"I've no idea," he answered.

"But I have come to get my own bag of
magic tools and carry them to Glinda. She is so much more powerful
than I that she may be able to discover the truth by means of my magic
quicker and better than I could myself."

"Hurry, then," said Dorothy, "for we've all gotten terr'bly worried."

The Wizard rushed away to his rooms but presently came back with a
long, sad face. "It's gone!" he said.

"What's gone?" asked Scraps.

"My black bag of magic tools. Someone must have stolen it!"

They looked at one another in amazement.

"This thing is getting desperate," continued the Wizard.
"All the magic that belongs to Ozma or to Glinda or to
me has been stolen."

"Do you suppose Ozma could have taken them, herself, for some
purpose?" asked Betsy.

"No indeed," declared the Wizard. "I suspect some enemy has stolen
Ozma and for fear we would follow and recapture her has taken all our
magic away from us."

"How dreadful!" cried Dorothy. "The idea of anyone wanting to injure