“Humph!” grunted Wag, as the Wooden Doll settled herself on his shoulders. “Isn’t he generous!” Peg pulled down one of Wag’s long ears. “It was kindly meant,” whispered the Wooden Doll merrily. “Ready?” puffed Kabumpo, backing out into the road. “We’ve no time to lose, for if we lose time we lose our Kingdom too. Forward for Pumperdink!” “All right!” cried Wag, giving a great leap. “Follow me!” And off hopped the giant bunny so fast that Kabumpo had to stretch his legs even to keep him in sight. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] [Illustration: (unlabelled)] Chapter 14 Terror In Ozma’s Palace Meanwhile strange things had been happening in Ozma’s palace. For the people inside it had been a very mean time indeed. During Ruggedo’s run to the mountains of Ev, they had almost been shaken out of their wits and when he sat down upon the mountain top there was not a person nor piece of furniture standing in the whole palace. Courtiers and servants who were not knocked senseless lay shaking in their beds or huddled in corners and under sofas and chairs, just as they had fallen when the first terrible crash lifted the palace into the air. Ozma’s four poster bed had collapsed, pinning the little Fairy Princess under a mass of silk hangings and curtain poles. Being a fairy, Ozma was unhurt, but not being able to move, nor to reach her Magic Belt or even make herself heard, she was forced to lie perfectly still and wait for help. In Dorothy’s sitting room there was not a sound but the ticking of the Copper Man’s machinery. Trot and Betsy Bobbin had knocked their heads together so smartly that they were unconscious. Sir Hokus had been hurled violently against Tik Tok and the poor Knight had known nothing since. Dorothy lay quietly beside him, an ugly bruise on her forehead, where the emerald clock had landed. “Scraps!” called the Scarecrow, sometime after the rumble and tumble had ceased, “are you there?” “No, here!” gasped the Patch Work Girl, sitting up cautiously. She had bounced all around the room and finally rolled into a corner quite close to the Scarecrow himself. She put out her cotton hand as she spoke and touched him. “How fortunate we are unbreakable,” said the Scarecrow, pressing her cotton fingers convulsively and trying to peer out through the intense blackness of the room. “What happened?” “Earthquake!” shivered Scraps. “And maybe it’s not over!” “Must have knocked everybody silly,” said the Scarecrow huskily. “Except us,” giggled the Patch Work Girl. “We couldn’t be knocked silly ’cause we were silly in the first place.” “Now, don’t make jokes, please,” begged the Scarecrow. “This is serious. Besides, I want to think.”