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 Saw-horse.

"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 at 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 rep