The Wishing Horse of Oz

by Ruth Plumly Thompson

Now Matiah, as you can well imagine, had slept no better than the King. In the small room to which Pinny Penny had taken him, he paced restlessly up and down. After all, he knew only two facts about the magic emeralds, the first that they really could, under certain conditions, grant wishes; the second, that they must not be worn by the person making the wish. This much the merchant had reasoned out for himself. As the King had got his wish while he, Matiah, was wearing the necklaces, and he himself had not got the wish he made with the emeralds around his own throat, that much seemed certain. Snapping his fingers joyfully and feeling sure the King was now wearing the jeweled chains, Matiah made a second wish, counting slowly to a hundred. But the hearty supper he had ordered as a test failed to appear and flinging himself down on the bed he began to rack his brains for some other solution of the mystery. Perhaps the magic power rested in a single stone which he had luckily touched as the King made his wish.

Holding his head with both hands, he tried to remember exactly what he had done as Skamperoo began to count. But it was no use. He could not recall a single thing after he had started to run across the garden. And how, concluded the infuriated fellow, was he ever to discover the way to use the emeralds without arousing the King's suspicions or revealing the fact that he knew no more about them than Skamperoo himself? Muttering with vexation, he kicked a foot stool all the way across the room and sat staring morosely at the worn carpet. The short, uneasy nap he finally got before morning did him no good, and cross and jumpy as a cougar, he made his way to the dingy dining hall of the palace.

The King had already breakfasted, and looking out of the window, Matiah saw a terrified servant leading the Talking Horse around the courtyard, Skamperoo following at a safe distance. The sight of the stamping white charger made Matiah shudder anew. What a waste! he reflected bitterly, and if the King grew fond of the saucy monster it would make his own task even more difficult, for until he succeeded in stealing the necklaces, Matiah did not intend to let Skamperoo out of his sight. Gulping down the weak coffee and cold eggs a shabby servant grudgingly placed before him, he hastened outside.

"Good morning, your Majesty!" he called out heartily. "And may I have a word with your Royal Highness?"

"What kind of a word?" snickered Chalk, rolling his yellow eyes roguishly round at the merchant. "Give him a word, old Rub-atub, if that's all he wants. The right word for him, I should say, would be 'GO!' or 'NO!' and then we all could be happy."

"It is about the necklaces," confided Matiah, ignoring the horse utterly, and falling easily into step with the King. "They must be cleaned every day to keep them in good wishing condition."

"But I was just going for a ride," objected Skamperoo with a little frown, "won't this afternoon do?"

"No, NOW is the proper time," answered Matiah impressively, thinking how clever he was to have invented this ruse to get hold of the emeralds. "If your Majesty will just give them to me, I'll polish them up while you are—er—exercising."