“You could burn out!” gasped Tommy faintly. “That’s what we do!”
“Don’t say out,” whispered Pompa anxiously. “We want to go away from here,” he explained earnestly. “Back on the top of the ground, you know.”
“Oh!” whistled Tommy Tallow, his face lighting up. “That’s easy—this way, please!” He almost ran to a big door at one side of the room and tugging it open, waved them through.
“Good-bye!” he called, slamming the door quickly behind them.
Kabumpo and the Prince found themselves in a wide dim hallway. It slanted up gradually and there were tall candle guards stationed about a hundred yards apart all of the way.
“Are you going to a birthday party or a wedding?” asked the first guard, as they passed him.
“Wedding,” sniffed Kabumpo. “Why?”
“Well, hardly any of the candles go out of here unless they’re needed for a birthday or a wedding,” explained the guard, shifting his big feet. “You’re mighty poorly made though. What kind of candles do you call yourselves?”
“Roman,” chuckled Kabumpo with a wink. “We roam around,” he added ponderously.