"But suppose we meet a bad one," muttered Pigasus, stepping gingerly into the forest and picking his way with great care between the giant trees.
"Then we'll say goodbye and simply fly," laughed Dorothy, snapping her fingers joyfully.
"Yes, but flying would not be so easy in here," objected Pigasus with a troubled glance aloft, "these branches are interlocked so closely I'd stick in a tree like a kite."
"Oh, we probably won't meet anyone," said Dorothy. Slipping off his back, she walked along beside him, one arm flung cozily around his neck. She was rather tired of making verses and thought she could think better if her head were not continually buzzing with rhymes. After the hot sunny meadows the cool shade of the forest was very welcome, but as they advanced farther and farther into the shadows, it grew so dark and grim the two began to look at each other in real alarm.
"Must be a squall or thunder shower brewing," observed Pigasus in a faint voice.
"Yes, it couldn't be night time so soon," agreed Dorothy, looking fearfully over her shoulder. The crackling of twigs as some large animal made its way through the brush sounded like gun fire, and while they were trying to make up their minds whether to run back or push forward, a long hollow roar sent them scittering forward practically as one. Missing trees by mere inches, they pelted at breakneck speed into the dense and even gloomier stretch of woodland ahead.
"B-b-b-better climb on my back," directed Pigasus, halting at last from lack of breath rather than inclination.
"But where are you? I can't even see you!" wailed Dorothy, feeling about wildly.
"Here, here," grunted the frantic pig, making short dashes in four or five directions and finally bumping violently into the groping little girl.