"Trouble, trouble, nothing but trouble!" mourned the Read Bird drearily to himself. Tandy, familiar with the whole coast, guided Nikobo to the only possible spot for landing and, grunting and mumbling, the hippopotamus hauled herself up on the rocks, glancing sharply and suspiciously at the little boy's subjects. A narrow path wound and curved up through the cliffs and, puffing and panting, Nikobo finally made her way to the top, where she stood uncertainly facing the milling multitude. "Hail and greetings!" called Samuel Salt, raising his arm to attract their attention, for the crowd looked both dangerous and unfriendly. "We are here to return to you safe and sound your lost King, Tazander Tazah, rescued by us from the wild jungle of Patrippany Island." "King? King?" shrilled a dozen shrill and unbelieving voices. "Where? Where?" and everyone craned his neck to get a better view of Nikobo and her three curious riders. "Is it really our lost and stolen Kinglet?" "Yes!" cried Tandy, springing erect. "I am Tazander Tazah, King's son and son of a King's son. You are my lawful subjects and Ozamaland is my Kingdom!" A little shiver of excitement ran through the crowd at these words. "He does in truth resemble our young ruler," murmured one Noble to another, "though much stronger and more bold." Drawing a long sword, he waved it imperiously above his head. "Summon the Ozamandarins," he called loudly. "They will decide whether this be our King or some small Impostor, and DEATH to all strangers and enemies who come in ships to lay waste our realm." "Oh, hold your tongue!" advised Ato, settling himself more comfortably between Nikobo's shoulders. "Who are you to challenge the Royal Explorer of Oz, the King of the Octagon Isle--" "And his Royal Read Bird," piped Roger, flying savagely round and round the head of the speaker. "Yes, who are you to challenge the rightful ruler of Ozamaland?" cried Tandy, folding his arms and gazing calmly out over the curious throng. "Hi, is this the young slip they kept locked in the tower? Hoo, Hoo!" yelled an old tribesman, brandishing his long lance. "He's the salt of the sea and the sand of the desert. Shame on you, Zamen, not to recognize and welcome your young King. _I'm_ for you, young one, down to my last breath!" In spite of these brave words, the nobles, natives and guards made no move or motion to let Nikobo pass through. Then suddenly there was a break in the crowd and the nine square-hatted Ozamandarins stepped rigidly forward. And nine taller, thinner, meaner-visaged rogues, decided Samuel, lovingly fingering his scimiter, it had never been his misfortune to encounter. Didjabo, recognizing Tandy at once in spite of his new and seaman-like bearing, was the first to speak.