his eyes hopefully on the castle tower. But it was many weary steps to the palace, and the one cobbled street of Baffleburg was both steep and narrow. Red stone cottages perched on the cliffs at either side, and now and then a curious head was stuck out as the little procession went pounding by. But at last they came to the red gates of the castle itself, and after a short parley with the guards were admitted. Leaving their horses in the courtyard, the two warriors hustled their charges into the baronial hall of the mountain chief. Looking around the great hall, Peter decided that it was just the kind of castle he had always dreamed of owning. His eyes shone as they rested on the jewelled swords and armor that decorated the walls. But he was quickly brought back to the dangerous business in hand by the stern voice of their guide.
	"Magicians with an important message to impart," announced the first man, dipping his spear in a salute to Mogodore. In full fighting regalia, the Baron of Baffleburg sat at a long table in the center of the hall, poring over an old map of Oz and trying to decide at what point to attack the capitol. Back of him stood Wagarag, in a hastily assembled armor of iron pots and sauce pans. Next to Wagarag lounged Bragga, Captain of the Guard and Smerker, Chief Scorner of the realm.
	"Magicians!" rumbled Mogodore looking up impatiently. "That accounts for them getting into the city. Magicians, eh! Well they look like a pack of peddlars. Scorn them," he ordered, contemptuously jerking his thumb at Smerker. Now Peter had never been scorned in his life and wanted to see how it was done. So instead of immediately opening the pirate's sack he stood staring curiously at Smerker. Leaning forward, the Chief Scorner seized a key-like handle that seemed to be attached to his nose and turned it straight upward. At the same time he curled back his lips in a truly astonishing manner.
	"Ho! Ha! Ha!" roared Snif, holding on to Peter with both claws:
	"If this be scorning, we are scorned! With what a nose he is adorned."
	Peter felt like laughing himself, but the Chief Scorner, paying no attention at all to the Iffin, now snatched a sauce box from his sleeve and opening it with a quick jerk, held it out toward the travellers, Immediately the sauce box began to scold and berate them in the most harsh and abusive terms making more noise than a dozen radios and filling the air with such a horrid racket that Peter covered his ears and the others, without meaning to, backed toward the door. Satisfied that his Chief Scorner had subdued the intruders, Mogodore motioned for Smerker to close the sauce box.
	"Now throw them out," he barked with a wave at Bragga. "I've wasted too much time already." But as Bragga stepped forward to obey this command, Belfaygor, snipping a long piece from his beard stepped boldly up to the baron and thumping his fist on the table demanded in a loud voice, "What have you done with my Princess? Where is Shirley Sunshine?"
	Boldened by this spirited action, Jack Pumpkinhead stepped up beside him. "Release this maiden at once, you rude, rash robber, you-you Princess snapper," he cried.
	"Have the sack ready, quick," whispered Snif to Peter, as Mogodore stared angrily at the strange pair.
	"So that's it," grunted the Baron of Baffleburg. "I see now that you are Belfaygor of Bourne, hiding like a coward behind false whiskers. Well, you shall not marry this Princess, for she is to marry me-Mogodore the Mighty!"
	"Mighty what?" inquired Jack Pumpkinhead curiously.
	"Mighty mighty, you impertinent fool, mighty important you ridiculous pumpkin head. Smite him," bellowed the Baron with a wrathful wave at Jack. "Remove this whiskered pest," he roared in the next breath with another wave at Belfaygor.
	"So you're Mogodore the smitey. Well don't you dare smite me," challenged Jack, shaking his wooden fist under Mogodore's nose. "There stands Peter, the pitcher from Philadelphia. On his shoulder sits a fabulous monster who may devour you any minute."
	As Mogodore, rather startled by this long rigamarole, half rose in his chair, Jack vigorously rang the Red Jinn's bell and down upon the table flashed the little black slave, set down his tray  and  vanished.  Mogodore's  retainers screamed with fright, and the Baron himself blinked with astonishment, but when Jack rang the bell a second time, Biggen and Little sprang forward and seized the little slave by the wrists. In a twinkling the slave disappeared. Biggen and Little also disappeared.
	"You see," quavered Jack in a slightly unsteady voice, "I am a great magician!"
	"Then bring back my guards," yelled Mogodore, stamping his foot furiously.
	"Give back my Princess," retorted Belfaygor just as furiously. Thinking it about time to put an end to this dangerous discussion, Peter pulled the pirate's sack from his shoulders and was about to unfasten the cord, when he was seized suddenly from behind and both arms pinioned closely to his sides.
	"This pitcher's trying some more magic tricks," panted the spearman indignantly. He had crept up quietly behind Peter, and in spite of the little boy's struggles, Mogodore's big soldier held him fast.
	"We hang pitchers on the wall here!" boomed Mogodore, glaring fiercely at Peter. (I regret to say the big baron did not know the difference between picture and pitcher.) "Hold that pitcher-seize that whiskered rascal and behead that pumpkinheaded dunce! Enough of this nonsense. When I return from the Emerald City I'll make them produce Biggen and Little and behead them all!" promised Mogodore, striding up and down with a great clash and clatter of armor. "Is Princess Shirley ready? I wait for no man and precious few women!"
	"I will see, your Highness!" Touching the iron pot he was wearing for a helmet, Wagarag hurried from the hall and while Peter in helpless rage looked on, Bragga seized Belfaygor, the other spearman caught Jack and flung him across the center table and unfeelingly struck off his head. Such was the force of blow, Jack's pumpkin bounced to the floor, rolled through a tapestry-curtained door and disappeared. At this dreadful turn of affairs, Peter gave a groan and Snif almost succeeded in growling, but being unable to open the pirate's sack they were completely at the mercy of Mogodore and his men.
	"Lock them up on the North tower till my return, and know that I will return a King," boasted Mogodore, placing his hand proudly upon the hilt of his sword. "We march upon the Emerald City this very morning, I'll marry Shirley Sunshine in the capitol and be crowned King of Oz before night fall."
	"What!" gasped Peter, scarcely believing his ears.
	"You'll be sorry for this," bawled Belfaygor, slashing with his shears at the Captain of the Guard. Poor Jack said nothing, for without a head what could he say? Threatening and struggling, Peter and Belfaygor were dragged off to the dungeons in the North tower, Snif doing what he could to release them by biting and scratching the hands and faces of the guards, but he was too little to help much and both were securely locked up. In his struggle with the spearman, Peter had dropped the pirate sack, and exhausted and discouraged he sank down on the stone bench in his dark little dungeon. The window was high above his head and let in only a feeble ray of light and the stone cell so small he could touch both sides by extending his arms. Snif had come with him, but Belfaygor had been locked in a dungeon higher up in the tower. Things certainly had not gone as planned-in fact they were in worse plight than anyone could have imagined.
	"Isn't this doggone?" groaned Peter glumly. "Jack's lost his head, I've lost the sack and Belfaygor will probably smother in whiskers! If someone doesn't warn Ozma, the Emerald City will be taken in no time. There's only one Knight and one soldier in the palace and the soldier can't fight at all. If Ozma doesn't know Mogodore is coming, so that she and the Wizard can start up their magic, they'll all be captured and the whole city destroyed. I wonder whatever put the notion of conquering Oz in Mogodore's head? Darn! Doggone! I wish I could get out of here!" Doubling up his fists, Peter pounded on the dungeon door.
	"Maybe I can squeeze through the bars and fly off to warn Ozma of this villain's coming," said the Iffin, but the bars were so close together that even Snif could not slip through and in great discouragement the two prisoners sat side by side on the hard stone bench. Presently ten shrill blasts from the bugles and the clatter of hoofs on the cobbles below told that Mogodore had really started for the Emerald City.
	"Now I'll never have any grandchildren," choked the Iffin, a tear trickling off the end of his nose.
	"And I'll never get back to Philadelphia, or be an air mail pilot," sighed Peter, clasping his hands behind his head and starting gloomily at the wall.
	And I am sure each of you would have felt gloomy, if you had been in Peter's plight.

CHAPTER 12
	The Escape from Baffleburg

	AS THE rattle of hoofs and sound of bugles died away, Peter, looking down at Snif noticed that his eyes were growing larger and larger.
	"Stop!" breathed Peter, nervously edging away and brushing his hand across his forehead.
	"Stop what?" grunted the Iffin crossly. "I'm not doing anything."
	"But your eyes," screamed Peter, edging still further away, "and your ears! Why your ears are as big as you are. Help! Help! Look out. Are you going to explode?"
	Before Snif could touch his ear with his claw or wonder what Peter was yelling about, he expanded like a balloon, filling the entire dungeon and squeezing Peter flat against the wall. The effect of the shrinking violets had worn off at last, and with the Iffin rapidly reaching his former size and strength, there was no room in the box-like cell. To keep from crushing Peter, he pressed against the bars of the dungeon. The force with which he shot up to his full and former size tore the door from its hinges and bent out the bars like wax. While Snif stood terrified and trembling with surprise, Peter, with great presence of mind, pressed past him, slipped through the bent bars and unlocked the dungeon door.
	"We're free," gasped the little boy, as Snif tumbled head first from their cell. "We're free and you're big and strong again. We can fly to the Emerald City right away and save Ozma and everybody."
	"If-I~ever-get-my~breath, you mean, wheezed Snif, leaning against the wall and puffing like a porpoise. "Wh~ew! Growing up is almost as bad as shrinking down."
	"Did it hurt," asked Peter, eyeing his friend with lively curiosity.
	"Well, not exactly," explained the Iffin, raising first one foot and then the other, "but I've had lots more pleasant experiences. Did I hurt you?"
	"Not much," said Peter, feeling a bruise on his elbow where he had been pressed against the wall. "Say, it's great to have you a monster again. Don't ever eat another violet as long as you live."
	"I never will," shuddered the Iffin, shaking his head solemnly. "Out of my way, lump!" Pushing over a startled jailer who had run out to see what was the matter, Snif rushed along the corridor.
	"First we'll find Belfaygor, then we'll hunt Jack's head and the pirate's sack and next we'll fly to the capitol and put an end to Mogodore's mischief. I can outfly a thousand horses without even trying," boasted Snif, pushing over another guard who darted out to intercept them.
	"If I'd only opened that pirate's sack right away," puffed Peter running to catch up with Snif, "if I only had, all this would never have happened. Goodness, what's this?"
	"Good news to me," chuckled Snif galloping along gaily. "It is Belfaygor's beard and will lead us straight to his dungeon." Snif was right. Trailing the flowing red whiskers of the baron, they came to the topmost cell in the tower. Out from the dungeon bars poured the enchanted beard of Belfaygor. Belfaygor, himself was leaning against the door, too discouraged and unhappy to even clip them once. But when Peter called him by name, and he saw Snif grown to full size and power again, he snapped his shears joyfully and in a trembling voice demanded to know how they had come there.
	"We burst our bars," cried Peter exuberantly. "At least Snif did." While the Iffin brushed the torrent of whiskers aside, the little boy unlocked the dungeon door, and after a hearty embrace told the baron all that had happened. Overjoyed at his release, Belfaygor followed them down the grim tower corridors. Each jailer who appeared was scornfully pushed aside by Snif, and when they came to the bottom Belfaygor and Peter seated themselves on his back and Snif rushed into the great stone hall of the castle. The few guards who had been left behind took to their heels as the Iffin flew screaming over their heads, and with no one to bother them the three began a systematic search for Jack's head. Jack"s body was still sprawled over the center table. The top of his peg neck had been chopped off with his head, but whittling another point on the end, Peter gently dragged the headless figure to a chair and sat him down. Snif soon found the famous sack behind a screen, and remembering Jack's pumpkin had rolled through the door, Peter pushed aside the hanging and tiptoed into a long dim entry. It slanted slightly and Peter hurried along looking anxiously to the right and left, but the pumpkin head was nowhere to be seen. The hallway was growing narrower every minute, curving round and round like a spiral slideway and leading continuously downward. Peter was about to go back and call the others, when the moist nose of Snif appeared round one of the curves back of him.
	"What's this?" demanded the Iffin. "And whither doth it lead?"
	"I don't know," said Peter, "but Jack's head must have rolled down here and be lying somewhere at the bottom."
	"Then let us join it by all means," chuckled the Iffin sitting down and sliding calmly after Peter. "Look out, here I come, and take this pirate's sack will you? It makes me positively shudder." Peter reached back and relieved Snif of the sack. Above they could hear Belfaygor treading cautiously down the hallway, but the curved passage soon grew so steep, Peter and Snif began to slip, roll and finally coast like children on a playground slide. "Now you've done it," coughed the Iffin as they finally somersaulted into a dark cellarway, lit by one feeble lantern. "Out of one dungeon into another!"
	"But there's Jack's head!" cried Peter, picking himself up joyfully. The sudden arrival of Belfaygor immediately knocked him down again, but while the baron mumbled apologies, Peter sprang to his feet, and hurrying over to the corner of the cellar pounced upon Jack's pumpkin.
	"Oh Jack, we've been so worried about you," said the little boy, holding the head tightly in both arms, "but now we'll soon fix you up and fly to the Emerald City, for Snif has grown big again and we've all escaped from the tower."
	"So I see," observed Jack as Peter held his head toward the others. "And I'm very glad they chopped off my head and not yours, Peter, for yours would not so easily be put back, and it's lucky they did chop it off too, for otherwise I would never have learned of the forbidden flagon."
	"Forbidden flagon!" exclaimed Peter, sitting down on an overturned keg and staring earnestly down at Jack's head. "What has that to do with us?"
	"Everything," confided Jack mysteriously. "Has Mogodore started for the Emerald City?" Peter nodded and Snif and Belfaygor both drew nearer, while the little boy explained how they had escaped and how they were now about to fly to the capitol to warn Ozma of Mogodore's wicked intentions.
	"But we must not go without that flagon," insisted' Jack, after listening attentively to Peter's recital. "Listen: as I was lying here a while ago, hoping that no rats would come to gnaw my fine features, or make a nest in my head, an armed guard came creeping up that ladder you see over in the darkest corner. As he did, another came sliding down from above, and stopping under the lantern they began to converse.
	"'What a bitter waste of time it is, guarding this foolish flagon,' fumed the guard who had climbed the ladder. 'Who ever could find their way to the enchanted cavern through the lost labyrinth, anyway?'
	'Only one as knows the tricks,' grinned the fellow who had come down to relieve him. 'Left turn left, and always left, and as for the enchanted cavern itself. Bah, what a joke! But have you heard the latest news Doab? Mogodore has gone to capture the Emerald City and make himself a King.'
	"'A King,' roared the second, 'Ha! Ha! 'Tis well those foolish folk at the capitol know nothing of this flask. One tip of that forbidden flagon and-'
	"What?" demanded Peter, who had been listening breathlessly to Jack's story.
	"Well," admitted the Pumpkinhead regretfully," he didn't say, "but from the nudge he gave his comrade, I imagine there's something in that flask to destroy Mogodore's power.
	"But we have the sack, and the Wizard and Ozma have plenty of magic," objected Peter impatiently. "I don't think we'd better stop to hunt for it, Jack. We had better go on to the Emerald City just as fast as we can.
	"We had the sack before and Mogodore captured us. Don't forget that," sighed the Pumpkinhead gloomily. "What's happened before may easily happen again."
	"It will not take longer than an hour to fly to the capitol, and Mogodore riding at his best speed cannot reach there until afternoon. Perhaps we had better find this flagon, Peter, and make sure of victory this time," murmured Snif thoughtfully, and as Belfaygor sided with the Iffin, Peter rather reluctantly agreed to descend into the enchanted cavern.
	"We may lose our way in the labyrinth," said Peter looking down the ladder without much enthusiasm.
	"Not while I have my whiskers," smiled Belfaygor, stroking his famous beard, "We'll let them grow along with us and then we'll follow them back."
	"If it weren't for those whiskers We'd never be here! Hurrah for your beard! Three hurrahs and a cheer!"
	roared Snif, saluting the baron with his front paw.
	"Not so loud! Not so loud!" begged Belfaygor, looking around nervously. "Someone might hear you.
	"Do you want to come with us?" asked Peter, looking doubtfully at the Pumpkinhead.
	"Better leave me here," advised Jack seriously. "You'll need both hands to fight the guard. "Now don't forget, when you are in the labyrinth turn left and keep turning left."
	"And you're sure you'll be all right?" asked Peter, placing Jack's head gently on the cellar floor.
	"I certainly cannot be all right if I'm left, but I'd rather be left than right this time," muttered Jack to himself, as his three friends disappeared down the ladder into the labyrinth.

CHAPTER 13
	The Enchanted Cavern

	THIS is about as exciting as rice pudding without any raisins," said Peter, treading closely after Snif. For five minutes they had been  trudging solemnly through the labyrinth at the foot of the ladder. Every few rods the chilly tunnel would branch off into three or more tunnels, but Belfaygor, always taking the left turn, marched hopefully onward, his red beard trailing like a long and lively vine behind him.
	"Are you sure we've been turning left all the time," asked Peter, after five more minutes of this weary winding. "We don't seem to be getting anywhere at all." Belfaygor nodded emphatically and taking another left turn, gave a sharp exclamation of surprise and dismay. Coming quickly around the bend, Peter and Snif saw that they had reached the enchanted cavern itself.
	"Horrors!" shuddered Peter, catching hold of Snifs mane.
	"You're right," wheezed the Iffin, rearing up on his hind legs. "Open the sack! Open the sack! These are worse than Scares!" The enchanted cavern was small and dim and lit only by a flickering red light, but ranged around the walls was such a company of Ugly Muglies that Peter's fingers, fumbling with the strings of the pirate's sack, shook so he could hardly untie the knots. He finally did get the cord unfastened and opening the sack he advanced a step into the cave. As he did, the Ugly Muglies advanced a step toward him and in a panic Peter realized that the sack was not going to swallow them. Belfaygor turning to run, tripped over his whiskers and fell flat. Peter looked round desperately for a rock or stone to fight with, but Snif, muttering dreadful denunciations in the Grif language, hurled himself bodily at the enemy. There was a dull thud as Snif met the enemy, and next instant he lay stretched on the floor. Peter was almost afraid to look, but forced himself to move forward.
	"Come away,  begged the little boy in a hoarse whisper, trying at the same time to tug the Iffin to his feet. "Hurry Hurry! Here they come again.
	"Again," moaned Snif, opening one eye, "they were never there at all."
	"But I see them," insisted Peter. "What knocked you down?"
	Instead of answering, Snif lurched to his feet.
	"Myself," panted the Iffin, planting his claw in the middle of a red monster's nose. "The walls of this cave are mirrors, boy, magic mirrors. They multiplied us fifty times and in fifty frightful ways. There's nobody here but us." Rubbing his eyes, Peter looked again, then, tip-toeing forward, touched the walls of the cavern. Just as Snif said, they were mirrors, and remembering how he had often laughed at his distorted reflection in the mirror maze at Willow Grove, Peter began to laugh now.
	"No wonder the sack wouldn't work," said Peter, jerking the cords tight and tossing the sack over his shoulder. "But it's a pretty good trick at that. Look at me. I'm enough to frighten my own grandfather."
	"Oh, come on,  grumbled Belfaygor, who was vexed to think he had been so easily scared. "Let's find this miserable flagon and begone. It's stifling in here."
	The scowling reflections cast by the mirrors were so confusing, they had to go slowly and  carefully, but after circling the cavern several times, they discovered an opening into a still smaller cave. Peter went first, and poking his head under the arch between the caves saw the guard Jack had mentioned, asleep beside a fountain of fire. The fire fountain jetted up from the center of a deep green grotto and in the middle of the fountain, Peter could just make out a small black flagon. With a little cry of triumph he darted into the rocky room.
	"You'll burn yourself," puffed Belfaygor, as Peter leaned forward to snatch the flagon from the flames. At his cry of warning, the guard awakened and with spear upraised sprang to his feet. But Belfaygor was ready for him. Seizing his spear, Belfaygor ran 'round the startled soldier, till he was wound up like a mummy in the baron's red beard. Calmly cutting off his end of the whiskers, Belfaygor dragged the helpless guard out of the way. "Let us get this flagon and depart," cried the baron.
	"Maybe this fire isn't real," suggested Peter. "Maybe it's a trick like the mirrors." Taking a piece of paper from his pocket, Peter tossed it into the fountain. But it caught fire at once and burned up with such a snap and crackle the three friends jumped back in a hurry.
	"I don't mind singeing a few feathers for the cause," said Snif, as Peter and Belfaygor looked longingly at the strange black flask.
	"No you don't," said Peter firmly. "You've done your share." With a little smile he touched the
lump Snif had raised on his head when he ran into the walls of the cave. "You discovered the mirrors, Belfaygor captured the guard. Now it's my turn." While Snif grumbled his disapproval and the baron stroked his beard uneasily, Peter gazed into the sparkling fountain of fire. Then with a sudden snap of his fingers, he seized Belfaygor's shears, and clipped a long piece from the Baron's red and ever ready whiskers. "Now," said Peter, "you take one end, and I'll take the other." Looking much mystified, Belfaygor did as he was told. They were standing in back of the fire fountain and one on each side. At a signal from Peter both rushed forward. The baron's beard, passing through the flames, knocked the flagon from its stand, before it went up in smoke and the flagon itself rolled into a dark corner of the green grotto. "Wait till it cools off," warned Peter as Snif made a pounce at the flask.
	"Gee, I do wonder what's in it and why it's hidden down here?" Impatiently they looked down at the smoking black bottle and after what seemed to be hours, Peter, covering his hand with his handkerchief, ventured to pick it up. It was still smoking hot, but by changing hands frequently, Peter managed to hold it and read aloud the curious legend on the red label.
	"The Forbidden Flagon, To be guarded by each successive Baron of Baffleburg. Who breaks the seal upon this flask Or spills its contents red, Brings woe to Baffleburg and dire Disaster on his head."
	"Now that's nice," said the Iffin, wiggling his nose very fast. "We break the flask to subdue Mogodore and bring a disaster on our heads. Don't drop it lad, whatever you do, don't drop it. I'd like to have a few more geraniums and see a few more sunsets before a disaster hits me."
	"It is my place to break the seal," announced Belfaygor in a determined voice. "Give me the flagon. What care I for disaster if Shirley Sunshine is saved?"
	Peter was really alarmed at the threatening tone of the red verses. "Not now, Belfaygor, wait till we reach the Emerald City and then maybe we won't have to break it at all."
	"That's the talk," said Snif, waving his tail gently to and fro. "Come, let's start back."
	Peter tucked the flagon into his pocket. "We'll go right away," he said. Leaving the guard still swathed in whiskers, the three friends stepped from the small cavern into the large cavern and from the large cavern into the labyrinth.
	Going back they turned right and kept turning right, but it was slow and tedious and seemed much longer than before. At last, dusty and weary, they came to the end and climbed the ladder into the cellarway.
	"Thank the stars, you're here!" cried Jack's Pumpkin head.
	"Not the stars," wheezed Snif, heaving himself up the ladder and dropping heavily on the cellar floor, "not stars, whiskers!"
	"They lead us down, they lead us back; They tied the guard up fast; They pulled the flagon from the flames, Long may they wave and last!"
	"They have been pretty useful," admitted Belfaygor, giving his beard a thoughtful stroke before he cut it off short.
	"Useful," rumbled the Iffin, raising one claw. "They're wonderful. I'm positively attached to them."
	"Not half so much as I am," smiled the baron, with another quick clip.
	"So you found the flagon," said Jack, as Peter picked up his head and started up the long steep slideway. Peter nodded and with what breath he had left told Jack all about the enchanted cavern and the inscription on the magic flask. There was a rail beside the slide and by holding on to this they managed to pull themselves up without slipping backward. But they were now so impatient to be off that the slide seemed simply endless. Finally they reached the top and hurried down the hallway leading into Mogodore's room of state.
	"Here's somebody you'll be glad to see, chuckled Peter, pointing to the stiff figure seated in the chair.
	"Some body!" exclaimed Jack's head as Peter held it up. "Why it's mine. Reunite us at once, my boy. Oh, how I have missed me!" It was the matter of but a moment to place the pumpkin head back on its peg. At once Jack arose to his feet and executed a lively jig, in which the Iffin, with more gusto than grace joined him, while Peter and the baron looked amusedly on. The search for the flagon had taken just an hour, and feeling well repaid for their trouble the four valorous rescuers prepared to leave the palace. Jack took out the famous dinner bell to see that it was safe, Belfaygor gave his beard a last cheerful clip, Snif ate the tops of a pot of geraniums and Peter, putting the flagon in his pocket and tightening his hold on the pirate's sack felt ready for any adventure. But as he prepared to jump upon Snif's back, there came a sudden splutter, screech and roar.
	"Stop!" screamed a threatening voice. "Stop! Or you shall be boiled like eggs, stewed like prunes, fried like fish." Snif swallowed a geranium whole, Jack's knees knocked together and bent outward, and in spite of himself, Peter clutched at a chair for support.
	"Who speaks?" boomed Belfaygor, snatching a sword from the wall and swinging about like a tee-too-tum.
	"Die!" thundered the voice again. "Die, you knaves!"
	Trembling a little, Peter looked all around but could see no one. As the dreadful threats kept up, Belfaygor went to look behind a screen. but one of Mogodore's hunting dogs, rising from its place by the fire, moved majestically across the floor, picked up a small red box in its teeth, and with an impatient grunt dropped it at Peter's feet. Then with a satisfied yawn, the great dog rubbed against his knee and returning to its post immediately dozed off again.
	"It's the sauce box," cried Peter with a gasp of relief. Closing the lid, he smiled cheerfully at the Iffin.
	"I'd like to smash its lid," grunted Snif vindictively. "I nearly choked on that geranium.
	"Don't do that," advised Jack, leaning down to straighten his knee joints. "Take it along. What frightened us may easily frighten others."
	"That's so," laughed Peter, helping Jack to mount Snif's back. "Well, we surely have enough magic now. A dinner bell, a forbidden flagon, a magic sack and sauce box."
	"Don't forget Belfaygor's beard," said Snif slyly, as Peter climbed up behind Jack.
	"I wish I could forget it," sighed the baron, seating himself next to Peter.
	"Oh, well," Peter reminded him cheerfully, "it won't be very long now, Belfaygor!"
	"No, not if he keeps cutting it," said Jack calmly.
	"I mean it won't be long before we reach the Emerald City," laughed Peter, as the Iffin raised his mighty wings and swooped out the wide open castle doors. "Here we go!"

CHAPTER 14
	High Times in Swing City

	"AS SOON as we see Mogodore, I'll open the pirate's sack, no fooling!" declared Peter, looking down at the whirling red landscape. Like tiny toys under a Christmas tree, the villages and towns spread out below, and some country people dancing about a May pole looked no larger than dolls.
	"Swallowing's too good for him," objected Belfaygor, stroking the sword he had taken from the castle hall. "Let me have one good swing at him one good thrust, before you open that sack!"
	"If we trust to a thrust, we may all be undone, 'Tis better to sack him than whack him, my Son!"
	called Snif, looking over his shoulder to wink at Peter.
	"Much better," approved Jack Pumpkinhead. "Let us open the sack, break the forbidden flagon and throw the sauce box at his head."
	"Yes, and bring a dire disaster on our own, said Peter, remembering the warning on the magic flask. "We'll give the flagon to Ozma and let the Wizard of Oz decide what is to be done with it."
	"Well, I hope he can do something with my beard," groaned Belfaygor, looking ruefully at the blisters on his thumbs. "I cannot keep on cutting it forever. Besides it will frighten the Princess."
	"He'll fix it," promised Peter confidently. "The Wizard of Oz can fix anything. Oh boy, I can hardly wait to see them all again. Is Scraps as funny as ever and has Kuma Party visited the Emerald City since I left?"
	"He lent Ozma a hand just the other day," said Jack, throwing both arms around Snif's neck, as he made a sudden dive through a cloud. "She was having trouble with the Hammerheads and needed a strong hand to subdue them." Peter had met Kuma Party on his first journey to Oz. This singular gentleman can really send his hands, feet, head or body wheresoever he wishes. Belfaygor listened politely, as Peter told how Kuma's hand had guided him to the Kingdom of Patch, helped him escape, and how it had afterward arrived at the Emerald City in time to catch the Gnome King.
	"If we had it now, we could send it down for some apples," sighed the little boy, peering hungrily over the Iffin's wing. Snif was flying low, to be sure not to miss Mogodore, and the orchards, laden with rosy red fruit, looked tempting indeed.
	"Why not order lunch," asked Jack, as Peter continued to gaze longingly at the apples. "Eat as you fly!"
	"Why not?" chuckled Belfaygor, slipping his shears into the pocket of his coat. "I could make some food fly right now." As Peter was wondering just how they would manage the trays, Jack rang and up beside the Iffin flashed the faithful slave of the bell. But he did not carry the tray this time. It was borne by Biggen, Mogodore's bodyguard, and the great fellow trod clumsily through the air, his eyes rolling with fright and fury. At a haughty gesture from the slave, he set the tray on Peter's lap. Then raising his fist, he was about to pound Peter on the head, when the little black seized him by the coattails and both disappeared.
	"Whew," whistled Peter ducking his head, "what do you think of that? Look out, here comes the other one!" As Jack rang the bell again, Little, just as angry as Biggen, came hurling toward them with the baron's dinner. The slave winked mischievously at Peter as the enraged bodyguard placed the tray on Belfaygor's knees; then catching the surly fellow by the ear, he vanished before Little could do any harm.
	"Good enough," roared Snif, who had witnessed the whole proceeding over his shoulder. "What sweet little sprites they do make.
	"If Mogodore could see them skipping lightly through the sky, He'd shiver in his great red boots, and shake like custard pie."
	"That's what we have for dessert," said Peter, lifting the cover off his tray. "Say, it's too bad you don't eat pie, Snif."
	"Or roast guinea," murmured Belfaygor, between rapturous bites. "I'll give you three horses and a couple of hunting dogs for that bell, Peter."
	Peter smiled to himself, for he could not help thinking how crowded three horses and a dog would make the small back yard at home. But he tactfully said nothing, for he had decided to present the magic dinner bell to Ozma. Enjoying the Red Jinn's delicious dinner, looking dreamily down at the lovely mountain scenery beneath, Peter concluded that this was even more exciting and interesting than eating on the train.
	"I shall think nothing of airplane trips after this," mused the little boy, sipping his chocolate complacently. "I don't believe anything could ever surprise or frighten me again; not even a highwayman." Finishing off his pie, Peter closed his eyes and was fighting an imaginary duel with a Mexican bandit, when he was suddenly seized by the shoulders, jerked from the Iffin's back and hurled like a ball through the air. His first thought was that Biggen, returning for the magic tray, had taken this means of revenge, but there was no sign of either bodyguard. In spite of his recent boast, Peter's heart beat with dreadful thumps as he turned over and over in the air. But just as he gave himself up for lost, he was skillfully caught by the ankles.
	"Howde-do!" called a pleasant voice, and looking up Peter saw a jolly fellow in silk tights swinging by his heels from a high trapeze. He wore a crown, which was held in place by ribbons tied beneath his chin. Now hanging head down, if you are not accustomed to it, is terribly upsetting and Peter was too upset to say a word. "Welcome to Swing City," said this strange sovereign in his high, jolly voice. "I am the King and the highest Swinger here. In fact, Hi-Swinger's my name,  he coughed self consciously. "But you must meet the Queen, Tip Toppsy the Tenth!" As he said "Meet the Queen," Hi-Swinger flung Peter carelessly downward. Any desire Peter had ever had to do circus Stunts, he lost in that second dizzy drop through space. Fortunately, he did meet the Queen, somewhere in mid air. Like the King she was hanging head down from another swing, and grasping both of Peter's wrists swung him gently to and fro.
	"Isn't he perfectly precious," cooed her Highness, smiling amiably down at the little boy. "I hope he'll stay with us always. What lovely hair! What sweet red cheeks. He'll make a perfectly splendid swinger, Highty." Now if there was one thing Peter detested it was being fussed over, and the Queen's speech made him squirm with embarrassment and rage. But before he could do more than mutter, Tip Toppsy swung him back to her husband. "Shall we dress him in pink or blue?" she called anxiously.
	"Blue," answered the King, catching Peter and drawing him up close so he could look into his eyes. "But, my dear, see what's coming now. Who is this pomiferous person?" Throwing Peter carelessly aside, the King caught Jack Pumpkinhead, who had just been tossed up by someone below. Peter himself was seized by a smiling trapezist, some twenty feet beneath. Before the fellow could throw him further, Peter pulled himself desperately up on the trapeze, and holding tight to the side rope stared dizzily around. Over his head, and under his feet, pink and blue clad figures swooped and darted like birds. With lightning speed they shot from swing to swing, skipped recklessly across spidery ropes and balanced perilously on swaying cords.
	"Trapleased to meet you," murmured the owner of the trapeze, swinging up beside Peter. "Hang around a while. You'll like it. 'Tis an easy life we lead-trapeasy, ' he added with a sly wink. "Have you met the Queen?"
	"Yes! Yes!" shuddered Peter, moving as far from the tumbler as he could. "I'm looking for my friends."
	"Is that one of them?" inquired the acrobat, pointing off toward the left. "Ha! Ha! Ha! The tight rope walkers will never let that fellow go. They are great cut-ups, you know, great cut-ups. Why, look at his beard! It's growing longer every minute. They can cut rope after tight rope from it. Ha! Ha! Ha! Rope after rope!"
	"No they can't," shouted Peter angrily, "and you'd better be careful. We're wizards, and will destroy you like that." Letting go of the side rope with one hand, Peter snapped his fingers sharply.
	"Will you?" said the trapezist in an interested voice. "Then that means a battle, an acrobattle. Hello! It's begun already. Look at that old Nibblywog down there. Come on, we're missing all the fun!"
	Jerking Peter from the swing, the acrobat hurled him to the next trapeze and the next and the next, until everything turned topsy-turvey. Peter could no more have opened the pirate's sack than he could have counted the somersaults he took in the air. Jack had long since lost his head, and Peter could see the acrobats tossing it about like a ball. Below that a troupe of tight walkers were dancing merrily on Belfaygor's beard, which had been stretched between two swings. The baron himself was held fast by a dozen swing citizens and Snif, trying to help first Peter then Belfaygor, was buffetted and banged with the hard fists of the aerialists.
	"How dare you hold us up in this high handed manner," roared the Iffin, nearly beside himself with rage and indignation. There is no telling how long Peter and his friends would have been tossed about had not a sudden shake dislodged Mogodore's sauce box from the little boy's pocket. Opening as it fell it immediately filled the air with such a thunder of screams, threats and brazen screeches, several swing citizens lost their hold upon the swings and fell trembling through space.
	"Magic," squealed Hi-Swinger, clutching his crown with both hands. "Drop them! Drop them at once!" So Peter and his companions were dropped as suddenly as they had been taken up by these fickle folk of the air, and with sickening speed went whizzing downward. Peter was too dizzy to realize he was falling again, and Snif, trying to catch all of them at once succeeded only in rescuing Jack's head as it whirled past. But he need not have worried, for under this strange city a great net was suspended and into this net they all landed with a bounce that promptly sent them skyward again.
	"Score one for the sauce box," panted Peter as he fell back. "Gee-whiz-I never want to see another swing as long as I live!"
	"Neither do I," muttered Belfaygor, unwinding himself from his long red whiskers and feeling for his shears. Snif said nothing, for he was trying to hold Jack's body steady and place his pumpkin back on its peg. Peter hastened to assist him and soon Jack was himself again.
	"Ups and downs," he mused sadly. "Nothing but ups and downs! And how are we to get out of this net, may I ask?"
	"I'll cut a hole in the net and we'll drop through," said Belfaygor promptly. "It's not far to the ground!"
	"Another fall," groaned Jack, holding his head with both hands. "Oh, think of something else!"
	"If we stay here," said the Iffin, "the Swingers will probably come back and if we don't hurry, we'll miss that rascally baron and he'll capture the Emerald City before we catch him."
	"I'll fall," quavered Jack, crawling toward the opening Belfaygor was cutting in the net. "I'll do anything for Ozma!"
	"We've certainly done a lot of falling for her so far," sighed Peter, scrambling after Jack. "Let me fall first and then I can help you." Holding for a moment to the edge of the opening, Peter dropped lightly to the ground. Then reaching up he caught Jack under the arms and carefully eased him down. Belfaygor quickly followed Jack and Snif bounced through in short order.
	"Well, we've lost the sauce box and a lot of time but we've met a new and curious kind of people," said Peter, pulling down his jacket.
	"And so did they," smiled the Iffin, giving himself a shake and examining two places where he had lost some fur. A hurried search proved that the magic bell, the sack and flagon were still in their possession. Jack was no worse for his swinging and though Snif, Peter and Belfaygor still felt dizzy and shaken by their unexpected experiences in Swing City, they decided not to stop and rest but to push straight on for the capitol.
	"From now on," said Snif gravely, "we must keep a sharp look out for trouble."
	"I'll watch the air," said Jack, seating himself quickly.
	"I'll watch the ground," promised Peter, springing up briskly behind him.
	"And I'll see that we're not followed," said Belfaygor, climbing on last of all.
	"Then off we go," rumbled Snif. "What a lot I shall have to tell my grandchildren, if I ever have any grandchildren. I hope they'll be just like you, Peter," he added with an affectionate glance over his shoulder. Peter smiled faintly to himself, for he did not see how this could be but he was too polite to argue the question, and fixing his eyes upon the road below looked eagerly for some sign of Mogodore and his men.

CHAPTER 15
	Peter Opens the Pirate's Sack

	WHAT a curious existence," mused Belfaygor, as Snif came to the end of Swing City's net and soared joyfully into the air. "Well, everybody has his own idea of comfort, but as for me, I prefer a castle with someone to serve the soup and bring on the venison. Snipping off his beard, the baron gave a homesick sigh and looked glumly at the tiny farms and villages below.
	"A place where a fellow can keep his feet on the ground and his head on his shoulders, suits me," declared Jack in a weary voice. "I've never lost my head so often as on this trip. Did you see those savages using it for a ball?"
	"They used my beard for a tight rope," said Belfaygor in an exasperated voice, "so what could you expect?"
	"And they called Snif a Nibblywog," laughed Peter, "and threw me around like an old shoe. All they need to make them monkeys is tails!"
	"Don't insult a monkey," said Snif, looking reprovingly over his wing. "I've known some polite monkeys in my day. But those highway-men!" Snif gave a disgusted grunt. "I've a notion to fly back and settle with them after this other affair is all over."
	"I hope we didn't miss Mogodore while we were being held up there," worried Peter. "It must be nearly four o'clock now and we certainly ought to overtake him soon. Are you sure we are flying in the right direction, Snif?"
	"Yes," said the Iffin expertly circling a dark cloud. "Why there he is now!" Flapping both wings violently together, Snif pointed with his claw. "There, coming out of that forest Mogodore and all his men! See the sun shining on their spears." With a swoop that nearly unseated his riders, the Iffin hurled himself over the wood and the next instant they were hanging motionless over a tossing sea of spears.
	"The Princess," cried Belfaygor, leaning far over. "There's Shirley Sunshine riding out ahead. Fly lower, Snif, fly lower and we'll snatch her up and be off!"
	"No we won't," muttered the Iffin grimly. "We'll open the sack and catch this kingdom stealer, first. Open the sack, Peter! Open the sack, there's no one to stop you now." So intent upon their purpose were the warriors below, they never saw the red monster above their heads. Now Peter had untied the pirate sack. Now it was ready to open. Seizing Snif's wing to balance himself, Peter stood up in order to hold the sack directly over the enemy. As he did a great gust of wind tore the sack from his hands, filled it full of air and sent it spinning up like a balloon high above their heads.
	"Oh," choked the little boy, nearly losing his hold on Snif, "nothing ever happens right. Doggone that sack anyway!"
	"The flagon," screamed Jack. "Throw the flagon. Quick before he gets away!"
	"I'll do it," whispered Belfaygor eagerly. "Give it to me, Peter. Quick!" Tugging the forbidden flagon from his pocket, Peter was about to pass it to the baron, when a hoarse scream from the Iffin made him pause.
	"The sack," panted the red monster, flapping his wings desperately. "It's coming straight for us! Look! Look! Look out! Look up! Hold on!"
	"If that comes nearer, we are gone!" Jack took one startled glance upward, and then instead of holding on, snatched the flagon from Peter's hand and dove recklessly to earth. As he did, and as the last of Mogodore's army galloped out of danger's way, the wretched sack, its mouth wide open came hurling down upon the rescuers. Jack had been wise to jump. Before Peter or the baron could follow him, they were snapped up, I mean down. An ear splitting growl came to Jack as he turned over and over in the air. The fright of vanishing had restored Snif's gu-rrr! And it was a real Griffin, not an Iffin who disappeared into the fathomless depths of the pirate's grab bag. Then floating calmly to the ground, the terrible sack settled calmly against a pink hay stack and was still. Not far away, Jack lay face down on another soft mound of pink hay. So tightly had he held to his head and the flagon, he lost neither during the fall and the hay had saved both from smashing, but when Jack rolled over and started to rise, he found that his left leg had bent under and broken off at the knee. Being of wood, Jack suffered no pain, but it was frightfully inconvenient, and it was now impossible for him to walk, or even hobble. Shaking his fists as the last of Mogodore's riders disappeared in a cloud of dust, Jack sank dejectedly against the hay mound and tried to collect his scattered thoughts. His purpose in plunging from the Iffin's back, had been to break the flagon over Mogodore's head and save the Emerald city at any cost, even if he himself were destroyed. But now it was too late! Mogodore was gone, Peter, Snif and Belfaygor had vanished and he himself was a broken man. The wicked Baron of Baffleburg, with none to stop him, would march boldly to the capitol, fall upon its unsuspecting inhabitants, enslave them all and seize the magic treasures for himself. This dark picture fairly made Jack groan and when he spied the magic sack resting against the next hay stack he positively shuddered.
	"All that is left of three faithful friends," mourned Jack. "I hope there's room for Belfaygor's beard in that bag or they'll all be smothered. I hope they're not mixed with Scares. I must get that sack. Whatever happens I must get that sack and take it to the Wizard of Oz." At the thought of touching the enchanted bag, Jack shook like a tree in a hail storm, but controlling his fear and distaste, he dragged himself to the haystack. First he pulled the cords that closed the top, then hanging it carefully over one shoulder, dragged himself back. His broken leg and the forbidden flagon lay side by side in the straw, and raising his voice Jack shouted loudly for help. But the pink hay field was a long way from the farm house and no one heard him except a few curious crows who answered his cries with dismal screeches. Finally Jack grew so hoarse he could shout no more and, holding his head in both hands, he tried to think of some way to reach the Emerald City.
	"If the Scarecrow were only here," sighed Jack dolefully, "he would be sure to hit upon some clever plan, "but I am only a poor stupid pumpkin head with only a few dried seeds for brains." Realizing that the whole fate of the Kingdom of Oz depended upon him, poor Jack pressed his head with his wooden hands and thought so hard that the seeds inside skipped about like corn in a corn popper. And one must have been a seed of thought, for presently Jack gave a little bounce and feeling in his pocket drew out the Red Jinn's bell. "I'll make that slave help me," muttered Jack determinedly. Just how the slave could help him Jack did not stop to figure out, but anything was better than sitting foolishly on a haystack while little Ozma was facing capture and possible banishment. So Jack tucked his broken leg under one arm, tightened his hold on the pirate's sack, put the precious flagon in his coat pocket and boldly rang the silver bell.
	"I hope he does not bring those meddlesome bodyguards," muttered Jack leaning forward anxiously. The slave of the bell appeared so promptly this time that his tray almost hit Jack in the nose. Placing the tray on Jack's lap the little fellow backed away and was preparing to vanish when Jack sprang to his feet, and scattering dishes in every direction seized the small servitor by the arm.
	"Stop," cried Jack Pumpkinhead desperately. "Stop! You must help me." But Jack might as well have tried to stop the wind. With a shrill cry, the Red Jinn's slave vanished, Jack also vanished. Now there was no one in the pink hay field at all. Only a pink rabbit, who wiggled his nose anxiously and then began nibbling at a stalk of celery that had fallen from the magic tray.

CHAPTER 16
	In the Palace of the Red Jinn

	IN ABOUT three whirls and one spiral Jack found himself on the steps of a glittering red glass palace. It stood on the edge of a green glass sea, whose waves broke with a melodious tinkle and crash on the beach below. The beach itself was a gleaming stretch of glass splinters, most dangerous to the tread of unwary travellers. Jack was so confounded by his sudden arrival in this strange place that for several moments he was scarcely aware that the slave of the bell was addressing him.
	"Be pleased to enter the castle of the Red Jinn," murmured the little black boy politely, repeating the words till Jack at last did hear him.
	"Is the owner of this palace also the owner of the magic dinner bell?" asked Jack uneasily. The slave nodded brightly and after an inquisitive glance at Jack's broken leg which he still carried under his arm, he offered his shoulder to Jack. With his assistance, Jack began hopping doubtfully upward.  There were nearly a hundred steps, and moving up and down was a vast and colorful company of turbaned gentlemen, who might have stepped directly from the Arabian Nights. As each one passed he took off his slipper and tapped Jack smartly on the head.
	"What, what have I done?" stuttered Jack, trying to protect his head with his arm. "Why do they strike me and why do they smile as they do it?"
	"It is the custom in this country to take off the right shoe and tap a visitor upon the head as a polite method of salutation and greeting," explained the slave calmly.
	"Greeting," groaned Jack, ducking back to avoid another slipper waver, "well, if we meet many more of your countrymen my head will be a squash instead of a pumpkin. Why can't they shake hands, like we do in Oz?"
	"Every country has its own customs," answered the slave stiffly. "Why do you wear such a soft head, pray?"
	"Because I'm accustomed to it," replied Jack a little sulkily. "It's the kind of head that goes with my kind of person.
	"A turban would help," observed the slave as another citizen greeted Jack boisterously with his slipper.
	"I don't need a turban," said Jack, hopping desperately up the last step. "But I do need help. My friends have disappeared into an enchanted sack and my country is in danger of destruction. I must have help. Do you think your master is powerful enough to help me?"
	"It depends on how you strike him," murmured the slave indifferently. "There he is now. You might ask him." The glass doors of the palace were wide open, and Jack looked anxiously into the great red glass throne room. The doorways and arches were hung with strands of strung glass triangles and the musical tinkle of these strange curtains was both pleasant and delicate. All of the furnishings were of sparkling red glass and a double line of tall vases led directly to the throne. A strange drowsy incense rose in pink clouds to the ceiling. At first Jack thought the Jinn was merely another vase, but as with the black boy's aid he hopped nearer, he saw that the vase-like figure on the throne had legs crossed on the spun glass cushions and hands clasped round his fat and shiny middle. No head was visible; nothing but a lid with a round knob on the top. A sleepy black wielded a great fan drowsily over this portly person, and Jack after pausing uncertainly took the leg he still carried under his arm and tapped the Jinn sharply on the lid. Instantly it raised up and from the vase-like interior of this strange sovereign rose an enormous red head with an exceedingly pleasant, round face. He blinked curiously at Jack and then turning to the slave wheezed good naturedly, "Well, well! Ginger, my boy, what have you brought me this time? I am delighted that our bell was stolen. It keeps us in touch with the outside world and has already got us two extra slaves. But this one is the best yet." He looked Jack up and then down. "I haven't been so amused in a thousand years.
	"Don't you want the bell back?" asked Jack, holding it out uneasily. He had expected the Jinn to be very angry at the holder of his magic treasure.
	"No! No! Keep it and welcome! Just to look at you is worth a hundred dinner bells," said the Jinn, smothering a chuckle behind his fat hand. "An odd enough appearing gentleman, Ginger, is he not? And so polite! Where we but remove the slipper he has taken off the entire leg to do us honor. Tell me, who and what are you, most curious sir?"
	"You struck him exactly right," whispered the slave encouragingly. "Speak up and he may help you."
	"I am Jack Pumpkinhead, your Majesty," said Jack, balancing himself with great difficulty, "and a simple citizen of Oz."
	"I believe you," puffed the Jinn and forthwith broke into such a series of strange sounds that Jack drew back in dismay.
	"What language is that?" he asked in a faint voice. "I do not seem to understand your Majesty's remarks." The Red Jinn's lid, which he wore quite jauntily for a hat, was still quivering, but controlling himself with a great effort he wiped his face on a red silk hanky.
	'Tis the laugh language, Jack," he confided with a wink at the little slave. "The ha, ha, and ho, ho, of great merriment. Do you not speak this language in your country, fellow? The guffaw and the snicker, the giggle and roar of pure hilarity! Ho! Ho! You are doing me good, great good! Come join me in a little roar and we'll speak the laugh language in all its branches."
	"But I do not feel like laughing," said Jack wearily. "I have lost my best friends and will lose my country too, if your Highness does not help me. Are you very powerful? Are you important enough to help me?"
	"Terribly important," answered the Jinn, pursing up his lips. "At least to myself." He nudged the slave of the bell, who nodded delightedly, and Jack, without further parley, held up the pirate's sack.
	"In this bag," said Jack solemnly, "are a little boy, a baron and a flying red monster."
	"No?" murmured the Jinn leaning forward incredulously. "How did they get in the bag? How will they get out again and if they stay in an age will they become baggage? Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho!" The Red Jinn's mirth was extremely distressing to poor Jack, but feeling that everything depended upon the wizard's help, he smothered his resentment and patiently told the whole story of his adventures since Peter's arrival in Oz. As he proceeded the Jinn's expression grew more sober and at the conclusion of the story he clapped his hands sharply. Immediately Jack's broken leg snapped back into place, and with a surprised skip, Jack began marching up and down.
	"That is the first step toward helping you," smiled the Jinn, holding up his hand to silence Jack's outburst of gratitude. "Now we must find a way to send you to Oz, release the prisoners from the sack and break the forbidden flagon without disaster to yourself. My magic looking-glass would show us where your friends are but not how to rescue them, my magic umbrella would carry you to Oz, but I need that myself. Let me think! Let me think!" Wrinkling his brows, the Red Jinn retired into himself and shut the lid.
	"Will he come out again?" asked Jack, turning nervously to the little slave. The slave nodded impressively. So Jack, fixing his eyes earnestly on the Jinn's red lid, waited for him to reappear. And presently his head popped up and with snapping eyes he leaned forward. First he whispered nine words in Jack's carved ear and next, eight more. Then, leaning back, he regarded Jack with a pleased and satisfied smile.
	"Now all we have to do is to arrange for your journey to Oz," said the Jinn, tapping his fingers upon the arm of his glass throne. "I believe I'll send you off in my Jinrickasha. Would you like that?"
	"Why he's gone," shouted Ginger, leaping into the air. "Gone! Vanished! Departed!"
	"So he has," spluttered the Jinn, lurching forward and rubbing his eyes with astonishment.
	"Was it by your Majesty's magic?" queried the Slave of the Bell breathlessly.
	"Not by my Majesty's magic, but some other meddlesome magic. Hash and horseradish! Now I shall never hear the end of the story!" Pulling in his head so suddenly that the lid came down with a crash, the Red Jinn dropped back on his cushions, and the little slave, having experienced the extreme of his master's temper when disappointed, tip-toed hurriedly from the royal presence. What had become of our hero? Who had spirited Jack Pumpkinhead away from the palace of the Red Jinn?

CHAPTER 17
	The Capture of the Emerald City

	IN THAT delightful hour before dinner, when it is too early to go in and light the lamps and too late to go for another picnic or swim, it is a pleasant custom in Ozma's palace to gather in the garden for games. Almost any fine evening at dusk, if you were to peep over the wall of the green castle, you would see all the celebrities and most of the courtiers playing hop scotch or prisoner's base. The ruler of Oz, as most of you know, is a little girl fairy and Ozma is quite as fond of fun and good times as you are. Dorothy, Betsy and Trot, Ozma's best friends and advisers are little girls too, so that life in the Emerald City is bound to be interesting and gay. And how could it be otherwise, with so many unusual and amusing people living in the palace?
	The Scarecrow spends most of his time there, though he has a splendid residence of his own, and for fun and good comradeship there is no one like this jolly strawstuffed gentleman. He was lifted from a pole and brought to the Emerald City by Dorothy on her first journey to Oz. Dorothy, herself, was blown to Oz in a cyclone and has had so much fun and so many adventures that she would not think of living anywhere else. Betsy and Trot are from the United States, too, but prefer life in the Emerald City to life in America, as indeed I should myself. Almost everybody has heard of Tik Tok, the copper man. Tik Tok is not alive, but very lively and when properly wound can walk, talk and run as well as anybody.
	Justly famous is the Tin Woodman. Whole books have been written about him, for Nick Chopper is Emperor of the Winkies and almost any child in Oz can tell you the strange story of Nick and the enchanted ax that chopped off his arms and legs, severed his trunk and finally chopped off his head. After each accident, Nick had himself repaired by a tin smith, till he was entirely a man of tin, and like the Scarecrow he spends more than half his time in the capitol. Then we must not forget Sir Hokus, a real Knight, who was rescued after seven centuries of imprisonment in Pokes. Now where, but in Oz, could a Knight last for seven centuries, and be so spry, so bold and so full of interesting stories? Where, but in Oz, could one find a Wizard able to whisk one about with magic wishing pills and conjure up Ozcream and pop-overs by a mere puff of magic powder?
	Another prime favorite in the palace is Scraps. Made from an old patchwork quilt and magically brought to life, Scraps adds a touch of fun and gaiety to all the palace parties, for Scraps is wholly without dignity and can think up verses faster than little boys can think up excuses. The Soldier with the Green Whiskers is a fine fellow, too. He is the whole grand army of Oz, and though not very brave has such a splendid uniform and long shining green beard, just to look at him gives one pleasure and satisfaction. Recently a live statue and a medicine man have come to Ozma's court. The medicine man's chest is a real medicine chest, full of helpful remedies and although no one in the Emerald City ever falls ill Ozma has graciously conferred upon Herby the title of Court Doctor. Add to all of these famous characters the Cowardly Lion, the Hungry Tiger and a dozen other strange pets, fifty or more splendid courtiers and servants and you will have a fair idea of the merry company romping in the garden on this early evening in May.
	Dorothy had just won an exciting foot race and sinking into a green hammock called gaily to the Scarecrow, "Let's play blindman's buff and blindfold everyone but Betsy Bobbin. Then we'll all try to find her and first one who does shall have three pieces of strawberry short cake!"
	"A lot of good that will do me," sighed the Scarecrow, patting his straw stuffed stomach, "but if I win, you shall have my cake, Dorothy."
	"You'll never win," teased Betsy, beginning to hop up and down with impatience. "None of you will. Remember now, Wizard, no fair using magic to find me."
	"Haven't a bit of magic with me. My black bag's inside," laughed the little Wizard of Oz, fitting a big green handkerchief around his head. In less than a minute, Ozma and everyone in the garden was blindfolded. Even the Cowardly Lion had Dorothy's hair ribbon tied securely over his eyes.
	"All ready," called Betsy, and tip-toeing over to an enormous butterfly bush, she climbed into the center and sat still as a mouse. But the others were very far from still. With shouts, screams and little roars of merriment they ran to and fro, bumping into each other and throwing their arms around trees and statues and making so much noise that they never heard the tramp of feet on the other side of the wall. For Mogodore had at last arrived in the Emerald City, and with a rush and without opposition, captured the famous fairy capitol. At sight of his spearmen, the peaceful inhabitants fled into their houses and slammed windows and doors. Unk Nunkie, a brave old Munchkin who had started on a run to warn the people in the palace, was caught by Bragga, tied up securely and carelessly tossed into a greenberry bush. Shirley Sunshine, who had leaped from her horse for the very same reason, was overtaken and put under guard.
	"A fine way to help," muttered Mogodore, shaking his finger at her accusingly. "What were you about Princess?"
	"I was anxious to see the castle," stuttered poor Shirley, twisting her handkerchief miserably.
	"You'll see it soon enough," promised Mogodore. "Just wait till I've conquered this silly little fairy." About forty paces from the castle itself Mogodore dismounted and called a council of war. Leaving five hundred men to hold the city he took five hundred with him to storm the palace and overcome the famous celebrities whom he had read about so often. Shirley Sunshine was left behind until the fighting should be over. Mogodore and his five hundred picked soldiers marched boldly upon the castle.
	"High time for a new King here," sniffed Mogodore scornfully. "A city without defenses! No army! No guards! What can they expect but capture?"
	"There may be an army inside the castle walls," warned Wagarag, jogging wearily along at the baron's elbow. "Before we rush the gates we had better look about a bit and see that everything is safe."
	"Very good," grunted Mogodore, taking a pinch of snuff. "You and I will go forward. The others may remain here. My spear tossed into the air will be the signal for them to advance." It was a short walk to the walls of the palace, and hoisting himself with great gasps and puffs the Baron of Baffleburg raised his head cautiously over the top of the wall and looked down into the royal gardens. What he saw astonished him exceedingly, and with a soundless chuckle he dropped to the ground. "The silly dunces are playing a game," whispered Mogodore to his trembling steward. "They're blindfolded and all we have to do is to jump over the wall and seize them."
	Tossing his spear into the air, Mogodore waited impatiently for his men and when they came hurrying forward, he raised his hand for silence. "Drop over the wall, one at a time, join in this game of blindman's buff. Each man take one prisoner and tie him to the nearest tree. When all are taken, I will march into the palace, seize the crown jewels and magic belt and proclaim myself King of Oz. All ready." With only a slight scraping of boots on the stones, Mogodore and his men slipped over the wall and into the garden. Betsy Bobbin, sitting breathlessly in the center of the butterfly bush, became suddenly aware of a change in the gay uproar around her. The joyous shouts and good natured exclamations turned to frightened screams and indignant protests and finally to loud shouts for help.
	"What can have happened?" gasped Betsy, poking her head out of the bush. What she saw, as you can well imagine, made her sink back in a faint heap. The garden was swarming with armed warriors and Ozma and all of her friends and courtiers were tied to the trees with gold chains and struggling in vain to free themselves.
	"I am the only one left," panted Betsy. "I must try to slip out unnoticed and get the magic belt!" In this famous belt, as most of you know, there is such power that the wearer can transform anyone to any shape at all. "I'll turn them to old shoes and door knobs," sobbed Betsy, with another frightened peek out of the bush. The chances of her reaching the palace were slim indeed and finally she gave up all hope, but she could not help feeling proud of the way Ozma of Oz was conducting herself.
	"What does this mean?" demanded the little fairy, tearing the bandage from her eyes and stamping her foot as well as she could with so many chains around her ankles. "Who are you and what do you want? Release us at once, or my Wizard and my Army will destroy you!"
	"Ho! Ho! ho!" roared Mogodore, looking cheerfully down at the furious Princess. "Hand over the keys of the castle my dear, for you are completely conquered and absolutely captured. I, Mogodore the Mighty and Baron of Baffleburg, am the future King of Oz!"
	"I'll crown you with my fist," sputtered Sir Hokus, tugging at his chains till the tree he was tied to rocked as if by a tempest. "I'll thump thee on the bean." (Sir Hokus has picked up a lot of slang from Trot and Betsy Bobbin and mixes it fluently with his knightly conversation).
	"We'll change you to a fritter, We'll fry you in a pan, You rude uncultured critter Do you call yourself a man?"
	yelled Scraps defiantly, and all the other celebrities joined their voices to hers, till the din was so dreadful that even Betsy had to cover her ears. But it had no effect upon Mogodore. Quite calmly he continued to gaze down at Ozma and the longer he looked the broader grew his ugly grin.
	"A little beauty," he mumbled half to himself, "prettier far than this Shirley Sunshine. I shall marry Princess Ozma," he shouted, suddenly clapping Wagarag so heartily upon the back that the poor steward's iron pot helmet fell over one eye. "Into the palace, fellow and prepare a feast for the wThe Yellow Knight of Oz

by Ruth Plumly Thompson

This book is dedicated to my very dear and very little Aunt Gertrude!
[Ruth Plumly Thompson, 1930]

List of Chapters
Chapter
1	Sir Hokus Plans a Quest
2	The Knight's First Adventure
3	Queen Marcia of Marshland
4	Ploppa and Sir Hokus Escape
5	Concerning a Camel
6	Tuzzle at the Court of Oz
7	The Cruise of the Skyrocket
8	A Golden Princess
9	Sir Hokus Meets an Old Friend
10	The Deserted City
11	The Knight Loses His Camel
12	Camy at the Sultan's Court
13	King of the Quix!
14	The Enchanted Forest
15	Five Travelers Meet
16	Speedy in Samandra
17	The Restoration of Corumbia
18	The Return of the Yellow Knight
19	For the Hand of a Princess
20	The Marriage of Marygolden

CHAPTER 1

Sir Hokus Plans a Quest

	"I'AM minded said Sir Hokus of Pokes, drawing aside the green curtains and looking out over the sparkling towers and spires of the Emerald City of Oz-" "I'am minded to go on a quest"
	"Quest?'' shouted Scraps, the Patchwork Girl, handspringing over the sofa, capering up to the Knight, and collapsing in front of him with a giggle. "What manner of quest, Sir Knight? Request or conquest?
 
"Methinks we'll go upon a quest 
East, North, or South, Sir Hoke, or West? 
To slay a dragon? Or what ho! 
What hey! What say? When do we go?"

	"We!" Dropping the curtain, Sir Hokus looked sternly at the Patchwork Girl, then striding over to a small sofa sat solemnly down beside Dorothy, a little girl from Kansas and a Princess of Oz. The Knight and several more of Dorothy's friends were spending the evening in her cozy apartment in Ozma's palace. "Wait till Monday," smiled Dorothy, looking up from a book she was reading. "Wait till Monday and I'll go with you."

	"Next week a questing we will go;
	I'll break the news to those below,"

chortled Scraps with a gay bounce.
	'Well, don't break all the furniture while you're about it," warned Dorothy, as the Patchwork Girl vaulted easily over the sofa and fell through the door. "Oh, I do hope my blue dress will be finished an time," exclaimed Trot, clasping her hands eagerly.
	"Can I take Hank?" inquired Bettsy Bobbin, who was extremely fund of the little mule she had brought from America. At this, Sir Hokus looked thoughtfully at his boots.
	"In my day," mused the Knight mournfully, "maidens remained quietly at home, doing household tasks, embroidering, watching from
towers, and so on-"
	"How stuffy!" sniffed Bettsy Bobbin, sliding carefully into his lap, which his armor made rather hard and uncomfortable. "How old-fashioned. Now don't be quaint! What fun is it watching from a tower? And this embroidery and so on that you talk about ruins the eyes, and you know it!"
	"Well, well," rumbled Sir Hokus, looking uneasily into Bettsy's bright eyes, "I see no signs of ruin here, but let us speak of this to-morrow," and setting Bettsy gently on the floor, he bowed to all three girls and went clanking down the gold-flagged hallway muttering unhappily to himself. "Odds fish and funnels! Why did I ever mention this quest? Before morning every man, maiden, child, and kitten in the castle will know of it. Go to, now! It is too bad! Go too, now! Why, that's just what they'll all want to do. 'Twill be a parade and no quest at all. By my Knight shirt, it is too much!" Reaching his great stone chambers, Sir Hokus leaned against his four-post bed and stared gloomily at a picture of his friend the Scarecrow on the opposite wall. And his fears, let me tell you, were well-founded, for news travels fast in the Emerald City, especially good news. In less than an hour there was not a soul in that whole merrie castle who had not heard from Scraps that the Good Knight of Oz was about to fare forth upon an adventure.
	In his tower room, Tik Tok, the machine man, marched sternly to and fro, practicing thrusts and parries with an old cane. The Soldier with Green Whiskers began to brush his beard vigorously and try to recall what he had done with his sword, his musket, and his military brushes. The little Wizard of Oz, in his laboratory back of the throne room, took down his bag and began rubbing his hands briskly as be sorted out the magic appliances best suited to a perilous adventure. Even Dorothy's pink kitten stopped washing her face long enough to decide which bow she would wear upon this grand and exciting occasion.
	Now Oz, as nearly everyone knows, is the happiest Kingdom out of the world, a Kingdom so unfashionable, informal and jolly, that Queen Ozma thinks nothing of jumping rope, and even the most important court officials play tag and croquet in the gardens after tea. Perhaps this is because the Ruler of Oz is a girl, a fairy, to be sure, but such an unassuming, gracious fairy that no one feels frightened or embarrassed by her power or importance. Yet, Ozma of Oz is both powerful and important. Important enough to govern the four great countries of her realm wisely and well, powerful enough to overcome all her enemies and keep her people contented and happy. Of all the fairy cities in enchanted countries anywhere, there is none to compare with Ozma's capital. Its streets sparkle and twinkle with emeralds; the towered green castle, set in a lovely flowering park, shines and glows with the same precious gems, casting a radiance that can be seen for miles on all sides. And to her castle 0zma has called the most celebrated and interesting of her subjects. In a magical country like Oz, where wizards, witches and fabulous monsters still abound, there are certain to be unusual and amazing characters. But Ozma is fondest of Dorothy, Bettsy and Trot, three young girls from the United States, who reached the Emerald City at different times after bewildering adventures in her fairy Kingdom. All three found life there so exciting and gay that they have never returned to America at all, and living in the palace with the Queen they advise her in all important matters of state, and accompany her on all of her visits and adventures. Dorothy, having come first, has had more strange experiences than almost anyone else, and has discovered a great many of the Oz celebrities. On her first trip she found the Scare-crow, a delightful straw-stuffed person who spends half of his time in the capital and the other half in a splendid corn-ear castle near the Royal Residence of his friend the Tin Woodman. Nick is a woodman entirely of tin, another of Dorothy's discoveries, and so kind and depend-able that Ozma has made him Emperor of the East and Ruler of the Winkles. Nick's only worry is that his joints will rust, and no one thinks it odd that he carries an oil can wherever he goes and often stops in the middle of a conversation to lubricate his jaws. Tik Tok, on the other hand, is made of copper and was manufactured by a firm of magicians to be a slave to the King of Ev. The machine man is guaranteed to last a thousand years and can walk, talk, think and do everything but live, Dorothy found Tik Tok locked in a cave, and releasing the copper man, brought him to the Emerald City, where he is greatly admired and respected. Like Tik Tok, the Patchwork Girl is of magic origin, too, having been intended for a servant by her owner. Made from an old patchwork quilt, stuffed with cotton by a wizard's wife, Scraps was brought to life by the wizard's Powder of Life. But so much cleverness and fun got into Scraps' make-up that she refused to work and, taking an unceremonious leave of her master, ran off to the capital. Wherever Scraps happens to be, there is always plenty of fun and excitement. Then, along with the interesting people in the Emerald City, there are many amazing animals, everyone of them able to talk as fast as you can. There are the Cowardly Lion, the Hungry Tiger, an Iffin, a glass cat, and so many more it would never do to start telling you about them. Indeed, when I start talking about the celebrities at Oz-ma's court I never do know when to stop. To describe them all would take about three days and as you probably have not that long to listen, and know most of them as well as I do, I'll not try, but shall get back to Sir Hokus of Pokes and his quest. Not much is known of the early history of this brave Knight except that for five centuries he was imprisoned in the Kingdom of Pokes, until he was rescued by Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion not so long ago. Since then he has lived in the capital and has been of great assistance to Ozma in the wars and uprisings that disturb her peaceful Kingdom from time to time.
	To some, five centuries might seem to make a man a bit ancient, but in Oz, where no one ever really grows old, it is just middle-aged, and Sir Hokus can hold his own with any of the young fellows in the castle. Hearing a great buzz and clatter beneath his windows, the Good Knight looked out and saw fifty of Ozma's gay courtiers drilling under the lime-drop trees with more than half the palace servants treading earnestly behind them. Learning from Scraps that Sir Hokus was about to start upon a quest, they, too, had decided to accompany him, In the royal stables the excitement was no less. The Saw-horse- Ozma's little wooden steed, magically brought to life, was quite certain he would be chosen for the Knight's charger. 
	"Who," whinnied the Sawhorse proudly, "can travel so fast or so far as I, without food, rest, or water?" The Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger exchanged knowing glances, for they felt that Sir Hokus would much prefer a soft seat upon their backs. Hank, Bettsy's mule, explained to everyone in a loud bray that if Bettsy Bobbin were going he was going, and the voices of the Comfortable Camel and the Doubtful Dromedary grew positively shrill when anyone suggested that they might be left behind.
	"Hokus is our dear discoverer. He found and brought us to Emerald City and would not think of going on a quest without us," quavered the Comfortable Camel, rolling his eyes appealingly at Hank.
	"You eat too much," sniffed the little mule. "And hee, haw Hee, haw You wobble too much!"
	"You bray too much," put in the Doubtful Dromedary, coming to the rescue of his friend. "And don't you get hee haughty with me, sir!" And so they argued back and forth, till even the family of mice in the hayloft knew Sir Hokus was going upon a quest, and the tiniest member had resolved to slip in the Knight's boot and go, too.
	Nothing else was talked of at dinner that night in the palace, and so interested were Ozma, Dorothy, and the others, that they scarcely noticed that Sir Hokus himself said never a word and ate hardly a mouthful. Indeed, right in the-middle of an argument as to the advisability of taking water-proofs or just heavy coats, the Knight tiptoed off to his own apartment and flung him-self wearily down on a stone bench. "It's not that I don't want them!" groaned Sir Hokus sadly, "but how, with an army like that, can I hope to rescue a damsel, slay a dragon, or challenge a giant to mortal combat? And how shall I know that I am still brave and fit to do battle with fabulous monsters? The Wizard's magic will overcome all our difficulties, Scraps' verses will make even the enemy laugh, and with so many maidens, how can I hope for a proper fight? I would not mind just Dorothy or Ozma, but everyone in the castle! Odds black and blue fish! It is too much!" Folding his arms, Sir Hokus glared at a large calendar on his wall, then suddenly smote his hands joyfully together. Three days before Monday, the day set by Dorothy for the quest. Three days!
	"Hah!" breathed the Knight gleefully, and again, "Hah!" Snatching up his battle-axe and seizing his second best helmet from its hook behind the door, he trod softly into the hall and down a little-used stairway to the garden.
	And while preparations for his quest went merrily forward, Sir Hokus himself, without even one sandwich or extra suit of armor, marched grimly through the night.

CHAPTER 2

The Knight's First Adventure

WALKING rapidly, Sir Hokus soon reached the outskirts of the Emerald City and paused on the edge of a small wood to consider the next step of his journey. In which of the four countries of Oz would he be most likely to find a maiden in distress, a monarch in need of his trusty sword, or a monster ferocious enough to engage In mortal combat?
	Should he go to the North into the purple land of the Gillikins and offer his services to Joe King, and Queen Hyacinth? Or into the red Quadling Country where Glinda, the Good Sorceress, ruled over the turbulent tribes of the South? To the West stretched the blue realm of the Munchkins with its wonderful Sapphire City and newly appointed sovereign, Cheeriobed the First, Should he go there? To the East lay the yellow domain of the Winkles ruled over by the Tin Woodman, and after looking thoughtfully in each direction, Sir Hokus turned his steps toward the East. It was in the Winkle Country that he had been first discovered by little Dorothy and in this strange and enchanted Empire he hoped to learn something of his former history. During his five-century imprisonment in Pokes, Sir Hokus had lost all recollection of his early life and since his residence in the Emerald City he had been too occupied and interested to bother. But now, treading through the starlit wood, he began to think of the long ago days of his youth, to wonder whence he had come, who he really was and what great purpose had sent him riding upon that first quest on a faraway and but dimly remembered morning. Of his father or his father's castle he could recall nothing. He only remembered meeting, not far from the postern gates, a strange, black Knight who had harshly challenged him to battle. Sir Hokus had accepted the challenge at once and unseated the stranger with a clever thrust of his lance. Instantly the black Knight had sprung up, and crying in a loud voice, "live, wretch, for centuries in the stupidest Kingdom in Oz," had disappeared, and Sir Hokus himself, though of course that was not his name at that time, had been immediately transported to Pokes and there he had been held captive for long forgotten ages until Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion had come there by chance and all three had managed to escape together.
	"Strange," mused the Knight, shaking his head sorrowfully, "strange that I can remember nothing more of it," The longer he thought, the less he could think of, and finally he gave it up altogether. "After all, does it matter?" he murmured, throwing back his shoulders and standing a trifle more straight. "A Knight's but a Knight and can but be bold!" Cheered by the thought of his own boldness, he peered about hopefully for signs of a dragon or stray gundersnatch. "What ho!" he roared lustily, more to keep himself company than because he expected any answer. "What ho, there! What HO!" 
	"What who?" quavered a shrill voice from the branch of a tree just ahead, and a big, yellow owl blinked disagreeably down at him. "What who-ooo are you, and what 'Ho' is this you are calling?" he demanded sulkily. Ah, my good bird," Sir Hokus bowed politely, "perchance you can direct me to a maiden in distress, a monarch in need of my sharp sword, or a monster whose head I might haply dissever "Dissever?" screeched the owl, ruffling his feathers. "Well, did you ever! There are no maidens, monarchs, or monsters in this wood, and I advise you to go home and mind your own business." "It is a Knight's business to render assistance to others," Sir Hokus informed him sternly. "Oh, you're a Knight are you?" The owl opened his eyes wider. "Well, I'm a Knight, too, a night owl, and you may render me a service if you will."
	"Name it!" Eagerly Sir Hokus drew his sword. "You can go away," sniffed the owl fretfully, settling down on the branch. "Go away, go along with you!" And as Sir Hokus stood uncertain whether to clip a few feathers from its tail to teach it a lesson in courtesy or just go off, the bird closed its eyes. "Good-night, Knight," it yawned sleepily.
	"Good-night, night owl," answered Sir Hokus, deciding that after all the creature was not worth a quarrel. "Odds bodikens! I might as well be home in bed for all the adventures I'm having," he sighed, moving mournfully along in the moonlight. "Not a wild beast has crossed my path, not a witch, a robber, or even one little dragon! Hah, Hoh, HUM!" With another great yawn, the Knight removed his heavy armor, hung it on a near by branch, and wrapping himself in his gray cloak lay down under a tree and slept soundly till morning. The chatter of the yellow birds awakened him about six, and buckling on his armor he quenched his thirst in a clear forest brook. As there were no breakfast bushes or afternoon tea trees about he marched resolutely onward. The forest grew denser at every step and he was often forced to hew out a path with his battle-axe, but about noon he came to a narrow footway shut in on both sides by giant trees and heavy underbrush. Following this for several miles, Sir Hokus was suddenly cheered by a bright shaft of sunlight ahead. Hurrying forward joyfully, he was about to step out into the open when a heavy band fell upon his shoulder.
	"Halt!" cried a deep voice. "Halt! Stop! And other words meaning surrender!"
	"Surrender?" bellowed the Knight, with a furious bounce. "Stand back, knave! Unhand me, villain! Who dares cry 'halt' to Sir Hokus of Pokes?"
	"Getsom and Gotsom!" answered the same deep voice. "Getsom and Gotsum! Mud Guards to her Majesty, Queen Marcia of Marshland."
	"Mud Guards!" sputtered Sir Hokus, staring at the two without enthusiasm. "Well, in faith an' ye look it!" For Getsom and Gotsum were so spattered with mud and streaked with mire that scarcely any of their dark skin was visible. They wore rough swamp grass skirts and little else, and their long hair was tangled and matted and hung half over their sullen faces. As Sir Hokus continued to stare, the second Mud Guard addressed him: "Good-morrow!" he croaked, jerking his fore-lock. Then turning to his companion he whispered hoarsely, "Be careful how you treat him, Getsom, old fellow. Remember he is the King!"
	"King!" exploded Sir Hokus, growing quite curious. "What merry nonsense it this? I am a Knight, bound upon a curious quest."
	"He'll do very well indeed, if we remove the shell," continued Gotsom, eyeing Sir Hokus with frank approval. "How would you like to be Monarch of the Marshes and King of the Stick-in-the-Muds?" he asked coaxingly. "Our Queen has sworn to marry the first stranger who enters the Kingdom; you are the first, so-"
	"Hold, fellow!" Imperiously Sir Hokus raised his arm. "I would hear more of this Queen."
	"Well," admitted Getsom, looking uneasily at Gotsum, "she has one wonderful eye."
	"One wonderful eye!" gulped the Knight. "By my father's beard, it is not enough! If I ever marry twill be a Princess with two wonderful eyes and curly hair like little Dorothy's. But I am not minded to marry at all. I crave adventure, conquest, and furious battle!"
	"Marry Marcia, and you will have all three," promised Gotsom quickly.
	"Oh, come on! You're wasting our time," grumbled Getsom, and pressing forward impatiently the two Mud Guards made ready to seize the Knight. But Sir Hokus had no intention of being taken. Striking two ways at once, he felled Getsom with his sword and Gotsom with his battle-axe and, leaping over their inert bodies, rushed impetuously forward. Almost instantly he regretted this hasty action; for though he was indeed out of the gloomy forest, in all directions stretched a wild and desolate marsh, and scarcely had he run three paces before he began to sink down into the treacherous, watery bog. Sir Hokus struck out bravely enough, but what good is bravery in the mud? No matter how brave you are, you still keep on sinking, and weighed down by his heavy armor the Knight was soon in to his waist and going deeper every minute. Indeed, if he had not snatched desperately at a scraggly little tree, he would have disappeared altogether.
	"Methinks," groaned the Knight regretfully, "methinks I had done better to have gone with those muddy rogues and taken my chance with their one-eyed Queen. They, no doubt, have a way of crossing this mire." But the Mud Guards would not regain their senses for hours, and meanwhile he could do nothing but cling to the tree. "What now? And what next?" he muttered, looking around despondently. Then he took a firmer hold on his sword. "Odds goblins!" breathed Sir Hokus, wrinkling his brows.
	All around him giant bubbles were rising in the mud, and from each bubble came a great green frog's head. Odd goblins they were, indeed! Frog goblins, to be perfectly correct, and with hair-raising croaks and screeches they pressed closer, trying to pull the Knight down into the mire. Each frog goblin was about the size of a small child, and at first Sir Hokus struck them lightly with the flat of his sword. But as they came nearer and nearer, snatching with their long, skinny fingers and trying to loosen his hold on the tree, he swung his sword with all his might and brought it down with resounding whacks on their heads, But as fast as he struck down four, a dozen others hurled themselves upon him. Having only one hand free and being waist deep in the mud, Sir Hokus fought them off as best as he could, but there were so many it seemed but a question of time before he would be pulled ingloriously into the swamp and suffocated. Then, suddenly, right at the height of the conflict, the frog goblins, with a hundred dismal croaks, dove into the bog. Panting with exhaustion, Sir Hokus glared around to discover the cause of their disappearance and saw a giant mud turtle plowing determinedly toward him. Its jaws snapped, its eyes rolled, and it was as large as an elephant flattened out.
	"A monster!" puffed Sir Hokus. "At last, a monster! But I could wish it had come at some happier moment, when I had more breath and better footing!" Nevertheless, he pulled himself resolutely up out of the mud and, raising his sword, calmly waited for the turtle to approach. When it had almost reached his tree, the creature stopped, stretched up its neck and regarded him long and searchingly, as if it were deciding upon the best place to begin biting him. Sir Hokus endured this inspection for several minutes in silence; then, as the monster made no move or murmur, he called out impatiently:
	"Quail, wretch! Quiver, or at least do something to show that you are afraid!'
	"I am not a quail," answered the turtle in a dignified voice, "and in this shell, how could I quiver?"
	"Well, do what you're going to do, then," shouted the Knight, "and be done with it." Lack of breakfast and the discomforts of the past few hours had not improved his temper. "Do something, d'ye hear?"
	"I am," said the turtle, blinking its eyes solemnly. "I am admiring you, dear brother. I have always suspected that somewhere a turtle man existed and here, at last, you are! What a gorgeous shell, and how perfectly it fits!' At these words, and seeing there was to be no slaying, Sir Hokus returned his sword to its scabbard and looked thoughtfully at the green monster.
	"Dear, dear," it continued, rolling its eyes affectionately, "I dote on you already. Can I catch you some nice little frogs, or would you prefer a serpent for breakfast?"
	"Neither," shuddered the Knight, "but you may carry me on your back, if you will." If the creature were really as friendly as it appeared to be, he could stand being called its brother, at least until he was out of the swamp. At his words the turtle gave a squeal of pleasure, and hurling itself hit or miss through the mud, drew up like a ferryboat beside him. Seizing hold of its strong shell, Sir Hokus pulled himself thankfully up on its back.
	"A fine Knight Errant I must appear," he sighed, regarding his muddy armor ruefully. "No wonder it thinks I'm a turtle man! What ho, my good creature," he called anxiously, "is it far to the edge of this marsh?"
	"Far-far-very far, but not too far for Ploppa," wheezed the mud turtle, looking fondly back at the Knight.
	"Then proceed, Ploppa!" cried Sir Hokus, chuckling in spite of himself at the turtle's name. "Proceed, and let us make what speed we may!"

CHAPTER 3

Queen Marcia of Marshland

WITH his sword, Sir Hokus scraped some of the mud from his armor; then, setting himself cross-legged on Ploppa's back, he looked about with deep distaste.
	"Are you sure you would not like to squirm along beside me?" inquired the turtle, looking fondly over his shoulder. "The marsh is beautiful to-day. Ah, to feel the delicious squg and glug of it," he murmured, rolling his eyes rapturously.
	"Nay, an' I care not for this glugging," shuddered the Knight, "so splash along by yourself, dear creature." Taking some chessmen from his boot, Sir Hokus set them out on the nicely marked squares of Ploppa's shell and in the problems of the game tried to forget his hunger and the strangeness of his situation. Several times Ploppa opened his mouth to speak, for he felt extremely curious about this superior being he was carrying, but the Knight seemed so engrossed moving the ivory figures from place to place that he did not like to interrupt and churned quietly along saying nothing. Now and then a frog goblin rose from the mud, or a flock of wild geese flew screaming overhead, but for nearly an hour they met no one. Then, glancing up suddenly, Sir Hokus saw two giants striding across the marsh.
	"What ho, and who goes there?" cried the Knight, thumping Ploppa on the head with a red king.
	"Oh, just a couple of Stick-in-the-Muds," answered the turtle indifferently. "The marsh is full of them." Sweeping the chessmen back into his boot, Sir Hokus sat up very straight to have a better look at Queen Marcia's odd subjects. Their bodies seemed no larger than his own, but their legs were long and stick-like and reached almost to the tops of the trees.
	"Why, they are sticks," decided Sir Hokus, after a long, intent look at the Marshlanders.
	"Stilts," corrected the turtle composedly. "They use stilts to keep out of the mud, you know."
	"So that's how one manages," said Sir Hokus, tapping his nose thoughtfully. He had once tried a smaller pair of stilts back in the Emerald City and had fallen hard upon his helmet, and he could not help but admire the clever way in which these fellows got about on the unwieldy poles. Their dwellings were surprising, too, for the Marshlanders lived in tiny mud-thatched houses built high up in the trees. As Sir Hokus continued to watch, the two travelers, reaching their own house, which was on an exact level with their feet, stepped off their stilts and, leaving them standing against the tree, went in and slammed the door. "Well done, by my head!" breathed Sir Hokus, settling back with a little chuckle. "I must tell Dorothy about this. Hast ever heard of Princess Dorothy, my good Ploppa?"
	"Is she a turtle?' inquired the monster in a bored voice.
	"Oh, no, no, no!" exclaimed Sir Hokus with a little gesture of distress, and immediately began telling the turtle all about the Emerald City; about Ozma, Dorothy, Bettsy, and Trot, and the other wonderful citizens of Oz,
	The turtle listened attentively, and as Sir Hokus paused for breath, turned his head.
	"If everything is so squg, (and "squg," I must tell you, is turtle-talk for cozy) "why did you ever come away from there?" he inquired, reasonably enough.
	'Well,' muttered Sir Hokus, beginning to wonder a little himself, "well!" Then recalling the high purpose of his journey, he braced up and spoke most earnestly. "A Knight," stated Sir Hokus, raising his sword solemnly, "must beware of squgness' A Knight must seek danger and go upon curious quests in search of adventure. In other words, he must fight!"
	"I see," Ploppa shook his head knowingly. "By the way, have you met our Queen?"
	"No, but I've heard of her," admitted Sir Hokus, recalling his strange encounter with Getsom and Gotsom. He had been so busy describing the Emerald City to Ploppa that he had not remarked the change in their surroundings. Ahead, like an oasis in a desert, lay a higher and dryer bit of ground. In the exact center of this clearing rose a mud house much larger and more pretentious than the tree dwellings of the other Stick-in-the-muds. Before the door stood six Mud Guards, their stilts held stiffly before them. At sight of Sir Hokus, all six dropped their stilts and stared at him so fixedly that his grip upon his sword tightened and he quietly reached for his battle-axe.
	"The Royal Hut of her Majesty, Queen Marcia, announced the turtle, seeming to take no notice of the Guards.
	"Yes? Yes, but let us make haste!" puffed Sir Hokus, thumping Ploppa hard upon the shell. "I crave not to meet her muddy Majesty. But before Ploppa could obey his instructions, they had come opposite the hut; the six Guards darted forward, jumping upon ploppa's back, dragged Sir Hokus triumphantly in to the Queen.
	"The King!" they shouted, all together. "Long live the King!" And hurling the Knight upon the floor of the hut, they stood proudly at attention. Queen Marcia sat cross-legged on the floor, eating marshmallows from a large box at her side. She looked, at first glance, like a South Sea Islander, with her dark skin and skirt of swamp grass. But when Sir Hokus, who had instantly sprung to his feet, gazed into the face of this royal lady, he was too stunned to speak or even stutter. Marcia had, indeed, one wonderful eye. It was large, brown, and lively, turning in toward the nose. The other, which was small and blue and turned impishly outward, did not count at all. The Queen's hair had evidently never been combed, and Sir Hokus in his whole seven centuries had not seen anyone so bewilderingly wild and ugly. As he stood uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other, Marcia's dog, a dingy little swampoodle, rushed out and snapped viciously at his heels. But the Knight's armor served him well, and yelping with pain and bad temper the swampoodle ran back to its mistress. The Queen had been examining Sir Hokus quite as closely as he had been examining her, and now, popping another marshmallow into her mouth, she spoke.
	"Well, I'll be splattered!" mumbled her Majesty. "I'll be splashed and splattered! What do you think of him, Mira? My sister, the Marchioness of Muckengoo!" explained the Queen, with a wave at the dark-skinned lady at her side. Sir Hokus bowed in a dazed fashion and Mira, who was weaving baskets from dried reeds, squinted critically up at the Knight.
	'Well," said Mira, after a long, earnest squint, "if you don't marry him, sister, I shall!" "But ladies!" protested Sir Hokus, backing away in great distress, "this is impossible! I must go-
	"Silence!" roared Marcia, as well as she could with her mouth full of marshmallows, "I have sworn to marry the first stranger who enters my Kingdom, and marry you I will. Guards! Fetch the crown, bring on the food, and summon the guests!"
	"You always have the best of everything," pouted Mira, throwing down her reeds. "You married the last stranger. This one is mine!" Swallowing with great difficulty, the Marchioness of Muckengoo buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed as if her heart would break.
	"But if your Majesty is already married," began Sir Hokus, stepping forward hopefully, "how can you marry me?"
	"Silence!" cried the Queen furiously. "Speak when you're spoken to, and bow when you speak to me."
	"The last King was a p-peer!" sobbed Marcia, coming out from behind her handkerchief,
	"Well, what became of him?" demanded the Knight, paying no attention to Marcia's angry gestures.
	"He-he disappeared!" confided the Marchioness, beginning to sob anew.
	"Oh, I expect he fell off his stilts and was lost in the mud," sniffed the Queen unfeelingly. "You must be careful with your stilts, fellow. By the way, what is your name?"
	"You see in me a Knight, bound upon a curious quest," announced Sir Hokus, resolved to speak his mind and end this ridiculous discussion. "You see-"
	"That will do, Usee! Smirch! Conduct the King to his apartment and see that he is served a portion of the royal duck." At the Queen's last remark, Sir Hokus brightened visibly, for he had not eaten since the night before.
	"Duck!" muttered Sir Hokus. "Well, beshrew me now, after a portion of the royal duck I'll be. better able to duck this whole proceeding." A glance at the door had convinced him that escape, for the time being, was impossible. Ten Mud Guards had replaced the first six and at a slight move in their direction all ten had brandished their stilts threateningly. So, resolved to fall in with the plans of the Queen for the moment and make off at the first opportunity. Sir Hokus followed Smirch-into a small, mean room at the back of the royal hut. There was a rough table and chair, and a pile of grass in the corner evidently served for a bed. While the Knight was reflecting upon the very doubtful pleasures of being King of the Marsh, Smirch brought in a heaping platter of duck and, retreating, locked the door securely behind him. Almost never had anything tasted so delicious and Sir Hokus, unmindful of his dreary surroundings and his approaching marriage, fell upon the platter and soon reduced the duck to skin and bones. Then, much refreshed, he rose up to see what was to be done. The room's one window was high and barred, but by placing a chair upon the table and standing on that, he could manage to see out. What he saw filled him with new hope and courage. Asleep in the tall grass beneath the window lay the giant mud turtle.
	"Good, honest, faithful creature!" puffed the Knight, looking around for something to throw at Ploppa. There was nothing in the room but the knife, fork, and platter. The first two made no impression, but as the platter splintered to bits on his shell, Ploppa raised his head.
	"What ho! 'What ho, below!" whispered the Knight, so as not to arouse the Guards.
	"Oh, it's you, is it? Well, how are you enjoying the fighting? Is our Queen not a famous fighter?" wheezed Ploppa, blinking his eyes in an interested fashion.
	"It is not seemly for a knight to fight with ladies," hissed Sir Hokus earnestly. "And lest I forget I am a Knight, I must get hence. Get me hence at once, my good Ploppa. Wouldst have me marry a wild-eyed witch and break my head learning to stilt?"
	"But they will follow us," panted the turtle, pulling himself erect. So huge was the turtle that it towered above the house top and had to bend down to look in the window. "The Queen will not let you go"
	"Break me these bars," breathed Sit Hokus impatiently. "Break me these bars and we'll go anyway. And if we are followed, I'll break a few heads. Odds dragons! A few heads, and shins, and what nots!" As easily as you or I would bend wax, Ploppa forced the window bars apart with his strong claws; then, peering round to be sure nobody was looking, he put his face close to the Knight's.
	"I have just thought of something," confided the turtle hoarsely. "When I return and call three times, be ready to jump!" Before Sir Hokus could stop him or ask about his plan, the great mud turtle was flopping at a great pace across the marsh.

CHAPTER 4

Ploppa and Sir Hokus Escape

	GLOOMILY Sir Hokus climbed down from the table. If he jumped before Ploppa's return, he could only reach the edge of the clearing and then sink into the treacherous mud. But suppose the turtle was too late? In great agitation he paced up and down the narrow room. Preparations for the wedding were going forward briskly, judging from the thumps and bangs and excited shrieks on the other side of the door. "A pretty kettle of blue fish!" fumed Sir Hokus, who, like most of the rest of us, had often dreamed of his own wedding and pictured an affair of great pomp and magnificence. "Not a cake nor a castle in the whole Kingdom. Like as not there'll be mud pie. Not a tune-not a dance step. And such a bride!" Climbing on the table again, be stared anxiously out of the window. All around the Queen's hut little black pigs grunted and squealed. In the distance he saw several cows on stilts nibbling hungrily at the tree tops, but nowhere in that whole dreary waste could he catch so much as a glimpse of Ploppa. Sir Hokus tried to imagine himself King of the Marshes, wobbling about uncomfortably on stilts, pointing out the sights to Dorothy or Bettsy Bobbin, but the mere thought of Marcia for a Queen made his heart thump so hard it rattled all his armor. "As soon as that door opens, I'll make a dash for it," he decided desperately, "'and woe to the man who stands in my way!" But it was not a man who stood in the door when it did open, but Marcia herself, surrounded by a bevy of marsh maidens. Her brown eye rolled round and round with excitement, and in her arms she clasped a huge bouquet of tiger lilies and cattails.
	"Approach, Usee!" croaked this frightful apparition. "Approach and salute your Queen!"
	"Avaunt, woman!" rasped Sir Hokus, backing rapidly toward the window. "Avaunt, wench, and come not near!" Though Marcia repelled him utterly, the Knight could not bring himself to push her aside and fight his way through the marsh maidens to the door. Queen Marcia had no such nice feelings to hold her back and, infuriated by the Knight's remarks, she rushed upon him and brought her bouquet down so hard upon his helmet that tiger lilies and cat-tails flew in every direction. I am not sure how long Sir Hokus would have submitted to her pummeling, or whether he would not in time have broken his Knightly vows and struck out at this marsh maiden, but at this instant three shrill calls sounded at the window. In one leap he was upon the table, in another, on the chair.
	"Lady!" boomed Sir Hokus, pulling himself up on the ledge and kissing his mailed glove to the Queen of the Marshes. "Lady, farewell!" Headlong he dove through the window and, amid the screeches of the Stick-in-the-Muds, disappeared. The shock of his landing on Ploppa's hard shell rendered him speechless for several seconds, and by the time he had regained his breath and his balance, Ploppa had reached the edge of the clearing and plunged joyfully into the impenetrable swamp.
	"A lucky and timely escape!" panted Sir Hokus, peering expectantly around for signs of the enemy. "How, now? Does no man pursue?"
	"Trust Ploppa for that," grunted the turtle, looking back with a chuckle. "I've knocked down all the stilts for miles around and tramped them into the mire. A fine time they'll have making new ones!"
	 "You did?" roared the Knight, feeling more really cheerful than he had felt since he left the Emerald City. "Ho! Ho! Ho! This is capital, my dear Ploppa! Excellent and grand.' Sir Hokus bent nearly double at the effort of a tree-dweller to draw his stilts out of the mud with a fishing line. And it was comical indeed to see Marcia and her court marooned on the tiny clearing surrounding her hut, making fierce gestures and shouting for the Knight to return. From every treehouse they passed, Stick-in-the-Muds screamed and scolded, but Ploppa had done his work so well that they were forced to stick to their trees and were powerless to prevent their new King from escaping.
"I could love you for this!' beamed the Knight, thumping Ploppa affectionately on the shell.
	 "Then you won't leave the swamp?" cried the turtle, with a little flounce of excitement. "Do say that you will remain. I'll find you a dry spot for a hut, bring you all the frogs you can eat, carry you everywhere on my back, and when you wish to fight there are always Stick-in-the-Muds handy."
	  "Nay! Nay!" sighed Sir Hokus, growing sober at the mere thought of such an existence. "I must go forward and never shall I rest till I have saved a maiden, served a monarch, and destroyed a monster. I must go on. On, and on, and on!" Ploppa made no answer, but two big tears trickled down his cheeks and fell with a great splash into the bog.
	"You come with me," begged the Knight in great distress. "Come with me and see the world, dear Ploppa." "Will there be plenty of mud?" choked the poor turtle, controlling his sobs with difficulty.
	"Well, that I cannot promise," sighed the Knight, shaking his head doubtfully. "But there will be rivers and streams and plenty of fresh showers."
"But I must have mud," insisted the turtle sorrowfully, "plenty of good, thick, wet mud,"
	"And I must have adventure," declared Sir Hokus, looking with a shudder over the cold foggy marsh filled with the dismal croaking of frog goblins and the sigh of a desolate wind in the straggly trees. "I must have adventure and the glitter and glory of strange, glamorous places."
	"I must have mud and you must have adventure. Oh, why," wailed Ploppa, with a smothered sob, "cannot people who like each other like the same things? I long to go with you, but I cannot live without mud,"
	"Well, I hope there is more magic and less mud in the next country I come to," said Sir Hokus, with a slight shiver, Now the next country, as it happened, was quite close, only hidden by the thick fog from the Knight's curious gaze. And presently Ploppa, dragging himself out of the swamp, set him down on the edge of a wide yellow plain.
	"Good-bye!" gurgled Ploppa, winking fast to keep from crying again. "Good-bye! I'll never if forget you."
	"Nor I, you, my brave fellow." Leaning down, Sir Hokus gave the slippery turtle a hug-or as much of a hug as he could manage with a monster so huge and unwieldy. "Don't grieve," he begged earnestly, "for I will return! I will return," he promised, raising his sword solemnly, "anon!" Then, because he was not feeling any too cheerful himself, he strode quickly across the plain, for in the distance he could just descry the gleaming turrets of a strange, tall castle.
	"Anon! He will return anon!" strangled poor Ploppa, settling with a tired flop into the mud. "Anon? Anon? How long is that, pray?"

CHAPTER 5

Concerning a Camel

	"ANY tidings, Tuzzle?" Pushing back his yellow turban, the Sultan of Samandra looked anxiously at his Grand Vizier. Without speaking, Tuzzle shook his head. "What? No tidings!" yelled the Sultan, half rising from his great cushioned throne. "Then woe is me-she, you, her, it, us, and them?" The Sultan's voice rose to a shrill scream, and sinking back on his embroidered cushions he began to rock to and fro and beat himself violently on the chest. "Woe! Woe! Woe, I tell you!"
	"I am not a horse and cannot whoa, but I will do anything else that your Majesty suggests," murmured Tuzzle, folding his hands calmly on his broad stomach.
	"Then summon that scoundrelly Seer and fetch the Imperial Puppy!" commanded the Sultan in a choked voice. Tuzzle inclined his head grandly, for he was a very Grand Vizier, so grand, in fact, that he never did anything himself  but clapped his hands twice and, to the small slaves who appeared, communicated the orders of the Sultan. In five shakes of a yellow fez the slaves returned, one ushering in Chinda, the Seer, the other bearing upon a satin cushion Confido, a tiny Pekinese and the Imperial Puppy of the Realm. The sight of the proud little dog seemed to calm the Sultan considerably. Holding it close to his round, moon-like face, he whispered excitedly into one of its long, silky ears. The little dog nodded understandingly from time to time but said nothing, partly because it had nothing to say and partly because it could not talk, even if it had. Though Samandra is in the wonderful Kingdom of Oz, the animals there do not have the gift of speech like animals in most other Oz countries, and unfortunately cannot converse at all. Perhaps this is why the Sultan made the little dog his sole confidant, told it all his worries, secrets of state, and plans. An excellent idea, when you come to think of it, and one many a monarch might follow with good results, for secrets one tells a dog go no further, and Confido never betrayed his Royal Master's confidences. After whispering earnestly, the Sultan set the dog on his knee and glared fiercely down at Chinda, the Prophet.
	"So!" he hissed contemptuously. "You call yourself a Seer and yet for ten years you have been seeking my lost camel without success. Acting upon your misguided advice we have sent couriers here, there, and everywhere, searching for this valuable creature and still, still, he is lost to us! Never had I so comfortable a steed, so beauteous a beast. He was a very King of Camels; not one in my whole herd compares with him, and yet you, Chief Prophet and Seer of Samandra, allowed him to be lost in a sandstorm and never recovered at all."
	"The sandstorm was not my doing," observed Chinda stiffly. "I am a Seer and not a weather prophet, your Highness."
	"A Seer, a Seer! Why, you sere and cast-off yellow leaf of a dead and blighted tree, have you nothing more to say for yourself?"
	"Your Majesty seems to have covered the situation," answered Chinda, drawing his cloak about him with a dignified gesture. "Though why the loss of one wretched camel should cause you such unhappiness is a mystery to your humble servant. Have you not held undisputed sway over the great Kingdom of Samandra for seven centuries? Did you not, five hundred years ago, by a magic unrevealed to your illustrious advisors, conquer the neighboring Kingdoms of Corabia and Corumbia? Verily, the Corabians and Corumbians are no more; all their land and treasure are added to your riches, and yet, for the last ten years, you have done nothing but grieve for a miserable, moth-eaten, wobbly-kneed camel! And I," Chinda thumped himself gloomily upon the chest, "how I have suffered! My left eye has a permanent squint from staring through the magic telescope for signs of this tiresome creature. My right ear has become flattened out and uncurled listening to the undeserved and continuous abuse of a once kindly sovereign. I beg that your Excellency will permit me to retire and go to some far country where I may never hear the word 'camel' again. But before I go-" Chinda raised his voice defiantly, "before I go, let me say this: The camel you seek is in the Emerald City in the Royal Stable of Queen Ozma of Oz. Scarce ten minutes ago I saw him through a new lens in my magic telescope.
	"Emerald City! My dear, dear fellow, why did you not say so before?" Tucking the Imperial Peke under his arm and fairly rolling down the steps of his throne, the Sultan flung both arms around Chinda and hugged him heartily, "You are a Seer among seers, a wiz among wizards," panted the little monarch joyfully. "I hereby promote you to Magician Extraordinary and Grand Bozzywoz of the Realm." While Chinda was recovering from the shock of his sudden promotion, and feeling his ribs to see that none were cracked, the Sultan spun round like a fat little top.
	"Prepare for a journey at once, he commanded, waving his scepter at Tuzzle. "Order the Royal Sampan! You sail at dawn down the Winkie River to the capital of Oz. Have the Chief Camel Driver give you a golden halter to bring the good beast home, and moreover and furthermore," the Sultan's voice rose to an anxious squeak "see that he is wearing the same harness and saddle sacks that he wore when he left us, especially the saddle sacks!" finished his Excellency, shaking his finger under Tuzzle's nose.
	"Very well, your Highness," sighed Tuzzle resignedly, "but I will require a gold embroidered robe and twenty slaves to wait upon me that I may properly represent the Sultan of Samandra at the Court of Oz."
	"Twenty fiddlesticks!" fumed the Sultan, stamping his foot. "Be ready to sail at dawn or I'll set you to work in the sulfur mines.
	"That," murmured Tuzzle calmly, "would certainly undermine my constitution, so I shall be ready. But suppose this curious camel is not in the Emerald City? Suppose this is just another false vision of our precious Prophet?"
	"We'll talk about that when you return," said the Sultan, panting up the steps of his throne and dropping heavily on his yellow cushions.
	"And meanwhile, I'm the Grand Bozzywoz," exulted Chinda, brushing rudely past the Grand Vizier. "I'll head all the processions and take orders from no one but his Supreme Excellency! Way for the Grand Bozzywoz! Way, I tell you!"
	"There, there, not too bozzy!" warned the Sultan, as Chinda pushed Tuzzle out of his path and strode haughtily from the throne room, Then, as the Grand Vizier, muttering with vexation, rushed in the opposite direction, the Sultan hugged Confido tightly to his breast.
	Stupid fools!" wheezed the fat sovereign breathlessly. "They think I want the camel. It's not the camel we want, little treasure, but what's in the camel's left-hand saddle sack. Without that package I am lost, ruined, done for. How much longer must I wait and worry? Why, oh, wherefore did I ever let that package out of my hands or ever stow it in such a place?" Confido shook his head and licked the Sultan sympathetically on the nose, and much comforted his Majesty thumped upon the golden gong at his side and called in a loud voice for his afternoon coffee.
	Meanwhile, so well were the orders of the very Grand Vizier carried out that when the orange crescent moon rose over the turrets and domes of the Sultan's city, the Royal Sampan, fully loaded and ready for the journey, tugged impatiently at its golden chain. Not one, but twenty satin robes for Tuzzle, twenty fine embroidered shawls as a gift for Ozma of Oz, twenty roast fowl and twenty baskets of provisions had been stowed in the cushioned cabin of the ship. Under the orange awnings forward, a tremendous deck chair had been placed for the Grand Vizier, and a table beside the chair was heaped with apricots, figs, dates, oranges, almonds, and sweetmeats of every description, for Tuzzle had no intention of starving on the voyage. Rubbing his hands complacently, the Grand Vizier regarded everything with bland approval, for he anticipated a tranquil and pleasant trip and had always wished to visit the court of Ozma. Though no one in the Emerald City had ever heard of Samandra, the Samandrans, being one of the most ancient races in all Oz, knew all about the Emerald City and the famous folk who lived there. Samandra, you must know, lies at the very top of the Winkie Country, bordered on the North by the Deadly Desert and on the South by the Winkie River, and is directly between the Kingdoms of Corabia and Corumbia. But for five hundred years all three countries have been under the rule of the wily Sultan, who by some strange magic conquered both of his kingly neighbors, stole all their treasures, and transformed all their subjects. Carrying most of the treasure by caravan to Samandra, he let the conquered Kingdoms severely alone and uncared for, and deserted they have lain for long dusty centuries, their little villages overgrown with weeds, and their stately capitals fast falling to ruin and decay.
	Samandra itself, though largely made up of a golden-sanded desert, has many fertile valleys and plains-lovely flowerful spots, gay in the spring with daffodils and lotus, having an abundance of orange groves, date, palm and fig trees-so that life there is very lazy and luxurious. Though most of the Samandrans are more than seven centuries old, they do not show their age at all and are as happy and handsome a people as you could wish to find anywhere. The Sultan himself was as happy as any, except for occasional spells of remorse when he thought of his wicked treatment of the Corumbians and Corabians. But even this did not seriously interfere with his pleasure until he lost his favorite camel in a sudden sandstorm. Since then he had not known a peaceful moment and had so harassed his slaves, his attendants, and advisors, that life in the yellow castle had become well-nigh unbearable.
	"But now," thought the fat little rascal, rolling off his silken couch long before sunup, "now all my worries are over. In three or four days this wretched beast will be safely restored to me." Picking up Confido, he told the little dog in an earnest whisper just where he would stow the precious package once it was in his hands again. Then, without waiting for his body servants to come and dress him, he struggled into his royal robes, and with each of his yellow shoes on the wrong foot shuffled down to the Winkie River to speed Tuzzle upon his mission. By the time he reached the royal dock, the orange sails of the sampan were snapping in the wind. Tuzzle, having given orders to cast off, was already asleep in the deck chair forward, fanned by ten of his faithful servitors. At the Sultan's loud cries he opened one eye and waved his plump hand reassuringly.
	"Before the fire dies four times upon the hearthstones, we will return with the sacred camel," promised the Grand Vizier in his oily voice. And while Confido barked and the Sultan called further frantic orders and entreaties, the Royal Sampan slipped smoothly round a bend in the river and disappeared. If you have an Oz map handy, you will see that the Winkie River winds in a lazy fashion through the Great Empire of the East, turning here and then there till it comes finally to the outskirts of the Emerald City itself. Drifting gently with the tide, Tuzzle and his twenty slaves arrived a little be-fore sundown on the second evening at Ozma's lovely capital. Tying their boat to a willow on the edge of the stream, the Samandrans stepped ashore, and Tuzzle, arrayed in his grandest garb, prepared to present himself to the ruler of all Oz.

CHAPTER 6

Tuzzle at the Court of Oz

ABOUT fifteen minutes later, Bettsy and Dorothy, looking up from a game of croquet on the palace lawn, dropped their gold mallets and simply stared, for moving toward them under the lime-drop trees was a perfectly amazing procession. First came eight flowering orange branches, tall, splendid slaves bearing then the very Grand Vizier of Samandra in a very grand sedan chair, carried by four more slaves; back of him stepped the eight other slaves bearing the twenty embroidered shawls. Tuzzle, on his part, was as amazed as the little girls, for though he was accustomed to comfort and even elegance at the Sultan's court, the Emerald City so surpassed in beauty and magnificence any place he had ever seen or visited that he had done nothing but grunt and exclaim with admiration and surprise as he was rapidly borne along the jeweled streets of Ozma's lovely capital. By the time he reached the castle itself, he had barely breath enough to speak.
	"Princess"' puffed the Grand Vizier, as his chair came opposite Dorothy, whom he instantly recognized, "Princess, I would speak with the Queen of Oz."
	"Certainly! Certainly!" stuttered Dorothy, reaching up hastily for her crown, which she had hung on the branch of a tulip tree, while Bettsy in her interest and excitement tripped over a wicket and sat down. But picking herself up quickly the little girl ran ahead to announce the arrival of distinguished visitors, so that by the time the procession reached the castle, Ozma was already seated upon her throne, waiting with dignity to welcome them.
	"Your Majesty," began Tuzzle, stepping pompously from the sedan chair and bending himself almost in half, "his Serene Highness, the Sultan of Samandra, sends you his royal loyal greetings and salutations."
	"The greetings of his Highness are graciously received," answered Ozma kindly, though she had never heard of the Sultan in her whole life. "And what is it his Serene Highness desires of us?" she inquired, with a curious glance at the Samandran slaves. Long experience at ruling had taught her that strange sovereigns seldom sent gifts unless they wanted something in return.
	"His Highness," continued Tuzzle, a little embarrassed by Ozma's frank query,  "desires nothing more valuable than a camel. This camel was lost in a great sandstorm and has been missing ten long years from the royal herd. It is the favorite mount of his Excellency, so kind and comfortable a creature that since its loss our sovereign has been inconsolable. After countless unsuccessful searches, Chinda, our Chief Prophet and Seer has, with the aid of a magic telescope, caught a glimpse of the beast in your Majesty's stable." Casting down his eyes, Tuzzle waited anxiously for Ozma to speak.
	"Why, it must be the Comfortable Camel Sir Hokus brought to the Emerald City long ago!" exclaimed Dorothy, with a little hop of excitement, "Come on, let's go ask him."
	"Well, it will do no harm," answered Ozma, readily enough. "And if our Comfortable Camel really belongs to the Sultan of Samandra, and really wishes to return to his master, I see no reason why he should not do so, though we'll be sorry indeed to lose him."
	"Very good, your Highness!" mumbled Tuzzle, who was a little confused by the informal procedure at Ozma's court. Scraps, Trot, and the Scarecrow were playing leap frog at one end of the throne room. Tik Tok and the Cowardly Lion were running races at the other, and all the rest of the celebrities were grouped about the Lost King and the Soldier with Green Whiskers, who were in the midst of an exciting game of checkers. But when Ozma and the Grand Vizier started for the Royal Stables, they all stopped what they were doing and trooped along, causing Tuzzle much anxiety and uneasiness by their boisterous skips, vigorous claps upon the back, and continuous friendly questioning. But when the company reached the stall usually occupied by the Comfortable Camel, it was empty, and though grooms and stable boys were dispatched in every direction, no trace of the kindly creature could be found. The Doubtful Dromedary knew nothing of his whereabouts, and when a page was sent to question Sir Hokus, he reported that the Good Knight of Oz was also missing from his apartment. It was, as a matter of fact, the day after Sir Hokus had started upon his quest; but everyone in the palace had been so occupied preparing to accompany him that they had not missed the Good Knight at all.
	"Perhaps Sir Hokus has taken the camel to the next village for supplies," suggested Trot, and after many speculations and conjectures they all agreed that she might be right.
	"Never fear, they'll both be back," predicted the Scarecrow, winking cheerfully at the Grand Vizier, "and meanwhile, why not enjoy our hospitality? No, you seem to be well stuffed already," he observed, thumping Tuzzle upon the chest.
	"Nay, nay, the Sultan can illy spare me, muttered the Grand Vizier. "I must return at once!" And stepping into his sedan chair he motioned for the slaves to start.
	"And what about the shawls?" demanded Scraps, who had taken a great fancy to a white one embroidered in scarlet. "It's not our fault the Comfortable Camel has gone away.
	"Sh-h! Sh-h!" warned Ozma shaking her finger reprovingly at the Patchwork Girl, while Dorothy and Bettsy giggled in spite of themselves. "As soon as the Comfortable Camel returns we shall send a message to your illustrious master, promised Ozma, bowing politely to Tuzzle. "I am sure it will not be longer than a week."
	"Well, in that case,' wheezed the very Grand Vizier ungraciously, "I hope your Majesty will accept this small gift from the Sultan."
	"With pleasure," smiled Ozma, but before the slaves had time to present the shawls, Scraps snatched all twenty and throwing one to Dorothy, one to Trot, and one to Bettsy, dropped the rest in Ozma's lap and, wrapping herself tightly in the red and white one, whirled madly round and round Tuzzle. Fearing to linger longer at a court where animals conversed as sensibly as people, and such strange conduct was permitted, Tuzzle scrambled into his sedan chair. Bidding Ozma a hasty farewell, he ordered his attendants to carry him at once to the Royal Sampan. This they did, and at such a brisk run that the Oz folk burst into loud cheers of admiration and approval, for considering the size and weight of the very Grand Vizier, the speed of his slaves was remarkable.
	"Do you think the Comfortable Camel really belongs to this Sultan?" asked Dorothy, as the last Samandran disappeared from view.
	"Let's look in the magic picture!" suggested Bettsy Bobbin. "Let's see what he's like and find out where Sir Hokus and the Comfortable Camel have gone, too." As this seemed a sensible plan, they all hurried up into Ozma's sitting room. The magic picture, as most all of us know, is one of the most important of Ozma's treasures. She has but to ask the magic picture where a person is, and immediately he is shown in the exact country or city where he happens to be at the time of the question. So, with the celebrities looking breathlessly over her shoulder, Ozma pulled the cord that drew aside the curtain covering the picture, and said quietly, "Show us the Comfortable Camel." But stars! Nothing at all happened, for the magic picture was not there, and with little exclamations of alarm and dismay they gazed at the empty space on the wall.
	"Who can have taken it?" cried Dorothy indignantly.
	"Call the Wizard," shrilled the Scarecrow, and ran off, himself, to fetch him, But the Wizard, deep in his preparations for the Good Knight's quest, could throw no light upon the subject at all. In the huge encyclopedia of Oz they did learn a bit about Samandra, its ruler and its customs, but of the whereabouts of the Comfortable Camel, of Sir Hokus of Pokes, or the famous picture of Oz, even the Wizard's magic could tell them nothing.
	"But do not despair," begged the little man earnestly, that night at dinner. "I have almost perfected a new and marvelous invention. If our Good Knight and Comfortable Camel do not soon return, and if the magic picture is not found or discovered, I will seek them out with the help of my powerful searchlight. This searchlight, shot like an ordinary shell from a cannon, will travel all over Oz until it finds what it is sent for and then flash back with the exact location of the missing objects and people." Taking them down to his laboratory, the Wizard endeavored to explain the strange rays and phosphorescent material to be used in this latest magic contrivance. It was a little difficult to understand, but Ozma and her courtiers had great confidence in the Wizard's powers and, much cheered and comforted, they went off to bed.

CHAPTER 7

The Cruise of the Skyrocket

	"ARE you sure it s all right this time, Uncle Billy? And will it take us straight to Mars?" Tightening the strap on his leather helmet, the boy looked up at the tall man who was going over, for the last time, the strange craft that was to carry them on an exploration of the sky.
	"Well," answered the tall man, wiping his hands on a piece of waste, "it may not take us straight, Speedy, but we'll get there somehow. I've calculated the distance down to the last inch, and I can be on Mars by to-morrow morning. I'm not sure yet that I ought to take you, but on the other hand, I don't see how I can leave you behind."
	"Neither do I." Speedy spoke with feeling and finality. "You're the only one I've got, and I'm the only one you've got, so we'd better stick together, don't you think?" Uncle Billy nodded soberly, for Speedy was an orphan and had lived with him since he was a little fellow of two. The boy's real name was Bill, but his quickness on the track and baseball field had earned him the nickname of Speedy. At ten he was such a good chum and so helpful with Uncle Billy's inventions that the great scientist could not bear to leave him behind on this, the most important of his undertakings.
	"It isn't as if there was any real danger," he mused, tapping the steel sides of the torpedo. "In this we'll be as safe as if we were on a trolley car.
	"Safer!" exclaimed Speedy scornfully. "Oh, come on, Uncle Billy, set her off! I can hardly wait!' It was a bright, clear May morning, the weather and wind conditions just right, and Uncle Billy, as eager as Speedy to be off, helped the boy into the back seat and prepared to light the fuse that would send them skyward. The Skyrocket, as you've probably guessed, was a flying torpedo, and the explosion of the rocket attached to the tail would carry them straight and swiftly to the stars.
	"Now then," puffed Uncle Billy, with a quick glance at the Skyrocket's gears and brakes. "Remember! As soon as I jump in, slam down the top and slide the bolts. And if anything should happen, though of course it won't, pull the lever on your right. That will release the parashuter. Press the button in the parashuter and it will carry you safely down to earth. All ready?"
	Speedy nodded, clutching both sides of the leather seat, tense with excitement. He could hear the hiss and sputter as the electric lighter touched the fuse of the rocket. In one second more Uncle Billy would be in the driver's seat, the steel re-enforced lid of the torpedo ship would be down, the oxygen sprays, to keep them in comfort during the long trip, would start, and they would be off like a flash on their journey through the air. With a tremulous gasp, Speedy looked over his shoulder. As he did, there came a terrific jolt, and with an ear-splitting explosion the Skyrocket shot up toward the clouds. But Uncle Billy! Where in heck was Uncle Billy? Almost torn from his seat by the force of the start, Speedy looked desperately downward; then, as the wind ripped and tore past his head, he slammed the top of the torpedo and jumped into the front seat.
		  Uncle Billy had not been quick enough. Uncle Billy had been left behind. Forgetting all about the parashuter, forgetting everything except that he was tearing through space at a terrific rate toward a strange and undiscovered world, the boy grasped the steering wheel and gave it a sharp twist. His one thought was to get back to earth and pick up his uncle. With a sickening swerve the Skyrocket turned and sped downward so swiftly that Speedy, with his face glued to the thick glass window, could see nothing but a flying blur. A flash of green told him they were nearing earth, a tiny figure wildly waving its arms became visible, but only for the fraction of a second; then, with a frightful impact, the Skyrocket hit the flying field back of Speedy's Long Island home, broke through, and bored its way tumultuously downward, down through the dark, pathless depths of the underearth! The splintering crash of the torpedo, as it ripped and tore through roots, rocks, and metal, almost deafened the boy, and the violent vibration made him faint and dizzy. Mechanically he grasped the wheel and despairingly wondered what would ever become of him. Too late he realized that the torpedo could not be stopped until the force of the rocket was spent. Why hadn't he jumped with the parashuter, as soon as he discovered that Uncle Billy was not aboard? It was pitch dark inside, and as the roar of the Skyrocket grew louder Speedy touched an electric button. The cherry glow of the small lamps in the ceiling comforted him a little, but the vicious shake and rumble of the car made thinking almost impossible. Snake-like roots flashed past the window and snapped against the glass. Through rock strata streaked with gold, copper, coal, and silver, the Skyrocket splintered a pathway, and once they dove into a boiling mass of lava; the steel walls of the ship grew so hot that Speedy gave himself up for lost, but as the heat grew unbearable they plunged with a hiss into a deep, oily, underground sea filled with phosphorescent fish and terrifying monsters. Crouched behind the wheel, poor Speedy gasped, blinked, and shuddered. Would he go straight through the earth and drop out into nothingness on the other side? But just then the Skyrocket hit a particularly impervious piece of rock, and the ship gave such a bounce and backward leap that Speedy was flung out of the seat and knocked quite senseless. How long or how far he traveled in this helpless condition he never did discover; in fact he knew nothing at all till loud hammers and thumps on the outside of the torpedo finally aroused him. Surprised to find himself alive at all, he sat up and looked uncertainly around. The Skyrocket had really stopped. Strange square faces peered in through the window and motioned to him through the glass. Where on earth was he? Was he on the earth at all? Doubtfully Speedy stared up at the strangers; then, as the supply of oxygen was exhausted, and the air inside hot and stifling, he rose unsteadily, threw back the bolt and lifted up the top of the torpedo. Looking down into the faces of the curious crowd surrounding the Skyrocket, he wondered what Uncle Billy would do in such a situation But the strangers stared so hard and so unblinkingly that "Where am I?" This question, spoken in his ordinary tone of voice, burst like three sharp explosions on the quiet air, echoing and reverberating till the crowd covered their ears and fell away from him in terror.
	Astonished at the loudness of his own voice, Speedy swayed backwards himself. Then, as he was debating whether to stay in the ship or to alight and try to find out where he was, a little square-faced fellow separated himself from his companions and slowly approached him. He had scribbled something on a card, and handing the card to Speedy he hastily scuttled back to his place.
	"Lower your voice," directed the card in a nervous scrawl. "You are in Subterranea." Very much relieved to find he could understand the language of this odd race of underearth dwellers, Speedy nodded to show that he understood, and rather timidly the Subterraneans began to draw nearer. They were undersized, thin and undernourished little fellows, but dressed with great magnificence in metal-cloth robes, tall, stiff headdresses and shoes of pure gold, decorated with precious stones. Their square, not unpleasant faces were almost granite in color and though not of stone, seemed hard and mummy-like. Probably from this queer air and no sun, decided Speedy, staring at them with frank curiosity, and beginning to think that Subterranea might prove almost as interesting as Mars.
	The Skyrocket had come to a stop in the public square of this quaint underground city. Crooked pillars of irregular rock held up the blue stone sky in which the torpedo had cut a terrible gash. Radium stars in the sky sent out a misty phosphorescent glow. From the square, arched passageways branched out in every direction, not unlike the subways at home, except that they were much higher and lighter, beautifully tiled, and decorated with precious stones. Speedy was about to whisper a question, when a loud trumpet blast made him turn quickly to the left.
	"The Shah!" hissed the square faces impressively. "His Imperial Lowness, the Shah!" And waving their arms they bent down all together, like a field of wheat swept by a sudden wind, Wide-eyed with interest, Speedy saw an important little man dressed all in cloth of gold, with a headdress at least a yard high. He was seated cross-legged on a giant blue earthworm. It was as large and ugly as a sea serpent and its center section was raised to form a comfortable seat for the queer little monarch. On either side walked gorgeously attired attendants waving metal flags. As the great earthworm came to a stop, the Shah glanced inquiringly at Speedy, next up at the hole in the sky, and then, leaning down, took from the slave at his right a large mask and held it up to his face. The mask wore a ferocious scowl and Speedy began to feel rather uncomfortable. 	"Oh pshaw, Shah!" he whispered in an embarrassed wheeze, "how could I help breaking through the roof?" Instead of answering, the Shah clapped his hands twice and handed the mask back to the slave. Now out stepped a stiff little Subterranean, whom Speedy quite rightly guessed to be the Chief Counselor of the Shah. He seemed also to be a rhymer of no mean ability, and in low rapid verses began to drone out the following:

"The Shah The Shah! Of SubterraneAH!
In the tenth year of his splendid subter reign;
And whom the Shah displeases, his Headman quickly seizes
And hurls instanter from the Shah's domain!
I'm his Headman, as you see, all his subjects bow to me,
My name is Rhomba, see that you attend,
Why have you come at all? Did you fly or jump or fall,
Are you interloper, enemy, or friend?"

	"Friend," answered Speedy in a low voice, and chuckling in spite of himself. But his answer did not seem to appease his Imperial Lowness at all. Looking again at the hole in his sky, he took up the frowning mask and turned it again toward the boy.
	"Gosh!" thought Speedy uneasily, "I've certainly got to do some tall explaining; now what in Sam Hill shall I tell them?" All the little men were staring at him expectantly, and the one who had given him the card whispered aside to the monarch.
	"I think, from his high voice, he must be one of those Upperdwellers."
	"Speak, Upperdweller," hissed Rhomba, while the Shah changed his frowning mask for one whose blank expression upset Speedy even more than the frown. But remembering that he was the nephew of a famous scientist, and the holder of several records for high jumps and track events, he pulled himself together and in a calm whisper explained how the Skyrocket, in which he and Uncle Billy had intended to explore the sky, had gone off without the inventor; how he had turned the ship downward and crashed through to the center of the earth and landed in Subterranea through no intention or fault of his own. During this recital the Shah changed his mask twice. The first showed faint surprise, but the mask held up and slightly awry as Speedy finished his story was frankly yawning. Smothering his resentment at such treatment, Speedy went on hurriedly, "You see, if Uncle Billy had just been a little quicker, we'd have gone up instead of down and I'd never have come here at all. It was just a mix-up," he concluded earnestly.
  "Mix-down,' corrected Rhomba severely, as the Shah shook his head to show that the explanation was not satisfactory. Then, making several strange signals to his Headman, he tapped the earthworm with his heels and moved grandly and unconcernedly out of the square.
	  "Well?" inquired Speedy in a defiant whisper, as the Shah disappeared down a long, dim, blue tunnel.

"He doubts the truth of all you say;
But mend the sky and you can stay
And work upon the realm's defences-
If not, you'll take the consequences!"

	"And what are the consequences?" asked Speedy in a faint voice, for he had no desire to work for this crude little King.
	"Well," answered Rhomba, with a careless wave of his hand, "we usually throw lawbreakers to the fire fish in Lava Lake, and I suppose sky breakers might be called lawbreakers, too."
	"Lava Lake!" exclaimed Speedy, beginning to feel downright frightened. "But see here, how am I going to mend a great jagged hole like that? Why, I can't even reach it!" In his indignation he forgot to whisper, and at the terrible racket made by his voice the Subterraneans took to their gold heels. That is, all except Rhomba, who seemed to feel it his duty to remain.
	"That's your affair," he muttered indifferently. "You broke the sky-now mend it!" Switching his stiff robes from side to side, the Shah's Chief Headman followed the others, leaving Speedy all alone in the center of the square. His first impulse was to run, but a short dash down one of the tiled passageways convinced him that he would be lost in no time. Every few yards it turned and twisted and was intersected by other tunnels, and a body might as well have hoped to find his way out of a labyrinth. Picking his way slowly back to the square, Speedy was surprised to see one of the Shah's subjects sitting on a green bench near the Skyrocket.
	"My name is Zunda," whispered the little fellow, coming eagerly toward Speedy. "Perhaps I can help you, but I beg of you not to shout. It is so-so shattering. Tell me," he continued, before Speedy had time to say a word, "did you see anything of the other Underground Kingdoms on your way down? I have never traveled myself and am curious to know all."
	 "Are there other Kingdoms?" asked Speedy in a depressed whisper. "I only saw a lot of roots, rocks, underground seas, and lava. Are there more countries down here?"
	"Oh, yes! Yes, indeed!" And clutching Speedy's arm, Zunda began to drone out like a schoolboy reciting a lesson: "The Underworld is divided into nine levels. First there is Neath and Underneath; then Low and Below. After that come Down, Upsidedown, Farther Down and Allthewaydown. Then Subterranea. We're about as low as you can get," he finished boastfully.
	"Yes?" murmured Speedy, trying to appear interested. "But don't you think we'd better talk about mending this hole in the sky?"
	"What's the use of talking about that?" answered Zunda, with a little shrug. "It just can't be done. Now do tell me something about Upsidedown. I hear  the earthscrapers are forty feet long."
	"How long will it be before-before
	"Before you're thrown to the fire fish? Oh, not till to-morrow morning," Zunda assured him cheerfully. "That will give you time to see our city, the underwood and-"
	"Stop! Isn't there any way out of here?" Seizing the little Subterranean by both shoulders Speedy gave him a desperate shake. Zunda blinked but shook his head negatively. Speedy looked gloomily up at the great rent overhead, but climbing the stone pillars was perfectly impossible. The return rocket on the torpedo had been lost on the wild downward flight, and it did seem as if he never would escape from this queer and eerie Kingdom under the earth.
	"Oh, come along," urged Zunda comfortably under his breath, "You may as well see all you can before-before--" Feeling Speedy's violent shudder, he tactfully did not finish the sentence, but drew the little boy hurriedly across the square.

CHAPTER 8

A Golden Princess

	"I SUPPOSE you are wondering why our Shah never speaks," murmured Zunda, as they came to the end of one of the twisting tunnels. Then, as Speedy, too worried to wonder, made no reply, he confided importantly, "He is saving his voice so he never uses it; and he wears masks to express pleasure or displeasure to save his face.'
	"Well, if I had a face like his, I'd not bother to save it," said Speedy crossly, and as Zunda went on asking him questions and quite calmly of some way out of his dreadful difficulties. "These fellows aren't very big," he thought shrewdly, "and when they try to throw me in this Lava Lake, I'll tackle them by two's. I'll scream like fury, for that seems to upset them, and maybe if I'm quick I can knock out this Shah and Rhomba and make the rest of them behave. Why, I might even become their ruler!" he reflected suddenly. "Then I can sit tight till somebody comes down here to rescue me." Speedy felt sure that Uncle Billy would organize a search party and follow him down the great shaft cut by the Skyrocket. Immensely cheered, he began to look around with a little more interest. "I wonder what they eat down here," he thought curiously, for if he was to remain any time this would be an important thing to know. As if to answer his question, a squat underground peddler, with a huge basket on each arm, turned in from another tunnel. Opening the lid of one of the baskets he proudly indicated the contents. It seemed several days since breakfast and Speedy, hoping it would be fruit or cakes, looked in eagerly. With a violent shudder he jumped back, for the basket was full of writhing, squirming, wriggling earthworms.
	"Very tasty in a stew," smiled Zunda, as the peddler held up two long and particularly curly ones. But Speedy shook his head and waving the peddler away hurried along the tunnel, his nose scornfully in the air. Along the edges of the strange passageway, flagstone trapdoors in the floor kept opening and shutting, and Zunda explained that these were the entrances to the underground homes of his kinsmen. As they marched along, inquisitive heads popped up like Jack-in-the-Boxes and some of the bolder Subterraneans came out altogether and pattered cautiously after them, so that by the time they had come to the end of the passage quite a crowd had collected. They seemed perfectly friendly so Speedy paid no attention to them. Besides, he was much more interested in the strange vista opening out ahead.
	"The Royal Hunting Ground of his Supreme Lowness, the Shah!" exclaimed Zunda, with a sweeping wave of his left arm. "The deep, dark underwood where the gropers grope, the dragons drag, and Lava Lake boils on forever!" This last information, conveyed in a tense whisper, made Speedy decidedly uncomfortable, but to show that he was not easily frightened he stepped boldly into the underwood. Here the brown and green rock formations took the shape of gnarled and twisted trees. Phosphorescent material clung like vines to their trunks, shedding a weird, goblinish glow. Giant stone mushrooms thrust up their flat heads from the slimy ground, and in the distance Speedy could see a great lavafall tumbling smokily into the lake below.
	"Well? Well?" barked Zunda, plucking nervously at his sleeve. "Have you seen enough? Come on out before a groper gets us.
	"Groper?" queried Speedy, who did not want to turn back until he had seen the fire fish in Lava Lake. "What's a groper?"
	"A groper is a blind dragon who lives in the dismal caverns of darkness, back of the underwood. They cannot see, but they can hear the faintest footfall, and unlucky persons carried off by gropers are never heard from again."
	"Well, it wouldn't be any worse than being thrown to fire fish," muttered Speedy gloomily. "I'm going on.
	"Don't! Don't, I beg of you! No one ventures beyond the lake. Why destroy yourself before your time?" warned Zunda, giving Speedy's coat another tug.
	"Just the same," thought Speedy, as the little man continued to plead and pull, "it would be a pretty darn good place to hide; there might even be some way out on the other side. Thank goodness, I have my flashlight and could explore some of the caves. Why, I might even make some important scientific discoveries. Geewhiskers, I wish Uncle Billy were down here!" With many backward glances he allowed himself to be drawn out of the Shah's hunting grounds, and when they came again to the great square his mind was still full of the mysterious caves behind the underwood. Seated on one of the green benches, he paid little attention to the chatter of Zunda or the Subterraneans, who, going about their own affairs, pattered busily to and fro. Several times the Shah himself passed on his giant undulating earthworm and each time turned his frowning mask toward Speedy.
	"Cranky old crumb!" exclaimed the boy under his breath, as the stiff, gold-clad sovereign went by for the third time. "Say, what's the matter now?" for all the people in the square were scampering for shelter, tumbling down trapdoors, and even forgetting to lower their voices.
	"Run! It's going to subter-rain!" screamed Zunda, bounding off the bench and disappearing in three hops like a jack rabbit. Rhomba, the Rhymer, rushed by at a gallop.
	"Get under cover!" he directed breathlessly:

"When it rains in Subterranea, it pours down rays of sun,
The deadly sun that poisons one! Be quick, I tell you, run!"

	As Speedy sprang up uncertainly, a furious downpour of sunbeams almost blinded him. But instead of running away, he expanded his chest and took long deep breaths. Never had anything felt so good. The chill, heavy air of Subterranea seemed to clear and brighten. Speedy's head cleared, too. Not an undergrounder was in sight, and resolved to make his escape before any appeared, he ran quickly through the sparkling shower. Even the underwood looked cheerful drenched by the friendly sun rays, and hurrying along under the twisted trees, Speedy Fervently hoped all the dragons were asleep or otherwise occupied. Just for a moment he paused beside Lava Lake, but when the fire fish, about the size of sharks, rose hungrily to the surface and snapped their flaming teeth at him, he ran off as fast as he could, never stopping until he came to the end of the underwood and stepped into the cavernous country on the other side. The sun storm made it quite light, and Speedy, hurrying along, kept a sharp lookout for gropers. Hot springs and small geysers bubbled up here and there between the rocks and reminded him not a little of the Yellowstone country and the Grand Canyon. But suddenly, as quickly as it had started, the sun storm ceased, and without warning Speedy was left in a thick, choking darkness. At the same instant a low threatening growl rumbled over the rocks.
	"Gropers!" gasped Speedy. Frantically feeling for his flashlight, he dashed headlong into the nearest cave, collided with a hard object in the center, and fell with a terrible thump to the floor. Rather slowly and doubtfully he sat up, and at last locating his flash pressed the button to see what under the sun he had bumped into. What he saw brought him to his feet in a jiffy. Lying on its side a short distance away was a solid gold statue, the statue of a quaint little Princess in a great stiff ruff. She was about a head taller than Speedy himself and her expression was so sweet and merry that he earnestly wished she were alive. Neither in face nor figure was she at all like the Subterraneans, and the little boy could not help wondering how the statue had come to this dark, dismal spot. Placing his flash on a ledge of rock so that it cast a good light, he tiptoed nearer and seizing the little gold hands of the Princess began to tug her to an upright position. He had succeeded in raising the statue about five inches when the Princess quite unexpectedly opened her eyes and smiled at him. Speedy was so startled that he let go her hands and she fell back with a hard bump on the rocks. Her smile changed to a look of bewilderment, and as Speedy, hastily recovering himself, seized her hands again a still more astonishing thing happened. Suddenly the hard, gold folds of her dress melted into rippling silken ones, the gold faded from her face and hands leaving them pink and rosy, the stiff, carved gold curls clustered round her lovely face lifted and lightened and began to dance and blow in the damp wind of the cave.
	"Good-morrow!" said the Princess, as Speedy stared at her in open-mouthed wonder. "Are you going to help me up, or not?' With a quick pull he had her on her feet; then seeing that her crown had rolled into a corner he quickly recovered it and held it out to her.
	"I-I was sorta surprised when you came to life," he explained, with an embarrassed swallow. "I'm awfully sorry I let you fall-but I didn't know you were alive."
	"Alive?" laughed the little Princess, setting the crown carelessly on the back of her head. "Am I were alive?"
	"Why-why-" stuttered Speedy, hardly knowing how to explain. "It's what you are now, seeing, thinking, feeling, being the same as I am.
	"Oh!" The Princess looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you alive, too? Well, then I shan't mind it." Speedy nodded. Everything about this Princess was so strange and puzzling that he scarcely knew where to begin his questions. "Have you a name?" he asked finally. Seeing by her bewildered expression that she did not know, he dropped quickly to one knee, for he had suddenly remembered that statues often have their names stamped on the base. Sure enough, still visible on the silken hem of her dress were two words, "Princess Marygolden."
	"Your name's Marygolden," announced Speedy, jumping up in great relief, "and now "The Princess looked at him expectantly, but before he could finish his sentence there came a scraping of claws on the rocks outside and a great, green, scaly dragon hurled itself through the opening of the cave. Speedy, snatching his flashlight, clutched Marygolden and backed as far away as he could. The dragon, lifting his ugly head, moved it slowly from side to side and gave three furious sniffs that filled the air with smoke and sulphur. Then it was that Speedy saw it had no eyes. It was a groper, and could not see them at all. As the monster came toward them, the little boy flattened himself against the rock wall, and as soon as it was out of the mouth of the cave he rushed wildly through the opening, pulling the Princess along. Guided by the faint glow from his flashlight, he stumbled over rocks and ridges, sometimes escaping ghastly crevices and boiling springs by mere inches. Marygolden had changed all of his plans. It was all very well for a boy to go exploring through a lot of dungeony caverns, but for a Princess to be chased by deadly dragonish monsters was not the thing. So Speedy decided to return and throw himself on the mercy of the Shah. Perhaps the little sovereign could even explain the strange coming-to-life of the golden statue. He, himself, might, perhaps, be regarded as a hero and a rescuer and not thrown to the fire fish, after all. Marygolden, holding tightly to his hand, ran nearly as fast as he did, and in almost no time they had left the cavernous country behind and stopped to rest under a pink stone tree in the underwood.
	"Is this-being--alive?" puffed the Princess, taking off her crown and using it for a fan.
	"Well," admitted Speedy judicially, "if we hadn't run like that the groper would have caught us and we wouldn't have been alive long after that. But we don't have to run all the time," he went on hastily. "Sometimes we walk, like this-see!" Taking her hand again, Speedy started slowly through the underwood. Marygolden fell in step quite easily, and looking up at his lovely companion Speedy smiled encouragingly. "She's older than I am but knows nothing at all," thought the boy complacently. "I'll just have to take care of her till something turns up." Something, as it happened, turned up very soon, for as Speedy and Marygolden entered the public square of Subterranea, a crowd of undergrounders, catching sight of them, forgot to whisper and burst into earsplitting shrieks and yells. Waving their arms and pointing accusingly at the Princess, they ran screaming for the Shah. Speedy looked nervously around for Zunda, who seemed to be the only friend he had. But instead of Zunda, the Shah himself, supported on each side by a slave, came panting on the scene. While the Subterraneans continued to shout with anger, the Shah snatched mask after mask from his attendants and held them up toward Speedy. The first was a growling lion, then came a fierce tiger, next a horribly scowling goblin, each mask growing more ferocious than the last. Convinced that the Shah was frightfully displeased, Speedy tightened his hold on Marygolden, and making a dash for the Skyrocket jumped in; pulling the Princess after him, he slammed down the top. Marygolden, more interested than alarmed, pressed her pretty face against the window glass, but Speedy, as the undergrounders with bars and clubs fell upon the torpedo, began to feel terribly anxious. The Skyrocket could not withstand their blows forever and when it did give way what would happen to them? Staring around desperately his eye lighted on the lever that controlled the parashuter.
	"But that goes down," groaned Speedy, "and gosh knows, we're down far enough now!" Then, remembering that the Skyrocket itself, while made to go up, had travelled quite successfully in the other direction, he pushed back his leather helmet and dropped to his knees. If he released the parashuter and pointed it up, why would it not carry them aloft through the shaft cut by the torpedo? Whether it would or not, it was their only chance, and pulling the lever Speedy released the strange apparatus, fastening one strap around Marygolden and one around him-self. Then, clasping the hands of the little Princess around the handle, he pressed the button in the top, seized the handle himself, and with a violent effort pointed the parashuter straight up. The first pull of the lever had opened a trapdoor in the roof of the Skyrocket, and as the Subterraneans, with little shouts of triumph, swarmed around the opening, the parashuter burst out, scattering them in every direction. Safely it shot through the gash in the blue stone sky, but missing the tunnel cut by the Skyrocket, began tearing its own way through earth, rock, and sand. "It's a good thing we're tied on," thought Speedy, gritting his teeth. He tried to call something reassuring to Marygolden but the awful speed of the parashuter made that impossible, and not sure whether they would be crushed by falling rock or scalded by boiling lava, Speedy clung doggedly to the bone handle of Uncle Billy's remarkable umbrella.

CHAPTER 9

Sir Hokus Meets an Old Friend

IT was a joy to be on firm land again, and after leaving Ploppa, Sir Hokus strode briskly across the yellow plain. At the first stream he stopped to wash the last of the swamp mud from his armor; then, throwing out his chest, he marched resolutely toward the strange, tall castle.
	"Mayhap a true and Knightly adventure awaits me here," he mused, surveying through half-closed eyes its glittering and distant spires. But the castle was a long way off, and thinking of this and that, but mostly of his queer encounter with the Marshlanders and the curious and kindly turtle, the Knight trudged cheerfully along, coming in the late afternoon to a little wood. Here he paused and sat down under a gnarled old tree to rest. Soothed by the rustle of the branches, he must have fallen asleep, for when he awakened it was almost dark and someone was shaking him violently. There was a strange hissing noise in his ears and a Feeling of suffocation in his chest. Blinking both eyes rapidly, Sir Hokus, now thoroughly aroused, found himself suspended in the air, held in the smothering coils of a huge green serpent. And more alarming still, all around him were other serpents, twisting and writhing and thrusting out their ugly flat heads. The tree under which he had fallen asleep was a serpent tree; each branch growing out of the scarred, scaly trunk was a green and glistening snake.
	Now Sir Hokus, in the course of his adventurous life, had been in many tight places, but this was quite the worst. With both arms pinioned to his sides he was powerless to draw his sword, and only his heavy armor saved him from being utterly crushed, or poisoned by the darting tongues of the unsightly monsters.
	"There is but one thing to do, odds buttons! One thing!" he panted, trying in vain to free himself from the choking embrace, "and that, to perish manfully and unafraid!" So, with what breath he had left, the valiant Knight burst into a defiant battle song.

	"What HO! 'Tis the challenge of good Knights and true,
	What HO! For the swords and the daggers!
	The lances that clash, the good steeds that crash,
	The tilting and jousting that staggers!

	"What HO! 'Tis the challenge all good Knights must heed,
	What HO! 'Tis the call of defiance,
	In the furious fray
	Ye shall perish this day
	All ye despots, ye dragons, ye giants!'

	To the first verse of this song the serpents paid small attention, but at the second, every snakish branch began to sway and swing in rhythm. At the third line, the serpent encircling Sir Hokus started to unwind, moving in perfect time with the others. As the Knight felt the loosening of the coils around his waist, he gave a joyous shout; then, seeing the effect his song was having, he bawled as loud as he could. With closed eyes the snakes now waved and rippled in time to the music, and as he reached the last note of his war cry the one holding him straightened out with a rapturous hiss and Sir Hokus fell crashing to earth. He lost no time in rolling out of the trees reach, and for some moments lay panting and exhausted on the ground, while the snake tree, suddenly deprived of its victim and no longer under the spell of the song, began to snap, rattle, and hiss with fury. But Sir Hokus did not even open his eyes.
	Now, as it happened, the serpents were not the only ones who had heard the good Knight's singing. Plodding wearily along through the dust, another creature pricked up its ears as the booming notes rang through the wood. Then, gathering up its long legs and hunching along in great, awkward leaps, it ran straight toward the singer, so that by the time Sir Hokus had struggled to a sitting position it had reached him, and falling upon its knees, licked him frantically through the bars of his helmet.
	"Hokus, my dear discoverer, there you are, there you are at last!" it gulped happily. "I had almost given up the search when I heard that grand old song.
	"Camy! By the beard of my father's goat, 'tis Camy himself!" And sitting up joyfully Sir Hokus gave the Comfortable Camel a resounding and affectionate thwack on the hump. Then, as the Camel, backing off to have a better look at him, drew near the darting branches of the serpent tree, he seized its bridle and jerked his thumb warningly in the tree's direction. Gamy looked inquiringly over his shoulder, then gave a terrified bleat.
	"For pity sakes, for pity snakes," he squealed, sitting down with a thump. "What's this? What's this?"
	"A good thing to keep away from," rumbled the Knight, "though I'm minded to cut off every single branch to pay for the squeezing I've suffered."
	"Squeezing!" coughed the Camel, rolling its eyes wildly. "Oh, my dear Hokus, what have you escaped? But I beg of you not to cut off those serpents. How uncomfortable it would be if they were all loose and free to chase us through the wood!"
	"Methinks you're right!" sighed Sir Hokus, regretfully returning his sword to its scabbard. "But let us be gone and away from this accursed spot." Seizing hold of its bridle, he pulled himself erect, and walking slowly at the creature's head related all that had befallen him since he left the Emerald City. Then the Comfortable Camel told how it had followed him on the very night of his departure.
	"Fortunately I had on my trappings and saddle sacks," it confided, with a satisfied sniff, "and spoke to no one of my purpose, for I knew you'd not want the whole menagerie after you. But I did think you should have something comfortable to ride." Looking up at the tossing seat on the Camel's back, Sir Hokus sighed resignedly. Camel riding was not his idea of comfort, but he would not hurt the faithful creature's feelings by saying so.
	"Did you come through the swamp?" he asked curiously.
	"Went around," explained the Camel shortly, "and thought I'd lost you till I heard that old song.
	"Well, 'twas like to have been my last," admitted Sir Hokus, with a grave shake of his head, "but tell me, how goes it at the capital?"
	"They were still preparing for your quest when I left," chuckled the Camel comfortably, "and probably haven't missed you, even yet. By the way, where are we bound?"
	"'Tis too dark to see, but on the other side of this wood stands a splendid, tall castle. Me thinks there I shall find a proper adventure."
	"Then," decided the Comfortable Camel firmly, "we shall require rest. Let us camp in this field for the night and pursue our journey in the morning." They had, by this time, come safely out of the wood, and all the other trees being of a usual and harmless nature, had experienced no further difficulties.
	"In my right-hand saddle sack you will find a tent," announced the Comfortable Camel quietly, "a tent, shawls, and other comforts."
	"Hast, perchance, a sandwich or goodly tart?" inquired the Knight, rummaging eagerly in the huge baskets that hung from the Camel's hump.
	"I came just as I was," answered Camy regretfully. "I was afraid if I stopped for supplies someone might suspect and follow me."
	"Ah, well," said Sir Hokus, pulling out the tent, "an adventurer must endure some hardships. Perchance a great feast awaits us in yonder hall!"
	"Perchance," yawned the Camel, kneeling awkwardly upon the ground and disposing himself for the night. It did not take Sir Hokus long to put up the tent, an embroidered, silken affair with a collapsible bamboo pole. Spreading some thick shawls on the ground and a pillow for his head, the Knight removed his armor, and being exceedingly weary after the adventures of the day, soon fell asleep. He dreamed he was in a splendid ship, sailing into the harbor of a crystal city. A golden-haired Princess waved to him from a crystal tower, and leaning over the rail of the ship to wave back, Sir Hokus bumped his head on his sword and awoke. Awoke to find himself really sailing, sailing through the air, the tent top snapping and flapping in the breezes.
	"How, now! And what means this?" gasped the Knight, jumping up in alarm. A look through the tent flap was more astonishing still. There was Camy snoring calmly beside the tent; there was the tulip tree he remembered seeing before he retired-there, I say, was the field itself, but not resting on the solid ground. No, odds whirligigs and kite tails! 'Twas flying, flying like a magic carpet through the night. The stars twinkled up above, the lights from little towns and villages twinkled down below, and Sir Hokus, frantically clasping on his armor, thumped the Comfortable Camel hard upon the head.
"What's up?" inquired the Camel, opening one eye and yawning tremendously. "What's up?"
	"Why we are!" exclaimed Sir Hokus, with an excited flourish of his sword. "Up and away through the sky and flying Oz knows where!" Opening the other eye, the Camel lurched unsteadily to its feet,
	"But we're quite comfortable--" he muttered uneasily, "and-so-far--quite--safe. It must be one of those flying fields Peter was telling us about." Now Peter, as many of you know, is a little Philadelphia boy who has visited Oz and spent many adventurous days with the celebrities.
	"Oh, no, no, no!" said Sir Hokus, shaking his head positively. "Flying fields in America are not like this at all. Flying fields in America stand still and the airplanes do the flying and come to rest on the fields. But this field-this field is flying itself. Why, it may even carry us out of Oz!"
"Shall-shall we jump?" quavered the Comfortable Camel, bobbing his head nervously. Then, as Sir Hokus walked to the edge of the flying field and looked over, he gave a frightened scream. "Take care! Take care, or you'll tumble off and break yourself!" he called anxiously, and seizing the Knight by the mail shirt-tail dragged him determinedly away. It was nearly a mile to the ground, and sitting down on a big rock in the center of the field Sir Hokus stared dizzily at the clouds whirling by, and at the stars shining unconcernedly over their heads.
	"At this rate, we'll be at the end of nowhere before we can stop ourselves," groaned the Knight despondently. "Every time I fall asleep a disaster overtakes me.
	"Disaster goes very fast," shuddered the Comfortable Camel, pressing as close to Sir Hokus as he could, and for almost an hour they huddled together as the field flew on and on over the hills and forests of Oz. One by one the stars faded out and the first rosy streaks of morning began to tinge the sky. Then, as the sun came up, the flying field came down, swooping toward the earth with such speed and suddenness that Sir Hokus was hurled off the rock and only saved himself by seizing hold of a furze bush. The Comfortable Camel, flung against a tree, was kept from falling in the same manner. But when it had almost reached the ground, the flying field tilted sideways into a perfect precipice, and Sir Hokus and the Camel rolled like cannon balls to the bottom, the tent coming down hard upon their heads so that they did not see the field straighten up and fly carelessly off without them.

CHAPTER 10

The Deserted City

UNTANGLING himself from the tent folds, Sir Hokus sprang to his feet and looked eagerly around him. They had tumbled into the courtyard of a tall, strange castle of gold, but grass grew a foot high between the gold bricks in the court, the windows of the castle were all broken, and birds flew twittering in and out, while the castle itself was almost buried under a waving mass of vines. As Sir Hokus, pushing back his helmet, squinted uneasily upward, three page boys, just visible on the tallest tower, lifted their arms and blew three long, shrill blasts upon their trumpets. As the clear silvery notes, leaving a hundred rippling echoes in the still, morning air, finally died away, the pages let their arms drop stiffly at their sides and stood as rigid as statues, which was not surprising because they were statues, statues of pure gold.
	"Camy! Camy!" wheezed the Knight, dragging the rest of the tent off the Comfortable Camel. "Didst hear yon curious clamor?"
	"Well," mumbled the Camel, heaving himself upward with a great creaking of harness and saddlery, "I heard something. Maybe it's the call to breakfast," he continued, sniffing the air hopefully. Then, as he took in the perfectly deserted courtyard and forsaken castle, his eyes bulged with disappointment and dismay. "Who blew?" he wheezed hoarsely. Without speaking, Sir Hokus waved his sword at the golden statues. "No!" murmured the Camel, flattening back his ears and wriggling his nose very fast. "Great grandmothers! In a mere moment the inhabitants may fall upon us with swords, spears, and daggers!"
	"Methinks," sighed Sir Hokus, walking slowly toward the castle, "methinks we'll find here neither friend nor foe. What ho! What ho, within!" he called loudly, but only his own voice came echoing sadly back to him so pushing open the gold studded door he stepped cautiously inside, the Camel treading timidly at his heels. But though they walked through all the grand rooms, upstairs and down, they found no one. The furniture, being solid gold, had happily withstood the ravages of time, but the curtains and tapestries had crumbled to powder, and the dust blown in through the windows lay so thickly on the floors and sills that flowers had taken root then and grew as luxuriously inside as out. Rabbits and other small forest creatures peered out anxiously as the Knight and his Camel went thumping through the halls. Sir Hokus tried to extract some information about the former owner of the castle from a tiny fawn he cornered in the dining hall, but if the little fellow could talk he did not choose to, and with one bound leapt out of the window.
	"Some mighty monarch, mayhap, lived here," mused the Knight, leaning thoughtfully against the great mantel, while the Comfortable Camel nibbled the top of a young tree that had grown up in the fireplace. "But what boots it? He is not here now. What a curious quest this is turning out to be, Camy. I seek a maiden to rescue and find a swamp witch determined to marry; I seek a monster to slay and am seized by a snake tree; I search for a monarch to serve and find only his empty castle."
	"Yes, but wouldn't you call the way we reached this castle an adventure?" observed the Camel, speaking a bit indistinctly because his mouth was full of leaves. "Not many have travelled on a flying field, Hokus, and there may be a dragon lurking in these very forests, for all we know."
	"A dragon! Odds thumpenny! Why, so there may! I'll slay me a dragon yet! How you comfort me, Camy. And perchance I'll find a breakfast, too." Completely cheered, Sir Hokus strode briskly toward the door and down the golden steps.
	"Which would you rather find first," inquired the Camel, ambling slowly after him, "the breakfast, or the dragon?"
	"The dragon," answered the Knight promptly. "One can eat any time, but to slay a dragon!-Ah! how that would refresh me!"
	"These leaves refresh me more," said the Camel calmly. "Too bad you cannot enjoy some of these nice, tender twigs." Sir Hokus nodded absently.
	Tis strange, most strange, about yon trumpets," he mused, looking thoughtfully back at the deserted castle,
	"Everything's strange," admitted the Camel readily, "but that's what we're seeking, isn't it? Perhaps those trumpets go off like the burglar alarms in our castle at home when strangers tread in the courtyard."
	"But there's no electricity here," objected the Knight. "This castle is centuries old, Camy, and so is this city."
	"And so is this forest!" exclaimed the Camel, peering uncertainly into the tangle of vines and trees ahead. "Shall we go on?"
	"Most certainly. Hast forgotten the dragon?" Rushing ahead, Sir Hokus forced his way between two giant oaks, and stepped into a great, rustling, green forest. Moving cautiously between the mighty trees, many times having to slash a path for the Camel and himself with his sword, Sir Hokus looked sharply about for signs of a dragon or a breakfast. But after an hour's tramp he had found neither, and weary and somewhat downhearted seated himself beside a silvery forest stream and tried to forget how ravenously hungry he was. Camy, after quenching his thirst and storing up a vast quantity of water for future use, knelt down beside the Knight and was soon asleep. Sir Hokus, sitting with his back against the smooth trunk of a lyre bush, was presently aware of faint music, strange old tunes he had not heard since he was a boy, seven centuries ago. He jumped up, and parting the branches of the bush looked all around for signs of the singer, but could see no one. But as soon as he sat down the music began anew, It seemed to come from the bush itself. "Odds pasties! I'm dreaming!" muttered the Knight, starting to walk briskly up and down the banks of the little river. "There's no one here to sing!" Great green willows dropped their branches into the stream, and as Sir Hokus paused under one of the largest and loveliest, the willow began to weep in real earnest and big tears splashed down upon the Knight's armor. Its long feathery arms touched him on the cheek and rested gently on his shoulders, and Sir Hokus could have sworn he heard a voice sorrowfully calling him.
	'Tis hunger that makes me imagine all this!" puffed the Knight, uneasily wiping away the tears. When the stomach is empty the head is full of fancies." But the tears were certainly real tears, and extremely upset and puzzled, Sir Hokus started back toward the Comfortable Camel. Several horse chestnuts, as he passed under their branches, shook themselves violently so that a shower of chestnut burrs pattered down upon him, almost, thought Sir Hokus, as if they were trying to attract his attention. Leaning against the Comfortable Camel, the Knight mopped his brow, and turning his back upon the willows fixed his gaze upon a gaudy vine that clambered riotously over a dead tree. It was covered with belllike flowers that rang and jingled pleasantly in the wind. Birds, after resting among its pink blossoms, began immediately to laugh, chatter, and fairly rock with merriment. "Funny!" thought Sir Hokus as two crows, alighting on the vine, burst into loud haw haws and then flew screaming away over the tree tops. "I'm feverish!" panted the Knight, feeling his pulse anxiously. "Odds goblets, I've heard crows caw but never haw before. I'm feverish and starving by inches." Falling upon the Comfortable Camel's saddle sacks he began burrowing wildly among their contents in search of a stray cracker or jar of jam left from some palace picnic. It seemed to the Knight that the birds perched upon the gay vine laughed more hilariously than ever as he rummaged through the great basketlike containers, almost as if they were making fun of him, but the Comfortable Camel never awakened at all, snoring peacefully through the whole performance. There was nothing eatable in the right-hand saddle sack, and Sir Hokus, after emptying the left, had about given up in disgust, when he discovered a tiny catch, and turning the catch found a hidden compartment in the bottom of the sack. In this compartment were two fat packages wrapped in silver paper. Sir Hokus had the cover off the first in no time, Inside lay six large, fat figs, and without delay he popped one into his mouth, then another, and another, and another, till the whole six were gone. Feeling a little better, but far from satisfied, he now opened the second package. This contained six large dates, and settling back with a contented sigh the famished Knight tried one of the dates. Both figs and dates were dry and hard and had evidently lain in the sack for a long, long time, but to Sir Hokus they tasted perfectly delicious. A company of jays were now swinging on the vine and laughed so saucily at the Knight that when he finished the date he sent the date seed spinning into their midst. With little shrieks and chatters, the jays flew into the air, but the vine-swords and swordfish! --the vine gave itself a brisk shake that set all the pink bell-flowers ringing merrily, and then slowly began to unwind. Now it twisted and whirled and spun till Sir Hokus could see nothing but a flying blur of pink and green. Dropping the package of dates, he rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure he had seen aught, and as he did so the whirling ceased, and where the vine had been stood a mirthful and carefree person in a belled cap. He seemed as puzzled as Sir Hokus and after blinking at him a moment in silence, remarked in a confidential aside to himself:

"A Knight, a Knight, as I live! So I am to
	begin the day with night
The day is young, the Knight is old; now
	is he brave, and is he bold?"

	"Never mind that!" blustered Sir Hokus, hopping up in great excitement. "Who are you and how came you here?"
	"Can't you guess?" With a delighted bounce, the fellow shook his belled stick:

"I'm just a jester gesturing
To keep the company gay,
I'm just a jester gesturing
My whole long life away!

"As a matter of fact," he continued, sobering down suddenly, "I think I've been enchanted. I seem to have been a funnysuckle vine and my head's still full of twits and twitters. Even as a funnysuckle vine I still could be gay. Did you hear the birds laughing at my riddles?"
	"So that's what made them laugh!" roared Sir Hokus, slapping his knee and then rubbing the side of his hand where the armor had bruised it. "A funnysuckle vine, and when I flung the date seed you became-"
	"Myself!" announced the jester, with a sweeping bow, "And as my beneficent restorer, I thank you upon bended knee."
	"Go to, now! Go to!" puffed the Knight, pulling the fellow to his feet. "And a bother on this 'bended knee stuff. Canst tell me aught of yon golden castle?"
	"Castle?" murmured the jester, shaking his head with a puzzled frown. "Castle? I remember no castle!"
	"But you must have lived in a castle," insisted Sir Hokus, "and if you were enchanted, so must the others have been. What country is this, and what King did you serve?"
	"King? Country? Faith, and I remember nothing! Nothing!" Shaking his head again until all the bells on his cap tinkled, the jester looked uneasily at the Knight. "I've been a vine so long I guess I'm still twisted," he admitted regretfully. "But come, there are other Kings, and other castles; the sun shines and the sky is blue. Let us forget the past and address ourselves to the future. You, being a Knight, must serve some King. Let me go back to his court with you!"
	"I serve Queen Ozma of Oz, but I am now bound upon a quest to render assistance to a maiden, slay a monster, or serve a monarch."
	"Maidens, monsters, monarchs," chanted the jester, counting them off on his fingers, "how I dote upon all three. I, too, will go upon this quest and make the going merry, be assured of that; most merry." Turning a somersault, the jester winked mischievously at Sir Hokus, but the Knight, with a little frown, was looking for the package of dates, Some mysterious power was in that date seed and if one enchantment had been broken, so reasoned Sir Hokus, might not others be dispelled? Why, he might even discover the King of the Golden Castle! But though he kicked aside the leaves and went carefully over every inch of ground where he had been sitting, and where the funnysuckle vine had been, there was not a trace of the dates anywhere. The jester, meanwhile, delighted to find himself alive, skipped and danced from tree to tree, seeming to care nothing for his former life or master, and when, with a sigh, Sir Hokus finally gave up searching for the dates, he tugged him impatiently by the arm.
	"Let us be off and be gone," he begged earnestly. "This forest is enchanted and if we tarry here we may be caught in some evil spell. To horse! To horse, good Knight! Let us be away and seek our fortunes elsewhere!" Then, his eye falling for the first time upon the sleeping Camel, he gave a great bounce and burst into such a roar of laughter that Camy awoke with a startled grunt of surprise. "Since when!" shrieked the jester, holding both his sides. "Since when have Knights ridden camels?" Without bothering to explain, Sir Hokus hurried over to the Comfortable Camel and quickly told him all that had happened. The Camel, after an amazed glance at the jester, lurched hurriedly to his feet,
	"The fellow is right," he snorted anxiously. "This forest is bewitched; let us get off before we take root and turn into turnips."
	"Many happy returnips!" chuckled the jester, jumping over a tree stump. "To camel! To camel, good Knight! Will you never be moving? Come on, Comical," he roared, snatching the Camel's bridle and giving it a playful twist.
	"Mind what you're about," said Sir Hokus in a vexed voice, for he was not going to have Camy insulted. Then, as the strange murmuring of the forest was beginning to oppress him terribly, he started to walk rapidly along the banks of the little stream, for this, he felt, would sooner or later lead them out into the open.

CHAPTER 11

The	Knight Loses His Camel

THEY had gone but a few yards when the jester, capering along ahead, turned round and leapt three times into the air,
	"Stop!" he called imperiously. "Stop! I've just remembered something."
	"How now, and what is it?" demanded the Knight, rushing forward impetuously and hoping it would be something about the golden castle and its owner.
	"My name!" exulted the jester, tossing his cap into the air and catching it on his belled stick. "My name is Peter Pun."
"Oh bother your name, 'fumed Sir Hokus in a disappointed voice. "That's not important."
'Well, it's important to me," insisted the jester, hopping across the stream and back for pure joy:

"Peter Pun gives everyone
A taste of jollity and fun."

	"I'd rather have a taste of biscuit, or bacon and eggs," sighed the Knight. "Six figs and one date make a poor enough breakfast for a fighting man.
	"Date!" chattered the Comfortable Camel, taking several quick steps and resting his head on the Knight's shoulder. "Do you realize you've eaten a magic date, Hokus, and may turn into something else any minute?"
	"He's turning! He's turning!" yelled Peter Pun, pointing his finger warningly.
	"Turning!" groaned Sir Hokus, clapping his
hand to his forehead.
	"Turning round," laughed Peter, hopping behind a tree to escape the Knight's long arm.
	"You're a fool," hissed the Camel angrily. "Can't you understand that this is serious?"
	"How can a fool be serious?" inquired Peter, tickling the Camel on the nose with a long branch.
	"There's really no harm in him," whispered Sir Hokus in Camy's ear. "And methinks all the magic in the date rested in the seed I flung at the funnysuckle vine.

"Methinks you're right, Good Knight! Good Knight!
We'll solve the riddle later;
At any rate, you ate the date,
And now are full of dayter!"

"Data," corrected Sir Hokus. "Odds pasties, would I had the rest of that package!"
	"Well I don't," said the Comfortable Camel, compressing his lips severely. "We've trouble enough with this one fellow without disenchanting any more. Much better to have left him a vine. Can't you walk along sensibly and stop climbing every tree you come to?" he snorted fretfully, as Peter swung along from branch to branch more like a monkey than a person.
	"If you'd been a vine as long as I, you'd climb trees too," laughed Peter, dropping lightly on the Camel's hump. "I keep thinking I'm a vine," he murmured dreamily, winding both arms around the Comfortable Camel's back and hugging him vigorously. "And how I do dote on you, old potato!"
	"There! There!" cautioned the Camel. "Don't choke me to death." In spite of his sauciness, there was something so lovable about the little jester that Camy did not mind the embrace nearly as much as he pretended. "Get back in the saddle," he grunted gruffly, "and see if you can't keep quiet for five minutes. It's so much more comfortable keeping quiet."
	"Who wants to be comfortable?" said Peter, standing on his head in the middle of the high seat, "Who wants to be comfortable? I'd rather be gay! Say:

"A company of four tried to walk through a door,
But the door slammed them all on the nose.
Can you tell me just why? Or at least have atry?
It's easier than you'd suppose!"

	"Was it a true door?" asked the Knight, who was foolishly fond of riddles.
	"As true a door as you'd find anywhere in your travels," admitted Peter, settling down cozily in the seat on the Camel's hump.
	"I don't see how it could slam anyone on the nose unless there was someone back of it," put in the Comfortable Camel, pulling a long wisp from an overhanging vine and munching it thoughtfully. "Nor do I," agreed the Knight.
	"Come now, what kind of door was it, Peter?"
	"A troubadour!" sang out the jester, kicking up his heels. "And if you were a troubadour, and four tried to walk through you, would you not slam them on the nose?"
	"Humph!" grunted Sir Hokus, striding ahead to hide his grin. "One more pun and there'll be a slam on your own nose, odds buttons! A slam and some more things, too!"
	"Best save your slam for the monster," yawned Peter, curling up comfortably and pretending to snore. "Heigho, what's that?" Leaping to his feet, he held his hand to his ear. "Methinks I hear a monster now!" Sir Hokus had already stopped and was listening intently. The dip and splash of some great creature churning its way through the water came to them quite distinctly, and as they all peered curiously ahead, it swept round a bend in the stream and bore straight down upon them. Sir Hokus, who had expected to see a ferocious river beast, let his sword fall in bitter disappointment. It was no monster after all, but a boat, a boat rowed by twenty strong slaves, its yellow sails flapping jauntily in the breeze. As the Knight continued to gaze gloomily at the curious craft, a huge fat person heaved himself out of a chair on deck, and after one long look at the Comfortable Camel began barking out orders and directions so fast that the three watchers on the bank could understand nothing of what he said. But the slaves apparently did, for dropping their oars they seized a long, thick rope, and before Sir Hokus had time even to blink, it whirled through the air and settled with a vicious hiss around Camy's long neck. With a choked gurgle the poor Camel slid forward into the water so quickly that Peter circled into the air and fell flat upon the mossy river bank.
	"Halt! Yield! What dost thou there?" Brandishing his battle-axe, Sir Hokus scrambled to the edge of the stream in a vain effort to seize hold of the Comfortable Camel or slash the rope that was hauling him away, before it was too late. But it was already too late, and the Knight, slipping into deep water, was forced to watch his old friend dragged ignominiously off by the neck. The slaves, urged on by Tuzzle-for of course it was the very Grand Vizier-were rowing like mad, and Sir Hokus in his heavy armor had no chance at all to swim after them. Indeed, had not Peter jumped up in the nick of time and held out a stout branch, Sir Hokus would have sunk like a stone to the bottom of the stream. Peter, somewhat sobered by the unexpected capture of the Camel, helped the Knight to a nearby tree stump. Hurriedly emptying the water from his helmet and boots, Sir Hokus made ready to pursue the yellow boat.
	"Had this been a land battle 'twould not have gone so easy with them," rumbled the Knight, snatching the long slippery stem of a water lily from around his neck.
	"Well, they'll land sooner or later and then we can give them what for and what ho! Come on!" cried the jester, dancing with impatience. "If we follow this river we're bound to catch them, Are we going to let those old camelnappers steal our good steed?"
	"No, odds thumpeny! A thousand times, no!" roared Sir Hokus, and catching up his battle-axe he began running along the edge of the yellow river. But twenty pair of arms are stronger than two pair of legs, and in less than three minutes the royal barge of the Sultan was out the river grew broader and more turbulent. The forest, too, thinned out, and after a stiff twenty-minute sprint the two rescuers found themselves in open country. Pausing a moment to catch his breath, Sir Hokus squinted inquiringly around. A luxurious orange grove lay ahead of them, but the river branched sharply in two directions. Refreshing himself with an orange and throwing one to Peter, the Knight paused to reflect.
	"Toss up your sword," advised the jester. "If the hilt comes down first, we'll follow the left branch; if it comes down point first, we'll take the right!" It seemed as good a way as any to choose, and when the gleaming sword fell point first at the Knight's feet, they both felt relieved.

"When the sword point points the way,
Truly one can't go astray!"

chanted Peter Pun.
	"And that fat rascal shall have the sword point where it will do him no good," promised Sir Hokus, striding fiercely along the right bank of the stream. "Dost see a sail, Peter?"
	"Neither a sail nor a camel's tail," admitted the jester, shaking his head regretfully:

	"But round that turn ahead, who knows?
	We'll find alike our friend and foes!"

	"Then come on!" breathed the Knight, breaking into a run. "Come along with you!"
	"Coming!" piped Peter, his mouth full of oranges.

CHAPTER 12

Camy at the Sultan's Court

NOW the Comfortable Camel, though nearly choked and almost drowned, had instantly recognized Tuzzle. Like a bad and half remembered dream, his former life in Samandra came back to him. The long, tiresome journeys across the desert, the bad temper of the Sultan, the heavy loads he was forced to carry in order that his peppery little master might travel in comfort and luxury. He opened his mouth to cry out, but found to his horror that he could not speak a word. Instead of indignant protests against his captors, he was uttering only camelish grunts and gurgles, and when three minnows swam down his throat he gave up in despair, and closing his eyes and his mouth allowed himself to be towed along in silence. In Samandra, he recalled bitterly, he had not been able to converse at all. How dreadful to be but a dumb beast of burden after his interesting and cozy existence in the Emerald City of Oz. It was not to be thought of or endured.
	"I'll run away first chance I have, and let them try to stop me if they dare," he decided grimly, beginning to work his feet to keep the rope round his neck from strangling him. Tuzzle, meanwhile, leaning proudly over the rail, was already counting up the rewards he might claim for his cleverness in capturing the Camel. Rubbing his hands with anticipation, he bade the slaves row faster. This they did, and in less than an hour the Royal Sampan drew alongside the golden dock in the Sultan's city. The Sultan, warned of their arrival by watchers he had stationed along the bank, came hurrying down from the palace, followed closely by the Grand Bozzywoz and other dignitaries.
	"Am I a good Seer, or am I not?" queried Chinda, waving complacently at the Camel swimming feebly after the yellow barge. "Behold your Majesty's Comfortable Camel!"
	"It certainly does not appear to be very comfortable at the present moment," observed the Keeper of the Royal Records. "A most uncomfortable camel I should call it,"
	"Hold your tongue," advised the Sultan disagreeably, and after a quick glance to assure himself that the Camel's saddle sacks were in place, he called impatiently to the slaves to bring the half-drowned creature ashore. The Camel's first action was to shake himself violently, drenching everyone on the dock. Then with an angry snort he trod heavily on the toes of Tuzzle and as many more as he could manage to get near.
	"Patience! Patience, my precious little parsnip," wheezed the Sultan, wiping the water out of his eyes with his sleeve and motioning for the Keeper of the Camels to approach. "Let him be given a triple portion of dried peas and rice, and with my own hands I will remove his heavy trappings." At this, Camy, remembering the ill-natured kicks and prods given by his former master, let out such a squeal of defiance that the courtiers tumbled in every direction to get out of his way. But the Camel Driver, slipping a stout noose over his head, forced him unwillingly up the bank and toward the Royal Camel Quarters behind the castle. The Sultan, fairly bubbling over with relief and excitement, pattered after him, for he, for very good reasons of his own, did not want the Camel out of his sight for an instant.
	"Has your Highness no word of welcome or commendation for me?" complained Tuzzle, limping aggrievedly beside the Sultan. "Do you not desire to hear of my reception at Ozma's court and of the masterful manner in which I was finally able to restore this long missing miscreant to your Majesty's stable? Have I sought out and captured this capricious Camel by main strength only to be ignored and stepped upon?" "Posh! Bosh! And a pound of teal" sputtered the Sultan, waving him carelessly aside, and bidding all of his advisors return to the palace he proceeded joyfully to the stall set aside for the most important member of his herd. There, tied fast to an iron ring in the side of the wall and facing a heaping measure of dried peas and rice, the Comfortable Camel's usual good judgment and temper returned to him. Sir Hokus and Peter, he felt sure, would soon come to his assistance. Meanwhile, he might as well make the best of things and enjoy what he could of the experience. Nibbling daintily at the peas and rice, he paid scant attention to the Sultan, who had dismissed the attendant and was standing on a small ladder at his side. Tossing everything out of the left hand saddle sack, the Sultan suddenly gave such an exclamation of fury that the Comfortable Camel turned his head. The fat little ruler, coming to the bottom of the sack, had found the secret compartment open and the precious package he had been so long seeking and so anxiously waiting for-gone! "Great, lazy, stupid son of a cow!" bellowed the Sultan, dancing up and down like a dervish on top of the ladder. "What have you done with my dates? Who has taken the dates?"
	"Aha!" mused the Camel to himself. "So he is at the bottom of this date magic. It's the dates he wants, and not me at all." And as the enraged Sovereign continued to dance and scream, he went calmly on with his lunch.
	"Son of a scorpion," hissed the Sultan vindictively. "Cousin to a cougar and uncle of a goat, how dare you come back without those dates?" Hammering the Camel with both fists, he nearly cried with rage.
	"Why, he's even better at calling me names than he used to be," marveled the Camel, paying no heed to the thumps, which hurt him hardly at all, "I must remember all this to tell Hokus-that is, if I can ever talk as I used to do, I'll tell him. Heigho, there goes the fat pest, and good riddance." For the Sultan, seeing nothing was to be got out of the Camel, had finally stopped hammering him and gone away. Racing back to the palace he sought out Chinda and started to shake the Grand Bozzywoz with all his strength.
	"What now?" groaned the astonished Seer, clutching his turban, which was tossing like a ship in a hurricane, "Have you not got your precious Camel back again? Is this gratitude? Is this thanks-or-----"
	"That silly Camel is of no use to me," screamed the Sultan angrily, almost, in his excitement, revealing the secret of the magic dates. "There was a package of great value in his left hand saddle sack. It has been lost-or stolen!" he panted desperately. "And I must have that package
at once, at once, do you hear me?"
	"Package?" repeated Chinda dully. 'Well, why did your Excellency not say so in the first place? All these years I have been seeking a Camel, and now you tell me it is a package and not a Camel you desire."
	"Silence!" shrieked the Sultan, beginning to shake him again, and in the next breath, "Speak, fellow, have you nothing in your head at all?"
	"The telescope!" puffed Chinda, jerking away from his tempery little master. "Let us consult the magic telescope and see what it can tell us of this strange matter." For ten minutes in his tall, glass-enclosed tower, the Chief Seer and Grand Bozzywoz of Samandra gazed through the magic lens of his huge telescope; then, turning to the Sultan, who was stamping anxiously up and down the laboratory, he spoke:
	"You will find part of what you seek in the middle of the night," he announced solemnly.
	"In the middle of the night?" gasped the Sultan. "But where, how, and what night?"
	"More I cannot tell you now, but if your Highness will depart and leave me, I will go into a great silence and endeavor to discover the exact location of the missing package." Far from satisfied, but not knowing what else to do, the Sultan returned reluctantly to his throne room. There, clutching Confido to his breast, he whispered long and anxiously to the Imperial Peke and waited impatiently for nightfall.

CHAPTER 13

King of the Quix!

AND now, leaving the Sultan and the Comfortable Camel to their own devices, let us see what has been happening to Marygolden and Speedy. Fortunately for its two passengers, the parashuter struck a dry and sandy section of earth so that they were neither crushed by falling rock nor scalded by boiling lava. Whistling like a roman candle and forced upward by the rocket set off when Speedy touched the button in the handle, Uncle Billy's strange invention shot upward so fast that the boy lost all sense of time, space, and distance. And just as he was deciding they would never reach the upper regions at all, the steel umbrella burst through the top crust of earth, fluttered a few feet in the air and then dropped heavily to the ground.
	"Are-we-still-alive?' inquired Marygolden in a faint voice.
	"I-I think so," mumbled Speedy, who had bumped his head pretty hard on the handle of the parashuter.
	"Sometimes it hurts to be alive," sighed Marygolden, looking reproachfully over at him, for the little Princess had come down hard in the middle of a rocky path. Both adventurers were covered with dirt and grime, and had their umbrella-like contrivance not travelled with such lightning speed they would probably have been suffocated as well. As it was, they were perfectly exhausted and lay for several minutes where they had fallen. Then, rolling over, Speedy unfastened the straps that bound him to the handle, and giving himself a little shake, stood up.
	"Well, I hope this time we're in America," he breathed anxiously, leaning down to untie Marygolden. The golden Princess winced a bit as Speedy helped her to her feet, and afraid that she might cry, he patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, But Marygolden straightened up like a soldier and the boy could not help feeling proud of the way she was taking their strange experiences. "Anyway, we're out of Subterranea and we've escaped from that awful old Shah!" he exclaimed, beating the dust from his leather jacket.
	"Yes," agreed Marygolden gravely. "We're away from the Shah, but who are these?"
	"These?" cried Speedy, whirling round. "Well, curses macorangejuice!" This was a favorite expression of the boy's, but even this did not seem surprising enough For the strange figures racing toward them. There were twelve, and their long, thin legs, long, thin arms, long, thin bodies, long, thin faces, and long, thin hair gave them an unreal and comical appearance. They were dressed in silver cloth jackets and hose and pointed hoods, and when they reached Speedy and the Princess they took hands and danced round and round them so fast that the two could do nothing but blink and gasp and draw in their toes to keep from being stepped on. The twinkle of the sun on their silver hoods was making Speedy dreadfully giddy, when all twelve suddenly stopped, and the tallest of the company, drawing a long scroll from his coat, cried loudly:
	"The prophecy has been fulfilled. Behold our King!"
	"Nonsense!" blustered Speedy, trying to push his way out of the ring, "Nonsense, I'm a Republican!" Then, as the holder of the scroll began to read the strange document, his curiosity got the better of him.
	'I, Hurreewurree the Worst, Chief Counsellor of the Quix, do hereby pronounce you King," boomed the silver-clad leader impressively. "Our humble sovereign having run away, it has been prophesied by the Book of Stars that our next ruler would burst from the earth, as you must admit you have done, that our next ruler would be young and exceeding quick, quick to fight, quick to run, and quick to lose his temper-" ("Well, all that's true enough," thought Speedy, with an amused chuckle, as the Chief Counsellor looked at him over his specs.) "And his name shall mean Swift," continued Hurreewurree. "What is your name?' he inquired solemnly, holding his finger on the scroll to keep his place.
	"Speedy!" answered the boy, without giving himself time to think.
	"Speedy!" exulted the Chief Counsellor, waving the prophecy over his head. "Do you hear that? Three cheers for Speedy, King of the Quix!" With three hilarious cheers, the long-legged strangers closed in. Speedy had just time to grasp Marygolden's hand before they were seized on all sides and hustled forward. Soon they were flying along so fast he had not breath enough to ask even one question.
	"To keep things running here you must keep moving," puffed Hurreewurree, "and as soon as we catch the castle you'll be crowned."
	"Catch the castle?" panted Speedy. "Does that run, too?" Nobody bothered to answer his question, but when they came to Quick City he saw what Hurreewurree meant, for all the houses and buildings rolled about like taxis. 'Why, this is worse than New York!" marvelled Speedy, as they were almost knocked down by a barber shop. "Why, instead of running down to the bank, the bank runs down to you. Gosh!" gasped the boy, as a teller leaned out of the window of a passing bank building and took a roll of quicksilver from Hurreewurree. All the inhabitants of this curious city dashed by as if they were running races, and when one of Speedy's guards tried to stop a Quick and introduce him to the new King, the fellow burst into tears.
	"Don't stop me!" he cried fretfully. "Can't you let me eat this piece of taffy before I'm too old to enjoy it?" And now Speedy noticed another queer thing about the Quix. Even while he was looking at them they changed and grew older. Hurreewurree, who had been quite young and handsome when he read his proclamation, was becoming more bent and feeble at every step and when they finally did catch up with a tidy silver castle, the Chief Counsellor had hardly enough strength to stagger up the steps. The other Quix were old men, too, and with a great effort tugged Speedy and Marygolden into the royal dwelling. Speedy was so weary from the long run, and so astonished by the change in his companions that he sank thankfully down upon the silver throne and tried to smile encouragingly at Marygolden, who had been placed in a silver chair at his side.
	 ''We don't have to stay unless we want he whispered, as Hurreewurree, taking a silver hood from an ancient servitor, tottered uncertainly toward him.
	  "With this Lively Hood, I crown you King of the Quix!" quavered Hurreewurree, snatching the leather helmet from Speedy's head and dropping the Hood in its place. "What are your Right Royal Commands?"
	"Nothing right now," panted Speedy, in as imperious a pant as he could manage. "As soon as they go, I'll leave," he decided quickly to himself. "They needn't think I'm going to spend the rest of my life running like a jack rabbit, dodging barber shops and telegraph poles. Why, it's ridiculous-everything's ridiculous!" he concluded with a slight shudder, as the castle coasted down a steep street and just missed a stone wall at the bottom. Still another shock awaited him when he turned his gaze from the windows back into the throne room. Hurreewurree and his companions were growing young again, and as Speedy and Marygolden simply stared at them, their long silver whiskers fell away, their crooked legs straightened and presently they were young men. But Speedy had no sooner grown used to this than they grew younger still, and pretty soon they were all sitting on the floor in silver rompers playing with blocks. Much to his surprise he wanted to play, too, but when he tried to step down from his throne he fell off and bumped his head so hard he began to cry bitterly. Marygolden it was who picked him up, and he A could only stare at her with round eyes for she seemed like a giantess now, for he was only ten months old. But this lasted scarcely ten minutes or so, and then he found he could walk, and scrambling down from her lap he got into an  exciting game of tag with his subjects. Speedy could not imagine why Marygolden was crying. He stopped to comfort her and was soon tall enough to get back on his throne. But it was terribly confusing, for in ten minutes the little Princess as crying again.
	"Look! Look!" she wailed, pointing to his chin; and putting up his hand fearfully, Speedy discovered that he had a long silver beard. His voice, when he tried to speak, was so high and shrill that it startled him; his knees felt stiff, and his head ached!
	"Why, I'm a Quick," groaned poor old Speedy, looking anxiously at his thin hands. "I'm a Quick, and I'll have to spend the rest of my days shooting up and down like an elevator. Gosh, what'll I do?" As he started to grow younger, his thoughts became clearer. "It's the Hood," he decided frantically. "If I take off this Hood I'll be all right, but then suppose I take it off when I'm old, then I'll be all wrong. Gosh! Golly, what a fix to be in!" By this time he was a little boy again, and before he could explain to Marygolden, he was a baby. And not until he had shot up to young manhood could he make the little Princess understand what to do.
	"As soon as I look the way I did when you first saw me, pull off this Hood," he begged eagerly, "and do be careful, Mary dear, not to make me any older than I am. I don't want to miss half my life and all the fun of college.' Marygolden nodded and watched Speedy solemnly as he grew older and older, and still more solemnly as he grew younger, and as the boy reached the exact age he had been when he plunged into Subterranea, the clever little Princess pulled the Lively Hood from his head and threw it as far as she could, With one bounce Speedy was off the throne.
	"Girl, that was neat!" he whispered, looking thankfully in the mirror over the mantel. "Why, you couldn't have done any better if you'd been a boy. Now, as soon as these fellows grow down a bit further, we'll run." Hurreewurree and the other boys were so engrossed in a marble game that they did not notice their new King tiptoeing toward the door. And by the time Speedy and Marygolden were scampering down the steps of the moving castle, they and all the other inhabitants of Quick City were infants again. "You certainly have to think and step quick in this country, ' puffed Speedy, as they ran hand in hand down the main street of the town. Having had a lot of practice dodging motors, he managed to keep out of the path of the whirling houses and shops, and by the time the Quix were growing up again, he and Marygolden had left the city far behind them. Even in the fields and orchards on the outskirts of the town the curious nature of the country persisted. Flowers grew up and wilted under their feet. Fruit ripened and fell from the trees before they could eat it. After several unsuccessful attempts to pick some peaches, only to have them rot in his hands, Speedy gave up. Indeed it was with something like relief that they came to a cool, deep forest, where trees neither shot up nor down, and everything was pleasantly quiet and still.
	"We'll stop here a long, long time," sighed Speedy, sitting down under a great oak. "Then I'll try to find you something to eat and discover where we are. I'm sure it's not America, for things like this couldn't happen in America. Say, I wonder why those fellows wanted me for King! Can you imagine being King of a place like that?"
	Marygolden shook her head and smoothed out her dress. "I like it better here," she said contentedly.
	"Well, I do too, but I don't think I'm going to like growing old very much. It felt awful." Speedy rubbed his knees reminiscently and wondered what Uncle Billy would think of his adventures. "I'm certainly having a lot of experiences," he muttered reflectively. "And you know," he turned thoughtfully to look at the little Princess sitting so quietly at his side, "you're the very strangest of them all. I can't make you out in the least, Marygolden. If you were just a statue, and were never alive before, how is it you can talk, and know how to act? And now that you are alive, what are you going to do?"
	"I'm going to do everything you do," announced Marygolden calmly.
	 "Gosh!" breathed Speedy, rather frightened by the responsibility of such a thing. "Then I'll have to be pretty careful about everything I do, won't I?"
	 "Yes," smiled the Princess, folding her hands serenely in her lap. Speedy was about to explain that she, being a girl, could not possibly do all the exciting and adventurous things that he, as a boy, could do, but she seemed so pleased and happy that he decided to let the matter rest for a while.
	 "She's certainly done everything I've done so far," he reflected slowly, "except grow whiskers! And she didn't cry when we fell, either. You're all right!" he announced emphatically, and leaning over he gave her a real boyish handshake. "You're all right, and a real good fellow!"

CHAPTER 14

The Enchanted Forest

AFTER the rush and hurry of Quick City, both travellers were glad enough to rest quietly under the oak tree. Leaning back with his head against the broad trunk, Speedy tried to puzzle out and explain to himself the queer happenings of the morning. But there seemed no reasonable explanation of Subterranea or Quick City, or the curious coming to life of Marygolden, and with a little sigh he finally stopped bothering and turned his attention back to his companion.
	"Do you ever remember seeing that Shah, or any of those people before?" he inquired earnestly.
	"I don't remember anyone but you," answered Marygolden, fixing her eyes dreamily on the bit of sky just visible above the tree tops.
	"Well," pondered Speedy, "if you were alive before, you must have lived in some old, old country. You know, you're dreadfully old-fashioned, Marygolden."
	"Do you mind?" asked the Princess, leaning forward anxiously.
	"No,-- Speedy assured her gallantly. "But I should think you would." His glance travelled critically from her long, frilled skirts, now sadly torn and dusty, to the stiff, high, and certainly uncomfortable ruff. "Girls don't wear such long skirts nowadays," he explained apologetically. "I say, shall I cut off some of that stuff?" The Princess seemed quite interested in the idea, so Speedy, taking out his scout knife, which fortunately had a scissor attachment, snipped all the lace ruffles from her gold dress, making it about knee length. Then he cut off her huge, uncomfortable ruff and stood back, quite pleased with the result. "If it wasn't for that crown you'd look just like a regular girl," declared Speedy, returning the knife to his pocket. At these words, and before he could stop her, Marygolden took off her crown and flung it as far as she possibly could.
	"Curses!" muttered the boy with a worried bounce. "You shouldn't have done that, Mary. It's probably worth a lot of money,
	"But it makes my head ache," stated the Princess calmly, "and what good is it anyway?"
	"Oh, well," decided Speedy, after looking without success for the golden circlet, "I guess you won't need a crown now, for you're going home with me, if I can ever find the way, and they don't use crowns in America."
	"America?" asked the Princess, taking a few dancing steps to see how it felt without her long, trailing skirts. "Shall we reach there soon?"
	"Not unless we start," answered Speedy. "And unless we want to spend the rest of the day in this forest, we'd better start right away." Marygolden made no objection, so talking quite cheerfully they strolled along under the giant trees.
	"Pretty soon, now," observed Speedy, helping the Princess over a little brook, "pretty soon now we ought to be meeting some people."
	'People!" sniffed Marygolden, turning up her pretty nose. "Every time we meet people we run. I'd rather not meet any people, Speedy."
	"Maybe the next ones will be good fellows. Maybe they'll give us something to eat and tell us where we are. We can't just go on and on forever," he explained, leaning down to examine a colored stone at his feet.
"Is there another way of getting about, then?" inquired Marygolden, staring sorrowfully at her gold kid slippers, which were already sadly scratched and torn by the sticks and stones of the forest. "Must we always walk and run?"
	"If we were in my country we could take a bus, or a train, or a taxi; but there's nothing to take here," answered Speedy in a matter-of-fact voice, and finally deciding that the stone he had picked up was of no value, he sent it flying into the branches of a horse chestnut tree. With speed and accuracy it hit a large chestnut burr and the burr, sailing through the air, dropped directly in his path. As Speedy was about to pick it up, it began to swell like a balloon, larger and larger till it was simply immense; and as Speedy and Marygolden jumped back together, it burst with a loud bang and out trotted a shining chestnut steed. He wore a breastplate of gold, yellow silk trappings, a gold-trimmed saddle, and had such a glorious, golden, flyaway mane and tail that Speedy, in spite of his fright and astonishment, gave a cry of pure delight and admiration. The horse, lifting his head, looked about a bit wildly and began to paw up the earth with his forefoot.
	"Do you see that?" gasped Speedy, holding fast to Marygolden's arm in case the wonderful horse should spring forward. "One minute there was a horse chestnut and now there's a chestnut horse. Girl! Girl! What a country!"
	"Is it something to ride?" whispered Marygolden, not in the least upset by the miraculous appearance of this stunning steed. "Is it yours?"
	"I belong to the Yellow Knight," trumpeted the horse, with a quick toss of his golden mane. "Have you seen the Yellow Knight, Smallfellow?"
	"Knight!" breathed Speedy in a hushed voice. "I didn't know there were any Knights now-a-days. And listen to that, Marygolden, he's talking; that horse is talking to us. Wait! Stop!" he called excitedly, as the horse, wheeling round and round, showed signs of galloping off. "Wait, I want to ask you something. How is it one moment you were a chestnut burr, and the next moment a horse? How is it you can talk? Horses in my country only say 'neigh'."
	"Nay!" snorted the Knight's horse, pausing with one foot uplifted. "What a stupid country yours must be. What do they do when they wish to say yes, or answer a question?"
	"Nobody asks them questions," answered Speedy, quite truthfully. "They just tell them what to do."
	"Worse and worse," whinnied the horse disapprovingly.
"Why, hereabouts all the animals can talk. You asked me how I happened to be a chestnut burr, didn't you? Well, as to that, I think I've been enchanted, and someone has just broken the spell."
	"It was Speedy," cried Marygolden, pointing proudly to the boy. "He threw a stone at the horse chestnut tree and knocked down the burr, and there you were!"
	"Well, in that case," mused the horse thoughtfully, "I owe you a great debt of gratitude. You have no idea how it feels to be cooped up in a chestnut burr. Speak up, Smallfellow, what can I do for you? What is your name, and where are you going?"
	"My name is Speedy, I'm from the United States, and would like to get back there if I could. I found Marygolden in a cave. She was enchanted, too, I guess, but she's all right now. Could you let us ride on your back and help us find our way back to America?"
	"That place where horses can only say 'neigh, neigh'?" questioned the Knight's steed uneasily. "Where they are dumb as fish, and ordered about like slaves? Nay, nay! Good turnips, Smallfellow! You have me saying it already! Nay, an' I will not go there, but I'll tell you what I will do," he offered generously, noticing Speedy's disappointed expression. "I'll not go with you, but you may come with me until I find the Yellow Knight, and perhaps he can tell you the way back to your own country. Come! Will you go? Decide quickly for I long to stretch my legs again." It did not take Speedy long to decide. Putting his foot in the golden stirrup, he gave such a spring that he landed safely in the splendid saddle of the Yellow Knight. Then he looked doubtfully down at Marygolden.
	"Can the little wench ride?" inquired the horse, beginning to prance with impatience. "Can the little baggage stick on?"
	"I can do anything Speedy can do," declared the Princess stoutly, and mounting a tree stump she motioned imperiously for the horse to approach.
	"What's your name?" asked Speedy, as the big chestnut trotted obligingly over to the tree Stump.
	"Stampedro!" cried the horse, with a joyous toss of his head, "Up with you, maiden, and away we'll be going!" And scarcely had Marygolden seated herself behind Speedy and clasped her arms round his waist, before Stampedro set off at such a pace that both riders had all they could do to hang on. To himself, Speedy pretended he was really the Yellow Knight with long gleaming lance and gold armor, He only wished Uncle Billy or some of the fellows could see him galloping through the forest on this great shining steed, and though the Knight's saddle was uncommonly hard, and the bumps and bouncing terrific, he would not have changed places with Lindy himself. After a while Stampedro slackened his speed, much to the relief of Marygolden, thumping up and down behind.
	"AH-HH!" snorted the Knight's horse. " 'Tis fine to breathe this keen air and feel the good earth underfoot again. It's good to be alive, and could I see my young Master, no more would I ask."
		"Was he enchanted too?" asked Speedy, quite breathless from the jouncing he had received. "Say, why didn't I bring along that stone? There must have been something magic about that stone, for it turned you from a chestnut burr to a chestnut horse. And if you ask me, there's something magic about this whole country.
"Right in both cases," agreed Stampedro amiably. "This is the Magical Country of Oz."
	"Oz!" sputtered Speedy, sitting up very straight. "Why, I've often read about Oz, but I never thought it was really true."
	"Well, what do you think now?" queried the horse, looking over his shoulder to wink good-naturedly at Marygolden.
	"It must be true," conceded the boy slowly, "for you see, we're here. Do you know what part of Oz we're in, Stampedro?" The horse stopped short in his tracks and thought so intently that his ears crossed and his mane stood up and waved to and fro, but, think as he would, he could not remember.
	"It's that wretched enchantment," he wheezed crossly. "I've been a chestnut inside of a burr so long I've forgotten everything."
	"But you remembered the Yellow Knight," Marygolden reminded him softly, "and if we find him, perhaps he can tell us where we are.
	"Maybe we'd better go back and hunt that magic stone," suggested Speedy, as Stampedro, shouldering his way through some low bushes, came to a rushing yellow river. So far and so fast had he galloped that they were entirely out of the forest and moving swiftly toward a pleasant orange grove.
	"Too late," sighed Stampedro, picking his way carefully along the slippery bank of the stream. "We'd never find the place again. Besides, I do not think my Master was enchanted, He's far too clever for such trickery. Hello, what's this?" This was a bright yellow basket floating merrily along with the current. "Want it?" whinnied Stampedro, and as both his riders nodded enthusiastically he stepped daintily into the river and lifted the basket in his teeth.
	  "Wonder what's in it," muttered Speedy, leaning forward eagerly to take the basket. "Why, hurray, it's something to eat! Chicken, Marygolden! Bread, fruit, cake, and everything! Here have a chicken wing, and do try this apricot." Marygolden obediently took the articles Speedy handed to her, but she did not seem to know what to do with them. Speedy, buried to the ears in a piece of frosted cake, looked back at her in surprise.
	"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, gulping down his great bite of cake so fast he almost choked. "My goodness, I forgot! You don't even know how to eat. Here, girl, watch me, and do just what I do."
	"What manner of maiden is this Marygolden?" rumbled Stampedro. "A maiden who does not eat? Is she a fairy?"
	"No, she's a Princess," explained the boy, biting off a piece of chicken leg and motioning for Marygolden to do the same with her wing. "Like it?" he asked, as Marygolden took a thoughtful nibble.
	"Mm-mm! Yes!" sighed the Princess, chewing faster and faster. "See, I can eat just as fast as you can now!" And as both travellers were ever so hungry, there was soon nothing left in the basket at all. Speedy had given several apples to Stampedro and he was now finishing his lunch The Princess sampled the golden oranges, which they could pick quite easily as the great horse walked beneath the branches.
	"You've brought us good luck already," said Speedy, looking regretfully into the empty basket. He was about to toss it away when a sentence stamped on the bottom caught his attention.
	'Made in Samandra'," read Speedy with a puzzled look. "I wonder where that is? And how did this basket come to be in the river?" As a matter of fact, the basket had tumbled from the yellow boat when Tuzzle and his men were capturing the Comfortable Camel, but of course Speedy could know nothing of this and continued to stare at the gay blue letters.
	"Samandra!" he repeated slowly. "What kind of a country could that be?"
	"Samandra?" coughed Stampedro, stopping his eating and putting one ear forward and one ear backward. "It seems to me I remember something disagreeable about that place. Humph-HAH!" The Knight's horse trumpeted so loudly and suddenly that Marygolden nearly tumbled off backwards. "I know!" he wheezed grimly. "It's a country like that America you were telling me about, the only country in Oz where animals can't talk."
	"Then let's keep away from there," said Speedy, for he enjoyed the experience of a talking steed.
	"But Samandra," continued the chestnut solemnly, "Samandra lies near the country of the Yellow Knight. I remember riding through there long ago, and being struck dumb for two days. Now why can't I remember the name of my own country?"
	"Well, if we're near one we must be near both of them," reasoned Speedy. "And maybe there'll be some sign posts beyond this orange grove, or somebody who can tell us where we are.
	"There's somebody now," cried Marygolden, tugging Speedy's coat. "There, on the other side of the river! Oh dear, now we shall have to run again."
	"Good golly, it's a Knight!" exclaimed Speedy, standing up in the stirrups. "Look! Look, Stampedro, is that your Master?" Spinning round so quickly he almost spilled both of his riders, the splendid chestnut faced the opposite bank, his breath coming in short, smoky pants. Then his head dropped.
	"What a start you gave me, Smallfellow," he sighed reproachfully. "This Knight wears silver armor; my Master wears gold. This Knight is old and thin; my Master is young and hearty. No, no, it is not he." Stampedro's head fell lower and lower until his long golden mane swept the ground, and sorrowfully he turned away. But Speedy, nothing daunted, leaned far out of the saddle and shouted loudly:
	"Ho! Ho! Hello, Sir Knight! Can you tell me what country we are in?"

CHAPTER 15

Five Travellers Meet

AT Speedy's lusty cry, Sir Hokus and the jester stopped running and stared in amazement across the river. "Come now, this is better," chuckled Peter, shading his eyes with his hand and gazing across with lively interest at the travelers. "A page and a Princess, or I miss my guess.
	"And a horse," breathed the Knight, his eye sparkling with pleasure. "Such a steed as I've not seen these many long years. An' they lend me yon noble beast I'll overtake that fat camel-snatcher in no time. What ho!" he called loudly. "Canst lend me your horse, fellow, to catch the greatest rascal in the country?"
	"Rascal?" gulped Speedy. "Why, this sounds interesting!" And Stampedro, being of the same mind, stepped boldly into the yellow river, swam strongly across, and climbed up the steep bank.
	"Happily met, travellers!" cried Peter Pun, throwing up his belied cap. Then, running alongside the great charger, he stared inquisitively up at Marygolden. "Are you, perchance, a damsel in distress?" he queried saucily. "For know that this Knight is sworn to rescue a maid, serve a monarch, and slay a monster. Dost wish to be rescued, maiden? Speak the word and 'twill be done."
	"I'm taking care of Marygolden," said Speedy stiffly. "I found her and brought her to life, and she's going back to America with me."
	"America!" boomed Sir Hokus, striding closer. "Art from America, young man? And this horse--is he from America, too?"
	"Oh, no, no, no! We found him in the forest. Tell them about it, Stampedro," begged the boy, who wanted to do nothing but feast his eyes on the Knight's sword and armor. With a toss of his flying mane, Stampedro began to speak, but a long shrill neigh was the best he could manage. Terrified and dismayed, he reared and plunged, and had not Sir Hokus seized his bit, Speedy and Marygolden would have sailed over his head.
	 "Steady now! Steady! What means this?" puffed the Knight, stroking the glossy neck soothingly.
	 "I know! I know!" Speedy stood straight up in the stirrups. "It means we're in Samandra, that country where animals cannot talk. Don't you care!" he whispered consolingly in the great chestnut steed's ear. "You can still hear, can't you?" Stampedro nodded his head to show that he could. "Well, then," continued Speedy, "cheer up, for if we're in Samandra we must be near the Kingdom of your Master. Can you tell us anything about the Yellow Knight?" asked Speedy, sliding down from the saddle and staring earnestly up at Sir Hokus. "This grand horse belongs to the Yellow Knight of Oz, but he's been enchanted for years and years. He was a horse chestnut till I flung a stone at the tree, and then he turned into a real chestnut horse."
	 "Enchantments! Still more enchantments. Odds helmets and hauberks!" stuttered Sir Hokus, falling back against a tree and forgetting all about Camy for the moment. "Odds helmets and hauberks! It must have been the same stone that restored Peter. Didst pick up the stone in yonder forest, my boy?"

"Hey bowstrings and fiddles, they're talking in riddles,
But, Hokus, take heed, I remember that steed!"

	"Hast ever seen me before, good horse?" inquired Peter Pun, capering close to the pawing charger. Stampedro, after a close look at the jester, nodded emphatically.
	"Well, what do you know about that?" mused Speedy, gazing from one to the other.
"What do you know about it?" demanded Peter Pun, turning a somersault and coming top side up under Speedy's very nose.
	"Well," sighed the boy, "everything's so mixed up and strange, I hardly know what to think. But you all seem to belong together somehow," he continued seriously, "you and this Knight and Stampedro. Even Marygolden," he added reluctantly. "But I don't see how you can all be alive to-day."
	"Why not to-day as well as yesterday, why not yesterday as well as to-morrow?" queried Peter Pun blandly, sitting down cross-legged in the grass.
	"Because in our part of the world," persisted Speedy in a puzzled voice, "Knights and jesters lived ages and ages ago and now they're all dead."
"What a country!" groaned Peter, toppling over backwards. "Why, we're all ages in Oz and no one ever dies at all. Have you no Kings, Knights, jesters, wizards, or enchantments where you come from? A dreadful place it must be."
	"Oh, I wouldn't say that," answered Speedy quickly. "We have motors and airplanes and speed boats and inventors. My uncle's an inventor," he finished proudly, "and that's almost the same as a wizard."
	"Quite true," observed Sir Hokus, as Peter Pun shook his head dubiously. "I've heard much about this America from Dorothy and the little mortal maids at the castle; also from a Philadelphia boy who sometimes comes to Oz and visits us in the Emerald City."
	"Do you live in the Emerald City?" asked Speedy in a hushed voice, while Marygolden regarded the Knight with round eyes.
	"To be sure, to be sure. Let me introduce myself," smiled the Knight. "I am Sir Hokus of Pokes, bound upon a quest in search of adventure. This is Peter Pun, a jester, just released from an enchantment. We're both pursuing a fat rogue in a yellow boat who villainously dragged off the Comfortable Camel. But tell me, how came you to Oz, and what happened in yonder forest?"
	"Plenty," sighed Speedy, leaning up to pat Stampedro on the nose. "I've been about everywhere and everything since morning, even a King."
	"You're still a King," piped Peter Pun, chewing a long blade of grass, and when Speedy shook his head the jester still insisted.
	"Admit that you're thin-king this very minute of all the adventures you've been having. Hah, ho! Shall we pause and listen, Sir Knight, or fare forth and pursue? I confess to a great curiosity concerning these travellers. Let them tell their strange story. We also will tell ours, then together we will resume the chase and rescue our unfortunate friend."
	"Good!" decided the Knight. Methinks there is more mystery here!" and helping Marygolden from her high perch on Stampedro's back, he seated her under an orange tree, and throwing himself on the grass beside her begged Speedy to tell his story. This Speedy was quite willing to do, for when one has had astonishing experiences there is nothing quite so satisfactory as telling about them. Sir Hokus and the jester listened spellbound to his exciting ride in the Skyrocket, his reception in Subterranea, the curious way he had discovered Marygolden and the miraculous coming to life of the little Princess. Their trip up in the parashuter astonished his listeners no less, and Speedy's trials and tribulations as King of the Quix made the Knight and Peter laugh uproariously. But when he came to the finding of the magic stone in the forest, and the disenchantment of Stampedro, Sir Hokus grew grave and thoughtful.
	"Of this bewitching little Princess," sighed the Knight, "I can tell you nothing. But this gallant charger " he waved his sword at Stampedro, who was quietly grazing a little distance away, "this charger evidently belongs to the King of the Golden Castle."
	"What ho!" cried the jester. "Our quest progresses. We now have a King to serve and all we need is a damsel and a dragon."
	"I'll serve Marygolden if she will let me," said Sir Hokus, smiling kindly at Speedy's Princess. As Marygolden, with a quaint curtsey, was acknowledging the honor, Peter, peering between two trees, let out an ear-splitting screech.
	"A dragon!" yelled the jester, jumping into the air and clicking his heels together. Speedy and Sir Hokus both rushed forward, but there was nary a dragon to be seen. As they turned questioningly back to Peter, the jester burst out laughing and rolled over and over on the grass.
	'Tis a snap-dragon," roared Peter, pointing to a tall blue flower, "Ho, ho, Hokus, I caught you then."
	"Bother you and your punning," fumed the Knight angrily. "One more pun and I'll
	"Well, what's the punishment for puns?" asked Peter, sitting up with an interested expression.
	"A punch!" supplied Speedy, winking at Marygolden.

"A punch for a pun, and a punch for a punner-
But the lad with the punch better be a good runner-

sputtered Peter, hopping up; but Speedy had no intention of chasing him and was already talking seriously to the Knight.
	"You know," said the boy earnestly, "I'd sorta like to help you help this King before I go back to America, and I believe I will!"
	"Bravo!" roared Sir Hokus, giving Speedy a thump on the back that made him blink. "And when we have found and disenchanted this King, I will take you and Marygolden back to the Emerald City, and Ozma with her magic belt will transport you both to America. How will that be?"
	"Just fine," beamed Speedy, seizing the Knight's hand and shaking it heartily.
	"And now," put in Peter Pun, cartwheeling up to Sir Hokus, "if all the speechifying's over, let me tell you something. This steed belongs to the King's son at whose court I was jester. I remember him distinctly now.
	"Then that King's son must be the Yellow Knight!" cried Speedy jubilantly. "Did you say you had found his father's castle, Sir Hokus? Where? How? When?"

	"A pretty tale it is and now,
	Hokus Pokus, tell him how,"

chuckled Peter. As Speedy drew closer to the Knight and motioned for Stampedro to come nearer, too, Sir Hokus told his story and all that had happened since he left the capital. He hurried a bit over his adventures in Marshland and on the flying field, but described the deserted city in great detail, and the finding of the package of dates in Camy's saddle sack, the strange changing of the funnysuckle vine into Peter Pun when he flung the date seed, and finally of the sudden theft of the Comfortable Camel by the fat owner of the yellow boat. As he finished, Speedy started up in great excitement. "Why, everything," puffed the boy earnestly, "everything depends on that Camel! Don't you see? The magic dates were in the Camel's saddle sack. Whoever stole the Camel knew about the dates; whoever knew the dates must have enchanted Stampedro and Peter and this King and all his subjects."
	"Dirks and daggers!" thundered the Knight. "You are right! What a head you have, young man." Stampedro, who had listened attentively to all this, whinnied his agreement to the Knight's statement, touching Speedy gently on the shoulder with his soft nose and tossing his mane to express his satisfaction.
	"Speedy can do anything," smiled Marygolden, jumping up and clapping her hands in delight. "Just try him!" Speedy looked a little uncomfortable at all this praise.
	"Tell me," he asked quickly, for he had thought of something else, "did this Comfortable Camel always live in the Emerald City?"
	"Yes-no--let me see!" Sir Hokus, already on his feet and ready to start, paused explosively. "Why, I discovered him and the Doubtful Dromedary myself," he explained thoughtfully. "Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion, and I found them about ten years ago on the edge of the Deadly Desert, but as far as I can remember, they never spoke of their former country or master."
	"Do you think anyone in the Emerald City knew about those dates, or would anyone there be mean enough to transform a whole kingdom?"
	"No," decided Sir Hokus, with a positive shake of his head. "And now that I think of it, the figs and dates were so uncommonly stale and hard that, had I not been starved and famished, I'd never have been able to swallow them at all."

"Oh sad to relate, the poor fellow ate
A date that was ancient and quite out of date!"

	"Hold your tongue," snapped the Knight, for he was trying to think, and Peter's nonsense disturbed him. "Those packages must have been in Camy's sack when he first came to the Emerald City," he declared finally. "And now to find the Comfortable Camel!"
	"Right!" cried Speedy, and Stampedro, to show his approval, reared right up on his hind legs and trumpeted with impatience.
	"Will you ride?" asked the little boy, turning politely to the Knight.
	"No, no. You and Marygolden ride," answered Sir Hokus, looking longingly at the splendid horse. "Shall I lift you up, Princess?"
"Oh, don't call her Princess," begged Speedy, as Sir Hokus placed Marygolden carefully in the saddle. "She's through with all that stuff, and she's going to be plain Mary when we get back to the United States. Aren't you?" Marygolden nodded her head soberly.
	"Mary, but never plain Mary," teased Peter Pun. "Why, just to look at her takes my breath away completely."
	"But still you talk on," sighed Sir Hokus, taking Stampedro's bridle. "Come, my fine fellow, let's be starting." But the big chestnut planted all four feet, and shook his head stubbornly. "What now?" puffed the Knight in surprise. "Do you not wish to find your master?" Stampedro shook his head for "yes" but refused to budge an inch. Sir Hokus stepped back and looked at him questioningly.
	"Mayhap he wishes me to ride," announced the jester, bouncing up like a rubber ball behind Marygolden. Stampedro, looking around, nodded his approval; but when the Knight gave the bridle another tug he still refused to move.
	"Why, Stampedro, aren't you going to help us?" asked Speedy reproachfully. Instead of answering, the horse took Sir Hokus' mailed shirt-tail in his teeth and swung the Knight around toward the stirrup.
	"He wants us all to ride," gasped Speedy. "What do you think of that?"
	"I think it's a grand idea," said Peter Pun merrily. "We three scarce weigh as much as one. The Knight is nothing but bones and armor, and any horse in the good old days could carry two for a stretch. So mount up, Hokus, and let's be going. Let's be galloping!"
	"Is that what you really want?" questioned Speedy, leaning forward to whisper in Stampedro's ear. The chestnut nodded his head vigorously, and after a little more coaxing Sir Hokus sprang into the saddle.
	The Knight took Marygolden in his lap and Speedy squeezed in behind him. Peter clung to the boy's coat, perched precariously just above the horse's tail. Then, with a glance over his shoulder to assure him that everyone was settled, the great charger, like an arrow released from its bow, shot along the bank of the yellow river, his golden mane and tail streaming out like banners in the wind

CHAPTER 16

Speedy in Samandra

	AND so it happened that the Sultan of Samandra, crouched sullenly on his cushioned throne, did not have long to wait for the approach of Knight. Knight was approaching by leaps and bounds. Indeed, so swiftly did the chestnut charger bear Sir Hokus and his three comrades that they came to the Sultan's city before the last of the sun's rays had faded from the sky. Catching a glimpse of the yellow boat tied up at the dock, the Knight gave a husky cheer.
	"On cried Sir Hokus, rising in the stirrups.
	"On to the palace. The King of this country is the rascal we are seeking." Sparks flew from the stones as Stampedro galloped up the steep streets, and the Samandrans, noting the fierce aspect of Sir Hokus, who was swinging his battle-axe wildly round his head, fled in every direction. Speedy and Marygolden, though shaken and breathless, could not help exclaiming at the splendor of the gold-domed buildings, and tall, spired castle; but Stampedro, without a pause, clattered up the fifty golden steps, pushed through the swinging doors, and burst like a bombshell into the magnificent throne room itself. The Sultan, hearing the great clamor without, had already risen, and when the panting steed and his four riders suddenly catapulted into his presence, he clutched Confido to his breast and with bulging eyes confronted his unexpected visitors. His first feeling was fright. Then, as he recognized the jester and war horse of a King he thought transformed and silenced forever, he gave a loud scream of anguish.
	"Robbers!" shrieked the Sultan, throwing caution to the winds. "How dare you steal my magic dates and ruin my strongest enchantment?"
	"Thief!" roared Sir Hokus, alighting with one bound. "How dare you steal our Comfortable Camel?" In his excitement he did not notice the difference between Tuzzle, whom he had seen on the yellow boat, and the fat ruler of the Samandrans. "R-r-restore the Comfortable Camel at once, and tell us what you have done with the King of the Golden City and all his subjects!"
	"N-n-never!" shrilled the Sultan, holding Confido tight up under his chin. And pointing to first one and then another of the intruders, he began to talk in a fierce undertone to the little dog.
	"Why do you talk to a dog when guests are present?" drawled Peter Pun, sliding down from Stampedro's back and snapping his fingers under the Sultan's nose. "Is that the pleasant custom in this country?"
	"You are a fool!" hissed the Sultan, "both by profession and nature. This is no common dog. This is Confido, the Imperial Peke of the realm. I speak to Confido because he knows all and tells nothing. Nothing, do you hear? But you, wretched plunderers, you shall tell what you have done with the magic dates, or be pounded to a powder and pulverized. Pulverized, do you understand? Tuzzle! Chinda! Blufferroo! Where is everybody?" Dropping Confido, the Sultan thumped on the golden gong beside the throne and began yelling at the top of his lungs. At this, Speedy, who had been all ears, jumped off Stampedro, and in the excitement and confusion following the arrival of the very Grand Vizier, the Grand Bozzywoz, the Grand Counter of the Imperial Spoons, and seventy Samandran spearmen, picked up Confido and tucked him quickly inside his leather jacket. Then, taking his place sturdily beside Sir Hokus, he prepared to defend himself and Marygolden.
	"Seize this Knight," commanded the Sultan. "Knight-Knight?" All at once he remembered the prophecy of Chinda: You will find part of what you seek in the middle of the night. "This Knight has eaten the magic dates," choked the Sultan, clutching his turban desperately. "Woe is me, us, you, her, it, him, and them! Slice him in two! Slice them all in two! Seize these villains, do you hear?" The spearmen evidently heard, and they moved forward, their spears pointed menacingly. Peter Pun, in one jump, regained the back of the Yellow Knight's horse. Marygolden, sliding forward, clasped both arms around his neck, and Stampedro, breathing fire and smoke, leapt clear over the heads of the advancing spearmen, through a side window, and away. With a gasp of relief, Speedy realized that Marygolden, at least, was safe. Sir Hokus, swinging his battle-axe, knocked down two of the spearmen in the center, and dashed through the opening before they could turn about. Speedy, seeing it was too late to follow, sprang for a spiral stair back of the throne, and tore upward three steps at a time, followed by all the spearmen except the two Sir Hokus had felled. Confido, inside his leather coat, barked and scratched, but paying no heed, the boy sped upward, up, up, up, till he grew faint and dizzy and his heart beat with loud, suffocating thumps. Reaching the top, ten steps ahead of the spearmen, Speedy rushed into a great glass-enclosed room and slammed the door. Pulling off his leather helmet he flung it on the sill, opened the window, and after a quick look round jumped into a big oak chest and closed the lid. The spearmen, panting and furious, burst into the room just as the lid settled into place. They stamped angrily about and then, catching sight of Speedy's helmet on the ledge, began sticking their heads out of the window and chattering away in the utmost excitement.
	"The young monkey's jumped to the ground," puffed the leader, "and that's the end of his impudence, but we'd better go down and pick up the pieces to satisfy the Sultan. Come on!" If they had not made so much noise themselves, they might have heard Confido barking inside of the oak chest, but quite satisfied that their prisoner was lying at the bottom of the tower, they clattered noisily down the spiral stair. Speedy waited until their footsteps and voices died away, then crept cautiously out of the chest. He had run, as luck would have it, to the tower room of Chinda, the Seer, and gazed in surprise and bewilderment at the magical appliances of the prophet. The Grand Bozzywoz, fortunately, was below, and tiptoeing nervously about, Speedy tried to think of some way to escape. The tall telescope that pointed skyward interested him especially, and even in the midst of his worry and anxiety he could not resist one peek.
	"If we could just find that date seed and the rest of the package, everything would be easy, sighed the boy, peering absently through the long tube. "Where could it have fallen?" he worried, screwing up his eye and scarcely noticing what he was looking at. Then he gave a great start, for clear and distinct in the lens of the telescope he saw a bit of the enchanted forest. As he stared in fascination, it narrowed down till there was only one tree, a hollow tree he remembered seeing next to the horse chestnut. Now the lens showed the inside of the tree, and there, among a little hoard of nuts hidden away by some thrifty squirrel, Speedy saw a bright and gleaming stone.
	 "The date seed!" gasped Speedy, pressing his eye closer and closer as the picture faded away. "Gosh! If I can just get out of this palace and find my way back to the forest. Be quiet!" he directed, fiercely tapping the lump under his coat that was Confido. Then, relenting a little, he unbuttoned his coat and allowed the dog to stick out its head. "Can't you be still?" he pleaded earnestly. "Nothing's going to happen to you. With a little whimper, the Peke stopped barking and fixed its bulging, near-sighted eyes anxiously on the boy. "There, that's the fellow.' Giving him a hasty pat, Speedy looked out the window to see how far it was to the ground, for it would never do to risk the spiral stair. With a shiver he drew in his head, and as he did, the heavy boots and rough voices of the spearmen came echoing upward. Not finding him senseless in the garden, they were coming back to search the tower. Trembling between the chest and the window, Speedy's glance flew round the prophet's workshop and came frantically to rest on a coil of rope hanging on a hook near the door. Snatching the rope he regained the window and tied the rope to a hook on the sill.
	"Curses!" puffed Speedy, tossing the rope over the edge. "Curses, Mickonionjuice! Here they are!" Dropping over the ledge, Speedy began his perilous downward descent hand over hand. He dared not look up nor down, and as he was wondering whether the rope would be long enough to reach to the bottom of the tower, it fell in a dozen stinging coils upon his head. A spearman, looking out of the window, had cut it with his scimitar, and like a log Speedy fell into the garden. Luckily he was only a few feet from the ground and though somewhat jarred and shocked, he jumped immediately to his feet and started to run. In the right direction, too, fortunately, and before the spearmen in the tower could give the alarm he had reached the dock and was scampering along the bank of the yellow river. "If I follow the river," he panted, "I'll get back to the forest. Then I'll find that date seed and try to find the others. Whew!" Steadying Confido with one hand, he flew along faster than he had ever run in the track events at home and soon had the satisfaction of hearing the voices of his pursuers grow fainter and fainter. As he paused at length to catch his breath, a great shadow moved silently out from the trees, a soft nose was thrust suddenly into his hand and two glad cries rang through the dusk. It was the horse of the Yellow Knight, and leaning down with eager hands to help him up, Marygolden and Peter Pun.
	  "I knew you'd get away from that old scalawag," chuckled the jester. "We've been watching for you. Seen Hokus since he pokused the spearmen?"
	  "No," admitted Speedy, settling with a tired groan into the saddle between his two friends. "But I know where the magic date seed is hidden!"
	 "You do!" cried Peter, and Marygolden looked at him in round-eyed admiration, while Stampedro pricked up both ears and began to prance sideways.
	 "Uh-huh!" wheezed Speedy, still out of breath from his long run. "Do you think you could carry us back to your horse chestnut tree, Stampedro?" The horse hastily shook his head for "yes," and as Speedy, between jounces and bounces, told all that had happened, he galloped headlong through the Sultan's orange groves away toward the enchanted forest of Oz.
	  "Wasn't it lucky I happened to mention the date seed while I was looking through that magic telescope? Won't Sir Hokus be surprised? Curses! I hope the Sultan hasn't caught him, though."
	"Yon Knight knows his Sultans, never fear. But why have you brought the Sultan's dog?' inquired Peter, looking inquisitively at Confido, whom he now spied for the first time.
	"That," smiled Speedy mysteriously, "is my secret."
	"But isn't he perfectly precious? Can I hold him?" begged Marygolden, turning round to have a better view.
	"Yes, but hold him tight," cautioned Speedy, and bade Stampedro stop while he transferred the little dog to Marygolden's arms. "He's a girl's dog anyway," he announced condescendingly, "and you can have him if you wish."
	"Oh, Speedy!" Hugging Confido with one arm and putting the other around Speedy to keep from falling off, Marygolden fairly squealed with delight, and Stampedro, with an impatient snort, bounded forward. Dusk had deepened into night, and long afterward Speedy remembered that thrilling gallop through the shadowy forest with only the faint moonlight and an occasional star to show them a path between the trees. But Stampedro, without one false turn or unnecessary step, brought them at last to the great horse chestnut tree.
	"Here we are! And better still, I can talk again," he cried, shaking his head until all the gold tassels on his armor danced in the wind.
	"Hurray!" shouted Speedy. "That's more like!" And patting Stampedro's curving neck, he slid to the ground and hurried over to the hollow tree.
	"Will'st alight, maiden?" said Peter Pun, tumbling after Speedy, and reaching up to help Marygolden. "Will'st alight in the dark, and shed the radiance of your beauty upon the gloomy scene?" Marygolden laughingly gave Peter her hand, and soon all three were peering into the hollow tree. Speedy, on his hands and knees, was feeling around with his flashlight for the magic stone.
	 "It's here!" he cried, springing up so suddenly that he bumped his head. "It's here, and here it is!" Stepping out of the hollow tree, he placed the shining yellow stone in the palm of his hand and held it out to the others. Stampedro, who had dropped to his knees so that he could see into the tree better, bounded up with an excited little whinny.
	"Well, now that we have it, what shall we do with it, Smallfellow?"
	"Why all we have to do is touch all the people who are enchanted," explained Peter Pun, hopping round and round on one foot. "Touch that oak behind you, Speedy. I swear it winked at me just now.
	"But we can't go through the whole forest touching trees," objected Speedy. "Besides, we might miss some.
	"Well, what are we going to do?' asked the
jester impatiently."
	"That's up to Confido," announced Speedy calmly. "Didn't you hear the Sultan say to-day that Confido knew everything? Like as not he knows the secret of all these transformations. That's why I brought him along, for now he can talk as well as listen, and tell us all he knows." "By the ears of my mother's cow!" sputtered Peter Pun, staring admiringly at Speedy. "You're a quick one!" Shrugging his shoulders carelessly but secretly thinking Peter was right, Speedy now turned to Confido.
	"Will you tell us how we can release the King of the Golden City and his subjects?" he asked coaxingly. "Surely you do not want them to be imprisoned in this forest forever. Will you tell us how the Sultan's evil spell may be broken?"
	"Woof!" barked the little dog sulkily. "Woof! Woof!"
	"Why, he cannot talk at all!" wailed Peter Pun, in bitter disappointment.
	"Oh, yes he can," insisted Speedy. "He just won't."
	"Speak, dog, or I will flatten you under my foot!" trumpeted Stampedro, flashing his great eyes at the proud little Peke.
	"Let me ask him?" begged Marygolden, as Peter and Speedy reached angrily for the Imperial Puppy.
	"Darling," crooned the Princess, "you're going to be mine forever, and never have to listen to that savage old Sultan again. You shall have as many saucers of cream and chicken hearts as you wish and do just as you want, always. Couldn't you tell me the little secret of the magic dates?" Cuddling the little dog under her chin, Marygolden looked pleadingly into his eyes. Now if there was one dish Confido relished above all others it was chicken hearts. Then, too, he had grown terribly tired of the whispering old Sultan and his eternal secrets, and now that he was to belong to this pretty girl, he decided there would be no harm in telling all he knew.
	"Yes, I could tell you," drawled the little dog in his condescending voice, "for I perceive that you are of royal blood. But these others--!" Sneezing violently to show his contempt for Peter and Speedy, Confido climbed on Marygolden's shoulder and whispered five words in her left ear.

CHAPTER 17

The Restoration of Corumbia

WHAT did he say?" begged Speedy, hurrying up to the Princess.
	"First plant the date seed!" Solemnly Marygolden repeated the little dog's instructions.
	"That's easy enough," observed Speedy, and taking out his knife cut a small hole in the ground and dropped the yellow stone in. Covering the stone with earth, he jumped up expectantly.
	"What next?" Confido looked coldly through the boy and again whispered confidently to Marygolden.
	 "Pluck the six dates when they grow," directed the Princess, "for if any of the magic dates are lost, all will be restored by planting the seed of any one of them," A little patch of moonlight fell on the spot where the five watchers stood waiting for the magic seed to sprout. Speedy, growing impatient, took out his flashlight and knelt directly over the raised mound of earth. Before he could straighten up, there came a rip, tear, and rustle, and as Peter, Marygolden, and Stampedro started back, the heavy fronded head of a date palm, followed by the straight stout trunk of the tree itself, burst through the soil, and catching Speedy on the top shot up, up, and out of sight. In vain they all tried to catch a glimpse of their adventurous young comrade, but it was no use, for the palm soared above the tallest oaks in the forest.
	  "Now see what you've done!" panted Stampedro, glaring at Confido, but Peter Pun held up his hand warningly.
	 "Hark!" whispered the jester softly. "Hark! Troubles never come singly. Methinks we are pursued." True enough, heavy steps came thudding toward them, and the snap and crackle of twigs brushed by some heavy body.
	 "Mount up! Mount up and we'll be off!" wheezed the Yellow Knight's horse. " 'Tis the Sultan, no doubt, and all his men! Up with you! Up with you!"
	 "And leave Speedy here all by himself?" wailed Marygolden, putting both arms round the palm tree.
	"Let us not fly until we see what manner of creature pursues," murmured Peter, peering fearfully into the shadows. "Hah, 'tis a camel," he continued, as a long neck was thrust into the rim of moonlight, "a camel, and like as not the Sultan."
	"It's Sir Hokus!" trilled Marygolden. "It's our very own Good Knight of Oz."
	"What ho, everybody! Everybody, what HO!" blustered Sir Hokus, as Camy, with a great rattling and tossing of saddle sacks, trotted into the circle around the palm tree. "And what dost thou here? All the way from the Sultan's castle I've followed the tracks of Stampedro, and at last I have found you all." With a weary sigh, he looked from one to the other. Then, suddenly missing Speedy, he peered anxiously over the Camel's hump. "Where's the boy?" he asked sharply. Without answering they pointed up at the palm tree. Then Marygolden and Peter together told how Speedy had escaped from Samandra, had cleverly stolen Confido and had discovered the whereabouts of the magic date seed and, following the little dog's directions, had been carried aloft with the magic palm.
	"How now, and we'll soon end this," grunted Sir Hokus, and tumbling without ceremony off Camy's back, he lifted his battle-axe. "I'll fell this monstrous tree.

"Stop! Stop! That were indeed a fell deed.
If he fell all that way, He'd be smashed, 'lack-a-day!"

	"If you take my advice," yawned the little dog, curling up more cozily in Marygolden's arms, "you'll do nothing." This brought a burst of indignation from Speedy's comrades, but as they stood arguing, the palm tree began to grow down, sliding silently into the earth like a great greased pole. As the leaves at the top came into view, and before they touched the ground, Speedy leapt from the center and the palm leaves were instantly swallowed up in the earth.
	"I've got them," panted the boy, triumphantly waving a bunch of ripe dates. 'All six! Say, when did you come?" Rushing over to Sir Hokus, he clapped him joyfully on the back. "Say, now that we're all together nothing can molest us again!"
	"Right!" boomed Sir Hokus. "And with a lad like yourself to help, we'll soon have the King in his castle. A clever move to bring the little dog. Odds bodikens! You'll be knighted for this!"
	"But what happened to you?" breathed Speedy. "And is this really the Comfortable Camel of Oz?"
	"At your service," mumbled Camy, beginning to nibble at the twigs and smiling kindly between mouthfuls as Sir Hokus introduced Speedy, Marygolden, and Stampedro. "But I hope never to find myself in Samandra again. What a dumb place, and what a place to be dumb!"
	"I agree with you," whinnied Stampedro, pawing the earth at the very thought. "But tell us, Sir Knight, how you came off so successfully."
	 "Easily enough," exclaimed Sir Hokus, leaning heavily on his lance. "Guided by my nose, which has ever been as keen as my sword, I soon located the Sultan's Camel Quarters. Knocking Samandrans right and left" (he gave a little pantomime of just how this had been done) "I called loudly for Camy, who immediately answered my hail. Though he could not talk I recognized his voice and soon had him loose. Then I headed straight for this forest, picking up the footprints of Stampedro soon after I left the castle, and came hot-foot after you.
	  "You mean I came hot-foot," chuckled the Comfortable Camel, winking at Peter Pun.
	  "Have it your own way," smiled Sir Hokus. "But here we all are, and now that we have the magic dates, let us proceed with the disenchantment of this King and his subjects. Then if yon villainous Sultan rides after us, there'll be plenty of good men to fight."
	  "That's an idea," breathed Speedy. "I forgot about the Sultan. Now tell us, Confido, what do we do next?"
	  "It's long past my bedtime," sniffed the pampered little Peke. "I don't see any cushions to sleep on, and why should I bother my head about this silly King and his subjects? He never did anything for me!" At this heartless speech Stampedro put back his ears, showed his teeth and had to be held by Sir Hokus to keep him from biting a piece out of the Imperial Puppy. And though Speedy and Peter Pun coaxed and commanded, Confido answered all their questions with yawns, and finally closing his eyes pretended to snore. Then Marygolden, giving him a little shake, began to whisper in his ear.
	"This King will no doubt reward you handsomely," promised the Princess recklessly. "He'll give you golden bowls, and collars, and anything you wish, if you release him from this cruel enchantment."
	"That's so," muttered Confido, opening his eyes and wriggling his nose. "I hadn't thought of that. And since you have asked me, Princess, here goes. Take the smallest date," he directed, in his insolent little voice, "eat the date and bury the seed as you did before."
	"What?" cried Speedy impatiently. "All that to do over again?" Confido nodded. Speedy was not at all fond of ripe dates, but he was so curious to see what would happen that he swallowed it down without a murmur and buried the seed, this time a brilliant red stone, beneath a tall oak. Then, breathless and expectant, the little company of rescuers stood back to watch and listen.
	Of all his wonderful experiences, Speedy remembered the scene in the enchanted forest best. It seemed, while it was happening, like some strange, bewildering dream. For suddenly the murmur and whisper of the leaves became the murmur and whisper of many voices. The great oak dwindled and changed to a King so tall, straight, and handsome that a little cry of admiration burst from Speedy's lips. Oaks and pines all around them melted into Knights, hale, hearty, and splendid, with gleaming lances and shining armor. From the horse chestnut trees, stamping, prancing steeds charged in a glittering array, tossing their heads, whinnying, neighing, and calling joyfully for their riders. Stampedro was off in an instant, bounding here and there among the Knights, but finding nowhere the one he was seeking. Saplings, while Speedy and Marygolden gasped and marvelled, became laughing troops of merry children, old bent trees turned into councilors and wise men of the Court. Bushes became pages and seneschals bearing flaming torches. The willows by the river were the Queen and her ladies, in great green ruffs like Marygolden had worn, in velvet and lace and the long trailing dresses of long ago. One would have thought that not a tree would remain standing in the whole forest, but the enchanted ones were hardly missed. A sage bush became a sage, in fact. The lyre bush that had so puzzled Sir Hokus, was the King's minstrel, and striking his small harp he began instantly to sing. The trumpet vines became trumpeters, and while the little band of adventurers gazed in rapture and delight, the King found the Queen, and putting his arm around her, raised his hand for silence. "Corumbians!" cried the King in his grave, deep voice. "By some unexplained miracle we have been released from our wearisome enchantment. Is my son, the Yellow Knight of Oz in this company?" There was a tense silence and everyone looked expectantly around, but the Yellow Knight neither spoke nor answered. "I know," cried the Queen, suddenly clapping her hands. "The Prince awaits us in the castle!" "To the castle! On to the castle!" roared the Corumbians, swarming round Their Majesties.

"All the King's horses and all the King's men,
And all the King's court are together again!"

mused Peter Pun, and breaking away from Sir Hokus and Speedy, he hurried over to the King and flung both arms about his knees. The King seemed as rejoiced to see Peter as the jester was to see him, and lifting him up embraced him heartily. Then Peter, for the moment serious and strangely dignified, turned from the King and called loudly. "Under yonder oak stand the liberators of us all: Speedy, a boy from far-off America, Sir Hokus of Pokes from the Emerald City, an enchanted Princess, the Comfortable Camel of Oz, and our own Stampedro!"
	"Don't forget me," barked Confido temperishly. "I'm about the most important person here!" But in the cheering and confusion following Peter's announcement, no one even heard the little dog. Marygolden, Speedy, and Sir Hokus were tossed up on the shoulders of the crowd and borne triumphantly to the Golden Castle. Two Knights led Gamy, and two more walked beside Stampedro, and the flare of the torches, the blare of the trumpets, and neighing of the war horses made it a noisy and memorable march. As they entered the tumble-down and mined court-yard, the page boys on the tower again blew upon their golden horns,
	"The salute to my son!" exclaimed the King of Corumbia breathlessly. "My son, the Yellow Knight, must be somewhere near." Scarcely noting the ruin and decay in his palace, the King rushed inside. A little silence fell upon the company as by the light of the torches they looked upon the wild and weedy castle. Softly the Queen began to weep, hiding her face in her long green veil. Seeing this, Speedy slid quickly from the shoulder of the Knight who carried him.
	"The same magic that restored Your Majesty and Your Majesty's subjects will restore the castle," he assured the Queen eagerly.
	"Yes, tell us what to do now, Confido," begged Marygolden from her high perch on another Knight's shoulder. "This small dog knows the secret of all the Sultan's enchantments," the Princess told them seriously, "and is going to help restore the castle."
	"Hola, for the Sultan's dog!" roared the Knights and courtiers, and cheered so loud and long that Confido felt that at last he was being properly valued and appreciated. And this time, without even waiting to be coaxed, he told what was to be done.
	"Let the King of Corumbia eat the smallest date on the stalk. Let a fire be kindled in the dining hall and the seed of the date cast into the fire," directed Confido, waving his paw commandingly. The King, by this time convinced that his son was not in the castle, had returned, and quickly followed the little dog's instructions. A fire was kindled by the servants in the great dining hall, and as the date seed fell upon the flames there came a crackling and trembling throughout the whole castle! Before the eyes of the assembled courtiers and Knights, the walls straightened, tapestries became shining and bright, rugs soft and whole. Flowers appeared in the vases, and the long oak table running down the center of the tall hall suddenly groaned under the weight of silver, china and a hundred tempting viands. From the kitchens came the odor of roasting meats and browning tarts. Everything was in a moment exactly as it had been five hundred years before, when the Sultan had cast his wicked spell over Corumbia. With a cry of pleasure and delight, the Queen seized Speedy's hand.
	"And now, gracious youth!" begged Her Majesty. "Restore my son, and no more will I ever ask of thee."
"Bring back the Yellow Knight!" trumpeted Stampedro, who had trotted into the palace and was standing with Camy beside the King. "I can no longer endure this separation." Speedy, as anxious as anyone to see this long missing Prince, turned quickly to Confido, but this time Confido regretfully shook his head.
	"The King's son cannot be disenchanted until morning! When the castle clocks strike ten, the Queen must eat the smallest of the remaining dates and fling the seed from the tallest tower. Then, and then only, will the King's son return."
	"Are you sure he will be safely restored to us?" asked the Queen.
	"As sure as I am of the reward I will receive from Your Gracious Majesties," murmured Confido, rolling his round little eyes at the King and his Royal Consort. Speedy and Peter exchanged amused glances at Confido's speech, but the King, after earnestly assuring the little dog of his willingness to bestow upon him anything whatsoever he desired, raised his right hand for silence.
	"As we must wait until morning before the last and final enchantment can be broken, let us feast and be merry while we wait. But first, let a guard be set around the castle, lest that rascally Sultan attack us in the night. These travellers," the King waved graciously in the direction of Speedy and his comrades, "these travellers have come a long way and have grown weary and hungry in our service. Let us refresh and entertain them and hear from their own lips the strange adventures which brought about our miraculous release."
'Tis a merry tale and wags like a donkey's ears," said the jester, shaking his belled stick gaily. "Tell them, Speedy, all that has happened to you and to us since you fell in the Skyrocket to Subterranea and discovered the Princess made of gold. And tell them, Sir Knight, all that happened since you set forth upon your quest and came into the enchanted forest yonder."
	"Nay! Nay! First let them eat and rest!" And moving toward the head of the long oak table, the King placed Speedy on his right, Sir Hokus on his left, and Marygolden beside the Queen. Stampedro and Camy had golden tables piled with ripe apples and crisp carrots, and Confido was given a golden bowl of cream and chicken hearts, and never in his proudest days in Samandra had the little dog been so fussed over and petted. When at last Speedy could eat no more, and the whole merry company could tuck away not even one more tart, the boy and Sir Hokus related their strange experiences and adventures. The Corumbians listened spellbound, and could one blame them? After questions, exclamations and praise enough to satisfy even Confido, the travellers expressed a desire for bed. So the King, calling loudly for lights, himself conducted them to the Royal Guest Chambers, and bade them an affectionate goodnight. Marygolden and Confido had a little yellow room next to the Queen's own chamber. Sir Hokus and Speedy had a whole apartment in the tower, and Camy and Stampedro spent the night in the courtyard, exchanging strange experiences and boasting of their respective masters.
	"I wonder," sighed Speedy, giving his pillow a final thump, "why there are four dates left instead of three. It will take only one to restore the Yellow Knight. What about those others?" (I've been wondering that very thing myself, haven't you?)
	"I trust," wheezed Sir Hokus, just before he dozed off, "I trust that rascally Sultan will ride this way. There's nothing I should like better than a raging battle, in which I shall give myself the pleasure of tweaking his nose! Odds tars and turnips! His NOSE!"

CHAPTER 18

The Return of the Yellow Knight

"THIS is the day we're going to see the Yellow Knight, Confido. Aren't you excited?" Marygolden hopped out of her canopied bed and fairly danced into the ruffled robe and flowered silk dress the Queen's lady-in-waiting had brought in to her.
	"Knights, yellow or red, mean nothing to me, yawned the little dog, rolling over lazily. "But I do wonder what the Sultan is doing by this time. I'll wager the old bore misses me like fury." 
"Why bother about him?" said Marygolden combing her yellow curls briskly. "You belong to me, now. We're going to America and you need never return to Samandra at all. Don't you like me a little bit, Confido?"
	"Well rather," admitted the little dog cautiously. "But you must carry me every place you go and see that I have plenty of cream and chicken."
	"All right," agreed Marygolden good-naturedly. "But come on, let's see what Speedy and Sir Hokus are doing." Tucking the Peke under her arm, Marygolden ran gaily down to the courtyard. Speedy and the Knight had been up for hours, and seated on a gold bench near a sparkling fountain were discussing the possibility of a surprise attack by the Sultan, and the probable uses of the remaining dates. It was astonishing to see the castle that but yesterday had lain so dusty and lifeless now bustling with sound and activity. Gardeners in quaint green coats were clipping the early roses, pages and footmen stepped importantly about, and everything was going on exactly as it had done five hundred years before, when the Sultan's transformations had taken place.
	"Well," mused Speedy, waving cheerfully to Marygolden, "as soon as the Yellow Knight is restored, we'd better be heading for the Emerald City. It's great fun here, but Uncle Billy must be dreadfully worried by this time, and I ought to be getting back. I'll certainly miss you and Peter and Stampedro, but there'll be Marygolden to remind me of Oz."
	"And a mighty sweet reminder," smiled Sir Hokus, rising gallantly as the little Princess dropped on the bench beside them. "Didst rest well, maiden?"
	"Yes, indeed," said Marygolden, ruffling up Confido's soft fur. "But I can hardly wait to see the Yellow Knight. Is it almost time, Sir Hokus?"
	"Just one hour to ten," answered Sir Hokus, squinting up at the great clock on the tower. "Canst wait that long, Princess?"

"Lords and Ladies now awaken,
Come to breakfast, buns and bacon,
Tarts and toast! What ho! What hey!
Will ye tarry here all day?"

shouted Peter Pun, cartwheeling up to the bench.
	"Let's go now, while the bacon's hot," wheezed Confido, scratching Marygolden on the arm. "And don't forget my bowl of cream. Is there plenty of cream-thick, yellow cream, person?"
	"Barrels," Peter assured him gravely. "Cream for the Imperial Houndling!" called the jester, capering ahead of the visitors. "Cream in cups, saucers, and pudding bowls!" Breakfast, in spite of the anxiety of the King and Queen of Corumbia to see their son, was a sumptuous and merry affair. Speedy, his plate heaped with roast wild fowl, crisp buns, and fresh strawberry tarts, with a footman behind his chair to anticipate his slightest wish, reflected that there would be many times when he would miss all this castle and king stuff. The King, himself, was bubbling over with jollity, joking every other minute with Peter Pun; but the Queen scarcely ate a mouthful, and kept glancing nervously at the clock over the mantel. At ten minutes of the hour she could endure the suspense no longer,
	"Are you sure it was ten and not before?" she asked, looking anxiously at Confido, who was lapping up his fifth bowl of cream.
	"Quite sure," answered the Sultan's dog calmly. "But since Your Highness must ascend to the tallest tower, perhaps you had better start ascending."
	"Here's the date," said Speedy, handing the smallest one on the bunch to the Queen. "I'm going out into the courtyard with Stampedro," he cried, pushing back his chair. "Come on, Marygolden! Come on, Sir Hokus! Come on, Peter!" Followed by half the courtiers and servants, the three hurried out of the castle, and presently they gave a loud cheer, for high above their heads on the balcony of the castle's tallest tower, stood the King and Queen. Stampedro had been waiting for this hour since dawn, and fairly pranced with restlessness and impatience. As the golden bells in the tower started musically to toll, every face turned upward. Speedy and Marygolden, close to the Yellow Knight's charger, clasped hands nervously, and Sir Hokus, who held Stampedro's bridle, snatched off his helmet the better to see this long lost Prince of Corumbia. As the tenth stroke pealed from the tower, the Queen, who had already eaten the date, tossed the magic stone over the balcony rail. Like a falling star it sped downward, struck the silver breastplate of Sir Hokus of Pokes, and shivered into a hundred glittering fragments. The crowd, in a stupefied silence, stared at the Knight, when three shrill blasts sounded from the trumpets of the golden page boys on the top of the tower.
	"This," called the first, in a clear ringing voice,
"this is Corum-"
	"Prince of Corumbia!" cried the second page.
	"And the Yellow Knight of Oz!" finished the third, and raising their trumpets together the pages blew one long, piercing blast. Then they stiffened into silence and were still. And where, now, was Sir Hokus of Pokes, the kind, friendly, gray old Knight of Oz? Speedy, with a queer sinking in his heart, rubbed his eyes and stared again. Standing at Stampedro's head was a sturdy young Knight with shining gold hair. A yellow plume rose from his gold helmet, and a yellow cloak floated from his broad shoulders. His eyes, blue and sparkling, looked impatiently over the crowd, which had broken into the wildest cheering and stamping. Feeling terribly confused and friendless, Marygolden and Speedy moved closer together, while the Comfortable Camel gave a groan of dismay. Without seeming to know or notice them, the Yellow Knight flung his arms round Stampedro's neck, and the great horse nickered and whinnied with joy. Waiting just long enough to embrace the King and Queen, who had hurried down from the tower, the Yellow Knight leapt into the saddle and raised his gleaming lance.
	 "I remember where I was bound before this enchantment!" he cried boisterously. "I ride to win the hand of a neighboring Princess. Countrymen, farewell! I will return with my bride."
	 "Oh!" gasped Marygolden. "Is he not of a marvelous handsomeness? Oh! Oh! He has forgotten all about serving me." And hiding her head on Speedy's shoulder, the Princess began to weep bitterly.
	 "There, there!" said Speedy gruffly, shielding Marygolden from the press of the crowd. "What do you care about this fellow? You're coming to America with me."
	 "But who'll show us the way?" wailed Marygolden, her tears falling thick and fast upon Confido's head. Speedy, not sure himself, stood on tiptoe to have a last look at the vanishing Knight, whom Stampedro had already carried to the gates, when he felt a tug at his coat. It was the Comfortable Camel, wild-eyed and furious.
	 "Let's go after them," screamed the Camel. "Let's try those other dates and see whether we cannot save him from himself. Are we going to lose Sir Hokus of Pokes just to please these Corumbians? Climb up quickly, youngsters. I can run as fast as any horse in Oz. Climb up, and we'll bring him back again!" Not sure that they could, but unwilling to let the Yellow Knight ride away without a word, Speedy and Marygolden stepped on a bench and thence to the high seat between Camy's humps. Next instant there were two clouds of dust on the highway. And Camy was as good as his word, for though Stampedro had a long start, never once did they lose sight of his flying heels. Breathless and banged about, Speedy and the Princess hung on to the sides of the seat and to one another, while Confido growled and snarled at the awful discomforts of the ride. At first, Speedy thought they were going through Samandra, but skirting the Sultan's desert domain, the Knight rode through a pleasant pastoral valley filled with tumbledown and empty villages and towns, and after a sharp two-hour gallop came to a tall silver-trimmed castle. But it was as forsaken, forlorn, and deserted as the Castle of Corumbia had been the day before; every window was broken, and the courtyard was a wilderness of weeds. Dismounting slowly, the Yellow Knight looked sadly around, and as the Comfortable Camel came charging through the broken gateway he seemed scarcely to see him.
	"All gone," mused the Knight. "And yet, surely this was the day set for the grand test of skill and courage.
	"What are you talking about?" scolded Camy, panting and heaving with exhaustion. "Is this gratitude, I ask-running away from your old friends, and forgetting all about your former comrades? Come back to the Emerald City where you belong. You are Sir Hokus of Pokes and nobody else!"
	"Don't you remember us?" cried Speedy, while Marygolden extended her arms entreatingly. But Sir Hokus looked through and past them, and even when Stampedro tried to remind him of his former companions the Knight turned uneasily away.
	"I must see the Princess. Where is the Princess of Corabia?" he fumed, striding feverishly up and down the courtyard. "Where are the King and the Queen and all the others?"
	"In the river," barked Confido spitefully. "Where did you suppose?"
	"River?" sputtered the Knight, gazing fearfully at the stream running swiftly by the castle.
	"Certainly," sniffed the little dog, resting his chin on Marygolden's arm. "When the Sultan changed the Corumbians into trees and bushes he turned the Corabians into fishes and frogs. If you want to catch the King, you'd better get yourself a line and a hook."
	"Then that's what the other dates are for," marvelled Speedy, dragging the three remaining dates from his pocket. "One to restore the Corabians, one to restore the castle, and-"
	"One to restore the Princess," finished Confido in a bored voice. "But why take all that trouble?"
	"Yes, why bother?" groaned the Comfortable Camel, leaning against a tree. "Hokus doesn't know nor care for us. Let's go back to the Emerald City and see whether Ozma can bring him to his senses."
	"But we really should help these poor people," sighed Marygolden, looking worriedly into the turbulent stream.
	"Yes," agreed Speedy thoughtfully. "We really should." The Yellow Knight had withdrawn, and so heard nothing of the conversation, but Stampedro, trotting up to the depressed little group, tried his best to cheer and comfort them.
	"The past must come before the present," he reminded them gently. "Give this young Knight time and he will remember you, and if you can help him further, I pray that you will. I, myself, will repay you and carry you back to America if need be, even though, once there, I may never speak nor see this fair land again." Touched by Stampedro's devotion to his master and his willingness to serve them, Speedy decided to break the last of the Sultan's evil spells. Confido, who seemed to take no interest one way or the other, drawled out instructions in a lazy voice, and Speedy, following these instructions, first ate the smallest date and cast the stone into the river. Instantly frogs' and fishes' heads in hundreds appeared above the surface of the water, changed as the watchers on the bank looked at them to people's heads, and presently as grand and colorful a company as had marched from the enchanted forest rose up out of the yellow river and proceeded quietly to the castle. Hurriedly seeking out the King, Speedy explained as quickly as he could how the Sultan's enchantment had been dispelled. The King, who, Speedy could not help thinking, still looked a little like a fish, embraced the boy heartily and But making light of that, Speedy, who was anxious to see the castle restored, begged the King to eat the second date and cast the seed upon a newly kindled fire in the dining hall. This the King was willing and ready enough to do, and as miraculously and swiftly as the Castle of Corumbia had been restored, the Castle of Corabia resumed its former glory and splendor. Speedy and Marygolden liked it even better than the castle they had just left, for the Corabian castle was of silver and crystal, and glittered and sparkled like a palace of ice. Having so satisfactorily restored his castle, the King returned to the courtyard to address his subjects. The Yellow Knight, in a dazed silence, had watched all the changes taking place before his eyes, and now urging Stampedro forward, approached the raised dais where the King and Queen, Speedy and Marygolden had taken their places. Camy, kneeling behind the two, peered out at his former hero with blurred and tear-dimmed eyes.
	"I came to take my chance in the grand test of skill and courage for the hand of your daughter, " cried the Yellow Knight, dipping the colors on his gold lance-tip to the King and Queen. At these words, four more Knights rode out from the crowd, repeating almost exactly the words of the Yellow Knight.
	"Gosh, these fellows must have been enchanted along with the Corabians," decided Speedy, helping Marygolden to a place on an view of the champions, "and this test must have been planned the very day the Sultan's magic took effect."
	"It was," snickered Confido, lifting his head curiously, "and what's more, the Princess is still enchanted and cannot be released until one of these Knights has passed the test and won the right to her hand. Ho, ho! Wait till they hear what the test is. They'll dash off in a hurry, even the brave Hokus, who pretends not to know us any more!"
	"I'll wager he won't," asserted Marygolden stoutly. "I'll wager he will win this Princess. Dear, dear, how happy she will be to marry a Prince so tall and handsome,"
	"Sh-hh!" warned Speedy, touching her arm warningly. "The King is going to speak."

CHAPTER 19

For the Hand of a Princess

"KNIGHTS and Princes!" The voice of the Corabian King sounded a trifle hoarse, due, no doubt, to his five hundred year immersion in the yellow river. "This grand test of courage for the hand of my only daughter, which has already been delayed five centuries by the meddling magic of our wicked neighbor, must be delayed still longer until the Princess herself has been disenchanted and restored to us. Has anyone present seen the Princess?" The King and assembled subjects, and Speedy, not wishing them to worry a moment longer than was necessary, stepped forward to explain.
	"The Princess can only be released from the Sultan's spell by the winner of the contest," announced the King, after an earnest consultation with Speedy. "Kings! Knights! Princes! The fate of my only daughter is in your hands."
	"Let the contest proceed!" roared the crowd, and the five contestants immediately galloped forward.
	"State your conditions," puffed a Knight in green, holding his great white charger in check with difficulty.
	"Oh! Oh! I hope our Knight wins," breathed Marygolden, clasping the Comfortable Camel round the neck, and placing Confido high on the Camel's hump, so he could see.
	"Our Knight!" grumbled the Camel disdainfully. "Our Knight no longer!" But secretly and with great satisfaction he noted that the Yellow Knight was the handsomest of all the suitors.
	"Atta boy, Hokus!" shouted Speedy, as Stampedro galloped smartly to the fore. Then a deep silence fell on the company as the King rose to announce the conditions of the grand contest, and when he finished a little shiver ran through the crowd.
	"Beneath these three rings," the King told them, solemnly pointing to three brass rings in the silver flagstones at his feet, "there are three secret passageways. One opens into a bottomless pit filled with poisonous vapor, one into the cave of a seven-headed hydra, and one leads straight to the tower room of the Princess herself. Let each Knight choose his ring, and may the bravest among you win my daughter's hand!"
	"But what of the others?" objected the Knight in green. "An honest battle I do not mind, but bottomless pits and seven-headed hydras! Nay, not for the fairest damsel that lives!" Touching spurs to his horse, he thundered away, leaving everyone choking in the dust he had raised.
	"Poisonous vapor!" puffed a lordly fellow in red. "What chance has a brave man against such trickery? Adieu, I withdraw!" And withdraw he did, followed by a black Knight and a gray, who, without stopping to explain their reasons, cantered off so violently that they upset three guards and a stand of posies.
	"Curses!" muttered Speedy, staring anxiously at the Yellow Knight, who all alone stood staring down at the fatal rings. "Suppose he rides off, too?" But the Yellow Knight had no such intention, and with a shout that reminded the boy of his old friend, Sir Hokus, he sprang lightly from his horse.
	"The monster I will slay, and gladly, with the poisonous vapor I must take my chance, but this Princess must be saved at any cost, at any hazard, and come what may!"
	"Hola! Bravo!" screamed the company, beside itself with delight. "Three cheers for the Yellow Knight of Oz." Marygolden, excited as any, tore off the rose Peter Pun had fastened to her shoulder that morning, and flung it impulsively down to him. The rose fell directly over the center ring and the Knight, looking up in surprise, caught Marygolden smiling at him.
	"Good," he mused, thrusting the rose into his glove. "This little maiden whom I seem to know well, shall decide for me." And without pause or parley, he leaned forward and pulled up the center ring. There was a groan and creak as the trapdoor lifted, and the Corabians in the front ranks backed away as far as they could. But only a flight of silver steps led down from the opening, and as the Knight prepared to descend, the King lifted his scepter.
	"My son!" cried the King joyfully. "You have indeed chosen well, for this passageway leads straight to the tower of the Princess. But before you go to break the spell that cruelly keeps her from our presence, I beg that you will lift these other rings." Much mystified, the Corabians began to mutter that such a request was not fair nor necessary. But the Yellow Knight, after a keen look at his Majesty, lifted first one and then the other, A great roar of surprise and then mirth went up, for there was nothing under either ring but grass.
	"Odds muttons and buttons!" puffed the Yellow Knight, staring down in astonishment. "Was there, then, no monster or poisonous vapor at all?"
	"None," smiled the King calmly. "But the man to whom I would trust my daughter had to be brave enough to take a chance-to risk anything for her sake. That you have done. Those craven cowards who rode away might have done it also. And now go quickly and claim your reward. " Stepping down from his throne, the King gave the Knight the last date that Speedy had plucked from the magic palm. "Eat this date," he directed earnestly, "place the seed upon the ledge of the tower balcony, and instantly the Princess will be restored to herself, to us, and to you, her future husband. Is that not right, Confido?" The little dog nodded superciliously, and with a little sigh of expectancy the crowd watched the Yellow Knight vanish down the steps of the secret passageway.
	"Well," said Speedy, squinting up at the balcony and feeling much as one does when the curtain is about to descend in the theater for the last time, "this clears up the last mystery, and after we see this Princess we might as well go home. Look, there's the Yellow Knight on the balcony now! He's eaten the date. Now I wonder whether the Princess will be pretty. I'll bet she's not as pretty as you arc, Marygolden. Hey, say! Where did she go? Camy! Camy! Where's Marygolden?" But the Comfortable Camel was staring upward so intently that he did not even hear Speedy's question.
	"Rice! Soup and cobblestone pie!" gulped Camy, stretching up his neck to its fullest extent. "Do you see what I see?" Still looking anxiously around for Marygolden, Speedy glanced quickly aloft and then gave a startled scream.
	"Why, it's Marygolden! How did she get up there? Curses Mickapplejuice! How can Marygolden be the Princess of Corabia? I found her my own self. She's my Princess and is coming back to America with me!"
	"Guess again!" grunted the Camel dryly. As Speedy took another incredulous look, Marygolden put both arms round the Knight's neck and embraced him tenderly. Not since the Skyrocket flew off without Uncle Billy had Speedy felt so lost, strange, and forgotten.
	"Gosh! Golly!" gulped the boy, winking fast to keep back the tears. "Gosh! Golly! Camy, we're the only ones left. I don't suppose Marygolden will remember us any more than Hokus did. Come on, let's get out of here." But so great was the crush that they could not move a step. All around them the Corabians were stamping and shouting with joy, and presently Marygolden and the Yellow Knight came down to greet the cheering throng. And now, to make matters worse, who should arrive but the King and Queen of Corumbia and Peter Pun in a white chariot drawn by twenty white horses. And then what a rejoicing and embracing between the two kingly couples, so long separated by the Sultan's enchantments! Marygolden, in her gold court dress and train, looked so tall and stately that Speedy could not believe she was the same girl who had gone through so many strange adventures with him. The Princess, after heartily embracing her parents and the parents of the Yellow Knight, began to look searchingly over the heads of the courtiers, and not seeing Speedy, who had stepped behind a silver pillar, spoke quickly to a page at her side. Blowing a shrill blast on his silver trumpet the page called loudly.
	 "Will the liberator of the Corumbians and the Corabians, the discoverer of Princess Marygolden, and the gentlest and bravest youth in twenty kingdoms be pleased to step forward? Speedy, the American, and the Comfortable Camel of Oz kindly step this way. Way for Speedy and the Comfortable Camel of Oz!" Speedy, turning red as a turkeycock, backed in embarrassment, but the crowd, quickly recognizing the boy who had given the magic dates to the King, boisterously pushed him forward, Camy treading in a dignified manner behind him. Then, to his surprise and delight, both the Princess and the Yellow Knight hurried forward to clasp his hands.
	  "Speedy!" cried the Knight, his eyes lighting up with the same kindly twinkle that had characterized Sir Hokus. "And Camy! Good old Camy! That enchantment acted upon me like a fever. Forgive me, if in the excitement of the present, I for a moment forgot the friends and allegiances of the past. Odds bodikens! I was bewitched, or I would have known Marygolden long ago.
	  "Soon as I kissed him he remembered everything," smiled the princes, lifting Confido to a place on her shoulder. "Ah, Speedy, is it not wonderful? I, too, remember everything now. This is my real home and happiness, but I'll never forget the adventures we had together, nor the grand care you took of me when I scarce knew anything at all."
	"Do you mind so very much if I take care of her now?" begged Sir Hokus in an anxious undertone. "You wouldn't want to marry for years, and a Princess might not be happy in America.
	"I suppose not," sighed Speedy, staring up at the bewildering vision of loveliness that was Marygolden. "But I sorta wanted to show her my dog, and Uncle Billy's laboratory, and-and-" All at once Speedy was dreadfully homesick for a sight of Uncle Billy himself, for the pungent tang of Uncle Billy's pipe, and the queer smelling chemicals in the inventor's workshop. For the first time he felt out of place amid all this pomp and splendor. "I guess I'll be going along," sighed Speedy, with a last, long, regretful look at the Princess.
	"And I suppose, now that you have Stampedro, you'll not be needing me," choked the Comfortable Camel, bobbing his head sadly at the splendid figure of the Knight. "Good-good-bye! I'm going to take Speedy to the Emerald City and ask Ozma to send him home to America, and then-and then-" Camy tried hard to control himself but finally broke down and wept bitterly.
	"Then you're coming straight back to Corumbia. Camy, Camy, you old son of a sandwich, d'ye think I could get along without you? Why, I'll need dozens of mounts! And besides, aren't you my best friend? And Speedy, my boy, surely you'll stay for the wedding?"
	"And the reward!" puffed the King of Corabia, thumping Speedy heartily on the back. "Half my kingdom if you will stay with us!"
	"And mine!" asserted the King of Corumbia, while Peter Pun begged Speedy to stay and share his tower.
	"Oh, I couldn't stay always!" explained the boy quickly. "But I'd like to stay for the wedding! Shall we, Camy?" The Camel, who was crying comfortably down the Knight's back, nodded without speaking, and as Sir Hokus insisted that the marriage take place at once they all turned toward the castle.
	But before they had gone a step there came a sudden and blinding flash of lightning. It played over the whole company, but settled like a spotlight upon the Yellow Knight and the Comfortable Camel of Oz.
	"Mmm-magic!" stuttered Peter Pun, jumping behind the King of Corumbia. "Sss-somebody's making light of us."
	"The Sultan!" burst out Speedy, rushing to the Knight's side. "What'll we do?" But before Sir Hokus (and somehow I cannot call this Yellow Knight anything but that) before Sir Hokus could draw his sword, the flash of light faded again, there came a second flash; two flying figures sailed over the heads of the crowd and dropped lightly before Marygolden and the Yellow Knight.
	"Why, it's Ozma!" quavered the Comfortable Camel, lifting his head from the Knight's shoulder.
	"Whose ma?" queried Peter Pun, coming out from behind the King. "Why, she's a mere child and no ma at all."
	"She's the ma of this whole country, just the same," asserted Camy, shaking his head proudly. "Three cheers for Ozma of Oz and Princess Dorothy, her best friend and advisor!" The Corabians, although hoarse from cheering already, gladly gave three more. And concealing perfectly their consternation and surprise at the strange manner and suddenness of her arrival, the rulers of Corumbia and Corabia, with bows, murmurs, and many graceful genuflections, greeted the Supreme Sovereign of their whole magic and mysterious country.

CHAPTER 20

The Marriage of Marygolden

THE WIZARD OF OZ, as you have probably surmised, had finally perfected his searchlight. First it had discovered the magic picture stuck behind some books in Ozma's library. Sir Hokus himself had hidden the picture before he started on his quest, for he knew if it was in its place he would soon be found and followed. Then the search-light, shot from the top of the castle tower, had flashed back with the whereabouts of the Comfortable Camel and Sir Hokus. No sooner had Ozma discovered that they were in Corabia than she clasped on her magic belt and transported herself and Dorothy to that Kingdom.
	"Here's Camy!" gasped Dorothy, somewhat breathlessly returning the bows of Their Majesties. "But I don't see Sir Hokus. Well, anyway, the searchlight has found Camy."
	"Found us both," corrected the Camel grandly. "There stands Sir Hokus of Pokes, really the Yellow Knight and Prince of Corumbia, with his bride, the Princess of Corabia. These, Your Highness," Camy jerked his head respectfully in the direction of the Kings and Queens, "are the Sovereigns of Corumbia and Corabia and this boy, this excellent, courageous and adventurous American boy, is called Speedy, and in him you see the restorer of two kingdoms and a Prince, and the discoverer of a Princess!"
	"How about me?" coughed Confido sharply. "I guess I'm as important as he is!"
	"The Imperial Peke of Samandra, now official pet of Princess Marygolden," added Camy, with a broad wink at Peter Pun. Ozma smiled and nodded at each introduction but was so stunned and dazzled by the change in Sir Hokus of Pokes that she could for several moments find no words to express her astonishment.
	"Is it really you?" she begged finally, standing on tiptoe to put her hands on the Knight's shoulder. "Yes, I can tell by the eyes. The eyes are the same. But wherever have you been and why did you go off without us? We have been so anxious and worried."
	Sir Hokus blushed and looked uncomfortable. "Because a Knight must go questing alone!" explained Camy, coming valiantly to the rescue. "And has it not been worth some worry, to have everything turn out so happily? Wait, just wait till you have heard our story!"
	"Why wait?" cried the King of Corabia, who was consumed with curiosity to discover how Speedy had come to have the magic dates. "Why wait? Let us hear everything now.

"A story! A story! Enchantments and glory!
Ye Knights and ye Ladies, give ear
Attend and turn pale, as ye list to the tale
Of Sir Hokus and Speedy. Hear! Hear!"

roared Peter Pun, shaking his belled stick hilariously. Ozma and Dorothy were only too anxious to hear, and when silver chairs had been brought for them by the footmen, the Yellow Knight and Speedy told the story of their exciting experiences from beginning to end. Ozma, like Speedy, could not help feeling a little sad to lose Sir Hokus. The Good Knight of Oz would be sadly missed at the castle. But she knew it would be selfish to wish for her old friend instead of this young and shining Knight, so happy in his release and future. As she sat musing over the whole strange story, Dorothy jumped up and impulsively kissed both the Knight and his bride.
	"I understand everything," cried Dorothy, flinging out her arms, "everything except how Sir Hokus got to Pokes and Marygolden to Subterranea. How do you suppose they did, Ozma?"
	"That," said Ozma, her lovely face suddenly growing grave, we shall soon discover!" And touching her magic belt she spoke seven words under her breath. Speedy, who had dropped on a cushion beside Peter Pun, bounded up with a cry of alarm. The Yellow Knight jerked out his sword, and little gasps of dismay and curiosity burst from the lips of the onlookers. There, before Queen Ozma, stood the Sultan of Samandra, brought by the magic belt to answer for his crimes. At the moment of his summons, the fat and furious monarch had been riding at the head of his camel corps to attack the King of Corumbia. In his hand he still brandished a large, gleaming scimitar, and his face, distorted with rage, astonishment, and disappointment, was not pleasant to gaze upon.
	"Drop that weapon," commanded Ozma sternly, and after one quick glance the Sultan recognizing the Ruler of all Oz, sulkily did as
he was told. "Now," continued Ozma severely, "will you kindly explain why you stole the treasures of your two good neighbors and enchanted and transformed them and their children for five hundred years?"
	"If the children of these two monarchs married, as they fully intended to do, the two Kings would have combined to crush me," whined the Sultan, shifting from one foot to the other.
	"Nonsense!" blustered the King of Corumbia. "You know I had always the kindliest feelings toward you, nor ever suspected such base treachery at your hands."
	"Were you the Black Knight who challenged Sir Hokus to combat the day he rode out to win the Princess of Corabia?" asked Ozma. Without meeting her eye, the Sultan nodded.
	"And did you, by yellow and forbidden magic, send Sir Hokus to Pokes and change Marygolden to a statue and give her into the keeping of the Shah of Subterranea?" Again the Sultan nodded, and suddenly catching sight of Confido nestling in the Princess' arms, gave a shriek of rage and jealousy.
	"Wretch!" shrilled the Sultan. "Perfidious puppy, you have betrayed me!" Then, realizing he was in the power of a Fairy powerful enough to destroy him utterly, he grew still and rigid and gazed unhappily at the floor.
	"What shall be done to this wicked person?" sighed Ozma, looking thoughtfully at the rulers of Corumbia and Corabia. "You who have suffered through his treachery shall pronounce his sentence." At this the Sultan trembled so violently that his heavy gold necklaces and anklets rattled like a prisoner's chains.
	"Humph!" exclaimed the Corabian monarch, looking over at the King of Corumbia. "What say you, neighbor?"
	"Well," puffed the King of Corumbia, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "this villain has robbed us of five hundred years, but, on the other hand, doubtless saved us from that many toothaches and hair-cuts. Suppose we ask Queen Ozma to take away all his magic powers and appliances, force him to return all that he has stolen, and for five hundred years to stay within the boundaries of his own country?"
"Good enough," agreed the King of Corabia, and while Speedy and Peter Pun and some of the others who thought the Sultan had got off far too easily looked a bit disappointed, Ozma with a few magic passes rendered all of the Sultan's spells and wizardry useless. Then, as his presence spoiled the view and good spirits of an otherwise cheerful and charming company, she instantly transported him back to Samandra where he is doubtless complaining to Tuzzle or bullying the Grand Bozzywoz at this very moment. Confido and Camy without a quiver saw their former master vanish away. Then, with a satisfied sniff, Confido dozed off in the lap of the Princess, dreaming of all the gold bowls and collars he should require of the two Kings as a reward. At high noon the marriage of Marygolden was solemnized with much merriment and magnificence. Speedy, in a suit of silver satin, with knee breeches and silver buckles on his shoes, looked, if not as tall, quite as fine as the bridegroom himself. Stampedro and Camy were decked out in enormous collars of roses in honor of the bride, and with so many Royalties present it was an affair long talked of and remembered by those lucky enough to be present. Sir Hokus, recalling his threatened wedding in Marshland, smiled with satisfaction and happiness, for here, surely, was all the music, gaiety, beauty, and pomp a Knight could ask for, and a bride so fair and lovely that he wished himself a thousand times braver and more handsome than he was. Ozma and Dorothy, cheered by the prospect of an early visit from the royal couple, found themselves growing as fond of the Yellow Knight as they had ever been of Sir Hokus; for in spite of his youth and gaiety he was really the same gentle, thoughtful, delightful person he had been always.
	Speedy, looking down the long table lined with fine, friendly faces, realized that it was going to be hard to say good-bye. The boy from America had been knighted by both Kings and each had earnestly begged him to live always in the Land of Oz, but when the last song had been sung and the last toast to the bride had been given, Speedy leaned over and spoke a few words to Ozma. He found he could not say good-bye at all and wanted to slip away unnoticed and remember the bluff, merry company just as it was now.
	"Tell them I'll come back," he whispered to Ozma. "Be sure to tell them that, but now I must be going home." Ozma, with an understanding nod, touched her magic belt. One by one, like figures in a dream, the courtly company faded out and next thing Speedy knew he was curled up on the old leather sofa in Uncle Billy's workshop.
	"Why, hello!" said the inventor, looking up from a smoking test tube. "So there you are! I thought you'd be back soon. I knew nothing serious could happen to a nephew of mine.
	"Did you, Uncle Billy, now, did you?" Vastly complimented, Speedy jumped up and gave him a regular bear hug. "But listen," he crowed excitedly. "Nothing serious did happen, but boy haven't I had neat fun?" And with the words tumbling out faster than water from a sieve, Speedy recounted the whole thrilling story of his adventures in the Skyrocket and afterward.


The End
