“Well, how about my daughter?” roared the poor monarch, puffing out his cheeks. “Will no one go after my daughter?” There was more shuffling of feet, but not a voice was raised. We must not be too hard on these young Happsies, remembering that in all their lives and in the lives of their fathers and grandfathers no one had ever descended Maybe Mountain excepting Abrog the old prophet. “I’ll go myself!” spluttered Peer Haps explosively. But as he arose with a great groan, the Forgetful Poet rushed forward and embraced as much of the Peer as his arms would circle. “You’d be broken to bits!” cried Percy distractedly. “Suppose you stumbled. I, I will go and find the Princess and this meddling, miserable prophet.” “You! Why you’ll forget what you’re after before you start,” sneered Perix disagreeably. “As to that,” said Percy, snapping his fingers under the young fellow’s nose, “I may forget a word now and then, but I don’t forget how to act when my King is in trouble!” “Hurrah!” shouted the gardener, throwing up his hat. He had recovered from the shock of the gold brick. “Hurrah for Percy Vere; he’s the bravest of the lot!” “But how will you go?” quavered Peer Haps. He was torn between relief at Percy’s brave offer and sorrow at the thought of losing his prime and favorite companion. “Here’s how,” cried the valiant Poet. Rushing down the golden steps of the palace, Percy leaped over the gate and plunged recklessly down the steep mountain side. Percy was well accustomed to hill-climbing and met with no mishap as he plunged downward. CHAPTER 9 Dorothy Meets a New Celebrity Dorothy had been to see the Tin Woodman and now, with Toto, her small shaggy dog, running at her side, was skipping merrily down one of the wide Winkie Lanes. “I think Nick Chopper looks very well, don’t you Toto?” said Dorothy, tickling his ear with a long feathery weed. “Woof!” barked Toto reproachfully. Toto—like all other dogs in Oz—could talk if he wanted to, but Toto, being originally from Kansas, preferred his own language. Just then, seeing a lively baconfly, Toto gave another bark and dashed across a daisy field. Away fluttered the baconfly, and you have no idea how fast these little rascals can flutter, and away, his ears flapping with excitement, pounded Toto, and away after Toto ran Dorothy, for she was always in fear of losing her reckless little pet. Up and down, here and there, ’round and ’round, darted the mischievous baconfly, until Toto’s tongue hung out and he simply panted with exhaustion. Then with a spiteful sputter, the baconfly disappeared under a rhinestone, and after scratching and whining and even growling a little, Toto gave up the chase and trotted rather sheepishly back to Dorothy. “That was really too bad of you Toto,” panted the little girl reprovingly. “You wouldn’t eat a poor little baconfly, would you?”