“Takes more than a snuffer to keep me down,” wheezed the Elegant Elephant, hurrying over and jerking the Prince to his feet. “Three humps of my shoulders and off she goes! What makes it so dark?” “The Candlemen have all gone,” sighed Pompa, brushing his hand wearily across his forehead. “All except that one.” In a distant corner sat Tommy Tallow and the light from his head was the only light in the great chamber. He was reading a book with tin leaves and looked up in surprise when he saw the Elegant Elephant and Pompadore approaching. Then he started to sputter and ran toward a bell rope at the side of the chamber. “Stop!” shouted Kabumpo, “or I’ll blow off your head!” At that the little Candleman trembled so violently that his flame head almost went out. “Now suppose you show us the way out,” snapped the Elegant Elephant, stamping one big foot until the floor trembled. “You could burn out!” gasped Tommy faintly. “That’s what we do!” “Don’t say out,” whispered Pompa anxiously. “We want to go away from here,” he explained earnestly. “Back on the top of the ground, you know.” “Oh!” whistled Tommy Tallow, his face lighting up. “That’s easy—this way, please!” He almost ran to a big door at one side of the room and tugging it open, waved them through. “Good-bye!” he called, slamming the door quickly behind them. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] Kabumpo and the Prince found themselves in a wide dim hallway. It slanted up gradually and there were tall candle guards stationed about a hundred yards apart all of the way. “Are you going to a birthday party or a wedding?” asked the first guard, as they passed him. “Wedding,” sniffed Kabumpo. “Why?” “Well, hardly any of the candles go out of here unless they’re needed for a birthday or a wedding,” explained the guard, shifting his big feet. “You’re mighty poorly made though. What kind of candles do you call yourselves?” “Roman,” chuckled Kabumpo with a wink. “We roam around,” he added ponderously. “Do all the candles used above ground come from here?” asked Pompa curiously. “Certainly,” replied the guard. “All candles come from Illumi—and they don’t like to leave either because as soon as they strike the upper air they shrink down to ordinary cake and candlestick size. Distressing, isn’t it?” “I suppose it must be,” smiled Pompadore. “Good-bye!” The guard touched his flame hat and Kabumpo quickened his pace. “I want air,” rumbled the great elephant, panting along as fast as he could go. “I’ve seen and felt about all I care to see and feel of the Illumi Nation.” “So have I!” The Prince of Pumperdink touched his scorched locks and sighed deeply. “I’m afraid Ozma will never marry me now, and Pumperdink will disappear forever!” “Don’t be a Gooch!” snapped the Elegant Elephant shortly. “Our adventures have only begun.”