“I mustn’t make them too big,” he said, as he whittled, “or our horse would become a donkey.”
“How is that?” inquired Jack, from the roadside.
“Why, a horse has bigger ears than a man; and a donkey has bigger ears than a horse,” explained Tip.
“Then, if my ears were longer, would I be a horse?” asked Jack.
“My friend,” said Tip, gravely, “you’ll never be anything but a Pumpkinhead, no matter how big your ears are.”
“Oh,” returned Jack, nodding; “I think I understand.”
“If you do, you’re a wonder,” remarked the boy “but there’s no harm in thinking you understand. I guess these ears are ready now. Will you hold the horse while I stick them on?”
“Certainly, if you’ll help me up,” said Jack.
So Tip raised him to his feet, and the Pumpkinhead went to the horse and held its head while the boy bored two holes in it with his knife-blade and inserted the ears.
“They make him look very handsome,” said Jack, admiringly.
But those words, spoken close to the SawHorse, and being the first sounds he had ever heard, so startled the animal that he made a bound forward and tumbled Tip on one side and Jack on the other. Then he continued to rush forward as if frightened by the clatter of his own footsteps.
“Whoa!” shouted Tip, picking himself up; “whoa! you idiot whoa!” The SawHorse would probably have paid no attention to this, but just then it stepped a leg into a gopher-hole and stumbled head-over-heels to the ground, where it lay upon its back, frantically waving its four legs in the air.
Tip ran up to it.
“You’re a nice sort of a horse, I must say!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you stop when I yelled ‘whoa?’”
“Does ‘whoa’ mean to stop?” asked the SawHorse, in a surprised voice, as it rolled its eyes upward to look at the boy.
“Of course it does,” answered Tip.
“And a hole in the ground means to stop, also, doesn’t it?” continued the horse.
“To be sure; unless you step over it,” said Tip.
“What a strange place this is,” the creature exclaimed, as if amazed. “What am I doing here, anyway?”
“Why, I’ve brought you to life,” answered the boy “but it won’t hurt you any, if you mind me and do as I tell you.”
“Then I will do as you tell me,” replied the SawHorse, humbly. “But what happened to me, a moment ago? I don’t seem to be just right, someway.”
“You’re upside down,” explained Tip. “But just keep those legs still a minute and I’ll set you right side up again.”
“How many sides have I?” asked the creature, wonderingly.
“Several,” said Tip, briefly. “But do keep those legs still.”
The SawHorse now became quiet, and held its legs rigid; so that Tip, after several efforts, was able to roll him over and set him upright.
“Ah, I seem all right now,” said the queer animal, with a sigh.
“One of your ears is broken,” Tip announced, after a careful examination. “I’ll have to make a new one.”
Then he led the SawHorse back to where Jack was vainly struggling to regain his feet, and after assisting the Pumpkinhead to stand upright Tip whittled out a new ear and fastened it to the horse’s head.
“Now,” said he, addressing his steed, “pay attention to what I’m going to tell you. ‘Whoa!’ means to stop; ‘Get-Up!’ means to walk forward; ‘Trot!’ means to go as fast as you can. Understand?”
“I believe I do,” returned the horse.
“Very good. We are all going on a journey to the Emerald City, to see His Majesty, the Scarecrow; and Jack Pumpkinhead is going to ride on your back, so he won’t wear out his joints.”
“I don’t mind,” said the SawHorse. “Anything that suits you suits me.”
Then Tip assisted Jack to get upon the horse.
“Hold on tight,” he cautioned, “or you may fall off and crack your pumpkin head.”
“That would be horrible!” said Jack, with a shudder. “What shall I hold on to?”
“Why, hold on to his ears,” replied Tip, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Don’t do that!” remonstrated the SawHorse; “for then I can’t hear.”
That seemed reasonable, so Tip tried to think of something else.
“I’ll fix it!” said he, at length. He went into the wood and cut a short length of limb from a young, stout tree. One end of this he sharpened to a point, and then he dug a hole in the back of the SawHorse, just behind its head. Next he brought a piece of rock from the road and hammered the post firmly into the animal’s back.
“Stop! Stop!” shouted the horse; “you’re jarring me terribly.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the boy.
“Not exactly hurt,” answered the animal; “but it makes me quite nervous to be jarred.”
“Well, it’s all over now” said Tip, encouragingly. “Now, Jack, be sure to hold fast to this post and then you can’t fall off and get smashed.”
So Jack held on tight, and Tip said to the horse:
“Get up.”
The obedient creature at once walked forward, rocking from side to side as he raised his feet from the ground.
Tip walked beside the SawHorse, quite content with this addition to their party. Presently he began to whistle.
“What does that sound mean?” asked the horse.
“Don’t pay any attention to it,” said Tip. “I’m just whistling, and that only means I’m pretty well satisfied.”
“I’d whistle myself, if I could push my lips together,” remarked Jack. “I fear, dear father, that in some respects I am sadly lacking.”
After journeying on for some distance the narrow path they were following turned into a broad roadway, paved with yellow brick. By the side of the road Tip noticed a signpost that read:
“NINE MILES TO THE EMERALD CITY.”
But it was now growing dark, so he decided to camp for the night by the roadside and to resume the journey next morning by daybreak. He led the SawHorse to a grassy mound upon which grew several bushy trees,
