Then he snatched Peg Amy in one paw and his treasures in the other and tried to brush past Ruggedo. But the gnome was too quick for him. Springing out of the room, he slammed the door and locked it. Wag could hear him rolling up rocks for further security. “Thought you’d steal a march on old Ruggedo; thought you’d tell Ozma all his plans and get a nice little reward! Well, _think again_!” shouted the gnome through the keyhole. Wag had plenty of time to think, for Ruggedo never came near the rabbit’s room all day. At every sound poor Wag leaped into the air, for he felt sure each blow could only mean the opening of the dreaded magic box. To reassure himself he held long conversations with the wooden doll and Peg’s calm cheerfulness steadied him a lot. “I might dig my way out but it would take so long! My ear tips! How provoking it is!” exclaimed Wag. “But perhaps he’ll relent by nightfall!” Slowly the day dragged on but nothing came from the big rock room but thumps, grumbles and bangs. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] “It is fortunate that you do not eat, Peg, dear,” sighed the rabbit late in the afternoon, nibbling disconsolately on a stale biscuit he had found under his bureau. “Shall you care very much if I starve? I probably shall, you know. Of course no one in Oz can die, but starving forever is not comfortable either.” At this the wooden doll seemed to shake her head, as much as to say: “You won’t starve, Wag dear; just be patient a little longer.” Not that she really said this, mind you, but Wag knew from her smile that this is what she was thinking. It was hot and stuffy in the little rock chamber and the faint light that filtered down from the hole in the ceiling was far from cheerful. At last night came, and that was worse. Wag lit his only candle but it was already partly burned down and soon with a dismal sputter it went out and left the two sitting in the dark. Peg Amy stared cheerfully ahead but the rabbit, worn out by his long day of fright and worry, fell into a heavy slumber. Meanwhile Ruggedo had worked on the magic box and every minute he became more impatient. All his poundings failed to make even a dent on the gold lid and even jumping on it brought no result. The little gnome had eaten nothing since morning and by nightfall he was stamping around the box in a perfect fury. His eyes snapped and twinkled like live coals and his wispy white hair fairly crackled with rage. Hidden in this box were magic secrets that would doubtless enable him to capture the Whole of Oz but, _klumping kaloogas_, how was he to get at ’em? He finally gave the gold box such a vindictive kick that he almost crushed his curly toes; then holding onto one foot, he hopped about on the other till he fell over exhausted. For several minutes he lay perfectly still; then jumping up he seized the box and flung it with all his gnome might against the rock wall.