Jim the Cab-horse found himself
in possession of a large room
with a green marble floor and
carved marble wainscoting,
which was so stately in its
appearance that it would have
awed anyone else. Jim accepted
it as a mere detail, and at
his command the attendants
gave his coat a good rubbing,
combed his mane and tail, and
washed his hoofs and fetlocks.
Then they told him dinner would
be served directly and he replied
that they could not serve it
too quickly to suit his convenience.
First they brought him a steaming
bowl of soup, which the horse
eyed in dismay.
"Take that stuff away!" he
commanded. "Do you take me
for a salamander?"
They obeyed at once, and
next served a fine large turbot
on a silver platter, with drawn
gravy poured over it.
"Fish!" cried Jim, with a
sniff. "Do you take me for
a tom-cat? Away with it!"
The servants were a little
discouraged, but soon they
brought in a great tray containing
two dozen nicely roasted quail
on toast.
"Well, well!" said the horse,
now thoroughly provoked. "Do
you take me for a weasel? How
stupid and ignorant you are,
in the Land of Oz, and what
dreadful things you feed upon!
Is there nothing that is decent
to eat in this palace?"
The trembling servants sent
for the Royal Steward, who
came in haste and said:
"What
would your
Highness
like for dinner?"
"Highness!" repeated
Jim, who
was unused
to such
titles.
"You are at least six feet
high, and that is higher than
any other animal in this country," said
the Steward.
"Well, my Highness would
like some oats," declared the
horse.
"Oats? We have no whole oats," the
Steward replied, with much
deference. "But there is any
quantity of oatmeal, which
we often cook for breakfast.
Oatmeal is a breakfast dish," added
the Steward, humbly.
"I'll make it a dinner dish," said
Jim. "Fetch it on, but don't
cook it, as you value your
life."
You see, the respect shown
the worn-out old cab-horse
made him a little arrogant,
and he forgot he was a guest,
never having been treated otherwise
than as a servant since the
day he was born, until his
arrival in the Land of Oz.
But the royal attendants did
not heed the animal's ill temper.
They soon mixed a tub of oatmeal
with a little water, and Jim
ate it with much relish.
Then the servants heaped
a lot of rugs upon the floor
and the old horse slept on
the softest bed he had ever
known in his life.
In the morning, as soon as
it was daylight, he resolved
to take a walk and try to find
some grass for breakfast; so
he ambled calmly through the
handsome arch of the doorway,
turned the corner of the palace,
wherein all seemed asleep,
and came face to face with
the Sawhorse.
Jim stopped abruptly, being
startled and amazed. The Sawhorse
stopped at the same time and
stared at the other with its
queer protruding eyes, which
were mere knots in the log
that formed its body. The legs
of the Sawhorse were four sticks
driving into holes bored in
the log; its tail was a small
branch that had been left by
accident and its mouth a place
chopped in one end of the body
which projected a little and
served as a head. The ends
of the wooden legs were shod
with plates of solid gold,
and the saddle of the Princess
Ozma, which was of red leather
set with sparkling diamonds,
was strapped to the clumsy
body.
Jim's eyes stuck out as much
as those of the Sawhorse, and
he stared at the creature with
his ears erect and his long
head drawn back until it rested
against his arched neck.
In this comical position
the two horses circled slowly
around each other for a while,
each being unable to realize
what the singular thing might
be which it now beheld for
the first time. Then Jim exclaimed:
"For
goodness
sake, what
sort of a being are you?"
"I'm a Sawhorse," replied
the other.
"Oh; I believe I've heard
of you," said the cab-horse; "but
you are unlike anything that
I expected to see."
"I do not doubt it," the
Sawhorse observed, with a tone
of pride. "I am considered
quite unusual."
"You
are, indeed.
But a rickety
wooden thing like you has no
right to be alive."
"I couldn't help it," returned
the other, rather crestfallen. "Ozma
sprinkled me with a magic powder,
and I just had to live. I know
I'm not much account; but I'm
the only horse in all the Land
of Oz, so they treat me with
great respect."
"You,
a horse!"
"Oh,
not a real
one, of
course.
There are no real horses here
at all. But I'm a splendid
imitation of one."
Jim gave an indignant neigh.
"Look at me!" he cried. "Behold
a real horse!"
The wooden animal gave a
start, and then examined the
other intently.
"Is it possible that you
are a Real Horse?" he murmured.
"Not only possible, but true," replied
Jim, who was gratified by the
impression he had created. "It
is proved by my fine points.
For example, look at the long
hairs on my tail, with which
I can whisk away the flies."
"The flies never trouble
me," said the Saw-Horse.
"And
notice
my great
strong
teeth,
with which
I nibble
the grass."
"It is not necessary for
me to eat," observed the Sawhorse.
"Also examine my broad chest,
which enables me to draw deep,
full breaths," said Jim, proudly.
"I have no need to breathe," returned
the other.
"No; you miss many pleasures," remarked
the cab-horse, pityingly. "You
do not know the relief of brushing
away a fly that has bitten
you, nor the delight of eating
delicious food, nor the satisfaction
of drawing a long breath of
fresh, pure air. You may be
an imitation of a horse, but
you're a mighty poor one."
"Oh, I cannot hope ever to
be like you," sighed the Sawhorse. "But
I am glad to meet a last a
Real Horse. You are certainly
the most beautiful creature
I ever beheld."
This praise won Jim completely.
To be called beautiful was
a novelty in his experience.
Said he:
"Your
chief fault,
my friend,
is in being made of wood, and
that I suppose you cannot help.
Real horses, like myself, are
made of flesh and blood and
bones."
"I can see the bones all
right," replied the Sawhorse, "and
they are admirable and distinct.
Also I can see the flesh. But
the blood, I suppose is tucked
away inside."
"Exactly," said
Jim.
"What good is it?" asked
the Sawhorse.
Jim did not know, but he
would not tell the Sawhorse
that.
"If anything cuts me," he
replied, "the blood runs out
to show where I am cut. You,
poor thing! cannot even bleed
when you are hurt."
"But I am never hurt," said
the Sawhorse. "Once in a while
I get broken up some, but I
am easily repaired and put
in good order again. And I
never feel a break or a splinter
in the least."
Jim was almost tempted to
envy the wooden horse for being
unable to feel pain; but the
creature was so absurdly unnatural
that he decided he would not
change places with it under
any circumstances.
"How did you happen to be
shod with gold?" he asked.
"Princess Ozma did that," was
the reply; "and it saves my
legs from wearing out. We've
had a good many adventures
together, Ozma and I, and she
likes me."
The cab-horse was about to
reply when suddenly he gave
a start and a neigh of terror
and stood trembling like a
leaf. For around the corner
had come two enormous savage
beasts, treading so lightly
that they were upon him before
he was aware of their presence.
Jim was in the act of plunging
down the path to escape when
the Sawhorse cried out:
"Stop,
my brother!
Stop, Real
Horse!
These are
friends,
and will do you no harm."
Jim hesitated, eyeing the
beasts fearfully. One was an
enormous Lion with clear, intelligent
eyes, a tawney mane bushy and
well kept, and a body like
yellow plush. The other was
a great Tiger with purple stripes
around his lithe body, powerful
limbs, and eyes that showed
through the half closed lids
like coals of fire. The huge
forms of these monarchs of
the forest and jungle were
enough to strike terror to
the stoutest heart, and it
is no wonder Jim was afraid
to face them.
But the Sawhorse introduced
the stranger in a calm tone,
saying:
"This,
noble Horse,
is my friend
the Cowardly
Lion, who
is the valiant King of the
Forest, but at the same time
a faithful vassal of Princess
Ozma. And this is the Hungry
Tiger, the terror of the jungle,
who longs to devour fat babies
but is prevented by his conscience
from doing so. These royal
beasts are both warm friends
of little Dorothy and have
come to the Emerald City this
morning to welcome her to our
fairyland."
Hearing these words Jim resolved
to conquer his alarm. He bowed
his head with as much dignity
as he could muster toward the
savage looking beasts, who
in return nodded in a friendly
way.
"Is not the Real Horse a
beautiful animal?" asked the
Sawhorse admiringly.
"That is doubtless a matter
of taste," returned the Lion. "In
the forest he would be thought
ungainly, because his face
is stretched out and his neck
is uselessly long. His joints,
I notice, are swollen and overgrown,
and he lacks flesh and is old
in years."
"And dreadfully tough," added
the Hungry Tiger, in a sad
voice. "My conscience would
never permit me to eat so tough
a morsel as the Real Horse."
"I'm glad of that," said
Jim; "for I, also, have a conscience,
and it tells me not to crush
in your skull with a blow of
my powerful hoof."
If he thought to frighten
the striped beast by such language
he was mistaken. The Tiger
seemed to smile, and winked
one eye slowly.
"You have a good conscience,
friend Horse," it said, "and
if you attend to its teachings
it will do much to protect
you from harm. Some day I will
let you try to crush in my
skull, and afterward you will
know more about tigers than
you do now."
"Any friend of Dorothy," remarked
the Cowardly Lion, "must be
our friend, as well. So let
us cease this talk of skull
crushing and converse upon
more pleasant subjects. Have
you breakfasted, Sir Horse?"
"Not yet," replied Jim. "But
here is plenty of excellent
clover, so if you will excuse
me I will eat now."
"He's a vegetarian," remarked
the Tiger, as the horse began
to munch the clover. "If I
could eat grass I would not
need a conscience, for nothing
could then tempt me to devour
babies and lambs."
Just then Dorothy, who had
risen early and heard the voices
of the animals, ran out to
greet her old friends. She
hugged both the Lion and the
Tiger with eager delight, but
seemed to love the King of
Beasts a little better than
she did his hungry friend,
having known him longer.
By this time they had indulged
in a good talk and Dorothy
had told them all about the
awful earthquake and her recent
adventures, the breakfast bell
rang from the palace and the
little girl went inside to
join her human comrades. As
she entered the great hall
a voice called out, in a rather
harsh tone:
"What!
are YOU
here again?"
"Yes, I am," she
answered,
looking all around to see where
the voice came from.
"What brought you back?" was
the next question, and Dorothy's
eye rested on an antlered head
hanging on the wall just over
the fireplace, and caught its
lips in the act of moving.
"Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "I
thought you were stuffed."
"So I am," replied the head. "But
once on a time I was part of
the Gump, which Ozma sprinkled
with the Powder of Life. I
was then for a time the Head
of the finest Flying Machine
that was ever known to exist,
and we did many wonderful things.
Afterward the Gump was taken
apart and I was put back on
this wall; but I can still
talk when I feel in the mood,
which is not often."
"It's very strange," said
the girl. "What were you when
you were first alive?"
"That I have forgotten," replied
the Gump's Head, "and I do
not think it is of much importance.
But here comes Ozma; so I'd
better hush up, for the Princess
doesn't like me to chatter
since she changed her name
from Tip to Ozma."
Just then the girlish Ruler
of Oz opened the door and greeted
Dorothy with a good-morning
kiss. The little Princess seemed
fresh and rosy and in good
spirits.
"Breakfast is served, dear," she
said, "and I am hungry. So
don't let us keep it waiting
a single minute."
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