“Well, I’ve noticed that people can speak, even when they’ve been made invisible,” said the Wizard. And then he looked all around him and said in a solemn voice: “Ozma, are you here?”

There was no reply. Dorothy asked the question, too, and so did Button-Bright and Trot and Betsy; but none received any reply at all.

“It’s strange—it’s terrible strange!” muttered Cayke the Cookie Cook. “I was sure that the little Pink Bear always tells the truth.”

“I still believe in his honesty,” said the Frogman, and this tribute so pleased the Bear King that he gave these last speakers grateful looks, but still gazed sourly on the others.

“Come to think of it,” remarked the Wizard, “Ozma couldn’t be invisible, for she is a fairy and fairies cannot be made invisible against their will. Of course she could be imprisoned by the magician, or even enchanted, or transformed, in spite of her fairy powers; but Ugu could not render her invisible by any magic at his command.”

“I wonder if she’s been transformed into Button-Bright?” said Dorothy nervously. Then she looked steadily at the boy and asked: “Are you Ozma? Tell me truly!”

Button-Bright laughed.

“You’re getting rattled, Dorothy,” he replied. “Nothing ever enchants me. If I were Ozma, do you think I’d have tumbled into that hole?”

“Anyhow,” said the Wizard, “Ozma would never try to deceive her friends, or prevent them from recognizing her, in whatever form she happened to be. The puzzle is still a puzzle, so let us go on to the wicker castle and question the magician himself. Since it was he who stole our Ozma, Ugu is the one who must tell us where to find her.”

Chapter 21

Magic Against Magic

The Wizard’s advice was good, so again they started in the direction of the low mountain on the crest of which the wicker castle had been built. They had been gradually advancing up hill, so now the elevation seemed to them more like a round knoll than a mountaintop. However, the sides of the knoll were sloping and covered with green grass, so there was a stiff climb before them yet.

Undaunted, they plodded on and had almost reached the knoll when they suddenly observed that it was surrounded by a circle of flame. At first the flames barely rose above the ground, but presently they grew higher and higher until a circle of flaming tongues of fire taller than any of their heads quite surrounded the hill on which the wicker castle stood. When they approached the flames the heat was so intense that it drove them back again.

“This will never do for me!” exclaimed the Patchwork Girl. “I catch fire very easily.”

“It won’t do for me, either,” grumbled the Sawhorse, prancing to the rear.