"Come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening."—Page 217.
"Come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening."—Page 217.
"Come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening."—Page 217.
"Now that's too bad—but perhaps you would hire me—I'll make it cheap for old acquaintance' sake," said the Ghost wistfully.
"No," said Billy quickly, "I don't think I care to be haunted."
"If the price is all that stands in the way I'll work for my keep just to keep in practice."
"No," said Billy, "I'm—," he was going to say "afraid," but remembered Mr. Gas's advice and said, "I'm sure I don't need you."
"Well, I suppose if you won't, you won't—but anyway come up to the house and spend an unpleasant evening. I'd like you to meet the wife and children—my wife is a little high-spirited—the ghost of a lighthouse-keeper's daughter, but she will thaw out after a while, and I'm sure she can fix up a nice little supper for us."
"I really have not time," said Billy, backing off.
"Not if I tell you that we have some cold fear pie and a roast of imagination, a neat little salad of blood-curdling screams topped offwith groan pudding—come, that ought to tempt you—and I'll get the children to do the shadow dance for you after supper."
"You are very kind, I'm sure," said Billy, "but I have a message I must deliver to Bogie Man."
"You don't mean to tell me that you're Billy Bounce?" exclaimed the Ghost.
"Yes!" said Billy.
"What have I done? Oh! me! that's what comes of getting old and near-sighted—I took you for little Tommy Jones."
"No, I'm Billy Bounce."
"Then you shan't come to my house, but youwillcome to the haunted house." Then he called aloud in a weird voice: "Spooks, Spirits, Ghosts, Wraiths, Banshees, and all, come quick—here is Billy Bounce in Spookville."
With a rattle of chains, screams, groans, and a thousand odd and terrible sounds, the inhabitants of the village swooped down on them.
For a few moments Billy was absolutely frozen stiff with fear, and when he looked around him at the horrible shapes and facesthat surrounded him he was worse frightened than ever. Some of them breathed fire and steam while their eyes glowed like red-hot coals. Others had old, crafty and wicked faces with huge snaggle teeth. Some looked like fierce and bloodthirsty pirates—all sorts and conditions of ghosts were there, and all seemingly intent on tearing Billy limb from limb.
"See him tremble!" called one old Pirate. "Ah! this reminds me of old times on the Spanish Main—make him walk the plank!"
"Scream into his ear until he is deaf!" cried a Banshee.
"Put a ball and chain on him and throw him in a cell!" suggested the ghost of a convict.
"He's the boy who discovered Shamville—he will tell on all of us if we let him live!" said a crafty-looking old merchant.
"Make him eat his own head!" cried a headless horseman.
"Get away!" cried Billy; "you are a host of delusions! I don't believe in ghosts anyway, and I'm not afraid of you," for he had just remembered what Mr. Gas said about being afraid. He took a step forward, and in doingso walked through five or six ghosts who were crowding him closely.
"Swish!" and every mother's ghost of them had disappeared and he was standing in the meadow alone. The moon came from behind its cloud and distinctly winked at Billy. And what a relief it was to be sure! "There," he said to himself; "Mr. Gas was right—so long as a fellow is afraid in the dark he will see all kinds of things, ghosts and everything else; but if he just grits his teeth and makes up his mindnotto be afraid, there is no more in the dark to hurt you than in the sunlight."
And with that he planted the Singing Tree, curled up beneath it, and in a minute was sound asleep.
When Billy awoke the next morning and saw the dear old sun grinning down at him, and looked about at the green meadow dotted with Black-eyed Susans and Dandelions, he could hardly realize that his adventures of the night before were real. But there on the edge of the open space stood the trees that had creaked so dismally; while even then among its trunks lingered some of the mist that had made the walls of Spookville.
"What did you think of it, dogibus?" he said to Barker. But that merry little chap looked so happy and contented, and his eyes seemed so clear of unpleasant memories, that Billy decided that dogs don't see ghosts—perhaps because they are not afraid in the dark, and anyway haven't any nurses to tell them things that are not true.
"Half past eight—time we were off!" said Billy, looking at his Waterbury. And so off they flew into space.
"I doubt if I can float over that high mountain," he said presently. "What a queer-looking thing it is, too." And no wonder it was queer looking, for it was the Volcano of Vociferous with just a little thin white vapor rising from its crater. "Oh, me! oh, my! I'm falling right into the hole," he cried, "I wonder if I will fetch up in China?" And sure enough, when he got right over the crater he began to fall, fall, fall, through the opening and way down towards the centre of the earth. And just about the time he had given up hopes of ever landing in any place, he hit plump on a floor of lava. Right in front of him was a door bearing this sign: "The Coal Man. Best Anthracite and Soft Coal. New Gold and Silver bought and sold. Nickel-plating a specialty. For admission to works apply at Office. Walk in." Turning the handle Billy walked in.
"Well," said a smutty-faced old man who was bustling about the office and whom Billy rightly took for the Coal Man.
"How do you do?" said Billy.
"Tired, very tired," answered the Coal Man. "Worked to death. I have a rush order for an eruption of Vociferous and it's keeping my alchemist and myself busy day and night, while the coal stokers and furnace tenders threaten to strike for lower wages."
The Coal Man.
The Coal Man.
The Coal Man.
"That's too bad," said Billy sympathetically.
"Not a bit of it. I like the work. I suppose you want to go through the works."
"If it's not too much trouble."
"I don't know whether you will find it toomuch trouble or not; you will have to decide that for yourself."
"I mean for you."
"It can't be for me, because I'm not going. What's your name?"
"Billy Bounce."
"Billy Bounce? Glad to know you, Billy. I've heard a great deal of you from a customer of min."
"A customer! Who is he?"
"Nickel Plate the Polished Villain. He comes down here every once in a while to be plated."
"Nickel Plate!" cried Billy in alarm. "Why, he is my enemy."
"I know it," said the Coal Man; "but don't mind that; he's his own best friend."
"But if that's the case, aren't you going to harm me?"
"Certainly not. You can't do me any harm by telling the truth about my work. You will find that your only enemies are the people who know you will expose them as imitations."
"I hadn't thought of that before," said Billy, greatly relieved.
"Of course you hadn't. They wouldn't eitherif they hadn't felt so guilty themselves. Well, here's your card of admission, and don't pick up any hot lava."
"Thank you," said Billy. "I won't."
The Coal Man opened the door leading into the works.
Such a wonderful sight as met Billy's gaze! A deep red glow was over everything, growing lighter and duller every few moments as the stokers would open a furnace door, shovel in some coal, and slam the door to again.
And the stokers—they were indeed sights. Black as coal and as shiny as patent-leather boots, which, with their fiery red hair, made them look like chimney-pots on fire.
Here and there among them wandered an old, old man with a very wise face and long white hair. In one hand he carried a pair of scales and with the other he was putting into them first some of this and then some of that, which he weighed carefully and deposited in what looked like a great big cartridge shell.
"How do you do, sir?" said Billy.
"Gun cotton and vaseline in parts of two to——Oh! How doyoudo?"
"Sir," said Billy, "I understood the last part of your sentence, but I don't think I heard the first part very well."
"A little sulphur—now I wonder if I'd better put any safety-matches in it this time—what do you think, boy?" And he looked at Billy as if he were a thousand miles off.
"I don't know, sir."
"Then why do you presume to offer advice? So you don't think safety-matches a safe thing to put in it? Neither do I."
"But I said I didn't know," said Billy.
"True, you did; I had forgotten. If that's the case, I'd better use sulphur-matches."
"Are you the Alchemist?"
"Let's see, am I? I've really forgotten. Ace of Spades," calling to the blackest stoker of them all, "come here."
"Yes, sir," said Ace, running up to them.
"Well, what do you want?" asked the old man, looking at Ace in surprise.
"You called me, sir," said Ace.
"Did I—what for? Do you know?"
"No, sir," said Ace.
"Excuse me," said Billy, "but I think itwas to ask him if you were the Alchemist."
"That can't have been it, because Iamthe Alchemist. No doubt about that, is there, Ace?"
"No, sir," said Ace.
"Then don't interrupt me again with your foolish questions, Ace; you know it bothers me when I'm making up a sample eruption."
Ace bowed gravely, as if he were used to such things, and ran back to his work.
The Alchemist.
The Alchemist.
The Alchemist.
"That's the trouble with these men," said the Alchemist; "they are all so absent-minded. If I were nothere to think for them, I don't know what would become of the business."
"Excuse me——" began Billy.
"Certainly," interrupted the Alchemist, absent-mindedly putting some gun-cotton in his ears.
"I was going to say—did you say you were making a sample eruption?"
"Did you speak to me? I seem to have heard you speak."
"Yes, sir."
"I can't hear a word you say—I'm afraid I'm growing deaf. Now what did I do with that gun-cotton I had a moment ago?" and the Alchemist looked for it in every place but in his ears. But Billy, by making motions, showed him where it was, and he pulled it out in great surprise. "You shouldn't do that," said he severely, "it's a very dangerous thing."
"But I didn't," said Billy; "you did it yourself."
"Tut-tut—why should I put gun-cotton in my own ears? I never listen to evil reports."
Billy was just about to make further denial when the Coal Man put his head through the door and beckoned to him. "Nickel Plate iscoming down in the elevator," said he, as soon as Billy reached his side.
"Nickel Plate—down here!" exclaimed Billy.
"Yes, he is coming for a re-plating, and Bumbus and Drone are with him."
"They mustn't see me."
"That's the reason I called you. I suppose you don't mind hiding."
"Not at all."
"Then come along," and he led Billy into the works and to a dark, heavily barred vault marked "Gold." Throwing open the door, he invited Billy to enter. "This is where we keep the gold supply of the earth," he said. "Pick out a soft nugget to sit on, and make yourself at home—you had better lock yourself in."
"Thank you," said Billy, locking the door and pocketing the key. And as it was dark as pitch in the vault and light in the works, no one on the outside could well see through the bars of the door.
"This is fine, but I don't think I shall sit down, I want to see what they do."
He hadn't finished saying this when inwalked Nickel Plate, Bumbus, and Drone, followed by the Coal Man.
"Yes," Nickel Plate was saying, as they entered, "I'm getting terribly rusty, and I need a new plating."
"In other words, he wants you to make a shining example of him," said Bumbus.
"Excuse me," said Drone; "you haven't a cot here, have you? I've lost so much sleep lately I——"
"Lost sleep," exclaimed Nickel Plate in disgust.
"Yes, I have not had more than twenty hours sleep in the last twenty-four; they've kept me busy looking for Billy Bounce."
At mention of his name Billy drew back into the shadow.
"And Honey Girl, too," said Bumbus, "I can't guess what has become of her."
"Ay! we are foiled at every turn, but wait, wait, our day is coming—let me but get rid of these rust spots and restore my polish, and they cannot escape us."
Now when Billy heard about Honey Girl and her safety, it made him very happy, butthe thought that Nickel Plate was going to get back his polish worried him considerably.
"I do hope something will happen to prevent the plating," he said to himself.
Bumbus by this time was running about in his usual inquisitive way, peering into everything and handling all the tools and chemicals. Suddenly, "Boom, sizzle, bang!" went the Alchemist's unfinished cartridge, on which Bumbus at that moment was standing to reach a shelf, and up, up, up, went Bumbus through the hot-air shaft that supplied the furnaces. Luckily for everybody there were very few things in the cartridge—not enough to make even a first-class sample eruption. Even Bumbus wasn't hurt, only very, very much surprised and blown too many miles away from Vociferous to get back that day.
"How very careless," said the Alchemist, pettishly; "now I've got to do the work all over again. If I'd known he wanted to be blown up, I could have arranged it very easily, and at half the trouble and expense."
"Why did Bumbus leave so suddenly?" asked Drone, waking up.
"Let Bumbus look out for himself," said Nickel Plate, ignoring the question; "what I want now is my plating."
"Ace of Spades," called the Coal Man, "bring out the nickel-plating furnace."
Ace of Spades and his helper rolled a great portable furnace, glowing red with heat, into the middle of the floor.
"Step in, please," said the Coal Man, and Nickel Plate opened the door and walked in.
"Please hurry up with that two dollars in nickels, Alchemist," said the Coal Man.
"I don't seem to find any nickels," called back the Alchemist; "I suppose a two-dollar bill won't do?"
"You know it won't," said Nickel Plate. "You got up the formula yourself—and please hurry, it's getting warm in here."
"That's true," said the Alchemist, hurrying up with a handful of nickels; "Ace of Spades had forgotten what we wanted them for."
"I didn't say anything about it," said Ace, sulkily.
"That's just the trouble with you absent-minded people," said the Alchemist, pouring thenickels into the top of the furnace, "if you had spoken about it I should have known you were wrong, and saved all this time."
Quickly the nickels melted and down poured the plating onto Nickel Plate. And in a jiffy out he stepped as bright and shiny as a new coin.
"Ha-ha!" he cried, patting himself on the chest, "I feel brighter already—nowI'll find Billy Bounce and Honey Girl without a bit of trouble." And much to Billy's dismay he walked straight over to the vault in which he was hid. But instead of looking in as Billy expected, he leaned against the grating and putting his hands in his pockets looked about him complacently.
The Coal Man too was worried by this move, and did all he could to distract his attention and call him away from the door.
"Come here, quick!" cried he.
"Can't do it—I'm Nickel Plate, not quick-silver—besides I want to cool off."
"How can I rust his new suit," said Billy to himself. "If I can do that without his knowing it he will be as badly off as ever." And looking down at the floor to think, he saw alarge piece of sulphur that had been blown in when the explosion occurred.
"Sulphur tarnishes the silverware at home," he thought, "I wonder if it would affect nickel plating." He softly picked it up and made a mark on Nickel Plate's back. Sure enough it made a long black streak.
"Good," he exclaimed under his breath. "If I put a lot of black marks on his back it will not only destroy his power, but everyone who sees them will know that he is a villain. I know that black marks were what teachers used to give us to show that our deportment wasn't good," and in a jiffy Billy had covered Nickel Plate's back with black marks.
Poor Nickel Plate had no idea what was going on behind his back; indeed he was so surprised at the Coal Man's antics that he couldn't think of anything else. For, of course, the Coal Man saw what Billy was doing, and was laughing and slapping his knees and jumping up and down with delight.
"Well, come on Drone," said Nickel Plate, starting away. "We must be going—Drone—Drone—wake up, I say."
And Drone got up from a bed of lava rubbing his eyes and yawning. But he was so sleepy he paid no attention to Nickel Plate's back and out they both walked without ever discovering the trick Billy had played.
As soon as they had gone Billy came out of his hiding-place.
"Thank you, Mr. Coal Man, Mr. Alchemist, and Ace of Spades—I shan't ever forget your kindness to me."
"Run along and don't interrupt," said the Alchemist, hard at work with his scales. "You're welcome—good-by."
Ace of Spades bobbed his red head and smiled to show that Billy was welcome to all he had done.
"Come along," said the Coal Man, "I'll show you the way out." And he led Billy to the floor beneath the Crater where he warmly shook hands with him. "Good-by—take good care of yourself, boy—you've made me laugh more to-day than I have for years."
"Good-by," cried Billy, giving a great big jump, and up he popped out of the mouth of Vociferous and away over the green fields and forests.
"I must be very near the end of my journey," said Billy the morning after he ruined Nickel Plate's new coat. "I have been on the air road a long time, and certainly I have had some queer adventures. What shall I say to Bogie Man when Idosee him, I wonder——" but here he lit on the ground and looked around him. About half a block behind him he saw a most peculiar looking bridge—a bridge that seemed to be floating in the air and yet came very near to touching the ground at each end.
But what interested him was the dark and dismal looking city on the other side of the bridge.
"Why, that's strange. The bridge and the city are behind me, so I must have passed over them; yet I don't remember seeing them at all."
Billy had been looking at them over his shoulder and now turned to get a better view. But when he turned he saw nothing before him but a great wide stretch of land—the bridge and the city had disappeared. "I am sure I saw a bridge and city over there," and he casually turned his head to look around him again—there at his back were the objects he sought. "I must have turned all the way round without noticing it, but this time I'm going to keep an eye on them when I turn." So Billy turned very, very slowly, keeping a close watch on the bridge and city. But as he turned, they turned; it made no difference how fast or how slow the motion.
"Barker, old dog," he said finally in despair, "I'm afraid my head is turned. I want you to try it." So he took Barker out of his pocket and placed him on the ground. Then he turned his own and Barker's heads over their shoulders, and pointing to the city said, "Watch, it, good dog, watch it."
Barker undoubtedly understood, and as his neck wasn't comfortable with his head turned, he turned his body around. He stopped andlooked around him in the greatest dog surprise, caught sight of the city over his shoulder, and turned again. Then he began to get excited, and before Billy could stop him was spinning round and round like a kitten after its tail. And he spun and spun and he spun, Billy all the time trying to make head or tail of him, until he got so dizzy that he fell over on his side. "Good old dog," cried Billy, picking him up and putting him in his pocket. "You have proved that I'm not the only one who can't get the bridge in front of him. But I have made up my mind to get to that city if it takes the rest of my life, for it looks to me like Never Was where Bogie Man lives." And with that he commenced to walk backwards. And he walked and walked and walked, but not an inch nearer to the bridge did he get.
"I wonder if I could jump backwards. I'll try it." And back he jumped. Up he went and back he flew. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling, either, not to know just where he was going, and he certainly hoped he wouldn't bump into any buildings when he did reach the city. But he closed his eyes and waited,until at last his feet touched earth. Then he opened his eyes and looked around him, expecting to find himself in the middle of the city. Not a bit of it. There he was in the same spot he had started from, with the bridge and the city just over his shoulder.
"Well, I'll be gum swizzled!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"I shouldn't," said an important looking man in a black uniform and a little round cap bearing the words "Toll Gate Keeper." "You might be gummed, you know, like an envelope, but it wouldn't do to be swizzled."
"What is swizzled?" asked Billy.
"How should I know? But you should, for you said you would be."
"It was just an expression with me."
"Oh! you meant to say you would be expressed. What are the express rates on boys?"
"No, I didn't mean that; what I meant to say is that what I meant to say was—oh! pshaw! I don't know what I'm talking about."
The Toll Gate Keeper.
The Toll Gate Keeper.
The Toll Gate Keeper.
"Of course you don't, and as Idon't, either, let's change the subject." And the Toll Gate Keeper nodded his head very gravely.
"Then can you tell me what city that is back there?" asked Billy, pointing over his shoulder.
"Yes," said the Toll Man, and then he began to hum a tune as though that closed the discussion.
"Well?" said Billy.
"Quite well, thank you—how do you feel?"
"But I didn't mean that—I was waiting for an answer to my question."
"I've answered all the questions you've asked; of course, if you haven't asked it yet you can't expect me to answer it."
"But I asked you if you could tell me what city that is back there."
"And I said 'yes, I could.' I'm sure that's answering your question." And the Toll Man looked grieved.
"Then why don't you tell me?"
"Because you haven't asked me to—why should I waste my valuable time answering questions that were never asked?"
"Then what city is it?" asked Billy, angrily.
"Never Was."
"Thank you—and now I will ask you: do I have to cross that bridge to get there?"
"You've already crossed it," said the Toll Gate Keeper, "and I'm here to collect your toll."
"I beg your pardon, I haven't crossed it," said Billy.
"Oh, but you have, otherwise you wouldn't be here."
"But how could I have crossed it? I haven't gotten to it yet."
"Of course not; if you had gotten to it you wouldn't have crossed it," and the Toll man looked at Billy as much as to say, "Well, youarea dull boy if you can't understand that."
"That's ridiculous," said Billy. "What sort of a bridge is it, anyway?"
"The bridge that people cross before they come to it."
"But there is no such bridge."
"Of course there's not, that's the reason people cross it before they get to it."
"Then how am I to get to the city?"
"I don't know and I don't care. I didn't send you there—all I know is that the only way to Never Was is over the bridge that people cross before they get to it."
"Then all I can see is that I shall have to cross the bridge," said Billy.
"I've told you that you've already crossed it."
"Stop a minute," cried Billy, putting his fingers in his ears, "my head is in a whirl."
"How can I stop a minute? I'd have to catch it first, and don't you know that time flies?"
"I mean wait for a minute."
"Which minute do you want me to wait for?"
"Oh, stop it, stop it!—don't stop anything—I mean don't wait for anything—if you say another word I'll go crazy."
And poor bewildered Billy sat down on the ground and buried his face in his hands.
"There, I feel better," said he, finally, raising his head. "Who are you, please?"
"I'm the Toll Gate Keeper, also The Man That People Borrow Trouble From."
"Oh!" said Billy.
"No, I don't owe, I lend, and it's a poor business, for no one ever pays me back. More people owe me a grudge than a Thousand Legger can count on its fingers and toes."
"Aren't you afraid to have so many people owing you a grudge?" asked Billy.
"How can I help it? They borrow trouble from me without asking for it, and anyway it worries them more than it does me."
"This is certainly a topsy-turvy place," said Billy. "What is that sign on the bridge—is it in Greek?"
"Oh, no! that's just because you see the back of it; it's only for people who are crossing, and says, 'Walk your Horses.'"
"Do horses ever cross the bridge?"
"None have so far—it's just put there in case they should. You know if wishes were horses beggars would ride, and, of course, if you put a beggar on horseback he will ride you down. That would make it very unpleasant for any one who was walking if there should ever happen to be any."
"Do many people cross the bridge?" asked Billy.
"I don't know, I'm sure—as they all cross it before they get to it, by the time they get there they have already crossed it, so it's impossible to make them pass through the turnstiles."
"I wish I knew how to get to Never Was," said Billy sadly.
"I can't help you; because what has once been done can't be undone, unless time turns back, and as what you have done was done before you did it, I don't see how you can ever do it."
"No, I'm very sure you can't help me," said Billy. "But of one thing I am certain, I must get to Bogie Man's house."
"You will do well if you do, for no one has ever seen Bogie Man," said the Toll Gate Keeper.
"No one has ever seen him?"
"No—lots of people have thought they saw him but he keeps himself just out of sight."
"I wonder what time it is?" said Billy, pulling out his Waterbury. "I do hate to waste so much time—why it can't be eleven o'clock yet."
"Just half past ten," said the Toll Man, pulling out his sun dial.
"I wonder what's happened to my watch? I must turn it back," and pressing the spring Billy turned the hands back to ten thirty. Just at that moment he happened to catch sight of the bridge over his shoulder, and, strange to say, it was almost in touching distance.
"Hurrah!" he cried, delightedly, "here's the bridge right here—now I'm sure to catch it," and he ran backwards as hard as he could, but without getting an inch nearer to it.
"How did it get here, anyway?" he asked.
"I don't know," said the Bridge Keeper. "I noticed it coming up while you were setting your watch back."
"That's it—that's it," cried Billy. "Don't you know, you said that what has once been done can't be undone unless time turns back."
"What has that got to do with it?"
"Can't you see when I turned time back, up came the bridge? Now I am going to turn it back more and get to the other side."
"Don't risk it, don't risk it," cried the Toll Gate Keeper, in great excitement. "Ifyou should happen to be lost between two hours, you might never catch up with time again."
But Billy did not heed the warning, for he knew he could turn his watch ahead again and make up for any lost time that way.
So back went the hands of the watch and, "Spang!" Billy stood in the dark and dismal streets of Never Was.
Far, far off in front of him (this time) was the bridge, and on the other side, waving his arms in despair, stood the Toll Gate Keeper.
"At last!" cried Billy, when he found himself in Never Was. "But I'll never again cross a bridge before I come to it—it makes too much unnecessary trouble." And off he started down the street to find Bogie Man's house.
There did not seem to be a soul on the streets. Nearly every house that Billy passed was shut up tight and had a board tacked on the front door reading, "Gone away for life—back next eternity." Each one was signed by the owner—and such a lot of names as he read! One was "Hobgoblin," another "Gnome," another "Bloody Bones," another was "Wicked Giant," another "Cruel Stepmother," another "Boog a Boo," and so on and so on. In fact, almost every one of the things or people that frighten little boys and girls, and even somethat used to frighten grown-ups, had left this earth for parts unknown.
"It looks to me," said Billy, "as though Bogie Man was about the only one of the whole lot who is left, and he seems to be pretty hard to find."
"Finders losers, keepers weepers," said a voice, and Billy was surprised to see a little peg-legged man standing in front of him.
"Why!" said Billy, "where did you come from? You are the first person I've seen here, and I began to think I was the only one in town."
"Don't ever get that idea," said the little man.
"What idea?"
"That you are the only one any place; there are always a few more better than you are wherever you are."
"I suppose so," said Billy.
"I don't suppose it, I know it, because seeing is not believing."
"What is the meaning of that?"
"That's a secret; some day perhaps I'll not tell you."
"I never heard such nonsense," said Billy, "and I've heard a great deal the last few days."
"Many a fib is told in jest, you know, but it's not my fault if I do talk nonsense—that is the misfortune of having a wooden leg," and the little man made a dab at Billy's toes with his stump.
"What has a wooden leg got to do with it?"
"Nothing at all. I merely mentioned that it is a misfortune to have a wooden leg."
"I should think it would be hard to bear," said Billy, sympathetically.
"No, because it's already bare. But I shouldn't complain, I make my living on it."
"Your living—how can that be?"
"I guess you don't know who I am?" and the little man struck an attitude.
"No, I don't."
"I am Mumbledy Peg, Bogie Man's Official Potato Masher."
"Ugh," said Billy, in disgust, "how dirty!"
"Dirty—why?"
"To mash potatoes with your wooden leg."
"But I don't; I use a potato masher like anybody else."
"Then I don't see why you said you made your living with your wooden leg."
"I didn't. I said I made my living on it, and I do, because I always stand up to mash potatoes." And Mumbledy Peg spun around on his wooden leg in great delight.
"You're making fun of me," said Billy.
"No, you were already funny; I didn't make you so."
Mumbledy Peg.
Mumbledy Peg.
Mumbledy Peg.
"If you can't talk seriously and without insulting me——" began Billy.
"Tut, tut," interrupted Mumbledy Peg. "If I have insulted you, you are very sorry, and I sincerely accept your humble apology."
"But I didn't apologize—I had nothing to apologize for."
"Then that shows how generous I am—I accept it anyway," and MumbledyPeg held out his hand: "Come, we will shake hands and be good enemies again." And he looked so merry and good-natured about it that Billy couldn't resist a smile.
"Didn't you say that you were Bogie Man's official potato masher?" asked Billy.
"I not only said so, but I am."
"Then you know where he lives."
"Yes, but I've never been there."
"You've never been there?" exclaimed Billy.
"No, of course not. Why should I go there?"
"To mash potatoes, of course."
"Ah! but I said I was theOfficialpotato masher—officials never go near the office, we let the servants do that," said Mumbledy Peg.
"And you get a high salary for doing nothing?"
"Yes, of course; the higher the salary the less the work, is our motto, or to be exact, the fewer the higher."
"Perhaps you can direct me to Bogie Man's house."
"Who knows?" said Mumbledy Peg. "I'm willing to try it if you are."
"I am," said Billy. "I am very anxious to deliver a note to him."
"I'll take it for a dime. I love to read notes."
"But you can't read this."
"If it's typewritten I can, and, anyway, if I miss any words, you can tell them to me."
"But I don't want you to read it, it's not for you," said Billy.
"I'm not particular about that. I could probably find something in it that would amuse me." And Mumbledy Peg held out his hand for the note, just as if everything had been settled.
"No, I'd rather take it myself," said Billy.
"Oh! all right, if you're going to be selfish with your old note, go ahead. But I warn you that you have lost your chance forever to have the note read, for if you should come to me now and beg me on bended knee to read that note, I should refuse. That's the kind of a man I am."
"Don't worry," said Billy, "I shan't ask you."
"That won't help you any, for I won't read it even if you don't ask me." And in high dudgeon Mumbledy Peg started to stump off down the street.
"Hold on," called Billy, running after him.
"I have nothing to hold on to, but don't worry, I won't fall."
"Can't you give a sensible answer to anything?"
"No. I used to do that and people said I had so much common sense I couldn't be very bright. When I began talking nonsense they said it was so foolish it must be very clever, and thus I gained a great reputation for being witty."
"Well, just for once, won't you try to talk common sense?" said Billy. "How can I get to Bogie Man's house?"
"There is just one way and that is to walk. We have no street cars here."
"I mean in what direction shall I go?"
"It makes no difference to me which way you go—see here, Billy Bounce, I know you," said Mumbledy Peg, severely.
"You know me?" asked Billy, in surprise.
"Yes, I do, and I'm not going to help you find Bogie Man's house."
"Oh! you're not," said Billy. "Well, suppose I find it anyway."
"You can't, no one ever finds Bogie Man unless he doesn't want to find him."
"We will see about that," said Billy, angrily, "and when I do find him and deliver the note, I'm going to tell him just what I think of him."
"He doesn't care what you think of him. Thoughts never hurt any one but their thinkers."
"That is too deep for me," said Billy.
"There it is," said Mumbledy Peg in disgust, "when Idosay something sensible, you don't understand me."
"Then you won't help me to find Bogie Man?"
"Not an inch, and I will say further that if all our leading citizens had not left for Mars in search of work, you wouldn't be alive in this town for three minutes."
"I'm not trying to harm you," said Billy.
"We won't discuss the matter further. Good night," and Mumbledy Peg drove himself rightinto the ground and disappeared, leaving Billy alone in the dark street.
"I can't get him back unless I pull him out with my teeth, I suppose," said Billy, "and I'm not going to try that. Now, what am I to do without a guide? It is fearfully dark and lonely, and I seem to be as far from seeing Bogie Man as ever. I wonder what street this is?"
He tried to see the sign on the lamp post. Of course the lamp was not lit, for they never are in Never Was until daylight.
But he couldn't possibly make it out, so he fumbled about in his pockets until he found a match. He lighted this, and by its feeble flame read the sign "The Road-to-Bed."
"The Road-to-Bed," he repeated to himself, "that's a strange name for a street. I wonder if Bogie Man lives anywhere near. Why, of course, he must live in this street, because he is nearly always seen on the road to bed." Now Billy did not exactly mean that Bogie Manwasseen, because, although many little boys and little girls havethoughtthey saw Bogie Man, have thought they heard himcreeping up behind them to seize their shoulders, or was hid under the bed to catch ankles when they hopped into bed—he wasn't really there at all. The fact of the matter is that he had never in his life left Never Was until Billy took—but there, you will learn later what Billy did to him.
"I wish I had a candle," said Billy, trying to look around him; for it was so very dark he really could not see anything but black shadows and the black shadows of the shadows. Indeed, it had suddenly grown darker than ever before, and the wind began to moan as it sometimes does when a storm is brewing. "Of course I'm not afraid of Bogie Man—but I think I'd rather have a candle with me—just—just for companionship. I wonder if the Singing Tree could help me."
So he sat him down in the middle of the street, planted Barker's bark and told the tree what he wanted.
At once it sang—