The Wishing Horse of Oz was written by Ruth Plumly Thompson and L. Frank Baum and follows more of Dorothy’s exciting adventures. This time, there’s horses.
Farewell to the Black Forest
Although the dinner in the Black Castle was as dark a repast as Pigasus had predicted, never had he or Dorothy dined more royally nor partaken of more delicate fare. The black bean soup was followed by a black fish course, then came the dark meat of some superbly cooked fowl, “probably cinder-roosters,” as Pigasus remarked in one of his humorous asides. The licorice was the most delicious of the vegetables, though the black asparagus and potatoes were appetizing, too. Black bread was served with the black grape salad and plum cake with black frosting with the black ices and blackberryade. The members of Gloma’s household, now that their fear of Dorothy had been explained away, proved so interesting and merry, the time simply flew. The black lace frocks of the women and children and the soft leather suits of the black foresters were simple but elegant, and the Black Queen herself, so lovely just to look at her gave one a curious thrill. General Blotz, recalled from banishment by Blackjack, the Queen’s pet Jackdaw, proved a singer of no mean ability, and regaled the company with many famous black ballads and hunting songs. Pigasus, too, contributed to the general fun and gaiety with some of his best songs and verses and ate so many slices of the black plum cake, Dorothy began to feel positively uneasy.
Interesting and delightful as it all was, the little girl could not help thinking of Ozma and her other unfortunate and captive friends, and as the black banjo clock in the corner of the hall struck a musical ten, she lightly touched the arm of Gloma. The Black Queen had graciously placed Dorothy beside her.
“I think we had better go now,” whispered Dorothy earnestly. “If Pigasus eats any more he’ll fall asleep and we’ll have to wait till morning.” Gloma smiled and nodded understandingly, then pressing Dorothy’s hand for “Goodbye,” stole quietly off to her workshop. Dorothy tried to signal Pigasus across the gleaming black table, but before she could catch his eye he had vanished, and she herself was whirling dizzily through space.
“Maybe it would have been better to have spent the night in the castle,” mused Dorothy, spreading her arms like wings as she sailed through the air. “I don’t suppose we’ll be able to see in the dark now that we are out of the Black Forest, and goodness knows where we’ll come down.” There was no moon, and peer about as she would, Dorothy could not even catch a glimpse of the flying pig. “Of course,” Dorothy went on conversationally to herself, “we could have flown all this distance on Piggin’s back, but this is quicker and less trouble, but oh, dear, I do hope he’s all right.” Her worry about the pink pig ended rather abruptly, for at that very moment she began to somersault over and over in a headlong drop to the ground. A painful grunt as she landed assured her of the pig’s presence.
“What you trying to do? Puncture me?” puffed Pigasus, as Dorothy with an embarrassed little gasp of apology rolled off his back. “Such rudeness!” grunted her companion, scrambling to his feet with an angry snort. “Flinging us out of her castle as if we’d been garbage. Yes, garbage,” he repeated, winking rapidly.
“It was my fault,” cried Dorothy, moving over to smooth out his ruffled wing feathers. “I asked her to transport us to Ev, and OH, PIGGINS!” By the light of a crooked lamp set in a crevice of the rocky path on which they found themselves Dorothy regarded him rapturously. “You’re pink again!”
“Am I? Well, that’s something.” Waddling closer to the lamp, Pigasus examined himself with careful attention. “You’re pink, too,” he said a little more pleasantly, “but these magic transportations are a bit sudden, if you ask me, and I’m not at all sure I like this spot. Where are we, anyway?”
“Oh, it’s all right and now we don’t have to travel at all. We’re here,” announced Dorothy, who had hurried on a few steps ahead.
“And where is here?” grumbled Pigasus, following pompously, more from too much plum cake than from a desire to be disagreeable.
“Why, at Kalico’s Mountain!” exclaimed Dorothy, pointing excitedly to a small door in the rocky surface before them. “Now we don’t have to decide between the Gnome King and the King of Ev. Since we are here, we’ll try Kalico first.”
“Trying him is all very well, but I hope he does not try any magic on us,” yawned Pigasus, squinting sleepily up at the brass sign hung on the stout wooden door. “What does it say there?” A green lantern hung over the door and by its flickering light Dorothy read slowly:
“Back door of the Gnome King’s Underground Castle. No dogs, babies or chickens allowed. No gold fish wanted. No peddlers or snailsmen need apply. Keep out and stay out. This means YOU.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” laughed Dorothy as Pigasus looked rather alarmed at the sternly worded notice. “We’re not babies or chickens or gold fish, and Kalico’s a friend of mine. Come on!” Lifting the knocker and smiling confidently, Dorothy knocked three times on the Gnome King’s back door.