"You talk a lot for a fellow who cannot see," scoffed the Guard, tightening his grip on the pig's wing. "Is the girl blind too?" "We're not blind at all and why should we be, In this horrid black forest how could we see?" cried Dorothy, her indignation getting the better of her fright. "Well, what color are your eyes?" Dorothy felt the hot breath of the Guardsman on her neck as he leaned over to find out for himself. "Blue!" he murmured in evident puzzlement. "And the pig's eyes are blue, too. So _that's_ the reason." "What has the color to do with it?" grunted Pigasus, growing a little calmer as the conversation progressed without either of them coming to actual harm. "Everything," explained the Guard impressively. "In the Black Forest one must have black eyes to see. See? Even a pig should know that." "Well, I suppose I could run into a tree and black my eyes," sniffed Pigasus bitterly. "But thank you, no. I prefer blue eyes and, now, if you will kindly conduct us to the edge of this deep, dark, dangerous and disgusting domain, we'll be delighted to go, leave, depart, and bid you farewell forever." "Oh, keep all that for Gloma," drawled the Guard indifferently. "I'm a plain man and prefer plain language. Furthermore, no one leaves this forest unless they break the black laws. If you break the law you are cast out into the utter and awful light of eternal day. Now, then, come along!" and giving the pig's wing a cruel tweak, he tramped doggedly forward. Pigasus to save his precious feathers was obliged to come, suiting his gait to the guard's strides. "The best thing for us to do is to break the law at once," he whispered mournfully to Dorothy as he blinked about in a desperate effort to penetrate the gloom. Dorothy was too depressed to answer, and after clearing his throat several times the Blackguard began to question Pigasus. "Why the wings?" he asked inquiringly. "I've seen many a farmyard creature in my day, but never a pig with wings. Are you a pig or a kind of balony bird? What right has a pig to wings?" "Let go and I'll show you," puffed Pigasus, hoping the fellow's curiosity would cause him to loosen his hold. But the Guard only laughed at such an idea. "Let you go? I should say not," he exclaimed with a little chuckle. "You can show all your little tricks to Gloma and she can decide whether to ride or roast you. This girl on your back will make a splendid slave." "Slave!" shrilled Pigasus, stumbling angrily along in the dark. "I'll have you know that she is a Princess of Oz and lives in the palace of Ozma of Oz." "Then why did she not stay there?" observed the Guard reasonably enough. "Anyone coming into this forest comes under the rule of Gloma, Witch of the Black Forest." "Witch?" coughed the pig, as Dorothy, tightening her clutch on his neck, almost choked him.