The Book of Records had been perfectly correct in stating that Ruggedo had something on his mind. _He had!_ To understand the mysterious disappearance of Ozma’s palace, we must go back to the old Ex-King of the Gnomes. The whole of the night after he had found Glegg’s box of Mixed Magic, Ruggedo had spent trying to open the box. But pry and poke as he would it stubbornly refused to give up its secrets. “Better come to bed,” advised Wag, twitching his nose nervously. “Mixed Magic isn’t safe, you know. It might explode.” “Idiot!” grumbled Ruggedo. “I don’t know who Glegg is or was, but I’m going to find out what kind of magic he mixes. I’m going to open this box if it takes me a century.” “All right,” quavered Wag, retiring backward and holding up his paw. “All right, but remember I warned you! Don’t meddle with magic, that’s my motto!” “I don’t care a harebell what your motto is,” sneered the gnome, continuing to hammer on the gold lid. When he reached his room, Wag shut the door and sank dejectedly upon the edge of the bed. “There’s no manner of use trying to stop him,” sighed the rabbit, “so I’ve got to get out of here before he gets me into trouble. I’ll go to-morrow!” resolved Wag, pulling his long ear nervously. With this good resolution, the little rabbit drooped off asleep. Very cautiously he opened the door of his little rock-room next morning. Ruggedo was sound asleep on the floor, his head on the magic box, and Peg Amy, with her wooden arms and legs flung out in every direction, lay sprawled in a corner. “Been shaking you again, the old scrabble-scratch!” whispered the rabbit indignantly, “just ’cause he couldn’t open that box. Well, never mind, Peg, I’m leaving to-day and as surely as I’ve ears and whiskers you shall go too!” Picking up the poor wooden doll Wag tucked her under his arm. Was it imagination, or did the little wooden face break into a sunny smile? It seemed so to Wag and, with a real thrill of pleasure, he tip-toed back to his room and began tossing his treasures into one of the bed sheets. He seated Peg in his own small rocking chair and from time to time he nodded to her reassuringly. “We’ll soon be out now, my dear,” he chuckled, quite as if Peg had been alive. She often did seem alive to Wag. “Then we’ll see what Ozma has to say to this Mixed Magic,” continued the bunny, wiggling his ears indignantly. And so occupied was he collecting his treasures that he did not hear Ruggedo’s call and next minute the angry gnome himself stood in the doorway. “What does this mean?” he cried furiously, pointing to the tied up sheet. Then he stamped his foot so hard that Peg Amy fell over sideways in the chair and all the ornaments in the room skipped as if alive. The rabbit whirled ’round in a hurry. “It means I’m leaving you for good, you wicked little monster!” shrilled Wag, his whiskers trembling with agitation and his ears sticking straight out behind. “_Leaving_—do you hear?”