16. Jim, The Cab-Horse

Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz

by L. Frank Baum

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."