“Then you won’t make much headway,” sighed the Cottabus, shaking its head solemnly. “Now, don’t ask me why,” it added lugubriously, dragging its rocker back into the brush, and while Kabumpo and Pompa stared in amazement it wriggled away into the bushes. “Come on,” cried Kabumpo with a contemptuous grunt, but he had only gone a few steps when the Curious Cottabus stuck its head out of an opening in the trees just ahead. “When are you coming back?” it asked, twitching its nose anxiously. “Never!” trumpeted Kabumpo, increasing his speed. Again the Cottabus disappeared, only to reappear at the first turn in the road. “Did you say the door knob hit you on the head?” it asked pleadingly. Kabumpo gave a snort of anger and rushed along so fast that Pompa had to hang on for dear life. “Guess we’ve left him behind this time,” spluttered the Elegant Elephant, after he had run almost a mile. But at that minute there was a wheeze from the underbrush and the head of the Cottabus was thrust out. Its tongue was hanging out and it was panting with exhaustion. “How old are you?” it gasped rolling its eyes pitifully. “Who was your grandfather on your father’s side, and was he bald?” “Kerumberty Bumpus!” raged the Elegant Elephant, flouncing to the other side of the road. “But why was the door knob in the cake?” gulped the Cottabus, two tears trickling off its nose. “How should we know,” said Pompa coldly. “Then just tell me the date of your birth,” wailed the Cottabus, two tears trickling off its nose. “No! No!” screamed Kabumpo, and this time he ran so fast that the tearful voice of the Cottabus became fainter and fainter and finally died away altogether. “Provokingest creature I’ve ever met,” grumbled the Elegant Elephant, and this time Pompa agreed with him. “Isn’t it almost lunch time?” asked the Prince. He was beginning to feel terribly hungry. “And aren’t there any villages or cities between here and the Emerald City?” Pompa spoke again. “Don’t know,” wheezed Kabumpo, swinging ahead. “Oh! There’s a flag!” cried Pompa suddenly. “It’s flying above the tree tops just ahead.” And so it was—a huge, flapping black flag covered with hundreds of figures and signs. “Hurry up, Kabumpo,” urged the Prince. “This looks interesting.” [Illustration: (unlabelled)] Chapter 5 In The City of The Figure Heads “It reminds me of something disagreeable,” answered Kabumpo, as he eyed the flag. Nevertheless he quickened his steps and in a moment they came to a clearing in the forest, surrounded by a tall black picket fence. The only thing visible above the fence was the strange black flag, and as the forest on either side was too dense to penetrate and there seemed to be no way around, Kabumpo thumped loudly on the center gate.