"Wait," Thundered Quiberon
"I thought you said that in Oz things would be different," shouted Benny, grinding the jeweled pebbles on the floor of the cave to powder beneath his flying stone boots.
"Well, isn't this different?" stuttered the Scarecrow, tripping over a sapphire boulder and sprawling upon his nose.
"Oh, hurry!" begged Trot, jerking him quickly to his feet. "Here it comes." At another time the three travelers might have paused to admire the great jeweled grotto, but with this snorting, puffing monster at their heels they scarcely glanced at the sapphire icicles hanging from the roof and jutting out from the sides and the sparkling gems that strewed the floor of the cave. Water rushed through the center and it was no easy task running over the rocks and boulders at the side. The glowing eyes of the monster lighted up the whole cavern. Like a steam engine, he puffed and snorted behind them, filling the air with a sulphurous smoke, till it smelled like twenty Fourths of July rolled into one. At every flash from his nostrils, the poor Scarecrow would wince and shudder.
"One spark, and I am an ash heap!" groaned the unhappy straw man, leaping wildly from boulder to rock.
"What shall we do now?" wailed Trot, stopping in dismay, for they had come to the very back of the cavern and could run no farther.
"I don't know what a real person would do," panted Benny glancing around desperately, "but I'll do something. Quick, squeeze into that little opening." There was just time for Trot and the Scarecrow to slip into the narrow crevice at the back of the cave before Quiberon dragged himself out of the water and flung himself up on the rocks.