“What does he mean by gormish?” whispered Peg uneasily to Wag. Before he could answer, the Twigs, who evidently had decided not to be gormish, made a rush upon the travelers. But Kabumpo was ready for them with uplifted trunk. With a furious trumpet he charged straight into the middle, Wag at his heels, with the result that the Twigs went crackling and snapping to the ground in heaps. “All we need is a match,” grunted Kabumpo, pounding along unmindful of the scratching and clawing. “They’re good for nothing but kindling wood.” “Don’t be gormish,” he screeched scornfully, as he flung the last Twig out of his way and Wag and he never stopped till they had put a good mile between themselves and the disagreeable pinchers. “Are you hurt?” asked Kabumpo, stopping at last and looking around at Pompa. “If we keep on this way you won’t be fit to be seen—much less to marry. Let’s have a look at you.” He lifted the Prince down carefully and eyed him with consternation. The Prince had seven long scratches on his cheek and his velvet cloak was torn to ribbons. “I declare,” spluttered the Elegant Elephant explosively, “you’re a perfect fright. I declare, it’s a grumpy shame!” “Well, don’t be gormish,” said the Prince, smiling faintly and wiping his cheek with his handkerchief. “Let me help,” begged Peg Amy, falling off Wag’s back. “Ozma won’t mind a few scratches and what do clothes matter? Anyone would know he was a Prince,” she added, taking Pompa’s cloak and regarding it ruefully. Pompa smiled at Peg’s earnestness and made her his best bow but Kabumpo still looked anxious. “Everyone’s not so smart as you, Peg,” he sighed gloomily. “But come along. The main thing is to rescue Ozma and after that perhaps she won’t notice your scratches and torn cloak. She’ll think you got them fighting the giant,” he finished more hopefully. With a few more of Kabumpo’s jeweled pins Peg repaired Pompa’s cloak. Then, after tying up Wag’s ear, which was badly torn, they started off again. “What worries me,” said Wag, twitching his nose very fast, “what worries me is crossing the Deadly Desert. We’re almost to it, you know.” “Never cross deserts till you come to ’em,” grunted Kabumpo, with a wink at Peg Amy. “Oh, all right,” sniffed Wag, “but don’t be gormish. You know how I detest gormishness!” While Pompa and Peg were laughing over these last remarks a most terrible rumble sounded behind them. “Now what?” trumpeted Kabumpo, turning about. “Sheverything’s mixed hup!” gulped Wag, putting back his ears. “Hold on to me, Peg!” [Illustration: (unlabelled)] [Illustration: (unlabelled)] Chapter 17 Meeting The Runaway Country