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      16. Jim, The Cab-Horse

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      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 SawHorse.

      “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,”

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