while scattered over the valley were dozens of the quaintest and most picturesque cottages our travelers had ever beheld. None of them were in clusters, such as villages or towns, but each had ample grounds of its own, with orchards and gardens surrounding it.
As the new arrivals gazed upon this exquisite scene they were enraptured by its beauties and the fragrance that permeated the soft air, which they breathed so gratefully after the confined atmosphere of the tunnel. Several minutes were consumed in silent admiration before they noticed two very singular and unusual facts about this valley. One was that it was lighted from some unseen source; for no sun or moon was in the arched blue sky, although every object was flooded with a clear and perfect light. The second and even more singular fact was the absence of any inhabitant of this splendid place. From their elevated position they could overlook the entire valley, but not a single moving object could they see. All appeared mysteriously deserted.
The mountain on this side was not glass, but made of a stone similar to granite. With some difficulty and danger Jim drew the buggy over the loose rocks until he reached the green lawns below, where the paths and orchards and gardens began. The nearest cottage was still some distance away.
“Isn’t it fine?” cried Dorothy, in a joyous voice, as she sprang out of the buggy and let Eureka run frolicking over the velvety grass.
“Yes, indeed!” answered Zeb. “We were lucky to get away from those dreadful vegetable people.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad,” remarked the Wizard, gazing around him, “if we were obliged to live here always. We couldn’t find a prettier place, I’m sure.”
He took the piglets from his pocket and let them run on the grass, and Jim tasted a mouthful of the green blades and declared he was very contented in his new surroundings.
“We can’t walk in the air here, though,” called Eureka, who had tried it and failed; but the others were satisfied to walk on the ground, and the Wizard said they must be nearer the surface of the earth then they had been in the Mangaboo country, for everything was more homelike and natural.
“But where are the people?” asked Dorothy.
The little man shook his bald head.
“Can’t imagine, my dear,” he replied.
They heard the sudden twittering of a bird, but could not find the creature anywhere. Slowly they walked along the path toward the nearest cottage, the piglets racing and gambolling beside them and Jim pausing at every step for another mouthful of grass.
Presently they came to a low plant which had broad, spreading leaves, in the center of which grew a single fruit about as large as a peach. The fruit was so daintily colored and so fragrant, and looked so appetizing and delicious that Dorothy stopped and exclaimed:
“What is it, do you s’pose?”
The piglets had smelled the fruit quickly, and before the girl could reach out her hand to pluck it every one of the nine tiny ones had rushed in and commenced to devour it with great eagerness.
“It’s good, anyway,” said Zeb, “or those little rascals wouldn’t have gobbled it up so greedily.”
“Where are they?” asked Dorothy, in astonishment.
They all looked around, but the piglets had disappeared.
“Dear me!” cried the Wizard; “they must have run away. But I didn’t see them go; did you?”
“No!” replied the boy and the girl, together.
“Here,—piggy, piggy, piggy!” called their master, anxiously.
Several squeals and grunts were instantly heard at his feet, but the Wizard could not discover a single piglet.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Why, right beside you,” spoke a tiny voice. “Can’t you see us?”
“No,” answered the little man, in a puzzled tone.
“We can see you,” said another of the piglets.
The Wizard stooped down and put out his hand, and at once felt the small fat body of one of his pets. He picked it up, but could not see what he held.
“It is very strange,” said he, soberly. “The piglets have become invisible, in some curious way.”
“I’ll bet it’s because they ate that peach!” cried the kitten.
“It wasn’t a peach, Eureka,” said Dorothy. “I only hope it wasn’t poison.”
“It was fine, Dorothy,” called one of the piglets.
“We’ll eat all we can find of them,” said another.
“But WE mus’n’t eat them,” the Wizard warned the children, “or we too may become invisible, and lose each other. If we come across another of the strange fruit we must avoid it.”
Calling the piglets to him he picked them all up, one by one, and put them away in his pocket; for although he could not see them he could feel them, and when he had buttoned his coat he knew they were safe for the present.
The travellers now resumed their walk toward the cottage, which they presently reached. It was a pretty place, with vines growing thickly over the broad front porch. The door stood open and a table was set in the front room, with four chairs drawn up to it. On the table were plates, knives and forks, and dishes of bread, meat and fruits. The meat was smoking hot and the knives and forks were performing strange antics and jumping here and there in quite a puzzling way. But not a single person appeared to be in the room.
“How funny!” exclaimed Dorothy, who with Zeb and the Wizard now stood in the doorway.
A peal of merry laughter answered her, and the knives and forks fell to the plates with a clatter. One of the chairs pushed back from the table, and this was so astonishing and mysterious that Dorothy was almost tempted to run away in fright.
“Here are strangers, mama!” cried the shrill and childish voice of some unseen person.
“So I see, my dear,” answered another voice, soft and womanly.
“What do you want?” demanded a third voice, in a stern, gruff accent.
“Well, well!” said the Wizard; “are there really people in this room?”
“Of course,” replied the man’s voice.
“And—pardon me for the foolish question—but, are you all invisible?”
“Surely,” the woman answered, repeating her low, rippling laughter. “Are you surprised that you are unable to see the people of Voe?”
“Why, yes,” stammered the Wizard. “All the people I have ever met before were very plain to see.”
“Where do you come from, then?” asked the woman, in a curious tone.
“We belong upon the face of the earth,”
