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