“Now tell me all about Ragbad,” begged Urtha, leaning against Grampa’s knee. This Tatters was only too delighted to do, for the young Prince was heartily homesick and, as he could not be in Ragbad, talking about it was the next best thing. So he told little Urtha all about his pigeons and the Redsmith and Pudge’s tower—where you could see clear out into Jinxland—and of the fun he and Grampa had in the old castle and of Mrs Sew-and-Sew’s garden. The old soldier nodded from time to time and at last, taking up his pipe, he began to smoke. I say began, for at the third puff a simply astonishing thing happened. Bill vanished instanter [and you know how quick that is]. Tatters turned to a great black crow, Urtha to a crow of vari-colored feathers, and Grampa, himself, to an old crow with a game leg. “Help!” cawed the old soldier, dropping the pipe from his bill and beginning to hop wildly over the ice. “Daisies and dahlias, I can fly!” twittered Urtha, circling aloft. “Come on Tatters and try it!” “He’s a crow!” shrieked Grampa. “I’m a crow, you’re a crow! What’s happened and where’s Bill?” “Here I am,” screamed a frightened voice. But though they stared and stared they could see nothing at all—for Bill had turned to a cock’s crow, which of course can only be heard and not seen. “Poor Bill, there’s nothing left but his crow,” cawed Grampa. “It’s magic,” gasped Tatters. “It’s that pesky wizard,” added the old soldier, stamping his game foot and ruffling up all his feathers, for Grampa did not realize he’d smoked Yaga’s tobacco. “But now that we’re crows why not fly?” asked Urtha merrily. She did not seem to mind her feathers at all. “Let’s fly back to Oz!” “Why, so we can!” cried Tatters. “All the way over the Nonestic Ocean and sandy desert, straight to the Emerald City itself. Someone’s helping us, Grampa,” finished the Prince of Ragbad, fluttering into the air. “Wish they’d mind their own business,” croaked Grampa crossly. “Being a crow is no help to me. But come on. We might as well fly while we can. Bill, you lead the way and see that you keep us pointed East and crow every few minutes, will you, so we can hear where you are.” “All right,” agreed the weather cock readily, and they could tell from the flutter of his iron wings that the puzzled bird had gotten under way. “Here I go by the name of Bill!” he crowed loudly. “Invisi-Bill!” chortled the old soldier, rising into the air. “Come on crows!” Tatters quickly followed Grampa and after Tatters flew Urtha, higher and higher and higher, until the iceberg became only a tiny speck, bobbing up and down in the blue waters of the Nonestic Ocean. For a time the adventurers flew in silence, each one pondering the strange events that had crowded upon them in the past few hours. “Invisi-Bill” continued to lead the way, Grampa, Prince Tatters and Urtha winging after him. CHAPTER 14 On Monday Mountain “Good sleep, how did you enjoy your morning?” asked Percy Vere brightly.