ays keep your promises."

"I said you might leave the palace in safety," retorted the King; "and
so you may, but you cannot leave my dominions. You are my prisoners,
and I will hurl you all into my underground dungeons, where the
volcanic fires glow and the molten lava flows in every direction, and
the air is hotter than blue blazes."

"That will be the end of me, all right," said the Scarecrow,
sorrowfully. "One small blaze, blue or green, is enough to reduce me
to an ash-heap."

"Do you surrender?" demanded the King.

Billina whispered something in the Scarecrow's ear that made him smile
and put his hands in his jacket pockets.

"No!" returned Ozma, boldly answering the King. Then she said to her
army:

"Forward, my brave soldiers, and fight for your Ruler and yourselves,
unto death!"

"Pardon me, Most Royal Ozma," replied one of her generals; "but I find
that I and my brother officers all suffer from heart disease, and the
slightest excitement might kill us. If we fight we may get excited.
Would it not be well for us to avoid this grave danger?"

"Soldiers should not have heart disease," said Ozma.

"Private soldiers are not, I believe, afflicted that way," declared
another general, twirling his moustache thoughtfully. "If your Royal
Highness desires, we will order our private to attack yonder warriors."

"Do so," replied Ozma.

"For-ward--march!" cried all the generals, with one voice.
"For-ward--march!" yelled the colonels. "For-ward--march!" shouted the
majors. "For-ward--march!" commanded the captains.

And at that the private leveled his spear and dashed furiously upon the
foe.

The captain of the Nomes was so surprised by this sudden onslaught that
he forgot to command his warriors to fight, so that the ten men in the
first row, who stood in front of the private's spear, fell over like so
many toy soldiers. The spear could not go through their steel armor,
however, so the warriors scrambled to their feet again, and by that
time the private had knocked over another row of them.

Then the captain brought down his battle-axe with such a strong blow
that the private's spear was shattered and knocked from his grasp, and
he was helpless to fight any longer.

The Nome King had left his throne and pressed through his warriors to
the front ranks, so he could see what was going on; but as he faced
Ozma and her friends the Scarecrow, as if aroused to action by the
valor of the private, drew one