"Very good," sniffed the Ruler of all the Stratovanians, shooting his eyes sharply to left and right, "so this powerful fairy Ohsma of Ohs has run off and left us her castle, and we win the war without blowing a blow! Ho, Ho! I shall spend my summers in this enchanting palace," he added, with a malicious wink at the Tin Woodman. "But now," his grasp on Nick's arm tightened. "Where are these famous, magic treasures and jewels you were boasting of--this belt and fan and all the other foolishments and fripperies?" "In a safe in Ozma's own apartment," Nick told him, reluctantly. Now that Strut was in complete possession of the castle, little was to be gained by concealing the location of the treasures. "Take me there at once," he commanded Nick, and--because the thousand Airlanders were a bit too numerous for comfort--Strut ordered them out to the garden, bidding them man the walls, guard the gates and all entrances, and give the alarm should any of the Ozlanders approach. Then, with lowered head and dragging feet, the Tin Woodman led the way to Ozma's private sitting room. The safe, sparkling with emeralds imbedded in metal more valuable than platinum, stood in an alcove behind a pair of silk curtains. Giving little heed to the elegant appointments of the apartment itself, Strut knelt before the safe, fairly panting with impatience and curiosity. "How does it open?" he asked, spinning the little knob on the door, round and round without any results whatsoever. "I am sure I cannot say." Resting one elbow on the golden mantel, the Tin Woodman looked indifferently at the kneeling Airman. "Only Ozma and our Wizard ever open that safe." "Oh, is that so!" Strut straightened up angrily, "We shall see about that. All I have to do is call one of my Blowmen and BLOW it open." "Suit yourself," said Nick, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Only if you do, the safe probably will blow away--and all the treasures with it!" "Then how in the Dix shall I open it?" screamed Strut, giving it a spiteful kick with his silver-shod toe. Worn out by his long vigil of the night and the excitement of taking possession of the castle, he lost his temper completely, and stamped and raged up and down before Ozma's jewelled strong box. But thump and bang at the door as he would, it still remained shut. "Ha!" he puffed at last, "I'll call my Swordsmith! He can hammer it open!" Racing over to the window he yelled loudly for the Swordsmith to come up. But Strut's Swordsmith had no more success than his Master. Kindling a fire in the grate, he heated a poker red hot and tried to burn a hole in the door, but the poker did not leave even a scratch on the glittering surface. "Stop! Stop! You Witless Woff. I'll do it myself," raged Strut. "I'll blow it open with star powder!"