“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 was taken apart and I was put back on this wall; but I can still talk when I feel in the mood, which is not often.”

“It’s very strange,” said the girl.  “What were you when you were first alive?”

“That I have forgotten,” replied the Gump’s Head, “and I do not think it is of much importance.  But here comes Ozma; so I’d better hush up, for the Princess doesn’t like me to chatter since she changed her name from Tip to Ozma.”

Just then the girlish Ruler of Oz opened the door and greeted Dorothy with a good-morning kiss.  The little Princess seemed fresh and rosy and in good spirits.