“We’ll go there,” declared Ruggedo, tucking the magic cloak more carefully under his arm. “We’ll go there, General, and inquire the way to the Kingdom of Patch. But remember to say nothing of the plans to capture my belt. We’re in the enemy’s country now!” Still dazed from the surprising way in which they had crossed the desert, Peter looked around him with delight. It did not look like the enemy’s country to Peter and, picking up a large, luscious peach, he decided then and there that he was going to like the Marvelous Land of Oz. Peter thought that even the Wizard of Oz, himself, would be interested in the wonderful elevator plants, and decided to tell him all about them when he got to the Emerald City. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER 8 Peter Meets Kuma Party As they walked up the neat pebble path to the little yellow house, Peter tried to remember all he had read about Oz and its curious inhabitants. But nothing he had read prepared him for the next happening. In answer to their knock, the door simply burst open and out came a hand and foot without any body at all. The hand seized Peter’s hand, shook it warmly and drew him into the house. The foot gave Ruggedo such a kick, he went flying into a gooseberry bush. Drawn by the hand into a cozy sitting room, Peter stood trembling with uneasiness. In a comfortable chair, smoking a pipe, sat the owner of the cottage, also the owner of the hand and foot, and Peter gave a gasp as they immediately snapped back to their proper places. “Don’t be alarmed,” said the stranger in a soft voice and, taking the pipe out of his mouth, he smiled kindly at the little boy. Peter was not alarmed--he was perfectly petrified and, as the old gentleman’s head flew off his body and looked out the window, he dropped into a chair and began to fan himself with his cap. “I thought he’d go away,” sighed the head regretfully, “but he’s coming into the house. Why do you travel with a bad little creature like that?” [Illustration] “Because I’m lost,” explained Peter, in a slightly shaky voice, turning around to address himself to the head. “Well, you may find yourself in a heap of trouble, travelling with a gnome. Never trust a gnome,” advised the head, coming back to settle on the old gentleman’s shoulders. “Ah! Here he comes!” “Who kicked me?” demanded Ruggedo, glaring all around in a perfect fury. The owner of the cottage made no reply, but as he needed more tobacco for his pipe just then flung out his hand toward the mantel. The hand sailed through the air like a bird and, seizing the tobacco pouch, set it on the table and then quietly attached itself to the man’s wrist. At this odd occurrence, Ruggedo’s eyes rolled wildly. Cringing against the wall, he began to move stealthily toward the door.