OJO IN OZ

by Ruth Plumly Thompson

CHAPTER 1

Gypsies!

	JUST outside the western wall of the Emerald City,
facing the yellow brick highway, stands a small
green cottage with blue shutters. Now I suppose in
any country but Oz a green cottage with blue shut-
ters would seem odd, but in that strange and won-
derful country there are so many much more strange
and astonishing sights that no one finds the cottage
in the least unusual. The blue shutters merely mark
it as the residence of Une Nunkie, an old Munchkin
nobleman, and his little nephew, Ojo. Though Unc
Nunkie has taken refuge near Ozma's capital, he
never forgets that he hails from the blue country of
the west, and he and Ojo still dress in the Quaint blue
costumes of the Munchkins and retain many of the
simple and kindly customs of their own native land.
	As to Oz itself, I need hardly remind you that Oz
is a great, oblong, magical country divided into four
triangular kingdoms, of which the blue Munchkin
country forms the western triangle, the yellow Win-
kie country the eastern triangle, the purple land of
the Gillikens the northern triangle and the red land
of the Quadlings the southern triangle. In the exact
center, where all of these triangles meet, is the cap-
ital of Qz where Princess Ozma, fairy ruler of all
four realms, holds court and lives in her sparkling
emerald palace with three little mortal girls who are
her friends, and many strange and curious celebrities
who are her advisers. Who has not heard of the won-
derful Wizard of Oz, of the Tin Woodman, of Tik
Tok the machine man, of the Patchwork Girl, of
Carter Green the Vegetable Man, of the Soldier with
Green Whiskers, of the famous live Scarecrow, of
Herby the Medicine Man, of the Cowardly Lion, the
Hungry Tiger, the Doubtful Dromedary and the Com-
fortable Camel-and all the other curious and fa-
mous members of Ozma's Court? All of us, I guess,
for they have made Oz known in every country in
and out of the world. Yes, even in Squeedonia, which
is thirty-five jumps from the jumping-off place, the
little Squeedoneezers know their hoztry and their
geozify by heart. But they, and even you, do not
know what happened lately to Ojo in Oz, so listen
carefully, for that is what I am about to tell you.
	To begin with, it was one of those ratherish times,
rather too late to play out of doors and rather too
early for supper, so Ojo, picking up a blue fairy tale
book, settled himself by the open window of the cot-
tage to read. In the other window sat Unc Nunkie,
peacefully smoking his pipe and dreaming of olden
Oz times. He was just recalling with calm satisfac-
tion a visit he had once made to the King of the
White Mountains, when a sharp clatter of hoofs on
the usually deserted yellow brick highway gave him
such a start that he bit off the end of his pipe and
sprang clear out of his chair.
	"What?" spluttered Unc Nunkie, thrusting his
head out of the windQw. Unc, let me tell you, never
used two words where one word might answer. Ojo
had already flung down his book and stuck his head
out of the other window. This is what he saw: Three
big rickety wagons, drawn by three sleek black
horses, were rolling toward the Emerald City. Cop-
per pots and pans, brooms and kettles were tied to
the wagon backs and jingled and banged tremen-
dously as the horses trotted along. Swarthy-skinned
gaudily dressed men and women rode on the drivers
seats, and from windows cut in the wagons' sides
bright-eyed children peered curiously out at the
pleasant countryside. Behind the first wagon trotted
a small dusty little donkey; several spotted dogs ran
beneath the second; but to the third an enormous
brown bear was fastened by a chain. To keep pace
with the horse, he had to go so uncomfortably fast
that Ojo could hear him pant with rage and exhaus-
tion.
	"Oh! Oh! Look, they're coming here!" screamed
the boy, almost tumbling out of the window. "I never
saw wagons like that before. Who are they, Unc
and where do they come from?"
	"Gypsies!" choked the old Munchkin, slamming
down his window and fastening the lock with a sharp
snap.
	"But what are gypsies?" demanded Ojo, who never
his whole Oz life had seen or heard of such people.
Instead of answering, Unc. jerked what was left of
his pipe toward the three careening wagons; then,
pulling nervously at his long white beard, he strode
over to Ojo's window and shut that too.
	"but where do they come from, where do they go,
and What do they do?" persisted his nephew, press-
ing his nose against the window pane. "Oh, look,
they're stopping! I believe they're going to camp in
that meadow over there. I believe they live in those
wagons all the time and travel all over Oz like ped-
dlers. And see, that man on the first wagon has a
fiddle and that other one an accordion. Oh, Une, may
I go over and watch them unpack?" With a furious
shake of his head Unc Nunkie rushed out of the
room. In the doorway he paused.
	"Rascals!" he wheezed, wagging his white beard
solemnly, and soon Ojo heard him locking windows
and doors all over the house. This was certainly un-
usual, for never since they had come to live in the
little green cottage had they bolted a single window
or door.
	"Botheration!" muttered Ojo, vexed at Unc Nun-
kie's strange behavior. 'Why all this fuss over a
few travelers? They look just like other people, only
gayer." With lively curiosity he watched the chil-
dren tumbling out of the carts, the men unharness-
ing the horses and starting to gather wood for fires.
The bear's chain was padlocked around a huge oak
and he immediately began to rub his back up and
down the bark, grumbling and scolding to himself
in such a comical way that Ojo burst out laughing.
He was so busy watching the gypsies that he did
not know Unc Nunkie had come back until he felt
himself seized by both shoulders. Turning him away
from the window, Unc looked earnestly down into
his eyes.
	"Not!" cautioned the old gentleman, shaking his
long finger under Ojo's nose. Then without waiting
for Ojo to answer he was off again. This time Ojo
heard the door slam, and running to the back win-
dow saw Unc Nunkie determinedly marching down
the garden path. At the end of the garden was the
great green wall of the Emerald City and in the wall
was a small door leading directly into the royal park
of Ozma's castle.
	"I suppose he is going to tell Ozma that gypsies
are camped outside the city walls. And I suppose he
means I am not to go out of the house," sighed Ojo
regretfully. "What harm is there in that? Oh, well,"
he concluded sensibly, "I can still look out of the
widow." So, seating himself in Unc Nunkie's great
arm chair, he rested his elbows on the sill and with
growing interest and excitement watched the gypsies
preparing their camp for the night.
	The men had already started the fire. An immense
iron pot on a huge iron crane was swinging over the
flames and while the women hurried back and forth
between the wagons and the cauldron, preparing
what appeared to be an enormous stew, the gypsy
man with the fiddle lolled against a convenient boul-
der and struck up a wild and lilting melody. The
ragged, black-eyed children began to skip and hop
about the fire and, to Ojo's delight and amazement,
the bear stopped scratching his back and, raising up
on his hind legs waltzed gravely and gracefully to
and fro, holding up his chain so that he would not
trip over it. One of the older girls and one of the
boys snatched castanets from their pockets and
joined in the dance, leaping, springing and gesturing
so merrily that Ojo's feet began to tap the floor. The
castanets, now high, now low, seemed to be really
talking, laughing, teasing, daring him to come across
the road and join in the fun. It was all so different
and jolly that Ojo, without half realizing it, found
himself at the front door.
	"I'll just open it a little bit so I can hear the music
better," thought Ojo to himself. He honestly meant
to follow Unc Nunkie's instructions, but no sooner
had he stuck his nose outside the door than one of
the gypsy women beckoned to him coaxingly. She
had an empty water bucket in her hands and Ojo,
feeling that even Unc Nunkie would not want any-
one to go thirsty, ran across the road, seized the
bucket and in a jiffy returned it, full to the brim.
	"Thank you! Thank you!" smiled the woman,
showing a double row of sparkling white teeth. She
was young and handsome in a bold and dark-eyed
fashion, with flying black curls and enormous hooped
earrings. She wore a bright red handkerchief on her
head, a full yellow skirt, a black velvet jacket and
so many bracelets that Ojo could not even count
them. As she turned back to the fire a wrinkled old
crone came hurrying toward him.
	"How would the young gentleman like to know his
fortune?" inquired the old gypsy, sidling up to Ojo
like a crab. "Let Noma read your palm," she whee-
dled coaxingly. "Know all the secrets of the past
and future!"
	Ojo looked doubtfully across the road, for he had
left the door of the cottage wide open. Then, as the.
old woman continued to mumble and mutter, his
curiosity got the better of his judgment and thrust-
ing out his hand he begged her to go ahead. "Not
here! Not here!" grunted Noma, holding him fast
by the wrist "Come to my wagon. There it is quiet,
and no one will hear us." The fiddler had stopped
playing and was looking fixedly at Ojo and, as the
tattered gypsy children crowded round the little
Munchkin, the brown bear began to growl and roar
and jerk at his chain.
"Be off!" he screamed crossly. "Be off, you little
idiot! Here are thieves, robbers, cutthroats, villains!"
A crack over the head with a piece of blazing fire-
wood silenced the valiant bear and Ojo, who was by
this time quite ready and anxious to take to his heels,
found himself being drawn quickly toward the far-
thest of the wagons. In spite of her great age, Noma
was as strong and stubborn as a donkey.
	"Oh, well," thought Ojo, too proud to struggle and
let the gypsy children see that he could not escape
from the determined old woman, "as soon as my for-
tune is told, I'll slip off and be home before Unc
misses me."
	Roughly constructed steps had been let down from
the wagons, and up the steps of the last one the old
gypsy pushed Ojo. Inside, it was like a small one-
room house and, though he was anxious and trou-
bled, the boy could not help thinking how grand it
must be to rove all over Oz in this gay and carefree
fashion. He had even lost some of his nervousness,
for Noma had dropped his hand. Lighting a lantern
suspended by a long chain from the top of the wag-
on, she motioned for him to sit down. This he did
on a three-legged stool. First drawing the curtains
at the back of the wagon, Noma seated herself on a
stool opposite Ojo and, taking his hand in her own,
looked craftily up into his face.
	"What does the young gentleman call himself?"
she demanded inquisitively. Reflecting that he never
called himself at all, the Munchkin boy stated with
a smile that his name was Ojo. His answer had a
most amazing effect on the old woman. Springing up
with a scream, she bounded out the back of the cart
and began shouting to the others in harsh nasal
squeals. Ojo could not understand what she was
screaming, for she was using the strange and unfa-
miliar tongue of the gypsies. But he was thoroughly
alarmed and thinking this a good time to escape he
dashed to the front of the wagon, climbed over the
seat and jumped between the empty shafts. How-
ever, this only plumped him in the center of the
crowd of gypsy children who had gathered round the
wagon determined to hear 0jo's fortune and get
something for themselves if possible.
	There were perhaps a dozen of the little rascals
and although Ojo could fight as well as any other lad
of ten, he was hopelessly outnumbered. The largest
of the boys tore all the gold buttons from his coat,
the smallest cut off his gold shoe buckles with a sharp
knife. One of the girls snatched his white ruffed col-
lar, another seized his hat, stripped off all the gold
bells trimming its edges and jammed it savagely
down over his nose.
	Dragging at his hat with one hand, Ojo struck out
manfully with the other, just managing to keep his
feet. But his coat was soon torn to ribbons, and he
himself would have fared badly indeed, had not the
gypsy man with the fiddle rushed forward and cuff-
ing the children right and left grabbed Ojo by the
shoulder. Ojo had been so busy defending himself
that he had not noticed the sudden tumult and con-
fusion in the gypsy camp. Now, as he was jerked
unceremoniously toward the second wagon, he saw
with sinking heart that the gypsies were stamping
out the fire, backing the horses between the shafts,
tossing their belongings hurriedly back into the carts,
screaming at the children, and showing every indi-
cation of immediate departure.
	Flung like a sack of potatoes into the wagon, Ojo
had just time to roll over and sit up, when the great
brown bear was driven up the steps and shoved
through the curtains. The steps were flung violently
after him. Through the curtains hung across the
front of the wagon Ojo could see two figures already
on the seat, and as the bear, grumbling and scolding
and rattling his chain, settled down opposite him, the
gypsy driver stood up and snapped his long whip.
The wagon gave a great lurch and at breakneck
speed went careening over the uneven meadow to-
ward the yellow brick highway. From the noise and
rattle behind them, Ojo knew the other wagons were
following, and almost too startled and horrified to
speak he stared wildly across at his dangerous look-
ing travelling mate.
	"Well!" snarled the bear, snapping his little eyes
temperishly. "You can't say I didn't warn you, little
soft head! Why didn't you run?"
Now most of you would think it surprising to hear
a bear talk, but in Oz all the animals talk as easily
and fluently as the people, so that Ojo was not sur-
prised at the bear's speech - only terribly depressed.
For of course the bear was right. Why in jiggeration
had he not run at the creature's first outcry? Why
had he not minded Unc Nunkie and stayed peacefully
at home?
	"A fine fix you're in now, went on the bear, rais-
ing his voice as they swayed and rattled down the
yellow brick highway. "A fine fix!" Running his paw
around his collar, which seemed to be tight and un-
comfortable, he blinked mournfully over at Ojo.
	"How about yourself?" retorted the boy, too mis-
erable to care whether he offended the bear or not.
"They seem to have caught you, too!"
	"Humph! Hemph! Kerumpf!" muttered the great
beast, looking sharply at Ojo. "That was long ago,
my boy. Well, we all make mistakes," he added un-
happily, "and I had no one to warn me of gypsies.
Blackenblueberries! What a life it's been, dancing
and begging at fairs at the beck and call of these
good-for-nothing villains! Never a moment's liberty
nor enough to eat. Nothing but blows and ill treat-
ment in payment for faithful service.  The bear's
appearance certainly bore out his sorrowful story,
for under his fur Ojo could see every one of his ribs.
	"But what do they want with me?" gasped the boy,
terrified a~uch a prospect. "I cannot dance and I
have nothing to give them-now." Turning out his
pockets and thumping his torn coat and blouse, Ojo
looked forlornly across at the bear.
	"Come here," whispered the bear mysteriously, and
as Ojo crawled cautiously over beside him he reached
out his huge brown paw. "Take off your hat," he di-
rected eagerly.
	"But why?" Ojo dragged the hat upwards with
both hands, for it was still wedged down over his ears.

"Why?" he repeated, pulling it off with a little angry
jerk.
	"Because," with a cautious glance at the shadowy
figures on the driver's seat, the bear leaned down so
he could speak directly into Ojo's ear, "because there
is a price on your head!" he confided darkly. "Here,
let me see!"

CHAPTER 2

Snufferbux, the Bear

	"A PRICE on my head?" gasped Ojo, almost too
astonished to believe his own ears.
"It's not there now," mumbled the bear in a dis-
appointed voice, after running his paw carefully all
over Ojo's tousled black hair. "But I distinctly heard
Zithero say there was a price on your head, and they
came all the way to the Emerald City with the ex-
press purpose of stealing a Munchkin boy named
Ojo."
	"That's me, all right!" groaned Ojo dolefully. "And
the price wouldn't have to be marked on my head. It
just means that somebody is willing to pay the gyp-
sies a great deal of money for me," he explained
solemnly, for Ojo had read enough stories to know
something about such matters. "But I can't see
why anybody would want me," he continued hoarse-
ly. "I'm not rich or important or anybody at all!"
The ease with which the gypsies had seized and car-
ried him off made Ojo feel exceedingly small and in-
significant.
	"There, there! You seem real important to me,"
murmured the bear consolingly, and putting a huge
arm around Ojo he drew him close to his shaggy fur.
Snuggling gratefully against him the boy felt some-
what reassured and comforted.
	"Couldn't we jump out the back?" he suggested
worriedly.
	"And be crushed by the next wagon? No use!"
sighed the bear. "They'd only catch and starve us
for a week. I've tried it again and again, but I'll
help you all I can," he promised gruffly.
	"And I'll help you, too," said Ojo, trying to speak
Bravely. The long Oz twilight was fast drawing to a
close. Soon it would be dark and already the air had
grown sharp and penetrating. Moving closer to the
kindly bear, Ojo, as the gypsy wagon carried him
farther and farther from friends and safety, won-
dered what unknown dangers and experiences were
in store for him. He could well imagine Unc Nun-
kie's fright and anxiety when he returned to find the
little cottage empty and the gypsies gone. He could
not help thinking longingly of the chicken pie and
chocolate pudding they had planned for supper.
	"Hungry?" growled the bear, almost as if he had
guessed Ojo's thoughts. Reaching in a leathern
pouch strapped around his waist he brought out two
small apples and a stale bun. "A little girl gave me
these at noontime. Better than nothing," he grunted
cheerfully. He tried to give them all to Ojo, but Ojo
insisted on dividing the bun and taking the smallest
apple.
	"What do they call you?" he asked presently,
munhing away thoughtfully. "Since we are to be
friends I ought to know your name."
	"These rascals call me 'Rufus,' but my real name,"
answered the bear, straightening up proudly, "is
Snufforious, Buxorious, Blundorious Boroso!"
	"My!" Ojo swallowed with difficulty, for the bun
was stale and dry as sawdust. "I'm afraid I couldn't
remember all that, Snufforious, Buxoroh, I say, do
you mind if I call you Snufferbux, as a sort of nick-
name?"
	"Well," the bear sounded a bit dubious, "it doesn't
sound very dignified, but then there is nothing digni-
fied about a fellow who spends his life dancing at-
tendance at the end of a chain. Go ahead, call me
anything you like," he finished dejectedly.
	"I think it's a jolly name," decided Ojo, "and may-
be before long I can break that chain or get a knife
and cut off that collar and then
"Then I wouldn't care what you called me," ex-
claimed Snufferbux, giving Ojo a quick hug. "But
be careful, my boy," he cautioned, lowering his voice.
"Do nothing to arouse the temper of these gypsies.
They are terrible fellows, especially Zithero, the
leader. Keep on the good side of Zithero or you'll
be black and blue," he predicted gloomily. It was too
dark even to distinguish the figures on the driver's
seat, and with a little shudder Ojo crept closer to
Snuffer's warm coat and right in the middle of wor-
rying and wondering about his probable fate, fell
into a sound slumber.
When he awakened everything was still. Snuffer-
bux was asleep on the floor of the wagon, his head
on one arm, his other thrown protectingly around
Oso. The wagon had stopped and the gypsies on the
seat were asleep, too, slumped wearily down in their
places. Slipping noiselessly from the bear's embrace,
Ojo parted the curtains at the back of the wagon
Lnd peered out. In the grey light of early morning,
he saw a great blue and unfamiliar forest. How the
gypsies had managed to drive through the dense
underbrush and between the gnarled old trees Ojo
could not imagine, but here they were, all three wag-
ons drawn up side by side in a gloomy clearing.
The horses dozed heavily between the shafts; the
little donkey was stretched out full length under a
tree and there was not anywhere a sign of life or
motion. But the momentary hope Ojo had of escap-
ing was immediately dashed, for as he swung one
leg over the back of the cart, one of the spotted dogs
awoke and began to bark furiously. Stepping back
as quietly as possible, Ojo again lay down beside
Snufferbux and closed his eyes, so that when Zithero,
roused by the dog, pulled aside the curtains, the boy
was apparently fast asleep. Through half closed lids
he watched the gypsy leader rub his eyes and crossly
nudge the young woman beside him. Swinging down
into the wagon he kicked Snuffer savagely, jerked
Ojo to his feet and began calling out gruff orders to
the rest of the band.
	Slowly and grumpily the gypsies arose, yawning
and scolding and descended from their four-wheeled
homes. The children, who had all been crowded into
one of the wagons, began half-heartedly to collect
firewood. Zithero, with a quick shove, propelled Ojo
roughly toward them.
	"Get busy, Ojo, or Slowjo, or whatever they call
you," rasped the leader impatiently. "All who eat
must work. And mind, now, no running off, or-"
Touching the bright scimiter run through his scarlet
belt Zithero snapped his black eyes warningly at Ojo,
and Ojo hurriedly but most unwillingly joined the
gypsy children. They gave him no trouble this morn-
mg, evidently having received orders from the chief,
but they chattered spitefully together in their own
tongue and made such awful faces at him when no
one was looking that Ojo felt miserably out of place
and heartsick. The women were warming up the
stew they had prepared for dinner the night before.
Snuffer, fastened to a stake driven in the ground,
had been given a bowl of onions to peel. With tears
pouring down both cheeks he nodded encouragingly
at Ojo, and though the boy did not feel at all like
smiling, he could not help himself.
	Poking about among the damp leaves in search
of twigs and small branches, he tried to plan some-
way out of his dreadful difficulties. Should he speak
up boldly and demand his freedom, or wait for a
lucky chance to escape. If he waited too long the
gypsies would certainly turn him over to the un-
known person who had offered the reward for his
capture. Who could have done such a thing and why
did they want him? With all of these questions buzz-
ing round and round in his head, Ojo leaned down
to pick up a piece of birch bark when a gleaming
metal object caught his attention. Glancing over his
shoulder to see that none of the children were watch-
ing him, he quickly snatched it up. It was a small,
finely made silver whistle, and thrusting it into his
pocket Ojo carried his bundle of wood to the fire.
	"Ha, ha! And how does the young gentleman like
gypsying?" grinned Noma, who was stirring the
great black cauldron with a huge ladle. "Nothing
like life in the open, eh?

"Oh, a gypsy's life is gay and fre~
He knows no law, no law knows he;
The wide world is his hearth and home!
The open road is his to roam;
And what he needs he takes for aye,
And lets the stupid townsman pay!"

croaked the old woman, keeping time with her ladle
and leering through the steam like a mischievous
goblin.
	"But I don't see why you took me," said Ojo, sit-
ting down on a fallen log and trying to speak calmly.
Maybe, if he were very careful and polite, Noma
mght tell him something useful. But the old hag
only gave an irritating screech of laughter.
	"We took you for a good reason, a reason you'll
know soon enough. Ha, ha! What a surprise is in
store for you." Ojo had a distinct feeling from No-
ma's expression that the surprise was going to
extremely unpleasant, and throwing caution to the
winds he jumped angrily to his feet.
	"You had better let me go, or Princess Ozma will
see that you are punished. She is a fairy and a
friend of mine and ruler of all Oz. She will send
Une Nunkie and the army to find me and-"
	"No one finds the gypsies," squealed Noma, hop-
ping gleefully around the cauldron. "Let them try!
Let them try!"
	"Here, here, what's all this?" Striding up to the
fire, Zithero spun Ojo round by the shoulder. "Didn't
I tell you to get to work? Quick now, off with you!"
He gave Ojo a stinging blow on the ear that sent
him sprawling among the gypsy children. Tears
started to his eyes, but not for anything in Oz would
he have made an outcry. Picking himself up slowly
and paying no attention to the jeers and taunts of
the ragged little gypsies, Ojo went on grimly and
quietly gathering twigs. He didn't look at Snuffer,
but could hear the bear snarling and growling, and
as an onion flew past his head and caught Noma
squarely on the nose, he felt a little cheered and com-
forted. Whatever happened, decided Ojo, he would
never desert the big brown bear.
	Soon after this, Zinaro, wife of Zithero, called all
of them to come and eat. She was the one to whom
Ojo had brought the pail of water and as she handed
him a heaping plate of stew with a piece of yellow
gypsy bread on the side, she smiled almost kindly
at the forlorn boy. "Oh, maybe she will help me!"
thought Ojo, who by this time was ready to grasp at
any straw. The stew, though hot and peppery, put
new life into the little Munchkin and when he had
finished he diplomatically began to help Zinaro wash
the tin plates in a little forest stream, thinking all
the while how he could best go about enlisting her
sympathy.
	As Ojo dipped the third plate into the sparkling
water he happened to glance across the stream it-
self. Gingeration! Merciful Munchkins! Behind ev-
ery great blue tree on the other side stood a giant
huntsman! But come now, were they huntsmen?
Ojo, trembling in both knees, took a second look.
Huntsmen, never! They were robbers, brigands,
bandits, outlaws. The very tilt of their feathered
hats proclaimed their trade. And if that weren't
enough, each stout rosy-cheeked rascal was armed
with a long sword, a short sword, a bilbo (which I
must tell you is a curious kind of rapier) a brace of
pistols and a hickory club.
	The tin plate slid out of Ojo's fingers, but as he
jumped up to give the alarm the bandit nearest the
water's edge put his fingers to his lips and gave Ojo
such a merry wink that the boy stopped in spite of
himself. After all, why shoud he warn the gypsies?
They were cruel and heartless and his sworn en-
emies. Zinaro had her back to the stream and all the
other members of the band were still gathered round
the fire. So, closing his mouth stubbornly, Ojo
dropped to his knees, picked up a tin cup and began
nervously sloshing it up and down in the water. What
would happen next? Would they all be robbed and
captured? Might it not be possible in the general
confusion for Snufferbux and him to slip away?
	Now, with muffled thuds and splashes, the robbers
were crossing the stream. A bright gold ring with
a sparkling yellow stone fell with a resounding clink
into Ojo's cup. For a moment a heavy hand rested
on his shoulder. Looking up fearfully, he met the
blazing blue eyes of the bandit chief. Was the fellow
thanking him, or was he in as great danger as the
others? Before Ojo could decide, the outlaws, with
yells, shouts and ear-splitting screeches, rushed to
the fire and fell upon the gypsies. Without waiting
to see how it would end, Ojo sprinted toward Snuf-
fer's post. Seizing the heavy chain he pulled, strug-
gled, and tugged with all his might. The brown bear
helped him so valiantly that between them they had
loosened the pole, when a hefty bandit grasped Ojo
round the middle, and plucking up the pole as if it
had been a daisy, dragged them boisterously along
to the fire.
	Trussed up like pigs on market day, Zithero and
his band were ranged in a neat row between two
trees. Ojo was relieved to see that none of them had
been injured, and as they kicked and struggled and
called out dire threats and abuse he could not help
feeling that they had got exactly what they deserved.
The robber chief was calmly ladling out what was
left of the stew to his men, and as Ojo was dumped
roughly on the ground beside him he gave a little
chuckle of recognition and pleasure.
	"Not too rough there, Tiny!" he cautioned, as a
huge bandit wound a rope round and round Ojo and
then similarly bound up Snuffer. "This boy is a
friend of mine. Isn't that so, little fellow?" Ojo was
too breathless to answer, but Snuffer, snarling and
growling, spoke for him.
	"A fine way to treat a friend," raged the bear,
gritting his teeth in helpless fury. "When I get loose
from here I'll tear you into a hundred pieces and
throw the pieces away."
	"Really!" roared the bandit, staring at Snuffer
with both hands on his hips. "D'ye think I'd make
that many?"
	"I see the pot is empty. How about roasting the
bear, Realbad?" boomed Tiny, making a sudden
lunge at Snuffer.
	"Bear for breakfast!" exclaimed Realbad in mock
horror. "How distressing, how repelling! You know
I never eat bear for breakfast. But he'll make a
splendid rug for the family cave. Now then, boys,
fall to, and when we're finished we'll see how many
gold pieces we can shake out of these villains."
Moving closer to Snuffer, who had turned pale
under his fur at the robber's words, Ojo cast curious
Side long glances up at Realbad as he downed the
gypsies' stew with evident relish. In spite of his
threats, Ojo could not help having a feeling of friend
liness for the high and handsome outlaw. He seemed
utterly unlike the other members of his burly robber
band, and in his rough suit of blue leather, his great
boots and feathered hat, he looked more distin-
guished than the finest gentlemen at Ozina's court.
	"It's the way he stands," decided Ojo, straighten-
ing up under the ropes pinioning his arms to his side.
He had immediately slipped Realbad's ring on his
finger and looking down at it anxiously he wondered
whether he was going to be safer with the bandits
than with the gypsies.
	"We go from bad to worse!" groaned Snuffer de-
spondently, as Realbad, finished at last with his
breakfast, bade his men bring the captives nearer
the fire.
	"Watch closely there, little splinter!" he called with
a good-natured grin at Ojo. "Watch closely and see
how we bandits work, for 'pon my sword hilt, I'm
minded to make a bandit of you! A bad business,
you think? But wait till you've tried it. Ho,
"I'm Realbad, the bandit, and real bad am I,
And I'll have what I want in the wink of an eye!"
he shouted, slapping his sword gaily against his
boot.
	Fascinated, Ojo watched the robbers at work. One
at a time the gypsies were dragged forward, untied,
thoroughly searched and shaken, and securely bound
up again. Soon a heap of bracelets, rings, copper
coins and other odds and ends which the gypsies had
stolen in the course of their wanderings, lay at Real-
bad's feet. The women and children were not mo-
lested, and as Realbad himself went methodically
through the pockets of Zithero the rest of the robbers
went off to investigate the wagons. Zithero's short
coat and sash were lined with gold pieces and as they
fell ringing to the ground he snarled and snapped
like a dog. But calmly and unhurriedly Realbad con-
tinued his search. In an inner pocket of the gypsy
leader's blouse he found a small folded piece of
parchment. Holding the squirming rascal in one
hand he flipped open the parchment with the other.
Ojo saw his eyes snap and kindle with excitement
as he read.
	"Slayrum! Boldoso! Tiny!" roared the bandit,
waving Zithero as if he were a flag. "Come here!
Come back! Quickly!" When the three bandits ar-
rived panting at the fire in answer to his booming
summons, he triumphantly held up the parchment,
reading it out to them in a high, jubilant voice:
	"Whoever brings the boy, Qjo, to Moojer Moun-
tain within twenty moons shall receive five thousand
bags of sapphires. No questions asked or answered."
	"Leave all this trash!" commanded Realbad, giv-
ing the heap at his feet an impatient kick. "Here
is our real booty!" He swept his arm in the direction
of Ojo. "This is no gypsy. This is Ojo. Boy, you have
brought me luck! The gypsies have stolen you hop-
ing for the reward. But now we have you and shall
collect it ourselves. Put the treasure in the sack,
Tiny, and let us away to this Moojer Mountain.
	"What treasure?" asked Tiny, blinking his eyes
stupidly, for he had only understood half of what he
had heard.
	"The boy, dumbhead, the boy!" roared Realbad.
"He is our treasure, good as gold, only better. Five
thousand bags of sapphires. What a day's work this
is!"
	"I won't come! I won't come !" screamed Ojo, kick-
ing out furiously as Slayrum started to lift him into
the great sack hanging from Tiny's broad shoulders.
But even as he screamed, he was tumbled headlong
into the dark leather bag and fell choking and sob-
bing to the bottom. Then, more gently, he 'felt him-
self drawn upward and his head was pulled through
the opening at the top of the sack.
	"Well, well! I thought you were a brave fellow,"
whispered Realbad, wiping Ojo's tears on his own
fine handkerchief. "Come, come! A boy worth five
thousand sacks of sapphires need not cry about any-
thing." Fastening the string of the sack gently
about Ojo's shoulders, Realbad gave him a hearty
slap on the back and turned quickly to his men.
	"Come! Come, all of you! Bring the bear, Slay-
rum," he commanded gruffly. Then sweeping off his
hat, Realbad bowed mockingly to the gypsies. "Fare-
well, gentlemen!" he called gaily. "Gentlemen, fare-
well!"
	Leaping easily across the small brook he started
swiftly off through the blue forest, followed closely
¹ by Tiny with Ojo in the sack, Slayrum dragging
Snuffer by his chain, and the three and twenty other
grinning and perspiring outlaws.


CHAPTER 3

In the Bandits' Cave

AS Ojo bumped up and down in the sack on Tiny's
shoulder, he tried to collect his scattered wits
and summon back his courage. Where was this
Moojer Mountain, and who had offered this immense
reward for his capture? He was bitterly disappointed
in Realbad, for at first he had felt that the handsome
outlaw was his friend. If he had only not found that
miserable parchment offering the bags of jewels, the
robber chief might really have let him join the band.
Life in the blue forest would have been exciting and
new, and what tales he could have carried back to
Unc Nunkie and his friends in the Emerald City!
Now everything was ruined, he would be taken to
Moojer Mountain and dumped down like merchandise
for five thousand sacks of treasure. But why should
anyone pay that much for a simple, unimportant
little Munchkin? Try as he would Ojo could not un-
derstand it and as the mystery soon made his head
ache he gave it up for the time being and looked
sharply to the right and left for signs or landmarks
in case he should be able to escape.
	The forest was old and beautiful. Now and then
a rabbit would scurry across their path or a deer look
inquisitively out through the shadowy tree trunks.
In the branches overhead, bluejays and other birds
kept up an incessant chatter, and the bandits, as they
trudged along, bawled out so cheery a song that it
was difficult to believe they were really such villains.
Prodded by Boldoso and jerked along by Slayrum,
Snufferbux shuffled unwillingly at the end of his
chain, letting out from time to time heart-rending
growls and roars. Several times answering roars
came back, as if some of the four-footed forest folk
saw and sympathized with his predicament but were
too afraid of the robbers' guns to come to his assist-
ance. After an hour's tramp, the forest grew less
dense, great rocky clearings made their appearance,
and Ojo noticed that the rocks were marked with
strange blue crosses and figures. Hurrying across
the third clearing, the bandits made their way toward
a huge tumble of impassable boulders. Ojo, squint-
ing over Tiny's shoulder, could see no break or pass
in the slaty barrier, yet Realbad had already disap-
peared and, next thing, Tiny himself had stepped
around a great jutting rock and started gaily down
a stone passageway. The passage went down and
then up, coming out at last into an immense and
rugged cavern. Open to the sky on one end, pro-
tected by its blue crystal roof on the other, it was as
snug and comfortable a hide-away as the heart of a
woodsman could wish for.
A long, rough table of logs ran down the center,
with log benches on either side for the bandits. Bear-
skin rugs were spread over the polished stone floors;
the heads of deer, elk and other large animals proved
the robbers to be doughty hunters. An enormous
stone fireplace took up one entire end of the cave and
along the edges were ranged long chests evidently
containing the clothes and booty of the bandits. With
a huge yawn and stretch, Realbad unstrapped his
gun and let it slide to the floor, and leaning forward
set fire to the logs.
	"Well, Chief, shall I lock up the treasure?" grunted
Tiny, swinging the sack and Ojo down to the hearth.
	"That depends," murmured Realbad, blowing up
the flames with a huge bellows.
	"Brr-rah! Brr-ruh!" rumbled Snufferbux threat-
eningly, as he was pushed and prodded into the cave.
	"Bear! Bear!" Realbad jumped up clapping both
hands to his ears. "Do me a favor, won't you? Stop
roaring with anger till you've something to be angry
about. It's a sheer waste of savagery."
	"Well, do you expect me to roar with laughter
at the prospect of becoming a rug?" snarled Snuf-
fer, rolling his eyes wildly. "Do you expect me to
stand around and grin while this poor child is locked
up in a chest -- or worse?"
	"Never worry about a thing until it happens?" ad-
vised Realbad, snapping his fingers under Snuffer's
nose. "We've all had a long march, let's sit down and
rest and talk matters over. Now, as to the treasure,
let us see!" Jerking Ojo from the sack, Realbad set
him not ungently on the floor. "Shall I lock you up,
or will you give me your word of honor not to run
away?"
"Why shouldn't I run away?" demanded Ojo, in a
somewhat shaky but nevertheless determined voice.
"You are holding me against my will and intend to
exchange me for five thousand sacks of sapphires.
Why shouldn't I try to escape if I can?"
	"Why, indeed?" agreed Realbad, rubbing his hands
together with evident enjoyment. "Well," he con-
tinued jovially, "I'll tell you why. It will be pleas-
anter if you don't, for one thing. Just promise not
to run off and you shall sit by the fire, eat, rest and
be merry. Of course, if you prefer to lie at the
bottom of a dark chest, that is your own affair."
	"Promise nothing," growled Snuffer warningly.
Ojo looked from one to the other, hardly knowing
what to say. Then, as Tiny made a quick grab for
him, he moved closer to Realbad.
	"All right, I promise," he said stiffly.
	"Good, let's shake on it." Realbad had to bend
almost double to reach Ojo's hand. "And I promise
no harm shall come to you while you are in this
cave," he said, straightening up with his flashing
smile.
	"How about Snufferbux?" asked Ojo anxiously.
	"So that's what you call him?" Realbad looked
long and mischievously at the great bear. "Well,
he's too thin for steak, and too moth-eaten for rugs
so I suppose we'll have to let him live. Can you do
anything unusual or interesting, old Growler?"
	"I can waltz," answered Snuffer ill-naturedly. "I
can play the accordion, hold a tin cup and beg and
I can wrestle and hug you to death if you come too
near me," finished the bear, blinking his small eyes
savagely at Realbad.
	"Splendid material for an outlaw," murmured the
bandit, pushing back his feathered hat. "We'll cer-
tainly have to take you in, old Hugger. Throw over
that accordion, Smackemback and let's have a tune!"
Smackemback, grinning broadly, turned over the
accordion he had stolen from the gypsies. Snuffer
caught it easily and sat down on a wooden bench
by the fire. Then, still eyeing the whole company
suspiciously, he began to play, bringing such gusts
of rhythm and melody from the ancient instrument
that the robbers stopped where they stood and
stamped and shouted with approval. Ojo, climbing
up beside him, felt unaccountably happy and light-
hearted. For the present his comfort and safety
were assured, and who knew what might occur be-
fore the robbers reached Moojer Mountain? So, kick-
ing his feet unconcernedly in time to the accordion,
he sniffed with keen appetite the great side of ven-
ison browning on the turnspit over the fire. Slayrum
had already set the table with heavy plates, mugs,
knives, forks and spoons and hopping heavily around
to the swing of Snuffer's music, the outlaws prepared
to enjoy themselves.
	Seated at the head of the table beside Realbad, with
Snuffer on his right, the boy had the first care-free
moment since the gypsies had carried him away.
The bandits' meat was tender, the bandits' bread
was fresh. There were wild berries and nuts for
dessert and brown sparkling root beer that made
Ojo's nose tingle. Realbad, noticing the tightness of
Snuffer's collar, cut it off with his hunting knife and
the big bear, like Ojo, found himself growing more
and more at ease and content. It was the only time
in years the poor fellow had had enough to eat, and
after downing twenty loaves of bread, three bowls
of berries and a small barrel of root beer, he thank-
fully tapped his bulging middle and began to look
more amiably at the robbers.
	"Come, what's on your mind, old Serious?" asked
Realbad, catching one of Snuffer's earnest glances.
	"Tell us something about yourself, how you came into
the hands of the gypsies and all that."
	"Yes, give us the bare facts," yawned Tiny, leaning
both elbows on the table and resting his chin in his
huge palms. "Are you kind to little fish and children,
are you pleasant or unpleasant and-"
	"Unpleasant," answered Snuffer promptly, and be-
ginning to enjoy himself immensely. "I awaken
every morning with a snarl and retire every even-
ing with a growl."
	"And between times?" asked Tiny, with another
yawn.
	"Oh, judge for yourself," said Snuffer grufily, "but
let me tell you one thing, never cross a bear. A
crossed bear is a cross bear and beware of him."
Paying no attention to the mirth of the outlaws,
Snuffer went calmly on with his recital.
	"I am, as you have probably noticed, a plantigrade,
carnivorous animal, though I much prefer fruit,
vegetables, fish and honey."
	"Well, that lets me out," roared Slayrum, setting
down his mug and wiping his mouth carelessly on
his sleeve. "Fish! Ha, ha! Honey! Ho, ho!"
	"It was my taste for honey that proved my un-
doing," went on Snuffer, rolling his eyes solemnly
around at Realbad. "Five years ago, coming down
from the mountains for a little change of scene and
diet, I happened upon a gypsy encampment. At that
time I knew nothing of gypsies, and as the camp
seemed deserted I looked around to see whether they
had left anything good to eat. Near one of the
wagons there was a large pail of honey. Putting my
head in the pail to sample the honey, I suddenly
received a blow from behind that jammed my ears
down into the pail. While in this unfortunate posi-
tion and blinded by the sticky stuff, I was soon over-
powered and tied fast to a tree. During the winter
that followed, Zithero, the leader of the gypsies,
taught me to dance, hold out a tin cup, and other
tricks unbecoming to one of my size and dignity. In
the spring we started out and traveled up and down
Oz, begging at country fairs, stealing, peddling and
living the miserable lives of outcasts. Half fed and
cruelly beaten I have for five years existed as a
wretched captive, with not even time out or one
opportunity to lie dormant." Snuffer's voice cracked
and broke at the memory of his wrongs.
	"What savagery," murmured Tiny, winking across
the table at Ojo, "What savagery! Ho, hu'rn,! I'd
like to lie dormant myself for a couple of centuries."
	"See here, why not stay with us?" proposed Real-
bad generously. "We will let you lie dormant once
a year and make a real bandit of you. Snuffer the
Bandit Bear of Oz, how does that sound, comrades?"
	"Ha, ha! A robber bear. Ho, ho! But remember,
you can't make this year's lily out of last year's rose."
As the bandits laughed at Tiny's sally, Snuffer
cleared his throat and looked thoughtfully into the
empty root beer keg.
	"I would rather go free and take Ojo back to the
Emerald City," he announced boldly.
	"What! Take our treasure?" exclaimed Realbad,
flinging his arm around the little Munchkin. "Why,
you can't do that, and since Ojo has brought us such
luck and good fortune, let Ojo tell his story. I, for
one, would like to know why he is worth his weight
in jewels."
	"Yes! Yes! Speak up and tell us all," shouted the
robbers, thumping on the table with their knives.
	"Better begin at the middle," advised Tiny, who
was growing dreadfully sleepy. "Begin at the mid-
dle and leave out all dates, all favorite uncles and
aunts, stone bruises, fish you have caught, all pet
turtles, guinea pigs, white mice, puppies and don't
bother about Christmas and birthday presents!"
	"I was not going to!" said Ojo, springing up in-
dignantly.
	"There, there, little splinter, don't mind him,"
murmured Realbad soothingly. "Begin where you
want and stop where you wish."
	"Well," began Ojo in a serious voice. "For as long
as I can remember I have lived with Unc Nunkie in
a small house in the middle of a forest."
	"Didn't this Unc Monkey have a name?" asked
Slayrum, with a malicious leer.
	"Nunkie," corrected Ojo severely, "and I never
heard any other name, though some call him the
silent one, for Unc never talks if he can possibly
help it."
	"What fun!" commented Smackemback. "How
cheery! What a life for you!"
	"It was pretty lonely," admitted Ojo thoughtfully.
"But one day, when our bread tree stopped blooming
and there was no more to eat, we left the little house
in the forest and started out to find some other place
to live. The first place we came to belonged to Dr.
Pipt, the crooked magician, who lived on a mountain
on the other side of the forest. When we reached
the house, Dr. Pipt's wife, Margolotte invited us in,
gave us a fine dinner and showed us a Patchwork
Girl she had made out of an old quilt and stuffed with
cotton. The magician himself was busy making a
new batch of the Powder of Life. He wanted to make
the Patchwork Girl live so she could be a servant
for his wife. As the powder was almost finished, he
begged us to stay and watch him do it."
"And how did it work?" inquired Realbad, leaning
over to light his pipe with one of the tall candles.
	"It worked all right, but something terrible hap-
pened," explained Ojo, with a little shiver at memory
of that awful afternoon. "You see, when the crooked
magician shook the powder over Scraps, the Patch-
work Girl, she came to life so suddenly that Unc
Nunkie and Margolotte jumped up together and
knocked a bottle of the Liquid of Petrifaction from
a shelf over their heads. The liquid spilled all over
them and they were immediately turned to marble."
	"You don't say!" grunted Slayrum, as if he did not
believe a word of the story. Ojo nodded and pro-
ceeded hurriedly with his recital.
	"Well, after that the crooked magician looked in
his book of magic and found that the only way to
restore Unc Nunkie and Margolotte was to brew a
mixture of five objects: a six-leaved clover, the left
wing of a yellow butterfly, a gill of water from a
dark well, three hairs from a Woozy's tail, and a
drop of oil from a live man's body."
	"Sounds difficult," puffed Realbad, while Snuffer
regarded Ojo with round-eyed interest and attention.
Even the robbers stopped talking and joking among
themselves to listen.
	"It was," answered Ojo soberly. "But the Patch-
work Girl and the wizard's Glass Cat went with me
and in case we should not succeed the wizard began
making a new batch of the Powder of Life. But as
that would take him five years of constantly stirring
four kettles with his hands and feet, he hoped very
much that we would find the necessary articles. The
Woozy we found almost at once, and as we could not
pull the three hairs out of his tail he agreed to come
with us. When we reached the Emerald City, I found
a six-leaved clover outside the walls and picked it
without asking permission. For this I was arrested
and put into jail, but when Ozma learned why I
wanted the six-leaved clover she immediately for-
gave me and also asked Dorothy and the Scarecrow
to go with me to help find the other articles. We
found them, too," asserted Ojo proudly, "all but the
yellow butterfly's wing. The Tin Woodman who rules
the yellow Winkie country would not let us kill a yel-
low butterfly so we had to return to the Emerald City
without it. But Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the
South, and the Wizard of Oz had already found an-
other way to break the spell and when we arrived at
the palace we found that Ozma had brought Unc
Nunkie, Margolotte and the Crooked Magician to the
capital."
	"And in the wink of a cat's eye and whisker-they
were restored to their proper shapes," finished Tiny
helpfully.
	"Yes," said Ojo pensively. "And since then, the
Glass Cat and Scraps have lived with Ozma in the
palace and Unc Nunkie and I have lived in a green
cottage with blue shutters just outside the city walls.
And we go to all the royal parties and celebrations,
too," finished Ojo a bit complacently.
	"But that does not explain the five thousand bags
of sapphires," rumbled a robber from the foot of the
table. "It's as much of a mystery as ever. When did
these gypsies get hold of you?"
	"Last night," answered Ojo, hanging his head as
he remembered how all this trouble could have been
avoided had he only minded Unc Nunkie. "Why not
let me go?" he asked, turning suddenly to Realbad.
"Take me back to the Emerald City and I am sure
Ozma will reward you all."
	"No! No! No!" shouted the bandits, springing an-
grily to their feet. "We took you in a fair fight and
will be paid for our trouble."
	"It wouldn't do for an outlaw to go to the Emerald
City," explained Realbad patiently. "I'd probably be
thrown into jail, and it wouldn't be good business to
let you go either."
	"And is banditry good business?" growled Snuffer-
bux disgustedly. "It's a bad business, a mighty bad
business, and well you know it."
	"Well, it's the only business I have at present, so
you'll just have to make the best of it." Smiling
through his pipe smoke, Realbad rose and stretched
his arms high above his head. It seemed to Ojo that
he looked both sorry and worried, but as he made no
move to stop the robbers when they rushed toward
the enormous Oz map on the wall, he concluded that
he must have been mistaken.
	"Here it is, Moojer Mountain!" yelled Slayrum.
"Right here in the southern part of the Munchkin
country, sticking up like the wart on Tiny's nose."
	"Never mind the wart on my nose," muttered Tiny
sullenly, as the bandits swarmed noisily around the
map. "Who's to go to Moojer Mountain and fetch
those  jewels?"
	"Let's toss for it," drawled Realbad, indifferently
drawing the dagger from his boot top. "Let's throw
our daggers at the map and the man whose weapon
sticks nearest to this mountain shall take Ojo and
claim the reward."
	"But, remember, it's to be divided!" Tiny remind-
ed him jealously.
	"Certainly," agreed Realbad. "Don't we always
divide everything? Stand back,  all of you, and Tiny
shall have first try."
	"Oh, Snuffer!" wailed Ojo, crowding close to the
brown bear. "They really mean to go on with it."
	All the bandits were keen shots and most of the
daggers landed on Moojer Mountain. But one
perched victoriously on the very tip.
	"Realbad's," muttered Tiny, plucking it out with
a little grimace. "Might know he'd best us."
	"Three cheers for Realbad!" called Smackemback,
who always seemed to be good-natured and jolly.
"Realbad shall take Ojo to Moojer Mountain and
turn him into jewels!"

CHAPTER 4

The Silver Bird

FORGOTTEN, now, was the merriment and good
fellowship of the past few hours in Realbad's
cave. All that Ojo now felt was repugnance and ter-
ror at the robber band's greed.
"Anyway, I'm glad Tiny did not win the right to
take me to Moojer Mountain," he confided in a
gloomy whisper to Snuffer.
	"Take you!" growled the bear in a savage under-
tone. "Why wait? What do you say we make a run
for it, Ojo? I can knock over a dozen of these ras-
cals with one arm, and they're so busy with that map
that we might make it."
	"But I promised," objected the boy, drawing back
sorrowfully.
	"Promised!" wheezed the bear in exasperation
"what have promises to do with a pack of ruffians
like this?"
	"Sh-hh, here comes Realbad," warned Ojo, as Snuf-
fer rolled off the bench and reared angrily up on his
hind legs.
	"Hah, isn't this the fellow who could wrestle?'
inquired the bandit teasingly, as Snuffer stood stub-
born and scowling in his path. "Come on, let's have
a try. Wrestling a bear with bare hands. What ho!"
	Squaring off, the outlaw grinned at Snuffer and
with a snarl of fury the bear rushed in, flinging both
arms around the bandit. But Realbad slipped through
his claws like quicksilver, and though they rolled,
tumbled and squirmed all over the floor, Snuffer
failed to get a firm hold on the wily, wiry, steel-
muscled outlaw. Forming a circle around the two,
the bandits yelled with interest and enthusiasm and
even Ojo could not help a squeal of excitement as
Realbad, catching Snuffer a bit off balance, bowled
him over like a ten pin.
	"Fine work!" Seizing the paw of the prostrate
bear, the bandit shook it warmly. "We'll try again
soon. I won this time, but one more biff and you
would have had me down. Now, how about some
root beer to celebrate?"
	With a dazed and puzzled expression in his little
button eyes, Snuffer sat up. Yet strangely enough
he felt no resentment. Realbad had fought bravely
and well and had downed him in a fair test. No use
trying again till he had back his wind, and for the
present all thought of escape would have to be aban-
doned. Gulping down the huge mug of beer, Snuf-
ferbux sat thoughtfully blinking at the floor while
the robbers vociferously clapped first him and then
Realbad on the shoulders.
	They had tarried so long at the table listening to
Snuffer and Ojo's stories that the afternoon was al-
ready far advanced. To Ojo's intense relief it was
decided that Realbad would not start for Moojer
Mountain till daybreak, and after another bite to
eat the bandits stretched themselves out on the floor
to rest. Each man had his own bearskin rug, and
surrounded by their bristling weapons the robbers
lay down in orderly rows like soldiers in a barracks.
	Ojo and Snuffer shared a rug by the fire, and the
bear sorrowfully felt and measured the hide of his
huge and fallen kinsman.
	"Well, I've been floored, but I'm still in my skin,"
he wheezed mournfully, "and if I do not think of
something quickly we'll both be done for!" Ojo said
nothing but he quite agreed with Snuffer. Lying
quietly beside him he wondered whether the robbers
would ever go to sleep. When they did, he intended
to take the bear's advice and make a break for free-
dom. Realbad was the first to close his eyes, and
while Ojo was waiting for the other bandits to doze
off he must have fallen asleep himself, for when he
wakened the cave was dark. Only a few embers
glowed in the fireplace, but as the boy raised himself
cautiously on his elbow a confused murmuring struck
his ears. It was Tiny and Slayrum. The two robbers
were whispering together in the darkness.
	"I don't like it, I tell you," hissed Tiny. "Can't you
see how soft Realbad is with the boy? Pull my nose,
comrade, if he doesn't mean to let him off and come
back with some fish and bait story and no jewels.
Besides, how is one man to carry all that treasure?
We never thought of that, did we, mate? I tell you
the thing to do is for us to steal this Ojo now and
slip away while Realbad is still sleeping. If he wakes
we'll tie him up and toss him over the cliff."
	"But, would that be right?" Slayrum spoke in a
hoarse wheeze. "Realbad's the chief, ye know."
	"What's the matter with your being chief?" pro-
posed Tiny slyly, and in the little silence that fol-
lowed, Ojo knew the bandit was thinking it over.
Glancing at the calm face of Realbad, he felt sud-
denly very sor?y for him. what rogues these rob-
bers were, and what would happen to him if they
reached Moojer Mountain and found no reward?
Fling him over a cliff in all likelihood.
	Rigid with suspense and anxiety, Ojo lay tensely
beside Snuffer. If he roused Realbad and the bear,
the robbers would overpower them all. And bandit
though Realbad was, Ojo did not relish the notion
of seeing him flung down a rocky gorge. Merciful
Munchkin~! Here they came, treading carefully over
their sleeping comrades. Turning over quickly Ojo
rolled on a small sharp object. It was the silver
whistle he had picked up in the forest when he was
with the gypsies. It had probably fallen out of his
pocket while he slept. Scarcely knowing why he did
so, but only knowing he must do something, Ojo, as
Slayrum's great hand reached out to snatch him,
seized the whistle and blew it with all his strength.
The piercing blast echoed and re-echoed through the
rocky cavern. Tiny and Slayrum were so startled
that they stopped in their tracks, while the other
robbers popped up from their rugs like jumping
jacks, Realbad grasping his sword in both hands.
	Then, before Ojo could warn him of his danger,
before Tiny or Slayrum could seize the little Munch-
kin or impart their wicked plans to the other bandits,
there was a blinding flash and flutter over the open
part of the cave. A dazzling silver radiance flooded
it from one end to the other, and as Ojo and the rob-
bers shivered with astonishment, a great silver bird,
seventy times as large as the largest eagle, swooped
down into the bandits' lair. Each of its feathers was
flashing silver and its eyes and beak were sparkling
jewels that sent little sparks of radiance darting
about the cave.
	"who calls Opodock?" whistled the silver bird in a
low melodious voice.  who needs or desires his
help?"
	"Oh, I did, I do!" panted Ojo, recovering from his
amazement before anyone else could speak. "Please
send these bandits away quick!" Snatching Real-
bad's hand and Snuffer's paw he drew them back
toward the fireplace, and it was well that he did, for
the next moment, Opodock, spreading his great
wings, dropped down before them. Raising his wings,
Opodock fluttered them once, then again. A wind-
no, a hurricane-arose, and like pebbles and sticks
caught in a tidal wave the robbers were caught up
and swept out of the cavern. Only Realbad, Snuf-
fer, Ojo and the Silver Bird remained. As Realbad,
jerking away from the little Munchkin, prepared to
dart after the outlaws, Opodock spoke again.
	"Anything else, my masters?" But this time his
voice was so soft and gentle that only one person
heard it. Ojo was running wildly after Realbad, but
Snufferbux, leaning close to the great Silver Bird,
spoke six breathless words. Once more Opodock
raised his silver wings. Another hurricane swept
through the rocky enclosure and on the wings of that
magic wind, Ojo, Snuffer and Realbad went sailing
out of the cave, over the tree tops, up, up and up
until they seemed but queerly shaped clouds whirl-
ing across the sky.


CHAPTER 5

A Safe Place

	IT seemed to Ojo that they had flown or rather
blown along for hours. It was not an unpleasant
sensation at all, and when they presently dropped
down as softly as feathers upon a glassy, flat-topped
mountain, his only feeling was one of thankfulness
and relief. At last he was out of the clutches of the
outlaws. Of course, Realbad was still along, but Ojo,
for one reason and another, could not believe that
Realbad was really as bad as he pretended to be.
Looking doubtfully around at the robber chief, who
had fallen beside him, he was relieved to see that he
was smiling.
	"Humph!" chuckled Realbad, straightening his
leather jacket and feeling about for his sword. "You
look like the canary who swallowed the pussy cat,
Ojo."
	"You mean the cat that swallowed the canary,
don't you?" mumbled Snufferbux, rolling over and
sitting up with a grunt.
	"No, I mean the canary who swallowed the cat,"
repeated Realbad, sticking the sword through his
belt. "Just now Ojo is the canary and I am the
cat, and the canary has the upper hand, or I might
say, er, wing."
	"Speaking of wings, how did you like flying?" in-
quired Snufferbux calmly. He was so happy to be
rid of the gypsies and free of the bandits that he
could have conversed cheerfully about anything.
	"Not bad, though a bit sudden," confessed the
robber chief thoughtfully. "But who turned on this
wind, where are my men, how did we get here and
why?"
	"It was the silver whistle," explained Ojo, jumping
up and looking earnestly into Realbad's face. "while
you were asleep I heard Slayrum and Tiny planning
to steal me because they thought you intended to
let me go. If you awakened or objected they were
going to throw you over the cliff and keep all the
treasure for themselves. When they started toward
me, I rolled over and this whistle I had picked up
in the forest slipped out of my pocket. Thinking it
might scare Tiny and Slayrum, I blew it as hard as
I could. And it must have been a magic whistle,
Realbad, for before I knew what was happening,
down swooped that enormous bird and when I asked
him to help me he flapped his wings and blew all of
your men out of the cavern."
	"Hm~mm! So those rascals meant to do away
with me," mused Realbad slowly. "Well, Ojo, you
certainly blew that whistle in the nick of time. But
how did we come here? Did you ask the bird to blow
us to this deserted mountain top?"
	"I guess that was my doing," observed Snufferbux
complacently. "when the big fellow asked if we
had any more orders, neither of you heard, so I
asked it to take us quickly to some safe place."
	"Safe place!" roared Realbad, leaping into the air
as if he had been shot. "whatever made you do
that? What good is a safe place to a bandit, I should
like to know."
	"Well, if you'd traveled around with gypsies as
long as I have, you'd long for a safe place too, es-
pecially when you've a fine boy like Ojo to consider,"
sniffed the bear, wagging his head stubbornly.
	"Boy, have you still got that whistle? Blow it!
Blow it quick and get us away from here," panted
Realbad, hurrying over to Ojo. But though Ojo
searched in all of his pockets he could not find the
magic whistle to summon Opodock. He had left it
somewhere in the cave.
	"Well, I must say this is nice!" fumed the bandit,
striding fiercely up and down. "What good is a de-
serted mountain top to me?"
	"Oh, stop fussing," advised Snuffer. "You ought
to be thankful you are not lying at the bottom of
some ravine instead of being high and safe up on
this mountain top. You're still a highwayman. Well,
isn't this high enough for you?"
	"That's just the point," argued Realbad in exas-
peration. "How can I be a highwayman up here
when there is no one to waylay or rob?"
	"Well, you could reform, couldn't you?" suggested
the bear, settling back comfortably against a crystal
boulder. "You've lost your band, so why be a bandit?
I can dance, you can sing (if I remember rightly)
and Ojo, here, can pass the hat."
	"What hat?" asked Ojo practically, and that made
even Realbad laugh, for so swiftly had they blown
to Snuffer's safe place that Ojo's hat had been left
far behind them and Realbad's only weapon was the
sword he had seized when he was first awakened.
	"Never fear, we'll get along somehow," predicted
Snufferbux cheerfully. "We'll travel all over Oz
till we find the Emerald City and return Ojo to his
Unc Nunkie."
	"Emerald City!" sniffed the bandit, sitting down
hard beside the bear. "We're not going to the Emer-
ald City, we're going to Moojer Mountain."
	"I declare, you're the stubbornest dumb creature
I've ever met!" growled Snuffer, doubling up his
paws. "If I'd had a grain of sense I'd never have
wished you here. What good is a safe place with a
fellow like you? The idea of talking like that after
Ojo practically saved your life."
	"That's so," admitted Realbad, looking thought-
fully over at the little Munchkin. "Well, look here,
I'll tell you what I'll do. Since Ojo saved my life I
will release him from his promise and he may try
to escape any time he wishes. If he doesn't escape
we'll go to Moojer Mountain. Is that a bargain?"
	"Oh, what is the use of bargaining," answered Ojo
in a depressed voice. "We'll probably never get off
this mountain, let alone reach any other one."
And it really did seem that Ojo was right. As far
as they could see stretched a dazzling expanse of
flat crystal rock. The sun, just rising over the moun-
tain top, sent rosy streaks of light in every direction
and already the glitter and flash of the crystal was
making Ojo's eyes water. Even Snuffer was begin-
ning to feel that his safe place was not so desirable
after all. Sniffing the frosty air hungrily, the brown
bear wondered what they were to do about breakfast.
	"Let's look around," suggested Realbad, jumping
up impatiently. "Come along, treasure, maybe we
can find a path or some other way down." Ojo did
not like Realbad to call him treasure, but neverthe-
less, he hurried after the long-legged bandit and
with Snuffer lumbering and muttering behind them,
they made a careful survey of the mountain top. But
upon that whole flat, glittering summit there was
not a single flower, plant or tree and when they
reached the edge Ojo drew back with a quick shud-
der. The sides of the mountain did not slant grad-
ually downward. There was instead a sheer per-
pendicular drop of two thousand feet to the bottom.
Any attempt to descend would mean destruction.
	"Watch out there!" panted Realbad, as Snuffer,
in his eagerness to discover some path or way down,
leaned far out over the treacherous edge. "Do you
want to pitch over the edge and break yourself to
chips and splinters?
	"Well, what if I do?" snapped the bear in a sulky
voice. "why should a real bad fellow like you care
what becomes of me?"
	"Oh, let's not quarrel," begged Ojo, smiling a little
to himself at Realbad's fierce expression as he
dragged Snufferbux away from the mountain edge.
"Let's all be friends."
	"I don't see why you should be friends with a
villain who intends to trade you for five thousand
bags of jewels," grumbled Snuffer, jerking away
from the bandit.
	"But he hasn't done it yet," answered Ojo quietly.
"Let's go sit down and try to think up something."
	"Can you think up a breakfast?" demanded the
bear sarcastically. "If you can, just think me up
some waffles and maple syrup and a big bowl of
berries."
	"How about some safe tea?" roared Realbad.
"What do you think of your safe place now, old
Snufficus? We shall probably perish of safety before
we are done. Pah! Safety! Give me danger every
time, danger, excitement and the chance of a good
battle."
	"Is that why you are a bandit?" asked Ojo, throw-
ing himself down on his stomach and shading his
eyes from the burning glare of the sun on the crys-
tal rocks.
	"Partly," answered Realbad, flinging himself down
beside Ojo and grinning over at Snuffer, who was
sitting glumly on the other side of the boy.
	"But were you always one?" continued Ojo, who,
like most boys, had an insatiable curiosity concern-
ing such matters. "You don't seem like the rest of
the robbers at all!"
	"I don't?" exclaimed Realbad, raising up on his
elbows and staring through half closed eyes at the
boy. "Oh, nonsense! I'm more like the bandits than
the bandits themselves. I've sworn to be a bandit.
I'll be a bandit if it kills me. Do you hear?"
	"Not being deaf," sniffed the bear, rocking himself
sourly backward and forward, "we do!"
	"But why did you swear to be a bandit when
there are so many other things to be? Besides, it's
against the law," persisted Ojo.
	"Law!" scoffed Realbad, thumping the rocks an-
grily with his fist. "What good are the laws of Oz?
All my possessions and treasures were stolen from
me by gentlemanly and noble rascals, so I have
become an ignoble and ungentlemanly rascal and
shall continue to be one till I have taken from others
as. much as others have taken from me."
	"And how much was that?" inquired Ojo, gen-
uinely thrilled and interested.
	"Oh, let's talk about something else," muttered
Realbad, running his hands through his curly black
hair. "Where do you suppose those merry rogues of
mine are now? I hope they're as safe and uncom-
fortable as we are."
	"Well, I'm wondering about the gypsies," mused
Ojo, seeing that Realbad would tell him no more
of his own history. "They must be dreadfully hungry
by this time."
	"Hungry? why should they be hungry?" demand-
ed Realbad tartly. "I bound Zithero so loosely that
he probably got free in an hour and untied all the
rest of his good-for-nothing, thieving scalawags."
	"The pot should not call the kettle black," mur-
mured Snufferbux, snapping his little eyes mali-
ciously.
	"Are you calling me a pot?" shouted the bandit,
jumping to his feet. Angrily repeating his question
he struck the crystal boulder beside Snuffer a ring-
ing blow with his sword. As Ojo, greatly alarmed,
sprang up to separate the two a simply oztonishing
thing happened. The rock, at the first touch of Real-
bad's sword, swung smoothly to the right revealing a
long, slanting slide that seemed to lead into the
heart of the mountain.
	"A way down! A way down!" roared Snufferbux,
bounding off the boulder. "what luck! what gor-
geous luck!"
	"Pot luck, I'd call it," chuckled Realbad, winking
at the bear and restored to instant good humor.
	"But where do you suppose it goes?" shivered Ojo,
sticking his head fearfully into the dark opening.
"Why, it's as steep and slippery as a toboggan slide.
Do you think it's safe?"
	"Safe! Well, I hope to Hickory not! Come along,
little splinter. I've had enough safety."
	"Here, let me go first," grunted the bear, pushing
Realbad aside and seating himself determinedly at
the top of the slide. "Then if anything happens
there'll be something soft for you fellows to land on."
	"Well, now that's what I call kind!" Realbad
clapped Snuffer heartily on the shoulder. "I'll hold
Ojo on my lap, for he is at present my only and
dearest possession. All ready! One! Two! THREE!"
At three, Snuffer let himself down on the slippery
slide and like a shot disappeared into the darkness.
Ojo had just time to gasp, "Be careful!" when Real-
bad seized him in his arms and seating himself on
the glassy incline went whirling, dropping, and
swooping after Snufferbux.


CHAPTER 6

The Frozen City

	THE slide inside the crystal mountain was steep-
ly circular and down and round and round and
down sped Snuffer, Realbad and Ojo, gathering mo-
mentum as they reached the end so that they shot
out like three cannon balls into the open. Ojo, won-
dering why he felt so cold, soon discovered that he
was sitting in a snow drift. A fortunate thing, too,
for it made a soft and splendid landing place. For
several moments everything continued to spin; then
gradually the scenery righted itself. In place of ten
mountains, Ojo now saw only one and at the foot of
the mountain, scarcely a hundred yards away, stood
a gleaming, glittering City of Crystal.
	"Hah! Business looks up," cried Realbad, brushing
the snow from his leather jacket. Jumping briskly
to his feet he held out his hands to Ojo. "Breakfast,
beauty, booty and what not!"
	"Now, don't begin that," growled Snuffer sourly.
"Ojo and I are not bandits and have no intention of
becoming bandits. If we can't make our way hon-
estly we'll starve," stated the bear, getting grimly
to his feet.
	"But starving is such slow work," mused Realbad
teasingly. "Why be good and glum when it's so much
more fun to be bad and gay? What do you say, Ojo,
are you stealing or starving?"
	"Perhaps the king of this city will give us some
breakfast," said Ojo tactfully and without commit-
ting himself either way.
	"Breakfast?" shouted Realbad, tossing his hat
derisively into the air. "You'?e a fine couple of high-
waymen. Can you think of nothing but breakfast?"
	"It's a wonder he can think at all," grumbled Snuf-
ferbux, holding his head with both paws. "I've done
a heap of mountain climbing in my day. I've gone
up mountains and down mountains, but I never shot
through the center of a mountain before and I don't
care if I never do it again.
	"Quite a descent," agreed Realbad, winking at
Ojo. "Quite a descent!"
	"Decent!" coughed Snuffer indignantly. "There's
nothing decent about it. I never experienced such
an upside downside affair in my life. I'm missing a
lot of fur, I'll have you know, where I'm used to
wearing it, and from the feel of this climate I'll need
all the fur I can get."
	"Well, anyway, we're down !" exclaimed Ojo, hur-
rying across the field toward the sparkling highway
that ran like a broad white ribbon round the base of
the mountain.
	"Look out! Look out!" bellowed Snuffer, whose
ars were keener than those of his companions.
With one leg over the fence, Ojo stopped and at
what he saw nearly froze with terror. Flashing and
thrashing along the highway faster than the Chicago
express, was an enormous blue dragon, clouds of
frosty vapor rising from its nostrils and its purple
fangs darting in and out in a truly frightening man-
ner. So tremendously long was the creature that it
took several moments for its scaly, curving body to
thunder by. And scarcely had they glimpsed the end
of its tail before its ugly head reappeared around
the bend in the roadway.
	"Bluenblackberries !" shivered Snuffer, leaning
weakly against the fence. "I don't believe I'll wait
for breakfast after all!"
	"why not?" inquired Realbad, recklessly drawing
his sword. "Some cities have walls, some cities have
dragons. I have scaled walls before this and I guess
I can scale a dragon without too much trouble."
	"Bu~bu~it might hurt you," stuttered Ojo,
hanging on to Realbad's leather coat as the bandit
prepared to vault the fence. "Wait! Stop! I've
thought of another way. Look, as soon as the drag-
on's tail goes by, let's dash across the road before
the head appears. There's just about time if we hur-
ry. I suppose it runs round and round the city like
this to keep strangers out."
	"Them why bother to go in?" shuddered Snuffer,
turning his back as the horrid blue monster roared
by for the fourth time."
	"In the first place, we're cold, in the second place,
we're hungry, in the third place, we're lost. Yonder
we shall find warmth, food and perchance some im-
portant treasure." Raising his sword, Realbad start-
ed forward and seeing that the boy was determined
to follow him, the bear heaved himself morosely over
the fence and with pounding hearts, all three waited
for the dragon's tail to go by.
	"How do you know it'll stay on the road?" wheezed
Snuffer uncomfortably.
	"We don't, we don't, that's what makes it so ex-
citing. Tails, we win! Heads, we lose!" whispered
the bandit, seizing Ojo's hand. "Hah, tails! Ready,
steady, GO ~
	And go they did, racing like rabbits across the icy
highway and sprawling on their noses on the oppo-
site side just as the blue dragon again came snorting
into view. It let out such a whistle and scream and
cast such a baleful glare in their direction that Ojo
had no memory at all of how he reached or dashed
through the gates of the Crystal City. To tell the
truth, he had almost flown, arriving there just three
puffs and a pant ahead of Snufferbux and Realbad
Slamming the gates and shooting the bolts, Realbad
swung round prepared to face the city's soldiers 'or
guards. And guards there were, in tens and dozens,
drawn up stiffly on each side of the road, but they
looked neither to the left nor to the right and paid
no attention to the travelers at all.
	"Why-why, they're frozen! Everybody's frozen,
Realbad," Ojo said, looking around with a little
shiver; and he was perfectly right about that. A
strange, uneasy hush hung over the glittering city.
Its tall buildings and houses of crystal were uncan-
nily soundless and still. The citizens themselves in
various attitudes and postures stood motionless in
the streets and by-ways. An old woman, her broom
still poised for sweeping, was in the doorway of a
shop. A boy whistling along on his way to the shop
had been frozen with his lips still puckered and one
foot upraised.
	"Cold cheer," muttered Realbad, blowing on his
fingers. "This must have happened in a hurry, boys.
There's a fellow caught in the middle of a sneeze.
What a face!"
	"They're funny enough looking without being
frozen," grunted Snuffer, lumbering down the street
after Ojo. "They're all crystal. You can see right
through their heads."
	"That's because they had trans-parents," laughed
Realbad, striding rapidly toward the crystal palace
at the end of the tree-lined avenue.
	"Well, if I had nothing in my head I'd rather no
one knew it," grumbled Snuffer, staring morosely at
a crystal policeman.
	"What's the difference? They'd know it anyway
as soon as you opened your mouth." Realbad looked
back over his shoulder and laughed provokingly.
Then, dodging the crystal flower pot Snuffer snatched
from a window ledge and flung after him, he dashed
through the swinging doors into the palace itself.
Ojo and the bear were not far behind, for the streets
of the frozen city were bitterly cold and they hoped
for a little warmth inside. But the same icy silence
greeted them. It was so frigid, in fact, that Snuffer
forgot his anger and began to beat his breast with
both arms and dance a brisk gypsy fandango down
the long, blue, velvet-carpeted hallway.
	All the furnishings in this stately palace were of
crystal, crystal chairs, sofas, tables, crystal chande-
liers and ornaments. Blue damask hangings and blue
velvet carpets toned in well with these glittering ap-
purtenances, but the three cold and hungry adven-
turers were by this time too frozen and uncomfort-
able to appreciate the castle's magnificence. With
chattering teeth they ran past the frozen footmen
and serving maids to the throne room.
	The king and queen, splendidly clothed in blue
velvet and ermine, were seated on their crystal
thrones staring with glassy-eyed indifference straight
ahead of them. The court musicians had congealed
in the middle of a waltz, some with fiddle bows up-
raised, others with cheeks puffed out for a good blow
at the horns. The crystal courtiers stood or sat
around in rigid groups, scowls, smiles and even
yawns frozen on their handsome faces. Their cos-
tumes Ojo thought exceedingly fine with their lacy
ruffs, slashed sleeves and long lengths of silk and
velvet. Seizing a cloak from a stiff and frozen page,
wrapped it around his own shivering body and
tiptoed over to an old sage who was gazing fixedly
into a huge crystal ball. Looking over the old fel-
low's shoulder, Ojo was astonished to see words form-
ing in the ball.
	"Ojo, beware! You are in great danger!" an-
nounced the crystal ball in flashing blue letters.
Snufferbux, just behind Ojo, gave a bounce of ter-
ror.
	"Of course you're in danger!" sneezed the bear
bitterly. "Traveling around with a good-for-nothing
robber. We're all in danger. It's worse than danger-
ous to be as cold as this." Snuffer wrathfully broke
the icicle that had formed on the end of his nose and
threw it angrily on the floor. "Now that you're here,
perhaps you'll tell us what you intend to do," he sput-
tered, facing Realbad with clenched paws.
	"Bear to the right," directed the bandit calmly.
He too had read the message in the crystal ball, and
grasping Ojo by the arm hurried him along to the
castle kitchens. "There ought to be something to eat
in here," puffed the bandit, pushing aside a stiff and
sour-looking serving maid and leaning her up against
the wall. But in the ice box they found nothing but
glass fruit, and the cook in his tall cap still bending
over the stove had his spoon in a mixture that turned
out to be ground glass soup.
	"Ooh-let-t-t's make a fire;" shivered Ojo, point-
ing to a box of kindling beside the shining porcelain
stove. And as this seemed a sensible suggestion,
Realbad proceeded to carry it out and soon had a
crackling blaze going. Crowding close to the stove,
they were all beginning to thaw out a bit, when Ojo,
who was standing nearest to the crystal cook,
screamed sharply. The cook after turning upon them
a mellow and despairing glance was dissolving be-
fo?e their eyes.
	"Oh! Oh! Get a mop! Put out the fire! Do some-
thing quick!" wailed the boy, as the stiff white suit
of the luckless chef collapsed into the pool of water
on the floor, all that was now left of the poor fellow.
	"It's all my fault!" groaned Realbad, snatching a
cloth from a nail and beginning to mop up the cook
and squeeze him into a bucket. "All my fault. I've
taken whatever I needed, but I've never reduced any-
one to such a pass as this before!"
	"Put out the fire," coughed Snufferbux, whirling
round like a dervish. "Help! The kitchen maid's be-
ginning to go. Quick, water! water!" While Ojo was
hurriedly filling a dishpan at the sink, Snuffer wildly
seized the pail from Realbad and dashed it over the
stove.
	"Now, now you've done it!" sputtered Realbad.
"That was the cook, you big donkey. Not satisfied
to have melted him, you must throw him on the fire."
	"Well, he's fired now all right," murmured Snuf-
fer, backing uneasily away from the steaming stove.
	"Mm-mm! What'll the king say?" breathed Ojo,
holding on to the edge of the table.
	"Well," answered Realbad, straightening up with
an anxious frown. "Judging from present indica-
tions, he won't say anything. No use crying over
spilt milk, er, cooks. Just keep cool, both of you,
and wait here till I see what I can pick up."
	"It seems sort of a shame to leave them all en-
chanted like this," said Ojo, wrapping the page's
cloak a little more tightly around him.
	"Well, we didn't enchant them," grumbled Snuffer-
bux, who felt so upset about the cook that he wished
to leave as soon as possible, "and it won't do any
good for us to stand around and congeal. I feel like
a frozen custard already."
	"Just the same, I believe Realbad could help them,"
insisted Ojo, looking hopefully up at the bronzed
outlaw. "And then the king might give you half of
the kingdom for a reward and you wouldn't have to
steal anything."
	"And don't forget the princess," put in Snuffer
sarcastically. "You will probably have to marry that
big, empty-headed, glassy-eyed daughter standing
behind their Majesties and then where'll you be?"
	"I am married," answered Realbad quietly.
	"Then where is your wife?" demanded Ojo. He
just could not understand this big robber chief at
all. Instead of answering, Realbad stared somberly
at the floor, apparently lost in unhappy memories.
Then, pulling himself together with a great effort,
he grasped his sword.
	"Come, now," he exclaimed, smiling thoughtfully
at Ojo. "Since you think I am such a stout fellow,
I'll have a try at this enchantment breaking and I
have a notion that crystal ball will help." So, for-
getting their cold and discomfort, they hurried back
to the throne room and stared intently into the clear
glass ball.
	"How shall I release Crystal City from this icy
spell?" inquired Realbad in a commanding voice.
	"Kill the blue dragon," flashed the crystal imme-
diately.
	"That's what I should have done in the first place,"
exclaimed the bandit, slapping his knee. "Wait here,
you two, and leave the rest to me."
	"Good-bye, then," choked Snuffer, thrusting out
his huge brown paw. "I know you're a robber and
an outlaw, but I'll never forget that dinner you gave
me."
	"Why, Snuffer, you talk as if he were never com-
ing back," cried Ojo in alarm.
	"Well, you saw the dragon!" Snuffer shrugged
his shoulders and shuffling over to the window looked
mournfully over the frozen city. But Realbad, with
a reassuring grin at Ojo, rushed out of the throne
room.
	"Let's go help him," said Ojo, staring after the
bandit, but Snuffer was too quick for him and seiz-
ing the boy held him tightly.
	"Wait!" he panted coaxingly. "Do you want to
be a dragon's breakfast and lunch? Wait! Keep
still, do you hear me?" Under the circumstances
there was nothing else for Ojo to do, as it was per-
fectly impossible to escape from the bear's grasp.
Fuming, kicking and scolding, Ojo passed ten of the
most uncomfortable moments of his life. As he
loudly and indignantly and for the twentieth time
shouted for Snufferbux to let him go, he became
suddenly aware of music. Then,
	"Silence~' called a harsh voice. Silence!" Squirm-
ing round in the bear's arms, Ojo saw the crystal
king pointing an angry finger in his direction. "Be
quiet!" commanded the king, shaking his scepter
threateningly.
	The whole court had come to life. The musicians
were finishing their waltz, the courtiers their smiles,
yawns, or bits of bored conversation.
	"Oh, be quiet yourself," rumbled Snufferbux, los-
ing his temper. "If it hadn't been for us you'd be
quiet enough. If it hadn't been for Realbad, you'd
still be frozen stiff and proper."
	"Realbad?" queried the crystal queen, leaning for-
ward languidly as the musicians finished up their
piece with a stately flourish. "Who is he?"
	"A bandit," Snuffer told her with strange satis-
faction. "A bandit, an outlaw and a robber chief."
	"A bandit! Oh, help!" quavered the queen, waving
her arms gracefully from side to side and trying to
catch a glimpse of herself in the long mirror opposite
as she did so. "Oh, help!"
	"He has helped you already!" said Snuffer, stamp-
ing his foot impatiently. "He has killed the blue
dragon and broken the enchantment."
	"What enchantment?" sniffed the king, fitting a
monocle in his eye and staring haughtily down at
Ojo.
	"Great Gillikens, didn't you know you were en-
chanted?" gasped Ojo in huge disgust.
	"The boy speaks truth," announced the old wise
man, who had been staring all this while into the
crystal ball. "It says here that we have been frozen
for fifty years."
	"Fifty years!" grunted the king fretfully. "Im-
possible!" During the confusion following this state-
ment, Realbad tiptoed quietly and unconcernedly
back into the room and took his place between Snuf-
fer and Ojo.
	"Well, how are the chances for a reward?" he
whispered merrily, looking around with twinkling
blue eyes. "I see they are all unfrizzed."
	Before Ojo could answer the glassy eye of the king
for the first time caught a glimpse of the bandit.
	"Seize that robber! Lock up that outlaw! Call out
the guard!" thundered his Majesty in a cracked and
furious voice.


CHAPTER 7

Realbad's Reward
	"Well, that's gratitude for you," murmured
Realbad, raising Qne eyebrow, as the pages
ran off to fetch the crystal guardsmen. "Let's not
wait for the reward, boys. I don't believe we're going
to like it."
	"But how did you kill the dragon?" breathed Ojo,
for even their present danger could not quench his
curiosity.
	"Shh-h!" murmured Snufferbux. "The king seems
to be changing his mind. The ugly princess has taken
a fancy to you, Realbad!" Sure enough, the king's
tall and angular daughter was talking earnestly to
her royal parent, and after a few gloomy nods the
king stepped down from his throne and raising his
hand for silence began to speak:
	"These odd-looking travelers have undoubtedly
broken the spell cast upon us by the Snow Dwarfs,"
declared his Majesty solemnly. "Walking at the
foot of Snow Mountain, which you all know is on the
other side of Crystal Mountain, our royal daughter,
Crystobel, was accosted by the dwarf king. He in-
sisted that she marry him at once and spend the
rest of her days in his underground ice palace. When
the princess coldly refused his offer the Snow Dwarf
flew into a terrible passion and, promising to be re-
venged upon the princess, disappeared between the
roots of an oak tree. Hurrying home, Crystobel
rushed into the throne room to explain the whole
affair to us, but as the court musicians were playing
my favorite waltz our thoughtful daughter decided
to wait till the piece was finished."
	"Well, the dwarf king did not wait," put in Real-
bad, swinging his broad sword carelessly. "He sent
his pet dragon to freeze up your town. This monster
breathes frost instead of flames and has been circling
Crystal City for fifty years, keeping you all at freez-
ing point and preventing anyone from getting in."
		"Then how did you manage to get in?" inquired
the king in an annoyed voice.
		"Oh, a bandit always manages," drawled Realbad,
with a provoking wink. "And now, since I have
destroyed this monster and restored your fair city,
I beg that your Majesty will give us some breakfast,
a fitting reward, and allow us to continue our jour-
ney."
	"A bandit is an outlaw and therefore not entitled
to a reward," whispered the old wise man craftily.
"Why should King Christopher and Queen Christine
reward you for breaking the enchantment? You did
it of your own free will."
	"Yes, why should I reward you?" sniffed the king,
motioning sternly for the guards to approach.
	"Because I ask you to," stated the ugly princess,
rolling her glittering eyes greedily at Realbad. "This
fellow pleases me and I shall marry him forthwith.
The boy shall be my page. And what can you do?"
inquired the princess, looking speculatively at Snuf-
ferbux.
	"Why, he can dance," explained Realbad oblig-
ingly, and before Snufferbux had time to growl for
himself.
	"How splendid!" murmured the queen, leaning for-
ward eagerly. you know, my dear, no one has ever
been able to keep step with you. No one ever asks
you to dance at court balls and this bear would save
us all so much embarrassment."
	"Mother!" Flashing her stony eyes and stamping
her tremendous glass slipper, the princess succeeded
in silencing the queen and turned again to her royal
father. "Well?" she demanded haughtily.
	"Well!" repeated the king, looking terribly put
out. "Since you wish it, I suppose I must consent,
but I can't say I'll relish a robber for a son-in-law,
and a bear at court will be dreadfully awkward-
dreadfully awkward!" Tapping his foot irritably on
the floor, King Chris stuck out his under lip and
looked crossly at his three rescuers. "Of course, they
will have to be crystallized," he finished unhappily.
	"Crystallized!" whistled Realbad, who had been lis-
tening to the conversation with an amused grin. "Oh,
that wouldn't suit us at all!"
	"Let's shove along," wheezed Snufferbux. The
bear had been looking anxiously at the enormous feet
of the ugly princess and had no desire or intention
of dancing with her. "Too bad we bothered with
them at all, cold-hearted, empty-headed lumps." But
before Snuffer and Realbad, with Ojo between them,
could push past their Majesties, they were rudely
seized by the royal guards.
	"Crystallize the boy first," directed the king in a
bored voice. While Realbad and Snuffer struggled
with the guards, Ojo was jerked forward. Now the
old sage, taking a small instrument that looked like
a blow-gun from his sleeve, sprayed the boy with a
sparkling shower of crystal flakes. In the horrid
moment that followed, Ojo imagined he could feel
himself turning to crystal and wondered how he
would ever find his way back to Unc Nunkie with a
glass head and a hollow body.
	"Anyway, I won't be hungry any more," shivered
the boy, rubbing first one arm and then the other.
He heard two of the crystal guards' heads crack
together as Realbad strove to free himself and the
roars of Snuffer almost drowned out the mumbling
of the wise man.
	"It cannot be done, Your Majesty," shrilled the
sage, after sending another shower of crystal sparks
over Ojo. "Some power is working against me."
	"Then throw them out," directed the king heart-
lessly. "This racket is 'noiseating'!"
	"Not the bandit," cried the princess. "Crystal or
not, I shall marry him." Now Realbad had by this
time more or less cracked up and broken ten of his
crystal captors, and, as the ugly princess drew near-
er, with a supreme effort he hurled off the other ten.
Brushing Crystobel aside, he seized Ojo and darted
through a swinging door at the back of the throne.
Snufferbux, thus encouraged, made quick work of
the remaining guards and with flailing arms beat his
way through the startled servants and courtiers.
	"Where to?" panted the bear, pounding heavily
after the bandit and Ojo.
	"Out!" cried Realbad, raising his sword. "Out and
on!" Down one passage and another they hurried,
bursting at last through a great green door that led
straight into the clear and heartening sunshine.
	They had come out on the other side of Crystal
City near the edge of a rippling blue stream.
	"I don't remember any body of water around
here," puffed the bear, shading his eyes with one
paw.
	"There was another kind of body, though," Real-
bad reminded him, with a little laugh. "A blue
dragon's body. There is your dragon, Ojo. I carried
wood from the kitchen, built a fire in the road and
he melted away like a snowflake."
	"You must have worked pretty fast," marvelled
Ojo, recalling the mad dash they had made across the
road between the dragon's tail and head.
	"Oh, I helped my fire along with gun oil and some
cartridges I had in my pocket," admitted Realbad
modestly, "and now, boys, I expect we'll have to swim
the dragon. Hello, here come the king's footmen and
what's left of the guards. Unless Snuffer wants to
stay and dance with the princess, we'd better swim
quick!"
	"Wumph!" snorted Snuffer, and waddling rapidly
down the bank he plunged head first into the icy
stream.
	"Still got that ring I gave you?" asked Realbad,
slipping off his boots and tying them around his
neck. Glancing down at the golden circlet on his
middle finger, Ojo nodded, one eye on Realbad and
one eye on the crystal footmen running toward
them.
	"Then come on," cried Realbad, and swinging Ojo
to his back he stepped into the dragon-I mean the
river-and swam easily across.
	"We're still in the Munchkin country," said Ojo, as
the robber chief set him down and gave himself a
great shake. "See, there is a small blue house and
the grass and fences are blue, too."
	"So's the sky," smiled Realbad, sitting down to
draw on his boots. "What are you eating, Snuffer?
Would we like it?"
	"Ants," grunted the bear, who had turned up a
blue rock and was licking it first on one side and then
on the other. "Delicious little ants."
	"Let's try the house," said Ojo, who was sure he
would not care for Snuffer's breakfast. "It is so
little it must belong to some one poor and poor peo~
ple are always kinder than kings."
	"So you've found that out, have you?" Realbad
smiled down at the boy, and taking his hand started
toward the cottage. The house was neat and tidy,
evidently the property of some simple Munchkin
shepherd, for they could see his flocks grazing in the
distance. The shepherd himself was not at home,
but there was milk, butter and fresh eggs in the
kitchen, so Ojo and Realbad borrowed a hearty
breakfast. Snuffer, tiring of ants, soon joined them
and after several loaves of the shepherd's fresh
bread announced himself ready for anything. Leav-
ing a short hunting knife to pay for the breakfast,
Realbad stood uncertainly in the doorway. Across
the dragon river they could see the twinkling spires
of Crystal City, which none of them ever cared to
visit again. To the east rose a long line of blue and
misty hills. A forest edged the rolling pasture on
the west and back of the house there seemed to be
nothing but meadows and farmlands.
	"Which way shall we go?" pondered Realbad,
thoughtfully rubbing his lean cheek. "Those hills
may lead to Moojer Mountain, but I am always happier
in a forest."
	"What are you talking about?" demanded Snuffer
sharply. "What ails you, anyway? Just as I begin
to like you real well, you start this Moojering again.
You are not going to take Ojo one step toward
Moojer Mountain and I'm here to tell you so."
	"Let's try the forest," proposed Ojo, who hated
these continued arguments. "Maybe the Emerald
City is right on the other side of it. We can't be so
very far away."
	"All right," yawned Realbad, who was somewhat
wearied by the excitement in Crystal City. "If we
come to the Emerald City first, you win. If we come
to Moojer Mountain first, I win. How's that?"
	"Preposterous !" sputtered Snufferbux, flouncing
on ahead "Come on!" Peace being restored for a
little while, they proceeded amiably enough toward
the shadowy forest.
	"How will the Crystal King manage without his
guards?" asked Ojo, switching at the long meadow
grass with a long sapling.
	"Oh, we didn't break them all," laughed Realbad,
winking at Snuffer. "Just splintered a few heads
and fingers. A little glue and they'll be as lively as
ever."
	"They're all cracked anyway," grumbled the bear,
who could not get over the shabby treatment of
King Christopher. "I'm glad I melted his cook.
Serves him jolly well right."
	"But it's funny they couldn't crystallize me," con-
tinued Ojo, trudging along contentedly between his
two companions. "I thought for a moment I was
done for!"
	"You're a brave little splinter." Realbad looked
approvingly down at the boy. "You'll go far, my
lad!"
	"No doubt, thanks to you," put in Snuffer sar-
castically. "A fine example you are to a growing
boy, with your lawless advice and thugduggery."
	"Whatever that is," yawned Realbad, patting Snuf-
fer kindly on the shoulder.
	"Yes, and suppose you had a son of your own,"
persisted the bear. "How would you like him to be
tracking through the woods with a bandit who'd
trade him in a minute for a vile heap of treasure?"
		"Stop! Stop!" begged the bandit, with
mendous yawn. "Lectures make me so drowsy. I'll
simply have to have forty winks."
"Well, taking forty winks will harm no one," went
on Snuffer, in a milder voice. "I wouldn't mind stop-
ping a bit myself. My knee's creaking like a rusty
hinge." As they had by this time reached the for-
est itself, they stopped under an immense chestnut
tree to rest. Ojo was much too excited by all that
had happened and all that might yet happen to
think of sleeping, but Realbad, exhausted by his bat-
tle with the guards, was asleep almost as soon as he
touched the ground and did not even hear Ojo and
Snuffer's subdued conversation.
	"It seems to me," said Snuffer, rubbing his knee
briskly with both paws, "it seems to me," he repeated,
squinting thoughtfully over at Ojo, "that you should
be a lot more worried about this Moojer Mountain
affair than you are. Now why aren't you?"
	"Well," admitted Ojo, rolling over on his stomach,
"I think Ozma and Unc Nunkie will find me soon
and then everything will be all right."
	"But how will they find you?" demanded Snuffer.
"The magic picture will help them," answered the
boy promptly. "As soon as Unc Nunkie discovered
I was gone he probably hurried right over to the
palace and asked Ozma to look in the magic picture."
	"Will it really show them where you are?" asked
Snuffer incredulously.
	"Of course!" Ojo spoke a bit condescendingly, for
living in the most famous fairy city in Oz he was
quite used to magic appliances.
	"Then you mean someone is coming to help you
right now?" said Snuffer in a relieved voice. Ojo
nodded.
	"But I hope they won't find me too soon," he added
dreamily. "We're having such a fine time together."
	"Fine time! My fur and feathers!" wheezed the
bear in disgust. "Just suppose Realbad really finds
Moojer Mountain before Unc Nunkie finds you. A
nice thing that will be. I tell you, Ojo, it's madness
to take the chance. Come! Now, while he's asleep,
let us steal off and get as far away as possible before
he wakens."
	"I don't believe he means to claim the reward,"
insisted Ojo stubbornly. "Besides it was my fault
he lost all his men. Why, he hasn't anyone now ex-
cept you and me."
	"And he won't have us long," decided Snuffer, roll-
ing to his feet with agility and determination. "If
you want to see your old friends again and reach the
Emerald City, now's the time to break away."
	"But I hate to leave him here all by himself,"
sighed Ojo, as Snuffer began to pull him along.
	"Just think of it as a game," pleaded the bear
earnestly. "It's our move now. If we don't take it
you may never see Unc Nunkie again."
	In his heart Ojo could not help feeling that Snuf-
fer was right, so slowly and reluctantly he tiptoed
after the bear, looking back every few minutes at
the long, handsome figure resting so quietly and un-
suspectingly under the chestnut tree. How he would
miss this frank and fearless comrade. It seemed al-
most as if he were betraying him.

CHAPTER 8

Meanwhile in the Emerald City

	NOW Ojo had been right in thinking Une Nunkie
would immediately report his absence to Ozma.
After searching all through the little blue cottage
and after tramping frantically all over the deserted
gypsy encampment, the old Munchkin nobleman ran
all the way back to the palace. Ozma and her coun-
cillors were at dinner, so Unc was ushered right into
the Grand Dining Hall.
	"Gone!" gulped the old gentleman breathlessly,
and twisting his blue hat miserably in his hands.
	"You mean the gypsies?" asked Ozma, quietly set-
ting down her emerald goblet, for Unc Nunkie had
duly reported the presence of the mischievous band
outside the city walls.
	"Ojo!" explained Unc Nunkie, sinking into the
green chair a footman hastily brought for him.
"Stolen!"
	"Oh! Oh! Ojo's stolen by gypsies!" wailed Scraps,
clasping her cotton fingers anxiously. As Ojo had
been present at her coming-to-life party and had
brought her with him to the Emerald City, the Patch-
work Girl was fonder of the boy than of anyone else
in the capital.

"Get down your guns, roll up your sleeves!
And stop these villains, rogues and thieves!"

yelled Scraps, bounding to her feet and wildly waving
her arms.
	"There, there, my good girl, you'll burst a seam,"
cautioned the Scarecrow, who was sitting beside her.
"Calm yourself, I beg, and stand on your own feet
if you don't mind!"
	"Quiet, please!" Ozina smiled kindly but reprov-
ingly at the cotton-stuffed maiden. "Sit down, Scraps,
and we'll all try to think of the best thing to do."
	"Perhaps Ojo just followed the gypsies," suggest-
ed Dorothy, a little Kansas girl who now lives in the
Emerald City as a Princess of Oz.
	"Good," muttered Unc, shaking his head solemnly.
	"Of course he's too good!" said Ozma soothingly.
	"No, I do not believe Ojo would willingly run away
from Unc Nunkie. What do you think, Wizard?"
	"I agree with Scraps. I believe Ojo has been
stolen," answered the Wizard of Oz, from his place
at the foot of the long table.
	"But why would anyone steal Ojo?" demanded
Trot, another little mortal from America who lives
in the Emerald Palace.
	"Yes, you'd think they would have come here and
tried to steal some of your treasures," added Betsy
Bobbin, popping a cherry into her rosy little mouth.
Betsy, too, is a little American girl now making her
home in the famous capital and much preferring Oz
to the United States.
	"Ve-ry strange!" droned Tik Tok, the Machine
Man, who, not requiring any food, stood in back of
Betsy's chair. "Ve-ry sing-u-lar." And with all the
celebrities and courtiers chiming in with surmises
and opinions it was soon impossible to make head or
tail of the matter. Finally Ozma tapped for silence.
	"If Ojo has been stolen, some one must be sent to
find him," decided Ozma in her gentle voice. Unc
Nunkie said nothing but jumped eagerly to his feet.
	"Let me go," begged Scraps, pushing back her
chair. "Not being a real person, the worst that can
happen to me is a tear or rip that may be easily
mended."
	"And I'll go, too," declared Dorothy. "For I know
almost all of the cities and countries in Oz."
	"If Dorothy goes, I go." Scrambling out from
under the table where he had been comfortably fin-
ishing off a rare roast, the Cowardly Lion blinked
nervously at the little Ruler of Oz. "What could two
girls and an old man do with a band of rascally
gypsies? There'll probably be b-battles, fighting and
d-dangers of all kinds." The Cowardly Lion's voice
shook woefully at the prospect, but his eyes were
fixed steadfastly and devotedly on Dorothy and he
wagged his tail vigorously to keep up his courage.
	"Why, that will be splendid," agreed Ozma, who
knew from long experience that however cowardly
the lion felt, he could always be depended upon to act
courageously.
	"But with my new search light it will be unneces-
sary for anyone to go," protested the Wizard, leav-
ing his place at the foot of the table and talking
earnestly into the little fairy's ear.
	"I know," mused Ozma, resting her elbow on the
arm of her green chair. "But we'll take no chances,
Wizard. To-morrow you start working on your search
light; meanwhile we will look in the magic picture
and see where Ojo now is; then to-morrow, Dorothy,
Scraps and the Cowardly Lion can go to help him.
But the Scarecrow, Unc Nunkie and I will drive to
the castle of Glinda the Good to consult the book of
magic records. For surely it will tell why Ojo has
been carried off in this mysterious fashion."
	Now Glinda, as most of us know, rules over the Red
Quadling Country of Oz and in her castle is an enor-
mous record book in which daily entries are magically
entered concerning all of the important happenings
in Oz. This record book, closely guarded and frequent-
ly consulted, has more than once saved Oz from dis-
aster and destruction.
	Loud cheers greeted Ozma's announcements, and
too excited to wait for dessert the whole company
trooped upstairs to the little fairy's private sitting
room. Pulling the cord that parted the velvet hang-
ings before the picture, Ozma commanded it to show
them the missing little Munchkin. First, a dark and
dangerous looking forest appeared on the cloudy glass
surface of the picture. Then, swinging and swaying
from side to side, came the three gypsy wagons, and
as the curtains of the last wagon blew aside they
could see Ojo firmly clasped in the arms of an enor-
mous brown bear.
	Covering his face with his hands, Unc Nunkie sank
groaning into a golden rocking chair, and with sol-
emn and anxious faces Ojo's friends watched until
the gypsy wagons faded from view. Even Ozina
looked serious, and Scraps was so alarmed at the
size of the bear that she was all for starting out at
once. But they finally persuaded her to wait till
morning so that Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion
could have some rest before starting out on so per-
ilous a mission.
	Setting her alarm clock for four o'clock, with the
lion dozing fitfully at the foot of her bed and Scraps
slumped down gloomily in a green arm chair, Dor-
othy retired at once. Near the clock was a box of
the Wizard's famous wishing pills. As soon as the
clock struck four, Dorothy meant to look again in
the magic picture, swallow a pill and wish herself
and companions to the spot where Ojo happened to
be at that moment. Convinced that she and her two
friends could safely bring Ojo back to the Emerald
City, Dorothy fell almost immediately into a sound
and dreamless slumber. Unc Nunkie stayed at the
palace all night, for Ozma intended to start at day-
break for Glinda's castle and as all the celebrities,
courtiers, servants and attendants wished to be up
to see the royal rescuers off, they all retired imme-
diately and by eight O'clock there was not a single
light in that whole magical castle.
	Dorothy awakened to find Scraps beside her bed.
She was clutching the alarm clock in one hand and
thumping the Cowardly Lion with the other.
	"Are you deaf?" demanded the Patchwork Girl
impatiently. "Come on, it's time to go!" Dorothy
had been sleeping so soundly that she had not heard
the alarm, but snatching her clothes from a chair
she scurried into her little green dressing room and
in five minutes was all ready for the journey. Tip-
toeing into Ozma's sitting room she snapped on the
light and commanded the picture to show her Ojo
again. The magic picture immediately flashed back
to another view of the blue forest and there was Ojo
fast asleep in the gypsy wagon. So, hastening back
to her companions, Dorothy picked up the basket of
magic supplies and charms given her by Ozma the
night before, climbed on the Cowardly Lion's back
and prepared to swallow a wishing pill.
		"Now be careful how you wish," cautioned the
Cowardly Lion nervously. "If you wish too fast
we're sure to bump into something."

"wish your wish and wish it quick,
This wait and worry makes me sick,"

muttered Scraps, springing up behind Dorothy. "I
wish we were in that grumpy forest this very min-
ute!" With a bounce that sent the basket of charms
flying out of Dorothy's hand, the Cowardly Lion shot
through the open window and disappeared. If you
have never been transported by a wish, you have no
idea how swift and upsetting an experience it can
be, and when, exactly forty-nine seconds later, Ojo's
three rescuers bounced down in the Blue Forest, they
were almost too stunned and breathless for speech.
	"I told-you-to be careful!" choked the Cow-
ardly Lion, shaking his mane fretfully. "I've stubbed
all of my toes and got sand in my ears."
	"Oh, Scraps," wailed Dorothy, tumbling discon-
solately off the lion's back. "Whatever made you
wish before I did? Now you've ruined everything!"
	"What do you mean?" The Cowardly Lion looked
at the little girl anxiously. "Aren't we where you
wished us to be, Dorothy? Sa-ay, I don't see any
gypsies around here. I-I don't see anything."
	"That's because it's too dark," said Scraps, trying
to speak jauntily.
	"Well, where's the basket of charms to save Ojo
and get us back to the Emerald City?" roared the
lion, beginning to lash his tail angrily.
"Oh, don't you see?" explained Dorothy in a dis-
tressed voice. "Just as I swallowed the wishing pill
and before I could wish us to the right place, Scraps
wished us here, and we started so fast the basket
flew out of my hand and now we have no magic to
help us at all."
	"Well, a fine meddlesome nuisance you've turned
out to be," scolded the Cowardly Lion, looking stern-
ly around at the Patchwork Girl. "Now what are
we to do, Miss?"
	"That magic picture told us that Ojo was in the
Blue Forest. This forest is blue, so what's the fuss-
ing about? All we have to do is look around for
him." Sliding off the lion's back, Scraps tossed her
yarn hair and started off sulkily by herself.
	"I guess that is all we can do," sighed Dorothy,
climbing resignedly up on the Cowardly Lion. "But
it seems like a pretty big forest to me, and there
won't be any breakfast, either, for the magic dinner
bell was in that basket, too."
	"The one the Red Jinn gave Jack Pumpkinhead
and Jack Pumpkinhead gave to Ozma?" asked the
lion, sniffing the keen air hungrily.
	"Yes," Dorothy said regretfully. "All we had to do
was ring the bell and the slave of the bell would
bring us breakfast, dinner or lunch on a silver tray."
Scraps, being well stuffed with cotton, did not re-
quire food, but she felt so annoyed to think she had
caused all the trouble that she burst into a loud and
defiant song.. It was useless to remonstrate with the
reckless Patchwork Girl, and riding soberly along
on the lion's back Dorothy wondered what they would
do if they really did meet the gypsies. Without any
magic to help them they might easily be captured
and carried off themselves. Then, too, four o'clock
is pretty early and dark to be abroad, and the Cow-
ardly Lion, stepping carefully along, trembled at
each crackling of a twig or movement in the under-
brush. Even Scraps stopped singing after awhile,
for the forest was truly immense and as it grew
deeper and darker the possibility of finding Ojo and ~
the gypsies seemed less and less probable.
	"This reminds me of the time we were looking for
the Scarecrow and found Sir Hokus," said the lion,
speaking in a low growl out of the corner of his
mouth.
	"We've been on lots of hunts together, haven't
we?" answered Dorothy, leaning over to give the
big fellow a hug. "Remember when I found you?"
The lion nodded emphatically, for he and Dorothy
have been chums for years--ever since the little girl
blew to Oz in a cyclone. On that first exciting visit
Dorothy had discovered the Scarecrow, the Tin Wood-
man and the Cowardly Lion and they had all trav-
eled to the Emerald City to see the Wizard of Oz,
who was at that time ruler of this famous fairy land.
Afterward, when Dorothy came back to live in Oz,
the Cowardly Lion had been her staunchest protector
and friend. Indeed, these two have had so many
adventures together that their experiences alone fill
several volumes of Oz hoztry. So, to cheer the way
through the gloomy forest, they began to talk of
old times.
Scraps, flouncing along beside them, listened po-
litely enough for a while. Then, as the Cowardly
Lion began to recall a visit they had once made in
Fix City, she indignantly flung up her arms.
"Oh, forget all that ancient history," she cried
rudely. "Let's talk about the present and now and
what's happening to Ojo. I suppose by now that bear
has devoured him."
"Bears do not eat little boys," rumbled the Cow-
ardly Lion, peering nervously to the left and right.
"Besides-" Scraps, knowing that the lion was going
to say that if she had not interfered they would have
been with Ojo by this time, rushed ahead and dis-
appeared between two enormous umbrella trees. Al-
most instantly she was back, her suspender button
eyes twinkling with excitement

"A path! A road, come on, come on!
we'll catch those gypBles up at dawn."

	"There, there! Keep your hair on," advised the
Cowardly Lion, trotting sedately after the excited
maiden.
	"Maybe it is the road they took," breathed Dor-
othy, as the lion stood blinking at the road that
started on the other side of the umbrella trees and
cut clearly and whitely through the blue forest.
	"Mmm-m, yes," agreed the lion thoughtfully.
"What does that sign say, Scraps?"
	"ROLLING ROAD," read the Patchwork Girl with
a little bounce.
	"An odd enough name for a road." The Cowardly
Lion flattened his ears suspiciously.
	"I think it's rather pretty," observed Dorothy.
"We had a Rolling Road back home. It means it's
a little hilly."
	"Oh, if that's all it means, here goes!" Gathering
himself together for a spring, the Cowardly Lion
quickly and gracefully launched himself forward,
Scraps jumping gaily after him. And that is all they
remembered for some time, for the road, curling up
like a parchment, rolled rapidly and noisily through
the forest, the three startled rescuers rattling around
helplessly inside.

CHAPTER 9

Dorothy in Dicksy Land

Too shaken and tossed about to know where they
were heading, Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion and
Scraps were carried swiftly along by the mischiev-
ous road. Finally, opening suddenly to its full length,
it tilted them carelessly into a field of blue clover and
went off by itself. Dorothy, feeling exactly like a
little boy who has rolled down hill in a barrel, made
a feeble attempt to rise. But this, she found, was
perfectly impossible. She was rolled up tightly like
a ball and try as she would could not straighten her-
self out again. She could hear Scraps and the Cow-
ardly Lion scolding and grumbling beside her, and
peering between her knees~ which were tightly
pressed against her nose, she saw that her two
companions were in the same uncomfortable predica-
ment as herself.
	"Just like jelly rolls," thought Dorothy, giving her
knees a fretful push.
	"Keep rolling! Keep rolling! It's the only thing
to do," advised a cheery voice from somewhere be-
hind them, and though Dorothy could not see the
person who offered this suggestion she decided to
try it anyway. So, seizing her feet in a firm grasp,
she began rolling over and over like a hoop, with
Scraps and the Cowardly Lion, still complaining bit-
terly, rolling along after her. It was very dusty and
fatiguing and Dorothy was about to stop and make
another desperate attempt to unroll, when the ground
unaccountably dropped from under her and she fell
with a tremendous splash into some very rough and
chilly water. It is hard to see clearly when you are
doubled up and the three had been so busy rolling
that they had rolled right off the road into the
Munchkin River.
	"Ugh!" gurgled Dorothy angrily. Then, as she
began to unroll and straighten like a paper doll does
when wet, she gave a little gasp of relief and struck
out sturdily for the other side. The Cowardly Lion
and Scraps had come unwound, too, and the lion,
after making sure Dorothy was all right, caught the
Patchwork Girl in his teeth and swam swiftly across.
	"Poor Scraps, she'll be soggy for hours," thought
Dorothy, as she reached the other side and scram-
bled up the sandy bank.
	"Well, how did you enjoy your breakfast?" in-
quired the Cowardly Lion, dropping Scraps on the
grass and giving himself a disgusted shake. "A
dozen rolls and a barrel of water."
	"Don't talk about rolls," begged Dorothy, running
over to the Patchwork Girl. "I thought we would
have to roll on forever."

"Squeeze me out, for the love of pie,
And hang me up somewhere to dry,,'

coughed Scraps. "That rolling has made me feel
perfectly pretzelish and now I'm sloshing all over the
place. Oh, dear, I sorter despise all water."
	Wringing out the Patchwork Girl was quite an
undertaking, but the Cowardly Lion lent a paw and
they finally got all the water from her cotton-stuffed
body and spread her on a low bush to dry.
	"I wonder who told us to roll on," mused Dorothy,
squeezing the water from her own skirts and sitting
down gloomily on a handy tree stump.
	"Some interfering practical joker," mumbled the
Cowardly Lion, licking his fur vigorously. "No one
in sight now, I suppose?"
	"No," said Dorothy, shading her eyes as she looked
across the river. "But anyway the water cured our
curling."
	"Yes, but where are we now?" sighed the lion
glumly. "No sign of the blue forest and how are
we to find Ojo when we are lost ourselves?"
	"I thought Dorothy said she knew all the cities
and countries in Oz," snuffled Scraps, raising a soggy
head from the bush and looking reproachfully at the
girl.
	"Oh, hold your tongue," advised the lion severely.
"If you had held it sooner, none of this would have
occurred. Hello, what's all this flapping overhead?"
	"A bird," answered Dorothy, without much en-
thusiasm. "And it's coming right this way, too."
	"It had better not peck me," muttered the Patch-
work Girl darkly.

I'll soak it in the silly bill;
I'm soaking wet, but I soak things still!
Especially when they swoop and chatter,
whoo, bird! Shoo, bird, what's the matter?"

	"What dreadful slang," murmured Dorothy, as a
large, ruffled blue bird circled over their heads and
then settled down on a small sapling opposite.
	"Mmm-m.! Breakfast!" whispered the Cowardly

Lion, crouching for a spring. "I never cared for
feathers on my cereal, but here goes!"
	"No! No! Wait! It has a sign around its neck."
Jumping to her feet, Dorothy moved closer to the
sapling.
	"I'm a Dicky Bird," announced the card hanging
from the bird's scrawny neck. "Follow me," directed
a notice on the other side, as Dorothy walked cau-
tiously around to the back.
	"Well, shall we?" The girl looked doubtfully at
the Cowardly Lion, and the lion, after thumping his
tail a few times on the ground and opening and shut-
ting his eyes, got lazily to his feet.
	"Might as well," he decided gruffly. "And if this
Dicky Bird does not lead me to some breakfast, I'll
just make a breakfast of him. The way I feel now
I could eat a stuffed owl and enjoy it. Lift Scraps
on my back if she's not dry enough to walk." The
bird, at the lion's remarks, gave an indignant squawk
and then, after looking intently at the Patchwork
Girl, spread its gaudy wings and flew slowly toward
the west. The lion followed at a leisurely pace, Dor-
othy walking beside him to keep Scraps from slip-
ping off. The sun shone brightly. Dew glistened on
the long blue grass, and the morning air was so
fresh and invigorating that it was impossible not to
feel a bit more cheerful. When the Dicky Bird, after
flying through a small wood, alighted on the top of
a huge blue brick wall, Dorothy gave a little skip
of interest.
	"M-maybe there'll be g-guards on the other side
of that wall," shivered the lion, as the Dicky Bird
disappeared over the top. "Guards with long pikes
and halberds!"
	"But why would they hurt us?" reasoned Dorothy
calmly. "We are not enemies. Oh, look, some one
is opening the gate." And some one was, a small
nervous some one in an enormous blue top hat and
coat. The Cowardly Lion, seeing that the gate
keeper was so small, took heart and sprang inside
with an ear-splitting roar.
		"Oh, my head! Oh, my heart! A lion without a
cage!" shuddered the little man, dropping his bunch
of keys with a terrible clatter. "Oh, my ears! Oh,
my eyes! Oh, my heels and my fingers!"
	"How about your toes?" inquired Scraps, pulling
herself upright by clutching the lion's mane, and
looking at the gate keeper critically.
	"I was coming to that, I was coming to that," mum-
bled the little fellow, and fumbling wildly in his
pocket he brought out a small pair of specs and
clapped them hurriedly on his nose. "There, there,
that's better," he explained, peering up at the trav-
elers again. "Does your dog bite, Miss?"
	"Dog?" exclaimed Dorothy, with a little laugh.
"He's a lion and you know it."
	"Not now. Not now." The gate keeper looked them
over tranquilly. "Through these reducing glasses he
looks a mere dog and you girls are almost too little
to bother about. Some people wear magnifying
glasses to make things look larger. I wear smallify-
ing glasses to make them look smaller. ~mimize
your troubles as it were, as it were."
	"How about when you eat ice cream?" asked Dor-
othy in an interested voice.
	"Oh, I wear them then, too," confided the gate
keeper, clasping his hands behind his back. "Then
there's so much more ice cream than you think, it's
quite cheering."
	"You're a queer one," sniffed the Patchwork Girl,
rolling her suspender buttons, "almost as queer as
your hat band. Now, I ask you, why wear a girl's
sash around the brim of your hat?"
	"Because I'm a Dick." Solemnly the gate keeper
pointed to a bright flag snapping and curling in the
morning breeze.
	"DICKSY LAND," spelled out Dorothy, after a
little trouble, for the flag was flapping merrily on
its pole. "Why, there's a Dixie Land in the United
States but it's not spelled like this one."
	"Then it's not the same," stated the little man
primly. "Here we are all Dicks together. I am the
Dick with the queer hat band. That's my peculiar-
ity. To what are you addicted?" he inquired, point-
ing a long finger at Dorothy. "What's your pecu-
liarity?"
	"Why, why-" Slightly confused, the little girl
turned to the Cowardly Lion. "I don't believe I have
any, that is-" Poor Dorothy, she got no further in
her explanation. Without warning or reason she
again rolled up like a jelly roll, for the effect of the
mischievous road had not entirely worn off.
	"Ah, I see," said the Dick, swaying back and forth
on his heels. "You curl. Well, that ought to let you
in, all right:

"There was a little girl and she had a little curl
Right in the middle of our gateway;
And when she is curled, she is very, very curled,
But I think I prefer her the straight way!"

	"Be quiet!" ordered Scraps, bounding off the lion's
back and beginning to pull and tug at Dorothy's
feet. The lion took hold of her arms and between
them they managed to get her straightened out
again.
	"Why, even her hair curls," mused the gate keep-
er, looking at Dorothy admiringly. "And that quilted
creature can get in on her appearance alone." His
gaze strayed slowly to Scraps. "But what about the
dog? What's his peculiarity?"
	"Breakfast!" roared the lion, who was out of pa-
tience with so much conversation. "Breakfast and
plenty of it~ Rare roast beef with a capital B. And
be quick about it. Who keeps the Cowardly Lion of
Oz waiting for his breakfast?"
	"Cowardly Lion!" gasped the little man, pushing
back his hat. "That is a queer one. Roast beef for
breakfast? That would get anyone in. Come along,
you'll make a splendid Dick. This way, please!" The
little fellow motioned them into a small round house
where a small round chef hastily set out an appetiz-
mg breakfast for Dorothy, and after a frightened
conference with the gate keeper produced three cold
roasts for the Cowardly Lion. Scraps, not caring
for food, amused herself in the garden, where the
apples grew on raspberry bushes and the raspberries
on the apple trees, where the roses were daisies and
the daisies were roses and everything was mixed and
topsy-turvy.
	But Scraps did not mind, for she was that way
herself and besides there was a swing. So, swinging
deliriously and almost as high as the little house, she
soon dried off completely and was in such high
spirits when Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion came
out to look for her that she went cart-wheeling to
meet them. Dorothy, though much cheered by her
breakfast, felt terribly uneasy about curling and
scarcely heard what the gate keeper said as he
accompanied them down the garden path. As a
matter of fact, the little Dick was wishing them
good-day and after turning them over to a Dick with
a queer collar, hurried back to his post at the gate.
	"I'll just take you along to the Dictatorium," ex-
plained the second Dick, who was short and fat and
kept peering up at Dorothy over his collar like
Humpty Dumpty looking over the wall.
	"Have you seen any gypsies around here?" asked
Scraps, as their guide led them down a long, tree-
lined lane. "Or of a lost boy named Ojo?"
	"There is nothing queer about gypsies, so they
wouldn't be here," piped up the Dick promptly.
"There is nothing queer about a boy who is lost. Boys
are always losing themselves, so he wouldn't be here
either." After delivering himself of this, the Dick
subsided sulkily into his collar and paid no attention
to the further remarks and conversation of the trav-
elers. Dicksy Land was a pleasant enough little
country. Some of the houses had windows where
you'd expect to find doors and doors where you'd
expect to find windows and often the chimneys stood
out of the side instead of the top. But on the whole,
it was quite interesting and pretty. There were no
women, hence not much conversation. Dorothy de-
cided that this was because men were queerer than
women, but I am not so sure about this -  The Dicks
themselves were odd-looking enough. Some were
queer about their shoes, some were queer about their
diet. There was one who actually made a living with
his pen and another who had once sold an idea to
a millionaire. Some looked queer, some acted queer,
but they were all gentle and harmless and too much
interested in their own affairs to notice the visitors
at all
	The Dictatorium, when they reached it, was really
a queer but comfortable castle and clattering ahead
of them up the blue tile steps the Dick with the
queer collar banged open the door and bawled in an
important voice:
	"Dickus the third, Dictator of Dicksy Land." Then,
bowing three times, he announced the others. "Three
queers from strange parts, Your Excellency. A curl-
ing girl, a cotton-stuffed female, and the Cowardly
Lion of Oz."
	The Dictator of all the Dicks was young, thin and
rather pleasant. When they entered he was sitting
cross-legged on his throne reading Dickens, and
putting his finger in the book to keep his place, he
looked up inquiringly.
	"Just how queer are you?" he asked them in a
tired voice.
	"Your Highness can see that for yourself," said
the Dick, jerking nervously at his collar.
"We're not queer at all," declared Dorothy, jump-
ing indignantly off the lion, and then to her corn-
plete mortification and confusion, she curled right
up like a jelly roll at the Dictator's feet.
	"Well, well! I've never seen that done before,"
observed the Dictator in a surprised voice, and as
the Cowardly Lion and Scraps again flew to Dor-
othy's rescue, he gazed from one to the other with
keen interest and enjoyment. "Do you all promise
to regard me as the supreme ruler of Dicksy Land
and to obey the dictates of my office at all times and
places?" he asked kindly.
	"I should say not!" panted Dorothy. By this time
the Cowardly Lion and Scraps had her on her feet
and with a very red face she returned the Dictator's
stare.
	"You won't!" exclaimed the young ruler, throwing
his book high in the air. You mean to say you defy
me?" Springing to his feet he rushed excitedly from
the chamber. "Reachard!" he shouted exultantly.
"Reachard, come quick! I've been defied and set at
nought! At last I have been defied!"



CHAPTER 10

The Long-Armed Reacher

"HE'LL come right away all righty," whispered
the Dick with the queer collar, nudging Dor-
othy. "He's the Dic's Right Hand Man, he is!"
	"Right Hand Man! Right Hand Man!" twittered
a couple of Dickey Birds hanging in a cage over his
Excellency's divan.
	"Well, now we've done it,,, worried Scraps, clasp-
ing her arms around the Cowardly Lion's neck. The
lion's knees were trembling violently, but moving
closer to little Dorothy he prepared to make a stand
against all comers. A clatter of hoofs made him
prick up his ears and Dorothy gave a little scream
of alarm as Dickus, mounted on a great white horse,
charged through the curtains at the back of the
throne. Easily leaping the throne itself the royal
charger came to an abrupt halt before the three ad-
venturers, and with a nerve-shattering neigh began
to paw the stone floor with his left fore foot. At the
same time a tall fellow, wearing an immense cloak
and sugar-loaf hat, stepped through the curtains and
solemnly took his place at the horse's head, regarding
the visitors with stern and watchful eyes.
		"Here they are!" cried the Dictator, dropping the
reins and folding his arms dramatically on his chest.
"Do you still defy me?" he asked, thrusting one hand
into his doublet and puffing out his cheeks.
	"Yes!" Dorothy spoke up boldly. "You see---"
	"Even on my white horse?" went on the Dictator,
incredulously. "You defy me even on my white
horse, in my best uniform and three-cornered hat
with the gold feather? And these others, do they
defy me, too?"
	"Yes," rumbled the Cowardly Lion, beginning to
enjoy himself thoroughly. "Since it gives your Ex-
cellency such pleasure. We all defy you, now, later
and forever after. We cannot obey the dictates of
your office, for we are already loyal subjects of Ozma
of Oz and at present seeking far and near for a boy
named Ojo who was carried off by gypsies."
	"But stay long enough to arrange a little upris-
ing," begged the Dictator, in a pleading voice. "I've
never been defied before and I assure you I find it
most refreshing. How can I prove I'm a real Dic-
tator unless I quell an uprising or put down a revolt?
The trouble here is that no one ever revolts."
	"How revolting," murmured Scraps, ruffling up
the Cowardly Lion's mane.
"But why pick US to revolute?
we neither bite nor fight nor shoot!"
	"The lion could bite," said Dickus, pulling in the
white horse, who was making playful snatches at
Scraps', yarn hair.
	"Well, I won't bite this time." The lion waved his
tail gently from left to right. "But thanks for ask-
ing me."
	"Oh, that's all right" Sliding wearily down from
his white charger, the Dictator waved it wearily out
of the room and sank back on his divan.
	"Do you want me to handle matters from now
on?" questioned Reachard, bending almost double to
whisper in the little ruler's ear. Dickus nodded, look-
ing at the same time so dreadfully disappointed that
Dorothy felt sorry for him.
	"You must be a really good ruler never to have
any revolutions," she told him kindly.
	"Yes, do you mean to tell me every Dick in Dicksy
Land is perfectly satisfied?" rumbled the Cowardly
Lion, putting his head on one side and regarding the
Dictator thoughtfully.
	"Perfectly satisfied," sighed the Dictator gloomily.
"That's the queerest thing about them."
	"This is a queer country," giggled Scraps. "I'll
come back sometime and spend my life."
	"Why go at all?" asked Dickus, brightening up at
the Patchwork Girl's reckless promise.
	"Oh, we have to go," explained Dorothy quickly.
"You see, Ojo is a great friend of ours and he may
be in dreadful danger or trouble. Could your Ex-
cellency tell us how far we are from the Emerald
City, now?"
	"You tell them, Reachard," ordered the Dictator,.
with a tired drawl.
	"The Emerald City is one forest and one mountain
beyond,',' stated Reachard, with a precise bow.
	"Oh!" screamed Dorothy, while Scraps' suspender
button eyes made a complete revolution. No wonder,
for Reachard's hand and right arm, hidden till now
under his long cloak, uncurled like a garden hose
and with the arm still attached to the shoulder shot
through the window and snapped out of view.
	"I see you are interested in my Right Hand Man,"
observed Dickus, as the three travelers stared at
Reachard in dumb amazement. "Well, he comes
from the famous city of Reach, to the north of here,
and like all the citizens of Reach can stretch his
right arm in any direction for any number of miles,
so that nothing is ever out of Reach for him or for
me." As the Dictator finished speaking, Reachard's
arm came flashing back, curling up and settling into
a neat coil at his side. Grasped in the fingers of his
large white hand was a green leaf he had evidently
plucked from a garden in the Emerald City itself.
	"But how did you see to pick that leaf, with your
head back here and your hand way off there?" cried
Dorothy, jumping down from the lion's back and
staring up into Reachard's face.
	"Quite simple," smiled Reachard, extending his
hand on its snake-like arm. "I have eyes in my
fingers, you see."
	"You are a handy man," gulped the Cowardly
Lion, trembling a little, for the five black eyes in
the tips of Reachard's fingers affected him most
unpleasantly. "You can find anything, I suppose,
even collar buttons."
"Well, I hope you are honest," put in the Patch-
work Girl saucily. "If not, where will we be, with a
light-fingered fellow reaching in and out of our win-
dows?"
	"Sh-h!" warned Dorothy, as Reachard drew back
with an offended sniff. "I am sure he never touches
anything that does not belong to him and I am sure
he will show us the way to the Emerald City."
	"That's just what I was about to suggest," pro-
posed the Dictator, frowning at Scraps.
	"But why go back to the Emerald City when Ojo
is somewhere around here?" objected the Patchwork
Girl, with an impatient flounce.
	"Because," Dorothy said, "it is not far, and once
there we will have the Wizard's wishing pills to help
us. We are just wasting time wandering around this
way."
	"Right!" agreed the Cowardly Lion, swallowing
uncomfortably as the eye in Reachard's middle finger
gave him a broad wink. "And I think we had better
start at once."
	"Good-bye!" Reachard extended his left and per-
fectly usual hand to the Cowardly Lion. "Don't
worry, I'll take care of you all." His right arm
slipped round and round them like the slippery coils
of a snake. Controlling her fright and dismay as
best she could, Dorothy waited for Reachard to let
them go and point the way to the capital. This he
did almost at once, and after thanking the little
Dictator heartily for his kindness, Scraps, Dorothy
and the Cowardly Lion followed the white hand and
slowly unwinding arm of his Right Hand Man out
of the castle, through the queer country of the Dicks
on to a broad and beautifully shaded highway.
"I hope he hasn't got ears in his thumbs," whis-
pered the Cowardly Lion, as he stepped carefully
along under the undulating arm of Reachard.
		"He doesn't seem to have," answered Dorothy,
leaning far out to the side to examine the curious
hand of their obliging guide. "But suppose we want
to stop and rest or have something to eat. What
then? Will it stop and wait, or go on without us?"
		"Oh, let's wait till we do stop before we bother
about that," advised the lion, trotting along con-
tentedly. "Hello! What now?" The hand, making
a little dive to the right, disappeared a moment and
came out presently with a large and delicious peach
which it politely handed down to Dorothy. Then
chucking Scraps good-naturedly under the cotton
chin, it resumed its position over their heads.
		"Why, I wouldn't mind a Right Hand Man my own
self," muttered the lion, beaming with appreciation
and interest. "Is that a mountain ahead, my dears?"

"A mountain to mount and a mountain to climb,
 As it's high, rough and steep, it will take us some time,"

sang Scraps, and reaching up she caught the arm
of their guide and swung herself gaily along by her 
hands. Then, dropping into her place on the Cow-
ardly Lion's back, she began to plait her yarn hair.
	Although the mountain at first glance had seemed
quite near, it took them all morning and a good part
of the afternoon to reach the base. And during this
time, Reachard's hand not only guided them, but
opened gates, brushed aside troublesome branches
and assisted them in every manner possible. Pass-
ing through a small village it picked up sandwiches
for Dorothy, meat pies for the Cowardly Lion and all
manner of other refreshing delicacies, including a
string of red beads for Scraps. Dorothy was a little
worried at the thought of taking things without pay-
ing for them. But the shop-keepers in the village
were so interested and excited to see a moving arm
and a hand with eyes in its fingers that they pressed
even more goodies and gifts upon the travelers and
ran shouting and cheering after them so that it was
a positive relief when they had left the village be-
hind and found themselves again in the open coun-
try.
	"I do wish we had discovered Ojo first," sighed
Dorothy regretfully. "Wouldn't he have loved all
this?"
	"Maybe he is having adventures too," puffed the
Cowardly Lion, for he was beginning to feel terribly
tired. "G-girls! I'll have to stop and rest before we
tackle that mountain. I'm per-fect-ly punc-tured!"
	"What about the hand?" asked Dorothy, as the
Cowardly Lion stopped dead in his tracks and waited
for them to alight.
	"If it goes on, it will have to go without me,"
yawned the lion, flinging himself wearily under a pin
cushion tree at the side of the road. The hand did
go on for several yards, then looking back (and how
comical that does sound) it paused and seeing they~
had stopped, waved quite gaily, shot up into the
branches of the pin cushion tree and closing its eyes
went to sleep, its arm coiling round and round the
tree trunk like a serpent. Scraps and Dorothy, after
watching it a few moments, sat down to rest.
	"First time I ever saw a hand go to sleep," mur-
mured the Patchwork Girl, picking up a ripe pin
cushion that had fallen from the tree, and sticking
pins in herself for something to do.
	"Oh, I don't know," yawned Dorothy, stretching
out comfortably with her head in Scraps' lap. "My
hand often goes to sleep and so does my foot. Keep
watch for us, will you, Scraps dear, I didn't realize
how terribly sleepy I was."
	"If you were cotton-stuffed like me you would not
be bothered with such nonsense," sniffed the Patch-
work Girl in a scornful voice. "But sleep away, I'll
look after you." Leaning her head against the tree
trunk, Scraps hummed a little tune to herself and
began to think of all the strange adventures she and
Ojo had had on their first trip to the Emerald City.
Dorothy must have dozed several hours, for when
she opened her eyes it was night and the whole sky
was bright with stars. Five of them seemed par-
ticularly close and a persistent clicking in Dorothy's
ears made her sit up quickly. At this the five stars
seemed to swoop right down upon her. With a little
gasp of fright she pressed closer to Scraps. Then
she gave a laugh of relief. What she had taken for
stars were the five gleaming eyes of Reachard's
hand and it was snapping its fingers impatiently
under her nose.
	"I suppose it wants us to go on," whispered Dor-
othy.
	"Seems to me it's pretty bossy," exclaimed the
Patchwork Girl, as Dorothy ran over to waken the
Cowardly Lion. "Does it expect us to climb a moun-
tain in the dark?"
	"Why, it's almost as light as day," said Dorothy,
as the Cowardly Lion, wakened by their voices, rolled
over and opened one eye. The hand seemed to be in
a great hurry and after waiting a few seconds for
Dorothy and Scraps to mount the lion, it swooped
suddenly down upon them.
	"Don't! Stop! Mind what you're about!" roared
the Cowardly Lion angrily, for Reachard's arm had
gone round and round them, tieing them up like a
Christmas package. Now it rose and went snapping
briskly through the cool evening air.
	"I g-guess it wants to get back to Dicksy Land,"
stuttered Dorothy. "Oh, dear, do you suppose we'll
have to go the whole way to the Emerald City like
this?"
	"What's the difference?" mumbled Scraps, for her
head was almost buried in the lion's thick mane. "It's
better than mountain climbing."
	"Better!" raged the lion, speaking through tightly
closed teeth. "That Reachard will hear from me for
this! If I ever get my mouth open again I'll fix this
meddlesome hand of his." In vain the lion squirmed
about, trying to poke his head between the rubbery
coils of the flying arm.
	"What, bite the hand that leads thee?" reproved
Scraps, who was rather enjoying the experience.
But talking proved so difficult under the circum-
stances, and the speed at which they traveled was
so terrific that they finally lapsed into silence. After
twenty minutes of~zipping, as Dorothy described the
adventure later to Ozma, Reachard's arm suddenly
relaxed and slid them gently to the ground. The
moon had gone under a cloud, but by the starlight
they could see that they were on the broad top of a
high blue mountain. The hand, on its limber arm,
was evidently bent on looking around and was rus-
tling through the tree tops overhead. With one ac-
cord the three comrades made a dive for a small
hut in the exact center of the mountain top.
	"I'd rather be left than right, or go through
again," roared the Cowardly Lion, streaking to-
ward the lighted windows of the little house. The
door, fortunately, was open, and rushing inside,
closely followed by Scraps and Dorothy, the lion
banged it shut with his tail. At the noise of  their
entrance a bent and evil-looking old Munchkin, sit-
ting at a small table under a lamp in the center of
the room, turned around blinking with astonishment.
The hut, Dorothy noted with a quick glance, was
simply crammed and crowded with clocks. Big
clocks, little clocks, grandfather clocks, grandmother
clocks, aunt and uncle clocks, all ticking and tock-
ing away at a furious rate.
	"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the
clock maker, jumping up frQm his bench. "Ah, I
know!" He raised his finger craftily. "You have
brought the boy and come to claim the reward.
Come, where is he? Have you got him outside?"
	"What are you talking about?" panted the Cow-
ardly Lion, sitting down on his haunches.
	"Ojo!" hissed the clock maker, tiptoeing stealthily
toward them. "Quick, give him to me and the five
thousand bags of sapphires shall be yours!"
	"Ojo? Sapphires?" gasped Dorothy, tripping over
a wooden stool in her surprise and excitement. "Why,
we are looking for Ojo ourselves. He's been stolen
by gypsies and we have been sent to find him."
	"So-oo!" Rubbing his hands unpleasantly together
and nodding his head like a mandarin, the clock
maker looked from one to the other. "So, you are
friends of this little Munchkin and think perhaps to
help him? Well; I am Mooj, the Clock Maker. Ho,
ho! Stay here and you will see Ojo soon enough.
You would like to spend a little time with me, yes?"
The old fellow's tone made Dorothy shiver, and the
Cowardly Lion faced the clock maker with an angry
growl. "What do you know about Ojo?" he demand-
ed with bared teeth. "Quick, speak up, or I'll swal-
low you whole!" The lion trembled violently as he
spoke, but kept moving closer to Mooj.
"If you swallow me whole, that will be very un-
wholesome for you. You will have inside informa-
ion, yes? But what good will that do you?" Grinning
provokingly the old Munchkin fearlessly stood his
ground. "Inside information is not so good as out-
side information. Sit down, and hear my story."
"Well, make it short!" The Cowardly Lion put
back his ears and lashed his tail impatiently. "in
other words, be brief!"

CHAPTER 11

The Mysterious Clock Maker

WAVING his visitors to a rough bench, Mooj
seated himself on a high stool and whittling
away at a bit of dark wood began to speak.
	"As I told you before," stated the old man grum~
ily, "I am a clock maker."
	"But why make clocks on top of a mountain?"
shouted Scraps, raising her voice above the ticking
and striking of the old Munchkin's products.
	"Is there not as much time on a mountain top as
anywhere else?" asked Mooj loftily. "All you need
to make clocks is a little skill and plenty of time.
Here I have both."
	"Well, we have not!" snarled the Cowardly Lion
impatiently. "We don't care about clocks. We want
to know about Ojo. What did you mean by asking
us whether we had brought him here, and why were
you giving us five thousand sacks of sapphires?"
	Before Mooj could answer there came a thunder-
ing knock on the door, followed by quick raps on the
windows and rattlings of all of the shutters.
	"The hand!" groaned Dorothy, throwing her arms
around the Cowardly Lion's neck. "The hand, it's
come back for us. Oh, dear, where shall we hide?"
	"This way! This way!" urged the clock maker.
Ushering them hurriedly into a small workshop at
the back he closed the door. Then, seizing an iron
bar, he struck the lion a terrific crack over the head.
The lion, though taken by surprise, made a fero-
cious snap at Mooj. But before his teeth had come
together he had changed before the startled eyes
of the girls to an enormous alarm clock.
	"Ha, ha! Mooj, the magician as well as clock
maker bids you beware!" shrilled the old Munchkin,
brandishing his rod over the cowering figures. "That
knock is doubtless the gypsies bringing Ojo to Moojer
Mountain. But you will never know why he has been
brought here or what will become Qf him afterward!
"There! And there!"
	At the first "there," Mooj struck Dorothy; at the
second, Scraps. And now on a shelf above the great
alarm clock stood a small French mantel clock and
on the wall beside the shelf hung a bright red cuckoo
clock that, in spite of its wooden rim and glass face,
looked pathetically like the Patchwork Gfrl.
	Leaving them ticking hysterically, Mooj hurried
out to open the door. But. to his fright and astonish-
ment, instead of gypsies he encountered the right
hand of Reachard. Thrusting the clock maker scorn-
fully aside, the hand on its long elastic arm rushed
through the rooms of the little house, opening doors
even those of the clocks, dragging aside chests and
peering inquisitively into closets. Then, failing to
find any trace of its three charges, it seized Mooj,
shook him unmercifully, and flashed out the door,
slamming it so hard that three window panes shat-
tered to bits and four grandfather clocks fell for-
ward on their faces. Mooj himself was simply
stunned. Magician and magic worker though he was,
he had never seen an arm and hand like Reachard's
-an arm and a hand without an owner. But consol-
ing himself with the thought that he had rendered
Ojo's three friends helpless and harmless, he bolted
all the windows and doors and sat down to wait for
the gypsies; for had not these foolish Emerald City-
ites told him that the boy was in the hands of gyp-
sies? Gypsies! Throwing back his head, Mooj laughed
long and evilly.

CHAPTER 12

Meanwhile in Glinda's Castle

	ABOUT the time Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion and
Scraps were leaving Dicksy Land, Ozma, Unc
Nunkie and the Scarecrow were arriving at the red
palace of Glinda, the Good Sorceress of the South.
This famous and lovely enchantress is almost as
well known and loved as Ozma herself, practising
only good magic and governing with wisdom and
skill all the turbulent tribes and races of the Red-
lands. Ozma, convinced that the Cowardly Lion,
Scraaps and Dorothy were already with Ojo, had not
used one of the Wizard's wishing pills, but had driven
south in the royal red wagon drawn by the Saw
horse, a small, live, wooden beast who had been
brought to life with the same powder used upon Jack
Pumpkinhead and the Patchwork Girl. They had
left the Wizard busily adjusting his search light, and
feeling sure that Dorothy or the Wizard would locate
Ojo before their return, Ozma and her two friends
had made the journey quite hopefully and happily.
	After welcoming them with great warmth and
ceremony with a salute of twenty guns from the red
tower, Glinda led her distinguished visitors into the
throne room and begged Ozma to tell her the latest
happenings in the capital. When Ozma explained
the reason for their trip, Glinda looked grave and
anxious and hurried over to the huge book of rec-
ords padlocked to its golden stand beside her throne.
Turning back the pages to the day before, they all
looked eagerly for some entry that might explain
the mysterious disappearance of Ojo. A dozen birth-
day celebrations of various rulers were duly record-
ed, a small war between the Grigs and Twigs of
South Mountain was briefly touched upon, but con-
cerning the lost boy there was nothing at all.
	"The King of Seebania is taking steps to secure
his crown." After reading this entry the Scarecrow
turned to Glinda with a little chuckle. "I had the
same trouble when I was Emperor of Oz," he con-
fided reminiscently. "I just could not keep my crown
on. It kept slipping down over one eye and wrinkling
up my cotton forehead. Why doesn't this King of
Seebania use a chin strap and tie it in place?"
	"I think this means he is having trouble with his
subjects," smiled Ozma, turning the page quickly.
	"The same thing," insisted the Scarecrow, throw-
ing his flimsy arm affectionately around Unc Nunkie.
	"Anything on to-day's page, Unc?" Unc Nunkie
shook his head sorrowfully, for the record of
morning's happenings had nothing whatever to do
with his small nephew.
	"Perhaps Ojo is not important enough to be men-
tioned in the record," mused Glinda, straightening
up regretfully.
	"Wrong!" Raising his skinny forefinger, Unc
Nunkie wagged it reproachfully under Glinda's nose.
	"Of course he is important to us," put in Ozma
soothingly. "But Glinda means that the book cannot
record the doings of all the every-day little boys in
Oz."
	"Not!" disapproved Une, turnmg away to look
sadly out of the window.
	"I agree with you," said the Scarecrow heartily.
"Ojo is not an every-day boy at all, but an every-
other-day-but-to-day boy. Here he was yesterday,
as lively as a Grig. Where is he to-day? That's the
question. I move that we return to the Emerald City,
my dear, and see what the Wizard has to report, and
then, too, we can look again in the magic picture."
	There seemed nothing else to do, and though Unc
Nunkie was too worried to eat and the Scarecrow
was not made for the gentle art, Glinda and Ozma
had a luxurious lunch on the balcony, after which
the little rulers bade each other an affectionate fare-
well. Then Unc Nunkie and the Scarecrow shook
hands with the clever Sorceress and they all climbed
back into the red wagon and set off at the Saw
Horse's best speed for the capital.

CHAPTER 13

Slaying of the Snoctorotomus

	AFTER leaving Realbad, Ojo and Snufferbux
trudged silently along through the blue forest.
The sun was still high and the air cool and fragrant,
but Ojo was so depressed and sorrowful at leaving
the gallant robber chief that he found the day dull
and uninteresting and did not even look up when a
three-tailed squirrel whisked saucily across his path.
Snufferbux, too, felt solemn and serious, for he real-
ized that he and he alone must now protect Ojo from
his unknown and dangerous enemies. Picking up a
huge fallen branch he stripped off the leaves and
with this improvised club peered watchfully to the
left and right for signs of gypsies, wild beasts or
other hidden perils. This big brown bear was de-
termined to deliver the little Munchkin boy safely
to his friends in the capital and then, with a clear
conscience, return to the high and craggy mountain
peaks of his youth. As Snuffer, in his slow, method-
ical way, pondered over the strange mystery of
Moojer Mountain and the probable reason for the
stealing of Ojo, he broke into the slow shuffle and
glide of an old gypsy folk dance. And so strange
was the picture he made, dancing gravely through
the forest, bowing now to one tree and now another,
haughtily circling a clump of bushes  with upraised
arm or foot, that Ojo, in spite of his low spirits,
stopped and burst into a loud roar of laughter.
	"Oh, Snuffer, whatever makes you do that?" called
the boy, fairly rocking to and fro with merriment.
	"Foresight," answered the bear, speaking calmly
out of the corner of his mouth as he finished the
second figure of his number with a masterly pirouette
on one toe. "Do you realize, my lad, that this poor
talent of mine is all that stands between us and
starvation? So a little practice will not come amiss.
If there be on the other side of this forest a town or
village, I will take steps to get us food and a night's
lodging. Perhaps you, too, can do something strange
or interesting?" Ojo, smothering his chucides, ad-
mitted that he could walk on his hands and turn
cartwheels, and after demonstrating his ability in
both directions, he skipped more cheerfully beside the
dancing bear.
	"But if the Emerald City is on the other side of
this forest we won't have to dance for our supper,"
Ojo assured his companion. "You know, Snuffer, I
believe we have been on the border of the Munchkin
Country all this while, so we cannot be so far from
the capital. And when we do get there I intend to
ask Ozma to help Realbad."
	"Help Realbad?" growled the bear, stamping three
times with his left foot and dropping his club so he
could clap his paws over his head "He can perfectly
well take care of himself; he's been helping himself
for years. The best thing for you to do is forget that
good-for-nothing rascal."
"Oh, I couldn't do that," exclaimed Ojo in a
shocked voice. "After all, Snuffer, he savedos from
the gypsies and the blue dragon. And do you re-
member the way he pommeled all those crystal
guardsmen?"
	"How about the way I pommeled them?" grunted
the bear in a hurt voice. Abruptly stopping his dance
he picked up his club and strode sulkily along ahead.
The forest was full of little rustles and murmurs,
and as Ojo trod hurriedly after Snuffer he became
suddenly aware of the constant ringing of a small
bell. Faintly but persistently it followed them ev-
erywhere. Soon Snuffer heard it too, and pricking
up his ears swung around to face Ojo.
	"What's that?" he puffed in surprise. "There are
no clocks, schools or churches in sight, yet I dis-
tinctly hear the ringing of a bell."
	"Sounds close," breathed Ojo, glancing around
uneasily. "What do you suppose it means, Snuffer?"
	"Well," answered the bear jocularly, "bells some-
times mean dinner or lunch. Maybe a picnic basket
is about to fall on our heads or maybe a sandwich
man is on his way to meet us. But come along, Ojo,
it probably does not concern us at all." As Snuffer
pushed sturdily through the tangle of vines and
bushes ahead, the ringing grew so loud that it fairly
made their ears tingle.
	"Why, it's the ring! Realbad's ring!" cried Ojo.
Holding up his hand, he stared with big eyes at
flashing band on his middle finger. Unmistakably
and unaccountably, the peals were coming from the
golden circlet.
	"Quick, take it off!" yelled Snuffer, bounding
clumsily toward the Munchkin boy. "Never heard
of a ring ringing. Take it off! Throw it away! As
sure as I'm Bruin, there's mischief brewin'."
	"Oh! Oh! Earthquake!" screamed Ojo, throwing
both arms around a small tree. And in truth, the
floor of the forest was heaving like the sea, and
before Snufferbux could catch hold of anything the
waving mass of green and brown split with a thun-
erous roar and up flashed the terrible head and long
serpent's body of a Snoctorotomus. Ojo did not know
until much later that it was a Snoctorotomus. Now
he could barely make out the figure of the horrible
monster, for its sooty breath was filling the forest
with a dense smoke and its hideous howls sent the
Leaves raining down in a thick shower. Realbad's
ring still kept up its furious pealing, and in addition
to this it was sending out sharp flashes from its
yellow stone.
	"I do believe the ring tried to warn me," shud-
dered the boy, trembling so violently that he skinned
both knees on the rough bark of the tree he was
clutching. Snufferbux, close by, was grasping his club
in both paws, and as the immense head of the loath-
some creature came curving toward him he struck
it a mighty blow between the eyes. The club splin-
tered to bits, but the smoke-breathing serpent did not
even seem to feel the blow. Seizing Snuffer in its
talons it hurled him wickedly over its shoul-
der and came with a hiss and splutter straight down
upon Ojo.
	Of all the frights and experiences he had had so
far, this was the most terrible. Closing his eyes
tight, Ojo gave himself up for lost. Round and round
the boy the monster curled its long, scaly body. Too
petrified even to scream, Ojo couldn't help wonder-
ing why the crushing weight of the creature gave
him no pain or discomfort at all. In such a position
it was useless to think, for Ojo could not move or
even wriggle a finger, and in a mute sort of despair
he waited for what was to come. This wait, I am
glad to tell you, was not long. The thunderous roars
and snarls of the monster rose all at once to an ear-
splitting screech. Its scaly coils suddenly relaxed,
and Ojo, breathless and exhausted was dragged out
by strong and willing hands.
	"What's this, hide and seek?" At the sound of that
gay and well remembered voice Ojo looked up, and at
the sight of a handsome bronzed face he flung both
arms around the bandit's neck. Then peering fear-
fully over Realbad's shoulder-for it was the hand-
some outlaw and no other-he saw the severed head
of the Snoctorotomus on the ground a few feet away.
The smoke caused by its noxious breath was already
clearing off, and touching the flattened coils of the
inert monster with his sword, Realbad explained
that it was an earth serpent capable of traveling
through the ground as swiftly as a sea serpent swims
through the sea, and forced to rise every seven days
to the surface for food and air.
	"It quite evidently mistook you for a lunch," ex-
claimed Realbad, sitting down on a tree stump and
drawing Ojo down beside him, for he could see that
the boy was still weak and shaken. "Didn't my ring
warn you in time?"
	"It tried to." Ojo spoke in a low voice, for he still
felt uncomfortable at the way they had deserted
Realbad. "But how did you know?"
	Realbad held up his own right hand and on the
third finger Ojo saw a ring similar to his own.
	"Does your ring ring when my ring rings?" he
asked in astonishment.
	"If the wearers are separated," answered Real-
bad. "You see, these rings are twins and will protect
the owners from all bodily harm, and if either wearer
is in danger both rings will give the alarm."
	"But how did you get here," Ojo took another look
at the Snoctorotomus and shuddered, "in time?"
	"Well," smiled the bandit, "as a matter of fact,
I've been following you all morning. I knew my ring
would protect you, but when I saw you all wound
there like a papoose, I thought I had better take a
hand, so" Realbad made a swinging sweep with
his sword to show how he had slain the earth ser-
pent. Then, giving Ojo a quick hug, he sprang en-
ergetically to his feet. "Now where's that big
frend yours?"
	"Oh, poor Snuffer! He must be all broken up,'
cried Qjo. Darting off in the direction the Snoc-
torotomus had flung the bear he began a frenzied
search for him. They found Snuffer lying beside a
small stream about twenty yards distant, and as
Realbad bent over to see whether he was hurt, Snuf-
ferbux opened one eye.
	"You?" groaned the bear, quickly closing it again.
"Why in fury can't you mind your own real bad
business and let honest people alone?"
	"But Snuffer, he killed the earth serpent," ex-
plained Ojo, giving Snuffer a little shake.
	"Easy enough, after I stunned the creature,"
grumbled the bear ungraciously. Slowly he sat up
and after feeling himself carefully all over and
finding no broken bones, he extended his paw stiffly
to the bandit.
	"Thank you very much," he wheezed gruffly. "And
now, would you mind going away, far away?"
	"But Snuffer," cried Ojo, aghast at such ingrati-
tude. "Don't you know that Realbad's ring tried to
warn us? It's a magic ring and while I am wearing
it nothing can happen to me at all. That's what kept
me from being crystallized in Crystal City, and no
harm can come to me, not even on Moojer Mountain."
	"I'll bet Realbad gave it to you for his own bad
reasons," insisted Snuffer stubbornly. "Of course
he does not want anything to happen to you until
he has claimed the reward."
	"And quite bright of me, don't you think?" Real-
bad made a little face at Snuffer and rested his hand
on Ojo's shoulder. "And now that is all settled,
suppose we have something to eat. When I was
hunting for you, I found a couple of other birds."
Quickly and expertly Realbad began to pluck and
clean two wild fowl he had snared on his way
through the forest, and so expert a woodsman was
the clever fellow that he soon had the birds roasting
merrily on a spit over a hastily built fire. Snuffer
who did not care for meat, removed himself as far as
possible from the appetizing aroma and lunched
morosely on some nuts he found in a hollow tree,
but Ojo had forgotten everything but his hunger.
	"Did you really give me the ring so you would be
sure of the reward?" sighed Ojo, after he had eaten
one of the nicely roasted fowl. "Why, that couldn't
be!" He interrupted himself suddenly. "You gave
it to me before you knew about the sapphires. I be-
lieve you do like me, Realbad."
	"Believe what you like," grinned the bandit chief,
stamping out the fire. "But be quick about it, for I
should not care to spend the night in this place."
	"Me neither," coughed Snuffer, coming heavily to
his feet. "That serpent may pull itself together and
have another swing at us." As you probably know,
this was not at all unlikely, as no person or creature
in Oz can be permanently destroyed. And soon,
though no one could tell how soon, the Snoctorotomus
would be as lively and as dangerous as ever. So,
first quenching their thirst at a small spring, Ojo and
Realbad, with Snuffer grumbling and scolding be-
hind them, set out at as rapid a pace as the denseness
of the forest would permit.
	Ojo was secretly delighted to be with Realbad
again. And looking proudly down at his ring he
could not help thinking how handy it would be when
he wrestled with the boys in the Emerald City or
fell out of the apple tree. And feeling, in the com-
pany of the tremendous outlaw, both safe and ad-
venturous, he hoped they would not reach the Emer-
ald City too soon, or before he had other opportuni-
ties of testing the ring's magic powers.
	As Snuffer had lapsed into a surly silence, Ojo and
Realbad had the conversation all to themselves. Talk-
ing of this and that, they came finally to the edge of
the forest. Directly ahead lay a strange, walled city,
and Snuffer was so relieved to find a town and not a
mountain on the other side of the forest that he
could not restrain a huge sigh of relief.
	"Never climb a mountain till you come to it,"
	whispered Realbad, who had quite correctly read the
bear's thoughts. Passing Snuffer on a run, he was
the first to reach the barred door in the city's wall.~
THIS IS TAPPY TOWN. KINDLY KICK THREE TIMES
directed a sign pricked out in brass nails on the door.
	"Snufferbux! Oh, Snuffer! Here's a message for
you!" bawled the bandit.
	"Why for me?" demanded the bear, coming up to
read the sign over Realbad's shoulder.
	"Well, aren't you the biggest kicker in the crowd?"
laughed the robber, giving Snuffer a good-natured
shove. "Come on, it's up to you to kindly kick this
door. And I beg you to kick it kindly or it may fall
down upon our heads."
	"Why don't you?" asked Ojo, as Snuffer dubiously
re-read the sign. "Want me to do it? Nothing can
happen to me, you know."
	"Stand back!" ordered the bear, pushing the boy
impatiently aside. Taking a little run forward, he
gave the door three resounding kicks with his bear
feet

CHAPTER 14

Tappy Town

AT Snuffer's third kick the iron doors clanked
noisily open and the three travelers stepped
boldly into the walled town. At first glance it seemed
to be but a small, bustling Oz community, with the
usual round houses, gay little shops and contented
and jolly citizens. But they had gone no further
than the first crossing before they discovered an
extraordinary difference. Though the streets were
thronged with people variously occupied, not a single
voice or conversation was to be heard, only the per-
sistent tapping and shuffling of feet. Two old gen-
tlemen before a cigar store were stamping indig-
nantly at one another, and though not a word was
spoken Ojo felt sure that a furious argument was
in progress. Four little boys about to launch a kite
stopped every few moments to do what appeared to
be a clog on the sidewalk.
"What's the matter, can't they speak?" whispered
Ojo, giving Realbad's leather jacket a quick tug. A
tall, important official was hurrying toward them,
and without answering Ojo's question Realbad wait-
ed curiously for the fellow to approach. He was
dressed as Ojo had been before the gypsies ruined his
clothes, in the pleasing blue costume of the Munch-
kins with its white ruff and broad-brimmed hat. On
the band of his hat the name "Stampeero" was em-
broidered in large white letters and this Ojo thought
a very clever notion. Glancing around he saw that
all the other citizens of Tappy Town carried their
names on their hat bands. But as Stampeero by this
time was exactly opposite Realbad, he turned back
to see what the man had to say for himself. Instead
of speaking Stampeero took three steps with his left
foot, three steps with the right, sprang into the air,
clicked his heels together and finishing off with a low
bow stuck out his right leg. Realbad, puzzled for a
moment, did nothing. Then, gradually recovering
from his surprise, he reached down and shook the
extended leg so heartily that the man lost his balance
and sat down.
	"Now you've done it!" growled Snuffer under his
breath. "Mmm-m! Mm-m! There he goes hot-foot to
fetch the guards. Come on, we'd better all shake a
leg," he advised, as the disgruntled welcomer disap-
peared around a corner.
	"But look, Snuffer, all the signs and street notices
are on the pavements," exclaimed Ojo excitedly.
	"Yes, and just try to understand them," challenged
Realbad, leaning down to examine the raised char-
acters on one of the paving blocks. "They must read
these with their feet."
	"That's it!" decided Ojo, still fascinated by the
leaps and hops of the kite flyers. "And they talk
with their feet, too."
	"But who can understand them?" sighed Snuffer-
bux discontentedly. "And how are we to make them
understand us?"
	"Here comes Stampeero again," whispered Ojo,
"and he's hopping mad, too." (You can see for your-
self that Ojo was right.) This time three footmen
accompanied the flustered official, and as they hopped
and leaped and stamped their way along, Ojo could
not help laughing. The first footman's name was
"Jumper"; the second footman's name was "Hump-
er," and the third, if one was to believe the band on
bis hat, was called "Stumper."
	"Mind, now, no more leg pulling," warned Snuffer,
as the four came to a stern halt in front of them.
Under one arm Jumper carried a huge inked pad.
This he placed gravely on the ground. Just beyond
the pad Humper placed a large sheet of white paper
and taking Realbad's arm he walked him first over
the pad and then over the paper. Ojo and Snuffer,
seeing what was wanted, obligingly walked over
pad and papers in their turn.
	"Taking our footprints," giggled the boy,
Jumper gathered up all three papers and started
with them. The third footman had a tremendous
pair of black boots and at a signal from Stampeero
he handed the boots scornfully to Snuffer.
	"Bear feet are evidently not allowed," teased
bad. "Put them on, old Brownie, and see how they
fit." With a little growl, but thinking it best to
agree to anything in reason, Snuffer sat down and
drew on the boots. They were big and soft and com-
fortable and with a little grunt of approval Snuffer-
bux rose to see what was the next idea of these com-
ical fellows. But Stampeero and the remaining foot-
men, annoyed by the sound of voices, had placed
their fingers in their ears and in this awkward and
censorious attitude started briskly down the main
street of Tappy Town toward a large, light blue cas-
tle set in a garden at the end of the avenue.
	"Well, I suppose we may as well follow," said
Realbad, striding along with amused glances to
right and left. "We may pick up some treasure or
useful information and hear something to our ad-
vantage."
	"You let me handle this," rumbled Snuffer im-
portantly. "I can dance and that is evidently what's
wanted."
	"Be careful what you dance, then," cautioned Real-
bad, winking at Ojo, "or you may land us all in the
guard house. How do you know what your feet will
say, especially in those boots?"
	"I wonder what these people are saying about us?"
murmured Ojo, as the citizens lined up along the
sidewalks tapped out brisk remarks and messages.
"My, they must wear out a lot of shoes here. Do
you think we could ever learn the foot language,
Snuffer?"
	"Oh, I dare say it's simple enough, once you get
the hang of the thing," grunted the bear. "But what
we want to know is where we are and how far we
are from this Emerald City of yours."
	"And don't forget Moojer Mountain," drawled
Realbad, swinging through the palace gates and
pausing to admire the beds of lady slippers on either
side of the path. Each prong of the garden fence
was topped by a silver slipper and the castle chim-
neys were in the shape of enormous blue boots.
	"Isn't this fun?" breathed Ojo, hurrying up the
steps after Realbad.
	"Don't be too sure of that," grunted Snuffer, lum-
bering suspiciously into the palace after his two
companions. There was no one in the great hallway
and the throne room when they reached it was bright
and sunny and furnished with both elegance and
comfort. Except for an unusual number of foot-
stools, it seemed to Ojo like many other small Oz
castles he had visited at one time or another. seated
on the throne were the king and queen of Tappy
Town. In jeweled letters on the king's crown was
the name "Stubby" and Ojo noted with great interest
that the queen's name was "Skippyfoo." Stubby
held a silver foot rule in his hand and his face was
so round and pleasant that the travelers felt quite
encouraged. Their Majesties and all the members
of the court had their feet resting on golden foot-
stools.
	"No wonder," thought Ojo sympathetically, re-
membering that they had to use their feet for both
walking and talking. Beside the king stood a tall,
severe-looking. official wearing on his hat the title
"Slipper Slapper." He carried a tall stick, and fas-
tened to the stick was an enormous felt slipper that
looked not only well worn but dangerous. Before Ojo
and his companions had time to notice anything fur-
ther, Jumper, the footman who had taken their foot-
prints, bustled into the room and fastened a broad
white ribbon around each of their middles. Looking
down in astonishment Ojo saw embroidered on his
ribbon the words "Lost Strayed and Stolen." Snuf-
fer's had but two, "Dancing Bear," and Realbad's
but one, "Footpad." Now footpad, as you well know,
is but another word for highwayman, and Realbad
was so taken aback and embarrassed by this Un-
complimentary tag that Snuffer could not repress a
low chuckle.
	"Pretty good system they have here," he whispered
maliciously. "Learn all about us from our foot-
prints."
	"Oh, do be quiet," warned Ojo, as Slipper Slapper
waved his stick threateningly. "They don't like the
sound of our voices." The king and queen, who had
leaned forward to read the visitors' ribbons, settled
back and frowning with annoyance were tapping
their feet impatiently on their footstools.
	"Well," muttered Realbad, giving the brown bear
a shove. "Why don't you say something?" So Snuf-
fer, as their Majesties stopped tapping and looked
down at him expectantly, followed the example of
Stampeero, taking three steps to the left, three step~
to the right, clicked his heels together and finished
off with a respectful bow. This pleased the sovereigns
enormously and smiling kindly they settled back pre-
pared to listen to what he had to dance. Feeling that
something quick and lively might serve, Snuffer be-
gan the whirling stamping measures of a spirited
gypsy gavotte. Ojo and Realbad watched anxiously
to see the effect the dance was having on the king
and queen and were relieved to see that Stubby and
Skippyfoo were laughing and clapping their feet
with pleasure. At one particularly dizzy spin, Stam-
peero hurried from the room and as Snuffer a bit
breathlessly brought his performance to a close re-
turned with a tray and three sparkling tumblers of
cold Ozade.
	"Well, three cheers for you!" approved Realbad,
emptying his glass at one swallow. "Keep this up
and we'll have a full course dinner soon."
	"Oh, some of the rest of you try it," panted Snuf-
fer, burying his nose in the refreshing drink, and
as the king and queen were now looking question-
ingly at Ojo, Ojo handed his empty tumbler to
Humper and did a hornpipe he had learned from
Cap'n Bill, a one-legged sailor living in the Emerald
City. As Ojo finished and bowed, their Majesties ex-
changed an amused smile and Stampeero, again hur-
rying from the room, returned this time with three
pairs of blue suspenders. These he gravely proffered
to the visitors, and doing a little heel and toe on his
own account sat down on the king's footstool.
	"Ho, ho! So this is what comes of hornpipes?"
rumbled Realbad under his breath. "Good for you,
little Splinter! Good for you!" Realbad had not en-
joyed himself so much for years. "We've done pretty
well so far." He donned the suspenders good-nat-
uredly and helped Ojo with his. Even Snufferbux,
entering into the spirit of the thing, thrust his great
arms through the giddy braces and in suspenders and
boots looked so comical that Ojo doubled up with
silent merriment.
On the other side of Slipper Slapper a scholarly
looking clerk was making notes of the whole pro-
ceeding with an instrument like a telegraph trans-
mitter which he operated with his foot. The signs
and characters looked more like Chinese laundry
marks than anything else, but Ojo concluded that
they must be in the strange shoe-tongue language
and turned to see what Realbad was going to say
to the monarchs of Tappy Town. The bandit had
taken a small pad (not a footpad, however) from
his pocket. Scribbling a brief note on the first page
he handed it politely up to the king.
	"How far to Moojer Mountain and the Emerald
City of Oz?" asked the note. Without even looking
at the paper, Stubby threw it on the floor. Then,
descending slowly from the throne, he jumped on it
with both feet.
	"Well, now that he has put the official stamp on
your letter, what next?" grinned Snufferbux, giving
his suspenders a furious jerk as Stubby climbed sol-
emnly back on his throne. Realbad was disgusted
by the king's rude action, but Ojo, picking up the
memorandum, saw beneath Realbad's question a
neat row of queer little pictures and marks. Think-
ing it would make a fine souvenir and that possibly
the Wizard could read it when he reached the Emer-
ald City, Ojo thrust the note into his pocket and then
looked up in some surprise, for the king's Shoe
String and Horn Band had begun to play upon
silver shoe strings and horns. I do not suppose you
have ever heard a shoe horn. Well, neither had Ojo
nor his companions and as the king's musicians in-
dustriously jerked the silver shoe horns up and down
the backs of their musical pumps, stopping every
now and then to pluck their silver shoe strings, the
gayest tune imaginable burst upon the ears of the
astonished listeners. Realbad, delighted and inspired
by the music, decided to oblige with a clog.
	Faster and faster tooted the horns, faster and
faster the bandit's boots tapped the floor and Ojo
and Snuffer, looking on admiringly, hoped his ef-
forts would bring them a bag of jewels or a good
dinner. But alas, Stubby's face, registering first
interest, then pleasure, then astonishment, turned
suddenly as black as a thunder cloud. Bounding off
his throne he put his foot down. And let me tell you,
when the King of Tappy Town puts his foot down,
he puts it down hard. As he trod on Realbad's fa-
vorite toe, you can imagine how unpleasant that was.
But shocking to say, that was not all. For the big
leather slipper wielded by the king's slapper fell with
stinging viciousness upon the visitors. Next, every
foot in the throne room was raised against them
and, so quickly and violently that they only half
realized what was happening, they were kicked not
only out of the throne room but entirely out of the
palace as well. It was so unpleasant an ending to so
interesting an adventure that Ojo was stunned.
Thanks to the magic rings, the kicks had not hurt
either him or Realbad. But Snufferbux was growling
with rage and smarting all over.
	"Trust you to put your foot in it," raged the bear.
"What kind of dance was that, you dunce? You
must have gone and insulted them."
	"I thought I was doing pretty good," sighed Real-
bad, picking up his hat and beating the silver dust
from his coat and trousers. "I don't think so much
of this foot language, do you, Ojo?"
	"I guess it would be all right if you understood
it," answered the boy, looking ruefully back at the
palace to see whether the king's footmen and cour-
tiers were going to kick them any further. But the
back doors of the castle were closed and there was
no one in sight but an old Tappity Councillor who
was laying down the law on the king's blue highway.
All the laws of Tappy Town are nailed down on the
streets and walks of the city, for as the people read
with their feet it is the best way of having the laws
known and obeyed. Snuffer soon became so inter-
ested in this odd procedure that he forgot his anger
and resentment, and Ojo, bending over the old law
worker, tried his best to discover what the new law
might be. But Realbad, feeling that their ignorance
of the language of the country had caused them
enough trouble, urged his companions to move along.
It was quite late and growing dark. As they pushed
on through the neat and compact little city they were
interested to see that all its inhabitants wore small
foot lights which enabled them to see as well as hear
what their feet were saying.
	"Unc Nunkie would certainly like this place," Ojo
said, as they reached the wall. "He hates to talk~"
	"Not for me," exclaimed Realbad, swinging open
a little gate. "I'd be flat-footed in a fortnight, and
imagine spraining an ankle every time you wanted to
order asparagus."
	"Why asparagus?" grunted Snuffer, peering, as
always, anxiously around for a mountain. As there
was only a stretch of level country ahead he some-
what relaxed his vigilance.  "Let's rest here till
morning," he proposed sleepily. "This wall will keep
the wind off our backs and it is folly to travel in the
dark." As it was now almost nighttime, this did
seem a sensible idea, so sitting with their backs
against the wall they conversed drowsily for a long
time. Then Ojo, creeping into Snuffer's warm arms,
slept soundly till morning. Realbad slept scarcely a
wink, so busy was he with thoughts of the past and
plans for the future. Why was it, he pondered pen-
sively, that this likeable Munchkin boy brought back
all the memories of older and happier days before
he had become an outlaw? His life in the blue forest
had been interesting and certainly gay, but now it
seemed unreal and unprofitable and a very long time
ago. Since the disappearance of his band there was
no zest in highwaying. Something, determined Real-
bad, would have to be done about it soon. But what?
Should he go on with banditting or give it up for-
ever? Looking affectionately at Ojo sleeping so tran-
quilly in the embrace of the faithful bear, Realbad
came to a sudden decision. He drew out his jewel-
handled sword. Now then, let the sword decide for
him! Flinging it high in the air Realbad watched
anxiously to see how it would fall. It came down
point first and embedded itself in the dewy grass.


CHAPTER 15

Lost in a Fog

THE first thing Ojo saw when he wakened was
a crackling fire, and rubbing his eyes he won-
dered why Realbad had kindled a fire in the middle
of the night. It was so dark he could just make out
the figures of his two friends, and rubbing his eyes
again he stumbled sleepily toward the comforting
blaze, for he felt both stiff and chilly.
	"Bad morning," called the bandit, gaily waving his
hunting knife. "Come along, sleepy-head. Breakfast
is almost ready."
	"It can't be morning," yawned the boy, sitting
down on a big log beside Snuffer. "Look how black
it is."
	"Blue," corrected Snuffer, moving mournfully over
to make room for Ojo. "A pesky fog has come up
and we'll be fog-bound for hours."
	"Oh, what's a fog in the history of a lifetime?"
sniffed Realbad. "How will you have your eggs, Ojo,
bard or soft?"
	"Eggs?" marveled the boy in astonishment. "Are
there any?"
	"Certainly!" Realbad peered critically into a tall
can of merrily boiling water set among the embers.
"Eggs, my lord, and blueberries, too."
	The resourceful bandit had risen long before the
fog and scouting along the edges of a stream had
found a nest of wild duck eggs. Filling his hat with
blue berries and picking up a can left behind by some
fisherman, he had hurried back and set briskly to
work.
	Shut in on all sides by the heavy curtain of the
fog, the three wayfarers breakfasted heartily and
comfortably, eating their eggs in English fashion,
out of the shells with small spoons that Realbad had
picked up in Crystal City. Ojo had often read of the
dense fogs that descend at times over the Oz country,
but he had never experienced one before and being
more interested than frightened could hardly wait to
be off. Snuffer, ever conservative, was all for waiting
till the fog lifted, but Realbad, reminding him of the
level nature of the country they had seen the evening
before, was convinced that there would be no harm
in pushing forward. So, though they could see but a
foot ahead, the three linked arms and stepped cau-
tiously into the thick blue mist. Ojo and Realbad had
removed their suspenders and tags, but Snuffer still
wore the boots and suspenders he had got in Tappy
Town and seemed to find them not only stylish but
comfortable as well.
	"I hope to hedgehogs we don't bump into any more
towns," he muttered, trying to fit his rolling gait to
that of his two companions. "Fine treatment we've
had from them, I must say."
'Well, the forest wasn't so much better," argued
Ojo, remembering his hair-raising encounter with
the Snoctorotomus. "I say, Realbad, will the rings
warn us of danger now?"
	"They never ring when both wearers are together,"
explained the bandit, steadying the boy as his foot
slipped into a gopher hole.
	"Then that is why they did not ring when Slayrum
and Tiny tried to steal me," mused Ojo thoughtfully.
"Oh, well, they'll protect us from actual harm. I wish
Snuffer had one."
"Don't bother about me," growled the bear. "I
can take care of myself without any magic contrap-
tions, thank you. Hey!" he burst out suddenly, "Were
you wearing that ring when we wrestled back there
in your cave?"
	"Certainly!" answered the bandit calmly. "But I
tell you what, old serious, some time we'll try again
when I'm not wearing it. How will that be?"
	"Just too bad for Realbad," sniffed the bear, look-
ing up sideways at the tremendous outlaw. "But you
wouldn't dare!"
	"Oh, wouldn't I, now?" laughed Realbad, marching
confidently along through the choking mist. "Just
you wait till we make camp."
	"Now why do you want to wrestle?" put in Ojo
uneasily. "What difference does it make who is
stronger. You are both brave. Isn't that enough?"
	"No!" grunted Snufferbux sullenly.
	"If I can just overpower this fellow when he is not
wearing the magic ring and get Ojo safely out of
his clutches, so much the better," thought the bear
to himself. He knew that in order to cut Ojo entirely
off from Realbad it would be necessary to take the
bandit's ring also. He hated to deprive the robber-
chief of his magic protection, but nevertheless, he
resolved to try the plan at his first opportunity.
	Then, remembering that Realbad had rescued them
both from the earth serpent and made their journey
both interesting and comfortable, Snuffer wondered
whether it would not be better to travel along with
the enterprising outlaw, trusting to chance to reach
the Emerald City before they came to Moojer Moun-
tam. It was all extremely difficult and distressing to
decide. The more so because, in spite of his gruff
speeches, Snufferbux had grown really fond of the
sturdy woodsman. So, with his mind in as much of a
fog as the morning, the poor bear trudged unhappily
between his two comrades, now deciding one thing,
now another. Realbad and Ojo, after trying to draw
him into conversation and receiving nothing but
growls and grunts finally gave up and devoted all
their efforts to the task of making their way safely
through the treacherous fog. It was so thick by this
time that they could see only an inch before their
faces and after crashing into a fence and stepping
unexpectedly into an icy brook, Realbad called a halt.
	Cutting three long branches from a tree into which
they had bumped with shocking suddenness, Realbad
fashioned them with his sword into three limber rods.
Taking one himself, he gave the others to Snuffer
and Ojo. The bandit and the bear held their rods
straight out before them, while Ojo moved his slowly
along the ground and in this slow and laborious fash-
ion, and much like blind men, they felt and tapped
their way along. As Ojo was thinking how terribly
funny they must look, the shrill and unexpected blare
of a horn cut through the foggy silence like a knife,
so startling the boy that he dropped his rod and
flung his arms around Snufferbux.
	"Fog horn?" surmised Realbad. "But it couldn't
be a fog horn, for we are on land, not water. Do
you hear anything else, Snuffer?"
	"Drums," wheezed the bear, "or something like
drums."
	"No, horses!" corrected Ojo, and remembering that
he was a brave adventurer, he let go of Snuffer~
picked up his rod.
	"Now, then, shall we stand still and keep quiet, or
let them know we are here?" debated Realbad anx-
iously. "If we stand still we may be run down, if we
go forward we may find ourselves in the hands of an
army, for where there are horses there are usually
men." One thing seemed as bad as the other, and
trying in vain to pierce the grim blanket of fog
Realbad involuntarily stepped forward. To his dis-
may and consternation the pointed end of his rod
immediately imbedded itself in a soft, yielding body.
	"Oh! Oh! I'm stabbed! Destroyed! Punctured!"
shrieked an agonized voice that was drowned out
almost instantly by a deeper and more threatening
blast of the horn they had first heard.
	"Halt! Stop! Didn't you hear my horn?" demand-
ed an imperious being, and the air became so fraught
with angry snorts, trumpets and whinnyings that
Ojo turned pale beneath his freckles and Snuffer
shook in his shoes.
	"Horses! Wild horses! What'll we do?" shivered
Ojo. As Realbad hastily snatched back his rod, a
silver pike bristled through the mist, so close to the
nose of the bandit that he sprang back to keep from
being impaled on the point.
	"Who dares defy Roganda? Roganda, the fleet,
the silver-footed, the magnificent," snorted the same
imperious voice. "Who dares?" Ojo and Snuffer ex-
changed uneasy glances, but Realbad, lowering his
rod, called out boldly:
	"A thousand pardons, fair and invisible Queen.
If by reason of this mischievous fog, I have injured
you or one of your subjects, I stand not only ready
but willing to make immediate and adequate
amends." A long silence followed Realbad's offer,
and as the three began to move noiselessly backward
with arms interlocked, a crooked little hand pushed
aside the pike and a dwarf with a long blue beard
sprang up before them. He was about the same size
as Ojo and over one shoulder he carried a red lantern
on a pole. Letting the lantern slide to the ground he
quickly lit it and holding it aloft peered earnestly up
into their faces.
	"Only three, your Majesty," he piped in an impor-
tant little squeak. "Shall I bring them in?"
	"Ye-a!" The answer quivered like a silver whis-
tle through the fog.
	"Her 'Yea' is 'Yea,' but her 'Neigh' is terrible.
Better come along," advised the dwarf. Picking up
his lantern he motioned for them to follow. Ojo could
distinctly hear the hammer and pound of countless
hoofs clattering along ahead.
	"They must be horses," he whispered, looking up
to see whether Realbad was going to do as the dwarf
suggested. The lantern had decided Realbad. Any-
thing he concluded, was better than blundering help-
less  about in the fog, so seizing Ojo by one arm
and Snuffer by the other, he stepped thankfully after
the twinkling light. It made but a small pool of red
in the gloom and not enough to enable them to see
the strange horde they were following.
	"Is it an army?" questioned Ojo, peering curiously
at the little dwarf. "I wonder whether there are
many more like him? You know, he reminds me of
the old Gnome King, only he's much pleasanter."
	"Thanks!" The dwarf grinned cheerfully over his
shoulder. Ojo had spoken so low he was astonished
to find that the dwarf had heard him. "I'm Pat, the
Prime Patter of her Majesty, Queen Roganda, the
fleet." He held up his right hand.
	Fastened to the wrist by a leather band was a big
silver-backed brush. "I lay it on soft or hard, just
as her Highness commands," chuckled the Prime
Patter, trotting along contentedly. "If you please
the queen you'll be patted. If you displease her you
will also be patted-but hard."
	"Well, it's not safe to pat a bear, remember that,"
growled Snuffer warningly.
	"He couldn't hurt you," whispered Ojo. "He's too
little."
	"Think so?" The dwarf with another grin gave a
tall tree he was passing a light tap with his brush.
Instantly it fell crashing to the ground.
	"C-careful!" cautioned Realbad, tightening his
hold on his two companions, and without venturing
any more remarks the three thoughtfully Accom-
panied their puny but powerful little guide. They
had been traveling through the fog so long that a
bright and unexpected glow ahead made them blink
with discomfort. The dwarf, was hurrying into an
immense enclosure surrounded by trees more grand
and enormous than Ojo had ever seen before. A
whole house could easily have been set in the trunk
of each tree. In the center of the enclosure made by
these giant trees stood a lantern bush shedding a
soft and radiant light on all sides. For the first time
it was possible to see the invisible company they had
been following through the fog.
	"They are horses!" exclaimed Ojo, tightening his
grip on Realbad's arm. "But they have horns!"
	"No wonder!" Realbad raised his sword to a blue
and flashing sign hung from the lantern bush.
	"UNICORNERS," read Ojo, with a little shiver of
fright and anticipation.
	"And unicorns," added Realbad. "Beautiful, aren't
they?" Ojo nodded solemnly, for the hundred snow
white steeds, with flying silver manes and tails and
tapering silver horns, swiftly encircling the forest
enclosure would make any boy's heart beat faster.
	"Pretty is as pretty does," said Snuffer grimly.
"And don't forget, it was one of those horns that
came poking through the mist." Dozens of the blue-
bearded dwarfs had run out to meet the spirited
animals and Ojo quite correctly guessed them to be
caretakers. The queen, distinguished from her sub-
jects by a silver crown that grew right out of her
head, had for the moment forgotten them. She was
talking earnestly with Pat, who seemed to be Head
Dwarf as well as Prime Patter. Wary of the uni-
corns' flying heels and still a bit worried by their
silver horns, the three travelers stood as close to the
lantern bush as they could, gazing with interest and
admiration at what they saw.
	The giant trees had been hollowed out to form odd
but magnificent stalls for the unicorns. There were
a hundred of these majestic forest monarchs and
their hollowed centers did not seem to have injured
their bark or foliage at all. The trunks of the trees
were a soft green and they bore, besides myriads of
silver leaves, great clusters of silver apples. At con-
venient intervals about the enclosure were tree
stumps, and climbing on these, the dwarfs began
briskly brushing the glossy coats of their charges.
Then, galloping at a furious pace, came the Queen
of the Unicorns, sounding her horn as she came.
	"It really blows!" gasped Ojo, scarcely believing
his ears and eyes. "It blows!" And he backed so far
into the lantern bush that he bumped his head on a
crimson lantern.

CHAPTER 16

Uniconiers

STRANGELY enough, Roganda did not have to
remove her horn to blow upon it, producing the
crashing notes by vigorously tossing her head. As
backing any further into the lantern bush was im-
possible, Ojo and his companions were forced to face
the music with what courage they could summon.
With a final and furious blast, her Majesty came to
a sliding halt before them. Now her horn shot out
like a silver lance past Realbad's ear and vanished
into the lantern bush.
	"I am the queen!" trumpeted Roganda, lowering
her head and pawing the earth temperishly with her
flashing forefoot.
	"The queen!" panted Pat, who had lost most of his
breath in keeping up with her silver-heeled Highness.
	"The queen!" whinnied all the other unicorns in
unison, and rather wildly Ojo wondered just what
her Majesty expected them to do about it. As her
lance-like horn whistled back past his head, shorten-
ing to its proper length, Roganda fixed her eyes
sternly on Realbad.
	"About the amends?" she inquired haughtily.
"You, or one of these others, poked Ann Gora, my
favorite lady in waiting, severely in the ribs. What
do you intend to do about it?" As the queen fin-
ished speaking a smaller unicorn trotted forward.
There was a large purple bruise on her side and on
her face an expression of sullen anger.
	"Oh, but that was the fault of the fog," burst out
Snuffer, coming hastily to Realbad's assistance. "He
couldn't help it, you know."
	"I trust her Ladyship will accept my sincere apol
ogies," murmured Realbad, doffing his plumed hat
and bowing deeply before Ann Gora.
	"Well, Ann?" The queen tossed her head self-
consciously. "Will you accept the fellow's apology
or not?"
	"Not!" shrilled Ann Gora, drawing back her lips
and showing a double row of teeth.
	"How mad are you?" asked the queen in an inter-
ested voice.
	"Wee-gh! Wa-aah! Wu-uuuh!" trumpeted
her Ladyship, stamping all four feet and lashing her
tail. "Wee-eeeh! W~aaaah! Wu-mp!" Ann
Gora's outrageous outcries ran up and down Ojo's
spine, and Realbad, snatching out his handkerchief,
mopped his forehead anxiously.
	"Perhaps Ann would like the feather out of my
hat, or my belt to wear for a collar?" he suggested
hopefully. After a whispered conference with her
favorite, the queen threw up her head.
	'Neigh!" announced her Highness with stomach-
shaking violence. "Neigh!"
	"I told you her 'neigh' was terrible," groaned the
blue dwarf, covering his ears. "Hurry, think of
something else or we'll all be deafened."
	"What would your Highness like me to do?" 
Demanded the bandit in an exasperated voice, as the
horrid echoes of the queen's neigh finally died away.
After another conference with her lady in waiting
the queen spoke, again.
	"Ann Gora would like to poke you as hard as you
poked her," she stated frankly.
	"So---o! This Ann Gora means to gore us," growled
Snuffer, grabbing a lantern from the tree and wav-
ing it over his head. "Well, just let her try it."
	"Sh-h! I have the ring," whispered Realbad un-
der his breath. "She cannot hurt me but she can
poke a real hole in you. Careful, old fellow, this is
my affair." Ojo, as ready as Snuffer to fly to Real-
bad's assistance, subsided at the bandit's words.
With horrified eyes and clutching tightly to Snuffer's
paw he watched the perverse little unicorn dash at
Realbad and thrust her sharp horn deeply into his
chest It came out without leaving even a hole in
his leather coat and Ann Gora found the experience
so novel that she poked him five or six times before
Roganda lifted her hoof.
	"Stop!" directed the queen sharply.  "He only
poked you once, Ann. This two-leg is brave as well
as handsome. Pat him!" commanded her Majesty,
nodding at the dwarf. "Pat them all!" And turning
on her heel, or rather on her heels, Roganda moved
off majestically, followed more slowly by her lady
in waiting. Ann Gora kept looking over her shoulder
at Realbad as if she could not believe he were true.
	"Well, if this doesn't beat the gypsies," puffed
Snuffer, as the dwarf, with a wink at Ojo, began to
brush him briskly with the silver brush. The bear's
fur was dusty and tangled and the brushing felt so
good that he gradually became calmer.
	"Each of you fellows pick a lantern and let's go,"
he advised in a low voice, "before any more goring
begins. Queens with two feet are dangerous enough,
but queens with four feet and a horn are simply
im-possible."
	"And how she can blow it," shuddered Realbad,
shaking his head to get the heart-breaking sound out
of his ears. "Do all her Majesty's subjects blow upon
their horns and thrust them out like swords?" he
inquired, turning to Pat.
	"Roganda's the only one who can blow her horn
or lengthen it out into a pike," the dwarf told them.
"That's why she is queen. And say, why not stay
here till the fog lifts? I am sure her Highness is
pleased with you now, and whoever eats the silver
apples of the unicorns will not feel the pangs of
hunger for seven days."
	"Sounds like a good idea," ruminated Realbad,
glancing up at the tempting bunches of silver fruit.
"Besides, we may never have a chance to see this
many unicorns again."
"One is too many for me," grunted Snuffer, giving
himself a pleased shake as the Prime Patter finished
brushing his coat and turned his attention to Ojo.
Pat used a smaller brush on the boy, and it was com-
ical indeed to have his hair brushed and his head
patted by a blue-whiskered dwarf. Ojo, like Realbad,
was quite willing to stay and see more of this singu-
lar forest kingdom. All his life, thought the boy, he
would remember the silver shadows cast by the giant
trees and the flashing, beautiful bodies of the uni-
corns moving about in their lovely and leafy enclo-
sure. Near the lantern bush there was a clear and
sparkling pool and Roganda's subjects seemed to
enjoy more than anything else gazing at their re-
flections in the still surface of its waters. But Snuf-
ferbux cared little for beauty. His years of roaming
with the gypsies had dulled his curiosity and made
him wary of danger. His one thought was to get
Ojo safely back to the Emerald City and return to a
life of comfort and ease.
	Swinging his lantern impatiently while Pat whisked
the dust from Realbad's coat, he again urged them
to take lanterns and push out into the fog.
	"Wait till we have sampled these famous apples,"
drawled Realbad, throwing his arm around Snuffer's
shoulder. "And we may pick up something else."
	"Oh, you and your pickings," snarled Snuffer,
hardening his heart against the smiling outlaw.
"Stay if you wish, but Ojo and I are pushing on."
	"But Snuffer, I am hungry." Ojo looked up coax-
ingly. "Look! They're knocking down the apples.
now. Why shouldn't we stay and try some?"
	The dwarfs, who all seemed to have the strength
of giants, were tapping the tree trunks with their
silver hammers, and silver apples and leaves were
tumbling down in a shining shower. Gathering them
up into wicker baskets the dwarfs set the baskets on
the tree stumps, and with little whinnies of anticipa-
tion and pleasure the unicorns began to nibble at
their appetizing fare.
	Waiting no longer for Snuffer's consent Ojo ran
excitedly after Pat, who had hurried off to serve the
queen, and picking up one of the silver apples he
bit into it eagerly. It was firm and sweet and like
no other fruit he had ever tasted, so delicious, in
fact, that he ate five or six more. The leaves seemed
to be candied and seeing that the un~orns were
munching them with great relish, Ojo picked up a
handful and sampled them, too. They were crisp and
spicy and much better than candy, and with a little
sigh of content Ojo settled down on a tree stump
prepared to enjoy himself. Snuffer still stood stiffly
aloof, but after one bite of a silver apple, pressed
into his paw by a kind little dwarf, he, too, began
to pick up and devour the delicious fruit as fast as he
could.
Realbad, walking fearlessly about among the uni-
corns, who seemed to accept him as one of them-
selves, had an apple in each hand and a cheery word
for everybody. The fog still hung like a heavy cur-
tam about the fairy-like enclosure and, as traveling
on for the moment was impossible, Realbad deter-
mined to extract as much pleasure from the ex-
perience as possible. The dwarfs, fascinated by the
huge size of the bandit, followed him in droves, and
Pat, the Prime Patter, showed him everything of
interest. Snufferbux, waddling behind them in great
disapproval, sniffed sarcastically as Pat pointed out
the Queen's Treasure Tree. When the dwarfs were
not busy serving the unicorns they worked in the
mines near Unicorners, Pat explained cheerfully, and
liked nothing so much as discovering new jewels for
their fleet-footed sovereign.
	"A regular king's ransom, eh?" grunted the bear,
giving Realbad a malicious poke as the bandit
thrust his head into the tree. "Why go further?"
	"Why, indeed?" chuckled Realbad, feasting his
eyes on the glowing heaps of rubies, sapphires and
emeralds that rose in dazzling mounds to fill the
entire center of the immense hollow~ tree. "By the
way, where's Ojo?" he demanded, suddenly with-
drawing his head.
	Laughing heartily, the dwarf pointed over his
shoulder. Ojo and a dozen of the unicorns were in
an exciting ball game. Ojo would toss an apple into
the air and the unicorns, with a rush, would try to
catch it on their horns. So quick and clever were the
big handsome fellows that they seldom missed, and
the queen, looking on with evident pleasure and in-
terest, applauded and whinnied her approval.
	"Well, it's a good thing some one in this party
keeps his head," complained the bear fretfully.
"Think of that boy's poor uncle, worried and griev-
ing over his absence, and there he runs tossing ap-
ples as if he had not a care in the world. And here
are you, counting other people's jewels. You ought to
be ashamed of yourselves!"
	"Why begrudge us a little fun?" said Realbad
8lowly. "The way has been hard enough so far, and
here, when a bit of good fortune presents itself, you
are all for rushing away. Just think, according to
Pat we'll not have to eat again for seven days! That
alone is worth a little time and trouble. Let us have
a little pleasure, can't you?"
	"It would give me great pleasure to wring your
neck," growled the bear, flouncing aside as Pat
locked up the treasure tree and scurried off to watch
the ball game.
	"Oho, so that's your Idea of pleasure? Well, I
might oblige you at that. How about that wrestling
match? Want to try it again and now?" Snuffer's
little eyes gleamed with a sudden hope and purpose.
	"Yes!" he snapped shortly. "But no magic rings,
remember!" Nodding carelessly Realbad called Pat
and asked him to show them a quiet spot. Much
mystified the dwarf led them to a tiny clearing back
of Unicorners. When he discovered their purpose he
stuck his lantern in the ground to give them light
and shaking his head disapprovingly left them alone.
By the queen's orders the visitors were to do as they
wished. If they wanted to wrestle that was their own
affair. Pat himself was a peaceful person opposed to
violence of any kind, so hurrying back to his com-
rades he began superintending the removal of the
silver supper baskets.
	Ojo, tired of his game, had seated himself on a tree
stump near the queen, who was reclining luxuriously
on a bed of silver leaves. Kicking his heels against
the rough bark, Ojo told Roganda the whole story
of their travels and all about the capital of Oz and
its curious inhabitants. The queen listened with little
exclamations of surprise and astonishment, but when
Ojo asked her to tell him the way to the Emerald
City she regretfully shook her head.
	"I know nothing but this one beautiful spot," she
told him frankly. When it is warm we swim in the
blue river that bounds the eastern borders of our
forest. When we feel restless we climb the high
mountains that rise on the other side. As we lack for
nothing and have neither friends nor enemies, our
life is entirely pleasant and satisfactory."
"But don't you ever feel curious about other
places?" asked the boy pensively. "There are so
many strange and wonderful cities and countries in
Oz.	I am sure there is no other queen who can blow
her own horn or use it as a lance and I am sure the
people in the Emerald City would admire you very
much."
	"Do you think so?" mused Roganda, tossing her
silver mane. "Well, perhaps some day I shall visit
this famous city you speak of and see all its odd and
interesting celebrities. But remember, if they bore
me I shall bore them," finished Roganda, flashing her
eyes dangerously. Then growing quieter she gazed
dreamily off between the trees, trying to visualize in
her lovely but perverse head the splendid city Ojo
had just described to her.
"She has taken a great fancy to you, lad," whis-
pered Pat, coming up behind Ojo. "Stay here with
us. I believe I could get you a position as apple
thrower and royal cup bearer to the queen." Glanc-
ing around at the little dwarfs struggling along un-
der the enormous silver drinking vessels of the uni-
corns, Ojo shook his head with a little laugh. Being
cup bearer, he concluded to himself, was a doubtful
honor.
	"I would like to stay here, Pat," he confided seri-
ously, "but I have to go on. Hello, here comes Snuf-
fer. I wonder what's the matter. He looks terribly
hot and ruffled."
	"Matter enough," grumbled The dwarf, and snatch-
ing a new lantern from the lantern bush he hurried
off on an errand of his own. The queen's eyes had
closed. Running up to Ojo, Snuffer lifted him quickly
from the tree stump.
	"Come on!" he panted under his breath, so as not
to disturb her Majesty. "Now is our chance. The fog
has lifted and no one can stop us now."
	"But where's Realbad?" asked 0jo, noting with a
little pang that the fog really had lifted and that
there was not any longer an excuse to stay.
	"Sh-h!" cautioned the bear, dragging Ojo along by
one arm. "Do not even speak of Realbad." The uni-
corns politely made way for the hurrying bear, but
Ojo, thinking how impolite it was to leave without
thanking Roganda and discovering what was keep-
ing Realbad jerked angrily back from the bear's
grasp.
	"I won't go without Realbad," he declared flatly.
What do you mean, running off like this?"
	"Our only chance," puffed the bear. "Come on,
come on!" Then, as Ojo continued to argue and
struggle, Snufferbux picked him up bodily, dashed
through the forest circle of the unicorns and out into
the broad meadowlands beyond.

CHAPTER 17

The Elevator Man

WHEN he had put a safe distance between him-
self and Unicorners, Snuffer stopped Placing
Ojo on the ground but still keeping a firm hold on
his jacket the bear looked at him long and thought-
fully.
	"See here," he began, in a low, coaxing voice.
"Wasn't I your first friend? Come now, can't you
trust me and depend on me a little? Now, listen.
Realbad has decided to let you and the reward go
and take the unicorns' treasure instead. And what a
goring and boring there will be when Roganda dis-
covers that, my boy. As I could not reason with Real-
bad, or stop him, I thought it best for us to get away
as soon as possible. Was I right? Once a bandit al-
ways a bandit!"
	"Oh, so that was it!" The boy's face fell and a lump
rising in his throat threatened to choke him. For a
moment he said nothing. Then puckering up his lips
in a not very convincing whistle he turned away his
head to hide the tears that had sprung to his eyes.
Realbad had really meant to take him to Moojer
Mountain after all! Swallowing convulsively he
turned back to the bear.
	"Well, you can't blame him," he declared quietly.
"Banditing is his business, you know." Whatever
Realbad did, Ojo knew in his heart that he would
always love the fearless outlaw, and walking along
with bent head, as Snuffer continued to mumble and
explain, he made his own small plans for the future~
He would, of course, return to the Emerald City and
learn from Ozma or the Wizard who his unknown
enemy was. Then, after a short visit with Unc
Nunkie he would run away and searching all over
the Munchkin Country till he found the bandit's cave
he would live in the free forest with Realbad for-
ever!  Feeling unaccountably light-hearted and
strengthened by this decision, Ojo looked sharply
around for some landmark or sign that would tell
them where they were. A small mountain lay to the
east and another, larger one, lay ahead.
	As Ojo reached in his pocket for his handkerchief
his fingers came in contact with a crisp paper. It was
the note Realbad had written to the King of Tappy
Town, and beneath Realbad's scrawled question there
were four lines of quite legible directions. It was
strange to think that Stubby had placed them there
by merely stamping on the paper with his feet, and
with surprise and interest Ojo read over the king's
instructions.
	"From here, the Emerald City lies one straight
mile, one crooked mile, one mile up, one mile down,
two miles across and one mile over."
	"What are you talking about?' inquired Snuffer,
looking curiously over his shoulder.
	"It's the way to the Emerald City," Ojo said. Care-
fully smoothing out the paper and reading the direc-
tions all over again he explained how the King of
Tappy Town had answered Realbad's note. "We prob-
ably went the straight and crooked miles in the fog,"
reasoned Ojo thoughtfully. "That mountain ahead
must be the mile up and the mile down; then two
miles across and one over and there we'll be. Why,
it's not far at all, Snuffer. Come on!"
	"Now you're talking," approved the bear, in a re-
lieved voice. "At this rate we ought to be in the capi-
tal to-morrow night for dinner."
	"We won't need any dinners for seven days," Ojo
reminded him solemnly. "Oh, dear, I wish I'd had
time to gather some of those silver apples for Ozma
and Dorothy. Say, by the way, Snuffer, whatever be-
came of your suspenders?" Though the bear still
w6re the boots, the blue suspenders were strangely
missing.
	"They bothered me," Snuffer told Ojo, after a
short silence. "When a fellow's fur grows on his
back he doesn't need braces to hang it to."
	"No, I suppose not," agreed Ojo. "I wish I could
grow a new coat. This one is a perfect wreck."
	"If I ever get my claws on those gypsies again I'll
clump them good for the way they treated you,"
promised Snuffer, bristling with anger at the mere
thought of the way the rascals had pommelled Ojo.
	"Well, I hope we don't meet them now," said the
boy, swinging along energetically. "But I do wonder
what became of the bandits."
	"Oh, they've probably found their way back to the
cave and will be there all ready to welcome Realbad
when he returns with the unicorns' jewels," pre-
dicted Snuffer, lumbering contentedly after Ojo. "Is
that mountain getting nearer, or do my eyes deceive
me?"
	"No, it really is nearer," said Ojo. "We ought to be
there in ten minutes anyway and if we hurry we can
climb it before dusk and spend the night on the top."
At the prospect of a night on the mountain top,
Snuffer put back his ears and began to gnaw his lip
in nervous agitation.
	"I wish there were no mountains between us and
the Emerald City," he sighed gustily. "I'd give my
best tooth if we were safely on the other side."
	"Oh, stop worrying," advised Ojo easily. "Every
mountain in Oz can't be Moojer Mountain. We're
way off the path of it, as I remember from the map
back in the bandits' cave."
	"I hope you're right," gulped Snuffer earnestly,
"for here we are." Glancing up at the mass of blue
rocks and trees rising steeply above, the bear gave
his leather belt a determined hitch and prepared to
ascend.
	"Anyway, I still have Realbad's ring," observed
Ojo, squinting thoughtfully aloft, "so nothing very
bad can happen to me. And I'm glad Realbad still
has his ring, for then if anything happens to him, I
shall know it." Snuffer's paw flew involuntarily to
the pouch attached to his leather belt and he looked
uneasily down at Ojo.
	"What would be the use of that?" he asked irri-
tably.
	"Why, then I could go back and help him," said
Qjo brightly, "or ask Ozma to help him."
	"A fine help you'd be." The bear wiggled his nose
rapidly. "What do you suppose Realbad did before
he knew you? Forget about that big bandit, can't
you, and let's get on with the climbing."
	"How about a lift?" The low husky question,
bursting upon them so unexpectedly, made both Ojo
and Snuffer jump. A door in the smooth rock surface
to the right had noiselessly opened and standing in
the doorway was a tall, serious-looking fellow in a
bright blue rubber suit and box hat.
	"Pando's the name," he murmured politely, as Ojo
and Snuffer continued to stare at him in surprised
silence. "X. Pando, to be perfectly correct. This
way, please."
	"And suppose we don't please?" said Snuffer in a
surly voice.
	"Oh, but I think you will," answered Pando, taking
off his little boxed cap and smiling at them pleasant
ly. It will save you so much time and trouble. I'm an
Elevator Man, you see and will take you quickly to
the top of the mountain, for a small fee---a mere
trifle," he finished, glancing modestly into his cap
and then clapping it on at a rakish angle. Snuffer
still continued to look suspiciously at Pando, for in
his travels, mostly over rural Oz, he had never come
across any elevators and did not know what they
were. But there were many elevators in the Emerald
City and Ojo was quite familiar with these moder~
conveniences, so standing on his tip-toes he tried
to look past Pando into the narrow rock aperture.
	"Where is it?" he demanded eagerly.
	"What?" inquired Pando, stepping quickly out of
the doorway.
	"The elevator!" explained Ojo, thrusting his hands
jn his pockets and bending over to have another look
in the doorway.
	"Why, Pm ashamed of you!" X. Pando gave Ojo
a reproachful glance. "An Elevator Man does not
use an elevator. He is an elevator." Touching the
top button on his coat Pando shot up like an accor-
dion, up, up and out of sight, till all Ojo and Snuffer
could see were his twinkling blue legs.
	"I don't like this," confessed the bear, shuffling un-
easily. "Let's get away before he comes down."
	"But he seems so polite," objected Ojo, thrilled to
think how many wonderful stories he would have to
tell Betsy Bobbin and Dorothy when he got back to
the Emerald City. "And maybe he can tell us the
name of this mountain." As Ojo finished speaking,
X. Pando, with a little click and bounce, let himself
down.
	"The suit is rubber," he explained importantly,
"the finest blue Munchkin rubber, capable of expand-
ing to any size and guaranteed against cracks, splits
and punctures."
	"But how do you manage to shoot up that way?"
asked Ojo, who felt that the suit was much less re-
markable than its wearer.
	"Well, that," answered Pando, thrusting his
thumbs complacently beneath his armpits, "that is
my secret, a gift I inherited from my dear father.
But come, we're wasting time. What will you give
for a lift up Bear Mountain?"
	"So that's the name of it," cried Snuffer in great
relief. "Is it a bare mountain or does it only bear
that name? And- what would you charge to take a
bear and boy up Bear Mountain?" Snuffer, as you
can see, was growing quite jocular.
	"What have you got?" asked the Elevator Man
practically. "How about the boy's ring?" he sug-
gested, after looking the shabby travelers carefully
up and down.
	"Oh, I couldn't let you have that." Ojo was dis-
tressed at such an idea. "It was given to me by a
great friend. Anxiously he fished in all his pockets
to see whether he had anything of value to offer but
found nothing but a bent fishing hook and a couple
of marbles. Pando, after a short look at the marbles,
began to move quietly away from them. Halfway to
his little rock enclosure, he paused.
	"Although you possess nothing of value to give me,
perhaps you can do something strange or interest-
ing," he suggested hopefully.
	"Oh, yes! My, yes!" puffed Snuffer, bounding for-
ward with alacrity. "My, yes! Yes, indeed! I can
dance!" he admitted pompously. "Just let me show
you a simple little waltz or gavotte."
		"A waltz? Why, I love to waltz!" Taking off his
cap, the Elevator Man tossed it recklessly over his
shoulder and rushed toward Snuffer with out-
stretched arms. "Come along, you. old rascal," he
invited eagerly. "Get started, get started'!"
	"Oh,~ let's walk up the mountain," exclaimed Ojo
in disgust. It seemed too utterly silly for Snufferbux
to be waltzing when there was so much traveling to
be done. But X. Pando and the bear, now scarcely
aware of his presence, were whirling and twirling in
graceful circles. Sometimes Snuffer whistled, some-
times Pando whistled, and seeing there was no stop-
ping them, Ojo sat glumly on the rock waiting for
the absurd performance to end.
	Angry as he was, he soon had cause for laughter,
for Snuffer, embracing his partner too vigorously
on one of the turns, touched the top button of his
coat and both zipped unexpectedly into the air until
Snuffer was out of sight. Only Pando's blue legs con-
tinued to waltz and just as Ojo began to grow wor-
ried he dropped down to his normal size. Snuffer's
eyes had a wild and betrayed look. Dropping the
Elevator Man's hand he stepped away from him.
	"Always rise on the third count, but not that high,
not that high," quavered the bear, shaking his head
reproachfully. "Come along, Ojo, I think we'd better
walk after all."
	"No! No! I insist on giving you a lift," cried Pan-
do, wiping his beaming face on a neat rubber hand-
kerchief. "I positively owe it to you. I never experi-
enced a more delightful waltz in my life." Stuffing
his handkerchief back into his pocket, he picked up
his cap and fairly pouncing upon them touched the
top button of his coat and elevated himself and his
companions to the dizzy level of the clouds. After the
first two hundred feet, Ojo closed his eyes. Then,
feeling an unmistakable sinking sensation, he quick-
ly opened them again. To demonstrate to the full
his ability and skill, the Elevator Man had carried
them high above the top of the mountain. Then,
lowering himself with gentle little jerks, he set them
proudly on the mountain top and politely tipping his
cap sank out of view.
	"Well, that wasn't so bad," said Ojo, looking over
at Snuffer, who still seemed dizzy and dazed. "If we
go down this mountain as quickly as we came up
we'll be in the Emerald City in no time."
	"Yes, but what's that noise?" grunted the bear,
straightening up anxiously. "Or is my head still
buzzing?"
	"No, I hear a funny noise, too," admitted Ojo.
"Sounds like clocks, hundreds of clocks, ticking all
out of time. Why, there's a little house, Snuffer, right
beyond that fringe of trees! Maybe an old moun-
taineer lives here and will tell us whether we are
on the right path. Come along!"
	"Hold on a minute! Be careful, now," rumbled
Snufferbux, thudding heavily after Ojo. "No use
taking any chances."
	But Ojo had already reached the little mountain
hut and was knocking briskly on the door. It was
unbarred so swiftly that he almost tumbled through.
A bent and hideous old Munchkin stood in the open-
ing examining him sharply. Then, glancing with
alarm and evident distrust at the big brown bear be-
hind Ojo, he reached out a long skinny arm, snatched
the boy through the door and slammed it hard in
Snuffer's face.
	"Stop!" roared the bear. "Stop! Unhand that
boy! Let me in, d'ye hear?" Snuffer pounded on the
door with all of his strength. But not a sound came
from the other side, not a sound but the mingled tick-
ing of a hundred clocks.
"That's queer," panted the bear, and running
around to the side he tried to look in the windows.
But they were all closely shuttered and as he re-
turned to have another try at the door, a second-
story window opened and a perfect bombardment of
small sacks began to cascade to the ground. Jump-
ing back just in time to keep from being buried un-
der the avalanche, Snuffer clutched his middle with
a groan of frenzied despair. One of the sacks had
split open and a shower of twinkling sapphires rolled
at his feet. Faster and faster the bags tumbled and
shot from the window till the heap rose as high as
the little house itself.
	"Oh! Oh!" moaned poor Snuffer, rocking back and
forth with fright and grief as the last bag fell with
a spiteful thud on the top of the heap.' "I've brought
the boy right to the wrongest place in Oz and de-
livered him straight into the hands of his enemies.
This is Moojer Mountain or my name is never Snuf-
forious, Buxorious, Blundorious Boroso!"
	"Right!" answered a harsh voice, and looking up
the bear saw the hideous old Munchkin leaning out
of the window. "Now as you have what you want and
I have what I want, suppose you go away," rasped
the old clock maker. "Go away, go away at once!"
he finished venomously.


CHAPTER 18

On Moojer Mountain

As soon as the old clock maker had Ojo safely in-
side the hut, he again looked him carefully up
and down. Then, giving a hoarse croak of triumph,
he seized a stout rope and in spite of the boy's cries
and struggles bound him fast and tight. Then, shov-
ing him roughly into the little room at the back of
the shop, he went clattering upstairs to fling the
sacks out to Snuffer. All this happened so quickly
that Ojo scarcely knew what to do or to think. The
loud and confused ticking of the clocks made think-
ing impossible anyway, but as a small rag bird
bounced out of a red cuckoo clock on the wall and
settled on his shoulder, Ojo jumped in good earnest.
"Oh! Ojo! Oh, no! On go!" piped the cuckoo in
shrill warning. Now, where had he heard that voice
before? And what was the incessant low growling
rising above the ticking of the other clocks? It
seemed to come from the huge alarm clock on the
floor at his feet and dropping heavjly to his knees
Ojo stared wildly into its shiny face. Honest yellow
eyes were looking at him sorrowfully through the
glass, and on the shelf above his head a little French
mantel clock began striking so violently that it al-
most bounced off the shelf. Ojo's hands were tied
behind his back and his feet were bound so close
together that he could take only the smallest steps.
Straightening up with great difficulty he looked de-
spairingly around him.
"It's Scraps!" buzzed the little red bird on his
shoulder. "Don't you know me? Go away! Go away
quick! This man means to destroy you. He has
changed Dorothy to that mantel clock, the Cowardly
Lion to an alarm clock and look at the rest of me!"
wailed the cuckoo, flapping her cotton wings at the
red clock on the wall. "It is Mooj, the magician, I
tell you. Go, go now, before it is too late."
	Too late! With sinking heart, Ojo realized that it
was already too late. He and Snuffer had walked Un-
wittingly right into the arms of the enemy. If the
clock maker was Mooj, then this must be Moojer
Mountain. The doors and windows were locked and
he himself was quite helpless. Putting his cheek
down to touch the little red bird that was Scraps, and
waving tremulously to his other two anxiously tick-
ing friends, Ojo dropped down on a rough bench to
wait for the old man's return. The thumps and bangs
of Snuffer had been alarming enough but now foot-
steps came thumping straight for the room. Hor-
rors! What next? With a tremendous crash the door
burst open and Mooj, followed by three others, came
hurtling into the crowded little workshop.

CHAPTER 19

The King of Seebania

WHILE Ojo was helplessly waiting in the little
back room of the hut, Snuffer, paying no at-
tention to the orders of the old clock maker to go
away, hurled himself again and again at the door.
But the cabin was so sturdily built that it resisted
all his efforts to break in. Sinking finally in an ex-
hausted heap beside the great mound of treasure,
Snuffer tried to think of some other way to rescue
kis small companion.
	"So, ho! Claimed the reward yourself, I see!" At
these words, spoken in low but distinct voice, the
bear almost jumped out of his bear skin. Worried
and engrossed with his own dark thoughts, Snuffer
had not even heard the clatter of hoofs on the moun-
tain side, and now he gazed in a sort of stupor at the
figure before him. It was Realbad, nonchalant and
gay as ever-Realbad, mounted on Roganda, Queen
of the Unicorns.
	"Behold the honest bear who would save Ojo from
the wicked robber chief," murmured the outlaw,
springing lightly to the ground, "the honest bear,
surrounded by his ill-gotten treasure!"
	"Shall I run him through, or simply trample upon
him?" whinnied Roganda in a stern voice.
	"I deserve both," groaned poor Snuffer, leaning
disconsolately against the little house and turning
away his head from the accusing eyes of the bandit.
"I let Ojo run right into this. DQ you realize that we
are on Moojer Mountain? And now nothing can be
done! Nothing! But you know I meant to take Ojo
to the Emerald City. You know that," insisted the
bear broken-heartedly.
	"Of course I know it!" Realbad, stepping closer,
gave Snuffer a resounding thump between the shoul-
der blades. "Even when you tied me up with those
blue suspenders instead of wrestling, even when you
took my ring, I knew you thought it was all for the
best We all make mistakes," went on Realbad gen-
erously. "How were you to know that I had changed,
that Ojo means more to me than all the treasure in
Oz.	So I forgave you at once, but feeling that you
might need help I came as soon as Pat released me.
Roganda kindly offered to carry me on her back, and
here we are! We've ridden like the wind. Come,
buck up, we'll save Ojo yet!"
	Feeling in his leather pouch, Snuffer pulled out
the robber's ring and without a word handed it back
to him. It had been exactly as Realbad had said. As
soon as the bandit had removed his magic ring,
Snuffer had fallen upon him from behind, bound
him securely with his suspenders and, making up
the story about the unicorn's treasure, had dragged
Ojo off to safety - or what he supposed to be safety
But Realbad seemed really ~ have forgotten and
forgiven the unfortunate business and, pulling the
sorrowful bear to his feet, he turned determinedly
toward the little hut
	"Now then, all together!" he ordered shortly.
"Let's break down that door." Roganda, with a fu-
rious neigh, sent her silver horn crashing again and
again through the heavy oak timbers until, weak-
ened by the gaping holes, it went crashing down un-
der the weight of Realbad and Snufferbux. Sweep-
mg into the front room with the miserable old ma-
gician just three jumps ahead of them they pelted
into the back workshop. Here, with outflung arms,
Mooj turned and confronted them.
	"Stop!" shrieked the old man defiantly. "One step
more and you will be in my power forever, trans-
formed, enchanted, bewitched and destroyed." As
Mooj finished speaking Realbad stopped in his tracks.
	"You !" choked the bandit, recoiling with disgust
and horror. Roganda, on the point of sending her
horn through the miserable magician, turned in-
quiringly to Realbad, but Snuffer, rushing past all
three, threw his arms around Ojo. The clock maker,
as he returned Realbad's steely gaze, seemed to kin-
dle and burn with wicked excitement.
	"You!" he quivered in his high cracked voice. "You
have dared to return! Then watch out! You know
the penalty!" For the first time since he had known
Realbad Ojo saw the bandit turn pale and actually
tremble. But he recovered quickly, tore off his
plumed hat, threw it over his shoulder, and made a
savage lunge at the old magician.
	"How dare you touch this boy? What do you want
with him? Why have you offered a reward for the
capture of Ojo, a harmless little Munchkin?"
	"Because," screamed Mooj, leering up evilly at the
tremendous outlaw, "because he is the king's son
and when he is safely out of the way I shall be Ruler
of Seebania forever and even longer."
	"You lie!" rasped Realbad, taking Mooj by the col-
lar and shaking him like a rat. "The King of See-
bania has no son and well you know it!"
	"Ho, ho! I know it, do I? Well, this time I know
more than the king, for a son was born after the
king's banishment and spirited away by his great
uncle. But I have my magic and ways of knowing
and I traced him to the Emerald City. Then I offered
this reward to all the roving bands in Oz, and here
he is. I shall serve the son as I served the father and
the grandfather and the queen, too. Forfeit! For-
feit! You have broken your word and the' queen's
safety is forfeit. She, too, shall vanish and disap-
pear!"
	As Ojo, Snuffer, Roganda and the bewitched res-
cuers from the Emerald City tried to understand the
old magician's screaming sentences, he squirmed
out of Realbad's clutches and dashing the lantern
out with a blow from his long rod, plunged the little
room into complete darkness.
	"Ojo!" called Realbad in an anguished voice. "Ojo!
My son!" But no voice came to answer him and,
when a few moments later the outlaw succeeded in
lighting the lamp, Ojo and Mooj had both vanished.
"Magic!" quavered Roganda, looking around ner-
vously. "I thought the practice of magic was for-
bidden in Oz except harmless magic like this. The
queen blew a few frightened notes on her silver horn,
then sent it splintering through one of the shuttered
windows. "Where is that poor boy now? And why
are we standing here doing nothing?"
	"Because nothing can be done," groaned Realbad,
flinging himself down on the bench beside Snuffer
and covering his face with his hands.
	"Look here, what's the meaning of all this?" pant-
ed the bear. "Did I hear that fellow say that Ojo
was a king's son? And you, you called Ojo 'Son.'
Are you really the King of Seebania, and Ojo's
father?" Realbad nodded without lifting his head.
	"And to think I never knew I had a son," he
groaned heavily. "To think I find him only to lose
him again."
	"Help! Help! Help" screamed the cotton cuckoo,
flying in wild circles around Realbad's head. We're
all bewitched. Don't stand here like dummies, go for
help!"
	"More enchantments," wailed Snuffer. "But come
on, the bird is right. This is no way to act Come
along, King, we can still go to the Emerald City and
ask the Wizard of Oz to help us."
	"No, no, everything is ruined. Don't you under-
stand, if I reveal what has happened to me, the queen,
my wife, who is still in Seebania, will be destroyed by
this terrible old magician. My hands are tied, I tell
you. Tied!"
	"Well, I have no hands," declared Roganda, begin-
ning to paw the floor with. her small silver hoof. "I,
myself, will go to the Emerald City and appeal to the
ruler of all Oz."
	As Roganda swung round to gallop through the
door, a blinding light flashed through the little hut,
settling in a round spot of brilliance on the place
where Ojo had been seated. Fearing that Mooj had
returned and meant further mischief, Realbad and
Snuffer leapt to their feet, and the Queen of the
Unicorns, lowering. her head, made ready to impale
the wicked fellow on her horn. But it was not Mooj
who came stepping stealthily into the hut. It was a
little bald-headed man with a black bag. He was
carrying what appeared to be a telescope and from
the end of the telescope the blinding light was issu-
ing. After him tiptoed a thin, white-bearded old
Munchkin and a young and lovely dark-haired Princ-
ess with a tall Emerald crown.
	"Ozma!" twittered the little rag cuckoo, dashing
herself against the lovely girl's shoulder. "Save us!
save us! We're all enchanted, tick tick, and Ojo's
gone forever!"
"No time, no time! We must follow the light!"
mumbled the Wizard-for of course it was the little
Wizard of Oz himself. "If we stop now we'll never
find the boy!" Without looking up or paying any at-
tention to Roganda, Realbad or Snuffer, the Wizard
tramped through the house and out the back door.
	"Then take us with you," screamed Scraps, flap-
ping her wings angrily. "There, that red clock on
the wall is the rest of me, that big alarm clock is
the Cowardly Lion and the china clock is Dorothy.
These others are Ojo's friends, so let them come, too."
	"All right! All right, hurry along!" called the
Wizard ove? his shoulder. "If this light goes out ev-
erything is ruined."
	Snuffer, quick to catch an idea, handed the china
clock to Ozma, the alarm clock to Realbad, and
snatching the red cuckoo clock from the wall, went
staggering through the back door after the little
Wizard of. Oz. A hoarse cry made him swing round.
	"Alla Bad, my dear nephew! I thought you were
destroyed!" Unc Nunkie, with both arms around the
tall outlaw, was weeping unashamedly and using
more words at one time than Dorothy had ever heard
him use before.
	"Uncle Stephen!" The bandit lifted the old gen-
tleman off his feet and looked delightedly into his
eyes. "And I thought they had done for you, too.
Was it you who took Ojo from Seebania and until
now saved him from our enemies?" The old man
nodded silently. Then, with his fingers to his lips,
he motioned for them all to follow.
	"Alla Bad! So that's your real name!" puffed
Snuffer, taking a firmer hold on the cuckoo clock and
dropping back beside his erstwhile comrade.
	"Ree Alla Bad!" whispered the outlaw, in some-
thing like his old joking manner. "Realbad to you,
old fellow! May I thank your Imperial Highness for
this interference in my behalf?" he murmured in the
same breath, sweeping off his hat as the little Prin-
cess Qf Oz hurried by.
	"Oh, wait till I really have helped you," begged
Ozma in her gentle, serious way. "Are you a friend
of Ojo's?"
	"He's Ojo's father!" burst out the bear, nearly be-
side himself with excitement. "He's a bandit, a high-
wayman, King of Seebania-and what else, you long-
legged rascal?"
	"A brave and charming gentleman," whinnied the
unicorn, trotting sedately at Realbad's side. "A
brave and charming gentleman!" Ozma looked from
one to the other in dazed astonishment, then began
whispering earnestly in the Wizard's ear.
	"Yes, yes!" muttered the little man, only half at-
tending. "Yes, yes! Here, give them each a flying
pill, my dear. No use sliding down this mountain.
The light is still going on!"
	So, without explaining, Ozma turned back and
gave each member of the little company one of the
Wizard's famous flying pills. And they, without
question, swallowed them down and sailed as lightly
as birds after the Wizar&s search light, carrying the
three whirring and ticking clocks along with them
through the air.

CHAPTER 20

The City of Shamsbad

SNUFFER should have been used to strange exp-
riences by this time, but, clutching the Cuckoo
Clock as he straddled awkwardly through the air, he
wondered if he should ever again feel the good earth
beneath his feet. Roganda enjoyed the sensation to
the fullest extent and, like a strange, mythological
creature of the past, sped through the midnight air.
The Wizard's search light, sparkling just ahead of
them, began all at once to point downward. Snuffer
saw with a groan of apprehension that they were
over a many-spired and splendid city. Closing his
eyes, for he could not imagine coming down safe and
unhurt among so many points and pinnacles, Snuffer
hugged the clock convulsively and waited for the
first prick. But he landed as lightly as a thistle on
the-golden steps of a brilliantly lighted castle. Still
dazed and unbelieving he teetered back and forth.
Then, seeing the others racing up the steps, he took
a firmer hold on the clock and made bold to follow.
Through the halls of the palace, as grand and im-
posing as any in Oz, the Wizard and his strange com-
panions hurried breathlessly. The search light,
growing brighter every moment, led them straight
into a massive throne room with a domed ceiling.
And there, on the huge, sapphire-studded throne sat
the shriveled figure of Mooj, the magician, ridicu-
lous in a tall crown and velvet mantle. Before the
throne, bound, but still erect and defiant, stood Ojo,
and beside the little Munchkin was a tall, weeping
queen robed all in silvery satin. A heavy chain had
been slipped around her waist and two sorrowful-
looking guards held the ends. As the Wizard's
search light flashed over the room and came to rest
on Ojo, Mooj sprang up and stamping his feet began
to make weird and menacing passes in the air. Ozma,
realizing at once that he was trying to enchant them,
Quickly touched her magic belt, spoke a few low
words, and instead of Mooj a small sparrow hopped
impotently up and down on the velvet cushions of
the throne. A silken cord bound it to the arm, for
even as a sparrow a magician like Mooj is not to be
trusted. Then, and then only, did the little fairy
ruler release Ojo from his bonds. Realbad, brushing
aside the guards, dragged the chain from the queen.
Snuffer was so astonished at all these happenings
that he dropped the clock with a bang and the
cuckoo, flying out with an angry screech, bit him
severely on the ear.
"It's about time somebody thought of us," raged
the little bird, bouncing up and down on Snuffer's
shoulder, and Ozma, heartily agreeing, touched her
magic belt and quickly restored Dorothy, the Cow-
ardly Lion and Scraps to their proper shapes. The
lion, hiccoughing violently from the effects of the
ticking no doubt, immediately sat down and wrapped
his tail like a bandage around his aching head.
Scraps collapsed in a heap beside him, but Dorothy,
rushing forward, begged Ojo to tell them all that
had happened since the gypsies carried him off. Real-
bad was gazing into the eyes of Isomere, his queen,
as if there were no one else in the castle.
	"Will somebody please say something?" begged
Snuffer, leaning heavily against a jeweled pillar.
"Where are we, who are we? Speak, before I die of
curiosity." The bear's agitated question seemed to
bring Realbad out of his daze. Letting the queen's
hands go he dropped down on the steps of the throne
and drew Isomere down beside him. Then, with one
arm around Ojo, he faced the silent and curious
company.
	"Now at last I can speak," sighed Realbad, look-
mg quizzically over his shoulder at the struggh~ng
sparrow. "Now at last it is safe for me to tell the
whole story."
	"Oh, Realbad, are you really-really my father?"
asked Ojo, giving the bandit an ecstatic squeeze. Of
all the strange discoveries and happenings, this
seemed to the boy the most thrilling of all. "But I
was coming back to you anyway!" he stated calmly.
	"Were you really?" asked the bandit wistfully,
drawing Ojo closer.
	"Oh, do begin at the beginning and go straight on
to the end," begged Dorothy, sitting on the step be-
low Realbad and making room for Scraps beside her,
"and let's all sit down and be comfortable."
	Ozma had already seated herself in a high-backed
satin chair with her hand resting lightly on the love-
ly mane of the unicorn. Hastily grouping themselves
around the throne, the others prepared to listen with
all ears to Realbad's story.
	"Long ago," began the former outlaw slowly, "be-
fore her Royal Highness, Princess Ozma, became rul-
er of Oz, the Kings of Seebania ruled all the south-
ern part of the Munchkin country, and the city where
you now find yourselves is Shamsbad, the capital.
When Ozma succeeded to the throne and quite natu-
rally and rightfully chose her own leaders for the
various countries of Oz, my father, then King of See-
bania and his brother, Prince Stephen," Realbad
smiled affectionately at Unc Nunkie, "relinquished
their claims to all the small countries of the south
and retired within the borders of Seebania itself.
This kingdom, still an immense but little known tract
of wild forest land, is bounded on the north by the
Munchkin River and on the south by the Quadling
Country. Here, within the borders of their own king-
dom, these brothers ruled contentedly and peacefully
until the arrival of an Old wise man from the north.
"This fellow, whose name you already know,
worked his way by flattery and clever tricks into the
good graces of the king and received in due time
an important position at court. My father, ever fond-
er of hunting than of ruling, left more and more of
the affairs of state to Mooj; and Mooj, using his
powers and opportunities to his own advantage, se-
cretly plotted to steal the throne. One day, when my
father failed to return from a hunting trip, Mooj
summoned the councillors of state and proclaimed
himself sole sovereign of Seebania. When uncle Ste-
phen and I quite naturally protested we were cast
into separate dungeons and threatened with utter de-
struction. I was at this time about twenty-four,"
continued Realbad reflectively, "and already married
to Isomere, this lovely princess I see you all admir-
ing." Isomere blushed becomingly at Realbad's
praise, but with scarcely a pause he continued his
recital:
	"On the second day of my imprisonment Mooj ap-
peared before me and openly acknowledged that he
was a powerful magician and that he had destroyed
my father and secured by his magic spells the loyalty
and support of all the Seebanians. If I promised to
go away and never reveal my identity, he promised
that no harm should come to Isomere, my wife. If I
refused to go, or if, after I did go, I ever tried to
return and claim her, his magic would tell him so,
and at that very moment Isomere would be utterly
and dreadfully destroyed. So what could I do but
agree!" Realbad groaned at the memory of that
awful day.
	"With nothing more than the suit on my back
he went on," I started out. Mooj accompanied me to
the edge of a deep ravine, and as I turned to have
one last look at my father's castle the deceitful ras-
cal suddenly pushed me over the edge." Ojo looked
up with a horrified gasp into Realbad's face. "For-
tunately," went on Realbad, giving Ojo a reassuring
smile, "Mooj did not know of the magic rings given
me by an old fairy at my christening. These rings I
wore always, and they kept me from being crushed
or injured. Well, as I lay stunned and too miserable
to rise at the bottom of the cliff, a band of robbers
happened along. Taking pity on me  and I must
have presented a woeful enough appearance - they
picked me up and carried me off to their cave. There
I gradually pulled myself together. Robbed of every-
thing I held most dear I grew bitter and disillusioned,
becoming first a member and later the leader of the
robber band. And an outlaw I have been ever since,"
declared Realbad defiantly, "until chance threw me
into the company of Ojo, my own but unknown son,
and this honest bear. The rest you know," he fin-
ished seriously.
	"The rest, I will tell you," announced Unc Nunkie,
rising grandly in his place, and for the first time in
Dorothy's memory speaking fluently and rapidly.
"After Ree Alla Bad's banishment and while I was
still imprisoned, a son was born to the queen. Word
of it was brought to me by one of the guards and I
was greatly distressed Knowing that Mooj would
destroy this boy as he had already destroyed his
father and his grandfather, I bribed the guard with
my gold watch and managed to escape. Going at
night to Isomere's apartment, I begged her to give
me her infant son. This she readily agreed to do and
would have come herself, had it been possible. But
the queen was closely watched. So, fearing to rouse
the guards and imperil us all, she gave me the boy,
and bravely stayed behind. Resolved never to reveal
my identity nor his, I made my way out of Seebania,
traveling on and on until I came to the center of
an impenetrable forest. Here I found a little house,
and here I brought up Ojo in comfort and safety.
When it was no longer safe or comfortable, I took
him to the Emerald City of Oz."
	"No wonder you never talked," sympathized Dor-
othy, with an admiring glance. "No wonder you be-
came known as 'the silent one.
	"Worth it." Lapsing into his old habit of brevity,
Unc Nunkie smiled proudly over at Ojo. Then, worn
out by his long, unaccustomed conversation, he sat
hurriedly down again.
	"If I only had known," grieved Ozma, leaning for-
ward with a sorrowful expression. "You could all
have been together long ago."
	"Adversity brought us friends and taught us cour-
age," announced Unc Nunkie unexpectedly.
	"Why, so it has, so it has," cried the little fairy',
cheering up at once. "You are all brave and cour-
ageous and I'm proud of you."
	"And how about us?" demanded Scraps, bounding
indignantly to her feet. "Aren't we brave? Aren't
we to have any credit at all? Didn't we try to save
Ojo and become clocks into the bargain? Speak up,
you cowardly old thing, and tell them how brave we
are."
	"Oh, let Dorothy tell it," begged the lion bashfully.
"I'm still ticking all over." So now Dorothy, urged
from all sides, told how she and the Cowardly Lion
and Scraps landed in the blue forest, were carried
off by the rolling road and came at last to Dicksy
Land, and how Reachard had guided them to Moojer
Mountain. Then Ojo, with many shy glances at the
beautiful queen who was his mother, described all
his adventures with the gypsies, with Snufferbux and
Realbad up to the time they all met in the wicked
magician's hut. It was hard to decide which of the
new countries visited and new characters encoun-
tered were strangest and most interesting. The
Wizard felt that Reachard was far and away the
most singular, Ozma could not keep her eyes off
Roganda and Unc Nunkie thought Dicksy Land the
queerest of all.
	Talking, rejoicing and exclaiming over this and
that, no one felt the least bit sleepy, though it was
long after one o'clock. Indeed, Ozma still had many
problems to solve and dispose of before they retired.
Mooj was too powerful and dangerous a wizard to
leave at large or even at small-as a sparrow, so
he was transformed by the magic belt into one drop
of water in the Nonestic Ocean, where surely he will
do no harm. The old members of Realbad's band
were located by Ozma on a distant mountain plateau,
changed into simple Winkie farmers and transport-
ed to a quiet valley near the Winkie River. The
gypsies she banished from Oz altogether, sending
them by her magic to wander through the countries
of Southern Europe. But all of Ozma's powers or
the Wizard's failed to reveal the whereabouts or
fate of Realbad's father, so, rising regally, the little
sovereign proclaimed Ree Alla Bad and Isomere
King and Queen of Seebania. The courtiers, servants,
citizens and all the inhabitants of the forest king-
dom, released from the mischievous spells of Mooj,
would waken in the morning to find the rightful and
hereditary rulers on the throne of Seebania. Then
and then only did the little fairy ruler decide to re-
tire and accept the hospitality of Shamsbad for the
night.

CHAPTER 21

Back to the Bandits' Cave

ROGANDA, wakening first, rose noiselessly to
her feet and stepping to the jeweled window
pane looked out to see what kind of day it was going
to be. The sun was shining softly on the sloping
lawns and beautiful gardens of the castle and every-
thing appeared so lovely that the unicorn could not
restrain a neigh of pleasure.
	"I have been invited to the capital as a guest of
Ozma of Oz," whinnied Roganda self-consciously, as
Snuffer, roused by her shrill neigh, lumbered over
to the window. "Why not come too, big fellow?" she
invited generously. "Ojo is safe and happy and
there are many wonderful sights in the Emerald
City of Oz."
	"There are many wonderful sights here," yawned
Snuffer, giving himself a shake. "At first I thought
I would return to my own country, but now I've
decided to stay with Ojo always and take care of
him-that is, if he still wants me."
	"Want you! Why, Snuffer, we're friends!" Com-
ing unexpectedly up in back of him Ojo flung both
arms around the burly bear. "I hoped you'd stay,"
he confided happily. "Oh, Snufferbux, we'll have such
times together, hunting and fishing and exploring
the forest! And what do you think?"
	"What?" roared Snuffer, ready to explode with
pride and satisfaction.
	"Why, Realbad has promised to spend two months
of every year in the robbers' cave and we're going
to have a big celebration there to-day!"
	"And does that please your Royal Highness?"
sniffed the bear, giving Ojo a playful poke. "You
won't be hungry, you know, for we've eaten those
silver apples."
	"I believe I could eat a little venison, though,"
mused Ojo, closing his eyes reminiscently. "Oh,
Snufficus, hasn't everything turned out prime?"
	"Splendid for you but not so well for us." Joining
the little group at the window, the Cowardly Lion
blinked sorrowfully up at the boy.
	"I'll miss you, Ojo," gulped the lion tearfully.
	"We'll all miss you." Overcome by his feelings, the
good beast sat down and wept unrestrainedly, mop-
ping his eyes with the tassel on his tail.
	"Oh, please don't cry," begged Ojo, throwing his
arm around the lion's neck. "I'll come often to see
you, honestly I will!"
	"But it won't be the same!" roared the lion,
stifling his sobs with great difficulty."It won't
be the same!"
	"Nothing is ever the same," neighed the unicorn,
switching her tail in a brisk and superior circle.
"That is what makes life interesting." And sounding
three musical notes on her born, Roganda sprang
lightly through the window to sample the dew on
the rose leaves and nibble delicately at the lilacs.
And Roganda is right, my dears. Nothing is ever
the same one day as it is the next, but every day is
interesting.
	Knowing all these gay Oz folk as you now do, you
can well imagine the scene in the old robbers' cave
in the blue forest. Transported there by Ozma's
magic belt, Ojo, Unc Nunkie, Scraps and Snuffer,
Realbad and Isomere, Ozma and Dorothy, the Wizard
and Roganda, made merry till long shadows fell over
the spruce trees and fires and candles had to be light-
ed. Sitting around the leaping flames, with Snuffer
playing on the old accordion and Realbad singing
old bandit ditties, they spent the happiest evening of
Qjo's life. Even Unc Nunkie found his voice and
joined lustily in the last chorus. Regretfully Ozma
rose at last and said good-bye to her new found
friends and subjects.
	Then, before anyone could feel sorry at the neces-
sary parting, the little fairy touched her belt and
transported the Wizard, Dorothy, Scraps, the Cow-
ardly Lion, Roganda and herself to the Emerald
City. Unc Nunkie had decided to remain behind and
act as Realbad's chief adviser. Before she left, Ozma
had given Unc Nunkie a box of wishing pills to take
them back to Shamsbad, but they were not used until
morning, for Realbad-though I suppose I must now
say Ree Alla Bad-and his family were so content
in the old cave that they decided to spend the night
there.
	And there, on the soft rug by the fire, Ojo lay as
he had lain before, curled up in the arms of Snuffer-
bux. Falling asleep at last, he dreamed of his new
father and mother, of the stately castle of Shamsbad
and the wonderful times he would have in the for-
ests of Seebania.
	Snuffer's dreams were happy, too, for Realbad had
promised that the bear should have this very cave to
lie dormant in every winter of the year. And in the
spring Realbad and Ojo planned to join him for two
months and hunt, fish and live the lives of true
woodsmen in the blue forest. Of course, I am terribly
impressed by Ree Alla Bad  the king, but I'm afraid
I am going to miss Realbad, the bandit. How about
you?

The End