“Well, well!” said the King, sitting up and looking surprised.  “Why didn’t my magic belt work, I wonder?”

“The creature is made of wood,” replied the captain.  “Your magic will not work on wood, you know.”

“Ah, I’d forgotten that,” said the King, getting up and limping to his throne.  “Very well, let the girl alone.  She can’t escape us, anyway.”

The warriors, who had been rather confused by these incidents, now formed their ranks again, and the Sawhorse pranced across the room to Dorothy and took a position beside the Hungry Tiger.

At that moment the doors that led to the palace flew open and the people of Ev and the people of Oz were disclosed to view.  They paused, astonished, at sight of the warriors and the angry Nome King, seated in their midst.

“Surrender!” cried the King, in a loud voice.  “You are my prisoners.”

“Go ’long!” answered Billina, from the Scarecrow’s shoulder.  “You promised me that if I guessed correctly my friends and I might depart in safety.  And you always 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.