"Bite a Public Benefactor, would you?" sniffed Benny, stepping calmly out as the monster opened his mouth, and before Quiberon had recovered he snatched up the Scarecrow and pounded after Trot. They had almost reached the end of the dim blue corridor before Quiberon appeared at the head. Five times as furious as he had been before, he came crashing on like an express train. Trot dared not look over her shoulder, and even Benny felt that nothing could save them now. Without plan or hope they dashed on, till an ear splitting screech brought them to a sudden stop. "You look!" begged Trot, covering her eyes with both hands. Expecting almost anything, Benny swung round, then instantly gave a great shout of relief. "He's stuck!" cried the stone man exuberantly. And so he was, a few yards behind them. Smoking, screaming and sending up shower after shower of sparks, the monster lay jammed between the rocky sides of the passageway. So fast had Trot and Benny been running they scarcely noticed the gradual narrowing of the corridor, and so fast had Quiberon rushed after them that he had stuck fast before he had time to stop himself. "A narrow escape for us, but not for him," remarked the Scarecrow in a moist whisper. Scarcely able to see through the black smoke Quiberon was sending out, and almost deafened by his whistles and roars, Trot and Benny ran on. The passageway was growing narrower still, and after several twists and turns, it came to an abrupt stop. "Cave City!" puffed Trot. The words were studded in sapphire on the rock ahead. "Admittance three rocks." "Well, we can't go back," sighed the little girl, sitting down wearily, "so we'll just have to try Cave City." "But we haven't any rocks," observed Benny, putting the Scarecrow down beside Trot and looking carefully all around. "And will the people of this city welcome us--or--" Benny did not finish his sentence but looked uneasily from Trot to the Scarecrow. "There is a great deal of water on my brain," complained the Scarecrow, "but if someone will wring me out, I'll endeavor to think." Benny looked on rather nervously as Trot squeezed the water from the flimsy body of the Scarecrow. "Don't forget to wring my neck," directed the straw man calmly. "I believe I am the only man in Oz whose neck can be wrung without discomfort," he explained, glancing brightly up at the live statue. Benny said nothing and indeed what could he say? And Trot, after shaking up the Scarecrow and smoothing him out as best she could, propped him up against the side of the passageway. "I suppose if I were a real person, I could think of something too," mourned Benny, taking off his high hat and rubbing his stone crown reflectively. "You're much better than a real person!" declared the Scarecrow promptly. "A real person could not have jumped into the jaws of a monster like Quiberon. I, for my part, am glad you are yourself!" "Come on, Benny, let's look for some rocks!" cried Trot.