“Great Grump!” coughed Kabumpo, holding his jeweled headpiece with his trunk. “Great—” Before he reached the second grump, his head struck the top of the passage with terrific force, and that was the last he remembered about his fall. How long he lay in an unconscious state the Elegant Elephant never knew. After what seemed several ages he became aware of a confused murmur. Footsteps seemed to be pattering all around him, but he was still too stunned to be curious. “Nothing will make me get up,” thought Kabumpo dully. “I’m going to lie here forever and—ever—and ever—and—” Just as he reached this drowsy conclusion, something red hot fell down his neck and a voice louder than all the rest shouted in his ear. “_What are you?_” “Ouch!” screamed Kabumpo, now thoroughly aroused. He opened one eye and rolled over on his side. A tall, curious creature was bending over him. Its head was on fire and as Kabumpo blinked angrily another red hot shower spattered into his ear. With a trumpet of rage Kabumpo lunged to his feet. The hot-headed person fell over backwards and a crowd of similar creatures pattered off into the corner and regarded Kabumpo uneasily. They were as tall as Pompa but very thin and tube-like in shape and their heads appeared to be a mass of flickering flames. “Like giant candles,” reflected the Elegant Elephant, his curiosity getting the better of his anger. He glanced about hurriedly. He was in a huge white tiled chamber and the only lights came from the heads of its singular occupants. A little distance away Prince Pompadore sat rubbing first his knees and then his head. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] “It’s another faller,” said one of the giant Candlemen to the other. “Two fallers in one day! This is exciting—an ‘Ouch’ it calls itself!” “I don’t care what it calls itself,” answered the second Candleman crossly. “I call it mighty rude. How dare you blow out our king?” shouted the hot-headed fellow, shaking his fist at the Elegant Elephant. “Here, some of you, light him up!” “Blow out your King?” gasped Kabumpo in amazement. Sure enough, he had. There at his feet lay the King of the Candles, stiff and lifeless and with never a head to bless himself with. While the Elegant Elephant stared at the long candlestick figure a fat little Candleman rushed forward and lit with his own head the small black wick sticking out of the King’s collar. Instantly the ruddy flame face of the King appeared, his eyes snapping dangerously. Jumping to his feet he advanced toward Pompadore. “Is this your Ouch?” spluttered the King, jerking his thumb at Kabumpo. “You must take him away at once. I never was so put out in my life. Me, the hand-dipped King of the whole Illumi Nation, to be blown out by a bumpy creature without any headlight. Where’s _your_ headlight?” he demanded fiercely, leaning over the Prince and dropping hot tallow down his neck.