"Don't you think we'd better start on?" asked Trot, as the Scarecrow, with an indignant glance at High Boy, sprang behind a tree. "Even though Quiberon cannot get out to destroy the Ozure Isles, Cheeriobed must be worried about Philador and Ozma ought to know about the good witch's disappearance right away." "Right you are!" Pulling himself to his feet, High Boy capered and pranced, first stretching his telescope legs up till his body was out of sight and then decreasing their length till his stomach rested on the ground. "Do you consider him safe?" whispered Benny, observing High Boy's antics with a worried frown. "Had we not better walk?" "Far better," quavered the Scarecrow, from behind his tree. "Oh come, get on!" coaxed High Boy. "I was only teasing. I wouldn't harm a hay of your head," he promised merrily. "So long as Trot likes you, I'll carry you anywhere." "Better get on while he's down," advised the medicine man, making ready to mount. "He's a very fast runner," added Philador, smiling at Trot. "And will save you breath, steps and time," whinnied High Boy, shaking his mane impatiently. "Up with you my brave Kingdom savers!" Realizing that they would reach the Emerald City much faster on High Boy, Trot spoke a few words to the Scarecrow and after a little coaxing he consented to come, climbing up after all the others so he would be as far from High Boy's teeth as possible. Fortunately the high horse's back was long so that there was plenty of room for them all. First came the little Prince of the Ozure Isles, then Herby, then Trot, then Benny, and last of all the Scarecrow. "Now hold tight," warned High Boy, rolling his eyes back gleefully, "and all ready!" Slapping the reins on his neck, Philador ordered him to get up. Whirling 'round in the direction indicated by the Scarecrow, High Boy not only got up but shot up so high they could see over the tree tops, and ran so fast that they clung breathlessly together. "How's that?" inquired the King's steed, looking proudly around at Trot. "Fu--fine!" stuttered the little girl, "but couldn't you trot a little slower, High Boy?" "I'll trot slower for Trot, Though I'd much rather not, I can pace, I can race And I canter, a lot!" chortled High Boy, snapping up his umbrella tail as he gave a sample of each gait. "He's awfully smart," confided Philador in a loud whisper. "And we ought to reach the Emerald City to-night at the very latest." Trot nodded enthusiastically and as she became more accustomed to the jerky gait of the high horse she found it strangely exhilarating.