They had eaten the lunch the Tin Woodman had thoughtfully put up for Dorothy, and now, as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen, the little girl looked anxiously ahead for familiar landmarks. But instead the lane—which should have led straight to the Scarecrow’s tower, which is halfway between the Tin Woodman’s Palace and the Emerald City—the lane suddenly came to a stop in a scraggly little woods. “That’s funny!” mused Dorothy, looking around in surprise. “Are we lost?” asked Percy, leaning wearily against a tree. “Hello! Hello, why here’s a sign Tacked up upon this prickly—prickly—” Without bothering to finish the verse, Dorothy hurried over to the pine. “Look out for the Runaway,” advised the sign, in large red letters. “Runaway!” cried Dorothy, snatching Toto up in her arms. “Good gracious! I wonder what kind of a runaway it is?” They were not long left in doubt, for while Percy was still staring nervously all ’round, there came a hiss and a snap and ’round a big rock shot the runaway itself, scooping up the two travellers before they had time to even wink a single eyelash. “This is p-perfectly preposterous,” blustered the Forgetful Poet. Both he and Dorothy were sitting in the middle of the runaway and Percy Vere hastily slipped his arm around the little girl to keep her from falling off. The runaway road itself was humping along like some dreadful sort of serpent, jouncing and bouncing them so terribly that talking was almost impossible. “Wonder where it’s running!” gasped Dorothy, hugging Toto so tight he began to growl a little. From somewhere ahead a gritty voice answered her. “I’m running straight to a pepper mine,” roared the runaway, “and you’ll make a handsome pair of pepper diggers.” “P-pepper diggers!” groaned Percy Vere. “Pepper diggers, not that please, The very idea makes me, makes me—” “Ha-ha-ka kachoo,” sneezed Percy miserably. “Pepper doesn’t grow in mines. It’s a plant,” shouted Dorothy indignantly. “Well, this pepper mine of mine was planted,” replied the road, twisting ’round to stare at Dorothy with its stony eyes. Neither Dorothy nor the Forgetful Poet answered this time, for the bumping and bouncing had grown so much worse that it was all they could do to hold on to each other and keep from biting their tongues off. Nothing like this had ever happened to the Forgetful Poet before. He was simply stunned. But Dorothy had been in so many strange adventures and had had so many odd experiences in the land of Oz, that she was already planning to outwit the runaway. “It wouldn’t be safe to jump off,” thought the little girl, “for we’d probably be broken to bits, but—” Her eyes travelled upward to the trees and bushes that were flashing past as the runaway flung itself recklessly through the forest—“If we caught hold of a low branch the old road would go on without us,” she reflected triumphantly.