"When the clucking cows have gone to roostAnd the milk hens all are fed,When the sheep have sung their young to wakeAnd the bats have gone to bed,When the sun has risen in the westAnd the golden moon has sunk,When the gentle watch dog's wound and setAnd the day owl's in his bunk,It's time for wakeful boys to sleepDespite the hooting lark,For yesterday will soon be hereAnd work begins with dark."
"When the clucking cows have gone to roostAnd the milk hens all are fed,When the sheep have sung their young to wakeAnd the bats have gone to bed,When the sun has risen in the westAnd the golden moon has sunk,When the gentle watch dog's wound and setAnd the day owl's in his bunk,It's time for wakeful boys to sleepDespite the hooting lark,For yesterday will soon be hereAnd work begins with dark."
And when the tree got to this point in his song he stopped. For Billy was sound asleep with Barker snuggled up in his arms, while from his half-opened lips came a contented snore.
Billy was awakened in the morning by the singing tree tickling him gently on the nose with one of its branches.
"Up—up," it sang.
Barker thinking it was calling "up pup" jumped up, and ran madly around the tree for his morning's exercise. And then suddenly there was no tree. Barker didn't notice this at first, and circled around where the tree had been three times more before he discovered that it was gone.
Have you ever seen a dog look surprised and hurt and just a little bit ashamed? Well, that's the way Barker looked when Billy picked him up and stowed him away again in his jacket.
"Well, I must be off," said Billy to himself.
"Don't hurry," said a voice at his elbow.
Billy was so startled that he stepped back, caught his foot in a vine, and rolled over and over on the ground. There, where a minute before had been nothing at all, stood a great red Tomato leaning on its vine.
"It's—it's a fine morning, sir," said Billy.
"A vine morning you mean," said the Tomato sourly.
"I beg your pardon?" said Billy, because he hadn't quite understood the Tomato.
"Granted for just this once. But don't do it again."
"What?"
"Anything—great tin cans! how I hate boys."
"I'm sorry, sir," said Billy.
"No, you're not," grumbled the Tomato; "you say you are, but you're not; boys are never sorry."
"Why don't you like boys, sir? I'm sure"—and then he stopped. He was on the point of saying "boys like tomatoes" when he remembered that this might sound a little personal and thought better of it.
The Tomato did not notice this, however, and said, wiping a dew tear from his eye, "A boy threw my favourite sister at a cat last week and I have never been able to abide boys since; and, come to think of it, you look like that boy."
"Oh! no, sir, it wasn't I," said Billy, frightened. "I—I've only just come."
"Well, maybe not; goodness knows, though,you're ugly enough. Where are you going?"
"Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce."—Page 39.
"Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce."—Page 39.
"Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce."—Page 39.
"I'm taking a message to Bogie Man, sir; and—and I really must go at once. Good bye."
"Oh! ho! so you're the boy Bumbus warned me about last night. I guess you'll have to stay here," said the Tomato threateningly.
This made Billy angry. "I guess not," he said, and gave a great jump into the air.
"Not so fast, Mr. Rubber Ball, not so fast," said the Tomato in Billy's ear. And though Billy was many, many feet away from the ground, Tomato's vines had grown right up to him, while one of his tendrils had wound itself about his feet.
Not only that but hundreds of other tomatoes, not quite so large as the first one it is true, but large enough to frighten Billy, were shaking their heads at him threateningly.
But Billy plucked up his courage and said in a voice that was a wee bit shaky, "Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce; if you're not careful I'll squash you."
"Even then I'd be some pumpkins," shouted the Tomato, nearly bursting with rage, "and aseverybody knows a well red tomato is not a greeny, I certainly should be able to catsup with a small boy."
"You ought to go on the stage," said Billy, trying to smile; "you really are very funny."
This seemed to mollify the Tomato. "Some of my family have gone on as soupers. What would you suggest for me, comedy or tragedy?"
"Comedy, by all means," answered Billy, settling himself more comfortably on a large leaf, because, of course, having stopped moving, he would have fallen had he had nothing to support him.
"I can recite," said the Tomato. "Don't you want to hear me?"
"I'd be delighted, only, you know, I'm late, and—"
"You will be the late lamented if you don't sit tight, my boy," said the Tomato, sourly. "Listen."
TOMATO'S RECITATION.
"There lived a wicked Wenket once,Who kept a castle keep,And when he wasn't wide awakeYou'd find him fast asleep.He ate his food with knife and fork,And I am loath to state,He wore a shoe upon each foot,A hat upon his pate.Of course it's hard to give beliefSo sinful one could be;But oft he wore a collar too,Betwixt just you and me.And think of this—I blush with shameTo tell this awful truth—He wore a coat and vest and pants—How horribly uncouth!!!But wickednesswillget its due,As sure as corn is corn.He went to bed one stormy nightAnd got up in the morn.Now little boys and little girls,This tale a moral bears:Don't strike the baby with an axeOr throw the cat down stairs."
"There lived a wicked Wenket once,Who kept a castle keep,And when he wasn't wide awakeYou'd find him fast asleep.He ate his food with knife and fork,And I am loath to state,He wore a shoe upon each foot,A hat upon his pate.Of course it's hard to give beliefSo sinful one could be;But oft he wore a collar too,Betwixt just you and me.And think of this—I blush with shameTo tell this awful truth—He wore a coat and vest and pants—How horribly uncouth!!!But wickednesswillget its due,As sure as corn is corn.He went to bed one stormy nightAnd got up in the morn.Now little boys and little girls,This tale a moral bears:Don't strike the baby with an axeOr throw the cat down stairs."
"Good," said Billy, "it really must be very funny indeed when it is well done," and pop he had jumped on Tomato's head, given a quick spring, and had sailed off before Tomato realized what he was up to.
"I'm glad Tomato recited; he was so out of breath when he finished that he couldn'tgrow after me," said Billy to himself when he saw that he was safe from pursuit.
"I wonder what Honey Girl is doing today." And I fear that he was still thinking so hard about Honey Girl that he forgot to notice when he next dropped to the ground. Anyway, he was standing deep in thought when something tapped him on the shoulder.
"Salute!" said a stern voice. Looking up Billy saw that he was surrounded by hundreds of grim-faced soldiers, dressed in uniforms of the very deepest indigo, and all wearing blue glasses. And such a thin, sad, hollow-cheeked, hollow-eyed officer as had tapped him on the shoulder! Billy could tell he was an officer because of the gun metal sword he carried and the epaulettes of crepe that he wore.
"Salute," said the officer again in a deep, sepulcheral tone.
"Yes, sir," said Billy, cracking his heels together and putting his hand up to his cap as he had seen soldiers do.
"That's not the proper salute. Take out your handkerchief and wipe your right eye," said the officer. "That's the proper salute for the Blues."
Billy did as he was told with a sinking heart. Everything seemed so changed by the Regiment of Blues. The sun had gone under a cloud, the wind whistled dismally, a frog croaked in a nearby pond, and all together Billy came near to wanting to use his handkerchief in earnest.
"So you think you are going to see Bogie Man."
"Yes, sir, I am."
"You're not, as sure as my name is Colonel Solemncholly."
"Excuse me, but I am," said Billy staunchly.
"I knew it, I knew it," said the Colonel, sadly. "He is too fat to give up easily—goodness, how I hate fat people—they laugh."
"Don't you ever laugh, sir?"
"I'd be court martialed if I did."
"But aren't you Commander?" asked Billy.
Private Tear.
Private Tear.
Private Tear.
"Yes, of the Blues, but you know we're the away-from-home guard of Bogie Man, and he is our real Commander."
"Oh! I see. Then you can tell me how to get to Never Was."
"Indeed not. We were sent out to stop you, and that reminds me—Corporal Punishment and Private Tear, seize this boy."
"Snap," went the whip in Corporal Punishment's hand, "Crack," it struck Private Tear on the shoulder, and snuffing and wiping his eyes, Private Tear stepped out of the ranks.
"Seize him and throw him in the Dumps," cried Colonel Solemncholly.
As the Colonel spoke the drums gave a long dismal roll and the band struck up a funeral march.
Corporal Punishment's whip was circling in the air preparatory to coming down on Billy's head, and Private Tear was getting ready to put his handkerchief over his eyes when Billy laughed. It wasn't because he felt like laughing at all, but because Barker in snuggling closer to him had tickled him in the ribs.
"Look out, he's armed!" cried Colonel Solemncholly, Corporal Punishment and Private Tear in one breath.
This gave Billy an idea, and he burst out into a loud laugh.
"Throw a wet blanket over him," commanded the Colonel. "Regiment, carry arms!"
At that the soldiers drew out their pocket-handkerchiefs, held them to their eyes, reversed their guns, and advanced boldly on Billy, while the band played the tune the old cow died on.
Billy continued to force his laugh, trying hard to think of some way out of his difficulty. He didn't like the idea of the wet blanket, and he couldn't jump or run because Corporal Punishment's whip was wound around his neck.
"Double quick!" cried the Colonel. "Catch him before the sun comes out."
Barker stirred uneasily in Billy's pocket.
"Saved!" cried Billy. "It's worth trying." And quickly taking Barker out of his pocket, he held him by his hind legs and gently thumped his little stomach.
"Plump," and out fell the bar of sunlight he had swallowed the night before. When it struckthe ground it burst into a million dancing, sparkling bits of golden sunshine, and presto! the Blues had disappeared, lock, stock and barrel.
And there stood Billy, in a glow of sunlight on the beautiful green grass, listening to the sweet notes of forest birds in the trees nearby.
"Now I know how to get rid of the Blues," sang Billy to himself, as he leapt into the air, "a good hearty laugh and a bit of sunshine will always disperse them."
"Hello!" cried Billy, "what's that ahead?"
Far off on the horizon he saw a large white and gold thing sailing through the air. As he drew nearer he could see its wings gently flapping.
"It looks something like—why itis, a large fried egg," said he, excitedly.
"Good day, sir," for by this time they were side by side.
"It's not a good day, and I'm not sir, I'm White Wings," said the fried egg, curling up around the edges scornfully.
"Well, maybe you're not sir," said Billy, tartly, "but you're very surly."
"You wouldn't blame me if you knew how nearly I jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire this morning; you can see that I'm all ofa-tremble still, and all because Bogie Man sent an airless message to the Blue Hen's Chicken that I was to get up before breakfast and do sentry duty."
"What for?" asked Billy.
"To stop one Billy Bounce, alias Rubber Ball Boy, and take him prisoner to the town of Eggs-Aggeration. He's a very dangerous person."
"Why, I'm——" and then Billy stopped.
"Of course you are; I knew that as soon as I saw you," said White Wings, complacently.
"What did you know?"
"That you're——"
"Whatam I?"
"I don't know, but you said you were," said White Wings. "But wait a minute, I have a lineless picture of this Billy Bounce some place about me."
"You needn't trouble," said Billy. "I'm Billy Bounce."
"Yes, I know," answered White Wings, unblushingly, "it's impossible to deceiveme."
"Well!" was all Billy could say, so disgusted was he with the barefaced fib.
"And here we are," said the Egg, as they dropped gently on the sidewalk in the town of Eggs-Aggeration. And such a grotesque town as it was. Not a straight street or house in it. The walls, a little distance away, went up and up so high that Billy could just barely see the roofs of the houses; but when he was standing next them he could almost reach their tops by standing on tiptoe. The streets looked miles long, but he knew he could almost come to their end in three steps and a jump.
"What an exaggeration," said Billy to himself; "why, of course, that's the reason they call it Eggs-Aggeration."
"Here's Billy Bounce," called White Wings, and out of their doors and windows trooped the inhabitants.
First came the Blue Hen's Chicken, and after her rolled eggs of all kinds and descriptions.
Blue Hen's Chicken.
Blue Hen's Chicken.
Blue Hen's Chicken.
"My goodness," said White Wings, "what a time I had with him, to be sure.It was only after a fierce hand-to-egg struggle that I succeeded in capturing him."
"Why!" exclaimed Billy in surprise. "I——"
"Is he very strong?" interrupted the Blue Hen's Chicken.
"Strong," said White Wings, "Strong, I should say he was; much stronger than our oldest inhabitant."
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Billy, too disgusted to deny the story.
"Wait and see," chuckled the Chicken, "wait—wait—wait—wait—and see—bad luck—bad luck—bad luck."
"Serve him right for being a greedy boy," said Turkey Egg, angrily. "I know him, he's a bad lot—always eating, just gobble, gobble, gobble, all day long."
"That's not true," said Billy, "you know you don't know me."
"Never saw you in my life before," whispered Turkey Egg, "but don't mention that, if I want to get my witness fee I've got to say something, haven't I?"
"But you may be swearing my life away," said Billy.
"I never swear, but I'm sure you want to get away, don't you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Well, you want to take your life with you, don't you?"
"Yes."
"There you are, then; if your life is taken away it won't be here, and if it is not here you won't be here, and if you are not here you will be away," and Turkey Egg laughed heartily at his joke.
"You are the most heartless egg I ever knew," said Billy, in despair.
"Sh-h-h-h-h! now you've hit the truth," said Turkey Egg, confidentially; "years ago, when they thought I was going to turn out bad, they blew my heart out."
"Isn't he handsome," simpered little Miss Easter Egg, coloring up.
Billy pretended not to hear this, but it did his heart good to know that he had one friend in the city.
In the meantime Blue Hen's Chicken and the Official Candler, who was called Egg Judge, had been discussing what should be done with Billy.
"Bogie Man says he is to be kept in custardy for a thousand years," said Blue Hen's Chicken.
Little Miss Easter Egg.
Little Miss Easter Egg.
Little Miss Easter Egg.
"I know that's an exaggeration," said Billy; "why, I can't live that long."
"Of course not," answered the Official Candler; "and if you're not alive, what difference will it make whether it's a thousand years or ten thousand?"
"Come, come! We're wasting time," fussed the Blue Hen's Chicken. "To the Packing House jail with him."
"I'll stick to him," cried Al Bumen, the policeman, shaking his egg-beater at Billy fiercely; "come along now! There's no use trying to resist, for I have you egg-sactly where I want you."
And Billy, seeing that it was indeed useless to try to escape as things then were, went sulkily off, with Al Bumen's moist hand in his collar.
"Please take your sticky fingers off of my neck," said he; "I won't try to run."
"You promise?" asked Al Bumen.
"I do, cross my heart and hope to die," said Billy eagerly.
"Well, I don't believe you, I can't believe any body in Eggs-Aggeration."
Poor Billy hung his head in shame as he was led along the street like a common criminal. He tried two or three times to pull away, but Al Bumen's arm would stretch out like a rubber band and then "snap," Billy would bounce back like a return ball.
"There, now, what did I tell you," said Al Bumen, "that's the second time that you have tried to escape and you said you wouldn't."
"But you wouldn't take my word."
"Of course not, I have no use for your word, I have plenty of my own. And anyway, how could you keep your word if you gave it to me."
My, my, my, what a day it was for theinhabitants of Eggs-Aggeration. They had seen Eggs beaten, and taken up by the Police, but never a boy. The Scramble Egg children tumbled along at Billy's side, shouting and rolling over and over in their glee. Mothers brought their little cradled Egg babies out to see him pass—even poor "Addle," the village egg idiot, made faces at him; only Billy felt sorry for him because he could see that he was cracked. But when some of the bad little street boys threw stones at him, even Al Bumen was angry—indeed, they barely missed his head two or three times.
"Stop it," he cried, "I know you every one, you are the Strictly boys."
"How do you know them?" asked Billy, for they looked like any other eggs to him.
"Do you think I can't recognize a fresh egg when I see him—oh! I know them—their mother thinks because they have had their names in the grocer's window that they can't turn out bad, but I've known some terrible ones in that family."
Billy felt almost relieved when they reached the jail. "In with you," said Al Bumen."By the way, have you ever had the Chicken Pox?"
"No, sir," said Billy.
"Well, you must be vaccinated at once; I wouldn't have you catch it and break out now that you are safely here."
"I warn you I shall try to," said Billy, in a temper.
"I give you leave to try, but it's useless to try to leave—you can thank your lucky stars you weren't put in the incubator instead of in here."
"The incubator?" asked Billy.
"Yes—the Orphan Asylum—it's a terribly hot place; an egg that goes in there never comes out the same," said Al Bumen, gravely.
"Oh, I know," said Billy; "it changes them into chicks."
"Yes—it's capital punishment; they either come out entirely bad or with fowl natures. It's enough to make one chicken-hearted to think of it."
Billy was shown into his cell and the door was locked. "Why—who are you?" said he, in surprise. For when his eyes got used to the darkness he discovered that he had a cell mate.
A shaven-headed, heavy-jawed egg yawned and sat up on the cake-of-ice cot he had been lying on.
"Me? I'm Boiled Egg."
"What—what have you done, sir?" said Billy, hoping it wasn't murder.
"That's the trouble," said Boiled Egg, sulkily; "I'm overdone—got into hot water last night and they arrested me for a hard character this morning. I believe the charge is salt and peppery."
"That's too bad," said Billy, sympathetically.
"It is that—but they'd better look out, or I'll turn into an Easter Egg and dye on their hands," said he, fiercely.
"Tap—tap—tap," came from the wall.
"What's that?" asked Billy.
"Oh! a couple of softies in the next cell."
"Who are they?"
"The Poachers—Ham Omelet found them trapping a rasher of bacon on his property and had them arrested—they've been put on toast and water for punishment. By the way, do you know what they have done with Nest Egg?"
"Who?" asked Billy.
"Nest Egg—the laundryman?"
"No, I've never heard of him; what has he done?"
"He was arrested for impersonating an egg," said Boiled Egg, "and it served him right, because he never could be served any other way, you know."
"Why?" asked Billy.
"Well, in the first place, he came here from China, and I tell you we Union eggs are all down on Chinese labor. What chance has an honest, hard-working egg against that sort of a fellow. I say, crack his head open, that's the only thing that should be done to him."
"Goodness! That ice makes it damp in here; I believe I'm taking cold—catch—choo—catch—choo," and Billy sneezed twice.
"Gehsundheit!" said a voice in his ear.
Gehsundheit
Gehsundheit
Gehsundheit
"Did you speak, Mr. Boiled Egg?" asked Billy, surprised.
"No; please be quiet and let me sleep," said Boiled Egg, sleepily.
"Gehsundheit!"
And this time Billy turned his head and saw a little snuff-colored fellow sitting on his shoulder, with the funniest little face he had ever seen. His eyes were puckered up, his nose wrinkled and his mouth open, so that he looked for all the world as if he were going to sneeze any minute. In his coat pocket he carried a very life-like stuffed rabbit.
"Who are you?" asked Billy.
"Gehsundheit!"
"And what is that?"
"A Cherman Count—and amateur presti-indigestion-tater, or magician—you haf called me—alreatty am I here."
"I didn't call you."
"Ogscuse me, but did you not schneeze?"
"Yes," said Billy.
"So—vas I right—ven you schneeze den does it call me. See, here are my orders from Mr. Gas." And, taking a paper out of Gehsundheit'shand, Billy read "Gehsundheit, Draughty Castle, Germany; when Billy Bounce sneezes he needs your assistance—go to him at once. Signed by Mr. Gas."
"What luck," whispered Billy excitedly. "What luck—indeed I do need you."
"It is most well, I am here. Vat was your vish?"
"I want to get out," said Billy.
"Can you crawl through a keyhole?" asked Gehsundheit.
"Of course not—if I could I shouldn't need your help," said Billy, disdainfully.
"No; dat iss too bad, I can. Can you disappear?"
"Certainly not."
"Too bad—too bad. Let me think. Ah! I haf it, turn yourself into a fly," said Gehsundheit eagerly.
"But I can't. Can you?"
"No, but it would be so useful if you could. I am afraid times haf changed. Ven I vas a boy peeples could do so much magic. To-day it iss not so. I—I only am de greatest magician in vorld."
"But I thought you were here to help me," said Billy.
"I am, but if you will not follow my directions how can I?" said Gehsundheit, crossly.
"Then can you do nothing for me?"
"Sure can I—would you lend me your cap?"
"Yes," said Billy, handing him his cap and wondering what he was going to do with it.
Gehsundheit carefully took the rabbit out of his pocket and laying the cap over it made several passes with his hands. "Presto—chesto—besto—change!" and lifting up the cap and the rabbit with both hands made a quick turn and pulled the rabbit out of the cap.
"It iss wonderful, iss it not?" said Gehsundheit. "See I haf taken a rabbit from your cap."
"Is that all you can do for me," asked Billy in disgust.
"It's all the tricks I haf yet learned, but yes, I can lend you a pocket handkerchief."
"What good will that do?" asked Billy.
"Vy, if you haf caught cold you will need it," said Gehsundheit, pulling out a little handkerchief.
"Oh, go away and let me alone," saidBilly, thoroughly angry. "Much use you are."
And presto—Gehsundheit was gone.
"He's a nice one—gracious, but I'm hungry," and Billy hammered on the cell door.
"Do be still," said Boiled Egg. "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"
"But I'm hungry," said Billy.
"Hungry," exclaimed Boiled Egg, turning pale—"why, why, you don't mean to say you eat?"
"Indeed I do. I haven't had my breakfast yet, and I want some eggs."
"Help, help, help!" yelled the Egg, crouching down in a corner and pulling the cake of ice cot in front of him; "he wants to eat me. Help, help, help, help! he wants eggs."
"If you're not quiet Iwilleat you, sure enough," said Billy, angrily.
"He says hewilleat me. Help, help, help!"
Rattle! went the key in the door; bang! it opened wide, and in ran Al Bumen and Yolk, the jailer.
"What's the matter here?" asked Al Bumen, in a fierce voice.
"I'm hungry, and I want some eggs for breakfast," said Billy, sullenly.
Out went Al Bumen, in a jiffy, and after him tumbled Yolk, leaving the door wide open and the keys behind them.
"This is my chance," cried Billy, and out he dashed after them. Far off, down the street, Billy saw Yolk and Al Bumen running as fast as their legs would carry them.
"Billy Bounce wants eggs to eat! Billy Bounce wants eggs to eat! Look out, everyone, he's loose! Help, help, help!" In a minute the town was in an uproar; mothers seized their children, and, carrying them inside, locked the doors and barricaded the windows.
Gray haired old eggs hobbled as fast as their legs would carry them to places of safety. Strong egg men fainted and were dragged indoors. In a minute Billy was the only living soul on the street.
"Now is my time," cried he. "Good-bye, eggs, some day I shall come back and eat you all up," and laughing heartily he jumped high into the air and sailed far, far away.
Billy sat under the Singing Tree. "Time for supper, isn't it, Mr. Tree?" he said; "I'm as hungry as a wolf."
Immediately the tree commenced to sing, "Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot nine days old," and with a rustle of leaves it handed down three kinds of porridge. Billy chose some of the hot pease porridge and found it very good.
Then it sang, "Little fishey in the brook, papa caught it with a hook, mamma fried it in a pan and Billy ate it like a man," at the same time handing him a sizzling hot fish on a clean white platter. The fish was done to a turn and it's no wonder Billy left nothing but the bones.
Next came "Pat a cake, pat a cake, baker's man! so I will, master, as fast as I can; pat it andprick it and mark it with B; put in the oven for Billy and me."
"There," said Billy, when that was finished, "I feel as though I'd had almost enough; but a little pie would——"
Billy never wanted for plenty to eat.—Page 64.
Billy never wanted for plenty to eat.—Page 64.
Billy never wanted for plenty to eat.—Page 64.
And sure enough, the tree sang "Little Jack Horner sat in a corner, eating a Xmas pie; he put in his thumb and he took out a plum and said what a good boy am I!"
Of course, one plum was gone, because Jack Horner had taken that, but there were plenty more left, and Billy ate to his heart's content.
So it was every night, and Billy never wanted for plenty to eat.
But this night he had had such a hearty meal that I fear it made him a bit restless in his sleep. At any rate, some time in the middle of the night he was awakened by a voice calling "Umberufen," and a tiny hand thumping him on the chest.
"Was-smatter?" asked Billy sleepily.
"Umberufen," said the voice.
"Oh!" said Billy, sitting up suddenly and upsetting a little old man with wooden pajamas and a nut-cracker face. "Who's Umberufen?"
"I am, and you called me out of a soundsleep. I do think you mortals are the most inconsiderate people I ever met," said Umberufen angrily. "Now what do you want? Tell me quickly, because I want to get back to my sawdust bed."
"I didn't call you—I've been asleep myself."
"You did—there's no use trying to deceive me. I distinctly felt it when you touched wood—why," pointing at Billy's hand which rested on the trunk of the singing tree, "you're still touching wood. Now tell me you didn't call me."
Umberufen.
Umberufen.
Umberufen.
"What has my touching wood to do with you?" asked Billy.
"It calls me to you, worse luck—what a dull fat boy you are, to be sure," said Umberufen scornfully.
"How was I to know?I'venot made any arrangement with you, I'm sure."
"Well, if you didn't, your Fairy Godfather did, and got me dirt cheap at that—ten cents a day and traveling expenses. But speak up, what do you want?"
"I want to go to sleep," said Billy crossly.
"But you were asleep," replied Umberufen.
"Yes, I was."
"Then if you were asleep, why did you call me to tell me you wanted to go to sleep?"
"It was an accident," said Billy. "I didn't want you, don't want you, and if you can't do anything but scold a fellow because you came when you weren't wanted, I don't ever want to see you again. Good-night." And Billy turned over in a huff and closed his eyes.
"But I can't go until I do something for you-those are my orders," said Umberufen sulkily. "You called me here and you've got to abide by the consequences."
"I don't care what you do. Well, then, stand on your head," said Billy.
"Zip"—and there stood little old Umberufen on his head. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" said he as he regained his feet. "I'd have beenhome by this time—good-night," and he was gone.
When Billy woke in the morning he felt just a bit sleepy and cross, but after he and Barker had had a game of romps he felt better, and tucking the dog under his arm he jumped off into space singing gaily.
"My gracious, what a big sea shore this is!" exclaimed Billy, when he drifted down to earth again; "and how hot the sun is, but where is the water?"
And Billy stood wiping the perspiration from his brow, while Barker squirmed out of his arms and stood in Billy's shadow with his tongue lolling out.
"It seems to me the singing tree can help us here," said Billy.
Barker undoubtedly understood him, and thought it a splendid plan, for quick as a flash his little fore paws had dug a hole in the soft sand. He barked into it, kicked the sand in again with his hind legs, and he and Billy were soon sitting in the grateful shade of the tree.
"Ah-h," said Billy, "this is what I call comfort."
"Comfort," said a voice on the other sideof the tree, "much you know about comfort." The voice was followed by the saddest-looking mortal that Billy had ever beheld. A regular sugar-loaf head—large at the jaws and small at the top, scrawny neck, sloping shoulders, and skinny legs. And such a face—weeping beady eyes, a long sharp noseand thin lipsturned down at the corners.
"Who are you?" asked Billy sharply. "And what do you mean by coming up so suddenly?"
The Hermit.
The Hermit.
The Hermit.
"I'm a hermit, and this is my fast day, so I couldn't come slowly," said the man sadly.
"What is a fast day?" asked Billy.
"A day when you don't eat."
"Oh!" said Billy, "I thought you meant a day when time flies."
"No," said the man, wrapping his legs around and around each other, "no; if that were the case every day would be a fast day, because it's always fly time in this desert."
"You seem unhappy. Cheer up!"
"I can't cheer up. How is a fellow to cheer when he can't speak above a whisper?"
"I mean laugh," said Billy.
"Laugh," said the man wearily, "what's that?"
"Don't you know what a laugh is?" cried Billy, in surprise. "Why, this is a laugh: ha-ha-ha!"
"I don't see any sense in that," said the Hermit; "that's just a noise."
"Of course it's a noise. Come, now, I'll tell you a joke: When is a door not a door?" Of course it was very, very old, but so was the Hermit, and Billy wanted to start with the simplest joke he could think of.
"Quite impossible."
"No; when it's a-jar. Isn't that a good one?" said Billy. "Ha-ha-ha!"
"Oh, my! oh, me! what a terrible thing!" cried the man, bursting into tears. "Suppose all thedoors should be changed into jars, what would the poor people do?"
"But don't you see, that's the joke," said Billy; "a-jar means partly open."
"Yes, but if it were still a door how could it be a jar? It's got to be one or the other."
"Oh, pshaw!" said Billy, in disgust; "can't you see it's a joke. I think it's very funny."
"Oh! is that funny?" asked the Hermit.
"Of course."
"Then that's the reason it doesn't make me laugh. When I was a boy I broke my humerus and had to have my funny bone extracted, so I can't see anything funny."
"Poor fellow!" said Billy sympathetically. "What town is that over there?"
"Mirage town," said the Hermit; "but you can't reach it unless you fly."
"Why not?"
"It's built in the sky."
"In the sky? Is it on the road to Bogie Man's house?"
"Are you seeking Bogie Man? Oh, me! oh, my! Don't tell me you are seeking him."
"But I am," said Billy; "why not?"
"Because I've got to hold you if you are, and I'm so tired," said the Hermit, slowly reaching out his arms.
"Good-by," cried Billy, giving a jump and bounding out of his reach.
"Oh! please come back and tell me another joke, I haven't had a good cry for a week," called the Hermit, holding out his arms.
"Too late," Billy called back—"But when is a door not a door? when its a jar."
"Thank you," sobbed the Hermit, and the last Billy saw or heard of him he was murmuring, "When is a door a jar," and weeping bitterly.
In a twinkling Billy stood at the gates of Mirage Town. Far beneath him he could see the burning hot desert, while through the gates he could see cool, airy houses, beautiful streets shaded by great trees and far beyond soft, green meadows and sparkling brooks.
"My goodness, but I'm thirsty," said Billy to himself. "I wish the gate keeper would hurry and let me in," and again and again he knocked, but seemingly with no result.
Finally when his throat was parched and his tongue dry with thirst, he could stand it no longer.He put his shoulder to the gates—open they swung, and Billy fell inside on his face. "Why, it was just like pushing clouds away," he exclaimed.
"But I'm in the sun here; I must cross to the other side."
So across the street he ran.
"Why this is strange, I was sure this was the shady side," he said in surprise. For when he got there the sun if anything was hotter than ever and the side he had left was cool, shady and inviting.
Billy shut his eyes. "I'm afraid this is sun-stroke," he said, "anyway I'll try again," and back he ran as hard as he could go. But when he got across it was the same thing as before.
"Come in and rest," called a voice from a house at his side; "you look hot and tired—come in and rest your face and hands."
"Thank you, I will," said Billy, gratefully, not noticing that the voice was just a wee bit derisive.
"This way," called the voice; "turn the knob and walk in—if you can."
"Oh! I can," said Billy, walking toward the door of the house he thought he heard the voice coming from.
"Not that way—I'm across the street," called the voice.
"Oh!" said Billy, politely, starting across again, "I beg your pardon—I thought——"
"Think again," said the voice; "are you coming in or not? I'm not over here, I'm over there."
"Where?"
"Back where you're coming from."
"I thought you said—" began Billy.
"It doesn't make any difference what I said, I didn't say it," answered the voice.
Billy began to lose his temper.
"Are you making fun of me—who are you anyway?"
"I'm Nothing Divided By Two."
"Why, that's nothing," said Billy.
"Wrong," answered the voice.
"Why?"
"Don't ask so many questions—are you coming in or not?"
"I think not," said Billy, "I can't spare the time."
"I suppose you think you'll have to get right on to Bogie Man's House."
"Yes."
"But you're not—you'll never get away from Mirage Town."
"Why not?" asked Billy,
"Because there is no such place."
"But I'm here."
"That's the trouble—you are in a town that doesn't exist, so of course, you are not in any place. And, if you'll tell me how you can leave a place where you're not I'll——"
"I'll show you," said Billy angrily, "I'll jump out," and he tried to jump.
"No use," said the voice laughing, "there's nothing under your feet—and you can't jump from nothing."
"Well, I'll get a drink of water from that brook and then you'll see," said Billy, "I'll go out by the gate I entered."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the voice, "try and see."
Nothing daunted, however, Billy ran toward the brook—"Can't catch me—can't catch me," called the brook, "running boys can't catch running brooks."
"Indeed I will," and sure enough after a long hard run Billy reached the brook. "Now,"said he exultingly, "now I've got you." Dipping his cap deep into the water he eagerly lifted it to his lips and found it—empty, while far off down the road ran the brook.
Billy came very near crying, he was so hot and thirsty and disappointed. But he swallowed the lump in his throat (which, being salty, made him thirstier than ever) and turned back again.
"The gates are all that's left," he said, bravely, "and I'll catch them, I'm sure." But it wasn't to be, for the farther and the harder he ran, the farther off the gates were. And finally he sank down, entirely out of breath.
"No water, no shade, no trees—why the Singing Tree, of course," he cried, delightedly. Out jumped Barker, scratch, scratch, scratch, bow-wow-wow, and, "Bing!" the topmost branches of the Singing Tree popped up and almost struck Billy in the face.
"Hello!" cried Billy, "where are your roots? I don't see anything but branches."
"Two miles below, where they ought to grow," sang the tree. "Come, hold on tight, you'll be all right."
And Billy seized the branch that held itself out to him.
"Hold on there, I want to speak to you," called the voice that had teased him so.
"I'll hold on," called Billy, "but I'll soon be out of your hearing."
Down grew the tree; shorter and shorter it grew, and sure enough, in a minute Billy was on solid ground and Mirage Town had disappeared from view.
Billy made an early start the next morning so that he could get away from the desert before the sun rose to its full height. And indeed the pink had just begun to appear in the East when he looked below him and saw once more trees and grass and streams of water.
"Thank goodness, I am clear of the burning desert at last," he said to himself—"Ugh!! though, here I am falling, and I know I'll be drenched passing through that cloud."
"Plump—squash," and he was in the cloud, "there—it wasn't so bad after all. Why there's Honey Girl's Palanquin." Sure enough he had alighted within a few feet of Honey Girl, General Merchandise and the Bee Soldiers all sound asleep.
"Who—o, who—o—who—o goes there?" cried a large owl, perched on the limb of a tree above the sleepers' heads.
"I'm not going, I'm coming," said Billy.
"Who—o—o—who—o—o—who—o—o are you?"
"Billy Bounce."
"That's not the right answer," cried General Merchandise, jumping to his feet, "you must say, a friend."
"A friend then," answered Billy.
"Not a friend then or now—just say a friend," said the General.
"A friend."
"That's right—advance and give the what-you-may-call-it."
"The what?" asked Billy.
"The counter sign I mean."
"I don't know it."
"Well I suppose I'll have to tell you, seeing it's you—it's Bogie Man," said the General.
"Bogie Man," repeated Billy.
"There, that's all over—now you may sit down."
"Thank you—but—but what has happened to the soldiers, they seem to have lost their arms—have you had a battle?"
"Oh! no—" answered the General proudly,"that's my own idea, you've read of soldiers before a battle sleeping on their arms, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, every night our soldiers take off their arms and sleep on them; of course, it was a little uncomfortable at first, but it's very military."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Billy, dubiously, "but who is that—a—gentleman up in the tree?"
"You mean the owl?"
"Yes-s, I thought he looked like an owl."
"That's our sentry—he does it very cheap by the night, because he says he has to stay awake anyway, and he might as well stay awake here and get paid for it," answered the General.
"How is Princess Honey Girl?"
"Well—very well, in fact, but a little nervous; you see Bumbus and the Scally Wags are on our trail and she feels uneasy."
"Bumbus!" cried Billy.
"Yes—he is a renegade bee you know, and it makes him very bitter against the Princess. You haven't seen anything of them lately, have you?"
"No, I have not. But who are the Scally Wags?"
"Oh! they're terrible fellows. I can't tell you what they look like for I've never seen them, but many a time I've read of their doings in 'The Morning Bee.'"
"Good morning, Billy Bounce," said Honey Girl, opening the curtains of her Palanquin. "General, isn't it time to sound the reveille?"