edge of the Kingdom of Ev, the way grew dark and gloomy for the reason that the high peaks on either side shut out the sunshine. And it was very silent, too, as there were no birds to sing or squirrels to chatter, the trees being left far behind them and only the bare rocks remaining.
Ozma and Dorothy were a little awed by the silence, and all the others were quiet and grave except the Sawhorse, which, as it trotted along with the Scarecrow upon his back, hummed a queer song, of which this was the chorus:
“Would a wooden horse in a woodland go?
Aye, aye! I sigh, he would, although
Had he not had a wooden head
He’d mount the mountain top instead.”
But no one paid any attention to this because they were now close to the Nome King’s dominions, and his splendid underground palace could not be very far away.
Suddenly they heard a shout of jeering laughter, and stopped short. They would have to stop in a minute, anyway, for the huge mountain barred their further progress and the path ran close up to a wall of rock and ended.
“Who was that laughing?” asked Ozma.
There was no reply, but in the gloom they could see strange forms flit across the face of the rock. Whatever the creations might be they seemed very like the rock itself, for they were the color of rocks and their shapes were as rough and rugged as if they had been broken away from the side of the mountain. They kept close to the steep cliff facing our friends, and glided up and down, and this way and that, with a lack of regularity that was quite confusing. And they seemed not to need places to rest their feet, but clung to the surface of the rock as a fly does to a window-pane, and were never still for a moment.
“Do not mind them,” said Tiktok, as Dorothy shrank back. “They are on-ly the Nomes.”
“And what are Nomes?” asked the girl, half frightened.
“They are rock fair-ies, and serve the Nome King,” replied the machine. “But they will do us no harm. You must call for the King, be-cause with-out him you can ne-ver find the en-trance to the pal-ace.”
“YOU call,” said Dorothy to Ozma.
Just then the Nomes laughed again, and the sound was so weird and disheartening that the twenty-six officers commanded the private to “right-about-face!” and they all started to run as fast as they could.
The Tin Woodman at once pursued his army and cried “halt!” and when they had stopped their flight he asked: “Where are you going?”
“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 en-treat-y,” said Tiktok to Ozma. “If he will not come at your re-quest, then the Nome King may list-en to your plead-ing.”
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 na-tured,” 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.
