Beside the stall of the Sawhorse had been placed another for Hank, the mule. This was not quite so beautiful as the other, for the Sawhorse was Ozma’s favorite steed; but Hank had a supply of cushions for a bed (which the Sawhorse did not need because he never slept) and all this luxury was so strange to the little mule that he could only stand still and regard his surroundings and his queer companions with wonder and amazement.
The Cowardly Lion, looking very dignified, was stretched out upon the marble floor of the stable, eyeing Hank with a calm and critical gaze, while near by crouched the huge Hungry Tiger, who seemed equally interested in the new animal that had just arrived. The Sawhorse, standing stiffly before Hank, repeated his question:
“Is ‘hee-haw’ all you are able to say?”
Hank moved his ears in an embarrassed manner.
“I have never said anything else, until now,” he replied; and then he began to tremble with fright to hear himself talk.
“I can well understand that,” remarked the Lion, wagging his great head with a swaying motion. “Strange things happen in this Land of Oz, as they do everywhere else. I believe you came here from the cold, civilized, outside world, did you not?”
“I did,” replied Hank. “One minute I was outside of Oz—and the next minute I was inside! That was enough to give me a nervous shock, as you may guess; but to find myself able to talk, as Betsy does, is a marvel that staggers me.”
“That is because you are in the Land of Oz,” said the Sawhorse. “All animals talk, in this favored country, and you must admit it is more sociable than to bray your dreadful ‘hee-haw,’ which nobody can understand.”
“Mules understand it very well,” declared Hank.
“Oh, indeed! Then there must be other mules in your outside world,” said the Tiger, yawning sleepily.