“Oh, a kind of pet to bring one luck,” explained the little boy. “You could come to all the games and have all the cake and peanuts you wanted.” Grumpy considered the matter for a few moments, then, dropping on all fours, shook his head.
“I belong to Scraps,” he announced, looking up admiringly at the Patchwork Girl. “I’m her pet. Besides, I’ll never leave Oz.”
“Why not?” asked Peter in surprise.
“Oh, because—” Rearing up on his hind legs, Grumpy waved his paw solemnly. “In your country, Peter, I could only be a bear, but in Oz, I’m a bear and a person, too. That’s why it’s more fun to be an animal in Oz than a person. Look at me,” he exclaimed complacently. “I can do everything a boy can do and everything a bear can do, so, of course, I have twice as much fun! Can you do this, for instance?” Drawing himself up into a ball, Grumpy started rolling down a grassy slope at the side of the road.
“Ho! Ho!” laughed Scraps, running after Grumpy, “he has you there, Peter.”
“Yes, but we shouldn’t have turned off the road,” objected Peter, hurrying after the Patchwork Girl. “Stop! Scraps, stop!”
From a gentle slope, the hillside dropped suddenly downward and now none of them could stop. Faster and faster rolled Grumpy, faster and faster ran Scraps and Peter, catching at trees and bushes to keep from falling. Instead of grass, the ground beneath their feet grew smooth and slippery as ice and from an incline the hill turned to a regular mountain side. It reminded Peter of the time he had tried skiing and, after several frantic attempts to keep his balance, he fell flat on his face and finished the slide on his stomach. Scraps, too, after a few wild spins and flourishes, sat down hard and, in a state of breathless surprise, they reached the foot of the mountain. Grumpy had travelled most of the way on his ear and was growling terribly in his own language. He was covered with a fine yellow powder and, as Scraps and Peter slid past, he began to lick his fur furiously. But one taste was enough.
“Soap!” coughed the little bear, wrinkling up his nose. “Yellow soap, too!”
“No wonder it was so slippery,” said Peter slowly. “Now how are we going to climb up again?”
“We’re not!” announced Scraps, rising to her feet with great difficulty. “Might as well try to walk up a looking glass. Why, what funny trees!”