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.
The King and the Merchant
Two days had passed since Skamperoo had come into possession of the emerald necklace. He had never taken it off for a moment. He even wore it to bed, and spent most of the daytime admiring himself and it in the palace mirrors. Now, as the afternoon of the second day drew to a close, he kept bouncing over to the windows that commanded a view of the Highway.
“If that rascal does not turn up soon, I’ll—I’ll—”
“Explode, probably,” predicted Pinny Penny, who was playing solitaire with the only pack of cards the castle afforded. “Calm yourself, Skamper, what good are these emeralds when you come right down to it?”
“Good? Good? They are worth more than this whole miserable castle,” answered the King indignantly. “I can sell them and buy—no, no, I’ll never part with them,” he corrected himself hastily. “They give me a feeling of importance and power. Our star has risen, Pinny Penny. Great days are ahead. Hark! Listen! Is that a footstep in the courtyard?” Darting back to the window, the portly monarch flattened his nose against the pane. “It’s Twoby! It’s Twobyfour!” he shouted hopping up and down like a school boy. “And there’s a tall bearded stranger with him.”
“If your Majesty will quietly seat yourself, I’ll endeavor to announce them,” reproved Pinny Penny, gathering up his cards. “Remember you are a King and not a jumping jack.”
“Oh—all right.” Skamperoo flung himself heavily down among his cushions and presently the tramp of feet along the corridor proclaimed the arrival of the long awaited Supervisor. Pinny Penny advanced stiffly to meet him and after a whispered conversation he called out in a bored voice:
“Twobyfour, Governor of our Second Province, and Matiah, the Merchant, your Majesty!”
“Yes! Yes? But where are the emeralds?” panted Skamperoo, leaning forward eagerly as the two travelers advanced respectfully to the throne.
Drawing a small bag from his leather jerkin, Twobyfour held it sullenly out to the King.
“Here, your Majesty, and here also is the merchant who goes with the necklace.” Twobyfour haughtily indicated the turbaned Skampavian beside him.
“Yes! Yes, the merchant.” The King, intent upon the jewels, did not even look up. “He goes with the necklaces, you say? Well, ha! ha! now he may go without them. That is all I require of you, my good fellow, your presence here is not necessary or desirable. You may go. GO, do you understand?”
“Go?” Matiah drew himself up to his fullest height, which was pretty high, I can tell you. “Perhaps your Majesty will suggest where? For these three necklaces I traded my house, my shops, and all my other possessions. You say that is all, and it is indeed. Since you have taken all I own and possess, your Majesty must take me also. You owe me a living and I am here to say so.”
“Say no more,” put in Pinny Penny soothingly.
“Matiah is right, Skamperoo, and well within his rights as well. We must make a place for him in the palace. What can you do?” he inquired practically.
“Do?” The merchant opened his eyes very wide. “Do? I am a merchant accustomed to dealing in jewels, china, cloth, and basket wear.”
“Then you’ll be the very one to help out in the kitchen and laundry,” proposed Pinny Penny brightly. “There are no jewels, but we have onions and potatoes a-plenty, and with the dirty dishes and hampers of soiled linens you will be right at home.”
“What?” screamed Matiah, as Twobyfour snickered behind his hand. “You require this mean-ial toil of me—Matiah, son of Metorah, son of Metanic—merchants for these thousands of years? This is preposterous! An outrage! I will go! I will go indeed. I will start a war, an uprising—a revolution! Help! help! help!” yelled the merchant shrilly. “The King has stolen my emeralds.”
“Stop! Stop! Not so loud,” begged Skamperoo, leaping agilely off his throne and pattering anxiously after Matiah. “You may leave us, Pinny Penny, I think I can find something better than kitchen work for this honest citizen.”
“Humph!” snorted Pinny Penny, and motioning for Twobyfour to follow him he marched disapprovingly from the royal presence.
“You mustn’t mind old Pinny,” puffed the King, dropping a bit breathlessly on his throne. “There, there, now, sit down and make yourself comfortable. As I was saying, Pinny Penny has very odd notions at times.”
“Very odd,” agreed Matiah, and seating himself on a chair opposite the King, he fastened his eyes greedily on the sparkling chains now clasped firmly about the monarch’s fat throat.
“Now, then, we must find something easy and pleasant for you,” went on the King, scratching one ear reflectively. “You might, er—you might spend your time entertaining me. I’ll wager you are just full of good stories, songs, and amusing tricks?”
“Tricks?” exclaimed the merchant, elevating his nose disdainfully. Then a sudden gleam came into his small black eyes. “Tricks!” he repeated more pleasantly. “Ah, your Majesty is right. How well you have guessed my secret.” Leaning forward, he held his hand up to his mouth and looking furtively over his shoulder, whispered hoarsely. “I am a magician, King, and well versed in the arts of sorcery.”
“Sorcery!” cried Skamperoo, clasping himself delightedly about his middle. “How perfectly panormick! Magic is the very thing we need around here. Tell me quickly, what can you do? How much magic do you know?”
“Is there some place where we can be quite alone?” Matiah held up his hand mysteriously. “No one must know I am a magician—it must be a secret between us.”
“Of course! Of course!” agreed the King, rolling off his throne with more speed than dignity. “Come to my private walled garden. No one can hear us there.”
“No one?” asked Matiah sharply. “Are there then no guards upon the wall?”
“No guards—no servants—no one at all is allowed in my garden,” the King assured him proudly.
“And is there a door in the garden’s wall?” Matiah stroking his long beard stood regarding the King thoughtfully. “My first trick requires a door.”
“Of course there’s a door, or how should I get out and in myself? Come along, come along!” Waddling into the corridor, Skamperoo started off at a quick trot for his private garden. Matiah, grinning wickedly to himself, stepped softly after the King. Once in the garden, he meant to have his necklaces, even if he had to take off the King’s head to get them.
“One sweep of my scimiter,” murmured the merchant to himself. “Ho, ho! This is too easy!” The King’s garden when they reached it was no more than a small sandy square with some cactus plants in the center and a rickety bench against the wall. Seating himself heavily on the bench, Skamperoo made room for the merchant beside him.
“Now, then,” he grunted hurriedly. “Begin. Show me what you can do. Prove that you are a magician.”
“First I must have the necklaces,” stated Matiah calmly. “Without the emeralds I cannot do a single trick.”
“But—but—if the magic is in the emeralds, I can be my own magician,” answered Skamperoo, clutching the chains with both hands.
“But your Majesty is not a magician,” Matiah told him reasonably. “You do not know the proper words or incantations. No, I myself must wear these magic jewels. And what harm is there in that? As soon as your wish is granted I will hand them straight back to you.”
“What’s that? Can you really grant wishes?” Skamperoo’s eyes began to snap and dance with greed and interest.
“Certainly,” promised Matiah, blinking shrewdly across the square and estimating with his eye the distance he should have to run to reach the door in the garden wall. “All you have to do is to think of something you want, close your eyes, count slowly to a hundred, and I, wearing the three necklaces, will easily grant your wish. I thought you trusted me and that we were going to be friends,” he finished reproachfully.
“We were—er—that is—HERE, take them!” Unclasping the heavy chains, Skamperoo, who already had a wish in mind, thrust them into the merchant’s hands. Closing his eyes, he made his wish and then began to count hysterically, “One—two—three—four—five—six.” At six, Matiah was half way across the garden, when horrors! A great white horse with a golden tail and mane dropped like a plummet from the sky. Pawing up the sand in Matiah’s path, he flashed his yellow eyes so wickedly, the merchant fell back into the cactus bushes, where he lay screaming with shock, pain and amazement. But Skamperoo, thinking all the noises he heard were but magic incantations, went calmly on with his counting. He had reached sixty before Matiah had recovered himself enough to crawl out of the cactus and make his way cautiously back to the bench. The immense white horse continued to stare at him threateningly, but as it made no attempt to spring forward he began to regain a little of his usual assurance and courage.
“Great Garoo! Then there was magic in the emeralds. This horse was undoubtedly the King’s wish come true, a beastly wish!” shuddered the merchant as he stared in fascination at the pawing monster and wondered what to do next. He was afraid to run past the white horse and escape with the jewels, but HAH! he could make a wish for himself, a wish that would carry him and the emeralds far from Skampavia, the farther the better. Closing his eyes, he muttered a hurried sentence and waited tensely to be transported to Ev, a country he had once visited in his youth. But nothing at all happened, and gritting his teeth with vexation, Matiah opened his eyes just as Skamperoo finished counting a hundred.
“So!” beamed the delighted monarch, embracing him heartily. “You have done it. You really are a magician. Behold my horse, a horse in a thousand. A golden maned charger fit for a King, for a Conqueror—”
“Of all the dumb things,” fumed Matiah, wriggling fiercely away from Skamperoo, “of all the dumb things to wish for, a horse is about the dumbest of all!”
“Dumb?” whinnied the white steed with an indignant snort.
“I’m not a dumb beast, I can laugh, I can talk,
That’s becoz I’m from Oz and my full name is Chalk.”
“Cha—lk?” quavered Skamperoo, who had never heard an animal speak a word in his life. “He—he says his name’s Chalk.” The King looked appealingly at the merchant and seeing he would have to live up to the role of magician, Matiah assumed an air of careless superiority.
“Well, he doubtless knows his own name, your Majesty. If he says his name is Chalk it probably is Chalk, and the reason he can talk is because he comes from Oz, land of the magic necklaces, where all animals speak as well as we do.”
“Better,” sniffed Chalk. Then, taking an experimental nibble at the cactus, he gave a terrific squeal of pain and displeasure—flung up his heels and began to race around the garden at such a furious pace, Matiah and the King jumped behind the bench and cowered miserably against the wall.
“Well, there you are!” panted the merchant angrily. “You have your horse and what now? He’s yours, you know, and you’ll have to control him.” Matiah ducked behind the King as Chalk thundered past, covering them both with dust and sand. “If you ask me, you simply wasted a wish. Why, you might have wished yourself a ton of emeralds—or a Kingdom ten times as large and prosperous as Skampavia—or—”
“But there’s plenty of time for that,” sputtered Skamperoo, holding desperately to the bench, “since you are a magician you can grant all of my wishes.”
“Oh, no, NO indeed!” Matiah spoke hastily, remembering the way the emeralds had failed to grant his wish. “I can grant only one wish a week,” he explained breathlessly, “and I trust next time you will think before you wish. Whoa, there, you Ozian brute! You silly monster. Stop that! Whoa! Ho! Whoa, I tell you!”
“Are you my master?” Leaping lightly over the cactus, Chalk came to a sudden halt before the bench.
“No, this King is your master,” answered Matiah thankfully enough. “Speak to him, Skamper,” he urged in a lower voice as Chalk reared curiously up on his hind legs to have a good look at the King.
“Be—behave yourself,” commanded Skamperoo tearfully. “How do you expect me to ride on your back if you act like this?”
“Ah—so you expect to ride me?” Chalk came down with a thud and grinned broadly at his new master. If you have never seen a horse grin, you have no idea how upsetting it can be. “Well, I suppose I shall have to put up with you,” he neighed finally. “Just call a groom or a servant, old Rub-atub, and see that I’m served my evening oats, three apples, and a measure of corn.”
“Certainly, certainly,” agreed the King, starting off on trembling legs.
“Well, I must say this is splendid, splendid!” protested Matiah, hurrying nervously after the King. (He was afraid to stay in the garden with Chalk.) “Where do you expect to get, taking orders from a horse?”
“I suppose you’d prefer me to take them from you!” puffed Skamperoo, beginning to grow a little angry himself. “Here, GIVE me my necklaces.” Snatching the emeralds from the merchant’s neck, he went charging into the palace hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry for the sudden change in his fortunes.
But by the time he reached his throne room, he had calmed down considerably. Seating himself hurriedly on his throne, he pondered how he could keep all these strange occurrences from Pinny Penny. He felt sure Pinny Penny would never approve of magic necklaces or a talking horse. Well now, he’d just tell his meddlesome Prime Minister that the stamping, snorting steed in the garden belonged to Matiah and must be fed and stabled. When he made another wish—and he had a whole week to think about that—when he made another wish he would be careful to wish for everything he needed. As for this whiskery wizard—he would flatter him along until he discovered the right magic to use with the emeralds. Then he would wish him away like that. Like THAT! Snapping his fingers spitefully, Skamperoo pulled the long bell cord that summoned Pinny Penny. His Royal Charger should be fed. Not many monarchs had a talking horse with a golden mane. Aho, but he was coming on! He’d show Pinny Penny yet what a smart ruler he was!
Now Matiah, following the King slowly into the palace, had done some reflecting, too. He resolved not to lose his temper again with this provoking simpleton of a sovereign. He would simply humor him along and before the week was out he would have another chance to steal the necklaces and escape to some far country. There at his leisure he would experiment until he discovered the right way to use them. He could not understand why the King had got his wish and his own wish had gone for nothing. What was the secret of the magic emeralds? With his forehead still wrinkled in thought, Matiah entered the throne room and quietly seated himself in a chair opposite Skamperoo. Much to his relief, the King neither reproached nor upbraided him.
“Ah, so there you are?” he cried in his best meant-to-be-cheerful voice. “I have just sent Pinny Penny to feed your horse.”
“My horse?” barked Matiah, starting up in dismay, then catching a meaning wink from the King, he quickly winked back.
“It seemed wisest,” murmured Skamperoo, “to say nothing of your magic powers for the present. All this will be OUR secret,” he finished playfully.
“Oh, yes, yes—indubitably!” While Skamperoo was still wondering what “indubitably” meant, Matiah hurried out of the room and took a long drink of water from the old-fashioned fountain in the hall.
“OUR secret!” he repeated bitterly to himself. “Our secret, indeed!”