“Do it again! Do it again!” cried Kabumpo joyfully. So Pompa turned another somersault and another, and another, and _another_, till not a Figure Head was in sight. Even the Figure Heads at the windows of the houses tumbled out and dashed madly around the corner. Before they could return, Kabumpo snatched up Pompa and tore through the deserted streets of Rith Metic till he came to the black iron gate at the other end of the city. Butting it open with his head, the Elegant Elephant dashed through and never stopped running till he was miles away from there. “Have to rest a bit and eat some leaves,” puffed Kabumpo, at last slowing down. “Whe—w!” “Wish I could eat leaves,” sighed the Prince, as Kabumpo began lunching off the tree tops. “But, never mind, we’re out of Rith Metic! Wasn’t it lucky that Cottabus followed us? I never would have thought of getting out of sums by somersaulting. Would you?” “Only sensible thing it ever said, probably,” answered the Elegant Elephant, with his mouth full of leaves. “There’s a lot more to be learned by traveling than by studying, my boy. Somersaults for sums—let’s always remember that!” Pompa did not answer. He slid down Kabumpo’s trunk and began hunting anxiously around for something to eat. Not far away he found a large nut tree and, gathering a handful of nuts, he sat down and began to crack them on a white marble slab near by. Next instant Kabumpo heard a thud and a muffled cry. The Prince of Pumperdink had vanished, as if by magic. “Where are you?” screamed the Elegant Elephant, pounding through the brush. “Pompa! Pompa! He’s disappeared,” gasped Kabumpo, rushing over to the marble slab. There was not a sign of the Royal Prince of Pumperdink anywhere, but carved carefully on the white stone were these words: Please Knock Before You Fall In. “Fall in!” snorted Kabumpo, his eyes rolling wildly. “Great Gooch!” [Illustration: (unlabelled)] Chapter 6 Ruggedo’s History In Six Rocks On the same night that Prince Pompa and Kabumpo had disappeared from Pumperdink, a little gray gnome crouched in a deep chamber, tunneled under the Emerald City, laboriously carving letters on a big rock. It was Ruggedo, the old Gnome King, carving and grumbling and grumbling and carving, and pausing every few minutes to light his pipe with a hot coal which he kept in his pocket for that purpose. A big emerald lamp cast a green glow over the strange cavern and made the gnome look like a bad green goblin, which he was. “Wag!” screamed the gnome, suddenly throwing down his chisel. “Where are you, you long-eared villain?” There was a slight stir at the back of the cave and a rabbit, of about the same size as the gnome, shuffled slowly forward. “What you want?” he asked, rubbing one eye with his paw. “Bring me a cup of melted mud, idiot!” roared the gnome, pounding on the rock. “And serve it to me on my throne at once!”