r you?"

"Yes," said Ozma, "I can do that easily. And, so you may know I am
speaking the truth, I will change your color now."

She waved her silver wand over the pool and the crab instantly became
snow-white--all except his eyes, which remained black. The creature saw
his reflection in the water and was so delighted that he at once
climbed out of the pool and began moving slowly toward the web, by
backing away from the pool. He moved so very slowly that Dorothy cried
out impatiently: "Dear me, this will never do!" Caching the crab in her
hands she ran with him to the web.

She had to hold him up even then, so he could reach with his claws
strand after strand of the filmy purple web, which he was able to sever
with one nip.

When enough of the web had been cut to allow them to pass, Dorothy ran
back to the pool and placed the white crab in the water, after which
she rejoined Ozma. They were just in time to escape through the web,
for several of the purple spiders now appeared, having discovered that
their web had been cut, and had the girls not rushed through the
opening the spiders would have quickly repaired the cuts and again
imprisoned them.

Ozma and Dorothy ran as fast as they could and although the angry
spiders threw a number of strands of web after them, hoping to lasso
them or entangle them in the coils, they managed to escape and clamber
to the top of the hill.

Chapter Three

The Mist Maidens

From the top of the hill Ozma and Dorothy looked down into the valley
beyond and were surprised to find it filled with a floating mist that
was as dense as smoke. Nothing in the valley was visible except these
rolling waves of mist, but beyond, on the other side, rose a grassy
hill that appeared quite beautiful.

"Well," said Dorothy, "what are we to do, Ozma? Walk down into that
thick fog, an' prob'bly get lost in it, or wait till it clears away?"

"I'm not sure it will clear away, however long we wait," replied Ozma,
doubtfully. "If we wish to get on, I think we must venture into the
mist."

"But we can't see where we're going, or what we're stepping on,"
protested Dorothy. "There may be dreadful things mixed up in that fog,
an' I'm scared just to think of wading into it."

Even Ozma seemed to hesitate. She was silent and thoughtful for a
little while, looking at the rolling drifts that were so gray and
forbidding. Finally she said:

"I believe this is a Mist Valley, where these moist cloud