“Do all the candles used above ground come from here?” asked Pompa curiously.
“Certainly,” replied the guard. “All candles come from Illumi—and they don’t like to leave either because as soon as they strike the upper air they shrink down to ordinary cake and candlestick size. Distressing, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it must be,” smiled Pompadore. “Good-bye!” The guard touched his flame hat and Kabumpo quickened his pace.
“I want air,” rumbled the great elephant, panting along as fast as he could go. “I’ve seen and felt about all I care to see and feel of the Illumi Nation.”
“So have I!” The Prince of Pumperdink touched his scorched locks and sighed deeply. “I’m afraid Ozma will never marry me now, and Pumperdink will disappear forever!”
“Don’t be a Gooch!” snapped the Elegant Elephant shortly. “Our adventures have only begun.”
They passed the rest of the guards without further conversation, and after about two hours came to the end of the long tiled passageway and stepped upon firm ground again.
Kabumpo was terribly out of breath, for the whole way had been up hill. For a full minute he stood sniffing the fresh night air. Then, turning around, he looked for the opening through which they had come. Not a sign of the passage anywhere!
“That’s curious,” puffed the Elegant Elephant. “But never mind. We don’t want to go back anyway.”
“I should say not,” gasped the Prince wearily. “Where are we now, Kabumpo?”