“How can we go away?” asked Dorothy.

“Oh, you cannot go away, of course; so you must be destroyed,” was the answer.

“In what way?” enquired the Wizard.

“We shall throw you three people into the Garden of the Twining Vines,” said the Princess, “and they will soon crush you and devour your bodies to make themselves grow bigger.  The animals you have with you we will drive to the mountains and put into the Black Pit.  Then our country will be rid of all its unwelcome visitors.”

“But you are in need of a Sorcerer,” said the Wizard, “and not one of those growing is yet ripe enough to pick.  I am greater than any thorn-covered sorcerer that every grew in your garden.  Why destroy me?”

“It is true we need a Sorcerer,” acknowledged the Princess, “but I am informed that one of our own will be ready to pick in a few days, to take the place of Gwig, whom you cut in two before it was time for him to be planted.  Let us see your arts, and the sorceries you are able to perform.  Then I will decide whether to destroy you with the others or not.”

At this the Wizard made a bow to the people and repeated his trick of producing the nine tiny piglets and making them disappear again.  He did it very cleverly, indeed, and the Princess looked at the strange piglets as if she were as truly astonished as any vegetable person could be.  But afterward she said: 

“I have heard of this wonderful magic.  But it accomplishes nothing of value.  What else can you do?”

The Wizard tried to think.  Then he jointed together the blades of his sword and balanced it very skillfully upon the end of his nose.  But even that did not satisfy the Princess.

Just then his eye fell upon the lanterns and the can of kerosene oil which Zeb had brought from the car of his balloon, and he got a clever idea from those commonplace things.

“Your Highness,” said he, “I will now proceed to prove my magic by creating two suns that you have never seen before; also I will exhibit a Destroyer much more dreadful that your Clinging Vines.”

So he placed Dorothy upon one side of him and the boy upon the other and set a lantern upon each of their heads.

“Don’t laugh,” he whispered to them, “or you will spoil the effect of my magic.”

Then, with much dignity and a look of vast importance upon his wrinkled face, the Wizard got out his match-box and lighted the two lanterns.  The glare they made was very small when compared with the radiance of the six great colored suns; but still they gleamed steadily and clearly.  The Mangaboos were much impressed because they had never before seen any light that did not come directly from their suns.

Next the Wizard poured a pool of oil from the can upon the glass floor, where it covered quite a broad surface.  When he lighted the oil a hundred tongues of flame shot up, and the effect was really imposing.