"Not much," confessed Philador ruefully. "We've lost High Boy and we haven't time to go back and—"
"The Good Witch's thinking cap is gone too," mourned the Medicine Man, clapping his hand to his head. "We'll have to do our own thinking hereafter." Herby opened his medicine chest and peered in, and presently he was crunching away at one of his remedies. When Philador, who had been looking about, called that he was ready to start, the Medicine Man came almost cheerfully.
"We still have the jumping rope," he reminded the little boy happily. "And we still have the lunch basket and we're over the first mountain."
Philador nodded soberly and wondered what Herby had been taking to make him so cheerful. For his part, he could not help thinking that their fall had been most unfortunate. Without the thinking cap how were they to know which direction to take, and without High Boy's long legs to help them how were they ever to reach the Emerald City in time? Ahead loomed a still higher mountain. Sighing deeply he trudged along the rocky little path, his head down and the lunch basket trailing listlessly from his hand.
"If we'd only stayed in the castle," he mused sorrowfully, "this never would have happened." Herby did not answer but quietly passed him a small round box. "Comfort pills. Will cure any trouble that hasn't happened," announced the label. Absently the little Prince took two and handed the box back. As he popped the pills into his mouth, there was a joyful snort and stamp behind them. It was the King's horse, and with outspread arms Philador ran to meet him.
"Why didn't you wait for me?" whinnied High Boy, lowering himself down to the little boy's height and looking reproachfully into his eyes. "I've been looking for you all over the mountain."
"The storm came up and blew us away," explained Philador hastily.