“If it doesn’t stop soon I’ll tear all its trees out by the roots,” grumbled Kabumpo under his breath. “Logging, indeed! Great Grump! Here’s the Deadly Desert!” The air was now so hot and choking that Pompa flung himself face down on the cool grass. The Runaway Country did not seem to notice the burning sands and pattered smoothly along on its ten mountain feet. [Illustration: (unlabelled)] “Something has to be done, quick,” breathed Peg, clasping her hands, “for soon we’ll be in Ev.” Pompa, holding his silk handkerchief before his face, had come up beside her and they both looked anxiously for the first signs of the country that held Ruggedo and the giant who had run off with Ozma’s palace. “Oh, Mr. Land,” called Peg suddenly. “Yes, Princess,” answered the Country, without slackening its speed. “Have you thought about feeding us?” asked the Wooden Doll gently. “I don’t see any fruit trees or vegetables or chickens and settlers must eat, you know. We ought to have some seeds to plant and some building materials, oughtn’t we, if we’re going to make you into an up-to-Oz Country?” “Pshaw!” said the Runaway Country, stopping with a jolt, “I never thought of that. Can’t you eat grass and fish? There’s fine fish in my lakes.” “Well, I don’t eat at all,” explained Peg pleasantly, “but Pompa is a Prince and a Prince has to have meat and vegetables and puddings on Sunday—” “And I have to have lettuce and carrots and cabbages, or I won’t work!” cried Wag, thumping with his hind feet and winking at Kabumpo. “I’ll not dig a single mountain!” “And I’ve got to have my ton of hay a day, too!” trumpeted the Elegant Elephant, “or I’ll not lug a single log. Pretty poor sort of a Country you are, expecting us to live on grass as if we were donkeys and goats.” The Runaway Country rolled its lakes helplessly from one to the other. “I thought settlers always managed to get a living off the land,” it murmured in a troubled voice. “Not us!” rumbled Kabumpo. “Not enough pie in pioneer to suit this party!” “Has your Highness anything to suggest?” asked the Country, looking anxiously at Peg. “Well,” said the Wooden Doll slowly, “suppose we stop at the first country we come to and stock up. We could get a few chickens and seeds and saws and hammers and things.” “You’d run away,” said the Runaway Country suspiciously. “Not but what I trust you, Princess,” he added hastily, “but them.” He scowled darkly at Kabumpo and Wag. “I’ll not let them out of my sight.” “How our little floating island loves us,” chuckled Wag, nudging the Elegant Elephant. “They won’t run away,” said Peg softly. “And if they did you could easily catch them again.” “That’s so; I’ll stop wherever you say,” sighed the Country, starting on again. “What are you going to do?” whispered Pompa, catching Peg’s arm. “I don’t know,” said Peg honestly, “but perhaps if we can make it stop something will turn up. We’re almost across the desert now and that’s a big help.”