"Give me one! Give me two, give me a dozen before I die!" Rocking backward and forward, the great stranger howled so long and so heartily that Philador began to pound him on the back, but Herby, waiting his chance, popped six lozenges into his mouth. Instantly he stopped laughing. "That's funny!" he mused uneasily. "I still feel like laughing at you, but I can't." "Same here!" Slapping his medicine chest, Herby strutted up and down. "They're one of my best cures," he boasted proudly. "You've heard of cough drops to keep one from coughing. Well laugh lozenges keep you from laughing at the wrong time. Have another?" he invited generously. "No thanks!" The big man shook his head in a puzzled manner and turned to the little Prince. "How do you happen to be climbing my mountain?" he inquired politely. "Because it wouldn't climb itself," answered Philador boldly. His answer tickled the mountaineer so tremendously he burst into a loud roar. "Ho! Ho! So it can't!" he shouted, "and you've saved my laugh, boy! I was afraid I was cured for life." "Those laugh lozenges will only keep you from laughing at me," explained Herby hastily. "Oh!" wheezed the stranger with a relieved chuckle, "that's all right then. I can stand not laughing _at_ you, but I must laugh with you. It's the only thing I really do well," and to prove it he began to laugh so merrily that Philador and Herby could not help from joining in. Every time Philador tried to stop, another look at the mountaineer would set him off again. To begin with the fellow was six feet tall and dressed in purple velvet kilts like a Highlander. Then, his toes curled up almost to his knees, his nose curled up, so did his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth, while his hair grew straight on end and waved to and fro. Indeed, a more comical and curious countenance the little Prince had never gazed upon in his life. "Ex--explain yourselves!" choked the mountaineer at last. "I'm on a vacation but what are you on?" "Vacation!" exclaimed Philador wiping his eyes and taking a long look at a huge ax the mountaineer carried over one shoulder, for he had quite evidently been chopping wood, "you're joking!" "Joe King! Why, of course I'm Joe King, but how did you guess?" Regarding the little boy with twinkling eyes he continued, "I'm joking all the time. That's my name you see and that--" he waved up toward the mountain top, "that is my Kingdom. I am King of the Uplanders, but I was tired of kinging it so came down here to work and have a little fun." "Do you think work is fun?" asked Herby seriously. "Well, it is for a king," admitted the mountain monarch frankly. "Takes the kinks out of kinging. You look like a royal person your own self," he observed, eyeing Philador with sudden attention. "I see you are wearing a crown." "He's a Prince," confided Herby mysteriously, "and unless we reach the Emerald City to-night, his kingdom will be utterly destroyed by a monster."