"Good-bye!" called Rusty, as they turned to wave to him from a little hill. "Be careful not to tread on her toes!" The country through which they were passing was barren and wild and not at all interesting to Ozma, but the airman stopped and exclaimed over every tree and boulder, collecting so many leaves, flowers, sticks and small stones, that his air pockets were soon bulging. "I'm really quite glad I was punctured," he remarked happily. "Otherwise I should have missed all this." Ozma nodded, a bit impatiently, for she was thinking of all _she_ had missed during her strange two days in the air, and wondering what had become of Betsy Bobbin. "Maybe she's been home all the time," sighed the little Princess, "and won't she be astonished when I tell her where I have been. Oh, dear, I do wish he would hurry. If you put any more stones in your pocket you'll never be able to fly," she cautioned gently, "and if we don't walk a little faster, we'll never reach the Emerald City at all." "That's so," puffed the airman, and straightening up he reluctantly dropped a handful of pebbles. "But walking is so monotonous. In the air, we can drift, float, swim or fly and so we never grow tired." "It must be very nice," agreed Ozma politely, "but don't you think you could walk a little faster? We're going to have a storm," she added, glancing up at the sky, which was full of dark clouds. "Oh, Atmos, let's run and maybe we'll reach a house before it breaks." "Breaks?" panted the airman, clumping clumsily after the light-footed little fairy. "What will it break? Us?" "Don't you ever have any storms in the sky?" called Ozma over her shoulder. Atmos shook his head solemnly. "We're above all that sort of thing," grunted the airman, trying his best to keep up with Ozma. "Dear me, how dreadfully disagreeable." The sky had grown dark by this time and the rain was falling in torrents. Blinding flashes of lightning and loud crashes of thunder added to the confusion and when large hail stones came pelting down upon their heads, Atmos stopped in positive alarm. "Princess! Princess!" choked the airman, groping toward Ozma in the dark, "Get me out of this or I'll be punctured!" "If I only had my magic belt!" gasped Ozma, pushing back her wet hair, "I could wish us both to the Emerald City. Oh, dear, I do wish there was a house somewhere!" Scarcely had the words been spoken before a house sprang up at the little girl's feet--so suddenly, in fact, that it tumbled her over backwards. The morning before she left her castle, Ozma had slipped one of the Wizard's wishing powders into her pocket. But, shoe strings and button hooks! The little girl had not been careful to say what kind of house she wanted and there, perched askew on the dripping rocks, stood a dog house. While Atmos stared at it in a daze, thinking it, too, had fallen from the sky, and Ozma picked herself up in astonishment, a cross doggie face appeared in the doorway.