"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.
Imagine being able to look over the tree tops as you gallop along the road! Every once in a while High Boy would drop down to a lower level so his riders could see whether anyone was passing. While he was jogging along about five feet from the ground, a farmer turned into the lane. He was driving a huge herd of cattle and called loudly for High Boy to get out of the way. Instead, High Boy merely turned sideways and shot upward, allowing the whole procession to pass under his body.