“I—I find I’ve forgotten the brush for my whiskers,” said a general, trembling with fear. “S-s-so we are g-going back after it!”
“That is impossible,” replied the Tin Woodman. “For the giant with the hammer would kill you all if you tried to pass him.”
“Oh! I’d forgotten the giant,” said the general, turning pale.
“You seem to forget a good many things,” remarked the Tin Woodman. “I hope you won’t forget that you are brave men.”
“Never!” cried the general, slapping his gold-embroidered chest.
“Never!” cried all the other officers, indignantly slapping their chests.
“For my part,” said the private, meekly, “I must obey my officers; so when I am told to run, I run; and when I am told to fight, I fight.”
“That is right,” agreed the Tin Woodman. “And now you must all come back to Ozma, and obey HER orders. And if you try to run away again I will have her reduce all the twenty-six officers to privates, and make the private your general.”
This terrible threat so frightened them that they at once returned to where Ozma was standing beside the Cowardly Lion.
Then Ozma cried out in a loud voice:
“I demand that the Nome King appear to us!”
There was no reply, except that the shifting Nomes upon the mountain laughed in derision.
“You must not command the Nome King,” said Tiktok, “for you do not rule him, as you do your own peo-ple.”
So Ozma called again, saying:
“I request the Nome King to appear to us.”
Only the mocking laughter replied to her, and the shadowy Nomes continued to flit here and there upon the rocky cliff.
“Try entreaty,” said Tiktok to Ozma. “If he will not come at your request, then the Nome King may list-en to your pleading.”
Ozma looked around her proudly.
“Do you wish your ruler to plead with this wicked Nome King?” she asked. “Shall Ozma of Oz humble herself to a creature who lives in an underground kingdom?”
“No!” they all shouted, with big voices; and the Scarecrow added:
“If he will not come, we will dig him out of his hole, like a fox, and conquer his stubbornness. But our sweet little ruler must always maintain her dignity, just as I maintain mine.”
“I’m not afraid to plead with him,” said Dorothy. “I’m only a little girl from Kansas, and we’ve got more dignity at home than we know what to do with. I’LL call the Nome King.”
“Do,” said the Hungry Tiger; “and if he makes hash of you I’ll willingly eat you for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
So Dorothy stepped forward and said:
“PLEASE Mr. Nome King, come here and see us.”
The Nomes started to laugh again; but a low growl came from the mountain, and in a flash they had all vanished from sight and were silent.
Then a door in the rock opened, and a voice cried:
“Enter!”
“Isn’t it a trick?” asked the Tin Woodman.
“Never mind,” replied Ozma. “We came here to rescue the poor Queen of Ev and her ten children, and we must run some risks to do so.”
“The Nome King is hon-est and good natured,” said Tiktok. “You can trust him to do what is right.”
So Ozma led the way, hand in hand with Dorothy, and they passed through the arched doorway of rock and entered a long passage which was lighted by jewels set in the walls and having lamps behind them. There was no one to escort them, or to show them the way, but all the party pressed through the passage until they came to a round, domed cavern that was grandly furnished.
In the center of this room was a throne carved out of a solid boulder of rock, rude and rugged in shape but glittering with great rubies and diamonds and emeralds on every part of its surface. And upon the throne sat the Nome King.
This important monarch of the Underground World was a little fat man clothed in gray-brown garments that were the exact color of the rock throne in which he was seated. His bushy hair and flowing beard were also colored like the rocks, and so was his face. He wore no crown of any sort, and his only ornament was a broad, jewel-studded belt that encircled his fat little body. As for his features, they seemed kindly and good humored, and his eyes were turned merrily upon his visitors as Ozma and Dorothy stood before him with their followers ranged in close order behind them.
“Why, he looks just like Santa Claus—only he isn’t the same color!” whispered Dorothy to her friend; but the Nome King heard the speech, and it made him laugh aloud.
“‘He had a red face and a round little belly
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly!’”
quoth the monarch, in a pleasant voice; and they could all see that he really did shake like jelly when he laughed.
Both Ozma and Dorothy were much relieved to find the Nome King so jolly, and a minute later he waved his right hand and the girls each found a cushioned stool at her side.
“Sit down, my dears,” said the King, “and tell me why you have come all this way to see me, and what I can do to make you happy.”
While they seated themselves the Nome King picked up a pipe, and taking a glowing red coal out of his pocket he placed it in the bowl of the pipe and began puffing out clouds of smoke that curled in rings above his head. Dorothy thought this made the little monarch look more like Santa Claus than ever; but Ozma now began speaking, and every one listened intently to her words.
“Your Majesty,” said she, “I am the ruler of the Land of Oz, and I have come here to ask you to release the good Queen of Ev and her ten children, whom you have enchanted and hold as your prisoners.”
“Oh, no; you are mistaken about that,” replied the King. “They are not my prisoners, but my slaves, whom I purchased from the King of Ev.”
“But that was wrong,” said Ozma.
“According to the laws of Ev, the king can do no wrong,” answered the monarch, eying a ring of smoke he had just blown from his mouth; “so that he had a perfect right to sell his family to me in exchange for a long life.”
“You cheated him, though,” declared Dorothy; “for the King of Ev did not have a long life. He jumped into the sea and was drowned.”
“That was not my fault,” said the Nome King, crossing his legs and smiling contentedly. “I gave him the long life, all right; but he destroyed it.”
“Then how could it be a long life?” asked Dorothy.
“Easily enough,” was the reply. “Now suppose, my dear, that I gave you a pretty doll in exchange for a lock of your hair, and that after you had received the doll you smashed it into pieces and destroyed it. Could you say that I had not given you a pretty doll?”
“No,” answered Dorothy.
“And could you, in fairness, ask me to return to you the lock of hair, just because you had smashed the doll?”
“No,” said Dorothy, again.
“Of course not,” the Nome King returned. “Nor will I give up the Queen and her children because the King of Ev destroyed his long life by jumping into the sea. They belong to me and I shall keep them.”
“But you are treating them cruelly,” said Ozma,