“Everything,” grumbled the horse. “I’ve taken a look at this place, and it’s no fit country for real creatures to go to. Everything’s dead, up there⁠—no flesh or blood or growing thing anywhere.”

“Never mind; we can’t turn back,” said Dorothy; “and we don’t intend to stay there, anyhow.”

“It’s dangerous,” growled Jim, in a stubborn tone.

“See here, my good steed,” broke in the Wizard, “little Dorothy and I have been in many queer countries in our travels, and always escaped without harm. We’ve even been to the marvelous Land of Oz⁠—haven’t we, Dorothy?⁠—so we don’t much care what the Country of the Gargoyles is like. Go ahead, Jim, and whatever happens we’ll make the best of it.”

“All right,” answered the horse; “this is your excursion, and not mine; so if you get into trouble don’t blame me.”