CHAPTER XIII.

The Astrologer.

"What are we to do with him then?" said the King, scratching his head."I don't want to keep him here, or he will eat me out of house and home—I know what boys are."

"Let me go, your Majesty!" cried Billy hopefully.

"And lose $5.99—twice the national debt—oh! no. Has anyone else any suggestions to make?"

"Let me cast his horoscope again, sire—maybe the stars will show us a way out," said the Astrologer.

"Good," said O'Fudge, "begin at once."

"By daylight?"

"Why, of course, you can see better by day—do not argue but away."

And off the Astrologer trotted, shaking his head in perplexity.

Billy felt Barker stirring uneasily in his pocket, and in order to shift his position took him out into his arms.

As soon as O'Fudge saw him he said: "Ho! a dog—this changes things. Astrologer, include the Dog star in your calculations."

Billy had been idly scraping his foot on the dirty floor, so that he really had made a littlehole there, when, greatly to his surprise, Barker wriggled out of his arms and barked into the hole. Up sprang the Singing Tree and at once began to sing in a soft, dreamy voice a sleep song.

A strange and sudden silence fell over the room. O'Fudge sank back onto his throne and closed his eyes, while a contented smile came over his face.

Swash Buckler's hand dropped from Billy's arm, his head nodded and he fell in a heap.

So it was throughout the Palace—slumber overpowered all who heard the song excepting Billy and Barker. In a moment all that Billy heard was the Singing Tree and a loud chorus of snores.

You can imagine that it didn't take him long to run out of the door with Barker in his arms and jump away from the land of O'Fudge, the Comic Paper Irish King.

"Br-r-r-r, it's cold," said Billy the next morning when he arose: "if my suit were not full of hot air I believe I should freeze. I wish, though, I had some warm things to put on; it looks like snow." And he swung his arms and blew on his blue fingers and rubbed the tip of his nose to be sure it was still there.

"Why, hello, what's this?" for while he was exercising, the Singing Tree had sung softly:

"By lo, Baby Bunting,Papa's gone a-hunting,To get a little rabbit skinTo wrap his Baby Bunting in,"

and now stood holding a complete suit of nice heavy, warm rabbit skins. Either Baby Bunting was a very large baby, or when papa had skinned the rabbit (which must have been a giant one)he found it much too large for Baby Bunting. However that may be, Billy jumped into it in a jiffy and found that it fitted him to perfection. And what a fine time Barker had with it! He crouched low, and then with yelps of delight jumped up and down on Billy's legs. He was playing that he had sighted a great big rabbit, and Billy joined in by running around the tree and back and forth with Barker in hot pursuit. Finally Billy stowed him away warmly inside and doggy went sound asleep, very, very much contented. Then with a leap Billy was off.

Billy had not been away from the earth very long when a snowflake lit on his nose—then another and another, until they came down so thick and fast that he could not see a foot ahead of him, which wasn't strange, for his feet were under him.

"My, my," he said, laughing, "Mother Goose must be picking a whole flock of geese to-day—gracious, I'm glad dear old Singing Tree gave me this nice suit; it's as warm as toast and keeps out the snow better than a whole store full of umbrellas and mackintoshes."

And the snow fell thicker and faster, while it grew colder and colder, but Billy didn't mind that for he was nice and warm. Then the snow suddenly stopped, and looking beneath him Billy saw a great white field of snow with here and there mountains of ice and occasional patches of blue, cold-looking water. And there by the water's edge sat a white bear: indeed he seemed almost to be sitting in the water, so close to the edge was he, his face turned toward the land. As soon as Billy struck the ground, which he did within a few feet of the bear, he recognized him as an old, old friend, Fuzzy White.

"Why, hello Fuzzy White, what are you doing here?"

"Fishing," said Fuzzy, "don't talk, please, I've just had a nibble."

"Where's your line," asked Billy in surprise, for he couldn't see any line or pole, and certainly Fuzzy was not faced the right way for fishing so far as Billy could see.

"Sh! h—," said Fuzzy, raising a paw in warning, "there I've got him," and turning aroundquickly he showed a can of sardines clinging tightly to his button of a tail.

"Is that your line?" asked Billy.

"Certainly, line, bait, and pole—it gets cold sometimes hanging one's tail in the water for an hour or two, but one must eat."

"But that's a can of sardines," said Billy.

"Yes, and I hope they are the best French, with pure olive oil. This isn't a good season for the fine sardine cans to bite; though the big Maine Mustard variety are very easy to catch—ah-h-h, these are the good ones." And Fuzzy with great eagerness opened the can with his claw and gulped down the contents.

"Do you really catch canned sardines?"

"Of course—I can't bear raw fish, I suppose that's from living in civilization so long. I find that a little lemon juice on my tail makes the canned varieties bite splendidly."

"How wonderful," murmured Billy.

"Well, well, Billy Bounce, what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last? How you've grown."

"I've been pretty well, I thank you—what are you doing now?"

"Nothing much," said Fuzzy sadly. "I came up here to go in the ice business, but I found that old Boreas was the ice man and had a corner on the market, so I'm just looking about for something to turn up. What are you doing?"

"I'm carrying a message to Bogie Man," said Billy.

"You're nearly there then," said Fuzzy, pointing out over the ice fields, "it's just beyond Aurora Borealis and back again ten thousand miles."

"Back again ten thousand miles—isn't that pretty far?"

"Not very, they are imaginary miles, much shorter than the regular kind."

"Who is that whistling?" interrupted Billy.

"That's old Boreas—he must have just made a good deal in ice and is whistling over it—by the way, he's a good friend to Bogie Man and Nickel Plate."

"Then he's no friend of mine."

"I shouldn't fear him," said Fuzzy, "he's a fearful blow-hard, and though he's certainly cold blooded, he makes more noise than anything else."

"Talking about me, were you?" said Boreas, arriving in a swirl of snow and clicking the ice tongs he held in his hand.

"We—we merely mentioned your name," said Billy, trying to turn his back on him. But that was useless, for old Boreas faced him whichever way he turned.

"You can't escape me that way," and he threw a handful of snow in Billy's face.

"Stop it!" cried Billy, "it's no joke to treat a fellow this way."

"Of course it is," said Boreas, jumping over Billy's head.

"Is what?" asked Billy.

"Snow joke, of course—I feel frisky this morning and I must have my joke."

"You're always frisky," said Fuzzy White sulkily.

"Who wouldn't be—I just exchanged my old bicycle for an icicle this morning and it works like a charm," said Boreas.

"I suppose you travel rather fast," said Billy, hoping to keep his mind off of Nickel Plate and Bogie Man.

"Talking about me, were you?" said Boreas, arriving in a swirl of.—Page 172.

"Fast," answered Boreas, puffing his chest wayout, "fast—why, while you are jumping three miles, I will have run a hundred."

"That's blowing," murmured Fuzzy White.

"Then you recognize me?" said Billy.

"Of course I do—South Wind blew in here one day and warned me that you were coming."

"Let's change the subject," said Fuzzy White nervously.

"Yes," said Billy eagerly, "you, you whistle very well, Mr. Boreas."

"I pride myself on my whistling," said Boreas, lifting up a block of ice with his tongs and throwing it over his shoulder. "But to return to yourself, Billy Bounce—you will have to go back home."

"I'd like to oblige you," said Billy sturdily, "but I can't."

"Oh! you can't, can't you—we'll see about that," and Boreas ran actively around Billy, cuffing him in the face and over the ears—it seemed a thousand places all at once, whistling dismally all the time.

"Look out for his teeth," shouted Fuzzy White. "If you once get in the teeth of the wind, he will bite your nose and ears and fingers and toes off."

"Now, do you think better of it?" said Boreas, coming to a sudden stop. "That was only half trying—next time I'll catch you in my ice tongs and carry you home."

"You can't frighten me," said Billy, patting Fuzzy White on the head. He didn't know quite why, but the feel of something that was friendly seemed to keep his courage up.

"Go it, old boy," whispered Fuzzy encouragingly.

"Wow-ow-ow! Oh-h-h-h-h!" howled Boreas, "you say I can't frighten you—why, I've frightened little boys and girls all my life. Every winter I howl and whistle my way around the world, and the way I make the branches creak and the windows rattle through the long, dark nights is a caution. Why, even Bogie Man says that next to him I'm the greatest frightener in the world."

"I don't care, I'm not afraid of you," said Billy. Which, I fear, was not quite the exact truth, for he didn't feel very easy when he looked at Boreas' long, sparkling white teeth and his tousled gray head and beard.

"Nor am I, even though you have got acorner on the ice market," said Fuzzy White, "for really you know you are an ice man."

This made Boreas furious, he stormed and howled and spluttered and beat Billy wildly on the chest, caught hold of him even and spun him round and round on the ice, but he couldn't knock him down nor lift him off his feet so long as Billy did not try to jump.

"You'll get out of breath if you keep that up much longer," said Billy, plucking up courage when he saw that Boreas could not really do him much damage. But it was a fatal speech, for with one loud yell Boreas leaped at Billy's face and tried to fasten his tongs in his nose.

It was a trying moment for Billy, he felt his nose turn pale with fright, and when Boreas' tongs touched it, it grew absolutely numb. Indeed, he had given his poor nose up for lost, and it would surely have been if Fuzzy White had not scooped up a paw full of snow and clapped it on Billy's nose just as Boreas began to clamp the tongs.

"Ou! wow-ow-o-ow!" screamed Boreas, jumping back, "ow! ow! I can't bite throughsnow," and he turned somersault after somersault on the ice in his fury.

"Thank you, Fuzzy," cried Billy, as he felt the blood return to his nose, "you have saved me, old fellow."

"That's nothing, I know his tricks better than you do."

Billy anxiously felt his nose with his fingers and found it all there and quite right.

"But I'll get you yet, Billy Bounce," howled Boreas, "and when I do I'll nip you hard."

"You're not so very fast or dangerous after all," said Billy laughing.

"Look out for him," whispered Fuzzy, "he has other tricks."

And sure enough, along raced Boreas, this time close to the ground, and before Billy knew it, he had caught him by the legs and was sliding him along the ice, right toward the cold water.

But Billy knew a trick worth two of that, and suddenly threw himself backwards.

"Plump—" he had fallen back, right on top of Boreas. "Ugh!" cried Boreas and lay still for a moment with the breath quite knocked out of him.

"Good for Billy," cried Fuzzy White. "You got him that time."

"So it seems," said Billy laughing.

"Wait until I get you up in the air," grunted Boreas, "I'll show you something then."

"You have been trying pretty hard all morning," answered Billy, "but you haven't shown me much yet."

My, my, my, how furious this made Boreas. He raged and tore around and above Billy and Fuzzy White, but they lay close to the ground, and though he gave them some pretty hard kicks, he could not budge them.

"If he keeps this up, he will tire himself out," laughed Fuzzy to Billy. "He's getting to be a pretty old man for such violent exercise, and the first thing he knows his wind will give out."

"I'd like to stand up though," said Billy, "I'm afraid I'll catch cold."

"Catch cold—" cried Boreas, stopping suddenly, "catch cold—why you couldn't catch anything."

"That's all you know about it," said Billy.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," panted Boreas,"I'll give you a start of a hundred ice floes and beat you down to that iceberg two miles away."

"Done," cried Billy, winking at Fuzzy—"but I'll be generous—I'll give you the start."

"What shall we bet," asked Boreas.

"I don't bet," said Billy.

"Well, we will do this—if I catch you, you must give up searching for Bogie Man—if I don't, you may continue your journey." And Boreas chuckled to himself, for he intended putting Squall, one of his children, in Billy's way so that he couldn't jump any distance at all.

"Come here, Squall," he whispered softly.

"Screech—I am here," cried Squall, gaily settling down at his father's side.

"When that boy jumps, blow him in just the opposite direction than that in which I am going."

"Yes, sir, the opposite direction you say?" answered Squall.

"Yes!" Then calling to Billy he said, "Are you ready?"

Now Billy had heard just enough to knowthat Boreas was planning some trickery, so he decided quickly how to fool him.

"All ready," answered Billy, whispering "Good-bye" to Fuzzy White.

"Then go," cried Boreas and was off.

"Go," cried Billy, turning his back on Boreas and jumping in exactly theoppositedirection and away toward Aurora Borealis.

Now Squall did not know any more than his father had told him, so of course he got right back of Billy and pushed him faster than ever away from his father, making him fairly hum through the air.

You can imagine how surprised Boreas was when he reached the Iceberg and turning around to see how far he had beaten Billy, found that he was sailing way, way off away from him, with Squall pushing him along with all his might and main. He was furious. "Come back, come back," he called to Squall, and the boy turned back obediently to meet his father.

"He has not escaped me yet," cried Boreas, jumping after Billy—and it is very doubtful indeed if he would have escaped had Squallnot been so anxious to do just what his father said, for back he came with his head down and his eyes shut, going as fast as he could.

Boreas, too, had closed his eyes when he jumped after Billy, and so neither knew that the other was near until they went bump right into each other. "Ouch! Ugh!" they cried and fell to the ground, the breath knocked completely out of them. And so Billy sailed far, far away toward Aurora Borealis and safe from Boreas and Squall.

What a dazzling sight was the town of Aurora Borealis when it broke on Billy's vision! Sparkling blue, red, and golden houses cut out of solid icebergs. Even the poorest huts shone with all the colors of the rainbow in the wavering, flickering light that rose and fell on them.

When Billy alighted in the streets he stood amazed at the beauty surrounding him, but when he saw the magnificent ice palace that stood directly in front of him, he had eyes for nothing else.

Higher than the highest office building he had ever seen in the City, wider than the longest block he had ever walked, and more brilliant in its changing colors than any kaleidoscope he had ever looked into.

"Phew!" he said, with a great sigh of enjoyment, "thatisa beauty, sure enough."

"Not bad, is it?" said a voice at his elbow. Looking around Billy saw a funny little chap with sharp, bright eyes—a short, pinched blue little nose, and long, tapering fingers. In one hand he carried an artist's maulstick and in the other a palette and brushes.

"It is beautiful," said Billy, "can you tell me what place it is?"

"The Ice Palace—I built it."

"Are you a contractor?" asked Billy.

"No, I'm an expander."

"A what?"

"An expander—frost expands—I'm Jack Frost: Architect, Artist and Ice Bridge Builder."

"You must enjoy the work."

"Yes, I'm fond of water colors—I suppose you've seen some of my pictures window-framed and hung in your own house?"

"Yes, sir—you must be a lightning sketch artist."

"Never have been out when it lightened—I'm afraid of thunder."

"I didn't mean that—" began Billy.

"You must learn to say what you mean," interrupted Jack Frost, "because if you should get the habit of not meaning what you say, no one could say what you meant whether you meant it or not—that's clear, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," said Billy.

"Perhaps you'll understand this better. Seeing is believing, but believing is not seeing, unless you believe you see; and, so seeing, believe what you see. How's that?"

"I suppose it's very true, indeed," answered Billy politely, but he was certainly at sea as to what Jack Frost was talking about.

"Not a bit of it! What's the good of telling the truth when an untruth is more interesting?"

"I don't agree with you," said Billy.

"No sun ever does; I suppose youaresomebody's son?"

"Yes, sir—I'm my mother's son."

At this Jack Frost wept little icicles, saying: "Poor me—poor me—I'm an orphan."

"An orphan?" said Billy. "That is too bad; how old are you?"

"Only a million years. Mother died when Iwas born, and I sometimes feel so young and helpless without a mother to spank me."

Billy thought this rather silly, but did not like to say so, for Jack Frost seemed to take it all very seriously.

"Now that's over," said Jack suddenly. Looking up in Billy's face and smiling, "I just wanted to show you that I was a man of sentiment. Suppose we go into the Ice Palace and have a little light refreshment."

"That would be nice," said Billy.

"A little ice-cream, for instance."

"That sounds cold."

"It tastes colder," said Jack Frost, putting his arm through Billy's. "Come along, and if that's not enough you can have a glass of ice-water."

"Ugh!" how the thought of the cold things made Billy shiver, and how like a cake of ice Jack Frost's arm was!

"I—I thank you very much," he faltered, "but if you'd just as soon——"

"Sooner," said Jack Frost; "what is it?"

"I don't think I care for anything to eat."

"Oh! but you must have something to cool you up; you'll take your death of warmness ifyou go into the heat without a cup of cold coffee to keep out the warm."

And Billy allowed himself to be dragged along for fear that if he refused further, Jack Frost would think of something colder to give him.

"Are you allowed to enter the palace whenever you wish?" asked Billy.

"I don't have to wish—I just go in."

"Who lives here?"

"The Calcium King and his daughter Sterry Optican: she's an actress."

"An actress?" exclaimed Billy.

"Yes—she's a cold, proud beauty—but the King rules us with a light hand—here we are," and Jack Frost led Billy through the Ice Palace gates.

"Who are those men?" asked Billy pointing to two tall, soldierly looking men who stood at either side of the gate with huge ice-picks in their hands.

"The Ice Guard," whispered Jack Frost, "all picked men; let me introduce you to Calcium King."

Billy looked about him, but could see no onebut an old man seated at the window behind a great reflector and two boiler-like things, such as they have at the theatre to throw a bright light on the stage. The machine was buzzing and sizzing away, and the old man was turning the light this way and that out over the streets and houses. And whichever way it turned a thousand flames of golden light shone in the heavens and made the houses sparkle and sparkle again with brilliant colors. Billy knew then where the Northern Lights came from.

"Where's the King?" whispered Billy.

"That's he," answered Jack, pointing to the old man. "The Lord High Master of the Lime Lights is sick in bed with a warm in his head, and the King is attending to things himself;" then aloud, "Hello, King!"

"Good midnight," answered the King, without turning around.

"I want you to meet my friend," said Jack Frost.

"Where do you want me to meet him?" asked the King; "don't make it very far away, because I can't trust the machine to anyone else."

"He is here," said Jack.

"Me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, "the light, the light."—Page 187.

"Oh! well then, I'll meet him half way," and jumping quickly up, the King ran to Billy, shook his hand, murmured, "How de do," and trotted back to his machine.

"Glad to know you, King," said Billy.

"You don't know me," replied the King. "I don't even know myself; so how could a fat boy, who has just shaken my hand, expect to know me?"

"I don't know," said Billy.

"That's better. Where is my daughter, Jack?"

"I don't know, Your Calciumness," answered Jack Frost. But even as he spoke a tall, handsome young woman with raven-black hair and large blue eyes came slowly into the room.

"Me feyther," cried she, in a tragic voice, "the light, the light." And immediately the King turned a small calcium light directly on her. Bowing and kissing her hand, she turned to Billy.

"Whither goest thou, fair sir, and whence comest thou? Answer, I prithee."

"Ma'am?" was all Billy could say in his amazement.

"She means where are you going and where did you come from," whispered Jack in Billy's ear.

"Why couldn't she say so, then?" grumbled Billy.

"Goest thou henceford or thenceford, fair sir? Fain would I know—or wilt thou tarry awhile and let me pour into thine ear—"

Billy put his hands over his ears and stepped back in a hurry. "Please don't pour anything into my ears."

"She means she wants to talk to you," whispered Jack again; "that's stage talk."

"Ay, such is indeed the truth," said Sterry Optican, moving forward, followed closely by the light.

This time Billy stood his ground and she took his hand in hers, saying sadly—

"Would thou wert not so fat, fair sir, else could I learn, ay! gladly learn to love you—but hold, villain—unhand me!" and she flung Billy's hand away from her and burst into sobs.

"Jack Frost," said Billy wildly, "for goodness sake pinch me—I don't know whether I'm asleep or crazy."

"Nay, nay—curfewshallnot ring to-night," cried Sterry Optican, seizing Billy by his hair and dragging him up and down the room. While she did this the King and Jack Frost clapped their hands loudly and cried, "Bravo, bravo!"

"You do it better every day," cried Jack. "My, my, won't people stare when you really do go on the stage!"

"And to think that she's my daughter," said the King proudly.

"Oh! was that just play?" asked Billy, relieved, but very sore about the scalp, for Sterry had not been gentle.

"Yes, wasn't it grand?" said she sitting down. "I'd have been on the stage long ago—I mean really on the stage, you know, and acting for real stage money, but there's so much jealousy in the profession that I can't seem to get a hearing."

"That's too bad," said Billy sympathetically. "What do theatre managers say to your acting?"

"Just what you said—that it's too bad; but my friends all say I'm just grand, and by allmeans should go on the stage. Father, you may turn off the light now; I'm through."

"Thank goodness," murmured Billy to himself.

"What did you say?" whispered Jack Frost.

"I was talking to myself," said Billy.

"That's a waste of time; though I suppose you're more interested in your conversation than any one else."

"That's sarcastic."

"No, it's true," said Jack. "Don't you think I'm clever?"

"You're what I would call a sharp Frost," said Billy laughing.

"Stop talking for a minute," interrupted King Calcium.

"I'm not talking," said Sterry Optican; "I'm thinking, and it's much harder to think than to talk."

"It is for some people," said Jack. "Now as for me——"

"Be silent," cried the King; "Nickel Plate is trying to signal me."

"Nickel Plate!" exclaimed Billy rising to his feet.

"Yes," said the King, "do you know him?"

"I've met him," said Billy; "but excuse me, good day——"

"Night, you mean; it won't be day for six months," interrupted Jack Frost.

"Good night, then; I really must be going."

"Not until you've carved your initials on the North Pole," said Sterry Optican. "It's my autograph album, you know, and I have the names and initials of many famous people on it. Why, even my own is there."

"Thank you very much," said Billy, nervously, "but I really can't spare the time."

"That's all you know about the North Pole," said Jack. "You could stay there a year and not be spending a minute."

"What do you mean?" asked Billy in surprise.

"Just what I say, this time—how are days, hours, minutes and seconds measured? Answer me that."

"By the length of time it takes a given point to completely revolve about the earth's axis," answered Billy, not quite sure that this was the exact definition, but thinking it was near enough.

"Right," said Jack; "and so, if you are on the axis, the North Pole, that is, you can't revolve around it, can you?"

"No," said Billy.

"And if you can't revolve around it you can't measure time, can you?"

"No."

"And if you can't measure time, then there is no time: so you see you can't waste time or spend time when you're on the North Pole. I hope you understand that."

"Yes sir," answered Billy dubiously.

"Then come along and cut your initials in the pole."

"Please do," pleaded Sterry.

And Billy was just about to yield—indeed, he had taken two steps toward the door when King Calcium suddenly exclaimed:

"Hold! Jack, lock the doors; Billy Bounce, you are discovered."

"What! Billy Bounce in our mongst?" cried Jack, blowing on the doors and freezing them tight shut.

"Not the real Billy," cried Sterry, walking over to a sofa and preparing to faint.

"Yes," cried the King, "it is indeed he—Nickel Plate has just wigwagged me that he is in this room."

"I am undone!" screamed Sterry, throwing herself carefully onto the sofa.

"Seize him, Jack!" cried the King.

"Seize him yourself," said Jack, dancing away out of Billy's reach; "remember I'm a nervous child."

"I will," cried the King, tottering over to Billy and laying his hand on his collar. "Jack, call the ice guard."

"Ice guard, ahoy!" shouted Jack.

"Lemme go," cried Billy, "or I'll——"

"No you won't," panted the King, clinging desperately to Billy.

"You'll see," said Billy, and began to drag the King over to the window where the calcium was burning brightly.

"Help me, help me, Jack!" called the King, trying to sit down on the floor. But Billy kept him from doing so, and finally reached the window. Quick as a flash he turned the entire Northern Light right into the room, and with a sizzle, splash—puff the ice doors wentup in steam. The next moment he found the lever that controlled the lamp, and zip the light was out.

My, my, my but how dark it got—darker than a thousand nights—blacker than a million hats. The King let go of Billy's collar and commenced wildly to grope for the machine.

"Now to escape," cried Billy. "Barker, lead me out by scent," and quickly he pulled Barker out of his pocket, tied a string to his collar and turned him loose.

Barker gave one little yelp, and then darted for the doorway with Billy hot after him. Out they ran into the open air, and picking Barker up in his arms, up jumped Billy away from Aurora Borealis.

To say that Billy was glad to see real sunshine and feel its warmth again, hardly expresses his joy, when, on emerging from Aurora Borealis, he floated into a warmer climate.

And the next time his feet touched earth it did not take him long to take off his rabbit skin and give it back to the Singing Tree. And then how he and Barker rolled on the soft green grass, breathed in the sweet, flower-scented air, and basked in the sunlight!

"You saved my life, old boy," said Billy, patting Barker's head. And Barker wagged his little tail and cocked his head on one side, as much as to say: "I'm glad, and I would do it again if I had the opportunity, Billy Bounce."

"And now, off we go," said Billy, thrusting Barker into his pocket and jumping up into the air.

Barker in Trouble.

Now it is hard to say just exactly how it happened—whether Barker slipped out of Billy's pocket, or just climbed out, thinking that he too could float in the air, I do not know. At any rate the first thing Billy knew there was a sharp jerk on the string that Barker was tied to—a frightened yelp, and there was doggie being dragged up and up through the air by his collar.

Of course it did not take Billy a minute to haul Barker up to him and to catch him in his arms; but even then it was none too soon, for in another moment there would have been no more Barker.

"Poor old fellow," cried Billy, snuggling him up in his arms. "Your dog days were nearly ended that time, weren't they?"

And he was still soothing and patting Barker when his feet crashed through a jungle of blades and stalks, and he found himself in an enormous corn field. He looked about him, and saw dimly ahead through the corn a factory building; at least he took it for this, for he could hear the distant hum of machinery and the churn-churn-churn of an engine.

"Now I wonder where I am," said Billy, beginning to walk toward the factory.

"Stop—or you are a dead man—or boy," said a voice at his side.

Snawksnaw, the Boy Detecative.

Turning, Billy found himself looking down the barrel of a cap pistol. But not being particularly interested in what he saw there, he looked further and discovered the face of its owner. On his head was a very, very large wig of raveled rope, and attached to his chin by large elastic bands that ran overhis ears was a heavily matted blue beard. Following the beard to its end, Billy's eyes traveled on down to a large tin star.

"Who are you?" asked Billy in surprise.

"Snawksnaw, the famous boy detecative," cried the boy, pulling off beard and wig with one sweep of his hand, and folding his arms dramatically.

"What do you detect?" asked Billy.

"Hist!" said the boy, again putting on the wig and beard, and pointing the cap pistol at him. "Hist! I detect crime, but move not or I will be-low your be-rains out."

"Is that a disguise?" asked Billy, pointing to the boy detective's hair and beard.

"It is, and a perfect one. Who would ever guess that Snawksnaw, the famous boy detecative, and this bearded ruffian were one and the same person? This is my favorite transform."

"But why did you get a blue beard?"

"Ah-ha! that is the completest part of the disguise; for though they might guess that I would raise a black beard or a yellow one or a red one,whowould think that I couldraise a blue one?" Then scowling terribly, he hissed, "Are you one of them?"

"One of whom?" asked Billy.

"One of the party of desperate men that inhabit yon fair but foul factory?"

"Of course not; I've just arrived."

"Ah-h, then perhaps you, too, are a detecative on the same trail; but I warn you Snawksnaw will have no partner to share the glory of this capture. I have run them to earth, and mean to take them single handed."

"What have they done?" asked Billy.

"I know not. That I will find out when I have bound and gagged them."

"Then you don't know them?"

"Yes," and Snawksnaw seeing no immediate use for his pistol carefully put it in his hip pocket after examining the cap to see that it was still in place. "Nothing like being sure of one's firearms," he said, "for should me trusty 32 miss fire at a critical moment I should be in a dangerous position."

"Who are they?"

"Nickel Plate, the Polished villain."

"What!" cried Billy, "Nickel Plate?"

"Yes, and Bumbus."

"Bumbus?"

"Yes, and Drone."

"Drone? I don't know him."

"He's a cowardly ruffian, the tool of Nickel Plate."

"A sort of Nickel Plated tool," said Billy, laughing.

"I suppose so," said Snawksnaw seriously, missing the joke. "And worst of all their fair but false accomplice Glucose, possessing a beautiful face to look upon, but with the crafty, crawling, venomous wiles of the serpent."

"I've heard of Glucose," said Billy; "she is the one they tried to put in Honey Girl's place at the Bee Palace."

"Ah-ha!" cried Snawksnaw, "a case of abduction—but I will foil them—it shall be my greatest shadow. I must perfect my disguise in such a serious case," and taking off his coat he turned it inside out and struggled into it. "Now I defy them."

"You're not going to the factory, are you?" asked Billy.

"I don't know—if I just knew what oldSneuth, the detective, would do under the circumstances I could decide."

"Huh! I shouldn't wait for that," said a voice. Looking up, Billy and Snawksnaw saw Bumbus leaning against a cornstalk, wearing a very self-satisfied but wicked grin.

"So it's my old friend Billy Bounce," continued he.

"Bumbus!" was all Billy could say.

"I be," said Bumbus; "who's your friend?"

"Snawksnaw, the famous boy detecative," shouted that youth, drawing his cap pistol. "But I shall sell my life dearly," and he snapped the cap at Bumbus. How it did make Bumbus jump, but instead of falling dead in his tracks as they do in dime novels, he seized Billy's collar with one hand and reached for the boy detective's collar with the other.

"Missed!" cried Snawksnaw, throwing his pistol to the ground; "ten thousand furies. I don't know what old Sneuth would do now, but I know what I'm going to do," and he ran off as fast as his legs would carry him.

"Good riddance," said Bumbus, laughing,"which proves beyond a doubt that the wicked flourish like a green bay rum tree."

"How is that?" asked Billy.

"Meaning that no matter how close the shave, green bay rum can face it."

"I suppose you are going to take me prisoner to the factory," said Billy, wishing to have the worst over as soon as possible.

"My, my, but you are a good guesser," then calling loudly, "Nickel Plate, Drone—here is Billy Bounce."

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!" laughed Nickel Plate, striding through the corn. "So Billy Bounce is once more in our power, eh! This time he shall not escape us."

"Yaw-haw," yawned a sleepy-looking Bee, coming slowly out of the factory.

"Come, wake up, Drone!" cried Bumbus.

"Aw-ri," yawned Drone.

Here Billy thought he saw an opportunity to run, and giving a sharp twist he broke from Bumbus and started away to get room to jump. But alas for his hopes! the cornstalks suddenly intertwined their tops all about and over him and he found himself again a prisoner.

"How impolite!" laughed Bumbus, "how very impolite of you to think of going away without saying good-by!"

"To the factory with him," said Nickel Plate in a loud voice. And Billy was pulled and hauled through the cornfield up to the factory which bore the sign "Nickel Plate, Bumbus and Glucose." Inside past the grinding machinery and the great vats of boiling syrup and finally thrust into a little room marked "Office."

"Honey Girl!" he cried, catching sight of a young girl seated at the typewriter.

"Billy Bounce!" she cried, starting to her feet with a peculiar smile; but the sound of her voice and something about her eyes told him that it was not Honey Girl at all, but Glucose, that stood before him.

"I, I beg your pardon," he stammered; "I thought you were the Princess."

"Well?" she said questioningly.

"But I see now I was mistaken; you are Glucose."

"Beware, Billy Bounce, how you anger a woman—hereafter address me as Honey Girl, or take the consequences." So saying, Glucoseclosed down her desk and hurriedly left the room.

"I suppose I've made another enemy—but I don't care; she's proved now that she is not Honey Girl, and this knowledge may prove useful some day." Billy was seated in a chair near the door when suddenly through the keyhole and above the hum of machinery came the sound of voices.

"We must get the note from him and prevent his seeing Bogie Man," said the voice of Bumbus.

"Yes," said Nickel Plate, "but I fear that so long as he lives he will be in our way."

"Throw him in the grinder," suggested Drone.

"Or boil him in a syrup vat," added Bumbus.

"Too sweet a death," said Nickel Plate. "Of one thing I am certain—he must die."

Then their voices died away, showing that they had moved off.

"I suppose it's all up with me," said Billy, looking about him for some means of escape. "Oh! how I wish I had Mr. Gas here—I'll try Umberufen: perhaps he can carry the message."

You can imagine that it did not take himlong to touch wood, and "Zip!" Umberufen stood before him.

"Well, so you need me again, do you?"

"Yes, sir," said Billy.

"The last time you treated me very badly."

"I'm very sorry."

"Humph! that won't pay for a ruined suit of clothes—everything I had on warped dreadfully. But I suppose I shall have to forgive you—what is it?"

"I want you to carry a message to Mr. Gas."

"Out of my district," said Umberufen curtly.

"But you often go to Mr. Gas," said Billy; "this is a matter of life and death."

"I can't go to him unless he touches wood."

"But you are supposed to do what I ask you to."

"Anything here yes, but I'm not an errand boy," answered Umberufen indifferently.

"Have you no heart?" exclaimed Billy.

"Certainly, but Mr. Gas didn't hire that—he just arranged for my brains and ability."

"Then whatever he pays you he's got a bad bargain," said Billy angrily. "You may go."

"There you go, showing your temper again—goodness, I wouldn't have your disposition for anything—good-by," and Umberufen disappeared.

"I wish I could sneeze—perhaps Gehsundheit would take the message—I'll try," but do what he would Billy could not make himself sneeze. He tickled his nose with a straw, snuffed up dust, did everything he could think of but not a sneeze would come. At last he gave up in despair. "I'll imitate a sneeze," cried he—"ca-choo!" It did not sound very much like a sneeze, but sure enough a shadowy form of Gehsundheit appeared before him.

"Gehsundheit," came from the figure but it sounded far, far away like an echo.

"At last," cried Billy. "Oh! Gehsundheit, I need your help."

"So, iss it?" he whispered.

"Yes, I want you to carry a message to Mr. Gas."

"Alas! it cannot be did."

"Why not?"

"Because I am not here."

"Not here—where are you?"

"At home in my castle."

"But I can see you."

"No, it iss but my shadow."

"Why didn't you come yourself? I sneezed."

"It vas not a real sneeze, so the real Gehsundheit could not come—good-by," and slowly the form faded away.

"Well! what do you think of that?" exclaimed Billy as the last of Gehsundheit vanished into thin air.

"I never think," said Bumbus, suddenly opening the door. "Why waste time in thought when thoughtlessness makes more trouble than villainy?"

"I don't see the point," said Billy.

"It has no point, it's a blunt statement—but come along."

"Where?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no truths," said Bumbus. "Come along."

"I don't want to," said Billy, holding back.

"Before you get much older you'll do many things you don't want to—that is, if you live to get older."

By this time Drone had come in and was leaning against Billy, fast asleep.

"Wake up, Drone, and help," said Bumbus.

"Oh!" said Drone, "I just dreamed that I was asleep."

"That's one dream that came true," said Bumbus; "now out with him." Bumbus pulled and Drone pushed, and although the latter went to sleep three or four times before they got out of the room, Billy finally found himself in the main factory where Nickel Plate was directing some workmen in taking the lid off of a vat.

"Ah, ha!" said Nickel Plate when he saw Billy. "Now, boy, I will give you a last chance—promise that you will give up all search for Bogie Man and return the note to me and we will free you, otherwise——"

"It will be a case of boil instead of freeze," interrupted Bumbus.

"Then boil!" cried Billy. "I must do my duty while I live."

"In with him!" cried Nickel Plate.

"In with him!" cried Bumbus.

"Yah-haw!" yawned Drone.

And with that they lifted Billy up and were about to drop him into the vat, when throughthe open skylight and down in their midst dropped Mr. Gas. He was seated in his big arm-chair which was carried along by hundreds of toy balloons of all colors.

"Hold!" he cried.

But instead of holding they were all so surprised that they let go of Billy and he fell to the floor, just missing the vat by a few inches. Luckily he lit on his feet, and, of course, as this was just the same as a jump, he bounded up again and out through the skylight, followed by Mr. Gas.

When they had gotten well away from the factory, Billy recovered his wits sufficiently to thank Mr. Gas warmly for his assistance.

"You are welcome, Billy Bounce—it was lots of fun for me and I needed an outing anyway."

"But how did you know about my need?" said Billy. "I tried to send Umberufen and Gehsundheit, but could get neither of them to go."

"The wireless telephoneless telephone brought me your wish. I came very near answering, but you didn't hold the wireless wire, and I thought it would be more exciting to save you at the last minute, the way they always do in books."

"I'm afraid—" began Billy.

"Don't do it," interrupted Mr. Gas.

"What?"

"Be afraid."

"But I meant to say I was afraid—" he began again.

"You did say it—you didn't just mean to say it," said Mr. Gas severely.

"Well, what I meant was that I didn't think Gehsundheit and Umberufen have been of much use to me."

"That's better—never use the word afraid, because there's nothing in the world to be afraid of if you do your best."

"I'll remember that, sir," answered Billy.

"About Gehsundheit and Umberufen—they are not very useful, it's true, but the two old fellows have been out of work for so long that I hire them out of charity."

"I suppose they mean well."

"Oh! yes; but be careful of well meaners unless they are good doers—that's what counts."

"Yes, sir," said Billy.

"And now good-by—keep your teeth clean and don't eat any dirt."

"Of course not, I never do eat dirt."

"I know you don't, but it is my rule to give advice that can be easily followed—that's the way I keep my friends. Good-by."

"Good-by, and thank you," called Billy, and in less than half a jiffy Mr. Gas and his toy balloons were only a speck on the horizon.

When Billy again reached the earth it was night. He had just taken Barker out of his pocket and was going to dig a hole for the Singing Tree, when he saw that he was in a great shadowy city.

"That's strange," he said, looking about him. "I was sure that I was in the middle of a green meadow when I first came down and here I am in a city."

And yet when he looked again he found that he could see clear through the houses. This made him just a wee bit nervous.

"Ah! here comes some one with a lantern; I'll ask him about it." And sure enough there came bobbing and dancing up the street a ball of light. "He's an awfully unsteady walker, whoever he is," said Billy. For one minute the light would be way up in the air and the next minute almost touching the ground—thenit would be on one side of the walk and again on the other. On it came until it was within a few inches of his nose and then he saw thatno onewas carrying it.

Gracious! what a start it gave him—for a moment only and then he was off after it in hot pursuit. But the faster Billy walked the faster the light went—when he ran it ran—and suddenly "puff!" it disappeared.

"Huh! I don't like that a little bit," and he stopped and looked around him.

The moon cast a pale and sickly light, and the gaunt trees waved and creaked sadly in the moaning breeze, throwing long, claw-like shadows on the ground. Then a sad-voiced bird piped out from the forest, "Whip-poor-will—whip-poor-will—whip-poor-will-o'-the-wisp."

"That's what it was, of course," said Billy, sturdily sticking his fists into his pockets—"a will-o'-the-wisp." And back he trudged whistling as hard as he could whistle. Because whistlingdoeskeep a fellow's courage up on a lonely walk, doesn't it?

It certainly cheered Billy a great deal, so thatwhen he got back to the place he had lately left he was laughing at his fears.

And then the moon went under a cloud.

"Goodness! it's dark," he said half aloud.

"Isn't it though?" whispered a voice right behind him.

If Billy had been a wax figure on a pivot he could not have turned around quicker than he did—and then when hehadturned he was sorry that he had, for looking into his face was a great, white flabby head on a long, wavery body. It did not seem to have any eyes, and yet Billy felt them looking into his. It did not seem to have any mouth, and yet Billy had heard it speak.

"Wha-wha-what d-did you say?" he asked in a quavering voice; and he distinctly felt each separate hair on his head grow stiff as a poker and his cap rise a couple of inches from his crown.

"I said it was dark. What's the matter, do you stammer?"

"N-not usually," said Billy, trying to set his teeth and stop the tune they were chattering.

"Then I wish you'd stop—it's very annoying," said the figure, chuckling to himself.

By a great effort Billy got his lower jaw under control and said:

"Who are you? Your manner is familiar, but I don't recognize your face."

"Oh! I'm a Ghost."

"A Ghost!" exclaimed Billy, stepping back.

"Yes—I've met you lots of times," said the Ghost.

"Who were you when—when you were alive? Perhaps if you'd mention the name," and Billy tried to recollect some of his former friends.

"Iamalive, though goodness knows if times keep up the way they're going now I can't tell how soon I'll starve to death."

"Starve to death?"

"Yes; times have changed in the last four hundred years. Why, I remember years ago we ghosts were busy on haunting jobs night after night, but now we have to scratch pretty hard for a living."

"But where have you met me?" asked Billy.

"On your way to bed when the nurse hadbeen telling you silly tales—come, we're old friends, let's shake hands."

"Can—can you shake hands?" said Billy, putting his own behind him.

"Certainly. Of course I can't shake your hand, but I can shake my own," and with that the Ghost held two long white arms in front of him, joined the ends (one really couldn't call them hands) and waved them up and down.

Much relieved, Billy clasped his own two hands and feebly shook them—and my, how cold and clammy they felt!

"Well, good-by, I must be going," said Billy nervously.

"Don't go yet—let's talk over old times. And by the way, you don't happen to know a quiet family, keeping two servants, no children preferred, who wants to hire a respectable ghost. Thoroughly tame—will eat out of the hand—terms reasonable and references exchanged. Guaranteed to give satisfaction or money returned. If desired can take the shape of an old ancestor. Guarding buried treasure extra." And the Ghost rattled this off as if he had learned it by heart.

"No," said Billy, "I really do not—in fact, I'm sure I don't."

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