It was flung open at once, so suddenly that Kabumpo, who had his head pressed against the bars, fell on his knees and shot Pompadore clear over his head. Altogether it was a very undignified entrance. “Oh! Oh! Now we shall have some fun!” screamed a high, thin voice, and immediately the cry was taken up by hundreds of other voices. A perfect swarm of strange creatures surrounded the two travelers. The Elegant Elephant took one look, put back his ears and snatched Pompa from the paving stones. “Stop that!” he rumbled threateningly. “Who are you anyway?” The crowd paid no attention to the Elegant Elephant’s question, but continued to dance up and down and scream with glee. Clutching Kabumpo’s ear, Pompa peered down with many misgivings. They were entirely surrounded by thin, spry little people, who had figures instead of heads, and the fours, eights, sevens and ciphers bobbing up and down made it terribly confusing. “Let’s go!” said Pompa, who was growing dizzier every minute. But the Figure Heads were wedged so closely around them Kabumpo could not move and they were shouting so lustily that the Elegant Elephant’s voice was drowned in the hubbub. Finally, Kabumpo’s eyes began to snap angrily and, taking a deep breath, he threw up his trunk and trumpeted like fifty ferry-boat whistles. The effect was immediate and astonishing. Half of the Figure Heads fell on their faces, and the other half fell on their backs and stared vacantly up at the sky. “Conduct us to your Ruler!” roared Kabumpo, in the dead silence that followed. “How’d you know we had a Ruler?” asked a Seven, getting cautiously to its feet. “Most countries have,” said the Elegant Elephant shortly. “He’s got no right to order us around,” said a Six, sitting up and jerking its thumb at Kabumpo. “Yes—but!” Seven frowned at Six and put his hands over his ears. “This way,” he said gruffly, and Kabumpo, stepping carefully, for many of the Figure Heads were still on their backs, followed Seven. If the inhabitants of this strange city were queer, their city was even more so. The air was dry and choky and the houses were dull, oblong affairs, set in rows and rows with never a garden in sight. Each street had a large signpost on the corner, but they were not like the signs one usually sees in cities. For these were _plus_ and _minus_ signs with here and there a _long division_ sign. “I suppose everything in this street’s divided up,” mumbled Pompadore, looking up at a division sign curiously. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] “Hope they don’t subtract any of our belongings,” whispered Kabumpo, as they turned into Minus Alley. “Look, Pompa, at the houses. Ever see anything like ’em before?” “They remind me of something disagreeable,” mused the Prince. “Why, they’re _books_, Kabumpo, great big arithmetic books!” Pompa pointed at one. “You mean they are shaped like books,” said the Elegant Elephant. “I never saw books with windows and doors!”