"
"Keep your advice to yourself," said the monarch, in
a peeved tone. "Who's King here, anyhow? You or Me?"
"We made you our King because you have less common
sense than the rest of us," answered Panta Loon,
indignantly. "I could have been King myself, had I
wanted to, but I didn't care for the hard work and
responsibility."
As he said this, the big Loon strutted back and forth
in the space between the throne of King Bal and the
prisoners, and the other Loons seemed much impressed by
his defiance. But suddenly there came a sharp report
and Panta Loon instantly disappeared, to the great
astonishment of the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and Woot
the Wanderer, who saw on the spot where the big fellow
had stood a little heap of flabby, wrinkled skin that
looked like a collapsed rubber balloon.
"There!" exclaimed the King; "I expected that would
happen. The conceited rascal wanted to puff himself up
until he was bigger than the rest of you, and this is
the result of his folly. Get the pump working, some of
you, and blow him up again."
"We will have to mend the puncture first, your
Majesty," suggested one of the Loons, and the prisoners
noticed that none of them seemed surprised or shocked
at the sad accident to Panta.
"All right," grumbled the King. "Fetch Til to mend
him."
One or two ran away and presently returned, followed
by a lady Loon wearing huge, puffed-up rubber skirts.
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